Dùimâ dùisâ ni khorâng. How the rivers were made.
Sânùi brai burui man. Phâre unau bîsur gothai brai-buruî zâlângbâ, buruiâ zingâsînânai brainu khithânaise “Brai, zang­fùrhâ zî dânai fisâfur dang, bîsùr mâ zânânai thânggan?” Erui bungbâ braia mai hu khâmnu lâgi Khubernîau thângnânai, mai sobai bîsor ârù lai-megong lâfâ megong bîfùr mânî-nî bîgot-zului bînânai nå-i-au lâbônânai sânsnî sânzât lâmâiau hoṛ thânânai, nå man-fai-nânai buruinù khitha­naise: “Ang gasenù bigot-zului lâbobai.” Phâre nå-i-au sân-ne-sù thânânai, khet khâmnù lâgi sorai fithâ-gundui lânânai hâ, nainù lâgi thângnaise. Phâre gahâm hâ, dåtse nai-ui frâbui fâtbrùi-thing-bù zurâ khânânai dinnanai nå fainaise. Unau sânse­ni-khâli khodal sekhâ, bifùr-mâni lânânai thângnânai hâgrâ eonânai ârù bî hâgrâtùrkhô saunânai hâkhô mazâng khâmnaise. Bînî­frai, sanzâ sanâp ârù sâ khùlâ fâtbrùi-thing khulumnânai khonâ brùithing phongse phongse zaunaise. Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman. And when they were quite old, the old woman said to her husband “How shall these our children get food when we are gone?” So the old man travelled afar to the great god Kuvera,[26] the god of riches, and, taking from him seedlings of paddy, pulse, mustard, and gourds, journeyed for eight days and so reached his home. And after staying a couple of days, he set forth to cultivate, taking dry food with him. And first he marked out a piece of rich land by placing boundaries on all four sides of it, and so came home. And again he set out another day with hoe and axe, and cut and burned the jungle, and cleaned the soil, and after worshipping on each side of his field—on the east and on the west, on the north and on the south—he struck one blow with his hoe on each side.
Biaunù hâ gasenù mannaise. Phâre baidî baidî mai ârù fîfâng megon-thaigong boikhôbù fùnânai hùnaise. Phâre hâbâ zapbâ braiâ nåi-au thângnânai zirai nânai thânaise. Obâsù âzîbù dang khâlibù dang sânse buruiâ mai nainù lâgi braikhô lùgù homnaise. Khintu braia bungnaise “Lâmâ­iau dùi gùiâ. Nanghâ dùi gâng-bâ âng maunîfrai hùnù?” Theo­bù bî brai-nî khorâng khnâsongâ­lâbâ embrâbrâ braikhô homnai­khai lâng-gnâng-naise. Phâre thân­gùi thângùi mainî hâ man-sî man-sî zâbâ, buruihâ dùi gângnânai brainù khithâbâ, braiâ bung­naise “Âng nangnù dùhùi-nù khithâ-dangman, nonggâ? lâmâ-i au gùia hannânai? Theo­bù ângnî khorâng khnâ-i-âlâbâ fainânai ângkhô dukhu hùíù. Ereùi bungbâ, buruiâ bungnaise. Dinî âng dùi man-lâng-âbâ, thoi-sî-gan. Nang âng-nù dùi hùnù­nânggô.” Phâre unau braiâ mung­bù upai mane zânânai, dùi namai-nâng-naise. Nâmaie nâ­maie fukurimanse nubâ, bî buruinî megonkhô hî zang khânânai be fukuri-hâ-lâgi lângnaise. Ârù braiâ bungnaise “Nang be fukuri khô naiâlâbâ dùi lâng.” Khintu dùi lângbâ-rù mâbâ mâbâ dùi nî dau ârù hângsùfrâ birlai-bâ, bîkhô khnânânai, bîkhô nainù lubuinânai nainaise. Beaunù daufùrnî gele­nai ârù rong zâlainai nunânai bîhâbù brai zang rong zâlainù mon zânaise. Obâsù braiâ khâ­mâ, buruiâ âgârâ. Phâre braiâ buruinî khorâng lânù gnâng zâ­naise. Obâsù bîsùrhâ âji-bù-thâiù khâli-bù-thâiù gåthå gåthai zânaise. Zâbâ, bîsùrkhô fisînù hâekhai braiâ bîsùrkhô buruinî khorângzang Hem-nî hâzô-au lângnânai beaunù fukuri manse khâmnânai baidî baidî nâ khâm­nânai dùiau hogârnânai dinbù-naise. And when all was ready, the old man planted his seedlings of various sorts, and finally went home and rested. And so, as time went by, the old woman desired vehemently to see how the crops were getting on. But the old man said “There is no water on the road, and if you grow athirst, you will get no relief.” But she persisted and prevailed, and made her husband take her along. And as they went, and were now quite close to her husband’s field, behold, the old woman began to be very thirsty. And the old man, being enraged, cried “What did I tell you? There is no water, and yet you would come.” But she, being a woman, said “If you do not give me to drink, I shall die. So, water you must procure as best you can.” So the old man, seeing no other way, went to seek for water. And after long search, seeing a tank, he bound the old woman’s eyes with a cloth and dragged her to the water’s edge and said to her “Drink if you will, but look not upon the tank.” Now the ducks and other water fowls were playing in the water, and were making a merry noise, clacking and quacking. And, the old woman, being curious, like all her sex, peeped at them. And, seeing them at their play, she too desired to be happy in her husband’s society, and, though he was very loth, prevailed with him. And so in due course there were born to them many sons and daughters. And then, in order to provide for their food, he journeyed to the Himalayas and digged a great tank, stocked with many kinds of fishes.
