4.22 Jyrung

4.22

Jyrung

Dak Bungalow

Jirang was another petty Khasi state. From here, there were 2 routes to Nongkhlow – one via Bundrew and the other via Ramree (Rambrai was another petty Khasi state).

On 8 April 1829, after hearing the news of the massacre from Nongkhlow, Major White requested Lieutenant Vetch, commanding at Gowahatty, to march with his detachment immediately, and he decided to accompanied it. The detachment left Gowahatty with 40 men and entered the Cassya country. Towards evening, they surprised the outpost of Jeeran[165], where a party, under the command of a cousin of the Cassya Rajah, was posted to oppose the British. Taken unexpectedly, this warrior rushed out sword in hand, with a few followers, upon the leading section, but seeing himself unsupported, made rapidly for the jungle amidst a shower of balls. Scott went on to add:

“The village being situated on a rocky eminence, surrounded by jungle, in which the enemy had taken refuge. To secure their position, it became necessary to set fire to the houses skirting the jungle—but, being filled with grain, it extended to the whole village, and soon presented a scene strangely contrasted—looking upwards, a lofty pillar of fire rose up from the devoted village, and, beyond it, a dense column of smoke towered up to the highest heaven, presenting an object of great sublimity.

Beneath, a strange Bacchanalian scene of licence rose upon the view—some of the soldiers and camp followers were shooting pigs and fowls—others were roasting them before the fire—some were searching for plunder, and running about in the gay dresses of the Cassyas—a few were eagerly searching for their arms to carry off as trophies, whilst other joyous souls made free with their spirituous liquors— they all made admirable cheer for the evening, and the free spirit of a camp reigned throughout”.

The country between Nongkhlao and Assam was a succession of steep inclines and declines and was extremely difficult to access. It was covered with the densest jungle, and afforded positions that could be defended by a few determined men against an army[166]. The roads were planted with sharp bamboo stakes, called Ponjees, and the most difficult passes were obstructed with trees, and stockaded.

The detachment under Captain Urquhart and Lieutenant Dawes made a detour without any loss from the enemy. However the sickness in his detachment on its return, provided ample proof of the noxious climate of these jungles in the hot season[167]. Of the 80 sepoys, the vast majority were hospitalised, and the two European Officers suffered most severely from sickness.

The ever resourceful Scott recollected that there were some hundred Burmese, or rather Shyans (the original invaders of Assam), who had been taken prisoners during the war with the Burmese, but were afraid to return to their own country for fear of being beheaded[168]. They were men of a hardy frame of body, accustomed to bear privation, and to whom the air of the jungles was native. They did not require carriage, cattle, or coolies, for carrying provisions. Scott lost no time in enrolling about 100 of them as soldiers. This ensured that the British were able to keep up their communication, in such an unhealthy tract of country as the jungles which intervened between Assam and the Cassya Hills.

In 1835, William Griffith reached Jyrung by an easy march, every step adding only to a greater renewal of acquaintance with old faces, or at least old plain plants[169].  According to James Thornton, wild elephants appeared to be common in this forest, as their tracks were frequently seen on both sides of the road[170]. The next halting place was Jyrung, a small village buried in the jungle, but on arriving there he received an order to push on with the utmost haste to rejoin the army.  

On or about 1866, Fitz William Pollock noted that the first stage of Scott’s Road from the northern face of the Khasi Hills was Jyrung[171]. He narrates his adventure here:

“The first stage was Jyrung, where a tiger once killed a valuable pony of mine in the verandah, but I was unfortunately not there, and arrived early next morning to find my animal, poor "Pekoe," lying dead. I had sent on my people and stayed the night with Oilman at Mairapore. It was full moon, the elephants were picketed close by, and the mahouts had put the pads up on edge round the pony, forming an inclosed place where he was tied up in the verandah, which also had longitudinal bars, some 2 feet apart up to 5 feet all round; all the servants were sleeping close by.

About eleven the tiger sprang over the pads and railing and fastened on the pony's neck; the people drove him off immediately, but the jugular was cut and the pony bled to death. The tiger remained close by growling all night, and only disappeared about an hour before I arrived. As a window of the bungalow commanded the dead pony, and the night was nearly as bright as day, I would not have the pony disturbed, but watched for the tiger all night, but it did not come. There is very fair shooting all along this road”.

From Mossia to the next bungalow at Jyrung the distance was about 20 miles, through a tract of country so insalubrious that it could only be traversed with safety between the months of November and March[172]. In 1854, Thomas Oldham was evidently quite delighted with what he saw:

“The glimpses of scenery as the traveller passes through this forest are sometimes exceedingly enchanting. Upwards the mists are still curling and hanging to the mountains, or rising slowly and gracefully from the depths of the valleys along the face of the out-jutting crags; while below there are the clumps of trees in the sunlight, the deep exquisite green of spots of unveiled meadow, the winding stream, now hid and now revealed, the gray mist sleeping on the tender grass, the brooks murmuring, the birds singing, the sky above and the earth beneath uniting in a universal harmony of beauty”.

According to him, the bungalow at Jyrung was a still more dreary and melancholy looking object than the one at Mossia. It was small, dark and low, and stood on a little rising knoll, surrounded by thickly wooded hills of far greater elevation. The consciousness of having some place of shelter, and the soothing murmurs of the brook that ran close by, alone reconciled the traveller to this miserable accommodation.

A further journey of 9 miles brought him to the sun-lit plains of Assam, which looked bright and cheerful in contrast with the dark and heavy forests he had passed through[173]. Imbedded in these forests were numerous little Khasia hamlets. The clearances in their neighbourhood were extending rapidly every year, and he hoped that, the dangers of a journey through this forest would disappear with the progress of improvement.