This morning, I had an interesting discussion with one of my old school batchmates, Auro, about ancient tribal megalithic burial sites in India and around the world. Like many conversations between old friends, it began with a simple observation but soon wandered into the realms of archaeology, anthropology, religion, and the origins of civilisation itself.
The discussion actually began when I shared with Auro a small video about the Chokahatu Megalithic Site, located in the Bundu–Sonahatu region, about 70–80 kilometres southeast of Ranchi in Jharkhand.
Often described as the “Land of Mourning” in the Munda dialect, Chokahatu is one of the largest megalithic complexes in the Indian subcontinent, with more than 8,000 ancient stones scattered across the landscape. These include dolmens, menhirs, and burial slabs—silent reminders of a prehistoric tradition where communities honoured their ancestors and maintained a spiritual connection with the land.
The subject was those enigmatic standing stones, dolmens, menhirs, stone circles, and cairns that are found across India—from the Khasi and Naga Hills in the northeast to the Nilgiris of Tamil Nadu, the forests of Bastar, the Deccan Plateau, Vidarbha, and even the tribal regions of Odisha and Jharkhand. Similar monuments appear in Europe, Africa, Korea, and many other parts of the world.
For centuries, people assumed that these were merely ancient graveyards. And indeed, many of them are. Archaeological excavations have uncovered human remains, pottery, iron implements, ornaments, and objects believed to have accompanied the dead into another world.
But were they only burial sites? That question has intrigued archaeologists for decades.
As our discussion progressed, we realised that these places may have been far more than cemeteries. They were probably the sacred centres of prehistoric communities—places where people gathered periodically to honour their ancestors, perform rituals, settle disputes, exchange goods, choose partners, and reinforce the bonds that held their societies together.
Long before organised religions emerged, humanity lived with a very different understanding of the universe.
Their faith was animism.
To them, every mountain had a spirit. Every river possessed a soul. Trees were living beings. Animals were fellow inhabitants of a shared sacred world. Thunder was not merely a natural phenomenon; it carried the voice of unseen powers. Death itself was not an ending but a transition into another realm where ancestors continued to influence the living.
The burial ground therefore became much more than a place of mourning. It became a bridge between generations—a sacred landscape where the living and the dead remained connected.
As I reflected on this, my thoughts travelled nearly 8,000 kilometres westward to one of the most astonishing archaeological discoveries ever made—Göbekli Tepe in southeastern Türkiye.
Discovered in the 1990s, Göbekli Tepe dates back to around 9600 BCE, making it over 11,500 years old. It predates Stonehenge by nearly 6,000 years and the Egyptian pyramids by more than 7,000 years.
More astonishing still, it was built not by farmers but by hunter-gatherers. This single discovery overturned one of archaeology’s longest-held assumptions. For generations, historians believed that agriculture came first. Farming produced surplus food, which enabled permanent settlements, leading eventually to organised religion and monumental architecture.
Göbekli Tepe suggests exactly the opposite.
Groups of hunter-gatherers appear to have gathered there for religious ceremonies and communal rituals long before they cultivated crops. Feeding these large congregations may have encouraged systematic farming in the surrounding region.
It raises a fascinating possibility. Perhaps religion did not emerge because civilisation developed. Perhaps civilisation developed because people wanted places where they could worship together.
If that idea is true, then sacred spaces may have been among humanity’s earliest social institutions.
Viewed through this lens, India’s tribal megalithic monuments acquire an entirely new significance. Could these monoliths also have served as seasonal assembly grounds? Were they places where scattered clans reunited every year? Did elders settle disputes beneath those towering stones? Were marriages negotiated there? Were songs, myths, dances, and oral traditions passed from one generation to another in these sacred precincts?
Perhaps those silent stones witnessed not only funerals but festivals. Perhaps they preserved not only memories of the dead but also the identity of the living.
Modern society often separates religion, governance, economics, and culture into different institutions. Prehistoric communities probably did not. The sacred ground may have been the village council, the marketplace, the courtroom, the university, and the temple—all rolled into one.
The more we learn about our ancestors, the more we realise how little we truly know.
Those weathered stones scattered across the Indian landscape are not merely archaeological curiosities. They are pages from humanity’s earliest history, written not in ink but in granite.
Unfortunately, we often drive past them without a second glance, seeing only piles of rocks where our ancestors may have seen the very centre of their universe.
By the time my conversation with Auro ended, I realised we had begun by talking about graves but had ended by discussing the birth of civilisation itself.
