The Monkey made a swing and was always swinging in it. One day Granddaddy Bear saw him and said, “Oh, Monkey, let me have a swing.” The Monkey replied, “Wait a minute till I have hung it more securely.” Then he climbed up and bit the cane nearly through and jumped down again crying out, “Come on, Granddaddy Bear, have a swing.” The bear got in and swung, the cane broke, and he fell down. The Monkey, intending to eat him, had gone and fetched some cooked rice (to eat with the bear’s flesh). But though Granddaddy Bear fell down he was not killed. The Monkey, being terribly afraid, said, “Oh, Granddaddy Bear, hearing you had fallen I brought some rice for you,” and gave him all he had brought.

The Bear made a dam to collect water, and put the Monkey to watch it. Every sort of animal came crying, “I am dry. Who has water which he does not want? I am dry.” The Monkey always said, “The water belongs to Granddaddy Bear. If you dare to drink, drink; if you dare to suck, suck it up.” Then the Tiger came along, saying, “I am dry. Who has water which he does not want? I am dry.” The Monkey replied, “It is my Granddaddy Bear’s water. If you dare to drink, drink; if you dare to suck, suck it up.” The Tiger drank it all; he sucked the place dry. Then the Monkey went to the Bear and said, “Oh, Granddaddy Bear, the Tiger has drunk your water!” So the Bear rushed up and began to fight with the Tiger. They fought a long time and both died, and the Monkey took their bones. “Whose ever bones will sound, whether my Granddaddy the Tiger’s or Granddaddy the Bear’s,” he said, and so, taking the bones which would sound, he made a rotchem (see Chapter II, para. 6) out of them and he sat in the fork of a tree and played on it. The Quail, hearing the sound, came up. “Hallo, Monkey! let me play for a bit,” he said. “Oh, ho!” said the Monkey, “you will fly off with the rotchem.” “If you fear that,” said the Quail, “hold me by the tail.” So the Monkey held him tight by the tail, and off he flew, but the Monkey pulled his tail clean out. Then the Quail came and begged for his tail, saying, “Do give me back my tail.” But the Monkey replied, “You can ransom it by paying eight mithan.” “Oh,” said the Quail, “if I have to pay eight mithan for it, I’ll just remain tailless,” and flew away.

The following tale is interesting as showing the great prestige the Tipperah chief enjoyed among the Lushais, who call him “Rengpui.” There are many versions of this tale, some of which are very long. I have been obliged to abridge it considerably.

Rimenhoiyi married Zawlthlia. Their house was of iron. They had an eight-fold iron door. They beautified the inside with iron and brass things. They also had a window (i.e., Zawlthlia was Thangchhuah1) and a platform to sit on—in fact they wanted for nothing.

Rimenhoiyi planted flowers, but there was one flower she had not, called “nipuipar” (bright sun flower—a creeper with scarlet flowers). When her husband was about to go in search of it he said to her, “Please don’t go outside the house,” and having filled the brass vessels with enough water to last her many days, he went off. However, the supply ran short and the lady went to the stream to wash, and one of her hairs was carried down and swallowed by a fish, which was caught by the cook of the king near the mouth of the river; and from out of the fish the cook pulled this immensely long hair, and it filled a winnowing basket. The king sent for the owner of the hair, and after many episodes she was brought to him. Zawlthlia returning found his wife gone, but with the help of the domestic animals he traced her, and, on arriving at the foreign king’s village he saw slaves fetching water; and, ascertaining that it was for the new queen, he put one of the nipuipar into the vessel, so Rimenhoiyi knew he had arrived. According to one version, they resorted to the same subterfuge that Abraham and Sarah employed when entering Egypt and lived happily till, the king’s suspicion being aroused, Zawlthlia was summarily slain. According to another, Rimenhoiyi married them both, but as she showed a preference for Zawlthlia the king killed him.

