Brunei and Myanmar.pdf

ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 1 Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State Uni...

ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 1 Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 2 The Oilfield Labourers Kampong Umbi was on fire. Forty houses were burnt down. Finally everything came under control. The fire trucks and the rescue team had left. Only a number of distraught old mothers remained, weeping and wishing they were dead. An old man, who had been critically ill, had also been found burnt to death in his home. Two conflagrations of fire were seen about a hundred and forty-two yards from the burnt houses. At nightfall the area became still. The heat from the fire could still be felt and it made the stomach churned. Yazid saw puffs of tiny smoke dancing in the haze. He trembled. He visualised houses being destroyed; nothing was left untouched by the flames. He raised his face and stared far ahead and saw sparks of fire flickering as if they were suspended in the darkness of the night. Then he caught a glimpse of his own shadow in the mist but it was slowly disintegrating. It was no longer his shadow. So whose was it? The shadow doubled, and at times appeared to be swaying left and right. “Are you searching for the stumps of your house Yazid?” Adam asked. “I am searching for the stumps of all houses,” he replied. Covered with coal dust his naked feet had turned black. He wanted to feel the heat from the fire that had razed his village to the ground. He wanted his skin to be burned by that same fire that had destroyed his village. He was cursing the fate of his village but he was full of praise for the happiness and peace that he had experienced living there. “Maybe you should just leave this place,” Adam suggested. “Find a new place to build your home.” Their shadows moved. Rings of fire far and near were blown by the wind. It was a moonless night, with thick clouds covering the sky. “How was the old man?” Yazid asked. “Dead.” “When will he be buried?” “Tomorrow.” “We should help dig his grave.” “Sure,” Adam replied. “At the very least I have the right to put out the fire that had destroyed my house.” “Where are you sleeping tonight?” Adam asked. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 3 “I don’t know.” “You can stay at my place.” “Anywhere will do.” “Let’s go home. You need to take a shower and remove all those worries.” In the bedroom, he laid sprawled on his front, with his face pushed under the pillow. Outside, he could hear Adam telling a friend about the fire. Another story unfolded and they laughed hysterically. Their voices echoed through the silence of the night. Yazid covered one ear, then the other. In his imagination, he saw fire smouldering wildly outside, burning every grass and twig on the beach and rising to the treetop. The large sparks of fire on the Casuarina tree danced in the rhythm of the wind blowing from the South China Sea. The old man would be buried on that beach the next day. He remembered the old man very well. He was a cock fighter with a peculiar style when facing a new contender. His movements were agile and his stamina seemed to increase the minute he entered the ring. His preoccupation with cock fighting took away all thoughts of death. He was only upset when his gamecock fluttered in defeat. The vision and memory of the fire were slowly disappearing from his mind. What he saw then was the dead body of the old man, being washed. And in the distance he could see little flames floating on the South China Sea, the tall derrick and, from its top, a falling object. His heart stopped when the object hit the ground. The vibration caused by a passing truck lulled him to sleep. That night he dreamt of fighting the fire that had engulfed five villages. He was out early the following day in the mist of the morning dew. He headed straight for the graveyard. Walking on sand and pebbles, he walked across the wet grass and then turned right to avoid them. He crossed the bridge and looked down. The water was black due to the oil spill. In between puddles of oil, he saw his own reflection, his head white, covered with dew. Far across the sea, the sun was shining radiantly while the lights slowly dimmed. He passed through an alley. He observed the wreckage. There were traces of rain from the day before, which had snuffed out the fire and smoke. Bits of white dusts could be seen among the black columns which still stood erect. Amidst the haze, black stumps could be seen still rooted to the earth. His steps were slow but he was no longer looking around. He saw some men arriving with their hoes and scoops. The sandy soil made it easy for them to dig. He continued walking slowly and directed his gaze straight ahead. At times his eyes glimpsed at the pebbles he was about to step on. And he was very careful with his steps. Climbing with a pair of wet shoes could be disastrous. He could see another derrick at the end of the road. A new oilfield had been discovered there. He felt tired. He could feel the cool sea breeze on his body. He had been troubled since morning. And that feeling got worse when all eyes fell on him. Their stares were taunting. Having nothing to say, he proceeded to climb the derrick. When his friends, who were on top looked down, the glaring sunlight that was reflected from their metal helmets hurt his eyes. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 4 “You look very high-spirited today, Yazid!” exclaimed Jamal from the top. The glaring light that bounced of Yazid’s helmet hit his eyes. Jamal quickly shifted his glance to the greenery nearby. Ignoring them, he climbed up further to where they were. Now his vision was dazzled by the light from the sea and by the whiteness of the foams on the sand. He could no longer hear the splashing waves hitting the beach. He looked up. Jamal, Ghani and Ibrahim were observing him. “Stop right there!” shouted Ghani, as he flung a coil of wire to Jamal. Yazid secured his safety buckle and wiped off his sweat, the shadow of the derrick’s poles emblazoned across his chest. Yazid looked at his friends. Their faces were dark red. He could even see beads of perspiration on the wrinkles beneath their helmets. “Catch,” said Jamal. Yazid grabbed the wire. A black bag of tools was hung onto the baluster before him. He tied the bag with the wire. Jamal pulled the wire slowly. That morning, the workers were only preparing the equipment which would be assembled later in the evening. They climbed down at almost eleven. The sky was cloudy by then. The labourers rested, enveloped by thin shadows, their bodies wet, from the sea vapour. “Jamal,” asked Yazid, “did you see the condition of the old man when he was dying last night?” “Yes. Why? I even carried him.” “How was he?” “His clothes were completely burnt. His skin, crinkled and black. His flesh was red and moist. He was screaming hysterically.” “Do many people die that way?” “Not many.” Jamal was only forty-nine years old. “Because such terrible fires seldom occur.” “Easy, wasn’t it?” “What do you mean?” “Death without having to suffer long illness.” “Perhaps his pain was far greater than that suffered by those having a normal illness,” Jamal suggested. “Was he unconscious yesterday?” “He lost consciousness after screaming hysterically. After that he died.” “Did he recall what he was leaving behind?” asked Yazid. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 5 “What did he leave behind?” Jamal asked. “Whatever that he might have left behind.” “I doubt. All his belongings were destroyed, all his chickens died.” “Do you want to die that way?” “Me! Me? Oh please dear God, give me a more peaceful death.” “Peaceful? How?” “From a mild illness perhaps.” “But people rarely die from a mild illness.” “A more or less fatal illness,” Jamal replied. 42 He stared at the sea, then at the sparks of fire. In daily life he hesitates to commend bravery but he has always believed in diligence and hard work. He then looked up at the white clouds until his eyes hurt. “Dad was not ill when he died. He committed suicide by taking poison,” Yazid revealed. “Everyone dies differently.” “You are a weird person.” “Everyone has the right to choose on how he wants to die.” “Why do you want to talk about death?” “Because death is necessary,” Yazid replied, “to sever something.” He avoided looking at Jamal’s face. His friend looked older than him. There were tender moments during their friendship when Yazid was comfortable regarding him as a father. The veins on Jamal’s forehead would protrude when he spoke loudly or whenever he opened his mouth wide. Yazid shifted his eyes to look at the sky, then to the top of the derrick and to its base. The derrick’s shadow zigzagged on the patches of dried, yellowish grass and stretched out before them. They had finished their lunch. Yazid looked at the horizon that split the sea and the sky. In his heart, he still could not understand why Jamal was so scared to face death. “Do you know Yazid?” Yazid was startled and turned his body towards Jamal. “Know what?” Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 6 “How much longer do you think we will be working here, as derrick climbers?” “As long as there is oil.” “Do you know that there are already signs of it depleting?” “I do,” Yazid answered. He had long known that. “Once this derrick is ready, we will have to erect another one,” said Jamal. “Who said so?” “William.” “Where?” “Offshore, at aluh tiga” Jamal replied. This particular labourer was always quick to know about the company’s plans and strategies. He had very acute senses. “It seems that we have more oil now.” “How do you know?” Yazid asked. “There, we are building a new derrick offshore.” “Done with onshore drilling, now they are exploring offshore,” Yazid commented. “It is amazing that oil can also be extracted from the sea.” “Oil originated from the sea millions of years ago.” “We are so blessed.” “The oil in Seria is almost depleted. Just be prepared.” The oilfield labourers began climbing the derrick. The higher they went the slower they got. Gradually the labourers appeared smaller and blacker. From above, all Yazid could see were black and grey roofs among the white tanks. His eyes hurt from the piercing glare of the sun. The black river flowed to the sea. Oil pipelines crawled overlapping each other everywhere. Noise could be heard from the derrick base. William stood with arms akimbo. Through a pair of dark glasses he watched the noisy labourers. Amidst the noise, something crashed into the balusters. A body lay sprawled across the metal rods. The labourers were frantic. They almost could not recognise their friend’s face. His brain was shattered into pieces. Minutes later his eyes shut and he turned stiff. Translated by Siti Badriyah biti Haji Md Yusuf Editor: Hajah Sharifah Khadijah Husien Alkaff Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 7 Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 8 Myanmar The Kindergarten Teacher by Aung Thinn (A true story) 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. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 9 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?” “Yeessss!” answered the kids. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 10 “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. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 11 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 cry-baby 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? From https://sites.google.com/site/thingsmyanmar/selected-myanmar-short-stories/7-aung-thinn Retrieved July 23, 2020 Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 12 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. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 13 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 neighbourhood had held its breath but now, thank god, he’s on the mend. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 14 ********************** 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.” Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 15 “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 neighbourhood 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. Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.  ASEAN Literature:Discovering Identity Amidst Diversity 16 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. From https://sites.google.com/site/thingsmyanmar/selected-myanmar-short-stories/10-nyi-pu-lay Geron, C.D., Baxa, E.N., & Bañez, R.M. (2020). ASEAN literature: Discovering identity amidst diversity. Batangas City, Philippines: Batangas State University.