Phâre unau Srî braiâ sùimâ fudrun mâse lânanai, mùi sessâ ârù khusung nâmaibaie nâmaibaie dùi gângsù dangman. Ereau-nù Srî braiâ be fukuriau thâng-fnâng-naise. Beaunù dùi nunâ­nai lângnù nâmaibâ, nâfrâ bîkhô raidaunaise. “Afâ, nang bení dùi lângbâ, zangfùrkhô gahâm khâmnânggan.” Beaunù bî sùmai lânânai, dùikhô lângbâ, náfrâ bungnaise. “Dâ nang zangfùr­khô Loitho hâlâgî lâng.” Beaunù Srî braiâ gaigainù lauthî zang dru-dru bù-bù-bâ khîthû khîthû dùi bùhùi bùnai, ârù nâfrâ bù fai­naise. Bîbaidînù dùisâ zânaise. Obâsù unau nâfrâ Srî brai-nù lao thaise ârù khumrâ thaise hoṭaaise. Phrâ bîkhônù lâbônanai sâse khurmâ-nî nå-i-au hâpfaibâ bînù zô mîkhâm ârù ômâ mâse buthât­nânai hùnaise. Phâre okhà nai­bâ Srî braiâ be khumrâ-khô bînî khurmânù hunaise. Hùbâ bi khumrâkhô dânkhaubâ thâkâ gazâ mannânai ârù bâtî-se khâm zâhùnù lâgi omâ buthâtnaise. Ârù omâ bikhau[2] man-se dinnaise. Zâkhâng-ùi frâbùi fainù nâmaibâ omâ bikhaukhô Srî brainù hùnaise. Hùbâ ârù braiâ laukhôbù khurmânù hùnaise. Bî lau-au darbî gazâ dangman. Khintu be khorângkhô braiâ mi-thiâ. Ârù bînî khurmâ­iâ-bù bî-nù khithâ-i-â-khùise. Unau braiâ nåi-au fainaise. Ârù bîhâ nå-i-au bînî fisâzù-khô zâbrâ zânânai thânai nunaise. Bî lao ârù khumrâ-khô bînî khurmâ-khô hùlângnaikhai bîbaidî zâbrâ zânai ârù bînî khurmâiâ-bù be lao ârù khumrâ-khô lâkhmânaikhai zâbrâ gabrâp zânânai thânaise. Obâsù bînî unau nâ-frâ ozâ zâ-thî-nânai bîsùr-nî nå-i-au thângnânai gadân nai-hùi-nânai[3] khithânaise “Nang-sùr zùsâ mairong ârù goe zorâse fâthùi zorâse ârù dau mâse lânânai dùisâ-i-au hùnânai khu­lumbâ, nang-sùr-hâ zâbrâ gâgan.” Besùr bibaidi-nù khâmnânai zâbrâ gânaise. Bînîkhai dâ Bå­råfrâ dùisâ dùimâ fùrkhô khulumù. Zapbai! Now, one day the god Sri, the god of good luck, came that way with his white dog, ahunting for deer and hares and tortoises. And when he came to the margin of the tank, behold he was very thirsty. But when he stooped to drink, the fishes said to him eagerly that he must grant them a boon in return for their water. To which he assented, and when he had satisfied his thirst, the fishes said “Take us to the great river, the Brahmaputra (or Lohit).” So the god Sri tied them to his staff, and drew them after him, making runnels of water. And that is how the rivers were made. And the fishes in return gave him a pumpkin and a gourd. And, taking these with him to a friend’s house, his friend regaled him with rice beer and pig’s flesh, and in the morning he gave his friend the pumpkin. But when his friend cut open the pumpkin, it contained nothing but pure silver. So he bade the god Sri stay another day, and brewed fresh beer and killed another pig, and when he was going away gave him a flitch of bacon to take with him. So the god Sri gave him also the gourd. But when he cut open the gourd, it contained nothing but pure gold. And so the god Sri journeyed to his home. And when he got there, he found that his little daughter was very ill. And that was because he had given away the presents which the fishes had made him. But the fishes took pity on him, and came to him in the guise of physicians, and told him that if he would worship and do sacrifice on the banks of rivers, then his daughter would be healed, which he did. And that is why we Kacharis worship rivers. And that is all.

Sâse olsiâ gåthå nê khorâng. Sâse olsiâ gåthå dangman. Bî mâlai hâli oinânai mai gai zap-bâ, obâsù bî mâmâr dublîau hâli oi-hùi-dang. Phâre Bùthùr braiâ olsia gåthåkhô hâli oinai nunânai bî thângnù hâekhai, bungnaise. “Helùi gåthå, nanglai dâ mâ hâlî oidang-hùi, bùthùrâ mobâbânù thângbai. Dâ mai gaibâ, mâ zâ­bâu-nù?” Theobù bî bîkhô nai­finâ, mosôkhô bùâ dhum dhum dhâm dhâm[4] bunânai, nâtzret nât­flet bâli oibai thâiù. Unau braiâ khonle khonle sùngnaikhai gåthåâ brâp-nânai nai-gedau-nânai bung­naise “Nanglai maunî brai lùi? Âng khô hâli oinaiau be baidî sùngbai thâiù? Anghâ mâ zâdang, âng sù mithîdang.” Beaunù braiâ bungnaise “Nonggâ, lùi âfâ, âng nangkhô gahâm khorâng-sù khithânù nâmaidang!” Beaunù gåthåâ bungnaise “Mâ khorâng dang? Mâmâr khithâ! Ânghâ hâli oinù sân zolângbai!” Obâsù braiâ bungnaise “Då hâli oinânai mâ zânù? Bùthùr thângbai,” hanbâ, gåthåâ bungnaise “Bî bobething thângkhù? Mau thângkhù nang ângnù khithânanai hù. Âng mai gainù manâbâ, mâ zânânai thâng-gan?” Obâsù braiâ bungnaise “Nang âglânu mâlai zang lùgùse hâli oinânai mai gaibâ hâmgauman, dâlai bùthùr-khô sùr nunù hâgo, ârù mâbrùi bîkhô laifin-nù?” Beaunù gåthåâ bungnaise “Nang khithînânai hùnù hâbâ, âng bîkhô zerùïbâbù lâbônù hâgan.” Hanbâ, bîkhô braiâ bùlù hâekhai khithânaise “Nang bething thângùi thâbâ khårå phut-thru-thru brai sâse thokon thunânai dubli gezer gezer thangnai nugan. Obâniâ nang bîkhônù hom. Ârù bî zere khithâ-i-ù nang bebaidînù khâmdùi” hannânai, bùthùr braiâ thângnaise. Obâsù gåthåâ hâli hogârnânai nåiau fainânai bîmâ buruikhô mâmâr khâm songnù hùnânai, zâùi lângùi bîmânù khithânaise “Ai, nang gâbun fungzâ­nî