Up in the Garo Hills of Meghalaya, ballots have for decades now been stamped Purno Agitok—and sons, and daughter, writes Pranab Bora
One does not need an alarm clock at the circuit house in Tura. Whistling through the deep valley, gliding over the smaller hills in between the high, and pondering, momentarily, at the impediments that man has raised in its path, it’s the cold gale that tells you day has broken, the rays of the morning sun having in the meanwhile streaked through the gaps in the flowery curtains. Arise and push them aside and the large grilled windows open out into an expanse of deep, mysterious green, of high hills dotted with tin-roofed houses and lazy roads that snake along their hillside, vanishing at the curve, and appearing again as it turns a few feet ahead. It is silent this morning, but for the gardener working quietly on his euphorbias and marigold. This is the season for these lovelies, he says. Hidden in the snowy mist that now gently rises is the valley of Tura in Meghalaya’s West Garo Hills. For decades, this is where the Sangmas have ruled: Purno Agitok, James, Conrad and now Agatha. They are the North-east’s foremost political dynasty.
Many a battle has been fought, won and lost on these slopes that are part of the Shivalik hills, the southernmost, and the youngest east-west mountain chain of the Himalayas. Songsarek, the religion the Garos carried in their hearts and minds when they first trekked here from Tibet some 2,400 years ago, was gradually displaced as Baptist missionaries who set foot here in the latter part of the 19th century set about spreading the word of Jesus Christ. Claiming their share of the matrilineal Garos later were the Roman Catholics—the congregation the Sangmas belong to—Seventh Day Adventists and Anglicans. Much, though, has survived and prevailed over the winds of change that have blown steady. Come November and the Achik Mande—the “hill people” as the Garos call themselves—still gather to dance the Wangala to the beat of a hundred drums, a rhythm that has reverberated far beyond these hills. This year, it was the turn of AR Rehman to send his team to capture the beat of the Wangala, which will form a part of his presentation at the Commonwealth Games in Delhi.
This is the gradual globalisation of Tura and Garo Hills, an amalgamation of tribes and tradition, of communities other than the Garo, of technology and mass media, of aspirations that now reach to the skies. Mintu Mazumdar, an employee of Doordarshan in Tura, gives us a wrap-up of life here: “We have everything that we see on cable here. ATMs, banks, autos, taxis, an airport…everything that Mumbai has, we have, except maybe filmstars. PA Sangma has brought us all that we have.” The electorate of Tura has responded with gratitude: Sangma has been elected to the Lok Sabha eight times; his sons James and Conrad are MLAs and daughter Agatha, currently Union minister of state for rural development, has also won from Tura twice. At a time when part of the NCP leadership had faltered, softening its stand towards the Congress, the Sangmas had held fort. In Shillong, where PA Sangma is stationed having just returned from a party campaign in Jharkhand, he explains the ‘secret’ of his success rather plainly: “Truthfulness and dedication.” Lal Bahadur and John F Kennedy, he says, are his idols—one the son of a poor school teacher and the other a member of the minority Catholic community in the US. “They tell me a tribal such as me can make it,” he says.
One does not need an alarm clock at the circuit house in Tura. Whistling through the deep valley, gliding over the smaller hills in between the high, and pondering, momentarily, at the impediments that man has raised in its path, it’s the cold gale that tells you day has broken, the rays of the morning sun having in the meanwhile streaked through the gaps in the flowery curtains. Arise and push them aside and the large grilled windows open out into an expanse of deep, mysterious green, of high hills dotted with tin-roofed houses and lazy roads that snake along their hillside, vanishing at the curve, and appearing again as it turns a few feet ahead. It is silent this morning, but for the gardener working quietly on his euphorbias and marigold. This is the season for these lovelies, he says. Hidden in the snowy mist that now gently rises is the valley of Tura in Meghalaya’s West Garo Hills. For decades, this is where the Sangmas have ruled: Purno Agitok, James, Conrad and now Agatha. They are the North-east’s foremost political dynasty.
Many a battle has been fought, won and lost on these slopes that are part of the Shivalik hills, the southernmost, and the youngest east-west mountain chain of the Himalayas. Songsarek, the religion the Garos carried in their hearts and minds when they first trekked here from Tibet some 2,400 years ago, was gradually displaced as Baptist missionaries who set foot here in the latter part of the 19th century set about spreading the word of Jesus Christ. Claiming their share of the matrilineal Garos later were the Roman Catholics—the congregation the Sangmas belong to—Seventh Day Adventists and Anglicans. Much, though, has survived and prevailed over the winds of change that have blown steady. Come November and the Achik Mande—the “hill people” as the Garos call themselves—still gather to dance the Wangala to the beat of a hundred drums, a rhythm that has reverberated far beyond these hills. This year, it was the turn of AR Rehman to send his team to capture the beat of the Wangala, which will form a part of his presentation at the Commonwealth Games in Delhi.
This is the gradual globalisation of Tura and Garo Hills, an amalgamation of tribes and tradition, of communities other than the Garo, of technology and mass media, of aspirations that now reach to the skies. Mintu Mazumdar, an employee of Doordarshan in Tura, gives us a wrap-up of life here: “We have everything that we see on cable here. ATMs, banks, autos, taxis, an airport…everything that Mumbai has, we have, except maybe filmstars. PA Sangma has brought us all that we have.” The electorate of Tura has responded with gratitude: Sangma has been elected to the Lok Sabha eight times; his sons James and Conrad are MLAs and daughter Agatha, currently Union minister of state for rural development, has also won from Tura twice. At a time when part of the NCP leadership had faltered, softening its stand towards the Congress, the Sangmas had held fort. In Shillong, where PA Sangma is stationed having just returned from a party campaign in Jharkhand, he explains the ‘secret’ of his success rather plainly: “Truthfulness and dedication.” Lal Bahadur and John F Kennedy, he says, are his idols—one the son of a poor school teacher and the other a member of the minority Catholic community in the US. “They tell me a tribal such as me can make it,” he says.
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