The forbidden fruit of Eden

U Ko Ko was taking the daily morning Singapore International Airways (SIA) flight out of Yangon to Singapore. The aircraft depart Yangon at 1025hours, and the checking in time was two hours ahead. This meant he has to be at the airport by 0825hours, that was just nice for him. The heavy traffic would be all crawling into the city and the journey to the airport should be contra flow, which means the cars ought to be less that way. At least, this was in theory. However these days, the traffic is ultra heavy both ways, maybe a wee bit less to the airport. Yangon today is a haven for second hand reconditioned Japanese automobiles, which found a new lease of life here. Generally, the costs for second hand reconditioned cars are around U$5,000/- CIF (cost-insurance-freight) and most people found it within their reach. U Ko Ko must admit the cars are sturdy, and it would not be wrong to say that this is a land for Toyotas and Nissans. Mostly the cars are less than ten years old. While the standard of automobiles on the roads has risen, regretfully, the roads themselves could not keep up with the increasing cars. Or was better management of the cars the eluding answer? The journey to the airport was by way of narrow lanes and through population centers, as the normal direct main route would be a bad crawl. U Ko Ko live in a urban residential district of Kabar Aye and the normal journey to the airport used to be less than fifteen minutes. Now, he will lucky to make it there by thirty five minutes during off peak periods.

U Ko Ko was taking a trip to Singapore for his follow up with the specialist doctor as he suffered a second stroke about a year ago. As a retired gentleman and well over sixty years of age, he had the luxury of time to the airport. He managed to secure a driver to drive the residence car with his wife beside him for the journey to the airport. She was as usual an automatic non-stop yapping machine of dos and don’ts till arrival at the airport. U Ko Ko is a great believer of always traveling light, the least the better. However, for his wife, this was not done, she must utilize the full twenty pounds of checked in luggage weight, this being the passenger’s right, traveling on economy class. He has two check-in luggage’s full of favour parcels from people he could not say no and foodstuff for his friend Chief U Tin Tun and his lovely wife Ma Ma Margret, plus some presents for the doctor and their son. This was his first time traveling by himself to save on costs and being only a few days trip.

After the checking in at the SIA counter, U Ko Ko stood beside the writing shelves at the spaces provided on the first floor of the departure area, just before the Immigration counters. There he filled his Departure form as required by law.

Beside him, stood a young lady in her Myanmar traditional sarong, who offered words of assistance, “ Can I be of any help? ”

U Ko Ko replied kindly, “ This I can manage, thank you very much."
 
He gazed at her and noticed that she was filling the form with a gold Cross ball point, whereas he penned with a free ball point gift from a hotel. That was it really. He looked no further and made his way to the queue that was the least crowded. Passing the Immigration counter, he made straight for the departure gate no.4. There, U Ko Ko sat and opened his laptop and continued writing his short story, this being his latest habit. He did not take the normal Silk Air flight for the simple reason the aircraft was a smaller Airbus A319 seating for only 128 passengers, while the SIA aircraft was Boeing 777-200 which seats 323 passengers. The SIA aircraft was larger, thus making it a more comfortable and smother flight, and he believe the service was better than Silk Air. Flying time was the same for both airlines.

Boarding time came, and U Ko Ko closed the laptop and packed it in the shoulder bag and boarded the aircraft at his turn. His seat was 38B, portside, middle seat. On his left, in 38A window seat was an elderly European gentleman like himself engrossed in his novel. He sat quietly and buckled his seat belt. Seat 38C was still unoccupied. All of a sudden, U Ko Ko spied the young lady that he encountered at departure area, eased into his right side, 38C seat. She gave him a respectful smile, which he returned graciously. Without much ado, the aircraft took off for the 2hours 40minutes flight to their destination, Singapore. After take off, he opened his laptop to continue writing, and the young lady in 38C put on her earphones and watched the in-flight movie, first putting on her Cartier diamonds studded work glasses. After about a half hour, due to the call of nature, he had to request the young lady beside him to make space for his body. Only then did he observe her single diamond solitaire earrings, each stone nearly as large as a pea. There was not a hint of yellowness and more of blue whitish colour, sparkling, at that. When he returned to his seat, he got a whiff of her Thanakha and Chanel cologne as he eased back into his seat. That woke up his curiosity and his eyes spied her left hand, which was nearest to him. She was wearing a lady’s Rolex oyster movement automatic gold watch and her fingers were void of any rings, not even the fingernails were painted.

When lunch was served, the gentleman in seat 38A ate rather leisurely still glued to his novel, while U Ko Ko dug into his meal with zest, and the lady in 38C just touched an odd piece here and there.

Before the meals were cleared, she smiled pleasantly and said, “ You seem to have enjoyed your meal. “

He replied, “ Yes, it’s delicious food, and there will be no lunch waiting for me at Singapore. Hi, my name is U Ko Ko, on the way for a medical follow up with my doctor.”

“ I would be more careful with the food presented, if you have to control your cholesterol. Hello, I am May Aye Pe, going back after my annual leave.” She replied smilingly.

With his matter of fact expression, replied “ Yes, that’s true. I suffered a second stroke about a year ago and since my wife is not here, I’m taking this opportunity to dig in with no yapping machine to disturb me. I noticed you hardly touched your lunch. ”

She smiled again and said, “ I’m a pathologist, and of all people I should be ever watchful of my food intake.”

“ So, you are a doctor “ he said ever so slowly as he brushed his hair with his right hand.

She replied,” Yes, I work at the National University Hospital (NUH), however, my time is also spent in teaching hospital laboratories, and my best friend is a microscope.”

May Aye Pe did not continue watching her in-flight movie and U Ko Ko also did not went on merrily punching his story writing on the laptop, they talked as though friends meeting again after a long lost spell. She told him that she lived with her retired parents. Father was a General Practitioner in Kalaw, and mother, a Breast Surgeon at the Yangon General Hospital. They live in the classy residential area of Windermere Road in Yangon. Two other siblings, both girls and all doctors, one in The United States and one in Australia. The sisters are all married and she is the only still single left from her family.  Her grandfather from the mother side is of Cantonese Clan from Hong Kong who immigrated to Myanmar, when he met her Anglo-Chinese grandmother in the United Kingdom, while they studied there. May already secured her Member of the Royal College of Pathology (M.R.C.Path part 1) in Yangon and intends to try for her part ll soon. She looked to be around 25 years of age and resides with her uncle and aunty in Singapore, both also retired doctors, at no.12 Rochalie Drive, in a semi-dethatched house near Tanglin Road. Only then did he really found that she was good looking, slim, with long black hair tied like a bun behind her head, fair, about five feet six, but with low heals shoes she appeared to be about five feet seven. Her boobs are not large enough to win any prizes, but the smaller size of maybe cup size 34A still was attractive and presentable. May Aye Pe speaks and write French, English and Burmese fluently. She also talks intelligently and he observed her command of English was surprisingly quite acceptable, but of course not at par with him.

May Aye Pe of course was right, he should watch out and be ever careful of his diet. Food ought to be medicine and vice versa. Prevention was better than cure, no doubt. Both chatted so much, they did not realize the plane would be landing in a few minutes. After the announcement by the Captain, she opened her branded black leather handbag and powdered her nose, it was Chanel to be sure. This girl got expensive taste. Out of his league. After landing, both made their way through Immigration to the taxi stand.

U Ko Ko politely said, “ Please take the first taxi, I just live ten minutes away, no problem.”

May Aye Pe looked up with  surprised eyes and exclaimed, “ I’m going right into town and the taxi is big enough for the both of us. Besides, I am not paying any extra, so jump in and please don’t make a fuss.”

U Ko Ko placed his two luggage’s in the trunk beside her small trolley case and sat beside her in the back and instructed the taxi driver, “ Costa Del Sol, Bayshore Road please.”

It was raining outside the airport. They both sat quietly gazing at the drenched view outside. He quietly eyed again at May Aye Pe and could not understand why such a beautiful young woman was still single. She surely must had or have suitors, he scratched his head and no valid answers came to him. May Aye Pe was thinking what she should give her aunty, the mangoes or the frozen prawns. Next day was a working day and she shall have to bear it again for possibly another year.  Yangon was fun, but not enough jobs paying to what she was earning at NUH. If the pays were similar, she would run back to Yangon and be beside her aging mother and father. Then her mind switched gear again, she thought U Ko Ko looked like a decent person, intelligent, sounds a realistic man with no airs and any pretenses. She wondered how long he would be staying in Singapore and when he will be returning back. She envied him, a life that has been full and now to relax and enjoy the retirement. She does hope that his medical follow up will be okay with no complication. The taxi pulled into Costa Del Sol and when it made a stop, U Ko Ko got out, opened the boot and took out his two pieces of luggage.

U Ko Ko then glanced back into the open back door of the taxi and exclaimed, “ Thank you for the ride and the wonderful conversation we shared. May I give you a call after my check up?”

May Aye Pe opened her black fine leather Chanel handbag, took out her old boarding pass chit out of her passport and wrote her mobile telephone number on the back and passed it to him and commented “ That would be nice, please do that, I would love to know the results and hope all goes well with you.”

U Ko Ko looked sheepishly and said “ I’ll give you a call, meantime I cannot invite you in for a cup of coffee as I don’t know where they stock the damn stuff in the apartment.”

“ That’s quite all right, I’ll take a rain cheque, some other time perhaps.“ May Aye Pe said smilingly and the taxi pulled away from the foyer and proceeded for her town address.

