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the story of jan darra

(Ruean Khong Jan Darra, 1966)


Utsana Phleungtham

 

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A word from the author

 

This is the writer’s first novel

and he must insist

that his work of fiction

is unsuitable for kids

and most offensive

to sanctimonious pricks.

 

 

To old friends and all adults during the writer’s childhood

 

 

1 Δ

 

Jan Darra – that’s my name, so let me introduce myself as the owner of this weird story, as I’m sure we’ll be keep­ing each other company for quite a while, unless, that is, something or other happens to me. When I say ‘something or other’, I mean that there are two or more possibilities. That’s right! At least two things could happen to me: either madness or death. Death, I say! Death is worthy of respect. Why do I idly men­tion it as a possibility? Are there people who can predict when they’ll die, except per­haps the terminally ill? In my experience, everybody forgets about death or dies unawares. And yet, there are; indeed, there are many who can. Theirs is more than a pre­diction: they are certain; they have worked out the time of their death within a split second, even though they are neither seers foolhardy enough to swear that they can predict the future accurately, nor critically ill patients who have an appointment with the Reaper and are waiting for it, fully conscious and cold-blooded enough to ask their evening-shift nurse for a last opportunity to admire a young woman’s body and soul, and neither are they undertakers greedy enough to earn a living out of their own corpses. There are, there are for sure, and there have been plenty of them. Who else, but those who commit suicide? But I’m getting carried away, when ‘at least two things’ means there could be more than two. Indeed! Apart from being mad or commit­ting suicide, there are other possibilities, such as dying of… What! Death again? That’s right! In this vile world, apart from birth, which perpetuates the life cycle, is there anything more common than death? Well, besides sui­cide, there’s death from natural causes, of which there are many, for example sickness or heart attack, and from all kinds of ac­cidents. For some who die like this, we say that they’ve run out of luck. (This statement is some­what ambiguous: when you run out of luck, do you go and pay for your sins in hell, or do you enjoy bliss in heaven? As to the question of who goes where, those who are left behind should know.) For some, we say that they’ve reached the end of their tether, which is a great consola­tion for those who are left behind. Besides death, there are many other pos­sibilities that might prevent me from staying with you un­til the end of this story. For instance, something might happen that could change my attitude to life in this world so that I’d feel de­lighted with the life I’m now leading, and the pent-up feel­ings that I’m eager to pour out to someone would simply disappear. There are still many other eventualities, but I think I’ve given you enough examples al­ready. All the same, I want you to know that, even though there was a time when I wished to die several times a day, I’ll never kill myself. I’ve come to understand and thoroughly appre­ciate the truth that there’s no way you can escape from all your troubles in life through such a method. Once you’ve killed yourself, even though you’re already dead, you still have to go through similar suffering in the world of oappartika*, and must en­dure torments for I don’t know how many hundreds or thou­sands of years before you can be reborn into your next life. Talking about oappar­tika, I’d like everyone to be aware of such a world, because it might be of benefit to our society to keep in mind that none of our actions, whether pri­vate or public, can ever escape the attention of the so-called oappartika. Knowing that one day soon we’ll be among those watching the peo­ple left behind may make us feel more ashamed when we do evil. Who are ‘those’? Call them deities, ghosts, ghouls or phantoms or whatever you wish: they are all there in the world of spontaneous re­birth. If we chance to meet once again some time in the fu­ture, I may have more to tell you about these invisible enti­ties in hell as well as in heaven – especially in hell, which I’m particu­larly anxious to find out about since I’m aware that the time is near when I’ll no longer be able to avoid it.

Death, suicide and now spontaneous rebirth – oh my, I’m really rambling, aren’t I. But I trust you’ll understand something of my background from these musings.

All right then, my name is Jan Darra. I was born in the heart of this great City of Angels. My first name was given to me by the man I used to call my father. The last name I thought up myself much later and it’s properly registered in the census. Please don’t pay attention to my surname, because most of my life has been full of surprising twists ever since I was born – and even before I was born, for that matter.

I was born when my mother was already dead. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But listen to me first. The midwife who took me out of the womb hadn’t realised that my mother, who had gone through an unusually arduous and protracted labour, was already dead. The person that went by the name of my father was furious at me and has hated me ever since. He never made a mystery of it, even though he wasn’t normally given to showing his feel­ings, and everybody in the district knew about it, everybody except me because I was still utterly naive. Anyhow, shouldn’t I thank him for going to the trouble of bringing me up even though he absolutely hated my guts? At first, I was grate­ful, in spite of his constant scolding and cruelty to me, but when I was old enough to know what was what be­tween him and me, I stopped thinking that way.

‘That damn boy!’ That’s how he’d call me, and it be­came a habit of his as well as something familiar to my ears as far back as I can remember. I believe he referred to me like that from the moment I was born. To tell you the truth, I never felt offended or hurt, probably be­cause I was so used to it. The phrase stuck to his tongue and to my ears and lost its edge. I remember that it did rankle a little bit, though. ‘That damn boy!’ ‘That damn boy!’ When I heard that, sometimes I couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t call me ‘That damn son’, because, no matter what, I was his son. If only he had called me ‘That damn son’ just once, I’d have been more than a little pleased, but never did I hear him call me so. Apart from his anger and hatred for me, he also despised me – more than the dogs he raised, which he called ‘his three sons’. As soon as I was old enough to start practicing the only in-house athletic game that he was addicted to, something happened that made him change his mind and call me ‘damned’* for short as a form of abuse suitable to my age. He used that word with me for the first time and then threw me out of his house in the middle of the night. But that’s an­other weird story, which I’ll tell you later.

By now you must have gathered why I was named ‘Jan’. You know that when a child is born, the birth must be noti­fied and the child given a name so that he or she can go to school, do his military service or at any rate pay taxes, and finally be registered as dead. As I had to have a name, it had to be thought up for me and that’s usually the duty of the child’s father who, if he can’t come up with one, will hasten to ask a senior monk or some other notable whom he respects to help give the child a name. But in this case, the father named the child himself. The question automati­cally came to his mind, ‘What shall I call him?’ The per­sonal pronoun that stuck to his tongue switched immedi­ately to the spe­cific noun, ‘that damn…’ – ‘How’s that for a name, Janrai, ‘Damned’? Hell no, the district office will never stand for it. Well then, let’s call him Jan and be done with it.’ So I was named Jan, and given his ancient family name, Witsanan – Jan Witsanan.

But had I been named Janrai Witsanan, I’d be more than a little pleased.

 

Δ

‘His Lordship, His Lordship works at the Interior Ministry…’ The song had many lines, but this is all I can re­member. It must’ve been the hit song of some opera when I was a child still playing with toys. Children all over town were singing it at the top of their lungs, and as I was a thor­oughly modern child myself, I was the owner of the voice that bawled out this song in the lane leading to our house, but none of the children of Bangkok was more unfor­tu­nate than I in liking this song. I remember one evening sauntering around the entrance of our compound, a pack of text­books under my arm, and singing lustily.

(You must be wondering what kind of school I was attend­ing that let me go back home so late. Actually, school had been over since afternoon, but the route that took me back home was some­what winding. If I didn’t linger to play marbles, toss pictures or coins, or engage in whatever other seasonal activ­ity near the quarry at Tha Tian, I went to play football at Sanarm Chai or else jumped naked into Lort Canal and frol­icked in the water or else went to play with my friends in front of the Barn Mor theatre, and so on. I’d have a good time and, when I started to feel hungry, I’d return home, which is why I arrived late.)

I had finished singing the song but hadn’t yet reached the house, which is in a very large com­pound, so I started sing­ing it all over again. I had hardly hollered ‘His Lordship, His Lordship…’ when my head exploded and blood spurted out. I had been hit by a large porcelain teacup thrown by my father from the veranda and I hadn’t seen it coming. Not at all worried about the gash in my head, my father launched into a violent diatribe and lengthy exposi­tion of the reasons why he had thrown a cup at Master Jan’s head. I can’t remember the details. In a nut­shell, he claimed that I was singing that song to mock him. I had known for quite some time that he was a nobleman, addressed as His Lordship, but it was only that evening that the sig­nificance of his title fully dawned on me and that I also real­ized be­yond any doubt how much my father hated me. I wept only for the latter reason, but nobody was aware of this.

I knew that my mother had died because she had given birth to me. Oh yes, it was common knowledge, because my father never let me forget it when he berated me. He believed that it was my fault and made me admit to myself that it was so. I couldn’t yet distinguish between truth and alleged truth. It was perfectly evident to all that I was motherless because my mother had died in order to give birth to me. Everybody knew this to be true so I had to believe it as well and admit that it was my fault. Though I was still very young, I realised how serious such a crime was. I didn’t know the word ‘matricide’ then, but I did feel that my crime was of that magnitude. There was nothing more terrible than mak­ing one’s mother die, and everyone who commits a crime must be punished; that’s what I was told, but I hadn’t the faintest idea of how I’d be punished for causing my mother’s death. Even though my father often proclaimed me guilty in his loud diatribes against me, no­body came to arrest me, send me to jail and put me to death, like all the murderers that were talked about in those days, such as Mrs Kim Lai, who had skewered her husband’s head with a chisel, or Boon Pheng, who had put the bodies of his vic­tims in metal boxes. As for myself, who had caused my mother’s death, I was still at large. I was constantly aware of the gravity of my crime and that I should be punished ac­cord­ingly. Therefore, at home and at school, how­ever much I was caned over some misdemeanour or however much my father berated me, I took it all without crying, and when I really couldn’t stand it anymore, I let the tears flow si­lently. Even when I sustained a deep gash down to the bone from playing boisterously, I could counte­nance that too. So much so that everybody said I had a heart of stone, and some went as far as calling me a heartless child. Nobody knew that I mixed that original crime of mine with every punishment I received for my mis­takes and with each pain I suffered. ‘You deserve it: you made your mother die,’ I told myself every time.

But when my head sustained a long gash, it wasn’t the same any more. I was startled and hurt when that cup was hurled at my head, but I was many thousand times more startled and hurt when I realised simultaneously the extent of my father’s hate. I knew there and then what my retribution was. That was it! That was the punishment I thought I was exempted from! In fact, I had been receiving it all along from day one. The retribution I had to pay for caus­ing my mother’s death was that I had become a child with­out a father as well. While I was standing there with blood gushing out of my head, face up and weeping loudly, it wasn’t my father I was seeing any longer. Instead, it was some Lordship or other, who stood scolding behind the railing of the veranda of my mother’s house.

I must’ve been so scared, so carried beyond myself, that I lost my mind. From the very minute I realised I had never had a father since I was born, I did what sporting circles call a marathon: I went on a weeping marathon, and a noisy one at that, sometimes hushed, sometimes loud, sometimes only loud enough to be heard in the house, sometimes so loud it could be heard by the whole neigh­bourhood, depending on my strength and mood. I felt my whole body turn into a deep hole, and at the same time all the old mem­ories of my ‘father’ crowded into that hole and filled it up. The myriad things he had done to me which I couldn’t un­derstand or had misunderstood kept overflowing to the point that I almost choked – or almost vomited would be more ac­curate. I now understood all that he had done to me and now could clearly see that he had behaved towards me in ways that showed that he was not my father! I was startled at the ut­ter loneliness that I felt, as if I had suddenly found myself alone in the world. Then the nostalgia of my mother, whom I had never known, completely overtook my heart.

‘Mo–ther!’ I yelled out this one word, and then refused to do anything but weep loudly and weep nonstop. The more he chided and threatened me, the louder I cried. He grabbed my old friend the whip, came down from the house and thrashed me indiscrim­inate­ly with all his strength. He’d cer­tainly have thrashed me to death had Aunt Waht not come to protect me by taking me in her arms. She took me away to nurse my wounds, the gash on my head as well as the whelps from the whip. I never stopped weeping. I wouldn’t eat, I wouldn’t talk, I just went on crying, and when at dusk he shouted at me and threatened to lock me up in the green­house if I didn’t stop, I still wouldn’t.

The greenhouse was an empty building near the compound wall at the back of the main house. It stood apart from the main house and the rows of smaller dependent houses. All the children in the compound and even some adults were scared of it. This dim and isolated dwelling used to house the re­mains of my mother’s ancestors and I was told that the last time it had been used was for the merit-making ceremony over my mother’s body.

When he saw that I was bent on pursuing my weeping marathon, he ordered a male servant and a female servant to grab hold of me and take me to the greenhouse. I don’t know whether or not he saw it, but I walked on my own ahead of the servants, still crying all the way.

As soon as the door of the greenhouse was closed and locked, the evening twilight turned to total darkness.

‘Poor Master Jan…’ I heard the female servant mutter sympathetically before the two of them left. Though she definitely expressed her concern for me, it’s possible that I didn’t hear her words clearly or don’t remember them clearly, but I’m sure of the last expression – Master Jan. Though His Lordship, my father, despised and hated me and treated me cruelly and contemptibly, I was ‘Master Jan’ in the house at all times, and there was no way for him to go back on this. So far as I know and remember, he never interfered with this title of mine, whether in front of me or even behind my back. It is strange indeed that he didn’t even think of removing it for good as it was the only remaining indication that I was the son of the owner of the house.

There were plenty of children in the house, but only one other was called Khun*, and my father had bestowed that title on her himself – but I’ll tell you about this later.

After the door was closed and the two servants had left, I groped my way in the dark to the platform where coffins were usually laid. I collapsed against it and carried on crying. You might think I wasn’t afraid, but I was almost scared to death, and yet there was nothing I could do to prevent myself from acting this way. I had been unable to control myself since I had walked ahead of the servants to this place. Why this was so I don’t know, just as I don’t know either why I couldn’t stop weeping. Maybe I was doing it out of a strong sense of denial or compensation or provocation. Let those of you who are experts in psychology make your own diagnoses.

The greenhouse was entirely made of slats and rails. A long time ago, I had often climbed the rails to look through them and every time I had done so had hoped to see my mother and it made me feel at once scared and brave. At first, when the door was locked, I felt that it was pitch dark as if I had entered a large box, but after I sat there and cried for a while, I became used to the darkness and the longer I sat moping, the more my impression changed as it seemed the darkness was receding to the point that I could vaguely see the dim structure of the interior, and the longer I gazed at it, the more I felt it was moving and could turn into something which the frightened part of my heart didn’t want to see.

That’s when my weeping grew louder. In the dark, the sound of my own crying kept me company but in my heart it was my mother who kept me company, as I had never thought of her as a ghost. I always felt that she was someone I was desperately eager to meet but who happened to have been absent ever since I was born. But now, even if she was a ghost, I wished her to come, to be here fast and keep me company before someone else’s ghost arrived. Previous­ly, though I never had a mother, I still had a father to cherish in my heart, but now that I didn’t even have a father, I turned to look for my mother again, hoping from the bottom of my heart to depend on her for everything. I knew it was wishful thinking, I knew it was a pipe dream, but I still hoped, I hoped like I had never hoped before and like I’ll never hope again in my life.

I’ve no idea how much time went by till I saw my mother come in.

Whether you believe it or not is up to you, but Mother came to see me when I was twelve.

Even if you don’t believe that there are ghosts in this world, you and I have nothing to argue about, because when Mother visited me that night, she was no ghost.

There was no warning signal or sound such as the ringing of a temple bell, the howling of a dog or anything like that. There was only the darkness and stillness of the night and the peaceful turmoil which shrouded my heart and my mind. The only sound that could be heard then was my own sobbing. The darkness and silence which covered me like a thick, black mosquito net tore into a dim chasm right in front of me, as if someone had lit a torch and entered a cave and was coming closer yet still unseen. The tiny light became bigger and clearer till I finally saw the figure of a woman standing in front of me, like an outline roughly drawn against the glow of a candle. The only part I could see clearly was the face, which looked exactly like the face on the picture which hung in the main house. Mother had soft features, beautiful and sad, framed by hair that went down to her neck.

The mother I was meeting then looked very much alive, and she could move faintly. She looked at me as if she meant to comfort me or to ask me to do something, and then vanished. I felt like she had just died before my very eyes and at the same time my eardrums were shattered by a deafening roar.

It was my own.

I was calling her at the top of my voice and then I started to address her, shouting ceaselessly. I told her I felt more sorry than anyone else in the world that I had caused her death and I also told her that I now knew she wasn’t angry with me, otherwise she wouldn’t have come to see me right then. I went on shouting for as long as I could think of things to tell her. If I addressed her loudly it was because I was afraid she couldn’t hear me, as I had the feeling that her departure this time had taken her much farther away than ever before.

How long I talked to my mother in this way I’ve no way of knowing. I learned later that after I had been quiet for a long while, Aunt Waht took it upon herself to have someone unlock the door of the greenhouse and take me out. It was around one in the morning at that time. I was found lying unconscious and delirious on the mortuary platform, my body burning with fever.

I was sick for nearly a month and spent all of that time lying in bed and refusing to talk to anyone. I must have entertained all kinds of crazy thoughts during that time (my vocal cords were rather weak as well) and from then on I turned into what adults call a broody child without even being aware of it. I only remember that since that momentous event took place, the people in the compound and in the lane leading to it were somewhat in awe of me, not to mention the children, who never missed an opportunity to show me respect. Not only was sitting and crying alone in the dark in the greenhouse beyond anyone’s stamina but to meet one’s mother and talk loudly to her in the middle of the night on the very platform where her dead body once had been, well, that deserved all the medals of valour you could find! But whenever children or adults wanted to ask me about what had taken place in the greenhouse that night, I absolutely refused to say anything because I believed it was a sacred matter no one should interfere with.

As for His Lordship, he took no interest in me for a long time, as the ratio of his disgust towards me had greatly increased. It seems that he had a new strategy in his hate for me. Speaking in the manner of Chinese chronicles, you could say that he moved to the defensive by building up an eighteen-level treacherous approach to him in the form of utter indifference. But I doubt he was in any way aware that I was more than indifferent to him, because I considered myself a real orphan: Mother had left me forever and as for my father, he was as dead as the uncremated dead.

Actually, it’s totally inappropriate for children to think of their father in this manner but in my case the story had already happened so it might as well proceed, and in any case this isn’t an edifying tale for youngsters, so I suggest you just keep on paying attention to what I’ve got to tell.

I was then in the first year of secondary school and for the first time failed in the final examination. The old people in the house, one or two relatives on my mother’s side who were still living in the compound, rightly took this to be a bad omen. They were worried that there was something wrong, because it was unconceivable a good student like me would suddenly fail an exam just like that. There was talk of sending me to a boarding school – at first Wachirarwut and then Barn Somdeit. But as I said before, the traps my father had set up for me had eighteen levels. ‘It’s his own doing: nothing I can do about it,’ was the verdict that came out of that treacherous labyrinth of his. So, I had to go on studying with my friends at the Wat Pho school and that’s how I began to turn into the oldest student in the establishment. It took me two years to go through each year of secondary schooling and by the time I was seventeen, I still hadn’t finished school. In those days, the Wat Pho school had only three years of secondary studies.

I left before the end of my last year. Another serious event took place that year. The older I was, the greater the trouble I was in – and I had to quit in mid term. I’ll tell you about this later.

I’ve mentioned to you no less than twice already that there were many children in my house and I don’t know whether this has puzzled you. And I’ve also casually introduced Aunt Waht to you, so I think you may have some interest in her. Now, it’s time to tell you about the many children and about Aunt Waht herself, which means telling you the story of His Lordship, my official father.

 

 

Δ

But first, please allow me to make a suggestion. Since you already know that I am what you might call an ill bird that fouls its own father’s nest, I’d like to suggest that you refrain from scolding me just now because I still have so many more things for you to condemn. It would be better if you held back for a while and best of all, I think, if you held back until the story is over before settling your score with me. This could save much of your energy because by then you may well have decided to wipe the slate clean.

I’d also like you to notice that the stories I’m about to tell you regarding my father are stories I’ve pieced together since I was only seventeen, on the year the second impressive crisis took place in my life.

In the old days, there were few associations and clubs, and none were developed enough to be acknowledged venues for wedding ceremonies. Besides, there was no Cultural Council yet. It was thus unavoidable that the wedding of my mother and father be held at my mother’s house. The bride was a rich heiress even though she wasn’t quite twenty. This was because her parents had long passed away, and she was under the care of an uncle. The groom had only brought with him a few large pieces of luggage besides his ancient family name and lordly title. He was about thirty at the time. As the biographies of self-made tycoons are wont to say, he had only a mat and a pillow with him, except that in his case the bamboo mat was intricately woven and the pillow made of porcelain. The wedding arrangements were duly approved by the senior relative – the uncle already mentioned. It seems that it was this uncle who acted as the matchmaker for the two as well. When my mother died, my father was extremely sorrowful and expressed his grief in the following manner: first, as soon as he saw me in the delivery room, which had just turned into a mortuary, he reviled me by calling me ‘that damn child’; second, he made it known to one and all in the house that he’d never marry again; third, he mourned his wife for five years and it was understood that he wanted everyone in the house to follow suit (the body was kept at the temple for five years before it was cremated); and fourth, because of his grief he no longer had any heart for work, so he resigned and lived off a pension at home.

He also undertook to exercise his rights as the inheritor of his late wife’s estate. Through a variety of psychological pressures, he forced the old occupants of the house to leave one after the other, and only those who were subservient to him were allowed to remain – he did this with everyone, the servants as well as his wife’s relatives, and after five years the senior relative and erstwhile matchmaker fled back to his native town of Phijit. (That’s when my father decided to have his wife’s body cremated.)

Close intimacy should govern the relationship between the head of a family and its other members, especially the female ones. Therefore, be they old or new servants or even his wife’s relatives, be they of age or under age or a little over age, if he fancied them, he’d just go ahead and gratify himself. When children were born, they were brought up according to the status of their mothers. That’s why there were so many children in the compound, and it was taken for granted that any children who weren’t born to resident couples were his natural offspring.

 His other activity, which seemed to be based on an ambiguous principle, was that he liked to support destitute children who had no relatives and needed protection – regardless of their age, but he only chose girls. In some cases, he even offered money to make sure they came under his care. When these girls entered adoles­cence, it was the duty of each and every one of them to be serviced by him regularly in his private chambers.

It was in such a carnal environment that Master Jan grew up. Henceforth, if you feel I’m showing myself a little too precocious in this lascivious playground, may I count on some sympathy from you?

 

 

 

2 Δ

 

Now, it’s time to tell the story of Aunt Waht.

There is probably no need to tell you that Aunt Waht was related to me on my mother’s side. Originally, she didn’t live in this splendid residence. My mother’s family had its roots in Phijit, where it had accumulated its wealth through trade before gradually uprooting over several generations from that faraway northern provincial town to settle down as titled well-to-do in the capital. By the time of my grandfather’s generation, only a few relatives were left there to look after the family interests that accrued from land and various businesses, but regular visits were exchanged every year between Bangkok and Phijit. Despite their old age, the Phijit relatives undertook the long and arduous journey to the capital, and the Bangkok relatives in turn went upcountry to pay them a visit, and this went on until about the time I was born, when the relation­ship trailed away. If someone thinking idly were to blame me for it, it wouldn’t be wrong, because something did happen and I was part of it, albeit totally unawares. But I’ll tell you about this later.

In any case, regarding the friendly ties between the relatives in the two cities, it could be said that my mother was the last Bangkok resident of her generation to visit Phijit, and in my own time Aunt Waht was the last person on the Phijit side to come to Bangkok. Aunt Waht was about the same age as my mother, give or take half a year or so, but they were strikingly different in appearance. My mother was like an elaborate work of art – white-skinned, delicate and dainty – whereas Aunt Waht was like a sanguine creation – dark-skinned, sturdy and shapely. Picture, if you will, Laweing Wanla* and Ursula Andress.

