Professional Documents
Culture Documents
According to Countries and Their Cultures: “The focus of writing within Burmese society was, and to
a large extent still is, focused on writing for theater performances (pwe) and producing texts relating
to Buddhism. In addition, since the nineteenth century there is a fair amount of popular fiction. There
is also some British fiction from the colonial period that is set in Burma. Among the early British
works of fiction concerned with the Burmese are two novels by H. Fielding: The Soul of a People
(1898) and Thibaw's Queen (1899). By far the best known British novel set in Burma is George
Orwell's Burmese Days (1934), a critical examination of British colonial rule..[Source: Countries and
Their Cultures everyculture.com ]
Dagon Taya, Burma's leading poet, wrote: "In search of white among the white/ In search of black
among the black./ It is very difficult to find the real things/ trying to get the truth out of false things/
years have gone/ too long to count." [Source: Joel Swerdlow, National Geographic, July 1995]
The literature of Burma (or Myanmar) spans over a millennium. Burmese literature was historically
influenced by Indian and Thai cultures, as seen in many works, such as the Ramayana. The
Burmese language, unlike other Southeast Asian languages (e.g. Thai, Khmer), adopted words
primarily from Pa-li rather than from Sanskrit. In addition, Burmese literature has the tendency to
reflect local folklore and culture. Burmese literature has historically been a very important aspect of
Burmese life steeped in the Pali Canon of Buddhism. Traditionally, Burmese children were educated
by monks in monasteries in towns and villages. During British colonial rule, instruction was
formalised and unified, and often bilingual, in both English and Burmese known as Anglo-
Vernacular. Furthermore, Burmese literature played a key role in disseminating nationalism among
the Burmese during the colonial era, with writers such as Thakin Kodaw Hmaing, an outspoken critic
of British colonialism in Burma.
The bestselling Burmese novel Thway (“Blood”) by Garnye Gyaw Mamalay was written in 1990. Set
in the 1960s, it focuses on a Japanese woman who searches for her father’s second family who she
didn’t know existed until he tells her on his deathbed. The Japanese film director Koji Chino made a
Japanese-Myanmar film of the novel that was filmed in Myanmar.
Somerset Maugham’s Gentlemen of the Parlor is an account of the author's trip through what was
then Burma and Siam, ending in Haiphong, Vietnam. Whether by river to Mandalay, on horse
through the mountains and forests of the Shan States to Bangkok, or onwards by sea, Maugham's
vivid descriptions bring a lost world to life. Maugham's success as a writer enabled him to indulge his
adventurous love of travel, and he recorded the sights and sounds of his wide-ranging journeys with
an urbane, wry style all his own.
Steven Martin wrote in Time magazine, “Local impressions of the past were quite different from
what was portrayed in the books about Burma that I had brought along to read, such as Paul
Theroux's Great Railway Bazaar and A.T.Q. Stewart's The Pagoda War. The tendency to
romanticize this period in history seems almost universal among English-language writers. Rare is
the book about Burma that doesn't gush the obligatory line or two of Kipling — “Come you back you
British soldier, come you back to Mandalay!” I saw children reading comic books depicting Burmese
warriors and their struggle to keep the Royal Palace in Mandalay from falling into the hands of British
troops. [Source: Steven Martin, Time magazine, 2002]
How The Coconut Came To Myanmar: A
Burmese Folk Tale
Recalling a famous Burmese folk tale, Madhu
Gurung wrote in the Pitara kids network: Myanmar is
known as the golden land of gold dome pagodas
and swaying coconut trees. Coconut trees were
originally called 'gon-bin' in Myanmar language,
which translated in English means the mischief-
maker's tree. Why it is known by this most unusual
name, is because once centuries ago, a raft carrying
three people landed on the Burmese coast. The
people on board this raft were taken to the king. On
questioning them the king learnt that they had been
banished from their own kingdom because of the
crimes they had committed. [Source:Madhu Gurung,
Pitara kids network **]
“One man was a thief who stole from other people;
the next was a witch who used to cast wicked spells
and frightened the people. While the third was a
mischief-maker, who did nothing right and only
harmed everyone by telling tales and lies. The king
on hearing their story ordered his minister to give a
thousand pieces of silver to the thief and allowed
him to settle in Burma. For the witch too, he gave
the same orders. But for the mischief-maker, he
ordered him to be executed at once. **
“To his astonished courtiers the king explained that
the thief stole from others because he was poor and
if he had enough to live on, he would make a good
subject. The witch too cast spells because she was
envious, poor and unhappy and if she had enough to
live on, she too would make a good subject. But for
the third, the king pointed out that "once a mischief-
maker, always a mischief-maker". So the mischief-
maker was taken to the seashore and beheaded.
The next day when the king's officer passed the
place of the mischief maker's execution, he was
surprised to see the head of the mischief-maker
open its mouth and shout out aloud, "Tell your king
to come and bow before me or else I will knock his
head off." **
The frightened officer ran to the king to report the
most unusual happening. The king did not believe
him and felt he was making fun of him. "My Lord if
you do not believe me, send someone with me and
he will confirm what I just saw." So the king ordered
another officer to accompany the first. When they
reached the execution grounds the head lay silent.
