Close Proximity
by Journal Kyaw Ma Ma Lay
The Full Moon of Waso was U Po Sein’s birthday; he was seventy five. At dawn of that day his only daughter Ma Thaw was cooking rice for the dawn soon offering to be made to the shrine and to the monks. Ma Thaw has been doing the same thing for each of her father’s birthdays to offer the Full Years’ soon, i.e., to offer to the shrine or monks the same number of spoonful of rice as the years reached. As she lay in her bed just before getting up she reflected that father was now seventy five...where did the years go?
She then remembered that her mother Daw Pan U would the same age in two month’s time. Both of the same age and both healthy... apart from faded vision, neither has lost a tooth, their backs were still straight, and people of their community said that they must have bountiful merit. The rain pounded down on the roof. Dawn would soon be here and Ma Thaw was having trouble lighting up the firewood. Her eyes were starting to smart from the smoke. She was getting fed up with the flame that would spurt and then die down as quickly. She kept dribbling kerosene on the firewood and blowing hard through a pipe, but the damp firewood was slow to catch. With the sound of the rain, she at first did not hear the pounding on the kitchen door. When she noticed she hurried to open it. “How could you not hear the door? I’ve been pounding so hard and why is the door closed?” her mother Daw Pan U scolded as she came inside. Even when scolding her mother’s voice was not harsh.... it has a mewing sound that was rather shrill. “Oh mother, I really didn’t hear anything, it’s raining so hard. I couldn’t get the fire to light. I closed the door, so the smoke won’t blow into the house.” Daw Pan U looked at the smoking fire with her hands on her hips and jerked her chin at it in derision. “You right. Look at the time, the rice pot isn’t on the fire yet. I heard you get up ages go...have you even washed the rice?” Ma Thaw replied from blowing at the fire: “Yes, mother, it’s washed, it’s ready.” As Daw Pan U walked out to the toilet at the back Ma Thaw placed the pot on the stove. As she was washing the rice for another pot her mother returned and said, “Do your own work; I can wash it by myself.” Ma Thaw did not reply but kept on washing the rice. Daw Pan U washed her face and then sat down to light the fire of another stove opposite from the one Ma Thaw was using. Ma Thaw put the pot of washed rice beside this stove and picked up a flaming branch from the first stove and approached her mother, who looked up from a bent position of blowing into the stove. “And what do you think you are you doing with that?” “The firewood’s damp, mother, it’s not going to catch for some time... so I thought this could help...” Daw Pan U shook her head. “Stop this rubbish; don’t bring that fire to my stove. I can manage on my own...take it back.” Looking upset Ma Thaw tried to plead with her. “Mother, I’m just worried it would get too late...it’s just lighting a fire ...you’re not using anything.” Daw Pan U was already losing patience at not being able to get her stove to be lit.
“See here, when did I ever touch anything of his? If I say I cut off someone I cut off everything connected to that person...I won’t use it, so take it away and go.” Ma Thaw turned away. The two of them, backs to each other, tried to keep the fire going in their own stoves. Ma Thaw looked over her mother’s stove, still not working, and heaved sighs of despair. When Ma Thaw was ten years old, one stove became two in this kitchen ....one for her father and one for her mother. For twenty five years and with Ma Thaw now an old maid of thirty five, her parents had not spoken to each other. They lived in one house but had separate earnings and cooked their food separately. Ma Thaw cooked for her father and helped her mother in the kitchen. In their small two-storey wooden house, her mother has a small grocery in a room downstairs and Ma Thaw worked as a seamstress. U Po Sein was originally from up-country and had arrived in this village to treat a small-pox patient. The disease had spread to most of the village so U Po Sein stayed to treat them and became a traditional doctor for the whole community who all felt dependent upon him. So that he would not leave, the villagers had made a match for him with a forty-year-old seamstress, Daw Pan U, so Ma Thaw was born when her mother was past forty. By the time she was three, she still did not know U Po Sein as her father ... she would often wonder who that man was when she saw him, for he would be away treating patients in other villages and be at home only once in three or six months. The marriage of the confirmed bachelor and the old maid did not work out too well: first. Out of shyness they would not go together to the pagoda or monastery like other couples. Even after Ma Thaw was born, they were still shy. By the time she was a toddler, their apparent shyness changed into bickering as soon as they saw each other. Daw Pan U was frustrated with her husband that he always spoke abruptly, that he thought too much of himself, that he was selfish, fussy, unforgiving and contrary. U Po Sein too was frustrated with his wife that she was stingy, did not get along with anyone, had too many things going on, and was stubborn, ungrateful, self-centered, and unhelpful.
