Diary of a Cricket

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1. 1

I
An independent life since childhood - a prank that costs dearly

I have lived an independent life since early childhood. Such is the rule
among us crickets. My mother used to tell her children, "It’s good for you
to learn to fly with your own wings. Children who are a burden to their
parents develop parasitic habits and will grow up into never-do-wells."
Following her principles, she would arrange for her children to live on their
own.

My two brothers and myself, for instance, lived with her for only two days.
The third evening, my mother took each of us to a hole she had dug in the
corner of a rice field. As the youngest of the brood, I was provided with a
small supply of food. But that was all: my mother didn’t turn back once.

Far from bewailing the situation, I rather enjoyed it. After thoroughly
exploring my new premises, I stood at the door, looking at the stars
twinkling among the top blades of tall grass. Feeling elated, I rubbed my
wings and uttered a few enthusiastic loud cries.

From that day on, I started a life on my own. My personal happiness would
depend on whether I would be wise or stupid. But I didn’t think of that at
the time. I merely enjoyed my independence.

All day long, I worked in my hole, enlarging an embellishing it into a nice

bedroom. Then I dug two new galleries leading to back doors for
emergencies. When dusk fell, I would stop for a rest. Together with the
whole neighbourhood, I would start a joyful concert in honour of the
setting sun. During the whole night, we would hold riotous dancing and
singing parties, stopping from time to time to drink dew drops or nibble at
juicy blades of young grass. Only when the austere-looking sun appeared
again in the East, did we part to go back home. Such was the joyful routine
of my life. A quite pleasant one, wasn’t it?

As I lived soberly and worked moderately, I grew up rapidly and in no

time became a healthy and strong adolescent. My wings shone with a dark
lustre. The spikes on my legs were spear-pointed. To try their
effectiveness, I would sometimes raise my legs and give powerful kicks at
the grass whose blades would then fall down as at the blow of a cutting
blade. My wings extended to the tip of my tail. When flapped, they gave
out a powerful noise. My head grew bigger and bigger and pugnacious-
looking bumps started bulging out on my forehead. My two white
mandibles were always moving crosswise, like the blades of some mowing
machine. I was particularly proud of my two long and martial-looking
antennae which I kept caressing with my forelegs. My whole body was of a
glossy brown.

I adopted a stately gait. When I walked, I solemnly swayed on my legs, my

two antennae shaking in a bellicose manner. I took on daring airs and
would pick a quarrel with every one of my neighbours. When I started
shouting, they would remain silent, probably not so much because they
were afraid to answer back but merely because of a peaceable disposition.
But that made me feel too big for my breeches. Young people often are like
that: bragging is for them a sign of talent! When I had played the bully
with some timid grasshoppers or a waterspider who had stayed from his
native pond, I believed myself a real hero.

Alas, I didn’t know that one is likely to pay dearly for foolish bluster.
Unconsciously I was doing myself a bad disservice. Later, I would many
times narrowly escape death. My heart would then be filled with remorse.
But remorse was not of much help in setting things right again. This was
how the first mishap came about:

Near my place lived a mole-cricket, about my age. He belonged to the

weaker kind of cricket, so I rather looked down on him. And he was truly
afraid of me! Thin and pale like an opium-addict, he had ridiculously short
wings which made him look as though a waistcoat was his only clothing.
His hindlegs were thick and utterly inelegant. In addition to all that, he had
ludicrous stumps in place of antennae, and the dazed look of a hopeless
country bumpkin! And he was not the kind of fellow to do things seriously:
his hole was shallow and had no galleries like mine.

One day I paid him a visit. After having a look at his shabby home, I
reproachfully told him, " What a careless and slovenly way of living! What
a home to live in! Suppose an enemy comes: you will have no way to
escape! Look, every time you move in your hole, your back will show up
through the ceiling. Any hawk could easily get you. My poor chap, you are
no longer a child, yet you haven’t the wisdom of mature age!"

