TRANSLITERATION.

I am sorry to find that in transcribing I have wandered away from Mr. Endle’s system of marking the values of the vowels. But the differences are, in essence, very small.

The circumflex accent indicates a long vowel.

“å” is as in Mr. Endle’s Grammar.

“ù” is the guttural “u” printed in Mr. Endle’s Grammar as “ŭ.”

J. D. A. [iii]

PREFACE.

This little collection of Kachári folk-stories and rhymes is intended as a supplement to the Reverend Mr. Endle’s Grammar of the language, and as a reading-book for those who have acquired an elementary knowledge of Kachári. I have added a rough translation, thinking that these specimens of the folk-lore of a very simple and primitive people may be of interest to some who do not care to learn Kachári, and that it may stimulate others to make fuller and more successful excursions into an unexplored field. These stories were collected during a tour of only six weeks’ duration in the Kachári mauzas of Mangaldai, and cost only the effort of taking down the tales as they were dictated. Not only the Kacháris, but the other hill tribes of Assam have doubtless their stores of folk legends which have never been exploited; and it pleases me to hope that others may find it as pleasant as I have found it, to collect these fictions of the savage mind over the camp fire. The text of the stories suggests a problem which it may amuse

some one with better opportunities or more perseverance than myself to solve. It will be noticed that while the words are for the most part Kachári words, the syntax is curiously like the Assamese syntax. As an instance of this I have taken down (see page 1) an accused person’s statement in both Assamese and Kachári. The Kachári version is, literally, a word-for-word translation of the Assamese. I can think of no other two languages in which it would be possible to translate a long statement word for word out of one into the other and yet be idiomatic. The most characteristic idioms are exactly reproduced. The Assamese says mor bapáy, but tor báper. The Kachári similarly says Ângnî âfâ, but nangnî namfâ. The Assamese says e dâl láthi; the Kachári translates gongse lauthi. The Assamese says gai-pelay kalon; the Kachári khithâ-hùi-man. [iv]And many more instances will occur to any one with a knowledge of Assamese who reads these stories. Briefly, it may be said that Kachári, as it is spoken in Darrang, has a vocabulary mostly of the Bodo type, though it

contains many words borrowed from the Assamese. Its syntax, on the other hand, is nearly identical with the Assamese, almost the only exception being the use of the agglutinate verb (see page 26 of Mr. Endle’s Grammar). Even the agglutinate verb is more or less reproduced in Assamese in the use of such expressions as gai pelay. Now it is quite possible that the Kacháris, from long association with their Hindu neighbours, have learnt their syntax, while retaining their own vocabulary. A more tempting theory is that Assamese and Kachári are both survivals of the vanished speech of the great Koch race, who, we know, ruled where Assamese and Kachári are now spoken side by side; that Assamese has retained the Koch syntax, while it has adopted the Hindu vocabulary of Bengal; that Kachári has preserved both vocabulary and syntax. This theory, if it can be defended, would at last give Assamese a valid claim to be considered a separate tongue, and not a mere dialect of Bengali. It would also give an explanation of the vexed question of the origin of the word Kachári. Ârúi is a common

patronymic in the Kachári speech. As Mr. Gait has noted in his Census Report, the Kacháris have totemistic clans, calling themselves Bâg-ârùi, sons of the tiger, and so on. What more simple than that the Koch-ârùi are the sons of the Koches? So far, the problem is one of mere guesswork and theory. But there are other branches of the Bodo tongue in the Tipperah and Gáro Hills and in North Cachar, where men of the Bodo race do not come into contact with Assamese. Do the same idioms and the same syntax exist there? If not, they were probably borrowed from Hindu sources. If they do, it seems probable that these idioms and this syntax have survived not only in them, but in the Hinduised Assamese.

I had intended to draw up a list of the agglutinate verbs found in this little collection of stories to supplement that given at page 26 of Mr. Endle’s Grammar. But anyone interested in [v]the subject will find them for himself in the stories, and will learn more easily from the context than from any vocabulary what the precise shades of meaning of the interpolated particles are. They are a very curious and interesting feature of the language, and are probably found in richer abundance where the well of Bodo undefiled has not been contaminated by a mixture with other tongues.

