108 Myrtle Avenue: Stories of Hard Times

By B.S. Ban

The latest book from the author of Okimas, Stories of Enlightened hens.

Arriving from the Himalaya into the New Country, a young man suddenly finds himself in difficult circumstances.

Carrying a paralysed hope for the future he dwells here and there purposelessly, often finding himself in strife. Along the way he

• Language: English
• Publisher: Helga Jolley
• Release date: Jun 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9780645674934

B.S. Ban

Born in Himalaya in 1989, B.S.Ban has a wide knowledge of ancient scriptures, Sanskrit and other languages. With the popularisation of Yoga and Meditation in the West he has a passion to reveal the essence of Eastern teachings from their original source. A lover of nature he may be found in deep philosophical dialogue with birds and trees in the rainforest, but he is always home early to take the hens out for their afternoon adventures.

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Cover of 108 Myrtle Avenue by B.S. BanTitle page of 108 Myrtle Avenue by B.S. Ban

First published 2024 by B.S. Ban

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Copyright © B.S. Ban 2024

The moral right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. All enquiries should be made to the author.

Cover design by Helga Jolley

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ISBN 978-0-6456749-2-7 (paperback)

ISBN 978-0-6456749-3-4 (epub)

ISBN 978-0-6456749-4-1 (kindle)

Contents

Preface

Part One: 108 Myrtle Avenue

A well behaved fool

The disappearance

A merchant

The religious opportunists

The poor old woman

The factory worker

Professor Higgins

The keepers of Truth

A man in large glasses

The man who feared death

The tragedy of freedom

The Bricklayer

Part Two: If This Is Called Life

Acknowledgements

For

Mrs Helga Beatrice (She)

Preface

Every word in this book is based on a true story. Revealing the truth of one’s life is not easy. Sometimes it is important to let go of all that has happened in the past. Suppression is not the way to peace; expression is. I feel that it is equally important to be honest with oneself and not let the events take hold of all one’s emotion. It is easy to waver in between conscious events that took place and feeling sorry for oneself, wishing that didn’t happen. This hypnagogic state, instead of freeing one from the troubled past, makes it even worse. Therefore it’s important, as far as I understand, to look at the terrible events that took place as clearly as possible without identifying with them.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares. My heart grips with fear when I think of my past. Sometimes I feel like locking the door and never going out. A great deal of effort has to be made to go out and be with others. I have to work hard to regain trust in people.

What have I learnt over the years is that life is a work in progress. Life never completes no matter what we do. Our movement is a jump from one incomplete movement to another incomplete movement. One of the purposes of meditation is to see life in movement. Be the watcher and not the judge of it. Since I was a little boy, I was attracted to the movement of my inner world and meditated deeply to understand what lies beyond the travail of life. There I have found, if I can use the word ‘found’, a beauty of life that never fades away. Perhaps that inner beauty was so strong that it overpowered the outer ugliness of my life.

Two reasons prompted me to write this book. The first reason is that I want to make people aware that there is a world out there completely ignored. The migrants, especially students who come into this country in search of a better future, frequently live through hell. Some, with a bit of luck and hard work, float through life to the other shore, but others simply drown in it. Since I have lived that life, I am neither the other side of the shore, nor have I completely drowned, but floating in the stormy sea of life. I felt it was my responsibility to make people aware of this life. The other reason is that the stories of those tragic souls I met along the way deserve to be told.

Observing other people’s sorrows helped me cope with mine. Sharing the pain with others who have gone through same experience does help to deal with sorrow. I have observed so much, and one of the reasons I did so was because I wanted to forget mine!

It seems to me that human beings can’t live without judgement. Outer judgement may be necessary but the inward judgement cripples one from seeing things as they are. I hope my readers will excuse me if they come across stories that they didn’t want to hear.

B. S. Ban

Part One

108 Myrtle Avenue

"How much more infinite than a sea is a man?

Be not so childish as to measure him from head to foot

and think you have found his borders."

Mikhail Naimy

A well behaved fool

Colonel Colin wanted to be in the Army since he was a small boy but he grew only five feet tall and couldn’t meet the height requirements. He tried very hard to convince the authorities but they denied him, saying it was a rule and they couldn’t break it for an individual. Colonel Colin, frustrated with his height and not being able to follow his passion of being a soldier, left home in his early twenties to look for new opportunities in the city. He worked as a kitchen hand in many restaurants and also worked in factories and many shopping centres as a cleaner but he never enjoyed any of the jobs and always wished that he was a colonel in the Army! He collected all parts of the uniform that were worn by a colonel. He even made a wooden gun that he carried everywhere he went.

