The marriage customs of this people are very curious and interesting. Some among them at the time of marriage consult astrologers. When a man and a girl think of marrying, they meet, without consulting their parents, at some place—a market, if there be one near—in order to sing witty songs, in which test the man is required to excel his fair rival. If he is beaten in this contest by the maiden whose hand he covets, he runs away in deep shame at his defeat; but if he wins, he seizes her by the hand and takes her to his home without further ceremony, but usually accompanied by a female companion. If the man has had some previous knowledge of the girl’s superior attainment in singing, he sometimes bribes the maiden’s companion to declare him the winner in the singing competition.
Another means of wife-winning is by courting her in the house of her parents, to which free access is readily gained by presenting the girl’s nearest relative living in the house with a pig’s carcass, a present called in their language phudang. When the marriage ceremony takes place, the bridegroom, if rich enough, kills a buffalo or a pig, which is presented to the bride’s parents, a native coin fixed on its forehead. Among the lower people, the parents of the bride seldom know anything about the marriage till the return of the girl from her captor’s house. Then the marriage ceremony takes place. The [[11]]friends and relatives assemble in some spacious courtyard, each bringing a present of a basket of rice, a bottle of murwa or arrack. The bridegroom then beats a drum, to the music of which the bride dances, outsiders also taking part in the dance. This over, a Phedangba priest conducts certain religious ceremonies beginning with the following mantra: “According to the commands handed down to us from ancient times and the doings of the patriarchs, we bind our son and daughter to-day in marriage.”
As the priest repeats the formula, the bridegroom places his palm on that of the bride, holding at the same time a cock, and she a hen, which they afterwards hand over to the Phedangba. When the above formula has been recited, the fowls’ throats are cut, and they are thrown away for any one to pick up and keep, and the blood is collected on a plantain leaf, and from it omens are drawn. In another leaf is some vermilion paint, in which the bridegroom dips his middle finger, which he passes across the forehead of the priest to the tip of the bride’s nose. The bridegroom then says, “Henceforth, maiden, thou art my wife;” and shouting repeatedly, “Maiden, thou art my wife,” he puts a vermilion mark on her brow.
The following morning the priest invokes some friendly spirit, and says to the newly married couple, “You two should henceforth live as husband and wife as long as you remain on this earth;” to which the parties suitably reply, “We will do as you command.” Unless this period of a lifetime is mentioned, the marriage is held to be unlucky; and to make it fortunate further ceremonies, which open new sources of profit for the priest, are considered necessary.
At the marriage feast, where first murwa is served to each guest, the meat is generally pork, and finally a dish of rice is presented to every one of the party.
When the marriage ceremony is over, the bride, released from her captor’s hands for the first time, returns to her parents, who are supposed to have been in ignorance of the previous proceedings. Two or three days after her return comes a go-between, or parmi,[20] to settle differences with the bride’s parents. He brings, as a rule, three things—a bottle of arrack, the carcass of a pig, and a silver coin, as presents to the bride’s parents. Just as he is about to make them the presents, they are bound to fly into a passion and threaten [[12]]to beat him, whereupon he entreats them not to do so, and tries to pacify them with the present of another rupee. Then they ask him in an angry tone, “Why did you steal away our daughter?” and such-like questions. When their anger has subsided, he pays the price of the bride, which, according to the wealth of the groom, varies from Rs. 10 to Rs. 120, or the equivalent; but in all cases a pig is an indispensable part of the price. Then a further present of usually Rs. 12, or its equivalent, is made to the soffas (subahs) and village headmen.
This present is known in Limbu as turayimbag, meaning satisfaction to the parents for stealing their daughter; and though it is really due to the bride’s parents, it is nowadays appropriated by the village officials.
Like the Tibetans, the Limbus present white cotton khatag to all who are interested in the marriage. When the time comes for delivering up the bride to the parmi, the parents must say, “Oh, our daughter is lost! She is not to be found! Some one must go and find her!” Then a couple more silver coins are paid, and one of the relatives discovers the lost bride, who has usually hidden herself in the storeroom, and she is handed over to the parmi. Nowadays, however, it is more common for the bride to come forth of herself as soon as the money has been paid, but not before.[21]
November 15.—The villagers tried to dissuade us from attempting to cross the passes where the paths were hidden by the snow, saying that it would be more convenient to stay at Ringbi, where provisions were easily procurable. If I remained here, however, various reports would be spread to prejudice the frontier guards of Tibet against us, and we would, moreover, be unable to ascertain when the snow should have hardened sufficiently to admit of our setting out on our journey, as the passes were three or four days’ march from the village. We determined to try the Yampung la, which still remained free from snow. Our coolies gave the villagers to understand that we shikaris (for Phurchung, with his fowling-piece and load of cartridges, was enabled to pass us off as such) had very little to do with the passes, except for going to Kangpa-chan, where game [[13]]was more abundant: if we failed entering Namga-tsal, we should most probably return by Jongri to Darjiling.
We passed behind the village, where there are some tall cypresses and a solitary juniper tree, which the people erroneously call chandan, or sandal wood.[22] A short distance from the village we passed the road leading to Dechan phug, “the cavern of bliss,” a huge rock, the hollow in which is haunted by numerous demons and evil spirits. Now and then we saw Limbus making bamboo mats or collecting osiers to thatch their houses. The road along the river was easy, the rills falling into it bridged, and the steep banks carefully crossed by stone dykes, while steps were cut in the rocks where necessary.