Category: Personal Blog

(This story is dedicated to the youths of Myanmar who risked their lives during the 1988 uprising. Many perished on the streets of Rangoon and in the jungles of Thai-Myanmar border. Many eventually relocated to third countries and some discovered love and soul mates along the way. The story was written in the winter of early 2012 when the secretary Clinton made a historic trip to Myanmar. Since then, further changes had taken place in the political landscape of Myanmar and sadly history may be repeating again with the 2021 military coup, birth of PDFs and the recent Russian invasion of Ukraine reversing the course of Glasnost. Some of the narrative in the story may seemed a bit outdated but the general theme and the characters in the story still ring true.) 

I follow the Moskva

Down to Gorky Park

Listening to the wind of change:

Those are the opening lines of one of Maung Ba Oo’s favorite songs, “Wind of Change” by the German band “Scorpions”. Of course, it is preceded by the famous “whistle” chorus. Supposedly the band’s front man Klaus Meine wrote this song during his visit to Moscow in 1989 in a tribute to the Perestroika and Glasnost fever that was sweeping across the Russian landscape under Mikhail Gorbachev at that time. He said he was following the river Moskva heading down to the famous Gorky Park while listening to the wind of change all the way long. How befitting? It was an instant hit and also became a song that Ba Oo had immensely enjoyed while wondering when he could sing a similar song for his country too.

Buddhism teaches that “Nothing is permanent”. He sincerely hopes that it applies true to the recent changes in his motherland Myanmar which is formerly known as Burma. It has been long overdue. The winds of change took place in the rest of the world quite a while ago starting from the collapse of the Berlin Wall to the end of the communism, to the fall of many dictatorial regimes in the Eastern Europe and capping with a recent Arab Spring in 2011. And for once it seemed Myanmar too was heading in the same direction with the democracy movements in 1988 that he had participated. Many had thought Myanmar would be joining the rest of the world during the last few days of the cold war. But the uprising was brutally crushed and subsequently things became even worse than the former socialist cum military regime of 1962-88. Yet the glimmer of hope had always been the resilience of his countrymen and women led by Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, the activist, who was put under house arrest for close to 16 of the last 23 years. For most of the Myanmar people, she is simply known as “The Lady”. But the current crop of Myanmar generals who had formed a civilian government a year ago seemed more reform minded than before leading to a recent shift of political winds in Myanmar. Are we finally witnessing a “Myanmar Perestroika”? Is the “military dictatorship” in Myanmar entering its final chapters? He is cautiously optimistic that a new era may be ushering in. Will he be able to hum his favorite song “Wind of Change” all once again? And how about his own intimate moments of that era? Suppressed memories of the past two decades escaped to the realms of the present day. But a little synopsis of recent changes in Myanmar has to come first to give a perspective to those who are unfamiliar with the country.

For starters, the nightmare began in 1962 when General Ne Win came into power following a military coup. Since then and till 1988, there were many instances where the citizenry came up protesting his dictatorship but none ever came close to toppling him and his sham socialist government till 1988 at which point people thought they had finally seen the dictatorship at its deathbed. But they were inexperienced, fractious, disunited and perhaps euphoric. Or the military was more brainwashed than they had believed. Another coup by the army ended the uprising by brutally shooting down thousands of protesters. Daw Su (Aung San Suu Kyi), the daughter of the national hero General Aung San who fought against the British imperialism, was one of the main opposition leaders if not the main one. But she had just returned to Myanmar the previous year from decades long stay in overseas after getting married to an English man and raising a family in England. She hadn’t laid down her roots deeply yet in a sense. But she decided to continue fighting for the people of Myanmar instead of returning to her cozy family life in the west. She paid dearly for that decision. For the next 23 years, she and her political party were constantly harassed by the military government led by successive generations of generals. She was put under house arrest by the ridiculous laws that could only exist in a country like Myanmar. She was offered a permission to leave the country at any time should she desired. But she knew that she would never be allowed back once she had departed Myanmar. So, she put up with the hardships and stayed on. She was almost assassinated at one point. Her sons grew up without a mother during those times and her husband passed away from cancer in her absence. Of course, all those sacrifices didn’t go unnoticed. Where many other opposition leaders faded away or retired one after another, her star kept on shining year after year. The whole country adored her. She was offered countless awards from the international community including a Nobel Peace Prize in 1991. She had inspired a whole generation of world’s leaders. Yet the military government remained unfazed throughout those years. Sanctions from the west didn’t flinch them. United Nations was powerless despite repeatedly sending special envoys. As years passed it seemed Myanmar was going to witness the leader waste away by simply growing old. Or so most thought till the early 2011.

The military held a rigged election in November 2010. Surprisingly the new civilian government led by a former fourth tier general, U Thein Sein, had broken away from the shadow of the past generals and had introduced reforms, albeit in baby steps. They first released Daw Su followed by a few other political prisoners. They had given more media freedom allowing citizens to criticize the government, again in Lilliputian natures. But those meant a lot in the tumultuous short history of modern Myanmar given how repressive the previous regimes were. Granted there still are thousands of political prisoners behind the bars. They have a track record of breaking promises and cheating the international community. They had played the bad cop, good cop scenario before (for example between General Khin Nyunt and the other hardliner generals) fooling the rest of the world. But the single most difference this time is U Thein Sein’s public recognition of Daw Su and the admission that he had talked to her and that he was willing to work with her for the benefit of the country during the recent ASEAN Bali conference. Previously Daw Suu was treated as if she didn’t exist and most often referred to as “that woman” in the official media. Of course, the equal credit goes to Daw Su. Gone are the early days of her party which had publicly asked for a Nuremberg style court martial of the former military leaders for their handling of 8888 affair where many protesters were shot to death. That had made the hard liners in the military very queasy and provided no room for the moderate military leaders to maneuver or negotiate. This time she had kept a firm stance but a low profile. She had remained mum about her former staunch demands such as the present government be dissolved or her party be handed over the power to form a new government since it won the election in 1990 the results of which the former military regime had nullified. And despite her many years of detention, she remained magnanimous and offered her availability for discussion on national reconciliation at any time. For the record, U Thein Sein’s government still has a long way to go from achieving the state of a truly reformed institution or a real Perestroika before he can be bestowed with the title Gorba Sein! And the constitution based on which this civilian government was elected still had many flaws.

But encouraged by such a shift in the political winds, the Obama administration and the United States had taken a huge gamble in deciding to reward Myanmar in their carrot and stick strategy. They didn’t want Myanmar to become a China’s minion either. First came the East Asian and Pacific Affairs Assistant Secretary Kurt Campbell’s visit to Myanmar followed by the nomination of Derek Mitchell as Special Representative and Policy Coordinator for Myanmar in mid-2011. But the most profound policy shift came in November 2011 when President Obama announced that he will be sending the secretary of state Hillary Clinton to Myanmar. That was huge since USA didn’t even have an ambassador anymore in Myanmar. In protest of the oppressive military regime, the United States had long downgraded its representation in Myanmar by recalling its ambassador in the 90s. Its highest diplomatic officer in Myanmar had been a Charge d’Affaires. Economic sanctions had been put in place and the State Department had banned issuing visit visas to the high-ranking Myanmar government officials. The last time a high-ranking US government official such as a secretary of state visited Myanmar was fifty-five years ago by the then secretary John Dulles. So, this was historic. Finally in the first week of December secretary Clinton visited Burma for three days meeting with both U Thein Sein and Daw Aung San Suu Kyi. The graceful pictures of the world’s two most famous women hugging each other affectionately were plastered in the front pages of all the major newspapers and will ever be enshrined as wall posters at many Myanmar households. And Secretary Clinton was followed by a flurry of visits by other notables that included British Foreign Secretary William Hague, which was another first in the past fifty years and the billionaire activist George Soros within the past few weeks.

