Folk-Lore, Traditions and Superstitions |
  On this section of the subject there is no need to dwell at any length; indeed, materials for the purpose are to a great extent wanting. Of traditions, properly so called, whether historical or otherwise, the KachÁris of this district would seem to be almost absolutely destitute. Nor can they be regarded as a superstitious race, for it is only when suffering from a serious outbreak of cholera, KÁlÁ-azÁr, or other like public calamity, that they make frequent, and sometimes costly, offerings to their deities as shown in some detail in the preceding section. As a rule the people are of a bright, cheerful disposition; and as a planter friend once remarked to the writer, of all the various races employed on his extensive tea estates the KachÁris were the only people who might be frequently heard whistling merrily as they went to and from their daily toil. Moreover, the subject of KachÁri folk-lore has already been effectively dealt with by a writer fully competent to do it ample justice; and perhaps the objects aimed at in this section will be best attained by re-issuing three or four of the more characteristic and typical of the interesting series of KachÁri folk-tales collected by this writer, some fifteen years since, from an intelligent member of the KachÁri race still (1906) resident in this district (Darrang).1
I In Section IV some reasons have been given for the view that the KachÁri race has a special respect, if not reverence, for the element of water, especially perhaps for flowing water, rivers, &c. And the latter part of the following folk-tale furnishes some sort of explanation of this presumed respect and reverence. DÙima dÙisÁ ni khorÁng. | How the rivers were made. | | SÁnÙi brai burui man. PhÁre unau bisur gothai brai-burui zÁlangbÁ, buruiÁ zingÁsÍnÁnai brainu khithÁnaise, “Brai, zangfurhÁ zi danai fisÁfur dang, bÍsÙr mÁ zÁnÁnai thÁnggan?” Erui bungbÁ braiÁ mai hu khÀmnu lÁgi KhuberniÁu thÁngnÁnai, mai sobai bisor Áru lai-megong, lÁfÁ megong, bifÙr mÁni-ni bÍgot-zului bÍnÁnai nÅ-i-au lÁbonÁnai sÀnsni sÀnzÀt lÁmÁibau hor thÁnÁnai, nÅ man-fai-nÁnai buruinu khithÁnaise: “Áng gÁsenu bigot-zului lÁbobai.” PhÁre nÅ-i-au sÀnne-su thÁnÁnai, khet khÀmnu lÁgi sorai fithÁ-gÚndui lÁnÁnai hÁ nainu lÁgi thÁng-naise. PhÁre gahÀm hÁ datse nai-ui frÁbui fÁtbrui-thing-bu zurÁ khÁnÁnai dinnÁnai nÅ fainaise. Unau sÀnse-ni-khÁli khodÁl sekhÁ bifur mÁni lÁnÁnai thÁngnÁnai hÁgrÁ eonÁnai Áru bi hÁgrÁfurkho saunÁnai hÁkho mazÁng khÁmnaise. Binifrai, sÀnzÁ sÀnÀp Áru sÀ khlÁ fÀtbruithing khulumnÁnai khonÁ bruithing phongse phongse zÁunaise. | Once upon a time there lived a man and an old woman. And when they were quite old, the old woman said to her husband, “How shall these our children get food when we are gone?” So the old man travelled afar to the great god Kuvera,4 the god of riches, and taking from him seedlings of paddy, pulse, mustard, and gourds, journeyed for eight days and so reached his home. And after staying a couple of days he set forth to cultivate, taking dry food with him. And first he marked out a piece of rich land by placing boundaries on all four sides of it, and so came home. And again he set out another day with hoe and axe, and cut and burned the jungle, and cleaned the soil, and after worshipping on each side of his field—on the east and on the west, on the north and on the south—he struck one blow with his hoe on each side. | | Biaunu hÁ gÁsenu mannaise. PhÁre baidi baidi mai Áru fifÁng megong thaigong boikhobu funÁnai hunaise. PhÁre hÁbÁ zapbÁ braia nÅi-au thÁngnÁnai zirai-nÁnai thÁnaise. ObÁsu Ázibu dang khalibu dang sÀnse buruiÁ mai nainu lÁgi braikho lugu homnaise. Khintu braiÁ bungnaise “LamÁiau dui guiÁ. Nangha dui gÁngbÁ Áng maunifrai hunu?” Theobu bi brai-ni khorang khnÁsongÁlÁbÁ embrÁbrÁ braikho homnaikhai lÁngnÁng-naise. PhÁre thÁngui thÁngui maini hÁ man-si man-si zÁbÁ, burui-hÁ dui gÁngnÁnai brainu khithÁbaÍ, braiÁ bungnaise, “Áng nangnu duhui-nu khithÁdangman, nongga? Theobu Ángni khorÁng khnÁ-i-ÁlÁbÁ fainanai Ángkho dukhu hÙiÙ.” EreÙi bungbÁ, buruiÁ bungnaise, “Dini Áng dÙi manlÁngÁbÁ thoi-si-gan. Nang