Mùkhrâ ârù Sessâ nî Khorâng.

The Tale of the Monkey and the Hare.

Mâse sessâ ârù mùkhrâ zang fisikhî man. Bîsùr sânùi zang ozainù lùgùse thâiù, lùgùse zâiù, ârù lùgùse thâbaibaiù. Obâsù sânse sâse Darrangârùi mânsùi goe thâlit lânânai, âlâsî zânù thâng­nai nâmau lùgù mannânai, bîsùr railainaise “Be mânsùi-nî goe thâlit-fùr-khô zânù lâgî zangfùr buddî manse khâmnù nânggô,” hannânai, sessâ-khô nâmau-nù thânù thinnânai mùkhrâia hâgrâ-iaù hâkhmânai thânaise. Phâre mânsùiâ manfaibâ, sessakhô nunânai, bîbân dinnânai, hùsùnaise. Hùsùbâ, mùkhraia hâgrânîfrai mâmâr onkhâtnânai thâlitfùrkhô lânânai bongfângau gâ-khù-hùi-naise. Ârù “sessâ-faigan” hannânai, thâlit goe-fùrkhô mâmâr zâ-grù-naise. Ârù thâlit bigùr buâ sessânù dinnaise.

A monkey and a hare were great friends. They lived together, ate together, and walked about together. One day they saw a man from Darrang going to a feast and bearing plantains and betel-nuts, and they said to one another that they must contrive some plan to get hold of his load. So the monkey sent the hare to wait on the road, but himself hid in the jungle. And when the man came up and saw the hare sitting on the road, he put down his load, and ran after him. No sooner had he done so, than the monkey came and carried off the plantains and betel-nuts into a tree, and, for fear the hare should return, ate them all up in a great hurry, keeping only the skins of the plantains for his friend.

Emphâre unau sessâkhô mân­sùiâ homnù hâiâkhùise ârù unau nåiau thâng-phâ-phin-naise. Obâsù sessaiâ gâbzrî-ùi gâbzrî-ùi thângnânai, fisikhîkhô lùgù man-hùi-nânai, gur thâlit bîbâ, thâlit bigùr bùa hùnaise. Bînîkhai sessâiâ brâpnânai “Bekhô bângai dukhu hùgan,” monau nungnânai, thâsobâre singau thâhùnaise. Unau mukhrâiâ bongfângnîfrai on­khâtnânai: “Sikhî lùi! sikhî lùi! hanùi hanùi gâbzrî gâbzrî thângbâ, sessâiâ brâpnânai bungnaise “Mâthù sikhî-sikhî lùi! Âng beaunù razânî khuser ne-fai-dang. Nangnù ângkhô mânu nânggô?” Obâsù mukhrâiâ nu­zâhùinânai bungnaise “He sikhî! khuserkhô ângnù thåse ù, herâ! Bese gathâu âng zâ-nai-nî;” hanbâ, sessâ bungnaise; “Âng nang-nù hùnù hâiâ. Razâ khnâbâ ângkhô bugan.” Theobù bî embrâ-brâ-bînaikhai “Zâ lùi zâ, âng nangzang hâ-liâ” hannânai, zânù hùnaise. Phâre bî zânânai, sâlâiau mânbâ “Sikhî âng thoinaise” hannânai, bâbrâp­baibâ, sessâ bungnaise “Nang gagainù dukhu mandang. Âng dâ nangkhô mâ khâmgan?” hannânai, bere jåthâ nî bâhâ sing­au thâ-hùi-naise. Mùkhrâ bù un un gâbzrînânai thângnânai ârù nu-zâ-hùi-nai-sui-lâiù “Sikhî nang mâ khâmdang, herâ” bung­bâ, sessâ khithânaise “âng razâ nî zåthâ nedang” hanbâ “Sikhî, ângnù bângai dâmnai-nù hù, herâ!” Sessâiâ bungnaise “Uh âng hâiâ, herâ; râzâ khnâbâ âng­khô buthâtgân,” bungbâ bù, em­brâbrâ “Âng lâsui-sù dâmgan, herâ,” hannânai, bere bâhâkhô âkhâi-phât-ne zang bu-zâp-naise. Obânu berefrâ mukhâng, megon, modom gasenú oṭ phop-bâ mù­khrâiâ gâp-khrau gâp-sî bâbrâp-bai naise. Obâniâ sessâiâ bung­naise: Âng dù-hùi-nù nang-nù khithâ-dangman, theobû nang kho­râng lâia. Âng mâ khâmgan?” hannânai, ârù dâpseau zîbô-gowâl-nî khâthîau thâ-hûi-naise. Azùnghâ mùkhrâ bù khîthû khîthû thângnânai bungnaise “Ârù beau lai nang mâ khâmdang, herâ?” Sessâ bungnaise “Âng razâ-lùnghâ-nî18 sâmâ-lauthî nedang, herâ.” Bungbâ “Sikhî, âng-nù bù hù, herâ! âng bângai dângnai-nî!” Bî “hùâ” hanbâbú, embrâ-brâ, dangnainânai, beaubù bî zîbô-zang oṭ-zâ-naise. Bînîfrai sessâ thângnânai photobâreau thâ-hui-naise. Mùkhrâ bù gâbzrî gâbzri thângnânai, ârù lùgù lâ-hùi-nânai sessâ-khô súngbâ, bi bungnaise: Bekhônù razânî dolâ hannânai bungù. Mùkhrâ bung­naise: “Sikhî, âng bângai uthî-nai nî, herâ!” bungbâ “Uh! âng hùnù haiâ. Razâ khnâbâ, âng-khô mâ bunggan? Nang mâbâ âbrâ mânsùi, herâ! Khorâng khithâbâ-bù khnâsonggâ,” bungbâbù, mù­khraiâ “Nonggâ, herâ, sikhî dåse buâ uthîgan” hannânai, phåtåbâ­reau bât-drumbâ, gådåhâ lâgi thrùp thângnaise. Obâsù sessâ khithânaise “Duhui thâlit zâ­nânai bîgur hùnaiâ, benù, herâ­sikhî, nang beaunù thâ-dù! Âng nangkhô khulumbai! âng thâng­naise” hannânai, bî mu-khrâ-khô beaunù gâr-lai-naise.

