Khandaih Hripui (Epidemic of Khandaih 1905)

 (The Great Epidemic of 1905)

1. Introduction

The great epidemic known as Khandaih Hripui remains one of the most tragic events in the early history of Mizoram. It struck Khandaih village (now Phullen) in 1905–1906, bringing death, fear, and deep sorrow. What began as a simple sickness soon escalated into a deadly outbreak that wiped out dozens of lives and forever changed the community. The epidemic revealed the struggle between old traditions and the new Christian faith and became a turning point in the spiritual life of the people.

 

2. Background of Khandaih Village

In the early 1900s, Khandaih was one of the largest and most influential villages in the Lushai Hills. Founded in 1901 by Chief Vanphunga Sailo, son of Pawihbawiha Sailo, the village thrived on fertile lands, rich forests, and the hard work of its people. With over five hundred households, Khandaih was known for its unity, prosperity, and strong traditions.

Villagers lived mainly by jhum cultivation, hunting, and handicrafts, and their lives echoed with songs of work and community. Chief Vanphunga was a proud, courageous leader who resisted British interference, earning both admiration and tension with colonial authorities.

By 1903, Christian missionaries and local preachers arrived, establishing a mission school that doubled as the village’s first church. Christianity gradually took root, creating a quiet division between villagers embracing the new faith and those holding to traditional beliefs. Amid this spiritual shift, the great epidemic struck, altering the village’s destiny forever.

 

3. The First Signs of Tragedy

The epidemic, later known as Khandaih Hripui, began with Rochhunga, who died on October 24, 1905. He had traveled with villagers to Kawl Ram (now Myanmar) to buy supplies. Exhausted from the journey, he cooked and ate chicken upon returning. Soon after, he suffered severe stomach pain, vomiting, and diarrhea. Traditional herbal medicine, Inthawi, failed to help, and after three days, he passed away—the first known victim of the mysterious disease.

At first, villagers believed his death was an isolated incident. But within weeks, the same symptoms appeared in others. On November 16, 1905, a child from one household and a man from another both died from the illness. Two days later i.e. on November 18, 1905, a husband and wife succumbed to the disease and were buried side by side. By November 24, 1905, several men and women died on the same day. Fear and sorrow spread quickly, and the once-lively village of Khandaih grew silent and heavy with grief, as families mourned their loved ones and wondered who would be next.

 

4. The Epidemic Suddenly Worsens

After several days without new deaths, the Chief and elders believed the danger had passed. On December 3, 1905, the Chief and Elders gathered to share rice wine, as was their custom after an epidemic, to give thanks. But their hope was short-lived. That evening, one of the elders who attended the gathering suddenly fell ill with severe vomiting, diarrhea, and stomach pain. He became so weak that he could not return home on his own.

Fear gripped the village. Most people were too terrified to touch anyone, especially the sick, and only close family members dared to help. Yet Phunga and Hminga, though unrelated to the elder, bravely carried him home. Their courage was praised by all, but despite their efforts, the elder died before dawn.

The next day, December 4, 1905, the epidemic returned with full force. Villagers fell ill one after another, often dying within hours of showing symptoms. Several families perished within days, and entire households were wiped out. Panic spread like wildfire. Some tried to flee, but the elders forbade anyone from going out at night. Families locked themselves inside their homes, and the once-lively village grew silent. Only the cries of the sick and the wails of mourning filled the air. Five men died that day, and many others who had gone to stay in their farm huts also perished, though the exact numbers were unknown. Every day, new cries of grief echoed through Khandaih — a village now consumed by terror and sorrow.

Sanitation and hygiene were poor. With no toilets and widespread open defecation, people also drank and used unsafe water, including for making rice wine. They collected water from temporary streams, often unclean. It is no surprise that Tuihri (cholera) spread so quickly.

 

5. Causes and Spread of the Epidemic (Revised)

At first, villagers did not realize that a full-scale epidemic had begun, nor did they know it was cholera. When Rochhunga fell ill and died, people thought it was caused by something he had eaten. Soon, others developed the same symptoms—severe diarrhea, vomiting, and stomach pain—spreading fear throughout the village.

