Original Title Page.

A
COLLECTION
OF
KACHÁRI FOLK-TALES AND RHYMES,

INTENDED AS A SUPPLEMENT TO
REVEREND S. ENDLE’S
KACHÁRI GRAMMAR.

BY
J. D. ANDERSON,
INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE.

SHILLONG:
PRINTED AT THE ASSAM SECRETARIAT PRINTING OFFICE.
1895.

SHILLONG:

PRINTED BY THE SUPERINTENDENT OF THE ASSAM SECRETARIAT PRINTING DEPARTMENT.

TRANSLITERATION.

I am sorry to find that in transcribing I have wandered away from Mr. Endle’s system of marking the values of the vowels. But the differences are, in essence, very small.

The circumflex accent indicates a long vowel.

“å” is as in Mr. Endle’s Grammar.

“ù” is the guttural “u” printed in Mr. Endle’s Grammar as “ŭ.”

J. D. A.

PREFACE.

This little collection of Kachári folk-stories and rhymes is intended as a supplement to the Reverend Mr. Endle’s Grammar of the language, and as a reading-book for those who have acquired an elementary knowledge of Kachári. I have added a rough translation, thinking that these specimens of the folk-lore of a very simple and primitive people may be of interest to some who do not care to learn Kachári, and that it may stimulate others to make fuller and more successful excursions into an unexplored field. These stories were collected during a tour of only six weeks’ duration in the Kachári mauzas of Mangaldai, and cost only the effort of taking down the tales as they were dictated. Not only the Kacháris, but the other hill tribes of Assam have doubtless their stores of folk legends which have never been exploited; and it pleases me to hope that others may find it as pleasant as I have found it, to collect these fictions of the savage mind over the camp fire. The text of the stories suggests a problem which it may amuse some one with better opportunities or more perseverance than myself to solve. It will be noticed that while the words are for the most part Kachári words, the syntax is curiously like the Assamese syntax. As an instance of this I have taken down (see page 1) an accused person’s statement in both Assamese and Kachári. The Kachári version is, literally, a word-for-word translation of the Assamese. I can think of no other two languages in which it would be possible to translate a long statement word for word out of one into the other and yet be idiomatic. The most characteristic idioms are exactly reproduced. The Assamese says mor bapáy, but tor báper. The Kachári similarly says Ângnî âfâ, but nangnî namfâ. The Assamese says e dâl láthi; the Kachári translates gongse lauthi. The Assamese says gai-pelay kalon; the Kachári khithâ-hùi-man. And many more instances will occur to any one with a knowledge of Assamese who reads these stories. Briefly, it may be said that Kachári, as it is spoken in Darrang, has a vocabulary mostly of the Bodo type, though it contains many words borrowed from the Assamese. Its syntax, on the other hand, is nearly identical with the Assamese, almost the only exception being the use of the agglutinate verb (see page 26 of Mr. Endle’s Grammar). Even the agglutinate verb is more or less reproduced in Assamese in the use of such expressions as gai pelay. Now it is quite possible that the Kacháris, from long association with their Hindu neighbours, have learnt their syntax, while retaining their own vocabulary. A more tempting theory is that Assamese and Kachári are both survivals of the vanished speech of the great Koch race, who, we know, ruled where Assamese and Kachári are now spoken side by side; that Assamese has retained the Koch syntax, while it has adopted the Hindu vocabulary of Bengal; that Kachári has preserved both vocabulary and syntax. This theory, if it can be defended, would at last give Assamese a valid claim to be considered a separate tongue, and not a mere dialect of Bengali. It would also give an explanation of the vexed question of the origin of the word Kachári. Ârúi is a common patronymic in the Kachári speech. As Mr. Gait has noted in his Census Report, the Kacháris have totemistic clans, calling themselves Bâg-ârùi, sons of the tiger, and so on. What more simple than that the Koch-ârùi are the sons of the Koches? So far, the problem is one of mere guesswork and theory. But there are other branches of the Bodo tongue in the Tipperah and Gáro Hills and in North Cachar, where men of the Bodo race do not come into contact with Assamese. Do the same idioms and the same syntax exist there? If not, they were probably borrowed from Hindu sources. If they do, it seems probable that these idioms and this syntax have survived not only in them, but in the Hinduised Assamese.

I had intended to draw up a list of the agglutinate verbs found in this little collection of stories to supplement that given at page 26 of Mr. Endle’s Grammar. But anyone interested in the subject will find them for himself in the stories, and will learn more easily from the context than from any vocabulary what the precise shades of meaning of the interpolated particles are. They are a very curious and interesting feature of the language, and are probably found in richer abundance where the well of Bodo undefiled has not been contaminated by a mixture with other tongues.

I must not conclude without offering my hearty thanks to the Reverend Mr. Endle for his advice and help in collecting these stories, and to Samson, my tutor, who was in truth “the only begetter of these ensuing” fictions. He told me most of them and corrected all. I have no doubt he has many other primitive legends, if any one will take the trouble to write them down.

J. D. ANDERSON.

The 21st September 1894.

P.S.—There can be no doubt that the Kachári of Darrang is greatly influenced by the surrounding Assamese, though, even now, many Kacháris, and especially women, do not speak Assamese at all. There is an anecdote among the Kacháris showing the inconveniences of the bilingual state. A Kachári lad married an Assamese girl, and going to his mother-in-law’s house was given food. His hospitable mother-in-law cried to him “Khâ! Khâ!” so he bound her hand and foot. Then she laughed, seeing that he supposed her to be talking Kachári. So she said to him (in Kachári) “Zâ! Zâ!” on which he went away. I am afraid the Kachári syntax is borrowed from Assamese.

KACHÁRI FOLK-TALES AND RHYMES.

An accused person’s statement in Assamese and Kachári.

Question.—

Tumi

Nang

ki

mâ

kaba

bungnù

khujá?

nâmaidang?

Answer.—

Mangalbár

Mangalbár

diná

diná

may

âng

ishkulalai

ishkulau

gaichhilon.

thângdangman.

Âmár

Zangnî

parikshár

parikhâ-nî

din haichhile.

din zâdangman.

Mástore

Mâstorâ

ámáre

zangfùrkhô

ghar

nå

âhibalai

fainù-lâgi

du

du

bájit

bâzit

chuti

chuti

dile.

hùnai.

Gharat

Nå

áhi,

fainânai,

khai-dai-kari,

zâùi lùngùi,

Nandir tát

Nandi-nî-au

paribalai

sùlungnù lâgi

galon.

thângnaise.

Nandiye

Nandi

mot-kai

âng-nùkhri

beshi pare.

sùlùng-sî-nù.

Tin

Tini

bájit

baziau

may

âng

gaichhilon.

thângnai.

Tát

Bean

derh ghanta

ghantâ-se-khaise

parichhon.

sùlùngnai.

Sáre

Ghantâ

chári bájit

brùi-khaise

pari

sulungbai

thakár pará

thânai-au

mar

ângnî

Paramesvari

Paramesvari

bhanir

âgùi-nî

mát

mâthù

sunilon;

khnânaise;

“Maharánir

“Mahârâni-nî

dohai,

dohai,

Kampanir

Kampani-nî

dohai,

dohai,

mar

ângnî

garbbhabati

modom-au thânai

baiek

âgùi-nî

chulit

kheneau

dhariba

homnù

ne pai.”

manâ.”

E

Be

rakam

baidî

buli

bungnai

sunáte

khnânai-au

may ulai áhilon.

âng onkhât-bù-naise.

Dekhon ji

Nunaise

Kuntiye

Kunti-zang

Gilásiye

Gilâsi-zang

chulia-chuli-kai

kheneau hom-lai-nânai

pariyáchhe,

goglainânai dang,

áru

ârù

Paramesvariye

Paramesvari zang

o Ilásiye.

Ilâsi-zang.

Mosai

Mosaiâ

e

rul

dál rul

gong-se

ánipelai

lânânai

Gilásik

Gilâsikhô

erwai dile,

sågå-hù-naise,

Kuntik

Khhunthikhô

ágar mári dharichhe.

hom-khiùp-naise.

Bám háte

Âkhsîzang

Kuntir

Khunti-nî

hátat

âkhâiau

dharichhe,

homdang,

hon

âgdâ

hátat rulir

zang rul zang

ághát karichhe

bu dang

Kunti tatkhânât

Khhuntiâ obânù

pari gaichhe.

gaglai-nângnai.

Tár

Bînî

sheshe

unau

Madhu

Madhu

áhichhe.

fainai.

Âhi

Fainânai

Kuntik

Khuntikhô

chulit

kheneau

dhari e

homnânai

char

sùbâ-se

márichhe.

sùbânaise.

May galon;

Âng thângnaise;

gay pelay

thângnânai

kalon:

khithânaise:

“Apo

“Brai

e sab

befùr

baṛ anyáy

hâmâ

kathá.

khorâng.

He

Be

ke janie

sâne-sùâbù

tomár

nangnî

jiyar,

fisâzù,

e

be

ke janie

sâne-sùâbù

tomár

nangnî

jiyar.

fisâzù.

Tomár

Nangnî

jiyar-hatak

fisâzù-fùrkhô

ji

zi

ne márilá,

buâ-khùise,

mor

ângnî

bhani-hatak

âgùi-fùr-khô

kio

mânù

márilá?

bunai?

Tomár

Nangnî

jiyar-hatak

fisâzù-fùr-khô

o

bù

máriba puá,

bu-nângauman,

mor

ângnî

bhanihatak

âgùi-fùr-khô

o

bù

máriba puá.

bu-nângauman.

Âru ran bhángi

Ârù nânglai-nai

diba puá.”

sefai-nângauman.”

E

Erùi

buli kawáte

khithánai-au

mok

âng-khô

bukate

zerbâ-i-au

Bângâli-ghusâ¹

Bângâli-ghusâ

marile.

saunaise.

He

Be

ghusá khai,

sau-zâ-nânai

may

âng

jijir-muá

zingri-mutdâ

khálon.

maunaise.

Tenekwâte

Ereaunù

mar

ângnî

bapair

âtâr

mât

mâthù

sunichhon.

khnânaise.

Bapay-e

Âfâiâ

kaichhe:

khithâdang:

“Mor

”Ângnî

garbha-bati

modom-au thânai

cháwálik

hingzausâkhô

ne máribí.”

dâ bu.”

Kawate

Khithânai-au-nù

Mosai

Mosâiâ

ahile;

fainaise;

mor

ângnî

bapaik

âfâkhô

e már

phongse

márichhe.

budang.

Bapáye

Âfâ

bágari parichhe.

gaglainaise.

Tár

Bînî

pichhat

unau

Madhue

Madhuâ-bù

e már

phongse

márichhe.

budang.

Tár

Bînî

pichhat

unau

Kámesvar

Kâmesvar

bar

wâ

báns

gedet

e dal

gongse

lai áhichhe.

lâbodang.

Mar manat

Ang

sandeha hal.

gînaise.

Mor

Ângnî

bapáy

âfâ

buṛha

brai

mánu.

mânsùi.

E

Be

du

phong-ne

mârate

bu-nai-au-nù

bapay

âfâiâ

kápi

maubai

áchhe.

thâdang.

Tenekwáte

Bebaidî-nù

Kámesvare

Kamesvarâ

marichhe

fongse

e már.

budang.

Tenekwáte

Bebaidînù

Madhu

Madhu

o

bù

e dal

wâ

báns

gongse

lai

lânanai

mariba-lai

bunù

áhichhe.

faidang.

Pránar

Thoinu

bhay dekhí,

gînânai,

ji thait

zerau

sangrám haichhe,

nânglaidangman,

he thait

beau nù

e dál

wâ-gon

báns

gongse

pálon.

man-nai.

Mor

Ângnî

bapaik

âfâkhô

mâre

bugan

buli,

hannánai,

mai o

ângbù

e bár

fongse

Madhuk

Madhukhô

márilon.

bunaise.

Murat

khårå-au-sù

parichhe,

gaglai-khù,

na kót

na mau-sù

parichhe,

gaglai-khù,

mor gát yád

âng khithânù

nai.

bâiâ.

Tetia

Obânu

Madhu

Madhuâ

mátit

hâ-i-au

pari gaichhe.

gaglainaise.

Mor

Ângnî

bapaik

âfâkho

may

âng

toli laichhon.

dikhângnaise.

Tenekwát

Ereaunù

mor

ângnî

kakai

âdâ

áhi paichhe.

så fainaise.

Kokai-e

Âdâzang

may-e

ângzang

ámár bapaik

zang-nî âfâkhô

lai áhichhon,

lâbônaise,

ârû

ârû

Madhudale

Madhuni-frâ

Madhuk

Madhukhô

lai gaichhe.

lângnaise.

Dùimâ dùisâ ni khorâng. | How the rivers were made.

Sânùi brai burui man. Phâre unau bîsur gothai brai-buruî zâlângbâ, buruiâ zingâsînânai brainu khithânaise “Brai, zangfùrhâ zî dânai fisâfur dang, bîsùr mâ zânânai thânggan?” Erui bungbâ braia mai hu khâmnu lâgi Khubernîau thângnânai, mai sobai bîsor ârù lai-megong lâfâ megong bîfùr mânî-nî bîgot-zului bînânai nå-i-au lâbônânai sânsnî sânzât lâmâiau hoṛ thânânai, nå man-fai-nânai buruinù khithanaise: “Ang gasenù bigot-zului lâbobai.” Phâre nå-i-au sân-ne-sù thânânai, khet khâmnù lâgi sorai fithâ-gundui lânânai hâ, nainù lâgi thângnaise. Phâre gahâm hâ, dåtse nai-ui frâbui fâtbrùi-thing-bù zurâ khânânai dinnanai nå fainaise. Unau sânseni-khâli khodal sekhâ, bifùr-mâni lânânai thângnânai hâgrâ eonânai ârù bî hâgrâtùrkhô saunânai hâkhô mazâng khâmnaise. Bînîfrai, sanzâ sanâp ârù sâ khùlâ fâtbrùi-thing khulumnânai khonâ brùithing phongse phongse zaunaise.

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,²⁶ 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.

Biaunù hâ gasenù mannaise. Phâre baidî baidî mai ârù fîfâng megon-thaigong boikhôbù fùnânai hùnaise. Phâre hâbâ zapbâ braiâ nåi-au thângnânai zirai nânai thânaise. Obâsù âzîbù dang khâlibù dang sânse buruiâ mai nainù lâgi braikhô lùgù homnaise. Khintu braia bungnaise “Lâmâiau dùi gùiâ. Nanghâ dùi gâng-bâ âng maunîfrai hùnù?” Theobù bî brai-nî khorâng khnâsongâlâbâ embrâbrâ braikhô homnaikhai lâng-gnâng-naise. Phâre thângùi thângùi mainî hâ man-sî man-sî zâbâ, buruihâ dùi gângnânai brainù khithâbâ, braiâ bungnaise “Âng nangnù dùhùi-nù khithâ-dangman, nonggâ? lâmâ-i au gùia hannânai? Theobù ângnî khorâng khnâ-i-âlâbâ fainânai ângkhô dukhu hùíù. Ereùi bungbâ, buruiâ bungnaise. Dinî âng dùi man-lâng-âbâ, thoi-sî-gan. Nang âng-nù dùi hùnùnânggô.” Phâre unau braiâ mungbù upai mane zânânai, dùi namai-nâng-naise. Nâmaie nâmaie fukurimanse nubâ, bî buruinî megonkhô hî zang khânânai be fukuri-hâ-lâgi lângnaise. Ârù braiâ bungnaise “Nang be fukuri khô naiâlâbâ dùi lâng.” Khintu dùi lângbâ-rù mâbâ mâbâ dùi nî dau ârù hângsùfrâ birlai-bâ, bîkhô khnânânai, bîkhô nainù lubuinânai nainaise. Beaunù daufùrnî gelenai ârù rong zâlainai nunânai bîhâbù brai zang rong zâlainù mon zânaise. Obâsù braiâ khâmâ, buruiâ âgârâ. Phâre braiâ buruinî khorâng lânù gnâng zânaise. Obâsù bîsùrhâ âji-bù-thâiù khâli-bù-thâiù gåthå gåthai zânaise. Zâbâ, bîsùrkhô fisînù hâekhai braiâ bîsùrkhô buruinî khorângzang Hem-nî hâzô-au lângnânai beaunù fukuri manse khâmnânai baidî baidî nâ khâmnânai dùiau hogârnânai dinbù-naise.

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.

Phâre unau Srî braiâ sùimâ fudrun mâse lânanai, mùi sessâ ârù khusung nâmaibaie nâmaibaie dùi gângsù dangman. Ereau-nù Srî braiâ be fukuriau thâng-fnâng-naise. Beaunù dùi nunânai lângnù nâmaibâ, nâfrâ bîkhô raidaunaise. “Afâ, nang bení dùi lângbâ, zangfùrkhô gahâm khâmnânggan.” Beaunù bî sùmai lânânai, dùikhô lângbâ, náfrâ bungnaise. “Dâ nang zangfùrkhô Loitho hâlâgî lâng.” Beaunù Srî braiâ gaigainù lauthî zang dru-dru bù-bù-bâ khîthû khîthû dùi bùhùi bùnai, ârù nâfrâ bù fainaise. Bîbaidînù dùisâ zânaise. Obâsù unau nâfrâ Srî brai-nù lao thaise ârù khumrâ thaise hoṭaaise. Phrâ bîkhônù lâbônanai sâse khurmâ-nî nå-i-au hâpfaibâ bînù zô mîkhâm ârù ômâ mâse buthâtnânai hùnaise. Phâre okhà naibâ Srî braiâ be khumrâ-khô bînî khurmânù hunaise. Hùbâ bi khumrâkhô dânkhaubâ thâkâ gazâ mannânai ârù bâtî-se khâm zâhùnù lâgi omâ buthâtnaise. Ârù omâ bikhau² man-se dinnaise. Zâkhâng-ùi frâbùi fainù nâmaibâ omâ bikhaukhô Srî brainù hùnaise. Hùbâ ârù braiâ laukhôbù khurmânù hùnaise. Bî lau-au darbî gazâ dangman. Khintu be khorângkhô braiâ mi-thiâ. Ârù bînî khurmâiâ-bù bî-nù khithâ-i-â-khùise. Unau braiâ nåi-au fainaise. Ârù bîhâ nå-i-au bînî fisâzù-khô zâbrâ zânânai thânai nunaise. Bî lao ârù khumrâ-khô bînî khurmâ-khô hùlângnaikhai bîbaidî zâbrâ zânai ârù bînî khurmâiâ-bù be lao ârù khumrâ-khô lâkhmânaikhai zâbrâ gabrâp zânânai thânaise. Obâsù bînî unau nâ-frâ ozâ zâ-thî-nânai bîsùr-nî nå-i-au thângnânai gadân nai-hùi-nânai³ khithânaise “Nang-sùr zùsâ mairong ârù goe zorâse fâthùi zorâse ârù dau mâse lânânai dùisâ-i-au hùnânai khulumbâ, nang-sùr-hâ zâbrâ gâgan.” Besùr bibaidi-nù khâmnânai zâbrâ gânaise. Bînîkhai dâ Båråfrâ dùisâ dùimâ fùrkhô khulumù. Zapbai!

