Episode 184 – For the Birds – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 184 Show Notes

Source: Meitei Folklore

This week on MYTH, we’ll head back to the home of the Meitei people of Manipur. You’ll discover that birds are very, very old, that simple things get complicated when superlatives are involved, and that it helps to remember your own age. Then, in Gods and Monsters, primordial god brothers will compete to rule the universe. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 184, “For The Birds”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
It’s been a while since we visited the ancient kingdom of Manipur in northeastern India, so I figured it was high time we returned. This story comes from Fungawari Singbul, collected by B. Jayantakumar Sharma in 2003. If you want a very, very brief overview of Manipur, go back to Episode 96.
Once upon a time, there lived a happy pigeon couple in a grove. The male pigeon’s father had died recently and, on his deathbed, he had asked his son to carry out his last wish: serve a feast to his four closest friends, all of whom had helped him out over the course of his life. It was the elderly pigeon’s greatest regret that he had never been able to pay them back for all that they had done for him and now he never would. The pigeon’s son promised that he would see his father’s feast held in honor of the owl, the crow, the dove, and the sparrow. For the sake of brevity going forward, I’ll just refer to them as Owl, Crow, Dove, Sparrow, Pigeon Husband, and Pigeon Wife.
After his father passed and they had finished their time of mourning, Pigeon Husband followed through on his promise. He sent out invitations to the four elders to come to his house in the grove for a feast in their honor at the request of his late father. Soon enough, the day came and the four elder birds arrived. They were pleased to find that Pigeon Husband had pulled out all the stops. The meal laid out before them was grand indeed with the finest delicacies laid out and arranged quite elegantly. It was as beautiful to the eyes as it was delicious to the nose, and all four birds were quite excited to tuck in. They may be anthropomorphized birds, but they’re still wild ass animals with an ever-present hunger.
Puffing out his chest importantly, Pigeon Husband strutted forward with Pigeon Wife to welcome everyone to the feast. “Oh wise and honored elders! I have invited you all here for this great feast not because I am well off or proud, but to show you my late father’s gratitude for all of your kindness. On his deathbed, he mentioned each of you by name and wished only that he could have repaid all that you have done for him. Know that he never forgot and was never unappreciative. He told me that, in our darkest days, it was you four who stepped up to see us through. Father asked only that I throw this feast in your honor as some token of his deep love and appreciation for you all. The meal is ready, gentlebirds. Please be seated according to your seniority. My father told me that I should seek blessings from the eldest amongst you, who would sit at the head of the table as is proper. So please, let the eldest among you take his proper seat before the rest of us; then we can all enjoy this delicious meal that my wife spent so much time making and honor my late father’s last request.”
Pigeon Husband had expected one of the birds to strut forward at this invitation; instead, the four just stood there looking from one to another and back. After some hushed conversation, it became apparent that none of them actually knew who was the oldest. Birds aren’t much for calendars and the older you get, the harder it becomes to remember just exactly when everything happened. All four birds were venerable seniors and so none could decide who should sit at the head of the table. Time passed awkwardly, but everyone just kept staring at everyone else, unable to make a decision about who should sit first. Pigeon Husband was getting a little desperate to get this show on the road. Seating arrangements weren’t supposed to have been the hard part of this whole event, but here they were.
“Please, my honored gentlebirds! Please take your seats and eat. It’s getting late and my wife’s delicious meal is getting cold as we all just stand around like this.” Both of which were true, but it didn’t help the four birds make a decision. They all kept standing around, getting hungrier and more frustrated. On that front, Crow was definitely the hungriest and most irritated. He had been starving himself for three straight days in anticipation of this feast, and as a result, he was now completely ravenous and a total hangry asshole. The smell of all that delicious food was making his stomach do cartwheels in an attempt to get to the tiniest morsel of food. It was becoming more and more apparent that this was a stalemate that they were never going to resolve, so Crow decided to do the most expedient thing. Taking a page from Alexander the Great’s solution to the Gordian knot, he stopped trying to solve the problem of who was eldest and just decided to go eat now. He headed over to the head of the table to get things started. Someone had to.
