ties that bind
At first, when he came to the
funeral, he had nothing much in mind. He didn’t try to talk to her relatives,
but walked in to pay his respects to the body, and then went and sat alone in a
quiet corner, answering whoever greeted him. With Grandma Jan, it was the same.
They didn’t talk much together; they merely exchanged a few words when they met,
as old acquaintances do. It seems they only started to get intimate after her
husband’s cremation was over.
Everyday he’d walk by her house
and poke his head in and ask if she was home. If she wasn’t, he’d leave right
away, but if she was, he’d go in and chat with her for a while before going
back home. Besides, he never came empty-handed. He brought packets of rice with
sliced chicken or pork, bags of iced black coffee, sweets or oranges, and left
them behind every time. You could say that after he left, her offspring ate to
their heart’s content.
His visits didn’t bother
anyone, because he was a nice man. Though he was seventy this year, he still
looked fit as a fiddle. He dressed neatly, his shirt always well tucked into
his trousers, his hair tidily combed. More importantly, his son was a judge who
was highly respected in the village; when people were in trouble, they went to
visit him at home and he helped them as best he could, and if he couldn’t help,
they let fate take its course.
As for Grandma Jan, she didn’t
think much about it either. If she allowed him to get friendly, it was because
they had known each other since they were in their teens, and she didn’t see
why things should be any different now. Life is too short and we’ll soon die —
take her husband for instance: he’d never shown any sign of sickness before, he
just went and died. If she didn’t say so herself, nobody would have believed it
was true.
As days went by, however,
everyone in Grandma Jan’s house began to see him as a bit of a joke, because of
his habit of popping up every day with his packets of chicken rice and bags of
iced coffee. Sometimes they teased him gently, but he didn’t seem to mind.
If her offspring laughed at
him, it was because of Grandma Jan herself. She would sit with an unusually
dreamy expression in her eyes and, when queried about it, flush with
embarrassment.
‘Isn’t Old Thong-in coming
today, Grandma?’ or else: ‘Who are you daydreaming about, Grandma?’ If she felt
like answering, she’d berate them: ‘Don’t be fresh, just remember who you are
talking to.’ But actually, the young ones were right — she really did let her
mind wander. She couldn’t help but worry about him. Where was he now? Had
anyone prepared food for him yet? It was getting late, so why hadn’t he come?
Or maybe he’d fallen sick? Had he got anyone to take care of him? …
She kept on brooding quietly.
Whenever someone teased her — ‘Daydreaming again, Grandma?’ — she’d turn red in the face, pretend not to hear and talk
about something else, or she’d grab some betel leaves and areca nuts and pound
them, her head bent over the mortar, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes, afraid
of being embarrassed should anybody guess what was on her mind.
Grandma Jan always sat on a
worn-out sofa next to a table where she put a jumble of tins, bottles of
medicine, various utensils and all her other precious personal belongings, so
much so that, sometimes, her daughter, who was a teacher, would lose her temper
when she came back from school and saw the mess. She would help her sort it out
and throw things away because ‘you don’t want to lose face when he
comes.’ Grandma Jan had long wondered who her daughter
was referring to until she realized Old Thong-in dropped by every day with his
chicken-rice and iced-coffee offerings.
The sunlight had reached the
refrigerator, so she went to close the window and look out through the iron
lattice to the front gate. On any other day, no sooner had the sunlight reached
the refrigerator than the old man would show up at the gate.
Where was he now? Was he sick?
She wouldn’t mind paying him a visit for a change, but she was afraid her
grandchildren would shame her by saying something like ‘You’re always
complaining you can’t walk because of the pain in your knees, so how come you
can saunter to the landing of Old Thong-in’s house
today?’ Having thought this far, she could see no way out, so merely prayed in
her heart that he was all right; it didn’t matter if he didn’t come, he could
come whenever he thought of her.
Wasn’t it odd? They had known
each other for so long, yet why was it only now that they were beginning to
think of each other like this? It was only since her husband’s cremation that
she had come to feel this way, and besides, she was still in mourning! Why did
she feel so flustered? Or was it that some evil spirit had come to torment her
and make her feel ashamed whenever she was told that, old as she was, she
already had one foot in the grave, so how could she still have lurid thoughts
like these? It was so unfair! Why did she have to be in such a quandary at the
age of sixty-eight when she was so close to the end?
When she was overwhelmed with
such thoughts, she had to find something to do to prevent her fantasies from
running even wilder. She entered the kitchen and, seeing that it was untidy,
took a broom and went about sweeping the floor, but she couldn’t help craning
her neck toward the front gate.
After she was done in the
kitchen, she went to clean the sitting room. When her eye caught the photograph
of her daughter in her teacher’s uniform that had pride of place in the room,
she felt quietly elated. Wasn’t it these two hands that had taken her daughter
through school till she became a teacher respected by everyone in the village?
