73 Written out of concern and worry for the loss of artworks by Burmese artist Bagyi Aung Soe and the bleak chances of republishing writer Nanda’s works after their death. I am now facing two sorrowful things. One has to do with the great artist Bagyi Aung Soe. He passed away nine years ago. We went to the memorial gathering, the 9th Death Anniversary on 6. 7. 99. A portrait of him by U Nyo Win greeted visitors at the doorway and so did his wife, Ah Mar, and his son, Myint Soe, with all their hearts. His wife said it was the only day that friends could meet and the humble gathering, which did not happen last year due to their tight budget, was thus planned. I had not met him in person. But I became attached to his illustrations for poems in magazines such as Myawadi, Ngwaytayi and Shumawa ever since I saw them in my younger days. I even kept one of Moway magazine’s covers with his painting titled Deep Illusion. His lines are strong, yet smooth and sharp, yet gentle as is true of Oriental work. He painted all his life and was never choosy over oil, watercolour or ink. He drew whenever he had paper and a felt-tip pen. When soft pens were available in colour, he did the same. He even drew with fingers dipped in ink. They were not created with the hope to sell. He never waited for a commission. Sometimes, he signed on a work that he thought suitable for the requested illustration. His goodwill was given a bad name when the buyer did not understand him. They did not always get what he said, “Truth is the only beauty” [Burmese: သစၥာသည္သာ အလွတရား]. He did not draw form [Burmese: အရုပ္]. Some did not understand his creations filled with absolute dedication to virtue, integrity and skill, and only wanted to make use of his name. After his death, a memorial show of his works was organised, but there were not many artworks in oil, watercolour and ink left. Two books on art, Poetry Without Words and From Tradition to Modernity, were published before he passed away. Poetry Without Words was reprinted last year. He was the only one who could draw illustrations from his creative imagination in the traditional style using modern techniques. The creative powers were strong, the lines were alive, and as what he said, thoughts could be seen in the pictures. 74 I have seen his works in different techniques under the art section of Moway magazine every month. He was moreover good at writing. Sanpehpyu magazine presented his articles, and in one of them, he mentioned his experience of drawing: flowers were meant to be drawn as they were
Khin Mya Zin, “Memory of Longing,” Y anantthit (Oct 1999), 73-75. Translated by Pann Hmone Wai; edited by Yin Ker.
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Khin Mya Zin, “Memory of Longing,” Yanantthit (Oct 1999), 73-75.
He, who studied art at the great poet Rabindranath Tagore’s university that taught artists to have respect for nature and to be serious but gentle, was an irreplaceable genius for Myanmar. It is such a sorrowful thing that there is not even one book with reproductions of his paintings, illustrations and thoughtful articles. After us, it will be difficult to show what his works are like to future generations. Old magazines cannot last long because of mice and other insects such as ants and termites, and the weather here in Myanmar. There are individuals that collect his illustrations by cutting them out from magazines. Though some try to make a neat book of these collections, the enterprise is far from over. I am glad to see books of brief biographies of Paw Oo Thet and Aung Khin with their paintings. But year after year, my wish of having books like those with Aung Soe’s works remain unfulfilled. The next thing that makes me feel ashamed has to do with the great author Nanda. He passed away in 1982. He began writing before the war. In Wild Wind Blowing [Burmese: ေလရူးသုန္သုန]္ based on Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, he set the story in the period of Saya San’s rebellion. Once, I was shocked that the writer Mitta Oo had credited the title of “Wild Wind Blowing” to Mya Than Tint in an article about Margaret Mitchell in Yokshin Amyutay magazine. Actually, Mya Than Tint had stated in his acknowledgements that the title for his translation of Gone With the Wind was taken from the book, Wild Wind Blowing by Nanda, and Mitta Oo forgot it, I guess. In fact, it originated in a pat-pyo [Burmese: ပတ္ပ်ဳိး].1 Some writers today do not know his works. I was speechless when I realised that some of them had not even heard of his name in spite of reading his writings. He has also been confused with Nanda Thu. Some of his books such as Iron and Blood, Up to the Sky, My