U Ko Ko took a lift up to the 25^th floor and placed the key into the socket and opened the door. All was quiet in the apartment as no one was in. He first called his son on his mobile to say that he was home. Then he called the family friends to collect their favour parcels and also informed Chief U Tin Tun to collect the foodstuff, his wife packed lovingly for them. After all was done, he took a hot shower and prepared his room, as there was no one to do it for him. He then made an appointment to see his doctor, and was allotted ten in the morning, the next day. After all set and done, he sat down and opened his laptop and continued on his short story. Dinner was a bowl of instant Japanese noodle plus a ham sandwich. About ten p.m. his son came back and they talked over a can of soft drink and he explained how he met a nice very young girl on the plane from Yangon. He then called his wife at Yangon with his son’s mobile to save on costs. Mary was happy and he reported that all the foodstuff and favour parcels have been collected, thus his better half said no more except, not to forget his appointment with Dr.Tang the next morning.

The next morning, U Ko Ko appeared for his follow up with Dr.Tang, the Neurologist at Mount Elizabeth Hospital and all was done by before noon. He walked out of the hospital and headed towards Orchard Road in the hot sunlight.

He then pulled out his mobile phone from his trouser and called May Aye Pe with the number she scribbled on the back of her Yangon boarding pass, “ Hello, may I speak to Dr. May Aye Pe, this is U Ko Ko .“

“ Hello U Ko Ko, this is May Aye Pe, how did the follow up with your Neurologist go? “

“ Very well thank you, and I also topped up my medications for another three months. Listen are you free for lunch? I can meet you by the fountain believe in Basement one at Takashiyama. ” U Ko Ko joyfully asked her.

She replied, “ That would be lovely, I know where it’s at, see you in forty five minutes “

U Ko Ko asked himself what he was doing. He’s an old married man as she was young enough to be his grand daughter. Up till now, there was nothing irregular and he has done nothing wrong, thus he consoled himself. At the Takashiyama fountain in Basement one, he sat down and contemplated what and how he should proceed from henceforth. This has never happened before and he was at a loss, however, he decided to tell the truth so that each party was fully aware and there are no illusions at all. He had his hand under the chin while sitting on the thick embankment of the fountain, lost in thought. He was not hungry, just at a loss.

Then May Aye Pe approached him, in her grey dress and addressed, “ Penny for your thoughts, from now on just please call me May, addressing my full name sounds rather official. You must be hungry. What would you like to have?”

“ Oh, hello, I’m fine. Shall we proceed to the level four? I used to know of a dim sum outlet by the name of Summer Palace, I presume you eat pork? Or what would you prefer? I’m buying as you paid for the taxi yesterday, no ifs, no buts.” U Ko Ko got up smilingly and eyed her puzzlingly.

“ Pork is fine, I eat all that are delicious. Summer Palace is renowned for their food. I am surprised you know about them living in Yangon. You mystify me. “ That said, she waited for his comment.

He just laughed it off and led the way to the escalator.  Sure enough, Summer Palace was on level four. They were shown to a small table by the corner of a miniature palm tree.  A quiet place, after enquiring, the waitress bought a pot of freshly brewed Chinese tea for the young lady and a glass of cold water for him. He was surprised to find that the heavy lunchtime crowd was lacking, especially for a weekday such as this. He let her do the honour of ordering while he poured her a cup with hot green tea in the white porcelain cup in front of her.

He opened the conversation with a shot across her bow. “ Look May, I really don’t know how to say this, however I must be totally honest with you from the start. I am an old man, married with a grown up son older than you, and besides, I’m old enough to be your grandfather. I really should not be bothering you at my age. I am thoroughly ashamed, even though I am enjoying every second. I also do not want to see such beauty going to waste with a company such as I. Most of all, no false hope nor do I want you to think that I am a dirty old man.” 

May seemed to enjoy his openness. She did not look at all flustered nor seemed shocked with his opening volley. She slowly sipped her hot green tea, and he could make out a faint lipstick mark on the rim of her porcelain white cup. She then took her time and said, “ I only met you since yesterday, yes, you are an old man and no doubt you are married. I personally see no wrong being friends with an age difference. After all, you are not jumping into my bed and for sake of good order, I do not see you as a dirty old man, so don’t be ashamed. I care two hoots about what others may think, and I have got no time or the energy to be bothered. I do not seek boyfriends or dying for a husband. I am quite happy as I am, but do judge a man, a woman’s intuition you know. For what it’s worth, I’ve yet to find a man, who is man enough for me to be considered for my life’s partner. I also like a man who is frank and honest, caring, tender, loyal with unequivocal love, maybe a small compromise here and there, rather rare quality in a man, don’t you think? ”  

U Ko Ko was taken aback, he did not expect such a return volley, a solid punch at that. He picked up a steamed prawn dumpling with his chopsticks. He asked for it and he could see that May was not yet satisfied with her statement, U Ko Ko remained silent and waited to see what else would be dished out. True enough, she did.

May continued, “ I am sorry should I seem to be giving you the wrong impression. I have done nothing like this before. I have reached a position in life where financial gain is not at the forefront. Maybe because I have enough, or more correctly need not worry for my well being any more. I am a different kettle of fish, first and foremost an individual, where strength in body is not an issue, but strong in mind is at the utmost. I would agree that sex plus physical attraction may be a factor, but in my scale of one to ten, a strong character and an individual intelligence does score a high mark. Maybe because I am a doctor, physical strength of the body does not come into play. All of us suffer from a medical problem of one sort or another, it is only we know of it or still hidden to be surprised at a later stage. After all, we are but humans. That means, with failings of one sort or another. ”

U Ko Ko put his chopsticks down and now it was his turn. “Thank you May. All very clear and precise, I just wanted you to know my inner thoughts. I consider you very beautiful and it seems such a waste for you especially. I did not want you to burn your precious time with such an old fellow like me. I have seen life after all these years and I knew from the things that you use, quality plays a big part, no matter the price. I presume your requirements of a man must be similar, if not even more. You are a seeker of perfection, are you not? Please remember, in the end, life is like marriage, it is a roll of the dice, do all the homework as you wish, it may not turn out as you hoped.” 

May countered, “ True to a point, but as humans, we do try all methods and means to seek perfection. In Myanmar and also in India, in addition to our homework, we even sought the help of astrologers, priests and what not, to know in advance whether the prospective partner would be suitable or otherwise. Do you not agree? “

“ I think enough said on philosophy of life, the main thing is we both now know our own positions. I just hope that you will meet some nice man of your choice in the near future. I asked myself where were you 30/40 years ago. For me, I’ve passed that stage in life where I cannot be useful to anybody but just remain a burden. Even though I am enjoying every minute, I’m just thinking for you, May.” U Ko Ko meant every word he said and she gave an understanding smile back in return, knowing full well what he meant. Both of them continue to enjoy the rest of the menu May ordered. He just remembered and asked, “ How are you on time for your lunch break? “

May replied, “ I took a half day leave, don’t feel bad, I have so much free days left that I usually return them unused. They do not give financial rewards in lieu either. I’m also taking tomorrow off to help you with your shopping. I know I will enjoy it. You are going back the day after tomorrow, right? “

U Ko Ko looked stunned, for a young doll he met only yesterday willing to make use of her precious free day. She was right about one thing though. May was a true individual with good brains, a very rare case, who does things as she sees fit in her own way, on her own terms no matter of other opinions. She does not follow the general guidelines, rather a strong headed girl, must be the genes and take after the parents, he presumed. During the conversation, she told him that she was 27, and passed all her examinations in a single stroke, be it Myanmar or from the United Kingdom. May told him that she rather took her time and only when she was good and ready, she would sit for the examination. May does not believe in rushing into things. Parents also followed her desires, so does all her siblings. The parents gave them leeway and much slack when it comes to their individual instincts. The siblings both married expatriate Myanmar national, one brother in law is a real estate agent while the other is a university lecturer in the States. Money wise, they seem to be sufficient and parents nowadays divide their time between Australia, The United States and Myanmar. Their house in Windermere Road, Yangon, is large with most rooms closed down and her father now dig his hands in gardening, while May’s mother prefer reading English novels and playing scrabble with her group of friends. Believe they also eat rather lightly, being both doctors, they watched out for their wellbeing, and any ailments are under control for their long walk into the sunset.

They finished their lunch and after U Ko Ko settled the bill, both strolled into one department after another. They browsed the presentations and decorations and talked of everything under the sun, from religion, politics to birds and the bees. U Ko Ko found May to be knowledgeable and up to date on current issues also. She has her own theories and comments, which he found to be most interesting. May would laugh at the jokes he said and quick to catch the hidden meaning(s). They toured from store to store and by the time they reached Tanglin Mall, Market Place, she was already tired. They sat by the coffee house inside Tanglin Mall, while May rested her tired feet, thence he refreshed her with a cup of black coffee. He took a fruit juice, as caffeine does not agree with him. He listened to her trials about her work and on her life’s expectations. May also opened up that physical attractiveness scores much less compared to her mental satisfaction and fulfillment. She told him also about her mum and dad and how they long for her to be married, but always refrained respecting to her individual thoughts. May enjoys visiting places rich with history and can be absorbed with the thinking of the day. May was happy for both her sisters and has been to Sydney, Australia and Los Angeles, United States. She stressed that her happiness for them does not necessarily mean she wishes to follow their examples. She found their existence to be tied down and starting a family meant anchoring their roots to one place. May felt that could be her Achilles heel. She wanted to be a free sprit up till her late forties and settle back down in Yangon beside her parents, living in the large house in Windermere Road. May also wanted to go to London and complete her M.R.C. Pathology Part.ll. Work there for a few years, possibly at Saint Thomas’s Hospital, London, to gain more exposure. U Ko Ko now knew a lot more about May and he walked her to no.12 Rochalie Drive, view it was already close to six p.m. He said hello to her aunty and uncle working in their garden and strolled back to Orchard Road MRT (Mass Rapid Transport) Station. On the way, he stopped by a jewelry store inside Isetan and purchased a platinum white gold necklace and hurried back to Bedok MRT Station with the pack of commuters rushing back to their homes at the end of the day.

