There was a certain lad whose father died before he was born. And, one day, when he had grown a big boy, he asked his mother, “What did my father do for his living?” And his mother, drawing a long breath, said, “Your father used to travel about selling things. Ah, if he were alive we should have no trouble to endure!” But the boy replied, “Do not you think that I too could earn money in that way? Bring out what money there is, and let me see what I can do.” But his mother said, “Ah, my son, you must not talk like that! If you go away into foreign lands and die there, what will become of me?” But her son would not listen to her, and by importunity induced her to give him money, with which he bought goods, and procured a boat, and hiring two or three men, took leave of his mother, and went into a far country to trade. Finally he came to a certain place where he moored his boat, at the place where men draw water, and sent his men to hawk his wares from village to village while he himself stayed in the boat. It happened that there lived hard by an old couple who possessed a white swan, which they fed and tended as though it were their own child. One day, the lad saw this swan strip itself of its swan plumage and become a beautiful maiden, and bathe. From that time forth he paid great attention to the owners of the swan, and gave them presents of the oil and other things he had in his boat. And when the merchandise had been sold and the time was come to go home, he went to the old people’s house and offering much money begged them to sell him their swan. But they were for giving him their swan for nothing. He, however, feared to commit a sin if he took it as a gift, and, because it was the old man’s property, compelled him to take much money in exchange for it, and went away.
But when he came home with his boat, behold, the swan remained a swan, and, for disappointment, the lad pined and wasted away. Seeing which, his old mother consulted various people, but got no help. Finally, she went to a certain wise woman, who said, “Sister, do not you understand? Something has happened to him while he was away trading. You must use a device to find out what it is.” To which the mother replied, “Tell me plainly what it is, and you will do a good deed.” So the wise woman gave this advice. “Some day do you direct a maiden to search for lice in his hair. And while she is doing this, let her pretend to be mightily grieved, and let her ask him what is the matter. And he will feel flattered and will open out his heart to her.” And the mother did as the wise woman directed her. The girl she sent wept and snuffled as she tended the lad and said, “Tell me why you pine and grow thin; else I too will give up food and drink.” And so he, heaving a sigh, explained thus: “While I was away trading, I saw the white swan which is in my boat turn into a maiden. But now she remains a swan, and for her love I am pining.”
When her task was done, she told the lad’s mother, who sent word to the wise woman. The wise woman said, “Let the girl tell him that the swan maiden worships her own gods in the dead of night. Let him pretend to lie asleep, and when she divests herself of her swan plumage, let him seize it and thrust it into the hearth, and then she will always remain a girl.” The old mother directed the girl accordingly, and the girl told the lad. One day he mixed ashes and oil in a vessel, and procured a yak’s tail, and, when night was come, he lay down and pretended to be fast asleep. Presently the swan crept out, and feeling his hands, feet, and body with her beak, was satisfied that he slept. Then slowly taking off her swan skin, she became absorbed in the worship of her country’s gods. And the lad seeing his opportunity, grasped the swan plumage and thrust it into the hearth, so that it was singed, and the smell of the feathers filled the place. And the maiden, smelling the burning feathers, cried, “What have you done to me? What have you done to me?” So saying, she fell down in a faint and seemed as one dead. But the lad, taking his vessel of oil, anointed her with it, and fanned her gently with the yak’s tail, till she came to. And so they married, and begat many sons and daughters, and lived happily ever after. And that’s all!