khâm songnânai hù, ârù, mairong khothâse bùnnânai hù. Âng bùthùr braikhô hùs-ù-lâng-nù. nânggô. “Manâthù dinî âng hâli oinaiau brai sâse fainânai mai gainainî Bùthùrâ thangbai hannâ­nai khithânai, ârù bikhô hùsù lângbâ mangan, ârù bîzere khâmnù thinù, bebaidî-nù khâm hannânai khithâlângnai.” Obâsù buruia okhâ naibâ khâm songnânai gåth­åkhô zâ-hù-ùi lâng-hù-ùi mairong khothâse bùnnânai hùnânai gåthå­khô hogârnaise. Gåthåâ thângùi thângùi zaikhônù lùgù manù, bîkh-ônù sùngù, bîsùr bungù: “Bùthùr thângbai hannânai mithigô. Bî mâbrùi ârù bobething thâng-khù, bîkhô zangfùr khithânù hâiâ.” Beaunù gåthåâ gadau-srau zânânai bobething thângan hannânai zerenù manù erenù dubli gezer gezer thâbai baibâ gazânau brai sâse nuhoṭnaise Nuhoṭbâ bînù bù-thùr zânù nânggô nungnânai, bî-khô bungnaise “Âfâ, råthå! dåse råthå! Ang nang-ni-au manse khorâng sùngnù nâmaidang.” Theobù braiâ khnâsongâlâbâ thângùi thâiù. Gåthåâ-bù khithù khîthù thângùi thângùi khithâ-lângù. Gabauzang braiâ nai fâfin-nanai bungnaise “Mâ hekhong-hekhong sùr gåthålùi maunî lùi nanglai?” hannânai sùngbâ gåthåâ bungnaise “Âfâ brai, da brâp-lùi! ang manse dukhuau gaglâi-nânai, nangnî khâthiau faidang.” Hanbâ, braiâ “Mâmâr khithâ mâmâr khitha âng thângnù nânggô, ânghâ nåâ gazân, hor-thô hùi-gan;” hannaise. Obâsù gåthåâ khithânaise “Âfâ âng nangkhô bùthùr brai baidî nùiù. Bînîkhai nang ângkhô dâ buthât. Mâlaiâ boibù mai gaithrå-bai âng un zânanai daise bù gainù hâ-e khùise. Bînîkhai nang dåse thâng-fâfin-bâ ângha mai zagan” bungnaikhai, braia bînù khithâ-naise “Âng dâ faibai, thâng fâ-finnù hâlia, nang benîfrai mâmâr thângnânai, zese hâiù gathâng-gabrâm hâli oinânai mai gaihùithâng.” Obâsù gåthåâ fainânai zerenù manù, erenù khothiâ[5] khinî-khô gai-brop-nânai dinnaise. Zapbai! The Story of the Lazy Boy. There was once a very lazy boy. And when everybody else had planted out his paddy, he was only setting forth to plough. But the old man of the season,[27] seeing him, said “The season has gone; what are you ploughing for now? The paddy is all planted out, and it is late.” But the boy would not listen to him, and ploughed sturdily ahead, beating his cattle soundly as he went. And when the old man again and again questioned him, he cried “What sort of an old man is this? Can he not see that I am busy? I know very well what I am about.” But the old man said gently “Nay, my son: but it is for your good that I would speak to you.” And the boy said “Speak quickly then, and have done with it.” And the old man said “My son, the season is gone, what avails it to plough now?” And then the boy cried “Where has it gone? And when has it gone? And why has it gone? And how shall I find it?” But the old man of the season said “You should have ploughed when others did. The season has gone, and no man can bring it back.” But the boy said “I must bring it back, else, how shall I eat, and how shall I live? Do tell me where it is gone.” And as he would not let the god go, finally, losing patience, he said “You go over there, and you will find an old man with a snow-white head ploughing in a field. You get hold of him and do as he tells you.” So saying, he made his escape. Then the lad hastened home to his mother and bade her cook supper quickly, and tie him up some rice to take with him on the morrow, for he was going to bring back the departed season for ploughing. “For” said he “when I was ploughing today, an old man told me that the season was gone, and that if I went after him and pursued him I would find him, and that I must do as he would tell me.” So she rose very early in the morning, and giving him to eat and drink, set him on his way. And as he went, he asked all he met “Can you tell me where the old man of the season has gone?” But they said “Every one knows that the season is gone, but where it has gone, or why it has gone, who can say?” At last, when he was nearly in despair, he saw an old man ploughing afar off, and shouted to him “Stay a moment, father, stay; I want to ask you a question.” But the old man was busy, and went his ways. But the lad pursued him and never ceased calling after him till at last the old man, losing patience, turned upon him, and said “What pertinacious noisy lad is this, who won’t leave me alone?” But the lad said “Be not angry, my father, I am fallen into great trouble, and it behoves you to help me.” “Speak quickly, then,” said the old man. And the boy said “I take you to be the old man of the season, and I pray you not to slay me. All the others have planted out their paddy, and I have fallen behind, and have planted nothing. Therefore, unless you turn back, I cannot hope to get any harvest.” But the old man said “It is too late for me to return. Go you back, and plant your paddy as best you can.” And so the lad hastened back and planted out his seedlings in such heedless haste as became him. And that’s all!

Gåthå mâmra nî khorâng. The seven Champions.