What you should know and remember is that Aunt Waht travelled from Phijit to Bangkok on her own after she learned that my mother had died during delivery.

As soon as she arrived, she went straight to the greenhouse to pay her respects to my mother’s body, and then kept it company round the clock until, after one hundred days, it came time to remove it to the temple. Once this was done, she looked for me for the first time, and found me lying on a filthy mat in a couple of old servants’ house. At the sight of me or of the conditions in which I was being brought up – or because of both, I don’t know – Aunt Waht gave up the idea of going back to Phijit and from then on dedicated herself to looking after me. She stayed with me in that couple’s house until, a year or two later, it was the couple’s turn to fall victim to applied psychological pressure from my father, and Aunt Waht and I were left with the full use of the house. Aunt Waht’s status in the compound was somewhat peculiar. She was a dear relative of my mother as well as the niece of the senior-most relative in the house who had once arranged the wedding of my mother and His Lordship (I’ll hereafter call him Grandpa). But because he was prejudiced against me, His Lordship paid me no heed, and she had to accept to lower herself to my level and stay in a small house for servants. Nevertheless, her real status was in no way diminished in the eyes of everyone in the compound, not even of His Lordship, who couldn’t help but be considerate to her. It could be said that Aunt Waht was a woman of strong character, and it may be this very point that caught His Lordship’s attention eventually. He had probably long pined for her, but out of consi­deration, had had to wait for the auspicious time, as befitted the schemer that he was. In the meantime, he laid siege to every other woman under his roof, young, old or widowed, as I’ve already told you.

Throughout my motherless infancy, I was deprived of a wet nurse for these reasons. I only had Aunt Waht and her loving care, and I survived babyhood thanks to her personal exertions and to Glaxo powdered milk. And speaking of children and milk reminds me of something right now.

 

 

Δ

I’ve no idea whether psychologists have paid any attention to the matter, but it really did happen to me – or am I the only one to whom it happened? From my own experience, I understand that children raised on tinned milk in the first few months of their lives crave the warmth of their mothers’ breasts. If they are boys, they grow up into men obsessed by the female breast. As for girls, I’ve no idea, but I reckon they have no such problem since they are the owners of these deeply absorbing appendages. Some claim that the obsession with breasts may come about for no reason at all, but in my case, it has always had a strong influence and seems to have played an important part in shaping my destiny, turning my life around to the point of making me feel as miserable these days as a brainless monkey. Well, you’ll soon know about this. Right now, let me tell you a little about how my behaviour was affected when my hankering for the maternal breast turned into a craving for female breasts in general.

At that time, I was about thirteen or fourteen. That night was one of the countless times when my behind had been in touch with my old friend the whip. For what mistake? A piddling one indeed, which His Lordship aptly summed up in the usual apothegm: ‘You ungrateful cur!’ And he said it as if he truly felt concern for me. I was in the habit of wandering out of the compound at night. Actually, I didn’t venture very far but kept to the many lanes and alleys in the vicinity. I was well known in the area, so it was necess­ary for me to get together with my friends regularly in order to keep the social scene going. That night, I had enjoyed myself so much that when I went back home I found the main gate locked, as it was past nine o’clock. So I climbed over the wall at the convenient, isolated spot I always used. But that night, it proved to be my undoing. Familiarity made me as reckless as a foolish puppy. Clutch­ing the top of the wall, I lowered myself along the inner side of the wall, let go and fell right where His Lordship was passing water. I missed his head by a fraction of an inch – that close. He lashed out at me with all manner of indictments: wandering out late at night, climbing the compound wall, pointing the way in to thieves and nearly breaking his neck. You may be wondering how it was that a man of His Lordship’s standing, the owner of the biggest compound in the area, was urinating by the wall at night. Well, it was part of his nightlife, you see – he was on his way to tightening the screws of intimacy with one of the female servants living in that part of the compound. He was probably both angry and embarrass­ed at finding himself face to face with me on the way, but he managed to make it sound as if he had caught me red-handed behaving as an ungrateful cur, and whipping was the retribution that ensued.

Although Aunt Waht had had to leave me behind when she was requested to move to the main house quite a long time ago, she still considered it her duty, either when I was sick or when she saw the whelps left by the whip, to attend to me in the old small house, regardless of how much this annoyed His Lordship. I lay naked so that she could rub in an herbal balm whose formula she had brought from Phijit. When the balm began to dry, she covered me with a silk blanket and that’s when I did something under an impulse I just couldn’t control: I sprung up and planted a kiss on Aunt Waht’s bosom. Her hands stilled and she looked at me questioningly. Her half-puzzled, half-pitiful expression brought tears to my eyes for the first time since I had been released from the greenhouse. I was startled and embarrassed but in the same instant I knew exactly what it was I was longing for in the deepest recesses of my heart, and I lost control of myself again. Unable to restrain myself any longer, I hugged and kissed Aunt Waht, mumbling over and over again: ‘I want to kiss my mother’s breast. I’ve got no mother’s breast to kiss. I want to kiss my mother’s breast… I’ve got no mother’s breast…’ On and on and on. Finally, Aunt Waht held me at arm’s length, shook me and called out my name to bring me back to my senses – the method we both were familiar with whenever I talked in my sleep or became so emotional that I lost control of myself. The first instance had happened frequently when I was still a child sleeping by her side; the latter, since I had begun to know what’s what. This time around, however, I knew exactly what I was doing and so I cried out: ‘Don’t go yet, Auntie! Please let me stay close to my mother’s breast.’ I begged her time and time again, but she finally got up and walked away. Stunned, despondent and sad, I felt dejection and despair.

Aunt Waht had merely gone to close and bolt the door and she came back. A thrill of sheer rapture as I had never experienced before ran through my whole body, as if the sky had torn itself open to make room for me. Aunt Waht sat down by my side, stroked my head with a most compassionate expression on her face, then lay down on her side, removed the cloth wrapped around her chest and held me tight, in the same position as I had seen her when she breastfed her baby in the main house a long time ago. I heard her murmur, ‘Here, Jan, have your mother’s breast’. I there­upon turned into a baby suckling her motherly breasts to my heart’s content. I felt so deeply elated that tears rolled down my face again and the bosom in front of me was soaked with both my tears and my saliva.

I thoroughly enjoyed the excitement I was in and felt as if I was drifting into some distant heaven for a long while. Whether or not it was a long while, it wasn’t long before I became aware of an abnormal development taking place in my body. At first, I felt like I needed to pee, but that wasn’t it. Something was threatening to spurt out and I had no idea what it could be. It was at once scary and thrilling, but it wasn’t the kind of bliss I was looking for. My nose and mouth went dead; my whole body stiffened. The words ‘not that… not that… not that…’ reverberated inside my head. This wasn’t what my heart had been seeking from the start. It was like a betrayal perpetrated behind my back. I felt an odd recrudes­cence of affection for Aunt Waht. To say it was a new feeling wouldn’t be quite right. In fact, it was a mixture of old and new feelings, which led to a deeper sense of intimacy with her than had ever been the case. But in the supreme moment of exhilaration and exultation also lurked the evil spirit of shame. I flipped my body to the other side and closed my eyes, like a baby falls asleep as soon as it has its fill of milk. After a while, Aunt Waht got up and went out. I then felt completely awake inside and at liberty to try and understand myself.

I lay engrossed in idle thought until I heard the Indian night watchman in the lane beating the twelve strokes of midnight. I still understood nothing and just caught myself having spent much too much time indulging in nothing but musings about the strangest sensation I had ever known since I was born – that was one thing I was thinking about. And the other was the jerky squirt which was the most blissful and bizarre phenomenon in the world. It was so exciting I couldn’t bring myself to believe that all along I had had a duct for this seminal spring hidden away in my own body. How puzzling, how fascinating, how enticing it all was! Then my mind began to recall all the breasts, naked or covered, I had ever seen in this world, and I proceeded to dwell on those I preferred. In those days, I fancied and yearned for big breasts. The bigger they were, the more they pleased me. If they could’ve been as big as the sky, I’d have been on top of the world.

To round up the story between Aunt Waht and myself that I’ve just told you, I must emphasize most strenuously (in order to help you analyse my behaviour correctly and avoid sullying the reputation of Aunt Waht, whom I most love and respect) that she was like a mother to me in a complex sense, both in terms of grat­i­tude and in terms of social position. In terms of gratitude, as you already know, she had brought me up since I was a hundred days old and she had done so out of the goodness of her heart. In terms of social status, you’ve just learned incidentally that Aunt Waht had a child of her own and you can guess who the father was. Who else indeed? Aunt Waht was the only woman who, having a natural child with His Lordship, had been called to live with him openly in the main house. This made her the unofficial wife of the owner of this large property. She was respected by everyone in the com­pound and was acknowledged by the neighbours as its most power­ful figure, second only to the owner. This affected me in the sense that, since she was known as my father’s wife, she was considered automatically as my mother, and I accepted her as such with all my heart. I’d like to emphasise at this point that, among the cohort of His Lordship’s consorts, Aunt Waht was the only one I considered as my mother. I had to be strict about this, otherwise I’d have become the child of countless mothers in the compound, including Phum, the cook, who was the fiftyish mother of Khein Krathing­thong, my friend, who was slightly older than me.

 

 

3 Δ

 

Since I’ve already mentioned that besides me there was another child called Khun in the compound, I think it’s time to introduce her. Her name was Wilaireik, a name eighty-four thousand times more radiant than mine. His Highness Prince Mahitsareit or Something-or-other-reit, whom His Lordship held in the highest esteem, had helped think it up. Wilaireik Witsanan… The last part of the name had been bestowed most graciously and willingly by His Lordship himself, and she was the only natural child to have received such an honour. As for the others, if their mother had a surname they used that surname, but most didn’t, and it was another of His Lordship’s hobbies to think up patronymics during his spare time, which seemed to last longer than twenty-four hours a day. Miss Wilairek was nicknamed Miss Kaeo. She was conceived in Aunt Waht’s womb when I was a little over four years old. Miss Kaeo’s entry into this world was of much interest and concern to Master Jan and has never ceased to be so even up to now. I’ve always felt that she was born out of spite, out of spite for one and all – out of spite for me, for Aunt Waht, for His Lordship, for herself even, and for one or two more persons.

As far as I’m concerned, even to this day I can’t figure out whether she was born to retaliate against me on her father’s behalf or for me to take my re­venge on His Lordship, my ghoulish father. Father and daughter always and equally hated me as if we had met and known one another in a former lifetime. The oldest evidence of this is two old photographs which have always disturbed me – I don’t really know why. These two pictures stand in their old frames on my desk right in front of me now. Whenever I cast a glance at them, I feel that I’m haunted by a ghost, despite their compelling clarity, though their grain has much faded. As for her, seeing her there …

‘Just as well you managed to hang on to it: you can look at that bastard mug of yours and laugh.’

… and it was the first time too that I was harsh enough to slap the lady and send her sprawling to the floor.

These two photographs have exactly the same background, which shows some multimillionaire’s park somewhere, and you can see a stately residential build­ing just behind, and right in front of all this is Aunt Waht, sitting on a high chair and looking composed and unassuming, and on one side of her is a real dwarf tree growing out of an antique pot and on the other side a porcelain dog in a crouching position. The only difference between the two pictures is that one has a girl of about ten standing to Aunt Waht’s right whereas the other has a boy of fifteen stand­ing to Aunt Waht’s left.

The photo shop, I remember, was on Pahurat Road towards the Barn Mor in­tersection. The shop’s name began with ‘Cha-ya’* as was the fashion of photo shops in those days, but I’ve forgotten the full name, which sounded like Cha-ya Kong Beng or something like that. Aunt Waht’s original intention even before she took the two children up the steep staircase leading to the Cha-ya-something photo shop, which was located on the deck of a two-storey-high shophouse, was that the two photographs be identical. When it was time to take the picture – just as the Chinese photographer had organised the setting and the poses of the subjects to his satisfac­tion and was diving under the black cloth behind the camera – the girl Wilaireik, who looked as if she had just thought of something, started to show her hand. Despite all of her mother’s entreaties, she wouldn’t allow the boy Jan the honour of being photographed with them. Lest the outing in the Austin through all of those streets be wasted, the boy Jan had to remove himself from the scene first. Once Miss Kaeo had had her picture taken alone with her mother, the boy Jan returned to stand at the previously assigned spot and had his picture taken alone with Aunt Waht, but a smooth process it wasn’t, because Miss Kaeo stood crying and fretting about while ruefully remonstrating and criticizing her mother in all kinds of ways that hurt Master Jan’s feelings. The last thing she uttered that I remember and will never forget was: ‘He’s not your son, he’s not Father’s son, so why should you sit with him?’ That was too much for Aunt Waht, who rose and went to give her a spanking before returning to her seat and having the picture taken properly.

That time, as soon as we were back home, Miss Kaeo hurried out of the car and ran to her father, who was in the anthurium nursery nearby. Aunt Waht walked unhurriedly, holding my hand, and we could see Miss Kaeo talking vol­ubly to her father. As soon as we came to them, Aunt Waht said: ‘I just gave Kaeo a good spanking in front of the Chinese photographer. She behaved so despicably, I don’t know what got into her.’ Father and daughter looked at each other and laughed, then His Lordship took his daugh­ter’s hand and they went into the house without saying a word. On our side, we too exchanged glances. Aunt Waht looked suddenly sad, but I smiled cheerfully because I thought the situation funny: ‘They are in this together, Aunt Waht – I wouldn’t wonder.’ What I said was what I understood, and Aunt Waht took it as such. She hugged me and said soothingly: ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She froze deep in thought for a while, then turned to me and said: ‘Change your clothes and then go back to the photo shop for me, will you.’ She went with me to my room, asked for paper and pencil and sat writing a letter while I changed from my school uni­form to casual clothes consisting of a polo-neck shirt, a pair of shorts and an old pair of sneakers. When she was done, she handed over the letter for me to take to the photo shop together with a ten-satang coin, which could buy a lot of things in those days, for my service.

The letter was folded width wise and again at the corners, which was how a letter was closed in an emergency in those days – that is, just enough for others to have the decency not to open it. As for me, I had hardly turned my back and taken a few steps before I desperately wanted to read it, but because it was Aunt Waht’s letter, I forced myself to strictly observe proper manners all the way to the Cha-ya photo shop. As soon as I handed it over to the Chinese photographer, I breathed a deep sigh of relief: the letter was out of my hands and out of my yearning. But the photographer wouldn’t allow me to leave; he called me back and asked me to read the letter out to him. I therefore happily obliged him by reading it out loud and clear: ‘Regarding the picture of the boy and me: please change the order to four copies, at whatever extra cost. I’ll come and get them myself. Should anybody else come for them, do not hand them over.’ I couldn’t but wonder at such a brief and blunt message, so I asked the photographer how many copies Aunt Waht had originally ordered. I was told that she had asked for three copies of each, plus one enlarged version of the pic­ture with the girl.

And it so happened that the day Aunt Waht went to fetch the pictures, I had something to do in the main house and was still hanging around there when she came back, so I had the opportu­ni­ty to see all the photographs. His Lordship ordered a servant to take the enlarged picture of Aunt Waht and Miss Kaeo back to the shop to get it framed separately as it would be hung on a wall in the house. As for the postcard-sized pictures, His Lordship put them on a stool and examined them one by one and then gathered them in his hand. That’s when Aunt Waht said she intended to send a copy of each to her uncle in Phijit, but he objected, taking no heed that I could hear him, that he didn’t think it proper to send a photograph of the boy, for a reason, which I was then unable to understand, that Aunt Waht should know well, and before she could reply, he cut the conversation short by giving her one photograph of herself and Miss Wilaireik and telling her he would take care of all the others, then he got up and walked inside the house. Aunt Waht didn’t seem unduly disturbed by not being able to send the photograph taken of me to Grandpa as she had intended.

Aunt Waht’s attitude neither surprised nor distressed me, be­cause while His Lordship had been looking at each picture on the stool, I had counted them and was sure that there were only six, that is three of each – and I was never to see them again until two years later, when I noticed the photograph of Aunt Waht with the girl Wilaireik and that of Aunt Waht with the boy Jan in twin frames of beautifully carved wood propped up on a shelf in Grand­pa’s house in Phijit. That’s where the fourth copy of the picture of Aunt Waht and me had gone!

I came to learn much later that His Lordship had burned the three pictures of me on the very day he had claimed he’d take care of them. Aunt Waht understood his way of thinking well. The whole episode showed that he didn’t want any trace of me to be left behind in my mother’s house.

From what I’ve been telling you up to now, you certainly realise as well as I do that His Lordship wasn’t my real father. That’s right: he wasn’t my father at all. I had been certain of it in my heart ever since the day of the incident that led to my being confined to the greenhouse. Even though it was a knowledge which was shaky be­cause it was something I had figured out on my own, I had enough evidence to be certain. Therefore, when the ten-year-old girl let out in so many words that ‘he’s not Father’s son’, I didn’t feel disturbed. I only felt like something was screaming inside me: ‘That’s it! That’s His Lordship’s confirmation of what I’ve been suspecting all along.’ It was only from her fa­ther that Miss Kaeo could have learned bits and pieces of such a dark secret. To me, who was the victim and her real nephew, Aunt Waht still refused to reveal any­thing, although I kept pestering her about it.

Well, by now, you must be starting to wonder what the indications I had were that pointed to the certainty that he wasn’t my father. Because he hated, de­spised and beat me up so savagely? Not at all. My reasons were much more solid than that: indeed, they had to do with evil. They revolved around the proof I had that if he hated me so madly, it wasn’t over the unbearable loss of his wife. He hated me for reasons of his own, that had to do with his own inner disposition, because if he was my real father and did what he did in good faith, out of grief over the loss of my mother, he wouldn’t have behaved in so demented a way to me and Aunt Waht.

His odd behaviour towards me, which kept flooding back time and time again through the gash that the severe shock I suffered on the day of the greenhouse incident had created, goes back to the time when I was four years old.

How many among you are aware of how old you were when the first event you remember happened? I believe very few people know for certain how far back their first remembrance took place, and I’m one of those selected few. My first mem­ory goes back to age four. Oh, if I dare to be so confident, it’s because I have proof: Miss Kaeo’s age is the authoritative almanac in this case. Miss Kaeo was about five years younger than Master Jan, so we can take this as evidence that my first memory goes back to when I was about four years old. If I can only re­member one scene, it’s because that scene was truly unforgettable, and even if my memory is vague, like the dream of a man with a fever, I’ve never been able to dispel it altogether.

 

 

Δ

The most noticeable thing in the world of a child of that age is the regular succession of days and nights. There is day and then there is night. When the world gets dark, the child soon goes to sleep; when he wakes up, the world is bright as usual. Darkness and then light, following each other cease­lessly… But then it happened that another, unnatural kind of light came and in­terfered with the normal cycle of darkness and light. That light was yellow and sort of dirty, and it had a sound like gusts of wind blowing nearby. I was on my back looking at the dim light and listening, perplexed, to the sound that was like gusts of wind blowing now fast now slow, and then I realised that in the silence there was an accompanying sound, so familiar to the ear I hadn’t perceived it at first, although it might well have been the first sound I heard. That sound was the hiss of the winding lamp next to the mosquito net. Then it meant the lamp was still lit! Then it wasn’t really daytime! Having thus observed, I further realised that the wind blowing inside the mosquito net was the sound of breathing… and not just a single sound either, be­cause these breathing sounds were competing. Who was it? Under the net besides me was only Aunt Waht. I turned towards her and then sat up at once.

What on earth was going on?

Two grownups, in the state of children taking a bath, were lying in such a naughty way that they deserved a good thrashing. I had never seen such a scene and never thought I’d ever see it. This obnoxious sight made me feel feverish and unwell. My real feeling was like the revulsion at having to witness two grownups playing at urinating on each other – and these two grownups were none other than Aunt Waht and my own father.

Aunt Waht was shocked when she saw me sit up and stare, and she made to stop being naughty there and then, but my father was unwilling to do the same. Although Aunt Waht whispered some­thing in a scolding tone, his voice was harsh, the harsher of the two. The words bandied back and forth I couldn’t un­derstand, only that they were quarrelling, and eventually Aunt Waht was the loser. She stopped talking and was unable to make him stop being naughty, even though her body looked stronger than the thin and tall frame of my father. During all this time, he never interrupted his naughty game and never took his eyes off me. I could see clearly the whites of his eyes in the drab light inside the net. He went on with it, and stared at me on and on, and even though Aunt Waht raised her hand to cover her own eyes and face, he didn’t pay the slightest attention to her. By now I was feeling sleepy again so I lay down, and after that I could only see the whites of his eyes. It was then that Aunt Waht stretched her hand and closed my eyes while she whispered with a strange voice: ‘Sleep now, child. There’s a good boy. Go to sleep.’

 

 

4 Δ

 

It seems that I fell asleep right away.

The next morning I wasn’t sure whether what I had seen the night before was real or a dream, so I asked Aunt Waht, and for the first time she used her love for me to threaten me – if Jan loved his Auntie and wanted her to stay and keep loving him, he must not talk about this any longer nor mention it to anyone else.

Sure. ‘I love you, Auntie. I’m your good boy. I don’t want you to go back upcountry. I’ll never ever talk about it again.’

But the matter didn’t end there. ‘From now on, you must get used to sleeping alone. You’re a boy, so you mustn’t be afraid of the dark. You must sleep on your own so that when you’re older you can be as brave as Jack, who climbed the bean stalk all the way to the sky to kill the giant living there.’ I didn’t find the argument very convincing, but her ‘if you love your Auntie and want her to stay and keep loving you’ was enough to make me comply.

So it was that from then on I had to sleep under another mos­quito net than Aunt Waht’s. Later, Jan the little fellow had another opportunity to practise being brave by being separated from Aunt Waht, for the simple but compelling reason that ‘I’m going up to give you a little brother or sister’. ‘Going up’ meant moving into the main house. As for me, I had to continue living in the same small house with a young nanny, one of the girls brought up in the compound under His Lordship’s patronage. By then, I was almost a year older and learning fast, so I started to show my hand in a secret battle with the nanny, who had just come to live with me, on her very first night.

‘Secret’ meant I wouldn’t let Aunt Waht know about it, because she strongly intimated to me that even though I now had someone to live with, I should go on sleeping alone. (She had always had a knack for finding out things in advance.) But sleeping alone just didn’t appeal to me. Aunt Waht, as you already know, had all the reasons in the world to make sure I slept on my own when we still lived together. Yet, I couldn’t see how it mattered that I didn’t sleep with other people, and Aunt Waht wasn’t telling me why either. Therefore, I considered myself free to do as I pleased in this matter and I did so without showing any disrespect – that is, discreetly and considerately so that no one knew about it. As soon as the nanny had set up the two mosquito nets, I grabbed the pillow inside the small net, ducked under the large net and lay down to sleep. Al­though the nanny protested because she was afraid of being berated by Aunt Waht, I ignored her and finally went to sleep. From that first night, it was understood between us that two mos­qui­to nets had to be set up but we’d both sleep in the large one. I didn’t have the company of the nanny for very long, though. One night, I woke and stoop up to find myself face to face with my father once again. My nanny wasn’t alarmed nor did she feel con­cern enough to try to stop as Aunt Waht had done. It was His Lordship who turned out to feel embarrassed to the point that he spun around, lying prone like a ruddy crocodile, then lunged at me and pummelled my back and shoulders with a series of punches. He threatened me fiercely to prevent me from crying out and ordered me to go back to my mosquito net. Being a little child who still thought His Lordship was his father, I dared not disobey him, so I grabbed my pillow and ducked out of the net, sobbing all the while. Although he felt embarrassed as Aunt Waht had been the first time, he didn’t forbid me to spread the story about, but it was my own decision to keep quiet about it lest Aunt Waht would learn I had secretly disobeyed her.

