Chapter VI: The Interpretation of Andamanese Customs and Beliefs: Myths and Legends (2)

Let us now turn to the legends that concern Biliku (Puluga) and Tarai (Deria), which are of capital importance in the Andaman mythology. The clue to the understanding of them lies in the Andamanese notions about the weather and the seasons. In the Andaman Islands the year may be divided into four seasons. There is the cool season lasting from the beginning of December to the middle of February; immediately following this is the hot season from February to the middle of May; then comes the rainy season, from May to the end of September; October and November constitute a short season to themselves. In the cool season the weather is uniformly cool; there is very little rain, and storms are almost unknown; the wind blows uniformly from the N.E. In the hot season there is little or no rain; the wind is generally N.E., but may be variable; summer lightning is frequent, but there are no violent storms except at the very end of the season. During the rainy season, after a short period of uncertain stormy weather with which it begins, the wind blows uniformly from the S.W.; it rains heavily, sometimes every day for weeks together, but violent storms (cyclones) are very rare. Between the rainy season proper and the cool season there is a period of six or eight weeks in which the weather is unsettled; the wind is variable; fine weather alternates with storms that are sometimes of terrific violence; waterspouts are frequent; it is at this season that violent cyclonic storms are likely to occur. This season is called by the Andamanese Kimil (Gumul of Aka-Bea). We have seen in the last chapter that the word kimil denotes a condition of social danger, or of contact with the power possessed by all things that can affect the life and safety of the society. It is obviously in this sense, and not as meaning “hot,” that it is applied to the season in question, for the months of October and November are fairly cool, certainly very much cooler than February and March. We shall find that this is an important point in connection with the Biliku myth.

The life of the Andaman Islander is profoundly affected by the alternation of the seasons. There are, first of all, the violent cyclonic storms that occasionally occur. Such a storm may uproot the jungle for miles, making it impassable for years to come, and thus destroying some of the native hunting grounds. The wind is sometimes so violent as to tear every leaf from the trees in its path. While the storm lasts there is danger to the lives of the natives. An old man recounted to me how on the occasion of a violent cyclone he and the others of his village took refuge in the sea and on the open shore from the danger of falling trees, and remained there till the violence of the storm had abated. The usual name for a cyclone in Aka-J̌eru is to̱ko-po̱r, i.e. “falling wood” or “falling trees.” Even if all the natives escape the danger of death or injury, there is still the extreme fear and discomfort of the experience. If a storm lasts for any length of time the natives, who are unable or afraid to go out hunting, have to do without food until it is over. Incidentally the storm may destroy their huts, canoes, and other property and thus cause loss that has to be made up by toil.

The second important effect of the seasons on the life of the Andamanese is through the food supply. During the cool season, and the succeeding hot season, a number of vegetable foods, including the very important roots and some of the most prized fruits, are available. On the other hand, during these seasons the land animals are in poor condition. In the hot season, at any rate, lizards, snakes and the civet-cat are not eaten. Pigs are breeding and are in such poor condition that often a pig that has been killed is left in the jungle as being not good enough to eat. The hot season is pre-eminently the season of honey, which is so abundant that the natives are able to obtain much more than they can consume. In the rainy season there are few vegetable foods and very little honey, but on the other hand the jungle animals are in good condition and flesh food is abundant; fish are more plentiful in this season than during the dry weather. In the Kimil season (October and November) the natives add to their food supply two varieties of grub (the larvæ of the cicada and of a beetle) which are regarded as great delicacies. Roughly we can say that the rainy season is the season of flesh food, the Kimil season is the season of grubs, the cool season is the season of fruits and roots, and the hot season is the season of honey.

By reference to the prevailing wind the year may be divided into two parts, the N.E. monsoon from November to May, and the S.W. monsoon from May to November.

I propose to show that the Andaman Islanders express the social value of the phenomena of the weather and the seasons, i.e., the way these phenomena affect the social life and the social sentiments, by means of legends and beliefs relating to the two mythical beings whom they call Biliku and Tarai. Using the word personification in a sense to be defined later in the chapter, we may say that the Andamanese personify the weather and the seasons in the persons of Biliku and Tarai. Biliku is associated with the N.E. monsoon; she lives in the N.E.; the wind from that quarter is called “the Biliku wind”; to Biliku, therefore, belong the cool and the hot seasons, these being the seasons of the N.E. monsoon. Tarai is associated with the S.W. monsoon; he lives in the S.W.; the wind from that quarter is called “the Tarai wind,” or, in Aka-Bea, simply Deria; to Tarai therefore belongs the rainy season. It is possible to show that the Andaman Islanders associate with these two beings all the phenomena of the weather and the seasons, and are able to represent the changes of the latter as though they were the actions of human or anthropomorphic beings.