I must not conclude without offering my hearty thanks to the Reverend Mr. Endle for his advice and help in collecting these stories, and to Samson, my tutor, who was in truth “the only begetter of these ensuing” fictions. He told me most of them and corrected all. I have no doubt he has many other primitive legends, if any one will take the trouble to write them down.

J. D. ANDERSON.

The 21st September 1894.

P.S.—There can be no doubt that the Kachári of Darrang is greatly influenced by the surrounding Assamese, though, even now, many Kacháris, and especially women, do not speak Assamese at all. There is an anecdote among the Kacháris showing the inconveniences of the bilingual state. A Kachári lad married an Assamese girl, and going to his mother-in-law’s house was given food. His hospitable mother-in-law cried to him “Khâ! Khâ!” so he bound her hand and foot. Then she laughed, seeing that he supposed her to be talking Kachári. So she said to him (in Kachári) “Zâ! Zâ!” on which he went away. I am afraid the Kachári syntax is borrowed from Assamese. [1]

KACHÁRI FOLK-TALES AND RHYMES.

An accused person’s statement in Assamese and Kachári.

Dùimâ dùisâ ni khorâng.

How the rivers were made.

Sânùi brai burui man. Phâre unau bîsur gothai brai-buruî zâlângbâ, buruiâ zingâsînânai brainu khithânaise “Brai, zang­fùrhâ zî dânai fisâfur dang, bîsùr mâ zânânai thânggan?” Erui bungbâ braia mai hu khâmnu lâgi Khubernîau thângnânai, mai sobai bîsor ârù lai-megong lâfâ megong bîfùr mânî-nî bîgot-zului bînânai nå-i-au lâbônânai sânsnî sânzât lâmâiau hoṛ thânânai, nå man-fai-nânai buruinù khitha­naise: “Ang gasenù bigot-zului lâbobai.” Phâre nå-i-au sân-ne-sù thânânai, khet khâmnù lâgi sorai fithâ-gundui lânânai hâ, nainù lâgi thângnaise. Phâre gahâm hâ, dåtse nai-ui frâbui fâtbrùi-thing-bù zurâ khânânai dinnanai nå fainaise. Unau sânse­ni-khâli khodal sekhâ, bifùr-mâni lânânai thângnânai hâgrâ eonânai ârù bî hâgrâtùrkhô saunânai hâkhô mazâng khâmnaise. Bînî­frai, sanzâ sanâp ârù sâ khùlâ fâtbrùi-thing khulumnânai khonâ brùithing phongse phongse zaunaise. [4]

Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman. And when they were quite old, the old woman said to her husband “How shall these our children get food when we are gone?” So the old man travelled afar to the great god Kuvera,26 the god of riches, and, taking from him seedlings of paddy, pulse, mustard, and gourds, journeyed for eight days and so reached his home. And after staying a couple of days, he set forth to cultivate, taking dry food with him. And first he marked out a piece of rich land by placing boundaries on all four sides of it, and so came home. And again he set out another day with hoe and axe, and cut and burned the jungle, and cleaned the soil, and after worshipping on each side of his field—on the east and on the west, on the north and on the south—he struck one blow with his hoe on each side. [4]

Biaunù hâ gasenù mannaise. Phâre baidî baidî mai ârù fîfâng megon-thaigong boikhôbù fùnânai hùnaise. Phâre hâbâ zapbâ braiâ nåi-au thângnânai zirai nânai thânaise. Obâsù âzîbù dang khâlibù dang sânse buruiâ mai nainù lâgi braikhô lùgù homnaise. Khintu braia bungnaise “Lâmâ­iau dùi gùiâ. Nanghâ dùi gâng-bâ âng maunîfrai hùnù?” Theo­bù bî brai-nî khorâng khnâsongâ­lâbâ embrâbrâ braikhô homnai­khai lâng-gnâng-naise. Phâre thân­gùi thângùi mainî hâ man-sî man-sî zâbâ, buruihâ dùi gângnânai brainù khithâbâ, braiâ bung­naise “Âng nangnù dùhùi-nù khithâ-dangman, nonggâ? lâmâ-i au gùia hannânai? Theo­bù ângnî khorâng khnâ-i-âlâbâ fainânai ângkhô dukhu hùíù. Ereùi bungbâ, buruiâ bungnaise. Dinî âng dùi man-lâng-âbâ, thoi-sî-gan. Nang âng-nù dùi hùnù­nânggô.” Phâre unau braiâ mung­bù upai mane zânânai, dùi namai-nâng-naise. Nâmaie nâ­maie fukurimanse nubâ, bî buruinî megonkhô hî zang khânânai be fukuri-hâ-lâgi

