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"On the White Empty Page" ....a must for poetry lovers. To open that same window day after day, each time seeing something new in the old and the familiar, is an art seldom accomplished by ordinary mortals. But those who see anew, or think they do, may be called “poets-at-heart” at least. When such people are able to articulate their clear-sightedness through the application of exquisite, well-crafted words their painstaking endeavour earns them the title of “poet” true. Chamnongsri L. Rutnin may well serve as a role model for this tortuous transition. And despite her denial at being one in “A Woman to her Daughter” , the first poem which graces her recently-launched On the White Empty Page , she is a true poet in every sense of the word. She is also a poet who’s indeed worth tracking. There are a number of good reasons why. Firstly, because she is one of a very few Thais who writes poetry professionally in English; and secondly, because of the nature of her themes, and in particular the style she uses to deliver them. But to introduce Khunying Chamningsri ’s poetry, says revered literary critic and scholar Dr. Chetana NagavaJara , “is not an easy task” . Professor Chettana ’s valuable critique, “An Aesthetic of Reticence: On Chamningsri L. Rutnin’s Poetry” published at the beginning of the book, brings out point by point what he sees as the difficulties. This essay is absolutely required reading for one to fully appreciate the poetry of this wordsmith, a former journalist before abandoning that career to devote 15 years of her life as full-time housewife to leading ophthalmologist Uthai Rutnin . Those readers who take the hard-line approach of “art for life” and never “art for art’s sake” might find most poems in this well-designed volume a little too romantic as though such a disposition is a mortal sin. Professor Chetana ’s reference to the French word 'pudeur' in analyzing the poet’s “aesthetic of reticence” is most elucidating. Based on this traditional exercise where “reservation” is the key word, Khunying Chamnongsri ’s approach is not just a “poetic strategy but a way of life” . Writes Chetana : “..A Thai lady of breeding is traditionally schooled in this difficult art of pudeur whereby she shall not externalize her innermost sentiments in explicit form…” On the White Empty Page is the poet’s first published collection. The pieces have been written at various times without much thought of having them published although several ( “Jealousy”, “My Time”, “A Dream” ) were published in the Bangkok Post previously. The title, according to the author, is derived from those many pieces of blank paper she used to keep ostensibly for jotting down the subtlety of thoughts and ideas. Poets do this sort of thing, don’t they? But what for?: “…Something would not rest something that is a part of man would not bear the whiteness of the empty page but would fill the blankness with something of man” Thus, the poet versifies her answer. Khunying Chamnongsri does much, much more than fill in the white empty pages. Each page runneth over with an essence of life about which she of the philosophises although not in explicit form. Poems such as “The Beckoning” in which she draws a vivid parallel between “warm wild princess dresses in gems and gold aches in her scented garden…” and “warm wild wood be gemmed with butterflies abandoning its soul to the sun..” Or in a prose tale entitled “Raindrop and Lotus Leaf” , which allows the poet greater freedom of exploration. The real charm of Khunying Chamnongsri ’s poetry lies also in its intensity which touches a reader’s soul. In “River Kalong” , the account of the passion-torn king, who left his kingdom and wife in search of beautiful twin princesses, and who asks the river to predict his fate, is a classic example. The poem, says the author, is based on an old Thai legend. It definitely is one of the most moving and beautiful pieces in the collection. The interplay of words here is especially striking – from “swirl, silent river circle, quite Kalong…”, to “swirl, passion circle, desire…” Even the Robot Building on Sathorn Road does not escape her keen mind. It is indeed included amongst things that are seen in every-day life whose commonly unseen aspects are often overlooked. The poem is composed not without a sense of sarcasm and humour: “…To me you give your private views Of birds giggling on the rooftops secret thoughts About cracks and puddles on the sidewalks Our dialogue thrives on your being tall And me being so very short” For poetry lovers, On the White Empty Page is a must. The Thai world of poetry should be thankful for this wonderful addition. The volume marks another step forward in poetry presentation as it’s tastefully designed. The poems and prose tales are interspersed with blank, white pages, each signed with the author’s initials. Khunying Chamnongsri ’s “Thai-ness” shines through a foreign language, her Thai femininity stands fast regardless of current fashionable, imported thoughts. Read “My Countrywomen” on Page 79 and understand. From: Bangkok Post ,Sunday 28 August, 1988

As a Thai who writes in a language that is not her native tongue, I have a soft spot for those who engage in the same pursuit, especially if they can do it better than I (which really shouldn’t number too many!). In any case, when I received an invitation, followed by a call from Jane N Vejjajava , for the launch of Chamnongsri Rutnin ’s latest collection of poems and prose, how could I say no? Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash , the name by which she is known in society, is one of the few Thais who are equally at home writing in Thai or English. Jane , enterprising managing director of Silkroad Publishers Agency and publisher of the second edition of khunying’s book, On the White Empty Page , was our host for the evening. I notice that it is becoming fashionable to hold a function earlier in the evening. This one started at 5.30 pm and by the time I arrived a bit after this, the room was almost full. Jane ’s father, Dr. Athasit Vejjajiva , was circulating among the guests, while Jane herself was parlez-vous-ing with French ambassador HE Christian Prettre . I didn’t see her well-known politician brother, Abhisit Vejjajiva , though. Khunying Chamnongsri was receiving the guests, including Varapoj and Pasherin Snidvongse , Khunying Songsuda Yodmani , Suda Panomyong and Thongchai and Monthira Lamsam . During the reception, the guests had time to admire the exhibition of mixed media paintings by Bannarak Nakbunlung , whose simple geometric forms on white provide the right balance to the poems of Khunying Chamnongsri , and are used to illustrate the book. Then it was time for the reading of works from the book and the first to come on was Marisa Sukosol Nunbhakdi . Her voice sounds just as melodious whether she is singing or reading. Doan Charoenngarm , of the Kiss of the Spider Woman fame, alternated with Marisa to read their favourite selections. I was among the first to leave, but not because I was not enjoying myself. On the contrary, this was an event which appeals to the intellect, which does not happen very often. I just wished I didn’t have to leave to go to another fashion show! From: THAILAND TATLER , January 2002