Surely her daughter’s father couldn’t have achieved this on
his own!
These days, there was something
else that was odd: she liked to look at herself in the mirror. She knew she was
getting older by the day, yet she still liked to check. She had only a few
teeth left and they weren’t much good at chewing anything anymore, yet she
still felt for such things. But the more she thought about it, the more she was
ashamed of herself. Look at me: all my hair has turned white, my face is all
wrinkled, and yet you have the cheek to come and woo me! Isn’t it funny? She
smiled absently to herself.
‘You look in the mirror all the
time these days, Grandma. How about some perfume and lipstick? I’ll get them
for you if you want.’ Her pretty granddaughter, who was eighteen, had appeared
from nowhere. Grandma Jan was really embarrassed, as what the girl had said hit
home.
‘Where are you off to again?
You never stay home these days.’
‘I’m not like you, you know. I
can’t just sit and wait for someone to bring me some nice chicken rice every
day. I haven’t got anyone to buy it for me, and if I stay here, I’ll just
starve to death.’
‘Listen to the little wench,
talkative as a parrot!’ Having said this, Grandma Jan huffed and puffed,
pretending to be angry to avoid being further embarrassed by any more jibes.
‘Isn’t that so? Come on, I dare
you, say it isn’t true. Say it.’
It’s because of his outlandish
behaviour that my grandchildren are being so disparaging with me. It’s him who’s making me lose face among my kith and kin. It’s
too much, too much really at such an age. But then, it’s unfair to blame only
him. After all, I’m also urging him on. Men just don’t keep coming back if you
don’t encourage them. What a shame! This shouldn’t be. Why did I have to get
involved in such a disgraceful affair in my old days?
While she let her mind wander,
she heard her granddaughter say precipitately: ‘Here he comes, Grandma, walking
tall with chicken rice in his hand.’
This was enough for Grandma Jan’s
heart to swell in rapture, as if it had been soused in consecrated water, or as
if a sudden downpour had come showering down on plants withering in the middle
of the hot season. She pretended not to hear, made no answer whatever and
remained impassive, yet in her heart she couldn’t help but feel excited at the
prospect of seeing him, and she was eager to know what had delayed him for so
long.
She heard him ask her
granddaughter: ‘Is she in?’
The children nearby had to
tease him again: ‘No, she isn’t. She’s just gone to market, but you can leave
your chicken rice with us.’
Those brats showed no respect
to the elderly. Why were they lying to him? She felt like calling
out, but was afraid her meddlesome granddaughter would shame her again, so she
kept her peace.
‘How long ago did she leave?’
‘Just before you arrived. You
missed her by a hair’s breadth. If you go after her now, you’ll catch up with
her in no time.’
Everything went quiet. Maybe he
had already left. The thought made her furious. Why did they do this to him?
‘Grandpa… Grandpa, don’t
believe them. She hasn’t gone anywhere. Grandma, your boyfriend’s here to see
you. Why are you so quiet?’ That was her granddaughter speaking, who else.
Then, there was a peal of
laughter all around.
When Grandma Jan went to open
the door for him, she could see that, despite the signs of anger that lingered
on his face, his eyes behind his dark glasses sparkled with joy.
She invited him to enter and
sit down as he did every day, went to fetch him a glass of water, then sat down
quietly. She remained silent for a long while as she was afraid of letting out
her real feelings and of giving the children outside something to gossip about. So, she cocked her ears to make sure there was no
longer anyone around.
As days passed, the
relationship between Grandpa Thong-in and Grandma Jan became more intense, to
the point that on some days he would arrive at dawn and not leave until after dusk.
This very much upset Grandma Jan’s daughter, who felt utterly ashamed by her
mother’s obnoxious behaviour. At such an advanced age, her mother should
concern herself with spiritual matters instead of entertaining all
manner of lewd thoughts.
On one such evening as he was
still visiting, the daughter looked askance at her mother several times, and as
the older woman pretended not to notice, she finally decided to speak up.
‘Does your family know you’ve
been here all day? I’m sure they must be worried by now.’
‘They know. I tell them every
time I come here,’ he said, then averted his eyes.
‘I think it’s getting dark and
you’d better go back and have dinner at home. You can come here again tomorrow.’
Both the old man and the old
woman felt something hard hitting their chests. Elderly people like them should
not let their offspring order them about in this manner. The shame of leaving
the house upon being told to get out prevented him from standing up then and
there, so he put on a brave face and went on sitting for a while before he felt
it proper to take his leave.
At night, the long lane that
led to the boat landing looked desolate and it would have looked a thousand
times more so had anyone known what was in the old man’s heart as he walked
back home alone.
