Moni Mekhala and Ream Eyso (The Goddess And The Giant)

​​There is a Cambodian legend that, once, a long time ago, there lived a goddess and a giant who were studying with the same teacher. A wise and powerful hermit who lived deep in the forest, the teacher possessed a magic ball, which he wanted to present to one of his devoted students. However, it was difficult for him to judge which of his star pupils, the goddess Moni Mekhala or the giant Ream Eyso, both of whom were just completing their studies with him, was more deserving of the ball. He decided to offer his pupils a challenge: The two were told to collect the morning dew. The first of them to present the hermit with a glassful of this liquid would be the winner. And the winner would receive the magic ball.

Ream Eyso, the giant, had a clever idea which he thought would surely bring him the honor of the best student. Early the next morning, Ream Eyso gathered as many leaves as he could, and one-by-one, let the droplets of dew slide from each leaf into his glass. 

Moni Mekhala approached her task differently. She spread a handkerchief on the grass and left it there overnight. By morning the handkerchief was damp, and it took just a moment to squeeze the dew out of the cloth and into the glass. She arrived to present her full cup of dew to her teacher before the giant did. As a reward for her ingenuity, the hermit bestowed upon Moni Mekhala a glittering ball. Ream Eyso received a magic ax as a consolation prize. 

But instead of being the end of an isolated contest, this was just the beginning of an eternal struggle for the small ball that Mekhala now carried was very powerful, much more so than the ax that Ream Eyso wielded. The giant was jealous. He had to have that ball! 

Ream Eyso stalked Moni Mekhala. He taunted her and threatened her. He crept up behind her and tried to grab the object of his desire. He even flirted with the goddess. But the goddess was not at all bothered. Indeed, she was aware of all of his tricks and teased him in return. In desperation and anger, Ream Eyso flung his ax at Mekhala, barely missing her. Moni Mekhala finally tossed the ball into the air, creating a bolt of lightning that blinded the giant. Down he fell, defeated, as Moni Mekhala gently flew away. But moments later, wiping the sweat off his brow, the giant regained his composure and stood up. Realizing that his foe had escaped he pranced around in fury and disappeared into the sky. 

In this tale we find the origin of thunder and lightning. Ream Eyso's ax flying toward the goddess creates the thunder. And Mekhala's sparkling ball lights up the heavens. Together they bring rain, the symbol of renewed life as it imparts fertility to Cambodia's farmlands. 

The confrontation between the giant and the goddess reoccurs every year, around the time of the Cambodian New Year in mid-April. This is the height of the dry hot season, just before monsoon rains wash away the dust and bring nourishment to the fields. When Cambodians see dark clouds forming in the sky, they know that Ream Eyso and Moni Mekhala will soon be engaging in their eternal battle, and the rice fields will soon be flooded. They also know that the giant will be vanquished, but only temporarily. Sooner or later he will reappear. 

This legend has been enacted for centuries at least once a year as part of a sacred ceremony known as the "buong suong." Held under royal patronage, buong suong is a way to ask the deities for blessings in exchange for offerings of elaborately presented fruits, meats and other foods, incense, flowers, and most importantly, sacred music and dance. Swathed in velvet and brocade, with a golden tiara or fearsome mask on their heads and delicate flowers over their ears, the dancers personifying Moni Mekhala and Ream Eyso recreate this most essential of battles. In reenacting this legend, the dancers serve as messengers between the king and the gods, asking for fertility of the land and well-being for the people. 

The classical dance of Cambodia has a long history interwoven with that of religions and kings and, more recently, modern nation states. The dancers, whose poses of extraordinary suppleness and flexibility are immortalized in stone carvings that grace the walls of the 12th-century temple complex of Angkor Wat, have variously been messengers between the royalty and the gods, symbols of the independent country of Cambodia and entertainers. In all these guises they have remained vehicles for the maintenance and passing on of tradition. Just like Moni Mekhala who guards something so precious and potent (her sparkling ball), the dancers have been granted possession by their spiritual teacher of a priceless jewel: the dance.