Villagers speculated on the origin of the disease, and three main theories emerged:

• Kawl Ram (now Myanmar):

Rochhunga and other villagers had recently traveled to Kawl Ram to buy supplies. Three days after returning, Rochhunga fell ill and died on October 24, 1905. Soon, others began dying with similar symptoms. Many believed the disease had been brought back from Kawl Ram, linking foreign travel to the outbreak.

• The Ralleng (Naga) Visitor:

A Ralleng man from Aizawl visited Khandaih, carrying the head of a deceased friend in his pocket, following local custom. The friend had reportedly died of Tuihri (cholera). Days after his visit, children who welcomed him fell ill and died on November 16, 1905. Villagers suspected he had inadvertently introduced the disease, increasing fear and mistrust of outsiders.

• Reng Ram Exposure:

Some villagers had traveled to Reng Ram for work, witnessing several Santhal families suffering from illness. Although the travelers appeared healthy, villagers believed they may have unknowingly brought the sickness back to Khandaih.

Other factors contributed to the rapid spread: poor sanitation, open defecation, use of unsafe water for drinking and cooking, and close contact among households. These conditions made cholera highly contagious, leaving the village in terror as entire families fell victim in a short time.

 

6. Response and Rising Fear

When the epidemic struck, the people of Khandaih tried everything they knew to fight it. At first, they relied on traditional healing and sacrifices known as Inthawi, believing these rituals would drive away evil spirits. They waved green leaves, hung them at doors and windows, and even planted screw pine trees (Lakhuih kung - Buata) near their houses for protection.

When walking along the village paths or roads, people carried sticks and beat the air as they walked, believing it would kill the invisible disease around them.

As deaths continued to rise, the Chief and elders ordered families with sick members to move to their farm huts (thlam) outside the village, hoping to stop the spread. For a short time, this seemed to work, but the sickness soon returned even stronger.

Fear quickly took over. People avoided one another, too afraid to touch the sick or even their own relatives. The Chief and elders later forbade anyone from leaving their homes at night. The once-lively village grew silent — only the cries of the sick and the wails of mourning could be heard. Despite their desperate efforts, the people of Khandaih could not stop the epidemic that continued to claim lives each day.

 

7. Aid from Aizawl

When news of the epidemic reached Aizawl, the British administration sent a Babu (compounder tia sawi a ni bawk - Buata) to Khandaih, bringing medicines and disinfectants to help control the outbreak. He arrived on December 4, 1905, the day when the epidemic had claimed the most lives. The Babu immediately began treating the sick and disinfecting the village’s main water sources, suspecting cholera as the cause. He instructed villagers on basic hygiene: boil drinking water, manage urine and feces carefully, and maintain cleanliness in homes and surroundings.

While some villagers followed his advice, many non-Christian residents remained deeply suspicious of the foreign medicine. Some believed it was a trick to harm them, while others refused to drink water from the treated springs, fearing it would target non-Christians. Despite the Babu’s dedicated efforts and guidance, the epidemic continued to spread, claiming more lives. His presence, however, slowly introduced villagers to modern health practices, laying the groundwork for future disease prevention.

 

8. Beliefs and Interpretations

For the people of Khandaih, the epidemic of 1905 was not just a disease but a mysterious event that stirred deep fear and belief. The sudden deaths and the unknown cause led many to think it was a punishment from unseen spirits.

Among the non-Christian villagers, it was believed that Sahmula, the demon-king of Mawmrang Mountain, had sent the epidemic in anger because the people had accepted the new faith brought by the missionaries. They performed traditional rituals and sacrifices, hoping to calm the spirits and stop the deaths.

For the new Christians, the epidemic was seen as a test of faith. They turned to prayer and trusted that only God could save them. When the British sent a health worker, known as Babu, to disinfect the water and provide medicine, some villagers cooperated, but others refused, thinking it was poison.

The event deeply shook the community. It revealed the clash between old beliefs and the new Christian faith—yet, for many, it also marked the beginning of spiritual change, as they began to believe that faith, not fear, could bring healing and hope.

 

9. Death and Sorrow

Over the course of three months, the Khandaih epidemic of 1905 claimed around 53 lives, though the actual number may have been higher. Rochhunga was the first to fall, and soon after, children, couples, and entire families were struck down. The disease spread quickly from house to house, leaving no one safe, and the village, once full of life and laughter, became quiet and somber.

Survivors were forced to bury their dead quickly, often abandoning traditional funeral ceremonies out of fear of infection. Daily routines were disrupted—fields went untended, homes remained half-empty, and farm huts, which were normally places of refuge, offered little protection.

