Social and Domestic Life
[Dwellings, houses, &c.]
In their domestic life, the Kacháris of this district (Darrang) do not
differ very materially from their Hindu neighbours, to the subordinate
castes of whom they are no doubt very closely allied. The houses are
of the usual type, one-storied only, the walls being of ekrá reed or
of split bamboo, and the roof of thatch fastened by cane. Each hut
commonly contains two rooms, one for eating, &c., and the other for
sleeping. There is no trace here of the practice which prevails among
some tribes of the Province who are undoubtedly very nearly related to
the Kacháris, i.e., the provision of bachelor-barracks (Dekáchángs),
where all the young unmarried men of the village have to sleep apart
from the dwellings of settled householders. It is probable, indeed,
that this custom formerly obtained here, but all trace of it seems
to have passed away long since.
[Villages.]
A Kachári village is as a rule much more compact than a Hindu one,
the houses being built more closely together. Usually, too, there is
comparatively little foliage in the way of trees, &c.; and occasionally
even something like a street separates the two or more lines of houses
which compose a village. One prominent feature in the typical Kachári
village cannot fail to strike the attention of any casual visitor at
first sight. Each house, with its granary and other outbuildings, is
surrounded by a ditch and fence, the latter usually made of ekrá reeds,
jungle grass or split bamboo, &c. The ditch, some three or four feet
in depth, surrounds the whole homestead, the earth taken from it being
thrown up on the inner side, i.e., that nearest to the dwelling-house;
and on the earthworks, some two or three feet in height, so thrown
up are firmly inserted the reeds or split-bamboo work forming the
fence itself, this latter often inclining outwards at a very obtuse
angle; so that the ditch and fence are not easily surmounted from the
outside by would-be intruders. A Kachári village usually abounds in
domestic live-stock of various kinds, e.g., ducks, fowls, goats, pigs,
cattle, &c.; and it can hardly be doubted that the fence and ditch
above spoken of are largely intended to prevent the cattle, pigs,
&c., from getting into the rice-fields at night, and so doing serious
damage to the paddy and other crops. With the abundance of live-stock,
especially hogs, reared and kept by the Kacháris, it need hardly be
said that the villages can scarcely be described as being cleanly;
though as a rule they do not differ so much as might be supposed in
this respect from their Hindu neighbours, separate buildings being
provided for the pigs, goats, &c., at an appreciable distance from
the family dwelling-house.
Furniture, Implements and Utensils
Little need be said under this head, as the equipment of the Kachári
householder for dealing with domestic or field work is almost identical
with that of his Hindu neighbours. But it may be stated that in a
Kachári house there will usually be found an exceptionally large
number of earthenware vessels (pottery, &c.) which are used freely
and frequently in the preparation and distribution of the much-prized
rice-beer (Zu).
[Occupation, crops, &c.]
Agriculture is still the great industry of the Kacháris of this
district, both the hot weather (áus) and the cold season (sáli)
varieties of rice being largely cultivated, especially the latter. In
carrying out this work the people show both application and skill,
so much so, that, failing some very overwhelming convulsion of Nature,
it would seem to be hardly possible that a famine could take place in
the Kachári Duars. This part of the district is abundantly supplied
with water by the numerous streams issuing from the lower spurs of
the Bhutan Hills, streams which for the most part flow in very shallow
beds, and therefore admit of being easily used for irrigation purposes,
whenever the seasonal rainfall may be at all scanty. Moreover,
the people are especially skilful in the construction of irrigation
canals and earthwork embankments for diverting water from river-beds
into their rice-fields: and their efforts in this direction are very
largely aided by their closely clannish organisation. Whenever the
rainfall threatens to be below the average, the village headman with
his associated elders fixes on the spot whence water is to brought
from the nearest river to the rice-fields. At this spot very rude and
primitive shelters of jungle grass, &c., are put up: and here all the
manhood strength of the village, each man armed with hoe, dao, &c.,
are compelled to take up their abode until the necessary work has been
fully carried out. In this way it will be obvious that the Kacháris
have a highly efficient and very inexpensive "Public Works Department"
of their own; and vigorous efforts of self-help of this character
would seem to be worthy of high commendation and hearty support.
