The Lizard Cage Read Online Free PDF Page B

conjure the smell of a lime?
    Or his girlfriend’s skin, the soft inner wrist before it flooded up the rest of her arm? His fingers always wanted to go farther up her sleeve.
    The door remains closed. He presses his hands against the teak, then turns and leans against it, pushes his shoulder blades into the grain. He knocks the back of his head, once, against the wood, gets a sharp whiff of his black hair. He glances up at the vent. It’s getting dark outside. Soon the moths will appear. Despite knowing exactly what will happen, he feels a shiver of anticipation. Attracted by the light in his cell, the moths will flap in through the air vent. The lizards will come after them.
    He thumps his head against the door once more.
    I t’s hard to catch a lizard with your bare hands.
    Sometimes they are far down the walls, already close. More often he lures them down from the ceiling with live moths, the odd fly. He once used a small praying mantis, but that was early on, before he knew better. The mantis was bright new-leaf green, a rare color in the cage, never to be used as mere bait.
    The lizard hunt is a shameful compulsion. Occasionally, disgusted with himself, he has stopped it for long periods.
    But it’s like giving up smoking. Starting again is irresistibly attractive.
    He has always needed the tiny reptiles.
Always
. How pathetic, to talk as if he’d been born here. Even when his food parcel arrives on time, he regularly supplements his diet with lizards. Despite his mother’s generosity, a parcel every two weeks is not enough food, because he shares what hasn’t already been stolen with Sein Yun. He’s not obliged to give his server food, but it makes his life easier. In exchange, Sein Yun will bring him extras: cheroots and lighters, rags and soap. Some time ago—he can’t remember if it was in his fourth or his fifth year—one of the servers, in gratitude for the extra food, used to bring Teza extraordinary and frivolous things, like real toilet paper, or a cup of warm tea. Some of the menhave been as kind as the cage allows. He owes them a lot. Senior Jailer Chit Naing, for example. What would he do without him? Teza is sure that the Chief Warden himself somehow got wind of their friendship. That’s why Chit Naing’s duties no longer include overseeing the teak coffin.
    The singer will always be grateful to the senior jailer, but when he thinks about it pragmatically, measuring out his allegiances, he knows that he owes the lizards his life. The protein has been crucial, but the best part is the hunt. The anticipation and physical prowess involved in stalking are a great relief from the boredom.
    Even if you hate killing a lizard, a feeling of triumph fills you once the wriggling body goes still. Then you must eat it, because to waste the death is another crime.
    F or the first couple of years of his imprisonment, Teza counted them. Three hundred and sixty-two. That may seem like a lot, but it wasn’t. The early years were the worst. His body rebelled against so many kinds of deprivation. The hunger for food was only one of many hungers, but it caused him a very particular anxiety.
    Three hundred and sixty-two times he sent apologies to his mother and reflected guiltily upon the First Precept, which is to refrain from harming or taking life. In his infinite compassion, the Lord Buddha would understand, but Teza suspected his mother would give him a big lecture. Daw Sanda might allow the eating of insects, but not small, four-legged creatures with red blood.
    His mother has been a vegetarian for years. She is a devout Buddhist.
    By the time he was an expert at catching and killing the reptiles, the numbers started bothering him, adding to his guilt. Certain records, he decided, shouldn’t be kept. He talks to himself often, without embarrassment, and when he decided to stop counting the executions, he said out loud, “Some records just go missing.” These words were followed by an unnatural, forceful