Áng-nu dui hunu-nÁnggo.” PhÁre unau braiÁ mungbu upai mane zÁnÁnai, dÙi namai-nÁngnaise. NamaiÈ namaiÈ fukurimanse nubÁ bi buruini megonkho hÍ zang khÁnÁnai be fukuri-hÁlÁgi lÁngnaise. Aru braiÁ bungnaise “Nang be fukuri kho naiÁlÁbÁ dÙi lÁng.” Khintu dÙi lÁngbÁ-rÙ mÁbÁ mÁbÁ dÙi ni dau Áru hÁngsufrÁ birlai-bÁ, bikho khnÁnÁnai, bikho nainu lubuinÁnai nai-naise. Beaunu daufurni gelÉnai Áru rong zlainai nunÁnai bihÁbu brai zang rong zlainu mon zÁnaise. ObÁsu braiÁ khÀmÁ, buruiÁ ÁgÁrÁ. PhÁre braiÁ, buruini khorÁng lÁnu gnÁng zÁnaise. ObÁsu bisurhÁ Áji-bu-thaiu khÁli-bu-thaiu gÅthÅ gÁthai zÁnaise. ZÁbÁ, bisurkho fisÍnu hÁekhai braiÁ bisurkho buruini khorÁng-zang Hem-ni hÁzo-au lÁngnÁnai beaunu fukuri manse khamnÁnai baidi baidi nÁ khÀmnÁnai dÙiau hogÀrnÁnai dinbunaise. | And when all was ready, the old man planted his seedlings of various sorts, and finally went home and rested. And so, as time went by, the old woman desired vehemently to see how the crops were getting on. But the old man said, “There is no water on the road, and if you grow athirst you will get no relief.” But she persisted and prevailed, and made her husband take her along. And as they went and were now quite close to her husband’s field, behold, the old woman began to be very thirsty. And the old man, being enraged, cried “What did I tell you? There is no water and yet you would come.” But she, being a woman, said “If you do not give me to drink I shall die. So water you must procure as best you can.” So the old man, seeing no other way, went to seek for water. And after long search, seeing a tank, he bound the old woman’s eyes with a cloth and dragged her to the water’s edge and said to her, “Drink if you will, but look not upon the tank.” Now the ducks and other water-fowl were playing in the water, and were making a merry noise, clacking and quacking. And, the old woman being curious, like all her sex, peeped at them. And, seeing them at their play, she too desired to be happy in her husband’s society, and, though he was very loth, prevailed with him. And so in due course there were born to them many sons and daughters. And then, in order to provide for their food, he journeyed to the HimÁlayas and digged a great tank, stocked with many kinds of fishes. | | PhÁre unau Sri braiÁ suimÁ fudrun mÁse lÁnÁnai mÙi sessÁ Áru khusung nÁmaibaie nÁmaibaie dÙi gÁngsu dangman. Ereaunu Sri braiÁ be fukuriau thÁng-fnÁng-naise. BeaunÙ dÙi nunÁnai lÁngnu namaibÁ, nÁfrÁ bikho raidaunaise, “ÁfÁ, nang beni dÙi langbÁ, zangfurkho gahÀm khamnÁnggan.” Beaunu bi sumai lÁnÁnai, dÙikho lÁngbÁ, nÁfrÁ bungnaise, “DÁ nang zangfurkhu Loitho hÁlÁgi lÁng.” Beaunu Sri braiÁ gaigainu lauthi zang dru-dru bu-bu-bÁ khithu khithu dÙi bÙ-hÙi bÙnai, aru nÁfrÁ bu fainaise. Bibaidinu dÙisÁ zÁnaise. ObÁsu unau nÁfra Sri brai-nu lÁo thaise Áru khumrÁ thaise hotnaise. PhÁre bikhonu lÁbonÁnai sÁse khurmÁ-ni nÅ-i-au hÁpfaibÁ binu zo mikhÀm Áru omÁ mÁse buthÁtnÁnai hÙnaise. PhÁre okhÁ naibÁ Sri braiÁ be khumrÁ-kho bini khurmÁnu hunaise. HubÁ bi khumrÁkho dÀnkhaubÁ thÁkÁ gazÁ, mannÁnai Áru bÁti-se khÀm zÁhÙnÙ lÁgi omÁ buthÁtnaise. Áru omÁ bikhau2 man-se dinnaise. ZÁkhÁng-Ùi-frÁbui fainu nÁmÁibÁ omÁ bikhaukho Sri brainu hÙnaise. HÙbÁ Áru braiÁ laukhobu khurmÁnu hÙnaise. Bi lau-au darbi gazÀ dangman. Khintu be khorÁngkho braiÁ mithiÁ. Áru bini khurmaiÁ-bu bi-nu khithÁ-i-a-khÙise. Unau braiÁ nÅi-au fainaise. Áru bihÁ nÅ-i-au bini fisÁzu-kho zÁbrÁ zÁnanai thÁnai nunaise. Bi lÁo aru khumrÁ-kho khurmÁ-kho hÙlÁng-naikhai bibaidi zabrÁ zÁnai Áru bini khurmaiÁ-bu be lao Áru khumrÁ-kho lÁkhman-aikhai zabrÁ gabrÀp zÁnÁnai thÁnÁise. ObÁsu bini unau nÁfrÁ ozÁ zÁ-thÍ-nÁnai bisur-ni nÅ-i-au thÁngnÁnai gadÁn nai-hÙi-nÁnai3 khithÁnaise “Nang-sur zusÁ mairong Áru goe zorÁse Áru dau mÀse lÁnÁnai duisÁ-i-au hÙnÁnai khulumbÁ, nang-sur-hÁ zabrÁ zÁgan. Besur bibaidi-nu khÁmnÁnai zabrÁ zanaise. Binikhai dÁ BÅrÅfrÁ duisÁ duimÁ-furkho khulumu. Zapbai. | Now, one day the god Sri, the god of good luck, came that way with his white dog, a-hunting for deer and hares and tortoises. And when he came to the margin of the tank, behold he was very thirsty. But when he stooped