In the mass of beliefs and stories relating to Biliku and Tarai there are some elements on which there is absolute agreement in all the tribes of the Great Andaman Division. I propose to treat these as being the most important elements. There is absolute unanimity, for instance, as to the connection of Biliku and Tarai with the N.E. and the S.W. respectively, and with the winds that blow from these two points of the compass. Further, this belief does not conflict in any way with any other belief of the Andamanese. There is similar unanimity in the beliefs that Biliku is angry at the digging up of yams, and at the melting of bees’-wax. There are other matters on which the agreement is fairly general but not absolute. For instance, there is a common belief that it was Biliku who first discovered fire, but there are also legends as to the origin of fire in which Biliku does not figure. I propose to treat such elements as these as being of secondary importance. Finally there are other elements with regard to which the beliefs of different tribes are not in agreement. For instance, in the South Andaman Puluga is regarded as male, while in the North Andaman Biliku is female. I propose to regard such elements as being of only minor importance, i.e., as not being closely connected with the central notion or notions expressed in the myth.

Applying the strict method outlined above, we may begin by noting that there is complete unanimity in regard to the connection of Biliku and Tarai with the N.E. and the S.W. respectively, and therefore with the monsoons. No interpretation of the myth can be adequate unless it sets out from this fact. The connection is so firmly fixed that it appears in the names of the winds themselves [211]. Even in this matter of the winds, however, there is a slight difference in the detail of the beliefs in different tribes. In the North Andaman it would seem that only the two principal winds are recognized; the S.W. wind (more accurately W.S.W.) is called “the Tarai wind” (not, be it noted, “the wind of Tarai”); the N.E. (or more accurately N.N.E.) wind is called “the Biliku wind.” These two winds are by far the most important, as the former blows steadily throughout the rainy season and the latter blows with almost equal steadiness throughout a good part of the cool and hot seasons. In the Aka-Bea and Akar-Bale tribes the general belief seems to be precisely the same as in the North Andaman. Only the two principal winds are considered to be of importance and one is associated with Deria and the other with Puluga. In these two tribes, as in the North Andaman, practically no notice is taken of the existence of winds from other quarters. In the A-Pučikwar tribe there is a notable difference, of great importance to the true interpretation of the legend. There is a dual division of the winds; the S.W. wind is called Teria; the other winds (of which a number are recognized) are all called Bilik. Thus Bilik is a generic name for a number of winds, namely for all the northerly or easterly winds, including not only the N.E., but also the N.W. and S.E. winds. The S.W. wind is called by a simple name, Teria, or as it would be better rendered in English “the Teria.” The other winds are called by compound names such as Me̱tepur Bilik, Ko̱ičo Bilik, etc., which we can only translate as “the N.E. Bilik,” “the East Bilik,” etc.

Two things of importance are shown by the consideration of these facts. The first is that there is a sense in which it may be said that the Andaman Islanders personify the winds in the persons of Biliku and Tarai; they apply to the natural phenomenon a name which is also the name of a mythological person, and they apply it directly and not in a possessive form, i.e., they say “the Bilik” or “the Biliku wind” and not “Biliku’s wind.” The second is that only the S.W. wind is associated with Tarai and all the other winds are associated with Biliku.

The last point is one of considerable importance in the interpretation of the myth. If we divide the year by reference to the prevailing winds, then the rainy season, with the exception of its beginning and its end, belongs to the S.W. wind; the hot season (save its end) and the cool season may be regarded as belonging to the N.E. wind, though the wind may be variable in the hot season; there remain two portions of the year, at the change of the monsoon, when the wind is variable, which cannot be classified as belonging strictly to the S.W. or to the N.E. wind. The fact that all these variable winds are denoted in the A-Pučikwar tribe by the name Bilik shows that in this tribe they are all classified with the N.E. wind. In this way the year is divided into two slightly unequal parts, one belonging to Teria or Tarai including the whole of the rainy season except the end and the very beginning, the other belonging to Bilik (Biliku) including the Kimil season, the cool season, the hot season, and even the first few days of the rainy season. This strict division only appears in the A-Pučikwar tribe, but it will be shown that an approximation to the same notion is found in the other tribes.

There is general agreement in all the tribes in the belief that storms are due to Biliku or Tarai. Both of them send rain and thunder and lightning, but whenever mention is made in the legends of a violent storm it is always Biliku who is mentioned as causing it, and never by any chance Tarai. Thus, in regard to this matter of storms, it is evident that Biliku is more important than Tarai, and this is only one example of the preponderance of Biliku over her consort. This preponderance will need to be explained as one of the essentials of the myth [212].