But when the man found that he could not catch the hare, he gave up the chase, and went home disconsolate; and so the hare went back, searching for his friend, and shouting his name. But when he found him and demanded his share of the spoil, the monkey offered only the skins of the plantains, and the hare, in his rage, said that he would have his revenge. So, first of all, he went and sat very quietly under some kachu plants. Then the monkey climbed down from the tree and began crying “My friend! my friend!” and the hare replied “Who are you calling friend? I am watching the king’s sugarcane field. What do you want?” Then the monkey came forth and said “Ah, my friend, give me a little of the cane to suck.” But the hare said “I cannot give you any. If the Raja were to hear, he would beat me.” But as the monkey grew importunate, he said “Eat, then, if you will, and don’t blame me.” But when he ate, the acrid juice of the kachu caught his tongue, and he rolled on the ground howling. But the hare only said “It’s your own fault. I told you not to.” Then he went and sat beneath a wasps’ nest. And the monkey, moaning and complaining, followed him and asked him what he was doing there, and the hare replied that he was watching the king’s cymbals. “Let me play on them, only a little!” entreated the monkey. But the hare said “I daren’t do it. The Raja would kill me.” “I will only play very gently,” said the monkey, and, prevailing by means of his importunity, clapped his hands on the wasps’ nest and broke it, and straightway the wasps stung his mouth and face and body all over, so that he rolled on the ground crying out in agony. But the hare only said “I told you not to, and you would not listen, what could I do?” And then he went away to where a gowal snake lay. And again the monkey followed him, and asked what he was doing there. And the hare said that he was watching the king’s sceptre. “Ah! let me brandish it, do,” said the monkey, and for all the hare’s warnings would seize the sceptre. Whereby he got bitten, and was in greater pain than ever. Then the rabbit went away and sat down on a marsh, and the monkey followed him once more, crying as he went, and when he again questioned his friend, the hare said: “This is what they call the king’s litter.” “Let me sit on it for a moment,” said the monkey. “I can’t do it,” said the hare, “what would the king say? I think you are a fool, my friend. I tell you not to do things and you will persist.” But the monkey did not listen to him and jumped on to the marsh and stuck miserably in the mud. And then the hare said “Now, my friend, you give me plantain skins to eat, do you? You can stay where you are. I wish you good-day. I am off.” And, so saying, he left the monkey and went his ways.

Obâsù unâù bîthîng gândâ mâse fainai nubâ, bîkhô mukhraiâ dikhâng-nù thing-dangman. Gândâiâ bungnaise “Âng-hâ ukhui-sù-dang ârù dùi-gâng-sùi-dang: âng nangkhô dikhângnù hâiâ,” hannânai, bî thângnaise.

And first of all a rhinoceros came. But when the monkey begged for help, he said that he was hungry and thirsty, and really could not stop; he was very sorry; and, so saying, he too went away.

