Read Ebook: A Collection of Kachári Folk-Tales and Rhymes by Anderson J D James Drummond

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 268 lines and 24040 words, and 6 pages

Brai b?r?i dangman. Brai? h?gr? gezerau dubli dotse l?nanai h?b? maubai th?dangman. Ph?re s?nse shik?ri s?se h?gr?iau m?i gaun?nai thoi-fr?m-n?nai kh?r?i kh?r?i brain? dubli gezer thing th?ngdangman. Beaun? brai? nun?nai b?kh? khud?l zang kh?r?-au-n? den?nai m?ikh? b?th?tnaise. Buth?tn?nai h?gr? singau hakhm?n?nai dinnaise. Emph?re unau m?i gaunai giri-maia kh?th? kh?th? thoi sir?l?ng-nai naie naie n?mai-l?ng?i-l?ng?i brain? dubliaun? sin gam?naise. Ob?s? braikh? s?ngnaise: "Hel?i brai! Nang bething m?i m?se fainai nun?i n??" Brai? bung-naise "?ngh? dubl?-n? shim?i? kh?l?thing boin?frai s?thing boin?frai" hann?nai bungb? b? bung-naise "Nongg? nongg?! ?ng m?in? khor?ng-s? nang-n?-au s?ngdang," Brai? khith?naise "Z?nun! be dubliau mai z?i? n? z?i? ?ng kh?th?n? h?i?." "Nang-ga-l?i, brai, b? khor?ng-kh? ?ng s?ng?khui." Brai bung-naise "D? s?nz?f?bai, ?ngh? mikh?m ukhui-s?-dang. ?ng th?ng-n?-s?i;" hann?nai, n?iau kh?tl?ngnaise. Ob?s? unau brai? mikh?m d?i z?kh?ngn?nai b?r?i-kh? bungnaise; B?r?i, ?ng-n? g?bun phungau-n? mikh?m song-n?nai h?. Ang m?i m?se buth?t-n?nai zangn? dubliau dinb?dang. B?kh? m?m?r gad?n? n?ngg?." Ob?s? okh? naib?, b?r?i m?m?r kh?m d?i brain? h?n?nai b?kh? hog?rnaise. B? dubliau th?ngn?-nai m?ikh? gad?n?nai r?nnaise. Agl? gaigai-n? bh?g? kh?mnaise. "Ph?nse m?kh?ng sunai-n?, ph?nse th?nkhu z?nai-n?, ph?nse dubliau mos? h?l?ngnai-n?, ph?nse h?li oinai-n?." Bebaid?n? hu?f?rh? zese h?b? dang, g?sen? bh?g? kh?m-thr?-naise. D? unau b?r?i-n? bh?g? kh?mdang "Ph?nse mukh?ng sunai-n?, ph?nse th?nk? z?nai-n?, ph?nse khundung l?nain?, phanse khun pheretnai-n?, ph?nse h? d?nai-n?, ph?nse kh?m songnai-n?, ph?nse d?i lainai-n?." Bibaid?n? b?n? b? zese h?b? dang, esen? bh?g? kh?mn?nai s?n-naise. S?nn?nai b?r?i n? bh?g?? b?ngsin man-naise. Ob?s? brai? br?p-n?nai. "?ngs? b?r?in?khr? h?b? b?ngai b?? mau-? n?? hann?-nai, golaigothai kh?mn?nai, ?r? r?n-ph?phin-naise. D?ni? ?gl? b?r?i-n? bh?g? kh?mgru-nai, ?r? unau b?n? bh?g? kh?m-nai. D?b?h? b?ngsin z?naise. Theob? brai? b?au mon phati? kh?ise. B?baid?-n? b? golai-gothai kh?m?i kh?m?i r?nb?b? ham?n z?i?. B?baid?n? s?nse m?ni z?naikhai, b?r?i?; "Br?i?-lai m? kh?m-kh??" hann?nai, dhink? thor? manse l?nanai, dubl?au th?ngn?nai, brai-kh?-nuh?i-dang, gaigain? bidot zang n?nglaib? th?dang. B?dot-fr?-b? khonle khonle d?ng-phlebai th?-naikhai, gebletheble z?l?ng-bai. Ob?s? b?r?i? dhink? thor? zang sr? sr? kh?th?-au khubui-hot-b?, brai? m?b? imfu hotbai hann?-nai, b?dot-kh? g?rn?nai n?h? kh?tl?ng-naise. Emph?re, b?r?i? b?dot kh? h? zang ban-n?nai b?-n?nai n?-au l?bon?nai, songn?nai, brai-zang z?-lai-b?, brai? s?ngnaise "B?r?i, belai m?-n? b?dot?" hanb?, b?r?i? khith?naise "?ng daus? fis? m?se buth?tn?nai, nangh? man? l?ng-nai-khai, bekh?n? song-dop-n?nai dindang. Nangn? b? m?i-b?dot-kh? nebai th?b?, zangfur d? kh?m man-z?-gla-gauman." Zapbai!