The mole-cricket answered in a sad voice, "Big Brother, I surely want to

have wisdom, but I can’t. I work all night for a living, and am too tired
when daylight comes to do any more work and make this place safer and
more comfortable. I have no time to sing like you! I know it is dangerous
to live in such a shallow hole, but I have neither the strength nor the money
to improve it. Wise Brother, the poor are always in such straits! But now, I
think that… but, I dare not speak to you about it…"

I said in a condescending way, "Just tell me what you think. I permit you to
do so."

The mole-cricket timidly said, " Thank you, Big Brother. As you have
deigned to take pity on me, I would ask for permission to dig a gallery
linking my hole to yours. In case of danger, I can thus escape to your
place."

Baring my teeth, I snarled, " What! A gallery linking my place to yours?

How could I stand it? You smell as badly as an owl. Now, stop it! It’s no
use whimpering. It serves you right for being such a lazy fellow."

I went back to my place and paid no more attention to my unfortunate

neighbour.

One afternoon, I stood at my doorstep. It had rained the day before, so the
neighbouring ponds and lakes were overflowing. Egrets, cranes,
cormorants… were coming to search for food. All day long, they kept
quarrelling, noisily disputing every tiny shrimp. Egrets, being the weakest,
could never get enough food to eat and so grew horribly thin. Such is the
fate of the weak! While philosophising over the facts of life, I suddenly
noticed a cormorant who had just alighted a few steps from my place.

A wicked idea came to my mind. I called my neighbour the mole-cricket.

When I heard his answer, I asked him, "Would you like to have some fun?"

"How so?"

"Just playing a joke on somebody."

"On whom?"

"On yonder cormorant."

"What, that big, fat female standing a few steps from our doors?"

"Precisely."
"My God, no! I can’t afford that. And I would advise you not to either."

"Me! Not to? What are you talking about? I fear nobody, Mister Coward."

"Then, do it alone, please. I humbly confess that I’m afraid."

"You poltroon! Look, I’m going to play a good joke on the cormorant."

I waited for a favourable moment then started singing.

"Bong, bong, bong!

The egret, the crane, the pelican!
All three are fat enough, which one should I pluck, Sir?
- Pluck the cormorant for me, my boy!
I will have it cooked, broiled, fried, and I’ll eat it!"

This gave the cormorant a start! Opening her eyes wide and stretching her
wings, she strutted toward where the song came from and asked in an
angry voice, "Who just said that insolent thing about me? Who?"

I quickly backed down to the bottom of my hole, saying to myself, "You’re

angry, eh? But you won’t get me, even if you break your silly head
knocking it on my door." The cormorant didn’t get me, as a matter of fact.
But she caught sight of the mole-cricket in his shallow hole. I heard her
angry shout, "Mole-cricket! What did you just say about me?"

"I said nothing, Big Sister."

"How dare you deny it? How dare you?"

A heavy stroke of the cormorant’s bill accompanied each of her rebukes. I

heard the mole-cricket’s painful whine. Having relieved herself of her
anger, the cormorant flew away to look for fish. Carefully, I crept up.
When he saw me, my poor neighbour cried bitterly, "Heavens! You’ve
caused my death, Big Brother!"

"What happened?" I asked.

But mole-cricket could not stand on his legs. He was lying on the ground,
half-dead. Tears came to my eyes. I spoke softly, "How could I know
things would happen this way? Brother, my heart is filled with bitter
remorse. My silly bragging is the cause of this tragedy."

Mole-cricket was in agony, but he found the strength to give me some

advice, "Being in poor health," he murmured "I won’t live long anyway.
So I am not really sad at having to die now. But before leaving this world, I
would like to advise you not to be such a foolish braggart. Before you do
anything, pray, think the matter over carefully. Less danger will befall
you."

Moved to tears, I bowed my head and said, "Big Brother, thank you for
your wise advice. I promise to follow it."

Mole-cricket breathed his last. My heart was filled with pity and remorse.
Had it not been for the silly joke I played on the cormorant, he would not
have died. And I myself had had a close shave, too. Far from being the
smart fellow I thought I was, I was a confounded fool. My heart swelled
with remorse.

I buried Mole-cricket in a grassy piece of land. I heaped earth on his grave

so that ants would not be able to disturb his rest. I stood for a long moment
before his tomb, my eyes filled with tears. I was so sad and felt so much
pity for my friend.

