A Flirtation with Fate
We were back in Bilin in the afternoon and this time, we are spending the night at Daukyat village. The Lieutenant was there to welcome us and he offered to take Alex on a tour of the village. Not wanting to be left out, I managed to borrow a bicycle from a villager. It was an old rusty bike with thin rubber tyres and brakes which scarcely work and yet it was able to give me a smooth though sometimes creaking ride on the uneven dirt tracks. I took a while to get used to it after which I was cycling past bewildered villagers, giggling children and bullock-carts in a breeze.
The village was like a labyrinth inside and as I turned left and right around the huts and palm trees, I almost crashed head-on into a bull-lock cart. Phew! The medical center had better be equipped with an A&E Department to deal with such accidents! In Singapore, we are used to cycling on well-paved tracks with road-signs and directions specially designated for bikers that it has become yet another routine chore. Here I am, not knowing where I’m going, balancing myself on the treacherous path which threaten to trip me at every turn and hump and waving stupidly at passer-bys who can’t understand a single word I’m saying. I felt liberated. There is so much freedom out there and all I ever need to do is to touch it instead of holing myself up. I am now in the middle of a lush green padi field and the mud-tracks have turned soggy and impossible to traverse. As I turned back, I realized I had gone a bit too far that I was unable to discern the way back.
I wasn’t really panicking but I was hoping to catch sight of the main road as soon as I can. One path led to another junction and another and I suddenly find myself back on the same spot where I left again. There was a slight drizzle, the crystal drops on my glasses obscuring the view ahead. Frustration and fear began to creep in and without second thoughts, I stopped and asked a granny in plain English for directions who actually pointed a way for me! I did not seriously believe her, but given no other alternatives, I decided to give it a try and it did really lead me out to the main road after all except the jeep was no longer there.
I was absolutely stunned and for a while I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I walked to the site of construction and then back to the village entrance again. There was no sight of Alex, U Sanda, U Tin Aung or the driver. Surely they did not leave without me? Perhaps they were looking for me and would return soon? I sat down, staring blankly at the passing traffic. Half an hour passed and still no sight of any familiar faces. Darned, I’m done for!
There are many thoughts racing through my mind and I’m too distraught to figure out what to do next. So I’m really stranded in this remote corner of the world, without any money or documents of identification with me and not knowing a single word of Burmese. I’m really lost. What am I going to do there? Marry a village girl, have a dozen children and plant rice and sugar-cane for the rest of my life? Well, this is not a bad idea after all as I do not see really any glaring differences between a medical student from Singapore and a cow-herd boy in Bilin. Wait, did I make a silent wish before the Buddha in the monastery in the morning that I would like to become his disciple in the future? This is not the right time, there are still many things awaiting me to do in life! I managed an utterance of protest. Nay, it can’t be true. I started shouting or rather screaming for Alex. He is going to have a hard time explaining to my parents should he dare to return to Singapore without me. A boy heard my pleas and beckoned me to follow him. I crawled my way up the hill to the pagoda which offers a breath-taking panorama of the entire area of which I’m in no mood to enjoy of course. I almost grabbed hold of the poor boy by his shirt. He nodded his head and led me to a flight of stairs leading down to the village monastery where the jeep was parked.
I felt like lambasting at those buggers who had the temerity to leave me in the lurch. U Sanda was in the monastery talking to some village folks. I stormed towards him in a confrontational mood as if to announce my arrival, yet he hardly took notice of me said nonchalantly as if nothing had happened that they presumed I was lost in the village and the driver is now searching for me. Was that an explanation or an admonition? As usual, this is the classic Burmese way of communication. They will always be polite and civil even though they may be boiling mad inside.
I
was totally depleted and yearning for a bath. Alex and the Lieutenant had
returned from their village tour. They truly seemed to have no idea of what had
happened. There are no bathrooms, washrooms or any enclosed place in the village
where you can bathe in privacy and all the time in the world. The usual practice
is to bathe in the open using water from the well. It wasn’t an attractive
option. The sun had set and there wasn’t a glimmer of light anywhere. Weird
shrieks and noises can be heard, I’m sure it is not my imagination. The icy
cool water streamed down from my head to toes as I prayed hard that there
aren’t any wild boars, wolves or bulls nearby peeping at me this very instant.