But it is not only in constructing embankments and irrigation canals,
&c., that the people work together in this way. Very much the same
plan is adopted in carrying out other enterprises in the success
of which all are alike interested, e.g., in harvesting the great
cold weather rice-crop in December and January each year. When this
important work is in full swing, it is but rarely that the owner of
a rice-field is found cutting his paddy alone and single-handed. He
summons his neighbours to come and help him in this work--a summons
which usually meets with a ready and cheerful response. It is quite
common to see in December and January organised bodies of labourers,
varying in number from ten to fifty or more, all in line and busy with
the sickle in one man's field at the same time. Every man as a rule
works for the time being at high pressure, his toil being lightened
by much merry talk and laughter, and many jests and jokes--these last,
it must be admitted, not always of a highly refined character. There is
a pleasing absence of the mercenary element in the whole transaction;
for as a rule no money payments whatever are made to the workers. On
the other hand, the wife of the proprietor of the rice-field is almost
always present in person, and busies herself in keeping ever ready
an abundant supply of wholesome and highly appetising cooked food,
to be eaten on the spot, the nearest grove of plantain trees providing
ready-made plates and dishes. Her post is no sinecure, as the hungry
reapers make very frequent raids on the good things she provides; and
she has above all to be careful to see that the much prized rice-beer
(Zu) shall be at all times forthcoming in unstinted quantity. Her lord
and master is usually content to wield a sickle with the reapers,
like Boaz of old; and, of course, he holds himself ready to lend
a hand in the same unpaid fashion in carrying out his neighbours'
harvesting operations, whenever his services in this direction may be
called for. This whole system of mutual help in time of pressure is
a marked feature of Kachári social and domestic life, and tends in
no small degree to develop and strengthen that clannish temperament
of which it may be considered to be in some sense the natural outcome.
[Crops, &c.]
Rice, roughly classified as the larger and the smaller grains (maimá
and maisá), is here, as elsewhere, the chief object of the peasant's
skill and labour; but other crops are not wanting, e.g., pulse,
gathered in December, cotton, sugar-cane in limited quantities,
tobacco, &c. Of this last-mentioned article there are two distinct
varieties commonly grown, i.e., country tobacco and Burmese [5] (Mán)
tobacco, the latter commanding the higher price in the market. All
surplus produce finds a ready sale among the ever-growing numbers
of imported labourers on tea estates, many of whom are consumers of
Kachári rice-beer or less harmless liquors, and who in consequence
fraternise readily with their Kachári neighbours. In this way the
average Bodo peasant is a very well-to-do person in worldly things,
the more so because the Kachári labourer is in great demand as a
factory worker. Where there are three or four brothers in a family
in Western Assam, it is quite usual for one, perhaps two, of the
number to remain at home to cultivate the paternal acres, whilst the
other brothers make their way to tea estates in Upper Assam for the
manufacturing season, often doing double tasks day after day, and
returning to the family fold in the autumn with a large and liberal
supply of lightly earned rupees at each man's disposal.
[Food, &c.]
As regards his food, the Kachári is as a rule by no means limited and
restricted, like his Hindu and Musulmán neighbours. On the contrary,
he enjoys and practises a freedom in this respect which no doubt goes
far to account for his often magnificent physique. With the exception
of beef he denies himself almost nothing. His great delicacy is pork;
and a Kachári village usually swarms with pigs in almost every possible
stage of growth. These animals are often exposed for sale at fairs and
markets in the Kachári country. There is, however, one common article
of food, which no orthodox old-fashioned Kachári will ever touch, i.e.,
milk. When questioned as to the ground of his objection to milk as an
article of food, he usually says that he is unwilling to deprive the
calf of its natural support, though the real reason is probably of
another character. [6] This prejudice against the use of milk would
now, however, seem to be passing away; and some of the Kachári lads
attending the writer's Training Class at Tezpur now partake freely
of this natural and sustaining food.
