Some of the monks recognised the old man, making his annual visit
to Wat Chiang Man during the festival of Loy Kratong. He had been coming
since before anyone could remember.
The resident temple dogs kept a respectful distance from the old man
with his walking stick in one hand, and a kratong in the other. This year,
the monks noticed by the way that he walked what an effort it was for him
to reach his destination. Why was he unaccompanied? What son or daughter
would leave an elderly relative, obviously not in good health, alone?
Though people came from far and wide to take in the religious and historical
significance of this place, the old man's destination was a much more modest
location behind the ornate temple. A small pool of water shaded by trees,
and forgotten. On its far side there was a small bench. This is where his
pilgrimage always ended. It always saddened him to see the lack of respect
given to this place. A little of the attention and devotion lavished on
the temple would not have gone amiss in this quiet little corner. The wind
chimes seemed to sound in agreement.
There was a procedure to follow before he set his kratong on the surface
of the pool. He made himself as comfortable as a 70-year-old man could,
folded his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. He took himself back
to the first time he saw the woman who was to become his wife. He was part
of a boys' school trip to Wat Chiang Man. A girls' school outing had arrived
just before them, and they were spread out all over the area. He had wandered
away from his friends and found himself near a small pool of water. That
was when he saw her sitting, gazing into the pool. He plucked up the courage
to ask her what she was seeing in the water.
"My future," she said.
Intrigued by her strange statement, he asked "What do you mean
by that?"
"My happiest and saddest moments will be sat by this pool,"
she said. He asked if he could sit beside her. She made room for him. No
sooner had he asked her name and what school she went to, than her friends
appeared. Their teasing made her leave without saying goodbye. He hoped
he would meet her again, and only 2 weeks later while passing Sompet Market
on his way to Thapae Gate, he met her again with one of her friends. As
he stumbled over his words, he could feel that she was reading him like
a book. Eventually he got to the point and asked if he could take her to
the cinema one evening. Expecting a negative reply, he prepared to take
his leave. She took him by surprise with her reply: "When and where?"
He made it to Thapae Gate in record time, thanks to the extra spring in
his heels.
They had been seeing each other for almost 6 months when the festival
of Loy Kratong came around. They decided not to follow everyone else to
the Mae Ping River that year. Though it was traditional to send your kratong
down the river, carrying all your hopes and fears, it also meant you had
to search for a quiet space, or jostle with the crowds around Nawarat Bridge.
They would have their own version of Loy Kratong - minus the bodily crush
and the loud fireworks. What better place to go than the place they first
met? Wat Chiang Man would become their own secret place, their escape from
the world. They made a promise that no matter what happened, they would
return every year to light candles - and float their little kratong without
disturbance.
Two years later they were married with their parents' blessings. They
moved into a large apartment above his father's shop in a busy soi. Eventually,
with a baby on the way, they knew that they had to think of ways to improve
their financial situation. He suggested - and his father accepted - the
addition of a small bar adjoining the shop. Through his many friends and
contacts, the business took off. He wouldn't have as much time to be with
his family, but he reasoned that this was the sacrifice he would have to
make to secure their future.
Time passed, and they had a lot to be happy about. A handsome son -
and an expanding business ready to move to bigger premises in the Night
Bazaar. His intention was to capture the expanding tourist market and this
also proved to be a success. Though free time was becoming harder to find,
they still managed to keep their annual promised visit to Wat Chiang Man.
This time they brought their son. In that twilight area between night and
day, under a sky decorated with the glow of red lanterns and multicoloured
fireworks, they never thought they could know such happiness.
Time passed, and what at first seemed a small problem - like a dark
cloud in the distance threatening rain - started having its effect on their
lives.
More of his time was being spent in the bar. He was now drinking enough
to become his own number one customer; though he would claim otherwise.
His wife's suggestion that he employ someone to give him more free time
was ignored. After all, wasn't he the reason the bar was such a success?
Would friends and colleagues still frequent the place if he weren't there?
She wanted to know why he drank so much. But how long can you keep saying
"No" to customers asking you to join them in a drink? What did
she know about the business of running a bar!
They should have been able to look on their first 10 years together
as happy ones, but it seemed that every step up he took in his business
life was followed by a step down in his private life.
He never knew how much he hurt her when he suggested that, just this
once, they cancel their annual visit to Wat Chiang Man at Loy Kratong.
He told her that a big party of German tourists in town for the festival
had been using the bar as their base. How could he turn away such trade?
He told her that he would make it up to her later. He had broken their
promise and, in time, he would let Loy Kratong slip by without even recalling
that a promise had been made. As he slid further into his love affair with
the bottle, he failed to notice the years slipping by. At what point did
he stop seeing what was really happening? When did he stop listening to
advice from his wife and his true friends, and start listening to barflies?
The phone had been ringing for some time in the bar, but he had managed
to ignore it; the customers always came first. Irritated at being disturbed,
and with glass in hand, he gave in to the insistent caller. When he heard
the distressed voice of his son, he came out of his alcoholic haze in an
instant. "Dad, its mum! She's in hospital, she's fighting for her
life!" He felt something crash inside himself. He got the ward details,
left the bar without saying a word, and grabbed a tuk-tuk.
