The Golden Land

by Di Morrissey

  ‘My kammavaca is on top of my desk, over there,’ said Natalie.

  Mi Mi picked up the little box and unrolled the kammavaca, studying it carefully. Eventually she looked at Natalie and smiled. ‘This is exquisite. Very unusual. What surprises me is the quality of the artwork. Burmese art tends to the religious and spiritual. It’s not known for fine murals and frescoes. These little paintings are quite realistic. I feel that monastery must exist somewhere. Do you know where this came from?’

  ‘There’s a bit of a story attached to it,’ said Natalie and told Mi Mi the story of her great-great-uncle Andrew, the princess and the unscrupulous art dealer.

  Mi Mi listened and when Natalie had finished she looked at the kammavaca again and said, ‘What a shame this has passed out of the royal family, but it’s fortunate that it has been kept so carefully by your family.’ She fingered the old manuscript carefully, looking at the beautiful work that had gone into making it. ‘I think the script is most likely prayers.’ She folded it back up and returned it to its teak box. ‘Have you ever thought of contacting the royal family?’

  Natalie raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought they were all dead. Didn’t most of them die in exile in India?’

  Mi Mi shook her head. ‘No, not at all. King Thibaw had children and grandchildren. The royal family was an extended one because King Thibaw had different consorts and their children had children. So there are many descendants. I actually know one of his granddaughters. She’s quite a remarkable woman.’

  As Mi Mi walked over to the desk to return the teak box to its place there was a clamour at the door. Mark called out as Charlotte and Adam dashed in, jumping on Natalie.

  ‘Hi, darling, Brad’s just coming. We’ve been out entertaining the children. Are you okay?’

  ‘Actually, I’m feeling a bit fragile. I had a bit of a turn while I was handing out pamphlets for the Friends of Burma. Mark, this is Mi Mi, the friend I was telling you about. She drove me home in our car as I wasn’t up to driving,’ said Natalie. ‘I am so lucky she was there.’

  ‘That was kind of you, thanks.’ Mark looked carefully at Natalie. ‘You still look a little peaky, Nat. Were you standing in the sun for hours or something?’

  ‘No, there was shade at the stand at Pacific Fair. I don’t know what came over me. I hope it was a one-off,’ sighed Natalie.

  ‘I’m sure it won’t happen again,’ said Mi Mi.

  ‘Mark, I showed Mi Mi the kammavaca and she told me that she knows a granddaughter of King Thibaw. Isn’t that amazing?’ said Natalie.

  ‘No kidding. But didn’t the king die years ago?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Mi Mi. ‘In 1916, so his granddaughter is quite old, but she still, as you Australians say, has all her marbles. I’d better get back there and help them pack up. I’ll ring for a taxi now.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll drive you back to Pac Fair,’ said Mark as Brad joined them. ‘Mi Mi, this is Brad, a friend from work. I’m driving Mi Mi back to Pacific Fair. Want to come for the ride? Right to go, Mi Mi?’

  ‘Yes, take it easy, Natalie. And thanks for your help today,’ said Mi Mi.

  ‘I enjoyed myself. Thank you for looking after me and suggesting those classes.’

  Natalie sat upright and stretched. It was wonderful having Mark home for a few days. After an hour sitting at the sewing machine running up curtains for the nursery, her back was aching. Natalie stood up and stretched, patting her ever-expanding belly. She made herself a cup of tea and checked her emails and was pleased to see a reply from the antique dealer in London.

  Dear Mrs Cutler

  Thank you for your enquiry. Your kammavaca is indeed interesting and appears to be of exceptional quality. As you are probably aware these sorts of manuscripts are still being made today on palm leaf. Taking your provenance at face value and without seeing the object myself, the best valuation would be between £800 and £1000, depending on its condition. My gallery is prepared to make such an offer to you.

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Sincerely

  P. Michaelson

  That’s good to know, thought Natalie, but sorry, Mr Michaelson, I’m not in the selling market. What I really wanted you to do was to give me more information about my kammavaca, but you didn’t shed much light on it at all. Natalie glanced at the teak box on her desk. A thousand pounds would be handy, but I’d rather keep you.