We have already seen how the Andaman Islander represents any natural phenomenon having negative social value as though it were the result of the action of a person in anger, this being the one anti-social passion with which he is most familiar in his own life. Thus the withdrawing of the light of the moon after the full is explained as being due to the anger of the moon. The negative social value of a violent storm is obvious. In accordance with the general principles of his mythology the Andaman Islander therefore explains the storm as being due to the anger of a personal mythical being. But storms are intimately connected with the winds, so that it must be Biliku and Tarai (in whom the winds are personified) who are responsible for the storms. Further, in the Andamans, violent storms are very rare except at two special periods of the year, at the change of the monsoon. This gives a further ground of association with Biliku and Tarai between whom the seasons are divided. We have seen that in classifying the winds the natives (of one tribe at any rate) associate with Tarai only the steady S.W. wind which brings not cyclones and violent storms but steady rain, while all the other winds are associated with Biliku. If this be so it is clear that a cyclone, with its wind veering from one quarter to another, must be the work of Biliku. Further, if the Biliku season be regarded as including all the periods of variable northerly and easterly winds as well as the period of the steady N.E., then we can say that it is only in the Biliku period that violent storms are likely to occur. It is evident therefore that an examination of the natural phenomena themselves gives us an adequate reason for the preponderance of Biliku over Tarai in the legends. This will be made even more evident as we proceed.

Another law of the Andaman mythology is that a person, such as the moon, is never angry without cause. There are a number of actions that are believed by the Andamanese to cause the anger of Biliku; of these there are three of extreme importance, all the others being certainly of much less importance. It is necessary, therefore, to examine these three carefully and find their meaning.

There is absolute agreement in all the tribes with regard to the belief that Biliku is angry and sends bad weather when bees’-wax is melted or burnt. The season of honey is the hot season from February to May. During the rainy season scarcely any honey is to be found and that only of the inferior (black) variety. It is clear therefore that honey belongs particularly to the Biliku portion of the year. During the hot season honey is abundant and large quantities are collected. As the natives make use of the wax, and as this is useless till it has been melted, this is the special season of the melting of bees’-wax. At the beginning of the season the Biliku wind blows calmly from the N.N.E. As the season draws to a close the wind becomes variable, uncertain, and in some years violent storms occur ushering in the rains of the S.W. monsoon. Year after year the wax-melting season comes to a close in stormy weather. Now stormy weather and the anger of Biliku are, for the Andaman Islander, one and the same thing, so that to say that the anger of Biliku follows the melting of bees’-wax is in one sense simply a statement of actual observable fact.

Another belief about which there is absolute unanimity in all parts of the Islands is that Biliku is angry when certain plants are cut down or dug up. These plants include some of the most valuable vegetable foods of the Andamanese, such as the yams and the pith of the Caryota palm. Amongst the roots and fruits associated with Biliku there are one or two that were not botanically identified. All of them, however, about which I was able to obtain any information whatever, are available as food during the cool and hot seasons, and either not at all or in very small quantities during the rainy season. On the other hand, of the vegetable foods that are available during the rainy season, not one is ever mentioned as being in any way connected with Biliku. Further, amongst all the foods of the cool and hot seasons only those are intimately connected with Biliku which begin to be available during the Kimil season. A few examples may be mentioned. The yams and other edible roots are not found at all in the rainy season, but the tubers begin to form in the Kimil season (October and November) and small quantities of these roots are available for food at that time. By the time the cool season has set in the roots become abundant, and they continue to be found until well on into the hot season. All these roots are regarded as being specially connected with Biliku and are spoken of as her foods. The same thing applies to the Caryota sobolifera of which the pith is eaten either raw or cooked. The pith begins to form in the Kimil season, and this highly prized food is available right through the cool season. The fruit of the Cycas, which is another of those belonging to Biliku, also begins to ripen at the beginning of the cool weather. As regards the Entada scandens, Kurz, in his Burmese Flora, mentions it as seeding in the “cold season.” I neglected to take note of the relation of this plant to the seasons, but the statement of Kurz may be relied on. Thus it is seen that the vegetable foods that are associated with Biliku are those that begin to be available for food during the Kimil season and are abundant during the cool season. Now the Kimil season, which is really the opening of the N.E. or Biliku monsoon, is the season at which cyclonic storms are likely to occur. Here again therefore, as in the case of bees’-wax, there is a definite ground of association in familiar natural phenomena. Year after year, as these foods begin to ripen and to be eaten, the islands are visited with stormy weather, sometimes of exceptional violence. When the Andaman Islander says that the stormy weather which is the sign of the anger of Biliku follows the digging up of yams and the cutting down of the Caryota palm or the gathering of the seeds of the Cycas or Entada, he is stating what is an actual fact.