II

Start on my adventurous journey - unwittingly become a children's

plaything - I get a hard lesson from the longicorn

Thus, I began to revise all my thinking and actions drastically. Promised to

myself that I would forthwith renounce all foolish swaggering. I started a
more peaceful life. But this didn’t last long, although I don’t know
precisely how long this episode in my life lasted. This was how everything
began.

It was the beginning of summer. One morning, as I was nibbling at some

young blades of grass, I saw coming from the other end of the ground two
young boys carrying sticks and a water can. I quickly ran back to my hole.
Soon, I heard steps overhead, then the sound of voices:

"Hey, Lam!"

"What?"

"Here it is!"

"Ha, ha! Sure enough! Look at the earth thrown out of the hole. And those
footprints! Hiep, give me the knife so that I can widen the entrance to the
hole. Now, go and fetch me a canful of water! Quick!"
I heard the knife being bored into the ground and bits of earth soon started
falling on my head. Hardly had I climbed up an emergency gallery than
water was poured in. But thanks to the many emergency galleries I had
dug, through which the water could flow out, the place I was in was not
flooded.

However, the two wicked brats did not give up the chase; especially the
one named Lam. He said to his partner, "I bet there is a cricket in this hole.
And a big one too. It takes some time to drive a cricket out of its hole. It
can stay immersed in water for hours on end. Now let us block up all the
side galleries so that the water won’t flow out."

No sooner said than done. All of a sudden, I found myself plunged in

darkness: all the side exits had been obstructed. Only one gallery was left,
the main one. That was the one down which the water was being poured.
That was also the one by which I should creep out if I did not want to be
drowned. Now the water level kept going up. It reached my back, then my
head. Finally even my antennae were immersed. But I held on, hoping that
the water would seep through. However, the children kept pouring in
canful after canful of water. All the galleries were submerged. I was panic-
stricken. Soon, I would have to creep out of my hole and be caught. Was I
to serve as food for some fighting-cock or pet blackbird? My tender flesh
would be a real treat for these voracious devils.

To get some air, I had to creep up the main gallery.

Little by little I was unconsciously approaching the entrance. At a given

moment, I heard a joyful shout, "Here it comes! My! What a glossy
forehead!" I hastily backed down, but it was too late. More water came in,
more shouts were heard. A spike of bamboo was driven into the ground
behind me and prevented me from going further down. One child worked
on the bamboo spike as a lever to push me out, while the other frantically
beat on an empty can which resounded like a tocsin. These absurd kiddies
were acting as though they were giving chase to some bandit! Finally,
unable to resist further I jumped out. Savage shouts broke out!

"Attaboy! What a cricket!"

"Ho, ho! A real warrior-cricket!"

"It's as big as a cicada!"

"You bet!"

The boy called Lam caught hold of me. I gave him a good bite. He uttered
a painful cry and released his grip.

I started running like mad. But they were immediately after me, one
brandishing a butterfly net and the other his hat. In the twinkling of an eye,
the net landed on me. I tried to gnaw at a thread, but to no avail. The
children would no longer touch me for fear of being bitten, using the net as
a cage to keep me in. Then they washed their hands, arranged their tools
and went home, singing joyfully.

I cast a last glance at the familiar surroundings: the green grass, the silver-
white water, the golden shine of the sun on the tree-tops... I felt as though a
knife were being driven through my heart. Tears welled in my eyes. Death
was near!

They took me out of the grassy field, along a winding pathway bordered
with bamboo hedges, then through a bamboo gate: we were in their home.
My fate was to be decided! Hiep said, "Let us give it to our fat duck!"

Good Heaven! Such was to be my tragic end! But Lam did not agree. He
had his own idea. "No, it's not often that one catches such a big cricket.
That one is a real warrior-cricket. This fellow Thinh has been quite
highfalutin about his cricket. He said it would kick the life out of any other
cricket. Let's have a fight between his champ and ours."

Hiep noisily clapped his hands, "Good! Let's do that."

They put me in a cage previously destined for grasshoppers, with a door

that could slide up and down. At noon, they took me to the place where the
fellow called Thinh lived. The latter readily accepted the challenge. All
three of them went to a shaded place, Thinh carrying his own cricket cage.
They lay face down on the grass and put the cages close to each other, the
two doors facing. Then they lifted the sliding barriers.

