Mya Than Tint - Copper-colored love and short stories

A beautiful copper-colored love story I met him on the Myitkyina-bound train. The train left Yandalay Station at three o'clock. In the upper compartment, there was not a single person , a Kachin man in his sixties, with a clean appearance (later it turned out that this man was a senior officer). Two young men in their thirties who I couldn't tell if they were junior officers or students (later it turned out that they were junior engineers in construction). A young officer (I assumed he was a military officer because he was wearing a uniform). A couple who looked like they were newlyweds (I said they were newlyweds because they were making love to each other). An officer in his fifties and his assistant, and his young daughter with her hair in a bun. (The name "officer's wife" is derived from her own impressions and words. The woman explained how hard her husband, the officer, worked, and how he would leave the office at eight or nine in the evening. She said that they used to have two office cars, but now they only have one, which is very difficult. I assumed that her husband would be an officer. In addition, there were three young men who looked like merchants and a school principal.

When we left Mandalay, there were not many people in our train. It was very quiet. When the train reached the Inwa Bridge, I saw the Nanmataw Mae Nu brick monastery in the distance to the south, the Shwe Kyet Yat and Shwe Kyet Kyaw pagodas in the distance to the north, and the pagodas and pagodas on the Sagaing mountain range that were selling snow. Even after crossing the Inwa Bridge, there were passengers going up and down to Sagaing Station. Most of them were boarding. Kon looked out from the train platform and gazed at Sagaing, which was sprawled out under the tarmac.

At that moment, two or three young men and about five young women got into our car. The young men were wearing jeans and denim jackets, while the young women had long-sleeved shirts on. They all sat down in the empty spaces between us. They also had a lot of stuff with them. Each one had a plastic bag, a two- or three-channel cassette player, and listening to their conversation, they all seemed to be Kachin men and women.

The young women were probably in their twenties. But with their short hair, they looked like they were in their twenties to me.

When the train left, they had placed their belongings in a pile. They were not all tall, but their faces were good-looking because of their youth. Among them, I noticed a tall woman with a high nose and beautiful eyes and eyebrows. Her skin, which had originally seemed fair, was now a coppery color from the sun. However, her copper-colored clothes looked different. Her skin was radiant and she looked like a wild pansy that had grown up in the moonlight, free from the sky and the earth.

The copper-colored one seems to be the largest among them. It also seems to have visited cities such as Yangon and Mandalay frequently.

At dusk, the train stopped at Pa-Khat. I took out the spoon and fork that I had in my bag, and the water was ready, and I opened the rice dumplings that I had brought from Mandalay and ate them. When we left Pa-Khat, a group of copper-colored beauties were also opening the rice dumplings that they had brought with them and dancing. Not only that, they also took out the fried tofu, pickled rice noodles, etc. that they had brought in a basket.

"Sister, how much is left this time?" a young woman asked the copper-colored beauty.

I know what they bought. It seems they traded in Sagaing and Mandalay. I don't know whether the goods they sold were restricted or free.

"What did you buy?"

"I can't buy much. I'll give you a little something for the kids, and maybe two pounds of wool for my mother."

"The big cassette player"

The young woman asked, pointing to a small National | cassette tape placed on the chair.

"This is a resale. This time I couldn't find anything that would fit. When I did, I didn't have enough money. So I bought a whole cassette. At least it would cover the travel expenses."

“Did you leave the children out?”

"No, my mother is somewhere else. I had to leave them and my grandfather at home."

The copper-colored beauty's face was pale. I looked at her face and thought. She had left the children at home, so what would her husband be like? What did her husband do? Was he an office worker, a merchant, or a widow's daughter? I wondered if the old man was a fool.

When the train entered Shwebo, it was already dark, and the distant fields looked like vast deserts in the darkness. The train was making its way from station to station, its sound muted. At each stop, the shouts of vendors could be heard from the platforms beside the train. After a while, the train, with a rumble, came tumbling down the steep slopes like a giant stag.

I tried to sleep sitting on the train seat. But I couldn’t. I could hear them moving, talking, laughing, playing guitar, and singing. They were singing in Kachin. It was good to listen to. I couldn’t tell if the song was a revival of the Kachin folk song I had heard or a modern one. The Kachin folk song I had heard was Love.

At the confluence of the Maykha and Malikha rivers, golden sandflies are nesting. He can catch those golden sandflies. Silver orchids are blooming in the high mountains. He can pluck those orchids. A mountain goat is running on the hillside. He can catch that fast mountain goat. But he cannot get his beloved, who is as fast as a mountain goat, who is as fast as a mountain goat, because he sells gold dust for money. In a folk song, the young man laments.

Is the sound of the guitar they are playing now and the sound of the song they are singing a love song? If it is a love song, is it a love song from the past, is it a love song from the late twentieth century? No matter when it is a love song, if it is the color of love, life is always beautiful.

I am a writer who became famous for my love stories. I wrote love stories when I was young. Now that I am middle-aged and my children are adults, I will still write love stories. I believe that there is nothing in the world as pure and noble as love. I don't care what critics say about my stories. The love stories I wrote when I was young were loved by teenagers back then. Even though they have grown up and don't read love stories, future teenagers are still reading my love stories. In the future, the new generation of young people will still read my love stories. As long as the sun shines and the moon shines in the sky, love will still exist. As long as life exists, love will exist.