BRAI B?R?INI KHOR?NG.

S?ne brai b?r?i dangman. B?surh? n?-?-b? gongne man. Ph?re sikhau s?br?i be brai b?r?i n? n?i-au m?b? m?b? khaun? l?gi fainai. Faib? brai b?r?i? boi si-khaur?rkh? kh?ikh? kh?mn? l?gi buddi manse kh?mn?nai dinnai. Zerehai g?bar-kh? ?r? z?zai ?r? g?zri-d?i h?song-se b?f?rkh? thopl? zun?nai dhinki s?li n? m?roliau kh?-sai-n?nai dinnaise. Ph?re unau man?bl? sikhau-fr? fain?nai brai b?r??n? n? injurau m?ns?i? sr? mandang na man?-kh?i bann?nai khn?songb?, brai b?r?i? b?s?rn? khor?ng khn?n?nai, brai? b?r?ikh? bungnaise "B?r?i, nang zangn? sorai ?r? gur-g?khir? mau dinkh??" Beaun? b?r?i? bungnaise "H?m sr?-bai de, brai! B?f?rkh? dhinki-s?li-a?-n? kh?-sai-n?nai dinnai z?bai." Be khor?ng-kh? sikhau-fr? khn?n?nai dhink?-s?liau th?ngn?nai, b?kh? man-h?i-n?nai b?ri-n?-frai th?lit-lai l?b?n?nai r?nn?nai z?n?l?gi z?naise. Ob?n? b?s?r m?b? man?mnai mann?nai s?ng-lai-naise "B?b? b?ng? m? man?mdang? B?b? b?ng? m? man?mdang?" Ph?re s?se? boikh? ?kh?iau l?n?nai man?m-s?-naise. Ob?nia mith?n? h?na-nai, boib? min?laib?, brai? sikh?ngn?nai thokon-thor? l?na-nai h?-s?-b?-b?, b?s?r kh?tl?ng-naise.

?r? s?nse brai b?r?i? boi sikhau-f?rkh? fainai khn?n?nai brai b?r?i-kh? s?ngnaise; "Zangf?r-h? songkhr?i thopl? mau dinkh??" Ob?su b?r?i? bungnaise "D?s? gah?m z?bai, brai! Songkhr?i thoplai? zang udunai n?-n? kh?l?-f?t-s? inzurau sen?nai dindang! Sikhaufr? maub? l?ng-n? h?g?." B?s?r railainai-f?r-kh? sikhau-fr? khn?-n?nai inz?r d?n-s?-n?nai ?khai s?n?nai songkhr?i-thopl?-kh? d?ng-gr?m-baib? brai? kh?thr?i-l?ng? l?n?nai th?ngn?nai ?kh?i d?n-h?i-naise. Ob? b? "?ng man? kh?ise" hann?nai th?ngb?, ?r? s?se sikhau? b?baid?n? d?ng-gr?m-b?, b?kh?-b? ?s?-au d?n-fn?ng-naise. Ph?re bebaid?-n? s?se sikhau-n? kh?m? d?nnai, ?r? s?se-n? gonthong d?n-fn?ng-naise.

Ph?re unau b?s?r g?rai gah?m man-nu l?gi d?i n?mai-bai-nai-e-a? sethlau-n? th?lit kh?r?i s?mnai megongd?-au d?i mann?-nai ?khai h?-s?m-naise. Beaun? b?ngsin ?lunai manb?b?, l?g?-n? m?ns?if?r-n? khith?i?l?b? "Gah?m manbai," hann?nai bungnaise. Bebaid?n? s?br?i-h?-b? z?b?, br?plainaise. Ob?n? brai? n?-n? frai onkh?tn?nai thokon l?nanai b?s?rkh? hu-hot-naise.

B?n?frai ?r? s?nse brai-b?r?i-n? b?riau th?lit b?fong dangman, ?r? b?n? kh?thiau ph?nl? b?fong f?ngse dangman. Beaun? bere-thinkl? b?h? l?dang. Ph?re horau be sikhau s?br?i? brai b?r?in? n?iau faib?, brai? b?r?i-kh? s?ngnaise "B?r?i, nang zang-f?r-n? th?k?-thinkhl?-kh? mau fopn?nai dinkhu?" hanb? b?r?i? khith?naise "Din?b? gah?m z?bai, de, brai! zangn? th?ka-thinkli? th?lit-guriau fop-n?nai dinnai-au-n? th?bai. B?n? kh?thi-au-n? f?nl?-f?f?ng-b? f?ngse dang. D? sikhaufr? man?-kh?-m?-s?!" Bekh? si-khau fr? khn?n?nai, be th?lit guri-h? th?ngn?nai n?mai-lai-h?i-b? bere-b?h?-kh? man-naise. Phare b?kh? bes?r dikh?ngn?nai l?bob?, b?h?i? g?br?n?nai berefr? sikhau-f?r-kh? otb?, bes?r "Ai?! ai?!" hann?nai, kh?tnaise, ?r? brai? thokon l?n?nai h?s?naise.