The cricket in the other cage was a bit smaller than myself. But he looked
as vain as a peacock. His very way of walking showed utter conceit. As
soon as he saw me, he said in a sneering voice, "I don't suppose a bumpkin
like you will be able to stand just a few of my kicks!"

At the time, I was surprised that a cricket should behave in such a way
toward another cricket. Later on, I realised how naive I was. Being young,
I could not be a penetrating judge of people's minds.

Although deeply offended by the other cricket's insolence, I softly said to

him, "Why kick up such a row? Don't you know we are kith and kin? Why
use such nasty language?"
Showing his teeth, the young coxcomb snarled out arrogantly, "Nonsense!
Just come up here if you're a man!"

Anger seethed in me, I jumped into his cage. A savage fight began, amidst
the clapping and cheering of the three children.

After exchanging a few blows with my adversary. I realised that his

strength was far from equalling his insolence. A powerful wallop knocked
him down. A few more kicks made him spit blood and broke one of his
legs. Lying on the ground, he cried out painfully. Putting my mouth close
to his ears, I said, "A good lesson it was for you, young braggart! I hope
you'll show better manners next time."

Trembling with fear, he repeatedly kowtowed to me.

Alas, though from then on, my unfortunate adversary had become more
sensible, his impudence had shifted onto me. I started adopting the very
manners for which I gave him such a sound beating. Why should this be?

The reason was that I had not entirely been cured of my native
bumptiousness and arrogance. After I had knocked the poor squirt down, I
started having a very high opinion of myself. "I'm really strong indeed.
Only a few kicks of mine laid this fellow down. Surely, the young masters
must be highly satisfied with such brilliant feats. They will look for more
fighting crickets to be matched against me. I shall have more occasions to
test my strength. That will give me the opportunity to get still further into
their good graces. Perhaps I shall eventually recover my freedom."

Things happened the way I had predicted. All the children in the hamlet
went out to the fields for crickets to be set against me. My reputation as a
tough fighter began to spread far and wide. All my opponents cleared out
after a few blows. I was at that time in the prime of manhood and the best
of health. Easy success fans up arrogance and vain-gloriousness: I looked
down upon everybody. I adopted the insolent speech and manners of my
first unfortunate opponent.

On account of my frequent victories, I was very much loved by my two

young owners. At each triumphal return, I was given the daintiest food. At
night, they set my perch on a pergola where I could drink fresh dew. To
please my masters, I stayed all day long close to the matchbox they gave
me as a lodging, and thought no more of recovering my freedom.
Sometimes, filled with self-complacency, I would rub my wings and start
singing: reee... reee... I forgot completely about my statute as a slave and a
plaything. What a confounded fool I was!
One day, something happened that opened my eyes. That day, my masters
took me to a fight, as usual. My opponent was a pitiful adolescent, perhaps
no bigger than my belly. Hardly had he seen me when he cried out for
mercy. But I wasn't a bit moved by compassion. I pitched ruthlessly into
him, to the great pleasure of my owners. Suddenly, I heard a sharp rebuke
from a near-by branch.

"Aren't you ashamed of assailing someone so much weaker than yourself?"

I looked up. The reproachful words were addressed to me by a powerful,

armour-clad, savage-looking longicorn. But I was not afraid. I knew that
the longicorn would not dare come down on me for fear of being caught by
the children. So I snapped back at him, "Leave me alone, will you? It's no
business of yours!"

I went on raining blows on my unfortunate victim, now more dead than

alive. Far from feeling any pity I was quite pleased with the spectators'
cheering and clapping. Beside himself with anger, the longicorn shouted,
"You ruffian! I'll teach you!"

"Come down here if you want a fight!" I replied defiantly.

The longicorn ground his teeth. His antennae were quivering with rage. But
he could do nothing. After a moment, he flew away. I paid no more
attention to the incident.

That night, the children perched me on the pergola as usual, so that I could
enjoy the dew and the fresh air. In the sky, the moon was shining. Tree-
leaves damp with dew, glittered like sharp blades. A sweet breeze,
descending from above, gently rocked the bamboo tops. I straightened
myself up and began a war dance while singing softly to myself. Looking
at the moonlit sky, I was quite satisfied with my lot.