  That evening after she’d changed into fresh, comfortable clothes and glanced at herself in the mirror, Natalie went into the living room and said to Mark, ‘This huge T-shirt and leggings don’t do a lot for me. I look like a whale and some days I feel like one, too.’

  Mark looked at her fondly. ‘You look pretty good to me. Don’t worry about the kids. Brad and I will find something to do with them when they wake up. You relax and enjoy yourself. I just hope you’ll be able to get yourself up off the floor.’

  ‘If I can’t, I’ll just have to stay there all night! Be a nice rest, away from this madhouse,’ Natalie replied with a laugh.

  Natalie parked the car and went into the building where the yoga classes were held. The minute she stepped inside she saw that this centre wasn’t just a studio space for classes but an oasis of Buddhist calm. There was a meditation room, a classroom, and a massage and healing room. A sign pointed upstairs to the yoga classes. Even though the centre appeared busy, no particular activity dominated. At the reception desk, where she signed in, there were flowers floating in a bowl of water. A book of the sayings of the Buddha was opened to a page which read: ‘Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.’

  Natalie smiled at the girl behind the desk as she paid her money. ‘That’s good advice.’

  The girl nodded. ‘Yes, live in the moment. Welcome, Natalie, your class starts upstairs in ten minutes. Take a few moments to catch your breath if you like. You can make lemongrass tea in the kitchen. Please help yourself.’

  Natalie declined the tea and went slowly up the stairs, looking at the prints of colourful mandalas and tapestries illustrating stories about Buddha’s life. Somewhere else in the building she could hear the sound of wind chimes and the low murmur of voices chanting in a singsong rhythm.

  She loved the class. Focusing her mind totally on what she was doing with her breathing and her body, and with no other thoughts in her head, she found the exercises were refreshing and relaxing. Her class was a mixed group of men and women of varying ages, and the instructor advised her on gentle exercises suitable for pregnant women.

  Afterwards, she found the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of delicate, fragrant lemongrass tea. A tall thin man, possibly in his forties, smiled at her as he also helped himself to tea, adding honey to it.

  ‘You’re new, aren’t you? Although I can see you’ve done yoga before. Have you just moved into the area?’

  ‘We haven’t been on the Gold Coast very long. I moved here with my husband and children a few months ago. I haven’t been to yoga since my last child was born. I should have been before, but I just don’t seem to have the time. It feels great to do it again – it certainly makes me feel very relaxed,’ said Natalie.

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘Yoga is good for the mind as well as the body. I guess you don’t get a lot of time to yourself if you have children. How many have you got?’

  ‘Two. With three I’m not sure when I’ll have time for this luxury.’

  ‘Enjoy it while you can,’ he answered philosophically. ‘I’m Moss.’ He held out his hand.

  ‘Natalie.’ She noticed his ponytail, baggy pants and loose shirt and wondered whether Moss was his first name or surname. Instead she asked, ‘Do you come every week?’

  ‘I try to, but sometimes I have to teach the odd evening class. I’m a teacher.’

  ‘I’m a teacher, too. Primary school. What do you teach?’ asked Natalie.

  ‘I’m an art historian – I teach mainly South East Asian Buddhist art, with a bit
of religion and philosophy thrown in.’

  ‘Really?’ exclaimed Natalie.

  ‘It’s not as esoteric as it sounds. It may surprise you but there’s a lot of interest in Buddhist studies in Australia these days. People want to know more about Buddhism.’

  ‘It does sound like a fascinating religion,’ replied Natalie.

  ‘Strictly speaking, Buddhism is not a religion,’ said Moss. ‘It’s really a moral code. Buddha was born into a royal family, but he left it and began to develop philosophies that would help people deal with life. He thought that because everyone suffers, the way to avoid suffering was to develop a higher consciousness. This can be done through a combination of meditation and by practising this better moral code.’

  ‘That’s a big aspiration. Does that do away with suffering?’ asked Natalie.

  ‘Eventually. After many rebirths and stages of spiritual development, enlightenment can finally be reached. This is called nirvana.’

  ‘Is that what nirvana means? I thought it was like karma?’

