Anguli Ma Read Online Free PDF

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    ÄÃ o replaced the biros, and then carried the sateen cushions and the container of biros to her room and locked it. She took the teapot and cups back to the kitchen. To her surprise, she could hear Young Triều’s voice in the backyard, laughing like a cúc-ca ba-ra . Đào brightened immediately, for she thought Sinh had returned home and was talking with Young Triều. She went out to the backyard ready to tease the girl, but when she came out, it was not Sinh at all. Young Triều was with Anguli Ma.

Young Triều
    It was Young Triều’s first time at a hụi game. He was inevitably the subject of curiosity by all present, and was asked how his studies at the local university were going. He told Đào he had just completed his final year, and had passed all his subjects. Everyone in Đào’s gaudy living room beamed at the young man.
    When Young Triều was on campus, he only went to the lectures or tutorials, he didn’t spend his weekends at the student pubs or any of the extra-curricular activities. He felt old there, even though he was the same age as his fellow students who were born and raised in Australia, and whose parents ran their own companies and owned holiday homes. Then there were the kids who studied less than him, who walked around with a blank notepad and a pen, but still got higher scores than he did. Falling behind, Young Triều tried to memorise the patterns of the maths problems as an approximate to understanding how to solve them. But during exams, the problems were written as little narratives rather than as equations, and so it was in the application of things that Young Triều found difficulty. He blamed his mediocre results on his language ability. The truth, unrecognised by all, including himself, was that even if the problem was written in Vietnamese, he still would not be able to make the equations work.
    Young Triều stared at the plastic tray of sugared coconut-meat,roasted pumpkin seeds and desiccated jackfruit on Đào’s coffee table. Young Triều wasn’t saving for himself, he was at the hụi game on behalf of his mother. The hụi game seemed to be for people to make money, to be put in some dusty drawer away from life.
    â€œBà Sáu’s son got the Piggy today,” Đào exclaimed. Everyone congratulated Young Triều for his mother having successfully borrowed that month’s funds. The lady of the house gathered everyone’s cash and counted the notes. Then she handed the bundle over to Young Triều.
    It was the weekend and he was bored with being there. But if the money had belonged to him, if he had a few thousand spare, he would go overseas to Hollywood to see how violent movies like Scarface or Taxi Driver were made, to shake hands with the likes of Al Pacino or De Niro.
    The Brown Man
    The next time they meet at the park, the monk again invites the brown man to sit with him. His voice is resonant and clear as a bell, which makes the listener become subdued, muted. He stops, ready to set himself down. The monk instructs him to sit and not to move his arms and legs; that when he notices an itch on his face or body, instead of unconsciously scratching at it, to endeavour not to scratch it. The air isstill, as though intently listening to them. Upon hearing the challenge, the brown man almost swoops down on the bench, crosses his legs and closes his eyes. With his fierce will and hardened limbs, he arrogantly believes that he can better the monk.
    After six seconds, the man’s rude hand scratches an itch on his face. He comes to be aware of this only after he hears his fingernails scraping his cheek. He stops, and looks at his unconscious hand with a sense of bewilderment and suspicion. He sees that the monk has not moved at all. “This monk must have some secret power,” the brown man curses to himself.
    He tries being still once more, with his