On
the afternoon of 19 July 1947, when I was a child, Hla Shwe of our village
rushed to a spot in front of a banyan tree near our house to make an
announcement. “Hey, I just want to let you all know that all the soldiers in a
wrecked building in our village have been crying,” Hla Shwe said, still out of
breath. “Why are they crying?” asked someone. “I don’t know,” Hla Shwe said.
“Some keep crying by knocking their heads against the wall. Some have punched
the wall with their fists.” “ Come on,” said one of the villagers. “Let’s go
and have a look.”
Hla
Shwe’s news led us towards the old building. Yes, it was true. All the soldiers
stationed in the wrecked building kept weeping; there was no one who could stop
crying. But no one knew why they kept crying. There was no answer to my
enquiries, and I decided to go home to ask my mother what had happened to them.
“
Mom, Mom!” I said loudly. There was no response. I found my mother weeping
disconsolately as if a close relative had died. In a way, this was true, I
would learn. “Mom, why are you crying so dejectedly?” I asked. “Tell me who
died.” “Son, Bogyoke Aung San has died,” she said. “Mom, who is Bogyoke Aung
San?” I asked. From that day on, my mother told me about Bogyoke as if it was a
fairy tale. My mother was educated at the Norman School, Myingyan Town, up to
9th Standard. A great admirer of Bogyoke, she told me about him in detail. When
I was older, I came to know more about him from reading many books.
When
people in every nook and cranny of our country came to learn about the death of
our Bogyoke Aung San, they burst into tears. Yes, our villagers kept weeping,
too. I supported them. After all, the whole country admired, adored and placed
great sentimental value on him. Why? Bogyoke was greatly in love with his
country and its people; he put more emphasis on his country rather than on
himself. During military training in Japan, the trainer slapped some of the
Myanmar trainees across their faces. One of the Myanmar trainees decided he had
endured enough of this and reported the matter to Bogyoke. Bogyoke told him if
he wanted to fight against the Japanese, he had to receive good military
training from them. “If you get slapped once, it would be a day nearer to our
country’s independence.”
Bogyoke
was then young, but already a magnanimous person. His high fighting spirit for
the independence of our country was obvious. Although he was a well-known
national leader, he had few personal possessions. One evening when he didn’t
have any appointments, he wanted to go to the cinema to see an amusing English
movie at the Palladium. He asked his assistant Bo Tun Hla how much money he
had. BoTun Hla said he had only two kyats. They went to the Palladium in hopes
of seeing the movie from the rows in the very front that cost one kyat or half
a kyat. These rows are usually meant for the poor. Their seats were so close to
the movie screen that in front of them was only one row that costs one-fourth
of a
kyat. Behind them, rows of seats that cost one kyat, two kyats and the
expensive seats known as the Dress Circle were situated. When some moviegoers
came to know that Bogyoke was sitting in a row that costs only half a kyat,
they became very perplexed.
“Oh,
what a pity on Bogyoke!” Bo Tun Hla said, remembering that the amusing movie
was no longer so funny because they knew the leader of the country could not
afford a decent seat in a movie theatre.
What
a magnanimous as well as melancholy Bogyoke! He went to Britain with full
preparations for independence, but without any preparations for himself,
not even thinking about warm clothing. On his stopover in India on his way to
Britain, he was handed coats and overcoats by his true friend Mr. Nehru. who
reminded him of the extreme cold in Britain. He looked magnificent in his
overcoat, especially when he put his two hands in the pockets. He went to
Britain with only one overcoat, he said jokingly about the trip to England.
There was once a meeting in the summer with Bogyoke present, wearing his
overcoat, which amused other attendees. His friends advised him to take off his
coat. He retorted: “I feel a little bit sick.” His close friend also advised
him to take off his coat, so as not to catch a cold. Finally, he gave in and
took
off his coat, letting the holes in his shirt to be seen by others. But the
meeting went on as usual.
Oh,
what a dignified and respected Bogyoke! In 1965, we had a chance to visit the
Bogyoke Museum as Luyechuns (selected outstanding students). He led a very
simple life: no paraphernalia and few clothes in his wardrobe. According to a
museum curator: “He liked this Shwetaung longyi very much. Whenever he went to
a meeting, he used to wear this silk longyi.”
One
of the Luyechuns asked: “Are there any other longyis except this one?”
“None”,
the curator said curtly. He was poor in property, but rich in respect by our
people. I read a lot about President Ho Chi Minh, the Vietnamese leader, who
was greatly admired by the Vietnamese. I requested Vietnamese writers for me to
pay a visit to the President’s House. A lot of people were queuing up, opening
their umbrellas to protect themselves from a drizzle that had begun. The two-storeyed
wooden house was neither small nor big, letting a person live comfortably.
After all, Ho Chi Minh was a confirmed bachelor. No significant paraphernalia
was found in his house. People came to his house to observe nothingness, which
our host explained to us in details.
Vietnam’s
Literary Association Chairman said he knew much about Bogyoke, who he highly
respected. I would like to take the chairman to the Bogyoke Museum and show him
how our Bogyoke led a simple and honest way of life. Our Bogyoke Aung San was
poor in possessions but rich in leadership qualities, which allowed him to lead
our country to become an independent and sovereign state. That is why our
people in every nook and corner of our country have admired, adored and placed
great sentimental value on our Bogyoke.
Translated
by Arakan Sein
Ref;
The Global New Light of Myanmar
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