The color of the morning sky did
not change much from its night counterpart.
The clouds appeared liked a herd of gigantic dark and angry elephants,
readied to destroy anyone and anything in its path. The wind blew turbulently at times, flaunting
its prowess and forcing everything except the sturdiest object to bend before
its greatness. The heavens did not smile
with its bright orange flames, but instead, wished to cry any minute. It seemed as if the heavens was moved by the
goodness of someone below, and pitied that person very much.
A woman, slender and graceful,
stood patiently by the gate of a manor as if waiting for her husband. Although there were loud cheers and laughter vibrating
from inside the main courtyard, the woman’s face was pale and wet with tears. She looked past the gate to the far distance,
and then back at her abdomen. She
touched it and more tears flowed down her cheeks. Her husband did not know that she was with
child for a few months already.
“Nyab—Sister-in-Law!” a woman called from behind.
“Mab, it’s you,” the woman by
the gate turned around and answered.
“Nyab, don’t shed anymore
tears. I too am saddened by what my
brother has done to you, but no matter what, what has been done has already been
done. Whether anyone likes it or not, Luj
Tuam is bringing his second wife home today.
Let’s just consider that this is your fate so the only thing you can do
now is continue to be a good-hearted person who does the right thing. One day, the sky will brighten and my brother
will see your goodness.”
The woman pulled out a
handkerchief and quickly wiped her tears away.
“I will heed your words well,” she replied. “Mab, is everything ready yet?”
“Don’t worry,” Mab answered
with a smile. “I’ve already asked Txiv
Ntxawm Kaim—Uncle Kai, to take care
of the details.”
The women have just finished
talking when they began to hear the sound of qeej pipes blowing merry tunes of matrimonial
bliss. The music started out light and
soft, but it grew louder and louder and the elder wife knew that her husband’s wedding
procession was approaching. Then, when
the music peaked in intensity, the qeej blowers stepped inside the manor’s gate
first. They were followed by a group of
dancing women and a man in his finest clothes—galloping on horseback in front
of a palanquin that concealed his second wife.
When the procession halted, the man got off his horse and removed the palanquin’s
shade that covered his bride. He then
offered her his left arm. She took it
with a smile and stepped out of the palanquin.
As the elder wife watched the
groom’s every movement—his tendered touch, joyful smile, and sweet, gleaming
eyes staring at his bride, she was reminded of the way he used to look at her once. He had been a complete stranger, someone whom
she never wanted to wed. In fact, she
already had another lad in her heart. But
the heavens just had to let them meet that one new year’s festival’s day, and
so he said that she had taken a piece of his heart and would follow her to the
end of the world to get it back. He was tall
and had fair skin, but was not a very handsome fellow. Furthermore, he had a large mole sitting at
the center of his forehead and that turned many young women away. Physical appearance, however, was the least of
things that she cared about in singling out her future spouse. What mattered to her was a person’s heart,
and his pride and conceit turned her immediately off. It was only his tremendous affluence that
made him capable of persuading her parents to force her into matrimony with
him.
“Nkauj Kiab! Come help us!” her husband called, interrupting
the woman’s reminiscence.
She turned toward her
sister-in-law, reluctant to go help her husband finish the wedding ritual but her
sister-in-law nodded for her to go.
Unable to resist her duty as the elder wife, she had to conceal all her
grief and step forward to accept what her husband had brought home.
She approached her husband and
handed a black umbrella to his bride.
The groom and bride then stepped forward and stopped in front of the
manor’s main door. The elder wife slowly
proceeded behind to stand on the other side of her husband.
The bride was not a physically
hideous person. Actually, she was lean
and tall, possessed skin as fair as the snow, her gait was refined and her face
pretty with high cheek-bones. That was probably
why Luj Tuam was attracted to her. But
what he did not know was that although she was beautiful on the outside, she
was a haughty person with a heart that leaked blood. Her eyes blazed with malice, lusting for wealth
and power. She only agreed to wed him
because he was a very wealthy man, and she knew that though she was only
becoming his second wife, she could eventually manipulate him to gain access to
his possessions and use that to her advantage.
