THE THADO CLAN

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The term New Kukis, which appears so often in the records of Cachar and Sylhet in the middle of the last century, and which has been adopted by Dr. Grierson in the “Linguistic Survey of India,” may be taken as synonymous with the Thado clan. The clan is a very large one; Dr. Grierson in the “Linguistic Survey” estimates the numbers as follows:—

In Manipur 20,000.
In Naga Hills 5,500.
In Cachar Plains 5,403.
In Sylhet 534.
Total 31,437.

This estimate omits the members of the clan in North Cachar Hills and in the unadministered tracts between the Naga Hills and Manipur on the west and the Upper Chindwin district of Burma on the east. Allowing for these, we may safely conclude that the clan now numbers about 37,000 souls.

The clan is divided in a manner exactly similar to the Lushei. There are four main families, all named after their progenitors, and these are further sub-divided into many eponymous branches. The whole clan traces its genealogy back to Thado and his elder brother Dongel, and beyond them to mythical heroes who lived below the surface of the ground. The late Colonel McCulloch, in his most interesting “Account of the Valley of Manipur,” says, “About the names of those previous to Thado there may be some doubt, but from this great chief, from whom the whole race takes the appellation of Thado, I don’t think that there is any.” After many enquiries I am quite of the same opinion and have found pedigrees collected from various sources differ but slightly from that recorded by Colonel McCulloch fifty years ago. The original habitation of this clan is said to have been Kochuk, situated very far to the south of Manipur. Here I must differ from Colonel McCulloch, who says the traditional home of the Thados was in the north. There are other reasons besides tradition for believing that the Thados have come from the south, the many resemblances between them and other clans, which either still live in the centre of the Hills or did so till quite recently, and the connection between their language and those of the Sokte, Siyin, Vuite, and Ralte, so clearly established by Dr. Grierson, amply proves the southern origin of this clan. It appears almost certain that the Kamhaus, Soktes, and Siyins were the first to disturb the Thados, many of whom entered Manipur territory to escape from these active foes, while others probably moved westward and settled in the hills to the south of the Cachar district, whence in 1848–50 they were driven into Cachar by the triumphant Lushais, as described in Part I., Chapter I, para. 3. In the Manipuri chronicle there is mention of an expedition against the Khongjais, as the Manipuris call the Thados, as early as 1787, and though the chronicle cannot be accepted as infallible, I think we may conclude that the Thados entered the Manipur Hills about the middle of the 18th century. The different families seem very soon to have separated and, just as among the Lusheis, to have fought among themselves, for tradition speaks of a great battle between the Shit-hloh and the Chhinchhuan, on the Sawnchal hill, some 60 miles in an air-line south-east of Imphal, the capital of Manipur.

The four main families are the Dongel, Shit-hloh, Haukip, and Kipgen. The Dongel are descended from Thado’s elder brother, and therefore are considered as rather superior to the rest of the families. The reason why the clan has not been known by the name of Dongel is said to be that Thado was a far greater warrior and killed more men. His name is derived, by the people themselves, from “that,” “to kill,” and “doh,” “to war.” It is curious that the direct descendants of Thado are known as Shit-hloh. This Shit-hloh was the seventh in the direct line from Thado, and it is said that up till his time the followers of the direct line had been fewer than those of the Kipgen and Haukip, but Shit-hloh was great in council and war, and retrieved the fortunes of his family, and hence his name has been adopted by them. Thus Thado remains as the true clan name, while Shit-hloh, Kipgen, and Haukip are the names of the families, which are further subdivided, as among the Lushais, into many branches, mostly named eponymously. The Kipgen and Haukip have always differed slightly from the Shit-hloh. The reason given for this is that Thalun, the son of Thado, was one day sitting outside his house with his wife, and, being alone together, the lady was somewhat careless as to her garments. Hearing some people approaching, Thalun told her to adjust her dress, and as she did not at once comply he threw a piece of wood at her and killed her on the spot. Being overcome with grief and shame, he fled to another part of the country and married again, the second wife being the mother of Kipgen and Haukip, whereas Elmun, from whom the Shit-hloh claim descent, was the son of the ill-fated first wife.

The number of branches into which these three families have divided is very great, and the connection of all of them with the parent stem is not very well established. Most of them are now of but little importance, the members being much scattered, but the Chhinchhuan, a branch of the Shit-hloh, and Chongput and Hawlthang, both branches of the Haukip family, still are of some importance. The Chhinchhuan chiefs rule over eleven villages, containing 952 houses, in the southern portion of the Manipur Hills, where they have been established certainly over 150 years. The Chongput and Hawlthang chiefs occupy sites in the hills to the west of the Manipur valley, which were assigned to them by Colonel McCulloch about 1850, and rule over some 190 houses.

With the exception of the three branches just mentioned, the Thados have broken up very much, and are found in small hamlets scattered about the territory of totally different clans, without any reference to locality or ethnographical considerations.

All members of these families, however, admit the claims of the head chief to their allegiance, and in token thereof give him, or his nearest representative, a hind leg of every wild animal killed.

