There is a volatility in the atmosphere of Meghalaya, a play of sunshine and raindrops, one hiding just behind the other to surprise the wanderer of its mystical spirit; sometimes eerie clouds loom over menacingly, the next moment God rays appear, covering the backdrop in a sublime aura.
One such greyscale January afternoon found us traversing through the misty mountainous road steering in the Nongbah-Nartiang route—I and Treyooka, my Khasi friend and a native of Shillong, in her Mahindra gypsy rolling smoothly on the mist-drenched snaky tarmac.
Rows of Benguet pines embellished our way forward as I glanced out, rolling down the window, the countryside enveloped in a moss green blanket, synergised with mystical murmurs in the blowing wind mimicking an exotic Scottish sojourn. Meghalaya strongly upholds its name, Scotland of the East, I pondered. Two hours later, while navigating the south of Shillong, this serpentine road led us to mawbynna, the Khasi word for monolith garden.
Grey clouds intertwined on a pale, foggy sky, forming a Scotch Mist. Treyo and I brushed aside the thought of probable drizzle. We wandered towards the Law Mulong, a place with a cluster of Monoliths and a place for religious worship.
We were pacing slowly, keenly watching all the upright granite pillars and horizontal slabs. There we met with Kong Martha, an inhabitant of Nartiang village. Sitting on a bench, she was smearing lime on her betel leaf, locally known as kwai, her eyes twinkling and face glaring, “A kwai- break,” she beamed. “I take care of this mawbynna.” We were informed that other villagers take turns keeping the garden clean and safe. Offering us freshly folded betel leaves, a heart-to-heart followed with Kong Martha sharing about her farm, finances, and business plans for mulong, the village's market day.
The whole park was covered in a perpetual mist, adding an air of mystery to the hundreds of monoliths varying in sizes, some lying horizontal, others standing tall, some placed slanted, all packed on a hillock of around 100m in diameter. A once-white dusty signboard in the garden drew our attention. The standing monoliths or menhirs are dedicated to the male ancestors while the flat ones, the dolmens, are dedicated to the women. Treyo enlightened me about the mawkhrum, the smaller footstones on which dolmens rest, symbolising children and grandchildren completing a family hierarchy. The undusted board also referred to a Jaintia legend of a robust giant Mar Phalyngki, who erected the tallest menhir, Moo Long Syiem, which is 8 m high and 18 in thick.
My intrigue to know Jaintia anecdotes about this place took us to meet the dolloi ("Jaintia village headman") of Nartiang, Salong Lamare. He explained, “Once there was a giant man in Nartiang, U Mar Phalyngki, whom the king employed for hard tasks and battles. U Mar meaning 'giant.'”
He went on, “On a mulong day, Mar Phalyngki was returning from a nearby village, Raliang, to Nartiang after running errands. On his way back, it began to rain heavily, so he requested for a knup, a bamboo rain protection gear from the Railang Chief’s daughter. The lady replied amusingly that she didn’t have a knup of a size that could shield a giant like him. Instead, she pointed towards a huge stone for him to use as an umbrella.”
The giant Phalyngki accepted the challenge, lifted the stone, and walked towards Nartiang. On the way, rain ceased, and he placed it in a nearby hillock, where the giant megalith of Nartiang had stood since then.”
I remember standing before the tallest megalith, as I tried to imbibe in the spirit of the space that was created in 1500 AD to commemorate the sacrifices, death, battle victories, religion, matrilineal kinship, and all the glorious events of a once-thriving Jaintia Kingdom.
Nearing sundown, it began drizzling followed by a sharp chill in the wind. We had our lal cha ("red tea") with steaming hot momo from a kong shop ("women-run food joints") on our way back to Shillong. I imagined how these anecdotes passed down through generations fortify the evolutionary histories of humans in a significant way as I winded my way out of the village.
How to reach: Shillong to Nartiang is 60 km and takes two hours by road. Guwahati to Nartiang is 156 km and takes four hours by road.
Taxi: Guwahati’s Paltan bazar to Nartiang will cost around INR 4,000 to 4,500.
