Zawlpala and Tualvungi

 In a land where love and beauty flourished, there lived Tualvungi, a woman so breathtakingly beautiful that her husband Zawlpala cherished her beyond measure. Their days were filled with joy until the powerful King Phuntiha visited their village.

The king, struck by Tualvungi's enchanting allure, inquired about her. Sensing the king's intentions, Zawlpala claimed she and his sister were unmarried. When the king demanded an extravagant bride price, hoping to dissuade him, Zawlpala set an exorbitant cost - jewellery weighing down poles. These guns could line a wall, a yard filled with yaks, a towering brass bell, and a hundred trunks of clothes.

Underestimating the king's magic, Zawlpala watched helplessly as Phuntiha fulfilled all demands instantly. Realizing his error, Zawlpala confessed to the truth, but it was too late. The king claimed Tualvungi and took her away despite her forewarning to Zawlpala about the king's treacherous nature.

Days later, Zawlpala visited the king's palace and was honoured with feasts. Unheeding Tualvungi's caution, he fell victim to poisoned drinks and met his demise upon returning home.

The villagers, wishing to inform Tualvungi, needed help to send a messenger. A crab and a crow were dismissed, leaving the quail as the chosen messenger. It delivered the message to Tualvungi, who received it as she wove atop her home.

Seeking to return to her village, Tualvungi's departure was hindered by the king's deceit, who claimed a cow had birthed a foal, causing her injury. With her wound bound, she gathered her belongings and set off. Arriving at Zawlpala's grave, she encountered an old woman whom she bribed with her property, pleading to end her suffering. After much persuasion, the old woman killed her.

 In a mystical transformation, Tualvungi transformed into a splendid butterfly, joined by Zawlpala in the same ethereal form. Following them was the king, transformed into an ungainly butterfly. Whenever two enchanting butterflies grace the skies, you'll find Tualvungi and Zawlpala trailed by the lingering presence of the once-powerful yet tragic king.

Rahte-a

 In a small village nestled among hills, Rahtea lived under the tyranny of a cruel stepmother. She burdened him with the heaviest chores and withheld even the smallest morsels of food. Yet, fate had a different plan.

One day, Rahtea's brother sought him out, inviting him to the Khuangchawi celebration in his honour. Discovering Rahtea seated beneath a Thingsiri tree adorned with sweet, nectar-filled flowers, the brother implored him to return home. But Rahtea, in verse, declined:

 "Stay with me, dear brother,

The Khuangchawi awaits in your honour."

Rahtea had found solace in the sweet nectar of the Thingsiri flowers, declaring:

"Go back alone, my dear brother,

For I've found sustenance in these blossoms.

Only now can I feast to my heart's content,

Content and nourished, I shall stay."

Determined, the stepmother dispatched Rahtea's aunt to fetch him, yet she failed. Desperate, the stepmother herself ventured forth, pleading for his return. Unmoved, Rahtea expressed their fractured relationship and, in a breathtaking turn, transformed into a dragonfly, soaring away, leaving behind the trials of his past.

Why the Dog Did Not Have Horns While the Goat Had

 Once upon a time, things looked a little different in the age of ancient animals. Dogs, friendly creatures, sported impressive horns, while goats roamed without any. Despite this difference, they coexisted harmoniously, living near humans and sharing a camaraderie.

However, the goats had a slight practical advantage over their canine friends—they could easily access their food without the encumbrance of horns. One day, an idea struck the dogs. They proposed a swap: the goats could take their horns, enhancing their beauty, while the dogs could do without. Enticed by the promise of newfound grace, the goats agreed, taking on the horns of the dogs.

As the goats proudly flaunted their new adornments, something shifted. Suddenly empowered, they found themselves more capable of defending against adversaries. Meanwhile, the dogs, now stripped of their horns, felt vulnerable, akin to hunters bereft of their spears.

Realizing their grave mistake, the dogs sought to reclaim their horns from the goats. But alas, the goats, revelling in their newfound strength and protective capability, refused to yield. The dogs' attempt at reconciliation fell on deaf ears.

Thus, the rift widened between the dogs and the goats once friends became foes. The bitterness arising from an ill-fated exchange overshadowed their shared past of amity and cooperation. This resulted in the enduring enmity between these two creatures—a tale etched in history explaining why dogs and goats are now at odds.

A Chief daughter and a Snake

Once nestled near a sprawling village, a colossal python dwelled within a cavern, shrouded in mysticism. The villagers regarded the snake as a being from the spiritual realm owing to its immense size. In reverence or fear, they made offerings—goats and even their infants—hoping to appease this majestic serpent.

One fateful night, a traveller from the Lai tribe happened upon the village. Instantly sensing an eerie hush and a palpable sorrow, he inquired about the cause of such desolation. The villagers revealed a grim truth—their children, offered as sacrifices, had met their fate at the jaws of the colossal snake. A single exception remained: the cherished daughter of the chief, admired by all for her beauty and melodic voice. Yet, even she faced the impending sacrifice.

Moved by this tragedy, the traveller resolved to intervene. Armed with a sharp-edged adze, he confronted the serpent within its cavernous abode. Confronted by the snake's colossal size, doubt lingered in his mind, questioning his ability to slay the creature. Despite his apprehensions, he remained resolute.