On the following night, when it was time to go to bed, I knew enough to stay under my own net. Perhaps out of pity for Master Jan’s trouble to which she had contributed the previous night, my nanny sympathised with my plight and unbidden came and lay down next to me and kept me company till I was asleep. This turned into a regular practice and on the nights when I had trouble finding sleep, Mali, my nanny, would lull me with extraordinary caresses of her own which made it even harder for me to feel drowsy and got me addicted to insomnia. Don’t ask me for details of how she managed to lull me to sleep. I’ll just give you a hint: if she had been my nanny much longer, I’m sure I’d have lost my innocence much sooner than is customary. In a way, it was fortu­nate that she eloped with a driver at the warehouse about one year after she had become my nanny.

The person who took over from her was selected by Aunt Waht herself from the neighbourhood. Her name was Granny Muan. To call her Granny wasn’t derogatory: she was old, real old, much older than Phum, the cook. She was obviously way past her prime so had no part in the nightly deportments of His Lordship. And strangely enough, I didn’t care one bit for her company at night. She went on taking care of me for long years until it was my turn to sort of take care of her instead. She died of senility when I was about eleven or twelve, and from then on I stayed on my own in the small house, still under the supervision of Aunt Waht, who took care of whatever needed to be taken care of.

At this point, I’d like to insert a remark relevant to my destiny, which on two occasions had me waking up at night to witness something unusual. The first time, I saw His Lordship, the man who was called my father, and Aunt Waht; the second time, I saw him with Mali. This was the starting point in my life of the frequent repetition of events, especially those happening between His Lordship and me. I once read about a kind of mental or neuro­logical disorder which made the patient have hallucinations in the form of double vision. If you think I read about it in a textbook, you’re totally mistaken, because I’m not that dedicated. I read it a few days ago in a novel entitled Catch 22. It’s a biting antiwar satire written by the American author Joseph Heller. Not bad, wouldn’t you say, for a third-year secondary student of yore.

 

I see everything twice!’

Pandemonium broke loose in the ward again. The specialists came running up from all directions and ringed him in a circle of scrutiny so confining that he could feel the humid breath from their various noses blowing uncomfortably upon the different sectors of his body. They went snooping into his eyes and ears with tiny beams of light, assaulted his legs and feet with rubber hammers and vibrating forks, drew blood from his veins, held anything handy up for him to see on the periphery of his vision.

The leader of this team of doctors was a dignified, solicitous gentleman who held one finger up directly in front of Yossarian and demanded, ‘How many fingers do you see?’

‘Two,’ said Yossarian.

‘How many fingers do you see now?’ asked the doctor, holding up two.

‘Two,’ said Yossarian.

‘And how many now?’ asked the doctor, holding up none.

‘Two,’ said Yossarian.

The doctor’s face writhed with a smile. ‘By Jove, he’s right,’ he declared jubilantly. ‘He does see everything twice.’

They rolled Yossarian away on a stretcher into the room with the older soldier who saw everything twice and quarantined everyone else in the ward for another fourteen days.

‘I see everything twice!’ the soldier who saw everything twice shouted when they rolled Yossarian in.

‘I see everything twice!’ Yossarian shouted back at him just as loudly, with a secret wink.

‘The walls! The walls!’ the other soldier cried. ‘Move back the walls!’

‘The walls! The walls!’ Yossarian cried. ‘Move back the walls!’

One of the doctors pretended to shove the wall back. ‘Is that far enough?’

The soldier who saw everything twice nodded weakly and sank back on his bed. Yossarian nodded weakly too, eyeing his talented roommate with great humility and admiration. He knew he was in the presence of a master. His talented roommate was obviously a person to be studied and emulated. During the night, his talented roommate died, and Yossarian decided that he had followed him far enough.

‘I see everything once!’ he cried quickly.

A new group of specialists came pounding up to his bedside with their instruments to find out if it was true.

‘How many fingers to you see?’ asked the leader, holding up one.

‘One.’

The doctor held up two fingers. ‘How many fingers do you see now?’

‘One.’

The doctor held up ten fingers. ‘And how many now?’

‘One.’

The doctor turned to the other doctors with amazement. ‘He does see everything once!’ he exclaimed. ‘We made him all better.’

 

Destiny didn’t make me suffer from double vision as Yossarian pretended he did and the other soldier actually did before he died, but the comparison can be considered apposite. I didn’t see a single object as two separate ones, but I saw events happening twice, giving credence to the warning of historians that ‘history often repeats itself’. Whatever fate made his life intertwine with mine in this house, the fate of the same house has led me to find myself in the position he used to hold, and he’s now paying through my own actions for the misdeeds he used to commit against me. In the life we’ve shared, each has had the opportunity to see events repeating themselves with the other. He had the opportunity to see me fall into the same situation as his. As for me, I had the opportunity to see myself fall into the same situation as his and to see him being done by me what he once had done to me. Therefore, each of us is a reflection of the other. It’s only recently that I’ve become aware of the fact, I swear.

Swear? Should I go this far? Yes, I can swear that I never inten­tionally let things happen twice in order to take revenge on him. I can really swear as much, except in one case – what he shamelessly did to Aunt Waht under the very eyes of a four-year-old child in the dead of night. No matter how much he despised me, no matter how much he looked down on me as a simple child who knew nothing when compared to a fully grown person, or as what­ever else, he should’ve had some consideration for the feelings of a good woman like Aunt Waht. True, I knew nothing then. I didn’t understand what he was doing to her, but he forgot that though I understood nothing, I already could remember things. The picture of his performance impressed itself on me like a tattoo. Though the ink did fade with the passage of time, the imprint remained to reveal its full significance later. In the darkness of the greenhouse, I suddenly and forcefully recalled the forgotten scene with the understanding of a child whose experience of the world had been shaped by the school in the Tha Tian area and his social wanderings in the lanes around the house. Though I was only twelve, I had enough theoretical knowledge by then to realise that we aren’t born out of bamboo hollows like goblins. We have an exciting athletic game a man and woman play together in private and from this game we sometimes have offspring. I say ‘some­times’ because it isn’t always the case that you get offspring from playing that game, and at the time I had no idea why in some cases you did and in others you didn’t. I was particularly suspicious of those women who earned their keep by selling their bodies night after night and yet managed to have no children. Oh, but there was one, though – the mother of a student friend of mine. Well, I’ll tell you about it later, because it also played a significant part in my life.

After I recalled what had happened that night, I began to doubt that His Lordship was my real father. Though I only knew the theory of that sort of game and had yet to learn its practice, I could sense it was another instance in which he had acted with me as if he were not my father. A few years later, I had early practice in the athletic field for the first time and from that wonderful experience, I be­came certain that the man performing in the event that was buried in my mind was not my father, because when I myself performed, I didn’t want anyone to see me, not even my friend, who had col­lud­ed in the event and was waiting for me outside. I felt terribly embarrassed by the idea that he knew what was going on. As the years passed, my anger with His Lordship increased to the point that I could never forgive him. I didn’t feel angry for what he had done to me but for what he had done to Aunt Waht. He had vented his spite for me on her. I’ve borne him a grudge unwittingly ever since and when the opportunity, which I had not sought, came about, it became a time bomb which exploded in a manner that went beyond my expectations. Well, we’ll come to this later.

It follows from what I’ve told you so far that Aunt Waht became pregnant when I was about four and gave birth to Miss Kaeo when I was about five. And it was during this period that Grandpa could no longer stand the shenanigans of his nephew-in-law, whom he him­self had brought into the compound, so he gathered his per­son­al belongings and repaired to Phijit. His Lordship had won hand over fist thanks to his method of applied psychological pressure. He had killed two birds with one stone, taking possession of Aunt Waht and finally acquiring exclusive control over the dominion he had intruded into long ago. It was around that time that the body of my mother was cremated. When I was twelve, I began to think he wasn’t my real father and was sure of it by the time I was fifteen – a year in which I had many experiences, including that of falling in love, which was an entirely different matter from those I faced once I had landed in the field of athletics.

 

 

5 Δ

 

As my experiences during that year involved a great many people, allow me to introduce them one by one in this chapter. I’ll not only usher in new characters but also tell you more about the ones you already know, as all have played their parts in the humble theatre of my life.

 

Wilaireik

 

This is the very Miss Kaeo who meant to me love at first sight and then utter wretched pain. I fell in love with her when I first saw her as a rosy baby wriggling on a padded mat. That’s because I thought she was my little sister, but she knew better – and earlier than I did – so that not only did she not return my feelings but she has hated me ever since she was a mere toddler. There were times when Aunt Waht tried to impress on her that she should consider me as her elder brother, but there were many more occasions for her father to teach her to see me as a worthless, repulsive creature that didn’t deserve even a glance. His Lordship, therefore, bested me without even a contest. I, who was ‘Master Jan’ to everyone in the compound, have been ‘Damn Jan’ to her ever since she learn­ed how to wear a gold fig leaf*.

By the age of ten, her appearance had come to clearly reflect a balanced combination of the features she had inherited from each of her parents: she had her father’s shape of face and fair skin, and the sharp features and shapely figure of Aunt Waht. But her temp­erament was unfortunately modelled entirely on His Lord­ship’s, including, let it be said, strong sexual proclivities. One characteristic she had inherited from Aunt Waht was a strong will, but it was regrettable, especially for me of course, that she used this good trait from her mother to support all of her nasty propensities inherited from her father. This was the reason for her increasingly vicious behaviour towards me, early on and up to now. Being her father’s favourite child made her arrogant, contemptuous and malicious, and so selfish that she saw goodness in nothing and was even jealous of her own shadow, so to speak.

Of course, no matter how evil we are, we all have a little bit of good in ourselves. Wilaireik Witsanan, too, had a good side, inas­much as she sometimes became kind-hearted. She could love and knew how to wish people well and show concern for others. So, when she fancied someone, she lavished her love unstintingly, totally oblivious to any other considerations, and this created no end of trouble for other people.

 

Saisoi

 

This seventeen-year-old girl was at once Miss Kaeo’s nanny, servant and close playmate. Originally, her name had only one syllable – Sai or Soi, I forget which. It was Miss Kaeo who coined the two-syllable name and soon everyone in the compound got into the habit of using it as well. It’s generally said that for an intimate relationship to develop, it must be based on common traits, both positive and negative. The more inclinations, good and bad, are shared, the faster the relationship will develop and the longer it may last – a phenomenon as natural as the instant blending of matching colours. If the proclivities shared on the positive and negative sides don’t have the same weight, it’s like colours of different pigments which can still be matched. The only strange, indeed unnatural, thing is a colour that would blend with every other colour in the universe. If you object that white is such a colour, I must remind you that white isn’t a colour: white is the absence of colour; white is emptiness. And if you still insist that white be a colour then I’d classify it as a special colour, because no one is really empty, except Buddhist saints, who are hard to come by. Apart from them, the only empty people readily available that I can think of are the mentally deficient. We can’t take either type into consideration. A colour that matches every other colour has no reality in itself; a person who can make friends with all the people in the world on an equal basis is a person the world must be particularly wary of because it can’t find any sincerity in him or her.

Saisoi was neither beautiful nor ugly. Besides having nothing unpleasant about her appearance, she actually looked homely. As for her temperament, no need to mention it here, because she was a born flatterer and her prurience was a special feature that made her most attractive in the eyes of lustful people of all ages.

 

Khein Krathingthong

 

This big-framed, softhearted boy, who was old cook Phum’s son, had had lots of capers upcountry. At that time, he had recently come to live here together with his mother. The master of the compound, perhaps because he only had eyes for Phum, whose charm he was crazy about, or to express his disgust with me in a new way no one would forget, or for any other reason I know not, had told Khein Krathingthong to stay in the same house as I.

That evening, I was sitting at leisure on the windowsill in my room upstairs, when Khein, panting over an armful of belongings, walked through the door.

‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

‘Right here,’ he answered in his northeastern lilt. ‘I’m to stay here. The master tol’ me to.’

‘Whose master? Who’s this master you’re talking about?’ Blood had rushed to my ears.

‘How come? You live here, don’t you? How is it you don’t know who the master is?’ he replied in such a funny way I could no longer feel angry with him.

‘The tall, pale man, you mean?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one. He tol’ me to come stay here.’

‘Maybe, but if you want to stay here, you must have this master’s permission first.’ I pointed at myself and got off the window sill.

‘I don’t un’erstand. I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.’ He shook his head.

I was really amused. ‘Do you know who’s the master of this compound – of all the houses around this one?’

‘That master.’

‘And do you know who’s the owner of this house? I say this house.’ I pointed at the floor. He was puzzled like a fighting cock being kicked in the butt. As I had gotten through to him, I pursued my advantage. ‘It’s me – this Master Jan here is the owner of this small house. And don’t you forget it! You can stay in the com­pound if the other master says so, but if you want to stay in this house…’ I pointed at the floor again. ‘…you’ve got to get this master’s permission first.’ Again, I pointed at myself.

‘So that’s what Mum was tellin’ me about,’ he said enig­matic­ally, then turned around and walked right out of the room.

‘Wait!’ I followed him to the landing. ‘Who’s your mother? What did she say?’

He turned and said ‘Your mother?’ as if in retort.

‘Yes, your mother. Who’s she?’

‘My mum’s name is Nang Mae [Mrs Mother] Phum,’ he said, giving his mother’s full name. ‘She tol’ me to talk things over with Khun Jan first. I thought Khun Jan was a woman – an adult woman. When I saw you, I thought you were Khun Jan’s son.’ He added under his breath: ‘Tough luck, mate!’

‘All right, I allow you to stay here,’ I said out of the goodness of my heart as rightful master of the small house. ‘Do you snore?’

He smiled broadly and looked like a six-year-old rather than his actual sixteen. ‘How would I know? Never heard myself. I only know I often have dreams, and damn enjoyable they are, too.’

‘Well, in any case, I don’t like to share my room with any boy.’

‘How can I stay with you then?’

‘Come on. Do you think this is the only room in the house?’

I led him downstairs and unlocked the door of the small room which I had shared with Aunt Waht after she had found me when I was a hundred days old. These days it was used as junk closet. I helped him clear the junk away and tidy the room so that it could be his living place.

And this is how Khein Krathingthong became my close friend.

 

Δ

Mrs Bunlueang and Master Khajorn

 

I’ve been wondering ever since how it was that His Lordship waited for so long before he took Mrs Bunlueang and Master Khajorn to stay with him in the compound around that time. Since Grandpa had rolled up his mat and gone back to Phijit and my mother’s body had been cremated, he had the right to do as he pleased, yet he had waited another four or five years. Out of consideration for Aunt Waht? Probably not. Or had he thought of them only then? I’ve no idea. Nor did I have any at the time.

I had heard of Mrs Bunlueang even before I saw her or knew her name. When the greenhouse was taken away and relocated in a monastery as an offering, this was the signal of the imminent arrival of Mrs Bunlueang. A medium-sized two-storey house of the latest design began to take shape next to where the greenhouse used to be. This was a major and most significant event because it was the first house to be added to the old dwellings in the compound. I and the other children liked to roam around the construction site to observe the craftsmen at work and sometimes give them a hand when they asked us to pick up this or that for them. It was during this period that I learned the new dwelling was meant for one of His Lordship’s close relatives. Once the construction of the beaut­iful house was over and the ground had been cleared of bricks and planks, the anthuriums nursery was moved from its former location to where the greenhouse used to stand. The ground be­tween the new house and the nursery was dug up and the soil prepared in order to grow flowering plants. A few days after the house was blessed by the monks, Mrs Bunlueang moved in.

To my young eyes, she looked positively ancient, although her actual age then was about thirty-five. Anyway, she was older than Aunt Waht, because Aunt Waht called her ‘Elder Sister’. She was devastatingly beautiful, with a thoroughly fair and glowing com­plexion and compelling voluptuous curves. At any rate, that’s how I like to remember her. According to my perception of her then, however, what I saw was merely a pale and buxom woman. As to her healthy glow, I thought she must have been flushed out of embarrassment, which couldn’t be further from the truth. She always looked everybody squarely in the eye with those sharp eyes of hers and was the easiest-going woman in the compound, not only in the way she spoke but also in the way she dressed and behaved. She was the first woman in the compound and in my life to wear pants so short that I could have a close look at her. Of all of her exceptional features, what fascinated me most was that she had the biggest and most exciting bosom I had ever seen in any private or public place, and she never thought of keeping its glorious spread secret by covering it up as most women did in those days. Her insouciance went far beyond what you can imagine right now. Not only were all of her blouses quite revealing, but she did not like to wear any undergarment, and not only did she seldom wear one, but there were quite a few times when she didn’t wear anything at home, which regularly inspired my wrist exertions and wet dreams. I daresay that she was the first woman who could strongly arouse my passion in a way no other woman has ever matched.

Two months after Mrs Bunlueang moved into the new house, Master Khajorn made his appearance. Everyone in the compound only knew that he was her son, but we had no idea how mother and son were related to His Lordship. After a while, we learned that Master Khajorn called His Lordship ‘Pa’ – a peculiar word. We didn’t know what it meant so we ventured a guess: since ‘Par’ [Dad] meant father, ‘Pa’ probably meant uncle, paternal, maternal or some such. Master Khajorn was one or two years older than I, but his demure behaviour, which befitted his good breeding, made him look much older than his age. He studied at Wachirarwut School and always dressed smartly like a prince born in heaven. He only returned home on Saturdays to spend the night with his mother and went back to the school on Sunday afternoons. When he was back on Saturdays, I liked to follow him around, because I felt that I, too, could have become a student with this kind of smart getup, were it not for the opposition of my damned ghost of a father. At the same time, I tried my utmost to cultivate his friend­ship, but it was to no avail. He was aloof, yet not conceited and arrogant like Miss Kaeo: it’s just that he preferred to be alone. I well remember what he looked like at the time. He was a tall, slim fellow with an elongated face, slightly wavy hair, a long, pointed nose, a pointed chin, and sharp eyes, and he walked with his back straight. In short, his overall appearance was strongly reminiscent of that of Gary Cooper, who was a Prince Charming kind of guy in those days. He scarcely smiled at anyone and yet I often heard him laughing merrily with his mother and ‘Pa’ – these two persons being the only ones in the compound to whom he was always close.

Regarding the relationship between Mrs Bunlueang and His Lordship, there didn’t seem to be anything special. Ordinarily, His Lordship went to have dinner at the new house twice a week. One meal always took place on Saturday evening, when Master Khajorn was home for the night; the other had no fixed day. Every time he went there, he’d linger until very late at night, so late that no one was still awake to find out what time he actually left.

Once I heard Khein confiding to his mother: ‘Last night, His Master (he meant His Lordship) went down and shone his flash­light on the rosebushes to check for worms until late, and then he disappeared into the new house. Made me wonder if he and Mrs Palueang are really brother and sister. It sorta bothers me.’ Khein’s tongue had trouble pronouncing Mrs Bunlueang’s name correctly and he always maimed it this way.

‘Like dogs in heat they are!’ Phum answered angrily out of resentment of some kind, then realised how inappropriate it was for her to talk like this and so ticked off her son to cover up: ‘See what you’ve done? All this naggin’ of yours and I forget to hold my tongue. Anyway, it’s his business. Don’t you go and poke your nose into it. It’ll only get you into trouble.’

‘Like dogs in heat they are!’ Khein repeated the phrase with relish and wagged his head as if he couldn’t make head or tail of it.

I, too, made as though I couldn’t figure it out, but I didn’t think it was at all funny.

 

Hyacinth

 

My dear Aunt Waht took me to study English almost as soon as I started learning kor kai, khor khai – the Thai alphabet. It was a special evening class. I started learning my ABCs with Teacher Suan at Teacher Pui’s School in a garbage dump of a lane in Barn Mor, the same school where I attended the Thai primary class with Teacher Nueang in the daytime. Thus it could be said I learned both alphabets at the same school. After three years of Thai primary school there, I moved to further my education at Wat Pho School. As for the English class, I had long finished the course with Teacher Suan, so I went on to learn English grammar at Teacher Sarlee’s School near Tha Klang, at the Park Khlong [Canal Entrance] market – yes, another market! In the daytime I went to the school near the Tha Tian market, and in the evening to the one near the Park Khlong market. So if you hear me swear like a fishwife and use foul market jive with more fluency than I ever mumbled my way through my lessons, show me some sympathy, will you. And if a former alumna of Rarchinee School were to object that though her school is close to both markets, neither she nor the generations of alumnae past and present have ever caught the foul-mouth disease as I did, I’d like to point out that her school is totally fenced in by high walls and its discipline very strict, to the extent that there was no way I could have contacted a student there had I wanted to. So how could the foul-mouth virus ever creep into the premises? Congratulations all the same, dear lady.

In the daytime Thai classes I never went beyond the third grade of secondary education, but in the English class at Teacher Sarlee’s evening school, I pressed on to the equivalent of Grade 7, and seldom did my friends get a chance to snatch the first place from me in the end-of-year exams.

If I boast like this, it’s only because I’d like to tell you that this is where I met Hyacinth, my girlfriend – at this very evening school. She was tall and rather lean. Her dark skin made her look gloomy; her long, brown hair had amber reflections and reached down to her shoulders; her eyes looked sad. She was modest and reserved, but when she smiled – oh, wow! the sky, so clear, so bright, so beautiful, wouldn’t hold a candle to her, believe me. She was a few grades below me but I found time before entering the classroom to befriend her, and a few evenings after she joined the course she allowed me to walk her home. Whenever I think about that oc­casion, I can’t but smile with glee at the elation I felt. It was as though my body and soul were adrift in the air. I walked with her, and nothing else mattered. In fact, all along the way, we hardly exchanged a word and merely stole glances and smiled at each other when our eyes met from time to time, but I was under a wonderful spell, as if I were listening to a rapturous song whose lyrics I couldn’t understand. When I came to my senses again, I had to grab her arm to make her stop.

‘Hyacinth! Which one of us is walking the other home?’

She turned and smiled gently as she often did. She thought I was teasing her, so resumed her walk even though my hand was still on her arm. I let go and slowed down to see which direction she’d take. When I was sure of her choice, I quickened my pace and followed her into the lane – one of the lanes leading to my compound.

The compound was in the middle of an area crisscrossed by a multitude of lanes and alleys like a net. The lane I entered in her wake was on a side I seldom used as a passageway as it went through the territory of a few enemies of mine. Now, it looked as though I was intruding, and I felt uneasy. But then, the power of love can make us swoon or turn us blind, stun us or make us mad, rash or plain stupid, dauntless or cowardly. In my case, it gave me a degree of self-control and calm I found rather puzzling. As I walked by her side, the wonderful song now gave way in my heart to cold strategic considerations – how to prevent them from attacking me, how to circumvent them so they’d engage in a man-to-man fight. Indeed, fighting them one at a time would be preferable to having three or four or even five of them rushing me, so that before I was beaten black and blue the news could reach my friends on the other side.

But it turned out that I safely made it through to Hyacinth’s home, which stood a little past my enemies’ territory.

It seems I let the word ‘love’ slip out just now. Although I wasn’t aware of all the ingredients of the love potion at the time, I’m not mentioning love idly. I didn’t know what it was but I did know what it wasn’t. I told myself every night that I loved Hyacinth, and my heart agreed and was fully receptive. I never thought of her in a sexual way, though my passion did take the natural path of sexual arousal on occasion. What was rising quietly and deeply inside me was unlike any feeling I had ever experienced. It was like the mood conjured up by the fragrance of flowers, not the craving triggered by the musk of hair follicles all over one’s own body.

