Ko Nyein (Mandalay) - Five short stories

Ko Nyein (Mandalay)

Forgiveness night

Tonight, this night didn't come by accident, but it's dark by accident.

God's gift, this night of forgiveness should not be dark. Even the gravestone on the Red River will lose its sleep. Because of me. The first rain is heavy, then drizzle, and then

It's because of me that the goddess who rules the rain said "Michinpao". Oh, it's because of me that a devil stands at the grave door like a giant waiting for me.

Anyway, I don't think it's because of me that the wind is going to carry the scent of tamarind across the plains and over the graves. The Yangon-Mandalay highway is still carrying a poet. My teacher said that all the friends and relatives are walking..." It's true that it's a time when I feel nostalgic.

But the road is empty of cars, and there is no light. It is cold. It is too quiet to wait. Where is the moon hiding? I don't know. The lonely image is not even a "shadow". I am standing. I have been standing.

The demon never forgets to close his eyes. Since the demon cannot close his eyes, there is only one star left in the sky. I thank the highest, greatest stars for keeping their eyes open.

Look. A light shining in the grave. I see you asking for my gratitude. Do you think there is still a place in the world that does not disappoint me? What can I say? “Am I a seed that has not yet broken or a seed that will break and bear fruit?” I don’t know myself. What kind of seed am I? Just as this point is difficult to grasp, “courage” is also difficult for me to grasp, I think. The spirit is a wild horse. And the spirit is without a bridle.

(2)

God is not a force, but a kind truth... An invisible finger is not the finger of God.

Actually, I don't know these things clearly. But it is true that I have been gifted with a certain amount of strength. More than that, indeed.

Look. The mane of the wild horse. It's my bridle. He doesn't even need to break the reins like I did. I gave him a heel to the horse's rump.

"Hey.. Rob"

My flying horse jumped over the old bridge and the ditch at the entrance to the cemetery, a bat. My hair was pulled thickly. So the hair on my head stood on end. I admit. I was a little bruised. I can't defend this with words. I'll leave it as an honesty.

"Oh, look, my family, my daughter.. On the side of the road, Death has left many scenes to prove that he is not lazy..."

I swear, I'm the one who searched for the word "forgiveness" in the dictionary compiled by Death. He doesn't know mercy. He doesn't know compromise. He doesn't know pain. He only knows one thing. He does the work of forgiveness.

Death knows very well that it is not his job. He certainly has the reputation of not taking bribes. If you show someone who cannot be bribed, he is the one who is most likely to be pointed at. In fact, there is no one who is as responsible as he is.

On this night of forgiveness, will the great and exalted ones descend with their noble steps to the lower levels of heaven? This great and exalted one will listen with compassion to the voices from the grave. My mother, my father, my sister, my brother.

My wife... has been sleeping here for a long time, hasn't she? They are listening to the good news. They are enjoying the hope. I... but a wild horse...

I have come to stop suppressing and suppressing the feelings that are buried deep within me.

Riding a wild divine horse...

3

"Dad, don't worry, Dad, I'll fall.

"I will hold you tightly, son." That's right. I held my father tightly. I don't know what was going on inside me. I could hear the pain in my heart. But I, a poet, couldn't take this voice. It was like a chain letter coming from an unexpected place.

“May Nibbana be yours,” I shouted. The voices that came back from them.

“May you also attain half of what we have achieved.” I looked around and saw that I was still holding my father. It was as if I had forgotten that I was alone when I came in. My father said.

“I will go to your mother. I will go to my children. I will go to your wife and my daughter-in-law.” And so I walked among the flowerless houses. The scent of dew embraced me. Among the symbols of status of the remaining ones, the houses of the poet's family were indeed dim.

If you say that these are signs of my forgetfulness and laziness, I have no strength to deny it, and I have no chance to deny it.

I still remember. Oh, I still can't forget how many years ago, on this night of forgiveness, my father and I arrived at his place alone in the middle of the night.

That night, the devil was pouring rain on the graves as long as he had money... The winds were also coming from far away to this place as long as he had money... The devil was trying to spread his power by throwing many glass bullets at the sky, causing sudden flashes of light.

In the midst of all this fighting, I hugged my father, who is over 80 years old. We held each other... Tonight, I can hear the sweet sound of that father's Dhamma. That's right. Mother's house, the fire of the house

It is this father who made it possible. It is this father who made my brother, my sister, and my house burn. It is this father who lit the lamps. But now, father, he has also fallen asleep here. What can I do to embody the will of a great being?

But I was still on my knees. There was no heavy rain like the night before when my father and I came alone. There were only a few showers. There was no strong wind blowing from afar. There was only a slight breeze. Instead of the flickering of glass bullets and the flickering of the lights, the electric lights in the cemetery were now shining brightly, and I could see the devil himself shrinking and shrinking. The darkness could no longer swallow the cemetery.

My head is shining. My hair is shining. There is no part of my body that is not shining. The poison that the devil has applied to my body has all melted away and gone to the grave, thanks to the gift of forgiveness.

That's right. No house is without flowers. They are all equal. The red water and the stream to the east of the cemetery have also carried my song southward with the help of the breeze, bringing its fragrance.

After a deep breath of fresh air, I became a small leaf, a piece of paper. The horse's mane came into my hands automatically.

Who remembers the glory of the soul, the dragon that lies in the midst of the charred corpses? I have returned to my lovers on a wild, flying horse. This guy has returned to my lovers...