The Thados generally are very truculent; in Manipur they have settled themselves among the more peaceable Nagas, and until the British Government assumed control of the State they lived largely on the labour of these unfortunate people, whom they had virtually reduced to slaves. The Manipuris found it easier to acquiesce in this oppression by the Thados than to coerce them, and the Thados were used on many occasions to punish Naga tribes whom the Manipuris were unable to reduce to submission. The superior cunning of the Manipuris enabled them to maintain their influence over the Thados by skilfully playing off one family against another. On one occasion three of the most powerful chiefs were enticed inside the royal enclosure in Imphal and treacherously murdered. At present large numbers of Thados are moving eastward in unadministered country, carrying on the same bullying tactics, reducing the inhabitants, who as yet have no firearms, to the condition of slaves.

Among the Thados are found the remnants of many other clans, which have been practically absorbed, having adopted Thado customs and language. It is asserted that at the time of the Thimzing (v. Part I., Chap. V, para. 1) Lianthang and his brother Thlangom, and Lunkim and his brother Changsan, had such large supplies of skulls of animals killed by them that they were enabled to live through that trying time by using the trophies of their skill in the chase as fuel, and from them the present Lianthang, Thlangom, Lunkim, and Changsan clans claim descent. The Changsan are sub-divided into eight families and are considered a clan of some standing, as is shown by the fact that the Shit-hloh will only take wives from Shit-hloh, Changsan, and Mangyel households.

The following clans are said not to be descended from Thado, but to have emerged from the earth after the Thimzing:—Kulho, Shongte, Kullon, Thangneo, Hanngeng, Henngar, and Thanchhing. They are now to all intents and purposes Thados, most of them having even adopted the Sakhua, or domestic sacrificial rites, of whichever family of the Thado clan they have attached themselves to. Shongte and his younger brother Kullon emerged from the Khulpi, which is the Thado equivalent of the Lushai Chhinglung. Kulho, Thangneo, and Hanngeng were sons of Shongte, the two latter being by a different mother to the first. Henngar was Kulho’s son. Kulho celebrated the Chong festival, and invited his half-brothers, but Thangneo refused to come, so Kulho disowned him, which angered Thangneo, so that he proposed to Hanngeng that they should kill Kulho, but Hanngeng refused, saying that the removal of Kulho would make Thangneo head of the family, but would in no way benefit him. This ancient quarrel is sometimes revived even now, and blows are exchanged when representatives of Kulho and Thangneo meet round the zu-pot.

The houses of the Thados generally resemble those of the Lushais, but are less regular in their interior arrangements, a big house sometimes having two or three hearths irregularly placed. Zawlbuks are not built, the young men sleeping in the houses of well-to-do people. The houses of the chiefs are surrounded by palisading enclosing a courtyard, along one side of which there is often a platform, which reminds one very much of the Chin houses, and is one of the many trifles tending to confirm the tradition of the southern origin of the clan. The following extracts from Lieut. Stewart’s notes on Northern Cachar, written in 1855, show us the Thados as he knew them:—

“Each of the four clans is divided into separate and independent Rajahlics, of greater or less power and numbers, consisting of one or more villages, each of which is presided over by a hereditary chief or Rajah, whose power is supreme, and who has a civil list as long, in proportion to the means of his subjects, as that possessed by any other despot in the world. All these Rajahs are supposed to have sprung from the same stock, which it is believed originally had connection with the gods themselves. Their persons are, therefore, looked upon with the greatest respect and almost superstitious veneration, and their commands are in every case law.

“The revenue exacted by these chieftains is paid in kind and labour. In the former each able-bodied man pays annually a basket of rice containing about two maunds; out of each brood of pigs or fowls reared in the village, one of the young becomes the property of the Rajah, and he is further entitled to one quarter of every animal killed in the chase, and, in addition, to one of the tusks of each elephant so slain. In labour his entire population are bound to devote four days in each year, in a body, for the purpose of cultivating his private fields. On the first day they cut down the jungle, on the second day, the fuel being dry, they fire it and prepare the ground, on the third they sow and harrow, and on the fourth cut and bring in the harvest. Besides the labour of these four days in which the entire effective population, men, women, and children, work for him, small parties are told off during the whole season to assist his own domestic slaves in tending the crop, repairing his house (which edifice is always built afresh by the subjects when a new site is repaired to), and in supplying wood and water for the family. On the occasion of the days of general labour, a great feast is given by the Rajah to all his people; so also, on the occasion of an elephant being killed, to the successful hunters, but this is the only remuneration ever received by them, and calls can be made on them for further supplies and labour, whenever it may be required.

“The Rajah is the sole and supreme authority in the village or villages under him, no one else being competent to give orders or inflict punishment except through him.

“To assist him in carrying on the affairs of government the Rajah has a minister, and more frequently several, called ‘thushois’ or ‘muntries,’ who have the privilege of being exempt from labour and taxation at his hands. This office is not, strictly speaking, hereditary—although in most cases, except when thoroughly incompetent, the son succeeds the father—but is given to those qualified for it, as being men of property and influence as well as of ability, and good spokesmen. The Rajah himself is, on the contrary, invariably succeeded by his eldest son, for whom, should he be a minor, the kingdom is managed by a council of muntries. In default of sons, the Rajah’s brother succeeds, and failing him the nearest male relative takes the guddee, the Salique law being in full force.