to drink, the fishes said to him eagerly that he must grant them a boon in return for their water. To which he assented; and when he had satisfied his thirst, the fishes said, “Take us to the great river, the Brahmaputra (or Lohit).” So the god Sri tied them to his staff, and drew them after him, making runnels of water. And that is how the rivers were made. And the fishes in return gave him a pumpkin and a gourd. And, taking these with him to a friend’s house, his friend regaled him with rice-beer and pig’s flesh; and in the morning he gave his friend the pumpkin. But when his friend cut open the pumpkin, it contained nothing but pure silver. So he bade the god Sri stay another day, and brewed fresh beer and killed another pig, and when he was going away gave him a flitch of bacon to take with him. So the god Sri gave him also the gourd. But when he cut open the gourd, it contained nothing but pure gold. And so the god Sri journeyed to his home. And when he got there, he found that his little daughter was very ill. And that was because he had given away the presents which the fishes had made him. But the fishes took pity on him, and came to him in the guise of physicians, and told him that if he would worship and do sacrifice on the banks of rivers, then his daughter would be healed; which he did. And that is why we KachÁris worship rivers. And that is all. | II The moral of the following story is a thoroughly sound one. It is obviously a kind of sermon on such familiar texts as “Procrastination is the thief of time,” “Never put off to to-morrow what you should do to-day,” &c. Its teaching is clearly the same as that which finds expression in the well-known words: “There is a tide in the affairs of men Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune: Omitted, all the voyage of their lives Is bound in shallows and in miseries.” SÁsÈ olsiÁ gÅthÅ ni khorÁng. | The Story of the Lazy Boy. | | SÁsÈ olsiÁ gÅthÅ dangman. Bi mÁlai hÁli oinÁnai mai gai zap-bÁ, obÁsu bi mÁmmÁr dubliau hÁli oi-hÙi-dang. PhÁre Buthur5 braiÁ olsiÁ gÅthÅ-kho hÁli oinai nunÁnai bi thÁngnu haekhai, bungnaise, “HelÙi gÅthÅ, nanglai dÁ mÁ hÁli oidang-Ùi, buthurÁ mobÁbÁ-nu thÁngbai. DÁ mai gaibÁ mÁ zÁ-bau-nu?” Theobu bi bikho nai-finÁ, mosokno buÁ dhum dhum dhÀm dhÀm bunÁnai, natzret nat-flet hÁli oibai thÁiÙ. Unau braiÁ khonle khonle sungnaikhai gÅthÅÁ brÀp-nÁnai nai-gedau-nÁnai bung-naise, “Nanglai mÁuni brai lÙi? Áng kho hÁli oinaiau be baidi sungbai thÁiu? Ángha mÁ zÁdang, Áng su mithidang.” Beaunu braiÁ bungnaise “NonggÁ, lui ÁfÁ, Áng nangkho gahÀm khorÁng-sÙ khithÁnu nÁmaidang.” Beanu gÅthÅÁ bungnaise “MÁ khorÁng dang? MÁmÁr kithÁ. Ángha hÁli oinu sÀn zolÁngbai.” ObÁsu braiÁ bungnaise “DÁ hÁli oinÁnai mÁ zÁnu? Buthur thÁngbai,” hanbÁ, gÅthÅÁ bungnaise “Bi bobething thÁngkhu? Mau thangkhu, nang Ángnu kithÁnÁnai hu. Áng mai gainu manÁbÁ, ma zÁnÁnai thÁng-gan?” ObÁsu braiÁ bungnaise “Nang aglÁnÙ mÁlai zang luguse hÁli oinÁnai mai gaibÁ hÀmgauman, dÁlai buthurkho sÙr nunÙ hÁgo, Áru mÁbrui bikho laifin-nu?” Beaunu gÅthÅÁ bungnaise “Nang khithÍnÁnai hunu hÁbÁ, Áng bikho zeruibÁbu lÁbonu hÁgan.” HanbÁ bikho braiÁ bulu haekhai khithÁnaise “Nang bething thÁngui thÁbÁ khÅrÅ phut-thru-thru brai sÁse thokon thunÁnai dubli gezer gezer thÁngnai nugan. ObÁniÁ nang bikhonu hom. Áru bi zere khÍthÁ-i-u, nang bebaidinu khÀmdui” hannÁnai, buthur braiÁ thÁngnaisei. ObÁsu gÅthÅÁ hÁli hogÀrnÁnai nÅiau fainÁnai bima buruikho mÁmÁr khÀm songnu hÙnÁnai, zaÙi lÁngÙi bimÁnÙ kithÁnaise “Ai, nang gÁbun fungzÁni khÀm songnÁnai hÙ, Áru mairong khothÁse bunnÁnai hÙ. Ang buthur braikho husu-lÁng-nÙ nÁnggo. ManÁ-thu dini Áng hÁli oinaiau brai sÁse fainÁnai mai gainaini ButhurÁ thÁng-bai hannÁnai kithÁnÁi, Áru bikho hÙsÙ-lÁngbÁ mangan, Áru bi zere khÁmnu thinu, bebaidi-nu khÀm, hannÁnai kithalÁngnai.” ObÁsu buriÁ okhÁ naibÁ khÀm songnÁnai gÅthÅkho zÁ-hÙ-Ùi lÀng-hÙ-ui mairong khotÁse bunnanai hunÁnai gÅthÅ-kho hogÁrnaise. GÅthÅÁ thÁngui thÁngui zaikhonu lugÙ manÙ, bikhonÙ sungÙ, bisur bungÙ: “Buthur thÁngbai hannanai mithigo. Bi mÁbrÙi Áru bobething thÁngkhu, bikho zangfur khithÁnu haiÁ.” Beaunu gÅthÅÁ gadau-srau zÁnÁnai