lângnaise. Ârù braiâ bungnaise “Nang be fukuri khô naiâlâbâ dùi lâng.” Khintu dùi lângbâ-rù mâbâ mâbâ dùi nî dau ârù hângsùfrâ birlai-bâ, bîkhô khnânânai, bîkhô nainù lubuinânai nainaise. Beaunù daufùrnî gele­nai ârù rong zâlainai nunânai bîhâbù brai zang rong zâlainù mon zânaise. Obâsù braiâ khâ­mâ, buruiâ âgârâ. Phâre braiâ buruinî khorâng lânù gnâng zâ­naise. Obâsù bîsùrhâ âji-bù-thâiù khâli-bù-thâiù gåthå gåthai zânaise. Zâbâ, bîsùrkhô fisînù [5]hâekhai braiâ bîsùrkhô buruinî khorângzang Hem-nî hâzô-au lângnânai beaunù fukuri manse khâmnânai baidî baidî nâ khâm­nânai dùiau hogârnânai dinbù-naise.

And when all was ready, the old man planted his seedlings of various sorts, and finally went home and rested. And so, as time went by, the old woman desired vehemently to see how the crops were getting on. But the old man said “There is no water on the road, and if you grow athirst, you will get no relief.” But she persisted and prevailed, and made her husband take her along. And as they went, and were now quite close to her husband’s field, behold, the old woman began to be very thirsty. And the old man, being enraged, cried “What did I tell you? There is no water, and yet you would come.” But she, being a woman, said “If you do not give me to drink, I shall die. So, water you must procure as best you can.” So the old man, seeing no other way, went to seek for water. And after long search, seeing a tank, he bound the old woman’s eyes with a cloth and dragged her to the water’s edge and said to her “Drink if you will, but look not upon the tank.” Now the ducks and other water fowls were playing in the

water, and were making a merry noise, clacking and quacking. And, the old woman, being curious, like all her sex, peeped at them. And, seeing them at their play, she too desired to be happy in her husband’s society, and, though he was very loth, prevailed with him. And so [5]in due course there were born to them many sons and daughters. And then, in order to provide for their food, he journeyed to the Himalayas and digged a great tank, stocked with many kinds of fishes.

Phâre unau Srî braiâ sùimâ fudrun mâse lânanai, mùi sessâ ârù khusung nâmaibaie nâmaibaie dùi gângsù dangman. Ereau-nù Srî braiâ be fukuriau thâng-fnâng-naise. Beaunù dùi nunâ­nai lângnù nâmaibâ, nâfrâ bîkhô raidaunaise. “Afâ, nang bení dùi lângbâ, zangfùrkhô gahâm khâmnânggan.” Beaunù bî sùmai lânânai, dùikhô lângbâ, náfrâ bungnaise. “Dâ nang zangfùr­khô Loitho hâlâgî lâng.” Beaunù Srî braiâ gaigainù lauthî zang dru-dru bù-bù-bâ khîthû khîthû dùi bùhùi bùnai, ârù nâfrâ bù fai­naise. Bîbaidînù dùisâ zânaise. Obâsù unau nâfrâ Srî brai-nù lao thaise ârù khumrâ thaise hoṭaaise. Phrâ bîkhônù lâbônanai sâse khurmâ-nî nå-i-au hâpfaibâ bînù zô mîkhâm ârù ômâ mâse buthât­nânai hùnaise. Phâre okhà nai­bâ Srî braiâ be khumrâ-khô bînî khurmânù hunaise. Hùbâ bi khumrâkhô dânkhaubâ thâkâ gazâ mannânai ârù bâtî-se khâm zâhùnù lâgi omâ buthâtnaise. Ârù omâ bikhau2 man-se dinnaise. Zâkhâng-ùi frâbùi