Suddenly, I heard something like the noise of a powerful engine, coming

nearer and nearer. Then, from the air, a heavy silhouette alighted: it was
the terrible longicorn! I howled out in terror! This was no joke: death was
unavoidable! I know what terrible strength lies in the mandibles and the
spikes on the legs of the longicorn. And I was alone.

As I stood trembling with fear before him, the longicorn smiled ironically,
"You coward! You weren't so humble this afternoon!" he said. "Don't you
think you deserve death?" he asked after a while.
"I humbly beg your pardon," I murmured meekly.

Pity probably found its way into the longicorn's heart. He came close to
me, his mandibles touching my head, and said, "I'll forgive you this time.
But as a warning, I'll cut off your antennae. Later, every time you want to
commit an excess, the stumps on your forehead will act as a reminder."

The thing was no sooner said than done. The longicorn's razor-sharp
mandibles bit away my antennae. Though the pain was unbearable, I didn't
dare cry out. Such was the price I paid for that lesson.

But I benefited from it. My conscience awoke. I realised how badly I had
behaved since the day I became a slave to the two children. I had
committed heinous crimes: I had maimed and killed people who were my
kith and kin. Tears welled in my eyes, and bitter remorse crept into my
heart.

"Alas, not long ago I committed a bad action," I thought to myself, "and I
have so greatly repented it. But here I am, committing still worse ones. Oh,
what a coward I am! The longicorn was kind-hearted enough not to kill
me, and he taught me a good lesson! How true it is that a bully always ends
up by coming across someone stronger than himself. Now, I swear to
myself that I shall henceforward behave like a wise and honest fellow."

In order to start on a new life, the first thing I had to do was to quit my two
owners. So long as I remained in their possession, I had to fight and kill.
Escape! Yes, I must escape. Only when I had escaped would I be able to
live my own life, to recover the freedom of yore. I had to wait for a
favourable occasion. All day long, I was kept in the cage. During the night,
it was also in a cage that I was perched on the pergola.

The time spent in this weary wait lay heavy on me. I realised that I had
spent a large portion of my youth in a completely useless fashion. Not only
that, but I had accumulated mistake upon mistake! I was so sad that I lost
my appetite and lay prostrated on the ground all day long. Lam and Hiep,
my owners, were at a loss finding me in such a state. They lavished care on
me, but to no avail. Worse still, the more care they spent on me, the more I
became conscious of the fact that I had become a mere plaything. I hardly
touched any food at all. The moral pains gnawing at my heart had a bad
effect upon my health. At last, the children became tired of me. One day, I
heard Lam tell Hiep, "This cricket is getting old. It might even have TB of
the lungs. What is the use of keeping an old, ailing cricket?"

"How about the feeding it to the duck?" asked Hiep.

That gave me quite a shiver! But Lam said, "I've got an idea. Let us give it
as a prize for a football match to be played by the chaps in our quarter.
What do you think?"

The two boys quickly agreed and went out to tell their friends. Half an hour
later, a crowd of children gathered on the field and divided themselves into
two teams. The ball was a grapefruit stolen in a nearby orchard. The cage I
was in was put inside a ring made of broken bricks. As I was looking
nostalgically up at the sky through the strong bamboo bars, and brooding
over personal misfortunes, I suddenly gave a start: the door of the cage was
half-open! As it happened, the children had inadvertently forgotten to pull
the latch, and when the cage was rested upon a broken brick, the slant of its
position half-opened the door. My heart beat violently. I watched the door
out of the corner of my eye, trying hard to keep calm. Fortunately, the
children were too absorbed by preparations for the match to pay any
attention to the cage.

Soon, the whistle blew. The match started. The children ran after the
grapefruit ball, shouting at the top of their voices. That was the golden
opportunity I had waited for! I stealthily crept out of the cage into the
nearest tuft of grass. In a moment, I was in the thick of a far-away bush.

I did not wait to see whether the children would get into a quarrel after
becoming aware that the 'prize' was no longer there!