Understandably there are many doubters given the bad rap of the military regime. Some worried that the west and the opposition were giving in too soon and too much. But for  Ba Oo, this is the right path to be pursued. Look at how many decades Myanmar had lost already due to internal infightings? From the rice bowl and the most educated of the south East Asia to one of the world’s poorest countries in fifty years. Do we want to waste another twenty years remaining in a stalemate? A change of course is direly needed. He wants to be cautiously optimistic while standing fully behind Daw Suu. And he wants to be able to whistle his favorite song again, just like he was in England in the 90s. A walk down the memory lane became inevitable.

Following the 8888 uprisings, like many young students and intellectuals who had participated in the movement, he ran away to the Thai-Myanmar border with a dream of forming a student army when military started the crackdown. But life in the jungle was much tougher than expected for a city slicker like him. He then was a freshly minted idealist medical doctor who had graduated from the Institute of Medicine, Rangoon just the year prior. Revolutionary fever rather disappeared quickly when one had to battle malaria, soaking monsoon rains, constant hunger, lack of funds, political bickering among the fellow freedom fighters and a vastly outnumbered and out armed Myanmar Army in the jungles along the Thaungyin River (Moei River) and the Karen Hills on a daily basis. He very soon learned the bitter truth about the fatal flaw in their strategy too. It was that they would never be able to liberate the nation in this armed struggle format. The last straw was when his close friend platoon medic Tun Myint of ABSDF Regiment 102 was killed by a friendly fire in the Battle of Naw Ta. He swallowed the pride, admitted to himself that he is no Che Guevara and decided to quit then. He gave up the arms, slipped into Thailand via the Three Pagoda Pass, applied for a political asylum through the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and was eventually relocated to England. He also decided to resume and focus on his medical career there.

It was the Christmas weekend of 1991 in England. By then he had passed the arduous Professional and Linguistic Assessment Board (PLAB) exam, suffered through the initial hardships of an immigrant doctor, earned his stripes and had finally secured a job working as a senior house officer at Cumberland Infirmary in Carlisle, a city in northern England. A lot of changes were taking place in the Eastern Europe then. The communism was in its last flicker. The Berlin wall had come down reuniting the two Germanys. Solidarity movement leader Lech Walesa had just become the president of Poland.  Perestroika and Glasnost were common household words. Gorbachev was more famous than Madonna. Befittingly the German band “Scorpions” had released its power ballad “Wind of Change” which became very popular at the discos especially as a song for the last dance. It became one of Maung Ba Oo’s favorite songs too.

Those days, the National Health Service (NHS) of England provided free accommodation to its junior doctors who were singles. Usually, it would be a tiny flat (apartment) with 3-4 bed rooms, a shared common area, a kitchen and a few bath rooms. Maung Ba Oo’s team was on call for that Christmas weekend of 1991. Everyone except the on-call persons had left the hospital for the holidays. His house officer for the past three months was a German girl named Kristin with whom he had grown quite close to. Unlike in the USA, UK teams were small and remained the same for 4-6 months whereas the team changes every month in USA. No wonder the house officers (interns) and the senior house officers (residents) often became quite close. Living in the hospital accommodation provided a college dorm atmosphere and improved the camaraderie too. In many nights it would not have been unusual to find a houseman knocking a couple of doors at 10 o’clock to start up an impromptu party. Half of the party goers were student nurses from the nearby nurses’ residences. Such were the days.

The workload at the hospital had been light that day and both finished work in the wards quite early in the evening. The Casualty (British term for the ER) looked promisingly empty. They had expected a quiet night and decided to return to their rooms. Kristin who lived in a different flat had invited Ba Oo to come over to her place after dinner to watch a few classic Christmas flicks. He decided to bring along a bottle of wine. That night somehow his shower took a couple of minutes longer than the usual and he was also found to be suddenly searching for his cologne bottle which he had otherwise used only about once a month. Snowflakes were coming down on his way across the lawn that divided the two flats. As expected, none of her flat mates were there, visiting their families during the holiday season. They had the living room and the TV all to themselves. Kristin must have just come out of the shower too. Her brunette hair looked still wet. She complimented on his cologne and asked what brand it was. He was quite embarrassed since it seemed too obvious and also since he couldn’t remember the name of his own cologne. She looked very casual in jeans and a simple blouse. She took out a plate of Liverwurst Pate’ and some crackers. Ba Oo opened his Pinot Noir and they both plunked down on the living room sofa after settling the drinks and the food on the table. As usual, the movie “It’s a wonderful life” was on the TV. Both of them had watched the movie before and knew the story line. So, they paid only a casual attention to the movie and started chatting. By then they had somewhat gotten to know each other’s personal lives after working together for the past three months. She had a boyfriend in Germany and planned to return to Germany for good within the next few months. She met her boyfriend after the German reunification and he was from former East Germany.

Hence the fall of Berlin wall had a special meaning to her. But she had also claimed that similar to the country’s reunification hiccups, the relationship had been more challenging than she had expected. They hadn’t met each other for a few months and she didn’t want to elaborate further. As for Ba Oo, he couldn’t tell much. He pretty much felt like a vagabond at that point, not knowing anybody in England. He didn’t know where he would end up eventually, returning to Myanmar if the political situation improved or move to America or to try to stay put in England. He had not been able to reach any of his family members for a few years. She was quite familiar with Myanmar and also of his past life as a student rebel, a topic that came up quite regularly in the conversations. She was more optimistic than him on reforms coming to Myanmar very soon, just like in her boyfriend’s country.

The topics were much more varied that night. They talked about the colleagues at the hospital, some light hearted gossips about other people, own hobbies, the site of the next hike they should go, food, music and movies while emptying the bottle of Pinot Noir between the two of them. It was getting close to midnight. Both had become a little tipsy. She would drift and leaned on his shoulder time and again. Next the song “Wind of Change” popped up in their conversation. Turned out it was one of her favorite songs too. Ba Oo mentioned that once his country become free and democratic, he would rewrite the lyrics as “I follow the Irrawaddy, down to Mandalay, listening to the wind of change”. Then he imitated the famous whistle. She chuckled and accused him of plagiarism but suggested they play the song as she had a CD of the album. She said it was a nice song for a slow dance. Somehow Ba Oo blurted out, “Then why don’t we dance to the song now?” Before he knew what he was doing, Ba Oo had turned off the light and was standing in the middle of the living room waiting for her to join him. Then suddenly the fear set in. What if she had taken this as an unwanted advance? This rejection was going to be quite painful. But to his pleasant surprise, she slowly got off the sofa, turned down the volume and joined him for the dance. She put her left hand on his shoulder and he had his right hand on her waist. In no time both were moving in harmony to the tune of music in near darkness. The only light came from the faint night lamp in her bedroom nearby. She rested her head on his shoulder with eyes closed. Her hair with a sweet citrus fragrance from the recent shampoo was brushing his face. Soon both bodies were locked in an embrace. She was warm and soft. He caressed her shoulders. She gently lifted up her face. Instinctively, he kissed her lips softly and found no resistance. They were sweet and warm. She responded in earnest. Two hungry hearts had met their equals. He held her even tighter. He kissed her passionately as if there were no tomorrow.

Outside the snow fall had become thicker. The crescent moon didn’t provide much of its usual silver-coated rays to ignite the night or bathe the room they were in. The whole world seemed to have stood still except for their heaving breaths. Even the music sounded mute. Occasionally they could hear the distant chime of the church bells. Finally, the song came to an end. Yet no one let go the other and they just didn’t care. Everything seemed to have drifted away in a slow motion. It was serene. The night was long and a journey had just begun.

