5. Cradle-songs.
The following are some cradle-songs taken down from a Chitrakār, but probably used by most of the lower Hindu castes:
1. Mother, rock the cradle of your pretty child. What is the cradle made of, and what are its tassels made of?
The cradle is made of sandalwood, its tassels are of silk.
Some Gaolin (milkwoman) has overlooked the child, he vomits up his milk.
Dasoda[3] shall wave salt and mustard round his head, and he shall play in my lap.
My baby is making little steps. O Sunār, bring him tinkling anklets!
The Sunār shall bring anklets for him, and my child will go to the garden and there we will eat oranges and lemons.
2. My Krishna’s tassel is lost, Tell me, some one, where it is. My child is angry and will not come into my arms.
The tears are falling from his eyes like blossoms from the bela[4] flower.
He has bangles on his wrists and anklets on his feet, on his head a golden crown and round his waist a silver chain.
The jhumri or tassel referred to above is a tassel adorned with cowries and hung from the top of the cradle so that the child may keep his eyes on it while the cradle is being rocked.
3. Sleep, sleep, my little baby; I will wave my hands round your head[5] on the banks of the Jumna. I have cooked hot cakes for you and put butter in them; all the night you lay awake, now take your fill of sleep.
The little mangoes are hanging on the tree; the rope is in the well; sleep thou till I go and come back with water.
I will hang your cradle on the banyan tree, and its rope to the pīpal tree; I will rock my darling gently so that the rope shall never break.
The last song may be given in the vernacular as a specimen:
4. Rām kī Chireya, Rām ko khet.
Khaori Chireya, bhar, bhar pet.
Tan munaiyān khā lao khet,
Agao, labra, gāli det;
Kahe ko, labra, gāli de;
Apni bhuntia gin, gin le.
or—
The field is Rāma’s, the little birds are Rāma’s; O birds, eat your fill; the little birds have eaten up the corn.
The surly farmer has come to the field and scolds them; the little birds say, ‘O farmer, why do you scold us? count your ears of maize, they are all there.’
This song commemorates a favourite incident in the life of Tulsi Dās, the author of the Rāmāyana, who when he was a little boy was once sent by his guru to watch the crop. But after some time the guru came and found the field full of birds eating the corn and Tulsi Dās watching them. When asked why he did not scare them away, he said, ‘Are they not as much the creatures of Rāma as I am? how should I deprive them of food?’