Poet and reader  : Khunying Chamnongsri (Rutnin) Hanchanlash Translator(Thai Version) : Suchitra Chongstitvatana Song  : Childhood by Setumiman Illustrator   : Nadezhda Ostrousky A Women to Her Daughter Not being a poet I cannot crystallize the tenderness, cruelties and all the intricacies of life into words whose sweet magic would sing in your soul and echo in your heart Not being a philosopher and have not the wisdom to tell you the whys, whats and wherefores of living and dying and of all the complexities of just “being” on this earth And not being a moralist, I dare not teach you to judge your fellows and condemn their wrongs for, can one sit in another’s heart burn with another’s passion and grope the labyrinth of another’s private hell? Being a mere woman, I can only ask you, a woman-to-be, to softly sense and tenderly touch life’s multi-textured realities and with a woman’s heart, try to feel and understand… Forever try to understand. จดหมายแม่ถึงลูกสาว ผู้แปล: สุจิตรา จงสถิตย์วัฒนา แม่มิใช่กวี จึงมิอาจกรองกลั่น ความอ่อนหวาน ความโหดร้าย และมายาหลากหลายของชีวิต ให้เป็นมนต์ขลัง ที่จะอ้อยอิ่งในวิญญาณ และดังกังวานในดวงใจลูกได้ แม่มิใช่นักปรัชญา จึงขาดไร้สติปัญญา ที่จะอธิบายให้ลูกเข้าใจ ถึงเหตุผลและหนทาง ของชีวิตและความตาย และความยุ่งยากซับซ้อนทั้งหลาย เพียงเพื่อดำรงอยู่ในโลกนี้ แม่มิใช่นักจริยธรรม จึงมิอาจสอนสั่งลูก ให้ตัดสินเพื่อนมนุษย์ และประณามความชั่วผิดใดๆ เพราะใครเล่าจะเข้าซึ้ง ถึงไฟปรารถนาอันเผาผลาญ และความเจ็บปวดทรมาน ในดวงใจผู้อื่นได้ แม่เป็นแค่ผู้หญิงคนหนึ่ง จึงได้แต่จะวอนขอลูก ให้ค่อยๆรับรู้ ค่อยๆสัมผัส ผืนแพรหลากเนื้อของความเป็นจริงในชีวิต และ ด้วยหัวใจผู้หญิง พยายามรับรู้ พยายามเข้าใจ พยายามเถิดลูกรัก พยายามเรื่อยไป…เรื่อยไป

Chamnongsri L. Rutnin (hanchanlash) Loneliness is sometimes grey, mute and pale with claws outstretched to clutch the heart and strangle the breath It sometimes sings song of a canary a caged crystal melody that stares out at an unhearing crowd And there are times when I've seen it gleam like a dew-fed flower quiet, pure and calm looking out of darkness at the screaming sun (From: On The White Empty Page)

Chamnongsri L. Rutnin (Hanchanlash) When I was very young the sea spoke to me in a different voice a voice of sunshine and humorous lullabies that kept me awake late into the rhythmic nights, it used to tease me with songs of moonrays and sleepy reveille to make me miss sunrise, we were playmates in those far-off days the laughing sea and I .. and then, I went away When I was eighteen the sea spoke to me of dreams and of mysteries of changes and of love, together we breathed secrets of the horizons watched wistful dawn before morning woke, its saltiness matched the saltiness of my tears its waves kept rhythm with the ever-changing tunes of my eighteen years heart, we were friends in those pensive days the lyrical sea and I Now, though, we rarely meet the sea still speaks to me, in quiet tones we talk of daylight and realities together we contemplate storms and change abilities, we are companions in these calmer days the deep, warm sea and I หัวหิน [ต้น] ครั้นวัยเยาว์และเดียงสา ห้วงธาราเอ่ยคำผ่านใจฉัน สรรสำเนียงเสกลำนำสารพัน เอื้อนอุ้มโอบขวัญพลังใจ เดี๋ยวบรรเลงบทเพลงขับเห่กล่อม เดี๋ยวลืมออมยั้งใจชวนขบขัน ฉันหลับไหลจวบราตรีล่วงเลยพลัน ตื่นผิดกาลเหตุเคลิ้มท่วงทำนอง ในบางคราเสียงคลื่นคอยเย้าหยอก มาล่อหลอกหลงอาบแสงจันทร์ฉาย ด้วยบทเพลงศศิธรพรรณราย เช้าไม่ตื่นแสงสูรย์พรายคลาดรุ่งชม ทะเลกับใจฉันผสานสนิท เป็นมิ่งมิตรใสสนานกาลผ่านพ้น เริงร่าใจทะเลร่ำคำวกวน ใจฉงน...จนฉันพรากจากจรไป [กลาง] พอขวบวัยครันครบสิบแปดได้ ทะเลยังพูดผ่านใจเช่นก่อนเก่า ทั้งความฝันข้อสงสัยหลายเรื่องราว แรกรู้รักแวววาวความผันแปร แลกเรื่องเล่าเศร้าสุขพรรณนา เวิ้งขอบฟ้าลิบล้ำเงื่อนงำไฉน คอยเฝ้ายลฟ้าสางไม่เคลื่อนไคล จนอโณทัยสาดฟ้าจึงลานอน น้ำทะเลเค็มคำรสเข้าคู่ จึงเทียบดูลิ้มรสลองน้ำตาฉัน ว่าความเค็ม ณ แห่งใดเข้มกว่ากัน เข้าประชันรสทะเลคลื่นดนตรี จังหวะชัดคลื่นซ่าเหมือนใจฉัน เป็นมิ่งมิตรเพื่อนขวัญที่มั่นแม่น บทชีวิตวันวารไม่ดูแคลน คำนึงแสนถึงเพลงที่ผ่านมา [ปลาย] จวบสมัยผ่านเลยถึงกาลนี้ ถึงนานทีจะย้อนมาเยือนหา ท้องทะเลยังคงพร่ำจำนรรจา เกลียวคลื่นข้ามเวลามาพบกัน เคียงคู่กันพินิจพิศความหลัง ประจงฟังสัจธรรมความแปรผัน ทั้งรูป-นามโลกหล้าสารพัน ทุกสิ่งอันเป็นด้วยเหตุและปัจจัย สายสัมพันธ์ยังดำรงอยู่ฉันมิตร ผูกสนิทรำลึกวารที่ผันผ่าน ห้วงนทีแปรตามฤดีกาล เนานานนุ่มนิ่งสมุทรใจ ถอดความและร้อยเรียง: ตง ตวงวิเศษกุล

หยดฝนกับใบบัว Poet: Chamnongsri L. Rutnin Music by Dnu Huntrakul & Maithai Orchestra Reader : Chamnongsri Rutnin &Thepsiri Sooksopa RAINDROP AND LOTUS LEAF Rain fell early in the night leaving a large drop on a lotus leaf. All through the night, the raindrop trembled in the dim light of the stars. When the nightbreeze stirred the leaf, the raindrop rolled like a dark captive tear. The lotus leaf felt the raindrop's fear. It also felt the cool liquidity which was like a touch of enchantment. The leaf was larger than an alms bowl though it had unfurled only two mornings ago. Tonight's was its first rain - breathless, beautiful - pouring down from the black shouting sky. And now, cradled on its pearly surface was a fragile remainder of that grand phenomenon of nature. ''Listen how the cicadas are chirping," said the lotus leaf, doing his best to distract the raindrop from her distress. "The leaves love to gossip with the wind in the night. And bullfrogs make those fat noises to scare silence away from the dark. Did you hear them when you were high up there in the sky?" Nightbreeze swept pass. The lotus leaf stiffened his stem to keep the raindrop from rolling off his green edge and falling into the pond. The raindrop listened to the sounds of Night. They were new to her. In the clouds, she heard only the whistling of the wind, cracks of lightening and roars of thunder. She listened to Earth's nocturnal sounds - listening to each sound one by one as if picking flowers of different sizes, shapes and colours, scrutinizing them one at a time. Then she let all the sounds flood over her. This time it was like bathing in a wealth of twelve-coloured garlands. The lotus leaf felt his own happiness mingle with the raindrop's growing joy. The raindrop forgot her loneliness. She shimmered as the black sky grew pale, and blushed when she saw dawn kiss the horizon. Lotus flowers woke, their petals gradually unfolded in movements of pink and white. But the young lotus leaf began to worry. He knew that Dawn was joyful and gentle, Dusk was sad but kind; but the long Day that linked the two was harsh and cruel. To Day belonged the midday sun that seared leaves and flowers, devouring their precious moisture. Inexperienced as he was, he was sure that it would do something terrible to the raindrop. As the sun rose, the raindrop grew bright and clear, sparkling as if she were a spirit of the nine gems. The lotus leaf watched her growing more and more beautiful as the sun rose higher and higher. She drank his radiance, and refracted it in brilliant colours as she danced on the windnudged lotus leaf. The lotus leaf was sad for the raindrop was conscious of nothing but the rising sun. The sun rose higher: his rays grew hot and strong. The raindrop sparkled brighter and brighter as if a fire was lit inside. The more intense her beauty grew, the smaller she became. With