bobething thÁn-gan hannÁnai zerenu manu erenu dubli gezer gezer thÁbai-baibÁ gazÀnau brai sÁse nu-hotnaise. NuhotbÁ binu buthur zÁnÙ nÁnggo nungnÁnai, bikho bungnaise “ÁfÁ rÅthÅ; dase rÅthÅ. Áng nang-ni-au manse khorÁng sungnu nÁmaidang.” Theobu braiÁ khnÁsonglÁbÁ thÁngui thÁiÙ. GÅthÅÁ-bu khithu khithu thÁngui thÁngui khithÁlangu. Gabauzang braiÁ nai fafinnanai bungnaise “MÁ hekhong hekhong sÙr gÅthÅlÙi mauni lÙi nanglai?” hannÁnai sungbÁ gÅthÅÁ bungnaise “ÁfÁ brai, dÁ braplÙi. Áng manse dukhuau gaglainÁ-nai, nangni khÁthiau faidang,” hanbÁ braiÁ “MÁmÁr khithÁ; mÁmÁr khithÁ; Áng thÁngnu nÁnggo, ÁnghÁ nÅÁ gazÀn, hor-tho-hÙi-gan;” hannaise. ObÁsu gÅthÅÁ khithÁnaise, “ÁfÁ, Áng nangkho buthur brai baidi nuÏÙ. Binikhai nang Ángkho dÁ buthÀt. MÁlaiÁ boibu mai gaithrÅ-bai; Áng un zÁnÁnai dase-bÙ gainu hÁ-e-khuise. Binikhai nang dase thÁng-fÁfin-bÁ Ángha mai zÁgan” bungnaikhai, braiÁ binu khithÁ-naise, “Áng dÁ faibai, thÁng fÁ-finnu hÁliÁ, nang benifrai mÁmÁr thÁng-nÁnai, zese hÁiu gathÁng-gabrÁm hÁli oinÁnai mai gaihÙithÁng.” ObÁsu gÅthÅÁ fainÁnai zerenu manu erenu khothia6-khini-kho gaibrop-nÁnai dinnaise. Zapbai. | There was once a very lazy boy. And when everybody else had planted out his paddy, he was only setting forth to plough. But the old man of the season, seeing him, said “The season has gone; what are you ploughing for now? The paddy is all planted out, and it is late.” But the boy would not listen to him, and ploughed sturdily ahead, beating his cattle soundly as he went. And when the old man again and again questioned him, he cried “What sort of old man is this? Can he not see that I am busy? I know very well what I am about.” But the old man said gently, “Nay, my son: but it is for your good that I would speak to you.” And the boy said “Speak quickly then, and have done with it.” And the old man said, “My son, the season is gone; what avails it to plough now?” And then the boy cried “Where has it gone? And when has it gone? And why has it gone? And how shall I find it?” But the old man of the season said, “You should have ploughed when others did. The season has gone, and no man can bring it back.” But the boy said, “I must bring it back; else, how shall I eat, and how shall I live? Do tell me where it is gone.” And as he would not let the god go, finally, losing patience, he said “You go over there, and you will find an old man with a snow-white head ploughing in a field. You get hold of him and do as he tells you.” So saying, he made his escape. Then the lad hastened home to his mother and bade her cook supper quickly, and tie him up some rice to take with him on the morrow, for he was going to bring back the departed season for ploughing. “For,” said he, “when I was ploughing to-day, an old man told me that the season was gone, and that if I went after him and pursued him I would find him, and that I must do as he would tell me.” So she rose very early in the morning, and, giving him to eat and drink, sent him on his way. And as he went, he asked all he met “Can you tell me where the old man of the season has gone?” But they said, “Everyone knows that the season is gone, but where it is gone, or why it is gone, who can say?” At last, when he was nearly in despair, he saw an old man ploughing afar off, and shouted to him “Stay a moment, father, stay; I want to ask you a question.” But the old man was busy, and went his way. Then the lad pursued him and never ceased calling after him till at last the old man losing patience, turned upon him, and said, “What pertinacious noisy lad is this, who won’t leave me alone?” But the lad said, “Be not angry, my father; I am fallen into great trouble, and it behoves you to help me.” “Speak quickly, then,” said the old man. And the boy said, “I take you to be the old man of the season, and I pray you not to slay me. All the others have planted out their paddy, and I have fallen behind, and have planted nothing. Therefore, unless you turn back, I cannot hope to get any harvest.” But the old man said, “It is too late for me to return. Go you back, and plant your paddy as best you can.” And so the lad hastened back and planted