Colonel Colin married twice and had five children but they all left him. They accused him of being a lunatic and a good for nothing who always behaved as if he was Commander-in-Chief with his family. He gave all his money to his wives and children and survived with a meagre pension. He was already sixty-five years old. Life was passing him by him leaving him only a bald head and wrinkles on his cheeks. The gout in his legs made it impossible for him to walk too far and he had also developed asthma. But none of these things stopped Colin from being a colonel and performing his duty. He visited many International Student Accommodations all over the city and asked whether they could accept him as a colonel of the building but they laughed at him and called him a nincompoop. He never gave up on his dream and finally, after a long tiresome search he found a perfect place where they welcomed him as a colonel. He stood all hours of morning and evening by the glass door saluting those who came in and went out. When he got tired, he sat on a chair with his wooden gun behind his shoulder and leaning against the wall, fell asleep.

Colin’s dress was that of a real Colonel and someone even made him a couple of fake medals that he wore proudly on his chest. He was so thankful to the owner of the property for making him Colonel Colin and he swore in the name of Almighty Lord that he would do his job with great care and honesty.

This is the happiest I have ever been! What a joy to become a Colonel . . . finally . . . ! he said with happy tears in his eyes.

Colin woke up around four o’clock in the morning, took a shower, watered the small flower garden he kept outside his bedroom, gobbled his breakfast as quickly as possible, and went to the door to salute the tired residents of the building who went out in search of their future. Some took notice of him and responded to his salute which made him euphoric but the others turned a blind eye on him.

Colin was so well-behaved that he never felt angry with anyone and never complained about the hardship of his job. He spoke only when it was absolutely necessary. In his free time, he swept the floor and mopped it, which delighted the manager of the International Student Accommodation.

When someone called him ‘Colonel Colin’ he saluted them with utmost respect. His obsession became so strong that one early morning someone said ‘salute’ as he was sitting on his chair drinking hot tea. He dropped the cup and stood up to salute. The hot tea fell over him and burnt his toe but he stood there without moving an inch. Even his facial expression didn’t change.

Sometimes he was harassed by youth at the building. They took his hat and flung it outside. He picked it up, put it on and sat quietly as if nothing had happened. Sometimes they poked him with a cigarette and his flesh got burnt but he never retaliated, nor did he complain to the manager. He always had a reservoir of smiles and enough strength to greet them with love and compassion.

One day he received a letter saying one of his sons was sick in the hospital and he must go to visit him as soon as possible if he wanted to say goodbye to him. He folded the paper swiftly, threw it in the bin and continued saluting the people.

Don’t you love your children? someone asked him.

I do. he replied with a sad smile on his face.

Then why don’t you go visit them?

I am afraid of losing my Colonel job. he said heaving a sigh.

Are you stupid or what? You can be Colonel tomorrow but what if your child dies today? There won’t be any tomorrow to see him!

But what about all the people who come and go from this building? Who will salute them? he said vexatiously. He was afraid that if he went away the manager may employ someone else as a colonel. The manager promised that he would never do so and begged him to go see his child, but he looked into the manager’s eyes dolefully and shook his head. One of his cousins telephoned him the next day to let him know that his son had passed away and beseeched him to come to the funeral. But Colonel Colin said it was useless to go to the funeral since he didn’t even go to see his son when he was alive.

To be a colonel was the only thing he enjoyed and he forgot everything else. He never went to see his family nor did they come to see him. He didn’t want to listen to any other words than the word ‘Colonel.’ He danced with joy when someone saluted him calling him Mr Colonel . . .

A few months later he got a letter that said his wife was sick and he must go to visit her as soon as possible if he wished to say goodbye. He held the letter against his chest and wept. The manager implored him to go but he said if he went, he would miss out on his routines and that would dishearten him.

Who will get up four o’clock in the morning? Who will salute the people if I went? he fulminated.

Little by little Colonel Colin grew old. Gout on his legs made it impossible for him to stand and salute the people and he began doing it sitting down.

One evening he was no longer by the door. His small chair waited for him and his wooden gun was lying on the floor. Someone had put a note on the wall that read:

Our beloved Colonel Colin had a heart attack this afternoon.

He has been taken to the hospital. He may not survive.