( This post was first written around 2015 when our daughter Hannah was in seventh grade.)

Our daughter Hannah is in seventh grade now but has been taking accelerated English classes. Part of the required course work is having have to write a weekly journal for 2 pages. She has been wonderfully flourishing in this challenging environment.  I have been reviewing her essays weekly and it has been a joy to read those.  Sometimes I come to realize that she is more mature than I have given her the credit, based on her expression and the trail of thoughts in her essays.  But this particular one struck Aye’s heart. One day she asked about the houses we lived in Burma as she had to write something about a home that one’s parents or grandparents used to live at. I told her that my parents never owned a house as we were government civil servants and used to live in government subsidized apartments.

 Fortunately, Aye’s parents owned a home in Magway for decades and nowadays one of Aye’s sisters and family live there. Hannah has been there  twice and has some memories of her visits. With that and Aye filling in the rest, she came up with the following journal entry. That made Aye nostalgic, reminded her of the childhood and the deceased parents who lived in that house till they passed away. Aye’s mom and dad built that house in the early years of their marriage and Aye grew up in that house her whole life till she went away for medical school. Tears welled up in Aye’s eyes and Hannah got worried.  Aye had to reassure her that those were the tears of joy, a parent’s joy from her child’s scholastic accomplishment. I hope, we have provided our daughter a similar environment so that she can always look back to the place she grew up, a home! 

HOME:

In the winter of 2012, my family and I travelled to Myanmar (Burma). Both my parents were born and raised there. The picture shows my late grandmother’s house when we visited her in the city of Magway where my mom grew up. Looking back, the visit was extremely sentimental, being it the last time my mom seeing her mom at her childhood home. Grandma had passed away since. The house was never extravagant and fancy since my mom’s family was not that well to do financially but it will always be strong enough to hold the memories made inside of it. When asked what was her best memory associated with the house, my mom gave a simple clear answer. She told me that there used to be an unfinished part of the house upstairs that acted like a balcony and in the summers my mom would sleep there under the stars with her sisters. The sky would be clear, with the moon shining brightly, while the light of a thousand stars would sparkle above.  That part of the house has since been given walls and a roof for extra living space, but my mom still remembers the warm summer nights spent gazing at the sky. The rest of the house is as simple as the balcony was. There is a “living room” with cement floors and a couch. There is a plain bedroom where my grandma used to sleep in. On the upper floor, there is an attic like room with three beds that my mom and aunts used to sleep in. However my favorite area in the whole house is the kitchen. If you wanted to know what was for dinner, you would step in the kitchen where an aroma of smells and tastes would invite you. During my stay, I would often watch my mom and relatives cook, feeling in awe of all the possible creations that could be made with a handful of people and ingredients. Our dinner table was always full of multiple dishes.

During our stay in Magway, my family and I did not stay at the amazing house shown in the picture. However, we went there every day, each of those days cherished forever. To a normal looker, that house is just a house. But to me, that house is much more. It is the place my mom grew up in and left to seek a new adventure in America. It is the place she comes back to with her family to see her rest of the family. It is the place that I instantly fell in love with at one glance. It is the place where my grandmother spent her last seconds in this life. It is not a house, it is a home.

PART- III 3 January 2010: Conference Room @ Dolphin Restaurant, Yangon:

As usual, Nyi Naing got tied up with a sick patient at the last minute and arrived late for the Saya Gadaw Pwe (Homage paying ceremony to former teachers). It was the class reunion and Saya Gadaw Pwe of his batch, 1988, IM-1. Twenty years after completion of internship, they were meeting for the first time again. The teachers were seated on the stage and the (former) students were sitting on the carpeted floor. Maung Maung Lay who was acting as the MC had just finished his opening speech and came to sit next to Nyi Naing.

“What made you late Saya Nyi? The liver transplant patient again? Someone was looking for you all over earlier.”

“Yes, even the fools are right sometimes. It was indeed the liver transplant patient whose bilirubin level bumped up this morning. Anyway, who was looking for me?”

Maung Maung Lay didn’t answer but gave a wicked look at Nyi Naing and lightly pointed his finger to the opposite direction. There sitting was a lady in blue dress and though it was close to fifty feet away, Nyi Naing wasn’t going to be mistaken. This is someone whose image is forever imprinted in his mind.

“Hlaing? From America? I didn’t realize she was attending the reunion”.

Maung Maung Lay said: “Me neither. It was a last-minute development. When she e mailed me two weeks ago, I was very surprised too. I didn’t know how she got my email address, perhaps from my magazine’s web page. But she requested me not to tell you. And she asked if you have a family now. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. We all are responsible adults and she is a married woman. I told you that I met her family in England a few years ago”.

Maung Maung Lay didn’t reply. As the MC, his next task was to briefly introduce each classmate to the audience. It was necessary since most looked completely different from how they looked during the student days. Without an introduction, most wouldn’t recognize one another. Not everyone was practicing medicine either. Maung Maung Lay himself had become a successful businessman in the field of publishing. His media empire includes publishing a few journals, a newspaper and running a popular media webpage in Myanmar.

Nyi Naing had become an associate professor of Surgery at YGH. A few years ago, he and Sayagyi Winston Hla successfully established the first liver transplant program in Myanmar and had just transplanted the third patient two weeks ago. This had been all over the news. The country’s Secretary (1) made a visit to hospital in cheering up the patient and to congratulate the transplant team. Minister of Health called Nyi Naing twice a week to get a progress report on the patient which he had to relay to the Secretary (1). They were given an open budget for the transplant program. Such a program is considered to be the only bright spot in an otherwise impoverished country and the government had used it to the hilt as a propaganda tool in uplifting the prestige of the nation. It was a team effort and was a long arduous preparation though. Nyi Naing and Sayagyi Winston Hla practiced the surgical technique on numerous pigs before they attempted on the humans. Nyi Naing was sent for extensive overseas training just for this project. He was at the famed liver transplant unit of the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Hong Kong for eight months and another four months in Australia. They couldn’t afford any margin of error. Had the first patient died, the ministry was to shut down the program. Luckily all their hard work and efforts paid off. All three patients so far had been doing very well. It was the show case project of the nation and Nyi Naing’s name had been mentioned weekly in the news. Sayagyi Winston Hla had just retired and Nyi Naing had been tipped to be promoted to the post of full professor in further expanding the liver transplant program with a view to train the next generation of Myanmar surgeons. His star was rising fast.

Nyi Naing’s train of thoughts was suddenly interrupted as the name Hlaing Myat Thu was announced by the MC Maung Maung Lay. It turned out that Hlaing was an interventional cardiologist in Virginia these days. Saya Gadaw Pwe was followed by the get together luncheon. Most ignored food. Everybody was so excited and busy, moving, jostling, hugging, joking and trying to catch up the past twenty years, especially for the classmates who were visiting from overseas. Nyi Naing made an effort to go greet Hlaing who was surrounded by so many classmates. They didn’t get much private time to chat. Turned out she was flying to Pagan that night but returning to Yangon in three days’ time. She was staying at the Traders Hotel instead of her parents’ home. Makes sense if one’s spouse is a foreigner Nyi Naing thought. They exchanged cell phone numbers and Nyi Naing again had to leave the function early. This time it was an urgent call from the OR where his assistant needed help in operating a trauma patient who had a severe laceration of liver and bleeding to death. Being remained single with no regards for making money in the private sector, he was available for the hospital on a 24/7 basis which was very unusual for professors. But surgery was his life. That’s why he was so adored and respected by his peers and the trainees. He had been voted the best teacher by the house officers for three years in a row. Very few knew that he was engaged once but he broke off the engagement when he realized that he couldn’t truly commit to his fiancé when someone had already occupied his heart permanently with no rooms left. It was a mess.