Sometimes an ordinary morning conversation opens a window into an extraordinary past. And sometimes the oldest stones still have the newest stories to tell.
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Nice article…quite thought provoking. Civilisation began in neolithic age transitioning from nomadic hunting to agriculture and then settled into farming. They needed a place to meet after hunting and that place became the common ground for carrying out different activities. As you said, the place preserved not only memories of the dead but also the identity of the living.
Thank you for your insight. I agree that moving from nomadic to settled life was a deep social and cultural change, not just economic. Those shared spaces became the heart of the community, where people forged relationships, preserved traditions, and built a collective identity. In many ways, they remind us that places are more than physical locations; they are repositories of memory, belonging, and the continuity of civilization.
What a thoughtful reflection to begin the day. You skillfully connect the quiet stones of Jharkhand with the significant discoveries at Göbekli Tepe, showing that these megaliths were more than memorials—they were lively centres of early human life. Your idea that civilisation arose from the urge to gather and worship, rather than the reverse, offers a fresh perspective on history. This piece reminds us that even after millennia, we remain connected by the same basic need for community and meaning. Thank you for sharing this window into the “Land of Mourning” and beyond. It is a beautiful reminder that when we stop to look, the stones are indeed still speaking.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful words. The silent stones of Jharkhand, like those of Göbekli Tepe, carry memories of humanity’s earliest search for connection, meaning, and belonging. Perhaps the greatest lesson they offer is that civilisation was not only built with tools and structures, but also with shared stories, rituals, and a sense of community. I am glad the stones could speak through this reflection.
Early in the morning reading this post makes an interesting start to the day. Yes, you are right in saying that agriculture is not the reason for the permanent settlement of ancient hunter gatherers. In the book Sapiens it is said that it was the other way round.
The similar ancient burial sites found in Turkiye and Jharkhand show how rituals, social norms and spiritual understanding were all connected.
It would be really helpful to know how in different geographical regions our primitive ancestors thought and acted in surprisingly similar fashion.
Thank you for your thoughtful insight. I completely agree—it’s fascinating how communities separated by vast distances developed such strikingly similar beliefs and practices. Living in different landscapes, they still faced the same core struggles for survival and confronted the same universal mysteries of life, death, and the unknown. Because nature presented them with similar challenges, human curiosity and the shared quest to answer life’s fundamental questions naturally led to comparable rituals, social structures, and spiritual ideas.
Very clearly explained. Thanks
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At the expense of prolonging the discussion, hunter gatherers also travelled long distances in search of prey. Travel implies intermingling and transference of thoughts, feelings and beliefs. But that takes us to the larger issue of language and communication. How did they communicate? Was language fully developed by then ? Even if so the inhabitants of different regions must be having different languages… then how did they interact ?
You raise a very interesting point. Hunter-gatherers were indeed far more mobile than we often imagine, and archaeological evidence shows that materials such as obsidian, shells, ochre, and even ideas travelled hundreds of kilometres through networks of exchange. These networks did not necessarily require people to undertake the entire journey themselves; goods and knowledge could pass from one group to another over generations. Most scholars believe that fully developed spoken language already existed during the hunter-gatherer era, though different groups would have spoken different languages or dialects. But a common language isn’t essential for interaction. Trade, intermarriage, seasonal gatherings, migration, and shared rituals would have encouraged many people to become bilingual or multilingual. Even where no common language existed, gestures, demonstrations, and a few shared words would have been enough to exchange goods and basic ideas. Human curiosity and adaptability have always bridged language barriers.
Lovely post! It’s amazing how distant communities ended up with such similar practices. Facing the same basic struggles for survival and asking the same deep questions about life and death naturally led people everywhere to develop similar rituals, social norms, and spiritual beliefs.
Thank you! I think that’s exactly what makes it so fascinating. Although these communities were separated by vast distances, they lived under similar natural conditions, faced many of the same challenges, and looked to nature for answers. Their observations, combined with the universal mysteries of life, death, and existence, seem to have guided them toward remarkably similar rituals, social norms, and spiritual beliefs.
I am intrigued by animism. I’ve put a lot of time and thought into it for my prehistoric books.
Thank you! I find animism fascinating as well. The more I explore prehistory, the more it seems that animistic beliefs may have shaped how our ancestors understood nature, animals, and even themselves. It’s a rich subject with so much still to discover.
https://turkiyenov25.wordpress.com/gobekli-tepe/