B?n?frai ?r? s?nse brai? th?th? d?nn? l?gi sekh?r l?n?nai h?gr?iau th?ngb?, boi sikhau s?br?i-kh? thaigrit guruiau udul?ngb? th?nai nun?nai thai-grit bong-f?ngau uth?n?nai th?ri gn?ng thaigrit thaibr?i kh?n?nai l?b?-n?nai be sikhau s?br?i n? kheneau thaise thaise kh?-khm?-naise. Ph?re unau "Sikhau! sikhau!" hann?nai brai? g?pzr?-kh?u-b? b?s?r sr? mann?nai sik-h?ngn?nai kh?tl?ngnaise. Kh?tb?, zesenu kh?r?, esen? thaigrit fith?i? bikhungau dup dup bul?ngnaise. B?s?r braia kh?th? kh?th? fain?nai zang-f?r kh? sodang nungn?nai kh?re-th?ng-naise. Ph?re unau gaz?n th?ngn?nai zirai-h?i-b?, thaigrit kh? nun?nai g?rnaise.

B?n?frai ?r? s?nse brai? mai duliau th?n?nai b?r?ikh? f?r?ng-naise "B?r?i, nang horau sikhau faib? gaigain? s?ngn?nai, gaigain? khith? de, ere?i hann?-nai "Brai, brai h?n! nang thurse khurui mau dindang?" "Dhinkh?-s?liaunu maiduli-au b?f?r kh? dinnai z?bai. D? sikhau faib?, man-l?ng-s?-gan d?! M? kh?mkh?!"

Be khor?ng-kh? sikhau khn?-n?nai, m?m?r dhinkhi saliau th?ngn?nai naih?ib? be dulikh? dikh?ngn?nai "O! beaun? thorse khurui-f?r dang le! Ilit m?th?!" Ob?s? b?s?r kh?n?nai b?nn?nai l?ng-l?i-naise.

Ph?re unau th?ng?i th?ng?i d?is? gathau manse man-h?i-naise. Beaun? b?tb? braia; "S?-h?ng sih?ng z?bai, um, um, di-kh?ng!" hanb? b?s?r "Mauh? s?r raidang l?i." Khaise bungnaise, "Be duliau rainai baid? khn?-i-?." ?r? s?se? "Beau mungb? g?i?; nangs?r eren?s? khn?dang!" Ob?s? th?ng?i th?ng?i z?br? gathau mann?nai, brai? s?-sam-b? khith?naise "Phutu-kho?, gol?m-bund?-fur! M?n? gah?m?i dikh?ng?l?i? Nangs?r k?n? n?? nun? h???-kh?i?" Ereau bung-b? sikhau-fr? bikh? d?i-au g?rn?-nai kh?t-l?ng-naise. Zapbai!

HOW THE RIVERS WERE MADE.

Once upon a time there lived an old 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, 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.

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 fowls 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 Himalayas and digged a great tank, stocked with many kinds of fishes.

Now, one day the god Sri, the god of good luck, came that way with his white dog, ahunting 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 ." 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 Kacharis worship rivers. And that is all.

THE STORY OF THE LAZY BOY.

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 an 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 today, 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, set 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 "Every one knows that the season is gone, but where it has gone, or why it has 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 ways. But 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!

THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS.

An old man and an old woman had a son. But the father died while his son was yet a child, and the mother brought up her boy by begging from house to house. When he was big enough he begged his mother to let him engage himself as a cowherd. But she said "As long as I live, I must not let you undergo any trouble." But the gallant boy would not listen, and went and took service as a cowherd. But the other cowherd boys would not let him go out herding with them, and hated him, and beat him, in spite of the help of a good old man who took him into his house, so, being unable to stay any longer for grief and vexation, he went away into foreign lands.

And as he went his ways, he met Simli B?r, the hero of the simul tree, and when he saw him he said "Ah! here is a hero indeed, seeing that you bear a whole silk-cotton tree on your shoulder." But the other replied "Whom do you call a hero? I am no hero at all. If you want a real hero, look out for Gil? Charan." But the lad said "As for Gil? Charan, why, I am Gil? Charan." On which Simli B?r got leave to go with him. And as they went they met Dhop B?r, and to him they said "You are something like a hero. Why, you are carrying a whole dhop tree all by yourself." But the other said "My brothers, of what account am I? The man they call Gil? Charan, he is a hero if you like." Then Gil? Charan said "But I am he." On which Dhop B?r said "Let me come with you too."

And, so saying, he too joined the party. And in like manner they were joined by other four champions, namely, Mustard, Monkey, Ocean, and Fire, six in all, besides Gil? Charan.