out his seedlings in such heedless haste as became him. And that’s all. | III By his Hindu neighbours the KachÁri is often looked upon as a Boeotian, a simpleton from whom little in the way of intelligent action is to be expected. And undoubtedly in the matter of mere book-learning he is never likely to take a very high place, nor will he shine brightly in the examination-room as an ordinary competitor. On the other hand, he is often endowed with certain practical qualities which are of great value to him in the battle of life. He usually has no small share of what is well called “the saving sense of humour,” which prevents him from taking himself too seriously, and does not a little to lighten for him the cares and toils of life. Of his possession of this invaluable endowment many illustrations will be found in the collection of KachÁri Folk-tales, &c., referred to above, a volume which the curious in such matters will do well to consult. And in addition to his sense of humour, he has often a goodly supply of sound homely mother wit, which stands him in good stead when brought into relations with other men, who from a merely intellectual point of view are undoubtedly his superiors. These, and other like endowments of great price, often enable him to seize with unerring instinct on the weak points of an opponent’s position and to avail himself of them with no little dexterity and success. In the following amusing story, for instance, the simple (?) KachÁri servant completely outwits his astute BrÁhmin master, turning the tables on the latter to his no small dismay and discomfiture. BÁmun Áru bini sÁkor ni KhorÁng. | The BrÁhmin and his Servant. | | SÁse BÁmun dangman, Áru bihÁ sÁkor sÁse dangman. SÀnse sÁne zang BÁmun ni bi-hau-bikhunzu-ni nÅiau thang-nÙ-lÁgi thÁlit gur gÁkhir sorai lÁnÁnai sÁkhor-kho bÁn hÙnÁ-nai, bikho khithÁnaise “Nang be thÁlit-furkho dÁ zÁ. ZÁbÁ, ÁnghÁ khithu fÀtse bÙ megon dang.” Eru hannÁnai thÁngui thÁnaise. PhÁre unau boi sÁkhorhÁ mikhÀm ukhuibÁ, thÁlit-kho lÁnÁnai, thaise thaise binu un-phat-si khithinÁnai bebaidinu boibÒ-kho-bÙ zÀ-thro-lÁngnaise. PhÁre unau bisur dÀpseau zirai-hÙibÁ, BÁmun bibÀnkho nueÁkhai, sÁkhor-ni sigÁng-au sungnaise “BibÁnÁ mÁ zÁkhu?” Oba sÁkhorÁ bungnaise, “Áng duk-hui-nÙ nÁngnu khithinÁnai bi thÁlit-furkho zÁbai. Áru dÁ nang mÁnu sung-dang?” Bebaidinu BÁmunÁ bolo7 hÁekhai sri sri thÁnaise. PhÁre besur beaunu khÀm song-zÁ-nu-lÁgi zothon khÀmnaise, Áru beaunu nÁ khawai mÁ-ne-sÙ mandang-man. Bini sÁkhornu mÁse buÁ hunÁnai, gÁsenu BÁmunÁ lÁnaise. PhÁre zeblÁ khÀm man-naise, sÀne-bÙ zÁnu lÁgi zodangman. Ereaunu sÁkhorÁ sungnaise “BÁmun gohain, nÁ khawaaiÁ mÁse buÁ daugaiÙ, nÁ dulÙ dulÙ daugaiÙ?” Beaunu BÁmuna bungnaise “Dulu dulu daugiaÙ.” ObÀ bi bini nÁ mÁsekho bini khÀm-au khubui-hot-detnaise, “ManÁ-thu be hÀtsing dauganu hÁiÀ, nang-ni zang dulÙse zÁthang.” Beaubu gaigai-ni khorÁng-zang-nu zennÁnai bikho mung-bÁ bung-nu haiÁ-khuise. Unau khÀmkho sÁkhorÁ hÀtsing manzÁnaise. | There was once a BrÁhmin who had a servant. And one day when they were going to the house of the BrÁhmin’s mother-in-law, the BrÁhmin gave his servant a bunch of plantains and other things to carry, and said to him, “Now, mind you don’t eat those plantains, for I can see just as well behind as I can in front.” And, so saying, he marched ahead. And presently the servant, getting hungry plucked one of the plantains from the bunch, and, holding it out to his master’s back, ate it. And this he did again and again till all the plantains were gone. And when the BrÁhmin presently asked what had become of the load, the servant said, “You told me you could see behind as well as in front. So I showed you each plantain before I ate it. And you never said anything.” So the BrÁhmin went his way speechless. Presently they stopped to cook their midday meal, and they had got with them a few khawai fish. But the BrÁhmin gave only one to his servant, and kept the rest himself. And when he was about to eat, the servant asked innocently “Oh! BrÁhmin, do khawai fish swim about singly or in shoals?” To which the BrÁhmin said, “Why, in shoals, of course.” So the servant