Story 87 - The Foolish Man

IN a certain country there are a woman and a man, it is said. There are two daughters of the two persons. They gave one daughter [in marriage]. The man at the place where they gave the daughter had suitable things.

A very rich man having come, asked the other daughter [in marriage]. Then the girl’s father said,

“I will not give her to you; the lineage (wanse) of your people is not good.”

After that another man came and asked. The man had nothing; his lineage alone was good. The girl’s mind was to go to the man who formerly came and asked, [but she was given to the second one].

Well then, when the girl [after her marriage] is without [sufficient] to eat and to wear, one day the girl’s father went to see the girl. Afterwards, having given the man sitting accommodation,^[1] and got the fire together, and put a potsherd on the hearth, she put tamarind seeds in the potsherd, and they began to fry, making a sound, “Kas, kas.”

Then the girl’s father says,

“What, daughter, are you frying ?”

The girl said,

“Father, I am frying our lineage, [the only thing we possess].”

After that, anger having come to the man, he got up, and came to his village. Having come there, on the following day, he went to the place where the other daughter is.

When he went there, the daughter, having cooked the sweetmeats called Wellawaehun for the father, gave him to eat. He had not eaten them since he was born.

That day, having eaten, when he was coming to his village saying and saying,

“Wellawaehun, Wellawaehun,”

in order not to forget the name of them, his foot struck a stone that was on the path.

Then the man was caused to exclaim “Hobbancodi”^[2]; “Wellawaehun” was forgotten. From there until the time when he comes to his village, having come saying and saying “Hobbancodi, Hobbancodi,” he says to his wife,

“Bolan, to-day in our girl’s quarter I ate Hobbancodi. The taste is very good; you cook them, too.”

Thereupon the woman says,

“Ane ! I have not even heard of them since I was born, so how shall I cook them ?”

Then the man, saying and saying,

“What, Bola ! Strumpet ! Do you say you don’t know ? I ate them now, and came.”

While the two old people are quarrelling about this, men of the village having come, a man said,

“She indeed is doing all this, bringing her mouth like a Wellawaehun roll.”

“There ! I [meant to] say those indeed,”

the man said.

After that, they two, having joined together, cooked five Wellawaehun rolls. Thereupon the man said,

“There are three for me, two for you.”

The woman, too, said, " There are three for me, two for you.” They two being unable to divide these, made an agreement, that is,

“Let us two remain without speaking. For the person who speaks first there are two,”

they agreed.

Being satisfied with it, having shut the door, they lay down. While they are lying down thus, perceiving that there was not any sound of them, the men of the village came, and having spoken to the door, finding that there was no sound they said,

“These will have died.”

Having split open the door and gone into the house, at the time when they looked they remained as though dead.

After that, in order to carry them to bury, men tied their hands and feet. The man, while they are tying his feet, having got hurt, said,

“Uwah.”

Thereupon the woman said,

“There are two for you.”

Scolding and scolding these two persons for their act, the men went away.

The first part of this story belongs to the North-western Province; the middle part is found in the Western Province also, to which, also, the latter part belongs.

 

Note:

In The Orientalist, vol. i, p. 237, Mr. H. White mentioned that a story about the frying of the family honour is contained in a work called Atita-vakya-dipaniya. In that instance apparently the pan which was placed on the fire was empty.

In the same Journal, vol. i, p. 136, a variant of the latter part of the tale is given by Miss S. J. Goonetilleke. Twenty-five idiots were employed by a Gamarala, and it was their duty to provide plantain leaf plates for the other servants and themselves. One day they decided that they gave themselves unnecessary trouble in doing work which a single person could perform, so it was settled that all should sleep, and that the man who first opened his eyes or uttered a sound should cut all the leaves. When the leaves were not forthcoming at the meal-time the Gamarala and his men went in search of the idiots, and being unable to arouse them, thought they were dead and dug a grave for them. One after another they were thrown into it in silence, but as they were being covered with earth a digging tool struck one on the leg, causing him to utter an involuntary groan. The others instantly arose and told him that henceforth he must provide all the leaf plates.

In the stories appended to the Pantcha-Tantra of the Abbe Dubois, a man at night disputed with his wife as to whether men or women are the greater chatterboxes, and each wagered a betel leaf that the other would speak first. As they did not appear next day, the door of their apartment was broken open, and the two were found sitting up but deprived of speech. It was concluded that they were suffering from some inimical magic, for which a Brahmana recommended the application of heated gold to their bodies.

The man was burnt on his sole, above the knees, at both elbows, on the stomach, and on the crown of the head, and bore it in silence; but when the woman was burnt on the sole she cried,

“Appa ! That is enough,”

and handed her husband the betel leaf.

In Folklore in Southern India (Pandit Natesha Sastri), p. 277, (Tales of the Sun, p. 280), a beggar and his wife who had been at a feast at which they ate muffins (toshei), cooked five muffins, and agreed that whoever opened an eye or spoke first should have only two of them. They then bolted the door and lay down. After three days the villagers entered by the roof and saw that the couple were apparently dead. They were carried to the cremation ground, placed on two pyres which were raised, and lights were applied.

When the fire reached the man’s leg a voice came from his pyre,

“I shall be satisfied with two muffins.”

From the other pyre a voice replied,

“I have gained the day; let me have the three.”

When the villagers heard the story, it was decided that, having apparently died and been on the funeral pyre, they could not return to the village or it would perish, so a separate hut was built for them.

In Indian Nights’ Entertainment (Swynnerton), p. 14, a farmer and his wife who disputed regarding the shutting of the door, agreed that it should be closed by the one who spoke first. After a wild dog had eaten their food, the barber called, shaved the man’s head and half his beard and moustache, and blackened him with lampblack. When the wife, who had gone out, returned and asked what he had been doing, she was told that it was she who must close the door.

In Cinq Cents Contes et Apologues (Chavannes), vol. ii, p. 209, a man and his wife made three cakes; each ate one, and they agreed that the first who spoke should allow the other to eat the third cake. Robbers broke in, began to collect all the goods in the house, and at last seized the wife. The man still did not utter a word; when the woman cried out and scolded him, he said, " Wife, it is certainly I who have gained the cake.’'

Footnotes and references:

[1]:

Probably a mat laid on the veranda.

[2]:

As a possible derivation, I suggest that the first part of the word may be derived from sam+bhanj, meaning “shatter, smash,” referring to his toes that were struck by the stone. The rest may consist of adi, foot, the whole word thus being sambhanjacU. In a variant the exclamation is Hottaeripancan.