Tales From My Hills...

AUTHOR’S NOTE

A part of my childhood was spent in the heart of the hills whenever I went to spend my holidays with my grandparents. I remember the green hills, the silent valleys and the clear blue sky that were so much a part of the simple life. In the hills, it was the tradition of every household to gather around the hearth and discuss the happenings of the day, and as the night deepened, the telling of these folk tales would begin.

It is interesting to note that these stories are narrated as any other story would be, but the dialogues between two people would be narrated in verse form, in a tune that suited the situation in the tale. This does add atmosphere to the story and of course, the language sounds very courtly.

Tales vary from place to place, and from narrator to narrator. Since these tales have been passed down from generation t generation to the next by word of mouth, one cannot say that the narrator has made a mistake. I have heard up to three versions of the same story but found all three of them immensely interesting.

The hills are simple, and so are the hearts of the people who live there. That is why we commonly find the traditions in the hills greatly influenced by these tales. The folk tales are simple with some having just basics of a good story, while others carried a message that dealt with basic courtesy, right manners and just a hint of morality.

With the passage of time, many of these tales have been lost and with them, an irreplaceable part of our heritage. I have tried to retell some of these tales in this book so that at least some of them remain to be retold to our younger generations. I must admit however, that much of the beauty is lost when one reads these tales rather than listening to them. I was lucky to have been able to hear them in the heart of the hills, with the cicada’s song in the background and the long black shadows thrown on the walls by oil lamps. I have tried to portray this atmosphere in the last story in this book, “Seebay – My Mystery Bird.”

My grandfather told me these tales first. When he passed away, my grandmother retold them for me. I forgot them as I got busy with growing up, until one day, I heard one of the tales while sitting around a campfire in the hills. The narrator of this fable was quite old and wrinkled. His gnarled hands and bent back told a tale of hard life. He had come from the village above the camp site with our supplies, and had stayed back for a drink. As he told us the story, he smiled and his eyes twinkled. In him I could see the spirit of our people come alive. A spirit that is tough yet caring, mischievous, romantic and free. The spirit that blows with the winds and laughs with the rivers, flowing through the mountains and valleys.

With the heartfelt hope that this spirit may live forever in our hearts, this book is a token of affection to all the people of the hills.

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contents

1. how the lizard came into this world
2. the treaty of samendin
3. the tale of the cat and the tiger
4. chari buthlae (bird feathered)
5. the story of the last sokpa

6. all about a pig’s nose

7. the story of the bean

8. the princess and the leaf

9. planting salt

10. the moon, a cobbler and some flour

11. the magnolia and the bamboo

12. the halaeso, dhanase and khocheelepa

13. the story of the pillar of pots

14. the birch and the rhododendron

15. the eagle brother (garude meeth)

16. the butter and the frog

17. the creator and the milk sellers

18. tale of the centipede and the god son

19. how the bear lost its tail

20. seebay – my mystery bird

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HOW THE LIZARD CAME INTO THIS WORLD

Long ago, in the far off hills, there lived a man with two wives. Though the man worked hard, they never had enough money to live in comfort. The elder wife, a plain, hard working woman, would often say, “If we all do our share of work, I’m sure we would prosper.”

“What do you mean by that,” the younger wife would retort, “Just because you are plain, I don’t see why I should not try to make myself beautiful. That you are jealous of me is clear.” She was immensely proud of her looks and especially her long black hair. Not a single day would pass without this lady oiling out her tresses and combing them for hours. Whenever the elder wife got angry with her for spending too much time tending her tresses, the younger wife would toss her head and say, “Don’t you know that long, black hair is a symbol of prosperity?”

“Prosperity indeed! If you did not waste so much time on your appearance, then perhaps you cold help,” the elder wife would snap. “You are jealous of me, you plain, ugly woman,” the younger one would scream, and then they would start bickering and arguing, while the poor husband went into the forest to look for some peace and quiet.

Once, the wives quarreled for two whole days, and the husband, tired of the constant arguments, decided to do something about it. He gathered all the money he saved and calling his two wives, said, “I have decided to go to a distant land and earn enough money for the three of us. While I am away, look after the house and please don’t quarrel amongst yourselves.” Saying this, he divided his meager savings into three parts. Picking up his share, he set off towards the setting sun. The younger wife tossed her pretty head and taking her share of the money, set out for her parents’ house.

The elder wife sadly shook her head after the departing figure, and stayed home. With no one to quarrel with, she found that she could devote more time to the household affairs. With her share of the money, she bought a pair of goats and began to sell their milk. Their fields, that had so far been barren, soon began to yield vegetables and roots. Slowly the elder wife began to see better days. She now had five cows, a neat and clean hut, a beautiful garden, and fields that yielded crops aplenty. She also had a couple of farm hands to help her. Many years passed, but there was no sign of her husband. Patiently she waited for him to return.

Meanwhile the younger wife, who had gone to her parents’ place, was having a wonderful time as well. Her parents had died a year after her coming, and had left their daughter a tidy sum and a beautiful house. But unfortunately for the lazy woman, there was no one to tell her to work and earn. So all she did was sit in the sun and comb her hair. The farm began to show signs of neglect, but the young woman was having a wonderful time and did not notice. Weeds overran the garden, the livestock died, the fields lay barren; but she did not care. She was so happy that she could now spend days admiring herself in the mirror, and nobody would tell her to work.

In the distant land, the man had done quite well, and decided that he now had enough money to live in comfort and to provide for his wives. Collecting his earnings, he started homewards, wondering how his wives fared.

When he reached his house, he stopped, hardly believing his eyes. There, in the place of his broken down hut, stood a neat little cottage. Busy farmhands worked in the fields. Surprised, he walked to the gate and looked around uncertainly. Then he saw his elder wife, busily weeding the pretty garden. She too espied him and welcomed him. He was very pleased by her hard work and how she had brought such good changes in the farm. Looking around, he asked for his younger wife. Sadly, the elder one told him how she left for her parents’ place as soon as he departed.

The next afternoon, the man decided to go and see his younger wife. He walked on till he reached her village, and made his way towards her house. When he arrived, he stood rooted on the spot because this is what he saw: the roof had caved in, the fence broken down, the garden choked with weeds. There was his wife sitting in the sunshine, oiling her hair. She turned and saw her husband standing there, and happily ran to greet him. The man was however, not pleased to see her. He could see that she had done nothing but waste her time in making herself look beautiful. He thought about how hard his elder wife had worked and of the troubles he had faced in a distant land, all while this vain and lazy woman basked in the sun.

Stepping back, he cursed her, “Since you love to sit in the sun and do nothing except oil your hair, may you turn into a creature so ugly that no one will ever give you a second glance!” Being a son of the hills and having gained the blessings of his ancestors, the man’s words took effect at once.

The lovely young wife was transformed into a lizard. Her shiny black hair vanished, and all the oil she had applied on the hair now glistened on her ugly back. Looking here and there, the lizard, true to the nature of the younger wife, ran out into a patch of sunlight and sat there basking in the sun.

The man turned around and went home to his good elder wife, where he spent the rest of his life in happiness.

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AFTERWORD

This book is just an example to illustrate our rich cultural heritage. I would ask the younger generations of the hills to understand how fortunate we are to have been born under the graceful waterfalls and the looming mountains.

That we may never forget our true identity, that we may never forget our free spirit and that we may never forget ourselves; to be lost along the winding path that has been leading us towards the age of modernization. Lest we forget our roots, let us pledge to keep the tradition and the spirit alive down the ages, always proud of what we are.

- Smrithi