And when they had gone some way, one of them went into the house of a R?kshashani to beg fire for cooking. But when the old wretch saw that it was a man, she desired to devour him, and to that end lay still, pretending to be ill, and said to him in a weak voice "The fire is quite close to me. Come and blow it up!" and when he came close, she gave him a kick and sent him flying into a pit; and, seeing that he did not come, another champion went on the same quest and was treated in like fashion. Then Gil? Charan guessed that something out of the way had happened, and went there himself; and, perceiving that the old woman was a vampire, took her by the throat and shook her well. But she cried "Do not kill me, and I will show you where your friends are." Then the old woman got a ladder and released the two champions from the pit. Whereupon they killed her, and went on their way rejoicing.

THE STORY OF THE MERCHANT'S SON.

There was a lad whose father died while he was a child. And when, by slow degrees, he came to man's estate, he asked his mother one day how his father got a living. But she heaved a long sigh, and at last said "Your father traded in foreign countries, my dear; and if he were alive now, we would not be in such distress now." But he said "Ah! mother, may not I work at the same trade? Give me all the money there is, and let me too go trading." But his mother said "Nay! my son, do not say that. While I live, even if I have to beg, you shall not want. And if you die in strange lands, what is to become of me?" But her son would not hearken to her, and, begging money from her, bought merchandise, and hired a boat, and took two men with him; and, after doing obeisance to his mother, set forth into strange lands. And at last he moored his boat at the ghat of a certain village, and sent his men out to hawk his goods. But he himself stayed with the boat. And at that ghat dwelt an aged couple, who possessed a white and beautiful swan which they cherished as their own child, and fed with their own food. And one day at midday, when men were enjoying their siesta, the merchant lad saw the white swan remove her swan dress and bathe in the river, a lovely slim maiden. Whereupon he began to pay great regard to the old couple, and gave them of his store without money. But as time went by, all his goods were disposed of, and then he went to the old people and offered them a great price for their swan. Nor when they would give it to him for nothing would he accept it, seeing that it were a sin to take a wife as a gift. So, finally he made them take much money and went away home, taking his swan with him. But when he reached home, behold the swan remained a swan, and the lad was sore vexed and lost his sleep and his food, so that his mother was in fear, and asked sundry of the villagers what might be the matter.

And, finally, one of them, who was a wise woman, said to her: "Something has happened to him while he was away trading, and now you must find out what it was. And the way to do it is this: You must get a fair girl to comb his hair; and let her pretend to grieve that he is so ill, and let her cry into his hair, and to a fair maiden he will tell what he would never say to his mother." So a girl came and combed his hair, and wept silently till the tears fell on his head, and when he asked what ailed her, said she could not bear to see him pine away. So at last he told her of the white swan, which turned before his very eyes into a lovely maiden, but that now it remained ever a white swan, though he was pining away for very love of her. So she went and told the mother, and the mother told the wise woman, who bade them get the lad to lie awake till midnight and then the swan-maiden would arise, and, assuming her maiden form, would worship her own country's gods. And then he was to leap up suddenly and cast her swan skin on the hearth and burn it; and then of a surety she would remain a maiden. So the lad prepared a basin of oil and ashes and a yak's tail, and did as the wise woman bade. And in the depth of night, the swan came and felt him all over with her beak. But he never stirred a whit. And then, believing him to be asleep, she stripped off her swan's skin slowly, and prayed aloud to the gods of her own country. Then the lad got out of bed very silently, and seizing the swan's skin thrust it in the ashes. And when she smelled the burning feathers, she cried aloud "Ah! what have you done? what have you done?" and fell senseless on the floor. But he anointed her with the oil, and fanned her with the yak's tail, till presently her great eyes opened and he saw that she loved him. And then they lived happily ever afterwards. And that's all!

BROTHER AND SISTER.

A certain king died, and soon after his death his wife bare him a daughter, as she had heretofore borne him a son. And then she too died. But before she died, she bade her son "Strike hard, but once only!" And she committed her daughter to his care. And, though they lost their kingdom and were forced to beg their bread, the brother was a good brother, and took care of his sister until they came to a certain kingdom, the king of which took pity on them and kept them in his own palace.