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 (or Lohit).” So the god Sri tied them to his staff, and drew them after him, making runnels of water. And that is how the rivers were made. And the fishes in return gave him a pumpkin and a gourd. And, taking these with him to a friend’s house, his friend regaled him with rice beer and pig’s flesh, and in the morning he gave his friend the pumpkin. But when his friend cut open the pumpkin, it contained nothing but pure silver. So he bade the god Sri stay another day, and brewed fresh beer and killed another pig, and when he was going away gave him a flitch of bacon to take with him. So the god Sri gave him also the gourd. But when he cut open the gourd, it contained nothing but pure gold. And so the god Sri journeyed to his home. And when he got there, he found that his little daughter was very ill. And that was because he had given away the presents which the fishes had made him. But the fishes took pity on him, and came to him in the guise of physicians, and told him that if he would worship and do sacrifice on the banks of rivers, then his daughter would be healed, which he did. And that is why we Kacharis worship rivers. And that is all.

Sâse olsiâ gåthå nê khorâng.

Sâse olsiâ gåthå dangman. Bî mâlai hâli oinânai mai gai zap-bâ, obâsù bî mâmâr dublîau hâli oi-hùi-dang. Phâre Bùthùr braiâ olsia gåthåkhô hâli oinai nunânai bî thângnù hâekhai, bungnaise. “Helùi gåthå, nanglai dâ mâ hâlî oidang-hùi, bùthùrâ mobâbânù thângbai. Dâ mai gaibâ, mâ zâbâu-nù?” Theobù bî bîkhô naifinâ, mosôkhô bùâ dhum dhum dhâm dhâm⁴ bunânai, nâtzret nâtflet bâli oibai thâiù. Unau braiâ khonle khonle sùngnaikhai gåthåâ brâp-nânai nai-gedau-nânai bungnaise “Nanglai maunî brai lùi? Âng khô hâli oinaiau be baidî sùngbai thâiù? Anghâ mâ zâdang, âng sù mithîdang.” Beaunù braiâ bungnaise “Nonggâ, lùi âfâ, âng nangkhô gahâm khorâng-sù khithânù nâmaidang!” Beaunù gåthåâ bungnaise “Mâ khorâng dang? Mâmâr khithâ! Ânghâ hâli oinù sân zolângbai!” Obâsù braiâ bungnaise “Då hâli oinânai mâ zânù? Bùthùr thângbai,” hanbâ, gåthåâ bungnaise “Bî bobething thângkhù? Mau thângkhù nang ângnù khithânanai hù. Âng mai gainù manâbâ, mâ zânânai thâng-gan?” Obâsù braiâ bungnaise “Nang âglânu mâlai zang lùgùse hâli oinânai mai gaibâ hâmgauman, dâlai bùthùr-khô sùr nunù hâgo, ârù mâbrùi bîkhô laifin-nù?” Beaunù gåthåâ bungnaise “Nang khithînânai hùnù hâbâ, âng bîkhô zerùïbâbù lâbônù hâgan.” Hanbâ, bîkhô braiâ bùlù hâekhai khithânaise “Nang bething thângùi thâbâ khårå phut-thru-thru brai sâse thokon thunânai dubli gezer gezer thangnai nugan. Obâniâ nang bîkhônù hom. Ârù bî zere khithâ-i-ù nang bebaidînù khâmdùi” hannânai, bùthùr braiâ thângnaise. Obâsù gåthåâ hâli hogârnânai nåiau fainânai bîmâ buruikhô mâmâr khâm songnù hùnânai, zâùi lângùi bîmânù khithânaise “Ai, nang gâbun fungzânî khâm songnânai hù, ârù, mairong khothâse bùnnânai hù. Âng bùthùr braikhô hùs-ù-lâng-nù. nânggô. “Manâthù dinî âng hâli oinaiau brai sâse fainânai mai gainainî Bùthùrâ thangbai hannânai khithânai, ârù bikhô hùsù lângbâ mangan, ârù bîzere khâmnù thinù, bebaidî-nù khâm hannânai khithâlângnai.” Obâsù buruia okhâ naibâ khâm songnânai gåthåkhô zâ-hù-ùi lâng-hù-ùi mairong khothâse bùnnânai hùnânai gåthåkhô hogârnaise. Gåthåâ thângùi thângùi zaikhônù lùgù manù, bîkh-ônù sùngù, bîsùr bungù: “Bùthùr thângbai hannânai mithigô. Bî mâbrùi ârù bobething thâng-khù, bîkhô zangfùr khithânù hâiâ.” Beaunù gåthåâ gadau-srau zânânai bobething thângan hannânai zerenù manù erenù dubli gezer gezer thâbai baibâ gazânau brai sâse nuhoṭnaise Nuhoṭbâ bînù bù-thùr zânù nânggô nungnânai, bî-khô bungnaise “Âfâ, råthå! dåse råthå! Ang nang-ni-au manse khorâng sùngnù nâmaidang.” Theobù braiâ khnâsongâlâbâ thângùi thâiù. Gåthåâ-bù khithù khîthù thângùi thângùi khithâ-lângù. Gabauzang braiâ nai fâfin-nanai bungnaise “Mâ hekhong-hekhong sùr gåthålùi maunî lùi nanglai?” hannânai sùngbâ gåthåâ bungnaise “Âfâ brai, da brâp-lùi! ang manse dukhuau gaglâi-nânai, nangnî khâthiau faidang.” Hanbâ, braiâ “Mâmâr khithâ mâmâr khitha âng thângnù nânggô, ânghâ nåâ gazân, hor-thô hùi-gan;” hannaise. Obâsù gåthåâ khithânaise “Âfâ âng nangkhô bùthùr brai baidî nùiù. Bînîkhai nang ângkhô dâ buthât. Mâlaiâ boibù mai gaithrå-bai âng un zânanai daise bù gainù hâ-e khùise. Bînîkhai nang dåse thâng-fâfin-bâ ângha mai zagan” bungnaikhai, braia bînù khithâ-naise “Âng dâ faibai, thâng fâ-finnù hâlia, nang benîfrai mâmâr thângnânai, zese hâiù gathâng-gabrâm hâli oinânai mai gaihùithâng.” Obâsù gåthåâ fainânai zerenù manù, erenù khothiâ⁵ khinî-khô gai-brop-nânai dinnaise. Zapbai!

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,²⁷ 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!

Gåthå mâmra nî khorâng. | The seven Champions.

Sânùi brai bùrùihâ gåthå sâse dangman. Braiâ gåthå uduibâ-nù thoi-lâng-naise. Obâsù bîmâ bùrùiâ bîbai-nânai gåthåkhô bângai fidit-bâ gåthåâ bungnaise “Ai, âng dâ mosô gumnù hâ-sî-gô. Nå-se-au murkhiâ hâpnù nâmaiù.” Bînî bîmâ bungnaise “Âfâ fisâtlaiâ, nang âng thoiâgo mâni dukhu zânù nânggâ.” Khintu fisâtlaiâ bînî dukhu mon hùâlâbâ sâse nî nåiau murkhiâ hâpnaise. Phâre bîkhô murkhiâ-frâ mosô gum-zâp-nù hùâ. Obâsù sâse gurkhiâ braiâ bîkhô onnânai gum zâp-hù-naise. Phâre gurkhiâfrâ bîkhô nunù hâiâ, ârù boibù bu-i-ù. Bînîkhai unau bî thânù hâekhai, monau dukhu khâmnânai, bùidâkh-sâri lângnaise.

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.

Phâre thângùi thângùi bî nâmâ-i-au Simlî Bîr khô lùgù mannaise. Phâre bîkhô bungnaise “Dau, nanglai mâ bîr lùi? Simlî bîfâng fângse mâni bân-bù-dang!” Obânù bî bungnaise; ângnù mâ bîr, lùi, âdâ? Zekhô bungù Gilâ Charan bîr, bîsù bîr!” Obâ gåthåâ bungnaise, “Bî bîrâ ângnù!” Bungbâ, obâ, “Âng nang zang thângfâgan lùi, âdâ.” Erui hannânai, bî zang thângnaise. Bebaidînù thângùi thângùi ârù Dhop Bîr khô lùgù manbâ, bîkhô bù bungnaise “Dau, be lai mâ bîr lùi? Dhop bîtâng fângse mâni hâtsingnù bân-bù-gâr-dang!” Obâsù bî bungnaise “Ang-lai mâ bîr lùi, âdâfùr. Zi Gilâ Charan bîr bî, sù!” Obâ Gilâ Charan bungnaise, “E gùi, bî lai ângnù nanggâ lùi?” Erùi hanbâ, “O âdâ, obâ âng-bù nang sùr zang thângfâgan,” hannânai bisùr zang thângnaise. Bebaidinù Bîsor Bîr, Bândor Bîr, Hâgor Bîr, ârù Oṭ Bîr boi zang bîsùr sârå bîr zânaise. Bebaidînu lùgùse thângùi thângùi sâse. Raikhô burui-nî nå man-hùi-bâ, beaunù khâm song-zâ-nù lâgi sâse bîr Raikhônî-au oṭ bainù thângnaise. Thângbâ, Raikhô bùrùiâ mânsùi nunânai zânù lubuinânai lomzâ-thî-nânai udunânai thânaise, ârù bî bîrkhô bungnaise “Âbo, ângni khâthi-au-nù oṭ dang, sukhângnânai lângfai!” Hanbâ, bî fainânai sukhângdangman. Ereaunù khathiau thânai hâkhorau zùnânai khùkhlainaise. Bîbaidi-nù gabâu zâbâ, boibo sâse sâse thângnânai, beaunù gaglai-thrå-naise. Obâsù Gilâ Charan bîrâ manse khorâng zâbai nungnânai bîau thângnânai, Raikhô buruikhô nunaise. Obâsù bî Raikhô burui khô sùbâ-khrâng hoṭ-naise. Beaunù bùrùiâ dukhu mannânai “Abo, nang ângkhô dâ buthât!” hanbâ; “Obâ ângni âgùifùr khô dîhonnânai hù.” Ereui bungnai-au-nù bùrùi zâkhlâ gongse lâbonânai besurkhô hâkhor-nîfrai dîkhângnaise. Phâre unau bî Raikho bùrùikhô bùthât-naise.

And as he went his ways, he met Simli Bîr, 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 Gilâ Charan.” But the lad said “As for Gilâ Charan, why, I am Gilâ Charan.” On which Simli Bîr got leave to go with him. And as they went they met Dhop Bîr, 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 Gilâ Charan, he is a hero if you like.” Then Gilâ Charan said “But I am he.” On which Dhop Bîr 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 Gilâ Charan.

And when they had gone some way, one of them went into the house of a Râkshashani 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 Gilâ 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.

Arù bîzang thângùi thângùi sâne Raikhô thânai thauni man-hùi-naise. Man-hùi-bâ, beaunù simlî-Bîr-khô mikhâm song-nù thin-nânai, bîsùr shikâr khâmnù thângnaise. Phâre bî khâm songnânai dinnaise. Khintu Raikho sânùiâ fainânai khâmkhô zâfainaise. Phâre bîsùr fainânai, “khâmâ hùrù?” hannânai bungbâ “E âdâfur, âng mikhâm songnù baugârbai lîfùr, manâthu âng gumâ mazâng mâse nunânai bîkhô naibai thâdangman.” Khintu Gilâ Charan bî khorângkho mithîdangman. Bînîkhai bî thânânai khâm songnaise. Phâre khâm zânù lâgi Raikhô sânùiâ fainânai; “Ùi gåthå! zangfùrnù khâmâ hù lùi!” Hanbâ, bungnaise “Zangfùrnù ukhùinânai dang, nangsùrnù mâbrùi hùgan!” bungbâ “Gådå-i-au set-bâ gâkhir onkhâtnai gåthå-â-nù⁶ zangfurkhô ereùi khithâiù nâ?” bungbâ, sânùikhô-bù gådå homnânai Gilâ Charanâ dubli dotse nî gazân khubui-hoṭ-naise. Obâsù bîsûr bînîfrai bekhô zânù hannânai, brâpnânai hârau-hurau hù-sù-lai-bù-naise. Obâ bîsùr-khô-bù dân-thât-naise. Bebaidînù sâ-thâm-nî-frai sârå-hâ-lâgi Raikhô bùthâtnânai, Raikhôfurnî mikhâm songnai sâṛå hânthî hingzau lâbonânai, nå khâmnânai zâbai thânaise. Zapbai!

And presently they came to a place where Rakshashas dwelt. But, not knowing this, they left Simli Bîr to cook rice and the rest went hunting. And when the rice was ready, two Rakshashas came and gobbled it up, so when the rest returned, hungry, for food, Simlî Bîr said he was very sorry. He had quite forgotten to cook, being very busy watching a beautiful white butterfly. But Gilâ Charan at once saw that was only a pretext. So he bid the rest go, and, staying behind, himself cooked rice afresh. On which the two Rakshashas came up roaring, and said “Here, my son, hand over that rice.” “But,” said Gilâ Charan, undaunted, “we are hungry ourselves and have no rice to spare!” “What!” cried they “shall a scarcely weaned child speak to us like this?” and they ran at him to eat him. But he seized them by their necks and threw them a field’s length. And when they attacked him afresh, he slew them with his sword. And in like manner each of the Bîrs slew each his Rakshasha, and then each married a fair Rakshasha girl, and lived happily ever afterwards. And that’s all!

Sáse phâlângi gåthåni khorâng.⁷

Sâse uduiau-nù bîfâ thoizânai gåthå dangman. Phâre âzi âzi khâli khâli bî gedet zâbâ sânse bîmânî-au sùngnaise “Ai, âglâ zangfùrhâ âfâ-i-â lai mâ maunânai zâdangman?” hanbâ, bîmâiâ hâmâ sunânai khithânaise “Namfâiâ desù desù fâlângî khâmnânai zâdangman. Bî thâblâ, dâ zangfrâ esebù dukhu zâiâman” hanbâ, bî bungnaise. “Uh! obâ bî hâbâ-khô âng hâiâ nâ! Bese thâkâ dang, ângnù dîhonnânai hù!” Hanbâ, bîmâiâ bungnaise “Âfâ nang bîbaidî khâmnù nânggâ. Âng bîùi gâpùi nangnù zâhùgan. Nang mâlainî dekhuau thângnânai mâbruibâ thoibâ betbâ âng mâbrùi thâgan?” Theobù gåthå â khnâsongâlâbâ embrâ-brâ bîmâ-nî-au thâkâ bînâ-nai lânânai bastu bainaise, ârù nau gongse nâmainânai lânaise, ârù gâsenù zå zâbâ, mânsùi sânùi-sù homnânai bîmâ buruikhô khulumnânai mâlainî dekhu-au nau zang thângnaise. Bebaidînù thângùi thângùi gâmî dåtse dùi-gâthan-au naukhô khânânai, gâmî gâmi bastu phân-hù-naise. Bî gâgai nau ne-ù. Bebaidînù thâùi thâùi beau-nù sùrbâ brai burui sâ-nùi-hâ hângsù gufut mâse dangman. Bînù bîsùrnù dùi laiùi mikham songùi hùgrâ-man. Bîkhônù sânse bî gåthåâ dùi gathânau gagainî hângsù-bîgur-khô khùnanai din-nânai ârù mazâng sikhlâ-sâ zânânai duguinai nunaise. Bînîfrainù boi hângsù-nî girimâ brai-bùrùi-khô on-sù-nânai thau ârù bînî nau-au zî zî bastu dang, ozâinù bângai bângai hùnù homnaise. Bîbaidînù bastufùrkhô fânùi fânùi fân-zap-bâ nåiau fainai so-nai-khai bî brai buruinî nå-iau thângnânai thâkâ zâbrâ hùnânai, hângsù khô bîbâ, brai bùrùiâ “Erenù lâng” hannânai bungdangman, khintu bî fâfù-8 nâng zânù gînânai, brai-nî-gnâng bastu-khai embrâ-brâ thâkâ hùnânai hângsùkhô lâbônaise. Bînîfrai nau lânânai fai-ùi faiùi nå man-fai-nânai, âzibù thâiù khâli-bù thâiù bî hângsù mânsùi zâ-i-e nunânai, sânfrimbù hâmlângnaise. Bîkhônù nunânai bîmâ buruiâ mâlainîau sùngbai baibâ raubù mungbù khithânù hâiâ Khintu biaunù bùrùi sâse dangman. Bînîau sùngbâ, bî bungnaise “Âgùi, nang bîkhônù mithiâkhùi nâ? Bî fâlângi khâmnai thângnai-au bîhâ mâbâ manse zâdang. Nang bîkhô buddî khâmbâ, mithînù hâgan.” Hanbâ, bîmâ bùrùiâ bungnaise “Khithâ-hoṛ-hai, ai bùrùi, dhorom mangan.” Hanbâ, bî khithânaise “Nang sânse sâse sikhlâsa lâbônânai nangnî gåthånî themâ nainù thin. Arù themâ naibai thânai-au-nù gâpthînânai sùng-thâng. “Nang mânù sânfrimbù hâm-lâng-dang?” Obânù bî bîkhô on-khâng-nânai bînî monau zî khorâng dang, bî khithâgan.” Hanbâ, bimâ bîbaidînù khâmnaise. Hingzausâ-iâ themâ nainaiau-nù gâpthînânai gongrai surukhù surukhù⁹ sùngnaise “Adâ-lùi, nang-hâ-lai mâ zâdang? Nang bekhô khithâiâbâ, âng bù khâm dùi zâiâ,” hannaikhai gåthåâ hâmâ sunânai, bînù lâse lâse khithânaise “Ang fâlângî khâmnù thângnai-i-au dâ ângnî nå-iau zî hângsù gufut mâse dang, bîkhô mânsùi zânai nudangman. Khintu bî dâ baidî-sùi-ùi-nù thâbai. Bînîkhai âng erebaidî zâdang.” Themâ nai-khângbâ be gâsenù khorâng hingzausâiâ bînî bîmâ-nù khithânaise. Bekhô bîmâiâ khnânânai boi bùrùinù khithâ hùi-naise lâiù. Buruiâ bîkhô khnânânai buddî hùnaise lâiu: “Nang dinî boi hingzausâkhô lâbonânai khithânânai hù, bî dinî hoṛau udu-lâng-thî-nânai thâthang. Hoṛ gezerbâ hângsùâ mânsùi zânânai gagainî modaifùrkhô khulumbai thâiù. Beaunù bî hângsù bîgurkhô zuzai-mù-au sùnânai hùbâ, obâniâ mânsùi-i-nù thâ-sî-gan.” Be buddi hùnai-baidînù bîmâiâ hingzausâ-nù khithânaise, ârù hingzausâiâ bù gåthånù khithânânai hùnaikhai, sânse gåthåâ khurui gongseau khârezang thauzang golainânai dinnai, ârù songor manse dinnaise. Hoṛ zâbâ bî udui-thî-lâng-nânai thâbâ, hângsùâ hoṛau sikhângnânai âkhaiau âthengau modom au-bù khepthu-bai-dang.¹⁰ Theobù bî khet-khut khâmâ-khuise. Bînîkhai bî udu-lângmâtbai nungnânai, gagainî hângsù bîgùr khô lâsehai khunânai dinnânai gâgainî modai-fùr-khô mon hùnânai khulumbâi thâdangman. Ere-au-nù srî-srî lâsehai sikhângnânai boi hângsù bîgùrkhô thâpnehai zuzai-mù-au efopnânai dinnaise. Unau bigurâ khâmnânai manâm-khang-bâ, bîkhô manâmnânai mannânai “Ângkhô mâ khâmkhù, mâ khâmkhù?” hannânai, fâtdrâp-dô gaglainánai khânggrâng-nânai thoi-hâp-nânai thânaise. Obâsù gåthåâ mâmâr fainânai khuruinî thaukhô khårå-modom-âtheng-âkhai-au hùnânai, songor zang sîpbai thânaise, ârù bîbaidînu sîpùi sîpùi thâblâ, gabâu-zang hâmâ sukhângnaise, ârù thâng-khâng-naise. Bîbaidî-nù mânsùi zânânai, sânùi-zang hâbâ khâm-lai-nânai zâbrâ dinhâ lâgi fisâ fisù zang rozo-rù-man zâlai-bai thânai-se. Zapbai!

