Funeral Nights by Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih talks about Khasi life and culture

IN many Khasi tribes, distance is measured in the number of betel nuts eaten while travelling. And when a person dies in a clan, it is said, “He’s gone to eat betel nut in the house of God.” The funeral ceremony takes place many months after a person’s death. In this matrilineal society, if a daughter doesn’t have a female child, the family runs the risk of becoming kiba duh jait, a family that has lost the clan name forever. These are some of the many interesting insights one gets when reading Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih’s epic-length debut novel ‘Funeral Nights’. In an exhaustive account of Khasi traditions and customs, the Sohra (Cherrapunji)-bred writer, also a foremost Khasi poet, unravels the life and philosophy of the tribe, besides debunking the many myths and misconceptions.

The ambitious book is pegged to a six-day grand funeral ceremony of Ka Phor Sorat of Lyngngams, a Khasi sub-tribe in Meghalaya’s Nongshyrkon village. At this feast of the dead, the entire village eats at the house where the ceremony takes place.

Interspersed with poetry, parables, legends and anecdotes, the book is divided into 12 lengthy chapters, wherein the participants tell stories, big and small — some real, some fictional. Using the Socratic method of shared dialogue and the Khasi tradition of storytelling, stories within stories introduce the reader to what constitutes the fabric of Khasi clan and community: its history, democracy, monoliths, religion, food, nightlife, three commandments, sacred grooves, its egalitarian social set-up, and more. The magnum opus also addresses a diverse range of issues as it talks about conversions, denuding of forests, corruption, coal mining even after the NGT ban, illegal immigration and alienation from mainland India, as well as the contentious Scheduled Tribes list of Meghalaya.

From the umpteen synonyms for the rain to the delightful anecdotes concerning Khasi names and the household gods they worship, including one for stomach ache, the mystery behind the game of archery or why chicken is a must-have on every festive menu, it takes you on a flight of imagination.

The book, part memoir, is narrated through writer and lecturer Ap Jutang, a practitioner of the community’s customs. Along with an eclectic group of friends, Ap is attending the funeral of Ka We Shyrkon, probably the last practitioner of their religion since most members of the clan have converted to Christianity. The body, ‘as light as popcorn’ after having been preserved for more than nine months on a tree house, is to be cremated in an elaborate ceremony of dance and music, with the slaughter of more than 50 bulls for the feast. The stories they share makes these Khasis aware of their own rich culture and legacy.

The book by this Khasi writer holds significance since most of the other works on the tribe have been written either by British or non-Khasi writers. To the non-Khasis reading this book, the names of people and places can initially be intimidating, as also the size of the book. But this easy read, laced with humour, will effortlessly acquaint you with the magical world of this lesser-known tribe.