Fear and grief filled every corner of Khandaih. Many villagers, helpless against the invisible enemy, began to question their old beliefs. Some turned to traditional rituals, while others increasingly embraced Christianity, seeking comfort, hope, and protection. By late December, the epidemic gradually subsided, leaving Khandaih forever marked by sorrow, loss, and trauma.

 

10. Life After the Epidemic

When the epidemic ended, silence covered Khandaih. Many houses stood empty, and the once-united village was filled with grief. Yet from that sorrow, a new spiritual awakening began to grow.

In April 1906, during a community fishing event at the Tuivai River, a powerful Christian revival broke out, led by Hnuneka Pawite of Khandaih on April 8, 1906. Though opposed by the Chief and elders, it strengthened believers and is remembered as the first Christian revival in Mizoram.

As Christianity spread, the Chief and his elders grew anxious, fearing it would destroy village unity and traditional customs. Their opposition led to the Christian persecution in Khandaih in 1906, during which Chalbuanga, the first Mizo Christian martyr, lost his life for his faith.

The double blow of the 1905 epidemic and the 1906 revival and persecution deeply divided the village. Many Christian families fled to nearby villages, spreading their faith across the region. Later that same year, in Pawltlak 1906, the Chief moved the village to Kawnpui, Changzawl, a nearby area within the Khandaih kingdom. Though only a short distance away, the move marked the end of old Khandaih and the beginning of a new chapter in its history.

11. Legacy

The story of Khandaih Hripui (1905) stands as one of Mizoram’s most profound lessons — a reminder of how tragedy can give birth to transformation. The epidemic brought untold suffering, taking many lives and testing the faith of an entire community. Yet, from the sorrow emerged new strength and purpose. In its aftermath came the first Christian revival of 1906 and the rise of Chalbuanga, the first Mizo Christian martyr, whose sacrifice became a beacon of unwavering faith.

Though fear, loss, and persecution once overshadowed Khandaih, they also spread the light of Christianity to distant villages, shaping the spiritual destiny of the Mizo people. What began as despair turned into rebirth — from death came faith, from fear came courage.

Today, Khandaih (now Phullen) is remembered not for its suffering, but as a sacred place of courage, endurance, and spiritual awakening — a legacy that continues to inspire generations.

 #Buata Bawihtlung

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HE WAS NEVER ALONE!

A Simple Life Built on Love

He was a simple man, content with the little he earned through hard work. What mattered most to him was not wealth or status, but his family and the people around him. He loved his wife and children deeply, and he cherished his relatives—both near and far—as well as his friends and neighbors. For him, relationships were treasures greater than money.

He lived with a quiet principle in his heart: “Be good to people for no reason.” Whenever he could, he lent a helping hand, offered kind words, or shared the little he had. But since he was not a wealthy man, there was always a limit to how much he could give. Still, what he lacked in riches, he made up for in sincerity, humility, and love.

Life was not easy, but it was fulfilling. His modest job at a private office provided just enough to cover his family’s daily needs. To support them further, he would take on small side jobs, never complaining, always grateful that he could provide. His greatest joy was seeing his children, one in class 4 and the other in class 2, walking to school with their books in hand, their future slowly being built on his quiet sacrifices.

The Day Everything Changed

But one February 17, 2025 evening, everything changed. A sudden accident left his left elbow crushed under the wheel of a truck. In an instant, the life he had worked so hard to build was shaken to its core.

He was rushed to the hospital, where doctors confirmed it was a comminuted fracture—his elbow bone shattered into pieces. Surgery was the only option. The first stage was debridement, to clean the wound and save the damaged muscles and skin. Later, a second operation was done—an ORIF surgery—to fix the bone with plates. For weeks, he and his wife stayed in the hospital, clinging to hope.

Yet the results were not what they had prayed for. The wound became infected, pus began to flow, and his arm was immobilized for months. Worse still, when the healing time was over, doctors discovered further complications—mal-united and non-union fractures, improper muscle healing, large scar tissue inside, and fibrosis that stiffened the joint. His arm could not rotate, lift, or stretch properly.