anguish the young lotus leaf watched her gradually diminishing into a tiny dot, still sparkling like a minute diamond... diminishing further into nothingness. Time passed. The lotus leaf grew familiar with wind, rain and sun. He had held many raindrops: some evaporated in the hot sun, others rolled and fell into the pond. They were all bright and beautiful, but for him none had the enchantment of the first. Dawn and Dusk knew that he dreamed of her return...an improbable dream. "A chance in a billion," said the gentle Dawn who felt for every leaf, flower and living creature: Dusk nodded in gloomy agreement. But the raindrop had always remembered the lotus leaf who understood all her feelings. When she fell once more in a night rain, she chose to be cupped by him. But the lotus leaf had grown old. His greenness had lost its luster, his edge had turned brown; he was tattered by wind and insects. In some places, his veins looked like lace. The lotus leaf tried to cradle her as he once did, but the wind did not understand. It breezed across the pond and shook the leaf. The raindrop fell through one of the many brown-edged holes, and became one with the water beneath. The lotus leaf aged, and died. Its dead stem could no longer hold the withered leaf above the water. Stem and leaf decayed. They, too, became one with the murky water of the pond.

A heaven for unmarried mums By Wipawee Otaganonta Ouan and Nid made several trips up the steps, helping other women lugging mats, baskets, and bottles, and pilling them in one corner of their new home. Then both hurried to tend to their most precious belongings, already laid out on mats in one room. Man , son of the 37-year-old Ouan , is around-faced five-month-old with a winning smile and good humour. Boom , the month-old daughter of Nid , is a red-faced plump bundle in her mum’s arms. Looking at the four happy residents of Baan Sai Samphan , one finds it difficult to believe that not so long ago Ouan and Nid had considered deserting their babies at hospitals. But it’s a fact. Both women are poor, working in low-paid jobs. Their children were born outside marriage, form relationships that didn’t work out. “At first I was afraid of staving if I kept Boom,” confessed Nid . “Now I love her so.” Ouan said she was immensely glad that she hadn’t given her boy away, especially now that she’s getting back together with her boyfriend. Just like Ouan and Nid eight other residents of the home have also decided to keep their babies, one of which is yet to be born; one resident is eight months pregnant and it’s clearly the love and dedication of those who run Baan Sai Samphan that helped tip the scales in favour of motherhood in each case. Despite its relatively young age – the first home opened in October 1990 – the Baan Sai Samphan project has already proven its effectiveness in deterring desertion of babies. In its one year and four months of operation, it has acted as a safe haven for 28 unwed mothers and their babies, allowing them to form bonds and gain strength that eventually convinced all but one to keep their children. The residents were referred to the home through social workers attached to several hospitals in Bangkok. “It usually doesn’t take long before the mothers decide to keep their babies, as the home provides them with a supportive environment in which everyone loves and cares for her baby. That, and caring for one’s own child always does the job,” said Niyom Thanthranond , head of the Social Work Section of Children’s Hospital , and a founding “mother” of the project. While the first home was a rented house, this new, and more permanent, home has been built specifically for the project. The simple but pleasant-looking wooden structure straddles a ditch in one corner of Sathien Dhammasathan , a privately-owned dhamma centre in Soi Vatcharaphon, off Ramintra Road. Its 10 mother residents range from 14 to 37 years old. The project is overseen by a 14-member committee comprising social workers and lawyers. However, it’s Sansanee Sthirasuta , a Buddhist nun and the chairman of Baan Sai Samphan and owner of Sathien Dhammasathan , who has played the leading role in turning it into a reality. It’s also her who has injected a unique element – dhamma practice – into the operation. It began a little over a year ago when Sister Sansanee agreed to a proposal by Niyom to lend a hand in setting up a home for unmarried mothers and their babies. “Khun Niyom told me about the growing number of newborn babies being deserted in Bangkok hospitals, and how most of these cases are of unwed mothers not ready to care for their children. Also that the government still doesn’t have a facility to solve the problem,” recalled Sister Sansanee , the petite nun who has become increasingly known among dhamma practitioners as the ever-active founder and owner of Sathien Dhammasathan. “After deciding to take up the project as its chairman, I asked that it should emphasise not just giving the mothers material comfort, but giving them opportunities for them to develop and strengthen their minds as well, so they stay on their feet all through their lives,” she explained. Niyom , an old hand in social work with her 30 years of experience at the Children’s Hospital , wholeheartedly agreed. “These women suffer great emotional pan. Many have been abused or raped. Dhamma practice can help them overcome that pain, and be in peace with their motherhood.” The motherly social worker pointed out. A committee was speedily formed, and the name – Baan Sai Samphan – was aptly chosen. With the help of Kanitta Thevintarapakthi , committee member and public welfare official, the project secures the bulk of its funding from Save the Children , the well-known British-based organization. Now in its second year, Baan Sai Samphan today celebrates another big step as it settles into a brand-new home, built early last year. More important than lending a sense of permanency to the project, the new home will facilitate the second goal set out from the beginning. As it stands in the grounds of Sathien Dhammasathan itself, its residents will have an opportunity to receive dhamma instruction from Sister Sansanee as well as from other Buddhist teachers. “If the women can adjust and develop their minds, they will become true mothers, with love and compassion to guide their child to grow up healthy, both physically and spiritually," said the highly regarded dhamma instructor Prof Khun Runjuan Intrakumhang , consultant of Baan Sai Samphan. “Even if the mothers decide to give up their babies in the end, dhamma still helps them to develop understanding and compassion towards their fellow beings,” added Acharn Runjuan. As the residents hurried about getting things in place, some helped take care of others babies, even breastfeeding them when the need arose. Ooi , the eight-months-pregnant resident, got plenty of practice as she held and soothed other residents’ babies. “Here we’ll stress the living together as kallayanamitr,” said Sister Sansanee . “ Those already living here, who have had a chance to regain their strength, will be ‘warm hands’ for newcomers, teaching them child-care and lending comfort.” Child-care instruction is a must, as practically all