ASSAMESE FOLKLORE:: Moina's present

Once upon a time, there was a small village on the banks of Dikhou river. In this village lived Moina, a happy-go-lucky 5-yr old. He lived with his parents and grandfather. Moina's parents were hard-working farmers who worked from sunrise to sundown, while Moina stayed home with his old grandfather (koka). His grandfather would tell him stories, sing to him and play with him all day. And, when his parents returned from the fields, they would sit around a fire and eat dinner together. Such was their small happy family.

Moina was looking forward to going to school next year, and his grandfather regaled him with stories that made school seem like the most fun place in the world for a young boy like him. But, Moina's happy life soon came under a gloomy cloud - literally. That summer, the skies poured down water as never before. The incessant rains made the benevolent Dikhou swell up. Moina's family spent many a night worrying about the impending floods. The whole village prayed together - but to no avail. One night when finally the Dikhou broke out, Moina's family fled to high grounds, Mojna sleeping peacefully in his father's arms. The lashing rains and the flooding Dikhou ravaged the village for two days. After two days, the sky cleared, the sun shone through the dark clouds and the Dikhou receded to within the confines of its banks. But, the villagers returned only to find everything destroyed - their crops, their homes, their cattle. That night, the whole village was silent - as if they were reserving all their energy and emotions to fight the hardships ahead....

Life started crawling towards normalcy. In a few days, Moina's parents repaired their hut. Moina's father lost his bullock. So, now he had to plough the land himself, working twice as hard. The family dinner by the fireside became more and more paltry, and conversation non-existent. With each passing night, the portion of rice for dinner for each of them decreased. The only thing that still somewhat kept the spring in Moina's footsteps was the glass of milk from their scrawny cow that his mother gave him every morning. Moina's father wanted to sell the cow to buy food for the family, but Moina's mother would say, "Moina is a growing boy. He needs this milk." Soon, Moina's mother had to sell her jewelry to buy food for the family since the crops weren't ready yet. For the first time in his life, Moina had to drink water to quieten his growling stomach, and his mother watched helplessly and wept. The Dikhou seemed to have taken away the laughter of Moina's family with its receding waters.

One night, as they sat by the fireside for dinner, Moina saw his mother silently poke his father with her elbow. When his father did not respond, she poked him again. She served the rice into three plates and poked him again. Moina's father looked up at her and then looked down. Then, in a very quiet voice he spoke to Moina's grandfather, "Pitai (father), you go to your room. Moina will bring your food there." Moina's grandfather looked at the three plates of rice and said, "As you say, son." He then walked slowly into his room, his shoulders drooping and his head bent with nameless emotions..

"Ma, why will koka eat in his room?", Moina asked innocently.

Moina's mother said, "Moina, your koka is ill. From now, he will have his food in his room."

She poured some watery daiyl (lentil soup) into a wooden bowl and said, "Go give this to your koka."

"Is koka too ill to eat rice?", asked Moina.

Moina's parents looked at each other wordlessly. Moina's father said, after some time, "Maybe tomorrow. Go and give that to koka before it gets cold."

As Moina gave the bowl of daiyl to his grandfather, he said, "Koka, please get well soon. I miss you."

His grandfather smiled at him and said, "Moina, I will be fine. Don't worry. Come to me after dinner. I will tell you a story. Okay?"

Moina's face lit up. He planted a quick kiss on his grandfather's withered cheek and ran off to sit by the fire with his parents. Moina was pleasantly surprised to see that he had much more rice to eat than the previous night. After dinner, his grandfather told him a nice story, and Moina went off to sleep with a smile on his face, his stomach quiet.

As the summer slowly melted into winter, Moina's grandfather started becoming more and more reticent. He no longer played with Moina. His cough became worse and sometimes, deep in the night, Moina would wake up to the noise of his grandfather coughing. Every night, Moina would give a bowl of daiyl to his grandfather in the wooden bowl, and then come back to him after dinner for his story. Soon, a little peace started settling in the hearts of the villagers as their crops grew well. Moina's parents started to smile again once in a while, though the food was still scarce. From the conversation of the adults of the village, Moina understood that they will have enough food once the crop was harvested in a couple of months.The little boy's world of Moina was a happy place once more. He started looking forward to going to school again. He started planning about the fun he would have in school. The only thing that bothered him was that his grandfather still hadn't started to join them for dinner by the fireside.

"Won't koka be hungry? That bowl is so tiny. And, he hasn't eaten any rice for days", Moina would ask his mother.

"Old people do not work much and so, they do not need much food. If koka is hungry, he will tell us", Moina's mother would reply without looking up from her work.

One day, at dinner time, Moina's mother could not find him anywhere. She looked for him in every corner of the hut. Finally, she went out to the stable and found Moina concentratedly carving a small piece of wood. She grew very angry, "Moina, you worried me to death. Didn't you hear me calling you for dinner?"

Moina looked up surprised, "Sorry, Ma. I didn't hear you. I was making a nice present for you."

Moina's mother replied irritatedly, "Wash up and come quickly. Your father is hungry."

Soon, Moina joined his parents by the fireside.

His father asked him good-humoredly, "So, Moina, your Ma tells me that you are making a present for her. What is it? And, what did I do to not get a present from you?"

Moina, who was a little scared of his mother's anger, now lightened up and said excitedly, "Pitai, I am making a wooden bowl for Ma. I will give her daiyl in that when she grows old. I didn't make one for you because you can use koka's bowl. But, if you want, I can make a nice one for you too."

Moina's father sat as if he'd been struck by lightning. Moina's mother, who was in the middle of pouring out daiyl into the wooden bowl for Moina's grandfather, stopped midway. Slowly, very very slowly, she poured the daiyl from the bowl back into the pot and threw the wooden bowl into the fire, as Moina looked at her confused.

In almost an inaudible voice, Moina's father spoke, addressing no one in particular, "Tomorrow I will go to haat (village market) and sell the cow." He, then, stood up, as if in a trance, and walked towards the room of Moina's grandfather. From the half-opened door, Moina could see his father kneeling by his grandfather's bedside. After sometime, he saw his koka hold his father in a tight embrace. Moina saw that his grandfather was smiling. Even though his grandfather's eyes were filled with tears, Moina felt that his koka's smile reached his eyes - maybe for the first time since the floods. Moina saw his mother looking at the scene with tears in her eyes.

Moina said, "Ma, are you sad that Pitai is selling the cow?"

Moina's mother sobbed hard and drew Moina towards her and holding him tightly, said, "No, xontu (sweetheart)."

Moina persisted, "But if Pitai sells the cow, we will have no milk."

Moina's mother held his face, kissed his forehead and said, "A growing boy like you needs some things more than he needs milk."

She drew Moina close to her again, and muttered to herself, "Khyoma koribo, prabhu." (God, forgive me.)