At Bedok Central Food Court, he had a bowl of yong tau foo with soup, and did not drink the soup for fear of high oil content. Thence he took a shuttle bus back to Costa del Sol and rest for the evening. Back at the apartment, U Aye Pe sat behind his laptop and gazed onto the beach and the blue sea beyond, through his bedroom window. He could not punch a single line on his laptop, as his mind was on overtime, thinking what would be best suited for May. She may not admit but May seemed so lonely, vulnerable without a husband, and he wanted her to be happy till he was long gone, dead and buried. To offer his only son, he was already married, besides it would not be fair to her. She is a difficult girl coupled with a rather strong mind of her own. Not even her parents, has any say on her life. It makes it even more the difficult for any planning. This beautiful creature was a rare individual with independent views on many issues and any suitable match should be at par with her, if not better. That’s a tall order and such a man does not come in a one thousand to one chance. Might be better to leave things as they are and let nature play its course.

U Ko Ko could not resist speaking to her and hearing her voice, so he called her mobile telephone. May recognized the incoming number on her mobile screen, and after two rings, she answered the call.

She said, “ Hello, it must be you, U Ko Ko. Anything? “

He replied, “ Hello, yes it’s me. Just calling you to check whether everything was alright? “ He had no reason to call her and did not know what else reason to give her. The urge just came and he just wanted to be comforted by her voice.

May pointed out, “ That’s a lame excuse and I think you know that. I was discussing about you with my uncle and aunty during dinner and they found my talk on your views fascinating and would like to meet you when you visit Singapore next time around. They also could not believe your age and they swear that you looked around fifty five. I would have concurred with them should you not told me your age which you evidenced with your passport. “

U Ko Ko laughed out loud and spoke,“Lame excuse or not, if you are alright, that’s fine. Please thank your uncle and aunty and I must buy them dinner next time around. See you outside of Bata shoe shop in the main hall of Peninsular Plaza tomorrow at ten in the morning. Too early for you?”

She giggled and replied, “That’s hitting under the belt and not called for. Of course ten a.m. is fine by me, have you had your dinner? And what time is your son coming back?”

“ Yes, I suppose I can be a bit sarcastic, it must be my old age talking. I had yong tau foo and did not drink the soup, looking after my body so that my autumn years can be extended to the full, I hope. My son ought to be back around eleven. Sweet dreams and have a good night sleep.” He was satisfied with hearing her voice and that somewhat cooled him down and he pressed the disconnect feature on his mobile screen.

As usual, U Ko Ko discussed with his son on the things he would buy for the maids and the medicines his mother wanted. He also told his son about the medical check up and May’s continued assistance the next day on buying intended presents for Yangon. With that, they called it a day.

The next morning, U Ko Ko was waiting outside Bata shoe shop in the air conditioned hall of the Peninsular Plaza at 9.30 a.m. He did not wanted to be late. He’s got a million things to be done before leaving Singapore the next morning. At ten a.m. on the dot, May showed up in her Levis jeans and Ralf Lauren’s yellow Polo tee shirt. She was a delightful sight for sore eyes.  As she approached him, he pretended with a straight face to be polishing his glares.

May asked him, “Well, do I look alright?”

He wanted to say she was really beautiful, instead he just commented, “There’s a million things to be done, so let us get cracking.”

That said, both hasted to a traveling agent in the main hall and made a confirmation of his seat on SQ998 flight, the next day at 7.55a.m. Being a weekday, he had no problem on his open return ticket. Then they marched on to level three, to Shwe Myanmar store and May choose batiks for the maids and some for his friends. After that, they crossed over to Funan Center level two, Golf House, where he purchased a few packets of colorful tees for his golfing partners and marched their way to Bras Basah Complex for the opticians to test his eyes. They then crossed over the road into The Raffles Hotel’s Tiffin Room and had their lunch. She liked the ambiance and the food was good plus the service was superb. They spent about an hour there eating and yapping, thence quickly crossed over to Raffles City basement one Cold Storage supermarket, where May picked nice large strawberries, sapodillas, seedless American grapes, big firm persimmons for him. Both then strolled into Begawan Solo to buy a thousand layer cake. Once all that done, her legs were nearly gone, thus, they found a coffee shop near the fountain and rested in a comfortable settee. He ordered a latte for her, which she liked and sugarless lime juice for himself. He was not diabetic, but he did not want extra sugar to be turned into fat in his old body.

While May was enjoying her hot latte, he took out a small packet from his carrier bag that he purchased the evening before, and handed to her while saying, “ This is not much, a little something, especially for you, just a token of my appreciation, and being my young friend. I promise that I shall always be there for you. That is should I be alive, still kicking and be able, even though I’ve known you for three days only. In my heart of hearts, you seemed I’ve known you a lifetime.”

May opened the small package and found it to contain a plain fine necklace of pure white gold. Her face lit up and she hugged him with tears welding in her eyes while muttering, “Thank you, a very good surprise, I like it, and shall wear it for always.  I will be your special friend forever. Will you help me put it on?”

That said, he helped her put it on her neck. She then got up and walked beside a store glass panel and watched at her own reflection with the necklace on. Satisfied, after a few minutes she sat down again, smiling. They continued to chat. She asked him questions, and some of it he had to squeeze it out for an answer. He wished to forget painful parts and does not want it to be remained fresh in his mind. She also wanted to know about the paper qualifications he attained about thirty years back, line of work he had and places he resided at. The background of his wife Mary and his son, plus how he came to be living in Singapore. Even his and the wife’s parents and grand parents were not left behind. He sincerely believed that this was the most detailed grinding or call it questioning, he ever encountered. May eyes were sparkling, and she was truly interested to know all, similar to questioning on ‘This is your life’ programme on television. All very detailed. Even the type of food he like and ailments the family suffered from. Details on siblings were also dug into. He thought they sat there for more than two hours, the waitress time and again enquired whether they needed refreshing. He believe she was hinting to them that they had overstayed their welcome and time to be moving on. At last, her inquisition was over and he felt thoroughly drained. They got up and headed for the MRT station down below. She maybe refreshed, but he felt tired after the grilling.

Getting out at Orchard Station, they walked along Orchard Road in the direction of Tanglin Mall. May voiced out that all was interesting and she never knew so much of someone outside her family. U Ko Ko can believe that, to be sure. He walked her back to her house as the sun was going down. He said his good bye like a true gentleman and did not hug or kiss her, a honest difficulty at that. He already given his Yangon mobile phone number, and she was free to call him should she able get a connection. U Ko Ko walked briskly back to Orchard MRT Station and joined in the crowd for Bedok Station. He had rice with some vegetables and steamed chicken as dinner at the food court, and headed back to the apartment for some serious packing. He put his belongings into the carry on luggage trolley with all the presents, leaving enough space for the fruits, which he intended to store just before departure so that they are fresh on arrival Yangon. He took a nice long shower and rechecked everything was ready for the trip back. Passport, hand phone, Yangon SIM card, ticket, fully charged laptop, hotel gift ball pen, house keys, his shades, small prayer booklet with a photo of Buddha shrine, some tissues were in his shoulder bag and a small plastic carrier bag for grapes and sapodillas were at the ready. He watched television till his son came back and they talked over a can of soft drink. Then he rested for the night as he needed to get up 5.30 a.m. 

The next morning, with the help of his mobile phone alarm, he woke in time for a shower, prayed to Lord Buddha at the alter room where he slept in, quickly got dressed and made his final packing. His son also got dressed and called for a taxi at 6.01 a.m. By 6.15 a.m. they were at the airport and U Ko Ko checked in his carry on trolley, it was 14 pounds only. He was perplexed to see May standing there so early in the morning, and he made necessary introductions to his son. May and his son exchanged pleasantries smilingly, and shook hands. By 6.50 a.m. he was standing outside the entry gate to the Immigration counter. His son kissed him on the cheek and made an offer to May to join him to MacDonald’s for breakfast, which she turned down respectfully. His son made his way there alone for a meal to start his day with a full stomach. May then took out a small packet from her Chanel handbag and handed to him.

She said, “Just a small going away present and by no means an exchange of returns.”

U Ko Ko took and it placed it in his left hand trouser pocket. He wanted to hug and give her a parting kiss but refrained himself and held out his hand instead. May took it and he felt the softness of her right hand while she unknowingly caressed the necklace with her left. He hung on to it just a shade seconds longer than usual and eyed her. Was she smiling? Was she sad? Was she going to cry? Was she mocking him? Was she what? What? This must be the Mona Lisa in person.

He walked quickly to the Immigration Counter and made haste for the Guardian Pharmacy and dared not to look back for fear of himself breaking down. At the Guardian Pharmacy, he got Mary’s cholesterol medication for three months. It’s cheaper here without the value added tax (vat), maybe more expensive than Yangon, but its originality can be assured here and authenticity is a bit dodgy there, no guarantees. After that, he made straight for Gate 38 where his outward flight should be waiting on the apron. By 7.15 a.m. he was inside the boarding gate and filling his arrival Yangon Immigration and Customs forms. By 7.35 a.m, he was in his 31D seat, the front most economy isle seat on the portside. There must be no children on this flight as he got this seat. He handed the fruits carrier bag to the airhostess for fear of damage.  When the aircraft took off and time came to release the seat belts, he took out the small packet May handed to him at the departure gate. On opening, he found a designer silver colour ring with a neatly folded letter written on a fine thin paper. He unfolded slowly and read it.