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!

Bîdâ bînânaunî khorâng.

Sâse razâ ârù rânî dangman. Bîsùr hâ hoâiâ thoi-grù-naise. Bî thoibâ hingzauâ modomau dangman. Sânne-sù thânanai hingzausâ sâse zânaise. Ârù bîsùrhâ hoâsâ bù sâse dangman. Phâre sân-ne-sù thânânai, bîsùrnî bîmâiâ thoinaise. Thoibâ hingzausâ nî bidâiâ bîkhô gâkhîr daunânai fidet-naise. Phâ unau bîsùr zânù-gùie zâlângnânai unau gâmi gâmi bîbainânai zânânaise. Bîbaidînu thâbai-ùi thabai-ùi sâse râzâ nî nå-î-au hâp-hùi-naise. Beaunù Razâiâ onnânai bîsùrkhô bînî nå-î-au dinnai.

Be dekhu-au sikhau sâ-snî dangman. Bîsùrnù râzâiâ ozainù dau, omâ, mosô, phâreo hùnânggô. Be khorângkhô gåthå-mâmrâiâ khnânânai, bîsùr-khô dânthâtnu lâgi razâ-nî-au sùngnaise. Khintu razâhâ bikhô thinnù mon gùiâman. Theobù bînî mon zang-nù thin-naise. Obâ gorai mâse emfui gongse razânîau bînânai lânânai, be sikhaufur-nî nåiau thângnânai goraikhô dâpseau khânânai dinnânai, bî emfui lânânai dor-mukhângâu srî srî zombai thâ-naise. Unau be sikhau gedetsinâ onkhârbùbâ bîkhô dân-naise. Ârù boikhôbù sâse sâse bepaidi-nù dânnaise. Khintù boinùkhrî uduisuiâ monau bângai gînânai, lâse lâse fainaiau bîkhô gahâmùi dânnù manâkhuise. Beaunù thoi-e-khai bî bîsùrnî nå gongseau bîkhô sùnânai tâlâ mârînânai dinnaise. Manâthu âglâ bînî bîmâiâ bîkhô zî dânbâ-bù phongse bùâ dânnù thinlângdangman. Bînîkhai bî bîkhô ârù dânnù hâiâ-khuise. Unau be khorângkhô razânî sigâng-au gâsenù khithâ-naise. Beaunù razâiâ sikhaufùrnî nåkhô bîsùr sânekhô girimâ khâmnaise. Beaunù bîsùr thânânai bîdâiâ binânau-khô khîthânaise “Âgùi, nang be gâsenú nå gongse gongse-ùi nainù lubuibâ, nainù hâgo. Khintu be tâlâ-mârinai-khô nang dâ kheo.” Bîdâiâ shikâr khâmgrâ-man. Phâre shikâr khâmnu thângbâ, bînânaunu sobai zang mairang zang golainânai, khurui gongseau hùlângnaiman. Bî bîkhônu sânse mâni bâsîbai thâdangman. Unau sân-ne-sù thânânai, bi gâsenù nå-fùr-khô kheo-e kheo-e nainaise. Khaise-au mosô, khaise-au gorai, khaise-au dau, bebaidînù nåfrimbù bî nainaise, Khintu bî kheonu hù-i-e nåkhô mon khâmnânai naiâlâbâ thânù hâiâkhùise.

“Mânâthù beaubù mâ dang âng nunù nânggô;” erùi hannânai bî kheonânai naibâ, thoi-hâng thoi-hâng mânsùi sâse nunaise. Beaunù bî khulumbâ, onnânai, bî zî khithâiù, bîkhônù lânânai, muli hùnaise. Beaunù sân ne sù thânânai mânsùiâ gahâm zânaise. Phâ bîbaidînù ozainù railainù ârù bînù khâm dùi hùnù homnaise. Bebaidinù thaie thaie bîsùr khoràng zâlainaise. Phâ unau bîdâkhô buthâtnù lâgi sikhauâ, hingzaukhô buddi hùnaise “Nang dînî zobrâ zâ-thî-nânai thâ, ârù khithâ: ângnù mosâ-gâkhir zâhùbâ, âng gahâm zâgan.” Bibaidi-nù bidânù khithânaise. Bidaiâ khnânânai hâgrâ-bâre-au mosâ nâmai-lâng-naise. Bînî khâfâlùi¹¹ mosâ bîmâ mâse hâthâi-au mosô begeng nâng-phthânânai thânai lùgù man-naise. Beaunù mosâkhô sùmai lâhùnânai hâthai-nîfrai begeng-khô dîhonnaise. Unau bî mosânî gâkhir-nî khorâng khithânaikhai bî gaigai nî gâkhir ârù fisâ bù mâse hùnaise. Bekhô lâbonânai binânaunù hùfainaise. Phâre okhâ naibâ, sikhauâ, bî hingzaukhô sùngnaise. “Nangnù mosâ gâkhir hùfai-nù nâ?” Bî khithânaise, gâkhir ârù bînî fisâ bù mâse âdâiâ lâbodang.” Biau bî hamâ man-naise. Ârù sânse fukuri manse-nî dùi lâbonù khithânai. Bî fukuri-nî dùikhô lâbobâ mânsùiâ thoiù. Beaunù binânauâ bidânù khithânaise, “Nang be fukuri-nî dùi ângnù lâbonânai hùbâ, âng gahâm zâgan Bebaidînù bidaiâ gorai mâse emfui gongse sùimâ mâse ârù mosâ-fisâ-khô bù lânânai thângnaise. Thângùi thângùi bongfâng gedet fângse man-hùinânai, be bongfâng singau-nù bî zirainânai dang. Ereaunù zibaù gedet mâse bî bongfangau mânnânai gâkhùlâng-dâng, nunânai, bîkhô emfui zang dân-so-naise. Ârù dåse thânânai, ârù mâse zibaû bîbaidînù gâkhùlângnai-au bîkhô-bù dânnaise. Bîbaidînù bî beaunù dang, obânù dau gedet mâse be bongfângau bîrbùnânai fisâ-fur-nù âdhâr hùbâ, fisâfrâ zâiâkhùise. Obâ bîmâ bungnaise; “nangfùr dinî mânù âdhâr zâiâ?” Obâ fisâfrâ khithânaise “Bongfang singau thânai mânsùikhô nang on-bâ, zangfùr âdhâr zâgan.” Hanbâ, bimâiâ “ongan” hannânai sumai lânaise. Fisâfrâ âdhâr zâkhângùi-frâ-bùi, bîmâiâ mânsùi-khô sùng-naise “Nangkhô mâ nânggô?” Sùngbâ, bî khithânaise “Ângnù bî fukuri-ni dùi nânggô.” Be dauâ fukuri-nî khorâng boikhô-bù mithînânai bînù khithânânai hùnânai bîkhô be fukuri khâthiau dinhùinaise. Be fukuri khathiau-nù fukuri-nî girimâ khunguri¹² sâse dangman. Gâthå mâmrâiâ bînî nå-i-au hâpnânai khungari zang gâsenù khorâng-bâthrâ zâlai-nâise. Obâ khunguriâ “Nang-nî khorâng-khô âng boikhôbù mithî-bai. Nang ângkhô hâbâ khâm. Be fukuri-nî dùikhô nang lâng-nù hâiâ: thoigan. Ârù nang-khô buthât-nù lâgi-sù nangnî nang-nânauâ, upai khâmdang. Nang zî mânsùi dân thârâ-lâbâ dindang-man; bî sikhâua-nù be gâsenù khôrang khâmdang.” Erùi han-nânai bisùr sânebù failainaise, ârù bînî bînânau ârù sikhaukhô dân-thât-nâise. Dânthât-nânai, bîsùr sânezang beaunù girimâ zânânai thânaise. Zapbai!

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!

Embu Bonglâ nî Khorâng.¹³

Brai bùrùi sânùi dangman. Bîsùrhâ zânù lùngnù gùiâman. Bînîhai sen-khokhâ sananai, zî nâ manù, bîzangnu mai slailânai mikhâm zâiù. Bebaidînù khâmùi khâmùi sânse senau nâ mâsebù nângâlâbâ, embu bonglâ gazâ senau thîp nângânai thâdang. Obâsù braiâ dâulâ gesîpbâ sâünù thângnânai, sen nai-hùinaise, ârù sen khô dikhângnânai ilit mannaikhai rong zânânai, mâmâr bîbân khânânai, nå-hâ-lâgi bât-zret-bât-thet bân-bù-naise. Ârù bùrùi-khô phuzâ-nânai bungnaise “Bùrùi, bùrùi, mâ dâbù uthiâ-lùi? Sân-zåbai!” Hannânai, phùzâbâ bùrùiâ mâmâr sikhângnânai oṭ sunânai sâne-zang oṭ sailainaise. Ârù braiâ bungnaise “Zangfùrhâ dinî khaphâl gâham! Senau nâ thîp-bungnânai thâdang!” Obâsù bùrùiâ bungnaise “Hùrù, hùrù! nai-nî, lâbonai!” hanbâ, braiâ mâmâr khithîfainaise. Ârù brai bùrùiâ sânùizang orau gahâmùi nainânai nunaise gâsenù embubonglâ gazâ. Obâsù bùrùiâ braikhô bungnaise “Dinî nanghâ khaphâlâ gahâm zâdang! Gahâmùînù khâm manzâsîgan!” hannânai bungbâ braiâ senkhô dåkhånaise, ârù buruikhô buthâtnù thin-bâ, bùrùiâ gon gongse lânânai thå thå bù-thât-hù-lâng-naise. Emphâre bùthât-zap-bâ mâse âtheng bainânai thoifrâmnânai bùrùi-nî khâmflai singau thâdangman. Unau gâsenù embu-fùr-khô sâi-khâng-nânai, brai bùrùiâ bînîfrai uthîbâ ârù khâmflai dikhângbâ, be thoifrâmnai embukhô nunânai, braiâ, “Bùrùi, mâse embu thâbai, bùthât! bùthât!” Hanbâ, embuâ rai-dau-naise “Âfâ lùi âng-khô dâ bùthât: âng nangnù hâli oinânai, khodâl zaunânai, mai gainânai hùgan.” Obâsù braiâ bungnaise: “Mobâthù embu-bonglaia hâbâ maunânai hùnai nudang-lùi? Nang hâbâ maunânai hùnaia gakhâ! Buthâtzânù gînânai nang bekhônù khithâdang.” Bungbâ, embu bonglâiâ gahâmùi khulum-bai-nai-khai, ârù sumai lâ-nai-khai, braiâ bùrùiâ onnânai bîkhô buthârâlâbâ nå-i-au dinnaise. Obâsù âjibù thâiù kâlibùthâiû dùilâng bùthùr såbâ, embu-bonglâiâ nângal lânânai dubliau hâli oinù thângnaise. Ârù bî nângal-mothiau gâ-khù-nânai hâli oibai thâbâ, bînî dubli thing sùrba rajâ sâse hâthi gânânai fainai nubâ embubonglâ raihoṭnaise “Helùi, helùi, nang maunî mânsùi lùi? Âng nî âli-fùr-khô gâphle-gâsi khâmdang!” Hanbâ râzâiâ, “Âng khô bebaidî rainaiâ sùr?” Hannânai, mânsùi hoṭbâ, sâfrâ singau hâkhmânânai thâiù. Bînîkhai mânsùiâ nunù hâekhai thâng-phâ-phinse. Bebaidînù khonle khonle raiù, khon-frimbù bîkhô nunù hâekhai râzaiâ mosôkhônù lânù thinnânai nå-hâ-lâgi lângnaise. Obâsù bî bù khîthu khîthu thângnânai gogrâ nî nå sâïau thurui singau hâpsù-nânai thânânai rajâ khô baidî baidî raibai thâ-sùnaise. Râjâiâ bîkhô khnânânai, naibâbù nuekhai brâpnânai gogrâkhônù sefainù thinnaise. Khintu bî bînîfrai thângkhmânânai saurâ nå sâ-i-au thânânâi ârù rainaise Bebaidînù gâsenù nå sephainù gnâng zânaikhai, râzâiâ unau gînânai bîkhô gahâmùi sùngnaise, “Helùi âfâ, nanglai modai nâ mânsùi? Âng nangkhô mungbù khâmliâ.” Hanbâ, bî bungnaise “Âng modai nunggâ, mânsùi-sù. Ârù nang ângnî mosâ lâbonai-khai âng nângkhô raidang. Ârù nang dâ nangnî phisazùkhô âng zang hâbâ khâmnânai hùgan hannânai sumai lâiâ gô mâni, âng nangkhô bebaidînù nue zânânai raibai thâgan.” Hanbâ, râzaiâ sumai lânângnaise. Obânia bî nånîfrai onkhâtnaise. Onkhâtbâ râzâiâ sumai lânaikhai, ârù mâbâ modai-fùr zânù hâgô nungnânai, hâbâ khâmnânai hùnaise, ârù dolâ, hâthi, gorai gâ-khù-hù-lainânai nåhâlâgi hoṭbâ ârù brai bùrùinî nå khâthî man-fai-ba, brai bùrùia gînânai, nå-nîfrai khâtlângdang-man. Bîkhô embu-bongla fisâtlâiâ nunânai “Gînù nânggâ” hannânai, mânsùi hoṭnânai lâbo-finnaise. Obâsù brai bùrùi fisâtlâ ârù bîhâmzù boibù zå zânânai rong zâ-lainânai mânsùi fùrkhô khâm-dùi zâhùnai lùnghùnaise. Bebaidînù thâùi dang, sânse bîhâmzùâ embu-bonglâ-khô nainù bânânai embu-bongla-khô duguinù thinnaise. Embu bonglaiâ bungnaise “Âng udui-nî-frai dùi-au-nù thâiù. Dâ dùgùibâ ânghâ mâ zânù?” Obâsù hingzauâ bungnaise “Nang dui gusu-au thânai-khô âng mithîdang. Khintu nangnî bîkhong-nî gâdi-mâlâ nunânai-sù âng nangkhô thukuinù nâmaidang,” hanba, embu bonglâiâ mânthi zânaise. Zâbâ dùi glopglop phûdung-nânai hoâkhô linghoṭnaise. “Mâmâr faidù! Âng thukuinù nânggo.” Bî mâmâr fainânai, sùngbâ; “Nang âglâ dùiau bât-sùm grù. Âng unau bîkhong hùnânai hùgan,” hanbâ, bî bîau bât-sùm-nânai khâng-grâng-nânai thoinânai thânaise. Zapbai!

The Story of the Toad.¹³

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!

Mùi ârù daukhâ dandâ nî khorâng.

Bîsùr sâne zang âglânîfrai fisikhî man. Ârù bîsùr bongfâng fângseau ozainù lùgùse thânaiman. Phâre sânse mùikhô sel mâseâ nunânai bîkhô gufûng ârù zânù lâgi gahâm nunânai selâ raidaunaise “Helùi khurmâ! Nang beau mâ nâmaidang? Âng nang khô nunânai on-sùdang ârù nanghâ khusi dangbâ, âng nangzang khurmâ khâmgan.” Beaunù mùiâ bungnaise: “Nangzang ângzang mâbrùi khurmâ zânù hâgô? Nang ângni hothru. Nang ângkhô manbâ, nang ângkhô zâgô. Âng nangnî bîdot.” Be khorang khnânânai selâ monau dukhu mannânai bungnaise “Nang zî khorâng khithâdang, gâsenù nunggô. Ârù bînîkhâi ânghâ raubô gùiliâ, thoithro-bai. Bînikhai âng dâ monau gunînânai gokhainî¹⁴ haran lâbai. Ârù nang boidî raunîbù mungbù khâme, omâzang khurmâ khâmnù mon zâdang. Nang ângkhô beau mungbù dâ bung.” Be khorâng-au-nù mùiâ mânthî zânaise. Obâ bîsùr sâne zang bongfâng guriau thâng-lai-naise. Beaunù daukhâ-dandâ-î-â sel-khô nunânai, bîkhô âgâr-nù lâgi mùinù zâbrânù gahâm khorâng khithâdangman. Khintu be khorâng-khô mùiâ khnâ-song-hiâ-khai, daukhâ dandâiâ sâkhthar manse khithânaise: “Sâne fisikhî dangman-nù. Bîsùr sâne zang khorâng khâlainaise zî “Zangfùr zebù dukhuau gârlainù nânggâ.” Phâre sânse bîsùr maubâ thângnaiau hâgrâ gezer gezer thângdangman. Beaunù lâmâ gezerau mâfur mâse lùgù man-naise. Phâ bîsùr sânùi nî gezerau sâse bongfâng gâkhùnù hâgoman, sâse haiâman. Zeblâ mâfurâ hù-sù-bù-dang, sâse khâtnânai bongfângau gâkhùhùinaise. Sâseâ mungbô upai mane zânânai hâiau khuglupnânai, hâng lâiabâ thânaise. Unau mâfurâ fainânai bikhô manâm-su-nânai hâng gùie nunânai, gârlângnaise. Phâ bongfângnî mânsùiâ sùngnaise “Helùi sikhî, nangkhô mâfurâ manâm-su-nânai mâ khithânai?” Beaunù bî bungnaise “Bebaidî mânsùi-zang nang khurmâ dâ khâm,” erùi hannânai bungnai.” Daukhâ dandâ bungnaise “Besùr sânùi-nî baidi nang-hâ-bù zânù hâgô. Theobù mùiâ bînî khorâng khô lâiâkhùise. Phâre âzi-bù-dang kâli-bù-dang sânse selâ phân nunânai mùikhô bî thauni-hâ lâgi bîkhô phânau khùkhlainaise. Phâre bî phân-nî deoling-khô oṭ-sonù thinbâ-bù, otnù manâ hannânai oṭsoâkhùise. Unau daukhâiâ bîsùrnî khorângkhô mithînânai nâmai-lâng-nânai mùikhô phânau nângnânai thânai nunaise. Nubâ, bîkhô gahâm khâmnù lâge upai khâmnaise. Phâre, okhâ naise naise zâdangman, ereaunù bî bungnaise “Sikhî nung uduikhô dukhrâng hùnânai hâng laiâlâbâ thâ. Ârù âng gâp-bâ, nang khât. Be upai-au goâbâ, ârù gùiliâ-se.” Bî khithanai-baidi-nù mùiâ khâmnânai dang. Ereau-nù phân-nî girimaiâ fainânai mùi-khô thoinai mon khâmnânai, zongkhô hâiau thunânai dinnânai phânnî deoling khô kheonânai fahâm-dang-man. Ereau-nù daukhâiå gâpnânai hùbâ, mùiâ sikhângnânai dophong khâtbâ, mânsùiâ zongkhô lânânai, khubui hoṭ-naise: khintu mùinî modomau nângâlâbâ selnî modomau nâng-hùi-naise. Beaunù selâ thoinaise. Zapbai!