Among other delicacies of the Kachári is what is known as dried
fish (na gran), [7] i.e., the very small fish left on the surface
of inundated land after the water has subsided. This is collected
in large quantities near the banks of the Brahmaputra, and carried
northwards to the Kachári Duars, where it is exchanged for rice and
silk (eri), &c. This small fish is not cured or prepared in any way,
but simply dried in the sun; and is very far from being attractive
to the eye or the nose, especially to the latter. Nevertheless, it
is greatly prized by the Kachári peasant as a welcome and savoury
addition to his somewhat monotonous daily fare; nor does the free
use of this hardly inviting article of food seem to be attended by
any very injurious results to the physical well-being of those who
largely and liberally use it.
[Hunting, fishing.]
The Kachári often varies his diet by adding to it the proceeds of
the chase and by fishing in the numerous shallow hill-streams in
which his country abounds. Deer and wild pigs are frequently caught,
sometimes by the use of large nets, enclosing a considerable extent
of grass land in which some keen eye has detected the presence of the
much-prized game. The net is gradually contracted until the prey comes
within the reach of some stout Kachári arm, when blows from club or dao
speedily bring its career to a close. In this, as in almost all else,
the Kachári is clannish and gregarious in what he does; and regular
hunting parties are duly organised to carry out the work in hand. Much
the same system is observed in conducting fishing operations, though
here the leading part is commonly taken by the women. On certain
prearranged dates, the women of a village, sometimes of a group
of villages, will fish a certain stream, or a number of streams,
for a distance extending over several miles. The fishing implements
used are of a very simple character, and are commonly prepared from
materials found in almost every village. Nets are but rarely employed,
as the water in these hill-streams is in the cold weather, i.e., the
fishing season, usually very shallow, rarely exceeding two or three
feet in depth. The implements commonly used are mainly two, i.e., (1)
the zakhái [8] and (2) the palha, the former being employed chiefly,
but not exclusively, by women; and the latter by men. Both implements
are made of split bamboo work fastened together with cane. The zakhái
is a triangular basket, open at one end, the three triangular sides
closing to a point at the other. The whole is attached to a bamboo
handle some three or four feet in length. Grasping this handle firmly,
the holder enters the river, usually only two or three feet deep, and
lowers the basket to the bottom, keeping the open end in front of her
person; and then making a splashing with her feet, she endeavours to
drive her prey into the open mouth of the basket, which is then quickly
lifted and its contents rapidly transferred to the fish-basket. The
system seems to be a very simple and even a clumsy one, but is far from
being wholly ineffective. Armed with this zakhái, a number of women,
sufficient to extend across the entire width of the stream, enter the
river together, whilst another party commence operations fifty or a
hundred yards away. The two parties work steadily towards each other,
so that such fish as are not caught en route are gradually driven
into an ever-narrowing stretch of water: and as a rule not many fish
would seem to escape. The whole scene is a very merry one, accompanied
with much laughter and pleasing excitement; and more particularly,
as the two parties of fish-catchers approach each other, and the fish
make frantic efforts to escape their doom, the fun becomes fast and
furious. A fish-catching expedition of this kind is invariably looked
upon as a village holiday, the entire population not infrequently
taking an active part in it.
A second popular method of catching fish is the use of the palha, which
is not very unlike an ordinary circular hen-coop. It is made of split
bamboo fastened together by cane-work, and is about 4 or 4-1/2 feet
in height and about 3 feet in diameter at the base. The upper portion
is drawn somewhat closely together, leaving an open space at the top
sufficient to allow the admission of a man's hand, the whole structure
being quite light and easily manipulated by one hand. Armed with this,
the fisherman quietly enters the shallow water at any likely spot,
and whenever his quick eye detects the presence of prey, the palha is
at once placed over it, the lower surface of the basket-work closely
clutching the ground, and the fish so enclosed are then withdrawn by
the hand through the opening in the upper part of the instrument. This
too, like the zakhái, seems a very primitive, unsuitable contrivance,
but in the hands of men trained to its use from earliest childhood
it is quite capable of being made to bring about very useful results.