With the help of a wise woman learned in charms Zawlthlia was brought to life in a more beautiful form, and the king was so struck by the improvement in his appearance that he asked to be allowed to undergo the same treatment, and was duly killed, but, unfortunately for him, was by some accident restored to life in the shape of a dog; but in this shape he seems to have found more favour in the fickle fair one’s eyes, and a child called Uithovi was born, who, being very poor, begged for some land of Zawlthlia, who had become king of the Tipperahs, and was told to take as much as a buffalo hide measured. By cutting the hide into a very thin strip he was able to measure a considerable area of ground, but, not content with this, he voyaged far till he reached the place where money was to be found, and he became very prosperous. “Nevertheless it was said that to the present day Kumpinu (the Company’s Mother—i.e., the late Queen), who is a descendant of Uithovi’s, cannot get the better of Rengpui (the Rajah of Tipperah). If the Sahibs fight against Rengpui, all their crops fail, and much sickness occurs among them. Pathian once threw down a cannon from the sky, and a great number of Kumpinu’s sepoys tried to move it, but could not, while a few of Rengpui’s men were able to drag it away.”

Chhura is represented as a man of immense strength and stature, of an easy-going disposition, but not much blessed with brains. Thus one story tells of how, being on a visit, he was regaled with a crab stew, which he had not tasted before, and liked greatly. He inquired of what animal it was made. On his way home he forgot the name and commenced searching. Someone seeing him looking about asked what he had lost. “Stupid,” replied Chhura; “if I knew, would I be looking?” The passer-by remarked that he smelt strongly of crab. “That’s it! That’s what I was searching for,” cried Chhura much pleased, and went on his way. His mallet head, a roughly dressed cylinder of stone, about 30 inches long and 18 in diameter, is pointed out to the curious, lying beside the path between Leng and Lingvum, where it is said to have fallen when it flew off the handle while Chhura was flattening the earth in the Van-lai-phai valley some five miles away. A large spherical stone in the same neighbourhood is pointed out as one of the pellets shot from his pellet bow when he was at Thenzawl, many miles distant.

There are many tales of this hero, who is especially honoured by the Khawtlang.

Mualsavata is another mythical hero of immense stature. The smoke from his pipe was like that of a jhum burning. His whetstone, some 18 inches long, lies beside the road near Chongthleng, where it fell from his haversack, which his wife had neglected to mend.

I have given so many tales in other parts of the monograph that I shall only add one more here.

He went to the west to demand his sister’s price. The debtor gave him a bamboo stirring rod. If you stirred an empty pot with this rod it was at once filled with rice. He returned towards his village. On the way he stayed the night in the house of a widow, and placed his stirring rod on the shelf over the hearth saying, “Granny, please don’t stir your pot with my stirring rod.” “All right,” said she, but, while he was walking about the village, she stirred her pot just to see what sort of a stirring rod it was, and, behold, her pot was full of rice. “It is a very good stirring rod,” she said; “I will just exchange mine for it”—which she did secretly. And the owner of the magic rod went on to his village, and on arrival there he called to his children, “Set the water boiling to cook the rice.” His children replied, “We have nothing to cook. What is the use of boiling water alone?” “I have got rice, I’ve got rice,” he said. So they boiled the water, and he stirred it hard with his rod, but nothing came. “If we stir more it will come,” he said, but nevertheless nothing came.

Then he went off to demand the price from the debtor again, who gave him a goat which passed nothing but amber and cornelian beads, and said, “Take it carefully home.” “All right,” said he. He stayed the night at the same widow’s house, and when he was going out to stroll through the village he said, “Granny, you will be careful not to kick my goat on the rump, won’t you?” “All right,” said she, but directly he was out of sight she kicked the goat and he passed many beads. “It is a good goat,” she said, and secretly substituted her own goat for it. Her guest went off and directly he reached his house he called out, “Prepare strings for necklaces. Prepare strings for necklaces.” His children replied, “Father, we have nothing to put on the strings. What is the good of the strings alone?” “I have got beads, I have got beads,” he cried. So they prepared a winnowing basket full of threads. Then he gave the goat several good kicks on the rump, but it only passed filth and bleated loudly.

Then he went again to demand payment and was given a mallet and a piece of cane. “The name of this piece of cane is ‘Ramdia,’” they said. He set off for home and again stayed in the same old woman’s house and put Ramdia and his mallet down among the firewood, and as he started for his stroll he said, “Granny, don’t touch this cane, will you? It is called Ramdia—and you won’t touch the mallet either, will you?” “All right,” she said, but no sooner was he gone than, saying, “They are valuable things,” she touched them both. The cane wound round and round her and the mallet began to beat her. She was in terrible trouble and shouted to her neighbours; wherever she went the mallet beat her and beat her till she died.

