IN THE "ABODE OF THE CLOUDS," Meghalaya, the season of sowing and planting is over, and so are the festivals, rituals, songs, and dances associated with this time of the year. The monsoon is here.
The rains come to these hills in May. It commences with scattered showers that turn into a downpour without notice in the middle of the day. As it clears, the lingering petrichor fills the air; the trees, all dust-free and sparkling clean, come alive in a vibrant jade. This is when the post-sowing thanksgiving festivals are celebrated-Megong in the Garo Hills, Behdeinkhlam in the Jaintia Hills, and the Shad Suk Myndiem festival in the Khasi Hills. As the weeks progress into the months of June and July, endless downpours begin.
With the change in season, a metamorphosis occurs; life slows down, forcing people to retreat into the sanctuary of their homes. There are no marriages to attend and no dances to take part in. It is time to eat and drink what Grandma advises.
With the advent of the monsoon, the timeless tradition of storytelling makes its appearance. With the skies cloaked in a symphony of grey, families huddle in the warmth of their homes, their hearts yearning for narratives transcending time and space.
I heard most of these stories while growing up, especially on days when, sometimes, it would rain non-stop for an entire week. I would sit in Kha Wanbamon's (an unmarried aunt) cottage at the foot of our garden. Her voice rising and falling, making a strange melody with the pitter-patter of raindrops that sounded like a million nervous fingers. She loved love stories…
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