บ้านเราอยู่ในนี้ซอยเดียวกัน
Our Houses Were Here, on the Same
Lane
โดย
วานิช จรุงกิจอนันต์
(Wanich Jarungkidanan)
English
version
by Brent Soderberg, Gary Risser, Paul Chambers, and Joe Orser
![]() |
My house was on a lane like the fifty-six thousand other congested, cramped lanes in Bangkok-Thonburi. I didn't really know anyone on this lane because there was no time to get to know anyone. The only people I was familiar with would be the rice vendor, the owner of a coffee shop and the owner of one other restaurant that I always ate at.
|
|
They only knew my face. Only I knew their names. There was no reason that they should be familiar with my name, and there was no reason that I should go tell them what my name was. |
![]() เพื่อที่จะออกหาทางที่จะได้เงินมาให้ควั่กในตอนกลางคืน |
Here it's like all the other lanes. There were always greasers in the alleys, hoodlums that every day sat in the coffee shop until Saturday and Sunday so they had somewhere to go, like horse-racing. Then they came back grumbling because they were broke in the evening and then again...head out looking for a way to get some money to blow in the middle of the night. |
![]() |
On this lane there were drug dealers and junkies, from those addicted to painkillers, marijuana, opium all the way to those who sniffed paint thinner. Here there were big-time gangsters and petty thieves and everything for those skilled in the life of crime. From my usual seat at the coffee shop I'd thought that if I aspired to make it good at this illegal way of life, the thing I would invest most in would be to set myself up as an agent for robbers on this lane because this place was full of experts in every branch of robbery, no matter if it was breaking into cars or houses and carrying off everything,no matter if it's stabbing someone or robbing and killing them. I'd seen two lost greasers beaten to a pulp, almost to death in front of the coffee shop. |
![]() |
This lane which was so noisy during the middle of the day became frighteningly deserted at night, because only the first section of the lane had buildings and shops. When you got off the wooden bridge that crossed the canal, there were people's houses alternating with thickets of grass - and dwellings that almost couldn't be called houses - scattered all about. This lane was another big slum in Bangkok. |
![]() |
The path of the lane was winding and narrow, breaking off into three parts from the main road. Areas near the road were crowded with homes. When you left the road, you entered an entirely different world with a single-plank wooden bridge skirting the edge and a narrow cement path. |
![]() |
The large dirty ditch was full of grass and trash. There was a sturdy wooden bridge crossing over it. This was an important thoroughfare for the people deep into the lane. When you came down from this wooden bridge and turned left, went parallel to the ditch for about two hundred meters - there was the house that my older brother and I rented. If you walked straight ahead about another five hundred meters, you'd get to the mouth of the lane and the main road and lots of busses that ran past there. |
![]() |
A few women hopelessly dared to walk on the lane alone at night. Armed robberies and unwanted harassment of women were a common occurrence. The cement walkway built up to the wooden bridge wasn't quite two meters wide. It branched off to narrow paths, one to the wooden bridge and another dirt path that had grass taller than your head. Sometimes the odor of garbage wafted all over. I felt surprised that this street was in the heart of Bangkok because only a little more than ten minutes walk from the main road was filled with luxurious buildings. I'd joked with my brother, "Do you know if Bangkok is the city of Hell or the city of Heaven?" |
![]() ผมไปมหาวิทยาลัยทุกวัน เว้นวันเสาร์ อาทิตย์ |
My brother and I came from the countryside. My brother already worked. I was studying in my last year at a university. I went to the university every day except for Saturday and Sunday. |
![]() |
The mouth of the lane was a canal with a large concrete bridge so cars can cross. A bus stop was at the foot of the bridge under the shade of a flame tree. Every morning many people came and waited for the bus. I waited for a bus at this stop every morning. |
![]() |
And one morning I met her. |
![]() |
I'd lived on this lane for more than two years and had never seen her before. Even though this lane was crowded, I remembered almost all the faces of those who regularly waited for the busses. She probably just moved here, because I was not familiar with her face, and I'd never seen her before. She dressed like a student - I couldn't see her chest pin and belt pin well enough, and it wouldn't be polite to move closer. But then a college bus pulled up, and she was one of those who got on that bus, and I knew what school she went to. It's far from here and in a different direction from where I studied. |