2. Superstitions. The Lushais are an extremely superstitious race; any unusual occurrence is considered as portending some evil results. The meaning of the word “thianglo” has been already explained in Chapter IV, para. 4. Certain acts, dreams, or sights are universally considered “thianglo,” or unlucky, but should a Lushai see any unusual sight or hear an unusual sound he would at once consider that some misfortune was imminent and take advice from the puithiam as to how it could be avoided. The following are some of the superstitions connected with cultivation.

It is “thianglo” to find, in the proposed jhum, a gibbon’s skull stuck on a tree stump. If in burning the jhum the flames make a peculiar huk-huk sound; if the khatchhat (nightjar) calls by day, the jhum had better be abandoned. Should the jhum cutter after his first day’s work dream of water or rice all will be well, but should he dream of a mithan chasing him or tigers springing on him, he must not continue cutting the jhum, or he will certainly get very ill and probably will die. If on the site of the proposed jhum a “thing-lu-bul” is found, death will certainly claim the cultivator should he persist in jhuming anywhere near the unlucky object, which is a kind of abortive tree growth without boughs or shoots, but covered with bulbous excrescences, which sometimes remotely resemble the human form, and if cut exude a blood-red juice. Should a tree have a pendant protuberance, called “thingzang,” the jungle near must not be cut. The rubbing together of two tree boughs is thought to denote the presence of a Huai, who must be appeased by the sacrifice of a cock and hen, the sherh being hung under the jhum house with some chips of the tree. Brackish springs, known as “sa-khi-shi” (barking deer springs), are supposed to be the abodes of Huai, who are generally satisfied with the sacrifice of a fowl, the sherh being hung in a basket over the spring, but if the Huai be greedy the jhumer will fall ill, and then a pig and a dog must be sacrificed in the same manner.

The following are some of the superstitions about animals:—

A Lushai named Kela visited Aijal; on the road he met a rat, which stood up in the middle of the road and held its paws to its head. “What a curious rat!” he said. Two days after he reached his home he died. To see such a rat is certainly “thianglo.” This incident happened a short time ago; no one had ever heard of such a rat having been seen before, and the unusualness of the occurrence, coupled with the death of Kela, was, to the Lushais, proof positive of its being the cause of his death. The Lushais tell me that sometimes a muskrat will be followed by her whole family, each holding in its mouth the tail of the one in front; this they call “In tir mei kai,” and whoever sees it will certainly die. Should a bear on being shot fall on its back, and lie with its legs in the air, the shooter will die. If a bird enters the house prompt measures have to be taken to avert misfortune. The puithiam is called and the bird captured. The house is festooned within with the leaves of a certain tree, and the bird is thrown out of the house by the puithiam, who, muttering various charms, advises it to take itself off and carry its witchcraft with it. I came across, in an old number of the Outlook, a translation of a Chinese poem said to be dated about 100 B.C. in which the following occurs:—“When a wild bird enters a dwelling it portends that the human occupant must go forth.” The coincidence is curious.

The following translation of a Lushai’s reason for considering the sight of an atlas moth “thianglo” shows the origin of such superstitions. Atlas moths are rare in the Lushai hills. The “keptuam” (atlas moth) was the letter bearer between Pathian and the Vai (foreigner); and once when he was carrying Pathian’s letter to the Vai chief the keptuam made the letter into wings, and flew away and disappeared, and Pathian was much disturbed at the loss of his letter and at the disappearance of his messenger, and he made mankind hunt for the missing keptuam. Now the keptuam did not wish to be caught, so he said, “Whoever sees me will die”; but as mankind did not know this they hunted and hunted till at last one saw the fugitive and died, and so they learnt that to see a keptuam is “thianglo,” and ever since if anyone sees a male keptuam he will probably die.

Should the fowls at midnight become terrified and make an unusual sound like “i-ak, i-ak” someone will die. Should gibbons be heard hooting during the night, they have seen the corpse of someone who will fall from a tree or be drowned. As the gibbon retires to rest even before the sun sets, it must be very seldom that their shouts are heard at night. It is “thianglo” to shoot a gibbon, because at the Thimzing a man and a wife were changed into those animals. The woman at the time was dyeing blue thread, and therefore the palms of the hands of the female gibbon are black, though the rest of the body is light coloured.

