The Lion and the Sun incorporates, the culture, religion and philosophy of the people of Burma, mostly delineated in Part one of the novel under British Colonialism. All of Part 2, dwells exclusively on the Japanese occupation of Burma.
I wrote the novel not long after Burma (Myanmar) was liberated. Although the war was over decades ago, it seems as if it hasn’t as yet ended. Burma (Myanmar) is still suffering in the throes of a prolonged military dictatorship. How long will this continue is anybody’s guess.
Excerpt from Chapter 1.
Colonialism – The British Lion
May was drawing to an end, and already the southwest monsoon winds were beginning to blow, gradually increasing the tempo of their force, and as darkness settled upon the surrounding country, the earth smelled good, pervading the air with the scent of its naturalness.
As the wind blew hard and the threatening mass of clouds descended upon the village, the river started to hasten its course; flashes of fork-shaped lightning electrified the sky, and loud claps of thunder sounded like so many simultaneous explosions. Soon, the rain came down unrelentingly, flooding the paddies and swelling the river.
Tall palm trees swayed in the wind, threatening the collapse of wooden houses raised above ground level on wooden poles, with their thatched roofs and walls of woven bamboo strips.
Not far away an old wooden building of a tiny monastery paled into insignificance in the haze of the blinding rain, and the dome of an adjacent pagoda which, otherwise, would have been prominent, could now barely be seen.
Ma Hla finished cooking the rice and a preparation of spiced curry and ngapi — a salted paste of fish and shrimp, used as a seasoning. She was glad that the seedlings were planted earlier and grateful for the monsoon rain.
She set the meal on a low table on the wooden floor. Though only seventeen, she looked much older. Her hardiness and agility were qualities best suited to the chores of home and field.
At the other side of the house, in a small room, an aging man lay on a mat woven from grass, called a thinbyu. He was her father. Old and frail, he slept most of the time, except for those important moments he spent in meditation.
Ma Hla made sure that the shutters of plaited bamboo were closed, while the rain outside fell hard and heavy; and now, in mid-afternoon, with the table set, she had to wake up her father.
(to be continued)
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