7 January 2010: @ Dining Room, Traders (Shangri-La) Hotel, Yangon.

It started out with a text message in the morning. At first Nyi Naing couldn’t recognize the sender. But the subsequent text cleared thing up. It was from Hlaing who was back in Yangon following her Pagan trip. She wanted him to meet up for dinner at the hotel and had also asked to free up at least 2-3 hours out of his schedule so that they could chat and catch up. She said it was the only time she could see him since she was to fly back to America the next morning. Luckily it wasn’t Nyi Naing’s OR day. After shuffling his schedule at the last minute, Nyi Naing texted back an affirmative. A smiley face icon came back instantly.

Again, the dinner conversation was full of surprises. Nyi Naing learnt that May is in high school now and Hlaing is divorced from Robert. She didn’t delve much into details about her divorce but mentioned that she had no regret for the decision. On her iPhone, she showed Nyi Naing the pictures of May and she from their globe-trotting trips. It seemed both were adapting quite well to the single parent family life. Nyi Naing was pleased to learn that May liked Burmese cuisine. He remarked that Hlaing should have brought May during this visit to Myanmar. It was then Hlaing dropped another bombshell.

“That is exactly what I was thinking Naing. I was thinking of returning to Myanmar with May for good but wanted to come check out first before I pull the plug and later regret. I am concerned I may disappoint her. That was one of the main purposes of this last-minute trip to Myanmar.”

Nyi Naing’s jaw dropped. “You are thinking to come back? I mean, not that I don’t want you to. In fact, I’ll be the happiest person to see that happens, but I thought it won’t be very realistic. It will be very hard for both of you but especially for May to adapt.”

Hlaing continued. “I am glad to learn that you want to see me coming back Naing. Yes, it seems daunting. But the timing seemed right. As you can see, apart from May, I don’t have any attachment anymore in west. I am not seeing anybody steady after my divorce. And recently I was hearing a lot of good things about Myanmar’s transformation. DASSK is released from the house arrest. Multinational companies are thinking to come back for a second round of investments. With such an environment, I was thinking that I might be able to practice cardiology here in the private sector. Moreover, I feel a moral obligation to some of the people that I deserted abruptly two decades ago.”

Nyi Naing dared not ask whom she was referring to when she mentioned desertion since her elderly parents were still alive. But he asked the following.

“And what do you make of it now that you had been here for a week.”

Hlaing gave a disappointing look. “I am sad to say that it is not going to work out. You are right, it is not realistic. I had high hopes before this trip but it may have been because I was dreaming from afar and never returned to Myanmar in the past twenty years in learning the real situation on the ground. After being here for a week, I came to the conclusion that the timing is not right yet. There still is a big culture gap. The outlooks on life are so different. Let alone May, even I am not sure I can adapt. The promised transformation in the political climate doesn’t seem genuine or deep enough, at least for now. And I don’t think my private cardiology practice without any local connection will flourish. There is no meritocracy or open competition here. Everything depends on personal connections and whom you know in the hierarchy. And if I have to practice medicine the way it is in the current day Myanmar, my conscience won’t allow me to sleep well at night.”

Nyi Naing chuckled. “Well, you gave me high hopes at least for the past thirty seconds.”

Hlaing returned a mischievous smile. She finished up her glass of wine and said. “I don’t want to dash your hopes. I think I might have an alternative. But for now it is still a top secret on a need-to-know basis. So, shall we continue the conversation in my room? I don’t want other people in the dining room eavesdropping on my secret project”.

7 January 2010, @ Room number 858, Traders (Shangri-La) Hotel:

Nyi Naing didn’t know if it was Hlaing talking or the wine talking. To be honest, both of them were a little tipsy after finishing a bottle of the local wine, Ayetharyar, which was the product of a vineyard near Taunggyi. And that was how Nyi Naing had ended up in Hlaing’s hotel room. Hlaing stepped out from the bathroom after freshening herself up. She changed her evening gown too. She was in a lose cotton pants and a pink T-shirt. In those, she looked much younger than forty-five. Perhaps the temperate climate in west had been kind on her skin. And the daily Zumba at the gym seemed to have maintained her toned shape. She sat down on the sofa and gestured Nyi Naing to come sit next to her. When he did, she rested her head on his shoulder with eyes closed. Her flowing hair with a sweet citrus fragrance from the recent shampoo came to lie on his chest. Then she started talking.

“I actually stopped by at Singapore for three days on my way to Yangon. I liked what I saw. May should be able to adapt in Singapore too. A good friend of mine who was a co-fellow during our fellowship training is now a well-respected cardiologist there and he was more than happy to find me a job should I desire. He thinks with my training from UK and USA and with his connections, he can find me a job within one week. His wife was a good friend of mine too when they were in America. Since I had not checked Myanmar out at that time, I gave him no promises. But now with what I had seen in Myanmar, I think the best option would be to move to Singapore instead. But on one condition.”

“What is that?”

Hlaing lifted her head up from Nyi Naing’s shoulder and turned around facing him. Then she spoke softly, “Will you move to Singapore with me then? You have served in Burma selflessly for the past twenty years and that should be enough. You should not feel guilty about leaving the country now. Someone with your caliber should have no trouble finding a job in Singapore. And even if you can’t find one right away, we’ll have my income”.

“But Hlaing, but”

She silenced him with a finger over her lips. “It’s alright. You don’t need to answer this to me now. For tonight I have some other ideas.”

With that she leaned over and started kissing him on the lips. Nyi Naing’s mind was foggy. He was in a trance state both from the unexpected question of Hlaing and the stirring passion rising inside his body. How long has he waited for this moment? Perhaps too long.  They both were free and consenting adults. So, what did he have to care? He started returning her kisses in earnest. She held him back tight. His hands ran down her back under the T-shit. After a few minutes, Nyi Naing stood up. He walked across the room to close the window blinds. Then he turned off the ceiling lights leaving only the faint night light to glow. As he turned around, Hlaing was standing up.  In this half-lit darkness, her naked silhouette was like a master piece sculpture of a Greek goddess from the Louvre Museum. Mesmerized, Nyi Naing lifted her up and gently laid her down on the bed. He started kissing her lips to toes. With each kiss she shivered. The room became full of labored and frenzied breathings. It seemed like an eternity but finally they let out a moan together and collapsed on to one another.

8 January, 2010 @ Departure Lounge, Mingaladon airport.

Hlaing was fidgety. In fifteen minutes, her flight would be boarding. She clutched her iPhone tightly checking every minute for this “ping” that announces an incoming message. Nyi Naing was called back to hospital at 3AM by his assistant for a patient who required an emergency esophageal transection from uncontrolled variceal bleeding. Supposedly it would be a four-hour procedure and Hlaing’s flight being at 8 AM, Nyi Naing had told her ahead that he would not be able to send her off to the airport. But he promised to call or at least send a text. As he was dressing to leave the hotel room, he also mentioned that the Professor whom he went to get liver transplant training in Hong Kong had taken up a department chair position at Singapore General Hospital and he was in touch with him to present a paper on the Myanmar Liver Transplant Program’s experience. The professor was so impressed by the initial abstract and the outcome data that he told Nyi Naing about his willingness to take him in anytime should Nyi Naing wanted to come work with him in Singapore. Sounded very encouraging. Finally, and for the first time in the past twenty-five years, may be the two lovers can be together. Or are they?