The rhinoceros is also safe from attack on account of a similar belief, the folds of his skin being supposed to be derived from the folds of the cloths of persons who were transmogrified. The natural result of killing one of these animals is that all members of the slayer’s family sicken and die, but this can be avoided if the successful huntsman on his return to the village goes straight to the zawlbuk or forge and remains there a whole day and night, after which it is safe for him to enter his house, provided that he leaves his gun and haversack behind and has changed all his clothes.

It is, however, worth noticing that, though monkeys, elephants, tigers, bears, &c., are also said to have been men before the Thimzing, there is no reluctance shown to kill them, and in fact the chiefs wear plumes of the king crow’s feathers, and hornbills’ beaks decorate many a chief’s verandah.

When building his house the Lushai must be careful that he does not put his hearth on the side of the house next to that on which his neighbour has his. To do so is “thianglo” and illness will follow. It is not difficult to guess how this idea has arisen. Lushai houses are generally built in lines one above the other on the sides of a hill, and therefore it is more convenient to place the heavy earthen hearth on the upper side where the posts are shorter. This causes the hearths of all the houses in one row to be on the same side, and, the custom once formed, any deviation from it is considered unlucky. To dream of the auction of a “hlang”—i.e., the bamboo frame to which the corpse is strapped during the funeral feast—is unlucky, and the person seen by the dreamer to purchase it will certainly die.

The following translation of a Lushai account of “tualsumsu” is interesting:—

“There are ‘tualsumsu’ in dreams and also while people are in a trance; the latter are the worst. If two friends are sleeping and in their dreams one says to the other, ‘Go as “tualsumsu”’—i.e., ‘beating your head on the ground’—nothing will happen to the one who goes, but the man who sends him will die. If anyone goes without being told to go, and likes it, he will die, but if he says, ‘Oh, how it hurts my head!’ he will not die. Sometimes a person will go beating his head on the ground and when roused from the trance know nothing of it.”

The following is another curious belief:—

“If a man dreams that with his friend they are going to fly like ‘Chawifa,’ and they, both carrying burning maize cobs wrapped in old cloths in baskets, intend flying from inside the house, and having come outside, his friend flies away, while he himself stands on the end of the roof and cannot fly, his friend who flew away will die quickly, while he who could not fly will live. And he that flew away knew nothing of it, and the corn cobs wrapped in old cloth were thrown up, and the people saw them blazing like fire. This is extremely ‘thianglo.’”

The Lushais speak confidently of “Chawifa,” and many say they have seen it. They describe it as a kind of meteor, which flies through the village blazing brightly, and if it alights on a house the owner must die. Compare the Lakher idea of “Chawifa,” given in Part II., and the Manipuri “Sangaisel,” in Mr. Hodson’s book on the Meitheis, page 121.

3. Snake worship. The Lushais do not worship snakes, but there are many tales of “rulpui” (the big snake). Colonel Lewin in his “Progressive Exercises” has written as follows:—

“Throughout the Lushai Hills, among all the tribes with whom I have come in contact, whether ‘Toung-tha’ or ‘Khyoung-tha,’ sons of the hill or sons of the river, I have always found that special attributes have been assigned to a certain description of snake or serpent that is found in these forests. I remember once we were camped peacefully beside the border of a small hill stream; the shanties of leaves and grass which form our tentes d’abri in this part of the world had been erected, and all the world (our world some 30 persons) was either smoking the pipe of peace or stirring the pot of rice that was to form the evening meal. Suddenly there arose a shout of ‘Tchubba-gree! Tchubba-gree!’ which is the Hill Arracanese for ‘the big snake, the king-serpent.’ Behold the camp in a ferment, each stalwart young fellow seizing his dao and tightening his waistband. We went forth, and indeed the snake was very big. His long sinuous growth was at least 20 feet in length and bulky in proportion; he moved slowly along, taking apparently no notice of the turmoil and confusion that soon filled the wood around him. The Hillmen swarmed around his length like ants, and in a few moments he was cut in pieces by dao strokes. I noticed that each of my combatants as they ran up to the snake spat at him before striking. On inquiring the reasons of this, I was informed that in attacking a snake of this description, if he spat at you first before you struck him, your fate was sealed, and strangulation was your doom; but if you were speedy in salivation and forestalled his action, then he was delivered a prey into the hands of his assailants. A similar superstition formerly attached to the basilisk or cockatrice, which was said to be able to fascinate or cause the destruction of man or beast if it first perceived its victim before it was itself perceived. Sir Thomas Browne, in discoursing ‘Of the Basilisk,’ says ‘that veneration shooteth from the eye, and that this way a basilisk may empoison, is not a thing impossible; but that this destruction should be the effect of the first beholder or depend on priority of aspection is a point not easily to be granted.’ The flesh of this snake (which is a species of python) is eaten by the Hill folk, and the fat of the reptile is held to be a sovereign cure for all cuts and wounds, as well as for more obscure diseases. In the household tales and fireside stories of the people ‘the big snake’ holds a prominent place, and is vested with attributes of power and knowledge.”

