The Birth of Manas
Oh, how hard it is to die without leaving behind offspring! Even animals are granted this fate, and even more so humans, and suddenly you are deprived of this gift of nature, this gift of fate, and all the wealth you have accumulated, all your possessions fall into the hands of completely foreign people, and after you, your descendant's name will never be spoken, after death there will be no cries of your beloved children and no prayers will be read for the repose of your soul.
Thus thought bay Jakyp, and his soul could not find peace, and he, feeling wronged by fate, trotted home on his barren mare Tuuchunagy.
"Day and night I worked to accumulate wealth for myself. Through honest labor, tireless care, and my own sweat, I gathered an immeasurable amount of livestock. But if I have no offspring to inherit all this wealth, I have no heir to enjoy this abundance, I have no son who would weep and wail after my death... Am I really going to die without descendants, disappear from the face of the earth without heirs? Who will I complain to that I died a bachelor? Who will listen to my laments?"
Jakyp suddenly burst into bitter tears in the steppe from inconsolable sorrow. His lips trembled, and tears flowed in streams from his eyes, washing his beard.
Without deviating from his path and paying no attention to anyone, he arrived home. Tying up his horse, he immediately entered the house. Noticing the dull gaze of the old man, his wife Chiyrdy, although she knew the cause of his sorrow, pretended not to suspect anything.
– My dear husband, what has darkened your mood, why are you sad? – she asked.
Angry Jakyp muttered:
– Hey, you, foolish head, can’t you guess? There is no one for us to caress and cuddle, we have no children. We have never heard the cries of children. We live alone like a finger, and I am known as an old bachelor. People gossip that you are barren, they curse us for our childlessness, our wealth – for its uselessness. I hoped that at least from my second wife there would be some luck, and I married Bakdoolat. But all my efforts are in vain, I have no children from either of you, how can I not cry, how can I not grieve?
Jakyp's voice trembled, and he burst into tears, wailing so that he became pitiable.
– Yes, my husband, we have been married since our youth, and now we have grown old. I too have dreamed all my life of hearing the cry of a child, but it hasn’t happened. Alright, I have remained barren, but even Bakdoolat, your second wife, on whom we both hoped, is not thinking of giving birth either.
As soon as she uttered these words, Bakdoolat entered. She immediately understood the essence of the matter and also began to complain about fate:
– My husband, my fate is no different from that of my sister. No matter how much I hoped, no matter how much I prayed to the Lord, asking Him to give me children, I still could not bring you happiness.
– Bakdoolat, how can you endure being called barren? You should have drunk poison and died!
In his anger, Jakyp spoke too harshly to his younger wife.
– My dear husband, if my sister is barren and is not ashamed of it, then why should I be ashamed? How much I have cried over not having children, the Lord did not heed my words. Thank God, at least I have enough wealth, and I am still young, and we will see what God will bring us next.
– I am half a man! It turns out that without children, life is not sweet. If you have no children, let the whole world perish. My father Nogoy was a khan, I had horses beyond count, I rolled like cheese in butter. Ah, I would rather be a stone in a hole than cheese in butter. That foolish woman boasts of her youth, this foolish woman reproaches me with her old age. A barren tree, it turns out, is no better than firewood.
And poor Jakyp was left with nothing.
Bakdoolat, offended by both of them, left the house with a sulky face. The elder wife, having seen all this, not knowing what to say, trembled, and her tears flowed like rain. After crying her eyes out, she finally looked at Jakyp.
– My dear husband, let us thank God. Let us gather our thoughts and cleanse ourselves of all dirt. Let us pray, ask God, perhaps He will have mercy.
Chiyrdy went out, washed and cleaned herself, and at night lay down, holding onto the collar, and prayed to God all night long.
A few days later, on the night of predestinations, when it was past midnight, bay Jakyp had a dream. Tears flowed in streams from the eyes of poor Jakyp.
"My Lord, I am ready to give all my wealth, all my livestock, ready to give everything to orphans and widows, to all the unfortunate. Make it so that everything I dream of comes true, oh Lord," he prayed all night.
