By Raphael Warjri
- Moral Ecology and the Selfishness of Beings: A Khasi Model of Ethical Interdependence
The narrative frames the serpent, the wren, and even humankind as acting from self-preservation, revealing a morally complex world. This resonates with Ingty’s (2017) theory of “moral ecology” in Northeast Indian myths, where every species pursues its needs, yet the health of the ecosystem depends on negotiated coexistence.
The serpent’s manipulation, the wren’s bargaining, and humanity’s ambition collectively precipitate ecological imbalance. This echoes the Khasi worldview that moral failure is ecological failure (Nongbri 2003), and that transgressions against sacred nature reverberate across cosmic, social, and spiritual domains.
The story thus dramatizes:
Greed (ka rhah)
Deceit (ka shet kylla)
Ecological violation (ka ba pynjulor ia ka mariang)
Cultural estrangement (la duh ka akor ka burom)
These themes align with wider indigenous frameworks of sustainable coexistence (Berkes 2018; Miri 2014).
Conclusion
This myth cycle—spanning Thlen’s deceit, the tiger’s guardianship, the wren’s intervention, the felling of Diengiei, the cosmic rupture, and the emergence of oral vs written traditions—constitutes a multilayered moral universe. It illuminates:
the fragility of human-divine relations,
the responsibilities embedded in ecological stewardship,
the dangers of hubris and manipulated knowledge,
and the cultural mechanisms for transmitting moral wisdom.
As with much of Khasi folklore, the narrative functions not merely as a tale but as a moral, ecological, and epistemological charter, preserving ancestral insights while warning of the consequences of violating the sacred balance.
Khasi Heritage: The Deity Of Creation And Folk Technology
Despite the intelligence bestowed upon them, human beings lacked proper knowledge of tools and mechanical skills due to their transgressions. However, hope arrived in the form of Biskorom, a divine being of creation and technology, who descended from heaven and emerged at Rangjyrteh. Finding the people struggling with the challenges of their perilous environment due to their insufficient proficiency, Biskorom intervened to impart essential knowledge and skills.
Gathering the inhabitants in the jungle, Biskorom instructed them to collect various materials—stones, tree logs, bamboo, reeds, and creepers—to craft tools and instruments for diverse purposes. Some sought knowledge for domestic needs, others for personal convenience, and still others for communal utility and pastime. While some struggled to grasp the instructions, requesting Biskorom’s guidance in their village at their leisure, others eagerly embraced the opportunity to learn.
Provided with shelter and space, Biskorom commenced training, emphasizing ethical engagement with every material and object. Respect and consent were required from nature for the utilization of its resources, with adherence to essential procedures and seasons for acquiring and developing tools and products. Metallurgy became a primary focus, as intricate tasks necessitated effective instruments.
Prayers were offered to Mother Earth to identify specific materials, and lime, ore, ferns, herbs, trees, and stone were procured accordingly. Masons built foundries, carpenters crafted trees, and farmers prepared substances, while blacksmiths, goldsmiths, and other artisans honed their skills in various techniques. Basketry, spinning yarn, masonry, pottery, weaponry, and social instruments were among the disciplines pursued.
As artisans furthered their skills through practice and application, those incapable of learning stayed behind for further training. Every artisan was reminded to seek permission from nature for their endeavors, ensuring a harmonious relationship with the environment. Through Biskorom’s guidance, the inhabitants of Rangjyrteh embarked on a journey of discovery and mastery, transforming their rudimentary tools into instruments of progress and prosperity.
Biskorom, the divine being of creation and technology, recognized certain individuals for their skills in iron smelting and masonry, naming them the ‘Khyndai Kamar’ and ‘Khatar Kamar’ respectively, denoting the nine metal-smiths and the twelve stonemasons. These artisans were entrusted with the primary knowledge of folk architecture and engineering, passed down by Biskorom.
Meanwhile, those who lacked any particular skill spent their time playing with mud, fashioning crude human and animal figures. Envious of the skilled artisans, they sought to dominate society unfairly by demanding Biskorom to animate their clay creations, thus initiating idol worship. However, Biskorom explained that such animation was beyond human ability. When met with defiance and threats, Biskorom suggested he return to heaven to seek further knowledge.