They each kept their frustrations with each other bottled up and when Ma Thaw was ten it all exploded. It was the day that U Po Sein returned home after about three months’ of treating patients in the countryside. Early one morning, he had got off the boat at the jetty and walked home, carrying a woven box with his clothes and stuff, two baskets he had bought to use at home and a whole bunch of bananas. He had said he would be away for about ten days and as he then came home after three months Daw Pan U was sulky. As soon as she saw her husband entering the house, she went into the bedroom. When U Po Sein saw that, he dropped everything at the slipper-removing space. First he thought he would call his daughter but remembering she would be at school, he fetched a drink of water for himself and dropped down tiredly into an easy chair. After he had rested a bit he got up from the chair and shouted loud enough for Daw Pan U, still in her room, to hear: “Hey, box, hey baskets and bananas, go into the house, now, get inside!” He was speaking as if these things were live entities. Daw Pan U knew that as long as she did not go out and take the things in, he would go on being sarcastic and was determined to see who would give up first....it was not going to be her, that’s for sure. She stayed put in her room. Two women customers of Daw Pan U came in; U Po Sein was still ordering his things to get inside. It was really funny but rather than laughing the two women, realising their doctor was very angry, scampered away in fright. They hurried to the monastery where Ma Thaw was at school and told her the news. Ma Thaw ran like the wind from the monastery back to her house. U Po Sein was determined to continue shouting out his orders so long as the stuff was piled outside his house; never mind if he should drop dead from exhaustion. Ma Thaw could hear him from afar all along her way home. She looked from her father to the piled stuff, trembling with fear and with tears welling in her eyes. Still in terror, she carried in the things one at a time. Only then did her father sit down in his easy chair, completely tired out. With his brow wrinkled and eyes shut tight he sat resting. After while he got up and taking down a longyi from a clothes line and throwing it over his shoulder, walked off into the village. Ma Thaw looked all over the house for her mother and finally found her in bed with a blanket pulled over her head. Ma Thaw called to her but got no reply. In a while U Po Sein came back; he carried pots and pans and wrapped in his spare longyi were bundles of rice, salt fish, dried chillies, onions and a bottle of oil. That was the day that U Po Sein, with deep bitterness against his wife, declared himself no longer married to her and set up a separate kitchen. He cooked for himself until Ma Thaw grew old enough to do it for him.
Ma Thaw’s rice pot boiled over; Daw Pan U was still trying to get her fire going. Ma Thaw poured out all the water from the pot and replaced it on the stove to cook the last few minutes. She started to prepare the tray for the shrine offering. “Oh dear, mother, there’s no more palm sugar pellets left in father’s tin, may I take a few from your shop?” “There’s no palm sugar left, there’s only cane sugar slabs,” While Ma Thaw took some cane sugar slabs from a tin from her mother’s shop and was putting them on a plate, her mother was muttering irately. “Well, I never touch his things but sure, he can use mine. When you were born, I wasn’t even out of the maternity period, and he asked me to give him back the gold bangle he had made for me from his fees and since that day I never saw it again. Gone! From that day I never asked a penny from him and I’ve been earning enough on my own to this day.” Ma Thaw hurried to set the tray, making sure she was not forgetting anything and only half heard her mother; it might also be that she has heard the same words for over a hundred times from Daw Pan U and she got used to it. She was fed up with her life of being the buffer between her parents, not even getting married and she no longer wanted to listen to the same things over and over again. “He sits there all dignified as the head of the household and does not want to use his money for anything and then he badmouths me, and I’m the one earning my own living. It’s only because of you, you know, it’s only because I worry about you that I have not left this house.” Ma Thaw could not waste anymore time to listen to her mother, and leaving her still muttering carried the tray on her head to the shrine upstairs. The shrine was brilliant with lit candles. Her father sat with his prayer beads as he waited for her to bring the offerings. As Ma Thaw set the tray down on the shrine U Po Sein got up and asked her, “Is the rice the full age number?” “Yes, father, seventy-five spoonful.” “And what are these?” Her father peered closely at the small plates of food with his blurry eyes. “Dates are in this plate, this is popped rice balls, and bananas, and candied winter melon, and tiny biscuits, and cane sugar slabs.” “Where did you get that from?” “You’ve ran out of palm sugar so I took this from mother’s shop.” Before Ma Thaw’s trembling words ended, U Po Sein, frowning, had taken away the plate of cane sugar. “Here, take it away at once. Don’t put her things with my offerings. Take it away.” She did not take the plate her father was handing her but tried to ease things a little. “It’s not taking for free, father, I’ll pay her for it.” “Free or not, I don’t want it. Don’t put it in here...take it away.” She could not openly rebel, so she took the plate and set it aside “You know, daughter, before you were born we went to live with her relatives and they worked me without mercy. They asked me to reap the paddy and I have never done anything like that before...my hands were all torn up and became infected, dripping blood and pus... she’s not even grateful that I suffered like that, that inconsiderate woman.” Ma Thaw was trying not to get mixed up as she counted out seventy-five spoons of water into the glasses and did not hear her father properly; it might also be that she has heard the same words for over a hundred times from U Po Sein and they were nothing new. Living as a spinster in consideration for her battling parents, she felt more wretched whenever she heard these words.
