Surakat and Minbiru

Surakat and Minbiru lived in a small village by the Laisumon forest bordering the banks of the Loit-Um river. There were many villages in the area. The Tipro and Nimon tribes lived on the other side of the river, at the foothills of the imposing Painakum mountains. On their side of the river, there were the Haisuku and Minas tribes on either side of their village. The village boundaries had been decided by the village elders hundreds of years ago and there these small tribes had thrived, quite harmoniously at times and quite dangerously at other.

Surakat was of the tribe of the boar-hunters. His tribe the Nimon of the Painakum were the fiercest of all tribes and were constantly at war with he Tipro. Surakat was outlawed by his tribesmen for throwing the hide of a boar into the river, which carried it downstream to the Tipro. They had fished it out of the river and made a throwback for their headman who was seen by the Nimon and being thus enraged at the sight of a tribal symbol on the back of a member of the tribe of the skull-shrinkers had taken immediate stock of the matter. By that it meant that Surakat was thrown out of the village on a boat with a hole in it and the treasure rightly restored to the tribe by means of Imin, the clever little tribal thief who obtained the boar hide by the arts of his profession. He was quite the restorer-of-pride for the tribe and had been presented with a basket full of mustard seeds, something that the Nimon very much prized, mustard being the most expensive ingredient on roasted boar.

What did Surakat do then? He somehow managed to cross the Loit-Um and having come to the other side, had begged his way into Minbiru's house. There he had learnt the ways of the tribe of the bamboo weavers. At times, looking over the Loit-Um, he longed for his familiar home. He would have given anything to spend the night on a tree loft, waiting for the boars to come for a drink of water. Here, all he ever did was smoke a bamboo pipe and weave baskets and mats that Minbiru was preparing for market day.

Something must be said of Minbiru. He was young and handsome by tribal standards and quite well known for his innovative designs in baskets. He made grain holders with snouts and mats with a double layer of straw. He made bamboo stools and bamboo blinds. He was passionate about his weaving and having thus attained his fame across the tribes of the region, hoped to make a good match someday. He lived alone, being an orphan; well, almost an orphan, because his mother had died giving birth to him and his father had left him as a child in the care of the tribe to seek a fortune in the city on the other side of the Painakum. Minbiru had grown in the tribe. The women looked after him, fed him and the men taught him basket weaving. At the age of sixteen, he was given the hut of his father and there he now fended for himself. The women of his tribe adored him for his good nature and many sighed for they could not have him as their husband or son-in-law. The Nankos (Minbiru's tribe) married outside the tribe, almost always, by agreement, from the Haisuku who had similar rules.

Minbiru had quickly accepted Surakat as an apprentice. He required a help and a companion and the sad but strong and hefty Surakat was just right for hard jobs like felling bamboos and carrying them from the Laisumon. And Surakat did make himself useful and slowly there came a time when Minbiru could not do without his apprentice. They went together to the market and there, all of Surakat’s tribesmen bought baskets from Minbiru. And everyone knew that the rusty and stupid Nimon men made handsome and strong husbands. And here was Surakat, a tame one at that. The women flocked and flirted while Minbiru’s business flourished.

It would seem that the two of them were happy. But happiness is such an elusive thing. While Surakat, much like a horse among camels yearned for his home, Minbiru much like a human being felt jealous of Surakat. One might ask what Minbiru was jealous of. There is that one vice in human society that calls for being a step ahead. One-up-man-ship; that is the common Yankee term. Minbiru’s mind was confused. He had helped Surakat; provided him shelter, given him the art of earning a livelihood and now here he was, doing famously well. All of a sudden Minbiru was overwhelmed by a sense of insecurity. Surakat was handsome and crude; almost risky. He was also very adept in his work and he, Minbiru was the giver. What did he get back in return? And that did not make sense because now he secretly knew that Surakat was quite capable of doing as well as himself.

Minbiru dreaded the day when Surakat would make a better living all by himself. Already, he was very popular with the villagers. Silly people to trust an outsider! The villagers invited Surakat to their homes. They liked him because he was always helpful in small things like making shades for a marriage or digging a fish pond. Little did Minbiru know that the villagers welcomed this Nimon only because he himself had allowed him in his house. All the villagers after all, liked Minbiru.

Jealousy makes us do petty things. While there is an appearance to maintain, there is the sinful desire within, to manage. The human mind is capable of managing such situations all too well. There is deprecation in the quality of a gentleman when he measures his poor friend against himself. What heart does not feel jealous? What man does not feel insecure at times? But what kind of man reduces a friend for self-preservation. Again, self-righteousness comes only with prosperity and for a long time Minbiru was self-righteous and saw that Surakat was after all just a servant. And he liked him for it. But that feeling began to dwindle once much time and energy had been spent on continuously petting at it to provide a sense of satisfaction.

Minbiru was after all the master of the house. He could do as he pleased. He started making Surakat work harder. There was almost suddenly a reduction in privileges and when the village headman’s daughter’s marriage was finalised and Surakat much required to help build tree lofts and shades for the guests, Minbiru created work at home. He refused Surakat to the villagers and very diplomatically created innumerable reasons why he was needed at home. In tribal societies such things are not taken very well. But this was Minbiru and really, the village darling. So they did not press. And when the wedding was held, Surakat was left behind to complete three baskets while Minbiru went to attend the wedding, seemingly much out of compulsion for social necessities but inwardly triumphant in his pettiness of having exercised his superiority over the unsuspecting Surakat.