Grandpa Thong-in would very
much have liked to tell other people, so that they understood him better, that
when he and Grandma Jan were in their teens, they were in love with each other,
so much in love that they’d gladly have died for each other, so much in love
that they were ready to elope, but their parents had thwarted their plans,
claiming they were no match to each other, and time had finally separated them.
Grandma Jan had married first, and he had been despondent for five years until
he, too, had got married. For all of fifty-three years since then, he had had
to live with his sorrow, suppress his feelings, bow to social constraints and
try to be a good father to his son.
Come to think of it, it was
funny, very funny indeed! He wondered what kind of evil spirit had prompted him
to start fantasizing in earnest.
The power of love is so strong
that no tradition can stop it. And so it proved to be for Grandpa Thong-in and
Grandma Jan. Once the fire of love smouldering in their hearts became
unbearably hot, something had to be done about it.
‘Wouldn’t it be better if we
did the right thing, so that we can live happily together?’ Grandpa Thong-in
suggested one evening when they were on their own.
The old woman looked at him as
if she couldn’t believe her ears, but she didn’t answer immediately. She took a
stick of tobacco and wiped the lime off her lips and teeth, then sat thinking
for a while before she said: ‘Both of us are old now. We just can’t be reckless
like children and start the neighbours gossiping.’
‘But if we don’t do the right
thing, they’ll gossip even more,’ Grandpa Thong-in objected.
‘Then tell me what you want me
to do.’
Grandpa Thong-in’s heart was pounding. What he felt now was no different
from what he had felt that first time. He still remembered the day of long ago
when they had agreed to meet at the temple fair to build a sand castle
together. The beautiful girl named Jan had told him something similar after she
had become his that very same night.
He smiled at her before
answering thoughtfully: ‘If you don’t mind and really want me to be your
companion, I’ll ask my son to come and talk to your daughter.’
He thought his idea was correct
and everything would turn out all right. His son was a judge respected by
everyone. If he came and asked Grandma Jan’s daughter for her mother’s hand on
his behalf, she certainly wouldn’t refuse him. There should be no problem with
his son either, because his mother had been dead for all of twenty years.
After they solemnly agreed that
they would each bring the matter up with their children, Grandpa Thong-in
undertook to talk to his son, but it was difficult for him to find the right
time to do so, as he had to observe his son’s expression to make sure he was
ready to listen to his plight. Their conversation left him utterly
disappointed.
‘Why are you like this, Dad? I
don’t understand you at all. If you do this, how can I look people in the face
again?’ his son had said with a shaky voice.
He had felt his face become
numb with shame. He had never thought the situation would turn out this way.
His idea had been that it was the right thing to do — once you are in love, you
should do what tradition requires. When his son had fallen in love with his
future wife, he had been the one to ask for her hand for him, but now that it
was his turn to be in love, why did it prove to be so difficult? He didn’t
argue. He didn’t say anything. He kept everything bottled up. Every word his
son had said was right: he was a judge, someone everybody respected; how could
he save face if his friends, the neighbours or whoever else sniggered at him
because his father had become a laughing stock? What if the newspapers
announced something like: ‘A dirty old man humiliates his son, a judge, by
remarrying at the age of seventy!’
‘At your age, why don’t you
turn to religion instead? You should go to the temple to take your mind away
from these kinds of thoughts.’
He hadn’t known how to answer.
If he had told him he and Grandma Jan had been in love in their youth, it would
have sounded like some fairy tale he had brought up to try and outsmart him by
obscuring the real issue.
As for Grandma Jan, she had the
same problem. After she talked with her daughter, she felt like a prurient old
woman.
‘I’m not up to anything. I just
want to consult you. Please stop yelling like this; think about the neighbours.’
She waved her hand, signalling her daughter to lower her voice.
‘You don’t give a damn about my
reputation!’
‘Go on,
go on shouting if you don’t mind the neighbours.’
‘It doesn’t make any difference
whether I shout or not; everybody knows what you two have been up to.’
‘And what is that, pray? Don’t
you dare look down on your mother like this!’ She
raised her voice this time as she couldn’t allow her daughter to blame her and
get away with it.
She was both pained and ashamed
to be criticized by her offspring at such a ripe old age. No one knew that she
wept alone in the dark all night long. She kept asking herself what kind of
evil spirit had turned her feelings loose like this, and why it was she had to
hanker after him and be so concerned about his welfare, even though the loving
bonds of yore had been cut off such a long time ago.
After they were separately
instructed to bridle their desires and refrain from lusting, they agreed to
turn to the temple to purify their thoughts through the teachings of the Buddha
as their children suggested.
