My baaje (paternal grandfather) loved children. Growing up, he would occasionally, for his own amusement, sing for us and urge us to sing along with him. I have vivid memories of him narrating Lepcha folktales to my younger sister and I, where he would often imitate the sounds of a tiger or a monkey, which always amused us as we tried to copy him every time. Whenever we played outdoors, baaje, in his usual composure would summon us and excitedly tell us that he would teach us something interesting. He would then start singing ‘Aalyu Mumaa Inga Chikup, Pawwa kaate Chaawa tangee, Eefyee chyfee’, a Lepcha rhyme I still know by heart. I didn’t have the conscience at that time to ask him about the meaning of the rhyme. It somewhere loosely hints at schooling young kids on how to behave, but the nuanced expressions are now lost in translation. However, it makes me fondly reminisce my childhood days imbued with memories of growing up as a Lepcha kid in Kalimpong.

As a child, along with our fascination with ‘Twinkle twinkle little star…’ or as we girls were obsessed with ‘Mary had a little lamb…’, all the kids in our village were well versed in Lepcha rhymes as well. My baaje made it a point to teach us as many Lepcha rhymes as possible and we were quite receptive in the process. I can still recall our hasty yet exciting Lasso practice during Namsoong celebration, which usually started a week prior to the main event. As children, Lasso meant the world to us. We could wear our dumdyam and dumpra and sing and dance our heart out. Baaje would neatly dress up in his dumpra andwear his favourite sumok thyaktuk. He would then lead the way carrying his long bamboo stick as we move from door to door blessing each house and in return received treats in the form of cash, rice and if fortunate enough, some delicious snacks as well. We would later organize a small picnic in the field with the accumulated treat. The highlight of the event would definitely be our rhymes and how we would enact it with expressions and hand gestures just as baaje had taught us. We would start with ‘Aalyu Mumaa, Inga Chikup…’ and sing along the lines of-

Homoo lik baam chyaok kung kaa (The fox howls in the graveyard)

Heek bom faat naon kayu kyong ka (A chicken is lost in the village)

Tukmoo Kuzyoo achyang kaa’ (The dog is blamed and beaten for it)

 One of the boys would pretend to be a dog, and all of us would pat him on the back. We would then continue with-

Kunchung thaboo oolak na (The crows feed on the maize)

Zoo nyaot zaom boo kalaok na (The rats feed on the paddy)

Akryaok thop ma taluk na (While the frogs are beaten up for it).

The same boy would receive another pat on the back as he pretends to be a frog now. The crowd consisted mostly of adults and our parents. Some cheered for us, while others would sing along with us reliving their childhood memories.

Often, the nature of Lepcha rhymes is an expression of the myriad experiences of our ancestors, where each rhyme gives an inkling of the social and cultural life of the Lepchas. As simple as it sounds, these rhymes resonate with the simplicity of the Lepchas and are often expressed as a guideline for the children to imbibe Lepcha morals. One of the rhymes that,as a child, personally instilled a deeper sense of responsibility in my young mind was-

Lookhrong look na (Rising early in the morning)

Aathoong akka chyaong ban (Washing my hands and feet)

Aamoo na boan boo aazoam zoo ban (Eating the food my mother has prepared)

Nygoo chyoo ko chunn bu ban (Carrying my pens and books)

Chyoo Lapaon rem khamri matshyo (I greet my teachers)

Hlab doan boo chyoo ngingru matshyo (I respect my education and concentrate on my studies)

Go chyoo hlab na aamoo boo jyu shyo (So that I can look after my mother)

Chyoo hlab na tanyee mat boo (If you neglect your education)

Kidak maamat akyet daong boo (If you only look for good times)

Hayu hunn shyo ool na zoam boo (You will end up begging in the future)                                                                                     

My favourite rhyme is the one which is in the form of a conversation. It has a lot of expressions and hand gestures which all of us as children loved immensely. It goes like-

Shyo zoo bam?  (What are you eating?)

Zo zoo baam.     (I am eating rice.)

Shyu sa zo?        (Which type of rice?)

Kamdyak zo.      (‘Kamdyak’ rice.)

Shyu sa bee?       (Which type of curry?)

Khaktik bee.        (‘Khaktik’ or bitter gourd curry)

Tukmoo matshen ook shyo (Stealing is shameful)

Ool chen ney thyen shyo (Begging is a mockery)

Rongkup hun na nyaot zook zo (As a Lepcha one should work hard and live with dignity)

Looking back, these rhymes were my primary sources of understanding Lepcha language. The manner in which baaje would profoundly react to Khaktik bee with a bitter expression made me understand that it is bitter gourd; or while enacting animals like Homoo or Kuzyoo, I could differentiate between a fox and a dog. Also, baaje would always advise us that as Rongkup, we should avert from tukmoo and always live a dignified and honest life.

These rhymes comforted my childhood, and they surely brought me closer to understanding my culture. Even after all these years, I have it down pat in my memory, which I am sure others in my village would reflect on with equal fondness. Whenever I miss baaje, now that he’s no longer with us, I reminisce about our times together, and it always reminds me of the rhymes he taught us. I often realize that he has instilled in us an unforgettable heirloom in the form of rhymes that live beyond the brevity of human life.

Pasanrip Lepcha