Now, in that kingdom dwelt seven thieves, who oppressed the king, so that he was compelled to send them fowls, pigs, cattle, and pigeons every day. And when the brother heard of this, he begged the king to let him go and kill the thieves. And when the king was unwilling to let him undertake the enterprise, the brother insisted, and, borrowing a horse and a sword from the king, went to the thieves' house, and there tied up his horse and waited with drawn sword at the door. And when the eldest thief came out, he cut him down, and so in turn he cut down each of them. But the youngest of all was suspicious and came out cautiously, so that the brother was not able to kill him at one blow. So, mindful of his mother's saying, he shut him up in one of the thieves' houses, and put a lock upon the door. And then he went and told all that had happened to the king; who, as a reward made the brother and sister custodians of the thieves' houses. And so they went and stayed there, and the brother said to his sister "You can go into and examine all the houses except the one that is locked." And the brother was a mighty hunter. But before he went out a hunting, he mixed pulse and grain, and, filling a plate with the mixture, bade his sister separate the seeds while he was away. And this occupied her a whole day. And then she went and examined all the rooms in the thieves' houses. And in some were cattle, and in some fowls, and in some horses, and so forth. But her mind was ill at ease, because she might not examine the house that was locked. "For," she said to herself, "if I do not see what is in that house, I cannot be happy." So she went and saw, and there she found a man half dead with his wound; and when he besought her, she pitied him, and fetched him such medicines as he required of her. So that at the end of some days he was healed, and in course of time they two fell in love with one another. And the wicked thief began to teach the girl how she should bring about the destruction of her brother. And he bade her, when her brother returned, to pretend to be ill, and to say that nothing would cure her save a drink of tigress' milk. And when her brother heard this, he set out in search of a she-tiger. And, as luck would have it, he found a she-tiger with a bone stuck in her teeth. So, after binding her with a vow, he extracted the bone from her teeth, and then he told her what he required. So she gave him of her milk, and also one of her whelps. And then he returned home. And at dawn the thief asked the sister "Did he bring you the tigress's milk?" And she replied "That he did, and he brought a tiger's whelp also." On which the thief was much discomfited. Then he bade her ask her brother fetch some water from a certain tank, well knowing that to fetch water from that tank, was certain death. On which she said to her brother "If you can only get me water from that tank, I shall certainly be well." So the brother took his horse and a sword, and a hound, and also the tiger's whelp, and set out. And on the way he came to a great tree and stopped to rest in the shade; and while he was resting, a huge snake came and began climbing up the tree. And, seeing it, the brother cut the snake in two with his sword; and when a second snake came, he slew that, too. And while he was still resting, a bird came flying to the tree with food for her nestlings. But they refused to eat. And when their mother asked them why they would not eat, they said "Unless you take pity on the man who is resting under the tree, we cannot eat." So the mother bird promised; and, having fed her nestlings, flew down to the brother and asked him what he desired. And he said that he desired water from a certain tank. But the bird knew all about the properties of the tank, and told the brother. Now, near the tank dwelt a maiden, the guardian of the tank; and he entered into her house, and told her his heart's desire. But she said to him "You must not go near the tank, for you will die. You must marry me. And as for your sister, she has disobeyed your word, and has married the thief you nearly killed, and their desire is only to be rid of you." So they two were married, and, going to the thief's house, slew the thief and the wicked sister. And then they lived happily ever afterwards. And that's all!

THE STORY OF THE TOAD.

There was an aged couple, who were very poor. But they had a fish trap, which they set at night; and the fish they caught they exchanged for rice. And one night it happened that no fish got into the trap, but only toads, so that the trap was brimfull. And at early dawn, when the cock crowed, the old man came, and finding the trap very heavy was rejoiced, and hoisting it on to his back waddled away. And when he got home he woke up his wife, crying "Old woman, old woman, not up yet? The day has dawned." So the old woman jumped up, and blew up the fire, and the old couple squatted over it, warming themselves. And the old man said "We are in luck to-day! The trap is brimfull." Then the old woman said "Let's see, let's see." So the old man tumbled out the contents of the trap, and, behold, they were all toads. So the old woman said "We are in luck to-day! We shall have lots to eat to-day!" And the old man bid her kill the toads without further words. And the old woman, taking her stick, ran about after the toads and slew them one by one. But one alone, half dead with fear, crawled under the old woman's stool. But the rest she skinned and cleaned. Then, removing the stool, the old man saw the survivor, and said to the old woman "There is one left; kill that, too!" But the toad called out "Ah! father, do not kill me. I will plough for you, and hoe for you, and plant out paddy for you!" But the old man replied "How shall a toad do all these things? Your ploughing and hoeing would be a bitter business! You only want to get off being killed." But he pleaded so sore, and begged so hard, that they took pity on him and let him stay in their house. And so the days went by till the rainy season came round, and the toad went off to plough in the field. And as he was sitting on the handle of the plough urging on his cattle, a king came by that way riding on his elephant, and the toad called out to him "What fellow is that? You are knocking down all the balks of my field!" To which the king replied "Who dares speak to me thus," and sent men to fetch him. But he hid behind a clod, so that they could not find him. And when he continued to abuse them without their finding him, the king bade them take away the plough cattle to his house. And the toad, followed secretly behind, and, hiding himself in the thatch of the cowshed, began to abuse the king afresh. And the king searched for him in vain; and at last ordered the cowshed to be pulled down and the cattle to be put elsewhere. And the toad went and hid there, too, and abused the king again. Finally, the king was frightened and called to him: "Oh! father, are you god or mortal? And what harm have I done you?" And he said "I am mortal of a sooth. And I abuse you because you have carried off my cattle. And if you do not give me your daughter in marriage, I shall remain invisible and abuse you daily." So the king swore that the toad should have his daughter, and the toad came forth. And the king, for his oath's sake, and lest the toad should be in some sort a god, gave him his daughter, and sent him home with a sedan-chair and elephants and horses. And when he got near his home, the old man and old woman ran clean away. But the toad, their adopted son, seeing their terror, bade them not be afraid, and sent men after them to fetch them. And then they sat down with their son-in-law and daughter-in-law and feasted the men who had come with them. And one day the girl, finding her husband very loathsome to look upon, told him to take a bath. "But," said her husband, "what is the good of my taking a bath? I am a frog and always bathing." But his wife replied "I know very well that you live in cold water. But I want to get rid of those nasty protuberances on your back, and want to bathe you." So, finally, her husband agreed. So she heated some water to boiling, and called out "Come quick, I must bathe you!" And when the toad came, and asked what he was to do, she said "You jump straight in, and I will bathe you afterwards." So he jumped in, and, turning over on his back, died. And that's all!

