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Chapter 2 - Ludu Daw Amar: The Voice of Unity

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  05 January 2016

Nilanjana Sengupta
Affiliation:
Asia Research Institute, National University of Singapore
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Summary

“What we came across in these bloodthirsty times

…We often stopped to look at the names of God

We lifted them with tenderness because they reminded us

Of our ancestors, of the first people, those who said the prayers”

Gautama Christ, Pablo Neruda

“What narrow paths, deep woods and slippery moss!

Whither are we bound today?

To the mountain, the foot of the mountain,

Red flags stream in the wind in a blaze of glory.”

New Year's Day, Mao Tse Tung

Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!

18 September 1988, Mandalay

Ludu Daw Amar reached for her inkwell and pen. Outside her window, dawn was breaking – the first streaks of orange in the east and a waning moon in a still dark sky.

The night had ended but the day was yet to begin.

It was the mercilessly hot month of Tawthalin when fretful inhabitants of Mandalay call the sun a prawn-killer and pray for the weather to break. A monk stood at the corner of 33rd Street, his head bent, holding an alms bowl in the crook of his arm, strangely detached from reality. Daw Amar wondered if later he would be joining the monastic boycott against military donors.

Her mind was not at rest, she could not sleep. Ever since last month when with the torrential showers of August a new revolution had broken in Burma her blood had been singing. At 73 she felt alive once again, as if she was still a student at the Rangoon University, eagerly awaiting life. She felt a sense of urgency, she needed to write another editorial and hand it over for publication. Initially they had to do it stealthily, often distributing handwritten sheets. Of late Nyi Pu Lay had been bolder. Nyi Pu Lay, she thought with a sigh…the only one of her three sons…

But there was no trusting Saw Maung and his army. She had to caution the boys, Min Ko Naing and Htay Kywe and the many others leading the movement. At this point they needed to remain united and calm for the military awaited another spark. She thought of Thakin Aung San's daughter with her father's forehead and eyes.

Daw Amar picked up a paper with a vivid blue peacock printed at the top – a bird taut with bottled up rage – and wrote, “Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!”

Type
Chapter
Information
The Female Voice of Myanmar
Khin Myo Chit to Aung San Suu Kyi
, pp. 83 - 154
Publisher: Cambridge University Press
Print publication year: 2015

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