The Legend of Betel and Areca

On the betel tray at a wedding, glossy green leaves are folded into small pieces. They lie beside halved areca nuts, sweet and fragrant, and a thin layer of white lime. Betel is an evergreen vine, and areca is a tall, slender palm whose nut is wrapped in a betel leaf and chewed. Across the country, no Vietnamese wedding goes without that tray of betel and areca, called trầu cau. That lovely custom began with a very old story, of love between brothers and a marriage bond that nothing could break.

This is how the story is told. Vietnamese grandparents say this legend goes back to the age of the Hùng Kings. People of old wrote it down more than 500 years ago.

Long ago, there lived a man who was unusually tall and big. Because of his towering build, the Hùng King gave him the family name Cao. Cao had two sons, Tân the elder and Lang the younger. Strangely, the brothers were exactly alike, in face and walk, in voice and in the look of their eyes. No one could tell which was the elder and which the younger.

Their parents died early, and the brothers went to study with a nearby Taoist master of the Lưu family. The master had a clever, modest daughter. The girl, Lưu thị, grew up beside her father's two students. In her heart she wished to choose a husband, but she could never tell Tân from Lang. The two were like reflections of one another. She looked and looked, and still she could not tell.

One day, Lưu thị thought of a subtle test. She set out one bowl of porridge and just one pair of chopsticks before them both, then watched from a distance. Tân, the elder, calmly picked up the chopsticks and ate first. Lang, the younger, quietly waited, leaving the porridge to his brother. Lưu thị understood at once. The one who gave way had to be the younger. So she asked her father to let her marry Tân, the elder brother.

The wedding took place. For a day the master's house was lively, then life went back to normal. But from then on, that house of three was no longer the same.

With three under one roof, Lang began to feel out of place. One evening, the new bride stepped into a room and saw a figure. Thinking it was her husband, she spoke to him tenderly. Only when she looked closer did she see it was her husband's younger brother. Ashamed, she quickly withdrew. But Lang stood still for a very long time.

The younger brother blamed no one. Tân and Lưu thị had done nothing wrong. It was only that, from that day, Lang felt a weight in his heart he could not name. It was as if he stood outside the door of his own home. Early one morning, before his brother and sister-in-law woke, Lang quietly wrapped up a few small things and walked out the gate without looking back. The roosters had not yet crowed. Dew still lay wet on the road.

Lang walked on and on, past fields no one had plowed yet, through forests with no worn paths. Then he came to a wide river. The water stretched out endlessly, and the far bank was hazy with mist. There was no ferry landing and no bridge. Lang sat down on the bank, covered his face, and wept alone.

And then, where Lang sat, a rock quietly appeared. It was Lang himself, changed into a slab of stone on the riverbank. It stood alone in the silence, as if waiting for someone to come back for him.

At home, Tân learned that his brother had gone and had long been missing. The elder brother felt his heart torn apart. He told his wife to stay home, then set out to find his brother. He followed the paths Lang had taken, across fields and through forests. Then one day, he reached the river and saw the rock lying alone by the water.

No one had to explain. In his heart, the elder brother knew. This was Lang. Tân put his arms around the rock, rested his head on it, and wept.

And then, where Tân stood, an areca palm grew straight up toward the sky. Its trunk was tall, slender and straight, just like the elder brother. It rose right beside the stone that was the younger. The two brothers stood side by side again, as before they were parted.

No news of either brother reached home. Lưu thị waited and waited, until she could wait no longer. She packed her things and set out to find her husband. She asked everyone she met, everywhere she went, then followed the old path the brothers had taken. At last she came to that same riverbank.

She saw the rock and the areca palm standing together under the sky. Her heart seemed to break and grow warm at the same moment. She went to the palm, put her arms around its trunk, and rested her head against it.

Then, from where she stood, a betel vine crept out of the earth. It climbed the areca trunk and wound gently down over the rock below. Its leaves were a lush green, with a soft, spicy fragrance. The vine embraced the palm, and the palm stood beside the rock. Three people in three forms, wound together, never to be parted again.

Time went by. Then one day, the Hùng King passed through that region on a royal tour with his retinue. The people there told him the story of the three and their three transformations. The king listened in silence. Then he stood quietly before the rock, the areca palm and the green vine winding around them. He was moved by such deep love between brothers, and between husband and wife.

The king picked a leaf from the betel vine and broke off a piece of nut from the areca palm. He took a little lime from the slab of stone, once it had been burned. He chewed all three together. And, wonder of wonders, the juice he spat out was a warm, deep red. His breath was fragrant and his cheeks glowed pink. In that mouthful he felt something warm and heartfelt, as if the love of the three were still whole inside it.

So the Hùng King sent a royal order to every region. From then on, a groom's family asking for a bride must bring betel and areca as the very first gift. Betel, areca and lime would be at every wedding, to recall the brothers Tân and Lang, who never abandoned each other. They would also recall the faithful Lưu thị, who never left her husband, however long the road.

Ever since, Vietnamese people have kept a saying: a piece of betel begins the conversation. When an honored guest comes to the house, betel and areca are offered first. At every wedding, the betel tray comes first. Into each piece of betel, Vietnamese people fold the love of brothers and the bond of husband and wife. They fold in the whole story too, of the two brothers and the faithful wife, from long, long ago.

On the wedding trays of today, green betel leaves still wrap around golden areca nuts. Just as the betel vine of long ago still embraces the areca palm beside the rock. Just like the love of brothers and the bond of husband and wife, which no distance can ever pull apart.