REMINISCENCE

MEMORANDUM

As for today, I'd like to share a story of a breakthrough with all of my loving readers. Every effort, in my thinking, deserves its own credit.

I began working on a book titled #AMAR in January 2018, and it was completed today and passed over to copywriting to be delivered to a publisher as a manuscript.

I'm both proud of myself and relieved. It had been a heavy duty for me, but now, shortly after being sent to copywriting, my heavy heart felt as light as a balloon.

The book took about two years to finish, and it was the most challenging, tough, and demanding undertaking I'd ever worked on. It had caused me to feel defeated, downhearted, and even depressed from time to time for the two years prior. But all of my efforts have finally paid off. I'm relieved it's over, and I'm proud it's finally done.

Not that I'm complaining; the book is extremely demanding, unlike any other book I've ever worked on. It needed a broad variety of topics to be covered, the most significant of which is a historical account based on the period, location, event and person or character.

Depending on my moods, the process moved like an old cart that couldn't even circle its wheel. I can't even recall how many times I've felt like giving up on it.

Writing a biography is a difficult task, made even more challenging when the focus is gone. As a result, I'll have to put in even more effort to get the needed details. I had to find people who could share their memories of it, and often just one small piece of information is enough to debunk the entire tale that I had been working on. Countless recordings, a load of Q&A files.

Because the local library could not give me the knowledge I needed, I had to go to the University of Yangon library and extensively study, save, observe, record, and keep tabs from a tower of history books. Without the materials from the internet, I would not be able to write it at all, as there are so many tasks that must be completed in such a short period of time. Thousands of pages were printed, resulting in a large number of timeline sheets.

One can wonder whether I am not aware that I would be burdens before embarking on this adventure. To be honest, I was unaware that this work would be so demanding. Still, I want it to be accomplished, I want a book that I've dreamed for so long to be actual. Because the work was about someone who is significant to me, someone who is vital and essential to me.

One can see me as strong and spirited, which I would not have been able to become without the influence of a person who has played a significant role in my life. One might have a wrong impression of me if they see me as thrifty, and if I am about to buy or acquire something, I may act ambiguously, or chattering, blathering, nattering whenever I am annoyed, are all due to the influence of the person I consider to be my role model.

This person's influence is still evident in my life. Interacting and interplaying my life ubiquitously. One can never break through the enormous ensconces that are infinitely admiring. Indeed the person with that kind of significance is my darling granny, #AMAR.

I was blessed to be one of the few who had the chance to care for her while she was with us. And I remember vividly how, almost every time I would then have to apply ointment to her ache and sore, she might well tell me a remarkable story from her life like a bedtime story.

Her story during the war, in particular, is both terrifying and inspiring to me because she was able to endure and survive the worst of all worst and dreadful events. The sudden shifts in her life after her house was destroyed by a bomb, and even after she had lost everything, she continued to strive and survive the harsh, difficulties. What a woman, I thought to myself then, when I first heard her story.

I was so taken by her story about her life during the war that I asked her to tell it to me again and again. And she never disappoints me; instead, always tells me wholeheartedly. She was the prestigious fellows' Sixtyone; one of our country's very first Medical Doctors. I haven't really envisioned that her story would be turned into a book. Her story always cheers me up and inspires me to get back on my feet when I'm feeling down.

The first reason I'm writing this book is to honour, value, and treasure her memories in any way I can. And I want the readers to appreciate and understand the extraordinary power that exists within an ordinary person who is capable of performing unimaginable accomplishments in life, that would be my second reason.

In the same year that I begin writing about #AMAR, a trip from Mandalay to Pagan on the MV Panorama through the mother Irrawaddy comes up. On the way to Pagan, I was able to get into the mood to write about A Mar's story during the war, when she had to face so many horrors in this very river.

Then yet another tour happens to come up. It was a trip to Landon, so I gathered all of the material that I needed for the book and prepared myself for the next journey.

Some of my wishes for the journey were fulfilled two days before I had to return. I was able to pay a visit to the UCL Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health in Landon, which is located at 30 Guilford St and was once attended by A Mar. The time A Mar spent in Landon was crucial and had a significant impact on her life later on.

On the journey back, I was able to complete a great deal of work. I was able to psyche myself up on the plane, in the terminal, and between cram seats all thanks to the refresh memories of my beloved #AMAR.

So many people deserve my sincere thanks for their generous support. I was able to complete this work in the earliest thirty days of the first wave of COVID-19, in my current residence with the help of my loved one’s support. Those who are aware of my willingness to complete it efficiently and quickly motivate me with their keen interests and encouraging cheeriness. My beloved husband, in particular, is eager to see it published as soon as possible, but I wasn't sure when it would be; I'm hoping this year though.