Anyone who wishes to see him must do so soon.

The next morning Colonel Colin died in the hospital. None of his family members came to say goodbye to him.

I am a Colonel . . . I am a Colonel . . . Colonel is dying! he said as he lay dying. That evening they collected Colonel Colin’s gun, Colonel Colin’s uniform and Colonel Colin’s chair into a pile and burnt them.

The disappearance

I can’t possibly continue with it anymore. I want to give up. I want to go home. muttered Raja, a young man of twenty who had just returned from work. It was already late at night and his friends had gone to sleep. He took off his red shirt and shook it before hanging it on the hook. A cloud of dust invaded the room that made his friends cough.

What is the matter with you? Couldn’t you dust that off outside? scolded Raijan, his most trusted friend.

I am tired! I can barely move my limbs! lamented Raja.

To hell with your tiredness! shouted Raijan and buried his face under the blanket.

Raijan please don’t be rude to me. You are the only person I trust.

Raijan threw aside the blanket and sat up on his bed rubbing his eyes.

Sorry Bro, I wasn’t meaning to be rude to you. You should go to sleep now. It’s getting late.

But I can’t go to sleep. My legs hurt so bad! moaned Raja.

Why? What’s the matter with your legs?

I was helping the bricklayer. He said I wasn’t working fast enough and threw a brick at me! he moved closer to Raijan and pulled his trouser up and the faint light revealed his wound.

Raijan pulled his eyes away in horror. Don’t show me. I can’t look at it. No! No! Pull your trouser back down! he shouted in disbelief.

Raijan’s shout caused their other friends to lose their sleep. They all woke up and sat on their beds yawning.

What’s the matter Raijan? Why are you screaming? asked Sirjan, the oldest and most mature of them all.

The wound on Raja’s leg. Oh, it’s making me sick! his voice trembled, and he collapsed on his bed.

Come here Raja, show me the wound. said Sirjan yawning.

Raja went and sat on the edge of Sirjan’s bed and pulled his trouser up to show the wound.

Oh my God! Oh my God! My God! screamed Sirjan and jumped out of the bed, went to the window and stood staring at the moonlit sky over the city.

You see what I mean? His leg is beyond repair! muttered Raijan. What time did he throw a brick at you?

Around two in the afternoon. said Raja pulling his trouser down.

Did you continue to work after that?

Yes, I lost lots of blood!

Did nobody tell you to stop?

No, they stared at me and laughed and the bricklayer scolded me for being too slow. ‘You foreign pig. Go back where you came from if you can’t work.’ he said and I had no choice but to go on working. At one point I thought I was going to lose consciousness and collapse. All I thought of at that moment was my mother!

You could have left and come back home. said Mailo, rubbing his eyes.

Yes, I thought of leaving but I would have lost my job and my unpaid money.

Why do you care about the money all the time huh? You can only earn money if you are healthy. What happens to your family back home if you die? said Raijan. You see, I told you so many times before to try and find other jobs that you could do. You are too young to be working such a physically demanding job. Besides, they only pay you nine dollars an hour! You know how much money it will cost to repair your leg? The bone is sticking out! One side of your leg is completely shattered.

But I can’t find a job. How am I to pay the rent, buy food and pay my university fees? I barely have time to look for other jobs! Raja choked with tears.

Let’s not argue. We must wash his wound and put on a bandage. Someone must take him to the hospital tomorrow! said Raijan and walked out the door.

Moments later Raijan came back with a bowl of warm water and a first-aid kit. He made Raja sit on the floor by the window and washed his wounds very carefully. Sirjan and Mailo helped him. They cursed those who made him suffer as they applied the bandage. Raja felt excruciating pain as they pushed his bone back inside the skin.

Raijan made a bed for Raja and slept next to him. He was a chef in some well known restaurant in the city. He had worked long hours that day and was also exhausted. He would have to get up early and go back to that hellish kitchen again. Sleep was important for him. A peaceful night of rest was the only thing he looked forward to. But tonight sleep had left him and he saw no chance of it returning. He got up and tiptoed out of the room into the street. The night was calm. The myrtle trees were meditating deeply. There was not a breath of wind in them. He stood on the grey pavement confused. The crescent moon was staring down at the city with her faint blue eyes. He wanted to go across the road to the park and lay on the grass and forget about all the sorrows, but it had rained earlier and inclement weather made it difficult to fall asleep in the park.

