The name “Mizo” is a modern nomenclature. In our language, it simply means “highlander”—those who dwell in the high lands. Under this collective identity, we encompass various groups: the Lushei, Kuki, Hmar, Paito, Riang, Pawai, Chakma, and Lakher.
We possess no ancient texts to document our origins. However, oral traditions passed down through generations suggest that the oldest inhabitants of this region were the Lushei, Chin, and Kachin groups. They likely migrated from the distant Chinese border, pushing through the deep jungles of Burma to settle here. Over time, their descendants splintered into different clans, each led by an influential chief known as a Lal.
As populations grew, so did the friction between these groups. Warfare became a duel between Lals. Two chiefs would stand at the border of their punjees, fighting with conventional weapons until one fell. The followers of the defeated Lal were then absorbed by the victor. To seal his glory, the victorious Lal would claim the skull of his rival. In those days, a man’s influence was measured by the number of skulls he could display in his home.
Driven by population pressure, these tribes could not remain confined to the deep forests forever. They expanded from the inaccessible hills toward the plains, their punjees spreading into the jungles bordering Manipur, Cachar, and Tripura.
As British imperialism spread across India like the midday sun, the fierce independence of these hill tribes became a source of constant unrest for the colonial administration. The history of the British attempts to subdue them reveals much about Mizo bravery.
In June 1844, a group of thirty Kukis from the Thadoi and Kaiyung bastis in Manipur, led by their chief, navigated the terrifying terrain of the Burmese forests to launch a reckless raid. They attacked a Kuki punjee in the Banraj pargana of Cachar, massacring the inhabitants and taking eight heads.
This cross-border raid alarmed the British authorities. The Superintendent, E. R. Lyons, reported the incident to the Commissioner in Dhaka, struggling to explain the cultural logic of the violence.
"These so-called 'Kookies' are a Naga hill tribe from this region. For them, murder is not a crime but a source of great delight. According to their customs, a chief cannot be buried without a certain number of human skulls placed in the grave, and a man's importance is measured by the number of skulls decorating his house."
Thanks to Lyons’ prompt action, one raider was captured. He confessed that he had joined the party at his Rajah’s behest for the express purpose of collecting heads. Lyons forwarded the case for trial, noting its unusual nature, and urged the Political Agent of Manipur to persuade the local King to prevent such incursions. But geographical boundaries drawn by the British meant nothing to the tribes. They followed their own rules, ignoring the lines on colonial maps.
Five years later, on November 6, 1849, the violence escalated. The Lalingbong Raja—Laling Bung—led two hundred followers armed with guns, spears, and daos on a raid eight days’ journey north of their home. They attacked the Shiah Pao punjee in Cachar district. It was a slaughter: fifteen men and fourteen women were killed, and forty-two were taken prisoner. True to their custom, Laling Bung’s men took the heads of all but one of the dead before burning the village to the ground.
On his return journey, Laling Bung attacked the Lalung Kuki and Agmas punjees. Forewarned by the smoke and rumors of the massacre, the inhabitants had already fled to the plains. Finding the villages empty, Laling Bung burned them and marched home, his victory unopposed.
The Superintendent of Cachar, Mr. G. Verner, received news of the massacre from a young boy. Hesitant to act on a single report, he sent a police jamadar and later a scout (barkandaz) to investigate. The scout returned reporting burning villages and the sound of gunfire.
When Verner finally investigated, he was met by a procession of refugees—mostly old men, women, and children—from the destroyed villages. Verner offered to station sepoy guards in their punjees, but the villagers refused. They knew the ways of the highlanders better than the British did.
"They objected, saying that the Luchayee had left; that they never remained more than a day, and that their custom was to take the heads of those they killed and walk off."
Despite their objections, Verner sent a small guard of twelve sepoys. But the peace was fragile. Rumors soon swirled that the “Luchayee Kookies” were returning to claim the unharvested jhum crops. Worried, Verner wrote to the Sessions Judge of Sylhet, H. Stainforth, requesting troops from the Sylhet Light Infantry to protect the border.