![]() |
I shouldn't have been interested in her more than this. I'd tried to tell myself that. In the first place, I was not one who'd ever wanted a girlfriend. Now,almost four years at the university,and I never had a girlfriend. And furthermore, there were no women at my university, either in my college or in another college, who liked me, and it's not like I'd ever glanced at anyone. My shyness combined with my lazyness didn't help me get girlfriends like others. I was not handsome; that's one part. My lack of skill at speaking and not wanting to go to events that had women there were another part. I went to school, laughed with my friends everyday, kicked the takraw, went to the library, listened to lectures, that's it. |
![]() |
It's interesting that after seeing her only one time, I started to think of her face all the time, like I'd seen and liked a woman with a face like this before. I asked myself if she's beautiful, and answered myself immediately that she was very beautiful. She was tall with smooth skin. Her hair, long and straight, was folded neatly in the back. Her eyes and nose were beautiful,her mouth had a beautiful dip,hmmm. . . I could remember her face well enough to be able to describe it this much? |
![]() |
I tried not to think of her. I wasn't the type of person that pursued this matters. I just thought that there was no point to thinking or dreaming about it. See? I dreamed myself into a stupor. Three buses had already passed on by. |
![]() |
I still went to study as usual and had not come across her again until after some time, when I happened to see her crossing the wooden bridge one morning. |
![]() |
Her home was also way back in this lane! I shuffled about until she walked ahead of me and then I followed at a distance. This was an unusual day in that for once I did not hurry to catch the bus. From an appropriate distance so as not to draw attention, I watched the backs of her legs. She dressed prim and proper in a neatly-ironed white school blouse and a narrow, navy blue skirt that reached to her mid-knees. Her right hand clutched her books to her chest. In her left, she held a white handkerchief. |
![]() |
After that day, I noticed that she carried a handkerchief every day, and it was always white. |
![]() |
The bus stop is under a large flame tree and as it was June, its red blossoms were in brilliant full bloom. I liked the red flowers of a flame tree. Perhaps it was because I like red. I thought that a flame tree was both a beautiful and stately flower, unlike the frail tabaek flower or the delicate lom lang. No green tainted its display of red color. It just boasted its brilliance in contrast with the azure sky. |
![]() |
The flame tree flowers enlivened me, especially on a day like this when I watched her. |
![]() |
She stood quietly waiting for the bus to her college, not anxious or fidgety like me. I meant like me on other days. Not today, because I leaned against the flame tree watching her stand their quietly concentrating. The buses on my route to the university passed by one by one, but I wasn't interested until her bus pulled up to the sidewalk. It wasn't until after she boarded the bus and was on her way that I really focussed on watching for my bus. |
![]() |
I tried to tell myself not to think about her too much. She might already have a lover, as it was unimaginable that a woman as beautiful as she could be without someone. I thought I could control myself, but in actuality I couldn't, because not long after that, and as if by coincidence, I began to know her schedule. |
![]() |
Normally I would leave home for school when convenient. Some days I'd leave early, others I'd leave late and yet others I'd arrive at noon. After I left home early a couple of days, and purely by coincidence ran into her at the bus stop, I noticed that she left home at about seven. So I began to leave home early every day before seven and loitered around the foot of the wooden bridge. Not long and I would see her cross the bridge out of that long, narrow lane. |
![]() |
I'd get another brief opportunity to watch her at the bus stop as the bus to her college arrived between a quarter after seven and seven thirty. |
![]() |
I
wasn't good at flirting. I have to admit that I was not skilled at flirting with women and
was actually quite innocent. Each time when I saw her walk across the bridge, I quickly
turned my head so she wouldn't know I was watching. Some days I would act as if I
forgot something and hurried by her, back home. Once she passed, I would turn around and
follow her. On other days, I would rush by her to the stop without a single glance back,
but then would contentedly stand and watch her walking to the stop.