I have thought of Hyacinth in this demure way ever since I was fifteen up to my present age – a little over forty.

Hyacinth’s home was one of twelve joint one-storey shophouses. It was situated almost in the middle of the row, and most of her neighbours were Chinese. Across the lane, which was about four metres wide, stood the high, thick, dull-white back wall of a nobleman’s mansion. At one end of the lane, a passageway led to other lanes through which I could reach my own home. On either side of her dwelling, a few neighbours sat alfresco in front of their wooden shop-fronts, but most had turned off their lights and gone to bed, though it wasn’t even nine. The lone shop of a Chinese silversmith at one end of the row was ablaze with lights, and a street seller of cheap stew had set up her wares in front of it.

I gazed left and right as I stood behind Hyacinth, and held her textbooks while she produced a bunch of keys on a chain of coins fastened to her waist and selected one. As she busied herself with key and lock to open her shop-front, she offered the very picture of loneliness. I was more and more taken by her. It was as though she had been left behind in a deserted place – a solitary soul badly in need of a friend. ‘Hyacinth, I’ll be your best friend in every way till my dying day,’ I vowed in my heart as I stood behind her.

She undid the hasp and opened one of the panels. Her body stood out against the dark opening as she turned to receive her books from me.

‘Go back now, Jan – it’s getting late,’ she whispered when she saw me standing still. I nodded and sighed, then a thrill ran through me: I had caught a whiff of her natural scent, like the sweet fragrance of saiyut* flowers that drifted by on some mornings, but hers was more enthralling even though it was fainter.

I cursed inwardly when I remembered that the gate of my com­pound closed at nine. There was little time left and all of it suddenly so precious I intended to fully enjoy every second of it.

‘Do you always live alone at night like this?’ I had wanted to ask her this ever since we had reached her door.

She nodded. ‘Every night. Pa usually comes back around eleven.’

‘Eleven… Hey – what was that you said? Who did you say comes back around eleven?’ I grabbed her arm without meaning to, and promptly released it.

‘Pa – Pa does.’

‘Wait.’ I tried to contain my excitement. ‘Pray tell me who Pa is and how he’s related to you.’

She gave a short laugh and answered: ‘Who else? My father, of course!’

She had spoken softly but all of her words resonated in my head. I thought of Master Khajorn. I thought of Mrs Bunlueang. I thought of His Lordship. Then I burst out laughing. Hyacinth looked so puzzled that I hastened to explain: ‘No, no, I’m not laughing at you. You’ve just given me a tremendous piece of information, about the word ‘Pa’, I mean.’ I felt suddenly buoyed beyond words and on the strength of this jolly mood decided to do what I had refrained from doing until then. ‘Your Pa won’t be back before eleven so there’s plenty of time left,’ I told her breathlessly. ‘Don’t go to bed yet, Hyacinth, I’ll come back to keep you company.’

Whether she made to protest or thank me, I knew not as, having no time to wait for her reaction, I had darted away.

When I reached my house, I went to Khein’s room, but he wasn’t there. I went up to my room to drop my textbooks, came down and paced in front of the house for a while. Khein was probably still helping his mother in the kitchen or in her quarters. I strayed towards the new house and saw that the ground floor was ablaze with lights, which probably meant His Lordship was still talking with Mrs Bunlueang after dinner and he wouldn’t be wandering in some other direction tonight. It was a good omen for the plan I had in mind. I sneaked away from the area and headed for the main house. I found Aunt Waht sitting on the porch rolling wax into candles. She turned to greet me with a smile when I sat down next to her. Lately, I scarcely visited the place at all. I an­swered her greeting with a few words then sat there, quietly watching her making candles. She kept throwing puzzled glances at me and after perhaps the eighth, I let out: ‘So, Master Khajorn is also Father’s son, isn’t he, Auntie?’ It was what I had been mulling over in a nutshell.

Aunt Waht’s hands didn’t stop what they were doing. After a moment, she asked matter-of-factly: ‘Why do you ask if you already know?’

That meant she knew, as probably did everyone else in the compound. I must have been the only one kept in the dark.

‘For nothing. I just learned about it, so it makes me wonder.’ Having answered her question, I went fishing for more inform­ation: ‘Is Master Khajorn also a Witsanan?’

She nodded.

I also nodded. ‘Then, Mrs Bunlueang was his wife before – before my mother.’

She showed no reaction to this deduction of mine.

‘The confounded sod,’ I said levelly as if complaining about the weather, and got up to leave.

‘Wait, Jan.’ Aunt Waht stopped what she was doing and turned to me. ‘Your father had a good reason to remarry with your mother.’

I smiled with heartfelt disdain. ‘Don’t I know that, Auntie! The more I know, the more I hate him – but then what does it matter? Don’t worry about it, Auntie.’

‘Wait…’ she called out again. She looked at me rather uneasily. ‘You said you know. What is it you know? How much have you been told and by whom?’

I went back and knelt down in front of her and told her, out of the greatest love and respect I had for her: ‘I figured out by myself that he isn’t my real father. To know this much is enough for me. More than enough. I don’t need to know more than that.’

Aunt Waht looked somewhat stunned. She extended her hand and put it on my shoulder and expressed her concern for me: ‘Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? Suppose what you think you know isn’t true?’

I shot back: ‘If he’s my real father, I’m prepared to go to hell.’ She was taken aback. I thought I knew what her predicament was, so I broached the topic for the first time in years: ‘When – Auntie, when will I be told the truth about my birth?’

She shook her head and stammered: ‘No – not yet, Jan. You – you aren’t old enough yet.’

I nodded in assent and when I saw she had nothing to add, I stood up and left.

I had to wait another two years before I was told what I wanted to know about my origins.

After leaving Aunt Waht, I went straight to the usual place where I climbed over the wall and went to see Hyacinth. Electric light shone out of her room through the slightly open door. She wasn’t asleep and I believe she was happy I was back, but she worried all the same that her father would return and find us together. I was somewhat uneasy about this as well, although there was really no reason for us to feel like this since we didn’t intend to do anything objectionable. Maybe we were overly worried because we were aware that our behaviour wasn’t quite proper. In all sincerity, I undertook to pacify her by promising her I wouldn’t stay too long to put her at risk. From then on, we sat together with a happiness nothing could compare to. We chatted heart to heart as she did needlework and I revelled in the bliss of observing her at close quarters for the first time, while learning many things about her at the same time.

She, too, was motherless, and she had lived alone with her father for a long time. The two of them had moved from a province in the South over a year ago. In the daytime, she went to Beinjamarar­char­lai School. Her father worked in an icehouse near the Lower Steel Bridge, and he volunteered to work overtime at night to increase his income. I was curious to know why she had this strangest name in the world of Hyacinth and what it meant but didn’t dare to ask, just as I didn’t dare to ask her which language the word ‘Pa’ came from – Burmese? Mon? Javanese? Malay? – because it might be trespassing on racial susceptibility and I didn’t see anything wrong in her being of another race anyway. She was my darling Hyacinth, and this, to me, was more than enough.

We had completely forgotten about our first worry until – oh my God! Who was this who had just stepped in and stood looming in the entrance? The large tall figure was clad in white cloth like some sort of uniform. He had close-cropped curly hair, a large, square, bony face whose outstanding feature was the eyes, large, shiny, commanding. I couldn’t quite figure out the colour of his skin, but it looked to me as dark as a black plum.

I suddenly realised from her father’s appearance what Hya­cinth’s race was – Indian. As to whether she was Malay or Thai Muslim*, I had no idea and anyway wasn’t interested in finding out any longer. That she was my Hyacinth was more than enough for me.

She stood up and introduced me to her father as a friend from school that lived nearby. She explained I kept her company because I had noticed she stayed home alone at night. She was calm, polite and amazingly natural, and it helped to quickly dispel my own anxiety. I added to her introduction by stating who I was, who my parents were and where I lived. I did so fully aware that nothing in my real status allowed me to make such claims, but I wanted him to feel some restraint in case he meant to scold or punish his daughter for staying alone with me until so late at night. He had a most frightening physique, so I felt very worried for her. But it seemed he wasn’t in the least interested. He um-ed and ah-ed in his throat a couple of times then disappeared behind the flowery curtain that partitioned the room. Smiling and nodding, Hyacinth signalled me to leave. I went away feeling like in the current hit song, that I had ‘left my heart in Hyacinth’s room’.

That night, I had erratic dreams, because my mood veered between elation and anxiety, and it seemed like an eternity by the time the evening of the next day came. I went to wait for her at school since early in the afternoon and as soon as she finally made her appearance, my heart brimmed with joy and radiated with warmth like a sparkling diamond. She was neither bruised nor distraught. Her father had only said that if she really needed me to keep her company, she should tell me to come in the daytime on the days when we had no class; she shouldn’t have me staying till late at night, as it looked unbecoming. Just this much gratified me greatly. It meant that his father trusted me as a friend of his daughter, and from then on I burrowed myself in Hyacinth’s room from dawn to dusk almost every Sunday as well as every other holiday. And on the nights when I couldn’t stand pining for her at home, I made Khein jump over the wall and keep watch for her father at the entrance of the lane, just in case he came back earlier than usual. I know it was a lousy assignment but I was forced to demand this sacrifice from him. Khein, however, wasn’t long in finding his own entertainment out of this boring duty. He flirted with the vendor of Thai sweetmeat at the entrance of the lane whenever he felt lonely, even though she was almost one and a half times older than him. Khein Krathingthong was always lucky with women wherever he was.

But then, one night, he and I had a misunderstanding which came close to a falling out between us for the first time.

That night, it wasn’t yet ten o’clock when I heard him whistle the signal on which we had agreed. I hurriedly said goodnight to Hyacinth, left her and made to run. But he laughed at me as he grasped my arm. I flew into a rage at the thought that he had made this up to make fun of me, but the truth was far much worse: he had called me out to open negotiations with me!

‘I’ve waited and waited but I’ve never heard you offer this pretty lass to me. Aren’t we friends sharing everything? Or do you intend to wait till she’s old and grey?’ That’s the way he went about it. I felt like scalding water was boiling in my chest and thrusting right up my throat. I made a deliberate effort to swallow to push it down with the fleeting thought that ‘The fellow’s dreadfully mis­taken’, followed by a dozen foul expletives. I began to lift my clenched fist, intending to punch him lightly on the upper arm to teach him a friendly lesson, but in the same split second my pent-up anger took over and my fist smashed into the upper part of his chest instead. He staggered for a few steps and as soon as he recovered his balance lunged at me ready to strike back, but when he saw that I stood still, arms loose, he dropped his fists, feeling furious with himself. He asked me indignantly: ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’

I swore and told him: ‘Let’s talk about it at home.’

I walked away and he followed me, shaking his head in worry.

It turned out to be a more difficult exercise than to explain to a child in a roundabout way how human beings reproduce them­selves. In the poor light of the wick lamp in Khein’s room, I tried to make him see how different Hyacinth was from the other girls with whom we both had had affairs. Don’t you ever talk to him about love and worship: it’d only confuse him and he’d just stop listening, and when he refused to listen, it was more hopeless than watering a stump to try to make it grow, because not only would he not stay still but he’d also react impetuously and the whole thing might end up in bloodshed – not that he’d kill me, but I might kill him.

Weary of his inability to see differences between women in this world, I tried a new tack to make him understand: ‘I love Hyacinth and I’d like her to become my wife. If it were you, would you want to share your wife with anyone?’

‘What kind of crazy talk is that?’ He laughed grandly. ‘Long before it’s time for you to take a wife, you’ll be bored to tears with the dame.’

I cursed him harshly out of genuine outrage then asked him to make himself clear.

‘You’re still very young and it’ll be another ten or fifteen years before you get married. If you sleep with the same girl for ten or fifteen years, do you think you’ll still want to make her your wife?’

More expletives came out of my mouth. I enjoined him to get it into his thick skull that I had never slept with her and to get his evil misconceptions out of his sick mind once and for all. He didn’t believe me and acted as if he was truly disappointed that I tried to deceive such a close friend as he. I had to swear over and over again that what I said was true until he relented and his exasperation gradually subsided. He was still for a while, then shook his head and gazed at me until he finally decided to speak.

‘What you think and intend to do sounds fine, but it’s a damn foolish notion all the same. If you don’t grab your opportunities, I’ll bet by then she’ll have gone to the dogs.’

The expression he used was nauseating, especially as it referred to the person I loved, but I didn’t have the heart to take offence. ‘Perhaps so. Maybe by then we won’t be husband and wife, who knows.’ I, too, was beginning to feel dejected. ‘Anyway, I think a man should have one woman in his life to love and respect so that it makes him feel good all round.’

‘Nonsense,’ he said, forthright as ever. ‘To think about it and not do it – what’s the good of that?’

‘Why?’ I asked him in earnest. ‘Isn’t it possible for men to think of a woman in a nice way instead of only wanting to sleep with her?’

‘Well, why not, if you’re that thick?’

‘Why?’ I went on earnestly. ‘Why can’t we think of a woman in a nice way, like we used to think of our mother?’

‘Master Jan.’ He seldom called me this. He was looking deep into my eyes. ‘What you just said sounds to me like a slur on my mum.’ My mouth fell and my eyes widened before he went on: ‘Me, I can’t help thinking about sleeping with women, and come to that, my mum sleeps with His Master as well.’

I sighed deeply. I was in for more explanations. I put my arm around his shoulders and said: ‘We don’t always make love just for fun, you know. Sometimes, there are other purposes, and valid ones too. Think about it. Think about our parents who gave us life, for example.’

I don’t mind if you think I was being too wise for my age. I was born a brooding child and had grown up amid these kinds of stories all along.

Khein now acted as if he had a headache. He sighed, moved out of my embrace and got up. ‘Here we are talking about this pretty girl and you manage to bring our parents into it. I must hand it to you.’ He gave a short laugh and went on talking with laughter in his voice: ‘All right, I’ll let you have this one. I no longer want you to share her with me. But she must be the only one, you promise? Don’t let there be others like her, okay?’

I had no time to argue, so I nodded in assent, though I didn’t have to think hard to figure out that the agreement wouldn’t last. You see, it was like playing track and field together. For now, we were involved in a relay race, so we had to share the same baton, but when I’d start the sack race, I doubted he’d want to share my sack.

 

 

6 Δ

 

Just then, there was a knock on the door, which Khein had closed, and we heard a feminine voice calling him in a whisper. In the same instant, dextrous and swift, he had blown out the lamp. ‘Do you have a date?’ I whispered to him.

‘That’s Waen, and no I don’t, but with this girl, there’s no need for dates.’ From his tone, I fancied I could see him grinning in the dark. Then he offered: ‘Stay here. We’ll do it together, or I’ll let you have her first.’

Knowing who she was and hearing what he was suggesting, I felt all my hair stand on end. ‘No thanks, but suit yourself,’ I said and quietly exited through the window and went back to my room upstairs.

Waen was one of the girls under His Lordship’s patronage, actually one of the very first. Now she was about sixteen but was skilled in the game way beyond her years. I remember how a few months earlier I had climbed the wall back home at about eleven one night and passed Khein’s room, which was totally dark. I stopped and knocked on the door as usual to find out if he was in. The two of us had agreed on a series of signals involving light and darkness in Khein’s room. If the light was on, it meant he hadn’t gone to bed yet; if I wanted to talk to him, I could just open the door and walk in. If the room was dark, there were two or three possibilities. If I wanted to know what he was up to, I had to knock three times and then two. If he didn’t answer, it meant he was asleep, and if he didn’t sleep and was in the mood for talking, he’d get up and open the door for me, but if he coughed or cleared his throat, it meant he was busy doing what we jokingly referred to as ‘bliss building’.

That night, he got up, opened the door and let me in but showed no sign of lighting the lamp. I was struck by his unusual behaviour and on the spur of the moment slid my hand under his mosquito net, only to palm warm naked flesh giving out muffled giggles. That’s when Khein did me the honour of letting me take the floor with Waen for the first time while he went to wait outside. Wasn’t I thrilled! Once done, I opened the door, intending to give him well-deserved thanks, but instead I almost burst out at him in anger at the sight of three or four boys who were waiting just outside. As I stood flushed in the doorframe in full view of these boys, I was so embarrassed I almost felt they could see me as clearly as in plain daylight. I grabbed Khein by the throat and dragged him under the shorea tree near the house to berate him in private. At that moment, I felt like killing him seven times over, but he deftly found enticing arguments to wriggle out of trouble. ‘Don’t you know that’s the way she likes it? There’s no limits for her. So why not be broad­minded about it? This way, these kids will respect us even more.’ That’s what he said. I felt as if I had fallen head over heels from the sky into a sewer and was left at once nauseated and eager to shed my skin.

 I was angry with him for days. There was no way for him to understand my annoyance. He didn’t even know that the very idea that only he and I knew he had introduced me to the game em­bar­rassed me for days when I was in his presence.

I seem to have alluded to this episode earlier on, so let me dwell on it at length now, since it marked the opening up of my life to the pleasures of biting into raw lust at the tender age of fifteen. By the time I was seventeen, merely two years later, I had become so proficient in this field that I can confidently state I was more expert than any older young man such as Master Khajorn or even Khein Krathingthong himself.

As you know, Khein and I became close to each other very quickly. A few nights after I helped him turn the junk closet into a room for himself, he began to tell me about the extensive sexual goings-on he had known in his hometown, not just his own but those of his friends and neighbours, and even folk tales. How many of them were true I had no idea, but they were all new and strange to my ears and so exciting that I listened to them with bated breath. And when I retold them to my friends at school, I had no trouble grabbing the title of champion in dirty story telling from Bai of Mill Landing, even though the fellow was much older than me. Khein hadn’t been in the house for two months before he began to de­monstrate his practical skills to me with Eeat, his mother’s helper in the kitchen. The show was exciting enough, but it made me uneasy because Eeat had had a natural child with the master of the house who was my playmate. But it was like a cloudburst – sudden, heavy and soon over – a mere experiment. A month later, he managed to lure Miss Kaeo’s favourite nanny into his room. I thought she was too much for him to handle, so cautioned him against her, because everything closely related to Miss Kaeo was risky as it was bound to lead to trouble sooner or later. But he was so fond of Saisoi he wouldn’t give her up, and it turned out Saisoi was the fuse that took two smouldering years to reach the powder keg. The resulting explosion broke up my life so effectively that it was ‘like the work of the devil’, as popular fiction used to say in those days.

Not only did Khein pay no attention to my lengthy warnings, but he prompted me, ever so glibly, to join him in igniting the fuse. He began by asking me whether I had ever tasted the pleasures of sexual intercourse other than in my dreams. Though I knew he already knew, I answered in such a guarded way as he could figure out by himself that, well, no, not yet. Making it clear he had received a negative answer, he undertook to show his mastery: ‘Then, it’s time for you to do so. I’ll find you a good teacher to coach you till ding-dong come.’ He made the story more exciting by keeping mum about the identity of the teacher in question. For my part, I played along by pretending to be eager to know. He was very pleased to seem to be torturing me, though he knew I already knew.

Then the right opportunity came one night when Khein arranged a two-on-one date with Saisoi without telling her. Promis­cuous as she was, Saisoi wasn’t as perverse as Waen, whom the boys in the compound had nicknamed ‘Miss Hole in one’. When she ambled into Khein’s dark room, I was standing in the darkest corner, across from the door, and went on standing there as Khein began to negotiate with her.

‘Saisoi, I need your help.’

‘Can’t it wait?’ she complained as she unselfconsciously took off her blouse out of habit.

‘Let’s talk now because I need your help right away.’

‘My help? At this time of night?’ There was irritation in her voice. I heard a silver belt drop to the wooden floor and all of a sudden felt my heart racing so fast I became alarmed it would abort tonight’s plan. But it did no such thing.

Actually, the trepidation of my heart travelled all the way down to the soles of my feet and my alarm shifted to the possibility that the wooden floor would begin to shake as well. For this reason, I wasn’t in the mood to listen to the latter part of the conversation, though I did catch a snatch of Saisoi’s protestation: ‘…but he’s just a kid!’ and it was this that made the valiant blood of a well-bred gent of recent vintage boil over, clearing instantly the chilling-hot fever­ish fear of a moment ago. I was now ready and eager to leap belly first into the gamely trough. Right then I heard Khein slap­ping and thrashing the girl in a way no budding gent could coun­tenance. I stepped out and yelled at him: ‘Why the hell are you beating her up?’

Saisoi, who lay on Khein’s musty bed sheet, ejaculated in fright something like ‘oh!’ and ‘ouch!’ combined and instantly flipped her body to face the wall.

‘Everything’s fine, Master. You can do as you please now,’ he said formally, then went outside and closed the door behind him.

Saisoi still lay on her side facing the wall. Her naked body looked dead white in the dark. Master Jan – a new face in the ring of the most ancient contest on earth – went to sit by the edge of the bed – a sheet spread over a mat on a low rattan platform. And how was he feeling now? Calm, determined and fairly excited. In tones even hoarser than his already breaking pubescent voice, he told the girl’s long back enticingly stretched under the cheap mosquito net perpetually hung at four corners and now rolled up: ‘I say, Saisoi, if you don’t want to, well…’ And then stopped because the blurred body turned to lie flat on its back while both hands went up to cover the eyes. The mouth, which was as naked as the rest of her, began to urge in impatient tones: ‘What are you waiting for, Master Jan? Anyway, I…’ She didn’t finish, but I understood all that she meant to say. Saisoi wanted to be quickly done with me and hurry back to Khein. She looked down on me as a mere sapling while lusting for Khein’s sturdy timber. If it were any other kind of game, I’d have quit, turned on my heels and left the room out of pride, but this was nothing if not a challenging opportunity I had long coveted. I decided to pay myself back in kisses, only in those areas that could be construed as allowed, and this made me feel relaxed enough to start digging for the hidden treasure promised by the clues waiting in front of me.

Yes, Saisoi was like clues helping me search for a hidden treasure, but only grudgingly so. That is to say, I did jump and have fun in her trough – a trough that was full of sludge. It was fun in the sense that it was outlandish, something I had never known before. When compared to what I had expected, however, it was so-so. The spice was in my own excitement rather than in anything else. After that first dive, I sought Saisoi’s science a couple more times to hone my skills then desisted, because I felt competent enough to hold my own among the women young and old who were in plentiful supply within the walls of our compound. Since His Lord­ship had already suffused the atmosphere with the fishy smell of lewdness, it wasn’t difficult for me to follow in his wake, but I stuck to one imperative rule, which was to never ever touch any of the illegitimate daughters of the person known as my father. As Aunt Waht had said – what if what I thought I knew turned out to be wrong? I was scared of sin in such quarters, and whenever I think about it now, I can’t help but feel sorry.

Khein’s room was the place where the two of us and other boys in the compound used to reach heaven. We had made it a rule to share equally and considered it good manners to do so. We con­sidered it good manners also to insist on the sharing; whether there was anything to receive was another matter altogether. There were even some adult couples who came to ask us to let them use the place, and in such cases the sharing was by way of peeping at them without their knowledge.

Whenever I recall Khein and his bed, I think of a fat pig wallowing in filth – perfectly happy by the look of it, as if its body were only skin-deep. No matter how deep it wallows in it, there’s no way the filth can reach its real self, which is a tiny dot buried deep inside. Khein always slept soundly on his couch soiled by the evidence of his own promiscuity.