“Should the Rajah die without any heir to the throne, the chief muntry, if he be an influential man, takes his place, or some neighbouring Rajah of the same clan is called upon to take the government or usurps it. Each of the clans have one great Rajah, supposed to be the main branch of the original stock, to whom, although those immediately beyond his own villages owe him no allegiance, great respect is shown by all, and acknowledgment of the superior title given, although in power and wealth he may be much poorer than others of the tribe.

“No regular courts are held among the Kookis, but complaints are always heard before the Rajah, assisted by his muntries, whenever they may be made. Heinous crimes are very infrequent among these people. Theft is almost unknown, and they chiefly offend in slight quarrels and disputes among themselves, which are settled by their Rajah, a fine being exacted from the guilty party, according to his means and the extent of his guilt, either in wine, fowls, pigs, goats, cows, or methins. When cases of theft, burglary, or arson occur, the criminal loses his independence and becomes a bondman to the Rajah for the term of his life. Cases of murder and manslaughter are of course taken up by our authorities and punished by our laws. But the punishment awarded for murder among the Kookis was confiscation of all goods and property and perpetual bondage for the murderer, his wife, and family, who thenceforth became slaves of the Rajah and did his work. The only crime punishable by death among the Kookis was high treason, or an attempt at violence on the person of the king, and treacherous commerce with an enemy of the clan: the victim in these cases was cut to pieces with dhaos, but of course no such extreme measures can be resorted to by them in the present day. In cases of adultery and seduction the punishment is left in the hands of the aggrieved husband or father. In the former case, death might be inflicted on the adulterer by any means with impunity, but more generally it was, and now invariably is, the custom to compound with him for a large sum of money, something over and above the original price of the wife. The adulteress then becomes the property of her lover.

“In cases of seduction every effort is made, and in most cases successfully, to have the guilty couple married forthwith, a penal price being put upon the bride. All the women in the village, married or single, are perfectly at the pleasure of the Rajah, and no voice would be lifted against him for cohabiting with any of them, the only prevention being a sense of immorality and an understanding among the royal families of the whole tribe generally that such conduct is infra dig.; indeed, there is little temptation, for the Rajah may have as many wives as he likes or can keep, both polygamy and concubinage being in common practice, female slaves living generally in the latter condition with respect to their masters.”—Stewart’s “Notes on Northern Cachar,” pp. 45–48.

This description is still fairly accurate, but the gradual breaking up of villages, coupled with the increased control by Government and State officers, has lessened the power of the chiefs and modified custom to a considerable extent. Lieutenant Stewart gives the following account of how the people hunted before guns were common among them:—

“The Kookis are great hunters, and are passionately fond of the sport, looking upon it, next to war, as the noblest exercise for man. They kill tigers, deer, and smaller game by means of poisoned arrows. The bow is a small one made of bamboo, and very slightly bent, the string being manufactured of bark. The arrow, the head of which has a barbed iron point, is about 18 inches long, being drawn to the chest and not the ear, and therefore delivered with no great force, the destructive effect lying chiefly in the poison. With such an instrument the great art in hunting lies in stealthily approaching the animal near enough to deliver the arrow with effect, and in following it up after being wounded to the spot where it is found lying dead. In this the Kookis excel, being able to prowl about the jungle as noiselessly as tiger-cats, and being equal to North American Indians in distinguishing tracks. Tigers are also killed by spring bows with poisoned arrows set in the jungles and by poisoned panjies planted in their paths.

“Elephants are slain in great numbers by the Kookis wherever they are to be had, not only the tusks but the flesh being highly prized. Parties of 20 and upwards go out in pursuit of them at a time. When some recent elephant track is discovered in the forest, two or three of the party ascend some convenient tree, whose branches overhang the track, the remainder follow it up, and having got on the other side of the herd scare it towards the ambush by shouting, beating gongs, and discharging firearms. Here, while passing, the animals are assailed from above with long spears having huge iron barbs covered with deadly poison; every wound inflicted results in the death of the animal at not more than half a mile from the spot on which he was hit. So wary are the elephants, however, that it is seldom that more than two out of a herd are killed. At the place where their game is found dead, they commence cutting him up, and extract his tusks; laden with these and as much of the flesh as they can carry, they return home, and other parties go out and encamp in the neighbourhood of the carcase until they have entirely consumed it, or are driven away by the effluvia of decomposition. Portions of the flesh that they cannot immediately eat are dried and smoked to be kept for future consumption. The Kookis also hunt the methin or wild cow, which they have likewise succeeded in domesticating, having introduced the breed to Northern Cachar.

“The deadly poison used by the Kookis is, they say, extracted from a tree which does not grow in these parts, but the article is brought to them for sale by tribes inhabiting the borders of Manipur. The substance is of a dark blue or black colour and of about the consistency of common resin. To make it serviceable it is ground down with capsicum seeds and tobacco juice, so as to form a pulp, with which the weapons are smeared, cotton soaked in the mixture being also tied to the iron under the barb. I had once the cruelty to try the effect of this poison on two domestic fowls. To one I administered internally a dose equal to about two common-sized pills, and I punctured one of the legs of the other, so as merely to draw blood, with the pointed bamboo about the size of a toothpick which had been dipped into the mixture. The latter died in twenty minutes without much apparent pain, and in the former no effects whatever could be perceived, and it may be crowing to the present day. Another poison, called ‘deo-bi,’ is used by the Kookis to kill fish, and has an intoxicating effect upon them forcing them to the surface, when it is thrown into the water. The Kookis also spear fish, but have not much idea of catching them by the hook or net.”—Stewart’s “Notes on Northern Cachar,” pp. 62, 63.

