Page 66 - ELITE PLUS MAGAZINE VOL2

REFLECTIONS OF MY LIFEspread in every direction. He was staring at me with a tormented, dismayed, reproachful look in his eyes. He didn’t understand why his dad was so cruel. Chang’s mum and all of my comrades looked away, but no one had a mind to prevent me from acting like this in such circumstances.“Come, don’t cry. You are my son, you must hold out,” I whispered to my son’s ear while my hand still clamped his mouth shut. Chang stared at his dad for a moment and then gradually grew quiet as if he understood.Father, mother and child got into the car and went without a hitch through the various military check- points on our way to the western part of Thailand and, before the sun left the sky, Chang found himself on my back once again. The trail leading to the Mae Sot mountain range was rather unobstructed and Master Chang’s good mood was back. His plump little hands grabbed at twigs and leaves all along the way.We arranged for Chang to leave the jungle when he was nine months old, after which the three of us never truly found ourselves together again.More than five years had gone by.“Dad!” My son’s voice rose when he saw me silent for a long time.“What is it?” I turned to look at my elder son and brushed my hand over his forehead, now covered with a thick growth of black hair. The thorn had left no scar other than in his subconscious.“Would you mind writing a poem for me?”Astonished, I stared at my son. I would never have thought he would ask me that, and there and then my astonishment turned into a much deeper feeling ... I saw the mark of the thorn in those sad round eyes.“You will, won’t you, dad?”I turned my face away, trying hard to control my breathing.64 Elite+“Chang ... Bring me a cigarette, will you.”He went to get a cigarette and slipped it between my lips and used both hands to light it with the lighter. IraisedmyheadasIblewajetofdull gray smoke and drew my son to me. I was feeling guilty for having taught him once that real men don’t cry.Indeed, shedding tears is every- one’s right.6Spring is over and summer is here but Sing went back to Thailand with his mother as of the end of June to stay with his grandmother and his big brother.Just like my son Chang, he was nine months old when we parted. And like my elder son the first word he will learn to pronounce will be neither “dad” nor “mum” but some other word other people’s children do not have to use.I slowly gathered my son’s toys in a box. I selected some to put on my headboard, including the backpack in which I had taken Sing everywhere during the six months it was given to the three of us to live together.The entire house is shrouded in silence without even a bark from Chook.While I wait for the return of the mother of my children, I usually wake up before the first glow of dawn, only to find that I have slept alone in a small corner of a very large house. Once I have shaken off the weariness due to the nightmares of the previous night I cautiously lift a corner of the window curtain to spy on mother doe and daughter who come every morning to graze on the leaves and blades of grass by my bedroom. A little later, I go out to stand by the pond.The thin layer of fog that skims thegreen expanse of water reminds me of the film that grows on the skin of ash gourds left behind in fallow lands. The morning wind pushes moon crescents of rippling wavelets toward the bank. With urgent steps I go and stand beside the cluster of seaweed by the water’s edge and feel as if compassionate arms were wrapped tightly around me.I discovered this pond five years ago and dreamt that I would take a child by the hand and come here with him.About the AuthorSeksan Prasertkul was born in 1949 in the eastern part of Thailand. He received a PhD in political science from Cornell University, USA, and apart from writing, he has served as a lecturer at Thammasat University, Bangkok, during the past 20 years. Seksan rose to prominence in Thailand as both a writer and public figure, and his literary works are considered unique because of their consistency, original style and inspiring thoughts drawn from his direct experiences.Seksan Prasertkul was honoured as Thai National Artist in the field of literature for the year 2009.