Golden Peacock - Sandara Devi

Chapter (1)

I was born in 1220 in the village of Mangye Tong, which is famous for its royal palace, and when I was about five years old, a wise woman, after looking at my characteristics, once told me that when I grew up, I would not get wealth or the woman I loved easily, but would have to work hard and struggle to get it. When my mother asked the wise woman further questions, the wise woman did not answer, but muttered, “Jee-pe-jee, Pe-h-t-i, Jee-pe-jee, Pe-h-t-i,” and left. Her relatives beat her with a dog and sent her away. When I looked back on my experiences as an adult, I realized that the words of children, fools, and fools are true.

My father was a “horseman” and had served as a cavalry officer during the reign of King Mindon. He was a man of great passion and was not afraid to take risks. When he realized that he would lose his life if he served for a long time due to disagreements with his superiors, he resigned from his position and returned to his native village of Mangye Tong. After that, he married my mother, who was a member of the Swe Gyi Myo family, and lived as a farmer.

My father was a scholar and instead of sending me to the village school, he sent me to the school of U Kesara, a monk in Shwebo who was famous for his nine-line arithmetic. During the Thading Yut period, it was a long day, so he had to return to Mangye Tong village for about four or five days. After studying at U Kesara’s school for three or four years, I was able to calculate not only grammar and religious texts such as Sagaha, but also how to calculate gold, how to calculate wood, how to calculate water and rice, etc. At that time, if you could calculate so much, you were considered a great person and people would come to ask you if there was something important.

On the 5th day of the full moon of Thadingyut in the year 1238, I left Mangye Tong village with a small bag to return to U Kesara Monastery in Shwebo. I planned to spend the night in Phut Hlaing village, so I walked slowly from the east side of the village. Before I had gone a mile from the village, the rain poured down so heavily that even the helmet I was wearing on my head could not protect me, and my whole body became soaked as if I had been immersed in water. .

The village of Phut Hlaing, where I was to stay, was about seven miles away, and the village of Mangye Tong was only about one mile away. Many students would have turned back home in such a situation. But I was not like that. If I had to go, I would be satisfied with it, so I walked hard in the pouring rain. I did this not because I wanted to learn, but because I did not want to give up my passion.

The road from Mangye Tong village to Shwebo was not along the moo-roe or the railway as it is now, but rather along an obscure cart path. The cart paths were also scattered here and there, so it was easy to get lost.

Not only was there no rain, but there was also a strong wind. I held my helmet with one hand to keep it from flying away, and with the other hand, I held a bamboo stick and walked through the pouring rain, holding it tightly around my waist. The cart paths were suddenly covered with water, and I often slipped and fell when I stepped on the edge of the road. . .

After walking for more than an hour, I saw that the cart path turned west instead of north, and I knew that I had come the wrong way. As I looked intently, I saw that the eyebrows that were raised were green and the tips were straight on either side.

" This is the guide, Wait, where do you want to go tonight... Tell me."

" I plan to sleep in the waves."

“ So, backtrack, you will see a cornfield in about a mile. Turn left, walk along the fishpond, see a small hill, keep the sun on your left, walk straight, come to a small stream. You will see a group of palm trees, turn right, follow the road, the first thing you will see is Phut Hlaing village.”

I said thank you, turned around and walked back as instructed. At the corner of the courtyard, I looked at the girl, but she didn't seem to remember that there was a creature like me...

“ Whoever loves, whoever likes, may the Lord see and hide xx glory and wealth xxx”

He continued to sing the song.

At that time, the rain was still pouring down, and my whole body was cold to the bone, but hearing the girl's fresh, cheerful singing was like seeing a roaring fire, relieving me from the cold and strengthening me.

Then I followed the directions and saw a cornfield, a hill, and a stream. I continued walking, and before I saw the palm tree, not only had the sun disappeared but it had also become dark.

It was the 5th day of the full moon, and the moon was still far from rising, so I was walking in the dark, trying to find my way, and when I saw a small light about a mile off to the left of the road, I turned off the road to rest, wondering if I would see any huts. As I approached, I saw a man sitting cross-legged near a fire, giving a sermon, and a group of women listening intently. As I paused in the shadows to listen to what he was saying, the man spoke with great enthusiasm as follows:

" What is important in the world, is material possessions important?"