“Whenever I think of that time I feel like crying; it’s only because I worry about you that I am still living in this house.” Ma Thaw placed the glasses of water on the shrine. She could not waste anymore time tolisten to her father, and came downstairs; she must prepare her mother’s offering tray. In the kitchen Daw Pan U was pouring out the water from the rice pot. Ma Thaw hid the cane sugar she had brought down before she went into the kitchen. As she was cutting a pineapple for Daw Pan U, U Po Sein appeared at the doorway, looking alarmed. “Daughter, where’s my Zatar?” He was going to place his Zatar in front of the image before he began praying as he has done on every birthday, but he could not find it this morning. “Father, you always keep your Zatar in the empty biscuit tin by your bed,” Ma Thaw answered from where she was busy with the pineapple. Daw Pan U had not given a single glance at U Po Sein since he arrived at the kitchen door; she went on preparing her tray. “It’s not there... the other day I took it out and forgot to put it back. I left it on the tin and now it’s gone.” Ma Thaw looked over at her mother, just in case she had seen it, but Daw Pan U acted as if she did not hear a word, and went on with her work. “The biscuit tin is not in its own place, too, someone moved it when I was not there,” said U Po Sein, his voice turning hard. Ma Thaw caught her mother’s eye. “The other day, it was raining so hard and nobody’s home so I went upstairs to close the windows. The roof was leaking so I had to move some things,” Daw Pan U said, addressing Ma Thaw and looking only at her face. Ma Thaw was directly in line with U Po Sein; Daw Pan U was s between them. Ma Thaw left the pineapple and walked towards her father. “Really, daughter, what a messy way to do things, not at all in order ...see, now my things are not in their own places.” U Po Sein said it directly to but through his daughter. Daw Pan U’s face hardened as she spoke up, looking at Ma Thaw. “I moved it because it was going to get wet, am I to do nothing if it gets wet?” “Well, if something is moved, it should be replaced where it was before, daughter.” This was from her father. “It was still raining so how could anyone replace it? It must be where it was moved. How can this be messy? How can this be not in order?” Ma Thaw’s face turned now to her mother’s face and now to her father’s, and when both were trying to speak at the sae time her face moved this way and that, her eyes spinning. “It’s not there, daughter, I’ve looked.” Ma Thaw began to say, “I wonder if you, father, put it ...” Before she could finish her sentence Daw Pan U broke in so she turned to her mother. “What would anyone want to do with this thing? The other day, when Ba Win brought back the crude oil tin from the monastery, I heard someone saying he should give his Zatar another coat of oil.” Ma Thaw’s eyes immediately flew to U Po Sein’s face. Daw Pan U turned back to her work. “What a disaster; I never gave my Zatar to Ba Win. I don’t like anyone touching my things.” “Why should it be a disaster? If that thing is not in its place, he must have taken it. I only touched it to move it from the rain; don’t think I even want to touch it.” Ma Thaw was always the medium they spoke through when they wanted to quarrel. Her heart began to beat faster while her mother spoke to her, jabbing a finger in her face. She had to do something to stop this from getting out of hand when they were just about to do an act of merit. “Mother, perhaps Uncle Ba Win went upstairs and took it himself, let me check on the bookcase downstairs.” She pushed past her father at the door and ran to see, U Po Sein following on her heels. Ma Thaw felt a rush of relief to see the freshly-coated Zatar left out to dry on the bookcase. U Po Sein went upstairs taking his Zatar with him. Ma Thaw dared not go into the kitchen before her father was safely upstairs for if her mother kept on nagging he would certainly hear. As she walked into the kitchen, her mother immediately said to her, “Well, thank goodness he found it, otherwise he’d just keep on picking at me. Did you hear him, saying it’s a disaster? Now whose disaster was it, may I ask?” Her mother began nagging in her drawn-out way and Ma Thaw, fed up, walked straight out to the water tank at the back. While she went on cutting the pineapple she heard the sound of the triangular gong from upstairs and her father begin his prayers. “Lord of the Three Worlds, the noble, the enlightened and glorious Lord Buddha who have our eternal gratitude, our Lord of infinite wisdom...” The dawn prayer sounded sublime and Ma Thaw concentrated on the feeling of reverence that welled up in her chest, even as her fingers went on cutting the fruit. Afterwards she called to her mother, “There’s popped rice, mother, do you want it for your tray?” “He bought that popped rice with his money so why on earth should I put it with my offerings? I told you I don’t want anything to do with him and you, why do you keep insisting?” Ma Thaw gave a thump to her own forehead in regret that she had spoken without thinking.
“How stupid I am,” she scolded herself and dared not say another word as her good intentions had turned bad so quickly. There was a separate shrine downstairs that was built when they had started having separate cooking arrangements. As she began lighting the candles on this shrine she heard U Po Sein’s voice as he ended his prayers with a blessing towards all creatures. “May all creatures have neither hatred nor enmity; may they have neither anxieties nor fears; may they keep themselves in well-being and prosperity.” On hearing this blessing Ma Thaw felt a sudden sadness rise up in her heart, as if she wanted to cry, and felt choked. Daw Pan U was ready with her offering and struck the gong before commencing her prayers. “Lord Buddha, I, your devoted disciple offer these towards gaining merit so that I might be free of the suffering of rebirth and hence enter Nirvana. I beg that you stride here on your blessed feet to accept my offerings, noble Lord Buddha...” Ma Thaw went back into the kitchen, still feeling choked up, as her mother continued praying. Daw Pan U’s prayer sounded beautiful, the way her voice pleasantly wove in a tuneful rhythm.