The second officer reported what he saw and in
anger the King ordered the first officer to be
executed for being a liar. The unfortunate officer was
taken to the execution grounds and beheaded. On
seeing this, the head of the mischief-maker laughed
aloud saying, "Ha, ha! I can still make mischief even
though I am dead." **
The officer went rushing back to the palace and
reported to the king. The king was filled with grief
and remorse. The king realised that the mischief-
maker's head would create further problems, so he
ordered the head to be buried in a deep pit. The next
day a strange tree grew where the head was buried,
bearing the most unusual fruit, which resembled the
mischief-maker's head. This was the coconut tree
which the Burmese call the 'gon-bin' tree. Over the
years, it became "on-bin". If you take the "gon-thi" (a
coconut fruit) and shake it, you can hear a gurgling
sound - for it's still the mischief-maker wanting to
tittle tattle and play a prank on you. **
The Four Puppets: Another Burmese Folk Tale
Aaron Shepard wrote in Australia’s School
Magazine: “Once there was a puppet maker who
had a son named Aung. The father always hoped
his son would grow up to be a puppet maker like
himself. But to Aung, such a life was far from
exciting. “Father,” said Aung one day, “I’ve decided
to leave home and seek my fortune.” The puppet
maker looked up sadly from his work. “I wish you
would stay, my son. The life of a puppet maker is an
honorable one. But if you must go, let me give you
companions for your journey.” [Source: Aaron
Shepard, Australia’s School Magazine, May 2007
>>]
“He showed his son four wooden puppets he had
carved, painted, and costumed. “Each puppet,” he
said, “has its own virtue and value.” The first puppet
was the king of the gods. The puppet maker said,
“The god’s virtue is wisdom.” The second puppet
was a green-faced ogre. “The ogre’s virtue is
strength.” The third was a mystic sorcerer. “The
sorcerer’s virtue is knowledge.” The fourth was a
holy hermit. “The hermit’s virtue is goodness.” He
told his son, “Each of these virtues can help you on
your way. But remember, strength and knowledge
must always serve wisdom and goodness.” >>
“Aung started off the next day. On his shoulder he
carried a bamboo pole, with food and clothing tied at
one end, and the puppets hanging by their strings
from the other. When night came, Aung found
himself deep in the jungle. He stopped beneath a
banyan tree. “This looks like a good place to sleep,”
he said to himself. “But I wonder if it’s safe.” Then
Aung had a funny idea. “I think I’ll ask one of the
puppets!” He turned with a smile to the king of the
gods. “Tell me, is it safe here?” To his amazement,
the puppet came alive. It got down from the pole and
grew to life size. “Aung,” said the god, “open your
eyes and look around you. That is the first step to
wisdom. If you fail to see what is right before you,
how easy it will be for others to misguide you!” And
the next moment, the puppet was hanging again
from the pole. When Aung had gotten over his
shock, he looked carefully all around the tree. There
in the soft earth were the tracks of a tiger! That night
he slept not on the ground but in the branches
above. And he was glad he did, for in the middle of
the night, he saw a tiger come prowling below him.
>>
“The next day took Aung into the mountains, and at
sunset he left the road and camped a little way up
the mountainside. When he awoke the next morning,
he saw a caravan coming along the road below. A
dozen bullock carts were piled high with costly
goods. “That caravan must belong to some rich
merchant,” Aung told himself. “I wish I had wealth
like that.” Then he had a thought. He turned to the
green-faced ogre. “Tell me, how can I gain such
riches?” Aung watched in wonder as the puppet left
the pole and grew to life size. “If you have strength,”
boomed the ogre, “you can take whatever you like.
Watch this!” He stamped his foot and the earth
shook. “Wait!” said Aung. But it was too late. Just
below them, dirt and rocks broke loose in a
landslide. It rushed down the mountain and blocked
the road. The terrified drivers jumped from their carts
and ran off. “You see?” said the ogre. “Is it really that
easy?” said Aung, in a daze. He hurried down to the
carts and rushed from one to another, gaping at the
heaps of rich fabrics and piles of precious metals.
“And all of it’s mine!” he cried. >>
“Just then, Aung heard a sob. Lying huddled in one
of the carts was a lovely young woman his own age.
She cried and shivered in fear. “I won’t hurt you,”
said Aung gently. “Who are you?” “My name is
Mala,” she said in a small voice. “My father is the
owner of this caravan. We were on our way to meet
him.” All at once, Aung knew he was in love. He
wanted to keep Mala with him forever. “Don’t worry,”
he said. “I’ll take you with me and care for you.” Mala
sat up angrily. “Go ahead! Take me, like you’re
taking everything else! But you’re just a thief, and I’ll
never, ever speak to you!” Aung was shocked. Was
he really just a thief? He didn’t know what to say.
The ogre came up beside him then. “Don’t listen to
her. She’ll change her mind—and anyway, the
important thing is you got what you wanted. Now,
let’s go.” The ogre cleared the road, then helped
Aung lead the caravan. >>
“That afternoon, they came out of the mountains,
not far from the capital city. Aung asked the ogre,
“What should I do, now that I have all these riches?”
