(From top) Listen to the falling rain: A misty and rainy Cherrapunjee; an ecopark in the area, and Anthony Nongrum of the Cherrapunjee met office with a rain gauge. Pics: Hemchhaya De

Larsing can’t remember when he last uttered “‘Lapsohra!” In the Khasi dialect, the word means ‘it’s pouring.’ “When I was a young boy, it would rain for 7 to 10 days at a stretch during the monsoon. But such long spells of rain have become a thing of the past,” says the 50-something Larsing who lives in Lumwahkrem, a village located in perhaps the remotest corner of Sohra — popularly known as Cherrapunjee.

The country may be reeling under a deficient monsoon this year, but for the last few years Cherrapunjee, the famous, and almost fabled, “wettest place on earth,” has been grappling with a monsoon that’s becoming progressively less bountiful.

Hoardings that scream “Welcome to the wettest place on earth” will greet you once you start going up the hairpin bends through the picturesque Mawkdok valley to reach Cherrapunjee proper. But the place seems to have lost that honorific to Mawsynram, a speck of a village in the Khasi Hills, about 56 km from state capital Shillong. Others say that it’s Hawaii’s Mount Waialeale that ought to be crowned as the most rained upon place on earth.

Over the last 10 years, Cherrapunjee has been getting an average rainfall of around 11,070 mm. While that is still a lot of rain, locals say that there has been a steady decline in the rains over the last few years. Mawsynram reportedly receives 11,872 mm rainfall a year and Mount Waialeale in Hawaii gets an average of 11,400-11,600 mm annual rainfall — making both serious contenders to the epithet of the “rainiest place.”

People in Cherrapunjee fondly remember the time when the rain was unrelenting. “We didn’t see sunshine for weeks. For days on end it continued to rain heavily,” says P.P. Dohling, a retired missionary school teacher. “We used to stay indoors. There was no work, no play. But there were no floods. Even after a deluge, the water would rush down the slopes,” says the diminutive man who now tells his grandchildren stories about how life used to be in those rainy days. “Today’s young are missing out on an important part of Cherrapunjee life — our rains.”

“Umbrellas were of no use when it poured,” reminisces Ribe, another resident of the area. “And the sound of the rain! Sometimes we felt as if the roof would collapse. These days we mostly get a nagging drizzle.”

The British had written about the spectacular rains in Cherrapunjee when the place used to be one of their remote outposts. In his Notes on the Kasia Hills and People, published in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal in 1844, Lieutenant Henry Yule wrote, “In a still afternoon, whilst black clouds were sailing up, and for several minutes before the storm reached us, I have heard, as the prophet did on Carmel, ‘the sound of abundance of rain,’ a peculiar rustling sound from the rain quarter…somewhat like the flight of many birds.”

But this year people are still waiting to hear that sound. “Rains would normally have started from April. It’s June and we should have been experiencing heavy downpours by now,” says Anthony Nongrum, one of the two officials manning the spartan meteorological office in Cherrapunjee.

According to the met office, the 30-year average (from 1973 to 2002) rainfall in Cherrapunjee stands at 12,063.3 mm. But in the last 10 years the average fell to 11,070 mm of rain. And rainfall hit all-time lows in 2005 and 2006, with 9758 mm and 8727.7 mm of rain, respectively.

Locals say that the decline in the rainfall over the past few years has had an adverse effect on agriculture. “The water crisis makes it difficult for us to sow seeds on time and reap a good harvest,” explains Larsing. The produce from his fields has been dwindling for the past five years, owing mainly to almost “drought-like conditions.”

“I am earning less these days,” says Larsing. “If this continues, I won’t be able to afford an education for my children,” he says.

Farmers in the neighbouring Nongwar village echo Larsing’s apprehensions. “Over the past three years or so, my income has gone down by about 50 per cent,” says Robert, who grows betel leaf and betel nuts.

Tom of Laitkynsew village foresees more poverty in the area, thanks to the decline in rains. “A lot of people are abandoning their lands and migrating to Shillong and other places to look for work,” he says.

Most people blame the government for not taking steps to tackle the shortage of water. “There should be a community tank to store rain water in every village,” demands Larsing.

The state agricultural department would beg to differ. “We help farmers in Sohra as much as possible. We advise them when to plant what crops and how they can opt for new methods of planting,” says Anne Boleyn Lyngdoh, sub-divisional agricultural officer (Sohra), government of Meghalaya.

Lyngdoh admits that the area’s agricultural output has been declining over the past few years. The main reason is the erosion of the top soil and the scarcity of water caused by less rainfall in Cherrapunjee, she says.

Experts say that lower rainfall in Cherrapunjee is largely due to deforestation. Apparently, locals fell trees with impunity to supply firewood to the neighbouring limestone kilns or quarries. “No wonder we are getting less rainfall these days. Locals are damaging the environment,” says J.D. Suchiang, acting sub divisional officer, Sohra. Adds environmental activist Dennis Rayen, owner of Cherrapunjee Holiday Resort, “We offer the locals all kinds of incentives to stop them from destroying forests.”

Though most agree that rainfall has been on the wane, climatologists say that scientific evidence does not quite corroborate that fact. “People in both Cherrapunjee and Mawsynram rely on traditional knowledge to gauge rainfall. They do not have the right gadgets to measure rainfall,” says Hiambok Jones Syiemlieh, professor of geography, North Eastern Hill University, Shillong.

Others feel that the scarcity of water in Cherrapunjee is not because of a decline in rainfall at all. “The reason for the water crisis is more because of tourist pressure and increased water consumption by the local population,” says Calcutta-based meteorologist Swadesh Mishra.

However, even if Mawsynram or Waialeale in Hawaii is receiving more rainfall than Cherrapunjee now, scientists balk at declaring either to be the “wettest place.” Says Syiemlieh, “Though our short term records show that Mawsynram has received more rainfall in the past few years, more time is needed to ascertain this.” Adds Mishra, “Cherrapunjee has proper documentation, not Mawsynram. Even Waialeale in Hawaii cannot possibly have a 100-year documentation as does Cherrapunjee.”

So officially, at least, Cherrapunjee is hanging on to its status as the wettest place in the world. And keen to keep it that way, the government is trying to create a buzz around the place. Early this year, it organised a Rain Rock Festival to create environmental awareness. Efforts are on to boost tourism and build a rain museum. The government is also trying to get Cherrapunjee named a UN World Heritage Site.

Now if only the rain gods would come calling like they used to!