By Zaman E. Tongper
Porters work in markets and transport areas across many parts of the country and the world. This article comes from what I observe every day in Shillong and from conversations with porters working in Ïewduh and Khyndailad.
Every morning around five o’clock, they begin gathering along the roadside. Some arrive even earlier. They stand quietly waiting as shops slowly open and goods begin entering the market. There are no fixed duty hours and no guaranteed income. Work begins when loads arrive and ends only when opportunities stop coming. “If there is work, we stay,” one porter told me. “If not, we wait.”
Waiting itself becomes part of the job. On busy days they continue carrying loads until evening. On slower days, long hours pass simply hoping for the next trip.
Over the past few weeks, I slowed down and began speaking with them about their routines, their work and the weight they carry each day. Most porters lift loads ranging between 50 and 80 kilograms, and sometimes more than 100 kilograms in a single trip. Many complete more than fifteen to twenty trips a day. Some movements are short distances within the market, while others require long walks through narrow lanes where vehicles cannot enter. Without weighing machines, they rely on experience and judgement to decide what they can manage.
The work remains demanding in every season. Under the sun, heavy loads quickly drain strength in crowded spaces with little air movement. During the rainy months, slippery ground makes walking dangerous, while wet goods become heavier to carry. “Rain is more dangerous,” one porter said. “If you slip, the weight pulls you down.”
Payment is made per trip, depending on distance and load size. On good days earnings are enough to meet daily expenses; on slower days income remains uncertain. Resting too long risks losing the next opportunity, so most continue working whenever loads are available.
Older porters recalled that the occupation once operated differently. They spoke of a porters’ association whose members wore uniforms that made them easily identifiable and created a sense of unity. Today, none of the workers know when the association disappeared or why it stopped functioning.
The workforce itself has changed over time. Earlier, many porters were non-tribal migrants who came to Shillong in search of work. Today, tribal and non-tribal workers are equally involved, reflecting the city’s diverse communities. According to the porters, nearly one hundred workers now operate across Iewduh and Khyndailad combined.
One porter, now around fifty-seven years old, began this work when he was very young. He remembers earning only two rupees for a trip that today pays between ₹180 and ₹200. “The money increased,” he said, “but the work is still the same.”
Work patterns have also shifted. In the past, porters moved freely through the market searching for loads and negotiating directly with shopkeepers. Today, many are informally attached to specific shop owners or warehouses.
Health concerns came up in almost every conversation. Many porters spoke about back pain, knee pain and strain around the neck and shoulders. Some said they feel breathless after many years of carrying heavy loads. Extreme weather conditions often make the pain worse. Yet stopping work is rarely an option. “If I rest, there is no money,” one porter told me.
One porter also raised another concern. He said that some porters have the habit of drinking alcohol before beginning their work and again after finishing for the day. According to him, this is one of the reasons why the health of some porters deteriorates over time. He explained that long hours of physical strain, pain and daily stress push a few porters toward this habit, although it does not apply to everyone.
There is a common belief that heavy labour naturally produces strength and good health. The porters expressed mixed views. Some felt their bodies had adapted to the work, while others believed years of lifting had gradually worn them down. “Strength comes,” one man said, “but pain also comes with it.”
To understand this contrast, I also spoke with a gym instructor in Shillong. He explained that weight training in a gym takes place under controlled conditions. Exercises are planned, techniques are monitored and rest, sleep and nutrition are considered essential parts of building strength. Listening to both perspectives revealed an important difference: in the gym, strength is planned; in the market, strength is driven by necessity.
In earlier times, people spoke of Khoh bah briew, when individuals were physically carried from one place to another. In areas such as Nongriat and Nongpriang, people may still carry someone up from the valley when required, though such practices have become rare. Yet within Shillong’s markets, porters continue to carry heavy loads every day, quietly sustaining the movement of goods that keeps the city functioning.
This article does not claim to represent all porters everywhere. It reflects only what I learned from those working in Iewduh and Khyndailad. Their experiences, however, remind us how much of everyday life depends on labour that often goes unnoticed.
We pass them daily, usually in a hurry. Perhaps it is time to slow down and look more carefully, to notice not only the weight they carry on their backs, but the quiet endurance that helps carry the city itself.