The case of these vegetable foods is in one way different from that of bees’-wax. The melting of the wax goes on for some weeks before the anger of Biliku is finally aroused, when storms come to punish the offenders, and the change of season cuts short the supply of honey. In the case of the roots, etc., it would seem that it is only the first step that counts. The danger lies in the beginning of the season. Once the anger of Biliku has burst forth the bad weather ceases, the danger is past, and weeks of fine weather ensue, during which the natives may eat freely of the foods in question without fear of consequences. In this connection considerable importance may be attached to a statement made to me on more than one occasion, to the effect that the most efficient way of stopping a storm is to go into the forest and destroy the plants that belong to Biliku, i.e., do the very things that make her angry. We may apply this to the events of the Kimil season. The natives begin to dig up yams and collect other vegetable foods, and thereupon Biliku becomes angry and stormy weather follows. All that the natives have to do is to show sufficient persistence in continuing to eat yams, etc., and the anger of Biliku is bound to subside and the stormy weather to cease.

There is a third belief that is generally accepted in all parts of the Great Andaman, that Biliku is angry if a cicada be killed, or if a noise be made while the cicada is singing in the morning or the evening. The interpretation of this belief is made difficult by the fact that there is also an association between the cicada and the day and night. Thus Mr Man states that the prohibition against making a noise at dawn (while the cicada is singing) is associated not with Puluga but with the sun [213].

The grub of the cicada is eaten during the Kimil season, and at no other time of the year. Here the association is simple enough. The killing of the cicada (grub) takes place only during a brief season, and this is the season when cyclones occur. However, the grub of a beetle is eaten at the same season and yet I never heard of any connection between Biliku and this other grub. Certainly if there is a belief in such a connection it is very much less important than the belief relating to the cicada. Further, there is the belief that if the imago of the cicada be killed or if a noise be made while the cicada is singing, Biliku will be angry and will send bad weather, which is obviously not simply the result of the custom of eating the grub of the cicada during the Kimil season.

The relation of the cicada to Biliku is almost certainly due to the connection of the insect with the seasons. Unfortunately, not then recognizing the importance of the matter, I did not, while in the Andamans, take particular note of the relation of the life-cycle of the cicada to the revolution of the seasons, and I am reluctant to trust to vague memories of matters to which I did not pay special attention. Mr Man states, apparently on the authority of a native, that during the cold and dry seasons the cicada is seldom seen (and is therefore presumably also seldom heard). What I believe to be the life-cycle of the insect is as follows. During the rainy season only the adult insects are to be found. They lay their eggs at some period during the rainy season, possibly towards the end. In October and November the eggs have developed into pupæ, and it is these that the natives eat; but apparently the adult insects, or some of them, still survive at this time and are to be seen and heard. By about December the last of the adult insects die out and the grubs have not yet attained the adult form, so that there is a period during which no adult insects are either seen or heard. It is probable that the new generation makes its first appearance in adult form as soon as the first rains of the rainy season begin.

The essential point, on which we can base an interpretation of the myth, is that the cicada is not seen or heard during the fine weather (December to March). It probably, as stated above, makes its reappearance just at the period of the stormy weather that ushers in the rainy season. Similarly, it does not disappear until after the end of the stormy period of the Kimil season. (I have certainly heard and seen the insect in October, and to the best of my recollection in November also.) Thus the cicada is definitely associated with the part of the year including the rainy season and the two stormy periods at its beginning and end. I believe that this is the fundamental fact that explains the Andamanese beliefs about the connection of the insect with the weather.

I was told of a ceremony that was held at the end of the Kimil season in the Akar-Bale tribe (and possibly in other tribes also) the purpose of which was said to be to ensure fine weather for some months and which is called “Killing the cicada.” The ceremony consists of doing the very thing that is believed to produce storms, viz., making a noise while the cicada is singing in the evening. As soon as the cicadæ begin to sing all the persons in camp make as much noise as they can by banging bamboos on the ground, striking the sounding-board, or hammering on the sides of canoes, thus making just the kinds of noise that are said to be most disliked by the cicada. According to the statement of my informant this ceremony results in “killing” all the cicadæ so that they are not heard again for many weeks, and while this silence lasts fine weather is assured. The meaning of this little ceremony is plain when we recall the fact that though the digging up of yams and the cutting down of the Caryota palm anger Biliku and result in storms yet sufficient persistence in these actions, and therefore in any others that are displeasing to Biliku, results in dispelling the bad weather. Thus it is seen that although the matter is a little more complicated, yet the belief in the connection of the cicada with Biliku and with bad weather can be explained on exactly the same lines as the beliefs about bees’-wax and vegetable foods. The fact that the same explanation can be given of the three most important prohibitions connected with Biliku gives a high degree of probability to the interpretation here offered. These three beliefs are the only ones of real importance. I am unable to explain the connection of Biliku with the species of fish, the bird and the two kinds of wood mentioned on page 156. In the North Andaman there is a definite association between Biliku and spiders, the generic name for “spider” being biliku. I believe that this could be explained on the same basis as the connection with the cicada, i.e., through the connection of spiders with the changes of the seasons, but as I unfortunately neglected to take note of the habits of the spiders of the Andamans I cannot speak with any certainty and therefore prefer not to enter into a discussion of the subject [214].