Then she noticed the unmistakable ping. There it is. Even without checking the screen, Hlaing could tell how the text would be phrased. It would be either

“Tha Nge Chin Htet Ma Ka Lo Khor Chin Bi Hlaing” (i.e., I’d rather be more than friends Hlaing).

Or “Tha Nge Chin Lo Bei Set Yway Khor Chin Thi Hlaing” (i.e., I’d rather continue calling you a friend Hlaing).

She closed her eyes momentarily. She didn’t know whether she had the courage to read the message now. Should she wait till she lands in America or should she just delete it? Or ……

June 1990: Departure Lounge@ Mingaladon Airport, Yangon:

“I Hope I can join you very soon Hlaing” Nyi Naing said.

“Me too. I hope to pass the PLAB exam soon enough that I can bring you over there shortly” Hlaing said.

Hlaing had taken a bold step in sitting for the Professional and Linguistic Assessment Board (PLAB) exam in UK. It was quite unusual those days for a single woman with no relatives or a support system in UK to attempt the PLAB. All she knew was an elderly English couple whom her dad had acquainted while he was working at Myanmar Embassy in UK during the late 60s. They kindly gave her a sponsorship and a promise to help her out during the first few months. After that she would be on her own, sink or swim. Due to the restricted foreign currency exchange rules, it was quite costly to purchase air tickets or pay for the exam fees from Myanmar those days. With that and the uncertainty of passing the exam, Nyi Naing couldn’t take a chance like Hlaing. His parents were not well off and they needed his help in sending his younger siblings to college. They spent all of their earnings and savings in sending Nyi Naing to medical school and now it was his turn to work and return the favor. Business at his GP practice in Hlaing Township had just started to pick up and he couldn’t afford to throw in the towel at that point. Those days PLAB was notorious for its high failure rate especially for the Myanmar candidates since they were unfamiliar with the exam format, being isolated from the world during the preceding two decades. Every foreign medical graduate needs to pass this test if he or she wishes to work or be trained at British hospitals. It is an equivalent to USMLE exam in USA. But this was the strong willed Hlaing, one who had always yarned to visit the west again. Nyi Naing just had to accept her decision. He was hoping that in another year or two, he could close his GP practice and try to join Hlaing in UK. He needed that much time to polish his English skills too.

“Will you promise to write me every week?” Nyi Naing asked.

“Of course, Naing.”

“Pinky promise Hlaing?”

“Yes, pinky promise, now would you kiss me for the last time Naing?”

Before he could say anything, she dragged him to a little corner at the balcony, hugged him tight and gave a warm kiss on his lips. As quick as the kiss was, she broke off suddenly and asked him to leave before she boarded the plane. She said she had never cried in public and didn’t want this to be the first time and she might if she saw Nyi Naing waving goodbye. Realizing that he too would perhaps do the same when her plane took off, Nyi Naing accepted the suggestion and started walking away. As he was leaving, he ran into Tun Oo who was entering the terminal. He gave a polite greeting and asked where he was heading. Turned out that Tun Oo was to be on the same flight, planning to sit for the PLAB in UK like Hlaing. Nyi Naing wished him good luck in the exams and made a quiet exit. He trusted Hlaing and yet his heart was heavy for no reasons. Next and for the first time, he decided to close his GP that evening and went to a bar with his best friends Soe Than and Maung Maung Lay. In the end he sobbed like a baby that night though he was too drunk to be ashamed of.

December 1991: @ Thuyain GP Clinic. Kamaryut Railway Station Road, Hlaing Township:

Nyi Naing got off the trishaw and trudged into the clinic building. He was more than two hours early and no patient was there yet. Not even his front desk helper Maung Zaw Lin. But that was by design. He didn’t want to meet anybody while he was reading Hlaing’s letter one more time.

The past one and a half year had been tough for everybody. Hlaing was very stressed in UK. She failed PLAB twice already and was to take the last and the final attempt very soon. Her finances were tight. She was writing less and less frequently to Nyi Naing and whenever she did, she sounded defeated. She said there were so many new things to be acclimatized. Weather was harsh. She was lonely yet phone calls to Myanmar were very expensive. She had to work part-time as an aid at a nursing home to make ends meet while studying day and night for the exam. The only thing in her favor was that she didn’t need much polishing in her English. In the meantime, Nyi Naing’s father suddenly passed away from a stroke. He had three younger siblings who were still in school. It became impossible for him to leave Myanmar, at least for the next few years. He couldn’t leave his mom and the younger siblings high and dry. Moreover, government jobs were becoming very attractive and easy to come by since many doctors resigned while others left for abroad as long as they were financially capable. Ministry of Health (MOH) then came out with a new policy that, unlike before, the newly appointed assistant surgeons (AS) would be assigned only at the teaching hospitals during the first two years. Only later they would be sent to the districts. MOH felt that the change would benefit the rural hospitals better since they would be receiving a seasoned AS than one who had just come out of internship. But that inadvertently opened up a door for those who were smart and willing to work hard. During that first two years, if one could pass the MSc entrance exams, he or she would be considered a post graduate (PG) trainee and hence would not be sent out to the districts. The opportunities in the career ladder seemed to have become wide open and readily accessible for those who wanted to work hard. Hence, Nyi Naing was having second thoughts in not joining the government service. His only reason was that entering the government civil service would prevent him from joining Hlaing in UK.

But that dream was shattered on that day. He started to read Hlaing’s letter again which he received in the morning. It said: “Forgive me Naing though I can fully understand if you don’t. It’s too much to explain now and I don’t want to sound like an innocent one justifying my actions. May be one day I can fully explain this to you. But for now, I’d rather call you “a friend” Naing!” Love. Hlaing. It was short but was more than enough to relay the intended message. Between Hlaing and Naing, they both knew what this sentence of “rather call you a friend” meant. It was their personal coded message. That was a Dear John letter. After all, their relationship was first announced in an opposite way, “I’d rather not call you a friend”. That night Nyi Naing submitted his application for a government employed doctor (AS) job. And he received no further letters from Hlaing.

Later and little by little he learnt more about Hlaing from his friend Soe Than who went to UK. Contrary to Nyi Naing’s initial suspicion, it was nothing to do with Tun Oo. That smarty pant did quite well though, passing the PLAB exam in his first attempt and was already aiming for the MRCP diploma and beyond. Hlaing met a German doctor who came for rounds at the nursing home she worked as an aid. Learning that Hlaing was a doctor, he helped her a lot both career wise and in financial means. He got her into a clinical attachment position at a nearby teaching hospital. Supposedly he was a very nice gentleman. Eventually proximity begets intimacy, especially when one was downtrodden and lonely. To make the long story short, Hlaing fell in love with that German guy. She passed the PLAB exam in her last attempt and was finally able work as a doctor too. The last Soe Than heard of Hlaing was that, there were to be married next year in Germany, at his home town. Nyi Naing didn’t feel bitter. He just blamed himself that he couldn’t be next to her when she was vulnerable and needed him the most. He just accepted this as his fate and tried to devote his life to medicine from then onwards. He promised himself that one day he’ll get himself a MRCP and a period of overseas training in the west. That was what Hlaing had wanted to have him in the first place. He had failed her twice before, once during the 1988 uprising and later in not accompanying her to UK soon enough. He won’t fail her for the third time. By hook or by crook, he would get a MRCP.

Late Spring 1998: @ City of Chester, England:

Nyi Naing’s initial fears were unfounded. Robert was such a nice gentleman. He genuinely showed interest in the affairs of Myanmar and made Nyi Naing feel at ease right away. If there were any awkward moments, it was all from Nyi Naing. May be that’s a skill in life that Myanmars need to pick up from the westerners, how to show no animosity towards the wife’s ex-boyfriend over a dinner.

