Maung Ba kept thinking of the members of his family, while away from the village.  He was sure that they were now in dire need of help, like the rest of the villagers, and wished he could send them some money to help work the field again, but he could hardly help himself. 

    There were money-lenders, known as Chettiars, who took advantage of the worsening economy by lending money to farmers at high rates of interest.

    Maung Ba returned home in desperation and despair.  To top it all, the villagers had more than their share of rain that year, flooding the fields and destroying most of the rice crops. 

     U Tin Maung viewed the situation with calm resignation, and in his unswerving piety, explained that the effect of evil had arisen out of a cause for which the people were responsible and could only be overturned by the virtues of unity and peace.

     Maung Ba refused to be appeased by his father’s spiritual premise, for, in spite of being reared in a conservative Buddhist environment, he gave no credence to his philosophy, and, instead attributed such evil to subjugation.

     Yet,  in spite of the poor economy,  the Festival of Thingyan,  (Water Festival), was celebrated in the usual manner.  Villagers threw buckets of water on one another, as it was considered auspicious to do so.  Both young and old participated in the drenching.  Even the city folk visited the village in droves, shouting nationalistic slogans while using every means possible to adhere to the traditional amusement.  Special pwes were held and it seemed the entire population of the village gathered to celebrate the water festival.  But beneath the surface of all the rejoicing,  a great deal of pain and sorrow prevailed.

      Dysentery and malaria became epidemics, while medical help wasn’t readily available.  There was no other alternative for the farmers, except to borrow from the Chettiars at exorbitant rates of interest.

       Back home, Maung Ba and the rest of the family decided to contact one of the Chettiars who wasted no time appraising the land and, after having assessed its value, agreed to hold it as collateral.

        But misfortune wasn’t about to end for the family.  U Tin Maung was stricken with dysentery.  His condition deteriorated to the extent that his doctor concluded that there was nothing else he could do in the way of prescribing any more medication. 

         Ma Hla visited the pagoda that day and prayed for her father’s recovery, offering food  to the saffron-robed monks, after which she visited the adjacent monastery, in order to seek some advice and consolation from the head monk.  “Be not afraid and sad, my child,” he encouraged, “for death is nothing but a condition of not being born.  It is part of life.  Return to your father and do your duty.”

          Ma Hla returned home, stifling her tears.  There was a monk, seated on a mat,  by her father’s bedside, chanting a prayer.  Friends and family members were gathered around, while the doctor leaned over with his stethoscope,  but felt no heartbeat.  There arose an almost simultaneous wail from those that were gathered around, as friends offered their heartfelt condolences.