Dove, who was not at all sure who was the eldest but he was damned sure it wasn’t Crow, got deeply offended by this faux pas. “Do you have the table manners of a goddamned cat, Crow? Waddle your ass back over here and wait your goddamned turn like a civilized bird.” Crow, who was by now far too hungry to react reasonably to such feisty fighting words, puffed up his chest and got up in Dove’s face. This quickly escalated into actual physical fighting right there in the lovely Pigeon home, which was not at all how this night was supposed to be going. Sparrow took advantage of the chaos to try and edge around the room to the head of the table, working on the dubious logic that whoever sat there first would be crowned the elder. He wasn’t as spry as he had once been, and so he had a hard time getting around the wild clawing and pecking of Crow and Dove as they fought. Owl meanwhile had fallen asleep sometime during the argument. The commotion woke him up hungry and grumpy, so he quickly launched himself into the fray as well, seeing good and well the sneaky shit that Sparrow was trying to pull.
Pigeon Husband and Pigeon Wife tried their best to bring the hostilities back down to mere posing and snarky words, but it was no use. The dander of all four grumpy old birds was up and none of them were willing to back down from their gray, arthritic melee. After a desperate conversation off to one side, the unhappy couple left the battling birds to summon the other great birds of the forest to mediate the dispute. Everyone gathered together in the grove. The assembled avians finally managed to bring the fight to a pause, doing their best to soothe a lot of ruffled feathers and crooked beaks. Pigeon Wife and Pigeon Husband explained what had led up to the fight and how it had all spiraled out of control.
After the entire strange story had been relayed, Vulture stepped forward. “Yes, yes, very interesting. Crow, it seems like you really kicked this whole scrap off by trying to take the seat of honor. Why did you decide to just take that chair without discussing it with everyone else first? And incidentally, how old are you exactly?” Crow’s gambit might not have paid off (it might even have been said to have failed spectacularly), but he wasn’t ready to back down. He was still ravenous but he wasn’t in the mood to eat crow, pun very much intended. He puffed up his chest and did his best lawyer impression. “Well, my dear Vulture – you’re looking very distinguished today, you know that? Anyway, it seemed like the right thing to do. And as for age, we crows are very old indeed. We’ve been on Meitei lands since the creation of the very first river.
“In fact, it was none other than yours truly who gave Nong-goubi (the Greater Coucal bird, a species of cuckoo) the news about that first river. It was because of my message that Nong-goubi didn’t drink its water.” The story doesn’t explain why that’s important, but it’s presumably in another story. Vulture nodded sagely at this answer, which wasn’t a direct answer but did at least give an idea of Crow’s age. He turned next to Dove. “Given Crow’s story, why were you so angry at his taking the seat at the head of the table? Are you older than Crow? How old are you, Dove?”
Dove strutted forward to take the spotlight. “Crow is certainly an old bird, but I’m afraid that crows are much younger than we doves. They’ve only been here since the time of the first river. We’ve been in Meitei lands since the age of our first king, Nongda Lairen Pakhangba, our divine figure.” As an aside, this was a real, documented king who rose to the throne of the Kangla of Kangleipak, the Meitei name for Manipur, in 33 AD. His key achievement was the unification of the various warring groups into a single united realm. Now in terms of real history, this would make Crow older than Dove but in mythological terms, the first Meitei king is from the dawn of history and is therefore older than the first river (though maybe not by much).