THE STORY OF THE DOE AND THE RAVEN.

The doe and the raven were great friends, and lived together in the shade of the same tree. And one day a jackal, seeing the doe, and finding her to be fat and good to eat, said to her "Oh friend, what are you doing there? I am charmed to see you, and, if you permit, would like to swear eternal friendship." But the doe said "How can there be friendship between the likes of us? we are sworn foes. If you get hold of me, you will eat me. I am your food." But the jackal, on hearing this, pretended to be mightily grieved, and said "What you observe is true enough, and that is just why all my family are dead and I alone am left. And, considering these things, I, for my part, am turned Hindu, eat no flesh, and have vowed friendship to all animals. So you need be in no fear of me." To which the doe attached implicit credence, and so they two walked together under the trees. But the raven came up and said all he could to induce the doe to abandon the fellowship of the jackal. But, as he could not prevail with her, he told her the following story: "Once upon a time there were two friends. And they vowed that if ever they fell into danger, they should on no account leave one another. And one day they were going through the jungle together, when they met a bear. Now, one of them could climb trees, and the other could not. And when the bear pursued them, the one scrambled up into the first tree he met. But the other, not knowing what else to do, lay on the ground, and, pretending to be dead, held his breath. And the bear, coming and sniffing at him, and finding him apparently dead, left him. Then his friend, shouting to him from the tree, said "What was it that the bear whispered to you?" And he replied "The bear said to me 'never make friends with men like that fellow in the tree.'" "And so," said the raven, "will it be with you and your friend the jackal." For all that, the doe refused to listen, and after some days the jackal, when walking out with the doe, spied a snare, and thrust her into it. And when she bade him bite the cords and loose her, he reminded her of his vows and of the fact that the cords were of hide. Then the raven, after long searching, came up and found the doe in the toils, and set to work to devise a remedy. And when the day was dawning he said to the doe "You swell out your belly, and hold your breath, and when I give the word, run for your life." Presently, the owner of the snare came up, spear in hand, and, seeing his quarry seemingly dead, loosed her bonds. Upon which the raven cawed loudly, and the doe, jumping up, ran for her life. But the hunter, seizing his spear, threw it after her. And the spear missed the doe, and pierced the wicked jackal, who died. And that's all!

THE OLD MAN AND THE TIGER.

There was once an old man, who, when he was cutting reeds for his fence in the jungle, heard a tiger growling close to him; and it happened that at that moment a bird also flew away. On which the old man, though he was in truth very frightened, called after the bird "Ah! if you had only stopped, I would have taught you the secret of the ghughu ban." And this saying he kept on repeating, so that the tiger said to himself "What is it that the old man is saying? I must get him to tell me; and in that case I won't even eat him." So he called to the old man. "Look here, old man, what is that about the ghughu ban?" But the old man, answering not a word, kept on chopping his reeds. Then the tiger crept up quite close to him, and said to the old man "If you don't tell me what you are talking about, I will eat you!" But the old man, for all his fear, only said "You come to my house tomorrow, and I will tell you." Very early the next morning the tiger asked his way to the old man's house, and when he got there, it being still early morning, the old man said "And what may your honour be pleased to want?" And the tiger replied "I want to know what you were talking about yesterday." But the old man replied "I cannot possibly teach you alone. You had better go and get two or three other tigers." And so the tiger went away and returned with two or three of his brethren. In the meanwhile the old man had spread his unthreshed paddy in the yard. And, putting his earliest acquaintance first, he tied all the tigers to the post, round which the cattle revolve when they are treading out the grain, and set them to work to tread.

