She was a young girl with long hair flowing in all directions.
Dangbo..o..o Dingbo..o..o.. in the eastern highlands of Bhutan there was a village. It was a prosperous village, for each household had some plots of land on which they cultivated maize and millet and they also owned a few heads of cattle. In those days a person’s wealth was counted by the number of cattle one possessed, so acquiring more cattle was a prime preoccupation of most of the villagers.
Now it happened that there was a very rich woman in this village who had a son. They already had a large number of cattle but they wanted more. There was also a poor woman with a son who had no cattle at all. One day the two boys met together and agreed to go and buy some cattle. The rich boy had a dri, a measure of gold dust, and the poor boy had only three worn-out copper coins.
When all the preparations were made the two boys set out further eastwards. They traveled for many days together, crossing many valleys, and climbing many mountains. Finally they decided that they should part and go their separate ways. The rich boy took the big and smooth path while the poor boy had to take the small and stony path. Before he took the path he planted his walking stick in the ground and prayed that if he should achieve his goal the stick should come to life.
The poor boy walked for many days, past innumerable ravines and gorges, across mountains that reached for the skies and deep, deep valleys that sunk into the earth’s surface until one day he reached a solitary house in a narrow valley. The house stood beside a turbulent river that roared and gushed down the valley. He went into the house and there he saw an old man and an old woman. They were both blind. They were sitting together and sharing a meal The old man would pass a handful of rice to the old woman, and the old woman would pour some tsaoem, a stew-like mixture of meat and vegetables into the old man’s phob or cup. The poor boy, who had not had a proper meal since he left his home, quietly sat down between the old couple and ate all the food that was being passed. Soon the old couple sensed his presence there and without any warning the old man suddenly got up and shut the door. He then began to feel and grope around the house until they caught the boy. The boy begged them to forgive him. “I was so hungry and I made a mistake. Please have mercy on me and I will do whatever you tell me to do.”
The old couple spared him and told him to look after their cattle.
“Herd our cattle well and in due course we will reward you. Be warned, keep the cattle away from the sinpos’ fields or you too will be blinded like us. “
The boy was a good herder and he looked after the cattle with the proficiency of an experienced cowherder for he had frequently herded the villagers’ cows. The old couple grew fond of him and wished that he would stay with them. But the boy would not agree, for he desired nothing more than to return to his own village and be with his mother.
One day while he was with the cattle he had a strange idea, “What would happen if I let these cattle go into the sinpos’ fields?” he mused. He was so excited by the idea that he actually began to drive his cattle towards the forbidden fields belonging to the sinpos. It was not long after the cattle began to munch away at the lush green mustard plants that there was a shrill whistle and a warning, “Get your cattle out of our fields. Ya, ya, don’t let me come to you.”
The boy pretended not to hear the warning and soon the sinpos’ daughter came to him. She was a young girl with long hair flowing in all directions. There were fangs in her mouth and her breasts hung down to her waist. The boy was horrified by the sight but he mustered all his courage and kept his calm. Now as the fields were quite far away from the sinpos’ house, the daughter was hot and tired after the long walk. So she sat in the shade of a tree panting and gasping and said, “I am going to rest for a while and then I will see what I can do with you. Right now come here and pick the nits from my hair,” she commanded, so confident that she had the boy in her control “Get all the nits out but don’t you dare to touch the louse; it’s my sog, my life force,” she added. The sinpo girl had foolishly placed herself in her adversary’s hands.
The boy pretended to pick out the nits but actually he looked for the louse. When he found it he caught it and tried to see if it was really the girl’s sog. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed it and the girl rolled up her eyes and life seemed to drain out of her. He squeezed it harder and harder until the girl stopped breathing altogether. The boy knew that the sinpos would be coming to look for their daughter so he began to dig a pit. He made the pit very deep and then covered it with twigs and leaves so that they would not see it.
Sure enough when the sinpos realized that their daughter had not returned they came to look for her. The boy had concealed himself in the thick branches of a tree and waited and watched. The sinpos came sniffing and searching for their daughter. They looked even more terrifying than the daughter. The father had fangs so long that one scratched the ground and the other reached high above his head. The mother’s hair was long and matted and flew wildly in all directions as she ran. Her breasts were so long that she carried them over her shoulders and they kept slipping off and touching the ground and she had to continuously lift them up and heave them over her shoulders. They were so intent on finding their daughter that they did not notice the covered pit and they fell into it with a tremendous crash. They begged to be released.
