O Guardian Spirits of the World,
O Guardian Spirits of Groves with flowers unfurl’d,
I invoke thee all!
O Guardian Spirits of Hills and Mountains,
O Guardian Spirits of Villages and Fountains,
O Yoke-ka-soes, Guardian Spirits of Trees,
I invoke thee, please!
O Guardian Spirits of the Land and the Water,
O Guardian Spirits of the Buddhist Sāsanā,
O Guardian Spirit of the Ocean,
I invoke all thy hoary, surging motion!
O Five Devas of Cloud-dwelling, O Deva of the Heavens,
O Four Guardian Angels of the World with amazing legends,
I do invoke thee, wild with emotions!
O King of Celestials, Brahmas, O King
Of the Asurā deities, O King of hell realm,
I do invoke thee all!
Having the Guardian Spirit of the Earth as the Witness,
I fling a volley of my curses merciless
Onto the devilish soldiers who demolish our religion!
May the despot Min Aung Hlaing, blessed with the heart of a pigeon,
And his rotten-hearted accomplices, good-for-nothing junks,
Who have caused the bloodshed of our people and monks,
May they all fall backwards, and vomit cuds,
And drop dead in the pools of their dark blood!
And their offspring, too! May they meet the bang
Of Fate sans merci, and die in heart-breaking pangs!
Just like the blue flames die, their souls molested,
So, their bodies shall soon turn into a smouldering wreck!
It was a moment when a young lady, aged about fourteen or fifteen, stood before the crowd, reciting these lines with a voice filled with raw emotion, cascading forth like a mountain torrent. The video capturing her impassioned speech went viral on February 1, 2023, marking the second anniversary of the attempted military coup in Burma. Since February 2021, following a brutal crackdown on peaceful strikes, the people of Burma, particularly the country’s youth, have continued to mobilise in various forms as part of the ongoing Spring Revolution against the military junta. This unique video, featuring the young lady’s fervent curse, reminiscent of Minister Min Nan Thu’s, was a poignant expression of defiance aimed at the military dictators and soldiers who callously extinguished thousands of innocent lives.
The last part of the Min Nanda Thu stone inscription reads as follows:
The wanton hand so reckless, so destructive,
that would do damage to my donation of this religious edifice,
May he or she, when travelling by water way,
be attacked by whale sharks and manta rays,
and get killed by ferocious crocodiles
and other underwater predators wild!
May he or she, when travelling by land,
Get devoured by lions, or leopards with sharp fangs,
trampled by elephants, or attacked by wild boars
the body torn apart, in blood and gore!
May he or she suffer the venomous bites
of banded kraits and Indian cobras with fangs gleaming white!
Come, saw-scaled vipers, the Russel’s vipers,
bite the destructive hand black and blue, and slip and slither!
Should he or she happen to fly by air,
May the crooked beaks of mythical garudas dare,
May falcons and eagles swoop at lightning speed,
And his or her soul the claws clutch and squeeze!
May whirlwinds and tempests blow him or her mad,
May the Eight Kinds of Dangers fall right on the head,
May Nemesis in ten different forms get the victim swept,
And snap and fling the soul into the Flames of Death!
The young lady continued to recite the lines of curses with fervour, her voice tinged with bitterness. The genesis of this defiant act dates back to March 6, 2021, when the atrocities committed by the military regime continued to escalate on a daily basis. On that day, a group of women from upcountry Burma, spanning generations, gathered amidst the ancient ruins of pagodas. Balancing bowls of bananas and coconuts on their heads, they staged a demonstration, echoing the curses of Minister Min Nanda Thu. This display of curses seemed to provide an outlet for the pent-up frustrations of a populace compelled to suppress their anger, as the policy of peaceful protest was unanimously adhered to at the time.
However, as time progressed, it became evident, particularly among the younger generations, that neither the curses nor peaceful demonstrations were effective in the face of the military’s threats. It became increasingly clear that armed revolution was the most potent weapon against these armed oppressors. It was on the second anniversary of the attempted military coup that the curses uttered by a young lady, symbolising Generation Z, captured the attention of the media and rapidly spread across various platforms.
O wretched, woebegone military dictator,
May thy life, thy family be no peace, but a disaster!
Double, double, trouble thy heart,
Eleven Fires burn thy physical rampart!
May all thy wealth ebb and flow,
May thy heart be laden with woe!
Thy starving soul shall suffer in Hell,
and be born inside a dumb creature’s shell!
Double, double, trouble thy heart!
Rues shall press thy physical rampart!