A great work necessitates a great deal of effort and eagerness to complete; without zeal to finish, there would be no satisfying success of self-esteem. I thank everyone, including myself, and my adoring readers, for their devotion and affection to my work.

Eternally grateful with all one's heart

Mon Halsey

☗☗☗

MEMORABILIA

If you ask me what my favourite novelty items are, I'd say handwear. Since I was a child, I have been fascinated by varying handwear, like the plastic toy bracelet, a fake toy watch, colourful; mostly rainbow toy watch, and all the vibrant wearable things for my empty wrist. As a youngster, when my wrist reaches the point of wearing a proper watch, I wear a number of different watches that match a wide range of outfits and dresses.

When I was a graduate student, whenever there was a special occasion or festival or event, my granny would ask me to enter her bedroom and she would take out all of her valuables and ask me what I wanted to wear. She is so generous that she would dress anything pointed without hesitation.

Among so many precious that she was happy to dress me, I chose one and only particular watch; a vintage, Omega brand, rounded one with a golden bracelet, a mechanical watch; it has a little side button that may twist and press in order to spring clockwork to assess the time, calls speed master; manual winding, which is one of the reasons why I prefer it.

The watch is older than me; it was bought from Landon in 1960, when granny went to study there. Granny replaced the original band with a gold thread bracelet, which has remained unchanged ever since.

The brand is the one and only Omega, and the clockwork is manual windings with a golden thread bracelet, thus without a doubt it has its own intrinsic and extrinsic values.

Actually, we did find out the market price of it, as we were curious about the value of the watch and went to the official Omega showroom near the Trader Hotel (then) - Shangri-la Hotel (now), and they priced the watch without the value of the bracelet, saying it was worth "two million five hundred thousand" kyats.

The watch never was meant to be resold, therefore when we learned that it was actually worth a fortune, we were overjoyed and returned wearing it with satisfaction. The bracelet was custom made because granny's wrist was so thin and small; surprisingly or not, my wrist is the same as hers, therefore the bracelet fits naturally on my hand.

Long story short, I inherited it since it fits me well and I adore it. For several years, I wore it fairly regularly while still attending school.

When I was still in the master's programme, the family's financial condition was in crisis, the cost of my education and my younger brother's medical school was high, and the three of us had to deal with so many difficulties. We got gyps and got in debt because of it, and every possible income was snarled-up at the same time. It was hard, hopeless.

The problem worsens when another financial payment, which is inevitable, demands the payment. So I had no choice but to look at the watch, a valuable piece of metal, and make an instant decision. And has to resell it for far less than it really is worth.

I had no regrets by that point, only a need to ease ourselves from all of the trouble. I just disregard the fact that the watch is an inheritance and what it means to me, as well as everything else related to the watch.

I was relieved that the payment was due at the time, and because of the watch, we are able to manage our situation a little easier. And not long after I sold the watch, I saw something that struck me terribly upset. When I saw a new watch, a cheap one that I bought for my brother, on his wrist, it somehow made me sad.

Just then, I sat down and felt the most miserable regret I'd ever felt, and I burst into tears and sobbing uncontrollably. I can no longer contain my feelings at that moment, so when I glance at my wrist and see that the Omega is no longer on it, I cry knowingly, weep out of my own sorrow, and tears out of my own becoming.

I believe the watch is on the wrist of someone more deserving than me. I wonder where it is now. I wonder whether I'll ever come across it again. I wonder.

☗☗☗

MAGNANIMOUS

When I was little, my mother and granny often took me to a local market; calls “Hledan Zay” to buy groceries for the week. Granny worked at the clinic near the Hledan Market then, called "Aye Nyein Thar," which means "Tranquilities of the Heart", as a paediatrician.

But nowadays, the old setting of the tranquillity of the heart once residing has been replaced by a magnificent structure known as the Hledan Centre, which is surrounded by several local shops and bazaars. The area was originally occupied by not only a clinic but also a shop known as "Ratana Htun," but today all of that has shifted.

At the clinic, Granny would spend three days every week and. As a result, grandma treats and checks almost all of the children of the market folk. Therefore, anytime they see Grandma visiting their shop or store, they are happy to see her and, if Grandma gets anything from them, they are always generous to her.

When I went grocery shopping, the only thing I knew and loved was the chance of getting a snack or the best dessert, Shwe Yin Aye, which is a mixture of Jello, cendo noodles, sago, bread, and many other delicious things sweetened with coconut milk.

There is no nicer pleasure than enjoying a cool Saw Saw Shwe Yin Aye in the morning after a strenuous day of shopping in the old market. Of all the shops that serve Shwe Yin Aye, I prefer Saw Saw (which, to my surprise, is still opening).