|
![]() |
I feared I was falling in love. I had never made such a fuss over any other woman. |
![]() ผลุนผลันขึ้นรถเมล์ให้พ้นๆมาเสีย เพื่อจะมารู้สึกเสียดายที่ไม่ได้มองเธอให้เต็มตาในวันนี้ |
A week stretched into a month. Each time I saw her my heart began to pound for no apparent reason. It thumped tum tum. . . tum tum as if to say "That's it. Here she comes. She's on her way." Sometimes I was angry with my heart because it beat so well. It beat so hard that I would cover my ears and I feared that those close by would hear. Once, I rushed on board the bus, but then regretted not catching a glimpse of her that day. |
![]() |
I proceeded to sneak a glimpse of her like this every day, except for holidays, but she never noticed that I was watching or that I was interested. |
![]() |
This situation was not in the slightest bit advantageous as I was in a perpetual state of gloom and distress. I could find no way to introduce myself. I couldn't think of any polite way of doing it. Just meeting her eyes, I quickly dropped my gaze as if nothing happened, as if I wasn't interested at all - now how in the world was I going to meet her? How was I ever going to introduce myself? |
![]() |
One morning, after a night of contemplation, I thought I was going to have to wait and get her attention today. No matter if it brought on death, I would have to get her attention. Whether she would speak with me or not was an entirely separate issue. I woke up early, dressed and slipped on my university belt, an item I had normally foregone. If I hadn't feared my brother or my friends would see me, I would have also worn a necktie. |
![]() |
I stood impatiently near the wooden bridge, just wandering about so not to make the passer-by curious as to for whom I was waiting. I made up my mind that this would be the day I caught her attention and strolled along to the bus stop at the front of the lane, talking with her. I stood there for about half an hour as my body went cold and my hands got sweaty. Then I saw her coming across the bridge. My heart began to pound ... pound until I felt like my ribcage would crack open from the vibrations. |
![]() |
Here she came. She's walking this way. She's coming down off the bridge. Her right hand was clutching her books to her chest along with a small, black handbag. Her white handkerchief was in her left hand. She's getting off the bridge. She's walking toward me. . . closer. . . She's right beside me. She's passing me. She'd passed me and my mouth hadn't moved an inch. |
![]() |
I didn't follow her out to wait for the bus, but instead walked home and banged my head on the door. For nearly two hours, I lay down staring at the ceiling in frustration before I could go back out to the bus stop and head to school. |
![]() |
I knew the college where she studied. I had thought about taking a stroll in that area to meet her, but what advantages would that be when I could meet her almost everyday here? I still didn't have any idea of how to acquaint myself with her. |
![]() |
It looked like wind and rain would come. Flame tree flowers at the bus stop drifted down. Now the morning glimpse of her seemed not enough for me. Some days I spent those evenings that I did not go to the university or when I went home early and hung out to wait for her at a coffee shop, at the bus stop, or near the wooden bridge, hoping that perhaps I might see her again. After hanging out there for about two or three days, I saw her getting out of her college bus at approximately a little before 6 p.m.
|
![]() |
Since then I stopped fooling around. After 4 o'clock I was little interested in anything. I quickly got on the bus and headed back home and came to wait for her at the bus stop. Her college bus would arrive between 5:30 and 6 o'clock. |
![]() |
At the stage of the game, I believed she had already realized that I lived on the same lane as she. |
![]() |
While she was walking, she didn't look at anyone such that if only I could make her know that I lived on the same lane with her I was, well, very happy. Because there were thousands of people on this lane and who knew how many of them walked in and out of the lane each day and, besides, it was not only me who was secretly interested in her. Well, there were others too including those greasers who loudly and offensively remarked that the beautiful girl had come when seeing her pass by. Sometimes there was words that I didn't want to hear. But she was silent and peaceful, never turned, never changed expression. |
![]() |
I looked for a way time and again to get acquainted with her. Why was becoming acquainted with just one girl so extremely difficult? I wouldn't dare to write a letter or, if I did, how would I send it to her? I still didn't know her name. I had, before, walked along after her a far distance until I saw her turn and enter a house. It was an ordinary house but had a tall iron fence. I didn't know who else lived there. How would I write a letter to her? I was too shy to bring it to her personally. To hire a child to run over and give it to her was again too embarrassing. I had no guts to do anything. Why did I have to like her this much? I hadn't even had a chance to talk or to know her name. |
![]() |
I had to try again. I had to acquaint myselk with her no matter what. But today the atmosphere was not right. Four or five greasers are standing on the wooden bridge loudly and boisterously greeting her. I backed up, and looked from a distance. I see her walk with a swampface, not accepting the crowds. I then followed along behind her quietly as usual. |
![]() |
The next day, I went to wait again. This time, she came alone. Besides those who passed by regularly, there were no greasers, no one else who would come in my way. And there was no indication that she would be in a bad mood like yesterday. She was walking toward me now. I acted as if I had just walked out of the house. Today the wind was so strong and loud, as loud as the beat of my heart. She walked up to me and was just now going off. Damned! I hadn't thought about how I should greet her. |
![]() |
"Today the wind is so strong," I uttered the first sentence hurriedly in fear that she would walk away totally. |
![]() |
There was
truly strong wind because my voice went out but it didn't reach her ears. My lips
were so shaky that the voice returned back into my throat. She walked by me not knowing
that one man used the utmost bravery that he had ever used in his life with her a second
ago.
