Chapter III: Part 3

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

THE BRAHMIN AND HIS SERVANT.

There was once a Brahmin who had a servant. And one day when they were going to the house of the Brahmin's mother-in-law, the Brahmin gave his servant a bunch of plantains and other things to carry, and said to him "Now, mind you don't eat those plantains, for I can see just as well behind as I can in front." And, so saying, he marched ahead. And presently the servant, getting hungry, plucked one of the plantains from the bunch, and, holding it out to his master's back, ate it. And this he did again and again till all the plantains were gone. And when the Brahmin presently asked what had become of the load, the servant said "You told me you could see behind as well as in front. So I showed you each plantain before I ate it. And you never said anything."

So the Brahmin went his ways speechless. Presently they stopped to cook their midday meal, and they had got with them a few khawai fish. But the Brahmin gave only one to his servant, and kept the rest himself. And when he was about to eat, the servant asked innocently: "Oh! Brahmin, do khawai fish swim about singly or in shoals?" To which the Brahmin said: "Why, in shoals, of course." So the servant said "Then my fish had better go with yours." And, so saying, he threw his fish on the Brahmin's mess, which was defiled. So the Brahmin got no dinner, and the servant ate the whole.

A little later they came across a number of simul trees. Seeing them, the servant asked his master "And what do they call these trees, master?" And the Brahmin (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.

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."

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.

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.

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

THE STORY OF THE SIMPLETON.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

THE STORY OF THE SEVEN SIMPLETONS.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

THE STORY OF THE BLIND MAN AND THE HUNCHBACK.

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.

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.

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--

"Fine rice, fine rice, I can smell;
"And better things to eat as well."

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.

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!

THE STORY OF A SILLY OLD MAN.

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!

THE STORY OF THE FOUR THIEVES.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

FOLK SONGS AND NURSERY RHYMES.

Addressed to a spoiled Child.

Derâ lù, derâ lù, Âfâ Fanzâlù.
Build house, build house, Father Fanzalu.

Dai nâng, fùdù nâng, Âfâ zuzînâng.
If trouble come, or worry come, Father will help.

To a conceited Child.

Âng gùrùng, gùrùng, Dainâ gùrùng.
I am wise, am wise, And the witch is wise.

Dau khîthù, khîthù, Ângnî khîthù.
And the bird's behind, behind, 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, bongfâng dô, bongfâng nârengâ.
Beat the tree, and beat the tree, and beat the orange tree.

Fitsiu-siu firingâ; bidùi zåkhaibâ!
Chirrup, chirrup, bhimraj bird; give twenty eggs to me.

What Women sing at Weddings.

Zô sit sit, Gogorleng; Zô sit sit.
Pour, pour the beer, Gogorleng; pour the beer.

Dângnai dângnai sit, Gogorleng; dângnai dângnai sit.
Pour in torrents, Gogorleng; 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! [29]
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, [30] dudugur, mâlâ-ùi.
Fisâ bânai-nî fâlâ-ùi.

In other verses substitute other work for "fisâ bânai-nî."

Reproach of Women. [31]

Boisâgi, âsâgî, rå-rå,
Megong mikhâm songblâ, dùilau, dùi-sau!
Hoâ sâse nù-bù-lâ,
Gadau gâsi!

NOTES

[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] Onomatopoeic.

[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] Yâcite

[18] Assamese râjâ hantar

[19] About two paces.

[20] Assamese bala.

[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 bâkayanî.

[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.

[29] 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".

[30] "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,--onomatopoeically, "dudugur, dudugur!"

[31] 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.