Romance of Assam

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 323, 7 April 1928, Page 10

Romance of Assam

LAND OF QUEER JUNGLE FOLK

Hundred Languages Jostle

THERE are many quaint corners of the British Empire, but there is probably no part which contains more interest than Assam. Yet among’ everyday folk very little is known of this rich territory situated at the north-east corner of India, and consisting mostly of the valleys of the Brahmaputra and the Burma.

To the north and east its boundaries are not defined, but stretch as far as the frontier officers can make their 1 writs run, without recourse to force in the tumbled mass of mountains which lies between the Brahmaputra valley and Tibet and China. In this part of the world there have been no advocates of a forward policy. The country could never pay the cost of administration, and, for so long as the hillmen leave the plains in peace, they are left by the Government to their own devices. When raids have to be punished it is a difficult and expensive business. Coolies are the only possible form of transport along the rough tracks that creep up the river gorges, and in the dense forest a bow and a poisoned arrow are almost as effective a weapon as a rifle. And so, though these mountains and rivers are of the greatest beauty, and though they have been so little explored that they still possess the lure of the unknown, the Government wisely prefers to leave them to their wild inhabitants (says Mr. B. C. Allan, 8.5.1., in the London “Times”). The range of mountains between the two valleys is the home of tribes which are of the greatest interest to the ethnologist. In the west are the Garos, who live in tiny hamlets in junglecovered hills, where elephants and man-eating tigers are so numerous that men have taken to sleeping like birds in trees. They have huts on the ground which they occupy during the day, but at night they mount into little houses of bamboo built in the branches of a tree stout enough to resist the attacks of a wild elephant. Those who have seen the film “Chang” will appreciate the advantages of the custom. In the centre come the Khasis, who still adhere to the matriarchal system. A mere male has no independent economic existence. Before his marriage he earns for his mother, after marriage he earns for his wife, and if, as sometimes happens, she divorces him, she keeps all the property acquired during their union. Inheritance goes through the female, and, though men rule the little communities into -which the tribe is divided, they are succeeded by their sisters’ sons. It is as their mother’s and not as their father’s representative that they have reached the headship of the State, and their own sons have no claim to succeed, since they are members of their mother’s family and are in no way affected by the position of their father. In one section of the tribe husbands and wives continue to live each in the old home, even after marriage; there is no common married life, and the husband is simply an instrument for the transmission of life to the next generation. But, though their family customs are the exact opposite, to those which prevail in other parts of the world, the women are not harsh viragos nor the men poor, weakly parasites. On the contrary, both men and women are a cheery, vigorous, independent lot, and the children are almost as attractive as the children of Japan.

f “Head Hunters are Charming” Shillong, the capital of the province, has been built on the rolling downs on which this tribe lives, and the Khasis have grown prosperous on the money which the Government spends in the district and on the lime quarries and orange groves which are found on the southern scarp of their hills. Their country boasts not only the provincial capital, one of the most delightful stations in India, but also Cherra Punji, which has the highest recorded rainfall in the world. The average annual fall is about 460 inches; the “record” is over 900 inches. To the east are the mountains of the Nagas, a collection of tribes, loved by all who liVe among them, whose sole failing in an otherwise charming disposition is a strong desire to collect human heads. Frontier officers accept no such plea as an irresistible impulse, and within the British border the desire is held in check. Beyond it every village is fortified against its neighbour, and men have a hunted look. Ultimately Assam will probably join Burma in swallowing the Naga hills, but we advance slowly, as administration is costly and the wild men have learnt to respect our frontier and our subjects. We should never have entered their hills had they been content to leave, us in peace. But when we did withdraw in 1851 there were such perpetual raids and forays that we were forced to go back again and farther in. Even then it cost the lives of three district officers before the Nagas learnt their lesson. On the north bank of the Brahmaputra we were able to maintain a policy of wait and see. To the south a forward policy was forced upon us. South of the Burma Valley live the Lushais, a tribe which has taken won-, derfully to Christianity and education, though it, too, had to be bought for i a price. Between the Lushais and the Nagas lies the interesting little State of Manipur, which found itself famous 35 years ago as the result of the beheading of the Chief Commissioner of Assam, with three members of his staff. Where Tea Grows Wild A combination of circumstances has converted the province into a second Tower of Babel. The tribes are derived from different racial stocks and the difficulties of communication in the hills and the unfriendly habits of the Nagas led to the growth and perpetuation of different languages. There are valleys in the hills where the villagers on one side cannot understand the speech of villagers on the other. And to the various tribal tongues are added the language of the coolies, who come to the tea gardens from almost every part of India. As a result, 101 different languages are spoken among a population of a little over 8,000,000 persons—a fact that hardly makes for unity. And languages are here found in the making. Many of the labourers use what is known as coolie “bat,” which is com- 1 pounded partly of debased Assamese ; and Hindustani and partly of their]

own tribal dialects, so that it cannot really be classified under any recognised family of speech. But Assam is something more than a linguistic or ethnological museum. More than a century ago tea was discovered growing wild in its forests, and, when the Government was satisfied that the tree* was the true tea of commerce, it set up a factory for the treatment of leaf plucked from the wild trees, and planted seed obtained from China. In 1840 the estate was sold to the Assam Company, which had been founded the year before with a capital of half a million. Tor the first 10 years of its existence it did badly, and small wonder. It must have been at least a six weeks’ journey from this company’s gardens to Calcutta, and supplies, labour, markets, were all hard to get. But the tide soon turned, and the company has since enjoyed a long period of remarkable prosperity. It was the forerunner of many similar undertakings and there are now in Assam 420,000 acres which yield over 240,000,0001 b. of tea. The bungalows of the planters, dotted about, the valley, with their tennis courts, their golf links. and their polo grounds, have converted much of Assam into something more like a British colony than a part of the Indian Empire.