the residents are first-time mothers. Comfort is just as essential, since they arrive distressed and in emotional turmoil. Besides a live-in housekeeper, the residents will receive plenty of counselling and guidance from both Sister Sansanee , Niyom , and a social worker, who will visit regularly. Daily activities will evolve around child-tending, sharing household chores, and job training. Realising that unmarried mothers must be able to support themselves financially of they are to bring up their children properly, committee members have arranged for volunteers to give instruction on the type of work that the women can do at home – for example, handiwork, artificial flower-making, and cooking. “Some of these women already have their own work which they might go back to, but they seem to enjoy learning new skills anyway,” explained Sister Sansanee . One big advantage of having such a place as Baan Sai Samphan , observed Niyom , is that the babies will grow very healthy as they will continue to receive mother’s milk for an extended period of time. “Only when the mothers are in ill health, or don’t have enough milk, do we allow supplementary bottle feeding,” she said. When possible, project committee members also try to help their residents deal with their emotional and family problems. Niyom swelled with pride when she recalled how she lent a hand in reconciling Ouan and her boyfriend, the father of Ouan ’s son. Another success story was when she helped persuade the upset parents of a resident, a Ramkhamhaeng student, to forgive her and to accept the child. If a resident eventually decides to give up her child, the project will guide her through the adoption process. “Only one did. She was a rape victim who couldn’t forget her painful experience. Luckily, the baby was immediately adopted by a loving foreign couple. The girl is now treated like a princess,” beamed Niyom . According to Niyom , to make sure that the home’s residents truly get back on their feet, the project also extends its aid beyond their stay. “Before a resident leaves us, we’ll see that she has a place to stay and a means to adequately support herself and the baby,” said Niyom . “Sometimes we supplement her income, give her milk supply, until she can manage on her own. We also help her find a job.” Monitoring of former residents of Baan Sai Samphan is done by a group of in structors and students of Thammasat University ’s Faculty of Social Work. “The group, which also gets findings to the Government so that it can be used in the setting up of suitable facilities for similar purposes,” said Niyom . “It’s our goal from the beginning for Baan Sai Samphan to be a pilot project for other similar facilities to be set up in the future,” added Niyom . According to the social worker, the Government plans to set up such facilities in the next two years. As the afternoon wore on, Ouan and Nid rested in different corners. Ouan took a nap alongside her son. Nid found a breezy spot on the balcony where she could hold her daughter in her lap. When her eyes weren’t on Boom ’s tiny body, they seemed to look out over the lush garden, into the future. From: Outlook, Bangkok Post January 25, 1992

Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash Siriwat Pokrajen A woman of a thousand responsibilities and a hectic schedule that would put people half her age to shame, Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash tells us how she loves to spend time alone in remote places to uncover “the way it is.” Siriwat Pokrajen goes to meet her. Even Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash herself finds it hard to say what it is she is seeking when she leaves the urban chaos of Bangkok, her friends, family and her usual routine to spend long periods in solitude in unfamiliar places, at times forgoing even the basic comforts of electricity and running water. It could be a secluded 'kuti ' in a forest monastery or a 300-year old manor house in England or a quiet seaside apartment in which all the other units are vacant. While it is possible to imagine that this retreat from the world leads to some personal spiritual discoveries, it is certainly not happiness that Khunying Chamnongsri is hoping to find; well not directly. As she herself says, “happiness is something that if you don’t find.” It is in her spacious condominium, overlooking the towering buildings and busy streets off Bangkok’s Wireless Road, that I meet this most inspiring Thai woman who, at 68, is as fascinating and full of energy as ever. Listening to her I find myself surprised at the great number of things she has done in her colourful life, including co-founding the Rutnin Eye Hospital in 1964 with her first husband, the late Dr Uthai Rutnin . She earned a Bachelor’s degree in her forties when already a mother of four, has lectured at universities, hosted radio programs, has written movie scripts, produced documentaries and, over the years, been involved extensively in quite a number of charity and advocacy causes as well as research and education projects. Today she is probably better known as a writer. Her most recent best-seller was ‘Khen Krok Long Khao’ , a collection of reflective and humorous articles. A believer in the benefits of Buddhist meditation, Khunying Chamnongsri frequently organizes meditation retreats for Thais as well foreigners. But why this (some would say strange) habit of occasionally retreating from the world? This, the most “sublime of my pleasures” as she calls it, is a mystery even to her husband Dr Jingjai Hanchanlash . Actually, it grew out of her study and practice of the Dharma under the highly respected Buddhist monk, the late Buddhadasa , and the nun-scholar, Khunying Runjuan Indrakhamhaeng . In her early fifties she went through what she describes as the darkest period of her life and she needed to find a way to be at peace with herself. This is how she ended up at a meditation retreat at Suan Mok , the forest monastery founded by Buddhadasa in the southern province of Surat Thani. “Back then, ten-day meditation retreats were held twice a month, one in Thai, one in English. I joined both… six consecutive retreats altogether. Then I asked Buddhadasa ’s permission to stay on at the monastery.” She yearned for an answer to her life’s questions and an end to her unrest, she explained. The revered monk gave her permission to stay in a secluded house at the far end of the women’s area. Backing onto a tall forest, the house offered the sense of solitude and the connection with nature that she was seeking. Most of her days were passed in meditation, solitary walks and in observing the small animals, birds and insects that inhabited the forest. Gradually, the awareness of the transient nature of her own thoughts and emotions and, indeed, of all things, grew and deepened. Out of the realization and acceptance that followed by three more months in the seclusion of a northeastern forest monastery. To this day, a period of self-imposed solitude remains an important part of her life. She still goes away a few times each year, for a week or two. The experience allows her to enjoy fresh perspective on her life. She knows that feelings and experiences of life are individual and, for good or bad, have to be faced alone. Even when surrounded by our loved ones, we each experience birth, pain and death on our own. Others can sympathies, empathise even, but ultimately our experiences belong to us as individuals. Her occasional solitude has made her accepting of this. We may not conquer fear, she says, but by watching it, understanding it, accepting it and learning from it we can live a more secure and contented life. Khunying Chamnongsri feels the realization of “that way it is” that began in those six months were “wonderful beyond words” and they now underline most of her writing. She says, “If it had not been for my hitting rock-bottom during that period of my life, I would not have taken such measures to get away and re-evaluate my existence. I can only thank my happiness at that time for making me taking the inner journey on which I am still traveling.” From: The Profile

PHOTOGRAPHY/MEI PHOTO CENTER For Prestige's 7th anniversary, we invite seven well known figures in society to share with us their extraordinary experiences and life lessons. From personal empowerment to optimism, transparency and compassion, their wisdom and guidance can inspire us all to change our lives and make a difference for future generations CHAMNONGSRI HANCHANLASH -founder of Rutnin Eye Hospital , mother and grandmother Khunying Chamnongsri believes in getting the most out of every wonderful moment. During our photo shoot, Khunying Chamnongsri (Rutnin) Hanchanlash exhibited the energy of an impish girl. As we sat down to talk, the 72-year-old pint-sized beauty's mood mellowed to reveal a wealth of hard won wisdom about death. "My understanding of death, as a natural part of life, makes every living moment amazingly rich because it gives me a chance to learn, to renew, to reflect, to rectify, to forgive and to be truly alive." Realising that there are infinite possibilities because "with every moment, every interaction, we reinvent ourselves," this multi-talented lady, long considered one of Thailand's leading bilingual poets and writers, cheerfully left her literary career behind. She was also the initiator of many projects, including Harbor House Foundation to help abused girls. But as she got on in life, she learned to give away responsibilities to many of these projects to others capable of managing them. The only roles she retains today are being a mother and grandmother, a Buddhist practitioner, a commitment to philanthropic endeavours, and Chairperson of Rutnin Eye Hospital which she co-founded with her late husband, Dr Uthai Rutnin . Her current interest is in finding ways to help the dying to live their last days in physical, mental and spiritual peace and dignity. Besides organising 'Path to a Peaceful Death' retreats, led by renowned Buddhist monk Ajahn Paisal Visalo at her country home, she is actively involved in helping Mahidol University build a hospice for all ages and a health sanctuary for the aged. She initiated the project by donating 100 rai of land near Hua Hin to the University, telling her children that this is their greatest inheritance. With the facilities being planned by Mahidol, the well-being of the surrounding agrarian community is now her main focus. Perhaps what Khunying Chamnongsr i calls her "obsession with death" is rooted in her early days of loss and loneliness. Born in Lamsam , she was motherless by the age of three. At 12 she was sent to a boarding school in rural England. As the only foreign student with little command of English, she soon toughened up and found joy in nature, books and poetry. At 18, she returned home due to her father's failing eyesight and attended university in Thailand. She then became a journalist until she married. "Being a reporter was scandalous for a young lady in those days," she giggles. "My relatives were distraught." Khunying began seriously practising Buddhist meditation during a period of deep unhappiness more than 20 years ago. "It puts one in direct touch with the basic and unadulterated reality of the mind and body," she says. "This reality is a canvas upon what we call life is painted. It is also the root of wisdom." At 57, after five years of widowhood, she married Dr Jingjai Hanchanlash , nearly three years her junior. Fifteen happy years on, Dr Jingjai jokes that he feels like he has eight wives, Khunying counters that she has a five-in-one husband. "A bigamous life of synergy and diversity," she laughs. Although happy, she still seeks solitude by spending several weeks every year in austere meditation retreats in Thailand and abroad. "Life is rich and time is generous," Khunying explains. "As long as one learns from life and oneself, new opportunities will always emerge. Life is about giving and taking of both material and intangible things." A believer in the butterfly effect, she has witnessed how being a positive force truly makes a difference. Despite the many lives she has touched, she remains modest: "If I die knowing that I have taken less from the world than I have given, I am happy." From: Prestige ,September 2012.

Joyce Rainat “I write … because I write.” If it sounds like a conundrum – a treatise borrowed from medieval philosophy – Khunying Chamnongsri excuses herself. “ I have been writing for so long.” How long is that? “Early teens … I am not sure. But when I was very small my grandmother used to read old Thai classics to me. At bedtime the characters would come alive in my head taking on new shapes and dimensions, doing things that didn’t happen in the stories. Would that be a kind of ‘writing’?” The pensive Khunying Chamnongsri , her heart-shaped face poised delicately on a swan-like neck, with large liquid-black eyes, catches the conversation to her and carefully moulds her answers. Words are building bricks, more precious than gold and she is very careful about the images they convey. “Loneliness? Yes, I know about it. Loneliness and relationship are different sides of the same coin. I realized this long ago in the house on the klong where we all grew up, my two older brothers, myself and my younger sister. My father loved my mother very deeply. She died when I was two and a half. They were first cousins; she a Wanglee, he a Lamsam, and they built this house in Thonburi together before I was born. It had a large orchard with irrigation ditches. As children we swam in the klong, jumped over the ditches and climbed trees. There were books everywhere and we could read what we liked. “When my father remarried, he went to live in Bangkok with our stepmother with whom we had warm relationship. My father always came home to ‘the house on the klong’ every weekend. We were brought up by my father’s sister who loved us but wasn’t exactly ‘motherly’. “When I was 12, my father sent me to England. I was eventually settled in Fritham House, a little school for girls, run by Sir Timothy and Lady Eden . He was the headmaster, an artist, who taught us history and art. His magnificent thick, grey, no-nonsense moustache enchanted me during history classes. I am fascinated with history to this day! Lady Eden looked after our other ‘interests’; riding bareback and pouring tea. The school was in the heart of the New Forest, a historical and