Nyi Naing arrived to UK six months ago as a Myanmar government’s state scholar. In Myanmar, after his first posting as a newly minted AS at Sayagyi Professor Winston Hla’s surgical ward, Nyi Naing was sold into Surgery. He threw away the dream of becoming a physician and shifted gears to become a surgeon. He eventually completed his MSc (Surgery) and was then sent to complete his Fellowship of the Royal Colleges of Surgeons (FRCS) training in UK. He was assigned at a teaching hospital in Birmingham area. By then quite a few of his classmates had settled well in UK. Through that old friend network, he had reconnected with many of them except Hlaing. He learnt that she and her husband were living in Cheshire. He deliberately made no attempt to contact her. It was Hlaing who tracked down Nyi Naing’s phone number and invited him to come visit her family in Chester that weekend.

While the three grown-ups were sipping wine and savoring the Sunday Roast and the Yorkshire pudding, Hlaing’s daughter May, who was three-year-old, played with her princess dolls in the living room.

Hlaing said, “Sorry for the last-minute invite Naing but I had just realized that we have only two more weeks left in UK and I wanted you to meet Robert and May while we are still here.”

That came as a surprise. Nyi Naing said, “What do you mean Hlaing?”

“We are moving to America. Both Robert and I will be starting our residency training over there in three weeks. And it seemed that we are moving there for good with no plan to return to UK.”

Before he could even think he blurted out: “Do you have to?”

“In a sense yes. You see, as an overseas graduate from Myanmar, I have not been progressing well in my career in UK. For example, I had been trying to get into the Cardiology Specialist Registrar training to no avail during the past two years. Having MRCP is not enough. Robert is also very interested in the bench research in his field. But funding for basic science research in UK is not as generous as in America. Of course, he can always return to Germany but with me not speaking German, I won’t find a job there. Therefore, we decided that America will be a good fit as the neutral third country for both of us. And that’s why we don’t think we’ll come back to UK either”.

There you go again Hlaing, a girl full of surprises, at least for Nyi Naing. One who always embraces change and adventure. And for the next two hours they tried to catch up which meant it was mostly Hlaing inquiring about friends and family in Myanmar. She hadn’t visited Myanmar since she left seven years ago. She was a bit out of the loop even from the classmates who were in England. When she learnt that Nyi Naing remained single, her eyes suddenly looked soulful though nobody except Nyi Naing noticed it. And finally, it was time for Nyi Naing to leave. He took the Intercity train from Birmingham to Chester. Robert volunteered to stay behind and watch May while Hlaing drove Nyi Naing back to the train station.

It was an extremely quite ride until Hlaing started:

“Naing, it’s about another forty-five minutes before your train departs. Can we stop for a few minutes to chat? I know a nice place where we can park the car and walk a short distance over the stone bridge crossing the River Dee. From there you can also see the Chester Cathedral in a distance”.

“Sure Hlaing.”

It was about eight o’clock but being spring, the sun had already set. The River Dee which Nyi Naing felt to be the size of a brook for Burmese standard was flowing quietly under the bridge transecting the town of Chester. After walking a few feet along the pedestrian path, they stopped in the middle of the ancient stone bridge.

“I don’t know how to thank you for coming out to see me Naing. I was worried that you might be resentful towards me. To be honest, since I learnt that you arrived to UK a few months ago, I meant to invite you over but was worried that you may turn down my invitation. But when I realized that I have only two more weeks to stay in this country, I just had to take the chance. And I am glad I did. I am also very proud of you of what you have become Naing, a soon to be a FRCS surgeon, a job at the professorial surgical ward in Myanmar waiting. Your English has improved so much that I couldn’t even recognize you at first on the phone. And you had achieved all those within the past seven years. Do you still have time to compose poems?”

“Thank you for the kind words, Hlaing. Being single helped. Without any family responsibilities, I was able to devote myself to the study of Medicine and English at all times. And no, I don’t compose poems anymore. Can’t get into the writing mood. And by the way you have a very beautiful family. Robert is such a nice man and May is so cute”.

“I know Naing but sometimes I lament and feel guilty of what I did to you. Will you forgive me?”

“I always forgive you Hlaing.”

“Sorry, I should have known that too Naing. It’s not an excuse but those were my bleakest days in life. I was so lonely and desperate in a foreign land where every attempt was a failure.”

“Let’s not talk about the past Hlaing. In life, what doesn’t kill makes you stronger. At this point you should be appreciative of what you have now, a lovely family and a beautiful daughter. In a sense those bleak days took you to where you are now. So, you should be thankful.”

“True and thanks for being such a gentleman Naing. I have never felt so relieved like now. But can I still ask you for one more favor?”

“Shoot Hlaing.”

“Can I continue calling you a “friend” Naing?”

“I will forever be your friend Hlaing and you will be mine too. Now let’s get back to the train station. If I miss this one, the next one won’t be till 11 PM and I have to be in OR (Operating Room) by 5 AM tomorrow”.

Hlaing seemed to have become very relieved for the first time in the whole evening. There was a notably radiant smile from her for the rest of the car ride. She dropped him off at the station but after flashing the hazards lights, she got out and quickly came around to his side of the car. Glowingly, she planted a quick kiss on Nyi Naing’s cheeks and said,

“Goodbye Naing. Hope to see you again somewhere sometimes and hopefully with Mrs. Naing then.”

Then she drove off. And that was the last Nyi Naing saw of her, at least for another decade.

Nyi Naing’s surgical training in England was a smooth sailing. Since he had already passed the Myanmar version of the FRCS exam, which was MSc (Surgery), the British exam wasn’t a tough one to overcome. And under the close tutelage of his Professor Sayagyi Winston Hla at New Yangon General Hospital in Myanmar, Nyi Naing was so already well trained in the fundamentals of surgery that he was ready to operate efficiently in the British ORs. The British consultants were very impressed by him. Since he passed the FRCS relatively quick, he also had a chance to go through the hands-on training for a longer period than others who were focused on passing the exam. As his elective, he spent six months at the solid organ transplant surgery division of the famed Birmingham General Hospital. But during his next two years in England, he never heard anymore again from Hlaing in USA.

( Part III to follow).

(This piece was first written around 2013. It was based on the events leading to and during the turbulent times, around 1988, when Burma went through a nationwide uprising toppling the then socialist government and then followed through for the next two decades in the lives of Nyi Naing and Hlaing. Yet with the Spring Revolution of 2021, a sense of de javu has returned. The emotional scars of 8888 are coming back to haunt many lately. The story is mostly fictional but there also may be a thin veil separating the characters in this story from those in real life. Many are walking different paths and living different lives thirty years later but the author feels it still resonates well with what’s happening today. Yet reminiscence is the only solace the author can find now while desperately hoping for better times.)

Fall, 1984: A meeting room next to the Students’ Affairs Dept. @ Institute of Medicine 1

“Alright, let’s get rolling with the meeting” hollered Ko Aung Myint Htoo, who was the chief editor of medical school’s annual magazine. “As usual, now is the time of the year to elect new members of the magazine committee. We need one representative from each class for both Myanmar and English sections. For the most part in senior classes, the committee members remain unchanged from the previous year unless one resigns or another challenger comes up which often is never. Nobody wants to spend countless and thankless hours working on the magazine unless you are a literary nut. Even for a literary lover, most rather contribute articles than be in the actual magazine committee. But it is a little different for the second MB class who had just entered the medical school. This will be their first year in the magazine committee and we expect to have some fresh blood. Secretary Ko Ye Tint Kyaw, have you counted the ballots?