As she listened she had a sudden urge to enter a nunnery and leave behind this wretched life of being caught between her two parents. The choking feeling rose to tighten her throat. Her mother’s prayer was ending with a long blessing. “This body I call ‘me’, may it be well, body and mind; may it be free of danger, anxiety, and suffering. The celestials who guide this body, may they be well, body and mind; may they be free of danger, anxiety and suffering. Those I have seen, those not seen, all these creatures of the world, may they be well, body and mind; may they be free of danger, anxiety and suffering. Those who live far, those who live near, all these creatures of the world, may they be well, body and mind; may they be free of danger, anxiety and suffering.” The last words of her mother’s blessing pierced Ma Thaw’s heart. She could not control the tears that fell rapidly onto her cheeks, one drop after the other. She was highly doubtful about her parents’ goodwill. She thought that in her father’s prayer “May all creatures have neither hatred nor enmity; may they have neither anxieties nor fears; may they keep themselves in well-being and prosperity”, she was not at all sure her mother would be included; and in mother’s blessing for “those who live far, those who live near....may they be well, body and mind; may they be free of danger, anxiety and suffering,” she didn’t think it meant her father.
May all creatures be blessed, but not that person in my house!
The Kindergarten Teacher
by Aung Thinn
I was a lecturer at the University of Yangon since the early 1960s. Before that, I served about three years as a middle school teacher in my hometown of Taungdwin-gyi. At the risk of being thought boastful, I must say that I was considered quite a good teacher at both posts. Actually I had thought it was nothing much: one becomes known as a ‘good teacher’ without too much effort or talent. However, what I encountered on my trip home in 1963 shook me. I arrived just as the schools reopened for the new semester and I realised I had been way off the mark with my evaluation of ‘good teaching.’ Let me explain. On that visit to Taungdwin-gyi, I liked to spend my time at the Shwe In Taung pagoda, where a little museum had been set up. I was one of the directors of the museum along with some of my best friends, so we liked to meet there in the evenings. On my way to the museum I would drop in at the primary school next to the pagoda to inform my friend, U Nyan Sein who teaches there, that I’d be waiting for him. He was also an art teacher but he also taught reading and writing to the newest children in school: the kindergarten. One day I stood at the door of his class to tell him to come along to the museum afterwards. He was drawing something on the blackboard: I watched to see what it would be. His class of five-year-olds waited silently. After a few deft strokes they recognised a popular cartoon character, as I did. “It’s Master Tortoise!” they cried as one. U Nyan Sein added a walking stick. “He’s holding a walking stick!” the kids chorused again. Then, “He’s smoking a pipe!” U Nyan Sein turned towards his children. “One day, Master Tortoise was out walking, and who do you think he met?” He turned back to the board and started another drawing at the other end. “Master Rabbit!” the children shrieked in one voice. “Well, Master Rabbit said to Master Tortoise...” He seemed to be making up the tale as he went. I did not remember any of it as I just waved at him and left. “You can listen, too!” he called with a laugh. I told him I’d see him that evening. For two or three days I would just see him making drawings and telling stories so I asked him why he was not teaching anything. “I can teach reading and writing anytime,” he replied. “Yes, it’s true, I mean it, but right now it’s important that children enjoy school; they must love coming to school, not fear it. It’s the most important step.” I reflected that it might well be true and the next day decided to spend more time watching him at work. There was one young boy in the front row crying his eyes out. He would not look at the drawings nor listen to the story: he cried steadily and without any sign of stopping. He would often glance out of the window and I saw an elderly lady, probably his grandmother, sitting under a nearby Tamarind tree. After a while U Nyan Sein called out to the lady: “Please go home, Daw Aye Thar, don’t worry about him. As long as you’re there I won’t be able to stop him crying.” At this the boy’s sobs turned to shrieks. The grandmother looked reluctant to move. “This is awful,” he said to me. “It’s much worse handling these old dames than the kids.” Then he called to her “At least, please go around the corner where he can’t see you.” The old lady moved away slowly. The howls of the boy shook the room. U Nyan Sein went on with his story while the kid sobbed on. This went on for some minutes until U Nyan Sein paused to look at the boy with a slight smile on his face.