Silent Nights of Pain

During those nights in the hospital, sleep rarely came. Pain woke him often, and when he did drift off, it never lasted long. Many times, he lay silently awake until late at night, and when dawn arrived, the first call of birds outside the hospital window found him already awake. He listened quietly, pretending the pain was gone, trying to appear calm when his wife looked at him. Though his body suffered, he did his best to hide it—choosing to carry the pain quietly rather than add to his family’s worries.

His wife became his constant caregiver—feeding him, helping him bathe, even supporting him in the simplest daily tasks. Sometimes she would smile gently and say, “Don’t worry, I am here,” though inside her heart was breaking.

Meanwhile, their children were left in the care of relatives. They tried to be brave, but it was not easy. They still needed guidance with homework, preparation for class tests, and someone to walk them safely to and from school in the heavy traffic. Though relatives cared, it was never the same as having their parents near. One night, his younger child whispered to an aunt, “When will Papa and Mama come back? I miss them.”

The Weight of Struggles

For the man, the weight of the situation was crushing. Most of his income had stopped the moment he was hospitalized, as he could no longer go to work. He had a small life insurance scheme, which helped a little, but it could not cover everything. Medicines, hospital stays, food, travel, and the countless small expenses of long-term care soon emptied his savings. Even after discharge, he required regular medication and follow-ups. There were always new bills waiting. Sometimes, late at night, he would look at his wife and say quietly, “I feel like I’m failing you… failing the children.” And she would answer firmly, “You are not failing us. You are still with us—that’s what matters.”

After months of treatment within the state, the doctors finally admitted the truth: his case was too complicated. If he wanted any real chance of recovery, he would need to go outside the state, to a larger hospital with more advanced care. It was a frightening decision, but he and his wife had no choice. They traveled to Kolkata, leaving their children once again in the hands of relatives.

A Painful Truth and a Grateful Heart

There, he underwent a third surgery. The surgeon worked skillfully, but later explained with honesty: the damage was too severe. His elbow would never fully return to normal. Yet, with time, therapy, and care, it could still be functional. It was not the perfect outcome they had hoped for, but it was a chance for him to rebuild his life.

Though the outcome was not what they had hoped, he remained deeply grateful for the medical teams in every hospital he attended. From the first doctors and nurses who treated his crushed arm to the specialists in Kolkata who gave their very best, each showed kindness and patience. They cared for him not just as a patient, but as a person in pain. That compassion brought him comfort, and he felt blessed to have been in such good hands—even in the midst of hardship.

A Circle of Kindness

And in the midst of hardship came a light he would never forget. Relatives, both near and far, stood by him in countless ways—visiting the hospital with fruits or essentials, quietly slipping money into his hand, or simply sitting beside him to remind him he was not alone. His boyhood friends contributed generously, proving that true friendship endures. Schoolmates from different years also reached out—some offering financial help, others lifting his spirit with encouraging calls. Neighbors, too, guided his children to school and ensured they were cared for. From near and far, every prayer, act of kindness, and word of support wrapped his family in love and reminded him that compassion is never lost.

Those kind gestures, big and small, became his greatest strength. They brought him light during the darkest nights, hope when despair whispered in his ear, and joy when pain clouded his days. Many times, he whispered to his wife, “If I cannot repay them myself, I trust that God will. For surely, heaven sees what they have done for us.”

The Meaning of a Full Life

In those moments, he realized something profound. He might not be rich, famous, or powerful. He might never be able to give back in the same measure he received. But his life was full—full of care, full of love, full of togetherness. That, he understood, was worth more than all the wealth in the world.

At last, he returned home. His arm was weaker, stiffer, and would never be quite the same. But he was alive, and his children were overjoyed to finally have their parents back. His wife, weary yet faithful, stood by his side as she always had. Financial struggles remained, and the pain had not disappeared—but the family was together again, and that gave them strength.

Never Truly Alone

His journey had been marked by pain, sacrifice, and hardship. Yet through it all, one truth shone brighter than any despair: he was never truly alone. From the unwavering love of his family, the care of friends who reached out across time and distance, the steadfast support of relatives both near and far, and the kindness of medical teams who gave their very best—countless hearts carried him through the darkest hours.

Though his arm may never fully heal, the presence, love, and kindness surrounding him had strengthened his spirit in ways no medicine could. His story is a testament to enduring love, unshaken hope, and the quiet but powerful truth that, even in life’s hardest trials, He Was Never Truly Alone....!