Chapter 14
A little over a month after Mom Ratchawong Kirati had left, I received a letter from her.
My mind had been in turmoil for many days before it arrived.
Every afternoon when I returned home from university, I would look in the mailbox, and when I did not find what I had been waiting for so anxiously, I would ask other members of the family if there was anything for me.
I did this for so many days that it caused considerable surprise in the house, until the day finally came when I received a letter from her.
I was feeling miserable that, as usual, there was no news from Mom Ratchawong Kirati.
As I sat in front of the door, taking off my shoes and feeling thoroughly downhearted, Nobuko, the daughter of the owner of the house, ran up to me and handed me an envelope.
I examined the handwriting on the front, and having ascertained whose hand it was, kicked off my shoes in such a distracted manner and in such a hurry that I startled Nobuko.
All I wanted to do was rush to my room, close the door, lie down and relish the contents of the letter in private.
I thanked Nobuko briefly and went to my room, my face beaming, of course.
Mom Ratchawong Kirati’s letter read as follows:
My dear Nopporn,
I’ve been home for five days now and have received your two letters.
Although you wrote on different days, they both arrived together.
In fact, I should have written to you without waiting to see if there was a letter from you, because I needed to write to you straightaway to thank you for your most valuable assistance and the kindness you showed me throughout my stay in Tokyo.
The one thing I won’t thank you for is for taking too much interest in me.
I didn’t expect to get a letter from you so quickly.
I suppose you’ll be angry with me for not writing sooner.
Or is it that you were too hasty in writing to me?
If I walk, but you fly, you can’t really compare, can you?
I hope you won’t be angry with me. However, I’ve done a good deed in return, and that is, I’m writing this letter the day after receiving yours.
I’m sure you’re not so impatient as to say I ought to have answered on the very same day.
Should you get a bit impatient, please don’t forget the fact that at home, in Bangkok, I’m not free like you.
There are lots of different things I have to do, which you may not have realized.
The ardour that you expressed in your last letter suggests, I think, that the meaning of the end of autumn has not yet touched your heart.
It was as if you had sneaked into Bangkok to write that letter.
If you still haven’t cooled down, I’m going to have to advise you to stay in an icebox when you write to me next time.
Or else you could wait until winter and write from somewhere where it’s snowing.
I don’t mean to sound as if I am treating your letters as something amusing.
I feel for you so much, so very much. But I know this madness will make you unhappy. I want you to be happy, no matter what.
On the journey home, I didn’t feel particularly excited.
I didn’t eagerly count off the hours and days, as many do when they’ve been away from their homeland.
Perhaps it was because I’d only been away a few months.
Another thing was, there was no one in Bangkok whom I thought of every hour of every day.
I missed my father and sisters, but not that much – just in an ordinary way.
But in leaving you, I have to admit that my mind was hardly at peace.
I knew my departure would leave you alone and upset for many days.
The feelings you described in your letters were scarcely more than I feared.
All I hope is that you can keep them under control.
Your intense feelings for me will, in due course, gradually disappear, and eventually I will cease to occupy a significant place in your life.
Then happiness and innocence will return once more to your heart, without the fetters of your youth. I’m waiting and praying for that day.
Do you realize that the way you described your feelings in those two letters has turned you into a man I need to be wary of?
You’re no longer my sweet young friend, Nopporn.
Your boyish charm has almost completely disappeared, and you seem to have become quite a terrifying young man.
From your letters, I scarcely recognize the Nopporn I first met.
You must, my dear young friend, I beg you, try to come to your senses.
You must keep your feelings firmly under control.
You have the strength to do so if you don’t give up.
It would be so tragic for you to be infatuated with an unfortunate woman, long since cast aside by fate, and even now, in no position to fulfil anyone’s dreams. Even though people would forgive you for your infatuation with that woman, you must accept that, in reality, this is an empty obsession of yours.
What point is there in being obsessed with me, when your desire has no chance of being fulfilled?
Is it the ocean that keeps me from you? Surely you know that it’s because I have Chao Khun that we are parted and live in separate worlds.
There’s no way we can come together, you know full well, don’t you?
Nopporn, why do you still dream of me? I can’t help you.
There’s no one in this world who can help you.
Life runs its course, that’s true, but the gods have already mapped it out in advance.
I neither forbid you nor ask you to think of me.
But I do ask that you think of me calmly, as if I were a close friend or your older sister.
And I ask you not to think of me with fiercely passionate thoughts, nor a desire to seize my body and soul as your treasures.
You already know that you’re wishing for something impossible.
Please go back to where you were, my dear young friend, to your books and dreams of a married life of honour and prosperity.
You have a brighter, more wonderful future than that woman who merely crossed the path of your life for a brief while.
Please let me hope that my warning might have some effect.
I ask you to work hard at your studies. That is your only goal now.
I, for one, shall always be interested in your success.
My joy in wishing you a future full of great honour and prosperity will be second to none, if I live that long.
I wait eagerly for the day when I shall have news that your feelings have returned to normal.
I hope that such a time will come very soon, and from that day on, I shall be happy and content.
Although this letter is filled only with requests, I’m certainly not going to forget to tell you that I accept your worthy feelings with pleasure and deep gratitude.
I shall remember them for ever. There’s no need for you to say it again.
Think of me, my dear, think of me just a little, from time to time.
I’ve already written at great length, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t write about anyone else in this letter.
But let me chide you a little, for not writing to Chao Khun.
Do you realize how careless it was to be only interested in writing to me?
I nearly had a fright when Chao Khun asked me what you had said in your letter.
If you’d been there at the time, I’m sure you’d have panicked.
Luckily, he’s not the jealous type, and I’m not easily alarmed.
Can I finish now, my dear? Chao Khun is getting ready for bed, and I don’t want him to go asking questions unnecessarily.
Goodbye, my young friend. I think of you constantly. I always shall.
With concern for your happiness,
Kirati
This first letter from Mom Ratchawong Kirati eased my agitated mind considerably.
Her words cheered me up as much as if I had met her and heard them from her own lips.
At first, I saw no point in her advice. I took no notice, regarding it as mere platitudes of consolation.
She could not really have meant that I should cease to think of her so passionately.
But later, after I had read her letter and reflected upon it, I was inclined to think that there was something in her advice.
Perhaps Mom Ratchawong Kirati really did mean it.