Memories of Shillong

When I was young, I spent a few years in Shillong in the early 1970s. It was a magical place for a schoolboy.

Houses were built on stilts, fruits were plentiful and cheap, we walked for miles over hills and valleys, picnicked beside streams and waterfalls, went to school in buses with noses, tried to catch the clouds as they drifted low since the place was truly a Meghalaya, marvelled at the Khasi women working hard all day in their tunics and bamboo backpacks, watched enviously as the men folk seemed to play caroms in the sun all day, crafted our own bows and arrows for archery, and made shoulder borne bamboo poles strung with water tins at the ends to mimic the town’s water carriers.

(Picture sourced from the net, no copyright violation intended.)