Dear U Ko Ko,

Please do not think this is a return gift, because you would be so wrong. Actually I bought it day before yesterday. It is just a token of my appreciation for being my special friend. For what’s it worth, this happens to be my first such present to any man. I was touched and pleased with our frank discussion yesterday. I aim to be your wife’s friend, and inform her how lucky she is to have you as a husband. I truly mean it. Furthermore, I also want to be the long lost younger sister to your son, given the chance. Eve may have bitten the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, but I aim not to follow suit. I may have only known you for 3 days, but it seems I know you well since don’t know when. I shall always wear your necklace you gave me. I know I am rather a strange individual with a mind of my own, but there you are. Maybe we should refer it to Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for his opinion. Do you not agree? Should there be no other circumstances, I will be back in Yangon in about a year’s time for my annual pilgrimage to my parents. I have been told many a time that autumn is the best and most beautiful season of the four. May you walk for a long time in your autumn years. Whatever, I shall definitely call you. Enough said, do have an uneventful trip and a happy landing.

Your special friend,

May

PS

Please throw away my letter once read, thank you.

U Ko Ko read it twice and got up, made his way to the toilet where he was thinking of flushing it. On second thought, he ought to show better respect, thus he tore the flimsy letter into tiny pieces and placed it in the litterbin. He then sat again in his seat and changed his SIM card in his mobile for Yangon and tried putting on the ring she gave on his finger. It fitted quite quaintly onto his right second finger, not too tight or loose. She must have been watching his fingers, he thought. He then read the small printed paper which stated the ring is from Cartier’s Juste un Clou collection designed in 2013, to symbolize adamancy and indomnitable sprit made of Rhodium-white gold. Must have cost a bomb. He then tossed the red presentation box into the front magazine holder, while he tried to catch a few winks before landing.

At Yangon Mingalardon Airport, while he waited for his checked in luggage by the baggage carousel, his mobile phone rang. He looked at the screen and knew it was May. He answered, “Hello.”

May voiced out, “Are you out yet? Flight okay? Any problems?”

He replied, “ Still waiting for my checked in luggage. Flight was okay. Thank you for the ring, I shall wear it. Do you have an email address? Are you at work?  How are you? “

“Glad you liked it. I’m at work and well. However, I want to come home badly. My email address is my name all together in small alphabets at gmail.com, and I’m wearing your necklace, it’s nice and I feel well armored. Will try to make it just before Christmas, need anything?” May sputtered all at once.

U Ko Ko replied “ Glad everything with you is okay and no, I do not require anything, but I intend to go see your parents in one or two days time and see for myself how they are doing ”.

May countered, “ You don’t need to do that for me, but thank you if you can make a call on them. It’s no.42 Windermere Road, it will at least put my mind at peace.”

“ No problems, do give me a call before you come here, so that I can greet you at the airport and take you home.” He controlled his emotions and slowly said, “Thank you once again for everything.”

May also controlled herself and whispered shakily, ”I’ll do that, see you when I see you. Take care and bye for now.”

U Ko Ko also concluded with his remark, “You take care too, bye “ and disconnected the line.

The checked in luggage appeared and he railed it out through the green channel to find Mary waving and waiting at the arrival gate. The drive home was noisy with his wife’s automatic mouth clatter. After 40 years of marriage, which was a roll of the dice, he also knows that marriage is a compromise of good and bad, more good actually. He smiled to himself and let the yapping slide while he planned his explanation about the ring, as he intended to tell the truth. His thoughts were a million miles away from the airwaves of his wife. After all, no one took a bite off the forbidden apple from the Garden of Eden, and no illegal crossings were infringed. All was under control with no guilty conscience.

Next morning after a breakfast of oats and resins, as usual he sat by his laptop beside the bedroom window and planned to punch the keyboard in continuation of the short story he started here in Yangon a week ago. Only then, did he become fully aware that the short story was still a long, long way to the final episode.  Somehow, even though pages and pages had been written and added, this must be the longest short story he ever attempted and yet there was still no conclusion in sight.

Strange!  U Ko Ko wondered why?

Rangoon street games in the Fifties

Today, we do not see much games being played in our local streets. It’s good from a safety point of view. Games are now played in the safety of playgrounds and parks, where there is more room for the growing limbs, and also does not hamper the pedestrians and rolling traffic. From what I noticed, football, kite flying, disc throwers, cricket and joggers can be seen quite frequently. For more serious players to any game, they would resort to specific arenas, courts, grounds and gymnasiums, tailor made designed for football, netball, basket ball, tennis, badminton, table tennis, rugby and many, many more. Children also can swing, slide, jump, hang loose, hop and run around safely in their own designated playgrounds. No matter where the country might be, special spaces are allocated for sports enthusiasts. All very nice and proper, and the enjoyment and safety are always at the forefront. In Singapore, Housing Board void decks, there are places for senior citizens to play checkers, board games or just sit around and talk the day away. In many European, American and Asian countries, the local library, common meeting places, town halls and designated places are reserved for the very young to the senior citizens’ enjoyment, games, sports and leisure activities too. The parents, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunties, grand parents and also friends need not worry for the safety of their love ones anymore, all will be out of harms way. Even in Yangon of today, local authorities and private developers pays special attention to the recreational needs of all citizens. None are left behind. Such are the times.

Fifty or sixty years ago in Rangoon, such luxuries did not exist. The playgrounds were the streets, roads and platforms if there are any. Sometimes, they even close the street or road and play the game on their menu of the day. Pedestrians need apply their commando training experience to avoid the players and their ball, to get past the road. Automobiles drove at a slow pace, and preference was given to the players, their ball and pedestrians alike. It was a booby trap course, you have to pass and make it safely to the end of the road. No certificates were awarded at the end. But should your car make it without sustaining any damages, this was enough reward. Spectators and supporters would watch from front of their homes or verandas and knows the players by name and whose sons and daughters they are, and which apartment they reside in. The road or street becomes their private property early in the mornings, evenings and weekends too. Various endeavors, all in their bare feet, were a feast to be watched in awe.

The game of football was universal in most streets. They played with a small rubber or plastic ball, but most of time it was a worn down tennis ball that would suffice. I have not heard of any damage sustained to people, their properties or traveling vehicles. There might have been cases where their ball hit something or someone, but the damage was negligible or too minor to be worth mentioning. The football field was the road including all walking spaces and the boundaries were the side gutters. Should the ball drop into the gutter, it’s out. However, rolling into apartment stairways or hall areas was considered part of the playing field and play would continue. I remember once, the ball rolled into Daw Ohn Sine’s front door and she never gave it back. The game was then regretfully concluded and the match was determined to be a draw. The spectators from the apartments smiled and then retreated back in. The game of football does not fall into category of seasonal games and was played anytime of the year and need not be eleven players on each side. It was played even with much less participants. Should there be only two or three players, they would resort to having only one goal and take turns to be the keeper.  When playing with two teams, one team would be bare-chested, and the two goal posts will be demarcated by pile of slippers on the roadway. If less, it could either be two bricks, someone’s garage door, a slipper on each side or any type of marking that was available at that moment in time. We tend to see more football being played in our streets during the rainy season, maybe one, due to being cooler, two, wetness improves the legs, and three, a free bath coupled with fun. Just joking, I really do not know why we see more football in our streets during the monsoon season. This game of street football has no age restrictions. I saw it being played by children, young kids, teenagers and even grown men joining in the fun. In Yangon, we believe bathing in a downpour of rain cures hot rash spots, it really does in my case, and generally cools down the hot sweaty weather also. The rains are a welcome not only to the farmers, but also to street dwellers as air-conditioning was very, very rare for us street folks.

During the dry spells, especially on long school breaks, we also sight young girls playing htoke see toe, a Burmese game, where one team, five members on each side, tries to pass the other team’s girl guarding her line and to reach pass the last box line. Should they able to touch your body while you cross their guarded line, you are out. Boys also do join in the fun, but rather rare and mainly played by the fairer sex. Their boxes or lines they were guarding are drawn by sticks marking the ground, or at times drawn by a piece of broken brick used as chalk on the road. The lamppost lights and the moon provide enough lighting for the game. I have seen them use water to draw the box lines also. Funny though, once they enter womanhood, with slight bumps on their chest, they tend to shy away from the game and stay mainly indoors, except for school, marketing or going out and refrained further from joining street games. I wonder why? Like street football spectators, from the apartments some would stick out their heads or support their teams standing on their verandas. Win or loose, would be smiles all around. Such were the fun in the streets. These games would continue late into the night, till temperature are cool enough to lay our heads on the pillows inside the mosquito nets.

Grown men also would also step on to the street and play their game of Chinlone (cane ball). It is not a comparative sport, but rather a game of control of cane ball by the use of the legs, heel, toes, knees, head and body except hands, played by six men or in case of our street, maybe less. Chinlone is more of an art and a dance where players stand in a circle and show off their beautiful ball control in coordination among the players. It is usually one touch and passed on to any player in the circle. It is said this game was played since the year 1208 and once played by Burmese royalty too.  We do not see our young sisters playing this ancient sport in the streets, but I understand they do play at the national level. Strange, is it not? They deploy a small cane, rubber or plastic ball, and maybe even a worn out tennis ball, depending on what they have. No uniforms are required and their longyi can be tugged at the back, so as not to hamper the free movement of the legs and be transformed into a sportswear. Some would play in their shorts, it’s up to the individual and what would put them at ease. It was usually played bare feet and the period of play depends on how long the team wishes to play. In short, no set timings. People, young and old would watch and appreciate with delight on their various moves.  Chinlone is more of a recreational game enjoyed throughout the year when people can spare the time, however it is a sport at the national level also.