Waking up early in the morning, he went to the head of forty families, Akbalte, and with joy, tears in his eyes, proclaimed:
– Baltake, God has given me countless livestock, but has not given me wisdom in my head. I have gathered ninety thousand sheep, and even more livestock besides. The fame of my wealth resounds among the people. But I have no son who would own all this wealth and, uttering prayers, lamenting, would mourn for me after my death. The years go by, and I am gradually losing my strength.
– Dear Jakyp, are you not a child? Be reasonable, be patient.
Akbalte felt sorry for Jakyp.
– Oh, Akbalta-ake. How much I have cried until now, I have shed as many tears as I have mourned. It is time for the Lord God to hear me. Last night I had a dream, Akbalta-ake. Let us gather the people today, and let them interpret my dream for me. God willing, perhaps my dreams will come true.
– You speak the truth, esteemed Jakyp. May your dream turn into reality, and may God fulfill all your wishes.
– Thank you, Balta-ake, may your wishes come true.
Akbalta gathered all forty families of Kyrgyz in Jakyp's house. To ensure there was enough for everyone, he slaughtered barren mares, a hundred three-year-old stallions with huge, kettle-like humps. Four types of livestock, including camels, he distributed to orphans and widows, the impoverished and the needy. When everyone had eaten, and everyone was in high spirits, having drunk kumys and dispelled their gloom, Akbalta asked the people to bless Jakyp and began his speech thus:
– My dear compatriots, bay Jakyp had a dream last night. Now he asks you to interpret this dream, what do you think about it?
Many immediately chimed in:
– Let him speak, – said the white-bearded elders.
And bay Jakyp began to tell his dream:
– Esteemed ones, I had such a dream last night. God willing, if the dream turns into reality, then we will be freed from the Kalmyks and reach our homeland Ala-Too, to our Kyrgyz people who wear white kalpaks. I saw in my dream that I caught a golden-feathered eagle chick. Its tail and plumage were golden, its spurs were like bulat steel, and its claws were like iron daggers. When I tied its legs with silk cords, it sparkled like a fairy bird; when I took off the blindfold, it instantly tore apart a wolf and a tiger, a bear and a boar. No bird dared to disobey it, and all submitted to it. Thus I stood on the peak of the highest mountain, holding the deadly sword Zulpuqor in my hands.
I swung the sword and everything around burst into blue flames, the black rocks collapsed and turned to sand. In my right hand, I held the sun, in my left – the moon.
Thus ended bay Jakyp's speech.
– Please interpret my dream well, esteemed aksakals…
Both old and young fell silent for a long time. The elders stroked their beards in confusion and hesitated. Soon, a joyful Akbalta jumped up from his seat.
– My dear compatriots! It seems that God is granting us deliverance. Apparently, we are soon to embark on a journey to our homeland, where we once lived. Perhaps we will return to our people who gave us life. Dear Jakyp, if your dream truly took place, then consider that God is favoring us. If God grants the Kyrgyz people a son like a lion and will protect him, then soon we will be freed from the captivity of the Kara-Kalmyks and Manchus, we will reclaim all that was taken from us, gather all that was scattered, rekindle the fire in our hearths, and return to our former blessed life. And the fact that you stand on the peak, dear Jakyp, means that you will regain your greatness and overcome all enemies. The fact that you hold the eagle chick in your hands means that you will have a son. And that son will be a brave warrior, a courageous lion. He will take revenge on our enemies for our sufferings and humiliations. And the fact that you hold the sword Zulpuqor and have the sun and moon in your palms means that your son will become a hero, will rule the whole world under this eternal sun and moon. May all this come to pass!
All forty Kyrgyz families who were there gave their blessing in unison.
When bay Jakyp, Bakdoolat, and Chiyrdy were left alone at home, the latter asked:
– My dear, may God bless us, let us be generous to each other. For how many years we have cried out to God to give us a son.
– You speak rightly, my wife, it only seemed to us that we were living.
Jakyp also did not hide his joy. Seeing his beaming face, Chiyrdy expressed what she had previously kept to herself:
– Well, I think the same, my dear. Let us praise God. We will slaughter part of the livestock, which is countless. The part that remains, we will give to the people. We will also distribute all the wealth that rots in our chests to the unfortunate and needy, my dear. Have we ever seen anyone who took their wealth with them to the afterlife after death?
Bay Jakyp jumped up from his seat.
