Min Khak Soe San - Money spent in the land of death

Chapter (1)

"In our group...

I am.

A budding artist (now known as "The Modern Beauty")

Then there is Alaung Alyal, a Burmese teacher who is trying to write songs while playing the guitar. (He became a very famous tutor around 2000 and died young and successful. In his entire life, he only finished composing one song, "Pit Tain Thaung Lay Puto To.")

We need to live close to Yangon to do the art we love. Oh...and the rent would be cheaper.

What would happen if we rented a house with only rooms? We could go to the bathroom at any time of the day or night, dong dong din din woo woo woo woo woo.....

Also, our group is constantly inventing and doing some crazy, eye-catching things that we don't know anything about.

So, they rented a small, ramshackle wooden house in this neighborhood, not in the city, not in the forest.

In our group, there was a young man who had no job, no passion for art, and no connection to art.

His name is Po Saw.

Po Saw's talent is also unique. He would add this account to any crowd...

Something confusing has already happened.

In a crowd, in pairs, or in groups of three.

Even when he's alone, he's always confused by his own thoughts.

Po Saw's ideas are also amazing. They are deep enough to touch.

He asked me once...

Po Saw said.. “Kyaw Soe” “Hey...what happened again, Po Saw?”

"I've been wondering, is the Buddha's blood type A, B, AB, or O?"

Now...his philosophy is...

I...

"Ha...poe sawara, you are a great sage. When the Buddha was born more than two thousand five hundred years ago, the knowledge of blood group classification had not yet emerged."

Po Saw let out a frustrated "sigh" and scratched his head and back...

"No, I'm thinking that the Buddha is a very special and noble person. I'm thinking about whether the blood flowing in the body of such a special and noble person can be the same type as the blood in the bodies of ordinary people. Aye...how can you understand this?"

"Kyaung Soe, I will have to find and ask the wise men who are fully versed in worldly knowledge."

I have become a big idiot with incomplete worldly knowledge. I have become weak and weak while sitting on my own. My life has become so bad.

Po Saw just got away with it.

* * *

Once, I went to ask Ko Sint Thu. (I don't remember if Ko Sint Thu was a tutor in the Burmese Department at that time or not.)

Grandpa Saw stroked the sparse beard on his chin... "Oh, tell me."

Ko Sint Thu, who was leaning against the wall and practicing his guitar, raised his eyebrows.

"Huh...what, huh, old man...what?"

Ko Sint Thu was also a little intimidated by Po Saw's sharp ideas.

Po Saw was pacing back and forth on the rickety floor of the small three-story, two-room house...

"Ko Sint, when the vowel is dropped in Burmese, don't you have to add "မှ" and "မှ"? For example, "He went to school," "He was dreaming," etc."

"Well......yes...yes, Grandpa Saw, why?"

"Tell me what the difference in meaning is between ' that ' and 'that'."

This question made Ko Sint Thu's eyes turn blue. He was already quite upset.

When Ko Sint Thu is in trouble, he does what he does best: he purses his thick lips, bats his eyelashes, and makes a low, piercing sound...

"Heh...heh...that's...not too far, old man."

Grandpa Saw frowned. Then

"If the meaning is the same, why bother with two words? Just remove one, it's easier to memorize."

"Hey..."

Ko Sint Thu's eyes widened. Po Saw continued, remaining steadfast.

“Yes, I am giving advice to future young students with all my heart. When Ko Sint becomes a professor of Burmese, I will remove the “မ” (မြ). It looks crooked and twisted. Remove it.. you know?”

"I...I don't think I have that much power."

Ko Sint Thuy doesn't know if his life is because he is weak. He tries to answer timidly.

But Po Saw was stubborn.

"Huh... why do you need to have power? The people who invented the Burmese language are just "people" like you. If their way of doing things doesn't work, you have to be brave enough to fix it."

It's still "roaring" like that.

Oh my.... He's still alive and kicking with his convictions. Ko Sinthu can't even play the guitar anymore.

I just keep my eyes open and stare at the old man. That's all I can do, isn't it?

* * *

The artist is clear.

If Po Saw brings up a problem, he'll scold you when you're angry, say something you find offensive, or give you something to eat to make you feel better.

There is no more space at home, so if you want to draw, you have to go to the corner of the yard, under the mango tree, where the bathing tank parts are placed.

Po Saw also went to that place and was confused. “Here, Ko Pho Mo, I have something to think about.”

The painter, who was just beginning to draw, glared at Po Saw, clenching his teeth. Po Saw, who had just started talking, picked up the pace.

"Like this... let's say I'm a Buddhist monk, if I get into a life of poverty while wearing a monk's robe, wouldn't I go to hell?"