Raji, I said, theres a riverboat going up the Irrawaddy from Rangoon next Wednesday.
She looked at me, raising an eyebrow, her way of asking, And?
I have to move on. The boat is bound for Mandalay, then on through northern Burma to Myitkyina, on the Chinese border.
For a moment, she watched the bright morning sunlight filtering through the banana trees, while I watched the warm glow of her beautiful face.
All right, she said. Wait for me in Mandalay, and well go see what those Chinese guys are up to.
Id hoped she would say something like that. We traveled well together, but I didnt want her to feel obligated to leave her family, or Mr. Maidan. However, I also knew Raji better than her parents did. They were nice people, and somewhat prosperous in spite of the economic downturn. Mr. Devaki was a professor of history at Jawaharlal Nehru University, and his wife worked in some sort of government office, so they had a reasonable income. But once Raji caught up on all the family history and her mother and father went back to their respective offices, Raji would become bored without the intellectual stimulation she was accustomed to; at least that was my hope. Of course, if she found other sources of stimulation, Id probably be traveling to China on my own.
Rajis father, who made frequent trips to Mandalay for reasons that varied from commercial ventures to scenic excursions or leisurely studies of nature, recommended a hotel called the Nadi Myanmar, on 62nd Street, just off the City Center, as a convenient place for me and his daughter to meet in Mandalay.
I knew from Raj that her father was deeply involved in the struggle against the English as both India and Burma tried to throw off the yoke of the British Empire. He not only helped arrange funding for opposition groups, but he also traveled to Burma to help organize clandestine meetings with rebel organizations. A year earlier, I would have told him I knew quite well what he was doing in Burma, and I probably would have taken the side of the British in trying to hold on to their far-flung colonies. But as he, his wife, Raji, and I, along with their nine other children and a multitude of nieces and nephews, sat on the floor around the low table, eating curry and khatta mango dalmangoes with beans and red chiliesI thanked Mr. Devaki politely for the information as I made a mental note of the hotel name and street address in Mandalay.
Two weeks later, I met Kayin in the lobby of the Nadi Myanmar hotel.
Chapter Two
A smiling young lady tapped the bell sharply under her palm to call the next bellhop forward.
Have nice stay we hope, Mr. Busetilear, Kayin said as she handed me a three-dollar receipt for a weeks stay at the hotel. She could never quite get her tongue around the pronunciation of my last name, Fusilier.
I screwed the cap back on my fountain pen and put it away, but before I could thank her for the pleasant remark, the bellhop grabbed my suitcase and snatched the room key from our joined hands. Kayin had pressed the key into my hand but seemed as reluctant to let it go as I was of losing her touch.
Make haste with Po-Sin this way, and quickly, the boy said, dragging my heavy suitcase across the floor. Jump on lift before ascends away to top, if it pleases you.
Po-Sin was apparently in a hurry to be finished with me and my luggage so he could collect his dime tip and get back to the lobby and his place in line with the other boys awaiting the next big spender. He was around fifteen years old and smartly dressed, wearing a cap with no billsimilar to a fez without a tassela tight-fitting, maroon waist-jacket with three yellow stripes on each sleeve. He also wore a brightly colored longyi, the traditional wraparound skirt-like garment worn by both men and women in Burma.
I took my cap from the counter and turned to follow Po-Sin. A few steps away, I glanced back to see Kayin watching me. A brief frown crossed her lips before she revived her commercial smile for the next guest.
Welcome to Hotel Nadi Myanmar, she said to a stiff young Englishman who flourished his furled umbrella before him as if it were some sort of benign weapon used to clear his path of any undesirables. The man wore spotless white ducks and a matching pith helmet, with a long albatross feather sprouting from the band.
I looked down at my dirty old sailors cap, then back at Kayin. Her words and smile for the Englishman were the same as she gave me only moments before.
* * * * *
It was an accident, my bumping into Kayin at the hotels front doorshe coming out as I returned to the hotel after a walk down to the river. This was the day after I first met her at the front desk. Earlier, when I left my room and went out, Id looked toward the desk, hoping shed be unoccupied and I could ask some aimless question about where to find the nearest Buddhist temple or how far was it to the river. But she was busy with the hotel manager, an Englishman, and I thought it better not to interrupt.