said, “Then my fish had better go with yours.” And, so saying, he threw his fish on the BrÁhmin’s mess, which was defiled. So the BrÁhmin got no dinner, and the servant ate the whole. | | PhÁre binifrai thÁngui thÁngui simli bifÁng dulÙse nunÁnai, BÁmun-kho sungnaise “BÁmun gohain, be nunai bongfÁng-frÁ mÁ bongfÁng?” BÁmunÁ khithÁnaise “sirmolu.” SÁkhorÁ bungnaise: “Sirmolu nunggÁ. Bikho hirmolu hanu.” PhÁre obÁsu phong-bÁ phong-bÁ sonu lÁgi khorÁng khÁlai-naise. PhÁre gurkhiÁ dulÙse lugÙ mannÁnai, bisurkho sung-bÁ, “himulÙ” hannÁnai bisur bungnaise. ObÁnu sungÁ-hoÁ-lÁbÁ BÁmunkho phongbÁ, sonaise. | A little later they came across a number of simul trees. Seeing them, the servant asked his master, “And what do they call these trees, master?” And the BrÁhmin (being an educated man) said, “These are sirmolu.” But the servant said, “Not so, not so. These are himulu,” and offered to bet five blows that it was so. And, meeting some cowherd boys, he asked them what the trees were. And when they said “himulu,” he gave the BrÁhmin five blows without further question. | | Áru bebaidi thÁngui thÁngui burmÁ dulÙse nunÁnai sÁkhorÁ BÁmunkho sungnaise “BÁmun gohain, boi gÁngsu zÁbai thÁnai zanthu-fur mÁ, bungo?” BÁmunÁ khithÁnaise “Bifur sÁg.” SÁkhorÁ bungnaise “NunggÁ, bifur sÁgoli.” Beaubu bibaidinu BÁmunÁ phongbÁ so-zÁ-naise. Áru binifrai thÁngnÁnai dÁu-ba dulÙse nunÁnai sungnaise. “BÁmun gohain, befur mÁ dÁu?” BÁmunÁ bungnaise “Nang bifurkho mithiÁ? Bifurkho bog hanu.” Bi bungnaise “MÁ bog hanu? NunggÁ. Bikho boguli hanu.” Beaubu bebaidinu BÁmunÁ phongbÁ sozÁ naise. Unau bi manse slok hannaise: | Next they met a drove of goats. “And what may these be, BrÁhmin, these animals that are grazing?” And the BrÁhmin said, “These be called chÁg.” But the servant cried, “Not so, not so. These are chÁgali.” And the result, as before, was that the BrÁhmin was worsted and got five blows. And next they came across a flock of paddy-birds, which the BrÁhmin called “Bog,” but the servant “Boguli.” And again he was worsted and got his five blows. On which he consoled himself by reciting an Assamese saying, to the effect that it is ill arguing with a fool: | “SÁg sirmolu bog ba-kÁran Tini pÁnch panra kil sudÁ akÁran.” | “SÁg sirmolu bog ba-kÁran Tini pÁnch panra kil sudÁ akÁran.” | |
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| | PhÁ binifrai thÁngnÁnai bihaibikhunzu ni nÅ khÁthi manbÁ, sÁkhorkho thin-hot-gru-nÁnai khithanaise “Nang thÁngnÁnai mÁmÁr khÀm songnu thin; manÁthu Ángha mikhÀm ukhui-su-dang.” PhÁre bibaidi-nÙ bi thÁngnÁnai, BÁmun-ni bikhunzunu hÁngsu buthÀtnÁnai sobai khÁre zang mikhÀm songnÁnai dinnu khithÁnaise, Áru bungnaise, “Nangni nÁngzÁ-madÙiÁ megongau gabÀp nunggÁbÁ zaiÁ.” ObÁsu bi songnÁnai dinnaise. PhÁre unau bizÁmÁdÙiÁ so-fai-bÁnÙ, mamÁrui khÀm khutnÁnai hunaise. BizÁmÁdÙiÁ ukhui-su-naÏ-khai, khÀm megong mungbo bÁsiÁ-lÁbÁ zÁnu gnÁng zÁnaise. | And when they were now come near the BrÁhmin’s mother-in-law’s house, and the BrÁhmin was become very hungry, he sent his servant on ahead to beg them to get supper ready. So the servant went on ahead and bade the BrÁhmin’s mother-in-law cook a duck and put in lots of plantain ashes, which the KachÁris use for salt, well knowing that his master disliked its acrid taste. So the duck was cooked with plenty of alkali. And when the BrÁhmin arrived, his meal was set before him, and he was so hungry that he had to eat it whether he liked its savour or no. | | AbÁsu unau bebaidinu baidi baidi lÁzi mannai zÁnaikhai, BÁmunÁ bidÁnulÁgi sitti gangse lit-nÁnai sÁkhorni Ákhai-au hunÁnai nÅ-i-au hotnaise. LÁmÁ sÁse thÁngbÁ, beaunu litnu-grÁng sÁse mÀnsui lugÙ man-nÀnai, binu sitti khithinaise. “Beau mÁ litdang, Ángnu khithÁ.” ObÁsu, mÀnsuiÁ sitti-kho nainÁnai, “Nangkho dÀnnu lÁge BÁmun ni bidÁ-kho thindang” erui bungbÁ, bi sitti-kho phisinÁnai bungnaise “ÁfÁ nang Ángnu gubun sitti gÁngse litnÁnai hÙ.” Áru be sittiau erehai lit, “ÁdÁ, nangni fisÁhingrzauzang be sÁkhorÁ man-hui-bÁ-nÙ hÁbÁ khÀmnÁnai hÙ. Áng benifrai thÁngnÁnai bisur-ni hÁbÁ nunu nÁnggÁ” Bebaidinu be sittikho langnÁnai BÁmun-ni bidÁnu hÙnaise. Khintu bi sittikho nunÁnai, monau