Sword, My Blood, My Irrawaddy, The End of Our Relationship and Raining Buckets are unforgettable milestones in Burmese literature. The third and the last (fifth) volumes of his epic, My Sword, My Blood, My Irrawaddy, have the nice and powerful covers illustrated in the traditional style by Bagyi Aung Soe. They are not just illustrations but artworks reflecting the heart and soul of the Burmese people in the entire story. In my early years of reading, one of my friends had recommended Nanda, but I did not try to read his books as I thought they were thick and needlessly wordy. Many good translation works were published when I was young and it was to these books that I was addicted. I was not really willing to read many original novels by Burmese writers and the ones I had read did not leave a lasting impression on me. But one day (in 1980 or 1981), I saw many of his original books and translations in the rental bookstore in Myaynigone run by Saw Hling and Mya Mya. As my friend Zeya recommended his books very much, I started reading The End of Our Relationship and was thereafter in love 1
A pat-pyo is a type of classical Burmese song set to the cadence of the drum circle. Khin Mya Zin, “Memory of Longing,” Y anantthit (Oct 1999), 73-75. Translated by Pann Hmone Wai; edited by Yin Ker.
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on the plant and no one was allowed to pick them during his studies at the university in Śāntiniketan, India.
75 In this article, while I can give a brief summary of his novel, I cannot explain enough his portrayal of the characters; you will have to read it to know. I remember that in one of the articles in Hanthit magazine, Kyi Min wrote about that novel. He might have been addicted to it too. This is how it begins: “Oh … my love, a thousand pieces of life were spent. You, the fate and I think in silence to shape them again as we pleased and to clearly understand the whole life process.” Like Myat San, the character who waited to meet Kyawt again whenever the sky was dark with thick black clouds, I feel the same: remembering a missing woman Hnin Kyawt every time it rains heavily. Nanda portrayed her as a strange person, affectionate but self-centered and mean. Later in my life of ups and downs, whenever I encountered the same kind of women, I reckoned that the author might really have met these people. Dagon Taya once commented, “the length of a work does not make it a long novel, but it allows the portrayal of its characters and the development of the plot. The End of our Relationship is one such long work and it gives the satisfaction of great literature.” When I read other novels set in indistinct historical backgrounds, I miss his history-based works: My Sword, My Blood, My Irrawaddy, Up to the Sky, Iron and Blood and so on. He could vividly and powerfully present the lives of commoners in the late Konbaung era in these novels. Each novel is a completely separate story, but in sequence, all the seven novels, from Up to the Sky to My Sword, My Blood, My Irrawaddy, have characters related to one another. He told bitter stories from the early years of King Mindon’s reformation in upper Myanmar or the time when the Burmese strove to reach the heavens, to the bitter events in the early years of British colonisation when patriots’ blood splattered into the waters of the Irrawaddy.
Khin Mya Zin, “Memory of Longing,” Y anantthit (Oct 1999), 73-75. Translated by Pann Hmone Wai; edited by Yin Ker.
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with Nanda. That story is about the changes in a woman’s life from before the Second World War to the early years of Independence.
“The most beautiful and sweetest flowers on their heads come from a gardener who works with all his heart and soul. But people only see the flower and the one who wears it, not the gardener.” Nanda wrote about the gardeners behind the scene in My Sword, My Blood, My Irrawaddy. I feel sorry that his writings lost between generations before they can be republished will be forever lost to history.
Translated by Pann Hmone Wai Edited by Yin Ker
Khin Mya Zin, “Memory of Longing,” Y anantthit (Oct 1999), 73-75. Translated by Pann Hmone Wai; edited by Yin Ker.
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It has been nearly seventeen years since his death. There was once when many young educated people treasured his books, placed them on their shelves and read them with respect. However, what sorrow it is now that even those who consider themselves as professional writers do not even know him or read his works. Although there is interest to republish many of his books, there are inheritance issues among his family members.