Column 1
Written by Silver Crown, Edited
Chapter-1 Hello everyone my name is...
A big ship with a dragon bow was cruising on the surface of the deep blue ocean. It was moving at such a fast speed that it broke the waves and created many waves along the way. On that big ship, many people are working along the deck. Some are pulling the fishing net. Some carry the load. Some cleaning algae and salt forming on the ship haul.
Together with a group of young boys wearing dirty and shabby clothing, I am working on the ship deck. I am currently cleaning the deck with a wet rag and a bucket under the sunny sky. The salty breeze from the turbulent sea assaulted my nose. Leaving a tickling sensation inside my nostrils.
I rubbed my nose and looked around for a brief moment. My eyes met a man in charge. His hand held a whip, he was overseeing us with an unsympathetic gaze. He looked at me. I was looking at him. And he looked at me. I looked at him. Two of our eyes met.
There weren't sparks shooting between us. Only a sharp whistling resounded in my ears.
The tip of his whip landed squarely on my left cheek. If I didn't tilt my head to the side, it wouldn't be my bloody cheek but my bloody nose.
I lowered my head with teary eyes. Covering my left cheek with my right hand, I continued cleaning the deck.
I really wanted to cry out of pain but I didn't. Because throughout this voyage, I have learned many things. I can say one thing for sure. If I cry, there will be more.
I continued the job they tasked upon me. Hello everybody! Since you don't know anything about me, I'll introduce myself first.
My name is Tian yin. Yes, although the language I'm currently speaking in this world is not Chinese, the name's literal meaning is 'cunnilingus'. There was a long story about how I got this name.
Other than this particular name, I also have a particular identity. I think I am a transmigrated person from another World. I can vividly recall what happened in my previous life.
In my past life, I thought my name was a joke. Never did I expect, in my new life, I have to choose a dirty word as a name.
My previous name was 'Java' a programming code or maybe a coffee brand. In this life, my name became bad to the bone. Nonetheless, I was the one who decided to use this name.
My previous father wasn't literate. He named his sons and started with Ji and his daughter with Ritu. My real name should be 'Jiva' (mean-individuality). However, the administrator wrote the wrong letter in the school submission. So, my name Java became permanent.
Then throughout my life, my name became a joke for my peers and colleagues. It was also undeniable that a distinctive name also gives me many perks too.
I just thought of these names only because no one would recall or know me with any of those aliases. Since the ship I am currently riding, is heading to a destination that none of my family or acquaintances know about.
Well, apart from my cousin.
"Whistle."
A sharp pain spread across my back. Driving me out of my thoughts as well as my current work.
He is whipping me again. Does he want to hear some sort of apology from my mouth?
"I'm sorry, I wouldn't slack off again."
I gave him what he wanted with a teary voice. Yet, it was the wrong answer. I have to enjoy another lashing from him. I exaggerated the pain like an injured soccer player on the field. Hopefully, that would spare me from his beating.
He thrashed me three more times ripping my clothes fabric and causing bloody wounds on my back. After he vented his anger, he walked away as if nothing had happened. I shakily got up from the floor and continued my work. My roommate looked at me with worried faces but none of them dared to come forward and help me.
I have to swallow my bitterness and dignity to continue living. That wasn't difficult for me. In fact, I'm used to it.
I have done it many times in my previous life. I was an uncanny person from childhood to adulthood. Struggling for money like everyone else on a planet called earth.
Money is needed to eat, shit, pay for the necessities bail, clothing, daily use, etc. My thoughts drifted to my past life memory.
My parents were poor to the extreme but they weren't poor in something. That one thing they are rich in is the child. They have a lot of children. They sired eight children including me. Nonetheless, they still went for eleven so they would have a team to play cricket.
Even my parents worked until their forehead sweat dripped to the toe, they couldn't afford to feed eight hungry mouths. So please don't talk about the child labor ACT.
I have to struggle for each and every meal I eat. I have learned to keep my head low for each and every action to sire pity on me. Thus why, from a young age, I knew the immensity of money, status, and materials needed for a human.