It sounded quite democratic but to be honest, like anywhere in the world, there also was a little inner circle of literary lovers or a magazine mafia in the schools. Most of the times, those who were already in the magazine committee would do a scouting work by looking at who submitted stories and poems the previous years. Then they would indirectly coax or guide those individuals to run for the election and win. The only exception may be in the English section where the faculty advisors from the department of English often suggest a few names who were strong in English based on their personal connection or the English test scores. Ko Ye Tint Kyaw announced, “Ma Hlaing Myat Thu for the English section and Ko Nyi Nyi Naing for the Myanmar section from the second MB class. Make sure you two mark your calendars to be available on the first Wednesday of the month. That day after school, magazine committee meets monthly”.

That did not come as a surprise. Hlaing Myat Thu’s English was impeccable since she spent a few years overseas as a kid when her father was working as a junior officer at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.  While Nyi Naing and many others who graduated from the district high schools with socialist era English curriculum struggled to write a page long narrative, she was composing poems in English like a native speaker then. As different as their backgrounds were, they fast became friends. She was head strong for a Myanmar girl and many mistook her for being a prude whereas in reality she was being independent and outspoken. She was just a bit bohemian. Nyi Naing always wondered if poet (sayamagyi) Kyi Aye’s persona would have been like Hlaing when she was young. Hlaing liked Nyi Naing for of his humility, honesty and sincerity which were rare qualities among the male medical students. Most were either nerdy book worms or spoiled brats who were treated as privileged ones in the families just because they got into the medical school. As a result, most had substandard EQs and zero interpersonal relationship skills. Nyi Naing was a rare exception. Perhaps his parents, both of whom were high school teachers, coached him well.

Fall 1985: At the corridor next to the third MB lecture hall, IM-1.

“Nyi Naing, may I speak you for a moment?” said Tun Oo. It caught Nyi Naing by surprise. Sure, he knew Tun Oo, who didn’t? But they would never consider each other as close friends to make casual chats while passing by. He was a big shot, son of a famous consultant physician in Yangon and was also an academic high achiever. He got distinctions every year in medical school. He came to school driving his own car when Nyi Naing daily commuted via the ever-crowded Yangon City Buses from public transportation service.

“Sure, what can I do?” said Nyi Naing.

“How can I be in the school magazine committee, particularly in the English section? Since you are in the magazine committee, maybe you can pull some strings for me?”

Now Nyi Naing understood where he was coming from. In the class, one didn’t need to be Einstein to observe that Tun Oo had a crush on Hlaing Myat Thu. It was also a no secret that Hlaing had no interest in Tun Oo. Though he had better English than Nyi Naing since he went to a famous missionary school in Yangon, he was never known to be into literature. He simply wanted to impress Hlaing or get closer to her by being in the same magazine committee.

“I am sorry Ko Tun Oo, it doesn’t work that way. Magazine committee is made up of those who are dedicated in bringing out a school magazine either by their literature contribution or are willing to sacrifice their study time in taking care of the magazine affairs. If you are really interested, my suggestion is to submit your work to the magazine committee and make everybody aware that you are a true literary lover. That will give you a good chance to be elected in the next year’s committee. That’s the best advice I can give.”

Tun Oo turned around suddenly and walked away without saying a thank you. And Tun Oo wasn’t the first one who had approached Nyi Naing in thinking that he may be able to put in good words for them in trying to win Hlaing Myat Thu’s heart. Too bad none realized that Nyi Naing had feelings for Hlaing too.

Summer 1986: Final Part-1 PSM field trip @ Kyon Pyor Township:

“I don’t read Burmese novels except by one particular author” Hlaing Myat Thu said.

She and Nyi Naing were sitting under a Tamarind tree on the bank of the little dam at the outskirt of the town. It was the usual after dinner stroll by the group. The rest of the group members were a little further ahead having fun wading in the ankle-deep water. It was about 7PM and the sweltering heat had just given way for the evening breeze. Eight final part one medical students were there for two weeks, attached to the township medical hospital to be exposed to rural medicine as required by the school’s Community Medicine curriculum.

“Really, by whom?” Nyi Naing asked in surprise. He was a big fan of Maung Sein Win, Min Lu and the ilk then. He was dabbling in poetry too.

“I don’t know why but I can’t feel or appreciate most of them. May be because when I was young, I didn’t grow up reading Burmese books. The only novels I enjoy reading are the ones by Takatho Phone Naing, such as “Ta Pyi Thu Ma Shwe Htar (i.e., Htar from overseas), “Moe Nya Ein Met Myu (i.e., Fog of the rainy night) or “Tha Nge Chin Lo Pei Set Yway Khor Mi Khine (i.e., I’d rather keep on calling you a friend Khine) etc.”

“Really, why do you think you could connect with him though?”

“May be because most of his characters were western trained academicians. May be because he often included his own experience as a state scholar in the stories and I was able to relate to the stories. May be in my subconscious mind, I want to return to west where I spent the first few years of my childhood which was very memorable. Maybe I don’t fully understand the nuances, metaphors and the plot construction with their subtle but implied meanings in Myanmar prose. I don’t know and sometimes I am confused about this world around me, really.”

Nyi Naing made a deep sigh and said, “Will you be confused if I now tell you that, I wish to call you more than a friend Hlaing?”

This time Hlaing got it. She stared at Nyi Naing for a few seconds. Then suddenly and without saying a word, she planted a quick kiss on Nyi Naing’s cheek, made a giggle and dashed off to the other girls who were walking back towards them. After a few steps, she turned around and said, “I can be more than friends with you Naing”. Nyi Naing sat still. He wondered how many Myanmar girls reply by a kiss when a boy makes his first proposal. Earlier, he had told Hlaing that his mom calls him just “Naing” at home. A smile came on Nyi Naing’s face. Both women whom he loved most in this world now call him “Naing”. What a lucky man he was!

20 September 1988: House officer on-call room @ West Yangon General Hospital:

“Please change your decision Hlaing, I think it is much riskier to take that route than staying put here” Nyi Naing said.

“ Naing, it’s not because I am worried of being arrested by staying in Yangon and wanted to go into hiding. I just felt that justice needs to be served. Those cruel military dictators needed to be retaliated by an armed uprising. That’s the only language they understand, the one that comes out of a gun barrel and the justice they deserve. See what we get by the peaceful protests on the streets of Yangon?”

Following the 8888 revolution, the military staged a coup the day before and had started forcefully clamping down the demonstrations. Both Hlaing and Naing were house officers at that time. Hlaing had been a firebrand and was more involved in the uprising. Just yesterday she participated in the last round of demonstration near the Sule Pagoda when army opened fire. Hundreds died in front of her eyes and she was lucky to be unharmed. A night time curfew had been declared and the military intelligence agents were arresting activists by going on a house-to-house search. She was thinking of running away to the jungles of Thai-Myanmar border where supposedly a student army would be formed with the help of the local ethnic rebels who had been fighting the central government for decades. A few medical students had secretly arranged to leave Yangon that night from the Sin-Oo-Tan jetty in a fishing boat which promised to take them to either Moulmein or Dawei as the first leg of the journey. With many security checkpoints, travel by land was considered unsafe. Nyi Naing was desperately pleading her not to join the voyage.

“Look Hlaing, please don’t make important decisions in a haste. We are just six months shy of finishing our internships and getting our medical licenses. Otherwise, all that we had worked hard for in the past 7-8 years will be a waste. I promise that once we finish our internships and if you are still dedicated to join the underground revolution, I will come along with you to wherever you decide go. But this time, please listen to me.”