fainù nâmaibâ omâ bikhaukhô Srî brainù hùnaise. Hùbâ ârù braiâ laukhôbù khurmânù hùnaise. Bî lau-au darbî gazâ dangman. Khintu be khorângkhô braiâ mi-thiâ. Ârù bînî khurmâ­iâ-bù bî-nù khithâ-i-â-khùise. Unau braiâ nåi-au fainaise. Ârù bîhâ nå-i-au bînî fisâzù-khô zâbrâ [6]zânânai thânai nunaise. Bî lao ârù khumrâ-khô bînî khurmâ-khô hùlângnaikhai bîbaidî zâbrâ zânai ârù bînî khurmâiâ-bù be lao ârù khumrâ-khô lâkhmânaikhai zâbrâ gabrâp zânânai thânaise. Obâsù bînî unau nâ-frâ ozâ zâ-thî-nânai bîsùr-nî nå-i-au thângnânai gadân nai-hùi-nânai3 khithânaise “Nang-sùr zùsâ mairong ârù goe zorâse fâthùi zorâse ârù dau mâse lânânai dùisâ-i-au hùnânai khu­lumbâ, nang-sùr-hâ zâbrâ gâgan.” Besùr bibaidi-nù khâmnânai zâbrâ gânaise. Bînîkhai dâ Bå­råfrâ dùisâ dùimâ fùrkhô khulumù. Zapbai!

Now, one day the god Sri, the god of good luck, came that way with his white dog, ahunting for deer and hares and tortoises. And when he came to the margin of the tank, behold he was very thirsty. But when he stooped to drink, the fishes said to him eagerly that he must grant them a boon in return for their water. To which he assented, and when he had satisfied his thirst, the fishes said “Take us to the great river, the Brahmaputra (or Lohit).” So the god Sri tied them to his staff, and drew them after him, making runnels of water. And that is how the rivers were made. And the fishes in return gave him a pumpkin and a gourd. And, taking these with him to a friend’s house, his friend regaled him with rice beer and pig’s flesh, and in the morning he gave his friend the pumpkin. But when his friend cut open the pumpkin, it contained nothing but pure silver. So he bade the god Sri stay another day, and brewed fresh beer and killed another pig, and when he was going away gave him a flitch of bacon to take with him.

So the god Sri gave him also the gourd. But when he cut open the gourd, it contained [6]nothing but pure gold. And so the god Sri journeyed to his home. And when he got there, he found that his little daughter was very ill. And that was because he had given away the presents which the fishes had made him. But the fishes took pity on him, and came to him in the guise of physicians, and told him that if he would worship and do sacrifice on the banks of rivers, then his daughter would be healed, which he did. And that is why we Kacharis worship rivers. And that is all.

Sâse olsiâ gåthå nê khorâng.

Sâse olsiâ gåthå dangman. Bî mâlai hâli oinânai mai gai zap-bâ, obâsù bî mâmâr dublîau hâli oi-hùi-dang. Phâre Bùthùr braiâ olsia gåthåkhô hâli oinai nunânai bî thângnù hâekhai, bungnaise. “Helùi gåthå, nanglai dâ mâ hâlî oidang-hùi, bùthùrâ mobâbânù thângbai. Dâ mai gaibâ, mâ zâ­bâu-nù?” Theobù bî bîkhô nai­finâ, mosôkhô bùâ dhum dhum dhâm dhâm4 bunânai, nâtzret nât­flet bâli oibai thâiù. Unau braiâ khonle khonle sùngnaikhai gåthåâ brâp-nânai nai-gedau-nânai bung­naise “Nanglai maunî brai lùi? Âng khô hâli oinaiau be baidî sùngbai thâiù? Anghâ mâ zâdang, âng sù mithîdang.” Beaunù braiâ bungnaise “Nonggâ, lùi âfâ, âng nangkhô gahâm khorâng-sù [7]khithânù nâmaidang!” Beaunù gåthåâ bungnaise “Mâ khorâng dang? Mâmâr khithâ! Ânghâ hâli oinù sân zolângbai!” Obâsù braiâ bungnaise “Då hâli oinânai mâ zânù? Bùthùr thângbai,” hanbâ, gåthåâ bungnaise “Bî bobething thângkhù? Mau thângkhù nang ângnù khithânanai