"Not big, Master."

"Is a husband important?"

"Not big, Master."

"Are children important?"

"It's not important, Master." "So what's the big deal?"

" It is important to meet the teacher and get to know him/her"

"What happens when you meet someone?"

"It's like reaching heaven, Master."

"It's like arriving in heaven alive, isn't it?"

"That's right, Master."

"Can everyone meet and like everyone?"

"I can't meet you, I can't experience you, Master."

"How can anyone meet someone they like?"

"We can meet talented women like you."

Then I heard about the underworld gang and thought about the foolishness of those women, so I wanted to laugh and burst out laughing. The female audience heard my laughter and turned around to see me.

" There's a man over there, teacher."

"Hey... who are you? Why are you bothering me?"

"I'm a traveler, don't bother me."

"I think he's a spy, Master."

At that time, I had heard a little about U Thagi, a master of the underworld who deceives and seduces foolish women with little understanding and intelligence, and I was somewhat disgusted, but I did not reveal my feelings and told him that I was not a spy, wanting to bask in the warmth of the fire without revealing my feelings.

Then U Thagi called me and made me sit in front of the fire.

Introduction

During the period of the Sappuku-Mapku period, I, like many other “other writers,” as a pretend merchant, pretend broker, pretend marketer, or “thirty-something” and living in the village of Mangye-Tung, where my father was born, for more than two or three years, would wander around the villages and villages in the mornings, either on foot or on horseback, and would look around. While doing so, on a small hill not more than 5 miles north of the village, I saw a large house, neatly surrounded by a wooden fence, roofed with planks and tiles, and neatly built with a wooden wall, white sashes, white flower garlands, etc., about a mile from the road.

At first I thought the building was a monastery, but one morning I forgot my lighter and wanted to smoke a cigarette. When I asked for a lighter, I realized that it was not a monastery, but a large house. I got off my horse, tied it to the gate, and saw an old man trimming the young plants with scissors. I asked for a lighter. The old man called a boy and asked him to bring me a lighter, then looked at my appearance with a curious expression...

"Go have a cup of tea."

`` He said and gave me a seat.

As I was drinking a bowl of strong tea from a bamboo cane, I noticed the old man's appearance and noticed that although he was an old man, he still had a youthful mind and a lively demeanor. Then I asked him about my occupation and he told me that I had made a living by writing, that it was the time of the year when I was in the middle of a recession and that I was making a living by buying and selling goods...

" It seems that you guys only think of the work of merchants who make money by trading and making money, and only think of the work of serving the king as real."

"Let those who think so think so, but I am not one of those who think so. Although I make a living with a pen as a hobby, I have repeatedly supported and written that merchants can truly thrive in business."

The old man seemed to be pleased with my words and asked me about my ancestry and past events. He seemed even more pleased with my answers and invited me to visit his house from time to time during my stay in this area, saying that I would hear from him many interesting and instructive stories.

I happily accepted his invitation, and from that day on, I would regularly go to the old man's house every morning, never going anywhere else.

In the following days, when I heard the stories of the old man, how he sacrificed his life for his countrymen, how he pursued his business with relentless diligence, unwavering zeal, and brilliant imagination, how he had a woman of a very different status from his own, competing with men who were far superior to him in every way, and how he had become a young man, I ranked U San Syaar first in terms of imagination and Ko Zaw Weik first in terms of courage, just as I ranked this old man first in terms of interpersonal skills and courage.

This man is about 90 years old, but he looks like he is in his 70s. He has been in business for three generations, including King Mindon, King Thibaw, and the British era. Among his descendants, one grandson is a government servant with an ICAC degree, one son is a district magistrate, one is a district magistrate, one is a farmer, one is a merchant, one is a landowner, one grandson is a doctor, one is a royal advisor, one is a criminal investigator, and his granddaughters are kings, queens, and other nobles. This man is not only able to prosper himself, but also to teach and advise his own people to prosper.

This being the case, the man's ideas, his plans, and his attitude are truly those of a man who has been adept at imitation, so I must describe his events and failures in detail, not in my own words, but as if they had been written by him himself.