Journalist Ma Malay - People's Prayer and Other Letters

On the way back to the city from the farm in Kamaryut Hledan, I stopped at the foot of Shwedagon Pagoda.

I was just walking around the pagoda. I didn't reach the pagoda hill. This evening, I felt like going up to the hill and making a pilgrimage.

In the evening, the number of visitors to the pagoda was clear. As I intended to be a peaceful and quiet pilgrim, I slowly climbed the hill.

The florists in my neighborhood were bustling around, calling out to buy flowers. The florists' voices were not like the ones they had been shouting all day. They were like the kind of voices that people would shout when they saw someone in a dry place without anyone coming. They were lively and lively . The endless noise of "buy flowers," "come in," and I could hear them continuously, but I didn't pay attention to buying flowers, but only to me and the two granddaughters who were coming up one after the other.

The old woman, covered in old, worn-out clothes, looked like she was in deep poverty. She had a dirty, dark cloth on her head, whether it was a towel or a blanket. She wore a thick, coarse Burmese cotton robe, the kind worn during the Japanese era, with dust and dirt all over it.

The red shirt, which was worn around the cuffs and hem, was not in keeping with his thin body, nor was it in keeping with his tall stature. It was puffy and short, sticking out about three hands behind his back. The exposed skin of his back was dark, wrinkled, and cracked.

The only thing that seemed to be in abundance and in one place was a huge bun tied at the back of her head, indicating that she had good hair. Her head was neatly tied. The large curls of hair that were wrapped around the bun were speckled with dark gray. The old woman looked especially weak, and she was slowly climbing up, panting.

I was standing two steps behind the old lady, slowly walking up the stairs, and I was looking at the little girl she was holding, so I forgot to buy flowers.

The girl's age can only be estimated at 6 or 7 years old. If she is older, she will be older, if she is younger, she will be younger. She is thin and not too tall. She looks like a girl except for the fact that she is wearing a dress and her hair is cut short and parted. The top of the dress is a piece of blue cloth, and the bottom is a piece of red cloth.

The old woman seemed to dislike being held by her hand, and she struggled to get out of his grasp. The old woman held on tightly, unable to free herself, and began to cry loudly.

"Yes.. It's hard, slowly." "What do you mean, they'll catch you?"

He said this in a loud voice, holding the child's hand.

The little girl was impatient because she was climbing slowly. She could not keep up with the old woman and only reached one step. The old woman had to hold on to her hand, and Mi Aung had to climb hard. The little girl did not even look at the florists who were inviting her to buy flowers from the surrounding area. She only looked up at the great height she had to climb. She stopped at the place where she was climbing, turned to the old woman, and struggled to free her hand.

"That's hard, hey.. go ahead and do it," the old woman scolded in this voice.

I stared at the little girl's face, which was turned towards me. She was a beautiful, dark-skinned girl. Her face, which was set in a grim, hard expression, showed a great deal of strength beyond her years. Her eyes, which showed her displeasure, were piercing, and her anger was blazing brightly as she stared at the old woman. She looked at my face as she passed by.

I had to climb over their granddaughter, but I had to turn around and climb up, looking back at the struggling child in the middle of the road.

"Oh, my dear."

I unexpectedly bumped into my childhood friends who were sitting on a bench in a flower shop. Aye and Than had been separated from their sister for about ten years. If they had met in any other place, they would have happily run to hug their sister. But now, all they could see was their happy faces, and they couldn't run to them. I looked up with awe at the little girl who had escaped from the old woman's grip and had run away from me.

It was amazing how he used his strong legs to gallop up the steep brick stairs without taking his eyes off them. The footsteps of the old woman who came up behind him, shouting "hey, hey, hey," must have blinded her granddaughter before she even entered the flower shop.

I didn't know what was happening to me, so I entered the flower shop and hugged my sister.

"Little boy, I lost my grandmother's hand. I ran away. I won't catch up with her."

After saying those words to my sister first, I began to say a hearty goodbye.

I spent about half an hour talking to Aye and Than in the flower shop. When they left the flower shop, they had finished their pilgrimage and were going downstairs. I went upstairs holding a bunch of flowers.

Until they reached the pagoda, the little girl lost sight of her grandmother and only thought about Aye and Than. In ten years, their sister had become a

The husband and wife also went to the same place. When Aye got divorced and remarried, the aunt and niece lived together. Aye and Than, who were to remarry, ran after the son of the uncle of the man's side and Than's daughter, and they came to Yangon to buy dowry items to bring back and marry them. The sisters, who were aunts and nieces, were no longer able to live together as husband and wife.

Even if a momentary, bored, and disillusioned feeling arises as he watches the parts of the great stage of life that are happening and meeting in the human world, he becomes somewhat relaxed.

The desire to choose a place free from crowds and live in solitude and revere the Buddha arises. The place where one can contemplate and revere the glory of the Buddha, who can cut off and remove defilements, should be a free and quiet place.

As he walked around the Buddha in a clockwise direction, he found a place where he could be a little distance from the Buddha, and there was a lot of people around the place where the big bell was placed. He planted lotus flowers in a flower pot under the pillar near there, and sat down in a corner, facing the Buddha.

Before bowing, I looked up at the pagoda. Behind the white clouds that had gathered in a circle, the sky was covered with blue, and the Buddha bird was flying towards it, competing with the soft sunlight, shining brightly.

The cool winter breeze blowing from the north was so gentle that it was almost unnoticeable. The only sounds I could hear were the sound of brass drums and the sound of Buddha chanting. I couldn't see where it was coming from, I was alone in my place, and it was quiet.

I bowed three times, straightened my body, closed my eyes, and with a single mind focused on the Buddha, I recited the five precepts in my mind. As I was reciting the five precepts, a pungent smell suddenly entered my nose, and it seemed to me that something was approaching my face. I opened my eyes suddenly. The dead bird died, and the hands that had been folded on my forehead fell down. A little girl who had run up the brick stairs was staring at me with a fierce gaze. She did not bat an eyelid, but her face was very strong. At first, I was amazed at what kind of little girl she was, standing so close to the Buddha's altar, staring straight ahead. Then, without moving, she looked at the dead bird, The example I'll be looking at next time suddenly disturbed my mind.

Surprisingly, I said, "Hey... baby, let go of grandma," and reached out to grab his shoulder, but before it could touch his flesh, he slapped my hand away.

I leaned back and stared at her face, then looked around for her grandmother. I couldn't see a single trace of her, I didn't know where she had come from or why she was standing in front of me, I couldn't ask her to leave, but her bold and beautiful appearance, mixed with rudeness, made me feel strange, and I felt so bad.

"Hey... child, tell me. Your grandmother?"

I asked him twice more. He didn't answer, only his stern, tense face softened and he continued to stare at me like a doll.

“Tell me, grandma,” he asked three times, shaking his head from side to side, then looking back at me, “I don’t know,” he said sharply.

I wondered if the old woman and her little girl were separated. I was worried that the old woman must be looking for her granddaughter. I decided to call her and have her look for the old woman, so I stood up with a heavy heart.

"Come... child, I'm going to grandma's."

The child's appearance was so difficult that when I tried to coax and sweetly talk to him, he would step back and point at my feet, refusing to be pulled.

I was struck by the sharp look in his eyes as he pointed at my handbag, which was lying on the ground.

I smiled and said, "It's okay," picked it up, and then said, "Come on, let's go," and reached out and pulled his hand again.

He showed a slight reluctance to hold her hand, and pretended to leave and go with me.