In conclusion, I reproduce one of the songs which the women sing as
they are carrying the basketfuls of earth or stones at their work;
in the original each line consists of two parts, the last words of
which sometimes rhyme with each other:
Our mother Nerbudda is very kind; blow, wind, we are hot with
labour.
He said to the Maina: Go, carry my message to my love.
The red ants climb up the mango-tree; and the daughter follows
her mother's way.
I have no money to give her even lime and tobacco; I am poor,
so how can I tell her of my love.
The boat has gone down on the flood of the Nerbudda; the
fisherwoman is weeping for her husband.
She has no bangles on her arm nor necklace on her neck; she has
no beauty, but seeks her lovers throughout the village.
Bread from the girdle, curry from the _lota_; let us go, beloved,
the moon is shining.
The leaves of gram have been plucked from the plants; I think
much on Dadaria, but she does not come.
The love of a stranger is as a dream; think not of him, beloved,
he cannot be yours.
Twelve has struck and it is thirteen time (past the time of
labour); oh, overseer, let your poor labourers go.
The betel-leaf is pressed in the mouth (and gives pleasure);
attractive eyes delight the heart.
Catechu, areca and black cloves; my heart's secret troubles me
in my dreams.
The Nerbudda came and swept away the rubbish (from the works);
fly away, bees, do not perch on my cloth.
The colour does not come on the wheat; her youth is passing,
but she cannot yet drape her cloth on her body.
Like the sight of rain-drops splashing on the ground; so beautiful
is she to look upon.
It rains and the hidden streams in the woodland are filled (and
come to view); hide as long as you may, some day you must be seen.
The mahua flowers are falling from the trees on the hill; leave
me your cloth so that I may know you will return.
He went to the bazar and brought back a cocoanut; it is green
without, but insects are eating the core.
He went to the hill and cut strings of bamboo; you cannot drape
your cloth, you have wound it round your body.
The coral necklace hangs on the peg; if you become the second
wife of my husband I shall give you clothes.
She put on her clothes and went to the forest; she met her lover
and said you are welcome to me.
He went to the bazar and bought potatoes; but if he had loved me
he would have brought me liquor.
The fish in the river are on the look-out; the Brahman's daughter
is bathing with her hair down.
The arhar-stumps stand in the field; I loved one of another caste,
but must give him up.
He ate betel and coloured his teeth; his beloved came from without
and knew him.
The ploughmen are gone to the field; my clever writer is gone to
the court-house.
The Nerbudda flows like a bent bow; a beautiful youth is standing
in court. [286]
The broken areca-nuts lie in the forest; when a man comes to
misfortune no one will help him.
The broken areca-nuts cannot be mended; and two hearts which are
sundered cannot be joined.
Ask me for five rupees and I will give you twenty-five; but I
will not give my lover for the whole world.
I will put bangles on my arm; when the other wife sees me she
will die of jealousy.
Break the bangles which your husband gave you; and put others on
your wrists in my name.
O my lover, give me bangles; make me armlets, for I am content
with you.
My lover went to the bazar at Lakhanpur; but he has not brought
me even a _choli_ [287] that I liked.
I had gone to the bazar and bought fish; she is so ugly that the
flies would not settle on her.