Long, long ago, two boys lived in a village on the slopes of the hills, who were very fond of one another and were inseparable companions. The name of one was U Riwbha, the son of one of the wealthiest men in the country. The other was called U Baduk, who belonged to one of the lowly families, but the difference in the station was no barrier to the affection of the children for one another. Every day they sought one another out. Together, they roamed abroad in the fields and the forests, learning to know the birds and the flowers; together, they learned to swim in the rivers, use the bow and arrow, and play on the flute. They loved the same pastimes and knew the same friends.

As they grew up, they were not able to spend so much time together. U Riwbha had to overlook his father’s property, which involved many days’ absence from the village, while U Baduk went every day to labour in the fields to earn his own rice and help his poor parents. But the old friendship remained as firm as ever between the two young men, they trusted one another fully, and the one kept no secrets from the other.

In the course of time, they took to themselves wives and became the heads of families. U Riwbha’s wife, like himself, belonged to one of the wealthy families, so that by his marriage, his influence in the village increased, and he became wealthy and prosperous. U Baduk also married into his own class and went to live in a distant village, but he never gathered riches like his friend; nevertheless, he was very happy. He had a good and thrifty wife, and side by side, they daily toiled in the fields to supply their simple wants as a family.

Thus circumstances kept the two friends apart, for they seldom met. The old regard was not in the least abated by absence, rather the bond seemed to be drawn closer and closer as the years went by. Occasionally U Baduk journeyed to his native village to see his people and friends. On these occasions, nowhere was he made more welcome than in the house of his friend U Riwbha, who insisted upon his spending the greater part of his time with him and partaking in many delicious meals at his house. Thus the two old comrades renewed their intimacy and affection.

On his return home from one such visit, U Baduk’s wife told him that their neighbours had been talking a great deal and making disparaging remarks about the intimacy between them and their wealthy friend, hinting that no such friendship existed; that it was only U Baduk’s boast that he had rich friends in his own village. If there were such an intimacy as he pretended, why had his rich friend never come to see them when U Baduk was constantly going to visit him? He was vexed to hear this, not so much because they condemned him, but because they were casting aspersions on his best friend, so he determined to invite his friend to pay them a visit.

When U Baduk paid his next visit to his village and had, as usual, accepted the hospitality of his friend, he ventured to say, “I am always coming to see you and partaking of your hospitality, but you have not been to see me once since I got married.”

To this, U Riwbha replied, “Very true, my dear friend, very true, but do not take it amiss that I never thought of this before. You know that I have much business on my hands and have no leisure like many people to take my pleasures. But I have not acted right by you you, and I must make haste to remedy my fault. Give my greeting to your wife, and tell her that I will start from here tomorrow to come to pay you both a visit and to give myself the pleasure of tasting a dish of her curry and rice.”

Highly gratified and pleased, U Baduk hastened home to tell his wife of his friend’s projected visit and urged her to rouse herself and cook the most savoury meal she was capable of. She too was very pleased to hear that the man they respected and loved so much was coming to see them, but she said, “It has come very suddenly when I am not prepared. We have neither fish nor rice in the house.”

“That is indeed unfortunate,” said the husband. “But we have kind neighbours from whom we have never asked a favour before. You must go out and borrow what is wanted from them, for it would be too great a disgrace not to have food to place before our friend when he comes.”

The wife went out as requested by her husband, but although she walked the whole length of the village, no one could spare her any rice or fish, and she returned home gloomy and disheartened and told her husband of her ill-success. When U Baduk heard this bad news, he was extremely troubled and said, “What sort of a world is this to live in, where a morsel of food cannot be obtained to offer hospitality to a friend? It is better to die than to live.” At which point, he seized a knife and stabbed himself to death.

When the wife saw that her good husband was dead, she was smitten with inconsolable grief, and she cried out, “What is there for me to live for now? It is better that I also should die.” Thereupon she in her turn seized the knife and stabbed herself to death.

It happened that a notorious robber called U Nongtuh was wandering through the village that night, and, as it was cold, he bethought himself of sneaking into one of the houses where the family had gone to sleep, to warm himself. He saw that a fire was burning in U Baduk’s house and that it was very silent within. He determined to enter. “They are hard-working people,” said he to himself. “And will sleep soundly. I can safely sit and warm myself without their knowing anything about me.” So he squatted down comfortably on the hearth, not knowing that the two dead bodies lay on the floor close to him.

Before long, the warmth made him drowsy, and without thinking, U Nongtuh fell asleep and did not wake until the day was dawning. He jumped up hastily, hoping to escape before the village was astir, but was greatly terrified when he saw the two dead bodies. A great trembling took him, and he began to mutter wildly, “What an unfortunate man I am to have entered this house! The neighbours will say that I killed these people. It will be useless for me to deny it, for I have such an evil reputation nobody will believe me. It is better for me to die by my own hand than to be caught by the villagers and put to death like a murderer.” Whereupon he seized the knife and stabbed himself to death. So there were three victims on the floor, lying dead side by side, all because there was no food in the house to offer hospitality to a friend.

The morning advanced, and when the neighbours noticed that no one stirred abroad from U Baduk’s house, they flocked there to find out what the matter was. When they saw the three dead bodies, they were filled with sadness and compunction, for they remembered how they had refused to lend them food the night before, to prepare entertainment for their friend.

When later in the day, U Riwbha arrived according to the promise made to his friend, he was told of the terrible tragedy, and his sorrow knew no bounds. He sat wailing and mourning by the body of the friend that he loved best and would not be comforted. “Alas!” he wailed. “That a man should lose such a true friend because the world has become so hard for the poor that to entertain a friend is a greater burden than they can bear.”

For many hours he wept and sorrowed, praying to the Great God to show a way of keeping up the customs of hospitality without the poor having to suffer and be crushed, as his own good friend had been crushed.

Just about that time, the Great God walked abroad to look at the universe. He saw the sorrow of U Riwbha, and took pity on his tears, and made known that from henceforth He would cause to grow three valuable plants, which were to be used by mankind in future as the means of entertainment, whereby the poor, as well as the rich, could entertain their friends without being burdened. Immediately three trees that had never been known to mankind before were seen springing up from the ground where the dead bodies lay. They were the Betel, the Pan, and the Tobacco.

From that time, it became a point of etiquette in Khasi households, rich and poor alike, to offer betel nut and pan or a whiff of tobacco from the hookah to friends when they make calls.