Like the curses of Min Nan Thu split thy head,
Thou shalt never be bless’d
with an opportunity to pay reverence
to Ariya Metteyya’s Noble Presence!
In woes we are now lying prone,
but on thy head these woes shall be thrown
till the end of the world!
We fling curses to thee, Fascist ogres,
Thy life shall be an endless calamity,
thy end up being an unlamented tragedy!
This video was a collaborative effort between the Students’ Unions of three universities, serving as a moving reminder of the profound impact of loss and injustice on the Burmese people. When stripped of beloved idols, robbed of land, property, wealth, and power, and deprived of fundamental rights and values such as equality, mutual respect, and justice, the resulting bitterness festers deep within the collective consciousness. Passed down through the generations, these sentiments of bitterness are a testament to the enduring legacy of oppression in Burmese society. Bitterness, a constant companion borne from bitter experiences under military dictatorship, has nurtured a Poison Tree, corroding the very essence of humanity. Are the military dictators powerful enough to ensnare us in a Maze of conflicting emotions, trapped amidst the tumultuous currents of love and hate?”
“Absolutely speechless, mate! Yesterday, it was like a ghost town out there, not a soul in sight on the streets or roads! Just check out Google Maps, mate, it tells the whole story! The day before, the whole city was gridlocked with traffic, but yesterday? Not a peep, just shiny black roads, deserted. Only the ‘Dogs’ were out and about, you know what I mean.”
“And it wasn’t just our city, mate! Listen up! Every town, city, and even villages across the entire country! That was the Silent Strike in action! This is the true essence of the Spring Revolution—we’re determined not to back down but to keep flying our banner high!”
The informal tea party inside the roadside tea shop buzzed with excitement as they exchanged news of agitation amongst themselves.
“Oh, by the way,” chimed in a man sporting a red T-shirt, “have you seen the Min Nan Thu Curses video?”
“I was over the moon, mate,” replied another guy, eagerly sharing the latest scoop he’d seen on Facebook, “people actually obeyed and stayed indoors for the Silent Strike, the whole day!”
“Yeah, mate, it’s fantastic news! The better-off folks stepped up and supported the hawkers and peddlers, who were barely scraping by, to participate in the Silent Strike. A day beforehand, they chipped in some money to help supplement their meagre incomes. And on the actual day, they did their part to ensure the success of the Silent Strike by purchasing goods from these street vendors, helping them make ends meet.”
Seated on rickety wooden stools around a small, cluttered table adorned with empty tea cups, a flask, and plain tea cups before them, these individuals were completely engrossed in discussing and exchanging information about the resounding success of the Silent Strike that had swept across the entire country the other day. For those who had gradually withdrawn from active involvement in the Revolution due to pressures faced over the past two years, the relative success of the Silent Strike served as a significant psychological boost. It revitalised their dormant spirit, reaffirming their belief that if the circumstances demand it, our people, always united, are still prepared to rise and respond. However, witnessing the conflicting narratives of certain politicians and armed revolutionary fighters, there was growing concern among the populace that such lack of unity among leaders could jeopardise the Revolution’s progress. The public perception of the Silent Strike deeply resonated with those who had orchestrated the mission, imbuing them with newfound strength. It was a powerful reminder that despite enduring the brutal realities of oppression, the people remained steadfast and unified, ready to join forces in any mission against dictatorship.
“You know the story of the taxi driver, right?” interjected a young man who had been quiet during the tea party. “He jokingly posted a request for pocket money to cover his daily car rental fees since he wouldn’t be working on the day of the Silent Strike. But when people offered to help pay his rental fees, he had to decline. And then there’s this family I heard about—they were determined not to work that day. They said they’d be happy with just some Nga-pi to go with their rice, you know, that cheap pounded fish paste used in cooking.”
“Well, some companies gave their staff the day off yesterday. And those who stayed indoors kept things quiet, avoiding noisy activities to show solidarity with the Strike,” added another participant.
These people didn’t wait for one speaker to finish before eagerly interjecting their latest information into the ongoing discussion about the riveting topic of the Silent Strike—a subject that would undoubtedly be recorded in the future history of the country. They were deeply moved by the acts of compassion among their fellow citizens and were inspired by the loving kindness displayed by comrades and the unwavering loyalty to stand together until the Strike achieved success. What made this Silent Strike truly remarkable was its complete absence of hate speech, which served to unite the public more strongly than ever before.