Though apprehensive, the group agreed, and Biskorom embarked on a journey back to heaven. Unable to find the trail, he suggested they ferry him using a floating object tied to a string. As he ascended, the divine being prohibited further indulgence due to their cruelty and indolence. Meanwhile, the people awaited his return, their aspirations unfulfilled.
Eventually, the floating vehicle fell to the ground, bearing an inscription that they could not decipher. Furious, they cursed Biskorom, resulting in a shower of bloodstains. Destined to labor for their livelihoods and ambition, this group of individuals were left to toil, unable to acquire the skills they envied in others.
Those who acquired knowledge and skills flourished in their respective occupations, catalyzing tremendous changes in society. Sormoh, for instance, mastered the craft of crafting various folk musical instruments. Not only did he become proficient in their creation, but he also imparted this knowledge to others, teaching them how to play these instruments and perform songs and dances, thus enriching the cultural tapestry of the community.
Similarly, the nine metal-smiths delved into the intricacies of mining, extracting iron, copper, bronze, silver, and gold from the earth. With these metals, they fashioned a myriad of ornaments, implements, and utensils, adding both utility and aesthetic value to daily life.
Meanwhile, the twelve stonemasons honed their craft in extracting megaliths from boulders and skillfully erecting monoliths. Their expertise extended to the construction of stone bridges, essential for connecting communities and facilitating trade and travel.
Others delved into sericulture, learning to plant mulberries and rear silkworms. With the silk thus produced, they spun yarn and wove looms, contributing to the production of clothing and textiles. In addition, artisans specialized in bamboo weaving, crafting a diverse array of baskets and mats, while potters mastered the art of shaping clay into pottery and other domestic articles.
Yet, perhaps the most remarkable engineering achievement was the development of folk technology for bamboo bridges. These bridges, woven from sturdy bamboo and intertwined with ficus roots and creepers, spanned perilous ravines and precipices across the southern landscapes of Khasi land. Such innovations not only facilitated travel but also showcased the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the people, further enhancing their quality of life and societal infrastructure.
Biskorom, Folk Technology, and the Moral Economy of Knowledge in Khasi Culture
Myth, Technology, and Ethical Knowledge Systems
The narrative of Biskorom, the Khasi deity of creation and technology, represents a sophisticated indigenous epistemology in which technical knowledge, moral conduct, and ecological ethics are inseparably intertwined. Far from presenting technology as a neutral or purely utilitarian domain, the myth situates craftsmanship within a sacred moral order that demands respect, consent, and reciprocity with nature. This worldview resonates strongly with what anthropologists describe as a “moral economy of technology”, wherein technical skill is governed by ethical norms rather than exploitative mastery (Scott, 1976; Ingold, 2011).
In the Khasi account, Biskorom’s insistence on prayer to Mother Earth before extraction of materials foregrounds an animistic ontology, where stones, trees, metals, and soil possess agency and moral status. Such an understanding aligns with Philippe Descola’s (2013) characterization of animism as a relational system in which humans and non-humans share continuity of interiority, even if their physical forms differ.
Artisanship, Specialization, and Social Differentiation
The classification of artisans into Khyndai Kamar (nine metal-smiths) and Khatar Kamar (twelve stonemasons) reflects an early recognition of technical specialization and guild-like knowledge transmission. Comparable systems can be observed across ancient cultures:
In ancient Egypt, divine patronage of crafts was embodied in Ptah, god of craftsmen and architects, whose priests preserved architectural and metallurgical knowledge (Frankfort, 1948).
Among the Yoruba of West Africa, Ogun functions as both god of iron and moral enforcer, blessing skilled blacksmiths while punishing misuse of metal (Barnes, 1997).
In Andean cultures, Viracocha similarly taught humans architecture, agriculture, and metallurgy before withdrawing when humans became morally corrupt (Urton, 1990).
What distinguishes the Khasi narrative is its explicit ethical stratification of society: skill is not inherited arbitrarily but earned through discipline, patience, and humility. Those unwilling or unable to learn are not condemned for incapacity but for envy, coercion, and moral laziness.
Also Read: https://highlandpost.com/a-commentary-on-khasi-folklore-32/