  ‘Karma is central to the idea of rebirth because each time you are reborn, it is the result of a previous action in your former life, for good or ill.’

  ‘What goes around, comes around?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Moss, with a smile. ‘Do you find these ideas strange?’

  ‘No, not really. They’re just different, that’s all. I’ve not taken a lot of interest in Asian ideas before, but it’s interesting that you said you taught Asian art. I’ve never had anything to do with Asian art, but not long ago I inherited an artefact from Burma and I’ve been trying to find out as much as I can about it. And then by chance I meet you, a teacher on the subject!’

  Moss shrugged. ‘That’s how the universe works sometimes. When you become interested in something, everything points in that direction. What sort of artefact have you got? Perhaps I can explain the significance of your piece.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’d like to know!’ said Natalie. ‘It’s a little kammavaca.’

  ‘Palm-leaf manuscripts, fascinating things. Is it a recent one, or old?’

  ‘Quite old, nineteenth century. I mean, not like eleventh century or anything really old. It was made for King Thibaw.’

  ‘Really. How do you know that? Thibaw, the last king of Burma, it’s such a sad story. I suppose you know all about that.’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Natalie. ‘I have been doing some research. This kammavaca belonged to my great-great-uncle. It’s not made from palm leaf, it’s made from cloth.’

  ‘Very intriguing. I’d love to see it.’

  ‘Are you on email? I could send you photos,’ said Natalie.

  ‘I’d rather see the real thing. How did your great-great-uncle acquire it?’

  Natalie was pleased at his enthusiasm. ‘Do you have time for another cup of tea?’

  They sat in a small lounge room and Natalie told Moss the story of Uncle Andrew, the princess, the unscrupulous dealer Ian Ferguson and the little kammavaca. ‘I’ve had two antique dealers who specialise in Asian art look at it. I’m told the writing on it is probably religious texts.’

  Moss nodded. ‘Pali sutras. Pali is the language of Buddha’s time. But the fact it’s on cloth, and very likely from a venerated monk’s robe, gives it special meaning. If it was made for the king, who chose to take it with him into exile, it means that he too must have thought that it had considerable significance,’ said Moss thoughtfully.

  ‘I hadn’t considered that,’ said Natalie slowly. ‘No wonder his half sister didn’t want to give it up.’

  ‘What do you plan to do with it?’

  ‘Keep it, now that I’m starting to piece together bits of the story. I wish I’d known Uncle Andrew. I think he must have been quite remarkable,’ said Natalie.

  ‘Yes, indeed. I’ve never heard of that Ferguson. If you like, I could do some research? See what I can find out. But with its provenance, maybe a museum would be glad to have it, should you want to gift it,’ suggested Moss. ‘And collectors of these things would probably pay quite well for it.’

  ‘Oh, no. I don’t want to sell it – even though a dealer in London did offer me a thousand pounds or so,’ said Natalie.

  Moss raised an eyebrow. ‘Did he? But please, if you do consider selling it, get second and third opinions.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have to go. If you’d like to learn more about how those manuscripts are made, I can explain it to you. Some of them are very old, and many of them are hidden away in monasteries and caves. Some of the old ones were taken back to Europe as curios, and are tucked away in museums or in people’s homes, quite forgotten.’

  ‘That’s so true. My kammavaca was stored away for eighty-odd years and nearly ended up in a clearing sale. But now I have something physical, something tangible, that makes the past come to life. I hold that little kammavaca and I know my great-great-uncle held it too,’ said Natalie, starting to formulate thoughts that hadn’t occurred to her before.

  ‘Indeed. And do you also think of the monks who created it and the king it was made for?’ posed Moss.

  She paused before she answered the question. ‘I guess they’d be disappointed that it ended up so far from home. But at least it’s safe with me and appreciated. Are there any good books you could recommend to me to learn more about Buddhist art?’ she added.

  ‘There are plenty. How about you give me your email address and I’ll send you some titles?’

  ‘Yes. Thank you so much, Moss. I hope I see you again next week.’

  ‘How was yoga, Nat?’ Mark asked.

  ‘Wonderful. So relaxing and the exercises did me a lot of good, I can feel it. The place that Mi Mi sent me to was brilliant. It has a strong Buddhist influence and it seems very popular. My class was quite large. I met a really interesting university lecturer who teaches Buddhist art.’

