Read Online Burmese Days by George Orwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: George Orwell
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All European food in Burma is more or less disgusting--the bread is spongy stuff leavened with palm-toddy and tasting like a penny bun gone wrong, the butter comes out of a tin, and so does the milk, unless it is the grey watery catlap of the dudh-wallah. As Ko S'la left the room there was a scraping of sandals outside, and a Burmese girl's high-pitched voice said, 'Is my master awake?'
'Come in,' said Flory rather bad temperedly.
Ma Hla May came in, kicking off red-lacquered sandals in the doorway. She was allowed to come to tea, as a special privilege, but not to other meals, nor to wear her sandals in her master's presence.
Ma Hla May was a woman of twenty-two or -three, and perhaps five feet tall. She was dressed in a longyi of pale blue embroidered Chinese satin, and a starched white muslin ingyi on which several gold lockets hung. Her hair was coiled in a tight black cylinder like ebony, and decorated with jasmine flowers. Her tiny, straight, slender body was a contourless as a bas-relief carved upon a tree. She was like a doll, with her oval, still face the colour of new copper, and her narrow eyes; an outlandish doll and yet a grotesquely beautiful one. A scent of sandalwood and coco- nut oil came into the room with her.
Ma Hla May came across to the bed, sat down on the edge and put her arms rather abruptly round Flory. She smelled at his cheek with her flat nose, in the Burmese fashion.
'Why did my master not send for me this afternoon?' she said.
'I was sleeping. It is too hot for that kind of thing.'
'So you would rather sleep alone than with Ma Hla May? How ugly you must think me, then! Am I ugly, master?'
'Go away,' he said, pushing her back. 'I don't want you at this time of day.'
'At least touch me with your lips, then. (There is no Burmese word for to kiss.) All white men do that to their women.'
'There you are, then. Now leave me alone. Fetch some cigarettes and give me one.'
'Why is it that nowadays you never want to make love to me? Ah, two years ago it was so different! You loved me in those days. You gave me presents of gold bangles and silk longyis from Mandalay. And now look'--Ma Hla May held out one tiny muslin-clad arm--'not a single bangle. Last month I had thirty, and now all of them are pawned. How can I go to the bazaar without my bangles, and wearing the same longyi over and over again? I am ashamed before the other women.'
'Is it my fault if you pawn your bangles?'
'Two years ago you would have redeemed them for me. Ah, you do not love Ma Hla May any longer!'
She put her arms round him again and kissed him, a European habit which he had taught her. A mingled scent of sandalwood, garlic, coco-nut oil and the jasmine in her hair floated from her. It was a scent that always made his teeth tingle. Rather abstractedly he pressed her head back upon the pillow and looked down at her queer, youthful face, with its high cheekbones, stretched eyelids and short, shapely lips. She had rather nice teeth, like the teeth of a kitten. He had bought her from her parents two years ago, for three hundred rupees. He began to stroke her brown throat, rising like a smooth, slender stalk from the collarless ingyi.
'You only like me because I am a white man and have money,' he said.
'Master, I love you, I love you more than anything in the world. Why do you say that? Have I not always been faithful to you?'
'You have a Burmese lover.'
'Ugh!' Ma Hla May affected to shudder at the thought. 'To think of their horrible brown hands, touching me! I should die if a Burman touched me!'
'Liar.'
He put his hand on her breast. Privately, Ma Hla May did not like this, for it reminded her that her breasts existed--the ideal of a Burmese woman being to have no breasts. She lay and let him do as he wished with her, quite passive yet pleased and faintly smiling, like a cat which allows one to stroke it. Flory's embraces meant nothing to her (Ba Pe, Ko S'la's younger brother, was secretly her lover), yet she was
'Come in,' said Flory rather bad temperedly.
Ma Hla May came in, kicking off red-lacquered sandals in the doorway. She was allowed to come to tea, as a special privilege, but not to other meals, nor to wear her sandals in her master's presence.
Ma Hla May was a woman of twenty-two or -three, and perhaps five feet tall. She was dressed in a longyi of pale blue embroidered Chinese satin, and a starched white muslin ingyi on which several gold lockets hung. Her hair was coiled in a tight black cylinder like ebony, and decorated with jasmine flowers. Her tiny, straight, slender body was a contourless as a bas-relief carved upon a tree. She was like a doll, with her oval, still face the colour of new copper, and her narrow eyes; an outlandish doll and yet a grotesquely beautiful one. A scent of sandalwood and coco- nut oil came into the room with her.
Ma Hla May came across to the bed, sat down on the edge and put her arms rather abruptly round Flory. She smelled at his cheek with her flat nose, in the Burmese fashion.
'Why did my master not send for me this afternoon?' she said.
'I was sleeping. It is too hot for that kind of thing.'
'So you would rather sleep alone than with Ma Hla May? How ugly you must think me, then! Am I ugly, master?'
'Go away,' he said, pushing her back. 'I don't want you at this time of day.'
'At least touch me with your lips, then. (There is no Burmese word for to kiss.) All white men do that to their women.'
'There you are, then. Now leave me alone. Fetch some cigarettes and give me one.'
'Why is it that nowadays you never want to make love to me? Ah, two years ago it was so different! You loved me in those days. You gave me presents of gold bangles and silk longyis from Mandalay. And now look'--Ma Hla May held out one tiny muslin-clad arm--'not a single bangle. Last month I had thirty, and now all of them are pawned. How can I go to the bazaar without my bangles, and wearing the same longyi over and over again? I am ashamed before the other women.'
'Is it my fault if you pawn your bangles?'
'Two years ago you would have redeemed them for me. Ah, you do not love Ma Hla May any longer!'
She put her arms round him again and kissed him, a European habit which he had taught her. A mingled scent of sandalwood, garlic, coco-nut oil and the jasmine in her hair floated from her. It was a scent that always made his teeth tingle. Rather abstractedly he pressed her head back upon the pillow and looked down at her queer, youthful face, with its high cheekbones, stretched eyelids and short, shapely lips. She had rather nice teeth, like the teeth of a kitten. He had bought her from her parents two years ago, for three hundred rupees. He began to stroke her brown throat, rising like a smooth, slender stalk from the collarless ingyi.
'You only like me because I am a white man and have money,' he said.
'Master, I love you, I love you more than anything in the world. Why do you say that? Have I not always been faithful to you?'
'You have a Burmese lover.'
'Ugh!' Ma Hla May affected to shudder at the thought. 'To think of their horrible brown hands, touching me! I should die if a Burman touched me!'
'Liar.'
He put his hand on her breast. Privately, Ma Hla May did not like this, for it reminded her that her breasts existed--the ideal of a Burmese woman being to have no breasts. She lay and let him do as he wished with her, quite passive yet pleased and faintly smiling, like a cat which allows one to stroke it. Flory's embraces meant nothing to her (Ba Pe, Ko S'la's younger brother, was secretly her lover), yet she was
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