On the way there he tried to figure out what had led to this. He knew
that she had been ill, and that the doctor had confined her to bed. Pneumonia.
Was that life threatening? He hadn't thought. He had assumed that after
a few days in bed she would be back to normal. She had been talking rather
strange lately too, reminiscing about their first meeting, what would happen
to him if she died? Did he believe that they would meet again?
He didn't have time to listen; there was a business to run. When she
was feeling better they would talk. Now he wished that he had heard every
word she had ever uttered. How was it possible to live with someone so
long, and not be able to see what was happening? She had been reaching
out to him… and he wasn't there.* When he arrived at the hospital he could
tell instantly by his son's face that he was too late. They held each other
for what seemed like an eternity. He asked his son when she had been brought
from the house to the hospital.
"Dad that's just it, she wasn't brought from the house!" exclaimed
the young man. "She was found in Wat Chiang Man by a monk as he was
making his rounds to shut the gates." That was when he felt his heart
break. "Do you know why she went to Wat Chiang Man, dad?" He
knew, but he couldn't speak. He went in to see her. She looked as if she
was only sleeping. He half expected her to open her eyes and smile at him,
and wipe away the tears from his eyes; the way she'd done when she presented
him with his son. After the funeral service he knew where they had to take
her remains. She had been prophetic when she said this pool was to give
her the happiest and saddest moments. She could have been speaking for
him too.
He silently waited for his son's accusations, but they never came. He
had too much of his mother in him. All he said was "Where were you
all these years, dad?" To say that he had been supporting his family
would have been a poor defence… and a lie. He could only say, "I don't
know, son."
The glass of whisky he had held the day he got the worst news of his
life… was his last. He would never drink again. Almost immediately, he
handed over the business to his son whose sound business sense, in time,
exceeded his father's without the need to trade glass for glass with his
customers. He opened a large bar in a trendy area of Bangkok and drew in
a young, affluent set with money to burn. This, in turn, necessitated being
nearer to the business. Father moved in with son on condition that he was
allowed to make his annual trip to Chiangmai, alone, for Loy Kratong.
This year had not been one of his healthiest. Against both his doctor
and his son's strong advice, he made the trip north for Loy Kratong. The
promise he had broken while she was alive could never be broken now. Twenty-three
years he had come looking for forgiveness, and as long as there was life
in his body he would return.
The second part of his ritual was now complete. He opened his eyes and
wiped his tears away to clear his vision, lit the candles on his kratong,
and painfully rose to set it on the water. When he completed this final
part of his task, he sat down again in the gathering darkness to watch
it glide across the water. But this time something happened that had never
happened before! The candles expired, and he was left with the reflected
flashes of fireworks exploding in the pool. He closed his eyes again, feeling
defeated and alone.
JUST LIKE THE REAL THING?
Click for larger photograph
Almost! This metal bas relief of a Mitsubishi A6M2 Zero-Sen actually
represents an aircraft of the 64th Sentai, wich was stationed here at Chiangmai.
Framed in dark Thai timber, each piece is numbered and only 1000 pieces
will ever be produced. Made by Thai craftsmen with care.
Suddenly, he thought he had gone deaf. A silence had fallen on the place,
making him open his eyes. The sky was still glowing with lanterns and fireworks
still throwing out their multicoloured flashes, but he was hearing nothing.
He closed his eyes again, and considered deafness. Just when he thought
he might get used to the idea of another cross to bear, he heard the distinct
music of wind chimes, and the sound of a gentle breeze moving towards him.
It touched him, then stopped. This time the silence moved through him,
and he felt a familiar presence that told him he was not alone. And just
as he opened his eyes, the candles on his kratong burst into life and bathed
the pool in bright light. He felt a peace descend on him that he hadn't
known for a very long time.
He knew that he had been forgiven. The tears that now ran down his face
were tears of relief and gratitude. Weariness overcame him, and he decided
to lie down on the bench for a short while. He smiled and closed his eyes.
It was never too late to ask for forgiveness.
The monks found him just before closing time; a small, still, figure
curled up on an impossibly small bench.
His son came to carry out the duty with which his father had entrusted
him. This was the place that they found each other, and this would be the
place where they would rest together. As his ashes were scattered over
the water, his son silently promised that he would bring his own young
family to pay their respects every Loy Kratong. He came back with his wife
and 3 young children as promised, and while they watched the magic show
in the sky above, he told his children happy stories about their grandparents.
When the last visitor finally left, one of the monks set about his usual
task of locking the gates. He was startled by the young couple he saw sitting
in the semidarkness on the far side of the pool. He thought everyone had
gone. He would have to tell them he was locking up, but first, he would
have to open the gate for them again. He did so, turned and headed towards
the pool. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. Ahead of him was just a small,
empty, old bench.....
About the author Scottish author Michael Psciuk taught in Chiangmai for 3 years and
says that the pool at Wat Chang Man was the inspiration for this story.
During his time here his girlfriend's father died of drink related problems
and he put the two together. You can find 3 more of his fictional short
stories at the pay-to-read site www.hungrypublishing.com
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