“Now, class, it seems this little boy could not use up all his crying, that’s why he can’t stop. Why don’t you all cry so that it will be used up quickly?” The other kids immediately went into a loud pantomime of crying: they sobbed earnestly, rubbing their eyes, howling in glee. The room rang with their ‘sobs.’ The boy stopped crying in amazement, looking around in confusion. Then the other kids stopped. I could not help chuckling at the sight of it. U Nyan Sein went on with his tale. After a while, the boy started again: and again the others joined him, crying together to ‘use it all up.’ There were no more tears from anyone, real or fake, after that. The next day I went early to his class. That kid looked as if he had been crying but was not at the moment. Their teacher looked happy and excited. He called to the class: “Hey, today I’m going to give you some plums, you want them?” “Yes!” answered the kids. “Fingers up those who want plums!” The little fingers flew up. The kid who liked to cry did not raise his hand but gaped up at his teacher: would there really be plums, he seemed to be wondering. So was I. U Nyan Sein turned to the board. He drew a circle, and put a stem at the top. “Here’s a plum...who first? You, you’re the youngest...here it comes!” He pretended to pluck the fruit from the blackboard and threw it at a child who pretended to catch it and ate it with a smack of his lips. The class roared in appreciation. “Here’s another!” He drew the next one and threw it. “Here’s one that is not sweet,” he said, “It’s not very round, it’s sort of longish. But anyway, see how sour it is.” The kid he threw it to puckered up his lips. “It’s very sour!” The other kids screamed with laughter. There were loud cries of “Me! Me next!” “And this one is rotten, it must taste awful”, he continued, drawing a wobbly circle. The kid he threw it to made the appropriate face. The class of five year olds were having a time of their lives; the plum picking session was a great success. The next day I learnt that a new step was being taken. “Today, I’m going to buy plums from you, five at a time” he announced. “But only the sweet ones will get paid with a mark. I won’t buy sour or rotten ones so you won’t get a mark. Now see how a sweet plum is made.....here...” He drew a very round circle clock-wise on the blackboard. “And a rotten plum is this,” he said, drawing the circle anti-clock-wise. The kids made motions in the air with their little hands when he showed them. “Like this! Not like this!” they chanted after him. I wondered how he would check on writing anti-clock-wise, since he could not be watching all the kids at once. A little voice piped up: “Teacher, he’s drawing a rotten plum, like this!” his little hand waving in the anti-clockwise move. His neighbour said, drawing in the air, “No, no, I’ll write it like this!” making clock-wise motions with his hands. Aha, I thought, the kids check each other. So that was all the plum picking was all about: the Myanmar alphabet is based on the circle and the letters are in that sense deviations of the sweet plum, a very round little circle. The kids set to with a will, drawing ‘plums’ on their slates. After writing five ‘plums’ each, they brought their slates for inspection. “Now this is sour, next time I won’t buy it,” he’d say. “But this time I will,” and made a mark. The kid went away happy. The little crybaby came up shyly. “Hey, you may cry a lot but your plums sure are sweet!” U Nyan Sein told him. The boy scampered back to his place, very happy, and I noticed that he came up often and happily, to show more plums. The next day a new lesson started. He asked each one to stand up, and to announce their names. Then he drew a ‘Ka’ (First letter of the alphabet) on the black board. “Now, you all have names...tell me your names, one by one...now that’s a pretty name! What a fine one! and what nice names you all have. Listen, he’s got a name, too, it’s ‘Ka’...don’t forget now, you like to be called by your very own name, right? So does he.”
It went on like this all through the alphabet. After seeing my friend at work, I was truly shaken; was I as good a teacher, was I doing as much good for my students as he is?
The Wedding Reception
by Nyi Pu Lay
The group of people dressed in their best stood in the narrow lane, necks stretching to catch a glimpse of the car coming towards them on the bumpy road. They could see it in the dust, rolling as slowly as if it were a horse-drawn cart. This was the car taking them to the wedding. In their eyes the car rolled on the bumps as if it were a boat riding the waves. When it was near enough for them to see it through the whirling dust, one of the waiting women exclaimed to the groom,“Sein Hla, is that the car taking us to the wedding?” Sein Hla smiled to himself. “Yep, it sure is. Why?” “You said it’s a van.” “It is a van, isn’t it?” It was, but just barely. The back end of car had been cut, remodelled and roofed; it was exactly the sort of car used for transporting vegetables from the jetty to the market. But they could not be choosy: they were already late, and some of them must go early and hurry back in time to go to work. Anyway, in their part of Mandalay, there never has been such luxury as a car rented for the purpose of taking guests to a wedding. This time, the bride being the school teacher and all, and with the groom’s best friend being the owner of a car, transport had been arranged as a wedding gift from the owner. After making a five-point turn, the car was finally parked with its head towards the road. The first batch of passengers was the young girls who were in charge of handing out sprigs of flowers and cigarettes to each guest. They must be in their places before the guests arrive. There was an immediate uproar about who gets in first, who sits where. The driver obligingly shut off the engine, which shuddered like a malarial victim, before it died. “Now where is that Sein Sein Aye? She’s always slow... let’s just see if she moves faster to catch a husband, then I’d tear her to pieces.” Before the words ended, a bug-eyed girl dressed in bright red scampered up. Her make-up was exactly like the other girls’...its pink tones clashed alarmingly with her dark skin. Uncle Than Sein and Grand Uncle Win Maung, as befit their age, had already installed themselves in the front seat. “Oh, Uncle, take this child on your lap, she’s Daw Aye Chit’s little girl.”
