There was once a Brahmin who had a servant. And one day when they
were going to the house of the Brahmin's mother-in-law, the Brahmin
gave his servant a bunch of plantains and other things to carry, and
said to him "Now, mind you don't eat those plantains, for I can see
just as well behind as I can in front." And, so saying, he marched
ahead. And presently the servant, getting hungry, plucked one of the
plantains from the bunch, and, holding it out to his master's back,
ate it. And this he did again and again till all the plantains were
gone. And when the Brahmin presently asked what had become of the
load, the servant said "You told me you could see behind as well
as in front. So I showed you each plantain before I ate it. And you
never said anything."
So the Brahmin went his ways speechless. Presently they stopped
to cook their midday meal, and they had got with them a few khawai
fish. But the Brahmin gave only one to his servant, and kept the rest
himself. And when he was about to eat, the servant asked innocently:
"Oh! Brahmin, do khawai fish swim about singly or in shoals?" To which
the Brahmin said: "Why, in shoals, of course." So the servant said
"Then my fish had better go with yours." And, so saying, he threw his
fish on the Brahmin's mess, which was defiled. So the Brahmin got no
dinner, and the servant ate the whole.
A little later they came across a number of simul trees. Seeing them,
the servant asked his master "And what do they call these trees,
master?" And the Brahmin (being an educated man) said "These are
sirmolu." But the servant said "Not so, not so! These are himulu," and
offered to bet five blows that it was so. And, meeting some cowherd
boys, he asked them what the trees were. And when they said "himulu"
he gave the Brahmin five blows without further question.
Next they met a drove of goats. "And what may these be, Brahmin,
these animals that are grazing?" And the Brahmin said "These be called
châg." But the servant cried "Not so, not so! These are châgali." And
the result, as before, was that the Brahmin was worsted and got
five blows.
And next they came across a flock of paddy-birds, which the Brahmin
called "Bog," but the servant "Boguli." And again he was worsted
and got his five blows. On which he consoled himself by reciting an
Assamese saying, to the effect that it is ill arguing with a fool:
"Sâg sirmolu bog ba-káran
Tinî pânch panra kîl sudâ akâran."
And when they were now come near the Brahmin's mother-in-law's house,
and the Brahmin was become very hungry, he sent his servant on ahead
to beg them to get supper ready. So the servant went on ahead and
bade the Brahmin's mother-in-law cook a duck and put lots of plantain
ashes, which the Kacháris use for salt, well knowing that his master
disliked its acrid taste. So the duck was cooked with plenty of alkali.
And when the Brahmin arrived, his meal was set before him, and he
was so hungry that he had to eat it whether he liked its savour or no.
And so in various ways the Brahmin was put to shame by his servant. So
he wrote a long letter to his brother, and, putting it in his servant's
hand, bade him deliver it. But he went a little way, until he met
a man who could read and write, and he bade him tell him what was
written in the letter. And the man read him the letter, which was to
the effect that the brother was to kill the servant. On this, the
servant tore up the letter and bade his friend write another one,
saying "Dear brother, on receipt of this letter marry my servant to
my niece without delay. I shall not be able to come to the wedding."
Taking this letter, the servant went to his master's brother, who was
much vexed, but dared not disobey. Accordingly, though reluctantly,
he married the servant to his daughter.
And, when the master came to see if his servant had been disposed
of, and heard what had happened, he set about to kill him. But his
niece got to know of the matter and told her husband, who got a calf,
and, binding it hand and foot, put it by her in her bed. And in the
night the Brahmin came, and thinking the calf was his niece's husband
sleeping by her side, killed it. And when he found out his mistake in
the morning, and learned that he was guilty of cow-killing, he bade
his niece's husband go and bury the calf in all haste. And the servant
dragged the calf into the garden and buried it with its tail sticking
out of the ground. Meanwhile, the Brahmin set to work to get himself
purged of the offence of cow-killing, and summoned the villagers
to a feast without telling them why. And when they were all seated,
the servant ran out into the garden and hauling at the calf's tail,
called out "The Brahmin didn't kill a cow, Oh, no! and