The explanation that I have to offer of these beliefs relating to Biliku and to the things that offend her is that they are simply the statement in a special form of observable facts of nature. The rainy season comes to an end, the wind becomes variable, yams and other vegetable products begin to ripen and are used for food, and stormy weather comes, some years bringing cyclones of exceptional violence. Then follows a period of steady N.E. winds with fine weather and abundance of vegetable foods, during which the noise of the cicada is not to be heard. Then comes the honey season, when everyone is busy collecting honey and melting bees’-wax. The wind becomes very variable, storms come, the fine weather comes to an end and the rainy season begins again. These facts affect the feelings of the Andaman Islander and he expresses his impressions by regarding all these happenings as if they were the actions of an anthropomorphic being. The vegetable products, the cicada, and the honey all belong to Biliku. When the yams are dug up she is angry, or in other words, storms occur; a storm is the anger of Biliku. The cessation of the song of the cicada removes one of the possible causes of the anger of Biliku, and therefore marks the period of fine weather. That anger appears once more when the natives busy themselves with melting bees’-wax.

It may be noted that these beliefs about Biliku give an expression of the social value of honey and bees’-wax and of vegetable foods such as yams. The Andaman Islands provide few fruits containing natural sugar. Yet the natives are inordinately fond of sweet things; they greatly enjoy the sugar that they now obtain from the Settlement of Port Blair. Honey, which was almost their only sweet food in former times, was therefore very greatly valued. Apart from the yams and other foods associated with Biliku there are very few productions of the Andamans containing starch in a palatable form. To the native who has been living during the rainy season almost entirely on meat and fish, the starchy foods of the stormy season (yams, Caryota, etc.) are of great value, and they are very highly prized. Thus the foods associated with Biliku all have a high value.

We all know how the value of an object is increased if, in order to obtain it, we have to make some considerable effort or sacrifice, or put ourselves in danger of some evil. Reversing this mental process, the Andaman Islander expresses his sense of the value of honey and yams by the statement that to obtain them he must be prepared to risk the anger of Biliku with its results. It was shown in the last chapter that the value of food in general is expressed in the belief that all food is more or less dangerous to eat, and that ritual precautions must be observed if the danger is to be avoided. Here in the Biliku myth, we have a further example of the same sort of mental process, in relation not to all foods in general but to a few foods of special value. Yet another example may be given. Roast pork is highly relished by the natives, and they believe that the roasting of pork offends certain spirits of the sky and is therefore dangerous [215].

Returning now to the subject of Biliku as the sender of cyclones, it is necessary for the argument, even at the risk of repetition, to show (1) that this is by far the most important attribute of Biliku, and (2) that it follows immediately from her connection with the N.E. monsoon.

Taking the second point first, we may note, in the first place, that while Tarai is associated with the steady S.W. wind which blows with very little variation for months at a time, Biliku is associated with the variable winds of the hot season. Now a characteristic of a cyclonic storm is the way in which the wind veers from one quarter to another. Further, as most of the cyclones that cross the Andamans travel from the south-east in a north-westerly direction, and the movement of the cyclone is in a counter-clockwise direction, the first wind of a cyclonic storm when it strikes the islands comes from the north-east. This may be seen from the accompanying diagram. It is only at the very end of the storm, when the storm centre has passed, that the wind blows from the south-west. Thus it is clear that the association of cyclones with Biliku and not with Tarai is determined by the nature of the phenomena which the Biliku-Tarai myth sets out to explain.

That the most important attribute of Biliku is her connection with the cyclones is evident when we consider the legends in which she is mentioned. In most of the legends in which her name occurs [216] she is spoken of as being angry with the ancestors, and we know that a cyclone and the anger of Biliku are, for the Andaman Islander, one and the same thing. In some of the stories mention is made of a great storm that Biliku sent which nearly destroyed the world. All through the legends we find her pictured as a being whose anger is to be feared, who has the power to destroy human life and human property. Tarai is never mentioned in this way, for the rains of the south-west monsoon themselves have no such power.

We are now in a position to compare the characters of Biliku and Tarai and explain their relative positions in the myth. The reason for the preponderance of Biliku lies in the fact that it is she who sends cyclones, while Tarai sends nothing more than heavy showers of rain. Tarai is never responsible for the destruction of life and property, whereas Biliku is. Thus the preponderance of Biliku follows from the essentials of the myth. Secondly, Tarai is constant, ever the same, whereas Biliku is changeable. The rainy season of one year is exactly like that of another, and during the time it lasts the weather is consistent throughout. On the contrary, one year the Biliku season brings a terrific storm, and another year it is much less violent, while, from day to day during certain parts of the Biliku season the weather is unsettled, so that you cannot tell what the morrow will bring with it. It is obvious that this uncertainty about the actions of Biliku, the fact that she cannot altogether be reckoned with, would tend to make her of greater importance in the eyes of the Andamanese than her consort Tarai.