Colonel McCulloch, in his account of the Valley of Manipur, 1859, page 32, mentions the belief of the Manipuris in a snake god, and in fact the royal family is supposed to have sprung from a snake god known as “Pakhangba.” Colonel McCulloch also relates that a Kuki—i.e., a Thado—who had left him in perfect health, “saw a black snake as large as his thigh, which uttered a sound like that of an ox bellowing.” “On his reaching his home he became ill, his belly swelled, and he has not recovered his health.” Compare this with the following translation of a statement made to me by Hrangzova, a Lushai political Chaprassie, in 1904:—

“When I lived at Thenzawl, I once saw a curious object about 18 inches long, and about 6 inches thick, like a snake, which kept standing up on its stumpy tail, and then falling forward. I called my friend, who also saw it. When I got home I told my father and mother, who were very frightened, and said it was ‘thianglo.’ They both died within the year. This was 12 years ago. The rulpui which I saw had not got feathers, but perhaps that was because it was not big enough, as I am told the real rulpui has feathers like that of a cock.”

There are various places named after rulpui. On one hill the body of a large snake is said to have been raised up on a pole, and so big was it that its shadow fell on a hill many miles away, called thereafter “Rulpui-thlin”—i.e., Rulpui’s Shadow. The following is the translation of the story of the origin of “rulpui.”

Once upon a time there was a girl called Chhawng-chili, who was in her father’s jhum. At the bottom of the jhum in a hollow tree a snake had its nest, and the snake loved Chhawng-chili very much. Whenever they went to the jhum she used to send her younger sister to call the snake, who used to come up and coil itself up in Chhawng-chili’s lap. The little sister was very much afraid of the snake and did not dare tell her father. When the girls were going to the jhum, their parents always used to wrap up some rice and vegetables for them to take with them. On account of her fear of the snake, the little sister could not eat anything. Then her sister and the snake ate up all the rice and the vegetables, and the little sister stayed in the jhum house all day and got very thin, and her parents said to her, “Oh, little one, why are you getting so thin?” but she always said, “Oh, father, I can’t tell you”; but her parents pressed her to tell them, and at last she said, “My sister and the snake make love always; as soon as we get to the jhum she says to me, ‘Call him to me,’ and I call him, and he comes up and coils himself up on her lap, and I am so frightened that I cannot eat anything, and that is why I am so thin.” So they kept Chhawng-chili at home, and her father and younger sister went to the jhum, and her father dressed himself up to resemble Chhawng-chili, but he put his dao by his side; then the little sister called the snake, who came up quickly and curled itself up in her father’s lap, and he with one blow cut it in two, and then they returned to the village. On the next day Chhawng-chili and her sister went to the jhum and her little sister called the snake, but her father had killed it. So they came back to their house, and found their father lying on the floor just inside the door sill. Chhawng-chili said, “Get up, father, I want to scrape the mud off my feet” (on the door sill), but her father would not move. So Chhawng-chili scraped off the mud from her feet, and stepped over the sill, and her father struck up and killed her. In her stomach there were about 100 small snakes. They killed them and killed them, but one escaped and hid under a dry patch of mithan dung, and grew up and used to eat people, and when it got bigger it wriggled into the “rulchawm kua”—i.e., “feed snake hole”—and people of all villages used to feed it. After a time it was not content with goats and pigs, but demanded children. One day a Chin who was travelling noticed his host and hostess weeping, and on asking the reason was told it was the day for giving a child to the snake. “I will kill the snake,” he replied, and, being provided with a goat, he slew it, and wrapped its flesh round his dao and forearm and offered it to the rulpui. When his forearm had been swallowed, by a quick turn of his wrist he disembowelled the monster. The place where this took place is on the Aijal-Champhai road, some forty miles from Aijal. The Biate or Bete claim to have been the people who fed the snake.