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!

Brai sáse ni khorâng.

Sâse brai dangman. Bî sân-se hâgrâiau thâthî dân-nù thângbâ, mosa mâse sùgùmnai khnânaise. Ârù obânù bînî khâthî nî frai dau mâse bîr-lâng-bâ, braiâ gîkhrongnânai bung-nâise “Âng nangkhô manbâ, khugubân phurungauman.” Bî be khorâng-khô-nù bungùi thâdang, mosâ khnânânai “Be braiâ mâ khithâdang? Ang bekhô mithinù nângbai, ârù bekhô âng zâ-liâ-bù. Erùi nungnânai braikhô mâthù¹⁵ hùnaise “Helùi brai, nanglai mâthù¹⁶ khithâdang?” Theobù braiâ khnâsongâlâbâ bî khorângkhônù bungù ârù thâthi dânù. Obâsù mosâiâ khâthî-åse-au fainânai, brai-khô bungnaise “Nang mâ khorâng bungdang, ângnù khithâiâbâ âng nangkhô zâgan.” Ereùi hanbâ brai gînânai “Nang gabun ângnî nåiau thâng. Oba âng nang-nù khithâgan.” Hanbâ, bî thângnaise. Okha naibâ, mosâiâ sùngùi sùngùi brai-nî nåiau phungaunù okhar fainaise. Phâre braiâ nunânai “Apâ, nang mau-nù thângnu lùi” hanbâ “Âng burobu thângâ. Nang-nî-au-sù mîa-nî khorâng sùlùngnù faidang. Obasù braiâ bungnâise “Âng nang hât-sing-bâ be khorâng-khô khithânu hâiâ. Ârù mâ-ne-sù lai-bau.” Ereùi bungbâ, bî thângnânai mâne mâthâm bîzang lâbonaise. Obâsù braiâ mai dângrî set-lâi-au dîhonnaise. Dîhonnânai bî ghai mithînai mosôkhô uthumai khamnânai mosôfùrkhô khânânai mai-mâran hùnaise. Hùbâ, boi uthumai zânai mosâiâ bungnaise “Abô, âng-hâ khårå megem-sù dang.” Phâ braiâ khithânaise; “rå-dåse, âbô, rå thå, dânù zâsîsù,” hannânai, hù-ùi thânaise. Phâre unau mosâiâ khårå megemnânai gaglai-sù-nânai thâbâ, phânsân gnâng lauthî lânânai gahâmùi thunânai hùnaise. Obâ mosâiâ “Abô! ângkhô mâ khâmù? Âng dinî thoisîgan!” Hanbâ, braiâ bungnaise “Nang mîâ ghugubân sùlùngnù nâmaidangman bebaidî dukhu zânù hâiâbâ, âng nangkhô mâbrui fùrùngan?” Hannânai, ârù thù-khrâng thùsi khâmse. Obâsù mosâiâ bungnaise “Âng dukhu zâdang, be nunggo; nangnî khorâng khô âng mithiâkhui.” Hanbâ, braiâ bungnaise “Bîkhônù ghughubân hannânai bungu.” Obânù mosâ bungnaise “Âng mithîbai, zang-fùrkhô hogaṛ dù!” Braiâ bungnaise “Rå, âru bângai mithî-zap-si-gan.” Hannânai, ârù hunaise. Unau mosâiâ brai-khô khulum-bai-nù homnaise. Phâre maiâ gâbâ bîsùr-khô hogâr-hoṭ-naise. Hogâr-slâp-nù manâlâbâ, uthumai ârù bîsùrbù khâtlângnaise. Khât lângbâ, mengnânai, bîsûr dâpse au boibo zå zânânai zirainaise. Obânù bîsùr boi didungkhô nunânai brainù hùnùlâgi railainaise “Be dîdungkhô hùâbâ, bî mobâbâ zang-fùr-khô sinai mangan.” Bungnânai, bîbù bungù “nangthâng.” Brainî sinnainai mosâiâ thâng-nâng-naise.

Obâsù bî thùrthùr bùrbùr gînânai thângdang, âru brai-nî nå man-hùi-nânai, brainù didung-khô zâsi¹⁷ hubâ, braiâ bungnaise: “Manâbai; âng udubai. Âng onkhâtliâ. Inzur-goblong-thing hoṭ.” Han-bâ, mosâiâ lânzâiâ zang didung-khô hoṭnaise. Obânù, braiâ sekhâ lânânai lânzaikhô dân-so-naise. Beaunù mosâiâ gâp-khrau gâpsî khâtlângbâ, braiâ bungnaise “Ârù ânghâ sâse âgùi sing-sing hù-siù-lâng-dang! Nang khâtnânai mâu-tḥu gonù?” Be bîbaidinù khârùi khârùi naifinnânai raukhôbù nuekhai, zirainaise, ârù khânkhrai gurungau dùi nunânai, khândâ lânzai-khô sunânai zånaise. Phâre khânkhraiâ onkhâtrânai lânzaiau khepnaise. Obânia mosâiâ “Gomâ gomânu brainî bîgúiâ fai-mât-dang;” hannânai, bînîfrai khîbù khîsât khâtlângnaise. Obâsù zesenù khârù khânkhraiâ gaglaigan nungnânai, gahâmùi khep-sin-lângù. Bebaidînù khârùi khârùi mosâiâ thoifrâmnai zânaise. Unau bongfâng-fùr-au nângnânai âgârbâ, obâsù mosâiâ gahâm zânaise, ârù brai-bi-gùi-khô thângbai nunânai, khâm dùi zânaise. Zapbai!

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!

Mùkhrâ ârù Sessâ nî Khorâng. | The Tale of the Monkey and the Hare.

Mâse sessâ ârù mùkhrâ zang fisikhî man. Bîsùr sânùi zang ozainù lùgùse thâiù, lùgùse zâiù, ârù lùgùse thâbaibaiù. Obâsù sânse sâse Darrangârùi mânsùi goe thâlit lânânai, âlâsî zânù thângnai nâmau lùgù mannânai, bîsùr railainaise “Be mânsùi-nî goe thâlit-fùr-khô zânù lâgî zangfùr buddî manse khâmnù nânggô,” hannânai, sessâ-khô nâmau-nù thânù thinnânai mùkhrâia hâgrâ-iaù hâkhmânai thânaise. Phâre mânsùiâ manfaibâ, sessakhô nunânai, bîbân dinnânai, hùsùnaise. Hùsùbâ, mùkhraia hâgrânîfrai mâmâr onkhâtnânai thâlitfùrkhô lânânai bongfângau gâ-khù-hùi-naise. Ârù “sessâ-faigan” hannânai, thâlit goe-fùrkhô mâmâr zâ-grù-naise. Ârù thâlit bigùr buâ sessânù dinnaise.

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.

Emphâre unau sessâkhô mânsùiâ homnù hâiâkhùise ârù unau nåiau thâng-phâ-phin-naise. Obâsù sessaiâ gâbzrî-ùi gâbzrî-ùi thângnânai, fisikhîkhô lùgù man-hùi-nânai, gur thâlit bîbâ, thâlit bigùr bùa hùnaise. Bînîkhai sessâiâ brâpnânai “Bekhô bângai dukhu hùgan,” monau nungnânai, thâsobâre singau thâhùnaise. Unau mukhrâiâ bongfângnîfrai onkhâtnânai: “Sikhî lùi! sikhî lùi! hanùi hanùi gâbzrî gâbzrî thângbâ, sessâiâ brâpnânai bungnaise “Mâthù sikhî-sikhî lùi! Âng beaunù razânî khuser ne-fai-dang. Nangnù ângkhô mânu nânggô?” Obâsù mukhrâiâ nuzâhùinânai bungnaise “He sikhî! khuserkhô ângnù thåse ù, herâ! Bese gathâu âng zâ-nai-nî;” hanbâ, sessâ bungnaise; “Âng nang-nù hùnù hâiâ. Razâ khnâbâ ângkhô bugan.” Theobù bî embrâ-brâ-bînaikhai “Zâ lùi zâ, âng nangzang hâ-liâ” hannânai, zânù hùnaise. Phâre bî zânânai, sâlâiau mânbâ “Sikhî âng thoinaise” hannânai, bâbrâpbaibâ, sessâ bungnaise “Nang gagainù dukhu mandang. Âng dâ nangkhô mâ khâmgan?” hannânai, bere jåthâ nî bâhâ singau thâ-hùi-naise. Mùkhrâ bù un un gâbzrînânai thângnânai ârù nu-zâ-hùi-nai-sui-lâiù “Sikhî nang mâ khâmdang, herâ” bungbâ, sessâ khithânaise “âng razâ nî zåthâ nedang” hanbâ “Sikhî, ângnù bângai dâmnai-nù hù, herâ!” Sessâiâ bungnaise “Uh âng hâiâ, herâ; râzâ khnâbâ ângkhô buthâtgân,” bungbâ bù, embrâbrâ “Âng lâsui-sù dâmgan, herâ,” hannânai, bere bâhâkhô âkhâi-phât-ne zang bu-zâp-naise. Obânu berefrâ mukhâng, megon, modom gasenú oṭ phop-bâ mùkhrâiâ gâp-khrau gâp-sî bâbrâp-bai naise. Obâniâ sessâiâ bungnaise: Âng dù-hùi-nù nang-nù khithâ-dangman, theobû nang khorâng lâia. Âng mâ khâmgan?” hannânai, ârù dâpseau zîbô-gowâl-nî khâthîau thâ-hûi-naise. Azùnghâ mùkhrâ bù khîthû khîthû thângnânai bungnaise “Ârù beau lai nang mâ khâmdang, herâ?” Sessâ bungnaise “Âng razâ-lùnghâ-nî¹⁸ sâmâ-lauthî nedang, herâ.” Bungbâ “Sikhî, âng-nù bù hù, herâ! âng bângai dângnai-nî!” Bî “hùâ” hanbâbú, embrâ-brâ, dangnainânai, beaubù bî zîbô-zang oṭ-zâ-naise. Bînîfrai sessâ thângnânai photobâreau thâ-hui-naise. Mùkhrâ bù gâbzrî gâbzri thângnânai, ârù lùgù lâ-hùi-nânai sessâ-khô súngbâ, bi bungnaise: Bekhônù razânî dolâ hannânai bungù. Mùkhrâ bungnaise: “Sikhî, âng bângai uthî-nai nî, herâ!” bungbâ “Uh! âng hùnù haiâ. Razâ khnâbâ, âng-khô mâ bunggan? Nang mâbâ âbrâ mânsùi, herâ! Khorâng khithâbâ-bù khnâsonggâ,” bungbâbù, mùkhraiâ “Nonggâ, herâ, sikhî dåse buâ uthîgan” hannânai, phåtåbâreau bât-drumbâ, gådåhâ lâgi thrùp thângnaise. Obâsù sessâ khithânaise “Duhui thâlit zânânai bîgur hùnaiâ, benù, herâsikhî, nang beaunù thâ-dù! Âng nangkhô khulumbai! âng thângnaise” hannânai, bî mu-khrâ-khô beaunù gâr-lai-naise.

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.

Obâsù unâù bîthîng gândâ mâse fainai nubâ, bîkhô mukhraiâ dikhâng-nù thing-dangman. Gândâiâ bungnaise “Âng-hâ ukhui-sù-dang ârù dùi-gâng-sùi-dang: âng nangkhô dikhângnù hâiâ,” hannânai, bî thângnaise. | 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.

Bînî unau ârù moesù mâse fainai-au bîkhô bù khithâdangman Bîbù khnâsongâlâbâ blot thângnaise. Boinùkhrî khî-zap-au mosâ mâse ukhui-sù-nânai bîthîng thângdangman. Mùkhrâ nunânai bungnaise “He âfâ, nang ângkhô be dukhu nî frai dikhângâbâ, ârù raubô dikhângliâ.” Hannânai gahâmùi khulumnù homnaise. Theobú bî “Âng nangkhô dikhângnânai mâ mangan?” hannânai, khozo-ne-sù¹⁹ thângbâ, mukhrâiâ bungnaise “Âfâ, nang ângkhô be photobâre-nî-frai dikhângnânai hâbrùfùrkhô sù-srâ-nânai ângkhô nang zâ!” hanbâ, bî ukhui-sû-nai-khai, be khorâng-au khnâ-song-nânai, bîkhô bungnaise “Âng nangkhô zânû mon gúiâ, manâthù, bebaidî dukhuau gaglainaikhô dikhângbâ, ânghâ gahâm zâgan. Theobù nang gaigainù zâsinânai hùnai-i-au, âng zânù hâgo,” hannânai, bînî lânzai-khô pholau hoṭbâ, mùkhrâiâ bînî lânzâiau hombâ, dikhâng-bù-naise, mù-khrâ khîthânaise “Âfâ nang ângkhô dâniâ modom-fùr-khô gahâmui susrâ, emphâre rânbâ zâ,” hannânai sândungau dåse zåbai thâdangman. Ereaunu mosâ-iâ phâtsething naineau, bî bongfângau fât-drâp gâ-khù-naise. Mosâ bekhô nunânai, brâp-nânai, bongfâng guriaunù sânne sânthâm nebai thânaise. Bebaidî thânânai, unau khugâ sînânai, hâthai hâzîzî khâmnânai, thoithî-nânai, thânaise, ârù thâmfaifrâ khugâ-i-au brûng-brûng han-lai-nù homnaise. Beaunù mukhrâiâ ose ose thoi-mâtbai nungnânai bongfâng bîzô nî frai lâse lâse onkhâtbùnânai âglâ lâse-i-hai lânzai khugau sù-nai-grù-bâ-bù mosâ mungbô khâmâkhuise. Ârù unau âtheng thângse sùnânai hùnai, beaubù mungbô khâmâkhùise. Obâsù mùkhrâ bungnaise “Nang ângnî âthengfùrkhô khrem-khrem oṭnânai zâgauman, lanzai-khô khrem khrem oṭnânai zâgauman,” hannânai, rong zânânai: “Dâniâ ângnî khårokhô-nù zâ,” hannânai, khugau sùnânai hùbâ, obânù mosâiâ khrem oṭ-khrep-naise. Thoibai! Zapbai!

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!

Khusung ârù Mùkhrâ. | The Tortoise and Monkey.

Besur sâne zang fisikhî man. Sânse lâmâiau thâbâ, sâse mânsùi gur thâli mairang bânnânai lâbonai nùnaise. Bîkhô nunânai mùkhraiâ fisikhînù khithânai-sùi: “Helùi sikhî, nang beaunù zåbai thâ. Be fainai mânsùia bîbân dinnânai nangthângkhô hùsùbâ, nangthâng khât.” Erùi hannânai khusungkhô bî lâmâ-au-nù dinnânai mùkhrâiâ hâgrâ singau hâpnânai ânda zânânai hâkhmânânai thânaisui obâ be mânsùiâ khâthi zâbâ, khusungkhô nunânai, bîbân dinânai, húsúnaise. Obânú mùkhrâiâ hâgrâ nî frai onkhâtnânai be thâli ârù gur khô lângnânai bongfângau gâkhùhùinaise. Unau be mânsùiâ khusung-khô manekhai, gaigainî nå-i-au thâng-fâ-fin-naise. Benî unau, khusungâ hâgrâ-nî-frai onkhâtnânai fisîkhô nâmainânai man-nânai, thâlit ârù gur bînaise. Khintu mùkhrâiâ thâlit zânânai bigur gazâ, gur zânânai, thinkli gazâ khusungnù hùnaise. Beaunù khusungâ brâp-naikhai, bîkhô bongfângau dikhâng-lâng-naise. “Nang âng-khô gur ârù thâlit zânai nudang-man. Beau mâ dang, nang gagainù nai.” Bebaidî bungnânai mùkhrâiâ bongfâng-nî-frai onkhatnânai thângnaise Phâre khusungâ beaunù thânânai onkhâtnù haiâkhùise. Be bongfângnî sing-thing baidî baidî omâ thângdangman. Khintu raubô bîkhô on-â-khùise. Unau, gândâ brai mâse be thing thângbâ bî bîkhô khulumnânai bungnaise “Âfâ, nang ângkhô onbâ âng nangnî bîkhung sâïau bât-drùm-nù nâmâiù.” Beaunù gândaiâ bîkhô onnânai thinnaise. Thin-bâ, bî bât-drùm-naise. Obânù gândâ-hâ zânzi bai-naise! Obâniâ, bîkhô khusungâ hâgrâ zang khupnânai dinnânai, razânî nåau thângnânai razâ zånai khâmflai sing-au thâ-hùi-naise. Phâ zeblâ mel khun khun zâdangman, obâ khusungâ khîphînâise. Razâ bîkhô khnânânai “Sùr khîphîdang? Khîthù dân!” Beaunù boibô “Âng khîphîâkhùi” hannânai bungnaise. Ârù bebaidînù khonnesùi khîphîni-au, sâse mânsùiâ bîkhô razâ nî khâmflai singau nuhoṭnaise. Nunânai razâni sigângau bung-naise “Âfâ, nangthâng âng-khô dân lâgi-bù, âng manse khorâng khithânù nâmâiù. Nangthângnî khâmflai singau-nù mâbâ mâse dang. Âng mithîgo bînù khîphîdang.” Phâre razâiâ nainânai, bîkhô nunânai, khîthù dânnù thinnaise. Obâniâ khusungâ bungnaise “Âfâ nang ângnî khîthû dâ dân! Âng nangthâng-nù gândâ mâse hùgan.” Beaunù razâiâ brâpnânai, bîbînai-baidi-nù mânsùi zâbrâ bî zang hùnânai hoṭnaise. Bî thângnânai, gândâ-khô boi bongfang guriau khithî-hui-naise. Mânsùifur gândâkhô lâbonânai, razânî singau hùbâ, razâ hontoh zânânai bînù gorai mâse hùnaise.

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 (the monkey having hid in the jungle), 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.

Be gorâiau uthînânai khâtbaibâ, mùkhrâiâ nunânai sùng-bâ, bî bungnaise “Be goraikhô ângnù razâiâ hunai.” Obânù bî sùngnaise “Mâbrùi razâiâ nangnù hùnai?” Beaunù bî khithânaise, “Nang ângkhô zî bangfâng sâiau gâr-bu-dangman; âng beaunù thânânai, lâmâkhândâ mâse-nî sâiau bongfâng-nî-frai bât-drûmbâ, bî thoinaise. Unau âng bînî sâiau zâbrâ zigâp hung-nânai hùsinnânai bîkhô dinnânai razânî sigâng-au gândâ nî khorâng khithânaise. Beaunù razâiâ ângnù hontoh zânânai, be goraikhô hùdang.” Beaunù mùkhrâiâ bî khithânai baidî khamnaise. Râjâiâ bîkhô nunânai brâpnânai khîthû dânnaise. Zapbai!

