The preface to Cecil Henry Bompas's translation immediately establishes the collection's ethnographic grounding: the Santals are described as a Munda tribe, originally hunters, now "indifferent agriculturists," with a complex social organization including a headman (manjhi), a village priest (naeke), and a morals supervisor (jogmanghi). Their animistic religion centers on bongas—spirits inhabiting trees, rocks, and ancestral domains. Bompas notes that the stories were written in Santali by a Christian convert, Sagram Murmu, ensuring "beautifully pure" language untainted by European idioms. This framing primes the reader to encounter the tales as authentic expressions of a non-Aryan worldview, not as literary inventions.

The Trickster's Economy

The tale of Chitru the blacksmith (story LXXXIII) exemplifies a recurring figure: the cunning protagonist who exploits social hierarchies. Chitru strangles a prince visiting his wife, then manipulates the corpse to extort money from dancing girls and a moneylender (mahajan). Each transaction escalates the price—one hundred rupees, then two hundred—until a Koeri farmer is framed and forced to flee. The narrative structure is a chain of escalating deceptions, each step turning a liability into profit. Notably, Chitru faces no punishment; his wife is silenced by threats, and he gains three hundred rupees. The story's moral economy rewards cleverness over justice, a pattern that recurs in Santal folklore.

Deception as Survival

In "The Sham Child" (story LXXXIII), a maidservant engineers a false pregnancy to restore her exiled mistress to the Raja's favor. The ruse is meticulously detailed: the maidservant announces the pregnancy, secures funds, and later claims a son has been born. They buy anklets with bells to simulate a toddler's presence. The deception is sustained by the Raja's desire for an heir and the women's resourcefulness. Unlike Chitru's tale, here the tricksters are vulnerable—begging for food—and their scheme is a survival tactic. The story ends ambiguously; the excerpt cuts before resolution, leaving the reader to wonder whether the fraud is discovered. This incomplete arc invites speculation about Santal attitudes toward authority and gender.

Voice and Translation Choices

Bompas states his translation is "somewhat condensed but very literal," aiming to preserve the Santal perspective. The prose is direct, with minimal embellishment: actions are reported plainly ("he sprang out upon him and strangled him"). Dialogue is sparse, often summarized. The effect is a stark, almost reportorial tone that foregrounds plot over psychology. This aligns with Bompas's claim that the stories show "the way in which a very primitive people look at things." However, the reader should note that the translation mediates the original Santali; the "purity" Bompas praises is a linguistic feature, not a guarantee of unmediated authenticity. The tales are filtered through a colonial administrator's lens, even as he strives for fidelity.

Recurring Motifs and Social Structure

Both excerpts feature Rajas, princes, and a rigid social hierarchy: blacksmiths, dancing girls, moneylenders, and farmers occupy distinct roles. The village structure described in the preface—headman, priest, constable—is absent from the tales, which focus on individual cunning rather than communal governance. Spirits (bongas) are not mentioned in these stories, despite their prominence in the preface. This suggests the collection may alternate between supernatural and secular narratives. Readers should watch for how the social roles (exogamous septs, the jogmanghi's moral oversight) surface in later tales. The preface's ethnographic details provide a backdrop against which the stories' deviations—like Chitru's impunity—become striking.

As you read, attend to how each tale negotiates power: who deceives, who is duped, and what consequences follow. The preface offers a cultural key, but the stories often complicate it. Note the recurrence of bodily fluids (strangling, pregnancy), economic transactions (rupees, bribes), and the absence of divine justice. These patterns, rather than any single moral, may be the collection's most revealing feature.