A third instrument used by Kacháris in fish-catching is a small,
pointed, metallic spearhead attached to a light bamboo. This is thrust
rapidly and firmly into soft mud or other like places where eels,
&c., are supposed to be concealed; and the fisherman occasionally
succeeds in transfixing and drawing out one or more of these, which
form a welcome addition to his daily diet.
[Rice-beer (Zu), its preparation, &c.]
In common with many other non-Aryan tribes on this frontier, e.g., the
Nágás, &c., the Kacháris of Darrang habitually consume large quantities
of what is usually known as rice-beer (Zu, Záu). It can hardly be
said to be a beverage in daily use, for it is only prepared when
specially wanted for immediate consumption. An essential ingredient
in the preparation of this most popular form of refreshment is the
condiment known as emáo [9] which is usually composed of at least
three, and sometimes four, distinct elements. To a definite proportion
of husked rice is added (1) the jack-tree leaf and (2) that of the
jungle plant known as bhetai, and in some cases the poison-fern,
though this last-mentioned does not seem to be really necessary. All
these ingredients are vigorously pounded together into a powder,
which is then passed through a very fine sieve, at least once and
sometimes twice. The powder so prepared is then mixed with water so
as to make a more or less tenacious paste, and this again is divided
into portions sufficient to form solid discs, about three inches in
diameter, and one inch thick in the centre, with thin edges. These
discs are sprinkled freely with powder from similar discs of some weeks
standing, and are for a short time kept covered up in rice-straw. They
are then placed on a bamboo platform inside the house for some four
days, and are afterwards exposed freely to the hot sun for another
four or five days, so as to become thoroughly dry. Finally they find
their way into an earthenware water-vessel, which is kept suspended
at a distance of several feet over the fireplace though they would
seem to need no direct exposure to the action of fire-heat; and here
they remain until required for use.
As mentioned above, rice-beer is not used as a daily beverage, but
is prepared as required, especially for use at marriages, funerals,
harvest homes and other occasions that break the monotony of village
life. A common method of preparation is as follows:--A quantity of
selected rice, about 3 or 4 seers, is carefully boiled in an iron or
brass cooking vessel, the contents of which are then spread out on a
bamboo mat and allowed to become cold. Two cakes of the emáo described
above are then broken up into powder, which is carefully mixed with
the boiled rice; and the whole is then stored in a thoroughly dry
earthenware vessel (kalas). This vessel with its contents is then
placed upon a platform some five feet high over a slow fire, in which
position it is allowed to remain for some three or four days, the mouth
of the vessel remaining open for the first day or two, though it is
afterwards covered. It only then remains to add water ad libitum,
and to pour out the beer, after well shaking the vessel, through
a rude straining apparatus composed of rice-straw. It is said that
the direct action of fire is not really needed in the preparation of
this beer and that exposure to the sun is sufficient for the purpose,
though the application of fire undoubtedly quickens the process. Rice
prepared in this way may be kept in the earthenware vessel for six
or twelve months, a fresh supply of boiled rice and condiment (emáo)
being added to the old from time to time; but the beer is rarely kept
in this way for any very prolonged period, though its quality is said
to be improved by such keeping.
It may perhaps be added that the beverage so prepared would seem
to be a thoroughly wholesome or at least a comparatively harmless
one. Very large quantities are, to the writer's knowledge, sometimes
consumed at a sitting, the consumer's brain apparently remaining wholly
unaffected thereby. There is, however, a far less innocent beverage,
commonly known as phatiká, prepared from this rice-beer by a process
of distillation. This is a raw fiery spirit, somewhat resembling in
taste the crudest possible whisky; and its use might very fittingly
be put under severe restrictions by taxation [10] or otherwise, with
results most beneficial to the physical, mental and moral well-being
of this very interesting race.
[Eri silk culture.]