My sorry, Mr. Busetilear, Kayin said to me on the street outside the front door of the hotel after we collided. I am so awkward. She knelt to pick up her packages.
No, no. I knelt down and deliberately bumped my head against hers. It was my fault.
She laughed and rubbed the side of her head as I rubbed my forehead. Perhaps better next time, she said, that we should steer clear of each other so not to bring more harm.
Her laugh was beautiful, and exactly the response Id intended.
Do you happen to know, I asked, where is the nearest Buddhist temple?
Her eyes widened. You are Buddhist?
No. I took her elbow to help her to her feet. I couldnt lie to her. Id already deceived her with the head-bump, but that was justified. No, Im not a Buddhist, but I would like to see the inside of a temple. I was certain she was Buddhist, as most Burmese are.
I have only right now one hour for lunch, and I must run the errand at bank for that Mr. Haverstock, our manager, then also to American Express office.
Oh. I was crestfallen. This was unpretended. I really was disappointed that shed be otherwise occupied. I see. I had a sudden inspiration. May I walk with you to the bank? Then you can point me in the direction of a temple.
If shed made up the story of the errands for the hotel manager and she was actually going to meet her boyfriend, or husband, then shed tell me to mind my own business and find a temple by myself. A woman as beautiful as she was must have a boyfriend, if not a husband.
Of course, she answered right away. I would be happy for your company on walk to the bank. It is quite long way to go.
We chatted easily along the way about Burma, Mandalay, the hotel, her job, her boss, and just as we neared the personal information I really wanted to know, she stopped me.
Well, she said, here it is, the bank where I must leave hotel money.
I looked up at the imposing Romanesque building rising four stories above. Chiseled into a marble slab over the doorway were the words Reserve Bank of India. At that time, Burma was still part of India, and the British used the same currency throughout the area.
Already! I was genuinely surprised we were there. But you said it was a long way.
We have come more or less twelve blocks, probably. She stood beside the bank door, smiling sweetly.
Oh, I said after a moment. Where is that temple?
Just go down here this way two or more blocks, then on your left side, walk a bit until you see bright color yellow side of house. Stop and try to see small bridge right just ahead of your left-hand side, another few minutes you will be presented in front of Shwe Nadaw temple.
I couldnt be sure, but I had the distinct feeling she tried to disorient me with her rapid directions.
Did you say on my left was the yellow store, or right? I tried to make it even more confusing.
Wait right here three minutes or little more, then we shall walk by that place together.
With a bright smile, she went inside the bank. I watched her through the window as she handed over the hotels money to a teller, then went to a young lady sitting at a desk and leaned over to tell her something. The lady glanced in my direction, and I looked away to watch a policeman ride by on his bicycle.
After leaving the bank, we walked along Yadanar Street to the banks of the Nadi Canal, where I purchased ohno khauk swe from a street vendor for our lunch. The food consisted of rice noodles and chicken cooked in coconut milk. It was very spicy, as most Burmese food is, and delicious.
We were late in getting back to the hotel, but Kayin assured me it was all right. I told her if she got into any trouble with the manager, I would make it up to her with a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant.
Well, she said, might be just a bit of trouble I get into.
At 6 p.m. when she got off duty, she would go home to change, she said, then meet me in front of the restaurant at eight.
It was a long wait for me, and I realized during that interminable afternoon that Id never been on a date with a girl. Raji and I had done many things together, but nothing one could actually call a date. I was twenty-one and uninitiated, as my father would say. I wondered if Kayin was initiated. Why had I never been out with a woman? Why had Raji and I never made love? What was it like to make love? And why was I thinking about it so much now, since I never had before? And much more of the same, for many hours.
Finally, the evening came, and Id already been pacing in front of the restaurant for forty-five minutes, wondering if I were on the wrong street. But there she was, promptly at eight, coming along the sidewalk toward me, her heels clicking a quick cadence.