Regardless of the actual timeline, Vulture at least was convinced of Dove’s superior claim of being the eldest. He turned next to Sparrow. “And you, Sparrow? Why did you try to take the seat at the head of the table while Crow and Dove were fighting? How old are you?” Sparrow shuffled forward with an odd mixture of pride and contrition. “I let the excitement get the better of me, it is true, but having heard the tales of both of my fellow birds, I am now certain that sparrows are older than both. In fact, they can’t even really compared as far as age. When our creators Sanamahi and Pakhangba finished making the earth at the dawn of creation, we sparrows were one of the first living things they created. We have been here ever since.” The story combines these two figures into a single name, but everything I’ve been able to find says that these two are brothers, dual primordial beings.
The other birds were all in awe of Sparrow’s words. The sparrows were clearly a venerable, ancient species. Surely no other bird gathered in that grove could possibly compete with Sparrow for the title of eldest and the seat at the head of the table. Vulture too was certain that he had resolved this thorny issue but he was determined to be thorough so that there could be no question of his decision later. He turned last to Owl, who was the only one not impressed with Sparrow’s story. Granted, that was because he had fallen asleep again at some point and was dozing away obliviously. “Owl? Owl? Are you dozing again, old friend (emphasis on ‘old’)?” Owl shook himself awake, eyes blinking slowly. “I wasn’t asleep, sonny, I was just resting my eyes. What’s happening again?”
Vulture sighed but repeated the situation as respectfully as he could. “You and your three fellow gentlebirds were summoned here for a feast and got into a fight about who’s the oldest. The rest of us came to break up the scuffle and resolve the question of who the eldest is. We’ve been going through and letting each bird explain how old they are to try and determine once and for all who belongs at the head of the table. I guess you must have missed all the hullabaloo while you were dozing. Everyone else has already gone, so it’s your turn. How old are you, Owl?” Owl cocked his head in that owlish way, clearly confused. “Eh? What did you say, young un? You’ll have to speak up – my hearing’s not what it used to be!” Vulture resisted the urge to roll his eyes and repeated himself at that uncomfortably loud almost shout people use with elderly relatives. “I SAID ‘HOW OLD ARE YOU, MISTER OWL?’”
Owl puffed up indignantly at the young whippersnapper’s tone. “Well I never. In my day, birds knew how to treat their elders proper! Don’t call me mister, sonny. Call me Ipu (which means grandfather). It’s such a shame that none of you youngsters know your history any more.” Which is proof that older generations have been complaining about the younger ones since time immemorial. Vulture caught himself mid-sigh and arranged his face into a properly respectful one with a bit of effort. “I’m sorry, Ipu. I’ll make sure to use the correct name from now on. But you still haven’t answered my question, the one that every bird here wants to hear. How old are you, Ipu? Sparrow is claiming to be the oldest, and he’s certainly older than Crow or Dove. What about the owls?”
Owl closed his eyes for a long moment, long enough that Vulture was worried that he had fallen asleep again before finally answering. “At my age, it’s hard to keep track. Old, that’s for sure.” He gave a side-eyed glance to Sparrow. “One hell of a lot older than this bag of bones claiming to be the oldest. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s the great-great-great-great grandchild of my own grandchildren. So five times great grandkids. How’s that for old?” The other birds stared at Owl after this proclamation. If his counting was correct, he wasn’t just old, he was downright ancient. Vulture’s eyes were damn near bugging out of his skull as he contemplated Owl’s age.
Seeing that no one knew how to respond to this claim, Owl ruffled his feathers with a quiet hoot. He wasn’t sure they understood what he’d said (damned youngsters), so he tried to explain it a different way. “Let me tell you my age this way: Atiya Guru Sidaba, the greatest of all gods and father of Sanamahi and Pakhangba, is my son-in-law. He calls me Iku (a term of respect that I couldn’t find a translation for) with love and respect. After hearing that, all of the other gods and goddesses started calling me Guru Sidaba’s Maku (or owl). So tell me, do you still think Sparrow is the oldest one here?”
