Folk-Tales of the Khasis Part 8

XXI

THE COOING OF THE DOVES

Of all the birds there are none that keep themselves more separate than the doves. They do not peck at other birds as the crows and the vultures do, but, on restless foot and wing, they quickly withdraw themselves from every presuming neighbour.

The Ancient Khasis say that at one time the doves sang like other birds, and the following story tells how they ceased their singing and came to express their feelings in the plaintive "Coo-oo" for which they are noted throughout the world.

Once a family of doves lived very happily in the forest, and its youngest member was a beautiful female called Ka Paro. Her parents and all the family were very indulgent to her, and never permitted her to risk the danger of the grain-fields until they had ascertained that there were no hunters or wild beasts likely to attack her; so Ka Paro used to stay in the shelter of her home until they gave a signal that the land was safe and clear.

One day, while waiting for the signal, she happened to go up into a tall tree on which there were cl.u.s.ters of luscious red berries growing. As the doves usually subsisted on grain, Ka Paro did not pay much attention to the berries; she sat on a branch, preening her feathers and watching other birds who came to pick them.

By and by there came a smart young Jylleit (a jungle bird with gorgeous green and gold feathers) who perched to pick berries upon the very branch on which Ka Paro sat. She had never seen such a beautiful bird, and to please him she sang to him one of her sweetest songs. U Jylleit was quickly attracted by the sweet voice and the gentle manners of the dove, and a pleasant intimacy grew between the two. Ka Paro came to that tree to preen her feathers and to sing every day, while the Jylleit admired her and picked the berries.

After a time U Jylleit sent to the dove's parents to ask her in marriage. Although their young daughter pressed them hard to give their consent, the parents were wise, and did not want to trust the happiness of their pet child to a stranger until they had time to test his worth; they knew too that marriages between alien tribes were scarcely ever a success. So, to test the constancy of the young suitor, they postponed the marriage till the winter, and with that the lovers had to be content. The parents remembered that the berries would be over by the winter, and it remained to be seen whether the Jylleit would be willing to forgo his luxuries and to share the frugal food of the doves, or whether he would fly away to some other forests where berries were to be found. Ka Paro was so much in love that she was very confident of the fidelity of her suitor, but to her sorrow, as soon as the berries were finished, U Jylleit flitted away without even a word of farewell, and she never saw him again.

From that time Ka Paro ceased to sing. She could only utter the longing and sorrow that was in her heart in sad and plaintive notes, so the doves are cooing sadly even in their happiest moments.

XXII

HOW THE MONKEY'S COLOUR BECAME GREY

In olden times the monkeys had long hair of different colours covering their bodies, and they were much more handsome than they are in the present day. They were very inquisitive animals and liked to meddle in the affairs of other people, and they caused a lot of trouble in the world.

One day a monkey wandering on the plains met Ram, the G.o.d of the Hindus, searching for the G.o.ddess Sita. Ram, thinking that the monkey by his inquisitiveness and audacity might help to find her, bribed him to come to his service.

After making enquiries far and near, the monkey heard at last that Ka Sita was confined in a fort in the island of Ceylon, so he went and told the G.o.d Ram. Thereupon Ram gathered together a great host to go and fight the king of the island of Ceylon, but they found the place infested with dragons and goblins of the most hostile disposition, so that they dared not venture to land.

The hosts of Ram then held a consultation, and they decided that, as the monkey had been the cause of their coming there, he must find out a way for them to land without being destroyed by the dragons. The monkey, not knowing what to say, suggested that they should burn down the forests of Ceylon so that the dragons could have no place to hide.

Upon this the hosts of Ram declared that the monkey himself must go over to put his plan into execution. So they dipped a long piece of cloth in oil and tied one end of it to the monkey's tail and set fire to the other end of it, and the monkey went over to the island and ran hither and thither dragging the flaming cloth behind him and setting the forests on fire everywhere he went, until all the forests of Ceylon were in flames.

Before he could get back to his companions he saw with dismay that the cloth was nearly burnt out, and the heat from the fire behind him began to singe his long hair; whereupon, fearing to be burnt alive, he plunged into the sea and the flames were extinguished. From that time the monkey's hair has been grey and short as a sign that he once set the forests of Ceylon on fire.

XXIII

THE LEGEND OF KA PANSHANDI, THE LAZY TORTOISE

Once upon a time there lived a young tortoise near a large pool. She was very ill-favoured and ugly in appearance and very foolish, as well as being of a lazy disposition, and, like all lazy people, she was slovenly and dirty in her habits. Her name was Ka Panshandi.

The pool near which she lived being very clear, the stars and other heavenly bodies often gazed into it to behold their own images. At times the reflection of countless s.h.i.+ning, blinking stars would be visible in the placid waters till the pool looked like a little part of the sky. At such times Ka Panshandi took immense delight in plunging into the pool, darting backwards and forwards and twirling round the bright silvery spots with great glee and contentment.

Among those who came frequently to gaze at themselves in the pool was U Lurmangkhara, the brightest of all the stars; he began to notice the playful gambols of Ka Panshandi in the water and to admire her twirling motions. He lived so far away that he could not see her ugliness, nor could he know that she was lazy and foolish. All he knew was that she exposed herself nightly to the chilly waters of the pool in order (as he thought) to have the pleasure of being near the images of the stars, which was very flattering to his vanity. If she was so strongly attracted by their images, he thought to himself, how much more would she adore the real live stars if she were brought into contact with them.