Badminton was also played in any clearing without the need for a net. It was not competed and just played as a recreational pastime, mostly by girls and their grown ups. The racquets are of a simple type and in no way of a professional design.  It was played in the dry spells, in the early evenings, after or before the dinner. Girls would come out with their Thanakha on their faces and their hair done up nice. Those were the days when girls would apply coconut oil in their hair to make it shiny and well groomed. Men and boys at times would do the same, but the practice is disappearing. There were more serious Badminton tournaments, but they take place in specially designed courts, if the street has one.

Another street game, which was viewed with sheer enjoyment, is similar to hide and seek of today. The group of boys and girls would bring an empty used condensed milk container, and fill it with a few stones and squeeze the opening side shut so that it becomes a makeshift bell. They would draw a circle about 4/5 feet in diameter by broken brick or a stick to mark the ground and someone with a strong arm throws it out far, while all would go and hide. The seeker would collect the makeshift bell and place it back in the circle and seek for the players hiding. Should they be discovered, the seeker would sound the bell in the circle and shout out their name and place of hiding. The purpose of the game was to kick out the makeshift bell from the circle while the seeker was out searching for the hiders. Should they succeed, the game was replayed again.  If not, the game continues until the last player was discovered, thence the first caught becomes the seeker and a new game commences. This type of game was usually played during long school holidays in the months of the dry spells. While the game can be played during the day, the enjoyment was maximized during the evenings, under the light of lampposts and the moon natural cool rays.  At times, the audience from their door fronts, through the windows or from their verandas would shout out a hint, or show with their eyes, and at the worst, point out their hint with the finger to the seeker. After the game, the participants would debate to the fairness of their discovery while the onlookers would smile and make their own private comments. Those were the days without the wonders of television and I suppose gazing into the street was a favorite pastime for many a household. Besides, it was too hot and stuffy to remain inside except when one has chores to be attended. Together they would pass the evening till cool enough for sleep.

A favorite pastime among the boys was a game called Rounders, an old English game originated in 1500s, also called Roundus on the island of Monserrat. There are two competing teams between 5 ~ 15 players on each side. It was quite similar to baseball, except the game was played with a tennis ball and each round consist of four posts to be completed to be considered a round. The bowler or feeder bowls the ball from under his arm in a pendulum motion, and the striker was allowed three chances, after that he’s out. The striker bat was usually a bamboo stem, cut off from an old coerce yard broom handle by an understanding citizen from the road or street. The playing arena was the street itself, and just pray the ball you hit does not enter any apartments or damage windowpanes. The game was played at anytime of the year, however, street football takes precedence, which was the priority by all concerned. The game was played daytime, afternoon or night depending on demand consensus by the children. Any game on the street was well supported by its inhabitants, and never did lack an audience.

A rather unique street game imported from around the region was flying fighting kites. This game can be found from Afghanistan in the west, up to Japan in the east. Some can be found in the United States and also in the slums of Brazil. Maybe, some variations here and there, but basically flying kites are the same. The main idea was to fly the kite and combat with another and cut the other flying kite line and be king of the sky. It takes a good control of the single line and understood well the dancings of the wind, and how kites reacted in an aerobatic fight. All kites are different and one must learn quickly the different characteristics. This is an art and science mingled together. In Burma, it is usually played by young boys to men, some as old as sixty can be seen engrossed in the skill of kite fighting. To give slack while the kite climbs or dive down onto the adversary and pick up the slack on the yit lone. Very technical indeed and discussing its merits long after the combat. The kite is made of a light thin wax paper with two thin bamboo sticks and glue, the shape is of a triangle and size is about 14 inches. Some do make it at home out of an old newspaper, but it does not look so pretty. The three ingredients for flying a fighting kite are, one, a kite, two, cotton or nylon tread size 08 to 20, and three, a yit lone (round wheel), that’s it. The thread was laced with fine powdered glass and glue of rice, flour, semolina or other glues of your choice. Some would add colour to be distinct. The special thread can be bought or made by oneself to our own specification and satisfaction. Once that done, it was run onto the yit lone, ready for the fight. The main thing was to make the thread coerce and abrasive with a lace of your concoction of glass, old bulbs or some sharp material powder, to be able to cut the other kite’s thread. The battle was done 200 to 1000 feet above in the sky. One flies the kite from a rooftop or from a street level where the kite able to catch the wind. Once flown, we wait for an adversary or we become the challenger. The theater of war was the open sky and all eyes were glued to the combat. We had to be careful of our fingers as the kite line can easily cut us while flying.  The yit lone can be bought in the market or make it at home, if we had the tools and materials. The real and professional yit lone was around 12 inches in diameter and its breath was about 4 to 5 inches. The choice depends on our level of comfort.

Fighting Kite flying was done just after the rains and before the cool season sets in. The months from September to November are dotted with kites waiting for a fight, somewhat like a fighter aircraft or gunslinger waiting for a draw. Once the fight was over and one kite lost, it becomes another game. This was where most of the accidents occurred. The boys would chase after the lost kite by poles, long sticks and branches, even though it may be worth only a few cents. The posse would give chaste without giving thought that they are on the roads and prone to being hit by traveling automobiles. Accidents could mean mane or loss of limbs and in worst case, result in loss of life. But the glory of seizing a lost kite meant more until faced by an accident. Chasing kites sometime leads to fights as on finder keepers basis and the result could mean a torn useless and worthless kite. I am sad to admit that I was one of the posses, but lucky enough not to have sustained any damage, and no battle scars to show for. Such were the thinking of the boys and the sweetness and glory of seizing a fighting kite seemed the world.

Yet another imported leisure activity was gaming tops, it came across from the India and Pakistan. The tops are made of wood and a pointed nail to get to the center, and a string to start the spin. The game was started by doing a Toss, that is spinning a top all together at the same time and picking it up, the last boy to do so, losses and has to place his top in the center of the circle, which was about 3/4 feet drawn by a pointed nail of the top on the ground. The other players are to hit and tear a chunk from the lying top in the middle, while trying also to get a spin too. If successful, it’s known as a chicken leg, the reason was quite obvious. Should the lying top be out of the circle, one must get a spin of one’s own gaming top and pick it up with the string and shout out ‘soe’, to mean completed. The last person to do so must place his top in the circle. There are a few variations of spinning a gaming top, which are designated for females and males. Some can even whip and flip the string and have the top spinning on one’s palm and picking it up from ground onto the palm while continuing the spin. All rather skillful, indeed. Some boys were rich and could afford two gaming tops, one for if it’s their turn to be placed in the middle of the circle, and one for their personal spinning. I could only afford one, as my pocket money financial situation does not call for buying two. Believe in India it’s called Bambaram, Bongalaru Anta or Lattu, depending on which part of India the game was being played. Some believe, the gaming tops days are numbered due to being considered unsafe and its sharp pin hazardous, as there are a lot more games in lieu. Having said that, I can still witness a few games here and there in the inner city streets of Yangon (Rangoon). This is not a game for softies, as it can be rather cruel, especially when their gaming tops tear a chunk out of your top lying in the middle, the pain was felt right up in the heart too, like a piece of your leg being torn off.

There were other games such as marbles, not seen in Europe or America, played with one large marble by each player and three small shallow holes on the ground. Player numbers were not restricted, and the game was to complete ten holes, while knocking the other marbles to kingdom come, so that competition was kept at bay. This game was played during the rainy season, up to the beginning of the cool season in November. The holes on the ground were dug with heels should it be soft enough, otherwise, it’s our good old fingers to do the work. The streets and roads do hold danger to its own inhabitants, when playing bare feet. The tar road surface can cause cuts and the sharp stones can also open up a bare sole. The first aid was to wash it off by the street tap and tie it up with an old piece of cloth from the neighbours or place a band-aid if they can find one. That was it and no one lost a limb or suffered infections like today, where AIDS, tetanus and god knows what is ever present and fearful. It just shows how contaminated our earth is today.

Many, many more games existed that I could not do justice, such as playing with rubber bands of different colours, girls doing their high jumps with fingers as a pole, hopping on one foot, girls squatting and competing on haggling like a chicken called kyet tike ka, boys shooting competition with their small catapults with dried prune seeds, a ball game called king, setting off crackers during Thadinkyut, too numerous that some I do not even know of. Children from well to do families would step down from their castles and also join in the fun, as no such street games exist where they lived. Their compounds and houses are so far apart, that the streets or roads are dry of inhabitants. In our downtown streets, it’s part and parcel of every day life. It sure was fun.

As I stood by the shade of a guava tree, I realized that such street scenes are quickly disappearing. For the better I suppose. The councils are drawing plans to build tower blocks and the developers are eying to build a string of buildings with a compound to call its own. Times they are a changing, for sure. I suppose its all for the best, better living apartments and safety for all, from the very young to senior citizens. I do hope the new constructions will create the same camaraderie we had witnessed in the inner city streets which all can still play together, enjoy and laugh instead of creating castles where no household can be bothered about anyone else.

For the last time with much sadness, I viewed the street scenery so that I will remember and can reminisce to tell my grand children and friends. There were kids from Daw Saw Pu house, boarding their school bus. I could hear some children reciting their five precepts also. U Hla Pe, now grey and old like me, sitting in front of no.23 Flat C in his easy chair, counting beads while chanting scriptures by the look of his lips and my, my, how Ma Thida has grown. She must be in her twenties, in her green longyi of school uniform plus a Tiffin box wrapped in a serviette tugged in her bamboo basket together with a folded umbrella in hand rushing off to school. She must be a teacher and I am sure she will make some man very happy soon. That must be Mr. Ganguly in his starched white pants, graying, washing the white United Nations light van that he drives, while Mrs. Ganuly dished out her dos and don’ts to him. Funny, how some things never changed. I wonder where are their four kids? Must be all grown up. Daw Ohn Sine from no.29A is still a spinster, living with her sisters and does not talk to anybody. Her face is still the same after all these years, stern and just staring straight. What a woman.