“Come, come, you can sit on my knee.” The girl was overjoyed to be riding in the front seat and her wide grin showed off missing front teeth. Sein Hla, the groom, tried to pack in as many as possible, for he did not want his friend making too many trips. Gas prices were not cheap, as he well knew. The car began to look like a piece of candy with ants climbing all over it. It was indeed a happy scene. To everyone’s alarm the car would not start for a few minutes; then they were off in a cloud of dark smoke “Now, bridegroom, you’d better go change, what are you waiting for?” “Well I’m just so busy seeing to things...” “Never mind! Everything will be fine. You go change; it’s your wedding day, man, look lively.” “Who'll look after the gifts?” one lady asked anxiously. “Don't worry, Aunt, there will be someone...go change, Sein Hla.” The group of ladies who were left standing in the lane began to gossip. “That red dress Sein Sein Aye’s wearing, whose dress is it?” “Must be hers, since she’s wearing it.” “No, the dress is too big on her, must belong to her sister who lives downtown.” A quarrel broke out between two children about who was to wear the one pair of slippers belonging to both. Kywet Thoe, the best man, sauntered up, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Well now, how grand you look; you should look as spick and span as this all the time.” ”Of course I want to, Aunt, but look at me, I’m a mechanic, covered with grease all the time. I didn’t go to work yesterday, that’s why I look this clean. Even then I couldn’t get rid of all the grime.” He held out his hands. “How is that old father of the groom? How is he, Kywet Thoe?” “Better, thank god...we all thought he was a goner, when the invitations were already printed and all.” The old man had fallen ill all of a sudden and the neighborhood had held its breath but now, thank god, he’s on the mend. When the car came back it had picked up the bride Mar Mar Tin from the beauty salon. Anyone in the neighbourhood who was not going such as nursing mothers, old people walking with canes and toddlers with grimy faces, they all came as fast as they could to have a look at the bride. She did not step out of the car. Her hair was done in a high chignon, and the false tress that dangled on the side was darker than her own hair. The rhinestone hairpin sparkled. Around her neck she wore a gem necklace and a strand of pearls, and in photos they would surely look real. Her face was pink with the western foundation. Not used to having false eyelashes glued on her lids she kept batting her eyes. The beautician had done away altogether with her scanty eyebrows: they had been shaved off and he had drawn a curvy line in its place in sea-green pencil. There were comments about how pretty she looked and they all asked how much it cost, the name of the shop and in the melee they heard a piping voice of a girl: “She doesn’t look pretty at all!” Mar Mar Tin pretended not to hear but her knuckles were itching to rap the little brat on the head. The groom was wearing a dark golden yellow longyi as near the golden colour of the bride’s htamein as possible. He too seemed to have rubbed some powder on his face because it looked dusty. He tried to open the car door: it did not budge, even with the bride working the handle from inside. The driver, his friend, leant over and pushed it open. The back of the van was already packed with guests. He remembered his turban only when they drove off. Never mind, he could ask his friend to bring it along the next trip. “Ko Sein, how’s Father?” the bride asked him. “He’s had a pee, but couldn’t pass motion yet.
I moved him to a sunny spot.”
“Who’s with him?” “Ma Ma Than from next door’s keeping an eye on him..... he misses mother, you know. He doesn’t say so but I can tell.” He tried putting his elbow out of the window but the glass could only be lowered mid-way so he felt uncomfortable. He took his arm down. He turned to his friend. “When father heard you’re helping out with the transport, he wanted to come, too. Said he should entertain his own friends himself.” “How did you persuade him to stay home, Ko Sein?” the bride asked. “I told him there’d be all three of us brothers and that we’ll see that everyone’s welcomed properly. Even then he asked to wear a coat, just in case someone drops in at home.” The wedding hall was filled with guests. The bridal couple live in the same neighborhood so there were no strangers. As the car went back for the third trip two kids did not stay behind but went back for another ride; it was a treat for them. One kid started to howl because he could not go with them. The ladies manning the gifts table were busy making a list of the presents, while eating cake and gulping down tea. The elders sat in a group, happily smoking cigarettes. The pop songs blaring out of the speakers mingled with the chatter and the audible clearing of throats as the guests ate the dry cakes. The room was filled with smoke and the scent of cosmetics and perfumes. All the way back the guests discussed the wedding, the dresses and the cakes. The newly weds had already given pocket money to the young men. It is called ‘Payment for Stones’, a sum paid off to avoid the teasing throwing of stones on the house that night. These guys trooped out joyfully for drinks and food. As for the girls they had promised to take them all to watch TV that night. The children overheard this and demanded that they too wanted to come along. The bride had agreed to keep them quiet but thinking about the one kyat fee for adults and half for kids at the house with the TV, she felt worried about having enough and stole a glance at the borrowed silver bowl holding the cash gifts. Father had been eagerly asking news from anyone who returned from the wedding. As soon as he saw his son the groom, he asked for his potty. Sitting on it he asked detailed questions about the reception. As Sein Hla cleaned up his father, the old man asked if it were true about the TV show. “What’s the program?” “Mandalay Dance Troupe, Father, yes, we promised the girls.” “Is that so? I want to watch it, too.” “I’ll carry you then, Father, if you want to go.” He thought of