U Lurmangkhara fell deeply in love with her, and determined to go down to the earth to marry her and to endow her with all his wealth, for he was very rich and had always lived in great splendour.

When his relations and friends heard of his purpose, they were much disturbed, and they came to remonstrate with him against what they considered to be a very rash and risky step--to go to a foreign land to make his home and to mate with an unknown consort whose habits and outlook on life might be altogether alien to him. But U Lurmangkhara would listen to no counsel. Persons in love never take heed of other people's advice. Down to the earth he came, and there married Ka Panshandi and endowed her with all his wealth.

When Ka Panshandi found herself a rich wife, having unexpectedly won one of the n.o.blest husbands in the world, her vanity knew no bounds, and she grew more indolent and idle than ever. Her house was squalid, and she minded not when even her own body was daubed with mud, and she felt no shame to see her husband's meals served off unscoured platters. U Lurmangkhara was very disappointed; being patient and gentle, he tried by kind words to teach his wife to amend her ways, but it was of no avail. Gradually he grew discontented and spoke angrily to her, but she remained as callous and as indifferent as ever, for it is easier to turn even a thief from stealing than to induce a sluggard to renounce his sloth. He threatened to leave her, her neighbours also repeatedly warned her that she would lose her good husband unless she altered her ways, but she remained as unconcerned as ever. At last, driven to despair, U Lurmangkhara gathered together all his wealth and went back to his home in the sky.

Ka Panshandi was filled with remorse and grief when she found that her husband had departed. She called piteously after him, promising to reform if he would only return, but it was too late. He never came back, and she was left to her squalor and her shame.

To this day Ka Panshandi is still hoping to see U Lurmangkhara coming back to the earth, and she is seen crawling about mournfully, with her neck outstretched towards the sky in expectation of his coming, but there is no sign of his return, and her life is dull and joyless.

After these events Ka Panshandi's name became a mockery and a proverb in the land; ballads were sung setting forth her fate as a warning to lazy and thriftless wives. To the present day a forsaken wife who entertains hope of her husband's return is likened by the Khasis to Ka Panshandi in her expectant att.i.tude with her head lifted above her sh.e.l.l: "Ka Panshandi dem-lor-khah."

XXIV

THE IDIOT AND THE HYNDET BREAD

Long, long ago there lived on the Khasi Hills a certain widow with her only son, a lad possessed of great personal beauty, who was mentally deficient, and was known in the village as "U Bieit" (the idiot).

The mother, being very poor and having neither kith nor kin to help her, was obliged to go out to work every day to support herself and her hapless child, so he was left to his own devices, roaming at large in the village. In this way he grew up to be very troublesome to his neighbours, for he often broke into their houses to forage for something to eat and caused much damage and loss.

Like most people of weak intellect, U Bieit showed wonderful cunning in some directions, especially in the matter of procuring some good thing to eat, and the way he succeeded in duping some of his more sagacious comrades in order to obtain some dainty t.i.t-bits of food was a matter of much amus.e.m.e.nt and merriment. But there were so many unpleasant incidents that people could not safely leave their houses, and matters at last became so serious that the widow was ordered to leave the village on his account.

She sought admission into many of the surrounding villages, but the fame of U Bieit had travelled before him and no one was willing to let them dwell in their midst. So in great distress she took him down to the plains, where there was a big river along which many boats used to sail. Here she mournfully determined to abandon him, hoping that some of the wealthy merchants who often pa.s.sed that way might be attracted by his good looks and take him into their company. She gave him some rice cakes to eat when he should be hungry, and told him to be a good boy and stay by the river-side, and she would bring him more cakes next day.

The boy thoroughly appreciated the promise of more cakes, so was quite willing to be left by the river, but he felt lonely and uncomfortable in his strange surroundings after his mother had gone, and whenever a boat came in sight he ran into the thickets to hide. By and by a large boat was seen approaching with great white sails, which frightened him greatly and sent him running into a thicket with all his might. It happened that a wealthy merchant was returning from a journey, and landed to take food close to the hiding-place of U Bieit. The servants were going backward and forward into the boat while preparing their master's food, and, fearing lest some of them might tamper with his chest of gold nuggets, he ordered them to carry it ash.o.r.e, and buried it in the sands close to where he sat.

Just as he finished his repast a heavy shower came on, and the merchant hurried to the shelter of his boat; in his haste he forgot all about the chest of gold buried in the sands, and the boat sailed away without it.

All this time the idiot boy was watching the proceedings with great curiosity and a longing to share the tempting meal, but fear of the boat with white sails kept him from showing himself. However, as soon as the boat was out of sight, he came out of the thicket and began to unearth the buried chest. When he saw the gold nuggets he thought they were some kind of cakes, and, putting one in his mouth, he tried to eat it. Finding it so hard, he decided that it must have been unbaked, and his poor marred mind flew at once to his mother, who always baked food for him at home, and, taking the heavy chest on his back, he started through the forest to seek her, and his instinct, like that of a homing pigeon, brought him safely to his mother's door.

It was quite dark when he reached the village, so that n.o.body saw him, but his mother was awake crying and lamenting her own hard fate which had driven her to desert her unfortunate child. As she cried she kept saying to herself that if only she possessed money she could have obtained the goodwill of her neighbours and been permitted to live with her boy in the village. She was surprised to hear sounds of shuffling at her door resembling the shuffling of her forsaken boy; she got up hurriedly to see who it was, and was relieved and joyful to find him come back to her alive.