When I was young, I sold cheap ice shaves. Utilizing ice left over from curing fish. For a little bit of money, I carried ice with my bare hands from the harbor to the bus post. Where I sell them to travelers as vendors together with my brothers who sell snacks and pastries.
Both of my parents were illiterate so they didn't know why education is important.
And so did I.
Since we are illiterate we got swindled by others like a noun. Even if we sold out all of our goods, the profit we got is so minuscule. One day, my genius big brother thought of a business opportunity at a new school that recently opened in our village.
He dressed me in an old-school uniform. Holding my hand, he sold snacks and pastries at the school gate. We got many sales and earned a bit of money. I was rubbing my hands in expectation. Drooling over the money we earned.
In the end, he didn't give me a portion of the share as he promised. I was so mad and I walked through the gate. I really hoped he got arrested for his actions.
Although I came inside the school without thinking about anything, I started to freak out to exit the school gate. I don't want to get punished.
When I was mulling over whether to go back, the school gate was already closed. Children started to sing the national anthem. After some words from the headmaster, they entered their classroom.
Curious about what they were doing, I peeked from the outside of a classroom window. I have nothing. Neither a book nor a pencil. I don't even know what things are needed.
At that moment something I didn't expect happened. It was the event that changed my life completely, so I do remember vividly those events like they happened yesterday. A kind and naïve teacher saw me from the class. He allowed me to enter the classroom and the class continued as usual.
I was sweating profusely from head to toe. I was afraid that I might get caught so I sat around the corner. I prayed to every god and deity I know just not to get caught.
My prayers only last for two periods. A teacher with a stick came into the class. As soon as we saw him, everyone stopped whatever they were doing. They stood up abruptly and greeted him.
He walked in and didn't say a word. He stood on the stage in front of the class and analyzed his students' faces.
He saw I was murmuring something. He stopped in front of me and hit my desk with a stick. My heart stopped and my blood turned cold, tears dropped from my eyes.
He scolded me why I didn't memorize the lesson he was going to examine orally. I just keep crying.
He caned my butt and punished me to stand up on the chair. Now, I think about it, I'm scared of his cane more than the whip that gave me a bleeding wound on my back.
At that time, I heard other children verbalize the paragraph they memorized.
Some got hit and stood up with me. Some even cried and pee their pants. The power of teachers in that era was too great. They are too strict and scary.
The teacher told us he was going to question us once more. If we didn't memorize the paragraph, he would beat us more on the front stage.
I got scared and memorized what they uttered as if my life depended upon it. I answered with a shaky voice when he questioned me again.
I was spared from the beating. I also watched a show of my comrade's butt cheeks kissing the stick with a loud scream.
After that, he continued his lessons. I don't have a textbook so the teacher put me near a deskmate to share. Textbooks were a rare commodity in that era. The teachers wrote down important notes on the board for the students.
At lunch break, I dashed to the gate. However, that bastard (my brother) couldn't be seen anywhere and the gate was still closed. Feeling dejected, I walked back to the school.
Everyone was eating their lunchboxes and chatting with their friends. I watched them with overflowing saliva. I tried to avert my eyes to the ground but the delicious aroma was bewitching my gaze.
They placed their lunchbox at the back of the classroom and went out to play.
My mother said 'stealing is not good but my tummy was saying 'please'. I sneaked into an empty classroom. Opened some lunch boxes and ate their leftover meal.
It was so good that I could swallow my tongue, I don't understand why they left something delicious like this.
I licked the plate clean. Since I have nothing to pay, I washed their lunch boxes with tap water as an atonement.
I wished I could go to school every day if I could have a meal like this.
My wish was shattered into pieces when a teacher made a roll call during the evening period.
She grabbed me by the wrist and brought me to the headmaster's office.
News that a poor dirt boy slipped into the school and learning without paying fees spread throughout the village after that day. From there, my previous life was given a chance to climb from a pit of endless struggle by a group of people.