“First of all you, have to tell where I can find the eyes of mimi and aila,” demanded the boy.
“The eyes are in the phuta which has been turned upside down on the shelf near the stove in the kitchen.”
The boy went into the house to look for the eyes and indeed they were in the phuta. But of course he had no intention of letting the sinpos out of the pit so he went back to the pit and filled it up with soil and boulders until he was sure that they would never be able to get out again. Now he had to fit the eyes of the old couple. He took the eyes out of the phuta and blew away the dust from them and soaked them in water for they were quite dry by now. Then he began to fit the eyes into the eye sockets of the old man.
“Can you see yet, Mimi?” he asked, as he put them back into the hollows of the eye sockets.
“A little,” replied the old man with uncertainty.
The boy carefully readjusted them until the old man exclaimed with delight, “I can see better than before!”
In the same way he fixed the old woman’s eyes. The old couple was grateful to the boy and asked him what he wanted in return for his help. He said he wanted nothing but the golden horn. The boy knew about this horn because he had come across it in the attic and had heard about its magical powers. When the horn was sounded all cattle within hearing distance would follow the sounds. The old couple sadly handed the horn to the boy, but advised him, “Please blow the horn only in the deep valleys and never on the mountain tops.” The old couple hoped that this way all the cattle would not hear the sound.
The boy said, “Ya, ya” and slinging the horn across his back, he started his journey homewards. When he reached the highest peak, he stood firmly with his legs apart, inhaled the thin crisp mountain air deeply, and then blew into the horn loud and clear. Hundreds of beautiful young jatsams heard the sound and followed it. All he had to do was round them up and drive them towards his home.
After several days he arrived at the place where he had parted with the rich boy. The peach stick he had planted had now grown into a small tree and it was full of pink blossoms. He took this to be an auspicious sign and was happy. Soon the rich boy arrived, but he had only some poor looking bachu with him. The rich boy was shocked and filled with instant jealousy when he saw the poor boy with his herd. He wondered how the poor boy had managed to get such a wonderful herd for his three copper coins while he could only get a handful of sickly bachu for the capital he had. He could not bear to face the humiliation and the shame of meeting his family and the other villagers. His wicked mind soon began to plot and plan on how to get rid of the poor boy.
They were still a few days from home and the rich boy was determined to eliminate his friend. One night while they camped he pretended to be full of concern for his friend and insisted that as it was a cold night he should sleep close to the fire so that he would be warmer. The poor boy did not suspect anything and slept close to the fire and gratefully watched the starry skies before he drifted into a deep sleep. The rich boy began to feed the fire until it was blazing fiercely and then he suddenly kicked his friend into the fire. The blazing fire quickly consumed the body of the poor boy and there was not a telltale sign of the foul deed.
In the morning there was nothing left of the poor boy except a handful of ashes. The rich boy seized the magic horn and blew it, and all the animals came together, but a beautiful young milking jatsam would not join the rest. She kept on searching around the camp site as if looking for a missing calf. When she saw the site of the fire she resolutely went there and began to lick up all the ash, every speck of it.
After she had licked up all the ash she began to sneeze. She sneezed, once, twice, and at the third time the poor boy was reborn through her nostrils. He was reborn as an exceptionally handsome man. He was just the right height and the right weight, rather square, every woman’s dream man! He was wearing a wonderful blue woolen gho and his lagi was pure white. He was wearing dhalham and looked every bit like a dashing young dasho. The rich boy now began to panic and he was wretched. The poor boy did not say anything to him but on the last day of their journey he took the rich boy by surprise and set him ablaze too.
The following day while the poor boy prepared to leave camp one of the bachu began to lick up the ashes and began to sneeze, once, twice, and at the third sneeze out came a little cretin who was not only very small but also exceedingly ugly. When the two boys reached their village the women came out with marchang, the ceremonial welcome drink. The mother of the rich boy, who was confidently standing close to the hundred wooden sticks she had driven into the ground to hobble their cattle, had a very nasty shock. As the rich boy drove the sickly bachu towards her she fainted in extreme bewilderment and humiliation. The poor boy’s mother had cried so much with worry for her son that her eyes were now full of fungi. She had driven only one stick into the ground, for she had expected nothing more, but now she watched in amazement as. the jatsams were driven towards her and she was absolutely ecstatic.