Folk-Tales of the Khasis Part 9

She marvelled when she saw him carrying a heavy chest on his shoulders, and she could get but little light from his incoherent speech as to how he had obtained possession of it, but her eyes glittered with delight when she saw that it was full of gold nuggets. She allowed the lad to keep his delusion that they were cakes, and to pacify him she took some rice and made some savoury cakes for him, pretending that she was baking the strange cakes from the chest. After eating these, he went to sleep satisfied and happy.

Now the widow had been longing for gold all her life long, saying that she wanted it to provide better comforts for the son who could not look after himself, but the moment the gold came into her possession her heart was filled with greed. Not only was she not willing to part with any of the nuggets to obtain the favour of the villagers for her son, but she was planning to send him abroad again to search for more gold, regardless of the perils to which he would be exposed. She called him up before daybreak, and, giving him some rice cakes in a bag, she told him to go again to the river-side and to bring home more boxes of cakes for her to bake.

So the boy started out on his fruitless errand, but soon lost his way in the jungle; he could find the path neither to the river nor to his mother's house, so he wandered about disconsolate and hungry in the dense woods, searching for hidden chests and unbaked cakes.

In that forest many fairies had their haunts, but they were invisible to mankind. They knew all about the idiot boy and his sad history, and a great pity welled up in their hearts when they saw how the l.u.s.t for gold had so corrupted his mother's feelings that she sent him alone and unprotected into the dangers of that great forest. They determined to try and induce him to accompany them to the land of the fairies, where he would be guarded from all harm and where willing hands would minister to all his wants.

So seven of the fairies transformed themselves into the likeness of mankind and put on strong wings like the wings of great eagles, and came to meet U Bieit in the jungle. By this time he had become exhausted with want of food, and as soon as he saw the fairies he called out eagerly to ask if they had any food, to which they replied that they had only some Hyndet bread (kpu Hyndet) which had been baked by the fairies in heaven; and when they gave him some of it, he ate it ravenously and held out his hand for more. This was just what the fairies wanted, for no human being can be taken to fairyland except of his own free will. So they said that they had no more to give in that place, but if he liked to come with them to the land of the fairies beyond the Blue Realm, he could have abundance of choice food and Hyndet cakes. He expressed his readiness to go at once, and asked them how he should get there. They told him to take hold of their wings, to cling firmly, and not to talk on the way; so he took hold of the wings of the fairies and the ascent to fairyland began.

Now as they flew upwards there were many beautiful sights which gave the fairies great delight as they pa.s.sed. They saw the glories of the highest mountains, and the endless expanse of forest and waters, and the fleeting shadows of the clouds, and the brilliant colours of the rainbow, dazzling in their transient beauty. But the idiot boy saw nothing of these things; his simple mind was absorbed in the one thought--food. When they had ascended to a great height and the borders of fairyland came into view, U Bieit could no longer repress his curiosity, and, forgetting all about the caution not to speak, he asked the fairies eagerly, "Will the Hyndet cakes be big?" As soon as he uttered the words he lost his hold on the fairies' wings and, falling to the earth with great velocity, he died.

The Khasis relate this story mainly as a warning not to impose responsible duties on persons incapable of performing them, and not to raise people into high positions which they are not fitted to fill.

XXV

U RAMHAH

Where is the country without its giant-story?

All through the ages the world has revelled in tales of the incomparable prowess and the unrivalled strength and stature of great and distinguished men whom we have learned to call giants. We trace them from the days of Samson and Goliath, past the Knights of Arthur in the "Island of the Mighty" and the great warriors of ancient Greece, down to the mythland of our nursery days, where the exploits of the famous "Jack" and his confederates filled us with wonder and awe. Our world has been a world full of mighty men to whom all the nations pay tribute, and the Khasis in their small corner are not behind the rest of the world in this respect, for they also have on record the exploits of a giant whose fate was as strange as that of any famous giant in history.

The name of the Khasi giant was U Ramhah. He lived in a dark age, and his vision was limited, but according to his lights and the requirements of his country and his generation, he performed great and wonderful feats, such as are performed by all orthodox giants all the world over. He lifted great boulders, he erected huge pillars, he uprooted large trees, he fought wild beasts, he trampled on dragons, he overcame armed hosts single-handed, he championed the cause of the defenceless, and won for himself praise and renown.

