Short Story

Gentle Spirit

by Niranjali Motha

"I feel close to heaven" I say seated comfortably in the Thai airways flight, the TV screen indicates the flying details, a height something above 33,000 ft. "no...not yet, we will have to go down as a whole to reach up there," says Mual leaning towards the window and pointing the finger upwards. I laugh aloud catching the pun in his statement.

We boarded the flight in the wee hours of the morning... the crack of dawn was amazing. After flying through pitch darkness for several hours, the day breaks in a second at an unexpected moment. My journey from Colombo has been too long with a transit of nearly eight hours in Bangkok. The GMT has robbed several hours from my life span!

Mual my Indonesian counterpart and I are on an official tour to Vietnam... a once war-torn country that is raising itself from the destruction and death. The Hanoi airport is much more developed and equipped than what I presumed. A large hoarding welcomes us to the 'tourist destination for the next century'.

Straw hats

The wide roads are well maintained and clean. The men and women in pyramid style straw hats wave at us. The roads are congested with scooters, motorbikes and Russian Fiat cars -the Lada.

It's amazing to watch the two wheelers dashing at once after a break at the signal lights on the wide roads....hundreds of them... At times it's scary to see the women dashing in the same speed as the men in their colourful scooters.

The country doesn't match my imagination...It's far more developed than I presumed. I remember as a child my listening to daddy reading the newspapers and explaining to me about the Vietnam war. I, a tiny tot, listened patiently with my own imagination of war.

The picture I had of war during my childhood was of a mild nature, a 'fairy' and a fancied action. Soldiers were a group of nicely dressed people standing in front of huge buildings, the picture of the Royal Guards in Mommy's Woman and Home magazine were the memories I lived with.

Death and blood were not part of war in my account. But as time went by with the civil strife on our own soil, the word 'war' had a devastating syllable in it. It was savage and uncivilised beyond my imagination.

With my own experience of war I pictured a fractured and dilapidated state of situation in Vietnam. Yet it was different. As a nation they were dusting the ashes and are re-building a model to the globe. A message of victory... a message of brotherhood and one nation... I am amazed by the infrastructure of the airport and the roadways.

Military base

We are booked into a hotel in the outskirts of Hanoi, the hotel looked more a school building, many of the foreign aid agencies had set up office in this premises. It had been a military base during the war.

Therefore, the restaurant looks somewhat similar to an officers' mess. The staffs of the hotel are exceptionally courteous and helpful. The maid who took care of our wing helped me immensely in giving me shopping tips.

I cash a few hundred US$ into smaller denominations. Transaction in Vietnam are in US $, as the conversion rate was 15,000 Dongs for a single US $. If I chose to en-cash the said amount into Dongs, I would turn a multi-millionaire in a mille-second!

The weather is very pleasant and an evening walk is a must around the lake. Almost everybody offers a gentle gesture of acceptance of me, though I take liberty in asking questions on the display on sale, they answer me patiently and do not consider me an intruder.

Fascinating

They slightly bend their head and venerate the dark skinned stranger. A very serene atmosphere prevails in the market though it is a busy Saturday evening.

The market is a fascinating place; it is loaded with fresh vegetables, meat and plenty of handicrafts. A woman is seen selling bunches of roses in the wayside. It is amusing to see her seated right next to an unsightly poultry shop. This is the first time in life that I am seeing a flower shop next to a meat shop.

The roses are beautiful, though I have heard of Vietnam roses, I never imagined of such lovely blooms in tiny sizes. I pick up a bunch of three dozens to offer as a gesture of gratitude to the maid at the hotel. She has been helpful to me in selecting my cuisine, without whose help I may have gobbled curried frog legs. Though the streets are crowded, there is decency among the people; respect for one another is evident. No one pushes or knocks on another on their way, this is quite contrast to my experience at home.

It is Sunday our Vietnamese team has accompanied us for breakfast. We were seated at the second floor of the restaurant facing the high way. The French architecture of the building, the arches and the pillars add majesty to the ruined city. The buildings still bear scars of war.

Lotus tea

The lotus tea very light in colour has a soothing effect on me. "'you should keep sipping it in intervals, this is very healthy" said Minh. His name means 'intelligent' "This, they say is a fat burner. It prevents your body from absorbing unwanted fat." I have no reason to argue on it. Their appearances bear evidence to the fact. I wish I could remain here at least for a few more weeks to shed my extra flab.

Our conversations evolve around the main highway, truck drivers, prostitution and HIV AIDS. "I want to take you to down town tomorrow' whispers Hung. "There is a very special woman you need to meet." Hung refuses to provide further information despite our pressing questions.

Pretty women

Clad in cotton clothing I set out on our mystery journey. The women accompanying me get interested in my career and get into an intriguing conversation. They are extremely genuine. I share with them my many anecdotes about life, work and my journeys around the Asia Region, I share with them of my inadequacies and the embarrassing moments I have faced at cultural disparities.