Sânùi brai bùrùihâ gåthå sâse dangman. Braiâ gåthå uduibâ-nù thoi-lâng-naise. Obâsù bîmâ bù­rùiâ bîbai-nânai gåthåkhô bângai fidit-bâ gåthåâ bungnaise “Ai, âng dâ mosô gumnù hâ-sî-gô. Nå-se-au murkhiâ hâpnù nâmaiù.” Bînî bîmâ bungnaise “Âfâ fisâtlaiâ, nang âng thoiâgo mâni dukhu zânù nânggâ.” Khintu fisâ­tlaiâ bînî dukhu mon hùâlâbâ sâse nî nåiau murkhiâ hâpnaise. Phâre bîkhô murkhiâ-frâ mosô gum-zâp-nù hùâ. Obâsù sâse gurkhiâ braiâ bîkhô onnânai gum zâp-hù-naise. Phâre gurkhiâfrâ bîkhô nunù hâiâ, ârù boibù bu-i-ù. Bînîkhai unau bî thânù hâekhai, monau dukhu khâmnânai, bùidâkh-sâri lângnaise. An old man and an old woman had a son. But the father died while his son was yet a child, and the mother brought up her boy by begging from house to house. When he was big enough he begged his mother to let him engage himself as a cowherd. But she said “As long as I live, I must not let you undergo any trouble.” But the gallant boy would not listen, and went and took service as a cowherd. But the other cowherd boys would not let him go out herding with them, and hated him, and beat him, in spite of the help of a good old man who took him into his house, so, being unable to stay any longer for grief and vexation, he went away into foreign lands.
Phâre thângùi thângùi bî nâmâ-i-au Simlî Bîr khô lùgù mannaise. Phâre bîkhô bungnaise “Dau, nanglai mâ bîr lùi? Simlî bîfâng fângse mâni bân-bù-dang!” Obânù bî bungnaise; ângnù mâ bîr, lùi, âdâ? Zekhô bungù Gilâ Charan bîr, bîsù bîr!” Obâ gåthåâ bungnaise, “Bî bîrâ ângnù!” Bungbâ, obâ, “Âng nang zang thângfâgan lùi, âdâ.” Erui hannânai, bî zang thângnaise. Bebaidînù thângùi thângùi ârù Dhop Bîr khô lùgù manbâ, bîkhô bù bungnaise “Dau, be lai mâ bîr lùi? Dhop bîtâng fângse mâni hâtsingnù bân-bù-gâr-dang!” Obâsù bî bungnaise “Ang-lai mâ bîr lùi, âdâfùr. Zi Gilâ Charan bîr bî, sù!” Obâ Gilâ Charan bungnaise, “E gùi, bî lai ângnù nanggâ lùi?” Erùi hanbâ, “O âdâ, obâ âng-bù nang sùr zang thângfâgan,” hannânai bisùr zang thângnaise. Bebaidinù Bîsor Bîr, Bândor Bîr, Hâgor Bîr, ârù Oṭ Bîr boi zang bîsùr sârå bîr zânaise. Bebaidînu lùgùse thângùi thângùi sâse. Raikhô burui-nî nå man-hùi-bâ, beaunù khâm song-zâ-nù lâgi sâse bîr Raikhônî-au oṭ bainù thângnaise. Thângbâ, Raikhô bùrùiâ mânsùi nunânai zânù lubuinânai lomzâ-thî-nânai udunânai thânaise, ârù bî bîrkhô bungnaise “Âbo, ângni khâthi-au-nù oṭ dang, sukhângnânai lângfai!” Hanbâ, bî fainânai sukhângdangman. Ereaunù khathiau thânai hâkhorau zùnânai khùkhlainaise. Bîbaidi-nù gabâu zâbâ, boibo sâse sâse thângnânai, beaunù gaglai-thrå-naise. Obâsù Gilâ Charan bîrâ manse khorâng zâbai nungnânai bîau thângnânai, Raikhô buruikhô nunaise. Obâsù bî Raikhô burui khô sùbâ-khrâng hoṭ-naise. Beaunù bùrùiâ dukhu mannânai “Abo, nang ângkhô dâ buthât!” hanbâ; “Obâ ângni âgùifùr khô dîhonnânai hù.” Ereui bungnai-au-nù bùrùi zâkhlâ gongse lâbo­nânai besurkhô hâkhor-nîfrai dîkhângnaise. Phâre unau bî Raikho bùrùikhô bùthât-naise. And as he went his ways, he met Simli Bîr, the hero of the simul tree, and when he saw him he said “Ah! here is a hero indeed, seeing that you bear a whole silk-cotton tree on your shoulder.” But the other replied “Whom do you call a hero? I am no hero at all. If you want a real hero, look out for Gilâ Charan.” But the lad said “As for Gilâ Charan, why, I am Gilâ Charan.” On which Simli Bîr got leave to go with him. And as they went they met Dhop Bîr, and to him they said “You are something like a hero. Why, you are carrying a whole dhop tree all by yourself.” But the other said “My brothers, of what account am I? The man they call Gilâ Charan, he is a hero if you like.” Then Gilâ Charan said “But I am he.” On which Dhop Bîr said “Let me come with you too.” And, so saying, he too joined the party. And in like manner they were joined by other four champions, namely, Mustard, Monkey, Ocean, and Fire, six in all, besides Gilâ Charan. And when they had gone some way, one of them went into the house of a Râkshashani to beg fire for cooking. But when the old wretch saw that it was a man, she desired to devour him, and to that end lay still, pretending to be ill, and said to him in a weak voice “The fire is quite close to me. Come and blow it up!” and when he came close, she gave him a kick and sent him flying into a pit; and, seeing that he did not come, another champion went on the same quest and was treated in like fashion. Then Gilâ Charan guessed that something out of the way had happened, and went there himself; and, perceiving that the old woman was a vampire, took her by the throat and shook her well. But she cried “Do not kill me, and I will show you where your friends are.” Then the old woman got a ladder and released the two champions from the pit. Whereupon they killed her, and went on their way rejoicing.