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!

Bâmun deâru bînî sâkor nî khorâng. | The Brahmin and his Servant.

Sâse Bâmun dangman, ârù bîbâ sâkor sâse dangman. Sân-se sâne zang Bâmun nî bîhau-bikhunzù-nî nåiau thâng-nù-lâgi thâlit gur gâkhir sorai lânanai sâkhor-khô bân hùnânai, bîkhô khithânaise “Nang be thâlit-fùrkhô dâ zâ. Zâbâ ânghâ khîthù fâtse bù megon dang.” Erùi hannânai thângùi thânaise. Phâre unau boi sâkhorhâ mikhâm ukhui-bâ, thâlit-khô lânânai, thaise thaise bînù un-phât-si khithînânai, bebaidînù boibo-khô-bù zâ-thro-lâng-naise. Phâre unau bîsur dâpseau zirai-hùiba, Bâmun bîbânkhô nueâkhâi, sâkhor-nî sigâng-au sùngnaise “Bibânâ mâ zâkhù?” Obâ sâkhorâ bungnaise, âng dùkhùi-nù nangnù khithînânai bî thâlit-fùrkhô zâbai. Ârù dâ nang mânù sùng-dang?” Bebaidînù Bâmunâ bolo²⁰ hâekhai srî srî thânaise. Phâre besùr beaunù khâm song-zâ-nù-lâgi zothon khâmnaise, ârù beaunù nâ khâwai mâ-ne-sù mandangman. Bînî sâkhornù mâse bùa hùnânai, gâsenù Bâmunâ lânaise. Phâre zeblâ khâm man-naise, sâne-bù zânù lâgi zodangman. Ereaunù sâkhorâ sùngnaise “Bâmun gohain, nâ khâwâiâ mâse bùâ daugâiù, nâ dùlù dùlù daugâiù?” Beaunù Bâmunâ bungnaise “Dùlù dùlù daugâiù.” Obâ bî bînî nâ mâsekhô bînî khâm-au khubui-hoṭ-detnaise “Manâthù be hâtsing daugânù hâiâ, nang-ni zang dùlùse zâthang.” Beaubù gaigai-nî khorâng-zâng-nù zennânai bîkhô mungbâ bung-nù hâiâ khùise. Unau khâmkhô sâkhorâ hâtsing manzânaise.

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.

Phâre bînifrai thângùi thângùi simli bîfâng dùlùse nunânai, Bâmun-khô sùngnaise “Bâmun gohain! be nunai bongfâng-frâ mâ bongfâng?” Bamunâ khithânaise “sirmolu.” Sâkhorâ bungnaise: “Sirmolu nunggâ. Bîkhô hirmolu hanù.” Phâ obâsù phong-bâ phong-bâ sônù lâgi khorâng khâlainaise. Phâre gurkhiâ dùlùse lùgù mannânai, bîsùrkhô sungbâ, “himulu” hannânai bîsùr bungnaise. Obânù sùngâ-hoâ-lâbâ Bâmunkhô phong-bâ sônaise.

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 (being an educated man) said “These are sirmolu.” But the servant said “Not so, not so! These are himulu,” and offered to bet five blows that it was so. And, meeting some cowherd boys, he asked them what the trees were. And when they said “himulu” he gave the Brahmin five blows without further question.

Ârù bebaidi thângùi thângùi burmâ dùlùse nunânai sâkhorâ Bâmunkhô sùngnaise “Bâmùn gohain, boi gângsù zâbai thânai zanthu-fùr mâ bungô?” Bâmunâ khithânaise “Bîfur sâg.” Sâkhorâ bungnaise “Nunggâ, bîfùr sâgoli.” Beaubù bîbaidinù Bâmunâ phongbâ sô-zâ-naise. Ârù bînîfrai thângnânai dau-bå dùlùse nunânai sùngnaise” “Bâmun gohain, befùr mâ dau?” Bâmunâ bungnaise “Nang bîfùrkhô mithiâ? Bîfurkhô bog hanù.” Bî bungnaise “Mâ bog hanù? Nunggâ. Bîkhô boguli hanù.” Beaubù bebaidinù Bâmunâ phongbâ sôzânaise. Unau bî manse slok hannaise:

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 châg.” But the servant cried “Not so, not so! These are châgali.” 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:

“Sâg sirmolu bog ba-káran Tinî pânch panra kîl sudâ akâran.” | “Sâg sirmolu bog ba-káran Tinî pânch panra kîl sudâ akâran.”

Phâ bînîfrai thângnânai bihai-bikhunzù nî nå khâthî manbâ, sâkhorkhô thin-hoṭ-grù-nânai khithânaise “Nang thângnànai mâmâr khâm songnù thin; manâthù ânghâ mikhâm ukhui-sù-dang.” Phâre bîbaidî-nù bî thângnânai, Bâmun-nî bikhunzù-nù hângsù bûthâtnânai sobai khâre zang mikhâm songnânai dinnù khithânaise, ârù bungnaise “Nangnî nangzâ-mâdùiâ megong-au gabâp nunggâbâ zâiâ.” Obâsù bî songnânai dinnaise. Phâre unau bizâmâdùiâ so-fai-bânù, mâmârùi khâm khutnânai hunaise. Bizâmâdùiâ ukhui-sù-nai-khai, khâm megong mungbo bâsiâlâbâ zânù gnâng zânaise.

And when they were now come near the Brahmin’s mother-in-law’s house, and the Brahmin was become very hungry, he sent his servant on ahead to beg them to get supper ready. So the servant went on ahead and bade the Brahmin’s mother-in-law cook a duck and put lots of plantain ashes, which the Kacháris use for salt, well knowing that his master disliked its acrid taste. So the duck was cooked with plenty of alkali.

And when the Brahmin arrived, his meal was set before him, and he was so hungry that he had to eat it whether he liked its savour or no.

Obâsù unau bebaidînù baidî baidî lâzi mannai zânaikhai, Bâmunâ bidânùlâgi sitti gângse lit-nânai sakhornî âkhâi-au hùnânai nå-i-au hoṭnaise. Lâmâ såse thângbâ, beaunù litnù-grang sâse mânsùi lùgù mannânai, bînù sitti khithînaise. “Beau mâ litdang, âng-nù khithâ.” Obâsù, mânsùiâ sitti-khô nainânai, “Nangkhô dânnù lâgi Bâmun nî bidâ-khô thindang” erui bungbâ, bî sittî-khô phisînânai bungnaise “Afâ nang ângnù gubun sitti gângse litnânai hù.” Ârù be sitti-au erehai lit: “âdâ, nangnî fisâ-hingzau zang be sâkhorâ man-hùi-bâ-nù hâbâ khâmnânai hù. Âng benifrai thângnânai bîsùr-nî hâbâ nunù nânggâ.” Bebaidinù be sitti-khô lângnânai Bâmun-nî bidânù hùnaise. Khintù bî sitti-khô nunânai, monau dukhu mansù-naise. Theobù, bigùi-nî khorâng gârnù hâekhai, fisâzù zang mâmâr hâbâ khâmnânai hùnângnaise.

And so in various ways the Brahmin was put to shame by his servant. So he wrote a long letter to his brother, and, putting it in his servant’s hand, bade him deliver it. But he went a little way, until he met a man who could read and write, and he bade him tell him what was written in the letter. And the man read him the letter, which was to the effect that the brother was to kill the servant. On this, the servant tore up the letter and bade his friend write another one, saying “Dear brother, on receipt of this letter marry my servant to my niece without delay. I shall not be able to come to the wedding.”

Taking this letter, the servant went to his master’s brother, who was much vexed, but dared not disobey. Accordingly, though reluctantly, he married the servant to his daughter.

Phâre sânse thânânai bî fainânai bidâ khô sùngbâ gâsenù khorâng khnânânai, bî sâkhor khô dânnùlâgi srî srî upai khâmnaise. Be upaikhô sakhornî hingzauâ mithînânai, bekhô onnânai bînù khithânaise. Khithâbâ, hingzau zang hoṛau udunîau mosôfisâ mâse khâ-khrop-nânai futhunânai dinnaise. Phâre Bâmunâ fisâzù zang udubai thâdang mon khâmnânai, srî srî thângnânai mosôfisâ-khô dânnaise. Phâre sân-sô-bâ mosâfisâkhô dânfnâng-nai nunânai mâmârùi bizâmadui sâkhorkhô gârhùinù lâgi thinnaise. Khintu bizâmâduiâ bîsùrnî bâriâu lângnânai, lânzâi dîhonnânai, fopnânai dinnaise. Unau Bâmunâ mosâ bùthâtnai-nî nungge srî srî uddhâr zânu lâgi gaminî mânsùifùrkhô lingnânai phozù hùdangman. Phâre mânsuifùr zânu zobâ, sâkhorâ bâriau thângnânai mosô lânzai-khô bunânai bungnaise “Bamunâ mosobù bùthârâ-khùi phozù-bù hùâ khùi, hùi-sù!” Bebaidî bungbai-thâbâ, phozùnî mansùifrâ khnânânai, phozù zâiâkhùise. Bebaidînù bîsùr uddhâr manâkhùise. Zapbâi!

And, when the master came to see if his servant had been disposed of, and heard what had happened, he set about to kill him. But his niece got to know of the matter and told her husband, who got a calf, and, binding it hand and foot, put it by her in her bed. And in the night the Brahmin came, and thinking the calf was his niece’s husband sleeping by her side, killed it. And when he found out his mistake in the morning, and learned that he was guilty of cow-killing, he bade his niece’s husband go and bury the calf in all haste. And the servant dragged the calf into the garden and buried it with its tail sticking out of the ground. Meanwhile, the Brahmin set to work to get himself purged of the offence of cow-killing, and summoned the villagers to a feast without telling them why. And when they were all seated, the servant ran out into the garden and hauling at the calf’s tail, called out “The Brahmin didn’t kill a cow, Oh, no! and

Âbrâ nî khorâng. | The Story of the Simpleton.

Sâse brai bùrùi dangman. Bi-sùr-hâ sâse gåthå dangman. Bî sânse brai-bùrùi-ni-au mosô bainu lâgi thâkâ bînaise. Khintu brai bùrùi gåthåkhô âzlâ nunànai thâkâ hùâman. Gåthåâ embrâ-brâ bînai-khai thâkâ zakhai-brùi hùnaise. Phâre gåthåâ mosô bainù lâgi thângùi thângùi manthâm âlî-nî khâthi-au gahâm mosô mâse nunânai, be âlî-au thâkâ dinnânai mosôkhô khânânai lâbonaise. Thângùi thângùi bîhâ khînù on-khâtnânai mosôkhô hâgra daise-au khânanai dinnânai khîhùibâ mosoâ bething khâtlângnaise, Phâre be khînainîfrai fainânai mosôkhô nuekhai hâgrâ hâgrâ nâmaibainaise.

There was once an aged couple, who had a foolish son, who one day begged them to give him money to buy an ox with. And, owing to his persistence, though they knew him to be simple, they gave him sixteen rupees and let him go. And, as he went, he found a fine ox grazing where three roads meet; and, putting his rupees down on the road, he bound the ox and drove it away. Presently, he stopped to rest, and while he was dozing, his ox ran away. So he began searching all through the jungle for the missing animal.

Ârù bî mùi zonthrâ mâse nunânai, bîkhônù bînî mosô hannânai, hùsùbaie hùsùbaie unau mùiâ hâgrâ zethap-au gongâ nângnânai thâpthânânai thânaise. Obâsù bî mùikhô gådåiau dîdungzang khânânai nå hâ lâgi didung zorai zorai nå manfai-naise. Beaunù bîmâ bifâiâ sùngnaise “Nang mosô bainù thângnaia, hùrù?” Obâsù bî bungnaise “Be dîdungkhô bùbânù, zangfùr mosô mangan.” Erù hannânai sâthâm zang dîdungau homnânai bùnaise. Bùî bùî mùiâ nå man-fai-bâ, boibù gî-khrongnaise. Phâre bîmâ bîfâiâ mùi-khô buthâtnânai mai salai-nù lâgi gâmînîmânsùinù bângan hùnaise.

At last he found a fine stag, and thinking that to be his ox, chased it through the forest till by chance its horns got caught in a thicket. So he tied a rope round its horns, and to that tied another rope, and so on till he got home. And when his old mother asked him if he had bought his ox “Havn’t I, just,” said he, “just help me to pull and see!” On this, the three of them pulled at the rope, hand over hand, and presently the stag made his appearance kicking and struggling, at which they were mightily afraid. However, they killed the stag, and gave of its flesh to the neighbours to eat.

Beaunù gåthå âbrâiâ ai âfâiâ mosô buthâtnai zâbai hannânai mâlainî gâme gâme khithâbainaise. Khintu bîkhô âbrâ nunânai mansùifrâ bînî khorâng khô fathiâ-khùise. | On which the simpleton went about and told the villagers that they had eaten of cow’s flesh. But, fortunately, knowing he was a simpleton, no one believed a word he said.

Bînî unau, âjî-bù thâiù kâli-bù-thâiù, âbrâiâ bângai detbùnânai gâgainî hingzau namainù lâgi ârú brai bùrùi-nî-au thâkâ bînaise. Beaubù hùâ gârâ, thâkâ zokhai-brùi brainîfrai lânânai hingzau ânmainânai thângnaise. Thângùi thângùi gâmî mânsùi-nî dùi gathân-au zombai thânaise. Phâre unau sâse mazâng hingzausâ dùi lângnù fainai nunânai, dùi gâthan-au bi lângnai hingzausâkhô homnânai lâbonaise.

Another time, when the simpleton was grown a bit bigger, he again begged money of his parents: this time that he might get him a wife. And since he would not take a refusal, he got his sixteen rupees and set out afresh in search of a wife. Finally, he went and sat at a place where the village women drew water. And when a pretty maiden came down with her vessel on her hip to draw water, he seized her and carried her off.

Phâre fai-ùi fai-ùi nâmâ-i-au mengnânai bongfâng fângse nî singau zirainaise, ârù mosô halwâ mâse lânânai mânsùi sâse bù beaunù ziraidangman. Bîbaidî bîsùr ziraibâ thâbâ homnai lâng-zâ-nai hingzausâiâ zingâsi-nânai gâbùi gâbùi megon-dùiâ hâ-hâlâgi bùhi-lâng-naise. Bîkhô nunânai mosô lânai mânsùia âbrâ-nù khithânaise “Nang be hingzau-sâ-khô mau mannai? ârù nang bîkhô nainânai lâbodang, na naiâlabâ lâbodang?” Obâ âbrâiâ bungnaise “Ang bîkhô mazâng nunânai bîsurnî dùi-gathân-nî-frai thâkâ zokhai-brui dinnânai lâbodang.” Obânú bî buddi grângâ bungnaise “Nang khânâ dang: be hingzausâ mazâng-bâ-bù, bînî megon thaine-â betnai. Nang nuakhùi nù? Honùi, dùiâ so so bùhîlângdang. Bîbaidi hingzausâkhô nang mâ khâmnù?” Be khorâng khnânânai âbrâiâ bînî mosô zang slainù nâmainaise. Khintu bî mânsùiâ misainù hùnù nâmâiâ. Theobù embrâbrâ bînaikhai: “lâ, le, lâ!” hannânai, mosôzang mânsùisang slainânai, gâgai gâgai monau gahâm mannânai azang sâse azang sâse mâmâr thânglainaise. Bebaidînù thângùi thângùi âbrâiâ bongfâng fângse singau burmâ lânai mânsùi sâse zåbai thânai nunânai, bîbù beau-nù zånaise. Bebaidî zåbai thâbâ, mosoâ hâ-sudangman. Phâre bî burmâ lânai mânsùiâ bungnaise “Be mosô nî uduiâ goblongbai, ârù sân sese thâbâ be thoisigan. Beaubù bî âbrâiâ gomâ nungnânai, mosôkhô bînî burmâzang slainaise. Bebaidî thângùi, ârù sâse thâlit lânai mânsùi bebaidî-nù bongfang singau zånai mânsùi lùgù mannânai, âbrâiâ bú zådangman. Khintu burmâiâ gângsu ukhuinânai bâbrâp bainaiau bî zånu sukhu man-e-khai, burmâ khô bubâ, burmâ bâ bâ hannaise. Obânu; “Ese mengnaiu âng nangkhô mâbrui bâgan?” hannânai, brâpnânai, gârnu lubuibâ, be thâlit lânai mânsùiâ, thâlit khô âbrânù hùnânai bî burmâ khô lângnaise. Bîbaidî nù bîsùr bînîfrai thânglainaise. Ereaunù sâse mânsùi bînî sigâng-thing âsî khrep-khrep²¹ dâmnânai faidang. Obâsu khâthiau lùgù manbâ âbrâiâ bungnaise “Âng burmâ mâse mânî hùnânai be thâlit-khô, lâbodang. Theobù ângnîau thâlit bîù?” Erùi hannânai “nang thâlit zânù lubuidang-bâ nang-nî bidyâkhô ângnù hù;” hannânai, bî biaunù hurâsemâni sùlùngnânai, zenthe-nùi hânânai, thâlit-khô bînù hùnânai âsî khrep khrep dâmnânai thângnaise. Thângùi thângui, mai gezer dâpseau khînù onkhâtnânai khînaiau bînî bidyâkhô baugârnaise. Ârù be mai gezeraunù gamâbai hannânai, maikhô themâ nainaibaidî nainaise. Beaunù mainî girimaiâ mai hâbai thâdangman, nunânai, bîkhô sùngnaise “Nanghâ beau mâ gamâdang? Ângnî mai-fùrâ hâmâ zâthrobai!” Âbrâ bungnaise “Anghâ thâkâ zokhai-brùi nî bidyâ manse beaunù gamâbai. Nang bù âng zang namai-phâ-bâ, âng nangkhô gahâm mangan,” hannaikhai, bî bù nâmaiùi nâmaiùi, manekhai brâpnânai: “nang nî khorângâ misâ,” hannânai, âsi dâmbâ: “Âfâ, dâ âng manbâi;” hannânai âbrâiâ khâtlângnaise.

And when he got tired, he stopped to rest under a tree. And it happened that a man driving a plough ox was also resting there, and the maiden sat there crying her very eyes out for grief at having been carried off. So the man with the ox asked the simpleton “Where did you get that girl? Did you have a look at her before you took her, or didn’t you?” To which the simpleton replied “She seemed a pretty girl, so I put down sixteen rupees at the bathing place and carried her off.” On which the wise man said: “You must be blind. The girl’s pretty enough, but don’t you see that both her eyes are burst. You clearly don’t see straight. Just see how the water is flowing from both her eyes.” On hearing this, the simpleton offered to exchange the girl for the ox. But the other pretended to be unwilling, till, after much persistence on the part of the simpleton, he cried: “There, take it, take it!” So the exchange was effected, and each went on his way mightily satisfied.