A fierce battle ensued, each strike of his adze a testament to his determination. In a decisive blow, the adze met the serpent's head, felling it. Triumph echoed through the village as the traveller emerged victorious, having liberated them from the serpent's reign of terror.

Grateful for his valour, the villagers celebrated his triumph, expecting him to claim the hand of the maiden he had saved. The girl, without objection, and the chief, in agreement, sanctioned their union. Thus, the traveller and the chief's daughter were wedded, finding joy and contentment in each other's embrace, their union heralding a happily-ever-after amidst the backdrop of a village relieved from the serpent's ominous shadow.

Chepahakhata

In the heart of a land veiled in myth and tradition lived a man named Chepahakhata. His visage was marred by an unkind ugliness, deterring any prospect of companionship. Yet, destiny intervened one day, weaving an unlikely union between Chepahakhata and a woman shrouded in her mystical prowess. She, too, was untouched by conventional beauty, existing as a formidable sorceress seeking a partner. Together, they forged a life, her enchantments conjuring an opulent estate surrounded by lesser dwellings housing their subjects. Elevated to the position of chief in this community, Chepahakhata's fortune seemed boundless. A daughter graced their union, a testament to their shared existence.

However, as years elapsed, Chepahakhata became oblivious to the source of his affluence—the sorceress he wed. His attention waned, neglecting the very foundation of his wealth. The sorceress, noting her husband's disregard, tasked their teenage daughter with summoning her intoxicated father. Despite her efforts, Chepahakhata remained indifferent, lost in inebriation. Disheartened, the daughter warned of their departure, foretelling his return to destitution. Ignoring her, he continued his revelry until sleep enveloped him for an indefinite slumber.

Upon awakening, a harsh reality was unveiled: his opulence had vanished, leaving him to scrape for sustenance. Except for his daughter's empathy, none showed pity. Touched by her plea, the sorceress sent a magical pot, endlessly replenishing cooked rice. Yet, envy stirred elsewhere. A jealous chief schemed to shatter the pot, making Chepahakhata more desolate.

Driven to despondency, he sought solace beneath a towering tree in the forest amidst the chatter of myriad birds. Amidst their discourse, a conversation seized Chepahakhata's attention—a discussion between two birds on the intelligence of the Mizo and the Vai (Plain People). A revelation struck him, a notion of discernment hidden within these exchanges.

Empowered by newfound insights, Chepahakhata discovered an impending contest of wits between the Mizos and the Vai. In a curious twist of fate, the initial challenge mirrored his earlier conversation—the conundrum of indistinguishable women. No Mizo could fathom a solution until Chepahakhata stepped forth. With a resounding slap, the truth emerged as one woman cried out, identifying herself as the daughter, unravelling the enigma.

Subsequent puzzles were posed, including an identical cow and a peculiar basket. Chepahakhata's astute responses unveiled the cow's head and the basket's riddle, winning acclaim from the Mizo. His wife, attuned to the events through her witchcraft, returned with their daughter, restoring Chepahakhata's former opulence and reinstating his affluent life.

In this twist of fate, Chepahakhata's understanding from a casual avian exchange culminated in the redemption of his fortunes, affirming the power of intelligence and astuteness within the Mizo tradition.

Kawrdumbela

(Translated from B. Lalthangliana's Book) 

In a distant village, there lived a man named Kawrdumbela, whose appearance was far from pleasing. He toiled in the fields and set traps to catch wild creatures, hoping for a successful catch each morning. Yet, his traps remained empty, much to his dismay. Even as the forest teemed with wildlife and others' traps yielded results, his efforts bore no fruit.

One night, Kawrdumbela witnessed a sight that explained his empty traps—a cunning bird named Vazuntei snatched away the trapped animals. Swiftly seizing the bird, he demanded recompense for its freedom. Craftily, Vazuntei offered a plan: it would warn the chief that unless his beautiful daughter married Kawrdumbela, their entire village would face peril from enemies.

True to its word, Vazuntei delivered the ominous message three consecutive nights. Initially sceptical, the chief eventually believed the warning and conferred with his daughter. Understanding the stakes, the compassionate daughter agreed to marry Kawrdumbela, knowing it would safeguard her people.

 Post-marriage, Kawrdumbela sent his wife to fetch a fish net from her father. Unwilling to return, she lingered at her parents’ home, disdaining her new husband. At the elders' insistence, she reluctantly brought the net back.

 When Kawrdumbela cast the net into the river, he caught Nghangiai, a fish offering freedom in exchange for advice. Following the fish's counsel of bathing and rubbing with smooth stones, his ugliness vanished, transforming him into a handsome. Returning home unrecognizable to his wife, she mistook him for another until he revealed his true identity. Startled, she quickly returned the net, hurriedly leaving.

 Her father, suspicious of her sudden change of heart, discovered the truth upon witnessing Kawrdumbela's transformation. Seeking similar change, the chief used the net to catch Nghahrah, a fish promising beauty through rough pebbles. But to his dismay, he only became uglier, mistakenly blaming Kawrdumbela for his predicament.