Hein Min resents the protagonist’s mother’s constant calls; now she nags her husband but learned to understand through a late-night wait and a funny laugh, exclusively for Different Truths.
When I was young, mother would phone me, again and again, every after fifteen minutes, to come back home when I had been outside long enough with my friends. The same went for when I went to watch zat pwe(s) when Thadingyut came that would curtain down only at the rise of dawn. I told her off on the phone. Mother was always holding me in shackles. She never understood me. I was upset with mother when I was young. Now, when I am in my 26, I am with my little hubby. Last Saturday, he attended a late-night puja, at the temple in the next street from where he lives. I called him. “He has left his phone at home,” my mother-in-law answered. The time was 11, slowly half an hour went by, then came 12. Inside, my belly was churning. I was tossing and turning in bed. I nagged her with intermittent phone queries. Every time, she reassured me of his safe return. At last, at 1 a.m, my little hubby helloed me on the phone. I scolded him half weeping. He only laughed at me; his cursory laughter rippled through. That night, I dozed off, after sweats, pains and dropping tears.
Note:
Thadingyut: The seventh month of the Myanmar calendar.
Zat pwe: A kind of dramatic performance which includes singing and dancing.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
Hein Min Tun, a Myanmar-born writer, has won the Bharat Award for Literature’s “Distinguished Writer Award for Excellence in Literature” twice and is a recognised fiction writer. His short fictions “The Outcast” and “The Love Song” have gained recognition, and he has also won the “Chanting Bards Award for Poetry Recitation” in 2023. His debut book, “Crescendo,” is set to be released soon.
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