We stop at a narrow roadway... a congested colony. People gather around our vehicle. Though they are inquisitive, none lacks the ever adoring smile of theirs. Hung ushers me to the building .... We walk through a long passage with large halls on either side. We are greeted by pretty women dressed in short pink and red dresses. Unlike in some East Asian countries the Vietnamese women enjoy vibrant 'feminine' colours. Their flat shoes had a long peek in the front... it adds an extra length to the shoe size. It reminds me of the Air India advertisement I was accustomed to as a child. The smiling Maharajah with the turban and the enigmatic smile.

I am brought before a tall elderly woman. The meaning of her name is 'Gentle Spirit'. She doesn't have the typical look of a Vietnamese. Her cheeks are round and chubby she does not have a high cheek bone. Her complexion has a shade of pink.

Unlike me 'Gentle Spirit' has been informed of my visit. She takes me around the building, and introduces me to a bevy of young women. She refers to them as her daughters. The girls are engaged in making handicrafts, they show me handmade fans and wooden items and delicately crafted chopstick holders. The lunch table is adorned with a traditional Vietnamese meal. The centre of the table had a fondue. I am conscious of the pan on the fire.

The heat and the sizzling noise of oil make me nervous. Hung says that they have prepared a very special fish dish, according to him this would be the best fish preparation I might ever relish. I do not see anything special in it. The cubed white fish was just dropped into the hot oil along with a few stems of Morning Glory.

It was served on to our plates when the fish took a pale golden colour. The steamed sticky rice absorbed most of the oil that dripped from the fish. The ladle that was used was not a draining spoon hence and unacceptable amount of oil poured into my food.

The yellowish liquid makes the rice colourful. The fish and the raw banana-blossom salad was indeed a good combination. The salad garnished with toasted peanuts adds a unique flavour to the food.

Gentle spirit

During our dining, gentle spirit reveals about her to me. She had been born during the height of war in Vietnam, her mom was a Vietnamese but her father had been a soldier of a different continent. She spoke freely of the war and the related culture that existed during her early age.

Prostitution and brothels had been part and parcel of life during that time. Many of the soldiers who were confined to this third world country found solace in the presence of the pretty Vietnamese damsels.

It had been somewhat of a legalised commercial sex work, yet the women were not paid in cash. Instead they have been 'looked after' by those in authority. Rape and sexual assaults too have been rampant. Gentle spirit is a fruit of such an act. She does not give us details as to whether her mom was a victim of such misdeeds or was a 'looked after person'.

She explains to us of her childhood, sometimes her eyes sparkled with joy and at times it turned grey with sadness.

But it was not her unfortunate birth that torments her but the ugly incidents that engulfed her life after her mom's death.

An epidemic illness had claimed the life of her mom when Gentle Spirit was in her early teens; thereafter, her life has been a living hell. She has been exposed to many a social vice without any buffer for protection. Her struggle for simple day-to-day existence has been a tortured experience.

Noble thought

"While my mom died only once I have been murdered a million times" says Gentle Spirit. It was during one such incident that Gentle Spirit had wowed to her that she will not permit a similar fate to any other girl child in her country. While harbouring this noble and holy thought within her, Gentle Spirit had continued to lead the same life she was entitled to at that moment. But secretly she has stated saving all her income for a better tomorrow ... for others.

At a certain juncture when she was able to escape the filthy clutch, she had bought this dilapidated building for a megre sum and had started this home for destitute women. Many of these young women had been commercial sex workers forced due to varied social reasons.

The inmates speak of the hardships that Gentle Spirit endured during the inception of this institute. Some girls wept when relating their life incidents. Gentle Spirit sits calm and listens without interruption; her serene self does not show any emotions. Her stance is living evidence to all the struggles she may have endured so calmly.

Wedding album

One of the girls brings to me her wedding album. The photograph of the bride reminds me of the sculpture 'veiled Rebecca' a master piece of innocence and purity crafted by Giovanni Benzoni displayed at the Hyderabad museum. "I cannot fathom what would have happened to us if not for Chi (sister)" her eyes brim with tears. I try to feel with her, but I fail. It is beyond my understanding. Gentle Spirit explains to me the ordeals of her life, the movement of her hands and body explains the story.

Though I do not understand her dialect her action spells it all. I feel as though I am witnessing a sort of a ballad opera. We listen patiently, I could spend eternity in the presence of this woman. It's Shalom around me. I see special beauty and radiance in the faces of all the women who were seated around me. It's time for me to leave, "Tam Biet" says Gentle Spirit bowing her head. The remnant of her bygone beauty is stored in her graceful movements.

I am reminded of the punch line from the movie "'good woman'. "Every saint has a past, every sinner has a future" I fail to picture the wholesomeness of the beauty hidden inside this human body. An angel had just brushed past me!

niranjali. [email protected]