But the one in the middle, who was unaccustomed to such labour, cried out in a piteous voice that his head ached, and that he was getting very giddy. But the old man said "Wait a bit, my friend; you haven't learned yet." And when the tiger complained again, the old man fetched his goad and pricked him sore, so that, giddy and stumbling, he had to go round and round, and when the tiger said "I shall die at this rate," the old man replied "You wanted to learn the ghughu ban yesterday, and unless you endure this trouble, you cannot possibly learn;" and, so saying, pricked him the more cruelly. Finally, the tiger said "If so be, I must be in pain, I must be. But I don't see what it is all about." Then the old man replied "This is precisely what they called the ghughu ban." Then the tiger said "I see, I see, now let us go. We have learned our lesson." But the old man said "Wait a bit, the paddy is nearly trodden out," and would not stop pricking the tigers for all their entreaties. And when the paddy was all threshed, the old man began untying their bonds. But before he had finished, the tigers were in such pain that they tore the rope out of his hands and ran away. When they stopped to rest, they saw the old man's rope, and said to one another "If we do not give the old man his rope again, we shall get into further trouble." So, after much debate, the first tiger was deputed to take it back.

So back he went, trembling with fear in every limb, and, getting close to the old man's house, offered him his rope. But the old man said "It is night, and I am in bed. I can't come out. Put the rope in at the window." So the tiger put it on his tail and thrust it in at the window. But the old man had his knife ready and cut the tiger's tail off. On which the tiger once more fled, howling with pain. But the old man shouted after him "You may run as far as you like, but my brother is after you, and will catch you." On which the tiger ran faster than ever. At last, however, he stopped to rest near a cool pool of water, and, not seeing the old man's brother, dipped the wounded stump of his tail into the pool for refreshment. But a crab, which dwelt in that pool, nipped the stump of his tail; and the tiger crying "The old man's brother has caught me!" again fled through the jungle, and it was not till the crab was knocked off against the trees that he at last rested. And that's all!

THE TALE OF THE MONKEY AND THE HARE.

A monkey and a hare were great friends. They lived together, ate together, and walked about together. One day they saw a man from Darrang going to a feast and bearing plantains and betel-nuts, and they said to one another that they must contrive some plan to get hold of his load. So the monkey sent the hare to wait on the road, but himself hid in the jungle. And when the man came up and saw the hare sitting on the road, he put down his load, and ran after him. No sooner had he done so, than the monkey came and carried off the plantains and betel-nuts into a tree, and, for fear the hare should return, ate them all up in a great hurry, keeping only the skins of the plantains for his friend.

But when the man found that he could not catch the hare, he gave up the chase, and went home disconsolate; and so the hare went back, searching for his friend, and shouting his name. But when he found him and demanded his share of the spoil, the monkey offered only the skins of the plantains, and the hare, in his rage, said that he would have his revenge. So, first of all, he went and sat very quietly under some kachu plants. Then the monkey climbed down from the tree and began crying "My friend! my friend!" and the hare replied "Who are you calling friend? I am watching the king's sugarcane field. What do you want?" Then the monkey came forth and said "Ah, my friend, give me a little of the cane to suck." But the hare said "I cannot give you any. If the Raja were to hear, he would beat me." But as the monkey grew importunate, he said "Eat, then, if you will, and don't blame me." But when he ate, the acrid juice of the kachu caught his tongue, and he rolled on the ground howling. But the hare only said "It's your own fault. I told you not to." Then he went and sat beneath a wasps' nest. And the monkey, moaning and complaining, followed him and asked him what he was doing there, and the hare replied that he was watching the king's cymbals. "Let me play on them, only a little!" entreated the monkey. But the hare said "I daren't do it. The Raja would kill me." "I will only play very gently," said the monkey, and, prevailing by means of his importunity, clapped his hands on the wasps' nest and broke it, and straightway the wasps stung his mouth and face and body all over, so that he rolled on the ground crying out in agony. But the hare only said "I told you not to, and you would not listen, what could I do?" And then he went away to where a gowal snake lay. And again the monkey followed him, and asked what he was doing there. And the hare said that he was watching the king's sceptre. "Ah! let me brandish it, do," said the monkey, and for all the hare's warnings would seize the sceptre. Whereby he got bitten, and was in greater pain than ever. Then the rabbit went away and sat down on a marsh, and the monkey followed him once more, crying as he went, and when he again questioned his friend, the hare said: "This is what they call the king's litter." "Let me sit on it for a moment," said the monkey. "I can't do it," said the hare, "what would the king say? I think you are a fool, my friend. I tell you not to do things and you will persist." But the monkey did not listen to him and jumped on to the marsh and stuck miserably in the mud. And then the hare said "Now, my friend, you give me plantain skins to eat, do you? You can stay where you are. I wish you good-day. I am off." And, so saying, he left the monkey and went his ways.

And first of all a rhinoceros came. But when the monkey begged for help, he said that he was hungry and thirsty, and really could not stop; he was very sorry; and, so saying, he too went away.