Let us now consider the question of the sex of Biliku. On this matter there is a lack of agreement. In the North Andaman Tarai is declared to be male and Biliku female. It can readily be shown that this results from the position of Biliku and Tarai as regulating the seasons. Tarai rules over the rainy season, in which the chief food is the flesh of animals of the land and of the sea; it is the business of men to provide flesh-food. On the contrary Biliku rules over the seasons in which the chief foods are vegetable products of different kinds; it is the business of women to provide such foods. It is only men who go out hunting for pigs or turtle or who harpoon or shoot fish, and it is always the men who attend to the first part of the cooking of pig, turtle and dugong; it is the women who dig up the yams and collect the fruits and seeds, and it is the women also who cook them. There is a very real sense, then, in which flesh foods may be called the foods of men, and vegetable foods may be called the foods of women, and, since flesh foods are the foods of Tarai and vegetable foods are the foods of Biliku, there is a sound reason for calling Tarai male and Biliku female.

This way of thinking of Biliku as female is in harmony with her character as outlined above. Women (in the Andamans) are notoriously uncertain, changeable creatures. You can always reckon fairly well what a man will do, but not so with a woman. Moreover, when the Andaman Islander wishes to picture to himself a pair of closely associated beings, it is natural that he should compare them to the most closely associated couple with which he is familiar,—husband and wife. This tendency leads him to make the sun and moon man and wife in many of his legends, and it may well be expected to have its influence on the Biliku myth also.

In the South Andaman however, both Puluga and Daria are said to be male. It can be shown that this view is also appropriate in its way. The Akar-Bale say that Puluga and Daria were once friends, but have quarrelled and now live at opposite ends of the earth and are perpetually renewing their quarrel. Daria has things to himself for a few months (the S.W. monsoon) and sends his wind; then Puluga makes an attack on him; some weeks of unsettled weather ensue while they are fighting, until Daria is beaten and Puluga takes over the control of the weather and sends the N.E. wind. By and by, however, Daria shows himself again and there is another quarrel, with its unsettled and stormy weather, which ends in the defeat of Puluga and the reinstatement for a period of Daria. Even the bald language in which it is stated does not quite hide the poetical grandeur of this conception of the world as the arena of two battling giants in a never-ending quarrel. Those who have lived through a tropical cyclone with its wind changing from one quarter to another, its consummate violence, its sudden onslaught, its pause (that is felt to be merely a pause) as the centre of the disturbance reaches and passes you, and then its sudden renewal of the mad combat with the wind coming now from the opposite quarter, cannot but recognize in the Akar-Bale myth a successful attempt to describe such a storm in figurative language.

Such a combat could only be pictured by the Andamanese as taking place between two men, and the myth in this form therefore necessarily involves the belief that both Puluga and Daria are male. It is evident, therefore, that this view has some justification, that it does enable the Andaman Islander to express the feelings and impressions evoked in him by the phenomena of the weather. I venture to think, however, that the southern myth is not quite so satisfactory as the northern one, does not translate quite so well all the different features of the natural phenomena with which it deals [217].

A most important element of the myth is the connection of Biliku (Puluga) with fire. In all the tribes there are legends that represent Biliku as the first possessor of fire, which was, according to some versions, given by her to the ancestors, and according to others stolen from her by one of them. There can be no doubt that these legends owe their origin to the connection between Biliku the storm-sender and lightning.

There are several different beliefs about the lightning. According to one of these the lightning (Ele) and the thunder (Korude) are persons, who produce the phenomena of the same name. Another belief is that thunder and lightning are produced by Biliku and Tarai. On the whole, it would seem that the latter belief is the one which is most frequently present to the minds of the natives. A man seeing lightning in the sky will say, according to the season, the prevailing wind, etc., Biliku čatobom, or Tarai čatobom; “Biliku (or Tarai) is at work.” There are different accounts, however, of the way in which Biliku makes the lightning. One belief is that it is a fire-brand flung by her through the sky; a second is that it is a mother-of-pearl shell (be) similarly flung; yet a third statement is that she produces the lightning by striking a pearl shell (be) on a red stone.

There is no doubt that the Andamanese regard lightning as fire; the charring of trees struck by it is sufficient to convince them of this. Thus lightning and the sun are the only two natural fires that they know. (With the relation of Biliku to the sun I shall deal later.) As the wielder of lightning Biliku thus becomes the possessor of fire. The simplest of the different beliefs, the one following immediately from the natural phenomena, would be, therefore, that which makes the lightning a fire-brand. This is, on the whole, the one that is most usually expressed, at any rate in the South Andaman.

The explanation of lightning as a shell depends not only upon the pearly lustre of this kind of shell, but also on other features of it. The shell in question (be) is used by women alone, and its use is confined to slicing yams and other vegetables in preparing them for food. Its association with Biliku therefore follows from the view of Biliku as female and as being especially associated with yams and other vegetable foods. Granting this fundamental connection, then the brightness of the shell, its keen edge and the way in which it can be made to skim through the air, will explain the statement that lightning is just such a shell thrown by Biliku. In the South Andaman, where Puluga is regarded as male, this belief about the pearl shell would be out of harmony with the rest of the myth, and, as we should expect, it is not found. However, the Aka-Bea word for lightning (be-iŋa, the -iŋa or -ŋa being a suffix) suggests that they may have had a similar belief in the past [218].

In the North Andaman the two views of lightning as a fire-brand and as a shell are both held, because they both, in different ways, fit in well with the rest of the myth. There is yet a third view in which these two contradictory beliefs are, as it were, reconciled. This is that Biliku produces lightning by striking a pearl shell against a red stone.

In the North Andaman the action of throwing a shell or a fire-brand is regarded as typical of Biliku; this is the way in which she is pictured by the native, and in which she would doubtless be portrayed if the Andamanese had a pictorial art. In the dance described in an earlier chapter, in which the dancer gave representations of various mythical beings, Biliku was represented by the dancer holding a shell in his hand and dancing round threatening to throw the shell at the spectators.

The representation of Biliku or Puluga as throwing her lightning in the form of a fire-brand or a shell appears in several of the legends of the origin of fire, and in particular in the legend of which different versions are found in all parts of the islands that tells how the kingfisher stole fire from Biliku and how the latter flung a fire-brand or a shell at the thief.

The most usual form of the fire legend, and the only one that I ever heard, is that in which the fire is stolen. Mr Man has recorded a version in which Puluga is represented as giving the fire to the ancestors. Considerable importance attaches to this motive of the story as it reveals to us the way in which the Andamanese usually think of Biliku and of their own relation to her. She is not, so far as these stories go, a benefactress who by the invention of fire has earned the gratitude of men, but rather a person with whom the human society, both in the time of the ancestors and at the present day, is in a condition of opposition. Though Biliku had fire, yet she kept it for herself and it was only obtained from her by stealth. She was angry when her fire was stolen and tried to punish the offender.

This opposition between Biliku and the ancestors is shown in other legends. In some of the stories she is represented not as living with the ancestors, but as living on one side of a narrow strait while the ancestors lived on the other, as in the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar legends. She is thus separated from the ancestors in the minds of the natives. In the Aka-Kede legend the ancestors eat the foods that Bilika regards as specially belonging to her, and she kills them. As a result the ancestors join together and kill Bilika. In the Akar-Bale version something of the same sort appears; Puluga is always getting angry with the ancestors because they eat vegetable foods, and in his anger he destroys their huts and other property (as a cyclone does, and as an Andaman Islander is sometimes known to do in a fit of temper); at last the ancestors send him away out of the world. In the A-Pučikwar legend Bilik goes away from the world in anger because the ancestors steal his fire. In the Aka-J̌eru version Biliku eats up all the food of the ancestors, and so they go away and leave her; she then destroys them with her shells (lightning) and finally perishes in an attempt to cross the sea on a stone. All these legends seem to express much the same thing in different ways, namely the existence of a condition of hostility between Biliku and human beings, based on the fact that the latter venture to make use of the things (yams, etc.) that Biliku regards as peculiarly her property. There can be no doubt that this is the usual way in which the Andamanese conceive the relation between Biliku and the ancestors, and therefore, since the ancestors represent the society in its beginnings, between Biliku and themselves. This relation is quite in agreement with what we have seen to be the essential basis of the myth. The natives obtain from the N.E. monsoon things highly valued, such as yams and honey, but they are given as it were grudgingly after a period of storms, and finally taken away in another period of storms.

This view of Biliku as hostile to mankind is not, however, absolutely universal if we are to accept Mr Man’s account of the myths of the South Andaman. Mr Man describes Puluga as the creator of the world and the beneficent ruler of mankind. Although I could not find a native who held exactly the same views about Puluga as those that Mr Man represents as being the views commonly held in the tribes he studied (Aka-Bea and A-Pučikwar), yet there is no doubt that at times, and more particularly in the southern tribes, the natives do regard Puluga as the benefactor and even the creator of the human race [219].