the sulky face of the owner of the TV and felt a twinge of worry. The program was a favourite and the front room of that house would be filled with the wedding party. As the nights were getting chilly he dressed his father warmly in an old jacket. His brand new wife Mar Mar Tin had gone on ahead, carrying his father’s folding chair. There were still traces of the morning’s make-up on her face. As it had cost her all of Kyat 150, she thought that surely she must still look as nice as this morning. She had the money for the show tucked in her bodice. Her new slippers hurt her feet so she was wearing her old pair. Besides, people sometimes steal slippers at such places where they must be left outside, so its better this way. Sein Hla showed his father the potty he carried in a plastic bag. “Let me know anytime you need to pee, Father, no need to feel embarrassed, everyone knows you.” U San Tin the owner of the TV came out to greet Father when they arrived. He seemed happy to have a full house. He was rather strict and he did not allow any kids to eat snacks or throw plum seeds at each other. The audience sat on mats covering the floor. Sein Hla placed his father’s chair at the back. He himself sat on the floor holding the potty bag and his new bride sat close to him. The program started. Well! How they enjoyed it all: the jokes, the songs, the dancing. It was as if they were all nailed to the floor. They were still smiling as they took their leave when the show ended. Sein Hla lifted up his father and his face fell: the old man had peed, probably without noticing it. There was a small wet patch on the floor. U San Tin must surely notice! Sein Hla did not know what to do. He grabbed the brand new handkerchief Mar Mar Tin was clutching and made as if to wipe the floor. “Never mind, my boy, never mind.” It was an unexpectedly kind word from U San Tin. They said their good-byes, apologizing. U San Tin squeezed Father’s hand as they left. Mar Mar Tin paid for her guests, bargaining with a beating heart to let off four kyat. The TV owners agreed, he said, just for this night. Mar Mar Tin carried the folding chair with the wet burlap seat wondering how she could keep the make-up on until tomorrow. Sein Hla carried his father, wondering about how this night U San Tin had been so nice. The audience made their way home, talking about the show.
Close Proximity
by Journal Kyaw Ma Ma Lay
Reflection
The story entitled Close Proximity depicts a touching and profoundly established family dynamic that has endured for decades, typified by an unbroken silence between Ma Thaw's parents. The divorce of U Po Sein and Daw Pan U, who still live together but live completely distinct lives, is a stunning emblem of their destroyed marriage.
The story depicts the sad effects of a marriage that lacks mutual understanding and honest communication, resulting in the family unit's eventual collapse. The story emphasizes the value of efficient communication and empathy within a family, as unresolved disagreements and emotional distance can lead to long-term grief and loneliness. Lastly, the story serves as a reflection on the long-term consequences of a failed relationship and the influence it can have on the lives of those involved, especially the innocent children caught in the middle.
Themes & Symbolism
"Close Proximity" is a touching story that uses rich symbolism that is relevant to the cultural setting of Myanmar to explore the subject of familial dynamics and the effects of a failed marriage. Ma Thaw's parents' hidden conflict represents a split that has existed for many years, mirroring the larger social problem of long-standing unsolved issues in Myanmar. U Po Sein and Daw Pan U's divorce, which occurred despite the fact that they live apart but in the same physical place, serves as a striking example of a marriage that has failed and reflects the larger issue of marriages in Myanmar that may last in name but lack emotional ties.
The story also reminds us of the effects of strained relationships and emphasizes the value of open communication and empathy within the family. It might be seen, in the context of Myanmar as a reflection on how important it is for the country to deal with past feelings and misunderstandings which may result in long-term social hardship.
Cultural Context
In Myanmar, families are extremely important to people's life. Family dynamics and values are ingrained in the nation's social fabric on a deep level. The significance of sustaining a healthy home environment and the influence of parents' actions on their kids' mental health in this setting cannot be emphasized. Parents are usually supposed to put their children's welfare first and foster a secure and happy home life. It is widely accepted that "family unity" is important and that having a cohesive family is necessary for the success and general well-being of its members.
Parents should prioritize their children's mental health and shield them from the negative effects of their issues. It is typically anticipated that parents give their children a nurturing and supporting atmosphere so they can thrive in a society where familial ties are strong. Parents are urged to address their concerns and find solutions rather than allowing their children to be affected by them. In addition to preserving family unity, this also ensures the child's emotional health.
Literary Techniques Used
The plot employs foreshadowing to allude to how it will all turn out. The reader feels anticipatory because the parents' continuing silence and emotional separation presage the family's eventual disintegration.
Additionally, Flashbacks are used in the story on occasion to give context and background information about the family relationships. The reader's comprehension of the individuals and their interactions is improved by these hints to the past.
The Kindergarten Teacher
by Aung Thinn
Reflection
The story beautifully portrays the culture of Myanmar. It emphasizes the significance of education and compassion within the society. Furthermore, it delves into the qualities that make a teacher. It highlights the responsibility that teachers hold in shaping the future of every child.
