Thanks, Lt. Dan, for posing this question. I say yes, let's get the information surrounding the origin of the cheetlang. I think the forum would want it. Let's hope it's more interesting than this version:
Just two years ago Craig was visiting Lalit's Kathmandu shop in Nepal to strengthen business ties between them. It was during this visit that Lalit treated Craig to a trip deep into the mountainous countryside to view first-hand the hill people going about their day-to-day business. Craig, of course, had his eye open for khukuris all the time and was gladdened, as their trip progressed, to see a motley assortment of them being used for all kinds of work around the house. He noted them being used, from slaughtering the family goat to chopping up potatoes, and the khukuris used ranged from new to old and from presentable to decrepit. They were all approximately the same size and shape, indicating that they all came from a certain kami in the vicinity. Only when he and Lalit ventured further into the mountains did he actually see other shapes and sizes crop up. The work of other kamis were now becoming apparant.
There were no markets or eating-houses in the hills in the Chilanka area. But Lalit was a well- known figure in these parts also, and the pair were eventually treated to a meager dish of barbequed goat ribs and strong tea with water buffalo milk afterwards, at the modest dwelling of Ganiu, a villager acquaintance of Lalit's. As they were into their second bowl of rice, Craig noticed that Ganiu was secretly whispering to Lalit and indicating continuously with a finger in the direction of the adjoining room. Craig does not understand Nepali, but the word "cheetlang" which he overheard, made an impression as it was repeated a number of times. Craig was intrigued, but he knew he had to wait his turn.
Lalit and the villager left the room, leaving Craig and the lady of the house exchanging polite gestures, and when they returned ten minutes later, Ganiu carefully unwrapped a rice-paper parcel in front of Craig. When the contents were revealed, Craig could not believe his eyes. On the soiled paper there lay a khukuri the likes of which he had never seen. It was old, very old, but kept in immaculate condition.The blade was long and slender like that of a sirupati, but the butt-end of the rosewood handle flared up and out to meet a stunning engraved brass buttcap having the shape of a half-dome. Craig picked it up gingerly, feeling the heft as he turned it around.The lines of the knife were so exquisite, the balance so remarkable, that for long moments Craig could only stare.
"What...who...where...?" he stammered, until eventually the story began to unfold. Seems there was an old kami by name of Thaman Gurung staying at the home of a distant relative. The kami lost all his possessions, including his forge and tools, in a fire which also maimed him for life. He managed to save a few humble possessions. He also saved the khukuri, which had been in his possession for eighty years, handed down through generations before him. The kami is dead now, but he told his story before he died. He had one daughter, no-one knows what became of her...
"The khukuri.... What about the khukuri?" Lalit looked admonishingly at Craig, indicating with a wagging finger that it does not pay to rush a villager who has a story to tell. The woman fidgetted in the kitchen lean-to, preparing bowls of strong tea liberally laced with an obnoxious but potent potato spirit clandestinely prepared high in the mountains for exactly this kind of circumstance. Then she lay down and left the men alone. They would talk into the night....
When men speak of bygone times, the sun sets without them being aware of it, and far away on the slopes an eagle utters a wistful cry. The mists of time shroud strange tales in the shadow of the Himalayas.......
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"Gold is for a woman - steel is for a man."