I was very nervous and self-conscious. Sitting at a candle-lit table with a beautiful woman was new for me. I didnt know whether to ask questions or talk about myself. Id spent a lot of time with another beautiful woman; Raji, but we had an easy, almost familial relationship. Nothing romantic. I had a feeling there wouldnt be any romance between Kayin and me either. I was such a klutz that I was sure to bore her to sleep. If she yawns, I decided, well get out of here and Ill walk her home.
But Kayin was no boor. She talked easily about Burma, her job at the hotel, and she asked questions about America and the freedoms we enjoyed.
At first I kept my answers short and to the point, not wanting to dominate the conversation. She moved from one topic to another, keeping a nice balance between questions and answers.
Our food came and an hour passed quickly, then another.
After the delightful dinner, we strolled for hours through the parks, past many temples, and all the way up to the Golden Palace, with its wide moat and tall towers at each of the four corners.
Have you ever been inside? I asked.
The Golden Palace? she said. That is where King Rama lives.
Ah, King Ramas palace. But have you been inside? I wonder what its like.
Oh. She hesitated and watched one of the towers for a moment before she went on. In the photos I have seen, it is, how you say, ornament?
Ornate, I said.
Yes, ornate. I am sorry my English is no so well.
Your English is wonderful. Will you teach me Burmese?
She looked at me for a long time. Why did you come to Mandalay?
We stood at the edge of the moat, tossing pebbles into the dark water.
Im on my way to Myitkyina, I said. My friend is meeting me at the hotel in a few days. I signed the two of us onto a riverboat called the Gaw-byan. I guess well be working as deckhands, Im not sure. But we dont mind hard work.
Why Myitkyina?
Just to see whats there.
But what do you do? she asked.
At that time, I still called myself a medical student. Actually, I was no longer one and probably never would be again. So what was I? A bum, thats all I could think of, but I couldnt tell her that.
Im a medical student.
When will you finish medical school?
Her questions were much better than mine. She was getting to the heart of things, and I was feeling a bit uncomfortable.
To tell you the truth, Kayin, I may never go back to school.
Why?
Im discouraged, disillusioned, and sick of how the politicians and businessmen have ruined our world.
And you have come to my Burma to find what?
What indeed. Why was I in Burma? Why was I anywhere? This wasnt the way I thought our evening would go.
Im beginning to believe I came to Burma to find you.
Kayin removed her sandals and sat on the edge of the moat. She splashed her feet in the cool water, then picked up a handful of pebbles.
Not possible, she said.
I sat down beside her. What is not possible?
She didnt answer; only tossed the little rocks into the water, one at a time. I removed my shoes and socks. The water was much colder than I expected.
It is not possible you came all this way to find me.
But I did find you.
Then you came for nothing, no reason.
She seemed to struggle with her emotions as the stones splashed into the dark water. Finally, she turned toward me and held my gaze for a long moment, then she dropped the last stone into the moat and dusted off her hands.
You see these eyes? she asked.
I nodded.
My eyes are from my Scottish father. All my life I have been an, how do you say, an outlaw?
Outcast?
Yes, an outcast. My people, the Burmese, treat me as untouchable. She looked down at her hand, which I now held in mine. Do you understand an untouchable in India?
Yes, a dalit, the lowest of the castes.
And the British treat me worse than they treat the pure Burmese. They think I am some sort of aberration. My mother was the only person who ever loved me, and she... Kayin pressed my hand, and I knew she was crying. I cannot never do this to another child to come, she whispered.
Kayin. I lifted her chin and gazed into her wet eyes. If you have a blue-eyed child, you think he will be treated as an outcast also?
Yes.
Do you believe you should remain childless all your life because of something your mother and father did as an act of love?
She gave no response.
You, my beautiful Burmese friend, should be proud youre part of two different worlds. You are, I think, about eighteen or nineteen?
Nineteen.
Were almost the same age. Im twenty-one. I reached for her other hand. And youve just made me realize Ive been beating myself up for the past six months for something thats not my fault.