“Don’t ask me!” said the ogre. “Ask the sorcerer!”
Aung turned to the mystic sorcerer. “Can you tell
me?” The puppet came to life and floated before
him, as Mala looked on with wide eyes. “If you want
your wealth to grow,” said the sorcerer, “you must
learn the secrets of nature.” He tapped Aung with his
red wand, and together they rose high in the air.
Looking down, Aung saw everything in a new way.
He could tell what land was best for farming, and
which mountains held gold and silver. “This is
wonderful!” said Aung. “Just think how I can help
people with what I know!” “Certainly you could,” said
the sorcerer. “But knowledge is power. Why not
keep it all for yourself instead? Isn’t that what other
people do?” “I suppose so,” said Aung. >>
“So they came to the capital city. Aung became a
merchant, and with the help of the ogre and the
sorcerer, he grew many times richer than at first. He
bought a palace for himself and Mala, and kept the
puppets in a special room of their own. But Aung
was not happy, for Mala still would not speak to him.
One day, he placed before her a headdress fit for a
queen. The heavy gold was set with dozens of large
rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. The magnificent
piece had cost Aung a third of his wealth. Mala took
one look and pushed it away. Aung was
heartbroken. He said, “Don’t you know I love you?”
But she only glared at him and said not a word. The
next morning, Aung went to the puppets’ room and
spoke to the ogre and the sorcerer. “Mala’s father
must now be very poor, while I have more than I
need. I’ll help Mala find him so I can pay him for
what I took. Maybe then she’ll speak to me, and
even learn to love me.” “A terrible idea!” said the
ogre. “You should never give up what is yours.
You’re just being weak!” “Besides,” the sorcerer told
him, “you’re too late. Mala ran away last night.”
“What?” cried Aung. He rushed through the palace,
but Mala was nowhere to be found. >>
“Aung returned to the puppets’ room in despair.
“What good is all my wealth if I’ve lost what I care for
most?” For once, the ogre and the sorcerer were
silent and still. Then Aung remembered there was
one puppet he had never called on. He turned to the
holy hermit. “Tell me, why has everything gone
wrong?” The puppet came to life. “Aung, you
imagined that wealth brings happiness. But true
happiness comes only from goodness. What is
important is not what you have but what you do with
it.” The king of the gods then came to life and stood
beside the hermit. “You forgot what your father told
you, Aung. Strength and knowledge are useful, but
they must always serve wisdom and goodness.” “I
won’t forget again,” said Aung. From that day on,
Aung used his wealth and his talents to do good. He
built a splendid holy pagoda, and offered food and
shelter to those who visited the shrine. >>
“One day among the visitors, Aung saw a young
woman he knew well. An older man stood beside
her, both of them wearing humble clothes. “Mala!”
cried Aung. He rushed over to the startled young
woman and knelt before her puzzled father. “Sir, I
have done you great wrong. I beg your forgiveness.
All I have is yours, and I give it up gladly. I will be
content to return to my village and make puppets.”
“Father,” said Mala softly, “this is Aung. But he has
changed!” “So it would seem!” said her father. “And
if so, it would be a shame to let go of a young man
of such talent. Perhaps he would like to work for me,
and live with us in the palace.” So Aung became the
merchant’s assistant, and before long his partner,
and when Mala’s heart was won, his son-in-law. As
for the puppets, Aung still called on them as needed.
But though he was helped often by strength and
knowledge, he was guided always by wisdom and
goodness. >>
Religious Manuscripts and Books
Dr. Richard M. Cooler wrote in “The Art and Culture of Burma”: “Ancient Buddhist books were
written in the Buddhist language, Pali, (or possibly Sanskrit) on specially prepared fronds that had
been picked from the talipot palm. This produced nearly illegible engraved lines that were then made
distinct by rubbing each engraved leaf with soot and oil. The leaves were then arranged on a short
wooden rod or peg that passed through a small hole in each page. The bundle of pages was then
placed between two wooden covers, often bound with a cord, and inserted in a cloth envelope. The
long, rectangular shape of the palm leaves determined the shape of a Buddhist book whose
proportions are inverse to those of western books: Buddhist books are much broader than tall,
whereas western books are usually more tall than broad. The format of a manuscript made of palm
leaves was retained when the Kamawasa was created by the Burmese from cloth, lacquer, and gold
leaf. [Source: “The Art and Culture of Burma,” Dr. Richard M. Cooler, Professor Emeritus Art History
of Southeast Asia, Former Director, Center for Burma Studies =]
“The Shan peoples in northeast Burma created religious books from a paper made from the
cambium of the mulberry shrub. Although made of paper that is concertina folded, the form of these
books conforms to that of a stout palm leaf manuscript. Each accordion folded page is read in
succession on one side of the single sheet and then the book is inverted in order to read the
succession of folds on the opposite side. All types of books when not being used were kept in
wooden chests to prevent damage from insects, mold, humidity, and light and consequently were
among the most valued objects within a monastery. =