The dog curls himself on the ground at the front of the house, the cat wanders off to join some village cronies, and all is silent in the village, except the rustling of the Coconut fronds overhead, the monotonous call, “Wuk; chok-chŏ-tok,” uttered by a small owl in one of the higher trees, and the more distant chorus of the frogs in the adjoining rice field.
Now and again we hear at some villages the long-drawn, human-like cry, “Hōō, hōō, hōō,” of a large Wood-Owl (Syrnium indranee), that is flying round high in the air, and answering its distant mate. It is a weird unearthly sound, which is always firmly believed by the villagers to be uttered by demons, as will be noticed in some of the stories.
The earliest cry of the morning is the deep booming note, three or four times repeated, of the large Ground Cuckoo (Centrococcyx rufipennis), which is heard soon after dawn appears. Our host’s wife is at work before daylight, scraping into shreds the kernel of a half coconut, and preparing some milk-rice—rice boiled in milk made by squeezing grated coconut in water until the latter assumes the colour of milk.
By sun-rise, the Crows of the village are astir, and the Parrakeets, commonly called “Parrots” in the East, which have been sleeping in the coconut trees, fly away in parties in search of food.
The notes of the double kettle-drum at a neighbouring wihāra, or Buddhist temple, consisting of three deep-toned strokes at short intervals, followed by five rapid blows on a higher key, once repeated, the whole series being many times sounded, now announce to the villagers within hearing that this is one of the four Pōya days of the month, the Buddhist Sabbath, kept at each of the quarters of the moon.
About an hour later, our host’s wife is joined by a party of eight or ten women, and one or two men, all dressed in clean white clothes. They proceed to the temple, each carrying in a small bowl a present of milk-rice and a few cakes, covered with a white cloth. There they chant three times, after the resident monk, the Buddhist creed, “I go to the Buddha-refuge, I go to the Faith-refuge, I go to the Community (of Monks)-refuge”; this is followed by some more stanzas in the ancient language, Pāli, after which they return, and resume the ordinary occupations of the day.
Our host is about to leave his room after his night’s rest, when the chirp of a little pale-coloured House Lizard on the wall causes him to turn back suddenly, in order to avoid the evil influences against which the wise Lizard had uttered its warning voice. He occupies himself in the house for a short time longer, and then, at a luckier moment, makes his appearance afresh, taking care to step over the threshold with the right foot first.
He is cheered by finding that nothing obstructs his way in the least after he comes out, and that we are the first living beings on which his gaze rests. To begin the day by seeing first a person of superior status is a lucky omen of the favourable character of the rest of the day, and one with which he is not often blessed. We increase the auspicious impression by a few judicious friendly remarks; but are careful not to offer any decided praise regarding any of his possessions, since we are aware of his opinion that one never knows if such sayings may not have a reverse effect through the malevolence of jealous evil spirits. There is an Evil Mouth, as well as an Evil Eye.
A man or two, and a few boys, come from the adjoining houses to watch our doings, from the open space in front of the house, or the veranda; but all turn their faces away and ignore us from the moment when we sit down to our “early tea,” and until it is finished. This is done so as to avoid any risk of our food’s affecting us injuriously, owing to a possible glance of the Evil Eye, which a person may possess without being aware of the fact.
We notice a little copper tube slung on the right upper arm of our host’s wife, by means of a yellow thread which passes through two rings on its under side. In reply to our carefully worded inquiry regarding it, he informs us that as she had been troubled with evil dreams they had thought it advisable to get a friend of his, a Vedarāla or doctor, who was acquainted with astrological and magical lore, to supply her with a magical diagram and spell against dreams, inscribed on a strip of dried palm leaf, which was rolled up and placed in the tube. The thread, a triple one, was coloured with saffron, and nine knots were made on it before it was tied on her arm, a magical spell being repeated as each knot was made. Thanks to this safeguard the dreams had ceased, but it was considered advisable not to remove the thread and charm for a few weeks longer.