No one responded to this clearly rhetorical question. The Pigeon house was silent except for a few hushed whispers here and there. Finally, Vulture realized that he still had to make an official decision, although it was clear to everyone what that decision must be. “I think that we are all agreed that by looks, attitude, personality, and story, Owl is clearly the oldest one here.” This caused another round of whispering, which Vulture quickly quieted. “Forgive me, Ipu Owl, if I said anything impolite to you before. It is obvious now that you deserve the place of respect at the head of the table. Please accept my invitation to a feast at my house in the near future as my apology. One as venerable as yourself shouldn’t have to fly on your own ancient wings. Can I give you a ride back home on my back?”
I don’t know if the feast that Pigeon Wife and Pigeon Husband had worked so hard on ever actually got eaten or not, but the assembled birds were all too amazed by the stories they had heard that night to care. Owl graciously accepted a ride home at the end of the night and rode along as the rest of the birds flapped away. The pigeon couple just stood there staring silently at each other wondering just how in the hell a simple good deed had gotten so damned complicated. Owls are thus accepted as the oldest birds in existence and, as the Meitei saying goes, a good speaker always has the last word. And so with the bird ages now properly sorted out, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s gods are Sanamahi and Pakhangba.
As we heard briefly mentioned in the main tale, Sanamahi and Pakhangba are primordial creation deities. Sanamahi, also known as Lainingthou Sanamahi (a title that we’ll get into in a moment) is the eldest son of the creator god Saalailel Sitapa (also translated Sidaba as we saw before) and the earth goddess Leimarel Sidabi. He is usually depicted as more or less human looking, unlike his brother Pakhangba. The younger sibling is most commonly shown as a serpent with the antlers of a sangai, a type of deer; this fusion is meant to combine two distinct cultural totemic beliefs widespread in the region centered around the worship of serpents and deer respectively.
The stories say that, long ago, a king of the Luwang clan known as Pudangkoi Khutoiba was trying to slice bamboo into paya, the thin strips used for weaving. He sent his wife into town to buy a sharp knife. Khuman Yangkhu Leima of the Khuman clan went into town but had no idea where to find a knife vendor until a kindly old woman took pity on her and showed her. When she returned, Pudangkoi couldn’t get the bamboo to split cleanly and blamed the knife for being dull. He sent Yangkhu Leima back to get a second better knife. The merchants mocked her as a fool when she returned, declaring that all the knives were the same sharpness, but she did her best and returned with another knife. Again, her husband was unable to make proper paya. Enraged at her failure for making him look incompetent, he took one of the bamboo poles and beat her with it.
Yangkhu Leima wasn’t one to take this very literal abuse lying down, so she returned to her own clan and went to visit the chief. Before him and all the assembled people of the clan, she declared her intent to leave her worthless, abusive husband and return to the Khuman clan. Pudangkoi’s younger brother Luwang Punsiba stepped forward (no idea how he knew to be here) and begged her humbly to stay saying that she was family to him and that her departure would fracture his own clan. Moved by her brother-in-law’s words, she agreed to stay. For now.
Pudangkoi couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone, however. He too was there (maybe to witness the divorce declaration) and he was furious at how he was being represented. Stepping forward angrily, he declared a challenge to all those gathered. “The fault is not mine, it is Yangkhu Leima’s for bringing such a terrible knife twice in a row! No one could have used that dull piece of shit. To prove it, I challenge her to use that fucking knife to cut proper paya. If she can do it (which she can’t), then I’ll eat my words, admit my own failure, and provide a feast to everyone assembled here in recompense.”
Yangkhu Leima gave her good-for-nothing husband a flat look, took up the knife, and cut the offered bamboo into long, neat strips. Without a word, she handed the perfectly sharp knife and the paya strips back over and marched away. Overnight, Pudangkoi became a laughingstock. Children pointed and laughed everywhere he went, and shame followed him like a shadow. Unable to bear the humiliation, he became a recluse. He complained bitterly to his wife. “I can’t take it anymore. I am clearly skill-less and the butt of every joke. It would be better to live as a wild animal in the forest than to suffer a single day more as a human.” He still hasn’t actually acknowledged that this is all completely his fault. Moved by a strange whim, Pudangkoi took the two knives and held them against his head, hilts against his skull. As he did so, his human form dropped away to be replaced with the first sangai – some god had overheard him and was both punishing his hubris and granting his wish for bestial relief.