The story challenges the widely held notion that efficient education is only concerned with information transmission. It serves as a reminder that building a supportive and engaging learning environment and cultivating a love of learning are all essential components of genuinely effective teaching. The tale prompts us to consider if we are providing as much benefit to our pupils as this committed teacher in Taungdwin-gyi by challenging us to examine our own teaching methods. It serves as a reminder that excellent teaching touches kids on a deeper level than the classroom, inspiring a passion of learning in them that lasts a lifetime.
Themes, Symbolism, & Cultural Context
The story "The Kindergarten Teacher" explores a number of important subjects, successfully makes use of symbolism, and is rooted in Myanmar's rich cultural context. The amazing devotion of educators like U Nyan Sein is a recurring subject in the story. His dedication to fostering a positive learning environment for young kids is a reflection of his strong love for teaching and genuine concern for their welfare. This topic emphasizes the notion that teachers have a crucial role in influencing the future by fostering a love of learning and emotional support in addition to their academic expertise. For instance, there is a representation through the concept of a "Golden Egg," which embodies the immense value placed on education. This symbol serves as a reflection of how education can impact lives in Myanmar.
Within the cultural context of Myanmar, education holds significant esteem. Teachers hold prestigious roles in society and are highly regarded. This cultural setting highlights how Myanmar's culture appreciates educators and their role in forming the next generation, which supports the topic of the story—the necessity of education. It also highlights the value of education in a larger cultural context as a tool for career advancement and personal development.
Literary Techniques Used
The narrative's vivid imagery immerses readers in the classroom scenes, creating mental pictures of children drawing "plums" and the room filled with laughter and engagement. Lastly, Dialogue in the story characterizes individuals and conveys their emotions, particularly in the conversations between U Nyan Sein and his students.
The Wedding Reception
by Nyi Pu Lay
Reflection
"The Wedding Reception" by Nyi Pu Lay is a captivating narrative that delves deep into the complexities of human emotions, particularly the intertwining themes of love, tradition, and societal expectations. Through the lens of a wedding reception, the author masterfully depicts the clash between personal desires and societal norms.
One of the key aspects of the story is the portrayal of traditional Myanmar customs and rituals surrounding weddings. The author portrays traditional Myanmar customs and rituals surrounding weddings immerses readers in the rich tapestry of the culture, offering a fascinating glimpse into the intricacies of these traditions. Through meticulous descriptions of the elaborate preparations, such as the intricate designs and the rituals like the exchange of palm fans, the author provides a profound insight into the cultural significance of weddings.
The narrative emphasizes the social pressure and demands that people live according to conventional norms. Readers who may have gone through comparable challenges in their own life can relate to this theme.
Themes & Symbolism
Most weddings are marked by a ceremony, feast or party at the bride’s house, a hotel or a hall of some sort. The bride usually wears a decorated silk dress and has her hair drawn into a coil and has rings on all her fingers. Men usually feast first and then women take their turn. The money that the groom brings to marriage is placed in an earn next to offerings of fruit. The ceremony ends when the couple places their right hands together in a container of water. Wedding ceremonies are relatively simple except among wealthy families. After speeches by the parents, members of the families and guests share pickled tea. Cakes, sandwiches and ice cream are served at the reception. Suitable wedding gifts depend on the couple’s station in life.
Cultural Context
In the story "Wedding Reception," the traditional customs and rituals of weddings come to life in a vibrant celebration. Most weddings are marked by a ceremony, feast or party at the bride’s house, a hotel or a hall of some sort. The bride dons a resplendent silk dress, her hair elegantly coiled, and fingers adorned with rings, embodying the timeless elegance of a bride on her special day. The groom's monetary contribution is reverently placed beside offerings of fruit, an enduring symbol of prosperity and abundance. The ceremony ends when the couple places their right hands together in a container of water. Wedding ceremonies are relatively simple except among wealthy families.
The wedding celebration in this story is a tasteful synthesis of simplicity and extravagance, representing the various family traditions and the significant significance of the event. Following moving speeches from the parents and other family members, visitors mingle over pickled tea to create a sense of community and camaraderie. A variety of cakes, sandwiches, and ice cream are served at the reception, which itself is a culinary feast that evokes the savory and sweet sensations of life and love. The couple's position in life is reflected in the choice of appropriate wedding gifts, which highlights the significance of thoughtful and meaningful contributions to their new journey together. This story captures the elegance, variety, and importance of wedding receptions across time and culture.
Literary Techniques Used
The narrative in "Wedding Reception" employs different literary techniques. Symbolism is used in the story from the elements like the exchange of money, the container of water, and the choice of wedding gifts carrying deeper cultural and emotional meanings. The blending of traditional customs and modern values in the wedding reception can be seen as a metaphor for the ever-evolving nature of culture and tradition, as it reflects the balance between the old and the new. Lastly, the description of suitable wedding gifts depending on the couple's station in life can foreshadow expectations in the story, suggesting that social status play a role in the story. Additionally, Simile is used in the story. It can be seen in the lines "The car began to look like a piece of candy with ants climbing all over it."