I can see U Maung Maung and U Tin Tun, in their tike pones (Burmese Jackets) with a Shan bag in one hand, while the other held an umbrella rushing off to the bus stop. No.36 (first floor) is as usual all very quiet with all doors and windows shut, U Ah Hein must be in his seventies from no.18 top floor, with a string of grand children leading his troupe to school. The street seller with steamed beans basket balanced on her head advertises her goodies at the top of her voice. The moakhingar peddler with a heavy bamboo pole on his shoulder balancing the gravy with stove on one side and the other consisting of rice noodles, plates, spoons and a small bucket of water plus some stools, gazes onto the apartments wondering who would call him. There for sure will be a few buyers as these are staple breakfast items, here in Yangon. The morning scene was incredible and everyone knows everyone. I think it must be the comradeship and loyalty to each other when outsiders were involved. This type of friendship is lacking in well to do areas, as their next-door neighbour is still some distance away in the adjecent compound. The morning scenery in the street was really rather unique and beautiful, I do not think Rembrandt can do justice in a million years.

With tears welding in my eyes, I must get ready and get dressed into my comfortable traveling clothes for a flight back to Singapore, before my better half switch on her automatic yapping machine of non-stop comments and instructions. Not too kindly to my ears, I’m afraid.

Puppy Love

We all were young at one time or the other. Looking back, many things transpired at our tender age, some we remember, while others we wish to forget and a few that lingers on in our mind after donkey’s years. Today, we may shrug it off and brush it aside as irrelevant, but at that moment in time, those were gigantic issues that needed to be addressed or more correctly in my case, too chicken to face reality for fear of a negative answer or a response that would end my dreams and thoughts. I was twelve then, in Class 4B of the fourth standard. The school I attended was known as Methodist English High School, MEHS for short, and arguably the best place of learning for our young minds in Yangon (Rangoon), situated on Sule Pagoda Road, in the heart of the city. It’s a mixed school where girls and boys mingled together up till their matriculation or General Certificate of Education ‘O’ Level examinations. The pass rate was number one in Myanmar (Burma) and the envy of many an educational establishment. The Principal was Scottish (she) and teachers were a mixed lot of Burmese, Indians, Anglo-Indians and Anglo-Burmese, but all very professional in their jobs and much revered and respected.

Our class was assigned to the then new wing of the school. The ground and first floors were designated to fourth standard classrooms, a total of four, A, B, C and D. The third and fourth floors were Chemistry laboratories meant for senior classes. We know this as we share the common stairway. Girls would play with their own groups and boys would do likewise. This is by no means an order of the day, but it just worked out that way. In classes, the desks were in rows of twos and boys would sit together and girls would share seats among themselves. Mixed seating we may have, but rather rare. Her name was Tina Khin, of the same age and wears a white blouse with a maroon coloured skirt, the school uniform. Boys don an all white outfit, again a prescribed school uniform. At that age, sex does not come into play. I felt at peace just by admiring her beauty, speech and sharing a few jokes would ring a few bells for me. Trying to kiss her on the cheek or holding her hand does not come into the picture, all rather clean with no hidden overtures or agendas. In a scale of one to ten, I think acknowledgement of my clean affection would score a high mark. Not that she said anything or gave me any signs of response to make me feel better. She got a sister who was also a teacher and one of the two most beautiful and desirable teachers in our school. Both of them were singles, but I was not yet that matured to take notice of them. The apple of my eye was for Tina Khin alone. Reflecting back, like in Buddhism, I suppose one can term it as (528) type of love. The type of love for your brothers and sisters pure, clean and clear as a mountain stream.

At the age of twelve, I was chubby and a bit on the plumb side, not a figure that was slim, tall or of a handsome young lad, in short not a noteworthy young boy at all. Tina was the opposite: slim, a wee bit a shade not too fair, but beautiful all the same, composed, matured, not too long loose black hair sometime tied at the back and her wonderful smile that stamped ultimate an aura of beauty onto my young mind. I was not too bright nor in the top echelon of my class. Tina was also not in that bracket either, but in some subjects she did outshined me. I looked forward to seeing her each day and watching her smile, laugh and play made my coming to school every bit worthwhile. I had my own friends, Stanley San Shein, Alan Bo, Teddy Saing, Pyee Pyee Thike, Bryan Sein Tun, Edmund Aung Than just to name a few, and many, many more.  Some were studious pupils while most were average like myself. The thing was I liked Tina and dared on no one to confine my thoughts. Those were the days, liking or falling for a girl was not done and be joked upon and laughed at, that ruffled my feathers.  On weekends, I would borrow a Humber bicycle from a friend and cycle to her road in pursuit hoping to catch a glimpse. I lived in First Thompson Avenue, Botataung District and Tina resides in a top (forth) floor apartment on the 51st Street, middle block (I think). Riding a bicycle, a journey from our road to hers was just a matter of few minutes. I would venture during weekend early evenings on my borrowed bicycle to her street with positive expectations. Spying a fleeting sight of her playing on the veranda high above was like striking the lottery, sad part was she never did glance down once onto the street below while I cycled. I would not divulge my weekend failed exploits to her in school, being chicken. Looking back now it was simply a case of no guts in me, I was that brave. I heard that her sister teacher gave tuition classes in her 3rd floor apartment, but we were not that well off to afford such a curriculum, nor do I needed it, either.

I was in 4B and Tina was in 4C: lunch breaks were truly heaven, appreciating and spying with my eyes on her and content to seeing her happy. Final examinations came and went: we both passed and were promoted on to 5B. Our new classroom was in the main building near the right stairwell on the first floor. The classroom structure was somewhat different from our previously fourth standard class formation. 5B was smaller and the seating was arranged in rows of long desks. Each long desk seats four pupils. Alan Bo sat on the outer right most and I was next, beside me was Pyone Cho Myint, a slim dark cheerful girl, and next to her sat Tina Khin, outer left most. I think she got some Karan blood in her, thus her slight sharp prominent features of an Anglo. I don’t really know if this is so or otherwise, as I dared not ask her. Too shy I suppose. We were in the upper most front left row and closest to the onslaught of teacher’s rulers and knuckles.  Being boys, Alan and myself caught their brunt outbursts to drill knowledge into us, but the girls seemed to have out maneuvered better than us. For me, the onslaught and pain was all worthwhile, as I sat one girl away from Tina. One day, Tina, let me borrow her magnetic ball bearing for a few days which she kept in her compass box, it was satisfaction beyond belief. Another time, she let me use her plastic eraser, mine was a simple rubber affair. The plastic eraser does less damage to our exercise books, and left a smooth clean surface to rewrite again on. These small actions may have seen to be trivial, but it meant a world to me and energized my hollow heart. Fifth standard was the transformation period from pencils to fountain pens. Ballpoint roller pens were totally forbidden, for fear of spoiling our pencil handwritings, but mine was already down hill, well before the transformation. Ha Ha.

I think I ought to make a small mention about my family. I was born from a union of U Shwe Tha, my father and Daw Yin Sein, my mother. My father was from Mogok and mother hailed from Bhamo. I have two other blood relations, both elder sisters who also attended MEHS, but regretfully not that close since, up to later in life too. My father died in West Germany (then) from throat Cancer, due over smoking like a chimney. Younger of the elder sisters and myself, were raised by my father’s younger brother, an uncle, and his younger sister, our only aunt, in Rangoon, while parents were posted abroad. Father died as a Charge de Affairs - a young, dashing and aspiring Third Secretary, Head of Mission for Burma to West Germany. Mother, Daw Yin Sein, a widow, only joined the Foreign Office when father passed away. My mother does not own a big house with a large compound in the classy part of town, but do live in a middle class area of Botataung District. The only income she got was her salary and at times from the interest of loans she made on short-term basis in her office. She reached the position of Chief of Chancery, COC in short, and supported all her three children making sure they all attended the best school our town could offer. She was still of marrying age when father died, but decided to dedicate all her focus and resources to raising her siblings, so that they may secure respectable jobs with positions later on in life. My widowed mother believed in good solid grounding and looking back her foresight did yield dividends, God rest her soul. Our humble apartment was a ground floor unit with a small sitting room and a one sizeable bedroom, where the family share the sleeping quarters in the castle of our own beds. The bathroom and kitchen were so tiny that dining was done on a small table squeezed by the wall of the bedroom window, overlooking an air vent with no view. As entertainment, we owned a small Sony transistor radio, whereas we can hear records being played loudly by our right hand side neighbour. The record of the day was ‘Lipstick On Your Collar’ by Connie Francis. The apartment in front across the avenue lived a medical doctor also was a lecturer in a medical college with her beautiful and much desired medical student daughter. Around Christmas time, we could see eligible young men in their large open top Chevrolets, Bel-Airs and Buicks etc. etc. calling upon the princess while we attended school per kind favour of a family friend’s automobile, living in the Pazundaung area. It’s more economical than school busses. Such were our predicament.

Long summer breaks were not so pleasant for me either. After the water festival, it was usually a trip back to my hometown of Mogok by air or train, river steamer and car. Once there, report cards were presented to our uncle for his scrutiny. Passing the yearly examinations were not sufficient, position in the class was a factor also. Mine was always average, thus it usually meant next year mathematics calculations to be exercised, to be ready for the promoted class. Every evening, sometime morning also was meant for advance study for the next year. My sisters love their stay as they grew up there and had friends. As for me, except for being born there, there was nothing to shout about. Early mornings were meant for accompanying my youngest uncle (brother of my father) to the market and carrying a large shopping cane basket while he walked upright in front. I galloped from behind to catch his pace. Afternoons were spent in a precious stones polishing house, pouring green tea for who ever comes in with a smile and to learn the gems trade which hold no interest to me. To this day, if I were shown a piece of rock, precious stone or a piece of glass, they would be all the same to me. Such was the interest, my calling was definitely not in the gems trade to be sure. Bath meant taking a cold shower from a tap outside in the yard as upstairs bathroom was meant for ladies. The water from the tap was freezing cold which oozes from a mountain spring not that far away, and with a light breeze blowing, it’s even colder. My uncle said it was good for the soul. His maybe, for sure not mine.