And, as the simpleton went his ways, he found a man seated under a tree having a goat with him. So he too stayed to rest. And when they stopped to rest, the ox lay down to rest. On this, the man with the goat said: “That ox is not a good bargain. It will die in a day or two.” And the simpleton, believing this, exchanged the ox for the goat. And when he set forth again, he met a man carrying a big bunch of plantains. So the two sat down. And as the goat was restless and gave him no peace, the simpleton began beating it, so that it cried Ba! ba! (now Ba in the Kachári speech means “carry”). So he said “Do you suppose a tired man like me is going to carry you?” And he was so angry that in disgust he exchanged the goat for the bunch of plantains; and went on. And as he went, he met a man cracking his fingers, and, thinking he did it in scorn of his plantains, explained at what price he had got them.

However, he offered to give him the plantains if he would teach him the art of cracking his fingers. So the two stayed there a long time till the simpleton had more or less acquired the art he coveted. Then as he went on, he suddenly forgot what he had learned. And because he forgot it in a paddy field, he thought he must have lost it in the paddy, and began examining the ears of paddy as a woman searches another woman’s hair for lice. And when the owner of the field came up and asked what he was about, he said: “I have lost a thing which cost me sixteen rupees. Come and help me to look.” So the two looked together, and when, after much search, they found nothing, the other man, in pure vexation, cracked his fingers. On which the simpleton, crying “I’ve found it! I’ve found it!” went dancing away.

Ârù bebaidî thângùi thângùi fukuri manse manhùibâ beaubù bî khînânai bînî bidyâ khô baugârnaise. Phâre bî nâmaie nâmaie manâkhùi. Ereaunù sâse mânsùi lùgù mannânai sùngnaise: “Nanghâ beau ma gamâdang?” hanbâ; “Âfâ, ânghâ beau gahâm basthu manse gamâbai, nangbù namaibâ, âng gahâm mangô;” bungnai-au bîbù bîzang namaifânaise, ârù unau nâmaiùi nâmaiùi hâbru zang musunlâ-musunlî zânânai, theobù manekhai, bî mânsùiâ brâpnânai âsi dâmnaise. Obâ bî “o âfâ, dâsù âng bekhô manbai!” hannânai, rong zânânai, nå-hâ-lâgi khrep-khrep dâmnânai nå manhúinaise. Bikhô nunânai brai bùrùiâ minî-sù-naise. Agla bîkhô sinai manâkhùiman, unau sùngnânai mithînaise. “Ârù thâkâfurâ mâ khâm-khù?” hanbâ, bungnaise “Âng hingzau sâse lâbodangman, Behâ megon thaine bù betnai. Bînîkhai ârù mosô slainaise, Bihâ bù udui goblong zânai, ârù burmâ mâse zang bîkhô slainaise. Bîbù ângkhô bânù thinnaikhai brâpnânai, thâlit slainaise. Thâlit khô nunânai, sâse mânsùiâ bînaikhai, be mânsùinîfrai be bidyâ khô sùlùngnânai thâlit hùnani lâbodang. Ârù âng mâ khâmnù nânggò?” Zapbai!

Presently, he stopped by a tank, and again forgot his new acquisition. So he plunged into the mud to look for it. And a man came up and asked what he was searching for? To which he replied “My friend, my friend! I have lost something very valuable. Do come and help me to look.” On which, the two searched until they were covered with mud; and when they found nothing, the new-comer cracked his fingers in vexation, and the simpleton, crying “I’ve found it! I’ve found it!” went gaily cracking his fingers all the way home. And when his father and mother saw him, they smiled at his state, and till they spoke to him did not know who he was. And then they asked him what he had done with his money. “Oh!” said he, “first of all I bought a lovely maiden, and, because her eyes were bad, I exchanged her for an ox; and because there was something wrong with the ox, I got a goat in exchange; and because the goat wanted me to carry him, I got angry and changed him for plantains. And the plantains I gave to a man who taught me to crack my fingers, and what else would you have me do?” And that’s all!

Sâ-snî âbrâ nî khorâng. | The Story of the Seven Simpletons.

Sùrbâ âbrâ sâsnî dangman. Bîsùr sân se dâpseau onkhâtlâng-nai-au nâmâ-au-nù dùi-slùng bângai mannânai bîkhônù mâbrùi bâtgan hannânai khorâng zâlai-naise. Beaunù bîdâ gederâ bungnaise “Boibù zânzî khâphrâ-nânai bâtnù nângbai;” hannânai, boinùkhri bî âglâ zânânai, bînî khithîau sâse hom-hù-naise. Bebaidî-nù bînî zânziau bî, bînî zânziau bî homlainânai dùislungau sânsrilainaise. Beaunù âtheng-mani zerbâ-mâni sânsrinai-au thoi onkhâtlainaise. Phâre bebaidînù zenthen ùi bâtkhângnânai bîdâ gederâ sâse-se lângkhâtbai nungnânai sân-naise. Sânânai sârå bùâ mannaise. Ârù unau bînî godâiâ sânnaise. Bî bù sâ-rå bùâ mannaikhai, sâfrimbù khonse khonse sânnânai sâṛå bùâ mannai. Bînîkhai boibù sâse lângkhâtbai hannânai zingâsî-nânai khorâng zâzlaibai thâdangman. Ereaunù bething Bâmun sâse thângnânai besùrkhô nunânai sùngnaise: “Gotho-fùr nung-sùrhâ mâ zâdang?” Bîsùr bungnaise “Âfâ, zangfùr bîdâ bîfong sâsnî man. Dâ be dùisâ bât-naiau zangfùrhâ sâse lângkhâtbai. Bînîkhai beaunù zangfùr zingâsi-lai-bai thâdang,” hannaikhai Bâmunâ srî srî sânnânai sâsnî khôbù nudang. Bînîkhai bî “Besùr âbrâ zânù nânggô” nungnânai, besùrkho khithânaise, “Gåthåfùr, nangsùr ângnî nåi-au bùibâ, âng nangsùrnî mânsùikhô dîhonnânai hùnù hâgan,” hannaikhai, bîsur mânthî zânaise. Unau Bâmun goe khândisnî khaunânai bîdâ gedernî âkhâiau hùnânai “Be goe-â-khândi bese dang, nang sân.” Hanbâ, bî sânnanai khândî snî mannâise. Beaunù Bamunâ bungnaise: “Nangsùr be goekhô rânlainânai zâ,” hanbâ, rânnai-au gâgai gâgai grup-gaglai-naise. Beaunù bîsur rong zânânai Bâmun-nî nåiau bùinò-lâgi Bâmun zang thâng-fâ-naise.

There were, once upon a time, seven simpletons. And once they were going down the road, and meeting a puddle, were in great distress as to how they should cross it. And the eldest said “I will go first, and you all follow, holding one another’s loin cloths.” So they held one another’s cloths and crawled through the puddle on their hands and knees, getting very muddy and dirty in doing so. But when they had fairly got across, the elder set to work to count; and, as he failed to count himself, behold, there was one missing. Then the next brother counted; and, as he, too, found one missing, they each in turn counted. And so it became clear that one was lost; and there they stood debating this deplorable business. Just then a wily Brahmin came up, and asked what was the matter. And they told him that they had been seven, but that in crossing the puddle, one of them had been lost. On which, the Brahmin, quickly counting them, found that they were still seven, and, judging them to be simpletons, said to them “My sons, if you will come to my house and work for me, I will find you the missing man.” To which with one accord they agreed.

Then the Brahmin split a betelnut into seven pieces and put them into the hand of the eldest. “Now count them,” said he, “and tell me how many there be.” And he counted and found that there were seven. “Now take each man a piece,” said the Brahmin, and, behold, to each piece there was a man. So in great joy and peace of mind they went to the Brahmin’s house to work.

Phâre bebaidînù sânnesù thânânai sânse bîsùrkhô bâriau megong dângnù lâgi thin-nâise. Âru Bâmun-hâ sâse fisâtlâ dangman. Bîkhôbu bîsùrzang hùnânai khithânaise, “ângnî fisâtlâ-iâ bù nangsùr zang megong dâng-thang, ârù un zâ-lâng-bâ bîkhô thutlun-thutlân lângfâ.” Erùi bungbâ bîsùr bâriau thângnânai megong dânghùidang. Phâre unau Bâmun-nî fisâtlâiâ un zâlâng-naise. Beaunù bîkhô nunânai bîsùr railainaise “Dùhùi bîfâ khithâ-dangman “gåthå un zâlângbâ bîkhô thutlun thutlân lâng,” hannânai, dâ-nî-au zangfùr mâ khâmgan?” Beaunù bîdâ gederâ “Bebaidînù khâmnù nânggô,” hannânai, sâfrimbu bî khonse, bî khonse, megong dângnai sekhâr zang thunânai hùnânai. Bamun-nî gåthåkhô bùthâtnânai dinnaise. Phâre unau megong dângkhângnânai nåiau faibâ Bamunâ sùngnaiau khithânaise “nang khithânaibaidi zangfùr bîkhô sekhâr zang thunai-au bî thoinânai thâbai.” Phâre Bamunâ srî srî thânaise.

And then, one day, he sent the seven simpletons out into the garden to weed the vegetables, and with them he sent his only son, saying “If the lad is lazy and falls behind, shove him along and make him work.”

So they all went into the garden and began cutting the weeds with their knives; and presently the boy fell into the rear. On which they said “There is that Brahmin boy fallen behind. Did not his father say that we were to push him along? What is to be done now? But the elder brother said, “Do? Why, do as we were told.” On which each of them hit him with his weeding knife, so that presently he died. And when the weeding was quite finished, they went and told the Brahmin, saying “You told us to shove him along, and as we had our knives in our hands, we hurt him so that he died.” But the Brahmin was speechless, for they had but done as they were told.

Ârù sânse hâli oinù thinnânai bungnaise “Nangsùr gâbun simli sâ-i-au hâli oinù thângnù nânggan.” Phâre unau bîsùr fungzâni sikhângnânai nângal mosô fâgâ lânanai simlifâng guriau thângnânai, simli sâ-i-au khaise gâkhùnaise, ârú khaise hâ-i-au thânânai mosôkhô fâgâ zang khânânai hùbâ, sâ-i-au thânaifrâ bù-khù-lâng-naise. Beaunù dîdung zå-i zå-i hâli snî mosô²² gâsenù thoi-thrå-naise. Unåu nå-i-au fainânai bîsùr Bâmunnù khithânaise “Zangfùr simlî sâ-i-au mosô dî-khâng-nù hâekai hâli oinù hâiakhuise.” Bamunâ “mosôfrâ mâ zâkhù?” Hanbâ, “thoi-thrâ-bai,” khithânaise. Bâmunâ unau mung-bô upai mane zânânai ârù mosô bainânai bîsùrkhô hâli oi-hù-naise.

Another day he told them to go and plough. “Take your ploughs up above the great simul tree,” he said. So they rose in the early morning, and, taking ploughs, cattle and ropes, went to the great simul tree. And some stayed below and bound the ploughs and cattle with the ropes, and others climbed the tree and hauled. But the ropes broke and the cattle were killed and the ploughs were smashed. And then they went and told the Brahmin that they had tried to plough above the simul tree and had failed. “And what of the cattle?” said he, “Oh! they fell down and were killed,” they replied. So, in despair, he bought other cattle and sent them out to plough afresh.

Phâre mai mannai-au mai hânânai unau Bâmunâ dângri khaie khaie hùnânai bîsùrkhô rùgânù thinnaise. Beaunù bîsùr maikhô mau dinnù hannânai sùngbâ, Bâmunâ bungnaise “Bùrùiâ zerùi din-nù thin-ù, beau-nù din,” hanbâ, bîsùr thângnânai, bùrùi-khô sùng-hùi-naise. Bùrùiâ nå-nî hâbâfùr khâmnai-i-au monau brâpnânai thâdangman. Beaunù bî bungnaise “Mai din-nù thaùni manâbâ, ângnî khoro-au-nù dinfai!” hanbâ, bîsùr boibo mai bibân zang bùrùi-khô hù-sin-thrå-naise. Bîbaidî-nù gâsenù mai rùgânânai bînî sâiau dinnaise.

Phâre manâbâ Bâmun dublî nî frai fainânai bùrùi khô nâmaibâ bîsùr khithânaise “Ângnî khårå-au-nù mai din han-nai-khai zangfur mai zang hu-sin-nânai dindang.” Biaubù braiâ mungbô upai mane zânanai, bùrùi khô fopnù lâgi bîsurnù hoṭnaise. Phâre bîsùr bùrùi-khô khânânai oâ sing sing bageding-bagedâ bân-lâng-nai-au bùrùiâ oâ thânai-au nângnânai siri-lângnaise.

And when the harvest was ripe, they reaped the paddy, and, tying it in sheaves, brought it home and asked where they were to put it. And the Brahmin said “Put it where my old woman tells you to put it.” So they went and asked the Brahmin’s wife. But she was very busy, and only cried “Oh, bother you and your paddy! Put it on my head!” On this, they all took their sheaves, and heaped them on the old woman, so that she died. And when the Brahmin came from his work and asked for his old woman, they said they had buried her in the paddy, as she told them to. On which, being at his wit’s end, he bade them go and bury her. On this, they tied the corpse on a bamboo sledge and bumped it along through the bamboo-clump, so that it got knocked off by the way.

And when they came to some fallow land, they dug a grave, and then began looking about for the corpse. Now there was an old woman hard by herding cattle. “Cunning old wretch!” said they, “she is afraid of being buried, and is pretending to be somebody else.” So they got hold of her, and, in spite of her struggles, buried her.

Phâre besùr bâkor-bâreau²³ thângnânai bîbânkhô dinnânai hâkhor zaunânai bùrùikhô fopnù lâgi naibâ, manekhai, bùrùi-khô nâmaibainaise. Sùrbâ bùrùi sâse khâthi-au-nù mai nebai thâdangman. Bîkhônù nunânai bîsùr railainaise “Bâmun bùrùiâ buddigrang fop-zânù gînânai, beaunù mai nebai thâ-thî-dang,” hannânai bîkhô homnânai lângnânai fopnânai dinnânai fainaise. Bînî unau Bâmunâ monau bîsùrkhô gînânai bùthâtnù lâgi mon khâmnânai bîsùrnù khithânaise “Gåthåfùr, dinî zangfùr simlifâng gederkhô dân-hùi-nù nânggô,” hannânai, ruâ lânânai simlîfâng ni guriau thânglainaise. Thâng-nânai ruâ zang bongfâng khô såùi såùi bongfâng gaglai-sî gaglai-sî zâbâ, Bâmunâ bîsurkhô bungnaise “Bongfâng gaglai-sî-sù gau-gan, nang-sùr boibù hom-thânu nânggô.” Khithânânai Bâmunâ saunânai hùnaise. Unau bongfâng gaglai-sin-nânai sâsnî âbrâ thoinaise. Zapbai!

And the Brahmin, in fear of what they might do next, began to contrive means to get rid of them. So he said “Today, my sons, we will go and cut down the great simul tree.” So they took their axes and, going to the simul tree, began hewing with a will, and when the tree was tottering to its fall, the Brahmin said to them “If the tree falls down, it will be broken. Run under it and catch it!” And when they did so, the Brahmin gave the last strokes, and the tree fell on the seven simpletons and killed them. And that’s all!

Khânâ khuzâ nî khorâng. | The Story of the Blind Man and the Hunchback.

Sânùi khânâ khuzâ zang phisikhî man. Phâre bîsùr sânse railainaise “Zang-fùr mâlâi-nî gâmiau bîbaibâ zang-nî gâmî-nî-khrî bângsin mangan.” Hanlainânai khuzaiâ khânâkhô lauthiau homnânai, bùlângnaise. Thângùi thângùi nâmâ gezerau dîdung sorûi manse gâ-fnâng-nânai phisikhî-nû khithânaise “Sikhî, be lai mâ, herâ? Mâbâ galâu zibô baidi gâfnângdang.” Khuzâiâ bungnaise “Be hâthî khânai dîdung sorûi.” Hanbâ, khanâiâ, “Obâ bekhô lâ, herâ, sikhî”; hannânai bungnaise, Khintu bî lâê-khai “Ângnù dîkhângnânûi hu;” hannânai, khânaia didung-khô lânaise.

There sprang up a friendship between a blind man and a hunchback. And one day they said to one another “We shall get more if we beg in some other village than our own.” The hunchback made the blind man hold his stick, and so dragged him along. And as they went, the blind man trod upon an old elephant rope which lay upon the road, and said to his friend “Ah! friend, what is this thing like a long snake which I am treading upon?” The hunchback said “Why, it is only an old elephant-rope.” But the blind man said “Take it, my friend, take it.” But, as the hunchback refused, the blind man bid his friend hand it to him, and so they went their ways thence.

Phâre bînîfrai thângùi dûisâ manse man-hûi-nî-au bâtlangbâ khûsûng mâse khânâiâ gâfnâng-naise, ârù bungnaise “Sikhî, ne ne! Âng mâbâ mâse gâfnângdang.” Hanbâ, khuzâiâ “Onthai-frâ-khô-nù mâthù bungbai thâiù, herâ, sikhî, nang-lâi?” Khânâiâ bungnaise “Nonggâ, nonggâ, sikhî, nang gùgrùmnai.” Hanbâ bî gùgrùmnânai khusum-khô mannânai, khânâ-nù khithâbâ, bungnaise “O sikhî, obâ bekhô lâ herâ: zangfurnù bekhô nânggan.” Khuzaiâ “Ilit ilit lâiâ, herâ” han-nai-khai, khânâiâ bîkhô-bù gagai-nù lânaise. Bînîfrai bibaidî-nù thângùi thângùi dâpse-au dol dâmnai khnânânai khânaiâ khuzânîau sùngnaise “Sikhî bî dolâ-lai sùr thù? Mau thù dâmdang, herâ?” Hanbâ khuzaiâ khithânaise; Beaunù sùrbâ gurkhiâ gåthåfùr dâmdang” hanbâ, khânâiâ bîkhô lânù lâgi thin-naise.

And presently they came to a river; and as they were wading across it, the blind man trod upon a tortoise and told his friend that he had trod upon something living; but the hunchback said it was only a stone, and asked what was the use of standing there talking. But the blind man begged him to feel and see. And when the hunchback announced that it was a tortoise, the blind man begged his friend to take that, too; and on the hunchback declaring that it was too heavy, he finally carried it himself.

Then they went their ways and came to a meadow, and heard a drum being beaten. And the blind man asked what that was, and where the drumming was going on. On which the hunchback said it was only cowherds drumming. On which the blind man was for sending the hunchback to fetch the drum.