– What are you saying, Chiyrdy? What are you babbling about, as if you are already ready to give birth to a son, huh? Should I now throw away all that I have accumulated just because I had a dream? And there is no son yet. Do you think wealth lies on the road, old woman? I am not ready to celebrate for a son who has not yet been born.
Bay Jakyp again changed his mind, renounced his words spoken in the morning, and the spirit of avarice prevailed in him.
– What are you saying, dear, I too had a dream. God will melt the ice in your heart. Why should we cling to excess wealth if there is no one to inherit it? Tomorrow we will gather the people again and slaughter at least forty or fifty of the livestock.
– Listen, Chiyrdy, we are not taking horses from the Kalmyks. How can I slaughter so much livestock as if my wife has given birth to a son? The Chinese are not attacking us. How can I slaughter so much livestock as if I am marrying off my daughter?
Bakdoolat also approached her husband from the other side.
– My dear husband, come to your senses, this is Bakdoolat speaking to you: you should slaughter not forty, but a full eighty to celebrate. Have you forgotten that you are already fifty? Are not slaves managing your livestock and your mind, old bachelor?
Jakyp was surprised to hear such words from Bakdoolat.
– The two witches have convinced me, they have surrounded me from both sides. Alright then, there is no other way but to agree. You both have served me well, I will listen to you.
Jakyp stood up, approached the sulking Chiyrdy, and helped her to stand.
– Do not be upset, my old woman, God willing, we will replenish what we have lost. Do not grieve, my old woman, God willing, we will find what we desire again.
Since then, time flew by like a moment. God had mercy on Jakyp and his elder wife – one day Chiyrdy began to choose food.
In joy, bay Jakyp slaughtered a fat mare, weighing a quarter arshin, the old woman didn’t even look. Even more delighted, he slaughtered a camel with humps full of fat, the old woman didn’t even taste it. To various dishes on the dastarkhan, she didn’t even touch the honey and sugar.
She began to wither day by day. Her only desire was to eat the heart of a leopard. She cried and lamented, demanded that they bring her tiger meat, asked to put it in the pot and boil it, saying she would eat all the meat, promising not to ask for anything more. She prayed like this, and all the Kyrgyz were bewildered.
Wealthy Jakyp sold all his livestock, all the jewels hidden at the bottom of the golden chests, and with the money he made, he sent his horsemen in different directions to procure the heart and meat of a tiger. When he saw that there was no use in this, after asking people, he went himself to Altai and found a skilled archer, Janchara, told him about his wife's desire, promised to give him whatever he wanted, and sent him to Lake Aral in Altai. The hunter wandered for three days and three nights through the pine forests in the mountains, searched all the dense thickets, shot a tiger, whose tail was six mahogany fathoms long, and returned with it.
Forty-seven families of Kyrgyz were fortunate, what they sought was finally found, and they managed to procure the heart of the tiger and treat Chiyrdy with it.
Not letting anyone touch it, not allowing anyone close, Chiyrdy importantly approached with her thick belly, placed the heart in a copper pot, kindled a fire herself, and without waiting for the meat to boil, took it out and, not sharing with anyone, ate it all herself. She even drank two bowls of broth herself. The old woman ate her fill and, feeling drowsy, lay down to sleep.
Bay Jakyp turned to those gathered:
– My dear compatriots, we are fortunate that we were able to find tiger meat. God willing, the child will be born alive and healthy, may the Creator send him prosperity, and he will grow into a young man with a heart like that of a tiger. Everything I have accumulated in my life, all of it is yours. My only request to you is: we live in a foreign land, far from our people, we live among our enemies, among the Kara-Kalmyks and Manchus. No one should know that the wife of bay Jakyp ate the heart of a tiger. Otherwise, they will kill the already small tribe of Kyrgyz, destroy everyone, and take the poor old woman Chiyrdy to Beijing and torment her, saying, "So this is what she is like, having eaten the heart of a tiger." Or they may even kill her, cut open her belly, so that the Kyrgyz do not have a son like a tiger.