What am I going to do? he asked himself. When it became impossible to make a decision, he took a coin out of his pocket and said to himself, If it’s heads I will go to the park. If it’s tails I will return to my bed and try to go back to sleep. He flipped the coin. It fell on the pavement and made a clinking noise. He bent down and looked for it but the coin had disappeared. Ah, even the coin is indecisive tonight. he muttered.

I should go to the park anyway. he whispered. He took a few decisive steps but was forced to sit on the pavement when a terrible nausea overcame him.

Ah, what’s wrong with me? A car could have run me over!

He dragged himself to the park and lay on the wet grass. Dark clouds were drifting along the western sky. A few drops of cold rain splashed across his face. A sudden gust of wind brushed past that made him shiver.

My name is Raijan, My name is Raijan he whispered to himself: I can’t be wrong about that and I must remember my purpose and my duty. I can’t betray people I love, and I mustn’t betray myself. Ah, who would have thought life would be this difficult? If I knew that, I would have never stepped foot into this country. Now I can’t go back. How can I? Nobody will accept me. I will have to be a beggar there! My family will denounce me. They have sacrificed so much for me. They have done their job and now they wait to taste my success. It’s like they have planted the rice and hope that everything turns out to be alright. How hard it is to plant rice. The field must be prepared, must be properly irrigated and ploughed! Alas! I mustn’t betray them at any cost. I have heard people killing themselves for not being able to fulfil the dreams of their loved ones. So much shame, so much pain. Ah, I shouldn’t think of these things, but what do they expect from me? Fame, money, name, and I have none of these things. My way home is blocked. I can’t go on. Ah, how I crave to be around with my family! How marvellous it would to be with them! I think of how I must always lie to them to keep them happy. I must go on living without living. That’s all I can do.

He thought about Raja. Raja’s mother’s words echoed in his heart.

He is still a child; please look after my boy. I trust you. It was him who told her that he would take care of him.

I will never let him get hurt. Don’t worry Auntie. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and held it between two fingers and stared at it.

Never smoke my dear son, it will do no good to you. He remembered his mother’s words and the promise he had made to her that he would never touch cigarettes. He felt like he had betrayed his old mother once again. What would she be doing a thousand seas beyond? He remembered her smile. Tears rained down his cheeks that turned blue under the faint light of the moon.

II

It was already morning when Raijan opened his eyes. People were walking their dogs in the park. A German Shepherd noticed him and came running. He sniffed him, wagged his tail and slowly went away flicking his ears. The dog must have realised that he wasn’t a threat to anybody or anything. He knew that dogs could find out about a person just by sniffing.

I am not a danger to anything or anyone, he whispered as he stood, stretched his hands, yawned and went back across the road to his room.

Raijan’s friends were still asleep. He stood by Raja’s bed and stared at him. The blood was still oozing through his bandages. He covered his legs with a blanket and sat next to him. Raja’s face looked calm and peaceful.

I must take care of him. he thought and went into the kitchen and cooked scrambled eggs and toasted brown bread. He made his favourite milk tea and walked back to the room.

Raja. Raja he called him softly. Raja opened his eyes.

Here is your breakfast. I must go to work now. You mustn’t go anywhere. Eat your breakfast and lie there all day until I come back. I will try to come home early and will bring you dumplings for lunch. If you need anything ask Sirjan. Do you understand? Don’t move anywhere. You must rest your wound.

Raja nodded.

Raijan put his work clothes on, stood staring at Raja, and took a couple of long strides towards the door. He grabbed the door handle and turned around to give one last look to Raja. He felt like he was looking at him for one last time and that made him terribly sad. Suddenly, Raijan fainted and fell on the floor.

His fall sent a tremor through the whole room. It caused Mailo and Sirjan to wake up.

What the heck was that noise? Did you hear that? asked Mailo to Raja who had already closed his eyes and fallen asleep.

Mailo got off the bed, turned the light on and saw Raijan laying on the floor.

What’s wrong with you? Are you alright? he went to him and knelt on the floor to check on him.

Yes, I am fine. I just feel nauseous! said Raijan getting up.

Are you sure you can go to work? asked Mailo.

Well, I must. It is a busy day today. We must cook for five hundred people.

He took a sip of water and saying goodbye, walked out the door.

When he was on the street, he looked at his watch and realised that he was already an hour late. He hurried through the busy crowd of people and caught a taxi.