rural area with tiny hamlets, and where traffic law still gives horses the ‘right of way’. It wasn’t one of the big well-known English ‘public’ schools. There were only about eighty students who found my name unpronounceable, so Lady Eden scrutinized and renamed me ‘Jasmine’.” At the age of 15, young ‘ Jasmine’ wrote her first short story called “The Moth”, published three years later in Samagi Sara . “It told of a man who suffered an excruciating pain of anxiety and anticipation in his nightly wait for the transient presence of a moth! For him the moth, with her black eyes and winged gyration, represented beauty and joy that was exquisite yet elusive. The heart of the story was the man’s choice; to bear torment for the sake of joy, or to put an end to both.” And the choice? “He killed the moth. A strange story by a fifteen-year-old, I know. I now find it rather embarrassing, lathered with gothic romanticism!” Sir Timothy urged her to try for Cambridge , but her father who was in bad health, asked her to abandon the ambition. Why not take a secretarial course instead so that she could help in the family business when she returned. “I didn’t last a year, didn’t even get a diploma. But there was a silver lining, though. I was in London – and there were theatres, galleries, place for all kinds of music. It was hard to make pocket money stretch to cover these things, but I managed – making my own dresses, knitting my own sweaters and all that sort of thing. Life was fun. “Back in Bangkok, I worked at Loxley (Bangkok), doing shipping papers in the then Shipping Department. I hope my former colleagues have forgiven the disasters that originated from my desk!” Then, at a boat party the shipping clerk met an American who, following “an utterly mad conversation” challenged her to write an article for the Bangkok World. She found out later that he was Darrell Berrigan , editor of the morning paper, The Bangkok World . “I sent him a story about Hua Hin, made up of scattered memories. He published it and offered me a position. My father said ‘no’. I argued. We finally came to an agreement. I would work half-a-day at Loxley for a trial period of three months and then ‘we would see’, he said. Luckily Berry (as Berrigan was known to his staff) agreed, too. “I loved the job – writing, reporting, even doing the lay-out. By the end the three months, I already had bylines on quite an number of articles and columns, and an offer of an ‘editorship’.” These proofs of competence convinced her father, and at the age of 18 she became the only Thai woman working on the editorial board of an English daily. “Actually my father was quite proud of me. He did to be a condition, though. I had to be chaperoned on evening assignments! It was really rather comical, but my colleagues who were all men took it in their stride.” Life took another turn at the age of 21. The young journalist became engaged to Dr.Uthai Rutnin , the eye surgeon who operated on her father. It was a ‘love match’ and she resigned from her job soon after the engagement. The years that followed were crowded with housewifely duties, work at her husband’s clinic (now a full-fledged eye hospital, no longer a small family business), birth of her four children – Sanpatna, Vradda, Anoma, Jitrjaree, and the bringing up of her husband’s nephew, Jatuporn whom she describes as “my eldest son”. “There wasn’t time to read or write. I did write poems on scraps of paper, just for myself. Writing things that came into my head me happy, sometimes it gave me answers to questions I didn’t ask. I didn’t keep them, almost all of them were a pen or a pencil and paper at hand, not if there weren’t.” “Of writing, it is the act itself that is precious to me, not the product. I was happy when I wrote without thinking that it was going to be published. Somehow the happiness isn’t so complete anymore because of a lurking consciousness of a readership. I suppose it is a process that I shall have to go through before I can get back the unadulterated pleasure in writing.” Ten years ago, she decided to go to Ramkhamhaeng and take the degree in humanities she had always wanted. It was four fascinating years of extra work and she graduated with a ‘1st class hornors’ degree. And then the writing began again; poems in which she could pour out her feelings and ideas, prose pieces that were not quite what they seemed. There was teaching to do ( “My ‘in-law’ Mattani Rutnin started me on that by inviting me as special lecturer at Thammasart” ); film scripts to write, video productions to direct, books and paper to translate, and even a weekly radio programme, “Voices and Ways of Thai Literature” on Radio Thailand External Service which she gave up because it took too much of her time. “Writing should be my main occupation, but there are so many challenges from other creative fields,” she sighed. “Being a practicing Buddhist I try to train my mind to stay with the present. What really matters is the present; every minute, every split second of the present, because it is the total reality. ‘Difficult’ is an understatement!” “What makes life so good to me now, is people,” she avows, a smile dancing across her features. “Most have something special inside to offer, to be discovered. I suppose that’s why I enjoy teaching and working with people.” In September, she will be teaching part of a course in western literature at Kasetsart University . The concert for the Lighthouse Project of Life Foundation of the Mentally Retarded was another labour of love. Last year she pioneered a private research project on creativity. “You know, our education system here in Thailand is so competitive. In competing children learn from the teacher, from books, The creative instinct, the imagination, are neglected. And so sensitivity how can there he compassion My colleagues have been wonderful but we lacked method in evaluation. We will try again when we find support in that area. Next year, I hope.” Khunying Chamnongsri says that during the last academic year she and her colleagues had been meeting once a week with 16 students at Suan Kularb exploring the many different ways of awaking them to their own sensitivity, creativity and imagination. “If you teach art or music from the historical or technical point-of-view, you bring out the intellect. To bring out sensitivity and imagination you have to immerse them and let them find their own expression,” she says, eagerly caught up in a subject that has been preoccupying her so much. But the good news, the special news, is that Khunying Chamnongsri , at the insistence of publisher Surasinghsamruan Shimbhanao of Pleasant Media , has allowed her poems to be collected and printed in a slim volume entitled On the White Empty Page . The 50-or-so poems and prose pieces reveal the exquisite sense and sensibility of this author, who challenges images with the deft brushwork of the watercolorist; more intent on suggesting meanings and emotions than painting in bold colours. Author and critic Chetana Nagavajara contributes a fine introduction, coining the phrase “aesthetics of reticence” to describe Chamnongsri’s poetry and prose as a vibrant example of the Thai way of life. ” She is true to herself and to her people,” he says, adding; “That our bard can sing so well with a borrowed tongue must remain a marvel.” For every woman, who has groped questioned and reflected. Khunying Chamnongsri’s marvelous little book can be both a guide and a solace. On the White Empty Page is available in most bookstores or it can be ordered directly from the publisher; Pleasant Media, 656/53 Prachathipok Road, Bangkok 10600. “Being a mere woman, I can only ask you, a woman-to-be, to softly sense and tenderly touch life’s multi-textured realities and, with a woman’s heart, try to feel and understand. Forever try to understand.” from: A Woman to Her Daughter “Shall we two watch a rainbow together? Vaporous shadows over changeful ocean? We can sit close together looking through different eyes thinking different thoughts. Will you sit with me a while cradled in the vastness of the sky lulled by motion of the ancient sea? Shall we? from: I can Only Stand By. From : LIVING IN THAILAND, August 1988.