When the track of a tiger is found the “thempu” lifts the earth on which the footprint is and lays it on a leaf of the “ai” plant. He pours some zu on it and then, muttering charms, he wraps it up in the leaf and drops it into a pot, which he places to his ear and professes to be able to hear whether the pursuit of the animal will be crowned with success. The customs as regards “boi” approximate to those of the Lushais, and where they differ it is always to the disadvantage of the boi; thus a criminal seeking refuge in the chief’s house has to pay a mithan before he can be accepted. On a chief’s death each boi has to kill a pig at his funeral. Slavery by purchase is recognised and is not restricted to the chiefs—another point of resemblance between the Thados and the Chins.

The village organisation is much the same as among the Lushais, but the minor chiefs, while collecting all dues from the people of their villages, pay certain dues to the head of their family. The crier is known as “tlangsam,” but he receives no remuneration. The “thirdeng,” or blacksmith, is known as “thirshu,” and receives a day’s labour from every householder in the village as his pay.

The thempu only receives zu, and this only from those he cures—a system tending to increase the skill of the practitioners.

As regards marriage the rules are not very clearly defined, but young men of the families which sacrifice a sow to their Sakhua will not generally take girls from the families which sacrifice a mithan. Strange to say, the sow-sacrificers have no objection to providing brides for the mithan-slayers, the cause probably being that in certain cases the wife’s Sakhua has to be propitiated and the cautious sons of sow-killing families object to the extra expense involved by marrying a wife whose Sakhua demands a mithan. Lieutenant Stewart states that strict rules existed prohibiting the intermarriage of cousins, however remote, but my enquiries tend to show that at present the prohibition only extends to paternal cousins to the third generation.

Marriage is by purchase, the sums to be paid being:—

“Manpi” (Lushai “manpui”)—three to 30 mithan, according to the family of the bride, to the father of the girl or his representative.

“Golha” (Lushai “palal”)—Rs. 4/- or 5/-.

The bride’s elder sister, one cloth of dark blue.

The father’s younger brother, one mithan, called “mankang,” but if he is living in the same house as the father then the nearest male relative who is living separately receives this.

Although a man has paid the full price for his wife, yet he has, on her death and the death of each of her sons, to pay a further sum called “longman” to her nearest male relative. Supposing Pathong marries Thonghlu’s daughter and has by her two sons, one of whom dies, it is Thonghlu’s duty to kill a pig in honour of the deceased and to take the skull and all the flesh except that of the head and the entrails to Pathong. The skull is placed over the grave and the flesh eaten by the family. Pathong now has to pay Thonghlu the price of the pig and Rs. 9/-, but if he prefers he may, instead of these two sums, give one mithan, however small, Rs. 1/-, and a hoe. It is often found cheaper to give the mithan. Suppose Thonghlu is now gathered to his fathers, leaving a son, Kanpu, and Pathong’s wife also dies, then Kanpu must kill the pig and will receive the mithan. Pathong departs this life and his son marries and begets a son, Komyang, and Kanpu also dies leaving a son, Nelet. Now on the death of Pathong’s remaining son, Nelet must kill the pig and will receive the mithan from the dead man’s son, Komyang, and as this extinguishes the liability on account of Thonghlu’s daughter, Komyang, in token thereof, will also give to Nelet one spear and one tinder-box. These payments, unfortunately, are seldom made on the spot, and claims on account of great-aunts or even more distant female relatives are frequently brought up for decision. In case of women who die in childbed or in any unnatural manner her “longman,” as this payment is called, has not to be paid. “Longman” reminds one of the Lushai “lukawng,” and very similar customs are found among the Old Kuki and some Naga clans.

In common with nearly all non-Lushei clans, a Thado co-respondent, and not his victim’s relatives, has to pay the injured husband all the expenses he had incurred in the marriage and also a fine of one mithan. The same rule applies to the seducer of a widow living in her late husband’s house. On a man’s death his eldest brother can insist on marrying the widow and taking all the children. “Sawnman” is enforced as among the Lushais, but should the father refuse to take the child when it is old enough to leave its mother, he is called on to pay a second mithan, and he forfeits the right to receive the marriage price in case of a girl. The eldest son inherits and, failing a son, the nearest male relative. Adoption is practised as among the Lushais, the ceremony being known as “Phunkai” (Lushai “Sa-phun”).

In case of accidental homicide the offender has to kill a pig at his victim’s funeral and provide a blue cloth to wrap the body in. Should the death have been caused by a gunshot wound the gun is forfeited to the heir of the deceased. The Thados claim that rape and sodomy are unknown among them.

There is no doubt that head-hunting was indulged in in olden days, and on the death of a powerful chief at least one freshly taken head had to adorn his grave.