Khintù bî, “âng mâbrùi lâbogan? Bîsùr-khô âng bùlù hâiâ zâgan, manâthù bîsur gabâng dang,” hanbâ, khânâiâ manse buddhi khâmnânai phisikhî-nù khithanaise “Sikhî, nang hâgrâ sing sing thâng-khmâ-nanai, bîsùr nî khâthî manbâ, mosâ baidî sùgùmnânai hù! Obânù bîsùr gînanai khâtgan,” hanbâ, bîbaidînù khuzâiâ khâmnai-au, gåthå-frâ gînanai dol khô zrâpzrup gâr-lâng-bâ, khuzâiâ dol khô lâbonanai khânânù hoṛ-hù-naise. Obasù bînîfrai sânùi zang hâgrâ gezer gezer thângùi thângùi nå nunanai, khuzâiâ bungnaise “Sikhî, dâ sân hâpbai, manâ faibai, Dâlai ârù mâu thâng-bâu-nù? Beau-nù nå danga. Zangfùr beau-nù thâ-dù-nî,” hanbâ, khânâiâ bungnaise “Hagra gezernî nåkhô âng gabâng gahâm man-srâiâ, herâ, sikhî,” hannânai mâ mâ nå dang gahâmùi nainù thinbâ khuzâiâ khithânaise “Nåiâ gâng-ne gâng-thâm. Bândâr bù gong-se dang,” hanbâ khânâiâ “Bî bândârau-nù thâgan,” hannânai, phisikhî-nù khithâbâ, bândâr-sing-hà bùlângnaise, ârù dor-fur-khô gahâmùi khâ-fthâ-nù thinnânai, beaunù thânaise. Unau beau thânai Râikhô-frâ fainânai, bungnâise—

But the hunchback said “How shall I fetch it? They will be too strong for me, for they are many.” Then the blind man devised a plan, and bade the hunchback crawl through the jungle and roar like a tiger. Which the hunchback did; and the cowherd boys, on hearing his roaring, ran away headlong and left the drum, which the hunchback gave, as before, to the blind man to carry.

Then the friends went through the forest, until they came to some houses. On which the hunchback said “My friend, the sun has set, and evening has come. How much further are we to go? Here are houses, let’s stop here.” But the blind man said he did not think very well of houses in the jungle, and sent his friend to have a good look at them.

Presently the hunchback returned and said “There are two or three houses and a granary.” On this, the blind man decided that they would stay in the granary, and so was dragged into the granary, where they carefully fastened the doors and prepared to stay for the night. And while they were there, Rakshashas came and said—

“Zùsâ zùsâ manâmdang; “Zânù zânù lubuidang.”²⁴ | “Fine rice, fine rice, I can smell; “And better things to eat as well.”

hannânai, nå gong frùm-bù namâi-giding-bai-bâ, khânâiâ rai-dau-hoṭ-naise “Âng beaunù dâng.” Hanbâ, raikhoâ bungnaise “Nang lai sùr?” Khânâ bù bungnaise “Nang lai sùr?” Raikho khithânaise “Âng Raikhô!” Khânaiâ bungnaise “Âng Zâkhô! Bebaîdînù be-sùr brâp-lai-naise Unâu khânâiâ bung-naise “Brâp-nù bù nânggâ, munù bù nânggâ Nangkhô bù âng nuâkhùi, ângkhô bù nang nuâkhùi. Bînîkhai manse buddi khâmbâ, zanghâ gahâm zâgan,” hannânai khânâiâ raikhônî khenai bîhot-bâ, Raikhoâ gaigainî khù-mùn daise phunânai khithîhoṭ-naise. Obâsù khânâiâ bungnaise “Dâniâ ângnî khenai-khô nai.” Hannânai, hâthî dîdung khô dîhonnânai hùnaise. Bîkhô nunânai Raikhoâ gîkhrongbâ, khânâiâ ârù themâ bî-hoṭ-naise Raikhoâ bù gaigainî themâ khô khithî-hoṭ-bâ, bî khusung khô khithîhoṭ-naise. Obâsù Raikhoâ be Zâkhoâ-nù nunggô nungnânai, gî-sin-bai. Khanâiâ ârù bînî udui dâmnù thinnânai, dâmbâ, bungnâise, “Dindù dindù hâmbai, âng khnâbai. Dâniâ ângnî khô khnâsong!” hannânai, dol khô dùm dùm dâmnânai hùbâ, Raikhofrâ gînanai, khât-thro-lâng-naise.

And while they were gliding round the house, the blind man shouted loudly “Here am I!” “Who are you?” said the Rakshashas. “Who are you?” shouted the blind man. “I am a Rakshasha,” said one of them. “And I am a Zakshasha!”²⁸ said the blind man. Whereupon they all got very angry. Then the blind man said “You need not get angry and you need not get noisy. I can’t see you and you can’t see me. Let us make an expedient by which you can be satisfied.” So saying, the blind man bade the Rakshasha show him a lock of his hair. On this a Rakshasha tore out a bunch of hair and showed it to him. On which the blind man said “Now see mine!” And so saying, thrust out of a chink the elephant rope. And on seeing it, the Rakshasha became very afraid. Then the blind man demanded to see a flea (from his body). And when the Rakshasha had shown him one, the blind man put forth his tortoise. Then the Rakshasha thought “This must indeed be a Zakshasha,” and was greatly afraid. Then the blind man bade him beat his breast. And, on his doing so, cried “Well done, well done! I have heard you. Now hear me!” and straightway began to beat his drum “rub-a-dub-dub.” On which the Rakshashas were greatly frightened and ran right away.

Unao, khânâiâ phisikhîkhô bungnaise “Sikhî mâ mâ gahâm bastù dang, bifurkhô khâ ârù nang bâse, ângnù bù bâse hù, ârù mâmâr thângdù-nî thù” hannânai bîsùr bînîfrai mâmâr failainaise. Ârù dâpse gazân thâni-au thângnânai khuzâiâ be bastufarkhô rânnù nâmainânai rânnaise, Rân-khângbâ khânâ-khô bungnaise “Sikhî nangthâng bobekhô lâiu lâ,” Hanbâ bî dângnainanânai khuzâ thing-nî bhâgù-khô bângsin man-dâng-nânai, rânnâiâ hâmâ khùise hannânai, golaigothai khâmnaise. Phâre khuzâiâ “Nang-thâng-lai nuâ-labâ mâbrùi mithînai, herâ? Khonle khonle rânnù gnâng khâm-hùiù!” Hannânai ârù rân-phâphinbâ, obâbù bângsin man-dâng-nânai, ârù “Hamâ-khùise, hamâ-khùise,” hannânai golai-gothai khâmnaise. Bîbaidî nù khonbrùi khon-bâ khâmbâ khuzâiâ brâpnânai, âkhâiau bâli lânânai “Nanglai gomâ khânâ nâ misâ khânâ lùi?” hannânai gahâmùinù megonau bâlizang hùnânai hùnaise. Ârù obânù bî nunai zânaise. Ârù bî bù brâpnânai; “nunglai” mâ sâbâ dângâ lùi, nunù hâma hannânai godo-au zo-sin-nânai lânânai, khuzâ bikhung-au gomâgom sobai thâbâ bîbù gahâm zânaise. Unau sânùi zang gahâm zâ-lai-nâise, ârù bastù-fùr-khô gahâmùi rânlainânai, nå-i-au thâng-lai-naise. Zapbai!

Then the blind man said to his friend “Take any good things that there are, and tie them up. You take some and give me some, and let us go;” and, so saying, they went away together. And when they were come to a far place, the hunchback began dividing the spoil. And, when that was done, he bade his friend take which share he would. But the blind man groped about and found that the share nearest to the hunchback was the biggest. So the hunchback said “How did you, without seeing, find that out? Now I have got to divide it all over again!” So he made a fresh division.

And the same thing happened again, and the blind man turned everything topsy-turvy. And, when this had occurred four or five times, the hunchback became angry, and taking sand in his hand rubbed it into the blind man’s eyes, saying “Now we shall see if you are really blind or not;” whereby the blind man recovered his sight. But he, too, was angry and said “What a hideous thing you are, and hateful to look upon.” And he jumped on the hunchback’s back and belaboured his hump till he made him straight and well. And when the two were hale and well, they divided their spoil fairly and went home happily. And that’s all!

Sâse âbrâ brai nî khorâng. | The Story of a silly old man.

Brai bùrùi dangman. Braiâ hâgrâ gezerau dubli dotse lânanai hâbâ maubai thâdangman. Phâre sânse shikâri sâse hâgrâiau mùi gaunânai thoi-frâm-nânai khârùi khârùi brainî dubli gezer thing thângdangman. Beaunù braiâ nunânai bîkhô khudâl zang khårå-au-nù denânai mùikhô bùthâtnaise. Buthâtnânai hâgrâ singau hakhmânânai dinnaise. Emphâre unau mùi gaunai girimaia khîthù khîthù thoi sirîlângnai naie naie nâmai-lângùi-lângùi brainî dubliaunù sin gamânaise. Obâsù braikhô sùngnaise: “Helùi brai! Nang bething mùi mâse fainai nunâi nâ?” Braiâ bungnaise “Ânghâ dublî-nî shimâiâ khùlâthing boinîfrai sâthing boinîfrai” hannânai bungbâ bî bungnaise “Nonggâ nonggâ! âng mùinî khorâng-sù nang-nî-au sùngdang,” Braiâ khithânaise “Zânun! be dubliau mai zâiù nâ zâiâ âng khîthânù hâiâ.” “Nangga-lùi, brai, bî khorâng-khô âng sùngâkhui.” Brai bungnaise “Dâ sânzôfûbai, ânghâ mikhâm ukhui-sù-dang. Âng thâng-nù-sùi;” hannânai, nåiau khâtlângnaise. Obâsù unau braiâ mikhâm dùi zâkhângnânai bùrùi-khô bungnaise; Bùrùi, âng-nù gâbun phungau-nù mikhâm songnânai hù. Ang mùi mâse buthâtnânai zangnî dubliau dinbùdang. Bîkhô mâmâr gadânù nânggô.” Obâsù okhâ naibâ, bùrùi mâmâr khâm dùi brainù hùnânai bîkhô hogârnaise. Bî dubliau thângnânai mùikhô gadânânai rânnaise. Aglâ gaigai-nî bhâgù khâmnaise. “Phânse mùkhâng sunai-nî, phânse thânkhu zânai-nî, phânse dubliau mosô hùlângnai-nî, phânse hâli oinai-nî.” Bebaidînù huâfùrhâ zese hâbâ dang, gâsenù bhâgù khâm-thrå-naise. Dâ unau bùrùi-nî bhâgù khâmdang “Phânse mukhâng sunai-nî, phânse thânkù zânai-nî, phânse khundung lùnainî, phanse khun pheretnai-nî, phânse hî dânai-nî, phânse khâm songnai-nî, phânse dùi lainai-nî.” Bibaidînù bînî bù zese hâbâ dang, esenù bhâgù khâmnânai sân-naise. Sânnânai bùrùi nî bhâgùâ bângsin mannaise. Obâsù braiâ brâp-nânai. “Ângsù bùrùinîkhrî hâbâ bângai bùâ mau-ù nâ? hannâ-nai, golaigothai khâmnânai, ârù rân-phâphin-naise. Dâniâ âglâ bùrùinù bhâgù khâmgru-nai, ârù unau bînî bhâgù khâm-nai. Dâbîhâ bângsin zânaise. Theobù braiâ bîau mon phatiâ khùise. Bîbaidînù bî golai-gothai khâmùi khâmùi rânbâbù hamân zâiâ. Bîbaidînù sânse mâni zânaikhai, bùrùiâ; “Brâiâ-lai mâ khâm-khù?” hannânai, dhinkî thorâ manse lânanai, dublîau thângnânai, brai-khô-nuhùi-dang, gaigainù bidot zang nânglaibâ thâdang. Bîdot-frâ-bù khonle khonle dâng-phlebai thâ-naikhai, gebletheble zâlângbai. Obâsù bùrùiâ dhinkî thorâ zang srî srî khîthû-au khubui-hoṭ-bâ, braiâ mâbâ imfu hoṭbai hannânai, bîdot-khô gârnânai nåhâ khâtlâng-naise. Emphâre, bùrùiâ bîdot khô hî zang ban-nânai bânânai nå-au lâbonânai, songnânai, brai-zang zâ-lai-bâ, braiâ sùngnaise “Bùrùi, belai mâ-nî bîdot?” hanbâ, bùrùiâ khithânaise “Âng dausâ fisâ mâse buthâtnânai, nanghâ manâ lâng-nai-khai, bekhônù song-dop-nânai dindang. Nangnî bî mùi-bîdot-khô nebai thâbâ, zangfur dâ khâm man-zâ-gla-gauman.” Zapbai!

There was an old man and his wife. One day, when the old man was clearing jungle, a half-dead deer that had been shot by a huntsman, came limping that way and crossed the old man’s field. On which the old man killed it by hitting it on the head with his hoe, and hid it away in the jungle. Presently, the man who shot the deer made his appearance, having tracked its blood as far as the old man’s field. “Here, old man!” said he, “have you seen a wounded deer pass this way?” The old man replied “The boundaries of my field? Well, the east boundary is here and the west over there!” But the other said “Not so, not so, I am asking about a wounded deer.” To which the old man replied “I know what you mean; but whether it will be a good crop or not, how shall I say?” “Not so, not so,” said the other; that isn’t what I want to know.” But the old man said “I cannot stop any longer. The dark is falling, and I am hungry for my supper. I’m off.” So saying, he went away home, and when he had had his supper, he said to his old woman “You must give me my breakfast early tomorrow, for I have killed a deer, and I must go early and cut it up.” So the old woman gave him his breakfast very early and sent him about his business. And he went to his field, and, having chopped up the carcase began dividing the pieces. And first he put apart his own share, “One piece for washing my face in the morning; one piece for chewing tobacco; one piece for driving the cattle afield; one piece for ploughing”; and so on, for all his daily avocations. Then he made out his old woman’s share: “One piece for washing her face in the morning; one piece for chewing tobacco; one piece for spinning cotton; one piece for fretting cotton; one piece for weaving cloth; one piece for cooking rice; one piece for drawing water;” and so on, with all her occupations. But, on counting up, he found that the old woman’s share was much the biggest. On which he cried angrily that it was not to be believed that a woman’s share could be bigger than his, and, mixing up all the pieces of flesh on the ground, he began a fresh division. This time he set apart the old woman’s share first, and his own afterwards. This time his share became the largest. But still he was not satisfied, and, mixing all the gobbets up again, he divided them again and again, but never got them equal. Meanwhile, the day had slipped by and evening was come. So the old woman, taking the pestle of the dhenki, went to look for her husband, and there she found him in the midst of the lumps of flesh, which had become covered with dust and dirt through much mixing. Then the old woman let fly the dhenki stump at his back. On which he cried that a snake had bitten him and ran home, on which the old woman tied up the meat in a cloth and carried it to her house, and cooked some hastily for supper. And when her husband asked where the meat came from, she said that he had been such a long time in coming, that she had killed a chicken and cooked it for him. “And if you had stopped dividing that deer’s flesh, we should never have got any supper at all,” said she. And that’s all!

Brai bùrùini khorâng. | The Story of the four Thieves.

Sâne brai bùrùi dangman. Bîsurhâ nå-â-bù gongne man. Phâre sikhau sâbrùi be brai bùrùi nî nåi-au mâbâ mâbî khaunù lâgi fainai. Faibâ brai bùrùiâ boi sikhaurùrkhô khùikhâ²⁵ khâmnù lâgi buddi manse khâmnânai dinnai. Zerehai gôbar-khî ârù zùzai ârù gâzri-dùi hâsong-se bîfùrkhô thoplâ zunânai dhinki sâli nî mâroliau khâ-sai-nânai dinnaise. Phâre unau manâblâ sikhau-frâ fainânai brai bùrùînî nå injurau mânsùiâ srî mandang na manâkhùi bannânai khnâsongbâ, brai bùrùiâ bîsùrnî khorâng khnânânai, braiâ bùrùikhô bungnaise “Bùrùi, nang zangnî sorai ârù gur-gâkhirâ mau dinkhù?” Beaunù bùrùiâ bungnaise “Hâm srâ-bai de, brai! Bîfùrkhô dhinki-sâli-aù-nù khâ-sai-nânai dinnai zâbai.” Be khorâng-khô sikhau-frâ khnânânai dhinkî-sâliau thângnânai, bîkhô man-hùi-nânai bâri-nî-frai thâlit-lai lâbônânai rânnânai zânùlâgi zånaise. Obânù bîsùr mâbâ manâmnai mannânai sùng-lai-naise “Bîbù bângù mâ manâmdang? Bîbù bângù mâ manâmdang?” Phâre sâseâ boikhô âkhâiau lânânai manâm-sù-naise. Obânia mithînù hânanai, boibô minîlaibâ, braiâ sikhângnânai thokon-thorâ lânanai hù-sù-bù-bâ, bîsùr khátlângnaise.

Ârù sânse brai bùrùiâ boi sikhau-fùrkhô fainai khnânânai brai bùrùi-khô sùngnaise; “Zangfùr-hâ songkhrùi thoplâ mau dinkhù?” Obâsu bùrùiâ bungnaise “Dâsù gahâm zâbai, brai! Songkhrùi thoplaiâ zang udunai nå-nî khùlâ-fât-sî inzurau senânai dindang! Sikhaufrâ maubâ lâng-nù hâgô.” Bîsùr railainai-fùr-khô sikhau-frâ khnânânai inzùr dân-sî-nânai âkhai sùnânai songkhrùi-thoplâ-khô dâng-grùm-baibâ braiâ khâthrùi-lângô lânânai thângnânai âkhâi dân-hùi-naise. Obâ bî “Âng manâ khùise” hannânai thângbâ, ârù sâse sikhauâ bîbaidînù dâng-grùm-bâ, bîkhô-bù âsî-au dân-fnâng-naise. Phâre bebaidî-nù sâse sikhau-nî khùmâ dânnai, ârù sâse-nî gonthong dân-fnâng-naise.

There was an aged couple who lived in a pair of houses. And four thieves used to prowl round their houses, seeking to steal. And the old man set to work to contrive devices to disappoint them. And first he filled a joint of bamboo with cowdung and dirty water and rice-chaff, and hung it up in the rafters of the dhenki-shed. And when at nightfall the thieves began prowling round and listening to hear if the inmates were asleep, the old people overheard them, and the old man said to his wife “Old woman, old woman; where have you hung up the molasses and milk and chira?” And the old woman replied “A nice business! I have been and gone and hung them up in the dhenki-shed, where the thieves can get at them.” And the thieves, hearing this, slipped off to the shed, and, getting the bamboo-joint, gathered plantain leaves for plates, and divided the spoil and sat down to eat. And one of them, smelling at the stuff, said to the others “Smells rather strong, doesn’t it?” Then one of them took his mess in his hand and smelled it, and, seeing what had happened, they all burst out laughing. Then the old man came out with his big stick, and the four thieves ran away. Another day, the old man, hearing the thieves prowling about, said to his wife “Where have you hung the packet of salt?” And the old woman replied “A fine affair! I have hung it up on south wall of our sleeping-house, where the thieves can easily get it.” And so one of the thieves thrust his hand in, and began feeling about for the bundle, on which the old man took his knife and cut his hand. But he only said “I can’t find it,” and went away.

Phâre unau bîsùr gârai gahâm man-nu lâgi dùi nâmai-bai-nai-e-aù sethlau-nù thâlit khârùi sâmnai megongdù-au dùi mannânai âkhai hù-sùm-naise. Beaunù bângsin âlunai manbâbù, lùgù-nî mânsùifùr-nù khithâiâlâbâ “Gahâm manbai,” hannânai bungnaise. Bebaidînù sâbrùi-hâ-bù zâbâ, brâplainaise. Obânù braiâ nå-nî frai onkhâtnânai thokon lânanai bîsùrkhô hu-hoṭ-naise.

