“To Sanam Luang to see more of the kites” the reflection said.
On the bus ride to Sanam Luang he had to stand. He noticed the other people. They were also wistfully discontent for their own personal reasons. They wished to sit down when the space was congested and there was nowhere to sit; and in times of sitting they yearned to have vacant seats next to their own so that they would be free from having to sit next to strangers and could have a little area of their own to monopolize. They were all so petty and he told himself that he did not want to be like that.
At Sanam Luang he bought a kite from a mendicant kite salesman. Feeling chagrin that the forlorn child within him had taken over his thoughts instead of the man, he flew his kite in a more obscure area. He was somewhat relieved to find an innocent pleasure to engage in. A half hour later the child diluted into his manhood and there he was in full embarrassment of himself. So he reeled in the kite and sat down on a park bench. A sidewalk salesman smiled at him.
On a rug this mendicant had six-inch motorcycles crafted from bamboo. Nobody knew the art of a smile like the people in the Land of Smiles. Toothless as babes they contrived smiles with the curl that has distinguished a smile from a bite with a full opening of the mouth. Thai infants and toddlers knew. They intuitively knew that with enough naughty actions a toss into the trashcan was not inconceivable. They intuitively knew big sister would be sold off to a man when she turned 14 and the fetus that was little brother or sister had been forced out by deliberately rowdy sexual liaisons, making his or her exit no different than menstruation. With enough shaking of the can of soda pop all beings disgorged the same when the tab was opened. Thai babies knew. They had their instinct to smile because of the cellular replication planned by the DNA architect who made all Thai babies the same as an American subdivision. How gullible was a human to the wish of being struck down with pleasant feelings. When a mendicant salesman with teeth sparkled them from his tanned face even an impoverished Thai couldn’t resist the inclination to buy. It was the congenial feeling more than the product itself that a consumer wished to gain. Consumers bought to get a fuzzy feeling and forget the hostile 9 to 5 working world (9 to 9 Thai time). How manipulative were the benevolent lies of Thais in the business of survival. Jatupon bought one of those purposeless products. He argued to himself that he could put it on a shelf-that is, if he had a shelf to put it on.
On the bench he pulled out of his book bag the Lao classic, “Thao Nok Kaba Phuak which in English meant “The White Nightjar.” The back cover said that it depicted the second queen consort’s birth of a bird and her exile from the kingdom. The preface stated that both Laotian queens had prayed that life be recycled in their wombs but only the youngest became pregnant. At the consort’s request, the oldest queen blindfolded her when the labor pains ensued. She solicited the help of the court magician in particular to take advantage of the younger queen’s squeamishness over the sight of blood by using the time to switch the baby for that of a bird. When the child was replaced the soothsayer could then deceive the king by making him believe that the younger consort had had sexual relations with a foul bird months earlier. This was not needed since the consort actually begot a bird. Jatupon stopped reading the preface. It was spoiling the book. He began to read the first chapter. “I, who have composed this narrative fled far away just like the little one for I, your servant, sleep alone; I am very lonely, in my bedroom, with my arms dangling empty. It is destiny that keeps me away and prevents me from embracing my beloved. I am here, without my younger one, since I left my home to go among the Thais where I have no friends...” Jatupon thought about his basic nature. He had lived for 14 years in Thailand but still he did not feel particularly Thai. He wished that he had been born in some other place like America with a nice American family. As he was falling asleep he heard the counterparts:
—What will happen to him on that bench?
—I can’t imagine anything good happening from it. He could apply for a job but instead he plays with his kite and sits on the bench. He wants to be an aristocrat.
—You don’t say.
—Yes, it is true. He thinks that all whores, laborers, and professionals are slaves. He thinks that they all have petty lives.
—How would he gain such conclusions?