Judge Stainforth ordered a thorough inquiry. The British Empire could not tolerate wild tribes ignoring its authority.
Energized by the order, Verner decided to gather intelligence himself. He trekked to the ruined Shiah Pao punjee, a journey that opened his eyes to the logistical nightmare of hill warfare.
"I found great difficulties in getting there... the road became so bad that we were obliged to go the greater part of the way along a single stick raised two or three feet from the ground on account of the marshes. It was very fatiguing... I never passed over so wretched a path in my life."
Verner learned that the Luchais were a massive, warlike tribe living south of Cachar, independent of the Tripura Rajah, and constantly migrating westward. He realized that stopping their raids would be nearly impossible.
"With reference to the practicality of sending troops against the Luchayee... I am of the opinion that it would be attended with great difficulty. There is no road, and the path runs through nothing but jungle, over swamps and uninhabited hills."
Despite the difficulties, the order came to use force. In January 1850, Lieutenant Colonel Lister led a detachment into the hills. He burned one or two villages but was quickly forced to retreat. He had underestimated the enemy.
"He found his force too small... the Luchayee being a much more powerful tribe than he had any idea of, and the difficulties increasing every step as he advanced."
Lister realized his attack had not cowed the Luchais but emboldened them. Fearing vengeance, he left four companies of troops in Cachar to guard the border.
For the next two decades, the British stood on the defensive while the Luchais continued their raids. The breaking point came in January 1871. Benkhunia, a powerful young Lal of the Sailo clan, launched a series of attacks on tea gardens in Cachar. At the Alexandrapur tea garden, he killed the British doctor, James Winchester, and kidnapped his young daughter, Mary.
The British Empire, humiliated and harassed, finally mobilized a massive response. General Boucher advanced from Cachar, while General Brownlow moved in from Chittagong. Penetrating the deep forests, they brought several Sailo chiefs to heel. Through the mediation of a friendly chief, Lal Bothang Puiya, they secured the release of Mary Winchester.
Yet, even this campaign did not establish total control. Resistance continued. When the Chin chief Haosata killed Lt. John Stewart of the Gorkha Regiment, the British launched another punitive expedition under Captain Shakespeare, pushing further south of the Kolodyne River.
In 1890, Herbert R. Browne, the son of the nobleman Lord Ulick Browne, arrived in India. A proud son of the Empire, he believed that if Clive could conquer India, he could certainly tame a few hill tribes. He was appointed Political Officer of the Lushai Hills.
But the reality of the hills cared little for British lineage or hubris. Browne’s confidence shattered like a house of cards when he was ambushed near Chengsil in September 1890. Overwhelmed by the surprise attack, he was mortally wounded and died the same day.
His body was brought to Silchar with full military honors and buried in the graveyard on Mission Road. His tombstone reads:
In loving memory of Capt. Herbert R. Browne... Mortally wounded by Lushais on September 9, 1890... passed away the same day at the age of 31 years.
Nearby lie the graves of Dr. James Winchester and Peter Blyth, another victim of the raids.
Erected by public subscription, this monument commemorates Peter Blyth, who died on January 27, 1880, during a raid by Amgaini Nagas on Baladon Tea Garden.
When these stones were laid, the mourners likely believed they were building eternal monuments to British valor. They thought their empire would last forever. But history is cruel. The British eventually retreated, their sun setting on the subcontinent. Today, the glory written on those mossy stones in Silchar fades into the abyss of time, unvisited by the descendants of those who once ruled.
Following Browne’s death, the British launched a third, decisive campaign in 1891. Violence flared once more when the new Political Officer, Mr. Murrey, was killed by the Pawai chief Zakhapa at Lunglei. But the might of the Raj finally closed its grip. With that final campaign, the British established their total authority over the Mizo hills, ending the era of the independent Lals.