เมล็ดกล้าในดินกร้าว Story: Chamnongsri L. Rutnin Translation: Thepsiri Suksopa and Chamnongsri Rutnin Illustration : Thepsiri Suksopa เ ขียน: คุณหญิงจำนงศรี รัตนิน ( หาญเจนลักษณ์) แปล : เทพศิริ สุขโสภา และผู้เขียน ภาพประกอบ : เทพศิริ สุขโสภา เมล็ดกล้าในดินกร้าว ดินโกรธ แดดกร้าว กระด้างดังอิฐเผา ร้าวเป็นรอยๆ เด็กน้อยเท้าเปล่า กระโดด โหยงเหยงวิ่งผ่าน ทำเมล็ดมะขามหล่นกระเด็นผลุบลงในรอยร้าว ลึกลงไป ลงไป ยิ่งลึกก็ยิ่งร่มเย็น เมล็ดมะขามขอบคุณดิน ดินเงียบ นิ่งเฉย สองสามวันผ่านไป เมล็ดน้อยนิ่งคอยในรอยแตก เมื่อตกค่ำก็ดื่มน้ำค้างจากดวงดาว มันสงสารดินกร้าวที่ไม่เคยฟังเสียงหัวเราะ นกร้อง แมลงกรีดปีก ไม่เหมือนตรงที่เจ้าเมล็ดเคยอยู่ ที่โน่น ต้นมะขามแม่แผ่เงาให้เด็กๆ วิ่ง นกก็ร้องเพลงจากใบพุ่ม แผ่นดินตรงนั้นยิ้มนุ่มคลุมด้วยใบร่วงนับล้าน เมล็ดน้อยฝันว่าสักวันมันจะเป็นไม้ใหญ่ ผืนดินกร้าวร้อนจะอ่อนนิ่ม แย้มยิ้มกับเสียงใบไม้ร่ายลมและเสียงเด็ก แดดทองจะสาดลอดใบเป็นประกายไหวระยับบนดินชุ่ม เมล็ดเล่าฝันให้ดินฟัง แต่ดินนิ่ง เงียบเฉย วันหนึ่ง ฟ้าครึ้มเมฆข้น ฝนตก แต่ดินก็ยังคงแข็งกร้าวเหมือนเดิม เมล็ดน้อยรีบดื่มฝนที่หล่นไหลลงรอยร้าว ฝนตกซ้ำสลับแดดแผดกล้า เมล็ดอ้วนขึ้น อ้วนขึ้น รากขาวเหยียดพ้นเปลือกสีน้ำตาลนุ่ม เจ้าเมล็ดขอให้รากได้เกาะและอาศัยความฉ่ำชุ่มของดิน ดินบึ้งใบ้ ไม่เปลี่ยนแปร หน่ออ่อนปริเปลือก แทงยอดขึ้นไขว่คว้าหาแดด แต่รากกลับลงเกาะกอดดินกร้าน ดุจนิ้วน้อยๆ ชอนหารอยนุ่ม เมล็ดส่งฝันซ่านสู่หน่อเขียวและรากขาว เจ้ารากซับพลังฝันไว้มากกว่าหน่อหลายเท่า อาจเพราะมันจะต้องอดทน เสาะคั้นรสข้นจากดิน ครั้นฝนตกอีกครั้ง ความฝันในรากก็คละเคล้ากับน้ำฝน หยาดฝนอิ่มฝันกล่อมดินให้นุ่มทีละน้อย รากร่าเริงเติบโต แตกตัว แขนขาเหยียดขยายในแผ่นดินที่เริ่มอ่อนโยน ดินยังคงเงียบ หากความเงียบนั้นไม่กระด้างดังแต่ก่อน ทุกๆ วัน รากน้อยค้นพบความอุดมในดินดาน ดินอุ่นพูนเพียบด้วยเชื้อชีวิตเกินคิดฝัน หน่ออ่อนกลายเป็นกล้าไม้ แตกใบเล่นลมทอดเงาบนผืนดินสีอิฐ ซึ่งปิดซ่อนรากไว้จากสายตาคน สัตว์ และแสงแดด กล้าไม้อ่อนยิ่งดกใบ ร่องดินแล้งก็เลือนละลาย รากไม้ได้พลังจากดิน เริ่มเปลี่ยนจากขาวเป็นน้ำตาลเข้ม ดินเฝ้าหวงห่วงรากไว้ ให้แมลงไร้ปีก ให้หนอนไร้ตาซึ่งรักความเงียบและความมืดมน คงอีกหลายปีกว่าไม้อ่อนต้นนี้จะเป็นมะขามใหญ่ ให้ร่มเงาแก่เด็กและนกมาโลดเล่นร้องเพลง ภายใต้ผืนดิน รากไม้ร้อยรัดดินอุ่นอย่างละมุนและเข้าใจ รากกับดินหล่อเลี้ยงต้นอ่อน โอบอุ้มให้ทรงตัวจนเติบโตเป็นไม้รุ่น หากใครได้เห็นมะขามต้นนี้ด้วยตาตนเอง จะรู้ว่าภายใต้ผืนดินนั้น มีสิ่งมากมายเกินกว่าจะอธิบายได้ The Angry Earth and theTamarind Seed The earth was red-brown, hard and angry. As it lay facing the glaring sun, a passing child dropped a tamarind seed. The seed hit the earth, skidded and fell into a crack in the dry earth. Though the surface of the sun-scorched earth was so hot that the bare-footed child had to skip as he ran, the crack was deep and shady. The tamarind seed thanked the hard earth for the hospitality. But there was no reply. For a few days the tamarind seed lay in the crack. Each night it watched the stars and drank moisture from dews. It felt sorry for the brown earth for being so lonely. The seed was sure about the loneliness because there was neither song of birds, nor laughter of children, not even chirps of crickets and cicadas. There had been all these sounds in the place from where the seed had come. There, children loved to play under the big tamarind tree; and the birds – how they chattered and warbled among those large spreading branches! There, the earth was soft and smiling, carpeted by a million tiny tamarind leaves. The little seed lay in the crack dreaming that one day it would grow into a large spreading tree. It dreamed that the rough, angry earth would grow soft and yielding, and smile at the rustling of leaves and the games of laughing children. It dreamed of sunlight filtering through tamarind leaves in shining flecks of gold, and dancing dainty little dances on the cool earth. It spoke of these dreams to the earth. Still there was never a hint of a reply. Then, rain fell. The earth remained hard. Rainwater ran from its angry face into the cracks. The little tamarind seed drank all it could. Rain came again and again, alternating with the hot parching sun. The seed swelled, and a little root finally broke through the velvet-brown jacket. The root was white and tender. The seed asked the earth to let the little thing cling and draw nourishment from it. The earth remained as hard and silent as ever. A soft green shoot broke through a split in the brown jacket. It reached upward for the sun. Not so the root. It clung to the earth and probed for soft places with its minute white toes. The seed’s dreams flowed into the green shoot, and into the white root. Somehow, more – much more – went into the root. Perhaps it was because the root needed the patience and strength of dreams to seek nourishment from the sullen earth. The dreams flowed from the tiny ends of the tender white root into the earth. When rain came, the dreams in the root mixed with the rainwater. Little by little the dream-drenched water made soft places in the earth. The root was filled with exuberance. It grew and spread with happiness. Its little ends made their ways into the increasing softness of the still silent earth. The silence was no longer harsh. Day by day the root discovered more and more richness in the dark soil – even more than in the dreams. There was a wealth of nourishment in that dark earth. Meanwhile a seedling had appeared. It soon turned into a sapling that loved to play with the wind and throw its slim shadow on the red-brown earth that hid the root from the sight of animals and people and the sun. As the sapling grew day by day, the last vestiges of the red-brown earth’s anger gradually faded. The earth kept the root, which was taking on the earth’s own brownness and strength for the friendship of wingless insects and eyeless earthworms that understood darkness and silence. It would be many years before the sapling would become a large shady tamarind tree that could shelter laughing children and singing birds. Under the ground, the spreading root veined the dark strong earth in a tacit understanding. Together they gave the young tree nourishment and support. But if you had seen the smiling resilience of the growing tree, you might think, as I do, that there was much more than mere nourishment and support. I would describe the ‘much more’ had I been good at explaining things intangible….. Note: From the storybook diary, published by Romruen Company Limited.