The representation of Biliku as hostile to mankind depends upon her position as the angry storm-sender, and this, as the legends show, does seem to be the more usual way of regarding her. But there is another and contrary aspect of Biliku. The revolution of the seasons brings to the Andamanese new supplies of relished foods,—the grubs of the Kimil season, the yams and honey of the cool and hot seasons. One of the Andamanese names for the season of the N.E. monsoon means “the season of abundance.” Therefore Biliku, as the personification of this season, is herself the giver of good things. This aspect finds a partial expression in the legends. Biliku is regarded as having created or discovered the use of all the natural productions associated with her. (In one legend it is Pe̱rǰido, the son of Biliku, who discovers honey with his mother’s help.) She thus occupies a position similar to that of the other ancestors, towards whom the men of the present feel grateful for the benefits they have bestowed on mankind. This view of Biliku as benefactress is often extended in the North Andaman to the belief that it was she who invented all the arts now practised by women, and there are traces of a belief that it was her son Pe̱rǰido who was similarly responsible for the arts practised by men.

This view of Biliku as a benefactress, although it conflicts to some extent with the view of her as on the whole hostile to mankind, yet, since it springs from the essential basis of the myth, cannot be overlooked. During the stormy season the Andaman Islander may well forget every aspect of Biliku save that she is responsible for the storms of which he goes in fear, but during the fine weather of the N.E. monsoon, when there is no longer any fear of a violent storm and when he is enjoying an abundance of the good things that he regards as especially belonging to Biliku, his feeling towards her must be of a very different nature; she is then the being who gives him the fine weather, the relished foods. Thus, contrary though they be, these two aspects of Biliku are both integral parts of the myth.

But Biliku is also the first possessor of fire, and we have seen that fire is regarded by the Andamanese as the source of the life of society, and therefore, in a way, of all life. Biliku as the source from which comes the fire is also the source of life. This view of Biliku is certainly to be found in all parts of the islands, though it has been developed more in the South than in the North. Biliku thus becomes responsible for the beginning of the society, and since the whole universe centres in the society, of the whole universe. She becomes the being who created or arranged the order in which men live.

For the honour of this position Biliku has, however, a competitor. Besides the lightning there is another natural source of fire, the sun. We find therefore two different (and contrary) developments of the myth of the beginning of the world. In one of these the sun is associated with Biliku, is regarded as belonging to her or made by her. For instance, in an Aka-Kede legend, she is stated to have made the sun by throwing a flaming brand into the sky. By this means Biliku becomes the sole source of fire and therefore of life. This is the position that Puluga occupies in the versions of the legends recorded by Mr Man. In those legends Puluga gives fire to the first human beings by making the sun come down to earth and ignite a pile of wood. The alternative development makes the sun independent of Biliku and it is then the sun, or a mythical person associated directly with the sun, who becomes the maker of the world, the source of life. Unfortunately, I did not obtain much detailed information about this development of the myth. In the North Andaman the being named Čara is associated with the sun and with fine weather, and is certainly sometimes regarded as the maker of the world. In the South Andaman it is Tomo who is associated with the sun. Men and women, when they die, go to live with Tomo in the sky. It is Tomo who is responsible for all things being as they are. He was the first being; it was he who arranged the order of nature; and similarly it was he who created the social order, so that a question as to why some custom is observed is often answered by saying that it was Tomo who made it so. In Mr Man’s account Tomo is degraded to the position of being merely the first man made by Puluga, but in the accounts that were given to me by the natives of the Akar-Bale and A-Pučikwar tribes Tomo was a rival of Puluga; sometimes one and sometimes the other was spoken of as being the supreme maker of all things. An Akar-Bale man of very high intelligence, who had been educated as a Christian, in trying to explain to me statements about Tomo made by another Akar-Bale who was regarded as an authority on the legends of his tribe, said that Tomo was the same thing to the Akar-Bale that God is to the Christian. When I asked him if it was not rather Puluga who was the Andaman equivalent of God, he said that some people might think so, but that according to the old man to whom I was talking it was Tomo and not Puluga who occupied the position [220].

There is only one more point that needs to be discussed, and that is the connection of Biliku with the spirits. It is clear that Biliku and Tarai must be distinguished from the spirits (Lau), yet at the same time Biliku is brought into relation with the spirits by the existence of two alternative explanations of bad weather. One of the explanations is that storms are due to Biliku, while the other is that they are due to the spirits, particularly the spirits of the sea. Both these beliefs, contradictory as they seem, are held by the Andamanese. The connection of the spirits with the weather is due to the fact that the weather is a thing that can limit the activity of the society, and we saw in the last chapter that there is a tendency to associate with the spirits of the dead all things that in any way interfere with the smooth progress of social life. When it is said that a storm can be stopped by swishing arrows in the sea, or by placing in the sea a piece of Anadendron creeper, it is to the spirits of the sea, who are afraid of arrows and of the Anadendron, that the storm is attributed, and not to Biliku.