When his fame was at its height he smirched his reputation by his bad actions. After the great victory over U Thlen in the cave of Pomdoloi, he became very uplifted and proud, and considered himself ent.i.tled to the possessions of the Khasis. So instead of helping and defending his neighbours as of yore, he began to oppress and to plunder them, and came to be regarded as a notorious highwayman, to be avoided and dreaded, who committed thefts and crimes wherever he went.

At this period he is described as a very tall and powerful man whose stature reached "half way to the sky," and he always carried a soop (a large basket of plaited bamboo) on his back, into which he put all his spoils, which were generally some articles of food or clothing. He broke into houses, looted the markets and waylaid travellers. The plundered people used to run after him, clinging to his big soop, but he used to beat them and sometimes kill them, and by reason of his great strength and long strides he always got away with his booty, leaving havoc and devastation behind him. He was so strong and so terrible that no one could check his crimes or impose any punishments.

There lived in the village of Cherra in those days a wealthy woman called Ka Bthuh, who had suffered much and often at the hands of U Ramhah, and whose anger against him burnt red-hot. She had pleaded urgently with the men of her village to rise in a body to avenge her wrongs, but they always said that it was useless. Whenever she met U Ramhah she insulted him by pointing and shaking her finger at him, saying, "You may conquer the strength of a man, but beware of the cunning of a woman." For this saying U Ramhah hated her, for it showed that he had not been able to overawe her as everybody else had been overawed by him, and he raided her G.o.downs more frequently than ever, not dreaming that she was scheming to defeat him.

One day Ka Bthuh made a great feast; she sent invitations to many villages far and near, for she wanted it to be as publicly known as possible in order to lure U Ramhah to attend. It was one of his rude habits to go uninvited to feasts and to gobble up all the eatables before the invited guests had been helped.

The day of Ka Bthuh's feast came and many guests arrived, but before the rice had been distributed there was a loud cry that U Ramhah was marching towards the village. Everybody considered this very annoying, but Ka Bthuh, the hostess, pretended not to be disturbed, and told the people to let the giant eat as much as he liked first, and she would see that they were all helped later on. At this U Ramhah laughed, thinking that she was beginning to be afraid of him, and he helped himself freely to the cooked rice and curry that was at hand. He always ate large mouthfuls, but at feast times he used to put an even greater quant.i.ty of rice into his mouth, just to make an impression and a show. Ka Bthuh had antic.i.p.ated all this, and she stealthily put into the rice some sharp steel blades which the giant swallowed unsuspectingly.

When he had eaten to his full content U Ramhah took his departure, and when he had gone out of earshot Ka Bthuh told the people what she had done. They marvelled much at her cunning, and they all said it was a just deed to punish one whose crimes were so numerous and so flagrant, but who escaped penalty by reason of his great strength. From that time Ka Bthuh won great praise and became famous.

U Ramhah never reached his home from that feast. The sharp blades he had swallowed cut his intestines and he died on the hill-side alone and unattended, as the wild animals die, and there was no one to regret his death.

When the members of his clan heard of his death they came in a great company to perform rites and to cremate his body, but the body was so big that it could not be cremated, and so they decided to leave it till the flesh rotted, and to come again to gather together his bones. After a long time they came to gather the bones, but it was found that there was no urn large enough to contain them, so they piled them together on the hill-side until a large urn could be made.

While the making of the large urn was in progress there arose a great storm, and a wild hurricane blew from the north, which carried away the bleached bones of U Ramhah, and scattered them all over the south borders of the Khasi Hills, where they remain to this day in the form of lime-rocks, the many winding caves and crevices of which are said to be the cavities in the marrowless bones of the giant. Thus U Ramhah, who injured and plundered the Khasis in his life-time, became the source of inestimable wealth to them after his death.

His name is heard on every hearth, used as a proverb to describe objects of abnormal size or people of abnormal strength.

XXVI

HOW THE CAT CAME TO LIVE WITH MAN

In olden times Ka Miaw, the cat, lived in the jungle with her brother the tiger, who was king of the jungle. She was very proud of her high pedigree and anxious to display the family greatness, and to live luxuriously according to the manner of families of high degree; but the tiger, although he was very famous abroad, was not at all mindful of the well-being and condition of his family, and allowed them to be often in want. He himself, by his skill and great prowess, obtained the most delicate morsels for his own consumption, but as it involved trouble to bring booty home for his household, he preferred to leave what he did not want himself to rot on the roadside, or to be eaten by any chance scavenger. Therefore, the royal larder was often very bare and empty.