Lieutenant Stewart, in the book already quoted from, gives a good deal of information about the religious beliefs of the Thados. He says they recognise one all-powerful god, whom they call Pathen (Lushai Pathian), who has a wife, Nongjai. I have enquired about Pathen’s wife, but though all my informants say that it is usual to speak of Pathen Nongjai together, none could say whether Nongjai was Pathen’s wife—an equally powerful being, sharing power with Pathen—or simply another name for Pathen. Stewart also provides Pathen with a son, Thihla, but my informants all agree that the Thihla are demons of the hills, rivers, and forests—in other words exactly the same as the Huais of the Lushais. Ghumoishe, mentioned by Stewart, is the king of all these Thihla, and he has a wife, Imungshe. They are supposed to inhabit the densest forests on the highest mountain tops, and when passing through such their dread names are never mentioned. About this demon Stewart says: “By some he is said to be the illegitimate son of Pathen, but others deny the relationship, and say that he has no connection with the god whatever. The idea of making the origin of evil proceed thus from an illegitimate source is exceedingly clever.” None of my informants would venture a guess even at Ghumoishe’s parentage. Kuchom, whom Stewart gives as Ghumoishe’s wife, is nowadays, as far as I can find out, unknown, as also is Hilo, said by Stewart to be the daughter of the last-named couple and to be the goddess of poisons. The Thihla are divided into Thingbulnga, the Thihla of the big trees; Shongbulnga, of the rocks and stones; Tuikhumnga, the demons of the water, of whom Tuikhumlen is the king. These water spirits are said to be far more powerful than those of the woods or rocks, and therefore are often spoken of as Tui-pathen. They also receive a fourfold sacrifice, of a white fowl or an egg, a pig, a dog, which must not be entirely black, and a he-goat, whereas cocks or hens are considered quite good enough for the Thingbulgna or Shongbulgna.

Zomi is a female spectre, a sight of which is a sure forerunner of some dire misfortune, which can only be averted by the immediate sacrifice of a dog. Pheizam correspond to the Lashi. Nuaijingmang is an evil spirit which lives underground.

After death the spirits of men and women, great and small, all go to Mi-thi-khua. The only advantage which the spirits of those who have slain men and beasts and given feasts obtain is that Kulsamnu does not dare to detain them, whereas she, sitting by the roadside, seizes all other poor wandering souls, and troubles them sorely unless their relatives who have gone on before come to their rescue.

I have been unable to find any traces of ancestor worship, nor is it mentioned either by Stewart or McCulloch. This is extremely curious, as the Thados attach the highest possible importance to a long pedigree and, as has been seen, nearly every other clan practise some rites to appease the dead.

Religious Rites and Sacrifices.—The Daibawl sacrifices are made as among the Lushais, but not the Khal. The Dongel and Shit-hloh families sacrifice a sow to Sakhua, but the Haukip and Kipgen kill a mithan. This difference is said to date back to the time when the Haukip lived on the banks of the Run or Manipur river, near to Tiddim, and sacrificed a mithan to Rulpui, or the great snake. The Chhinchhuan are said to have recently adopted the Vaiphei method of propitiating Sakhua, and in consequence the Shit-hloh have ceased intermarrying with them.

Besides the sacrifice to Sakhua the Thado have a special sacrifice known as “Pathen biak na” (“speaking to Pathen”). This consists of killing a small pig in the closet at the end of the house and a white cock in front of the house. The crop, entrails, and bones are “sherh” and are placed on an oaken post in front of the house, and a thirty days’ “hrilh” is observed.

The Ai ceremonies are much the same as among the Lushais, but in that of the tiger the carrying of the porcupine is unknown. Directly a tiger is shot a bamboo skewer is hammered into its ear hole, to make sure that it is dead, and when the body is brought up to the village an egg is placed in the mouth by some female relative of the lucky hunter, who addresses the dead animal thus: “Oh! Ho! You stole that, did you? And so a peg has been driven into your ear.” She then jumps across the body from side to side and from head to tail. After this the skin may be removed. In connection with cultivation, a ceremony called “Daibun” is performed after the burning of the jhums. Seven bamboos adorned with cotton wool are placed round the jhum as an offering to the “Thihla” of the locality, who are further propitiated later on by an offering of an egg and some leaves placed on a bamboo in the middle of the jhum. This is called “Daikam.” Wanolnaunu died because she was so lazy that it was too much trouble to live, so if any of her signs are found in a new jhum, a sacrifice has to be performed to avoid a failure of the crops. A tree which has two trunks which unite some feet above the ground is said to represent her fingers, and a red fowl must be sacrificed and the tree dug up by the roots. A spring is said to be her tears, and a goat must be sacrificed. If a wallow is found a pig must be offered. If a woman is not blessed with offspring within the usual time of the marriage there are three methods of procedure:—The woman may go to her father’s house, and he will kill a cock and they will drink zu together, after which he ties a string round her neck. If this is not successful she may go to her husband’s eldest brother or cousin, and he will repeat the performance. If there is still no result the thempu is called in and kills a black hen inside the house, and its flesh, mixed with stones and other ingredients, is compounded by him into a medicine which the poor woman desirous of offspring has to eat. On the occasion of the birth of a child the mother may not leave her house for five days in case of a son and three in case of a daughter. When these periods have expired she goes to her father’s house and takes a fowl or a pig, according to her means. This is called “Nau-bil-vu.” The mother also gives her father or sometimes her mother a cloth on the occasion of the birth of a child, and the recipient kills a pig in honour of the occasion. In case of a child getting sick the thempu sacrifices a fowl, called “Ar-kang-tha.”

