21st February is International Mother Language Day and our blog is hosting a celebration of languages. A series of blog posts by people from different walks of life – sharing their thoughts on languages, memories and more. International Mother Language Day is an observance held annually on 21 February worldwide to promote awareness of linguistic and cultural diversity and multilingualism.
(This post was sent by Vibha Lohani. “When I am not writing you will find my nose comfortable perched behind a book!” Please don’t believe the previous statement. I am a Mother. But my little chatterbox is my inspiration too. Many of the stories I write came out from my conversations with my little one. Some found their way onto StoryWeaver and others are on my blog. I was otherwise a Recruiter by profession and a Writer by passion. After completing a course in Creative Writing I ventured into writing fulltime. A combination of tea and books are my addiction. I also do some Story Telling with local community kids to encourage them to read more and get some serious homework in return to write some more.)
No, this is not a write-up about food!
This is about Kumaoni – a musical language from the hills of Uttarakhand.
A language that is slowly losing its identity due to migration of locals and very less written content available (even though the language is based on the Devanagari script).
Folk tales in Kumaoni are entwined with folk songs related to various customs
and have been passed on for generations through word of mouth. Sadly I can barely speak
Kumaoni as a language (though I understand it) but the stories I heard from my
grandmother and parents remain as memories.
Most of the Kumaoni folk tales are interwoven around various festivities – a famous one
being the festival of Makar Sankranti which in the local language is called as Kaale Kauva
(Black Crow) or Ghugutia. Sweets made from jaggery and flour are strung into a garland
and offered to the crows. The ladies of the house make the sweets in various shaped like
swords, dumroo, and rhombus and make a garland of sweets, peanuts and oranges which
the children carry outdoors and offer to the crows while singing a rhyme.
‘???? ???? ? ??, ?????? ???? ?? ??
?? ?? ????, ?? ??? ?? ?? ??;
???? ?? ????, ???? ??? ?? ?? ??;
?? ???? ???, ??? ?? ???? ???? ?? ???’
Surprised! Why do we name a major festival after the Black Crow? Well, there is a story behind it!
The folktale has some varied versions across Kumaon. I will briefly narrate the one I heard
from my grandmother:
Once there was a King named Ghughut Singh. His court astrologer gave a prophecy saying
the King will be killed by a crow on the day of Makar Sankranti. This upset the king very
much. He first thought of killing every crow in the land but he knew it was not the right way
to deal with the problem. His court advisors gave him an idea. They worked out a scheme
to keep the crows busy on Sankranti.
Soon a Royal Announcement was made in the Kingdom. People were asked to prepare
sweets with Gud (jaggery) and flour in large numbers. On the day fateful day, people had to
offer the sweets in large numbers to the crows flying across the kingdom.
The people did as commanded. On Makar Sankranti all the crows got busy eating the
delicious sweets that none ventured near the royal palace. Thus King Ghuguti was saved
and every year on Sankranti it became a tradition to offer sweets to the Black Crow.
I heard this story many times from my grandmother. But while hearing the story was fun, I
never wanted to share the sweets with the crow! Now days with the crows hardly visible in
big cities, most of the sweets are devoured by squirrels and the abundant Myna.
My father, a man of science, explained the scientific connotation behind the story of Kaale
Sankranti marks the onset of change in season. The migratory birds start returning to the
hills – crow being the first one. The offering during this festival is a mark of welcoming the
migratory birds back. Secondly during peak winters, after snow fall in the hills hardly any
food is available in the forests for birds. Through such customs people are encouraged to
offer food to the birds.
My childhood was filled with stories. There is another interesting story I heard from my
grandmother. It is the story behind our surname – Lohani.
Lohani is a modified version of the term Lohumi which in Kumaoni means Loh (Iron) + Hom/
Havan (holy fire). Lohumi means one who can do Hom/Havan using iron.
The story behind the surname is as follows:
Once a group of Purohits (Brahmins conducting prayer rituals) traveled to the hills. They
wanted to meet the King who was known for his wisdom and generosity and ask him for a
piece of land and wood to perform their prayers peacefully. Alas, the guards at the kingdom
gates were not so wise. Instead of helping the needy they made fun of the Purohits.
The guards challenged the Purohits that if they were so knowledgeable and wise then why
do they need wood for havan, they might as well use the soldier’s swords. Saying this, the
soldiers threw their swords towards the visitors. The Purohits collected the swords and
much to the surprise of the guards; lit the holy fire using iron swords instead of wood. When
the King heard of the incident he invited the purohits apologized and offered them a piece
of land in his kingdom. This particular group of Brahmins and their kin were bestowed with
the title of Lohumi – One who can light fire from iron.
I do not have a scientific explanation for the story but I do tell it once in a while as an ego
There are many other stories hidden in the heart of the hill region. If you ever visit to the lush green hills of Kumaon and hear a folksong, do stop by and ask its meaning. You might just end up hearing an interesting tale about a brave queen or a soldier returning home.