“Isn’t it ironic?” remarked one of the attendees. “Those who foolishly staged the Counter Strike in support of the military were a complete failure! They looked utterly ridiculous, standing there all alone on the deserted main roads with no audience to applaud them. Even the funeral of a wretched decoy from a village drew a larger crowd than those demonstrators who joined the strike as a paid job! Barely a hundred of them, holding photos and placards! Can you believe it? Police cars and ten military vehicles were deployed to provide security, guarding those party stooges! What a disgrace to those shameless security forces!”
“Absolutely shameful!” echoed another participant. “Imagine going abroad and having your entire clan see you off at the airport, only to realise that there were more people present than those VIPS—Very Idiotic Persons! From what I’ve heard, those so-called honourable individuals
were paid, initially 5,000 kyats, now 10,000 kyats, for their ‘honourable’ mission! It’s laughable, considering they used to organise much larger demonstrations in support of the military in the past. It’s absurd, isn’t it?”
“It’s safe to say that the number of those supporting the military has significantly dwindled on the ground compared to online platforms. Information about this counter strike against the Silent Strike was disseminated online, outlining transportation services and refreshments for the demonstrators. However, to the dismay of the sponsors, the turnout was far fewer than expected.”
“As you know, the Silent Strike has been staged four times now. Each mission has been a step up from the last, truly unprecedented on a nationwide scale. No other country has done anything like it!”
“Absolutely, brother. We participated because it was a mission born out of mutual understanding and a shared sense of responsibility among our citizens. We’ve shown our unity and resilience by staging this strike multiple times. There’s a quote from a Danish film director—I can’t recall his name—but he said, ‘Silence is the loudest sound in the universe.’ One thing’s for certain, brother, the military can’t withstand our united voice.”
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute! I’ll read out Min Ko Naing’s poem to you. May I have your attention?”
When the day like this comes,
They fear the voice of our people,
They fear the silence of our people, too.
When our people are out in the streets and on the roads,
They are seized with nerve-wracking horror;
When our people shut the doors and keep themselves indoors,
They are seized with maddening fright.
Who are they?
My countrymen, my noble countrymen,
Each of you has done your bit,
and carried out your collective duties and responsibilities.
Our Silent Strike, a huge success,
has shaken the whole world in rumbling vibrations!
Clap! Clap! Clap! In the realm of imagination, the applause resounded loudly in the mind’s ear. However, in reality, the entire tea party remained silent, expressing their delight by mimicking applause without making a sound, a reflection of the Silent Strike. Even customers at other tables, hearing the recitation of the poem, gestured their applause silently, displaying the three-finger salute in protest of the military coup.
As the Curse against the military dictatorship was chanted, fueled by primal rage and burning worries, and expressions of unity, compassion, and humanity were conveyed through silent gestures, both actions unfolded simultaneously. Thus, Hate and Love were the dual reflections of the Spring Revolution. Once, Burma was known for its “Grace under pressure,” but what of its present image? Has it faded from the political landscape? How does the world perceive Burma now, enduring bitter rancour and silent anger under cruel brutalities? Has the world become disconnected, deaf to the cries of our suffering people? Where do we stand on this arduous Journey of Democracy?
On the Road, or Getting Stuck in a Maze?
We’ve embarked on this journey, and if we aim to reach our destination at the end of the road, we must stay on course and continue our march forward. The Road to Democracy has been a nearly four-decade-long endeavour for the citizens of Burma, starting from 1988. We made a promising start, but as history often repeats itself, the military coup swiftly quashed the nationwide demonstrations after a mere six weeks. Under the guise of the State Law and Order Restoration Council, the military junta announced plans for a future general election, inviting all political parties to register.
Despite scepticism among the people, they participated in the 1990 general election, overwhelmingly supporting the key opposition National League for Democracy party (NLD), led by Aung San Suu Kyi. However, our hopes for progress towards democracy were dashed when the junta, instead of honouring the election results, refused to convene parliament and initiated a national convention to draft a new constitution. Only 14 percent of the convention attendees were elected MPs, with many representatives being arrested or forced into exile. It felt like winning a lottery prize only to have the ticket stolen away. This national convention was clearly a diversion from our path to democracy. I was among those vehemently opposed to this plan and paid the price with a twenty-year prison sentence.
