When Meghalaya sings | Anurag Banerjee’s ‘The Songs of Our People’ documents his homeland through its musicians

Photographer Anurag Banerjee’s new book, The Songs of Our People, attempts to capture the state’s history and vibrancy through its musicians — urban and indigenous

Updated - May 13, 2024 05:55 pm IST

The name of this band from the peripheries of the Laitlum canyons in Meghalaya, Ka Sur Na Nongkyndong, literally translates to “the voice of the village”. It was formed out of a desire to keep the State’s traditional musical legacies alive. “Music is like medicine, it can heal the brokenhearted.”

The name of this band from the peripheries of the Laitlum canyons in Meghalaya, Ka Sur Na Nongkyndong, literally translates to “the voice of the village”. It was formed out of a desire to keep the State’s traditional musical legacies alive. “Music is like medicine, it can heal the brokenhearted.”

The best documentary photographers can make sounds and smells come alive in their frames. Anurag Banerjee, 32, is an eloquent cultural chronicler, and his latest book, The Songs of Our People, is a visual cornucopia of sounds.

A Shillong boy, the Mumbai-based photographer grew up listening to Meghalaya’s diverse musical traditions — from indigenous stories to rock, reggae and rap. The book chronicles his State’s musicians, and how their music reflects identities, histories, grief as well as hope and the power of community and belonging.

The Songs of Our People

The Songs of Our People

The songs of Banrap Lyngdoh, 29, are about his own battles with mental health. His EP, Bipolar Confessions, is a rap and R&B album with dark undertones and haunting melodies. “It is important to be by yourself, to live alone, to struggle alone. You discover yourself, who you are, who you are meant to be.”

The songs of Banrap Lyngdoh, 29, are about his own battles with mental health. His EP, Bipolar Confessions, is a rap and R&B album with dark undertones and haunting melodies. “It is important to be by yourself, to live alone, to struggle alone. You discover yourself, who you are, who you are meant to be.”

Made with a grant from Meghalayan Age Limited, an initiative by the State government to support and mobilise projects about the State’s culture and society, Banerjee’s choice to shoot, write and produce this book arose out of a desire to know his home state better. “In the years I have spent outside Shillong, the first comment that people would make upon finding out where I was from would invariably revolve around music,” he says. So, when he wanted to immerse himself in the place he knew as home, he chose to do so through Shillong’s musicians — who sing in English as well as a variety of local dialects such as Khasi, Garo and Pnar.

Daiaphi Lamare, 22, who goes by the stage name Reble, is a recent, successful addition to the roster of Northeast musicians in popular festivals such as the Bacardi NH7 Weekender. She is a rap artiste who sings in English. “Your music should speak for itself. If I am performing on a global stage, I am totally representing my country.”

Daiaphi Lamare, 22, who goes by the stage name Reble, is a recent, successful addition to the roster of Northeast musicians in popular festivals such as the Bacardi NH7 Weekender. She is a rap artiste who sings in English. “Your music should speak for itself. If I am performing on a global stage, I am totally representing my country.”

Shillong beyond its Bob Dylan fandom

“The idea for the book coincided with people across the country taking to the streets at the end of 2019 for what has now come to be known as ‘the citizenship protests’. Since genres like hip-hop and R&B have their roots in protest and people’s movements, I gravitated to the same in my hometown,” Banerjee says. It took him eight months to finish the many photshoots, and he wrote the book over the next few years.

Banerjee covers a swathe of musicians with a similar dedication to Meghalaya’s creative language and identity. He hung out with them at gigs, practice and even in their homes, before choosing 19 (curated on the basis of access and individual points of view) for the book.

Frontman of the iconic Shillong band Plague Throat, Nangsan Lyngwa, 34, is now on a solo journey, living far from the city’s bustle in Umroi. His music is much more introspective, often focussed on his own melancholia, unlike the band’s social commentary-first credo. “I am very happy to write sad music. Whenever I am sad, I just pick up the guitar.”

Frontman of the iconic Shillong band Plague Throat, Nangsan Lyngwa, 34, is now on a solo journey, living far from the city’s bustle in Umroi. His music is much more introspective, often focussed on his own melancholia, unlike the band’s social commentary-first credo. “I am very happy to write sad music. Whenever I am sad, I just pick up the guitar.”

Katta Nisa, a 25-year-old musician from the Garo tribe, speaks in his native tongue. His desire is to bridge the gaps between words, sounds and emotions attached to words. “I want to make the invisible, tangible.”

Katta Nisa, a 25-year-old musician from the Garo tribe, speaks in his native tongue. His desire is to bridge the gaps between words, sounds and emotions attached to words. “I want to make the invisible, tangible.”

Not knowing the local dialects well was a limitation, but employing translators helped. And while he agrees the representation of artistes isn’t exhaustive, he sees “this as a first of many books” — the subsequent volumes including more musicians and stories from culturally-rich Meghalaya.

The selected musicians illuminate not only musical talent, but also a staggering diversity of voices, stories and genres — Maya Lyngdoh’s love for her roots, Banrap Lyngdoh’s investigations of grief, and Praiseley Lyngskor’s faith in the redemptive powers of community.

Storyteller-musician Maya Lyngdoh Mawlong, 26, sings about her hometown, her vegetable garden, and her life in Mairang, after returning from Bengaluru where she studied and taught music for several years. “It is so sad to not know where you are planted, because how can you grow if your roots are not there?”

Storyteller-musician Maya Lyngdoh Mawlong, 26, sings about her hometown, her vegetable garden, and her life in Mairang, after returning from Bengaluru where she studied and taught music for several years. “It is so sad to not know where you are planted, because how can you grow if your roots are not there?”

This is Shillong beyond Bob Dylan fandom, its legends like Lou Majaw and its only mainstream culture entrant, the Shillong Chamber Choir. This is musical Meghalaya at its most earthy and sublime.

The self-published book, priced at ₹799, is yet to be officially launched. It can be ordered through Banerjee’s Instagram (@banrjee.anurag).

The writer and critic is based in Mumbai.

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