Beastly Behavior, a short story by Khamsing Srinawk

Sure, I know you depend on others while alive, but I never thought you should be thankful to anyone for your death. Especially as far as my own death is concerned, I could never have thought of a reason why I should be thankful to anyone for it; at least until it actually happened. That night I knew I was deeply indebted to someone I had never met and whose name I could barely remember.

People sometimes talk about 'pre-warning', and more often after it actually happened, especially when it comes to death. I thought about the events of the day before and even days before, but I couldn't remember anything that indicated it was my turn to die. Yes, there was something, but I didn't take it as an omen.

I was drinking coffee in a coffee house when someone came to my table. He was a life insurance agent who was clearly impressed with his own sales techniques. Charmingly he combined the cunning of a pig with the smooth talk of a professional speaker; he whined about my death and tried to put me down about my family's suffering if I didn't take out a policy with his company.

But if I was to take every sales pitch from an insurance salesman as an omen of my impending death, I would have died long ago… As always, his arcane stream of statistics crushed me, until after a while I grew weary of agreeing with him; moreover, a friend interrupted his story. "I suppose so, but why do many insurance companies go bankrupt before their customers die?" That was the sore spot! The agent got up and left.

The cinema and the army whores

I drove past the cinema. A group of people stood in front of the poster with today's movie. A Japanese movie about a samurai swordsman. I wanted to see that. It was a good movie. I was completely carried away by the hero, a brave and devoted knight who ended up in the middle of a highway in his death throes.

Hungry! I stopped at a stall but before I could order a friend pointed to my car. “The ambassadors' wives are standing around your cart. Maybe the 'posh ladies' want a ride?'

We watched two girls standing in the shade of a tree. They were dressed in red miniskirts that started below the navel and ended above the knees. Chunky knit tops barely covered their black bras. My friend made fun of it and pointed the ladies at me, possibly telling them I was the driver of that unlicensed taxi. I hadn't even thought about it when the two walked over to me.

On the way back from the market near our ally's encampment, where I had dropped off the ladies, I thought about the expression my friend had used: ambassador's wives, which made one laugh. I wondered if other languages ​​had expressions for it, just as clear and mocking. 

Who came up with that nickname for these army sluts? Was it disgust for these hired women or for the foreign soldiers who swarmed over brothels and massage parlors? 

It wasn't the first time I had these ladies in the taxi. I really have nothing against them. They can get you a drip, I believe, but expensive food can also make you sick if you're not careful. If it were true that whores bring misfortune to mankind then there would be nothing left in the world. It would mean the end of hotel vans, buses, trains, planes and taxis without a license… From the food stand to the most expensive restaurant, from the jewelers to the toilet brush store, from the local civil service to the government, there is a place where people don't know these ladies?  

The Thai lottery

Because of the heat, I went to take a nap and woke up to the radio announcing the lottery results. I drove to the coffee house where some friends were already sitting. Did I already buy lottery tickets? Yes, I already had that, with different end numbers; i ordered coffee and went to listen to the draw.

We didn't care about the winning numbers and we didn't really control our lottery tickets. We much preferred to gamble on the spot on the last numbers of the first, second and third prize. As usual I lingered there and went home in the dark, tired and regretting that I had gambled away.

Passengers!

Near the bus station I saw a monk I knew; I thought he lived on the road to my house. I didn't want to ask him for money and would make some "earnings" when I brought him home. But he had to go to a place far away, so I left him there. I was just getting into the car when three men came running out of the bus station and asked the fare for the ride to their destination. I asked 150 baht and that was double the regular price.

To my surprise, all three got in. Because the monk also had to go that way, I asked if I could take him with me. That was okay. He was stunned but then mumbled a blessing and got in.

We got to the outskirts of the city and I realized how late it was when I saw the crescent moon shining faintly. The road went from bend to bend but I knew it like the back of my hand. The road was two years old and was the best road one could make today, and every turn and bridgehead was marked with reflective warnings. I had fun while I was actually a bit lazy that day. Well, I got 150 baht and some merit too by taking the monk for free…

Two water buffaloes on the road…

I eased off at the turn and then accelerated again on the straight. Suddenly the monk screamed. Two water buffaloes emerged from the bushes one behind the other onto the road. As I swerved to the other side of the road, I saw the back of a stationary truck in my headlights.

I couldn't brake anymore. Turned the steering wheel and smacked into the bridge railing with a thud. The car door was rammed out and I flew through the air. Ended up in a rice field. Heard cries of pain, heard groans, a cry for help, but slowly it got weaker and weaker.

It was a serious accident. If an angel had already sat in my chair, the accident would have happened. I was completely devastated and couldn't help myself, let alone the others.

Suddenly I noticed people coming running and saw them shining their flashlights. Four or five people picked up things that had fallen out of the car. On the other side of the car, someone moaned and they walked over. "This one isn't dead yet." someone said. Then I heard the thud of something hard, a brick or a piece of rock, banging twice on a skull. 

The convulsions of the samurai swordsman in the movie told me what to do next. I turned my head straight and held my breath. My mouth hung open, my eyes stared into space, and my stiff fingers held up to the sky. Exactly on time! Two shadows approached and moved overhead. They ripped off my watch and pulled the gold chain from my neck. A voice called out 'Someone is coming' and they disappeared into the night.

I took a deep breath and looked around. Saw some lanterns approaching. Some of those people carried shovels and knives as if they were catching frogs. One of them lit up the car. "My goodness, a monk," he said. “There's a monk trapped in the car. It seems like…'.

A voice answered 'Yes, and he was rich. Where's his bag?' I heard the noise with which they pry open a car door. I thought of the swordsman from the movie and went back to playing dead. Eyes closed and lips tucked in, and fingers spread so they could take my ring without cutting off my hand.

The group excitedly began to search for the property of the dead until a car arrived. "Police" I heard. I tried to sit down but couldn't; my whole body hurt and i thought i broke something. A policeman shone his lamp over the bodies and someone yelled, "Look, sergeant, he looks like one."

The sergeant and others looked at one of my passengers and confirmed the initial opinion. 'Yes, that's Tiger. You don't have to be afraid of that now.' "But will we get the reward?" "Sure, if we show them how we got him." 'Well, easy. Make a hole in his head; in all heads….”

It became quiet again. I stopped thinking about the samurai and concentrated on the image of Buddha and started praying. "Don't be stupid," said the first voice. Police officers inspected the scene of the accident. From their words I concluded that it was about a group of bandits. "How many were there actually?"

"The man who was robbed said six." 'Then we're missing one. And when did that monk join?' I felt disgust for the first time in my life that I was of the human race. I could cry.

Dogs barked. All the villagers would now know what had happened. Doors opened and closed as people stopped to watch. Their transistor radios blasted country music and a sermon on Buddha's message.

(1969)

clash, more, from: Khamsing Srinawk, The Politician & Other Stories. Translation and editing: Erik Kuijpers. The text has been shortened.

Explanation; อุบัติ means as much as 'to happen', happen, happen to you. The second word brutal means 'cruel, brutal'.

For an explanation of the author and his work see: https://www.thailandblog.nl/achtergrond/verhaal-khamsing-srinawk/