Living in a dream: Inside Meghalaya's Khasi Community

Have you ever imagined waking up in a place that exists only in your dreams? That's exactly how we felt when we found ourselves in Mawlong, a quaint village nestled in the East Khasi Hills of Meghalaya, hidden away in the Ribhoi district. Known for its Eri Silk production, Mawlong seemed like a piece of another world. When we decided to immerse ourselves in the Khasi village life, we could never have anticipated the incredible universe we were about to uncover. The experience was like stepping into a vivid, living mosaic woven from nature.

When we first arrived, we couldn’t help but take a moment to just soak in all the beauty around us. The large bamboo canopies framed the boundaries of people’s homes, and I couldn’t resist calling the little hills dotted with pineapple plantations ‘Pineapple Hillocks.’ The beauty was absolutely surreal. It did take us a bit to adjust to such a place, but the transition was made easier with a distinctive tea decoction we were offered. It was delicious and had a unique flavor that felt both comforting and healthy.

During our stay, we stumbled upon a whole new way of understanding the circular economy—beyond the theory, into the heart of daily life. First day of our stay, in evening, our host Laineh’s mother casually pulled out a bag filled with Eri cocoons and a drop spindle with Eri yarn wrapped around it. As she chatted with us, she didn’t stop spinning, her hands moving with practiced ease. We were in complete awe, thinking she must be one of the few dedicated women still practicing this art. But the next morning, we discovered we were wrong—so delightfully wrong.

As we wandered through the village, we saw women everywhere, spinning as they went about their day. They were dropping their kids off at school, spindle in hand, spinning as they walked. They sipped their tea at the local stalls, all while continuing to spin. It was like a scene straight out of history, or perhaps the future—one where everyone is connected to the rhythm of making and sustaining.

It made us think about what Mahatma Gandhi meant when he said, “Everyone in the world should spin.” If we were to imagine a world where this was true, it wouldn’t just be a world of self-sufficiency, but one of deep, continuous connection to the things we create and the lives we lead. It was a profound realization—one that brought theory to life in the most unexpected and beautiful way.

Curious to learn what happens to all that hand-spun yarn, we decided to explore the village further. Our journey revealed the incredible in-house process these yarns go through. After being spun, the yarns are naturally dyed using leaves as mordants. The dyes themselves are all locally sourced—turmeric, lac, and other natural ingredients that have been used for generations.

Once dyed, the yarns are handwoven into beautiful shawls and traditional Jainsems. The Jainsem, we learned, is a traditional Khasi dress worn by women. It’s a two-piece outfit that’s secured with pins on the shoulders, often paired with a Khasi shawl. The Jainsem isn’t just clothing; it’s a vital part of Khasi identity, passed down through generations, embodying the art, culture, and history of the community. Seeing the entire process unfold in one village, from spinning to dyeing to weaving, was like uncovering a hidden world. It revealed a decentralized economy and a strong, self-sufficient supply chain with no reliance on external sources.

What intrigued us the most was the question of why Eri, known locally as Ryndia, is eaten in this part of the country. How did the community come to the practice of eating the worm? We were quickly corrected when the community shared that the Ryndia has been reared for eating for a very long time—long before someone discovered the possibility of spinning silk from its cocoon.

Laineh’s mother explained that raising Ryndia is like bringing up a child. "You need to stay up at night to take care of them," she said. There's constant worry about their health until they grow up strong, which takes about 30 to 45 days. Once they reach full growth, the worms are carefully cut open and eaten—often as a pickle or a fried meal.

So, does this mean no part of the Eri worm goes to waste? One of us asked. Laineh replied with a smile, "None. We eat the worm and use the cut cocoon to hand-spin Eri yarn or sell the cut cocoons to the mills." It was a fascinating insight into a practice that creates food security—since Ryndia are rich in protein—also fulfills the community’s clothing needs.

If the theoretical concept of a circular economy were to come to life, this is exactly how it would look. Even after working for 10 years in the handloom sector, I was moved by this community. Visiting Mawlong was a powerful reminder of the hidden gems in the world—right here in our own country. This village wasn’t on the other side of the globe; it’s been here all along, waiting to show us the way. It made me realize just how much I still have to learn from communities like this one. What we often imagine as a utopia isn’t just a dream—it’s a living reality for some.

If there’s one thing I took away from this experience, it’s that change doesn’t always start with grand ideas or sweeping reforms. Sometimes, it is looking around and observing, everyday actions—like the women spinning Eri yarn as they go about their lives. It’s a reminder that sustainable living and circular economies aren’t just concepts; they’re practices that can be woven into the fabric of our daily lives. Let’s take inspiration from these communities and believe that what we aspire to isn’t far off—it’s possible, and it’s already happening.

~ Written by

Pallavi,

Founder,

Intrique