Arù bîzang thângùi thângùi sâne Raikhô thânai thauni man-hùi-naise. Man-hùi-bâ, beaunù simlî-Bîr-khô mikhâm song-nù thin-nânai, bîsùr shikâr khâmnù thângnaise. Phâre bî khâm songnânai dinnaise. Khintu Raikho sânùiâ fainânai khâmkhô zâfainaise. Phâre bîsùr fainânai, “khâmâ hùrù?” hannânai bungbâ “E âdâfur, âng mikhâm songnù baugârbai lîfùr, manâthu âng gumâ mazâng mâse nunânai bîkhô naibai thâdangman.” Khintu Gilâ Charan bî khorângkho mithîdangman. Bînîkhai bî thâ­nânai khâm songnaise. Phâre khâm zânù lâgi Raikhô sânùiâ fainânai; “Ùi gåthå! zangfùrnù khâmâ hù lùi!” Hanbâ, bung­naise “Zangfùrnù ukhùinânai dang, nangsùrnù mâbrùi hùgan!” bungbâ “Gådå-i-au set-bâ gâkhir onkhâtnai gåthå-â-nù[6] zangfurkhô ereùi khithâiù nâ?” bungbâ, sânùikhô-bù gådå homnânai Gilâ Charanâ dubli dotse nî gazân khubui-hoṭ-naise. Obâsù bîsûr bînîfrai bekhô zânù hannânai, brâpnânai hârau-hurau hù-sù-lai-bù-naise. Obâ bîsùr-khô-bù dân-thât-naise. Bebaidînù sâ-thâm-nî-frai sârå-hâ-lâgi Raikhô bùthâtnânai, Raikhôfurnî mikhâm songnai sâṛå hânthî hingzau lâbonânai, nå khâmnânai zâbai thânaise. Zapbai! And presently they came to a place where Rakshashas dwelt. But, not knowing this, they left Simli Bîr to cook rice and the rest went hunting. And when the rice was ready, two Rakshashas came and gobbled it up, so when the rest returned, hungry, for food, Simlî Bîr said he was very sorry. He had quite forgotten to cook, being very busy watching a beautiful white butterfly. But Gilâ Charan at once saw that was only a pretext. So he bid the rest go, and, staying behind, himself cooked rice afresh. On which the two Rakshashas came up roaring, and said “Here, my son, hand over that rice.” “But,” said Gilâ Charan, undaunted, “we are hungry ourselves and have no rice to spare!” “What!” cried they “shall a scarcely weaned child speak to us like this?” and they ran at him to eat him. But he seized them by their necks and threw them a field’s length. And when they attacked him afresh, he slew them with his sword. And in like manner each of the Bîrs slew each his Rakshasha, and then each married a fair Rakshasha girl, and lived happily ever afterwards. And that’s all!

Sáse phâlângi gåthåni khorâng.[7] Sâse uduiau-nù bîfâ thoizânai gåthå dangman. Phâre âzi âzi khâli khâli bî gedet zâbâ sânse bîmânî-au sùngnaise “Ai, âglâ zangfùrhâ âfâ-i-â lai mâ maunânai zâdangman?” hanbâ, bîmâiâ hâmâ sunânai khithânaise “Namfâiâ desù desù fâlângî khâmnânai zâdangman. Bî thâ­blâ, dâ zangfrâ esebù dukhu zâiâman” hanbâ, bî bungnaise. “Uh! obâ bî hâbâ-khô âng hâiâ nâ! Bese thâkâ dang, ângnù dîh­onnânai hù!” Hanbâ, bîmâiâ bungnaise “Âfâ nang bîbaidî khâmnù nânggâ. Âng bîùi gâpùi nangnù zâhùgan. Nang mâlainî dekhuau thângnânai mâbruibâ thoibâ betbâ âng mâbrùi thâgan?” Theobù gåthå â khnâsongâlâbâ embrâ-brâ bîmâ-nî-au thâkâ bînâ-nai lânânai bastu bainaise, ârù nau gongse nâmainânai lânaise, ârù gâsenù zå zâbâ, mânsùi sânùi-sù homnânai bîmâ buruikhô khulumnânai mâlainî dekhu-au nau zang thângnaise. Bebaidînù thângùi thângùi gâmî dåtse dùi-gâthan-au naukhô khânânai, gâmî gâmi bastu phân-hù-naise. Bî gâgai nau ne-ù. Bebaidînù thâùi thâùi beau-nù sùrbâ brai burui sâ-nùi-hâ hângsù gufut mâse dangman. Bînù bîsùrnù dùi laiùi mikham songùi hùgrâ-man. Bîkhônù sânse bî gåthåâ dùi ga­thânau gagainî hângsù-bîgur-khô khùnanai din-nânai ârù mazâng sikhlâ-sâ zânânai duguinai nunaise. Bînîfrainù boi hângsù-nî girimâ brai-bùrùi-khô on-sù-nânai thau ârù bînî nau-au zî zî bastu dang, ozâinù bângai bângai hùnù homnaise. Bîbaidînù bas­tufùrkhô fânùi fânùi fân-zap-bâ nåiau fainai so-nai-khai bî brai buruinî nå-iau thângnânai thâkâ zâbrâ hùnânai, hângsù khô bîbâ, brai bùrùiâ “Erenù lâng” hannâ­nai bungdangman, khintu bî fâfù-[8]nâng zânù gînânai, brai-nî-gnâng bastu-khai embrâ-brâ thâkâ hùnânai hângsùkhô lâbônaise. Bînîfrai nau lânânai fai-ùi faiùi nå man-fai-nânai, âzibù thâiù khâli-bù thâiù bî hângsù mânsùi zâ-i-e nunânai, sânfrimbù hâmlângnaise. Bîkhônù nunânai bîmâ buruiâ mâlainîau sùngbai baibâ raubù mungbù khithânù hâiâ Khintu biaunù bùrùi sâse dangman. Bînîau sùngbâ, bî bungnaise “Âgùi, nang bîkhônù mithiâ­khùi nâ? Bî fâlângi khâmnai thângnai-au bîhâ mâbâ manse zâdang. Nang bîkhô buddî khâmbâ, mithînù hâgan.” Hanbâ, bîmâ bùrùiâ bungnaise “Khithâ-hoṛ-hai, ai bùrùi, dhorom mangan.” Hanbâ, bî khithânaise “Nang sânse sâse sikhlâsa lâbônânai nangnî gåthånî themâ nainù thin. Arù themâ naibai thânai-au-nù gâpthînânai sùng-thâng. “Nang mânù sânfrimbù hâm-lâng-dang?” Obânù bî bîkhô on-khâng-nânai bînî monau zî khorâng dang, bî khithâgan.” Hanbâ, bimâ bîbai­dînù khâmnaise. Hingzausâ-iâ themâ nainaiau-nù gâpthînânai gongrai surukhù surukhù[9] sùng­naise “Adâ-lùi, nang-hâ-lai mâ zâdang? Nang bekhô khi­thâiâbâ, âng bù khâm dùi zâiâ,” hannaikhai gåthåâ hâmâ sunânai, bînù lâse lâse khithânaise “Ang fâlângî khâmnù thângnai-i-au dâ ângnî nå-iau zî hângsù gufut mâse dang, bîkhô mânsùi zânai nudangman. Khintu bî dâ baidî-sùi-ùi-nù thâbai. Bînîkhai âng erebaidî zâdang.” Themâ nai-khângbâ be gâsenù khorâng hingzausâiâ bînî bîmâ-nù khithâ­naise. Bekhô bîmâiâ khnânânai boi bùrùinù khithâ hùi-naise lâiù. Buruiâ bîkhô khnânânai buddî hùnaise lâiu: “Nang dinî boi hingzausâkhô lâbonânai khithâ­nânai hù, bî dinî hoṛau udu-lâng-thî-nânai thâthang. Hoṛ gezerbâ hângsùâ mânsùi zânânai gagainî modaifùrkhô khulumbai thâiù. Beaunù bî hângsù bîgurkhô zuzai-mù-au sùnânai hùbâ, obâniâ mânsùi-i-nù thâ-sî-gan.” Be buddi hùnai-baidînù bîmâiâ hingzausâ-nù khithânaise, ârù hingzausâiâ bù gåthånù khi­thânânai hùnaikhai, sânse gå­thåâ khurui gongseau khârezang thauzang golainânai dinnai, ârù songor manse dinnaise. Hoṛ zâbâ bî udui-thî-lâng-nânai thâbâ, hângsùâ hoṛau sikhângnânai âkhaiau âthengau modom au-bù khepthu-bai-dang.