Then Akbalta stood up from his place:
– My dear compatriots! Bay Jakyp speaks the truth. And it is said in legends, and our elders who have seen much say that Chiyrdy will give birth to a son like a tiger, a brave man like a gray wolf. So soon we will have a hero born who will restore our former glory, reclaim what was taken from us, a hero will appear who will be the support for the Kyrgyz, who will become our banner, my dear people. So let us live – we will see. And now swear by bread that you will not tell anyone how Chiyrdy ate the tiger's heart.
And all who were there, old and young, shouted in unison:
– May the one who cannot hold their tongue and speaks of this be cursed by God, may they perish, let all their livestock perish, and let their entire lineage be extinguished!..
Nine months and nine days passed since the child was conceived. They slaughtered a gray mare, set up a golden pole, neighbors gathered, and began to wait for the birth. Bay Jakyp gathered all forty families of Kyrgyz led by Akbalta and addressed the people:
– My dear compatriots! Many years have passed since I married and established my own home, began to live as a separate family. I have acquired a huge amount of livestock, amassed countless wealth. I was no worse than each of you, I was equal to each of you. The only flaw I had was that my wife and I had no children, and I could not embrace my own son. God forbid I die of a broken heart when I hear the cry of a child, and my old woman gives birth. God forbid I part with life in joy at the moment when I should enjoy it.
– Joy does not break the heart, happiness does not interrupt life, esteemed Jakyp. Be brave, – Akbalta began to calm him down, but Jakyp, like a wound-up clock, threw out the following words:
– For some reason, my heart is not beating right, Akbalta-ake. Why am I standing here, I better go to my horses. If my wife gives birth safely and if it turns out to be a girl, then there is no need to trouble myself and call me. Just say that poor Jakyp is left without an heir. But if a boy is born, then this is God's grace, this is not only my joy but the joy of all Kyrgyz. Slaughter livestock as much as you want, take wealth as much as you desire, and hold a great feast. Whoever brings me the news first, to them I will give as much livestock of four types as they want. For my son, I will spare nothing, even my head and all my livestock, my dear ones.
Thus said bay Jakyp and went to his horses. He had a thousand worries and a dozen thoughts, he walked back and forth, unable to find peace, then began to gather the horses to somehow calm his heart's beating. From time to time he glanced towards the village. After midnight, he put the hobbles on his horse, sent it to graze, and prayed for a long time, asking God for help. After some time, placing his saddle under his head, lying down with his head to the west, covering himself with his outer garment, he fell asleep.
Between sleep and wakefulness, bay Jakyp saw a white-bearded prophet.
– Hey you, wealthy Jakyp, rise and thank God. He has given you and the old woman what you asked for. He has heard your prayers for a son. Today your son will be born, name him Manas. He will be alive and healthy, the whole world will be in his hands. He will destroy anyone who opposes him, achieve everything he desires. In myriad worlds, no one will dare to attack him or oppose him; he will be lucky in everything; the generosity of his soul will be as wide as a river, the depth of his soul as deep as the sea, the height of his soul like a rock; like an arrow, he will pierce his enemy, and sparks will fly from his sword when he swings it; he will be called the hero Manas. Among your tens of thousands of horses, there is a gray mare that has not given birth for many years, she will give birth. Her foal will become a spirited steed, and he will not tire on watch, will not weaken in battle, will not grow weary for half a year, will not age even at sixty years.
He will be born together with your son, on the same day as him. There will be no better horse for your son: both long campaigns and bloody battles – he will endure everything, he will endure it all. There is one more condition, wealthy Jakyp, remember this well: until your son gains strength, until he grows strong and matures, until he becomes a strong hero, until he turns twelve years old and until he is recognized by the entire Kyrgyz people, no outsider should know about him. You will understand why I say all this later…
The white-bearded elder disappeared as if dissolved in mist. Bay Jakyp woke up, looked around, and there was no one. Jakyp put a belt around his neck and with complete humility prayed to God:
– Oh, my Creator, forgive me for all my sins. Help fulfill everything that the holy elder spoke of, and let me have a son. Lord, heed my prayer in my old age.
He only stood up when it finally dawned, and it became light around. He walked back and forth, not knowing what to do, unable to calm down. Then he headed towards the horses. In a small hollow, near the grazing horses, a gray mare was quietly neighing and guarding her newly born foal, which she had not given birth to for many years.
