Long ago, in the verdant hills of the Eastern Himalayas, among the Yakthung people known today as the Limbu, there lived a young boy born into the Singtheba clan. From birth, this boy was marked by the spirits—a fiery spark glimmered in his eyes, and the winds whispered ancient songs when he breathed. His name was Sirijunga. Many believed that Sirijunga was no ordinary boy but the reincarnation of a great ancestor: Sirijunga Hang, the wise and just king of a forgotten era who had once ruled the kingdoms of Limbuwan.
The Limbu people, proud and fierce, had long been custodians of a rich oral culture. Their history, customs, and spiritual laws were passed down through generations by word of mouth. But over centuries, a heavy shadow fell upon their land—their sacred script, once vibrant and alive, was lost to time and the sweeping waves of foreign scripts and rulers. The stories, prayers, and songs that had been etched in rhythm and rhyme began to fade, like morning mist under the rising sun. Fear grew among the elders, for without their script, the identity and spirit of the Limbus might vanish forever.
It was from this desperate silence that young Sirijunga rose. Guided by dreams and visions, he was said to have been visited by Yuma Sammang, the great mother goddess of the Limbus, who breathed into him the knowledge of letters, sounds, and symbols. The goddess entrusted him with a divine mission: to rediscover and restore the lost script of the Limbu people and to teach his people the power of the written word.
With heart aflame and purpose steadfast, Sirijunga departed from his village, crossing rivers and mountains, carrying nothing but a bundle of bamboo sticks—a symbol of the connection with nature and the ancestors. He spent days in meditation within sacred caves and forests, listening to the whispers of the wind and the ancient stones, until the script revealed itself, stroke by stroke, syllable by syllable. This script, later known as the Sirijunga script, bore the shape of clouds above the mountain peaks and the rhythmic pulse of the forests.
Sirijunga returned to the villages and summoned the elders, the youths, and the shamans. There, beneath the ancient oaks, he drew the sacred letters on the earth with his finger and taught everyone to recognize the shapes, the sounds, and the rhythms of their tongue transformed into writing. It was a time of joy and wonder—a rebirth of knowledge long thought lost to time.
Yet, as the script grew among the people, so too did envy and fear in the hearts of those who sought power through the dominance of other tongues and traditions. The Tibetan lamas and the Bhutia rulers, who had held sway over the hill kingdoms, saw Sirijunga’s mission as a threat to their authority. They whispered accusations of heresy, fomented discord, and sought to silence the young teacher.
Sirijunga, however, remained unbowed. For he carried not only the script but the soul of a people—their history, their prayers, their songs—and he vowed to protect it with his life. When his enemies came to arrest him, he fled deeper into the forests and caves, teaching his letters in secret gleams of firelight and moonbeam. Many gathered around him, drawn by the belief that through letters they might reclaim their future.
It is said that in the forests of Martam, under the watchful eyes of the ancestors and the sky, Sirijunga met his fate. His life was taken by those who feared the power of the written word. Yet, from his death sprang a seed—a seed nurtured by the people who loved him and the spirit that he had rekindled.
The successors of Sirijunga carried forward the mission. They built scrolls and books, inscribed the sacred Mundhum, and kept alive the flame of the Limbu script in schools and homes. His teachings became the foundation of a cultural renaissance that continues even today, reflected in every page written in Sirijunga script and in the voices raised in Limbu song and prayer.
This folktale, passed down from the mouths of Limbu shamans and storytellers, is more than legend. It is a living testament to the power of language, identity, and perseverance. Sirijunga’s script is a bridge between the ancestral past and the living present, a symbol that a people’s heart beats strongest when their story is told in their own words.
To this day, the statue of Sirijunga stands tall in the hills of Hee-Bermiok, Sikkim—his eyes looking towards the future, his hand raised in eternal blessing over a people who, through trials and triumphs, continue to write their own story.
Sirijunga’s tale teaches us that when a culture’s soul and language fall silent, it is the tireless spirit of its people—the teachers, the dreamers, the scribes—who must rise, carrying the flame of heritage with courage and hope.
And so, the lost script was never truly lost; it lived in the hearts of the Limbu people, waiting to be found again by the chosen one—Sirijunga.
Acknowledgments and Sources
- "Sirijunga: The Limbu Script Revivalist," Government of Sikkim Cultural Department.
- NepalNative.com, "The Essence of Limbu Language and Sirijunga Script," 2025.
- Telegraph India, "Limbu Homage to Sirijunga," 2018.
- Oral traditions of the Yakthung Limbu community.
- Writings of Iman Singh Chemjong on Limbu history and language.