|
![]() |
I stopped staring at her for a long moment. Then I followed her out to the bus stop with such a weak and cheerless heart. I stared at her again at the bus stop. I should make some kind of decision today since I used my courage. So I should be able to do anything concerning this matter much more easily and comfortably. Because if I let it go like this any longer, I would be restless and die before the proper time. |
![]() |
I just tried to stare at her from behind. She didn't feel anything because she was busy looking for her college bus. When she saw it approaching, she looked more cheerful, and relaxed. And at that moment, she turned to face me and we met each other's eyes. And it may have been because I had intended to do it before, I then did not hesitate to flash a smile. |
![]() |
As if my eyes were playing tricks on me, I saw her return my smile. I looked around me, just to make sure that her smile wasn't intended for someone else.... No. She really was smiling at me. The other people were waiting for the bus. None showed any interest in anything else. I turned back to her one more time. Her smile had grown, even as she boarded the bus. I watched that bus until it disappeared from sight. The world was more brilliant today than any other day. The bright red of the flame tree flowers smiled enchantingly at me. |
![]() วิทยาลัยด้วย เธออาจติดธุระที่ไหนจนกลับไม่ทันรถของทางวิทยาลัยก็ได้ผมปลอบใจตัวเองขณะเดินเข้าบ้าน ผมอารมณ์ดีเป็นพิเศษจนพี่ชายแปลกใจ เพราะคิดอยู่ตลอดเวลาว่าจะพูดกับเธอว่าอย่างไรดีในวันรุ่งขึ้น ทีนี้เธอรู้จักผมแล้ว เธอยิ้มให้ผมแล้วเธอคงไม่รังเกียจที่จะพูดจากับผม เราจะรู้จักกันอย่างเป็นทางการในวันรุ่งขึ้น |
I could hardly study that day. Restlessly I waited for four o'clock, when I could catch the bus home and wait for her return. But my wait proved futile that day, because she didn't come home on her college's bus. Maybe she had some business to take care of, so she couldn't make it to her bus on time. I consoled myself as I walked home. I was in such a great mood (my big brother was perplexed by this development), because I was thinking the entire time about what I would say to her the next morning. She knew who I was. She smiled at me. She probably wouldn't be uncomfortable if I said something to her. Tomorrow we would make our formal introductions. |
![]() |
I woke up earlier than usual. Walking by the wooden bridge, I noticed a white handkerchief, the style of which I was quite familiar. It was her handkerchief. I picked it up joyfully. The white handkerchief was moist with the morning dew and stained with dirt. Perhaps she dropped it last night as she walked home. I waited half an hour for her. It was getting pretty late. She may have gone to school earlier than usual, or perhaps she had a day off. I felt lonely as I boarded the bus, and yet happy in the possession of her handkerchief. Now I could return it to her the next time we met. And I wouldn't feel too shy, since I now had a legitimate reason to get to know her. I carefully placed the handkerchief in my schoolbook. |
![]() |
I
returned home earlier than usual that evening. I didn't want to miss the bus that would
carry her home. I sat and waited at the bus stop. "Ehh, is this your
handkerchief?" "I think that you probably didn't intend to throw away this
handkerchief." "I think this white handkerchief belongs to you." The
possibilities ran through my head. Which one was best? But I had no opportunity to say
anything, because when her bus pulled up, she didn't get off. It was almost six o'clock,
and she still hadn't returned.
|
![]() |
Two police cars blared their sirens as they entered the lane on which I live. There were more people than usual gathered about. Another fight, I thought to myself as I walked home, feeling dejected and deserted. |
![]() |
Strands of conversation floated toward the mouth of the lane. Someone had died. Little kids ran down the lane to get a better look. Ahead of me, I saw perhaps a hundred people gathered about the wooden bridge. An ambulance passed me by. |
![]() |
Some had died by the bridge. This damn lane, it's not worth it to live here. This was the third time that I had seen something like this. Last time, gang members stabbed themselves to death right near this wooden bridge. I thought to ask my brother to move with me from this lane, to go somewhere else once I finished my studies. I'm tired of this lane that's full of criminals. But just as quick, I thought that perhaps I didn't want to move just yet, not until I got to know her. And if things went as I dreamt, maybe I wouldn't move at all. |
![]() |
I intended to walk straight home, without joining the audience of people gawking at the body in the ditch. But when I heard one of the spectators say that the dead was a woman, I pushed my way through to get a look myself. |
![]() |
I went to wait for the bus later than usual. I didn't waste anytime at the wooden bridge. I did stop and buy a newspaper at the shop by the lane's entrance. The girl of my dreams was on the front page of every daily, along with a big headline and a detailed report. It was here that I finally met her, that girl who lived on the same lane as me. Here I came to know her name, where she came from, and who she lived with. But what good did that do me now? |
![]() |
Her white handkerchief was still in my book. I opened it and looked mournfully at the white cloth. One of the few remaining petals from the flame tree fluttered down and landed on her white handkerchief.
|
![]() |
The dark red of the flame tree dying petal against that white handkerchief looked like the stain of blood. |
วาณิช จรุงกิจอนันต์ "บ้านเราอยู่ในนี้ ซอยเดียวกัน" ใน ซอยเดียวกัน กรุงเทพมหานคร: บูรพาสาส์น ๒๕๓๘. ๑๘๙-๒๐๘.
Last Modified: 04/22/08