While she was pleasantly
attractive to the eye, the second wife’s beauty was inferior to that of the first. As the two wives each stood on opposite sides
of her husband, the elder wife shined more beautifully despite not being the center
of attention. If a stranger showed up to
the ceremony, that person would believe that the groom was marrying the woman in
plainer clothes, for though the elder wife was naturally lovely on the outside
too—her inner beauty transpired in her every movement.
A wooden table, filled with
different delicacies blocked the bride and groom’s way. In the center of the table sat a bowl of
glutinous rice and a bottle of rice wine.
Before the ritual initiated, the bride handed her hand-held umbrella to
a young girl who skipped away and laid the object on the mattress of the
bride-groom bedroom. The bride scooped a
few spoonful of food onto a plate, and poured wine into a bamboo-made cup. She held the plate and cup in her hands, and
turned in the direction of the gate. She
then kneeled and bowed three times to the ancestors of her husband to show them
her respect. Once she completed her part,
Luj Tuam grabbed her arms to help her stand up.
When she turned to face the house again, she realized that the blockade
had been removed and she and her husband were free to step inside the
home. Luj Tuam grabbed his bride’s arms
and the two went in to celebrate their bitterly sweet union.
When the wedding came to an
end, Luj Tuam handled the post-wedding ceremony in the same manner he did with
his elder wife. According to traditions,
the groom would prepare a meal to welcome the men of his new family-in-law, pay
the bride price to his wife’s father, and allow his father-in-law to take his
daughter home for three years or, until she became pregnant. But Luj Tuam was an impatient person, someone
who would not have things any other way but his. After he paid his elder wife’s father her
bride-price, he forbade his wife to return with her father. He left disappointed and heartbroken at his
inconsiderate son-in-law, and never made contact with them again. Luj Tuam’s second wife’s father, however, was
a different man. He mimicked his
daughter in character and personality, and as long as he received a gracious
bride-price from his son-in-law, he could care less if his daughter stay or
return with him. In fact, he seemed
thrilled to have ridden of his daughter, and was satisfied to leave Luj Tuam’s manor
a supposedly rich man.
***
Being
the new wife, she felt like the universe revolved around her. But when Luj Tuam seemed tired of her and
began to pay attention to his elder wife once more, the younger wife was livid
and filled with jealousy. In order to
keep herself as his primary concern, she brainwashed him into resenting his
elder wife. So day by day, he began to
believe his younger wife’s lies about the atrocious nature of his elder wife. Eventually, no matter how good his elder wife
was to him, he shunned her away. Then as
if things could not get any worse, the younger wife found out that she was with
child. She henceforth demanded her husband
to force his elder wife to vacate her grand bedroom for their incoming child. Being the kind-hearted nature person she was,
the elder wife complied willingly and moved to a cramped room beside the
servants’ quarter.
The
months passed slowly and bleakly by, and on one morning when the sun rays
radiated beautifully and brilliantly in the eastern horizon—the snow stopped
falling and the plum buds bloom to welcome the cries of a child. The elder wife had gone into labor, and given
birth to a daughter. She believed that
if her husband saw how beautiful and lovely their child was, he would be filled
with joy. But, she waited patiently all
day and even after the moon came up the lit the dark night sky—her husband paid
her no visit. Her heart sank, and she
was left with disappointment and sadness.
How wonderful it would have been if he were to visit their child to show
his love as a father for her and to give her an appropriate name. But despite the absence of her husband, the
elder wife’s child was an adorable little baby so she named her daughter Nkauj
Zuag—hair comb, the eponym of feminine beauty.
Shortly
afterward, right around the time when the air warmed and the plums ripened, the
younger wife went into labor and gave birth to a daughter as well. She named her child Nkauj Nrhee. A lucky child, Nkauj Nrhee received much love
from both her mother and father, which made her happy, and grew quickly. She was a playful toddler and laughed often,
flirting and softening the hearts of those who were fond of her.
So
although the two half-sisters shared the same roof, they grew up in very
different environments. One was spoiled in
riches and had everything her way, while the other one labored as a servant with
her mother after a drought left her father’s business severely depressed that he
was influenced by his younger wife to forego all of the manor’s servants. But no matter how much hardships she went
through, Nkauj Zuag was always a happy child.
As long as her mother was beside her, she could not ask for more.
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