I still recall that all the shops and stores were merely bazaar-like, topped by a rusty tin roof, surrounded by rat holes, and generally a mess. Since the market did not then have a two-story building like now. Having something was not really pleasing to the eye, but I still love it then.

Whenever I have to go shopping with Granny, we always go to the usual grocery store, which is always crammed with plenty of goods like a mountain of potatoes, a load of onions and garlic, and stacks of salt bags. I usually do something naughty whenever I get there, which is a bad thing for a girl to carry on.

The pile of potatoes and onions would nearly always topple over me since I was little and short. I would sneak into the bag of potatoes, onions, or any other food while the adults were talking or doing their business, and I would take one or two of them directly into my pocket. I'll be honest, I was once a sneaky little naughty girl.

I didn't intend to do it, but it simply happened, and my innocent thoughts abruptly changed to something I shouldn't have undertaken. I simply do it simply because I think I can do it—I didn't understand then.

So it became a habit that I would bring one or two potatoes and onions to home. Before the grownups notice, I would always toss them from my pocket into the basket as soon as I got home.

How many potatoes and onions can I really take when I'm so young and naive that I don't know anything? How many could I possibly get with my little hands? But eventually it does become a habit. I would take one or two sneakily from it every time I was there.

Just to be clear, adults did not notice that my pocket was packed with stolen things because they thought that a child like us would always have toys in our pockets.

The owner woman fortunately spotted me trying my trick in the store on a crowded day and immediately began to shout at me. asking me to place it down.

I felt so humiliated by it that I finally understood my mistakes and how horrible what I did was. Everyone in the street would look at me with scornful glances, and some would even curse at me, saying things like, "I can't believe a sincere doctor's granddaughter would do such naughty things."

My mother was ashamed as well since she was standing next to me. She says what I do is disgusting. Her furious, red face was visibly upset. And just like that, the store lady backed down. Since I was with my granny and nobody dared criticise me due to her repute or mine, others would do so as well.

What would happen to me if I wasn't with Granny and was with someone else? I have no idea what sort of awful things would follow. I assume the store lady already knew what I was doing all along; she just let me get away with it out of respect for granny.

But she eventually decided that I shouldn't continue with these bad behaviours since I'm still a girl, so she stopped me for my own sake. When we got home, mummy asked me to attend to her and told me that she only wanted a good girl and not a wicked girl and, more significantly, that she was embarrassed by me. She also told me that stealing is terrible and that having a habit of this nature would make me a nasty person. (We call granny "mummy" out of fondness and closeness)

I was so devastated and regretful that I cried to my mummy for all I had done so wrong. After that, the bad habit was gone from my life and would never recur. She has been gone for about a decade now, though. Even after I got engaged and married, my mom continued to shop at the same store. The store lady also became an old lady at that point, pale and grey.

Any advice or instruction that encourages living a good, moral life should be respected and heeded. I wouldn't be able to be the person that I am today if the store lady had simply ignored me out of respect for my granny and allowed me to continue with my bad habit. I was able to change at that time entirely because of her understanding and compassionate heart.

Everyone from the old market adores Mummy, and they all praise and thank her, saying things like, "Oh my kid lives all thanks to her, she saved him," and "her prescriptions are always nice and effective." Oh, we miss her already. How long has she been gone? What a great loss, I dearly miss her." A hand holding a life-saving tool is always and forever, regarded with gratitude and goodwill.

I went to the Hledan Market for the first time in a while, and I had some of my favourite salad there. And then go into a textile store where several of my old friends are working; they, too, kindly sell me with a good price out of love and respect. To my suprise, they said they appreciate my work and my social media posts. They even claimed to follow me as See First.

As I was walking by a store, I overheard a clear voice saying, "Oh Sis! As always, you are stunning; keep going " from the gals sitting at the stands, who were smiling heartily at me.

I then thought to myself, "This must be the outcome of hands holding a quill for life. Recognized by so many people is quite delightful and pleasing as well.”

When I get there, where the old grocery store stands, all that's left is a rusting roof, furniture covered in dust and a filthy floor. When I asked my mother if the old store was still open, she told me that it had closed.

I can still hear the clinking of the scales and the sound of the lady selling things to the passing crowd. This location used to smell like fresh grocery, but now all that can be smelled is rust and dust. I can still hear her voice telling me to put down the stolen items.

I miss her, and I want to tell her,

"Oh my darling aunty, I am the granddaughter of your lovely doctor. I hope you still remember me. You know I've changed; I'm a writer now, and I don't steal anymore."

Sometimes the past might seem haunting. But the past is what may help us become who we ought to be. I mentally bid the old store goodbye before leaving with a little sense of content.

I wonder if Mommy still feels embarrassed or not.

I wonder …

☗☗☗