dukhu man-su-naise. Theobu, bigÙi-ni khorÁng gÁrnu hÁekhai, fisÁzÙ zang mÁmÁr hÁbÁ khÀmnÁnai hunÁngnaise. | And so in various ways the BrÁhmin was put to shame by his servant. So he wrote a long letter to his brother, and putting it in his servant’s hand, bade him deliver it. But he went a little way, until he met a man who could read and write, and he bade him tell him what was written in the letter. And the man read him the letter, which was to the effect that the brother was to kill the servant. On this, the servant tore up the letter and bade his friend write another one, saying: “Dear brother, on receipt of this letter marry my servant to my niece without delay. I shall not be able to come to the wedding.” Taking this letter, the servant went to his master’s brother, who was much vexed, but dared not disobey. Accordingly, though reluctantly, he married the servant to his daughter. | | PhÁre sÀnse thÁnÁnai bi fainanai bidÁ-kho sungbÁ, gÁsenu khorÁng khnÁnai, bi sÁkhor kho dÁnnÙlÁgi sri sri upai khÀmnaise. Be upaikho sÁkhorni hingzauÁ mithinÁnai, bekho onnÁnai binu khithÁnaise. KhithÁbÁ, hingzau zang horau uduniau mosofisÁ mÁse khÁ-khrop-nÁnai futhunÁnai dinnaise. PhÁre BÁmunÁ fisÁzu zang udubai thÁdang mon khÀmnÁnai, sri sri thangnÁnai mosofisÁkho dÀnnaise. SÀn-so-ba mosÁfisÁkho dÁnfnÁng-nai nunÁnai mÁmÁrÙi bizÁmÁdui sÁkhor-kho gÁrhÙinÙ lÁgi thinnaise. Khintu bizÁmÁduiÁ bisurni bariau lÁngnanai, lÀnzai dihonnÁnai, fopnÁnai dinnaise. Unau BÁmunÁ mosÁ buthÀtnai-ni nungge sri sri uddhar zÁnu lÁgi gÁmini mÀnsuifurkho lingnÁnai phozu hudangman. PhÁre mÁnsuifur zÁnu zobÁ, sÁkhorÁ bÁriau thÁngnanai moso lÀnzai-kho bunanai bungnaise “BÁmunÁ mosobÙ buthÁrÁ-khÙi phozÙ-bÙ huÁ khÙi, hÙi-sÙ.” Bebaidi bungbai-thÁbÁ, phozuni mÀnsuifrÁ khnÁnÁnai, phozu zaiÁkhÙise. BebaidinÙ bisÙr ud dhÁr manÁkhuise. Zapbai. | And, when the master came to see if his servant had been disposed of, and heard what had happened, he set about to kill him. But his niece got to know of the matter and told her husband, who got a calf, and, binding it hand and foot, put it by her in her bed. And in the night the BrÁhmin came, and thinking the calf was his niece’s husband sleeping by her side, killed it. And when he found out his mistake in the morning, and learned that he was guilty of cow-killing, he bade his niece’s husband go and bury the calf in all haste. And the servant dragged the calf into the garden and buried it with its tail sticking out of the ground. Meanwhile, the BrÁhmin set to work to get himself purged of the offence of cow-killing, and summoned the villagers to a feast without telling them why. And when they were all seated,the servant ran out into the garden and hauling at the calf’s tail, called out, “The BrÁhmin didn’t kill a cow, Oh, no. And that isn’t why he gives a feast, Oh, no.” So the feast broke up, and the BrÁhmin was not absolved. And that’s all. | IV KachÁri Theory of Thunder and Lightning8 | Aglaiau sÁse rÁzÁ dangman, Áru bihÁ hoÁsÁ sÁse, hingzhausÁ sÁse, dangman. HoasÁni nau RÁonÁ, hingzhausÁni nÁu RÁoni, dangman. LÁse lÁse bisur gaded zÁabÁ RÁonaiÁ gagai binÁnaukhonu hÁbÁ khÀmnu namainai. SÀnse RÁonaiÁ runÙiau thÁhoinai. AmphÁra bini bifaiÁ ikham zÁnu namaibÁ manÁkhuise, mÁnathu bi runuiau thÁnÁkho bifaiÁ mithiÁkhauman. AmphÁ bini sÁse bandiÁ runuiau nunÁnoi rÁzÁni sigÁngau khithÁnaisui; abÁnu razaiÁ thangnÁnoi sanghoinaisui, balui “ÁfÁ, nangnu mÁ nÁnggo? HÁthi nÁnggobÁ, hÁthi hÙgan; gorai nÁnggobÁ, gorai hÙgan; theobo nang manau dukhu dÁ khÀm,” hannanoi khithÁnaisui. AbÁ RÁonaiÁ hannaisui, “Ángnu mungbo nÁnga; nang sumai lÁbasu Áng khithÁgan.” ÁmphÁ bifaiÁ mungbo uphai manikhai sumai lÁnÁnoi khithÁnaisui, “Nangnu zikhonu nanggo, bikhonu hÙgan.” HanbÁ RaonaiÁ bungnaisÙi, “Ángnu RÁonikho hÁbÁ khÀmnÁnoi hÙ; abÁsu Áng mikhÀm dÙi lÁnggan.” AbÁ bifaiÁ bibaidi khorÁng khnÁnÁnoi manau zabrÁ-sin dukhu mannaisui. AmphÁre bifaiÁ guninÁnoi sumai lÁnai-khai hÁba khlÀmnÁnoi hÙnÙ zathan khlÀmnaisui; khintu be khorÁngÁkha RÁonini sigÁngau khithÁnu bÁdÁ hÙnai; binikhai raubo khithai-a-khuise. AmphÁ RaoniÁ mairang sunÙ thÁngbÁ dÙigÁ-thÁnau sÁse buruiÁ RÁoniniau sangnaisÙi, balÙi, “NangsurhÁ mÁ zÁadang?” AbÁ RÁoniÁ khithÁnaisui, “ZangfrÁ ÁdÁhÁ hÁbÁ zÁagan.” Áru buruiÁ hannaisui, “Maunithu hingzhausÁ zang hÁbÁ zÁanu?” RÁoniÁ bungnaisÙi, “Áng khithÁnu haiÁ.” AbÁnu buruiÁ hannaisÙi, balÙi, “Ai, nang zangsÙ hÁbÁ zÁanunÙ.” Áru RÁoniÁ hannaisÙi, “Ai, be khorÁng thik nÁ?” hannÁnoi sangbÁ, buruiÁ sumai lÁnaisÙi. AbÁ RÁoniÁ akhrÁngsau birlÁng-naisÙi, Áru RÁunikho birlangnai nunÁnoi RÁonaiÁbo guzarinÁnoi hasu-lÁngnaisui. Bikhonu mÀnsuifrÁ ÁkhÁ khrumniÁkhonu “RÁonÁ guzaridang” hannÁnoi bungÙ; Áru RÁoni khÀtlÁngnÁnai thap naifinbÁ bini makhÁngÁ at baidi nuiÙ, bikhonu akhÁ mablÍbnai hanÙ; BÅrÅfrÁ eroi bhÁbiÙ. | There was once a king who had one son and one daughter. The son’s name was RÁonÁ and the daughter’s RÁoni. As they gradually grew up together, RÁonÁ wished to marry his sister. One day RÁonÁ remained alone in an outhouse unknown to his father; and when the latter wished his son to come to dinner, the young man could not be found. However, a servant saw the youth in the outhouse and told the king, who going to the boy asked him what was the matter. “If,” said the king, “you want an elephant, I will give you an elephant; if you want a horse, I will give you a horse; but do not abandon yourself to sorrow in this way.” And then RÁonÁ replied, “I am in no special want of anything, but if you give me a promise on oath, I will tell you what is the matter.” Thereupon, the king, seeing that there was no help for it, took an oath saying, “Whatever you want, I will give it to you.” And then RÁonÁ said, “Give me permission to marry RÁoni, and then I will eat my food.” On hearing this the king was sorely troubled in his mind; but remembering the terms of his oath, he took steps to bring about the marriage, at the same time forbidding anyone to mention the matter to RÁoni, who, therefore, heard nothing about the proposed marriage with herself. But one day RÁoni went to the village stream to clean the rice for the daily meals, when an old woman met her and inquired, “What is going on in the palace to-day?” And RÁoni replied, “The son of the house is to be married to-day.” And when the old lady asked further “But to whom is he to be married?” RÁoni replied, “Mother, I cannot say.” And then said the old dame, “RÁoni, it is you that he is going to marry.” And when RÁoni inquired, “Mother, can this be true?” the old woman took an oath to confirm what she had said. And then RÁoni at once flew right away up into the sky, and when RÁonÁ saw RÁoni thus flying away, he shouted after her, doing his utmost to catch her. It is these loud shouts and threats of RÁonÁ that men call “thunder”; and when RÁoni occasionally looks back to see if her pursuer is gaining upon her, she in so doing reveals for an instant the brightness and beauty of her face, glowing like fire; and it is this bright, dazzling beauty of her countenance that men call “lightning.” | Hence during a thunder storm may sometimes be heard the words “RÁonikho RÁonaiÁ hasÙdang,” i.e. “RÁonÁ is chasing RÁoni.” It is not impossible that the foregoing story may be a KachÁri version, greatly altered, of a well-known episode told at length in the RÁmÁyana, i.e. the abduction of SitÁ by RÁvana the demon-king of Ceylon. The name RÁvana in a slightly altered form (RÁonÁ) is not unknown among the KachÁris of this district (Darrang). About four or five miles south-west of the UdÁlguri ThÁnÁ there are still existing the remains of a very fine earthwork road, known to this day as “Rowana’s embankment” (RÁvanagarh), which gives its name to the MauzÁ in which it is situated. The construction of this earthwork must have involved a large outlay of labour, but the tradition about it is that it was thrown up in a single night by RÁvana and his followers, the RÁkhshases, Asurs, &c. N.B.—Among the KachÁris of the North KachÁr Hills, the mode of accounting for thunder and lightning is very different from that given above, though towards the end of the account given by the late Mr. Soppitt9 certain statements are made which would serve to show that the two theories have something in common. |
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