[10] Theobù bî khet-khut khâmâ-khuise. Bînî­khai bî udu-lângmâtbai nungnâ­nai, gagainî hângsù bîgùr khô lâsehai khunânai dinnânai gâgainî modai-fùr-khô mon hùnânai khulumbâi thâdangman. Ere-au-nù srî-srî lâsehai sikhângnânai boi hângsù bîgùrkhô thâpnehai zuzai-mù-au efopnânai dinnaise. Unau bigurâ khâmnânai manâm-khang-bâ, bîkhô manâmnânai mannânai “Ângkhô mâ khâmkhù, mâ khâmkhù?” hannânai, fâtdrâp-dô gaglainánai khânggrâng-nânai thoi-hâp-nânai thânaise. Obâsù gåthåâ mâmâr fainânai khuruinî thaukhô khårå-modom-âtheng-âkhai-au hùnânai, songor zang sîpbai thânaise, ârù bîbaidînu sîpùi sîpùi thâblâ, gabâu-zang hâmâ sukhângnaise, ârù thâng-khâng-naise. Bîbaidî-nù mânsùi zânânai, sânùi-zang hâbâ khâm-lai-nânai zâbrâ dinhâ lâgi fisâ fisù zang rozo-rù-man zâlai-bai thânai-se. Zapbai! The Story of the Merchant’s Son. There was a lad whose father died while he was a child. And when, by slow degrees, he came to man’s estate, he asked his mother one day how his father got a living. But she heaved a long sigh, and at last said “Your father traded in foreign countries, my dear; and if he were alive now, we would not be in such distress now.” But he said “Ah! mother, may not I work at the same trade? Give me all the money there is, and let me too go trading.” But his mother said “Nay! my son, do not say that. While I live, even if I have to beg, you shall not want. And if you die in strange lands, what is to become of me?” But her son would not hearken to her, and, begging money from her, bought merchandise, and hired a boat, and took two men with him; and, after doing obeisance to his mother, set forth into strange lands. And at last he moored his boat at the ghat of a certain village, and sent his men out to hawk his goods. But he himself stayed with the boat. And at that ghat dwelt an aged couple, who possessed a white and beautiful swan which they cherished as their own child, and fed with their own food. And one day at midday, when men were enjoying their siesta, the merchant lad saw the white swan remove her swan dress and bathe in the river, a lovely slim maiden. Whereupon he began to pay great regard to the old couple, and gave them of his store without money. But as time went by, all his goods were disposed of, and then he went to the old people and offered them a great price for their swan. Nor when they would give it to him for nothing would he accept it, seeing that it were a sin to take a wife as a gift. So, finally he made them take much money and went away home, taking his swan with him. But when he reached home, behold the swan remained a swan, and the lad was sore vexed and lost his sleep and his food, so that his mother was in fear, and asked sundry of the villagers what might be the matter. And, finally, one of them, who was a wise woman, said to her: “Something has happened to him while he was away trading, and now you must find out what it was. And the way to do it is this: You must get a fair girl to comb his hair; and let her pretend to grieve that he is so ill, and let her cry into his hair, and to a fair maiden he will tell what he would never say to his mother.” So a girl came and combed his hair, and wept silently till the tears fell on his head, and when he asked what ailed her, said she could not bear to see him pine away. So at last he told her of the white swan, which turned before his very eyes into a lovely maiden, but that now it remained ever a white swan, though he was pining away for very love of her. So she went and told the mother, and the mother told the wise woman, who bade them get the lad to lie awake till midnight and then the swan-maiden would arise, and, assuming her maiden form, would worship her own country’s gods. And then he was to leap up suddenly and cast her swan skin on the hearth and burn it; and then of a surety she would remain a maiden. So the lad prepared a basin of oil and ashes and a yak’s tail, and did as the wise woman bade. And in the depth of night, the swan came and felt him all over with her beak. But he never stirred a whit. And then, believing him to be asleep, she stripped off her swan’s skin slowly, and prayed aloud to the gods of her own country. Then the lad got out of bed very silently, and seizing the swan’s skin thrust it in the ashes. And when she smelled the burning feathers, she cried aloud “Ah! what have you done? what have you done?” and fell senseless on the floor. But he anointed her with the oil, and fanned her with the yak’s tail, till presently her great eyes opened and he saw that she loved him. And then they lived happily ever afterwards. And that’s all!