Thus the cat was reduced to great privations, but so jealous was she for the honour and good name of her house that, to hide her poverty from her friends and neighbours, she used to sneak out at night-time, when n.o.body could see her, in order to catch mice and frogs and other common vermin for food.

Once she ventured to speak to her brother on the matter, asking him what glory there was in being king if his family were obliged to work and to fare like common folks. The tiger was so angered that she never dared to approach the subject again, and she continued to live her hard life and to shield the family honour.

One day the tiger was unwell, and a number of his neighbours came to enquire after his health. Desiring to entertain them with tobacco, according to custom, he shouted to his sister to light the hookah and to serve it round to the company. Now, even in the most ordinary household, it is very contrary to good breeding to order the daughter of the house to serve the hookah, and Ka Miaw felt the disgrace keenly, and, hoping to excuse herself, she answered that there was no fire left by which to light the hookah. This answer displeased the tiger greatly, for he felt that his authority was being flouted before his friends. He ordered his sister angrily to go to the dwelling of mankind to fetch a firebrand with which to light the hookah, and, fearing to be punished if she disobeyed, the cat ran off as she was bidden and came to the dwelling of mankind.

Some little children were playing in the village, and when they saw Ka Miaw they began to speak gently to her and to stroke her fur. This was so pleasant to her feelings after the harsh treatment from her brother that she forgot all about the firebrand and stayed to play with the children, purring to show her pleasure.

Meanwhile the tiger and his friends sat waiting impatiently for the hookah that never came. It was considered a great privilege to draw a whiff from the royal hookah; but seeing that the cat delayed her return, the visitors took their departure, and showed a little sullenness at not receiving any mark of hospitality in their king's house.

The tiger's anger against his sister was very violent, and, regardless of his ill-health, he went out in search of her. Ka Miaw heard him coming, and knew from his growl that he was angry; she suddenly remembered her forgotten errand, and, hastily s.n.a.t.c.hing a firebrand from the hearth, she started for home.

Her brother met her on the way and began to abuse her, threatening to beat her, upon which she threw down the firebrand at his feet in her fright and ran back to the abode of mankind, where she has remained ever since, supporting herself as of old by catching frogs and mice, and purring to the touch of little children.

XXVII

HOW THE FOX GOT HIS WHITE BREAST

Once a fox, whose name was U Myrsiang, lived in a cave near the residence of a Siem (Chief). This fox was a very shameless marauder, and had the impudence to conduct his raids right into the Siem's private barn-yard, and to devour the best of his flocks, causing him much annoyance and loss.

The Siem gave his servants orders to catch U Myrsiang, but though they laid many traps and snares in his way he was so wily and so full of cunning that he managed to evade every pitfall, and to continue his raids on the Siem's flocks.

One of the servants, more ingenious than his fellows, suggested that they should bring out the iron cage in which the Siem was wont to lock up state criminals, and try and wheedle the fox into entering it. So they brought out the iron cage and set it open near the entrance to the barn-yard, with a man on guard to watch.

By and by, U Myrsiang came walking by very cautiously, sniffing the air guardedly to try and discover if any hidden dangers lay in his path. He soon reached the cage, but it aroused no suspicion in him, for it was so large and so unlike every trap he was familiar with that he entered it without a thought of peril, and ere he was aware of his error, the man on guard had bolted the door behind him and made him a prisoner.

There was great jubilation in the Siem's household when the capture of the fox was made known. The Siem himself was so pleased that he commanded his servants to prepare a feast on the following day as a reward for their vigilance and ingenuity. He also gave orders not to kill the fox till the next day, and that he should be brought out of the cage after the feast and executed in a public place as a warning to other thieves and robbers. So U Myrsiang was left to pine in his prison for that night.

The fox was very unhappy, as all people in confinement must be. He explored the cage from end to end but found no pa.s.sage of egress. He thought out many plans of escape, but not one of them could be put into execution, and he was driven to face the doom of certain death. He whined in his misery and despair, and roamed about the cage all night.

Some time towards morning he was disturbed by the sounds of footsteps outside his cage, and, thinking that the Siem's men had come to kill him, he lay very still, hardly venturing to breathe. To his relief the new-comer turned out to be a belated traveller, who, upon seeing a cage, sat down, leaning his weary body against the bars, while U Myrsiang kept very still, not wishing to disclose his presence until he found out something more about his unexpected companion, and hoping also to turn his coming to some good account.