But a wedding is after all a wedding. And there is a feast to be had. The villagers are not expected to cook. Every single soul turns up for rice beer and roasted chicken wings and legs. Then there is wild-boar brought as a present by the Nimon headman and his troupe. Almost all the heads of villages attend. This again was a law set by the village elders many years back and still diligently followed. The Nimon carried wild boar, the Nankos carried baskets and grains. The Minas carried iron tools and the Haisuku carried cloth as gifts. The Tipro never carried anything and not liked much by the other tribes. This had to do with the fact that the Tipro posted the skulls of their dead outside their houses in memory of the deceased. The others associated this with black magic and often the Tipro shaman was resorted to, to cure a hopeless case of epilepsy or other such ailment. But as the order of the elders would have it, the Tipro headman was always to be invited like every other village headman.

Surakat worked for two hours. He completed weaving the base of the baskets and they were ready to be folded and rimmed. It is a wonderful art. A flat, square sheet of bamboo weaving is firstly made. Then it is folded in such as way that it forms a round-bottomed bowl. The basket is then rimmed by means of a thick bamboo rim. But there was no readily available rimming and he had just floated some in the stream that afternoon. They would not be ready till the next day. Having noting to do, Surakat sat and waited for Minbiru. But having waited for an hour or so, he felt hungry and knowing full well that that there was no food to be had in the house that day, he decided to attend the feast.

At the feasting ground, on the paddy field in front of the headman’s house, there was a huge bonfire raging. Children ran round it almost to distraction. The elders sat on a podium where the women kept a regular supply of rice beer coming. On another side, smaller fires lit, where men and women alike sat and roasted potatoes and chicken wings and legs. Some young men sat together making much noise over rice beer while the bride and groom sat inside the hut. The actual feast was cooked behind the hut where all the old women presided like mother hen and the young girls ran around like mice.

To this feast went Surakat and took his place among the youths. Minbiru was not pleased. He was also drunk and that added to his irritation on seeing him. He went up to Surakat and demanded if the work assigned was completed. Surakat was taken aback. Not till this day did he feel like a servant. Here was Minbiru, who had treated him so well and now was being so rude. Passing it off as a weak state out of intoxication, he coolly replied that he had not and that he was hungry and therefore had come to the feast. Such can be the agitation of bottled emotions and such can be the power of release that one wonders at the human capacity for cruelty and animal behaviour. Minbiru slapped Surakat on the face.

There was a pause. For a moment Surakat was too surprised. And so were the rest of the group. Minbiru stood gloating at him. Many thoughts raced through Surakat’s mind. He remembered his home and his tribesmen. He remembered how much respect he had and how he had lost it all. He remembered how the Nankos had given him shelter. His face fell. At this Minbiru was encouraged. Out came a string of abuses, amounting but not limited to the effect of Surakat being a good for nothing shirker, an outcast, one fit to stay in a pig sty. There is nothing like an insult for a sad heart. One of the ways that Minbiru used to pet his notion of superiority was to never let Surakat forget that he had been cast out of his tribe. Surakat dreaded that conversation with Minbiru and tried to avoid it at all cost. But when an adversary has knowledge of one’s wound, be sure that, that is where he will strike the hardest. With this final insult, it was too much for the boar hunter of the Painakum. He charged at Minbiru and there was a great tussle. At once, the Nankos came to Minbiru’s rescue and what followed was a battering for the poor Surakat. Having thus settled the matter, the Nankos returned to their groups leaving Surakat bleeding on the paddy field. Minbiru and his group started drinking again.

There is a guiding soul that watches over us all. When it comes to our limited boundaries, we resort to all kinds of mannerisms, many governed by instincts and many governed by cause. Tribals take sides easily. They do not see right or wrong but the welfare of a fellow kinsman. Who is to say that this is not emulated in a larger global scenario? If you are stuck in an alien nation be sure to have the odds against you no matter what civilization we are talking of. Surakat was at that moment an outsider and that was cause enough. But coming back to the guiding soul, there is a void that only this entity can fill. It brings with it the hope, love and encouragement that makes us want to live and continue. That guiding soul guided the headman of the Nimon to Surakat. The leader bent over the battered body, deep in thought. Then signaling one of his troupe members to prepare a boat, carried Surakat into it and across the Loit-Um. He was after all the father of his people and guided by the soul.

Thus Surakat was restored to his former state. Thus Minbiru lost his apprentice and friend. The day after the feast, in retrospect, the village people having no other thing to talk about found Minbiru guilty of being unfair. Somehow, he lost some of his former state as the darling of the village. Somehow, in losing Surakat, he lost a follower, a friend and a companion. And though there was regret in his mind, he saw the brighter side of the picture and attributed Surakat’s return of position among his own people to his own act. And what is more, the competition was eliminated and peace of mind was restored. The human mind is after all, capable of finding an acceptable reason. Maybe, with some help from that guiding soul that watches over us.