The marriage ceremonies of the Thados are described by both McCulloch and Stewart, and do not seem to have changed at all during the 55 years that have elapsed since their accounts were written. Neither account, however, is quite complete. The bridegroom, accompanied by his friends, taking with them at any rate a portion of the sum to be paid for the bride, go to the village where the girl lives, and for three days the young men of the village wrestle with them. On arrival they are met with showers of filth from the children of the village. The girl’s parents have to give a pig or a mithan and much zu to celebrate the occasion. At the conclusion of the feast the bride sets out for her future home dressed in her best and wearing a gong on her head. The actual marriage ceremony takes place in the house of the father of the bridegroom and consists of the thempu killing a fowl, feathers from the right wing being placed in the hair of the young couple. They then drink out of the same cup of zu, and the thempu, muttering charms, binds a cotton thread round their necks, which must be worn till it falls off from old age.

The thempu then presents each with a comb. Only very near relatives may use the same comb. Stewart says husband and wife may share a comb, but my information is that uterine brothers and sisters may do so. A Lushai correspondent writes that among them the use of another man’s comb may cause a headache, and that a person of a higher clan would be contaminated if he used the comb of a member of a lower one. To see whether the union will prove harmonious the thempu takes a hair from the head of each and moistens them in zu and then twists them together. If the hairs remain twisted all will go smoothly, but should they fly apart many bickerings and disputes are to be expected. The parents of the bridegroom give a feast to all concerned, and this completes the ceremony, but the young couple do not at once commence sleeping together. If they have not been previously acquainted they often sleep apart for a month, and for lesser periods according to the degree of their acquaintance.

Eligible brides are even now carried off and married against the wishes of their parents, by ardent lovers belonging to powerful families.

Immediately a death occurs guns are fired and a special funeral chant called “La pi” (Lushai “Hla”) is sung three times. The funeral ceremonies of ordinary people are practically the same as among the Lushais, but in the case of those who have performed the “Chong” the ceremonies last seven days, and each day the corpse is carried in and out of the house seven times with much shouting, and a mithan has to be killed on each day. Every relative and slave has to attend and bring some animal to be killed. The skulls of all these adorn the great man’s grave, and, in former days, at least one fresh human skull taken specially for the occasion from some other clan had to be added to the other trophies over a chief’s grave. Sometimes the body of a great chief may be placed in a small house at a short distance from the village and partially dried over a slow fire; and a curious survival of the times of war is found in the practice, now dying out, of severing the head and burying it in an earthen pot in a separate place. This was done to prevent the heads being found and removed as trophies, should the village be raided. The entrails of the first animal killed in honour of the deceased are placed on leaves at the foot of the post against which the corpse rested during the funeral feast, and are left there for several days, even up to one month, and at every meal a handful of rice is taken out of the pot and placed on the leaves, before anyone is allowed to eat. This portion for the dead is called “thi an chhe.” As among the Rangte, efforts are made to obtain some wild animal or bird, and if the hunters are successful the entrails of the animal, or the whole animal if it be not edible, are buried with the “thi an chhe” in the grave, without waiting for the expiry of the month.

Unnatural deaths (“thichhia”) are considered unlucky, and the custom regarding the disposal of the corpse in such cases is the same as among the Lushais. Memorial stones are not generally put up by the Thados, but are occasionally found among the Chhinchhuan, perhaps from their proximity to the Lushais.

A man who has performed the Ai of a tiger is honoured with a special memorial. Two posts, one some four feet long and the other about three, carefully squared and with the four sides ornamented with transverse notches, are placed in the ground some five or six feet apart. The longer post terminates in a spike, on which are impaled several oval-shaped pieces of wood, which indicate the number of animals killed by the deceased. Between the posts and to one side a long pole is planted leaning over between the posts, and from this hangs half a dried gourd shell, convex side uppermost, from the rim of which hang tassels of rough wooden beads, and from the centre hangs a piece of wood 7 or 8 inches long, of which one end is forked and the other a knob. This represents “thotche,” a sort of rat found in the jungle and said to be the master of the jungle. If this animal is burnt in the jungle the “Thihla” of the place will be angry and punish the persons responsible. Children eat the flesh of the thotche. The posts are called “thingel” and remind one of the memorial posts of the Chins, and the be-tasselled gourd is a sign among those people that the owner of the house before which it is displayed has killed a man.

Memorial to a Man who has performed the Ai of a Tiger.

Memorial to a Man who has performed the Ai of a Tiger.

Memorial to a Woman who has performed the Buh Ai.

Memorial to a Woman who has performed the Buh Ai.

