Then he went off to demand the price from the debtor again, who gave him a goat which passed nothing but amber and cornelian beads, and said, “Take it carefully home.” “All right,” said he. He stayed the night at the same widow’s house, and when he was going out to stroll through the village he said, “Granny, you will be careful not to kick my goat on the rump, won’t you?” “All right,” said she, but directly he was out of sight she kicked the goat and he passed many beads. “It is a good goat,” she said, and secretly substituted her own goat for it. Her guest went off and directly he reached his house he called out, “Prepare strings for necklaces. Prepare strings for necklaces.” His children replied, “Father, we have nothing to put on the strings. What is the good of the strings alone?” “I have got beads, I have got beads,” he cried. So they prepared a winnowing basket full of threads. Then he gave the goat several good kicks on the rump, but it only passed filth and bleated loudly.
Then he went again to demand payment and was given a mallet and a piece of cane. “The name of this piece of cane is ‘Ramdia,’” they said. He set off for home and again stayed in the same old woman’s house and put Ramdia and his mallet down among the firewood, and as he started for his stroll he said, “Granny, don’t touch this cane, will you? It is called Ramdia—and you won’t touch the mallet either, will you?” “All right,” she said, but no sooner was he gone than, saying, “They are valuable things,” she touched them both. The cane wound round and round her and the mallet began to beat her. She was in terrible trouble and shouted to her neighbours; wherever she went the mallet beat her and beat her till she died.
2. Superstitions. The Lushais are an extremely superstitious race; any unusual occurrence is considered as portending some evil results. The meaning of the word “thianglo” has been already explained in [Chapter IV, para. 4]. Certain acts, dreams, or sights are universally considered “thianglo,” or unlucky, but should a Lushai see any unusual sight or hear an unusual sound he would at once consider that some misfortune was imminent and take advice from the puithiam as to how it could be avoided. The following are some of the superstitions connected with cultivation.
It is “thianglo” to find, in the proposed jhum, a gibbon’s skull stuck on a tree stump. If in burning the jhum the flames make a peculiar huk-huk sound; if the khatchhat (nightjar) calls by day, the jhum had better be abandoned. Should the jhum cutter after his first day’s work dream of water or rice all will be well, but should he dream of a mithan chasing him or tigers springing on him, he must not continue cutting the jhum, or he will certainly get very ill and probably will die. If on the site of the proposed jhum a “thing-lu-bul” is found, death will certainly claim the cultivator should he persist in jhuming anywhere near the unlucky object, which is a kind of abortive tree growth without boughs or shoots, but covered with bulbous excrescences, which sometimes remotely resemble the human form, and if cut exude a blood-red juice. Should a tree have a pendant protuberance, called “thingzang,” the jungle near must not be cut. The rubbing together of two tree boughs is thought to denote the presence of a Huai, who must be appeased by the sacrifice of a cock and hen, the sherh being hung under the jhum house with some chips of the tree. Brackish springs, known as “sa-khi-shi” (barking deer springs), are supposed to be the abodes of Huai, who are generally satisfied with the sacrifice of a fowl, the sherh being hung in a basket over the spring, but if the Huai be greedy the jhumer will fall ill, and then a pig and a dog must be sacrificed in the same manner.
The following are some of the superstitions about animals:—
A Lushai named Kela visited Aijal; on the road he met a rat, which stood up in the middle of the road and held its paws to its head. “What a curious rat!” he said. Two days after he reached his home he died. To see such a rat is certainly “thianglo.” This incident happened a short time ago; no one had ever heard of such a rat having been seen before, and the unusualness of the occurrence, coupled with the death of Kela, was, to the Lushais, proof positive of its being the cause of his death. The Lushais tell me that sometimes a muskrat will be followed by her whole family, each holding in its mouth the tail of the one in front; this they call “In tir mei kai,” and whoever sees it will certainly die. Should a bear on being shot fall on its back, and lie with its legs in the air, the shooter will die. If a bird enters the house prompt measures have to be taken to avert misfortune. The puithiam is called and the bird captured. The house is festooned within with the leaves of a certain tree, and the bird is thrown out of the house by the puithiam, who, muttering various charms, advises it to take itself off and carry its witchcraft with it. I came across, in an old number of the Outlook, a translation of a Chinese poem said to be dated about 100 B.C. in which the following occurs:—“When a wild bird enters a dwelling it portends that the human occupant must go forth.” The coincidence is curious.
The following translation of a Lushai’s reason for considering the sight of an atlas moth “thianglo” shows the origin of such superstitions. Atlas moths are rare in the Lushai hills. The “keptuam” (atlas moth) was the letter bearer between Pathian and the Vai (foreigner); and once when he was carrying Pathian’s letter to the Vai chief the keptuam made the letter into wings, and flew away and disappeared, and Pathian was much disturbed at the loss of his letter and at the disappearance of his messenger, and he made mankind hunt for the missing keptuam. Now the keptuam did not wish to be caught, so he said, “Whoever sees me will die”; but as mankind did not know this they hunted and hunted till at last one saw the fugitive and died, and so they learnt that to see a keptuam is “thianglo,” and ever since if anyone sees a male keptuam he will probably die.
Should the fowls at midnight become terrified and make an unusual sound like “i-ak, i-ak” someone will die. Should gibbons be heard hooting during the night, they have seen the corpse of someone who will fall from a tree or be drowned. As the gibbon retires to rest even before the sun sets, it must be very seldom that their shouts are heard at night. It is “thianglo” to shoot a gibbon, because at the Thimzing a man and a wife were changed into those animals. The woman at the time was dyeing blue thread, and therefore the palms of the hands of the female gibbon are black, though the rest of the body is light coloured.
The rhinoceros is also safe from attack on account of a similar belief, the folds of his skin being supposed to be derived from the folds of the cloths of persons who were transmogrified. The natural result of killing one of these animals is that all members of the slayer’s family sicken and die, but this can be avoided if the successful huntsman on his return to the village goes straight to the zawlbuk or forge and remains there a whole day and night, after which it is safe for him to enter his house, provided that he leaves his gun and haversack behind and has changed all his clothes.
It is, however, worth noticing that, though monkeys, elephants, tigers, bears, &c., are also said to have been men before the Thimzing, there is no reluctance shown to kill them, and in fact the chiefs wear plumes of the king crow’s feathers, and hornbills’ beaks decorate many a chief’s verandah.