The head chef, a man without any moral values, who abused people of colour in every way possible, was sitting outside puffing on his cigarette.

Raijan, turn around and go back right now. Don’t dare to step into my restaurant! Who do you think you are? You are one and half hours late. the bald chef shouted at him.

I am really sorry Chef, I have a reason to be late. said Raijan.

I will excuse you for whatever reason that may have caused your delay but as a punishment you will not get paid today. Now go and wash up and clean the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Raijan bowed at him and raced to the kitchen.

As soon he entered the kitchen, he was asked to do ten different things at once. He ran here and there trying to fulfil his obligations, but he couldn’t maintain his focus for long. He hadn’t slept last night and his mind was occupied with Raja’s injury. Suddenly, as he turned around to read the orders the customers had placed, he lost his balance and fell heavily on the concrete floor and lost consciousness.

III.

Next morning Raijan woke up in the hospital. His friends were sitting beside him staring at him with their tear-stained eyes.

Where on earth am I? he asked.

In the hospital! replied Raja holding back his tears.

What for? asked Raijan.

You fell on the floor in the restaurant yesterday and broke your leg and hurt your back.

Broke my leg and hurt my back? Oh no, that can’t be true! he moaned.

He had hurt his right leg, and his back was badly damaged. The doctor told him if he wanted to be able to walk again, he would need lots of money to operate upon his injuries. Otherwise, the leg may need to be amputated.

Oh God, what wrong have I done to you to punish me like this? Raijan wept.

Maybe you should go back home. A nurse, who was looking after him, suggested. You don’t have any other choices. The nurse’s word made him shiver.

He thought for a while and shook his head. It was better if he died than go back home. That would be a disgrace to his family. He thought of his parents, his siblings and his friends. They would accept him if he went back but where would the money come from? His family had sold all the lands they owned to send him to the foreign country. His parents were already old and needed looking after. His siblings were crippled by poverty. Who will look after him if he went back? Warm tears fell out of his eyes and wet the pillow!

Don’t cry Uncle, everything will be alright. said Raja wiping his tears. I will manage the money to treat your leg properly. he staggered out of the room. Raijan watched him through the corner of his eyes and felt awfully sad.

What will happen to him if I can’t walk again? He too has sustained a terrible injury and can barely walk. he thought.

When everyone was gone and night became still, Raijan got up from his hospital bed and dragged himself out of the door and vanished somewhere into the dark night.

Nobody knows where he went and nobody knows whether he is dead or alive.

A merchant

Every morning before sunrise a plumpish, middle aged man with a dark moustache over his brown lips came out of a small door of an Oriental shop, and stood on the side of a busy street holding a banner.

Everything in my shop is discounted by fifty percent today. the banner read. His charm lured lonely people of the town into his shop.

I sell everything you need. I mean everything you need. You need not go anywhere else, he said to them in a rough accent, with a smile. Lonely old people, especially ladies who were ignored and abandoned by the world; those who felt alone in the crowd, all became his regular customers. He took them to his little shop, sat them down on a mat and made them spicy Oriental tea with warm milk before sitting down with them and listening to their stories for hours with keen interest. When they finished their stories he gave a little tour of his shop, introducing them to the newly arrived spices he encouraged them to buy.

You must try this. These are not ordinary spices for there is love in them. They are awfully delicious, awfully delicious. he said licking his lips and nodding his head left to right.

But we don’t use them. What’s the point of buying them? the customers often protested.

My dear friends, that’s exactly why you need them. They are medicine for your soul! he said in a low mellifluous voice. The old people felt like birds in a cage. The only way to escape from him was to buy whatever he wanted to sell. As they paid the price he asked and made their way out of the doorway, he often came running behind them holding burning incense in his hands. He would ask them to stand still and went around them three times with smoke bellowing from the incense. He would repeat a certain mantra loudly at first, then whispering softly and letting it be absorbed in their thoughts. When he finished this unusual ritual he opened his eyes, bowed to them and said that since he was a Brahmin, he must perform such ritual for his beloved customers, wishing them well.

You see, I must keep the rituals going. I can’t betray my ancestors. He blew the incense out and gave it to them saying if they burnt that incense at home all the bad karmas will be burnt and their houses will be purified.

This also brings the fortune, you know? he told them caressing his thick moustache with his dexterous fingers. Goodness is only attracted to an immaculate house! I have more varieties of incense in my shop if you want to buy. He raced back into the shop and returned with a whole heap of