On which the other three felt about, and one got his finger cut, and another his ear, and the fourth his nose. Then they looked about in the yard for something to ease the pain, and the first, finding a cooking pot in which acrid plantain ashes had been steeped, plunged his hand in, and, getting more pain than before, only said “Ah! that’s good.” On which the others followed his example. And, while they were hopping about in pain, the old man came out and took his stick, and drove them away.

Bînîfrai ârù sânse brai-bùrùi-nî bâriau thâlit bîfong dangman, ârù bînî khâthiau phânlù bîfong fângse dangman. Beaunù bere-thinklî bâhâ lâdang. Phâre hoṛau be sikhau sâbrùiâ brai bùrùinî nåiau faibâ, braiâ bùrùi-khô sùngnaise “Bùrùi, nang zang-fùr-nî thâkâ-thinkhlî-khô mau fopnânai dinkhu?” hanbâ bùrùiâ khithânaise “Dinîbù gahâm zâbai, de, brai! zangnî thâka-thinkliâ thâlit-guriau fopnânai dinnai-au-nù thâbai. Bînî khâthi-au-nù fânlù-fîfâng-bù fângse dang. Dâ sikhaufrâ manù-khî-mâ-sù!” Bekhô sikhau frâ khnânânai, be thâlit guri-hâ thângnânai nâmai-lai-hùi-bâ bere-bâhâ-khô man-naise. Phare bîkhô besùr dikhângnânai lâbobâ, bâhâiâ gùbrùnânai berefrâ sikhau-fùr-khô oṭbâ, besùr “Aiâ! aiâ!” hannânai, khâtnaise, ârù braiâ thokon lânânai hùsùnaise.

Another day, the old people found a wasps’ nest on a chili plant under a plantain tree. And when the thieves came, the old man said to his wife “Old woman, old woman, where have you put the lota with our money in it?” And the old woman answered “To-day’s luck is the worst of all. I have left the lota under the plantain tree in the garden, by the chili bush, and no doubt the thieves will get it.” Hearing this, the thieves went and disturbed the wasps’ nest, and the wasps flew out and stung them. And when they cried in pain and ran away, the old man ran after them with his stick and beat them soundly.

Bînîfrai ârù sânse braiâ thâthî dânnù lâgi sekhâr lânânai hâgrâiau thângbâ, boi sikhau sâbrùi-khô thaigrit guruiau udulângbâ thânai nunânai thaigrit bong-fângau uthînânai thâri gnâng thaigrit thaibrùi khânânai lâbô-nânai be sikhau sâbrùi nî kheneau thaise thaise khâ-khmâ-naise. Phâre unau “Sikhau! sikhau!” hannânai braiâ gâpzrî-khâu-bâ bîsùr srî mannânai sikhângnânai khâtlângnaise. Khâtbâ, zesenu khârù, esenù thaigrit fithâiâ bikhungau dup dup bulângnaise. Bîsùr braia khîthù khîthù fainânai zang-fùr khô sodang nungnânai khâre-thâng-naise. Phâre unau gazân thângnânai zirai-hùi-bâ, thaigrit khô nunânai gârnaise.

Again, another day, when the old man went out to cut reeds for his fence, he found the four thieves asleep under an O tree (the fruit of which is hard and heavy), and the old man, climbing quietly into the tree, cut four of the fruits, with the stalks attached, and tied them to the thieves’ hair. Then he suddenly cried out “Thief! thief!” And the more they ran, the more the heavy fruit bumped on their backs, so that they thought the old man was running after them and beating them. And they ran a very long way before they discovered their mistake, and unloosed the fruit from their hair.

Bînîfrai ârù sânse braiâ mai duliau thânânai bùrùikhô fùrùngnaise “Bùrùi, nang hoṛau sikhau faibâ gaigainù sùngnânai, gaigainù khithâ de, ereùi hannânai “Brai, brai hùn! nang thurse khurui mau dindang?” “Dhinkhî-sâliaunu maiduli-au bîfùr khô dinnai zâbai. Dâ sikhau faibâ, man-lâng-sî-gan dâ! Mâ khâmkhù!”

Be khorâng-khô sikhau khnânânai, mâmâr dhinkhi saliau thângnânai naihùibâ be dulikhô dikhângnânai “O! beaunù thorse khurui-fùr dang le! Ilit mâthù!” Obâsù bîsùr khânânai bânnânai lâng-lâi-naise.

And, again, the old man climbed into the mat receptacle in which the paddy was stored; but, before doing so, he instructed his wife to imitate his voice and ask where the brass plates and cups had been put; and to answer in her own voice that they had been put into the paddy receptacle in the dhenki-shed. And when the thieves heard all this, they hurried to the dhenki-shed, and, lifting up the paddy receptacle, said with one accord: “My! isn’t it heavy?” And so they tied it to poles and carried it away on their shoulders.

Phâre unau thângùi thângùi dùisâ gathau manse man-hùi-naise. Beaunù bâtbâ braia; “Sîhâng sihâng zâbai, um, um, dikhâng!” hanbâ bîsùr “Mauhâ sùr raidang lùi.” Khaise bungnaise, “Be duliau rainai baidî khnâ-i-ù.” Ârù sâseâ “Beau mungbô gùiâ; nangsùr erenùsù khnâdang!” Obâsù thângùi thângùi zâbrâ gathau mannânai, braiâ sî-sam-bâ khithânaise “Phutu-khoâ, golâm-bundî-fur! Mânù gahâmùi dikhângâlùi? Nangsùr kânâ nâ? nunù hâïâ-khùi?” Ereau bungbâ sikhau-frâ bikhô dùi-au gârnânai khât-lâng-naise. Zapbai!

Presently, they came to a deep river, and as they were wading across, the old man cried “Look here! I am getting wet, carry it higher.” On which they said to one another “Surely, some one spoke?” But, thinking it was a mistake, they went on, and came to deeper water. On this the old man called out again “Stupid brutes! Sons of slaves! Can’t you see your way? I am getting wet through.” And the thieves were frightened, and, dropping the old man in the water, ran clean away. That’s all!

1 A “Bengali ghusâ” is said to be a blow inflicted with the fist, the thumbnail protruding between the first and second finger so as to give a scratch! 

2 = a “side” of pork. 

3 “gadân rai-hùi-nânai” = observing omens. 

4 Onomatopœic. 

5 Assamese. 

6 A child from whose mouth milk oozes if you squeeze its throat. 

7 The Kachári version of the “Swan-maiden.” 

8 Assamese “páp.” 

9 Snuffling. 

10 “Felt with its beak.” 

11 Assamese “kapál.” 

12 “Kumari,” the attendant nymph of the pool. 

13 The Kachári version of “Beauty and the Beast.” 

14 Goshain. 

15 The Assamese “mat.” 

16 “mâ-thù,” interrogative. 

17 যাচিতে 

18 Assamese ৰাজা হঁতৰ 

19 About two paces. 

20 Assamese বল. 

21 It was not true of him that “dígiti crepantis signa novit.” The coincidence of sound is curious. 

22 Seven “plough” of cattle. 

23 Assamese বাকয়ণী। 

24 This exactly corresponds to our own “Fee faw fum; I smell the blood of an Englishman!” and the Bengali “Aù maù khaù, mánsher gandha paù!” 

25 Query—Assamese “hingsha.” 

26 The hideous Kuvera, god of wealth. He was a white man with three legs and eight teeth. Apparently, the same as the Hindu Pluto; and lord of the shades as well as of wealth. 

27 I.e., the season personified. 

28 A burlesque word from “zânù” = to eat. 

FOLK SONGS AND NURSERY RHYMES.

Addressed to a spoiled Child.

Derâ

Build

lù,

house,

derâ

build

lù,

house,

Âfâ

Father

Fanzâlù.

Fanzalu.

Dai nâng,

If trouble come,

fùdù nâng,

or worry come,

Âfâ zuzînâng.

Father will help.

To a conceited Child.

Âng gùrùng,

I am wise,

gùrùng,

am wise,

Dainâ gùrùng.

And the witch is wise.

Dau khîthù,

And the bird’s behind,

khîthù,

behind,

Ângnî khîthù.

The bird’s behind me.

Of Woman.

Dau-thep, dau-thep, dau golondî.

Wag-tail! wag-tail! bird with the goitre,

Hâbâ rangâ, hukhâ rangâ, fisâ bâflundî.

Work you can’t, and toil you can’t, bearing baby on your back.

A Nursery Rhyme.

Bongfâng dô,

Beat the tree,

bongfâng dô,

and beat the tree,

bongfâng nârengâ.

and beat the orange tree.

Fitsiu-siu

Chirrup, chirrup,

firingâ;

bhimraj bird;

bidùi zåkhaibâ!

give twenty eggs to me.

What Women sing at Weddings.

Zô sit sit,

Pour, pour the beer,

Gogorleng;

Gogorleng;

Zô sit sit.

pour the beer.

Dângnai dângnai sit,

Pour in torrents,

Gogorleng;

Gogorleng;

dângnai dângnai sit.

pour in torrents, pour.

Then you substitute other festive occupations, for instance:

Goe khau khau (cut, cut the betelnut).

Zô lù lù (pass round the beer).

Khurui sù sù (wash the plates), &c., &c.

“Gogorleng” is the traditional name for the bâru or bohua, who plays the buffoon at weddings.

A Woman to her Lover.

Sô mâlîbai, sôbaî.

Come, my lover, come.

Gangâ zâliâ.

O! Ganges fisherman.

Thâkânî kheru manâbâ.

If I don’t get silver earrings.

Âng-bù thângliâ.

I, too, cannot go.

In the following verses the woman substitutes other ornaments or presents:

An exchange of Compliments.

A girl sings—

Silâkhonârùi gåthåfùr,

Chinakona boys,

Moisù hùnù fai!

Come and drive buffaloes.

Boy answers (derisively)—

Hunù rangâ, munù rangâ.

I cannot drive, I cannot wive.

Ângkhô dâ ling, fai.

Don’t cry to me to come.

Engkhut khârùi khùrù khùrù.

The mess of rice goes bubble-bubble.

Ângnî fâtse fùrù fùrù.

My share is but trouble trouble.

Khuru khusuli.

You’ve got the itch.

Bidot zâsuli.

Eater of meat.

What Women sing when the Bride is taken away.

Dâ gâpse, ai—dâ gapse.

Don’t weep, dear, don’t weep.

Khânu lai lângâ.

Not to bind thee do they take thee;

Sunu lai lângâ

Not to wound thee do they take thee;

Bângâl Simsânù lângâ.

Not for Bengali or Bhutia do they, &c.

Ehe! hai! hùi!—

Oh! ho! ho!

The second, third and fourth lines may of course be varied ad infinitum.

The lament of a Mother.

Thokon srong srong.

With multitudes of clubs.

Thângdangman, âfâ Sokhai, nanglai.

Thou wentest, son Sokhai, thou.

Emfu blî blâ thângdangman, &c.

Flashing thy sword, thou wentest, &c.

Khaukhâ dumâ dumî, &c.

With great turban bound, &c.

Nang dangbâ omâ bidot zang zâdangman, &c.

Whilst thou lived’st I ate pig’s flesh, &c.

and so on.

“Buffalo Girls come out to play.”

Ùi! Silakhonârùi hingzau-fùr,

Oh! Chinakona women.

Nâ gutnù fai.

Come and catch fish.

Nâ gutnù rangâbâ,

If you cannot catch fish,

Lùgùse dâlâ fai!

Don’t come with us at all!

In other verses substitute “megong khânù,” or other things man and maid may do together.

A Love Song.

Âgùi Boisâgi,

O! sister wanderer,

Âng khô dâ bâsi!

Do not spurn me!

Sikhlâ sipnù hâiâbâ,

If you cannot sweep the yard,

Âng-bu sipfâgan.

I will help you sweep.

In the next verse, for the last two lines, substitute—”Dùi lainù hâiâbâ âng bù lai-fâ-gan,” and so on, with other female occupations. If a woman sings, the first line will be “Âdâ Bùidâsi,” and she will select men’s work, as, e.g., “Hâthi hunù hâiâbâ, ângbù thâng-fâ-gan.”

A Mother-in-law scolds her Daughter-in-law.

Wâ bîzô nî gândeolâ!

On bamboo top, Oh! dragon fly,

Bîrdau, bîrdau, bîrdang,

Flutter, flutter, fly,

Bauharî godai zô zongnaiâ,

My youngest daughter-in-law’s brewing beer.

Khùiram-dùiram zâdang.

Is bitter-sweet.

or

Bauhâri godai khâm songnaia sigram-zethram zâdang, &c., &c.

My youngest daughter-in-law’s cooking rice is only hugger-mugger.

A Woman to her Husband.

Hî dai dai hùbâbâ,

If I weave him cloth.

Zimnù rangeâ.

He can’t put it on.

Mâ huâ zang gorop-khù!

What a husband have I got!

Zangnî khâfâlâ!

Ah! my evil luck!

Sûnî khâfâlâ.

My dreadful luck.

For the first two lines substitute—

Gâmsâ dai dai hùbâ-bù.

Gânnù rangeâ.

or

Phâli dai dai hùbâ-bù.

Khaukhânù (or khâsônù) rangeâ.

Courtship.

Man says—

“Ùi bâze, ùi bâze!

Oh! sister-in-law!

Em bonânai hù.

Spread a mat for me.

Woman answers—

Nangnî hingzausù nonggâ hai!¹

I am not your wife!

Em-sù bobai-nù.

To spread a mat for you.

Substitute other occupations in subsequent verses.

A Love Song.

Dui lainaiâ sùrù man?

Who was it used to draw water?

Âgùi Banbâhi sikhlâ man.

It was the maid, my sister Banbâhi.

In following verses substitute “Mikhâm songnaiâ, megong khâwâiâ, hî dânâiâ,” &c., &c. If a woman sings, she sings “Hâthi hunaiâ sura man. Âdâ bùidîsi zålåman,” and goes on with male occupations.

Women’s work.

Dudugur,² dudugur, mâlâ-ùi.

Fisâ bânai-nî fâlâ-ùi.

In other verses substitute other work for “fisâ bânai-nî.”

Reproach of Women.³

Boisâgi, âsâgî, rå-rå,

Megong mikhâm songblâ, dùilau, dùi-sau!

Hoâ sâse nù-bù-lâ,

Gadau gâsi!

1 A man speaking to a woman says “lùi” (cf. “he-lùi”); a woman speaking says “hai”, and a man, speaking to his wife or other woman with whom he is on familiar terms, says “ùi”. 

2 “Dudugur” is the little drum on a handle, with a bead tied to it. The drum is shaken from side to side, and the bead beats it,—onomatopœically, “dudugur, dudugur!” 

3 Not easily to be translated word for word. But the meaning is that a woman cannot think of her work if a man passes by. 

ASSAM SECRETARIAT PRINTING OFFICE (GENERAL) No. 140—304—16–8–95.

Table of Contents

| TRANSLITERATION. |
| PREFACE. | iii
| KACHÁRI FOLK-TALES AND RHYMES. | 1
|  | An accused person’s statement in Assamese and Kachári. | 1
|  | Dùimâ dùisâ ni khorâng. | 3
|  | Sâse olsiâ gåthå nê khorâng. | 6
|  | Gåthå mâmra nî khorâng. | 9
|  | Sáse phâlângi gåthåni khorâng. | 11
|  | Bîdâ bînânaunî khorâng. | 15
|  | Embu Bonglâ nî Khorâng. | 19
|  | Mùi ârù daukhâ dandâ nî khorâng. | 22
|  | Brai sáse ni khorâng. | 24
|  | Mùkhrâ ârù Sessâ nî Khorâng. | 27
|  | Khusung ârù Mùkhrâ. | 32
|  | Bâmun deâru bînî sâkor nî khorâng. | 34
|  | Âbrâ nî khorâng. | 38
|  | Sâ-snî âbrâ nî khorâng. | 42
|  | Khânâ khuzâ nî khorâng. | 46
|  | Sâse âbrâ brai nî khorâng. | 50
|  | Brai bùrùini khorâng. | 52
| FOLK SONGS AND NURSERY RHYMES. | 56

Colophon

Corrections

The following corrections have been applied to the text:

Page | Source | Correction
iii, 5, 5, 17, 21, 60 | [Not in source] | .
iv | indentical | identical
1, 4 | , | .
4 | ng | Âng
5, 5 | Sri | Srî
6 | hùnânâi | hùnânai
6 | ol iâ | olsiâ
6 | oidang- ùi | oidang-hùi
7, 9, 17 | angnù | ângnù
7 | khi-” thâ-i-ù | khithâ-i-ù
7 | búnnânai | bùnnânai
7 | ” | [Deleted]
9 | Bir | Bîr
12, 20 | . | [Deleted]
12 | dihonnânai | dîhonnânai
16 | dânnu | dânnù
19 | dangmân | dangman
19 | khâmúi | khâmùi
20 | lânânâi | lânânai
22 | hûnânai | hùnânai
22, 46 | khorang | khorâng
22 | Binîkhai | Bînikhai
24 | khoráng | khorâng
26 | Obânú | Obânù
26, 54 | bîsúr | bîsùr
26 | Obâsú | Obâsù
26 | Obânû | Obânù
26 | Beaunú | Beaunù
27 | âgúi | âgùi
27 | raukhôbú | raukhôbù
27 | dúi | dùi
27 | Mùkhrá | Mùkhrâ
27 | Khoràng | Khorâng
27 | mânsùià | mânsùiâ
28 | lui | lùi
28 | lúi | lùi
28 | ângnú | ângnù
28 | hú | ù
28 | Múkhrâ | Mùkhrâ
28 | bú | bù
28 | ârú | ârù
28 | nu-zâ-húi-nai-sui-lâiù | nu-zâ-hùi-nai-sui-lâiù
28 | ang | âng
29 | múkhrâiâ | mùkhrâiâ
31 | hanânai | hannânai
32 | thalit | thâlit
33 | húnânai | hùnânai
33 | múkhrâiâ | mùkhrâiâ
34 | beaunú | beaunù
35 | sakhorâ | sâkhorâ
35 | duluse | dùlùse
36 | bifurkhô | bîfùrkhô
36 | hanu | hanù
37 | ângnu | ângnù
38 | Abrà | Âbrâ
38 | ní | nî
38 | khoràng | khorâng
38 | súngnaise | sùngnaise
38 | múiâ | mùiâ
40 | mânsúiâ | mânsùiâ
40 | âbrânú | âbrânù
40, 43 | hunânai | hùnânai
44 | zangfur | zangfùr
44 | oinu | oinù
44 | Zangfur | Zangfùr
45 | gïnânai | gînânai
46 | Sânûi | Sânùi
46 | Ângnû | Ângnù
46 | thângûi | thângùi
48 | bû | bù
49 | Zâkhoâ-nú | Zâkhoâ-nù
49 | Sikhi | Sikhî
49 | bhâgú-khô | bhâgù-khô
50 | hùnanai | hùnânai
50 | boinifraî | boinîfrai
51 | bùriù-khô | bùrùi-khô
53 | mânsuiâ | mânsùiâ
53 | bangnaise | bungnaise
55 | sikhau-fúr-khô | sikhau-fùr-khô
55 | zang-fur | zang-fùr
24 | bán | ban
30 | [Not in source] | ,
59 | Ágùi | Âgùi
60 | he-lùî | he-lùi
61 | Adâ | Âdâ
61 | bânaini-nî | bânai-nî