Bîdâ bînânaunî khorâng. Sâse razâ ârù rânî dangman. Bîsùr hâ hoâiâ thoi-grù-naise. Bî thoibâ hingzauâ modomau dangman. Sânne-sù thânanai hingzausâ sâse zânaise. Ârù bîsùrhâ hoâsâ bù sâse dangman. Phâre sân-ne-sù thânânai, bîsùrnî bîmâiâ thoinaise. Thoibâ hingzausâ nî bidâiâ bîkhô gâkhîr daunânai fidet-naise. Phâ unau bîsùr zânù-gùie zâlângnânai unau gâmi gâmi bîbainânai zânânaise. Bîbaidînu thâbai-ùi thabai-ùi sâse râzâ nî nå-î-au hâp-hùi-naise. Beaunù Razâiâ onnânai bîsùrkhô bînî nå-î-au dinnai. Be dekhu-au sikhau sâ-snî dangman. Bîsùrnù râzâiâ ozainù dau, omâ, mosô, phâreo hùnânggô. Be khorângkhô gåthå-mâmrâiâ khnânânai, bîsùr-khô dânthâtnu lâgi razâ-nî-au sùngnaise. Khintu razâhâ bikhô thinnù mon gùiâman. Theobù bînî mon zang-nù thin-naise. Obâ gorai mâse emfui gongse razânîau bînânai lânânai, be sikhaufur-nî nåiau thângnânai goraikhô dâpseau khânânai dinnânai, bî emfui lânânai dor-mukhângâu srî srî zombai thâ-naise. Unau be sikhau gedetsinâ onkhârbùbâ bîkhô dân-naise. Ârù boikhôbù sâse sâse bepaidi-nù dânnaise. Khintù boinùkhrî uduisuiâ monau bângai gînânai, lâse lâse fainaiau bîkhô gahâmùi dânnù manâkhuise. Beaunù thoi-e-khai bî bîsùrnî nå gongseau bîkhô sùnânai tâlâ mârînânai din­naise. Manâthu âglâ bînî bîmâiâ bîkhô zî dânbâ-bù phongse bùâ dânnù thinlângdangman. Bînîk­hai bî bîkhô ârù dânnù hâiâ-khuise. Unau be khorângkhô razânî sigâng-au gâsenù khithâ-naise. Beaunù razâiâ sikhaufùrnî nåkhô bîsùr sânekhô girimâ khâmnaise. Beaunù bîsùr thânânai bîdâiâ binânau-khô khîthânaise “Âgùi, nang be gâsenú nå gongse gongse-ùi nainù lubuibâ, nainù hâgo. Khintu be tâlâ-mârinai-khô nang dâ kheo.” Bîdâiâ shikâr khâm­grâ-man. Phâre shikâr khâmnu thângbâ, bînânaunu sobai zang mairang zang golainânai, khurui gongseau hùlângnaiman. Bî bîk­hônu sânse mâni bâsîbai thâdang­man. Unau sân-ne-sù thânânai, bi gâsenù nå-fùr-khô kheo-e kheo-e nainaise. Khaise-au mosô, khaise-au gorai, khaise-au dau, bebaidînù nåfrimbù bî nainaise, Khintu bî kheonu hù-i-e nåkhô mon khâmnânai naiâlâbâ thânù hâiâkhùise. “Mânâthù beaubù mâ dang âng nunù nânggô;” erùi hannânai bî kheonânai naibâ, thoi-hâng thoi-hâng mânsùi sâse nunaise. Beaunù bî khulumbâ, onnânai, bî zî khithâiù, bîkhônù lânânai, muli hùnaise. Beaunù sân ne sù thâ­nânai mânsùiâ gahâm zânaise. Phâ bîbaidînù ozainù railainù ârù bînù khâm dùi hùnù homnaise. Bebaidinù thaie thaie bîsùr kho­ràng zâlainaise. Phâ unau bîdâ­khô buthâtnù lâgi sikhauâ, hing­zaukhô buddi hùnaise “Nang dînî zobrâ zâ-thî-nânai thâ, ârù khithâ: ângnù mosâ-gâkhir zâhùbâ, âng gahâm zâgan.” Bibaidi-nù bidâ­nù khithânaise. Bidaiâ khnânânai hâgrâ-bâre-au mosâ nâmai-lâng-naise. Bînî khâfâlùi[11] mosâ bîmâ mâse hâthâi-au mosô begeng nâng-phthânânai thânai lùgù man-naise. Beaunù mosâkhô sùmai lâhùnânai hâthai-nîfrai begeng-khô dîhon­naise. Unau bî mosânî gâkhir-nî khorâng khithânaikhai bî gaigai nî gâkhir ârù fisâ bù mâse hùnaise. Bekhô lâbonânai binâ­naunù hùfainaise. Phâre okhâ naibâ, sikhauâ, bî hingzaukhô sùng­naise. “Nangnù mosâ gâkhir hùfai-nù nâ?” Bî khithânaise, gâkhir ârù bînî fisâ bù mâse âdâiâ lâbodang.” Biau bî hamâ man-naise. Ârù sân­se fukuri manse-nî dùi lâbonù khithânai. Bî fukuri-nî dùikhô lâbobâ mânsùiâ thoiù. Beaunù binânauâ bidânù khithânaise, “Nang be fukuri-nî dùi ângnù lâbonânai hùbâ, âng gahâm zâgan Bebaidînù bidaiâ gorai mâse emfui gongse sùimâ mâse ârù mosâ-fisâ-khô bù lânânai thâng­naise. Thângùi thângùi bongfâng gedet fângse man-hùinânai, be bongfâng singau-nù bî zirainânai dang. Ereaunù zibaù gedet mâse bî bongfangau mânnânai gâkhùlâng-dâng, nunânai, bîkhô emfui zang dân-so-naise. Ârù dåse thânânai, ârù mâse zibaû bîbai­dînù gâkhùlângnai-au bîkhô-bù dânnaise. Bîbaidînù bî beaunù dang, obânù dau gedet mâse be bongfângau bîrbùnânai fisâ-fur-nù âdhâr hùbâ, fisâfrâ zâiâkhùise. Obâ bîmâ bungnaise; “nangfùr dinî mânù âdhâr zâiâ?” Obâ fisâfrâ khithânaise “Bongfang singau thânai mânsùikhô nang on-bâ, zangfùr âdhâr zâgan.” Hanbâ, bimâiâ “ongan” hannânai sumai lânaise. Fisâfrâ âdhâr zâkhângùi-frâ-bùi, bîmâiâ mânsùi-khô sùng-naise “Nangkhô mâ nânggô?” Sùngbâ, bî khithânaise “Ângnù bî fukuri-ni dùi nânggô.” Be dauâ fukuri-nî khorâng boikhô-bù mithînânai bînù khithânânai hùnânai bîkhô be fukuri khâthiau dinhùinaise. Be fukuri khathiau-nù fukuri-nî girimâ khunguri[12] sâse dangman. Gâthå mâmrâiâ bînî nå-i-au hâpnânai khungari zang gâsenù khorâng-bâthrâ zâlai-nâise. Obâ khunguriâ “Nang-nî khorâng-khô âng boikhôbù mithî-bai. Nang ângkhô hâbâ khâm. Be fukuri-nî dùikhô nang lâng-nù hâiâ: thoigan. Ârù nang-khô buthât-nù lâgi-sù nangnî nang-nânauâ, upai khâmdang. Nang zî mânsùi dân thârâ-lâbâ dindang-man; bî sikhâua-nù be gâsenù khôrang khâmdang.” Erùi han-nânai bisùr sânebù failainaise, ârù bînî bînânau ârù sikhaukhô dân-thât-nâise. Dânthât-nânai, bîsùr sânezang beaunù girimâ zânânai thânaise. Zapbai! Brother and Sister. A