And when a buffalo presently came, the monkey addressed him, but he, too, had other business, and went away. Last of all there came a tiger, who was extremely hungry, and to him the monkey said, "My father, if you do not help me out of this scrape, I have no help left," and with such and such like words the monkey entreated him. But the tiger said "What good will it do me if I help you?" and was going away, when the monkey cried out "Father, father, take me out of the dreadful marsh, and then, if you like, clean me and eat me." And the tiger was so hungry that he said: "It is not so much that I want to eat you, but if I rescue one fallen into such calamity, it will be well with me hereafter. However, as you yourself have offered yourself to be eaten, I see no harm." So saying, he stretched out his tail into the marsh, and the monkey, grasping it, was drawn out. Then the monkey said: "Let me get dry in the sun, and when I am a bit cleaner, you can eat me." And so saying he sat him down in the sun and waited. But presently the tiger looked another way, and the monkey slipped up a tall tree. But the tiger, being in a great rage, waited two or three days at the foot of the tree. But, as the monkey would not descend, he lay at the tree's root as one dead, and opened his mouth with his teeth grinning, and the flies came and buzzed in his mouth, so that at last the monkey thought that of a verity he was dead. So finally he crawled down, and slowly inserted his tail in the tiger's mouth. But the tiger never stirred. Then he felt one of the tiger's great paws. But the tiger never stirred. Then the monkey said "Ah, you would scrunch my bones to make your bread, would you?" and danced about gaily, and cried "See if you can eat my head now," and, so saying, he put his head in the tiger's jaws. And then the jaws closed with a scrunch, and that was the end of the monkey. And that's all!

THE TORTOISE AND MONKEY.

A tortoise and a monkey were great friends, and as they were on the road one day, a man passed laden with plantains. And the monkey, seeing him, said "You go and wait on the road, and when the man pursues you, run away. And so the man put down his load , and ran after the tortoise. Then the monkey came out of the jungle and took the plantains and molasses that the man bare, and climbed with them into a tree. Then the man, not being able to catch the tortoise, returned, and, not getting his things, went home. Then the tortoise returned and asked his friend for his share of the plantains and molasses. And the monkey offered him for molasses potsherds, and for plantains their skins only; and, when the tortoise insisted, the monkey got angry and hoisted his friend into the tree, saying "See for yourself, if any plantains or molasses be left." And so he went away and left him. And he could not get down, and one by one various animals came under the tree, but could not help him. And last of these came a very aged rhinoceros, and the tortoise begged leave to jump down on his back. And to this the rhinoceros consented, and so the tortoise leapt down, with such force that he broke the old rhinoceros' back. Then he covered up the corpse with leaves, and going to the king's court, sat him down under the king's throne; and, when the royal council was assembled, the tortoise sneezed loudly, "Who dared to sneeze?" said the king. "Cut off his nose!" But they all with one accord declared that they had not sneezed, and, after he had sneezed once or twice again, some one saw the tortoise under the king's throne. So he said respectfully "If your Majesty wishes, you can kill me, but I have something to say: There is some living thing under your Majesty's throne. Without doubt, it was that which sneezed." On which the king, looking under his throne, saw the tortoise, and ordered them to cut off his nose. But the tortoise said "Do not cut off my nose, and in return I will give your Majesty a rhinoceros." And at first the king was angry, but for his entreating gave him men with him to fetch his rhinoceros, and when the men returned with the body of the rhinoceros, the king was very pleased, and gave the tortoise a horse.

And as he was riding off, he met the monkey and told him that the king had given him the horse. And when the monkey asked him why, he said that he had jumped on to a common lizard from the tree, on which the monkey had left him and had killed it. And that then he had covered it up with leaves and told the king it was a rhinoceros. And the king was pleased and gave him a horse. So the monkey killed a lizard, and went and told the king it was a rhinoceros, and got his nose cut off for his pains. And that's all!

THE BRAHMIN AND HIS SERVANT.

There was once a Brahmin who had a servant. And one day when they were going to the house of the Brahmin's mother-in-law, the Brahmin 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 Brahmin 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 Brahmin went his ways speechless. Presently they stopped to cook their midday meal, and they had got with them a few khawai fish. But the Brahmin gave only one to his servant, and kept the rest himself. And when he was about to eat, the servant asked innocently: "Oh! Brahmin, do khawai fish swim about singly or in shoals?" To which the Brahmin 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 Brahmin's mess, which was defiled. So the Brahmin got no dinner, and the servant ate the whole.

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 Brahmin 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 Brahmin five blows without further question.

Next they met a drove of goats. "And what may these be, Brahmin, these animals that are grazing?" And the Brahmin said "These be called ch?g." But the servant cried "Not so, not so! These are ch?gali." And the result, as before, was that the Brahmin was worsted and got five blows.

And next they came across a flock of paddy-birds, which the Brahmin 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:

"S?g sirmolu bog ba-k?ran Tin? p?nch panra k?l sud? ak?ran."

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet