Marum Konbi The Meetei game that encodes time, strategy, and ancestral wisdom
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Ayekpam Shyamkumar
Every game, tradition, rhyme, or lullaby of the Meeteis carries a purpose—an underlying meaning that transcends entertainment. Marum Konbi, meaning “egg incubation,” is one such traditional outdoor strategy game. Played by children and cowherds in open fields, it uses small pits dug into the ground and pebbles as counters. Though it may resemble other pit-and-pebble games found across cultures, Marum Konbi is a sophisticated system of calendrical calcu- lation, cosmological symbolism, and cognitive training. The game board consists of twelve pits—six on each side—called Lai-yums or simply Yums, meaning “house of God” or “house.” These are not arbitrary containers; they represent twelve years of a Chak (Cycle) in Meetei cosmology. Each player’s rightmost pit is called their Pi, while the opponent’s rightmost pit is referred to as Pa. These terms are mirrored from the opponent’s perspective as well.
At the start of the game, five pebbles, called Marums (eggs), are placed in each pit. The Pi and Pa pits hold six Marums each. This brings the total to sixty-two Marums : (5 × 10) + (6 × 2) = 62. A player begins by scooping all Marums from a chosen pit (excluding Pi and Pa) and distributing them counter-clockwise—a deliberate echo of the Earth’s path of revolution around the sun. Once the hand is empty, the player scoops from the next pit and continues until the distribution ends in front of an empty pit. At this point, the player collects all Marums from the pit adjacent to the empty one. This moment is called Si-kang-si, meaning “this empty pit, so this collection.” If the distribution ends with multiple empty pits, the move is called a Nungkang, and the player’s turn ends. Players alternate turns, aiming to capture as many Marums as possible. The round continues until all pits are empty or no further moves are possible. At the end of each round, one Marum inevitably remains in a pit—called the Nung-kang Marum. To claim it, players engage in Nungkang Yeinaba: flicking another pebble to hit and eject the Nungkang Marum. The successful player claims it.
In the next round, if a player cannot contribute enough Marums for all six pits, the empty pits become the opponent’s Lums (hatching houses). Marums placed in Lums are automatically owned by the opponent. A player may not own more than three Lums. If a distribution ends in a Lum, the next Lum or Lums are skipped, and the following pit is used for scooping. When a player cannot contribute Marums for more than two pits, both players contribute only to the last two pits—this phase is called Pi-Pa Sannaba. Eventually, the game narrows down to the final pits on each side—the Pi pits—and this final phase is known as Pi-Pi Sannaba.
Marum Konbi is not just a game—it is a scientific model for reconciling the lunar and solar calendars. A lunar year has 30 × 12 = 360 days, while a solar year has 365¼ days. The 5¼-day difference is acknowledged in Meetei tradition through Silhenba, a five-day rest after Cheiraoba (New Year), during which no major activity is undertaken. Games like Kang (which is another game based on the cycles of the lunar calendar) are played during this time. This tradition not only provides recreation but also ensures that the right season is properly set in for agricultural purposes. Over twelve years, the lunar calendar falls short by 5¼ × 12 = 63 days. Yet Marum Konbi begins with only sixty-two Marums. The missing day is symbolised by the Nungkang Marum, the final odd pebble—bridging the calendrical gap.
Every four years, the extra quarter-day accumulates into a full day, which is added as a Nungkang day in the month of Phailel (also known as Phairen), making it a month of thirtyone days for that year. The year is then known as a Nungkang Chahi, or leap year. Why are only three Lums permitted to be owned by a player, and why are they not to be scooped during gameplay? The Lums represent reserved days, and any Marums deposited into them are considered savings for the formation of the extra month—Tharon. In a Chak (cycle) of twelve years, there will be three Nungkang years, symbolised by the three permissible Lums. Every six years, the accumulated discrepancy is resolved by adding an extra month called Tha Lonnaba or Tharon. Crucially, this extra month is added only after the month of Phailel, never arbitrarily elsewhere in the calendar. Thus, there will be two Phailel months in that particular year, and the year will consist of 360 + 30 (tharon) + 1 (nungkang day), i.e. 391 days. This placement ensures that the seasonal and cosmological rhythm remains intact. These adjustments form the basis of Meetei Tharon-paba, a calendrical system encoded in gameplay. The 5¼ days, which are deficient in a lunar year as compared to a solar year, are symbolised by pebbles known as Marums and incubated in pits called Laiyums to hatch extra months called Tharons within a twelve-year Chak. Hence, the name of the game is Marum Konbi.
The terminology used in the game is itself a reflection of Meetei linguistic and philosophical depth. Words like Si-kang-si, Nungkang Yeinaba, Lum, Pi, and Pa are not just functional—they carry layers of meaning. For example, Si-kang-si is not merely a rule but a poetic expression of emptiness and opportunity. Lums, the hatching houses, evoke themes of fertility and ownership. The game’s language is inseparable from its logic. The game offers a rich array of benefits. It trains Mathematical thinking through modular Arithmetic, pattern recognition, and strategic planning. It develops cognitive skills such as memory, spatial reasoning, and decision-making. It provides leisure and bonding, played by young and old alike, across genders, fostering community and intergenerational connection. Most importantly, it transmits cultural knowledge—encoding Meetei cosmology, seasonal wisdom, and agricultural timing. While similar games exist globally—seldom with twelve pits—they are often seed-sowing games whose purpose is recreational. Marum Konbi, however, is a time-reckoning tool, a pedagogical calendar, and a symbolic ritual. Ancient travellers may have carried the game elsewhere, but without its underlying logic, its deeper meaning was lost. Other cultures may consider the game for sowing seeds, but in Meetei tradition, the game itself does not represent sowing—it represents calculation of the time for sowing.
Today, the present generation may have only vaguely heard of Marum Konbi, unaware of its rules or significance. This article is a humble attempt to change that. The intricacies, calculations, and cosmological alignments embedded in Marum Konbi deserve dedicated research. There are also narratives aligning the twelve Laiyums with the twelve months of the year—topics which are beyond the scope of this article.
As the author lacks institutional resources, this article is a call to students, researchers, and universities to explore this remarkable game. It is also a plea to initiate the process of securing a Geographical Indication (GI) tag for Marum Konbi—to preserve it, protect it, and celebrate it as a treasure of Meetei heritage. Equally, a heartfelt appeal goes out to the toymakers and artisans of the state: let us design special portable gameboards for Marum Konbi, complete with enclosed instruction booklets, so that this ancestral game may once again find its place in homes, schools, and community spaces. Such efforts will not only re-popularise the game but also honour the wisdom of our ancestors, encoded in its design. It is a matter of pride that our wise forefathers introduced the knowledge of the luni-solar calendar to young children in a practical and enjoyable form. Through play, they taught precision, patience, and planetary rhythm. Marum Konbi is not just a game—it is a legacy of ancestral intelligence.
Ayekpam Shyamkumar of Mairembam Leikai, Moirang is a cultural enthusiast and civic storyteller based in Moirang. He follows ancient Manipuri traditions, cosmology, and spiritual heritage as a lifelong passion. Deeply committed to reclaiming silenced narratives and fostering public dialogue, his work reflects a dedication to truth, resilience, and the ancestral wisdom of the Meetei people. He can be reached at [email protected]
Every game, tradition, rhyme, or lullaby of the Meeteis carries a purpose—an underlying meaning that transcends entertainment. Marum Konbi, meaning “egg incubation,” is one such traditional outdoor strategy game. Played by children and cowherds in open fields, it uses small pits dug into the ground and pebbles as counters. Though it may resemble other pit-and-pebble games found across cultures, Marum Konbi is a sophisticated system of calendrical calcu- lation, cosmological symbolism, and cognitive training. The game board consists of twelve pits—six on each side—called Lai-yums or simply Yums, meaning “house of God” or “house.” These are not arbitrary containers; they represent twelve years of a Chak (Cycle) in Meetei cosmology. Each player’s rightmost pit is called their Pi, while the opponent’s rightmost pit is referred to as Pa. These terms are mirrored from the opponent’s perspective as well.
At the start of the game, five pebbles, called Marums (eggs), are placed in each pit. The Pi and Pa pits hold six Marums each. This brings the total to sixty-two Marums : (5 × 10) + (6 × 2) = 62. A player begins by scooping all Marums from a chosen pit (excluding Pi and Pa) and distributing them counter-clockwise—a deliberate echo of the Earth’s path of revolution around the sun. Once the hand is empty, the player scoops from the next pit and continues until the distribution ends in front of an empty pit. At this point, the player collects all Marums from the pit adjacent to the empty one. This moment is called Si-kang-si, meaning “this empty pit, so this collection.” If the distribution ends with multiple empty pits, the move is called a Nungkang, and the player’s turn ends. Players alternate turns, aiming to capture as many Marums as possible. The round continues until all pits are empty or no further moves are possible. At the end of each round, one Marum inevitably remains in a pit—called the Nung-kang Marum. To claim it, players engage in Nungkang Yeinaba: flicking another pebble to hit and eject the Nungkang Marum. The successful player claims it.
In the next round, if a player cannot contribute enough Marums for all six pits, the empty pits become the opponent’s Lums (hatching houses). Marums placed in Lums are automatically owned by the opponent. A player may not own more than three Lums. If a distribution ends in a Lum, the next Lum or Lums are skipped, and the following pit is used for scooping. When a player cannot contribute Marums for more than two pits, both players contribute only to the last two pits—this phase is called Pi-Pa Sannaba. Eventually, the game narrows down to the final pits on each side—the Pi pits—and this final phase is known as Pi-Pi Sannaba.
Marum Konbi is not just a game—it is a scientific model for reconciling the lunar and solar calendars. A lunar year has 30 × 12 = 360 days, while a solar year has 365¼ days. The 5¼-day difference is acknowledged in Meetei tradition through Silhenba, a five-day rest after Cheiraoba (New Year), during which no major activity is undertaken. Games like Kang (which is another game based on the cycles of the lunar calendar) are played during this time. This tradition not only provides recreation but also ensures that the right season is properly set in for agricultural purposes. Over twelve years, the lunar calendar falls short by 5¼ × 12 = 63 days. Yet Marum Konbi begins with only sixty-two Marums. The missing day is symbolised by the Nungkang Marum, the final odd pebble—bridging the calendrical gap.
Every four years, the extra quarter-day accumulates into a full day, which is added as a Nungkang day in the month of Phailel (also known as Phairen), making it a month of thirtyone days for that year. The year is then known as a Nungkang Chahi, or leap year. Why are only three Lums permitted to be owned by a player, and why are they not to be scooped during gameplay? The Lums represent reserved days, and any Marums deposited into them are considered savings for the formation of the extra month—Tharon. In a Chak (cycle) of twelve years, there will be three Nungkang years, symbolised by the three permissible Lums. Every six years, the accumulated discrepancy is resolved by adding an extra month called Tha Lonnaba or Tharon. Crucially, this extra month is added only after the month of Phailel, never arbitrarily elsewhere in the calendar. Thus, there will be two Phailel months in that particular year, and the year will consist of 360 + 30 (tharon) + 1 (nungkang day), i.e. 391 days. This placement ensures that the seasonal and cosmological rhythm remains intact. These adjustments form the basis of Meetei Tharon-paba, a calendrical system encoded in gameplay. The 5¼ days, which are deficient in a lunar year as compared to a solar year, are symbolised by pebbles known as Marums and incubated in pits called Laiyums to hatch extra months called Tharons within a twelve-year Chak. Hence, the name of the game is Marum Konbi.
The terminology used in the game is itself a reflection of Meetei linguistic and philosophical depth. Words like Si-kang-si, Nungkang Yeinaba, Lum, Pi, and Pa are not just functional—they carry layers of meaning. For example, Si-kang-si is not merely a rule but a poetic expression of emptiness and opportunity. Lums, the hatching houses, evoke themes of fertility and ownership. The game’s language is inseparable from its logic. The game offers a rich array of benefits. It trains Mathematical thinking through modular Arithmetic, pattern recognition, and strategic planning. It develops cognitive skills such as memory, spatial reasoning, and decision-making. It provides leisure and bonding, played by young and old alike, across genders, fostering community and intergenerational connection. Most importantly, it transmits cultural knowledge—encoding Meetei cosmology, seasonal wisdom, and agricultural timing. While similar games exist globally—seldom with twelve pits—they are often seed-sowing games whose purpose is recreational. Marum Konbi, however, is a time-reckoning tool, a pedagogical calendar, and a symbolic ritual. Ancient travellers may have carried the game elsewhere, but without its underlying logic, its deeper meaning was lost. Other cultures may consider the game for sowing seeds, but in Meetei tradition, the game itself does not represent sowing—it represents calculation of the time for sowing.
Today, the present generation may have only vaguely heard of Marum Konbi, unaware of its rules or significance. This article is a humble attempt to change that. The intricacies, calculations, and cosmological alignments embedded in Marum Konbi deserve dedicated research. There are also narratives aligning the twelve Laiyums with the twelve months of the year—topics which are beyond the scope of this article.
As the author lacks institutional resources, this article is a call to students, researchers, and universities to explore this remarkable game. It is also a plea to initiate the process of securing a Geographical Indication (GI) tag for Marum Konbi—to preserve it, protect it, and celebrate it as a treasure of Meetei heritage. Equally, a heartfelt appeal goes out to the toymakers and artisans of the state: let us design special portable gameboards for Marum Konbi, complete with enclosed instruction booklets, so that this ancestral game may once again find its place in homes, schools, and community spaces. Such efforts will not only re-popularise the game but also honour the wisdom of our ancestors, encoded in its design. It is a matter of pride that our wise forefathers introduced the knowledge of the luni-solar calendar to young children in a practical and enjoyable form. Through play, they taught precision, patience, and planetary rhythm. Marum Konbi is not just a game—it is a legacy of ancestral intelligence.
Ayekpam Shyamkumar of Mairembam Leikai, Moirang is a cultural enthusiast and civic storyteller based in Moirang. He follows ancient Manipuri traditions, cosmology, and spiritual heritage as a lifelong passion. Deeply committed to reclaiming silenced narratives and fostering public dialogue, his work reflects a dedication to truth, resilience, and the ancestral wisdom of the Meetei people. He can be reached at [email protected]