Bînî unau ârù moesù mâse fai­nai-au bîkhô bù khithâdangman Bîbù khnâsongâlâbâ blot thâng­naise. Boinùkhrî khî-zap-au mosâ mâse ukhui-sù-nânai bîthîng thângdangman. Mùkhrâ nunânai bungnaise “He âfâ, nang âng­khô be dukhu nî frai dikhângâbâ, ârù raubô dikhângliâ.” Hannânai gahâmùi khulumnù homnaise. Theobú bî “Âng nangkhô dikhângnânai mâ mangan?” hannânai, khozo-ne-sù19 thângbâ, mukhrâiâ bungnaise “Âfâ, nang ângkhô be photobâre-nî-frai di­khângnânai hâbrùfùrkhô sù-srâ-nânai ângkhô nang zâ!” hanbâ, bî ukhui-sû-nai-khai, be khorâng-au khnâ-song-nânai, bîkhô bung­naise “Âng nangkhô zânû mon gúiâ, manâthù, bebaidî dukhuau gaglainaikhô dikhângbâ, ânghâ gahâm zâgan. Theobù nang gai­gainù zâsinânai hùnai-i-au, âng zânù hâgo,” hannânai, bînî lân­zai-khô pholau hoṭbâ, mùkhrâiâ bînî lânzâiau hombâ, dikhâng-bù-naise, mù-khrâ khîthânaise “Âfâ nang ângkhô dâniâ modom-fùr-khô gahâmui susrâ, emphâre rânbâ zâ,” hannânai sândungau dåse zåbai thâdangman. Ereaunu mosâ-iâ phâtsething naineau, bî bongfângau fât-drâp gâ-khù-naise. Mosâ bekhô nunânai, brâp-nânai, bongfâng guriaunù sânne sânthâm nebai thânaise. Bebaidî thânânai, unau khugâ sînânai, hâthai hâzîzî khâmnânai, thoithî-nânai, thânaise, ârù thâmfaifrâ khugâ-i-au brûng-brûng han-lai-nù homnaise. Beaunù mu­khrâiâ ose ose thoi-mâtbai nung­nânai bongfâng bîzô nî frai lâse lâse onkhâtbùnânai âglâ lâse-i-hai lânzai khugau sù-nai-grù-bâ-bù mosâ mungbô khâmâkhuise. Ârù unau âtheng thângse sùnânai hùnai, beaubù mungbô khâmâkhùise. Obâsù mùkhrâ bungnaise “Nang ângnî âthengfùrkhô khrem-khrem oṭnânai zâgauman, lanzai-khô khrem khrem oṭnânai zâgauman,” hannânai, rong zânânai: “Dâniâ ângnî khårokhô-nù zâ,” hannâ­nai, khugau sùnânai hùbâ, obânù mosâiâ khrem oṭ-khrep-naise. Thoibai! Zapbai!

And when a buffalo presently came, the monkey addressed him, but he, too, had other business, and went away. Last of all there came a tiger, who was extremely hungry, and to him the monkey said, “My father, if you do not help me out of this scrape, I have no help left,” and with such and such like words the monkey entreated him. But the tiger said “What good will it do me if I help you?” and was going away, when the monkey cried out “Father, father, take me out of the dreadful marsh, and then, if you like, clean me and eat me.” And the tiger was so hungry that he said: “It is not so much that I want to eat you, but if I rescue one fallen into such calamity, it will be well with me hereafter. However, as you yourself have offered yourself to be eaten, I see no harm.” So saying, he stretched out his tail into the marsh, and the monkey, grasping it, was drawn out. Then the monkey said: “Let me get dry in the sun, and when I am a bit cleaner, you can eat me.” And so saying he sat him down in the sun and waited. But presently the tiger looked another way, and the monkey slipped up a tall tree. But the tiger, being in a great rage, waited two or three days at the foot of the tree. But, as the monkey would not descend, he lay at the tree’s root as one dead, and opened his mouth with his teeth grinning, and the flies came and buzzed in his mouth, so that at last the monkey thought that of a verity he was dead. So finally he crawled down, and slowly inserted his tail in the tiger’s mouth. But the tiger never stirred. Then he felt one of the tiger’s great paws. But the tiger never stirred. Then the monkey said “Ah, you would scrunch my bones to make your bread, would you?” and danced about gaily, and cried “See if you can eat my head now,” and, so saying, he put his head in the tiger’s jaws. And then the jaws closed with a scrunch, and that was the end of the monkey. And that’s all!