If a “thingsir” (a snake of which the female is very light-coloured and the male dark) enters a house, it is very “thianglo.”

The entry of any snake into a house is looked on with suspicion, and either portends misfortune or it denotes that the sacrifice to Sakhua is urgently needed. If this sacrifice is not performed speedily death may ensue.

To see a snake with legs is “thianglo.” The Lushais believe there are such creatures. My informant says it is only nowadays that this is “thianglo,” inferring that formerly such creatures were common and therefore attracted no attention. It is the unusualness of the thing which makes the Lushai think it “thianglo.”

4. Omens. In the section dealing with superstition the subject of omens of misfortune has been fully dealt with, and there is no need to say much more, but the following extract from “Asiatic Dissertations,” II, 1792, is interesting—it is from a description of the “Mountaineers of Tipra.”

“If at any time they see a star very near the moon they say, ‘To-night we shall undoubtedly be attacked by some enemy,’ and they pass the night under arms with extreme vigilance.”

This belief may be accounted for by the superstition that projects undertaken on such occasions are likely to succeed.

Once when starting on a night expedition to capture a rebel chief, I noticed my guide staring up intently at the moon, and he expressed great satisfaction at seeing a star quite close to its edge, and exclaimed that our expedition was now sure to succeed, which I am glad to say proved true.

5. Witchcraft. The Lushais are firm believers in witchcraft. There are several ways of bewitching your enemy. Colonel Lewin has a tale in which the wizard takes up the impression of a person’s foot in the mud and puts it to dry over the hearth, thereby causing the owner to waste away. Clay figures into which bamboo spikes are thrust also figure in all cases in which a person is accused of this offence. To cut off a piece of a person’s hair and put it in a spring is certain, unless the hair is speedily removed, to cause his death. Several tragedies have occurred on account of the belief in witchcraft. In 1897 three whole families were massacred because it was thought that they were bewitching a very aged chieftainess. The livers of the wizards were cut out and portions carried to the sufferer, but unfortunately she died before being able to taste them and thus prove the efficacy of the remedy. So strong was the feeling about these wizards that four or five households of their relatives had to be given a special and isolated site, as no village would receive them.

The following translation of a Lushai’s account of how mankind first learned the black art is specially interesting, as it introduces Lalruanga and Keichalla, who are the heroes of many of the oldest of the Lushai tales. Colonel Lewin gives some excellent stories in his “Progressive Colloquial Exercises.” Keichalla is the man who can become a tiger at will, and appears in many tales:—

“Dawi witchcraft was known to Pathian. Vahrika also was something like Pathian. Vahrika had a separate water supply, and Pathian’s daughter was always disturbing it. Vahrika said, ‘What can it be?’ and lay in ambush. Pathian’s daughter came, and he caught her and was going to kill her, but she said, ‘Don’t kill me; I will teach you magic.’ So she taught him, and Vahrika taught it all to Keichalla, Lalruanga, and Hrang-sai-puia. Then Lalruanga went to court Zangkaki, and Zangkaki, who was a friend of Pathian’s daughter, bewitched Lalruanga, who had forgotten his “dawi bur” (magic gourd), and he said to Chaichim (the mouse), ‘Go and fetch my dawi bur which I put in my basket.’ So the mouse went to fetch the dawi bur and got it, but the Tuiruang (Barak) river rose very high. The mouse took the dawi bur in his mouth and started to swim over the river. The dawi bur was washed away by the river till it stuck in the fish trap of the Thlangom tribe, who said, ‘What is this?’ The dawi bur was singing like anything. The Thlangoms broke it open. No sooner had they opened it than they each acquired knowledge of magic. Then the Thlangoms were chanting the magic song. Some Mizo (natives of these Hills) who were passing through the village also heard the song of those who knew magic. The Mizo saw a man eating rice. ‘May you be bewitched!’ they said. They bewitched him in his rice eating, and for a year after whenever he ate cooked rice it changed into dry uncooked rice, and it swelled inside him till his stomach could not hold it and he died. Thus the Mizo learnt about magic. Nowadays also there is magic, but those who know it won’t teach it without payment.”