Hlaing displayed a little hesitancy but still she didn’t promise Nyi Naing anything. She said, “There will be a few girls in the group including Cynthia Aung.”. Cynthia was a house officer like them but was from Institute of Medicine 2. Knowing how stubborn Hlaing could be, Nyi Naing had no choice but to use the last option. He secretly informed Hlaing’s parents of her plans. He made them promise that they never disclose who tipped them off or even acted as if they had been tipped off. For the next few weeks, Hlaing was either constantly accompanied by one parent or was under the constant surveillance that she never had a chance to join the new student army, All Burma Students’ Democratic Front (ABSDF) that was formed at the Thia-Burma border. But then with the news trickling back on how tough and unpredictable things really were in the border areas, she finally gave up the plan to join the armed revolution.

(Part II and III to be followed)

( This was first written in 2011.)

Back in Burma when I was growing up, we had a system in our family. My two sisters and I had to notify everyone when we left the house by yelling something like “Tharr Thwar Byee Ah May! (i.e., I am leaving mom)” and wait till a reply is heard. I think it was more of a safety check and a way of reporting to the parents that we were going out in case we needed permission. Years later when I started a family of my own, I insisted on continuing that tradition. But of course, here in the west, we tend to show affection to each other more openly compared to my childhood when respectful gestures towards parents were considered to be of more importance. When my daughter goes out, even just to the neighbor’s backyard to play with her friend, she says, “Bye Daddy, love you!” and I would reply “Bye Thamee-Lay, love you too!”. And likewise, when I step out of the house, I reciprocate by saying, “Bye Thamee Lay or Bye Mommy, love you!”. And they will reply the same. The only exception is when you leave the house angry such as after a quarrel. Then you can expect a quiet departure without any announcement! Luckily those episodes are far and few in between.

Our daughter Hannah turned nine this year and is in fourth grade now. Given her extracurricular activities and her ever increasing private tuition hours (Kumon Classes), some of the evenings can be quite hectic. Like most working couples, the wife and I have to tightly coordinate our work schedules and her activities so that one of us is always available to drive her around. Sometimes it seems things require the precision and punctuality of a covert military operation. We are talking in terms of a margin of error of 20-25 minutes that can make Hannah miss her lesson or practice. Thank God we live in a Midwestern small town of USA where traffic jams are almost nonexistent allowing us to eliminate at least that variable in our highly choreographed daily lives.

Mondays are my days when I am the assigned person to pick her up from school, take her home, feed her, make sure she finishes her homework and later take her to the ice rink at a nearby town. By the time she comes back from ice-skating, she often has just enough time to take a bath, get a light supper, and finish up home work for the next day before she goes to bed. School starts at 8AM in the morning and we can’t rely on the school bus since nobody is at home in the evenings to receive her from the bus. It is better we go and pick her up at the school where she can remain at after-hour care providing us some flexibility. Fortunately, I am a physician in a private practice where I can dictate my own working hours. I have instructed my receptionist to assign my last patient at 3:30 PM on Mondays so that I can leave work early.

This past weekend had been very busy for all of us. I was on-call at the hospital. Hannah had her school spelling bee contest and the talent show that required a few rehearsals and preliminary rounds throughout the weekend. No matter how many pages (beeps or calls) I received during the preceding night, I still had to get to the hospital very early the next morning to wrap up my rounds after which I tried to get home in time to attend her shows. She won a first prize in the talent show and a second prize in the spelling contest. By the Sunday evening the whole family was pooped. Hannah couldn’t finish some of her Kumon assignments that she had to turn in on Tuesday. And the Monday didn’t start out any better for me either.  Some patients arrived one hour later than the assigned time but still requested to be seen cramming all other appointments. Some patients were unexpectedly too sick requiring arrangements to be admitted to the hospital.  One demanding out of town relative suddenly accompanied the patient for the first time grilling the doctor needlessly as if he or she was the most compassionate patient advocate of the time and so on. When I left the office, I was drained and a few minutes later than usual. It was a rough day and I was cranky.  I still had incomplete dictations and electronic medical records that I intended to finish up later from home. I drove to Hannah’s school to pick her up. Once she was in the car, she realized that she left her jacket in her locker. She had to run back to her classroom to retrieve it. I gave her a lecture on “being a responsible person” in an inpatient tone. She listened quietly.

Once we got home, I sent her up to her room to do homework and change outfits for her ice-skating. I told her that the time was 4:30 PM. To get to the ice rink in time which requires about 30 minutes driving, we needed to leave home by 5:45 PM the latest. And she was to come down at 5:30 to have dinner that I was about to fix. At about 5:15 I gave her a reminder call to come downstairs in a few minutes. She replied that she still had quite a bit of homework to finish up. I told her that she might have to leave it unfinished and do it after she returned from ice-skating by staying up a bit late that night. At 5:30 I gave her another shout, a bit in a stern tone. She said she was wrapping up the last problem and will come down soon. Five minutes later she rushed down with her ice-skating gear in hand. She quickly ate the dinner while I helped her pack the skating bag. I reminded her that we were running a bit late. She also wanted some fruits so I had to slice some apples. And finally, when I thought we were all ready to leave, she asked if she could use the restroom. Of course, I couldn’t say no. The nature’s call takes precedence over everything else. By the time the car rolled out of our drive way it was 6:00 PM and we were 15 minutes late already. She realized that too.

I was upset about her lack of time management. I berated her with a few words. I usually try and succeed in not showing my temper in my conversation with her. But that day I gave into my ugly side, the sarcastic one. I asked her,

“Thamee, what grade are you in?”

She replied, “Daddy, what happened? Of course, I am in fourth grade!”

I continued:

“Oh, I was just wondering if you got demoted at school since you seemed not to be able to read a clock. I thought any fourth grader could read a clock”

She replied nothing and I carried on.

“What time does your ice-skating begin?”

She replied, “6:15”

“How long did I tell you the drive takes to get there?

“30 minutes”

“Then as a fourth grader can you tell me what time should we leave home to get there in time?”

“5:45 PM”

“Thank you Thameelay, I just wasn’t sure if you still remember the third-grade math”

She sat quietly. And after a while she asked if I could turn on the radio for her to listen Disney channel songs.

I said, “Sure of course Thamee-Lay”. With that I turned on the radio.

After one song, I spoke again.

“Do you think listening to the radio will make a car fly and gets to the destination sooner?”

“No daddy, of course not, why”

“Well, I was just wondering. Since you knew that Daddy was a little upset about this delay and you still cared to request to turn on the music, I thought you might be thinking music makes the car goes faster”.

For the next fifteen minutes of the drive, we both sat extremely quiet. I peeped at her from the rearview mirror. She looked remorseful. I started to feel bad. Finally, we got to the skating rink. Normally when she gets a little late to her activities or the school, she jumps out of the car and dashes to the building.  But today after she stepped out of the car, despite being late, she turned around and said,

“Bye daddy, I love you”. And then instead of moving forward, she hesitated a bit to wait for my response.

I was stunned. I wasn’t expecting this. I berated her and treated her sarcastically. I thought she would have slammed the car door as she stormed out. But now she is forgiving me. She is extending the olive branch. I felt suddenly small in front of her. Here a nine-year-old was showing more maturity than her forty something year-old father. I was thinking what I would have done had I been in her shoes, such as slamming the door angrily, yet she had been more gracious than me. And I had forgotten that she was only nine years old. What the heck I was thinking about time management when even some college kids can’t follow it? My frustration at work had spilled over to a child’s innocent life. How ugly? I stepped out of the car, gave her a tight hug and said,

“Bye Thamee-Lay, I love you too”.

Suddenly a smile appeared on her face. She realized her dad had forgiven her. She turned around and dashed happily towards the entrance. Tears welled up in my eyes. And that’s why the world needs children, to make us better persons!