 

 

7 Δ

 

In my haste to tell the tale, I’ve rashly overlooked the impor­tance of one small yet meaningful titbit, so allow me to go back a little. As I said, the fun I had after I jumped into Saisoi’s slushy trough was a bit of a letdown compared to what I used to picture in my mind. Actually, there was another reason for it besides carnal enjoyment. While I bobbed and dived in tune to my newfound craving, a dark bubble seemed to be striving to come up from the bottom of my mind. It was in fact a long-forsaken sediment of memory shaken loose by the swirling force of the wave of emotion, which was at once turbulent and turbid. The blurred picture in the dirty light that flashed at the back of my skull gradually focused until it assumed a tangible shape as if projected on the inside of the occipital bone – that of Aunt Waht using both hands to cover her face, her body trembling below gleaming eyes that were staring at me. That picture now superimposed itself on the one I was dimly seeing on the screen of darkness in front of me – that of Saisoi using both hands to cover her eyes as she lay beneath me. And this is when I suddenly realised that that was what the adults had been doing before my very eyes! How wonderfully weird indeed! And now my turn had come? Hooray! Long live the spreading of know­ledge!

From there, I idly asked myself: ‘If I knew someone was peeping right now, would I keep at it? No way! And if someone came and sat down to watch? Absolutely not! What if it were my parents? You must be crazy! Then how can one do it deliberately while one’s own son’s watching? Hence, he can’t possibly be my father!’

It was thanks to this almost objective test that I had finally found the answer to the question that had burdened my mind for so long.

Reflections of this kind went on dimly behind my drunken excitement and threatened to scatter my current mood, and I was about to lose heart. Fortunately, I had something to buoy me up right away – something that had often come in handy for me and could take over automatically. What else but the conspicuous figure of Mrs Bunlueang, the mistress of my perennial dreams.

How utterly volatile the primal instinct was, that it only perked up thanks to my trump card? It had just shot a new bud but, having no real root, how could it reach full bloom?

Perhaps because my first experience was held in such inauspi­cious conditions, none of the games I pursued over the next couple of years brought me much satisfaction. No, it wasn’t a question of omen at all: it was merely that I had gone ahead half-cocked. I was too much of a greenhorn then, too much of a weakling for such a sky-high undertaking. I needed time to put on brawn and build through good care till I was fully grown.

And fully grown I was by the age of seventeen, getting manlier by the day. It was then I reached the triumphal arch of sexual bliss for the first time in life and went through it with a man’s pride tinged with delight and dignity.

It was also at the age of seventeen that Mr Jan Witsanan’s life faced a violent, multi-layered crisis which left him penniless. No – worse than penniless: I lost everything, including my own self, even though I, having been born, was still alive somehow.

My life had had an erratic course ever since its inception. Though only seventeen, I had gone through a lot. Let’s have a quick rundown: I was born in the matrix of death, had witnessed something at an inappropriate age (my first memory coming too early), learned things at an age I wasn’t supposed to (being too precocious), acted before my time (going half-cocked), and what you will learn next is that at seventeen I reached the turning point traditionally attributed to the age of twenty-five – an age of drastic change and major unforeseen events, according to ancient wisdom, which held it to be the most important transition period in the life of man. And if you lend credence to such an old belief, then you’ll agree that my life had reached such a decisive turning point truly and cruelly seven or eight years ahead of time.

 

 

The devastating explosion of the time bomb I’ve already mentioned was triggered by Khein and Saisoi’s long ordained if transitory pairing off. The burning of the fuse took place in two separate stages before the explosion blew my life to smithereens at the age of seventeen.

The first stage.

Let’s say that it was both usual and unusual for Khein and Saisoi to be engaged in a long-term affair. Saisoi was well aware that Khein never stopped enjoying his favourite hobby, regularly brought his conquests to his filthy bed sheet and was in the habit of climbing over the wall to go gallivanting in the vicinity. As for Khein, don’t worry, he knew better and more thoroughly than anyone how long Saisoi had been serviced by His Master and to what extent, and he was sure as well that, besides His Master and himself, Saisoi couldn’t help making herself of use to a number of men both inside and outside of the compound on a casual basis. Her random part­ners in the compound were mostly casual labourers who took care of the gardens, supplied water or chopped firewood, and who never stayed for very long. Ironically, the young lady occasionally took her extras to build bliss in Khein’s room. How could Khein not know, since he had informants everywhere who took turns sharing favours in his lair? There was never any display of jealousy between the two of them, though, and they managed to keep their union as fresh as if they were newly wed. In the eyes of the members of the bliss club on the ground floor of my small house, Khein and Saisoi were perfectly matched both in latitude and in longitude.

This wasn’t surprising if you knew Khein and Saisoi from every angle as I did. Khein was above average in everything related to sex. I say this in comparison to myself. The special attention I’ve always paid to these matters made me afraid at first that my own level was much higher than that of the common man, but after I took a close look at my friend Khein’s sex life, I felt relieved at finding myself to be very much in the norm. Not only wasn’t I below par, but I was rather above, yet still maintained a fair average. I was someone who ate whenever there was something to eat but wasn’t worried when there wasn’t. Besides, I had regular opportunities to purify my mind whenever I found myself alone with Hyacinth. When I was with her, I never thought of sweet or spicy side dishes; my heart was so pure I could have sat down and written reams of poetry. For Khein and Saisoi, though, it wasn’t like that. (I’m only telling the truth; don’t accuse me of belittling my friends.) There is more to releasing passion than releasing matter, and more to savouring than consuming. It’s like breathing, which can’t be done without fresh air. Show some sympathy. Who wants to die before time? This young couple had most suitable table manners. When they got used to eating together to the point that their food lost its fine flavour, they sought to change the atmosphere in order to rekindle their appetite. And it was I, their close common friend, whom they chose as instrument of change eventually. They both dropped clear hints that they wanted me to be the third person in their private abode, and not only did I have no objection, since I understood their motivations, but I rather liked being in that kind of at­mosphere. So they found Master Jan sitting reading a book or doing homework or just hanging around while they were at it, but I only joined in the atmosphere, not in the activity itself. As I told you before, I was very shy in these matters. The closest I came to joining in was in dragging a chair and sitting down next to them to study the anatomy of the Gemini configuration, which I hold to be an art as natural as nude sculpture or a representation of Hanuman and the siren*.

You certainly remember that Saisoi was Miss Kaeo’s favourite nanny. Miss Kaeo was so utterly crazy about her I really wondered if she wasn’t under a spell of the same kind as the one my dear Mali had put on me when I was a child. It was only a suspicion, mind you. Even if I had known the truth, I could have done nothing about it. Miss Kaeo’s wishes were like orders nobody dared to infringe upon, not even her own mother, because they were firmly backed by her father, His Lordship. Furthermore, Miss Kaeo, at the age of ten or eleven, was already a child of many tricks, who got her way in everything if she really put her mind to it.

All the time Khein and Saisoi were enjoying themselves in their hideaway, Miss Kaeo was keeping her eyes on them from a distance, her heart burning with resentment. She knew as everybody knew what was going on between Saisoi and her father, and she also knew as everybody knew that more of the same was going on be­tween her and Khein. She realised how damning the latter relation­­ship would be if news of it reached her father’s ear. If she felt like it, just a flicker of her little finger and he would know all about it. Then, both Saisoi and Khein would be thrown out of the compound. But she still needed Saisoi, so it was impossible for her to do so, and in order to keep Saisoi, she had to keep Khein as well. This was a thorn in her flesh. She hated Khein and resented him for daring to take Saisoi away from her, and hers looked like the spite of an envious child, but in fact – damn it! I came to realise later that it was the slow incubation of full-blown jealousy. Do you understand what I’m saying? The jealousy arising from the bounds of love tying one to a person of the same sex. True, it was still in the early stages, but whatever found its way into the heart of a child like Miss Kaeo and brooded there came to hatch in no time. And believe me, though she couldn’t get rid of Khein then, she never gave up the idea, but merely bided her time.

While she brooded and waited, however, something she’d never have thought possible happened: Saisoi became pregnant.

Women getting pregnant without husbands of their own was a natural occurrence that had been taken for granted in the com­pound for a very long time, but this particular pregnancy was so odd that we, members of the bliss club, made it a topic of deli­beration among ourselves. Saisoi was an old hand at the game, and almost every time she tried for a new flavour besides His Lordship and Khein we were aware of it. She had never shown any sign of getting pregnant, however, and all of us had come to forget that women behaving like her could indeed get in the family way. So, whose trick was it? Who was the father? We chewed the fat with great relish. Khein, who was the first concerned, looked more perplexed than anyone else. The only thing he was sure of was that it wasn’t his handiwork. After he thought it over for a while, he expostulated, ‘I’m sure Hao Kuang did it!’ He was referring to Kuang, a Chinese senior bachelor who owned a goods store in the vicinity. It sold liquor, medicine, coffee, shrimp paste, fish sauce as well as cheap clothes and cosmetics; even second-hand motor­cycles were on sale there. ‘I arranged it for him myself,’ he confessed, though no one had asked him anything. ‘I did it because there’s so much we want from his store. Just lost a little in exchange for all those goodies of his. If that one hadn’t gotten herself knock­ed up, I reckon he’d have gone bankrupt pretty soon. No way – I think I’d better let him know.’ And when he was back, he was all smiles as he reported, ‘That fellow Hao Kuang is delighted. He says he’s ready to accept the child, but only if it’s a boy.’

As for His Lordship, the owner of the compound, he went about thinking up a name and surname for the child without a fuss, out of broad-mindedness or stupidity I can’t say, so bare is the thread that separates the two conditions.

But then, after being a source of puzzlement, Saisoi’s pregnancy finally turned into big news. At first, when she learned that Saisoi was pregnant, Miss Kaeo showed no reaction at all, but as months went by, it seemed she could no longer stand to see her favourite nanny’s belly growing bigger by the day. She couldn’t bear to witness the awkward looks of pregnancy, and her former fondness turned into dire hatred. Finally, she went about flicking her little finger by getting her father to throw Saisoi, who was six months pregnant, out of the compound forever. As Saisoi had no relatives, His Lordship took her to stay at a friend’s house temporarily. Later, after some search, Khein found out where she lived and paid her occasional visits, out of sympathy or merely out of curiosity I don’t know. And then one day he came to us, smiling widely as if he had a trick up his sleeve, and reported, ‘Saisoi has given birth. Hao Kuang’s the father, no doubt about it.’ And when we showed our curiosity – ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’ – he put up a tantalising smile for a while and then answered: ‘He looks real Chinese.’ I believe all of us felt great then, because if Kuang the Chinese was true to his word, the child would have someone to depend on. We pressed Khein to get on with the rest of the story, and it turned out it was even better than we had expected: Kuang had agreed to take care of both mother and child. Things went on very smoothly. There was no ceremony, except that Kuang asked Aunt Waht to negotiate with His Lordship, who was Saisoi’s guardian. When everything was settled, Saisoi took her child and clothes to go and live with Kuang at his store. Though we all agreed Kuang had put himself in no end of trouble by accepting a woman like Saisoi as his wife, we were all pleased that mother and child had found such a secure place to rely on.

Not very long afterward, Kuang took his child and wife to live at a new store in Lart Krabang, south of Bangkok. The reason? Strictly between us, we came to the conclusion that Kuang prob­ably couldn’t stand Khein’s indiscriminate ‘squeeze’, as it’s called these days.

Maybe some of you are wondering why, having gotten rid of Saisoi, Miss Kaeo didn’t by the same token get Khein expelled as she had long meant to. Well, whether you wonder about it or not, I’d like to tell you that when she had it in for someone, she wasn’t going to forget or forgive for the rest of her life. She didn’t seize the opportunity then because she intended to take her revenge more thoroughly later.

And for this very reason, the devastating explosion had to wait for another period, which lasted about one year.

 

 

8 Δ

 

The last stage.

When I was a little over sixteen, His Lordship was about forty-seven and Aunt Waht around thirty-five. As for Mrs Bunlueang, she was two to three years older than Aunt Waht. I don’t know how old Master Khajorn was; I only remember that he had almost finished secondary school and intended to enter the police aca­demy. For Miss Kaeo’s age, just subtract five years from my own. If I’m totalling up everyone’s age, it’s to prepare you before we reach the major turning point in Jan Darra’s life, which isn’t far ahead.

A man of His Lordship’s age can be considered middle-aged, but to call such a man old would be excessive. In His Lordship’s case, however, it wasn’t. Though he had never fallen sick like most people, his health had clearly deteriorated. The powerful lust that had long driven him to morbid passion had drained his body of all liquids and left him dry before his time. He had the kind of fair skin which in the old days was thought to be the prerogative of the genteel, but time had given it the dull, pale-yellow shade of excellent straw paper. In case you can’t visualise the colour of such first-grade toilet paper of yore or have never seen it, I’ll try to offer you another comparison. I hope you’ve seen well-formed foetuses or prematurely born babies kept in jars full of chemical liquids over a long period of time. Well, his skin was exactly like theirs and looked exceedingly dull. The lust in which he fermented had clearly bled on his skin. His hair also had discoloured prematurely. Instead of turning grey as with most people, it had gone yellowish with brown touches. It had thinned and he wore it combed flat across the top of his head. His eyebrows were of the same colour as his hair. Even his brown eyes seemed to have turned somewhat yellow. Only his well-groomed moustache was still dark. Though his hair was receding, his facial features were still as well chiselled as in his youth, and his tall and well-turned figure looked as smart and spry as ever. As for his vital energy, among those not directly involved in his private life only Khein and I realised how much it had dwindled. We deduced this from the fact that without even trying we found a growing number of opportunities to help quench the thirst of his partners of all age groups. Later, I heard a theory according to which men can be compared to guns: all of us are equally endowed at birth with five thousand bullets; the more profligate we are, the faster they disappear, and when they’re all used up there’s no supplying unit anywhere in the world that can replenish our stock, be it through extracts of monkey glands or hormones of any brand. If such a theory is true, then at forty-seven His Lordship’s bullet chamber must have been close to empty. The various targets on which he used to practise were left vacant and forlorn. Those who didn’t worry about the interruption would take advantage of their enforced leisure to take a rest, but those who did would grow restive, and this presented the members of our club with the opportunity of welcoming growing numbers of them, old faces as well as new.

His Lordship’s declining health later made me understand one truth, which is that lust tempts all men to feed on their own flesh and blood.

As for the new house – Mrs Bunlueang’s house – seen from outside at a distance, nothing seemed to have changed. His Lordship still went there for dinner twice a week. There was a small, incremental change in that lately Miss Kaeo joined the dinner table every Saturday evening. The four members of the various branches of the Witsanan family – His Lordship, Mrs Bunlueang, Master Khajorn and Miss Kaeo – sharing the same table must have formed a heart-warming picture not a little pleasing to the eye. And the atmosphere would no doubt have been warmer to the point of suffocation had the fifth member of the Witsanan family been there as well! This sarcastic thought crossed my mind unbidden and after lingering there for about four seconds, produced a flash which started a new train of thoughts in the head of the fifth member of the Witsanan family.

You already know how much interest I took in the attractive figure of Mrs Bunlueang. When it turned out that His Lordship’s lapses allowed me to take over several rooms in the outer wings of his heavenly palace, I became daring enough to entertain the thought of somehow flying my way into its inner sanctum. Formerly these were snatches of an illusory dream, but now that the germ of a plot had suddenly come to me, I became more daring. Even though the hope was futile, it was better than sitting stock still moping away.

I went to consult Khein about my idea.

Mrs Bunlueang’s house had no resident servant, only daytime servants from other houses in the compound, each with his or her own duties. The older ones were assigned to keep the upstairs rooms tidy, while the younger ones looked after the rooms down­stairs. A few servants took turns to handle these duties. Besides, there were a couple of children around to run small errands. Come evening, Mrs Bunlueang would find herself alone again, as was her wish. As for meals, the food was prepared under Aunt Waht’s close supervision in the main house, and it was Lamiat’s duty to bring it to the new house and take care of the service until the meal was over. For Saturday dinners, which were special occasions, a couple of children would come and give a hand to Lamiat. And it was one or another of these special meals that I intended to use to prepare my flight towards the inner sanctum.

Lamiat was also a girl under His Lordship’s tutelage. To ask for her cooperation was difficult because she wasn’t one of us. She was one of those disused targets who didn’t worry. She was quiet and well behaved – the hallmarks of Aunt Waht’s coaching – as well as neat and quite attractive. The trouble was that, apart from not playing with us, she made it clear she despised us.

Nevertheless, the obstacle wasn’t beyond Khein’s cunning to overcome. At first, he thought of using a magic potion he was familiar with to get rid of her. ‘How about givin’ her menstrual fever?’ he said jocularly, while looking dead serious. Whether or not he could have done it, I had to object right away. So, he sought less drastic solutions and finally found one. Phum, his mother, had supreme control over the kitchen and he was one of her important helpers. He took advantage of his own role and thorough know­ledge of kitchen proceedings to keep Lamiat tied up there until she was late in taking food to the new house. And it so happened that Master Jan had some business to discuss with Aunt Waht right then.

Normally, I liked to keep myself clean as Aunt Waht had taught me to, but that Saturday evening I made a special effort to be squeaky clean, and I looked unusually spruce as I carried a food tray into the new house, followed by a retinue of helpers.

When everyone saw who it was that was bringing the food, here are the reactions that followed. His Lordship glowered resentfully at me but found himself at a loss for words, which seldom happen­ed to him. Miss Kaeo looked at me the way a genteel little lady looks down on flunkies. Master Khajorn’s face registered mild surprise for the briefest of moments. Mrs Bunlueang was the only one who greeted me with a smile. ‘Well, well, how very kind of you to bring us the food,’ she remarked as she helped me place the food on the table to show her goodwill to a new servant. This increased my admiration for her so much that I was tempted to erase the pictures of her I had stored away in my mind, but another part of myself was even more eager to show my gratitude by providing her to the best of my ability with what I believed would gratify her most. Wasn’t it a sincere way of showing my good intentions towards her?

Indeed it was, believe me. This was the first time my fancies involving Mrs Bunlueang took a positive turn and became a clean, unadulterated sexual desire. My feelings of love and respect were like mixed solvents entering the main stream of lust that kept thrusting forward in me, and I shall never forget the new sense of accomplishment it gave me.

‘And where is Lamiat?’ His Lordship had just found something to say. ‘This is none of your f – (He checked himself in time and changed quickly to a gentler tone.) – er – none of your damn business.’

I stopped everything I was doing and turned to answer him, speaking clearly and with a politeness I’m sure I wouldn’t have shown had I been with him alone: ‘I do not know, Father. Aunt Waht was worried it was getting past mealtime, so she asked me to bring the food instead. I haven’t dirtied anything, now, have I?’

I had spoken the last sentence in an undertone only for Mrs Bunlueang to hear. She laughed gaily, then tried to cover up her reaction by addressing His Lordship. ‘Oh let him be, dear. Let him come here so we can get to know each other. After all, he’s like my own son – like a relative, isn’t he, dear? Right?’ ‘After all, he’s your own son, hence my relative, isn’t he, dear?’ is what she meant to say, I believe, but I couldn’t tell whether she was sincere or merely wanted to lead him on. I saw him sitting back stunned as if thunderstruck.

‘Thank you. I’ve been wanting to come for a long time,’ I whispered to her again, hardly moving my lips. She glanced at me with a smile, but didn’t answer.

Right then, Lamiat appeared, bringing more food and looking flustered, which gave His Lordship another chance to vent his anger. ‘Where the heck were you? You’re pretty worthless these days, you know.’

‘I was tied up with Mrs Phum in the kitchen, sir.’ Lamiat was shrewd enough to use Phum as her shield. His Lordship seemed to be left with nothing more to say, so he turned to bellow at me instead.

‘Your place isn’t here, so get out, you d – dumb boy.’ He had almost let slip the word ‘damn’. I wonder why he still bothered to suppress it since everyone around the house knew what he always called me.

At that very second, Mrs Bunlueang sent an electric discharge into the air. ‘Promise to come and see me again, so we can get better acquainted. I’m your aunt after all, I’ve been here so long already and yet I hardly know you, Jan.’

My aunt! Wow! How independent the woman was! She dared to claim me as a relative to the face of the lord and master of the premises, the man who most hated my guts, and by the same token she was showing her strong position in the house, at least on a par with him, because I saw him blanch in frustration – and so did she, because she added in as sweet a voice as she could muster to assuage his feelings, ‘I’m asking for your permission, dear. I think I can help you take care of him.’

His Lordship cut her short to free himself from the annoyance. ‘Whatever you want him to do, just order him about, B, but don’t bother taking care of that … brat!’ I think you’ll have no trouble finding a suitably stinging expletive to fill in the blank.

Mrs ‘B’ turned to give me a most friendly smile and said: ‘Well, you heard. Now you have one more aunt. So don’t stay away as you used to.’

I raised both hands to my forehead and bowed deeply to her out of genuine respect. ‘Thank you so much – Auntie. If it were only me, I’d come here every day.’ I uttered the last sentence as softly as I could while gazing at her expectantly. She gave me a puzzled look, smiled slightly and nodded imperceptibly. ‘You’re welcome – my nephew.’

From that day on, I gave up nearly all of my activities at the bliss club on the ground floor of the house where I lived. Usually, when I returned from school at night, if I didn’t stay with Hyacinth, I went straight back home to visit Mrs Bunlueang without even stop­ping at my house to drop off my textbooks. Our usual meeting place was her library, which was located on the ground floor at the back. She stayed up late and rose late as well. Almost every time, I found her sitting or reclining in that room reading a book. She was a compulsive reader, and what commanded respect from me was that she read in two languages, Thai and English. In fact, I had seen His Lordship reading foreign books since I was a child (I under­stand it was those rows of His Lordship’s foreign volumes that had prompted Aunt Waht to have me learn English almost as soon as I tackled the Thai alphabet.), but to see a woman avidly reading hefty tomes in English was a lot more fascinating. She read mostly exciting adventure stories like H Rider Haggard’s novels and mystery and suspense works like Edgar Wallace’s. Besides, she also read large numbers of gold-embossed hardcover books which I couldn’t grasp and which seemed to me to be kept for display more than anything else. The book which fascinated me most and which I wanted to read more than any other was The Cautious Amorist, by Norman Lindsay, the hottest erotic novel at the time. It interested me more than any other because it had riveting pen-and-ink drawings. Most of them showed a scantily clad heroine who some­times wore no clothes at all as her ship was wrecked and she found herself alone with three men on a desert island. I remember these illustrations well because they titillated me long before I could read the book or understand any of it. Unsurprisingly, though I couldn’t help being surprised when I picked up that very same book to have another look at it recently, I found it as dull as a textbook.

A textbook? Well, come to think of it, it really was a textbook for me. It was the first thick foreign book I ever read in my con­sequential reading life. I remember well how it happened. At first, Mrs Bunlueang was amused to see me trying to fight my way into it. Later, when she saw I wasn’t going to give up, she began to look at me thoughtfully as if she were weighing matters in her mind. Initially, she made as if to forbid me from reading it, but when I took the risk of approaching her and, swallowing my pride, asked for her help with a passage I just couldn’t fathom, she gave me a luminous explanation and proved willing to help me further. Her suggestions led me to think of sex in a positive way, which was new to me – to think of it as pure and valuable as some object within reach in a dream, or as my own desire, roused by the sweet fragrance of her body in those moments.

Let it be said as well: Miss Kaeo also played a part in prompting me to read English books with great determination. At that time, she had moved from Benjamararcharlai School to Convent School off Seelom Road, and since she had changed to a new school, whenever I saw her in or around the house, she always had a book in her hand. Even in the early morning, when one of the servants took her to wait for the school bus at the entrance of the lane, she’d be whiling away the time reading. I liked to study English and had thought of joining a foreign school after there had been talk about Wachirarwut and Barn Somdeit boarding schools. I even had Aunt Waht act as my ambassador in negotiations over the matter, though we both knew they would come to nothing. Therefore, every time I saw Miss Kaeo with a book, I couldn’t help feeling sore about my own misfortune. She, however, seemed intent on putting on airs just to spite me.

