As a writing exercise, I decided to write a story about something revolving around an item from my culture and its significance. Jaiñkyrshah is a Khasi word used to describe a synthetic cloth that Khasi women wear over their clothes to protect them while doing their household chores. In simple words, it is an apron that is worn differently. I hope you all enjoy reading this story. The featured image is taken from Scroll.in.

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The first thing her stubby little fingers clasped was the red chequered cloth her mother draped over her clothes, a makeshift apron that hung from one of her shoulders. She felt the synthetic material against her soft skin and looked up at the smiling face that cooed at her. Clutching the synthetic cloth tight in her tiny fist, she laughed as her mother bounced her child in her arms. 

The chequered cloth she initially thought was exclusive to her mother belonged to the women of the Khasi and Jaiñtia Hills. As she grew, she watched the women around her don the synthetic cloth before attending to the many household chores, protecting their clothes from the dirt and grime they attacked with their brooms and washcloths soaked in buckets of soap water. One of the many things the women of the hills took pride in was the cleanliness of their homes. Not only was it a reflection of their ethics but of their soul.

Women folk donning the jaiñkyrshah was as natural as a honey bee sucking nectar from a hibiscus flower. The girl turned eighteen but never understood the significance of the chequered cloth, taking for granted the rich culture she was born into. That changed the day she left home to pursue a dream that would never materialize, staying in the town she grew up in. A small city that still relied on the mercy of others to save it from its problems.

A world far removed from the Khasi and Jaiñtia Hills awaited her beyond the hills. Time in the Abode of Clouds was slow, development was rare, and people laid back. She felt like she had stepped into a portal and had been teleported ten years into the future, where people were constantly running. The colossal-sized towers that housed corporate hives replaced the four-storied buildings she once thought were massive. Instead of the rolling green hills she spent time exploring, concrete jungles became her new environment. Regardless of how ugly it looked compared to Mother Nature, it was still a world that offered everything a small-town girl could ever dream of. Most importantly, it liberated her from the claustrophobic rules and traditions that no longer apply to modern society. 

Over time, her opinions changed as her knowledge expanded. But sightings of a chequered cloth always reminded her of the home she left behind. Watching contemporary women attend to chores without that cloth of protection felt unnatural as if one intentionally stepped out into the rain without an umbrella. She was living her dream, but the hills she once frolicked in called out to her. Her roots, her tribe, and her home were what she missed, especially on days when the alienation sunk into her bones. Her family of five was reduced to one.

Ka jaiñkyrshah, or the jaiñkyrshah, symbolized the maternal love, care and protection she used to return to at the end of the day. The same warmth she longed to experience in distant lands, especially after a hard day’s work. On one of her many visits to the flea market, as fate would have it, the synthetic cloth of her childhood fell into her hands through a woman selling old wares. The material was cheap, but to her, it was invaluable. It carried everything she had left behind. 

With a skip in her step, she returned to her shared accommodation, trimmed away the stray threads and hemmed at the ends. She donned the clothes of her people as a smile spread across her face and danced in front of her mirror. Even in a foreign land, her tribal roots remained. Besides being a reminder of her glorious childhood, it also marked a boundary between work and her new home.