As a sample of the second class of tale, the following story regarding the origin of the Tui-chong river, which joins the Kurnaphuli, near Demagri, may be taken:—
Nine miles from Demagri, on the Lungleh road, the traveller has to cross the Tui-chong river, one of the largest tributaries of the Kurnaphuli, on which Chittagong stands. This river, according to the Lushais, owes its origin to the self-denial of a girl called Tui-chongi, who, with her little sister Nuengi, was walking on the hills whence the river rises. It was April, and the sun blazed down on them. Nuengi began to cry for water. “How can I get you water on the top of a hill? Don’t you know that all the springs are dry, for are not the jhums ready to be burnt?” “Water, water, or I shall die,” wailed Nuengi. “Would you rather have water than me?” asked Tui-chongi. “If I don’t get water, I shall die, and then of what use would you be to me?” replied the spoilt child. So Tui-chongi, to satisfy her youngest sister’s thirst, changed herself into a river, and Nuengi drank and was satisfied. But the water flowed down among the hills and burst its way into the country of the Bengalis. The king of the Bengalis was astonished to see so mighty a river flowing past his palace, and sent some of his people to find out whence it came. They journeyed many days, till at length they reached the source of the stream, and there sat Nuengi, who, now that her thirst was satisfied, would gladly have had her sister back again to show her the way home. The explorers were astonished to find so beautiful a maiden sitting thus in the middle of the jungle, and decided that it would be wise to take her back to their master, who liked pretty girls. So Nuengi was added to the harem of the king of Chittagong, and in time became the mother of a most lovely boy. The king’s chief wife, on seeing the child, thought to herself, “If my lord sees this jungle woman’s brat, he will assuredly love her more than me who am childless.” So she had the child thrown into the river, which flowed under the palace windows, and frightened Nuengi into keeping silence on the matter. Tui-chongi, however, in spite of the change in her circumstances, remembered her little sister, and cherished the child so that he grew and throve. In the same way six more children were born and thrown into Tui-chongi’s fostering arms. When they were grown up Tui-chongi told them the circumstances of their birth, and sent them to dance on the roof of their father’s palace, who, hearing the noise, came out to see the cause of the disturbance. When he saw seven handsome young men he was much astonished, and asked them who they were. “We are your sons,” they replied. “Why do you lie to me?” said the king; “liars have short lives in my kingdom.” “Nay, O king, we lie not; we are Nuengi’s sons”; and they told him their story. So the king smote off the head of the bad queen, and installed Nuengi in her place.
Of the third class the following are good examples, and admirers of Uncle Remus will be reminded of the doings of “Brer Rabbit and the other animals.”
The Tale of Granddaddy Bear and the Monkey.
The Monkey made a swing and was always swinging in it. One day Granddaddy Bear saw him and said, “Oh, Monkey, let me have a swing.” The Monkey replied, “Wait a minute till I have hung it more securely.” Then he climbed up and bit the cane nearly through and jumped down again crying out, “Come on, Granddaddy Bear, have a swing.” The bear got in and swung, the cane broke, and he fell down. The Monkey, intending to eat him, had gone and fetched some cooked rice (to eat with the bear’s flesh). But though Granddaddy Bear fell down he was not killed. The Monkey, being terribly afraid, said, “Oh, Granddaddy Bear, hearing you had fallen I brought some rice for you,” and gave him all he had brought.
The Bear’s Water Hole.
The Bear made a dam to collect water, and put the Monkey to watch it. Every sort of animal came crying, “I am dry. Who has water which he does not want? I am dry.” The Monkey always said, “The water belongs to Granddaddy Bear. If you dare to drink, drink; if you dare to suck, suck it up.” Then the Tiger came along, saying, “I am dry. Who has water which he does not want? I am dry.” The Monkey replied, “It is my Granddaddy Bear’s water. If you dare to drink, drink; if you dare to suck, suck it up.” The Tiger drank it all; he sucked the place dry. Then the Monkey went to the Bear and said, “Oh, Granddaddy Bear, the Tiger has drunk your water!” So the Bear rushed up and began to fight with the Tiger. They fought a long time and both died, and the Monkey took their bones. “Whose ever bones will sound, whether my Granddaddy the Tiger’s or Granddaddy the Bear’s,” he said, and so, taking the bones which would sound, he made a rotchem (see [Chapter II, para. 6]) out of them and he sat in the fork of a tree and played on it. The Quail, hearing the sound, came up. “Hallo, Monkey! let me play for a bit,” he said. “Oh, ho!” said the Monkey, “you will fly off with the rotchem.” “If you fear that,” said the Quail, “hold me by the tail.” So the Monkey held him tight by the tail, and off he flew, but the Monkey pulled his tail clean out. Then the Quail came and begged for his tail, saying, “Do give me back my tail.” But the Monkey replied, “You can ransom it by paying eight mithan.” “Oh,” said the Quail, “if I have to pay eight mithan for it, I’ll just remain tailless,” and flew away.
The following tale is interesting as showing the great prestige the Tipperah chief enjoyed among the Lushais, who call him “Rengpui.” There are many versions of this tale, some of which are very long. I have been obliged to abridge it considerably.