The Lushais maintain that the tribes to the north of them, such as Paihte, Bete, &c., are very proficient at witchcraft, while the Chins consider the Lushais such experts at the craft that when Captain Hall, 2nd Gurkhas, and I forced our way from the west through the then unexplored hills and joined General Symons at Haka in 1890, the chiefs of that village besought the General not to allow any of our Lushai followers to go within sight of it, lest they should, by merely looking at it, cause fearful misfortunes. The belief in the man tiger is common through the Hills and also in Nepal. When a man-eater gave much trouble in Lungleh, our Gurkha Sepoys maintained that it was a man, one of three friends who had assumed this shape and were travelling by different shapes to a previously selected rendezvous, on reaching which they would resume their human forms.

Khuavang zawl.—The Lushais believe that certain persons—both males and females, but more generally females—have the power of putting themselves into a trance and are in a state of communication with Khuavang. This power is called “zawl,” and a person who possesses it is called “zawlnei.” During their trances they are said to be able to elicit from Khuavang information regarding the particular sacrifice required to cure any sick person, and their information is supposed to be more reliable than the opinion of the puithiam, who bases his statements solely on the action of the pulse. The method of interrogating a zawlnei is called “thumvor,” and is as follows:—

The zawlnei being in a trance is given a shallow basket containing rice, which he or she holds in one hand while an egg is placed in the palm of the other hand. When the zawlnei reverses this hand the egg does not fall. The basket of rice is shaken backwards and forwards, and there appears among the rice the footprint of the animal which it is necessary to sacrifice to ensure the patient’s recovery. If it is impossible to trace any resemblance to any animal’s footmark the state of the patient is serious and the whole series of sacrifices are needed. Compare the description of the Maibi’s method of divination given in McCulloch’s account of the Valley of Manipur, page 21. The following two accounts of Khuavang zawl were given me by Lushais:—

Lianthangi was a Khuavang zawl. There was much sickness in the village. One night Khuavang came to her in her dreams and said, “If each house-owner will make a clay metna and place it outside his or her house the sickness will cease.” So they did this and the next day they observed as “hrilh,” and within 20 days everyone was well again.

Thang-tei-nu was a zawlnei, but concealed the fact; people used to come secretly and make her perform the thumvor, and said she knew everything. She allowed no one to drink zu in her house, and if she drank zu she always got ill and it was “thianglo” for her to perform sacrifice. Khuavang told her this in her dreams.

Khawhring.—In Chapter IV, para. 6, the sacrifice called Khawhring Tir has been described. The belief in Khawhring is universal, and from the following translation it will be seen that the unfortunate women who were accused of being possessed by such a spirit have good reason to be grateful that the control of the country has passed into our hands. The belief is that Khawhring lives in certain women, whence it issues forth from time to time and takes possession of another woman, who, falling into a trance, speaks with the voice of the original hostess of the Khawhring. A missionary described to me a weird scene of excitement which he once saw, the object being to exorcise a Khawhring which had possessed a girl. Amid a turmoil of shouting, drum-beating, and firing of guns the spirit was ordered to quit its temporary abode and return whence it came.

“Wild boars have Khawhring. Once a man shot a wild boar while out hunting. On his return home they cooked the flesh. Some of the fat got on the hand of his sister, who rubbed her head, and the wild boar’s Khawhring just passed into her. On the next day, without any provocation, she entered another girl. She took entire possession of her. People said to her, “Where are you going to?” She replied, “It is the wild boar my brother shot.” “Well, what do you want?” they said. “If you will give me eggs I will go away,” she replied. They gave her eggs and she went. Presently all those who borrowed the “hnam” (a plaited cane band for carrying loads) of the girl with the Khawhring also got possessed. If one with a Khawhring has a daughter the child is always possessed, so no one wants to marry a person with a Khawhring. Even now, we being to some extent Lusheis, we do not like to let a person possessed by a Khawhring enter our houses, and if such a one sits on the bed of a true Lushei she will certainly be fined a metna. Those possessed of Khawhring are most disgusting people, and before the foreigners came they were always killed.”

The writer was not a true Lushei, but belonged to one of the clans which are fast being absorbed and are almost indistinguishable from Lusheis.

The Lushais say that sometimes girls walk in their sleep and go and lick up urine, as the metna do, under the zawlbuk, and that when starting forth on these expeditions their feet and hands shine as if they were coated with phosphorus. If a young man wakes a girl up while she is walking thus she is very much ashamed, and generally grants him the favours of her bed to procure his silence.

This state is called “Thlahzung.”