With the king’s disappearance into the forest, the gentler, wiser Luwang Punsiba became king instead. One rainy season some years later, he set out with some of his men to inspect the clan’s lands. The Luwangli River had flooded, overrunning its banks in a deep, wide new lake that no man nor beast dared to cross. The river lay at the heart of the clan’s territory, so the terrible flooding drew almost all work and trade to a grinding halt. As Luwang Punsiba looked out over the devastation trying to find some possible way to fix this situation, he saw Langban Keiroicha, a tiny cricket, at the river’s edge. Holding a blade of grass in his mouth, the cricket stepped out into the water and floated lightly across with ease. When he reached the other side, Luwang Punsiba called out to the cricket, asking what he was doing. “Oh hey there! I’m just doing the ritual of Langban Hiyan Tongba,” which basically translates to boating. The chief was amazed by this. “Can we humans do something similar? I doubt that a single blade of grass will work for me.” The cricket shrugged. “Sure, grass won’t work but I don’t see why you can’t make a human-sized boat. Just carve one from a tree instead of grass.”
And so Luwang Punsiba returned to his people and ordered the construction of the very first boat named Hirang Heeren, carved from the trunk of an enormous Uningthou tree. In one version of the story, the chief wondered who should be the first to step foot upon this brand new thing, a mix of the worlds of nature and man. He remembered his brother who was a similar fusion. The sangai is thus brought to be the first to touch the boat and seek its blessing. In another version, the transformed Pudangkoi is accidentally killed by Luwang Punsiba, who does not know that his brother has become a deer. When he discovered his terrible mistake, he ordered his dead brother’s horned skull brought back to the palace and preserved. When they built Hirang Heeren, this skull was set at the stern as decoration and blessing.
Either way, from then on, sangai antlers were used to decorate the boats of the Meitei people. And what does this all have to do with Pakhangba? Well, these boats are carved into the semblance of a serpent with an antlered head and thus resembling and honoring Pakhangba as well. When the dragon and his brother were both young gods, their father called them together. “I have decided that one of you should sit upon the throne of the universe, but I am unable to decide which of you it should be. Thus, I will instead let you compete for this honor. The first to travel around the universe seven times will become the ruler of the universe.” Sanamahi, who was older and stronger, set out immediately, racing across the cosmos.
Pakhangba, who was not nearly as strong as his older brother, knew he didn’t stand a chance. He spoke with his mother Leimarel Sidabi about the issue. As they discussed it, she mentioned casually that since his father was the embodiment of the universe, traveling around his throne was essentially traveling around the universe. With a smile, the dragon hurried over to Saalailel Sitapa’s throne room and traveled around it seven times, a much simpler task. The creator deity was satisfied by this clever interpretation and was granted the throne of the universe as well as his name, which means ‘one who understands his father.’ As a runner-up prize, Sanamahi was offered the throne of every home of mankind in the universe. It is theoretically a lesser throne but, in Meitei society, a more important one. In Sanamahism, he is thus regarded as the most popular and significant deity. So I guess the lesson is that working smart not hard will get you to the top, but hard, honest work will make you more popular with ordinary folk.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Instagram as MythsYourTeacherHatedPod, on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated, and on Bluesky as MythsPodcast. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, it’s a listener request story. You’ll see that magic can be bought for trinkets, that you should never brag about a victory that isn’t quite won yet, and that men in positions of authority suck. Then, in Gods and Monsters, the spirit of a well will pull a Pennywise on some unsuspecting children. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.