One of the chief industries, a very profitable one among the Kacháris,
is that of the culture of the silk-worm known as eri, and the
manufacture of the eri cloth. The eri cocoons, which are about 2-1/2
or 3 inches in length, may often be seen suspended, a few feet from the
ground, in long festoons, a thin cord being passed through the base of
the cocoons for this purpose. In this condition the cocoons remain for
some fifteen days, at the end of which period the insects make their
appearance in the butterfly stage. Before they are able to fly away,
they are collected with care and placed in a suitable receptacle;
and at the end of three or four days eggs resembling sago-grains make
their appearance in great numbers. It is said that one insect can
on an average produce from eighty to one hundred such eggs, or even
more. In a further period of fifteen days the eggs are duly hatched,
the new-born insect being at first almost black, from which colour
it passes to brown, and finally to white, at intervals of three or
four days; and at each change of colour the worm is said to cast its
skin in snake-like fashion. Some four days after the last stage is
reached, i.e., about fifteen days after being hatched, the insect may
be expected to set about the formation of its cocoon. To assist it
in this work, small bundles of plantain or mango leaves are loosely
tied together and placed within broad baskets or on bamboo platforms,
and the insects are then carefully placed within these bundles; and
under favourable conditions the cocoon should be fully formed in about
twenty-four hours. The actual formation of the cocoon is preceded
by certain signs, very significant to the Kachári, i.e., the insect
itself refuses food for a short time beforehand and becomes of a light,
brilliant colour; and on handling it gently, a soft, rustling sound,
proceeding from the insect itself, can be distinctly heard. After
being carefully cleaned in water and dried in the sun, the cocoons are
stowed away, usually in an earthenware vessel, until a fitting time,
generally in the dry, cold season, appears for reeling them off, a work
carried out by women and girls. It is said that a Kachári, working
steadily at this occupation, can on an average reel off some 150 or
200 cocoons in a day. During the fifteen days preceding the formation
of the cocoon, the insects' quarters must be kept scrupulously clean,
and food carefully and regularly provided. Its favourite viand is
the eri (castor oil) plant, [11] which gives its name alike to the
insect itself as well as to the silk prepared from its cocoons. But
it also feeds freely on the leaves of certain trees known in Assamese
as Kurungá, Gámári and Sangla, especially the first named of the three.
The loom employed for weaving the eri silk is of very simple
construction, and most, if not all, the material needed for the purpose
can be provided by the villagers themselves from local resources.
The market value of a loom of this character is said to be about five
rupees. It is usually set up on a shady side of the dwelling-house,
or, where this is impracticable, a rude structure of thatch and bamboo
work is provided to shield the weaver from the sun. The actual work is
always carried out either by the lady of the house, or by one of her
grown-up daughters; and it is in every way suitable to women workers,
as it requires very little exertion of physical strength, but only a
certain quickness and readiness of eye and hand. The conditions under
which the industry is carried on are in all respects pleasing and
satisfactory. Indeed, a Kachári woman working placidly and contentedly
at the eri loom, singing quietly to herself in sheer happiness of
heart, offers perhaps one of the most complete illustrations of the
benevolent influence of the Pax Britannica to be found in the wide
realm of India, especially when it is borne in mind that less than
seventy years ago these Kachári Duars were subject to the Bhutan Rajas,
who seem to have harried and plundered the people in the most cruel
and lawless way. Soon after the master of the house, with one or
more grown-up sons, has betaken himself to the rice-fields, and this
he does almost at sunrise, his goodwife seats herself at the loom,
and works away steadily until about 8 or 9 a.m., when she may be seen
carrying a well-cooked and appetising meal, carefully shielded from
rain and sun by plantain leaves, to her goodman, who from an early
hour has been toiling in the fields for the good of the family. This
duty discharged, she resumes her position at the loom for the greater
part of what may remain of daylight. Immediately in front of the loom
there are probably two or three small children (the Kachári race is a
wholesomely prolific one) gambolling and tumbling over each other in
high delight. To these the mother now and then devotes a word or two
of remonstrance, whenever their gambols seem to threaten an infantile
breach of the peace; and she may occasionally rise from her seat to
administer some little corporal chastisement, though always "more
in sorrow than in anger"; but otherwise she devotes herself steadily
and assiduously to the work in hand. It is said that a Kachári woman,
if not greatly or frequently interrupted in her work, can weave about
half a yard each day; and, as this eri cloth, woven in long strips
about two yards wide, can always command a ready sale at about Rs. 2/-
per yard, it will be at once evident that a good worker can in this
way, without neglecting other urgent domestic duties, easily make a
substantial addition to the family income.