Seeing the beauty of the foal, its stature and strength, bay Jakyp was delighted. He understood that in time the foal would become a battle horse with huge hooves and a broad croup, and if the rider matched him, he would remain tireless in battle and strong on the run. He realized that the dream was beginning to come true, and he rejoiced within himself.
Some time passed, and Chiyrdy began to have contractions. When the fetus turned, her vertebrae groaned, and all forty ribs cracked as if they were about to break. The woman's soul sank to her heels, she clung tightly to the pole, no longer hoping for a happy outcome, each time the fetus turned, she let out a piercing scream:
– This is no child, but a misfortune upon my sinful head... I could not give birth in my youth, and now this is my trouble in old age.
She lunged forward, screaming so desperately that even the healers could not manage her, her whole body convulsed, tears flowed from her eyes, her whole body was covered in beads of sweat.
The contractions lasted seven days, especially exhausting all those nearby. They waited and waited, hoping that she would give birth at any moment.
– Hold on a little longer, mother. It seems that the birth is approaching, – comforted Bakdoolat, who had been taking care of the birthing woman since morning, and was therefore all in sweat.
– My dear ones, I fear I will not survive. Pull tighter at my waist!
Chiyrdy, no matter how hard she tried to hold on, could not endure it all, and she burst into tears. Immediately after that, the cry of a child rang out. The whole yurt of twelve panels trembled at its wail, the entire dome cracked, and it seemed the mountains were ready to fall.
– Is it a boy or a girl, please tell me quickly, for mercy's sake.
Chiyrdy, barely lifting her head, prayed.
– A boy, a boy, mother...
The women began to chatter in unison.
Chiyrdy, who had waited her whole life for these words, closed her eyes and fell silent.
In joy, Kanymjan tried to wrap the child in her shawl and took him by the hand, but he pulled his hand back like an adult young man.
– Hey you, women, help wrap the child, or else you have settled down as if waiting for someone’s help.
– If you can’t wrap him, then give him here. Besides weaving with your tongue, you know nothing else.
Bakdoolat half-jokingly, half-seriously teased the midwife, trying to lift the wailing child. Her back straightened as if she had lifted a fifteen-year-old boy. Bakdoolat, who had dreamed of a child her whole life, kissed the blessed child.
– Let the child suckle at the breast so he doesn’t cry, – said one of the old women.
– Bakdoolat, wait a little with the milk, – Chiyrdy addressed her, lifting her head. – Please bring the child.
Before Chiyrdy's eyes appeared the incident that had occurred just earlier. Then an elder with a huge white beard appeared before her, gray to his eyebrows and eyelashes, with a rosy face:
"Chiyrdy, dear, the glory of your son, who is to be born, will spread throughout the world. Unyielding in deeds, he will be a brave warrior who will conquer all lands up to Beijing, avenge you all for all the sufferings and humiliations that have befallen you. Give the son this steel bullet to suck on while fasting. His fate is such: when they fight with spears, when axes come into play, when ammunition runs out, when he is left alone surrounded by howling enemies, this bullet may come in handy. Sew it firmly to his collar.
– Thank you, my esteemed holy one. So be it as you have said.
Chiyrdy, in her joy, did not even know what else to add.
– May your son live long. May he be happy and lucky. May he serve the Kyrgyz people honestly.
The white-bearded elder disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
After washing the child, Chiyrdy took out from under her pillow the bullet that the elder had given her and let her son suck on it, then sewed it under his collar. Only after that did she begin to nurse the child. At first, milk flowed from her breast, then water flowed. When the baby began to suck for the third time, blood flowed from her breast, and then Chiyrdy lost consciousness and her body went limp. The child was given several spoonfuls of melted butter mixed with honey, fed, and laid to sleep in a place of honor.
At that moment, a short-tailed gray lion entered through the door, did not even glance at the women filling the house, slowly walked to the child, licked both of the boy's cheeks, and lay down to the right of him. Following him came a cheetah with black spots, licked the boy's forehead, sniffed his chest, and lay down to his left.
Not understanding whether this was a dream or reality, the women, paralyzed with fear, turned pale and fell silent, and only after those two disappeared from sight did they finally come to their senses, regain their speech, and begin to wail.
