By U San Shwe Bu In an obscure village in Arakan there once lived a man and his wife with their only daughter by name Mai Htwe Yai. I cannot tell you the names of the girl’s parents; but it was the custom of the people in the country, even just it is now the present day, to avoid as much as possible the use of the real names of persons who are advanced in years, they are commonly known to the villagers as Mai Htwe Yai’s father and mother. They were simple ignorant rustic who daily earned their living by catching fish in the small stream that flowed silently past their little village. One day the worthy couple went out fishing as usual in their canoe and Mai Htwe Yai was left to look after the various household duties such as splitting firewood, filling the jars with water and pounding the necessary quantity of rice for the evening meal. Somehow on this particular ill-fated day the fishing did not prove as successful as usual. The husband got terribly annoyed, while the wife in her lo...

By U San Shwe Bu Once upon a time there lived a very poor middle aged couple on the outskirts of a great and magnificent city. Early in the morning the man used to set out to the city and return home in the evening with a few odd annas earned by picking up small jobs in the warehouses of wealthy merchants. One fine morning, being lazier than usual, he remained in bed with his eyes closed though fully awake, and furtively watched the proceedings of his wife during her toilette. When she was completely satisfied with her performance the man pretended to wake up as though from a deep sleep and addressed his wife, "You know, my dear, of late I have been feeling that some strange power has been granted to me by the gracious nats who preside over our destinies. To illustrate my point, you saw just now that I was fast asleep, and yet, would you believe it, I knew exactly what you were doing a little while ago from the time you rose from your bed up till the present moment," and pr...

By U San Shwe Bu According to the old saying that birds of a feather generally flock together, so there once met in a village, by some strange fatality, ten simple rustics of similar tastes and disposition. One day while they were having breakfast under a large and shady tree, one of them began counting the number of those who were present. But forgetting to include himself he could not get beyond nine. So after going through the same process three or four times he eventually told the others that a misfortune had happened because out of ten, their original number, only nine remained, and that one of them had mysteriously disappeared. One or two disbelieved this, as they were fully certain that no one had left them form the time they first assembled together under the tree. So to satisfy themselves they began counting over again, and to their astonishment they could not get beyond the number nine, for, like the first men, each of them excluded himself in the telling. Many were the rea...