certain king died, and soon after his death his wife bare him a daughter, as she had heretofore borne him a son. And then she too died. But before she died, she bade her son “Strike hard, but once only!” And she committed her daughter to his care. And, though they lost their kingdom and were forced to beg their bread, the brother was a good brother, and took care of his sister until they came to a certain kingdom, the king of which took pity on them and kept them in his own palace. Now, in that kingdom dwelt seven thieves, who oppressed the king, so that he was compelled to send them fowls, pigs, cattle, and pigeons every day. And when the brother heard of this, he begged the king to let him go and kill the thieves. And when the king was unwilling to let him undertake the enterprise, the brother insisted, and, borrowing a horse and a sword from the king, went to the thieves’ house, and there tied up his horse and waited with drawn sword at the door. And when the eldest thief came out, he cut him down, and so in turn he cut down each of them. But the youngest of all was suspicious and came out cautiously, so that the brother was not able to kill him at one blow. So, mindful of his mother’s saying, he shut him up in one of the thieves’ houses, and put a lock upon the door. And then he went and told all that had happened to the king; who, as a reward made the brother and sister custodians of the thieves’ houses. And so they went and stayed there, and the brother said to his sister “You can go into and examine all the houses except the one that is locked.” And the brother was a mighty hunter. But before he went out a hunting, he mixed pulse and grain, and, filling a plate with the mixture, bade his sister separate the seeds while he was away. And this occupied her a whole day. And then she went and examined all the rooms in the thieves’ houses. And in some were cattle, and in some fowls, and in some horses, and so forth. But her mind was ill at ease, because she might not examine the house that was locked. “For,” she said to herself, “if I do not see what is in that house, I cannot be happy.” So she went and saw, and there she found a man half dead with his wound; and when he besought her, she pitied him, and fetched him such medicines as he required of her. So that at the end of some days he was healed, and in course of time they two fell in love with one another. And the wicked thief began to teach the girl how she should bring about the destruction of her brother. And he bade her, when her brother returned, to pretend to be ill, and to say that nothing would cure her save a drink of tigress’ milk. And when her brother heard this, he set out in search of a she-tiger. And, as luck would have it, he found a she-tiger with a bone stuck in her teeth. So, after binding her with a vow, he extracted the bone from her teeth, and then he told her what he required. So she gave him of her milk, and also one of her whelps. And then he returned home. And at dawn the thief asked the sister “Did he bring you the tigress’s milk?” And she replied “That he did, and he brought a tiger’s whelp also.” On which the thief was much discomfited. Then he bade her ask her brother fetch some water from a certain tank, well knowing that to fetch water from that tank, was certain death. On which she said to her brother “If you can only get me water from that tank, I shall certainly be well.” So the brother took his horse and a sword, and a hound, and also the tiger’s whelp, and set out. And on the way he came to a great tree and stopped to rest in the shade; and while he was resting, a huge snake came and began climbing up the tree. And, seeing it, the brother cut the snake in two with his sword; and when a second snake came, he slew that, too. And while he was still resting, a bird came flying to the tree with food for her nestlings. But they refused to eat. And when their mother asked them why they would not eat, they said “Unless you take pity on the man who is resting under the tree, we cannot eat.” So the mother bird promised; and, having fed her nestlings, flew down to the brother and asked him what he desired. And he said that he desired water from a certain tank. But the bird knew all about the properties of the tank, and told the brother. Now, near the tank dwelt a maiden, the guardian of the tank; and he entered into her house, and told her his heart’s desire. But she said to him “You must not go near the tank, for you will die. You must marry me. And as for your sister, she has disobeyed your word, and has married the thief you nearly killed, and their desire is only to be rid of you.” So they two were married, and, going to the thief’s house, slew the thief and the wicked sister. And then they lived happily ever afterwards. And that’s all!