Unable to find peace, bay Jakyp was running his horse back and forth until he saw a man descending from the heights. When that man approached, he recognized Akbalta. He shouted from afar:
– Hey, bay Jakyp, where are you?
– Uncle Akbalta, I am here.
– My dear Jakyp, joyful news! For our happiness, your old woman Chiyrdy has given birth to a hero, like a lion, a warrior, like a leopard...
Akbalta, beside himself with joy, screamed and shouted, waving his arms, spitting, while Jakyp stared at Akbalta, standing like a madman, and could not understand what he was talking about, tears flowing from his eyes, dripping onto his beard.
– Wealthy Jakyp, are you a child or something? Instead of rejoicing, you are shedding tears here, smearing snot and losing consciousness, huh?
Akbalta grabbed Jakyp by the shoulders and shook him for a long time.
– Come to your senses at last, Jakyp.
Only after this did bay Jakyp come to his senses. He embraced Akbalta and kissed him.
– Uncle Akbalta, is what you say true? Did you see with your own eyes that a boy was born, or did you just hear it from the women and come to congratulate me?
– My dear Jakyp, why would I lie at my old age, what do you think? I was sitting at home and heard the loud voice of your son. His voice was heard even from afar. To be honest, my heart sank to my heels when I first heard it.
– And what happened next, uncle Akbalta, tell me more. I can’t wait to hear what happened next.
– And what happened next? Without wasting a moment, I hurried to see. They said that your wife's cries finally reached the Lord God, she screamed, they say, so that she did not want to live, she wailed until she lost consciousness. They say the child appeared with a clot of blood clenched in his fist. That’s what all the women and old women say there, anyway.
Bay Jakyp still could not believe it.
– Uncle Akbalta, is all this true? Judging by your story, the child is not of this world. Did my wife give birth to a scandalous child who is ready to rampage and fight at any time if something displeases him, and even ready to kill everyone in sight if he sees fit? And is my wife alive and well?
– Your wife is alive and well, do not worry.
– Well, thank God, now it is a little easier. Uncle Akbalta, I will stay here for now. On one hand, there is no one to look after the livestock.
Akbalta became angry and said all sorts of things:
– Jakyp, weren’t you lamenting all the time that you had no son? And now that he has been born, what is this talk? Or is livestock dearer to you than a son? Be careful not to die in pursuit of gain. All your livestock will not survive even one drought, not even one enemy raid. Bay Jakyp, God has given you what you asked for, and you have a son.
– Oh Creator, dear, please do not deprive me.
– Bay Jakyp, if your son lives to adulthood, there will be no hero like him in the world. He will unite the Kyrgyz and free us from suffering and oppression, he will make us all happy.
Then Akbalta turned his words into a joke.
– Bay Jakyp, will you finally give a gift for the good news or not? I need to go.
Jakyp agreed with him and laughed, then handed Akbalta a bag of gold.
– Uncle Akbalta, choose whatever you want for such good news. If this is not enough, choose four camels from the herd of Kambarboz, let there be four of each of the four types of livestock. My dear Akbalta, you know how much I value you. I can’t wait to see my son, let’s go, or my heart won’t withstand it.
Akbalta and Jakyp rode towards the aiyl. They didn’t even notice how they reached it. The young men near the house helped them dismount, and the young women politely opened the doors for them.
– What joy, bay-ake, in your old age your wife has given you a leopard!
– In your old age, your wife has brought you a tiger, what joy!
– Our dear son-in-law, our sister has given you a son in consolation, – all shared the joyful news.
– So be it, my dear ones, so be it. Here is a gift for the good news. Take it, dear ones, – said Jakyp and handed each a bag.
Longing for the arrival of his son, cherishing the dream of a son, poor Jakyp appeared before Chiyrdy and congratulated her:
– May the cradle of your swaddling be strong, may the infant's bed be blessed, my dear wife!
– May your wishes come true, dear.
– Bakdoolat, bring the infant.
– Here, dear.
Bay Jakyp took his son in his arms, and seeing the child cry, he could not help but cry too. He kissed his son firmly on the neck and immediately decided to see what he was like. A high forehead, a narrow head, a humpbacked nose, thick bushy eyebrows, a fierce look, piercing gaze, a large mouth, deep-set eyes, even cheekbones, a long chin, thick lips. He looked at his son and thanked God for giving him a warrior son who might take revenge for him, defeat enemies, and defend his people. And he wished his son long years and health.
