When Maung Ba returned to his new home,  he began thinking of the plight of his people. Suddenly, the feeling of relief over his success in finding a job, seemed to melt away in the confusion and displacement of those from whom any thought of success would be illusory.  He thought of the entire system of government as nothing but a loose fabric of corruption and graft, and began worrying about Ma Hla.  She was pregnant and her health continued to deteriorate.  She needed the necessary nutrition, not just for herself, but also for the unborn child.  He felt sorry for Maung Po whose job offered no solace, relegating him to a status that no Burman had ever experienced before him.

     He saw Ma Hla cooking in a makeshift kitchen in a house that was a little larger than a hut.  She was seated on a stool, unstirred by his sudden presence.  For a few moments her thoughts seemed far away. Perhaps she was thinking of her husband, weakened  under the pressure of pulling a rickshaw, or her house in the village where she grew up.

     ”Did you have a hard day, sister?” he inquired.

      She turned around suddenly, almost startled.

      ”I can’t say I did,” she replied.  

      ”You look tired,”  he said. “You should get some rest.”

      ”I am worried about Maung Po,” she replied.  “He must be exhausted by now.  There must be another kind of job that he can do.”

      “Is the fishmonger treating you well?” he inquired.

      “As long as I keep working hard,” she said.

      “You won’t have to work any longer,” he said.

     “Why?” she inquired, a puzzled look on her face.

     “I found a job,” he said, smiling.

     “Oh, I’m so happy!” she exclaimed, as she jumped up and approached him. “We should celebrate your good fortune.”

    “We can do so silently,” he said.

    “You mean…”  She stopped short, not knowing what he had meant.”

    ”My salary can support both you and Maung Po,” he said.  “You don’t have to work in that miserable fish market. any longer.  Maung Po, too.   He won’t have to pull a rickshaw again.”

     ”I knew that someday soon you’d get a job that’s best suited to your qualifications,” she said.

     “I really got the job through an old friend whom I met on the street,” he said.  He recommended me to his Scottish brother-in-law who happens to be one of the big wheels in that company”

      ”That was nice!” she replied.  But I’m sure your qualifications had also contributed to your success.”

       “Maybe so,” he agreed.  “But you know how things are these days.  There is so much competition. In spite of a good resume, it is still unlikely that you could succeed.”  There was a slight pause. “I’m sure you know Tan Tun.  He used to visit us from time to time.”

        Ma Hla thought for a moment. “Oh, yes, I remember. That was many years ago.  He sold his home and farm before moving to the city.”

        “Exactly,” Maung Ba replied.   “Now we can move from this hovel and maybe rent a livable apartment elsewhere.”

          It was very late when Maung Po returned home that evening.   Beads of perspiration stood out prominently across his forehead, as he slumped on a chair, almost breathless and totally exhausted. 

  (to be continued)