hù. Âng mai gainù manâbâ, mâ zânânai thâng-gan?” Obâsù braiâ bungnaise “Nang âglânu mâlai zang lùgùse hâli oinânai mai gaibâ hâmgauman, dâlai bùthùr-khô sùr nunù hâgo, ârù mâbrùi bîkhô laifin-nù?” Beaunù gåthåâ bungnaise “Nang khithînânai hùnù hâbâ, âng bîkhô zerùïbâbù lâbônù hâgan.” Hanbâ, bîkhô braiâ bùlù hâekhai khithânaise “Nang bething thângùi thâbâ khårå phut-thru-thru brai sâse thokon thunânai dubli gezer gezer thangnai nugan. Obâniâ nang bîkhônù hom. Ârù bî zere khithâ-i-ù nang bebaidînù khâmdùi” hannânai, bùthùr braiâ thângnaise. Obâsù gåthåâ hâli hogârnânai nåiau fainânai bîmâ buruikhô mâmâr khâm songnù hùnânai, zâùi lângùi bîmânù khithânaise “Ai, nang gâbun fungzâ­nî khâm songnânai hù, ârù, mairong khothâse bùnnânai hù. Âng bùthùr braikhô hùs-ù-lâng-nù. nânggô. “Manâthù dinî âng hâli oinaiau brai sâse fainânai mai gainainî Bùthùrâ thangbai hannâ­nai khithânai, ârù bikhô hùsù

lângbâ mangan, ârù bîzere khâmnù thinù, bebaidî-nù khâm hannânai khithâlângnai.” Obâsù buruia okhâ naibâ khâm songnânai gåth­åkhô zâ-hù-ùi lâng-hù-ùi mairong khothâse bùnnânai hùnânai gåthå­khô [8]hogârnaise. Gåthåâ thângùi thângùi zaikhônù lùgù manù, bîkh-ônù sùngù, bîsùr bungù: “Bùthùr thângbai hannânai mithigô. Bî mâbrùi ârù bobething thâng-khù, bîkhô zangfùr khithânù hâiâ.” Beaunù gåthåâ gadau-srau zânânai bobething thângan hannânai zerenù manù erenù dubli gezer gezer thâbai baibâ gazânau brai sâse nuhoṭnaise Nuhoṭbâ bînù bù-thùr zânù nânggô nungnânai, bî-khô bungnaise “Âfâ, råthå! dåse råthå! Ang nang-ni-au manse khorâng sùngnù nâmaidang.” Theobù braiâ khnâsongâlâbâ thângùi thâiù. Gåthåâ-bù khithù khîthù thângùi thângùi khithâ-lângù. Gabauzang braiâ nai fâfin-nanai bungnaise “Mâ hekhong-hekhong sùr gåthålùi maunî lùi nanglai?” hannânai sùngbâ gåthåâ bungnaise “Âfâ brai, da brâp-lùi! ang manse

dukhuau gaglâi-nânai, nangnî khâthiau faidang.” Hanbâ, braiâ “Mâmâr khithâ mâmâr khitha âng thângnù nânggô, ânghâ nåâ gazân, hor-thô hùi-gan;” hannaise. Obâsù gåthåâ khithânaise “Âfâ âng nangkhô bùthùr brai baidî nùiù. Bînîkhai nang ângkhô dâ buthât. Mâlaiâ boibù mai gaithrå-bai âng un zânanai daise bù gainù hâ-e khùise. Bînîkhai nang dåse thâng-fâfin-bâ ângha mai zagan” bungnaikhai, braia bînù khithâ-naise “Âng dâ faibai, thâng fâ-finnù hâlia, nang benîfrai mâmâr thângnânai, zese hâiù gathâng-gabrâm hâli oinânai mai gaihùithâng.” Obâsù gåthåâ fainânai zerenù manù, erenù khothiâ5 khinî-khô gai-brop-nânai dinnaise. Zapbai! [9]

The Story of the Lazy Boy.