MAP SHOWING AREA OCCUPIED BY THE BODO RACES
[1] This Appendix is written by Mr. J. D. Anderson, the compiler of the little work on Kachári folk-tales mentioned on p. 54.—Ed. [↑]
[3] Zakhai = a group of four, like the Hindi ganda. [↑]
[4] Hā-grā; hā = earth, cf. hā-zō, high earth, mountain; hā-brū, dirty earth, mud. So also dŭi-brū, dirty water, whence we get Dibrugarh. [↑]
[5] The infix hŭi conveys a sense of “at” or “from a distance.” v. Mr. Anderson’s account of the ‘agglutinative’ verb; vol. III, part II, pp. 7–15 of the Linguistic Survey of India.—Ed. [↑]
[7] Nāng, gnāng are very like the Assamese lag and the Bengali lāg in the double sense of “sticking” and necessity. [↑]
[8]Hŭrŭ. Kacháris, like Assamese, are very fond of such expletives, which though they have little, if any, meaning, add to the liveliness of narration. Many others will be found later on. [↑]
[9] S’lai, or z’lai, implies mutual action, exchange. [↑]
[10] A good instance of the characteristic double negative of Kachári, or, rather, of the fact that the inflexion khŭise is only used with the negative verb. [↑]
[11] Det, which by a common idiom can be made adjectival by adding the usual prefix, thus, ge-det = big. [↑]
[12] Bongfāng = tree, fāng-se = one, nī = sign of the genitive. As to fāng-se, see many other instances of the Kachári generic way of counting; e.g., mānsŭi sā-se, one man; mosā mā-se, one tiger, etc. There are several instances in these stories. [↑]
[13] Lāng-zā-nai, the curious “passive” or “middle” participle. Perhaps the most characteristic instance of its use I have come across is in another story not given here, where a giant insults the Kachári Jack-the-giant-killer by calling him a “godo-i-au set-bā gākhir on-khāt-nai gothō,” literally a “on-throat-squeezing-milk-exuding-boy,” i.e., a babe in whose mouth is still his mother’s milk. [↑]
[14] Hā-hā-lāgi. The first hā is the word for “earth,” the second is the same word used as a datival affix = “up to,” while lāgi is the common Assamese word repeating the idea of the second hā. [↑]
[15] Mau of course = mā-au, the locative of mā = what. [↑]
[16] Grāng = an affix commonly used to indicate the possessor of a quality. ā = sign of nominative. [↑]
[17] Bā is the sign of the conditional tense, and the adjective mazáng is turned into a verb by its use. [↑]
[18] Mā khām-nŭ (in the infinitive) is curiously like the French use of “que faire?” [↑]
[19]Ga-hām = good; hām-ā = not good, bad; hām-dang = is good; hām-ā-bai = was not good, etc. [↑]
[20] Azang is simply the Assamese e jan, used distributively by repetition and heightened by the indigenous sā-se, which means the same as Assamese e. [↑]
[21] Thāng-ŭi is the adverbial participle, something like “going-ly.” Gahām-ŭi = well. [↑]
[23] Sān sā-se = lit. “sun one.” Sā is usually the distributive word used in counting humans. I imagine its use here is not to indicate personification, but for euphony, as a jingle to sān. Man-se would be the normal construction. [↑]
[24] I have not marked gāngsŭ as an Assamese word, but it is probably a Kachári version of ghās. [↑]
[25]Ba-brāp-bai-nai-au; this is the locative case of the “passive” participle in nai of the “agglutinative” verb, ba-brāp-bai. The infix brāp signifies anger, restlessness, and bai means wandering about. [↑]
[27]Thāng = go; lai = severally, the same root as occurs in s’lai = exchange. [↑]
[28]Lubui-dang-bā, a rather rare case of a double inflection. Lubui-bā would have sufficed. Much the same difference as between “if you wish” and “if you are wishing.” [↑]
[29]Ga-mā, adjectival form conjugated with the verbal inflexion -bai. Cf.Lakh-mā = hide. [↑]
[30]Nai-nai, root repeated to signify continuous action. [↑]
[31] Girimā is plainly from Sanskrit grihastā. [↑]
[38]Bung-nai-au, an interesting idiom; bungnānŭi, the present participle, apparently imitated from the Assamese, when the agglutinative verb began to decay, would have done as well; bung-nai-au is the locative of the “middle” participle; bung-nai = “on saying.” [↑]
[40]Fi-sikhī; sikhī = friend; fi is the causal prefix which also occurs in the word fi-sā, a son; i.e. a made person, “the being you cause to exist.” [↑]
[41] Ozai = the Assamese hadāi, with the intensive nŭ added. [↑]
[51]Zā = eat (the imperative is always the bare root, as in so many other languages). The word reminds me of a little story which shows the perplexities of bilingual people. A Kachári went to see his Assamese mother-in-law, who provided food and hospitably said (in Assamese) “Khā, khā.” On which her son-in-law, obeying her injunction in Kachári, bound her hand and foot. Seeing his mistake, she laughed and said, in Kachári, “Zā, zā.” On which he, much puzzled, went away! [↑]
[52] A good example of the agglutinative verb, for which in Hinduised Kachári would be substituted a long succession of participles, such as nu-nānŭi, zā-nānŭi, thāng-nānŭi, etc. It is impossible, of course, to translate all the infixes severally. [↑]
[53] Perhaps mukhang is Assamese, as well as ātheng which occurs elsewhere, and modom may be badan. [↑]
[54]Ba-brāp-bai-naise = wandered distractedly about. The infix bai signifies wandering, and babrāp being in pain or wrath. [↑]
[55] Rāzā-lŭng-hā-nī = a literal translation of Assamese rājā-hătar. [↑]
[56] An instance of the rare passive, a manifest imitation of the Assamese idiom ot-zā-nŭ, “bit-become-to,” to be bitten. [↑]