And that was a major reason why my concentration in my studies dissipated so dramatically, as if I was bent on self-destruc­tion in order to fulfil Miss Kaeo’s longing. Why was this? Not long after that, Aunt Waht and I discovered that Miss Kaeo had insisted on going to Convent School only to make me suffer. She claimed that much herself the day she was scolded, after the school had reported on her poor performance and asked her parents to give her a good talking-to. It reminded us of the time two to three years earlier when Aunt Waht had taken me to see His Lordship to seek his permission for me to change schools. Miss Kaeo had been present then and had witnessed the intense disappointment I was made to suffer. She had made a note of it and seen it as a way of hurting me further. In fact, she didn’t care at all which school she went to.

On that occasion, Aunt Waht learned a lot about her daughter’s real character. As for me, I had long figured her out, so I thought it was no big deal, and shifted all my attention back to reading foreign novels.

At night, Mrs Bunlueang’s library was like a new abode of peace and bliss for me. Sometimes, we hardly spoke to each other. She’d be engrossed in her book while I struggled through mine. The real enjoyment derived surreptitiously from her reclining position on the sofa. She liked to dress lightly and casually at home, and usually wore thin, loose-fitting clothes. And it was in those moments that she helped me collect deep insights into the art of nudity which would overwhelm me later. On some nights after she had gone to bed I remained there alone until very late. It was in her library and in this way that I got my first inkling of domestic life.

On days when there was no school, I sometimes went to help her by volunteering to do heavy chores such as fetching water or weeding the flowerbeds in front of her house. I didn’t exert myself for nothing. Even if she hadn’t rewarded me with glasses of soda pop or lemon juice, which she always did, I had plenty of oppor­tu­nities to admire her body in the daytime, which offered a different kind of beauty from the one she displayed at night. In the usually sweltering heat, she liked to wear shorts and a thin blouse with nothing underneath. Whenever the weather was unusually hot, she’d take off her blouse and stay in her room, but there were times when she’d move by the window or the door and whenever I caught sight of her then, it was like a heavenly vision. She had once told me she was old, but in truth there was not a single part of her that looked old, and I had told her so. She had been pleased and had thanked me with a smile, then said I only thought this way because I was too young.

But please do believe me: although the children of my age usually saw adults like her as terribly old people, I never felt the least bit like that with Mrs Bunlueang. To me, she was ageless. When I had first seen her, I had found her excitingly beautiful. Several years had passed and my feelings hadn’t changed. It was like looking at the stucco statue of the nymph that stood in the flowerbeds. I had seen its face, breasts and arms continuously since I was a child, and nothing had changed. This is exactly what I told her once we had become more intimate, and she had burst out laughing in delight.

‘So you want me to be another two-thousand-year-old woman, is that it?’ At the time, I had begun to read Khroo Liam’s trans­lation of Haggard’s novel*, but had merely started. A remark­able thing about us was that she no longer called herself ‘Auntie’ nor did I, and this had brought us even closer, as we would have felt awkward calling each other ‘Auntie’ and ‘Nephew’.

And yet, there were still times when she referred to herself as ‘Auntie’. She did so whenever she wanted to get my complete attention to what she was saying. If we weren’t cross with each other, it could also mean that one was urging the other on, which was also the case when I called her ‘Mrs B’.

Anyway, I had once raised my joined hands to my forehead as a sign of respect for her on that evening when, mustering all my courage, I had taken myself into her house for the first time. Some seven or eight months later, I had to make the same gesture to her, again out of genuine sincerity. The only difference was in my motivation this time, which was so far out that you could never make the right guess.

Between ourselves, we used the familiar or polite pronouns for ‘I’ and ‘you’ or else called ourselves by our own names (Jan, Mrs Bunlueang), and we have kept doing this to this day, up to the very moment that I am writing these lines. But it happened once that, in a wild moment, I made a slip of the tongue and called her by a different pronoun.

Near noon that day, I took refuge from the heat of the sun blazing over her flowerbeds under the eaves of her house. I was flushed, and drenched with sweat. With eyes still dazzled by the strong light, I turned into the corridor on the ground floor groping my way to the bathroom to take a shower.

About an hour earlier, I had seen Mrs Bunlueang going upstairs holding the new book she was reading – Body and Soul, by Vladimir (or something like that; my memory is failing me these days) – and she had gone on pacing the large porch at the front of the house back and forth. That day she wore creamy white shorts and a bright-red short-sleeved shirt of rough satin. Though I saw her from a distance, with a little imagination sharpening my vision I could see that the satin fitting the contours of her full bosom enhanced its up swell and crowned its tapering domes with well-delineated cherry pits. Her big breasts, beautifully curved as two fully ripe banana hands, heaved and shook with her every movement, and with each shake it was as if I could smell the sweet aroma of newly cooked rice, so enticing it made my mouth water.

She liked to take a nap after lunch – ‘siesta’, she called it. ‘It’s good to take a siesta,’ she often asserted. ‘Makes you feel hale and hearty for the rest of the day.’ I figured that by now she was sound asleep and enjoying her dreams. I had never been upstairs in the new house, but my imagination had taken me there many, many times, including then. I’d have liked to tiptoe to her room and watch her in her sleep. I imagined her daytime rest was like another form of art that would be priceless to my heart. As to her sleep at night, I was reluctant to dream of it, because every time I did His Lordship intruded and spoiled the artistic effects I was so carefully trying to achieve.

As I stood in front of the bathroom door, which was slightly open, I kept my eyes closed to try to get rid of the annoying coloured particles that flickered in the daze induced by the sunlight. Then I pulled the door ajar and stepped in. My heart sank with a plop as I let out a shout, something like ‘Wow!’ or ‘Oho!’ or ‘Holy cow!’ How would I know? What made my eyes widen instead of the annoying light particles was Mrs Bunlueang – Mrs Bunlueang in the creamy white shorts and bright red satin shirt I had seen her wearing a while ago. She stood in front of an earthen jar, presenting her profile to the door. With her arms raised, she was pulling up her shirt and it got stuck all around her head. Her torso was as white and tapering as a fresh jasmine petal in the dim light of the bathroom. What tantalised me mercilessly were the outstanding globes held up before my goggling eyes. They shook and quivered along the movements of her arms as she tried to get the neck of the shirt past her head. What I saw clearly now was the cherry pits, the size of the tip of a little finger, on their rather large round bases. Brown on pink, stiff and fully shaped, they looked intimidating as I had always pictured them. Where my breath had disappeared by now I couldn’t say. A constriction had seized up my throat and blocked my glottis. Torn between exultation and incredulity over such an unexpected treat, I was so excited and disturbed I felt my heart would burst or my chest break open.

‘Mrs B!’ I jerked out, almost as soon as the shirt got unstuck from her head.

Mrs Bunlueang threw down her hands, which were still stuck in the sleeves, in front of her, with such a distraught expression that she looked like someone whose hands were tied as she turned in the direction of my voice. I felt my shout had been very loud, louder than the roar of ocean waves, louder than the clap of thunderbolt that had stricken my heart asunder – but of course it mustn’t have been as loud as all that.

Mrs Bunlueang now faced me and was looking at me impassive­ly. Only her eyes and eyebrows registered some surprise, but not much, as if she had turned to see a squirrel gazing at her in some place where it wasn’t supposed to be.

‘What did you call me just now? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my ears,’ she started saying in an even voice while she kept her face impassive. I tried hard to swallow the chunk of hard­wood that was struck in my throat. While she went on speaking, she freed one hand from the shirt and put her arm across her breasts merely for form’s sake, it seemed, as I could still see most of her. ‘‘Mrs B’! Don’t you realise you called me the way your father does? My dear boy, it seems to me you’re no longer a child now,’ she said and chuckled. I chuckled as well, nervously, and because of this irrepressible chuckle I began to shudder and feel my legs almost give in at the knees. My incredulity had all gone, and uncertainty turned my exultation into such delight I could hardly control myself. The chunk of wood was no longer there, but I had nothing more to say to her, and all I could do was stand on trembling legs, dumb under her spell.

I wish I could have seen myself then. My face and eyes must have betrayed my craving and she must have seen it, because she exclaimed: ‘Now then! Don’t stand gawping like a retarded child. Come on, go wait outside so that a lady can take a shower.’

I let out a ‘Sure’ so hoarse and fuddled it almost didn’t sound like human language, ducked out of the bathroom and stood leaning against the wall next to the door, which I forgot to close. I managed to control some of my emotions, but let the rest run pleasantly wild.

‘A retarded child’ – these words of hers slightly offended me; they were the words my classmates used to tease me for being much older than they. I had no idea what she meant and didn’t intend to find out, because by then my interest was on something else. Without realizing it, at one point I had turned to lean against the doorframe and was now looking at her as she bent down to scoop up water and went about pouring it over herself. Her showering done, she stood up, turned around and saw me, and I found myself dumbstruck again. She unfolded her satin shirt, covered her bosom with it and, holding it in place with both hands, walked to the door.

‘Enjoying the show, aren’t we?’ she teased. ‘What do you think will come of it, you silly child?’

I liked the friendly way she teased me in a situation like this, and it made me love and want to thank her so much more, and there and then I opened up in a torrent of words. I spoke at length but the message I wanted to convey to her was merely that I hadn’t meant to intrude; if I did, it was only because I didn’t know she was in there; I’d seen her taking a book upstairs and thought she’d gone to have a nap, so I went in. Then I began to apologise profusely, but she cut me short, saying: ‘Come off it, you aren’t feeling the least bit sorry, now, are you? In fact, you’re rather pleased about it, right? Isn’t that so? Come, come, there’s no need to blame yourself. Well, since you’ve seen most of me anyway, there’s something I want you to help me with. Take a shower and wash your hands with soap. Once you’re done, come and see me in the library. Er – no, make that upstairs. Yes, upstairs’s better. So scrub your feet as well.’

She walked past me and away, and my gaze followed her. Drops of water clung to her skin, which was as white as the core of a banana bole, and made it sparkle all over. The back of her shorts was soaked, forming an inverted triangle that plunged into the cleavage of her bottom. I watched her till she disappeared from sight then went hurriedly into the bathroom. I dared not guess what she was about to request of me, yet couldn’t prevent myself from making all sorts of wild suppositions; so, instead of just washing my hands with soap, I soaped myself all over, then, still dripping, walked up the stairs.

The situation seemed to be about to fulfil my expectations concerning Mrs Bunlueang, in the sense that I had tied her up to me in my mind, even though, as I already said, I had never intruded on the upper floor of the new house. The first room I ventured into was a bedroom – beautiful, luxurious, paradisiacal and, to me, not a little aphrodisiac. At first, I thought I had come to the right place, because this couldn’t possibly be Master Khajorn’s bedroom, but there was no Mrs Bunlueang waiting. She was in another room in which she slept or sat in privacy whenever she felt like it. The room had many doors and windows, all opened wide. She lay prone but slightly at an angle on a long rattan couch, her face cushioned by one arm. I didn’t quite dare yet to gaze greedily at the exposed parts of her body and whether out of my instinct for survival or sense of guilt, my eyes swept through the various doors and windows and I was relieved to find that nothing could be seen from the sur­rounding houses, and from the main house in particular.

I wasn’t aware she was watching me until I heard her asking me drowsily: ‘Are you worried about my body on my behalf, young man?’ Dumbstruck, I walked up to her and kneeled down beside the rattan couch, next to her naked body. My eyes must have been feverishly active though, because I saw her looking at them and smiling teasingly, before she turned her head in the general direction of a small table at the top of the couch. ‘Please take some ice in that bowl to rub my back with.’

I got up and fetched the metallic bowl, chose a chunk of ice that fitted my hand and placed its smoothest side on her firm, pulpy back, which I went about stroking at length. She complained about the bathtub she had ordered but was still waiting for and said that as soon as it arrived, she meant to lie immersed in it for ages. Almost all of her personal items such as clothes, shoes and mis­cel­la­neous accessories, including books, she bought on order. At first, I wondered which shops she ordered them from, because deliveries were seldom on time. I learned later that everything came from Penang and Singapore.

After complaining for a while, she closed her eyes, allowing me to concentrate on her back to better effect and wider wandering. At first I used only one hand rather daintily, not daring to let it touch her skin, a privilege I left to the piece of ice. But when the ice began to melt, I decided to use my other hand to wipe the trails of water, and when the hand that held the ice went numb with cold, I changed hands and kept alternating their respective tasks. After three chunks of ice had melted away, the hand that wiped the water slid down to one of her breasts, which bulged out on either side of her from the weight of her body. Though my hand was frozen, the touch was like a jolt from heaven. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I pulled out and instead tightly clasped her back. But I knew what would happen to my body if I persisted in touching and watching her for just a little longer. I raised my clenched fists and shut my eyes tight. What an exquisite, tantalising torment! O God Almighty! And you, angels! And you, spirits of all ilks, help me! What had happened? What had inspired her to allow me to see and touch every inch of her naked body? But then why, on the strength of it, wasn’t I inspired to dare do what I was dying to?

To hell with it all! One day, maybe, if there was going to be such a wonderful day – or so did my wishful heart answer anyway.

I don’t know how long I sat with eyes closed and fists clenched until I heard Mrs Bunlueang’s drowsy voice say: ‘Well, Jan, that’ll do for today. Thanks.’ Strangely enough, her order to stop, instead of disappointing me, made me feel overwhelmingly relieved. I stood up and left the room immediately, almost before I thought of opening my eyes. I went back downstairs to sit in the library in order to calm down and enjoy digesting that most enthralling experience. If I may borrow a foreign phrase to describe my state then, I was like a dog licking its wound with relish – the wound caused by the painful knowledge that, no matter how long I would stay, I wouldn’t dare to do what my heart so desperately hankered for. And it was for this reason that I felt so relieved to be able to escape that torment. It was better than bearing it, fully aware that nothing would come out of it in the end.

In any case, I didn’t forget that her parting words had left me with a comforting hope. ‘For today’ meant that there would be another day, a wonderful day which I had a hunch would come sooner or later.

Less than seven days went by before the second wonderful occasion came to be. This time I was a little bit more daring. After four chunks of ice had melted, I told her, ‘Please allow me.’ She asked idly: ‘Allow what?’ Instead of answering, I grasped the edge of the rattan couch on both sides and buried my face against her plump back, which was as cold as marble. Mrs Bunlueang jerked, then laughed and said: ‘Your face’s real hot.’ I kissed her back all over without saying a word. She let me do as I pleased for a while and then told me to go. Though her tone was as even as usual, this time there was no bonding word like ‘today’ and it made me feel deeply sorry and sad before I pulled back and left.

I avoided her for three or four days and even when I returned to stay with her in the library as before, I was still embarrassed and dared not meet her eyes. That night, the heat was oppressive. She kept fidgeting for a long while and finally put down her book, got up and went into the bathroom. A moment later, she was back, no longer wearing her thin, flower-patterned blouse. Instead, she had retied her sarong over her bosom. Her body was wet and the cloth damp. She didn’t resume her reading, but told me to follow her upstairs. ‘Don’t turn off the light,’ she instructed and left without waiting for me. I was so excited I hardly knew what to do. I partook in the events that followed as if I were sleepwalking.

She was lying prone with her face on her arm as usual, waiting for me. Her sarong was now almost down to her coccyx, leaving her white, tapering back exposed. This time, after more than half of the first piece of ice had melted, I made it slip out of my hand and it went to nestle beneath one of her breasts. She raised herself up a little to allow me to retrieve it, but my hand deserted its task instantly to grab hold of warm flesh in a greedy grope. At the same time, I was slobbering all over her back and outpouring all that was hidden in my heart. She let me do as I wanted for a while, like she had the first time, and then – at first, I thought she was struggling to free herself, but she was merely turning to lie on her back to have a full view of me. Her face looked at once fearful and serene.

From then on, I was even more of a sleepwalker. Everything that happened before my eyes became blurred and, at first, left me no chance to recover my composure. I only knew that I was mingling with heaven. The part I remember most vividly was when – Has it ever happened to you? Being jolted by a searing pain as you slide your foot into a shoe and a scorpion stings your big toe? The jolt I received from Mrs Bunlueang’s sting was of the same magnitude, except that it resulted in no end of amazement and delight.

When I had followed her upstairs, it was about eleven at night, and when I returned alone to the soft light of the library it was about two in the morning. Thoroughly stunned and gratified as I was, I kept wondering whether it hadn’t all been a dream, even though it was still so vivid to my eyes and tangible to my body. I kept suspecting that every feature of her whole body, nearly every nook and cranny I had seen and touched just now after having dreamt of it for ages, was but a figment of my imagination. By the time I recovered my calm enough to be certain of where I stood, it was past three in the morning. I got up, closed all the windows, turned off the light, then left the room, closed the door and made straight through the trees for home. As I reached the staircase leading to my room, I suddenly remembered an important scene, and only then did I understand its full significance. My legs felt so weak I had to sit down on the steps.

Before I left her room, I had turned to have a last look at her. Her milky white body was still stretched languidly on the rattan couch. Right then, she opened her eyes and held my gaze. She burst into a smile as if to give me the friendliest greeting in the world. Then and there I was choked up with a rapturous emotion so priceless and intense I couldn’t possibly keep it to myself. I went back to her, knelt down by her couch, raised my joined hands and prostrated myself onto her generous bosom, which was soaked with sweat.

‘Oh dear!’ Mrs Bunlueang moaned, and hugged my head. I embraced her body tightly and tears came to my eyes from a sweeping feeling of contentment. Then I heard her whisper: ‘You know – let me tell you something – I’ve been thinking of leaving your father – He – that is, I – But now, I don’t think so any longer – thanks to you. You’re a young man now, a real man, you under­stand? Now, I have to rely on you…’

As I recalled her words, I felt stunned: had I been slow in making a move, Mrs Bunlueang may well have left before I could fulfil my dream! She hadn’t told me why she was thinking of leaving His Lordship, but I already knew, and I had steadfastly committed myself to make good her hope of relying on me, because I was already determined to repay my debt of gratitude to her with my life. For all that, I came to realise how close I had been to losing the opportunity of knowing her in this life, and this is why I was feeling weak-kneed.

That night, my thoughts were such a jumble that I couldn’t sleep. The next day, I was informed by the district office that my name was on the conscription list and on such-and-such a year I’d be drafted into the army. That’s how I remember I was seventeen when I passed through the triumphal arch with masculine pride, as signed and certified by Mrs Bunlueang.

From that time onward, the relationship between Mrs Bun­lueang and me turned into a deep and complex intimacy shared in secret. Our common love of reading had brought us together as close friends despite our difference in age, and now that we were intimate with each other, our ties grew stronger and we felt nothing could compare to them. Life in the library went on as usual and our amatory pursuits improved our physical wellbeing. For Mrs Bun­lueang, they came as the normal substitute for what she had been lacking; for me, they were something entirely new in my life. Sure, I was the one who demanded more and more out of craziness and gluttony, but I did adjust to her rule, which she had inherited from His Lordship, of a single night per week. Whenever His Lordship went to have dinner at her house, it meant my life would be empty for the next seven days. It was a good thing that he didn’t feel up to calling on her very often, because lately, the older he became the more he preferred greener grass despite the diminishing number of meals he could stomach. The proportional share that accrued to me was thus fairly constant, and although I received not nearly as much as would have fully gratified me, I found the arrangement very satisfactory and furthermore – ah well, I prayed it would go on forever.

My intimacy with Mrs Bunlueang had strange repercussions on my true feelings for Hyacinth. The more carnal pleasure I had with the first, the more I thought of the second, and since I had never associated Hyacinth with the musk of lust I found so heady then, she was like an angel in paradise for such a hedonist as I. During this period, I poured out my innermost feelings to her in bouts of verbal and written confidences, and although she didn’t return my feelings by word of mouth or by putting pen to paper, the ex­pression on her innocent face and in her deep eyes spoke the language of the heart more eloquently than any language in the world. We loved each other – such was the message our hearts exchanged with every beat. Our common hope for the future tied us together, though we knew not what the future held. More important, Hyacinth looked happy, happier even than I, though her only assets were of the heart, but alas, this was to be as high as her happiness would go in the whole of her life on this earth.

Khein by then had turned into a fully grown young man and was nearing the age when he would have to return to his hometown to get drafted. The discreet activities of his bliss club went on as usual and he personally took a more decisive part in them than ever before. Actually, you could say it had become his main occupation, because the demand had increased in direct proportion to the deterioration in strength of the ageing herd leader from the main house, and he was the only savvy, well-limbed male around willing to oblige whoever came to ask for his help. What he once did for kicks out of youthful exuberance was now a source of private income. You could say he had become a male prostitute – in other words, Khein was the unofficial second in command after the owner of the compound. As for me, I had washed my hands of the whole business. I must, however, commend him for helping me to strictly impose the moral injunction forbidding any of His Lord­ship’s natural children to sleep with one another, be it inside his bliss club or outside. He was very strict about this rule and no one dared disobey him. This was the meritorious deed he performed for this compound: he prevented it from degenerating into the lowest level of depravity.

I never thought for a moment that Khein would be unaware of my discreet relationship at the new house, although he never let out that he knew about it – for all his muddle-headedness in some matters, he did know how to treat me with respect. I was aware of his good side, and yet managed on one occasion to misunderstand him grievously due to my own recklessness.

A long time passed. Everything was going smoothly for every­one in the compound, except for Miss Kaeo and those directly in charge of her – the succession of nannies her parents had to find for her time and again once Saisoi was gone. By now, it was the end-of-year vacation and she had plenty of spare time. She made a nuisance of herself so often that her latest nanny packed up and left less than a month after she had moved in. While there was no one to replace her, Miss Kaeo had even more time to make even more trouble, and it was then the fuse which had been smouldering all along finally reached the powder keg.

The new house was closed then. Mrs Bunlueang and Master Khajorn had gone to visit relatives and take a holiday in Penang, as they always did whenever there was a school vacation short or long. The house was dead quiet even during the day because the children didn’t like to stay in the compound. That day, I took a long nap and awoke in late afternoon. When I came down from my room, I saw that the door and window in Khein’s room were shut. I wagered he must be inside, busy building bliss with some girl. I felt like finding out if I’d win or lose my own bet, and if I won, I wanted to know who he was with – an old or a young one. These two elements put together could only mean one thing: I missed him and wanted to fool about with him as we used to, and I even wagered he’d want to urge me to join him, again as we used to.

I tiptoed to the window and put my ear to the shutter, but could hear nothing. So, I went to the door and was about to knock according to our agreed code when the sound of someone talking and then laughing came through. It wasn’t Khein’s voice but some girl’s. Next I heard Khein mumble something I couldn’t catch, and again the girl laughed and talked some more. I remembered that voice and refused to believe my own ears!

Forget the code! I banged heavily on the door, which was bolted from the inside, and right then heard a voice screaming: ‘Help! Whoever’s out there, help me!’ It was the same voice that had burst out laughing a moment ago – the voice of a twelve-year-old girl whose nickname was Miss Kaeo.

The door wouldn’t open. My head was spinning in alarm and fury. I had no time to think properly. The only thought that crossed my mind was, ‘That damn Khein with Miss Kaeo!’ Over and over, until I flew into a rage. I knew the latch on Khein’s window was loose. I rushed to the window, jerked it open and hoisted myself through the frame into the room. Thanks to the light now pouring in through the window, I saw Miss Kaeo stretched on Khein’s bamboo platform. Her clothes were scattered about. Her hands were fastened to the top legs of the platform. As for Khein, he stood stunned by the door, as if he was about to unlock it and flee. He was clearly relieved when he realised it was me, but how mistaken he was! I lunged at him and punched him squarely in the face. He looked both frightened and dumbfounded. He shouted something I couldn’t catch because my ears were ringing with my own rage and the din of Miss Kaeo’s high-pitched screams. I only saw his mouth opening wide and punched him again, making his face jerk to one side, but he didn’t think of fighting back or even of protecting himself. His arms were stronger and longer than mine, yet he let them hang by his side as if they were paralysed. This incensed me even more and I sent him crashing into the door with a single uppercut from my right fist, which then hurt as if a bone in it had broken. Despite the battering of his face, he kept trying to mouth out something.