  ‘Is he a hippy or a nerd? You seem to be falling over the weirdest people.’

  ‘I know!’ Natalie said laughing. ‘Same as when I’m pregnant, all I seem to see are other pregnant women. Now, since I’ve become interested in my kammavaca and Burma, I’m meeting people who know about both these things. It’s how the universe operates, Moss says.’

  ‘Moss? His name is Moss? His parents have got to be flower people. Does he have a brother called Rolling Stone? Or a sister called River or Flower?’ Mark joked. ‘Is he from the Northern Rivers?’

  ‘Stop it, Mark. He’s really nice. I wish I’d had more teachers like him instead of ones with droning voices who put you to sleep.’

  ‘So what’s the bottom line, about the kammavaca?’

  ‘He said he’d recommend some books so I can learn more about these things,’ said Natalie.

  ‘Hi, guys.’ Brad wandered into the family room with both children clinging to his legs.

  ‘Look at us,’ chirped Charlotte. ‘Uncle Brad walked us right up the street with us on his legs. Everyone was looking.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ muttered Mark. ‘It’s Uncle Brad now, is it, mate?’

  ‘Can’t help it. Your kids are just great. I reckon we should all go somewhere like Sea World or Dreamworld before we have to go back to work.’

  Natalie smiled. ‘It’s great having access to someone else’s children, isn’t it? Gives you the perfect excuse to go to those places that you wouldn’t like to go by yourself.’

  ‘Absolutely. How was yoga?’

  ‘Wonderful, thanks. I was just telling Mark about a man I met there who knows about kammavacas.’

  ‘Was that the thing I heard you talking about to that Burmese doctor?’

  ‘Yep. It’s some weird little knick-knack that Nat’s family inherited.’ Mark opened up the box that the kammavaca was kept in and lifted it out.

  ‘Be gentle, it’s old and delicate,’ said Natalie. ‘And it’s quite valuable. I got an offer of a thousand pounds from an expert in England.’

  ‘Hey, darling, you didn’t tell me that. That’s a big surprise.’

 
‘What is it?’ said Brad as he carefully took the kam-mavaca from Mark. ‘I mean, it’s cool, but what’s it for? What’s it do?’ He laughed at his own ignorance.

  ‘It’s a religious artefact from Burma,’ said Mark.

  ‘From where? Just kidding, I have heard of it,’ joked Brad. ‘How’d you get it?’

  ‘It belonged to Nat’s great-great-uncle. It’s unusual because it used to belong to the king. And now she’s been offered a thousand pounds for it.’

  ‘Wow. You going to take the money, Nat?’

  ‘Brad, I don’t want to sell it,’ said Natalie firmly. ‘Anyway, Moss said that I should get more than one valuation, a second or third opinion.’

  ‘How are you going to do that? You’ve already asked that expert in Brissie and she didn’t tell you that much.’

  ‘Listen, guys, get into the twenty-first century. What you should do is go on the net and put it up for sale and see if you flush out someone who knows its real worth and makes you an offer you can’t refuse,’ said Brad.

  ‘I’m not doing that!’ said Natalie.

  ‘That’s a great idea, Brad. What have you got to lose, Nat?’

  ‘Let me do it for you. I’ve put things on sale on the net before, a couple of my fishing rods. It’s easy. Put up some photos of it and let’s see what comes back,’ said Brad.

  ‘All right, then,’ conceded Natalie. ‘Just to get a second opinion.’

  Mark stretched out on the sand, dozing in the sun as he dried off after his swim. The children were busy with buckets and spades, helping Brad build a sandcastle. Natalie was reading a book when she stopped, pressed her hand to her belly and reached for Mark with the other.

  ‘It’s kicking! Feel the baby! Quick!’

  Sleepily, Mark rested his hand on her belly beside her hand and grinned. ‘A little flutter. Like a butterfly. Only three months to go, hey Nat.’

  ‘It felt more like a footballer to me. I’m so relieved,’ said Natalie. ‘It’s wonderful to feel the baby moving strongly. I’m so glad you were here.’