I would try to spend my time on the ground floor where the whole unit was rented out as a teashop. To me, they made good conversations and helped me pass my time away. Should my uncle find me there or my sisters reported to him, things were not so pleasant, which I rather not elaborate. The place really did not click for me. It’s also a rather religious town where most of the folks would go up the hill to the monastery for their weekly dose of meditation on each Sabbath day. At the age of twelve/thirteen, religion was not a priority on my mind and to a certain extent to this very day.

By early June, a telegram would arrive to inform us the school commencing date. This was a happy moment for myself as at last we can return back home to Rangoon (Yangon). I did not see eye to eye with my sisters. If they see East, I saw West, if they wish North, I preferred South. Must be our age difference. Back in Rangoon, I could play with my mates from the surrounding apartments and talk in the evenings on the street up till bedtime. We would play marbles, spin tops or fly kites depending on the season, and the month. My younger years were without worries. Eat, sleep, play, study and go to school. As long as I get my pocket money and do my regular homework, all was quiet on the western front. At school, they give us a jelly of cod liver oil and hot milk free of charge. We did not think much of it then. We also had a dispensary with a doctor and a kind nurse, both of them were lovely ladies, that was nice. The teachers were ever watchful of our health and the medical chest was full of medicines. In short, school was most enjoyable. Our school had two sessions, mornings and afternoons. The morning session was meant for fifth standards and upwards while both afternoon and morning sessions catered from kindergarten to fourth standards.

By August, my widowed mother transfer order came, and she was to be posted to  The Burmese Embassy in London. My mother arranged for my school leaving certificate and all necessary papers to rejoin a London school. I did say my goodbye to Tina, but only generally. I still did not have the guts to say out loud to her that I liked her. My manly brave act, at it’s worst. We sailed onboard the Bibby Line’s m.v. Warwickshire, a passenger cargo ship, bound for Tilbury, a Thames estuary dock, close to London. After port calls here and there, the voyage was around thirty days, enjoyable though.

Come to think of it, the affection and admiration I had for Tina was pure and clean, with no sexual inclinations what so ever to be sure. Her voice was music to my ears. All her actions were beautiful dances in my eyes. There is a saying that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. To me, Tina was one hundred and one per cent beautiful and she could do no wrong. Today, my expectations to deem it love is much more different and on another plane. The criteria and parameters were not as pure as when I was twelve or thirteen years of age, that is for certain. I never met her since on heard of her. The last word on Tina was two years later when her teacher sister (Daw Khin Khin Thein) and her friend dropped by our house in London. Mother hosted a dinner that evening for them. After London, they aim to fly out for The United States. I did raise a question to her sister teacher, ‘Where is Tina these days?’ The beautiful teacher replied ‘Oh, she already immigrated to the States’. That was the last word on her. Sad really.

I am well over sixty now, so Tina must be the same today, that is if she is still alive. She must be a grandmother with sons and daughters with a string of grand children which regretfully I am not blessed with. I would very much like to give Tina a belated present. I would like to say thank you for my growing up years in the fourth and fifth standards of 4B and 5B, and making it memorable up to this day to this humble nobody. She made my school days enjoyable and I did look forward to go to school because of her. By the token of my appreciation, I hope she will accept my gift of this short story, dedicated to her. Should some parts may be lacking or a few things may not be too exact, please forgive me in advance for my recollection is a bit jagged these days. After all, it’s been over fifty odd years ago. Today, I am happily married with a wonderful wife and son nearly forty years old, a good man at that. Tina must be the same. I am old and graying but the thoughts of her, still fresh and lingered at the back of my mind. Call it puppy love or what ever you may deem it fit. But for Tina to be anchored in my gray matter, she must have been somebody special and she still is in the echelons of my fading memory. I do not have the 1960/61 issue of our annual schoolbook ‘The Swaying Palms’, so that I can look back at the old group photographs and renascence. It’s all a bit vague these days.

P.S.

Luck would have it that I had the good fortune of meeting Pyone Cho Myint about forty six years ago in 1968, when she accompanied her father U Hla Myint, then the Port Chairman, who came onboard our m.v. Htan Taw Ywa welcoming party. I wonder where she is now? The ship belongs to our national shipping line, The Burma Five Star Line, BFSL for short. She remembered me on sight onboard our ship’s inauguration by my name Mervyn Shwe Tha and I also remembered her name too. We did exchange a short pleasantry, after all her father was the Port Chairman, one of the VVIP guest of honour. Our Captain was Donald Khin Maung (Donald Macintosh), an old MEHS pupil, another alumni. Her father comments to me was a one liner, ‘Don’t you even think about it’. Those days, her head was shaven, as she just left the nunnery. If you do happen to see Pyee Pyee, Bryan or Teddy, please convey my best to them.

Cheers!

The 2nd Brook?

Buttering his third toast, this time to be spread over with marmalade instead of jam and his second cup of black coffee, San Win wondered what is to become of him.  He likes his toast to be crisp on the outside and moistly soft inside, instead of being crisp through out and becomes too dry for his palette. He tries his best to keep away from eggs and processed meat for fear of contents might prove to be too rich for him. Age wise, in his twenty sixth years, with no qualification papers to show of, San Win told himself that it’s about time to take stock of his life. While listening to his colleagues talking, he put up a serious interested face in courtesy, even though his thoughts are a million miles away. It is nearly seven forty five a.m, and soon to strike eight bells, he hurriedly climbed the outside staircase to the bridge. The four to eight quartermaster updated him on his watch while he climatizes for his imminent eight to twelve morning watch. After reporting to the Third Mate, the officer of the watch, he was instructed to continue scrape off the old varnish from the starboard bridge door.

San Win works for Mediterranean Shipping Company’s (MSC) cruise ship, MSC Opera, calling at Southampton, Ijmuiden, Alesund, Trondheim, Leknes, Geiranger, Bergen, and back again at Southampton. Round trip is about twelve to fourteen days. He’s been working with MSC for the past three years. The terms are good, six months onboard and three months leave, with full pay while at sea and half pay at during his leave period. He usually travels during leave period all over Europe and after which rejoins the ship back for another six months stint. The ship is a large resort cruise vessel, about 10 years old with 856 cabins and a total 728 crew, and can accept 2055 passengers. Her details are 251.5 meters in length, 50598 gross registered tonnage (grt) and can speed up to 21 knots per hour. Quite a tub with lots of shipmates and at times the view of the feminine sex can be food for sore eyes. San Win holds a Myanmar passport plus seaman book and permanent residing city is stated as Yangon, Myanmar. Thus, he is given a return flight ticket, tourist class, from Southampton/London Heathrow/Yangon via Bangkok and return by the courtesy of MSC for his leave period. He seldom exercises his right, as there are no parents alive in Yangon anymore.

He needs to declare his option before MSC Opera docks back in Southampton, in four days time. While he scrapped the varnish from the starboard side bridge door, he thought deeply on what he should do. Even though the North Sea weather is quite nippy, working in the morning sunshine cleared his head and weighed his options. He’s has stayed in quite a few countries in Europe and wondered whether he should venture out to places outside his safety zone. San Win is Myanmar by nationality, however, with no more family ties there, he does not feel like a Myanmar anymore. Nor does he akin any closeness to a country, and he is rather worried that he might become a stateless person with no allegiance to any country, as such. At times, he wonders where his loyalty lies. A body of a Myanmar National, and a sense of being a German, Dutch, French, Englishman or a Dane, depending on where he’s at and what he is doing. At the same time, he wishes to be free as a bird and venture into any land his feet might drag him and stay there until he senses a calling to wonder to another place. Maybe felt this way because he’s a seaman and traveling to different lands on different days. He does know that working for MSC means the salary and terms suited him fine and the shipping line is still employing him since he meets their requirements. Not because of loyalty as such. What to do? That is the question.

The seaman in question, continue to think deep and hard. Who is he? What has he become? Where does his allegiance lie? Should he anchor his roots somewhere? Questions abound and not a single concrete answer bouncing back. San Win does not know anymore. This worried him, but he knew that he’s got to finally stand on one side of the fence otherwise he would be just a driftwood in an ocean not touching land for ever. That he does not want and San Win is still at a loss. About a year ago, he had the good fortune to meet a young Swiss girl at Lucerne, a north central Swiss town. Her name is Helger and she spoke German, French and Italian, all three languages fluently. She is about five foot seven, slim with loose light brown hair and works for Bank of Switzerland and she is twenty four years old. She somehow clicked with him and San Win found her to be intelligent, sophisticated, and not too talkative coupled with good looks.  They got on fine together and she did not mind him to be a sailor with no paper qualifications, however, apart from Switzerland, she is unable to anchor anywhere else, except maybe for a holiday. He is still asking himself whether to propose to her, while he does phone her once a month when he’s onboard. He still has not committed to Helgar. Switzerland is fine but does he really want it?