A woman who has performed the Buh Ai is also honoured with a special memorial, consisting of an upright stone some three feet high, in front of which are placed three others supporting a flat stone. A space of about four square yards in front is enclosed by a line of stones set on edge, the whole of the interior being planted with small stones, which are supposed to show the number of baskets of rice reaped on the occasion of the Ai. The feasts connected with the cultivation known by the Lushais as “Kut” are not practised, but when the rice is well up the whole community goes to the jhums, dancing and singing, and beating drums and gongs. In the jhums they work vigorously in perfect silence for a considerable time and then burst forth into song and dance, and eat their fill of rice washed down with zu. There is another feast connected with the crops called “Hun,” which takes place when the rice is about a foot high. Each household prepares two pots of zu, one for the husband and one for the wife, and a post called “shekhon” is planted before each house. This post has two horizontal arms projecting, one near the top and one near the ground, the upper one being the longer. These are perforated, and three reeds are passed through the holes. Each household kills a white cock at the foot of the shekhon. The flesh is cooked in the house and eaten by the householder alone. The “sherh” and bones are hung on the shekhon. The zu in the householder’s pot may only be drunk by other householders, but that in the wife’s pot is dispensed to all comers. For five days after this feast no one but members of the household may enter the house. Nothing out of the house may be given away, and the householder must do no work, nor may he attend a funeral.

The series of feasts performed by the Lushais to attain the honours of “Thangchhuah” is not customary among the Thados, though some informants say that in olden days some such custom prevailed, and the “Chong” feast, at which seven mithan and two of every other sort of domestic animal had to be killed, is not performed now only because none can afford the expense. It will be remembered that “Chong” is the name of the first feast in the Thangchhuah series. Among the Haukip I am told that a position equivalent to Thangchhuah is attained by thrice celebrating the Ai of one of the following—tiger, bear, elephant, or hornbill.

Thado Folk Tales.

Benglama is the equivalent of the Lushai Chhura, and there are many tales about him which are common to both clans and in fact seem to be known to almost all representatives of the Kuki-Lushai race. The following is a translation of a portion of a tale written down in Lushai for me, but told by a Thado. Benglama had visited a village and got himself much disliked, and everyone was trying to catch him:—“Once they made a ladder and cut the lower side partly through and made a great quagmire underneath. Benglama climbed up it, it broke, and he fell down into the mud. Then a tiger came up. ‘My friend, if you help me out you may eat me,’ said Benglama. Then the tiger pulled him out. Then the tiger—‘I will eat you up,’ he said. Benglama—‘I will just go and wash myself clean,’ he said. ‘Presently I will eat you up,’ he said again. Benglama—‘I will go and ease myself,’ he said, ‘otherwise you will dislike my dung,’ he said. Where he went to ease himself he cut a cane. The tiger—‘Why do you do that?’ he asked. Then Benglama—‘It is going to blow and rain like anything, therefore I am going to tie myself to the stump of a tree,’ he said. Then the tiger—‘If that is so, tie me up first,’ he said. He tied him up. Then he (Benglama) also put a mallet, that all who passed by might beat the tiger. Benglama went away. Then the wild-cat came along. The tiger—‘My friend, you and I are just alike; we two are friends, we are brothers—undo me,’ he said. He undid him. Then the wild-cat left him, going into a pangolin’s hole. Then just as he was going in, the tiger caught him by the foot. ‘What you have got hold of, that is not me, it is a tree root,’ he said. The tiger let him go, but remained watching for him, but the wild-cat always slipped out at the other side, and was always eating fowls by Benglama’s house. The tiger—‘My friend, what is it you are eating?’ he said. Then the wild-cat—‘Oh, I am only just eating the bones of my hand,’ he said. The tiger was always eating his paw, and it hurt very, very much indeed. Presently the wild-cat went to the tiger and said to him, ‘If you were to take a torch and go near to Benglama’s house you would be able to catch some fowls,’ he said. So the tiger went up, but Benglama saw him, and heated some water. When it was very hot indeed, he poured it into a tui-um (bamboo tube for holding water) and threw it over the tiger. The tiger said, ‘My friend! My friend! I am dying, I am all burnt up,’ he said. The wild-cat—‘There is a waterfall some way down stream; if you roll down that you will be well,’ he said. He rolled down and so he died.”

How Benglama Tried to Climb to the Top of the Big “Bung” Tree.

“This Benglama—his wife was going to start for the jhum, and she spoke thus to him. To her husband his wife said, ‘Benglam, when the sun shines through our doorway, cook the rice, do,’ she said. ‘When the sun shines on the top of the bung tree in front of our house, then clean the rice and tie up the goat,’ she said, and she also left her child with him. His wife then left him to go to the jhum. Then he, according to his wife’s orders, when the sun shone in the doorway prepared to cook the rice. As often as he put the pot on the fire it fell off again. Presently the sun shone on the top of the bung tree. ‘Did my wife say cook the food on the top of the bung tree?’ he said. Then saying, ‘I will clean the rice,’ he prepared to climb to the top of the bung tree with the rice, mortar, and pounder, with the goat and the basket of fowls; but he could not climb up, he kept on falling down again. Just then his child, being hungry, began to cry and cry. Then Benglama, saying, ‘Is his fontanel hurting?’ pricked it with his hairpin. Then the child died. Benglama, saying, ‘Has it gone to sleep?’ laid it down on the sleeping machan; he did not know that it was dead. Then his wife came back from the jhum, and Benglama just before had fallen from the bung tree and was nearly dead, and lay on the sleeping platform groaning terribly. His wife said, ‘Are you ill?’ and he—‘Speak! Why, I can hardly speak, I have fallen from the top of the bung tree and am nearly dead, don’t you know?’ he said to her. Then she looked at her child; and his wife—‘Our child here is dead; how has it happened?’ she said. Then Benglama—‘Go on! it’s not dead, its head was hurting and I pricked it; it is just asleep,’ he said to her. Then his wife—‘It is dead indeed; go and bury it,’ she said. Then Benglama wrapped it up in a mat and carried it over his shoulder, and the body dropped out behind him, and he placed the mat only in a cave, and on his way back he saw his child’s body. ‘Whose child is this?’ he said, and kicked it about with his feet.”