Bay Jakyp was immeasurably happy, the world seemed beautiful to him, and he admired life even more, thanking God a thousand times, his mood was good, and he was completely calm.
Jakyp planned to hold a great celebration for the birth of his son and sent a messenger to invite Akbalta. Akbalta was soon with him.
– Uncle Akbalta! – began Jakyp. – God has blessed me, and I have decided to hold a great celebration for the birth of my son. Thank God, I have eighty thousand sheep, countless horses, more than six thousand camels. Let us summon relatives from Andijan and Tashkent. We will invite close relatives from the Kipchaks, Usuns, and Naimans, we will also call the Arguns. If we do not meet each other, do not visit, then even close relatives will become distant.
– You are right, esteemed Jakyp. It is customary for fathers to receive blessings from the people. Let’s do this in the autumn, by that time the livestock will be fat.
They consulted like this and, setting a date, sent more than thirty messengers in different directions to summon guests.
By autumn, bay Jakyp settled on the plain of Uch-Aral on the banks of the Kara-Suu River. More than a thousand yurts were set up to welcome the guests. Guests arrived from Samarkand and Jizzakh, from Oluy-Ata, Tashkent, Ili and Chuy, even further from Tibet, from Ural, and from the east from China. And there were countless Mongols and Kalmyks in the aiyl.
"Let me open the treasury and slaughter large livestock," bay Jakyp proudly decided and slaughtered five hundred horses, two thousand sheep, and a hundred bulls. He brought a hundred camels of fruits and vegetables, a hundred camels of rice. He hung a bright red banner high, left by Khan Nogoy, and began to celebrate. The celebration lasted for seven consecutive days, the people feasted to their heart's content, thirty steeds participated in the competition, the main prize was five hundred horses and a thousand sheep, and then the people dispersed.
Bay Jakyp, carrying his son in his arms, and behind him Chiyrdy entered the white yurt, where sat the Kipchak Baydzhigit, Kyrgyz Elaman, the old man Kurtka from Andijan, Karakozho from the Argyns, Akbalta from the Noyguts, Eshtak from the Nogai, Abdilda from the Turks, Ubaidulla from Tashkent, and Munarbi from the Katagans. They threw a black chapan, embroidered with golden patterns, over each other's shoulders.
And bay Jakyp began his speech:
– Esteemed aksakals! We are all gathered here as children of one father. We have sent the Chinese, Kalmyks, and Manchus away. And now I have come to you to ask for a name for my son.
All those sitting there whispered in confusion, none of them could think of any name. They all looked at each other in bewilderment, unable to find suitable words.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, a white-bearded dervish appeared with a staff and bells.
– Judging by how importantly you sit, how richly you are dressed, and how wisely you look, it is clear that you have already determined many fates. But now, it seems, you are puzzled, troubled by doubts, and greatly concerned.
The dervish paused his speech and looked at those seated. Since no one could respond, Berdike broke the silence.
– Esteemed one, this man is called Jakyp. His pastures are full of large livestock, his pens are full of sheep, his chests are full of gold and silver. He is a noble wealthy man. The only flaw he had was that he had no children to inherit all this. But now God has been merciful to him, and he has been blessed with a son. Here we sit, breaking our heads over what worthy name to give the child.
– In that case, aksakals, allow me to propose a name, – said the dervish and looked at the elders, who agreed in unison.
– This is a good matter, this is very timely. We just couldn’t find a suitable name.
– You name the boy, we do not object.
The dervish prayerfully stretched out his hands and looked at the guests seated before him.
– Let us name the boy Manas, and may he avoid many troubles, and may God help him.
All those present, including the father and mother, were satisfied with the given name. The old woman Chiyrdy immediately threw a robe made of golden brocade over the dervish's shoulders.
– Our esteemed father, you have just happened to be with us at the celebration for a good reason, may God bless you with a new garment.
– Thank you, daughter, may your son live long. And let this robe be my gift to both you and you, my son. Here, put it on, – said the dervish, handed the robe to one of the guests, and disappeared.
The Tale of Manas. The Exile of the Kyrgyz to the Altai Lands