The fabric itself (eri cloth), so produced, is one of great value,
especially for use in the cold season, being at once soft and warm
as well as remarkably strong and durable. Of its very great merit in
this last-mentioned respect (durability) the writer has good reason
to hold a very high opinion. Some twelve or fifteen years ago he was
presented with a piece of eri cloth by one Leah Khángkhuáh, a good
Kachári churchwoman, living not far from St. Paul's Mission Church,
at Bengbari, whose payment of her "Church dues" (tithe) took this very
pleasing and highly practical form. The quantity of cloth given (the
donor declined all money payment) was sufficient to make two ample
bed-sheets, and in this character they have been in use now for at
least a dozen years past. During that period they have of course been
subjected to many and frequent barbarous washings; but even the rough
treatment they have so often received at the hands of the Assamese
dhobi has as yet failed to make any impression for injury on the warp
and woof of this sound material; so substantial and conscientious is
the work done by this good Kachári churchwoman and gentlewoman.
[Position, social and domestic, of women.]
Among the Kacháris women do not perhaps occupy quite the same
influential position as seems to be enjoyed by their sisters in the
Khasi Hills, where something like a matriarchate apparently holds
the field of social and domestic life. Still, with this interesting
race the position of the wife and mother is far from being a degraded
one. The Kachári husband and householder has neither sympathy with,
nor tolerance for, that degrading and demoralising creed "which
says that woman is but dust, a soul-less toy for tyrant's lust." On
the contrary, he usually treats his wife with distinct respect, and
regards her as an equal and a companion to an extent which can hardly
be said to be the rule among many of the Indian peoples. Kachári women,
both in early life and as matrons, enjoy a large measure of freedom,
a freedom which is very rarely abused for evil purposes. On being
spoken to on the wayside, the Kachári woman will generally reply at
once with absolute frankness, looking the questioner straight in the
face and yet with the most perfect modesty. It has often happened to
the writer during the last forty years to enter a Kachári village for
preaching purposes, or with a view to opening a school. On asking for
the village headman, that personage is usually not slow in making
his appearance; and after a few friendly words he will, quite as a
matter of course, introduce his wife, and that with no small pride and
pleasure. In discharging this social duty, he will very commonly use
much the same language as may be heard among the working classes in
England. The phrase most common is "Be áng-ni burui," literally "This
(is) my old woman." The words are not used jeeringly at all, but with
much real respect and affection; and are obviously so regarded by the
speaker's life-partner, whose face and features, somewhat homely in
themselves, may often be seen to light up at once with a very pleased
and pleasing smile on hearing herself thus referred to by the sharer
of her life's joys and sorrows. There is, too, another consideration,
not perhaps altogether unknown in other parts of the world, which has
great weight with the Kachári paterfamilias, viz., that his goodwife
for the most part does not a little to provide for the family needs
in the matter of food and raiment. Her prowess at the loom has been
mentioned before; and besides this, the actual planting out of the
young rice-seedlings is for the most part carried through by the
women. And all this is habitually done without in any way neglecting
or slurring over the usual duties more strictly appropriate to the
goodwife and mother.
On the whole it may perhaps be safely said that the social and domestic
life of the Kachári is not without its pleasing and satisfactory
features. It is probably for the most part far sounder and more
wholesome than the life of great cities, whether in Asia or Europe;
and it is with no little dismay and sorrow that the writer would see
any hasty ill-considered attempts made to supplant or override this
simple, primitive, patriarchal life through the introduction of a
one-sided, materialistic civilisation.