I struck his body once with all my might and then my arms fell to my sides. Khein’s back slowly scraped the door panel as he flopped to the floor. I raised my foot to kick him good but in the same instant felt ashamed of myself, and in that very second I finally made out what his pleading voice was saying, despite the yells for help that came nonstop from behind me.

‘Master Jan, listen to me first!’ This is what he had been trying to shout at me repeatedly, and it was enough for me to figure out what had happened – how a peal of tickled laughter had turned into screams for help when I banged on the door.

I knelt down in front of him and took him in my arms. ‘Oh Khein! You poor bastard!’ I remember moaning in this way, as tears came to my eyes. They finally rolled down when I heard what he was trying to explain through his swollen lips.

‘Miss Kaeo came to see me – led me on – tried a hundred tricks – she – she ordered me to bind her hands and do it to her – or else – she’d scream – scream and ruin my good name.’

I told him to stop speaking. I told him I believed him. I asked for his forgiveness, and we hugged each other like two wet puppies lost in the wild. We had both been tricked by a twelve-year-old brat. But what was Khein going to do? Because I had no doubt His Lordship would only believe his daughter.

‘You’ve got it coming to you this time, friend,’ I muttered to him. He tried to smile and said, ‘Never mind. You believe me and that’s enough.’

‘But he’s going to get you jailed.’ I tried to think of the worst to see if we could do something about it, but Khein just sighed, shook his head and went on repeating, ‘Never mind’.

Suddenly, someone began banging on the door and shouting to open up. It was Old Phum, Khein’s mother. I still had no idea what to do, except to try to comfort him a little. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be your witness,’ I told him, then grudgingly got up to unlock the door.

The door burst open and Aunt Waht stalked in and was onto the bamboo platform in a jiffy. In the same instant, a thunderbolt struck me down!

‘Mummy! He’s the one who did it! That damn Jan fooled me into coming here and bullied me.’

Aunt Waht stopped dead in her tracks and stood perplexed, then slowly turned to face me. She appeared much more worried than before and looked at me in amazement. I returned her gaze as I tried to gather my wits. I knew Aunt Waht couldn’t bring herself to believe what her daughter had said, but she was too confused to figure things out right then. I merely looked at her and shook my head from side to side, as a way to back her own doubt, then walked past her to the head of the platform and stood looking at Miss Kaeo. I wanted to have a close look at her. I wanted to see how long someone who had just told such a monstrous lie could keep a straight face. But do you know what I saw? She looked up and stared me in the eyes, and her face turned into exactly what her part required – a mixture of anger and hate and – I’ll be damned! This girl had never shown anything remotely resembling fear of me, and here she was exhibiting fright and disgust to perfection, as befitted the spontaneous reaction of a virgin freshly raped by a ruffian – and so did her next scream, pregnant with fear and arrogance: ‘Go away! How dare you show your face to me now? You – you scum! You’re evil. He tried to help me but you wouldn’t stop beating him…’

I heard Old Phum commiserating loudly over her son’s plight, then Khein crying out indignantly: ‘Keep out of this, Mum!’

I turned around and whispered to Aunt Waht as I walked past her, ‘It’s no use’. Khein was trying to get up. I knew he would argue on my behalf, but I had made up my mind I couldn’t let him do it. I grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room.

From what I had just seen, Miss Kaeo was more than a great pretender: she could deceive even herself. The expression on her face and in her eyes while she vented her fury showed she believed every word she was saying. This was beyond the abilities of any actress; nor was it something an ordinary person could possibly do. Actually, it was insanity. Angry people sometimes behave nastily because they forget themselves, but those who forget themselves to the point of doing something so outrageous out of sheer hatred can only be insane. And indeed so was Wilairek Witsanan at the age of twelve. Her uncontrollable hatred inspired her to switch targets from Khein to poor me at the last moment, and no one could stop her, not even her own mother. The only one who would believe her unquestioningly was her father. And where was he now? I soon found out he wasn’t home. He had gone out on some business before noon.

I took Khein to sit quietly under the dense foliage of the shorea tree next to the house. We waited until everyone had left and then went back to his room. I tried to convince him there was absolutely no point in telling the truth to exonerate me. Not only would His Lordship, our lord and master, never believe a word he said, but he and his mother might also find themselves without a roof over their heads. As for me, no matter how severe the punishment would be, it couldn’t possibly be much worse than what I was used to. As Khein was still reluctant to believe me, I forced him to solemnly vow that he would do nothing to counter Miss Kaeo’s allegations.

To Khein, a vow was a commitment that didn’t require any particular reason. His dread of vows was even stronger than the terror of the sky among primeval tribes. The funny thing about it, though, was that once I got him to make a vow, not only would he observe it, but he’d figure out its every implication with the most wildly inventive imagination. My only role was to determine a degree of solemnity commensurate to the nature of the vow. This time, I made it such a binding commitment that even I felt my hair raise in horror as I heard myself speak. The reason why he was willing to make vows, I understand, was that it was a way for him to make his life secure: so long as he didn’t break a vow, he took comfort in the idea that he wouldn’t have to face the music he had sworn himself to. This was why his sworn promises were always reliable.

I then sat down to await my fate, which was ever so slowly creeping closer. I expected it would come in various forms of violence. I quavered at the thought he might send me to the police.

But when it actually came, it was much worse than anything I had feared!

His Lordship returned home at dusk. He hadn’t even changed his clothes when the little plaintiff was there to present her com­plaint. Lamiat was the one who came out to fetch me. She called me repeatedly from the front of the house. She stood about six yards away from Khein’s door and behaved as if she were holding a six-yard-long pole and prodding with fear and loathing at a dying snake.

I shouted I’d heard her and stood up. To cover up any outward sign of the anxiety I felt, I turned to Khein and told him in jest: ‘Khein, if you can shove it in to Lamiat, I’ll give you a reward.’ Actually, I learned three years later he had tried his best to get her, but had failed. Unlike most women in the compound, Lamiat was not sex-mad, even though she was the owner’s playmate. It was thanks to her, to Aunt Waht and to several others like them that my mother’s compound could still uphold its claim to respectability in the days of His Lordship.

When I reached the main house, I overheard Aunt Waht speak­ing in a firm and fearless tone she hardly ever used: ‘…You can’t just listen to one side of the story. Yes, I know she’s my daughter. You don’t have to hammer the fact into my head all the time. I know my daughter well. I know how bad she really is. And frankly speaking, it’s you – yes, you who’ve been spoiling her rotten and turned her into a monster.’

Now Miss Kaeo, who sat leaning on the silk-upholstered back of her father’s favourite ebony chair, rose to the occasion by shouting angrily: ‘How dare you accuse me like this!’

‘You little bitch!’ It was the first time in her life Aunt Waht had used such a rude tone with her daughter. She lunged for her, intent on giving her a mighty smack, but His Lordship grabbed her arm and stopped her in the nick of time.

‘Now don’t, Waht,’ he said evenly. ‘Don’t be angry with her. She’s just frightened. And besides – I’d like you to show more sympathy to your own daughter, a lot more than you give to that devil of a boy. He isn’t even your real nephew. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a long time. So let me say once and for all that I’m not happy about it. And don’t you forget it!’

‘What you’re saying just isn’t right.’ Aunt Waht wasn’t giving in. A real tigress! ‘I came here for my sister’s sake.’ (She meant my mother.) ‘And it’s also for her sake that I’m staying here, because Jan’s more than my nephew. He’s more than my own child, I’ll let you know. I don’t have a child any more. You stuffed this vicious brat into my belly by force and I pushed her out of me long ago. So, my duty’s over. Enough’s enough.’ Honest-to-goodness song and dance, that! Hearing it made me love my dear auntie even more.

‘You don’t know what you’re saying – this is preposterous!’ His Lordship’s voice was subdued, as if reeling from an unexpected blow. But in the next instant, he was back on his feet. ‘I think I must once again hammer the fact into your head, as you put it, so you won’t forget, that I’m the master in this compound, even though it once belonged to your so-called sister.’

I didn’t want to hear His Lordship using offensive language with my dear Aunt Waht, so I decided to show myself there and then. Miss Kaeo looked up and saw me first. She shouted: ‘Dad, here he is! That damn beast’s here now.’ My ears rang as I stepped in, completing the quartet in the room. I forced myself to smile a little to comfort Aunt Waht and we stood looking at each other in deep mutual understanding.

I had failed to notice that my old friend the whip was waiting, until His Lordship finally turned to glance in my direction, and there it was, quivering at the end of his arm. But this wasn’t why I quavered. I was certain my punishment would be more than just a beating, and I was most eager to find out what lay beyond it.

‘Don’t beat him, listen to him first,’ Aunt Waht pleaded. His Lordship whirled round to look at her and then turned to me again, with a look that said he wanted to skin me alive.

‘What have you got to say for yourself?’ His voice was stern and insincere. So much for the mercy of the kangaroo court! ‘How dare you do this to my daughter, you scum?’ This was the first time he acknowledged that I was fully grown, by dropping his customary ‘damn child’ address of the past seventeen years. He then assessed the extent of my felony. ‘If Phum’s son hadn’t intervened, my daughter would be completely defiled by now.’ I almost let out that, ‘She’s my sister, how could I do that to her?’ But I kept my mouth shut, as an objection came to me instantly: ‘If he’s my real father, how come he didn’t think of that?’ So I went on behaving like a mute defendant, and my silence seemed to incense him so much that finally, he let out the secret of my birth for the first time: ‘You son of a criminal! No way you’ll ever escape that legacy!’

Hardly had he said this than Aunt Waht shouted at him: ‘Don’t! Not that!’ My curiosity sparked, I turned to her.

‘Why should we keep concealing the fact?’ His Lordship bawled at her. ‘Now’s the time – let’s get it over with. I’m fed up with this comedy – let him know once and for all – I’ve had it! He’s destroying himself – what can we do? He should be thankful to me for not dragging him into jail, and you still want me to keep on pretending I’m his father? No way. Besides, I’ve seen him around for far too long. How can anyone stand raising the child of a wild beast? I won’t have him anymore. I’ve had enough! Out he goes.’

So here it was – the harshest punishment for me, totally beyond my wildest fears. The dreadful realisation that I was going to be without a home made my head reel so much I could no longer think straight. My last hope was Aunt Waht. The possibility of being thrown out of my own house had never occurred to me, and now that the fact was so brutally hurled at me, it was beyond my ability to remain calm. The world outside that I could vaguely imagine then was huge, dark and desolate, and it frightened me.

I walked to Aunt Waht, the last person in the world whom I could depend on. Suddenly, I was empty inside and my heart was so heavy I felt like bursting – like bursting into tears as I hadn’t done in public in very many years, especially not in front of that vicious girl. I tried to swallow till my throat ached, but couldn’t prevent myself from letting out a sob. Aunt Waht drew me close and put her arm protectively around my shoulders, then turned to address His Lordship in a cold voice: ‘Would you be so cruel as to throw him out on the streets? This child has no one, as you know very well. I never thought that –’

‘A child?’ His Lordship exclaimed, forcing himself to laugh. ‘He’s big enough for me to feel jealous, seeing the way you fuss about him.’

‘You’re disgusting!’ Aunt Waht hissed.

Upon hearing this sarcasm plucked from his own field of expertise, I disengaged myself swiftly from Aunt Waht’s warm embrace. His words hurt me and made me worry instantly about my relationship with Mrs Bunlueang. I was seized by a dark fore­boding and at the same time was stunned like never before. Was it true that I’d have to leave her? I felt myself wither. I forgot all about my fear of the outside world and turned to yearn for Mrs Bun­lueang’s serene bedroom, for Mrs Bunlueang’s breasts, for her whole body and, most of all, for its apex – her generous bushy mound hiding an inexhaustible supply of wonders. As I was immersed in this gloomy reverie, something seemed to awake and resound in the vastness around me – Hyacinth!

‘I’m asking you where you intend for him to go.’

Hyacinth…

‘Up to him. Even dogs know how to fend for themselves. Er – or let him go back to the boondocks to search for his father’s ancestors. Why not indeed?’

I heard his voice faintly, but loud enough to pull me out of my daydream and back to the most important matter I kept deeply buried in my heart: my father! my father’s ancestors!

So, what I had surmised all along wasn’t wrong: this man was not my father. Furthermore, he wasn’t even related to me. I felt immensely relieved as if a heavy burden had been taken off my chest. I was truly and totally free now. Nothing was holding me any longer, and what was particularly pleasing was that I had no debt of gratitude towards him, not even for his behaviour as the most vicious beast of a father. It was he who was indebted to me for the merciless way he had been treating me. At that moment, I deter­mined to find a way to make him pay one day, no matter how long I’d have to wait.

I remember heaving a deep sigh, so loud that everyone heard it. Aunt Waht must have caught its full import, because she called me to her with utmost kindness in her voice and in her eyes.

‘Jan…’ She stared at me for a few seconds, then said slowly: ‘Tell me the truth. Did you do what Kaeo is accusing you of?’

I looked at Miss Kaeo thoughtfully. Aunt Waht knew perfectly well that I had done no such thing. She wanted me to have the opportunity to defend myself by telling the truth. She had the tiniest hope I’d be able to find mitigating circumstances, as she was most worried I’d be thrown out onto the streets. For my part, I desperately wanted to reveal the truth even though I knew it wouldn’t help me in any meaningful way. But I had already resolved not to do it. I had muzzled Khein, my trump witness. Why had I taken such a decision and why was I sticking to it? Was it because I felt concerned over Khein’s and his mother’s welfare, which was the reason I had used to convince him? Of course not. I wasn’t such a good person that I’d sacrifice myself so totally: I wanted to take revenge.

You may think this funny – and indeed, it was a laughable kind of revenge. It was my very own brand of derisive vengeance, too subtle in its implications for anyone to see, but I was satisfied it was as cold-blooded as it comes. Well, I’ll explain it to you, and you don’t have to agree with me. This is how it went: leaving aside Khein, my erstwhile witness, there were only Miss Kaeo and I who knew the truth, and she was by no means certain she’d succeed in distorting all of the facts, but, since it was such a serious matter, she was confident I’d be in big trouble as a result of her deed, and this gratified her immensely. The bigger my trouble the more I’d suffer, and that was the ultimate aim of that wicked girl. Therefore, if I accepted the suffering resulting from her deeds without protesting or writhing in agony in front of her jubilant eyes like an ox led to slaughter, she’d be disappointed and frustrated. The more she wished to see me in torment, the more disappointed she’d be. Then she’d be the one to suffer out of her own frustration, and she might even fall sick: the mental health of people like her is so fragile! Such would be the immediate outcome of my idea of replying tit for tat, as it were.

The ultimate outcome of my subtle plan for revenge would take time, and may even come to nothing in the end. I was sort of convinced at the time that it wouldn’t fail, however, because I believed in the law of karma – a matter I actually knew little about then. The person who played an important part in her spiteful manoeuvres against me was her own father, and she had to lie to him, even though he was always on her side, in her quest to hurt me. Thus you could say she had enticed her own benefactor to collude with her in doing evil, of which both were equally guilty in my view. How and when they’d suffer retribution was of no interest to me: to stand watching father and daughter committing sin against me was satisfaction enough.

All I had to do to take revenge was to behave in a submissive way and play this role as well as possible, because no matter what, I had nothing left to lose.

Right then, Miss Kaeo’s glare challenging me was like a tightly wound spring ready to jump forward as soon as I revealed the truth. But the spring stayed put for a short while and very likely sprang backward deep into her chest when she heard me tell Aunt Waht: ‘It depends on who you want to believe.’

Miss Kaeo was both startled and astonished. Aunt Waht looked flummoxed and even more miserable. His Lordship snarled: ‘And you still have the cheek to claim your innocence! You cunning little bastard!’

Then the moment he had been waiting for for years – perhaps since the moment I was born – finally came. Holding the whip in his hand, he proclaimed that my status in my mother’s house was terminated: ‘Damn Jan! From now on, you and I are no longer related in any way. A scoundrel like you is beyond redemption. You show no respect. And now you even have the gall to do this to those who’ve brought you up. Therefore, I won’t have you stay under this roof any longer.’ Again, these words hurt. I had stopped worrying about finding myself without a home, but I thought I still had the right to stay in the compound if I so pleased. ‘One more thing. You’re too lowly to share my surname. I won’t allow you to use it any longer. Use what the devil of a surname you want. But let it be understood that from now on, you have no more connections with this place.’

‘Hold it!’ I thought I should say something, though I wasn’t too sure what. ‘About the surname, I don’t mind. I don’t care if it’s Jan What The Devil as you say, or whatever else. But this is my mother’s compound and no matter – no matter what, I’m my mother’s son.’ I turned to consult Aunt Waht. ‘Mother’s still my real mother, right?’ Talking about Mother deeply disturbed me and I felt my throat tighten and my voice shake. I was sorry I had mentioned her and thus shown my weak point to my opponents for the first time, but I tried to suppress my emotions, because I was eager to know, ‘Then – why – can’t – I – stay – in – my – mother’s – compound?’

He laughed grandly out of impudence or whatever. ‘Sorry,’ he said pleasantly. ‘You can’t stay here any longer because – I – won’t – allow – you – to! Because – I – am – throwing – you – out – of – my – own – compound! D’you hear? I said my compound. Maybe you want to know why. Do you really want to know? Then, you must know first why you turned out to be born the son of –’

‘Don’t!’ Aunt Waht shouted so loud I almost started. ‘I’ll talk to him myself.’

‘Good,’ he said mockingly, with such an expression on his face I wanted to go up to him and rip it off with my bare hands. ‘So I leave it to you then to make him understand where he belongs, and then make sure he leaves my property presently.’ He laughed scornfully, raised up his hand and went on: ‘Oh, and don’t forget to agree on a new surname for him, so I can get it changed at the district office when I get him stricken off the house registration. And may I suggest you don’t allow him to use the surname of that sister of yours either. I’d feel duty-bound to object, and I’m sure you’ll agree it wouldn’t be proper.’

Aunt Waht didn’t answer him. She took my arm and whispered, ‘Let’s go,’ and I followed her promptly. You no doubt realise I was most eager to hear the story of my origins.

Hardly had I taken a few steps than a shout at my back stopped me dead in my tracks. ‘Not so fast, damn you. You can’t just leave like that. You must have a taste of the whip to cleanse you first. I can’t let you off that easily.’

I had been trying hard to keep my composure, which had already been thoroughly tested once. This time, it was shaken so hard that it broke into pieces. ‘Damn it!’ I swore forcefully. I told Aunt Waht to wait and returned to face him, while Miss Kaeo yelled with glee: ‘Good! Good! Thrash him for me, Father, or else I won’t have it…’

I stood right in front of him and looked him in the eye. He took a step back hastily then raised his whip, readying to lash it down on my chest or perhaps on my face. How could one be so vindictive and cruel?

I hadn’t come back to be castigated, however. He looked more surprised, even frightened, when I moved close enough to touch him and plucked the whip out of his hand. And there was more coming to him that he didn’t expect.

‘Have you forgotten?’ I told him evenly and clearly enough for him to hear, ‘we are no longer related.’ Having said this much, in the same lowly language he had used with me a moment ago, I couldn’t help swearing at him with the strongest insult there is in any language, and he stood transfixed to the spot as if under a spell. Then I returned to Aunt Waht.

I had already left the house and thrown the whip that stuck to my hand into a nearby bush when I heard his voice again – deaf­en­ing, furious and shrill like a madman’s. The gist of his rambling was that I must leave the compound that very night or else he’d shoot me down like a dog.

At my small house, Khein was waiting for me in front of the door to his room, which was unlit. When he saw I had come with Aunt Waht, he propped himself up and stood hesitating for a while, then followed us to the bottom of the stairs. Before I could think of what he’d do next, he went to Aunt Waht and knelt down on the ground in front of her.

‘Milady…’ he told her. I laughed in my heart. Khein’s formal language was always straightforward but quaintly archaic.

‘What is it, Khein?’ Aunt Waht was more interested in what he had to say than intrigued by his form of address. But he was still bound by his vow and could only say once again, ‘Milady!’ He prostrated himself at her feet, mumbling something unintelligible, then got up and walked away sluggishly.

‘He came to apologize for – for what happened,’ I explained as we climbed the stairs.

‘But he didn’t say a thing,’ she mumbled to herself, then suddenly turned to me. ‘You mean –’

‘That’s right. It wasn’t me, but it wasn’t Khein’s mistake altogether. Miss Kaeo forced him to – she wanted to pull his leg. Unfortunately, I barged on the scene and – and I was blamed instead.’ I wanted Aunt Waht to know what had happened, but with as few details as possible, and it seemed she understood, because I heard her heave a sigh, then she was silent.

I turned the light on in the room and prepared a mat for her to sit on. We sat in silence for a while, and finally Aunt Waht said: ‘Jan…’ She spoke with difficulty. I smiled to encourage her. ‘It’s time for you to know the truth.’ Then she was silent again.

‘Who’s my father? Please tell me,’ I asked, straight to the point.

‘Jan, it isn’t as simple as what you’re asking.’ She looked at me painfully as if she were confiding her own secrets. ‘It’s vile and – and shameful.’

Read on now: here comes the prologue to the story of my birth.

 

 

9 Δ

 

Four or five months before marrying His Lordship, my mother, who was then eighteen years old, had gone with her Bangkok elders to visit senior relatives in Phijit, as happened every two or three years. She had travelled to Phijit regularly when she was a child but had stopped going in recent years, so that when she went there this time, people could hardly recognise her. By then, she had turned into a young woman, and one of the most beautiful by all reckon­ings. To brighten her prospects even more, she was known to be considerably wealthy in spite of her youth. So, her name was all around town in Phijit. Men young and not so young, including rich merchants and government officials, nurtured hopes and pushed themselves forward.

The notoriety of her beauty and fortune was in no way confined to the town but spread among young men in the surrounding areas – country bumpkins, as we’d say today, who thought her charm and good looks weren’t beyond their reach. Her appeal was so devastating it seemed to derive from black magic. It made some of these young lads so crazy that they forgot themselves and were ready to die. Thus, a totally unexpected and terrible event took place when she and her elders went to visit other relatives and old acquaintances in the fields outside of town. Aunt Waht, who was one of the relatives living in the area, had been close to my mother ever since they were children. Aunt Waht herself was a star among the local clods. Her family was rather well off. At the time, she already had a boyfriend, who lived in the same village. When my mother arrived there and stayed with her family – Aunt Waht recounted – ‘All of a sudden, it was as if I’d never lived there: everyone only had eyes for your mother, and I was left in peace for a change,’ she recalled with a smile. ‘It felt like being on a holiday, which was fine, even if it was only for the duration. No one knew I had a sweetheart. We had to keep our dates secret because he was poor and besides, he was something of a hoodlum. As nobody knew, men kept coming to woo me, but as soon as your mother came, everyone stopped paying attention to me and I could do as I pleased. That’s when I went to see him on his farm every night. And you know what? One night, for the first time he didn’t keep our date. He wasn’t at the place where we usually met, and that’s because that day, your mother had gone with Grandpa to inspect some land in another subdistrict, and Jorm and two of his friends had ambushed them on the way back and absconded with your mother. It took the better part of a month for the police and district officials to find her.’