Quartermaster San Win is still heavy in thought with no solid answer to who or what he is. He still continued to do his duty as called for. One evening, on look out duty, while on eight to twelve watch, the same question still lingered on. He was befriended with his thoughts while standing alone on the bridge portside wings, and Eureka! The answer came to him. He would go back to Myanmar for one last time during his three months break and will see how he feels. This is his middle path and a decision will be finally made on its completion, one way or another. He was happy at last and at peace with himself. After eight bells, he retreated back to the recluse of his cabin bunk. Sleep was automatic without the need for medication. The next day, after his watch, before lunch, he informed the Chief Officer of his decision to fly back home for leave and also submitted in writing. At least one day notification before Southampton should give his head office enough time to make necessary traveling arrangements.

He flew back to Yangon per Thai Airways flight and on arrival there, there was no one waiting for him among the large crowd at the arrival gate. At the airport bank, San Win changed some money to local Kyats and took a taxi into town and checked into Tavoy Hotel. It is a small cheap hotel in the center of town. The room is single with air conditioning and that’s about it, really. He also wanted such a room, basic and cheap. From there as base, he toured Yangon as best as he could in the hot May sun. His transport was walking generally while he feasted his eyes. For lunch and dinner, he would eat at local roadside teashops and stalls. At Lucky Seven Stars teashop, he ate rice with steamed beans sprinkled with fresh sesame oil and sunny side fried egg (local breakfast). The taste agreed with him and also took a bowl of moakhingar just for good measure. This was a pleasant surprise for him, as his taste buds did not repel the intake of food. For dinner he would have Chinese, in stalls with a crowd. The presentations were similar to London, Hamburg, Singapore and Hong Kong, however, the taste was something else, which he liked. He surprised himself to find most of the food was to his taste.

One day, he noticed that he required a loose cotton shirt as he perspired profoundly and needed a spare to keep him going. The hotel suggested him to buy at Bogyoke Market, as there are a variety of stores to choose from. On a free afternoon, San Win walked there and was pleased to notice the variety was endless. He walked slowly and at the back of the market, he found a store dealing in locally made shirts.

While he chooses, the sales girl said, "This is a Shan shirt, preshrunk and ready to wear, you seem as though you are not from around here."

He smiled and replied, "Do I really stand out that much, I am a Myanmar but a sailor, mainly in European waters."

She continued, "It’s your accent, speaking Burmese, yes, however, it’s not local nor sounded from other regions".

San Win said, "May I sit down for a while, it’s so hot I may need to change my shirt here." that said, he placed his backside on the single stool in front of the store and she offered him hot green tea, just brewed.

For the first time San Win looked at her properly. She is slim, her long black hair spun to a bun at the back, about five foot six, maybe around twenty one years of age, smallish boobs, fair, smooth skin like butter and unlike lard and with a dash of Thanaka on her face, she sure is a sight for sore eyes. She looked cool and composed even though the sun is baking hot outside. He does not know what prompted him to lay down his life story to a girl he just met.

In closing he said, "I no more know who I am and now very much alone with no roots."

Her expression was serious and said, "I’m so sorry, I have never met a person such as you." She continued, "You poor man, so you are looking to find out whether you still belong here or not."

With his head down, he just said, "Yes."

They seem to hit it off quite well. San Win bought the Shan cotton shirt and sat and stayed by the store until closing, yapping. She told him that her name is Nan Khin Hla and she is a resident of Taunggyi, Shan State. She is in Yangon to mind the family store and putting up in Hledan area apartment sharing with her five friends. She secured her Bachelor of Arts degree (B.A.) from Taunggyi College, in Burmese. As her degree does not open much doors of opportunity, she decided to fend the family shop in Yangon selling clothes and materials from Shan State.

She smiled and said, "My sister is arriving tomorrow from Taunggyi and I am available to show you around from day after tomorrow, if you like."

San Win face brightened and replied, "That would be super, I have about two and a half months to kill before I report back for work."

That day, San Win rendezvoused with Nan Khin Hla at Sule Pagoda at nine in the morning. She took him by bus to the Shwe Dagon Pagoda. He enjoyed the experience and to be frank more of her company. However, the bus ride was an adventure on its own, being packed like sardines in a can was not too nice. Moreover, his clothes were soiled with contact with other passengers onboard. Due to that experience, he hired a taxi on daily basis, which is more comfortable and at least his clothes need not be disinfected. He also can drop Nan Khin Hla to right outside her apartment in Hledan district. He had enough money to hire a taxi on daily basis, as the costs are rather cheap compared to Europe. Nan Khin Hla said it was a waste of money as they could use the services of the local busses, which he rather not from his first experience.

They both ventured far out to the towns of Bago and also Pathein. The taxi driver is also around twenty and is happy to drive around anywhere as long as he is earning. It was more of a marriage of convenience. San Win got money to spend and time to clock as far as Nan Khin Hla can spare her time. He likes her quite a lot, they seem to talk the same language and on same frequency. Days rolled on to weeks and matured to months. From the hot humid month of May whizzed on to July. Monsoon rains are more consistent and would pour down daily without fail. There is no escaping the rains, roads would turn into streams and rivers of brown water and shoes are definitely the wrong wear. Rubber slippers are order of the day and umbrellas need be accompanied, without saying. San Win now wears a longyi, similar to other men as washing and drying are much more easier than jeans or trousers. 

They would walk by the Royal and the Inya lakes sharing Nan Khin Hla small umbrella. When there is a downpour and no shelter in sight, he would hold her tight and try to shield her from the rain, of course without much success. He really enjoys her company and the topics are endless to be discussed. She likes Shan and Chinese cuisines and would guide the driver the route and road to be taken. Sure enough, the food was delicious, but he enjoys her company more. Without actually uttering a word, they talked with their eyes, these things do not need words, body language is already sufficient. He did not try to kiss her or take advantage of her in anyway, as he did not want her to look down on him and besides, he must get to know her more.

One evening while enjoying their bowl of Shan noodles she shot a question at him, "I would like my sister to join us for dinner tomorrow evening, do you mind?"

He smiled and replied, "Please be my guest, the more the merrier."  

San Win picked both Nan Khin Hla and her elder sister, Nan Mya Hla, with the taxi he hired. All proceeded in the pouring rain to a Chinese Resultant in Mayangone. He did the honours of ordering while her sister Nan Mya Hla eyed and sized him up.

During the forth course, Nan Mya Hla asked him, "Why don’t you tell me about yourself?"

 He put down his pearly white plastic chopsticks and slowly dished out his life story, "I was told by my parents that I born in a town called Patheingyi, near Mandalay in March, 1987. My father, U Hla Win was an Immigration Officer and mother, Daw Ohn Su a housewife. They both are no more and I’m their only son, educated up to second year in the Physics Department of Mandalay University. Before I graduated, as my parents had passed away and I became a sailor to loose myself in this world."

He continued, " I spent most of my time in Europe as I do not have anybody left in Myanmar that I know of."

Her sister, Nan Mya Hla persisted, "How many times have you been back to Myanmar since you became a sailor?"

San Win replied, "This is my second trip to Myanmar, I renew my passport at any Myanmar Embassy, closest to where I am at that moment in time."

Nan Mya Hla still dig further, "Do you not have relatives, friends or a girlfriend who would look after you?"

He put his plastic chopsticks down again and said, "No one here that I am aware of, not even a single mouse. Besides, I really do not know where I belong anymore."

Nan Mya Hla still will not let go and continued, "How do you like our land now? Feel anything?"

He countered, " To be honest, till now, I did enjoy more than I expected, but to your question whether I felt anything, I don’t really know, I need time to think it over."

Then the interview was over and all enjoyed their meal. Around eleven p.m. he asked the driver to take them home to Hledan. He also was bushed and returned to his hotel for a good night rest.

Next day, while they visited Thanlyin, he told Nan Khin Hla that he needed to proceed back to Southampton next week and report back for his six months onboard stint.

She enquired, "So you’ll be gone next week, will you be back?"

He fell silent for a few seconds and then replied, "That is a million dollar question. I have been asking myself the same point since I was onboard."

They both continued to walk by the Thanlyin River under the shelter of her small umbrella while he held on to her shoulder. The silence was deafening.

After a few minutes he continued, "I should know the route I’m walking when I’m onboard again. Would you mind if I phone you?"

With her serious face she replied, "only if you wish, but not necessary."

San Win laughed out loud and said, "Yes, I do wish and shall call you at least once a month, depending on where the ship is. Will you give me your number?"

She wrote her cell phone number on his hand and said no more.

Before parting, she did make a statement, "My hometown Taunggyi which is the capital of Shan State and the weather is cool throughout the year. It’s a quiet place compared to Yangon and some likes it."

Next week, San Win took the Thai Airway flight to Bangkok for a connection of long twenty three hours flight to London Heathrow and change again to a local flight to Southampton. All very taxing.

Once onboard the MSC Opera, he was home again. He knows his cabin, what and where to eat, and the job was routine. He did not expected to enjoy this much in Yangon. He’s got six months to weigh his options and till then, just to do his work as a quartermaster. Everybody is happy. While alone at night on his watch, during look out duty at the bridge wing, he was surprised that the Yangon food agreed with him and the taste was to his liking. He did not felt being an alien at Yangon and all were indifferent to him. He did not sense like a foreigner either and was at peace with himself. He wondered what it would be like to start afresh there in Taunggyi. A new place, a new profession, a new life, but is he ready for it? Does he really want it? By January, the weather should be just nice there. Cool and crisp, just like an European summer.

San Win already made his decision. It’s about time to call Helger in Lucerne, Switzerland.

The MSC Opera sails smoothly in the North Sea. Rare for these waters, indeed !

The Brook

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorpes, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
I slide by hazel covers;
I move the sweet forget-me-nots
That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
Among my skimming swallows;
I make the netted sunbeam dance
Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses;
I linger by my shingly bars;
I loiter round my cresses;

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

6^th August, 1809 ~ 6^th October 1892, Lincoin, England.