Not long after he entered the
temple, however, Grandpa Thong-in decided to leave, because the teachings of
the Buddha did nothing to alleviate his suffering. On the contrary, he felt
that the longer he sat meditating, the more confused his mind became. He had
come to the conclusion that the only way he’d get rid of his suffering was by
having other people understand and commiserate with him. Tradition is a set of
conventions thought up by man so that everyone performs one’s social duty
happily. Its function is no different from that of a shirt, which not only
prettifies but also provides warmth to its wearer, and when a shirt is too old
or too tight to be worn anymore, one must discard it and put on a more fetching
one instead.
That night, after he and
Grandma Jan had made up their minds they would elope together and had set the
time for it, they secretly stuffed clothes and other basic items into their
travel bags.
Grandpa Thong-in had insisted
she should take along as little as possible, to avoid being overloaded as they
travelled. Three or four items of clothing should be enough; she could always
buy some more once they had settled down.
‘Have you thought it through?’
Grandma Jan asked, to make sure once again.
‘Yes, I have. If we let things
go on like this, we’ll just make them miserable for nothing. Besides, we are
old now and will be dead in a few years anyway.’
‘But I’m worried about my
daughter, I’m afraid she’ll feel lonely,’ Grandma Jan said and then burst into
tears. They had been together all of her daughter’s life, so why, oh why, did
they have to part now?
Throughout the journey, Grandma
Jan kept complaining she was missing her daughter and grandchildren.
Grandpa Thong-in took her to a
small house in Rayong province. It was the same place where he had once taken
the beautiful girl named Jan and they had walked hand in hand along a beach of
fine white sand. He still remembered the freedom of the seagulls swooping up
and down above the deep-blue sea; the small but swift land crabs that
challenged the young couple to run after them and catch them, which was great
fun; and the stretch of sand on which they had helped each other etch the words
that confided their innermost feelings to Mother Earth: ‘I will love you
forever.’
These impressive scenes had
hidden themselves in a secret recess of his heart for all of fifty-three years,
such a long time that he sometimes completely forgot that he, too, like everyone else, had once had a first love. Never had he
thought that in this life there would be such a day again, a day in which he’d
have a chance to taste anew the sweetness of the past.
That day long ago, they had
hooked their little fingers together and poked fun at each other as they ran
along the beach, like any other young couple in love. But today, just walking
together without so much as touching or plying her with I-love-yous made him very happy.
‘Are your knees still hurting?’
he asked with great concern.
‘Of course they are.’
‘I’ll give you a massage when
we are back. I brought some ointment with me.’
Grandma Jan didn’t answer. Her
mind was still in turmoil. She missed the loved ones she had left behind. By
now, they must be searching high and low for her.
The place they were to stay in
was a small section of a long townhouse built for renting. They moved in as
soon as they had paid the rent.
This was the first night they
would share the same bed. Though they each had known married life, it was their
first night together — the first night of a new life, the first night of mutual
dependence until death would part them.
The old woman bowed to Buddha,
recited prayers dedicating merit to those who had passed away and asked the
house spirit to protect her. She then lay down stiffly right against her side
of the mosquito net and lay there almost motionless.
As for Grandpa Thong-in, he
kept tossing and turning but couldn’t find a comfortable position. He had no
idea what time it was, but it must have been very late, because the radio in
the adjoining house had long stopped broadcasting yet kept hissing, as its
owner had probably forgotten to turn it off before falling asleep.
Although they had switched off
the light, a neon tube outside sent a faint glow into the room and he could see
that Grandma Jan was lying with one arm across her forehead.
The old man extended a hand and
placed it on her stomach, which was heaving up and down as she breathed.
‘Aren’t you asleep yet?’
‘Not yet. I was thinking of my
daughter. By now, they must be at sixes and sevens looking for us.’
This time, there was no answer
from him. He let her drift back into her thoughts, and after a while she began
to feel uneasy when she realized that the hand that had been on her stomach was
no longer there but awkwardly moving up and down, giving her goose pimples all
over.
‘You want to?’ she asked.
‘Hmm…’
It was a language that poured
from the goodness of their hearts. They just said what came to mind; there was
no pretence.
She took off her sarong and
then her blouse and let him caress her for a while before she extended her hand
to stroke his groin.
‘But you are still limp!’
‘Hmm…’
‘You want me to help?’
‘Hmm…’
It was a way of expressing
mutual concern rather than sexual passion.
…
‘Enough. You should sleep now.’
‘Why?’
‘I know you are tired, I
understand.’
‘As you wish, then. Let’s lie
quietly.’
…
The deeper the night, the
colder it became. He had long fallen asleep but she still laid with her arm
across her forehead. Despite her weariness, she went on worrying about her
daughter and grandchildren. She blamed herself for what she had done; she
shouldn’t have left them and travelled so far away. How were they now? Did they
have anything to eat?
Tomorrow, she’d tell Old
Thong-in to take her back home.