Since the inception of this national convention, our journey towards democracy has hit a dead end. It took a staggering fourteen years to finalise the draft constitution, which was eventually approved by a 2008 referendum. We found ourselves at a roadblock. However, in a bid to alleviate mounting international pressure, particularly following the 2003 Depayin massacre, the military junta released many youth leadersfrom the 1988 generation in 2005. This gesture reignited hope among the general public, suggesting a potential path back to our democratic aspirations. The ’88 generation leaders began mobilising society under the guise of humanitarian activities, creative endeavours, and community development assistance. It was akin to uncovering a tunnel leading back to our road to democracy. However, in 2007, spurred by sympathy for donors facing adversity, a significant number of Buddhist monks spearheaded the Saffron Revolution. They marched in long processions through streets and roads, chanting the Metta Sutta and Pali texts to dispel dangers from all beings. This action caught the attention of the junta, but it also kept the public politically vigilant despite severe oppression and fear gripping their hearts.
Even in the face of adversity, countless locals rallied behind and supported the Saffron Revolution. With the advent of new technology, the world became acutely aware of the dire situation unfolding within our borders. We found ourselves halted at a crossroads on our journey. The brutal crackdown instilled terror and apathy among our people, threatening to derail our progress. Yet, despite these challenges, we stood firm in our resistance. In 2008, just over a week after Cyclone Nargis wreaked havoc on the southern part of the country, causing catastrophic destruction and claiming the lives of at least 150,000 people, the military junta seized the opportunity to hold a referendum on the 2008 constitution. Exploiting the nation’s misery and grief, they manipulated the referendum process. Discrepancies emerged between the announced voter turnout by the military junta and the actual population census in 2014. In 2010, a general election was conducted under the 2008 constitution. The National League for Democracy (NLD), led by Aung San Suu Kyi, chose not to participate in what they deemed an unfair election.
As a result, the military proxy political party, the Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP), secured the majority. This left us standing at a critical juncture on our journey.
At this fork in the road to democracy, one path leads to what some call “Stingy Democracy,” permitted by the military junta under the guise of “disciplined democracy.” The other route, “Make-up Democracy,” is governed by a new administration, composed of current civilians dubbed “Baung Bee Chut” (meaning “shedding their military uniforms”) and in-service army personnel known as “Baung Bee Wutt.” Another challenging path, “Khwa Tee Khwa Kya Democracy,” remains unclear—a tumultuous clash within the government itself, pitting civilians advocating for justice and democracy against army personnel with entrenched political ideologies. There’s always the looming possibility of a U-turn towards autocracy, given the military junta’s potential to reverse gears at any moment. However, recent events have shown that we’re no longer at the fork in the road.
On February 1, 2021, the Commander-in-Chief, alleging electoral fraud in the 2020 general election, invoked sections of the 2008 constitution to declare himself Chairman of the State Administrative Council (SAC). This move, widely viewed as a coup aimed at reinstating military rule, led to the overthrow of the elected government. Despite the SAC’s claim of “state power control” and promises of a new election, their actions breached the constitution and amounted to an attempted coup, potentially constituting high treason. We’re now in a situation where our road to democracy seems lost. It’s akin to the aftermath of the 1988 uprising, where we find ourselves trapped in a Maze without an exit.
Despite our weariness from this prolonged journey, we still cling to the hope that we’re on the path to democracy. Indeed, the Spring Revolution has been tirelessly engaged in dismantling the walls of the Maze and paving the way for a new highway towards a federal democratic union. This endeavour involves various strategies and actions aimed at achieving comprehensive change in both the political system and the cultural norms of Burma. One significant shift in the revolution’s motto from “Down with the military dictatorship!” to “Down with any form of dictatorship!” underscores its broader objectives. Beyond simply overthrowing the existing military regime, the revolution seeks to uproot all forms of undemocratic practices and outdated cultural conventions that no longer align with modern principles.
The people of Burma are resolute in their determination not to remain trapped within the confines of the Maze, whether thick or thin. They are committed to toppling any barriers that obstruct the path to democracy and equilibrium. This determination extends to the collapse of the entire Maze, symbolised by the Burmese term “Wingaba,” representing all walls and barriers hindering progress. The people of Burma are in fact forging a new highway towards a federal democratic union. They are taking charge of constructing this road, shaping it according to their aspirations, and steadfastly advancing towards their destination. This collective effort involves persistent activism, grassroots mobilisation, and a steadfast commitment to democratic ideals.
Through such concerted efforts, the Spring Revolution is not only challenging the entrenched power structures but also laying the groundwork for a more inclusive, equitable, and democratic society. It is a journey marked by resilience, unity, and an unwavering belief in the possibility of transformative change.
Ma Thida is a Burmese medical doctor, writer, human rights activist and former prisoner of conscience. Her book A-Maze is available for purchase here.
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