I think you can guess what happened next. Yes, what you sus­pect is correct. When she was back in Bangkok, she was pregnant with me. Because of this, the story had to be kept under wraps as much as possible, and Grandpa made it his business to find a spouse for my mother so that she could give birth without offending custom. He finally found His Lordship. How he got hold of him, I’ve no idea. The only thing I know is that my mother’s side had to agree to the conditions that all her properties would go to him as compensation and that they’d be married in name only until she gave birth. But then, as you know, my mother had to surrender her life as well as all of her wealth in exchange for giving birth to me, and all that as a result of a mere accident.

Learning the truth like this made me feel even more grateful to my mother and I couldn’t refrain from crying. At the same time, I felt utterly estranged from her. It was as though we were hardly related to each other and I wasn’t even sure I had ever received any maternal love from her at all. It was a troubling question which no one in the world could help me give a definite answer to. I felt terribly lonely, even more so than when I’d been locked up alone in the greenhouse.

But then within the paralysis that numbed the inner core of my self, a glimmer of warmth tried to assert itself – no doubt the ancient instinct of man (or was it animal?) that made me rejoice over knowing at last who my father was, even though he was that type of a father!

His name was Jorm (which sounded so much alike Jan it was uncanny!). He had committed great evil, and to His Lordship he was nothing but ‘a criminal’. The only dignity I could find in him was that he once had been Aunt Waht’s boyfriend, though he had ruined that relationship. If anything of him was left with Aunt Waht, it could only be in the form of an annoying ghost, but even so, to me, he was an interesting kind of ghost worth finding out more about.

Where was he now? If he had been jailed over the abduction, he must be free by now. Maybe he had gone back home. At this point, His Lordship’s sarcastic remarks came back to me. ‘Up to him. Even dogs know how to fend for themselves. Er – or let him go back to the boondocks to search for his father’s ancestors. Why not indeed?’ On second thoughts, it wasn’t such a bad idea. I knew now where I’d go when I left this compound, but I dared not tell Aunt Waht because it sounded like a preposterous idea. I didn’t even know what it was I was going to go there for.

‘Auntie, have you given some thought to where I should go?’ I asked to test the waters. Actually, it was natural enough for me to ask such a question, but I felt like a trickster asking it.

Aunt Waht nodded. ‘You must go to Phijit.’

‘Phijit!’ I exclaimed. The expression on my face must have misled her because she hastened to comfort me: ‘I don’t like the idea of you going so far away either, but you don’t seem to have a choice.’

Hearing this made me feel guilty over what I’d been plotting, so I let out an embarrassed laugh. ‘Don’t worry about me. Actually, I’m most eager to go to Phijit.’ Aunt Waht sighed in obvious relief. I couldn’t help sighing either, then asked: ‘Where will I stay? At your house?’

She nodded, beaming happily. ‘You’ll stay with Grandpa, of course.’

‘What!’ I almost let out, ‘Is he still alive?’ because I took it for granted he was dead. Still doubtful, I enquired: ‘But isn’t Grandpa very old by now?’

She smiled. ‘Not at all. He’s only sixty and still going strong.’

‘How about your parents?’

‘They’re both dead.’

‘How about your brothers and sisters? Don’t you have any?’

‘I do, but some of them have died as well.’

‘How is Grandpa related to you?’

‘He’s my uncle – my father’s elder brother.’

‘So what is he to my mother?’

‘The most respected relative.’

‘What about Jorm, then? Is he still there?’ The questions came out truly unbidden, to my own amazement. As for Aunt Waht, she was stunned, but then she seemed to understand and sympathise with my curiosity and did her best to answer calmly.

‘No, he isn’t. Nobody knows which way he fled. He hasn’t been seen since and to this day no one knows if he’s dead or alive.’ Then she gave me a few details about what had happened. When the police and district officials were hot on their trail, the criminals had started shooting and in the ensuing gunfight were shot dead and fell into the river. But only the bodies of Jorm’s two underlings were recovered from the water. As for Jorm, the ringleader, nobody knew whether he died or managed to escape.

Now then! Here was a mystery with several clues to ponder that was more entertaining than many a whodunit. I had already thought of a hundred and one ways of meeting that stranger named Jorm, but they all led to the same dead end. Did I want to take revenge on him for what he had done to my mother? Was I to strike up an acquaintance with him and then prostate myself at his feet out of gratitude because he was my father? Or should I keep watching him quietly from the sidelines, whatever kind of life he led? And so on and so forth. None of this would get me very far.

When Aunt Waht told me to hurry to pack my belongings if I didn’t want to be shot dead like a dog, I wondered how I could possibly travel to Phijit that same night.

Hyacinth!

Aunt Waht explained that she’d take me to stay at a friend of hers for a while. That house had people coming and going between Bangkok and Phijit all the time and she’d ask them to take me there.

Hyacinth – I must find a way to meet her before I left.

As we were gathering a few clothes and other essentials in a bundle, I remembered His Lordship’s other important instruction. ‘I still have no new surname, Auntie.’

Thus reminded, Aunt Waht stopped what she was doing and thought for a moment, and then said brightly: ‘How about this one – Darra? Jan Darra? It’s most apposite and sounds nice as well, don’t you think?’

Darra… Jan Darra! It sounded so great that a thrill of pride and joy went through me, and I realized right then no other name in the world was as sweet sounding as ‘Darra’, my mother’s name.

Jan Darra… It was a marvellous matronymic, which raised me way above the position I merely owed to the chance outcome of a seminal chemical reaction.

Before she excused herself to change into a dress better suited to going out, Aunt Waht grabbed my shoulder and said: ‘Now tell me, Jan – what was it you told His Lordship that made him so mad he threatened to kill you?’

What I had done was ugly, so I had some explaining to do to try and make her sympathise. ‘As long as I thought he was my father, I endured everything from him. But now – he himself said we’re not related in any way, so I won’t let him treat me badly ever again. Besides, I resent him for despising me since – since I was born, maybe, though it’s not my fault, really: I was never told anything. And even now – now that he’s told me – I still don’t know who I am, except that I’m a human being. No matter what, he keeps despising me. What kind of a man is that? So I –’ I couldn’t go on, not because I was angry but for fear of offending her ears.

‘So you what?’ Why did she want to know so much?

‘I was rude to his mother.’

She sighed, and it made me wonder why.

She told me to go out first and wait for her at the entrance of the lane, then she went back to the main house. Bundle in hand, I went down the stairs of the small house in a dejected mood I tried to suppress. I dropped the bundle at the bottom of the stairs and went to see Khein. He sat dispirited in front of his door, face bruised, shoulders hunched, looking as disheartened as a toad long deprived of water. I sat beside him quietly.

Each of us was lost in his own gripes for a while, then Khein broke the silence: ‘It was my fault, but you’re the one being booted out. I think that isn’t fair.’

‘I made a mistake too: I was born in the wrong place,’ I said to comfort him.

‘Then let me tell you somethin’.’

I nodded.

‘His Master, he’s treated you as if you wasn’t his son.’

I laughed heartily. ‘Some sharp eye you’ve got! I’ve only just found out myself I wasn’t his son.’

‘How come!’ he exclaimed. ‘Then how did you get born?’

Khein was slow-witted; he only understood one thing at a time. What didn’t go through his head went through his tail. He knew I definitely had a mother and she had died giving birth to me. Since my father was my mother’s husband, my father, according to him, could only be His Lordship. And since it turned out His Lordship wasn’t my father after all, it followed I didn’t have a father – then how could one without a father ever get to be born?

‘A ghost must have stuffed me in there,’ I said, annoyed.

‘Don’t joke about those things.’ He was frightened because it was what he was inclined to believe.

‘Oh come on. Anyway, I’ve got to go. We must say goodbye now.’ My heart was heavy as I said this. I remembered the clumsy way he’d barged into my room on the day of his arrival, and today it was my turn to leave him just as awkwardly.

‘Don’t say that. Makes me feel bad.’ He turned to look at me incredulously. ‘Far as you’ve got to get outa here, I bet you won’t be outa reach.’

Perhaps he thought I was leaving the way Saisoi had and no matter what he’d find it in him to come and visit me. I put my arm around his shoulders and said, ‘Khein, listen carefully. I’m not pulling your leg. The place where I’m going is very far away. I’m going to Phijit, a town way up north, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever be back again in this lifetime.’

I felt my heart wince as I said this. As for Khein, the damn fool cried out loud and whinged: ‘Why? But why? Why does he have to send you so far away?’

He made me feel dismayed and I thought again of Hyacinth. I slapped him on the back and scolded him, warning: ‘Khein, you pig head! What’s so strange about it? You did come all the way from the Northeast, didn’t you? Well, it’s the same, really.’

He quietened down, but couldn’t help moaning: ‘It’s not the same – not the same at all…’

I hugged him again and told him in earnest: ‘Khein, listen to me carefully. There’s something important I want you to do for me. Please go and see Hyacinth some time tonight or tomorrow and tell her ‘Master Jan got into trouble at home and had to leave for Phijit, but he won’t go there right away. He’ll be staying somewhere else first and he’ll come to say goodbye in the next couple of days for sure.’ Tell her also I miss her very much and will never forget her. Can you remember all this?’

He set about retelling the main points of my message and I helped him by having him repeat every word several times until I was sure he could remember everything. And then he said, in a low and quiet voice that resounded like thunder in my ears: ‘How about the other one? Haven’t you got no message for her? I mean, the Mistress at the new house.’

Goddam Khein! The exclamation came to my mind just as I thought of that forgotten item. I felt like cursing him and yet didn’t curse him. I felt like cursing him for being aware of what was going on between Mrs Bunlueang and me, as he had now made obvious. I didn’t curse him because he had reminded me of her for the first time since I had known I was being thrown out. The mere thought of her, added to the strength of my longing, aroused me powerfully. I wasn’t sorry I had forgotten her during these vital moments of my life, and neither was I sorry for the strong yearning I felt as soon as I thought of her. The powerful sexual urge that burst forth didn’t trigger any kind of regret either, even though choice scenes of our blissful intimacy shot eerily through my mind then. My strong feelings at the time ran the thin line between acceptance and com­memoration, and that was how it should be, because I had found in Mrs Bunlueang so fulfilling a sexual gratification it seemed to have taken over every nook and cranny in heaven. And now that the time had come for me to lose her, it meant the end of what passed as the most wonderful fulfilment in the world. There was nothing left for me to crave since I had already received it all from her. Sexual arousal was merely an enticement to remember with yearn­ing the intimacy we had known, as when one must leave a beloved friend and relative to whom one feels indebted.

I patted Khein on the shoulder again and told him, ‘Wait, I’ll give you something for Mrs Bunlueang.’ Then I went back upstairs to my room, turned on the light and looked for some paper to scribble a note on. I sat down and removed the cap of my favourite ‘Watermann’ fountain pen and got ready to write. I had plenty to confide to Mrs Bunlueang, but the time was so limited that I felt cramped.

So this was the parting of the ways for us! I thought.

I had a mother and yet didn’t have one. (I had Aunt Waht instead. Without her, I wouldn’t even be a human being by now, but more likely some tiny creature born out of a bamboo hollow. Oh yes, this reminded me I had yet to thank her for everything before we finally parted.)

I no doubt had a father, yet didn’t have one either. So you could say I was most unfortunate to have been born without parents.

I had Aunt Waht as my second mother.

Then how about Mrs Bunlueang? Aunt Waht was my second mother, but it was Mrs Bunlueang who had single-handedly ensured my second birth, to the world of the senses. Just like the first, this second birth was achieved out of lust, though, unlike the first, out of sexual wont only. My first birth accidentally brought me into this world; my second birth gave me the certainty I really existed in it. Mrs Bunlueang’s sexual mores were like Phanthurat’s magic well, in whose waters Phra Sang* had partaken of the magic. The immacu­late radiance of his golden body marked the rebirth of Phra Sang, who had been born a conch, just like sex-anointed manhood marked the rebirth of plain Jan, who had been born a toy critter.

There was no way I could fully show my gratitude to Aunt Waht because I was too much indebted to her. But in the case of Mrs Bun­lueang, I had already done so through my constant willingness to gratify her till the very end. That end had now come unex­pectedly, and if I felt sorry it was over this, rather than for any other reason. I was sorry I no longer had the opportunity to gratify her forever as had been my intention.

For all that, I felt less sorry than worried. Mrs Bunlueang’s life would be incomplete without sexual compensations. I wasn’t worried that she’d separate from His Lordship as she had once planned. It was her health I was concerned about.

I thought briefly of Khein in this context, but soon discarded the notion, not because I was jealous and wouldn’t let him play in the same sack as I, but because it struck me that the sack in question was Mrs Bunlueang’s exclusive property.

Thinking about it, I found myself in Narinthibeit’s situation, when the poet couldn’t make up his mind to whom or to which element he should entrust his beloved.*

All of this fed the turmoil in my mind, but all I did was to sigh and write down the following words: ‘Dear Mrs Bunlueang, I am in deep trouble, much more serious than I could have ever feared. I must leave the house presently. I am to stay with my grandfather in Phijit. When you return, whatever you are told, please do believe that I am still the good boy you have always known. I must go now as Aunt Waht is waiting for me. I shall never forget Mrs B in my life. Thank you for everything.

I extracted from Khein the promise he’d keep the whole matter secret and when I followed him to make sure he kept the letter in a safe place, I enjoined him to deliver it only when he was sure the coast was clear.

‘You and me it’s like death’s parting us forever,’ were the last words I heard him speak, right from the heart.

When I walked out carrying my bundle, I turned to say goodbye to the shorea tree, which had stood by my house since I was born, and I couldn’t help casting a last, sorrowful glance at the house itself. The last picture of it I remember was of Khein sitting des­pond­ently in front of the door to his room, in the same position as before – like a toad long exiled from its pond.

What he had said about death parting us forever must have been true: I haven’t seen him again since that day.

The house of Aunt Waht’s friend from Phijit which she took me to was in the Phaya Thai suburb. It was so far out we became afraid the Chinaman who pulled our rickshaw would never reach it. Along the way, I thanked Aunt Waht for all her kindnesses as I had planned. Although she had so much to tell me and so many in­structions and we went on talking until we no longer had anything left to say to each other, we still hadn’t reached the place. I still remember well the pleasant coolness of the air that night. I even remember the Chinaman’s steady panting in rhythm with the slap of his feet on the ground and the shrill whir of cicadas, the loudest insects I’d ever heard, while the speeding line of trees along the way allowed only fleeting glimpses of the full moon.

I don’t know to whose destiny I owed the fateful coincidence: people from Phijit had been staying at the house for days and were preparing to go back on the morrow, which left me with no time to go about doing all I had meant to do. My life in Bangkok was coming to an abrupt end.

…Hyacinth!

That night was the most forsaken and frightening low point in my life. Unfamiliarity with a place surrounded by the dead quiet of black jungle, combined with anxiety over the clueless future stretch­ing ahead of me, turned the house in the Phaya Thai wilderness into a departing station for another world. Loneliness: whoever invented the word, it described my feelings at the time perfectly. I lay in tears below an eerie din of dewdrops. Underneath the shroud of silence of that forlorn night, turbulent thoughts whirled on themselves… Hyacinth!… Hyacinth! … Khein… Mrs Bunlueang… His Lord­­ship and Miss Kaeo… Hyacinth!… Mrs Bunlueang… Aunt Waht… Mother!… and the man named J–o–r–m!

I fell asleep within such loneliness.

And the next morning, after the train for Phijit had left the Bangkok station, my life as Jan Witsanan came to an end. The young man sitting dejected in that northbound train was travelling towards the life of Jan Darra.

 

 

 

10 Δ

 

The train stopped at the Phijit station late at night. The town at first sight was a succession of dim or grey fragmentary scenes in total darkness I can sharply recall even now. It was the most expan­sive darkness I had ever seen. The chill of the night made me feel alternately hot and cold, as if a sultry haze also hung in the air. In fact, it must’ve been my emotional state that made me react to the cold weather in this way. This was the first time I found myself in the countryside, after a very long trip, and furthermore, this was only the second night since I had been thrown out of the shelter I had had since I was a child; I was nothing but an innocent at large.

I spent the rest of the night in the house of the Phijit citizen who had kindly accepted to take care of me at Aunt Waht’s request. The next day, the man took me to see Grandpa, who lived way out in the fields. This time, it was a journey in the true sense of the word, as we had to walk all the way. Before we left the small town behind in late morning, we crossed two local roads. They looked dead quiet and forlorn, although I could see a few people going about. The whole town seemed to be waiting for something to happen. It reminded me of a similar atmosphere I had known before, but I couldn’t remember where or when. I do now, though: it was like the atmosphere in Bangkok in the late morning of 24 June 1932. Most commoners were still confused about the events that had just taken place, even though a so-called coup had been carried out in their name, albeit without their knowledge, to change the political system. We have all had to suffer the consequences ever since.

During the three years I spent in Phijit, nothing impressed me, except Grandpa, who was the one and only person I found truly remarkable.

We walked for hours and by the time we reached Aunt Waht’s former house, it was early afternoon. The house was big and set on large grounds dotted with animal pens, haystacks, and puddles of mud which buffalo could wallow in. It was the largest farmhouse I had seen that day and would ever see during the whole three years I was to live there. As we reached the house, my companion told me to sit down on a bamboo platform in the shade of a big tree and wait for him there. He then went up to the house alone. I didn’t object. It was the longest distance this city dweller had ever walked, and instead of sitting, I lay down. I listened to the exhausted beat of my heart within my ribcage and enjoyed the throbbing of my blood as it coursed past my temples, and before long I was sleeping, gently caressed by the breeze.

When my companion shook me awake, I sat up to find myself surrounded by a dozen staring children. I had no idea where they had come from. I hadn’t seen them when I arrived. In fact, they all belonged to the house and later turned out to be my closest friends, although, apart from Grandpa, I lived all by myself – a situation which Grandpa and I had agreed upon and which I readily accept­ed. I was happier on my own, living somewhat like a vagrant, rather than staying in the house, whose atmosphere was poisoned by covetousness over Aunt Waht’s share of the estate.

My guide took me to freshen up by the side of the house. We then went to look for something to eat in the kitchen, where no one paid attention to me. After we finished our meal, he took me to see Grandpa. He didn’t say a word; he had gone up to settle everything with him privately beforehand. His task now complete, he prostrated himself in front of Grandpa and took his leave. He wanted to start on his way back to town immediately. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he wished me all the best before standing up and leaving the house. I didn’t know what to say, so I bowed to him respectfully, thanking him in my heart for all he had done for me. He was a good and obliging man, so rare these days. I was never to see him again – it was as if he had been born for the sole purpose of taking me to Phijit!

The house, built in traditional Thai style, had twin roofs that met in the middle, leaving an airy, shady space between the two sets of rooms of the upper floor. When for the first time I ventured into that middle section, I found the place cool and dark and made out the dim, imposing figure of Grandpa, who sat alone on a high veranda on one side. When my eyes got used to the poor light, I noticed how wide the space crisscrossed by a tangle of beams under the tapering roofs was. My first impression was that I had entered a prayer hall made entirely of wood. As for Grandpa, whose figure I now saw clearly, he reminded me of one of those senior officials of the old regime with high-sounding titles such as Jao Phraya Phra Sadeit and others I can’t remember. He had a big body, broad, muscular shoulders and a square face with a wide forehead and prominent jaws. A shock of grey hair parted in the middle looked like wings above his closely cropped nape. Bushy eyebrows arched over harsh eyes. His fine moustache was still black, unlike his eyebrows and hair. He sat cross-legged among his paraphernalia, while I stood staring at him from the central landing below.

‘Come here, Jan.’ There was a strange note of kindness in his gruff voice. I climbed the high wooden steps and went to sit at the same level, then crawled to him and prostrated myself at his feet.

‘Hmm…’ he said, while looking at me closely. ‘You’re fully grown now, son of my niece Darra.’

This delightfully quaint address made me feel so deeply elated I almost burst into tears.

‘We have much to talk about,’ he went on. ‘Your Aunt Waht left it to me to decide about your position in this house. People around here, including the man who brought you in, don’t know who you are. I never thought you’d be forced to come here. But since you’re already with us, I think you’d better stay in such a way no one knows who you are, because I want everyone in this house to forget all about what happened to my niece Darra, your mother. We should let bygones be bygones.’ Having said this, he asked, by way of confirmation: ‘You already know the story of your birth, don’t you? That’s what Waht says.’ He held out a rumpled letter for me to see.

I nodded wearily, feeling dejected. I realised that, even here, I’d have to live like a man without roots. I suddenly felt the urge to find the man named Jorm. But, assuming he was still around, how was I going to do it?

If I stayed on for a while I’d probably find a way, I reasoned. To ask Grandpa about it would no doubt be useless. To investigate on my own would probably raise suspicion and go against Grandpa’s wishes. So, I decided to bear with it and play for time.

After being silent for a while, Grandpa finally said: ‘I’ll tell everyone you’re here because Waht asked me to take care of you. This way, no one will think too much of it and you’ll live here without any problems. But then, you’ve got to earn your keep. You look strong and healthy. So, work hard! Working the fields never killed anyone. On the contrary. So, you think you can do it? In case you…’

He didn’t complete his sentence. Later, I understood what he had meant to say – if one day I chose to settle down there as a farmer, the share of property Aunt Waht still had would probably be left to me. Grandpa knew well I was more than a son to Aunt Waht. It was only later that he told me the whole story.

So it was that I stayed on, placed under Grandpa’s care for three years. I worked hard for the rice that sustained me. I laboured in the paddy fields and willingly took on the odd jobs that needed to be done. I no longer knew what the future held in store for me, but didn’t care. The only thing to do was to try to forget about what had happened and live one day at a time. This would never have been possible if I had lived a comfortable life. So I set out to toil away and was soon the hardest working man in the village. This in turn ended the suspicion that I was after the wealth of the people in the house. The modicum of happiness I enjoyed during this part of my life derived solely from hard work. Frankly speaking, I thought of myself as some kind of ox or buffalo. It was as if I wished to atone for sins I had been a party to.

All this time, I learned nothing more about the man named Jorm. It took me about a year to find out where his land was located, but it turned out the people on it knew nothing about him. Had he really vanished without trace, or was it that, as I dared not ask direct questions about him, I got nowhere?

The only person with information was Grandpa, whom I be­came increasingly close to. Even if he refused to tell me anything, I had nothing to lose by asking, and I decided that one day I’d do so. But when that day finally came, I discovered how wrong I had been. Instead of being enlightened, I found myself completely in the dark, and regretted I had ever struggled to find out the truth.

The secret I discovered made it impossible for me to know who I really was.

 

 

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Before we come to the most dreadful part of my story, I must keep my promise and tell you about the prostitute who had a child, something I found very strange. I found it strange because I had never seen or heard of a prostitute who could have children like other women – and that, too, was rather strange in itself. Women of the night receive far more attentions from men than your average housewife does, so you’d expect them to have children year in and year out like my friend Erp’s mother, the food vendor in the lane leading to my house, who produced children as regularly as trees bore fruit in season. And yet prostitutes didn’t. This had convinced me that they couldn’t have any – but then, at Wat Po School near Tha Tian, I had a friend who was the son of a brothel’s madam.

When I first mentioned this story, I said I’d tell it later because it was relevant to one part of my life; we’ve now come to that part.

At the age of eleven or twelve or was it thirteen? Well, around that age, anyway, whenever I was too lazy to go out and play or felt depressed and bored, I’d wander about the streets wherever my feet would take me, venturing near or far depending on my mood. Sometimes, I’d follow the lengthy route the teacher would take us along when we’d stay overnight at the Sapharn Soong monastery in Bangsue, as part of our boy-scout traini