แสงแดดกับหินสีเทา Story: Khunying Chamnongsri Rutnin Illustration: Niti Wattuya It was usually the flowers and the butterflies that sunrays fall in love with. But, as we all know, the unexpected sometimes happens. And it did one pearly morning, a cool December morning, On that morning a gold sunray fell on a small grey stone that was lying half on the mud, and half on a clump of weed by a muddy klong . The stone was not much bigger than a young boy's fist. It was smooth and cold. When the warm ray fell on it, the stone took on a soft coral tinge. It even gave out a tiny glint of gold that was not bright enough for anyone to take notice of-not anyone except the young sunray. Flowers and butterflies do grow bright in the morning sun. But, being proud of their own beauty, they never thought of taking the colour of sunrays. Nor do they ever glint with joy as did the small grey stone. The cold stone soon grew warm with sunshine. Its dull surface glowed with happiness. The young sunray was fascinated. She smiled at a yellow butterfly that flirted with her; then turned her full attention to the quiet grey stone. Though the stone was hard, it had kind curves that softened the darkness of shadows, Though cold, it could absorb the warmth of the sunrays and in turn give out warmth. This was something that the frivolous butterflies and the fragile flowers could certainly not do, The sunray grew brighter and warmer as she stayed with the stone. Then came a big old water-buffalo who had been retired from his work on the paddy fields. He, of course, could not have known that the sunray and the stone were getting acquainted and were growing very fond of one another. He was half-blind and tended to drag his feet as he walked. One of his clumsy old feet caught the stone and sent it flying into the klong . The sunray was frantic. She tried to penetrate the brown water to search for the stone but the water was too muddy and the canal too deep. She tried and tried, especially at midday when she was at the peak of her strength. A white cloud drifted along to comfort her. She rested a while behind the kindly cloud and continued her search until evening fell. Day after day, this golden sunray looked for her lost stone. Under the brown water, the stone lay on a thick net of water weed that kept it from sinking into the soft mud at the bottom. As time passed, all the fish in the klong came to know about a stone that was smooth and warm and even seemed to gleam like sunshine. They loved to rest against the stone and rub their stomachs or their sides on it. They knew it comforted them and made them happy, but they never did know why. เป็นเรื่องธรรมดา ที่ใครๆ ก็เชื่อว่า แสงแดดย่อมต้องหลงใหลในความงามของเหล่าผีเสื้อและมวลดอกไม้ แต่อาจไม่เป็นเช่นนั้นเสมอไป เพราะอย่างที่รู้ๆ กัน ความไม่แน่นอน อาจเป็นความแน่นอนด้วย และแล้วในยามเช้าที่แสนงดงามวันหนึ่งของเดือนธันวาคมอันหนาวเย็น เหตุการณ์ไม่แน่นอนเหมือนที่ว่าก็เกิดขึ้น แดดเช้าชายแสงสีทองลงต้องหินสีเทาเล็กๆ ซึ่งวางนิ่งอยู่บนพงหญ้าและโคลนตมริมคลอง ก้อนหินนั้นเรียบและเยือกเย็น เมื่อต้องแสงแดดอ่อน มันเริ่มคลายความทึบเทาและเริ่มเปล่งแววสีส้มจางๆ อย่างนุ่มนวล ใครเล่าจักอาจสังเกตเห็นผิวพรรณของก้อนหิน ที่ทอประกายสีทองเป็นละอองเล็กๆ เจือจาง นอกจากแสงแดดที่อ่อนหวานแสงนี้ แม้ผีเสื้อและดอกไม้จะดูสดใสในแสงอรุณ แต่เพราะความทระนงในความงาม มันจึงไม่สนใจที่จะซึมชับสีสันของแสงตะวันไว้ ดังนั้นมันไม่อาจฉายประกายความสุขออกมาได้อย่างก้อนหิน ในไม่ช้าก้อนหินที่เยียบเย็นก็เริ่มอบอุ่น ผิวที่ขุ่นมัวฉายแววเรืองรอง จนแสงแดดตะลึงหลง เธอเพียงหันไปยิ้มนิดหนึ่งให้กับผีเสื้อสีเหลืองที่กระพือปีกเบาบางล้อเล่นกับเธอ เพราะสิ่งที่ทำให้เธอตราตรึงขณะนี้คือเจ้าสีเทาก้อนนั้น แม้ว่าก้อนหินจะแข็ง แต่มันก็มีความโค้งในรูปทรง ซึ่งช่วยลดเงาทึบกระด้างของมันให้ดูอ่อนโยน แม้จะเยียบเย็นแต่มันก็สามารถซึมชับเอาความอบอุ่นจากแสงแดด และยังสะท้อนความอบอุ่นนั้นออกมา ปีกผีเสื้อและกลีบดอกไม้นั้นบอบบางเกินกว่า ที่จะเก็บงำความลุ่มลึกใด ๆไว้ได้ เหมือนก้อนหินที่มีมวลหนักแน่น ด้วยแสงที่แรงขึ้นและร้อนขึ้น แดดสายเฝ้าแต่เคล้าเคลียก้อนหินด้วยความพึงใจ ถึงตอนนี้ก็มีควายเฒ่าเขาเก ที่หูตาฝ้าฟางเดินผ่านมา มันไม่มีทางรู้ว่าแสงแดดยามสายและก้อนหิน ก้อนเท่ากำปั้นนั้น กำลังเริ่มคุ้นเคยและเริ่มมีความสัมพันธ์ที่ดีซึ่งกันและกัน มันเดินลากขากะโผลกกะเผลก เตะถูกก้อนหิน กระเด็นลงไปในกระแสขุ่นของน้ำในคลอง แดดงามได้แต่งุนงงและตื่นตระหนก เธอสาดแสงไล่ตามไปยังสายน้ำที่ขุ่นข้น แต่คลองนั้นลึกเกินไป จนเธอไม่อาจหยั่งแสงลงไปถึงก้นคลองได้ แม้จะเป็นช่วงกลางวันยามที่แสงของเธอแรงกล้าที่สุดก็ตาม แต่เธอก็เฝ้าพยายามแล้ว พยายามอีก เธอหยุดพักเหนื่อยชั่วขณะในก้อนเมฆขาวสะอาด ที่ค่อยเคลื่อนคล้อยมาอย่างปรานี แล้วเริ่มพรายแสงค้นหาต่อไปอีก จนเย็นย่ำ วันแล้ววันเล่า แสงทองที่เศร้าหมองนี้ ก็ยังเฝ้าแต่ค้นหาก้อนหินที่สูญหายของเธอ หินน้อยกัอนนั้น บัดนี้จมอยู่ก้นคลอง มันวางอยู่บนเหล่าสาหร่ายที่ขึ้นอยู่อย่างหนาแน่นและพืชน้ำเหล่านี้เองได้ช่วยพยุงไม่ให้มันจมลงสู่โคลนเลนเบื้องล่าง และแล้วฝูงปลาในคลอง ก็เริ่มสังเกตเห็นก้อนหินที่เนียนเรียบและอบอุ่น และดูเหมือนเปล่งแสงเรืองคล้ายแดดเรื่อ พวกมันต่างพออกพอใจ และพากันว่ายมาเคล้าเคลียก้อนหินอย่างมีความสุข โดยไม่รู้ถึงเรื่องราวที่เล่ามานี้แต่อย่างใด Publication Data Author : Chamnongsri (Rutnin) Hanchanlash Illustrator  : Samat Koomsuwan First Published : In Morning of Gold, 1997 Tale Diary Adviser : M.R.Saisingh Siributr, Khunying Chamnongsri Rutnin Executive Editor : Pibhop Dhongchai Editor : Todsiri Poolnuan Designer : Khajonrat Chea , Panomtaien Sunroung Coordinator : Duanrung Posai Printer : Amarin Printing and Publishing