The Story of Ngamboma and Khuptingi.

“Formerly Ngamboma and Khuptingi, before they were born, while in their mothers’ wombs, they loved each other. When the time for them to be born came near their mothers’ bellies pained them. Then if their mothers put their bellies near to each other they got well. Then the children were born. In the jhums when they were placed apart in the jhum house while their mothers were at work they always got together. When they grew bigger they loved each other, and Ngamboma wanted to marry Khuptingi, but their fathers and mothers did not think it wise. Then Ngamboma made an image of Khuptingi in beeswax and tied it to a stump of a tree on the bank of the stream, and whenever the water rose Khuptingi got ill and when it went down she got better. Thus it went on for one year. One day the stream rose and carried away Khuptingi’s image, then Khuptingi died. They placed her body in a dead-house. From the decaying matter which fell from her body flowers sprang up, and Ngamboma watched them always. One day a wild cat was going to take away those flowers, but Ngamboma caught it and said, ‘Why did you think to steal my flowers—I’ll just kill you?’ he said. Then the wild cat—‘Protector! Do not kill me; I am sent by Khuptingi,’ he said. Then Ngamboma—‘Where is Khuptingi, then?’ he said. Then the wild cat—‘If you catch hold of my tail we will both go (to her),’ he said. Then the wild cat towed him to the village in which Khuptingi was in the sky, in Mi-thi-khua (the dead-people’s-village), and they arrived at Khuptingi’s house and they slept there, and they ate rice also together. When they slept together Khuptingi was only bare bones, and Ngamboma said, ‘What bones are these? and he threw them to the top of the wall and to the bottom of the wall (i.e., all about the room). Then the next day Khuptingi—‘I am not well,’ she said. Ngamboma—‘What is the reason?’ he said. The Khuptingi—‘Last night when I was sleeping near you you threw me to the top of the wall and to the bottom of the wall; for that reason I am in pain,’ she said. Then their villagers said, ‘Let us go and fish,’ they said. They went. The place where they caught fish—indeed it was not a stream, it was a patch of bamboo. The dead called the bamboo leaves fish, and they filled their baskets cram-full, but Ngamboma said to himself, ‘They will stop the holes in the baskets with the leaves when they come to the stream so that the fish may not fall out by accident,’ he said, and he stopped the holes (in his basket) with leaves. Then they all returned to the village. Ngamboma, by diverting a stream, caught a few fish and returned. When they reached their houses the dead roasted the leaves which they called fish, but when Ngamboma tried to roast them the leaves all burnt up. Then Khuptingi said to Ngamboma, ‘The others have caught so many fish; why have you caught so few?’ Ngamboma roasted the real fish which he had caught, but they burnt up just like the bamboo leaves. Then one day the people again went out to hunt. In the place where they went hunting they saw a huge black caterpillar; the dead called it a bear. Ngamboma did not see it, and by accident trod on it and killed it. Then the dead said to Ngamboma, ‘That bear which ran towards you, have you seen it?’ they said. Ngamboma—‘I have not seen it,’ he said. Presently they saw the caterpillar which he had trodden on, ‘Hei-le! Why, you have shot it!’ they said. They carried it up to the village and all the dead ate up its flesh entirely. Ngamboma, however, did not care to eat any of it. Then Khuptingi said to Ngamboma, ‘Living people and dead people, we shall not be able to live together comfortably; therefore, if you now build yourself a house here and then return to your home, when you die you will be able to live in it?’—thus Khuptingi said. So he set to work to build a house. The dead called the arum trees, and they split them with axes and built (with them), but Ngamboma just split those arums with his nail very quickly. ‘Can one build houses with such stuff?’ he said. Then, splitting real trees into planks, he built his house. Then Khuptingi said to Ngamboma, ‘If you go to your house and call all the villagers together and sacrifice a mithan, and when you have finished eating its flesh you put on very good cloths and wear round your neck the sacrificial rope (the rope the mithan was bound with), and call on my name, then you will die and will be able to come to our village,’ she said. Just as Khuptingi said it came to pass; he died as he was lying on his bed, then they were able to live together with comfort. When he saw the house that he had built in Mi-thi-khua, he said, ‘Who built that house?’ The dead said to him, ‘You built it while you were alive.’ Then they married in Mi-thi-khua, it is said.

“It is because of this story of Ngamboma and Khuptingi that we say nowadays people are in Mi-thi-khua.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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