SIAM: Garden of Smiles

(5 of 9)

Batches of astrologers operate about the Grand Palace every day, telling fortunes for a deal (a deal's a nickel) each, but better-class Siamese consider them quacks. Real astrologers are learned men. members of the Astrological Society of Siam, who usually hold clerks' jobs in government offices by day and practice their profession in their homes at night, for fees up to 100 tics per fortune.

Siamese astrology got a wonderful break in the 13th Century. A skeptical king sent for a famed astrologer known as "The Abbot of the Forest." Before the seer appeared, the King ordered one of his servants to catch a mouse, place it under an inverted golden bowl. Then the Abbot was called in. "Now," said the King, "what lies under the golden bowl?"

"A creature with five lives," said the Abbot.

The King chortled the 13th Century Siamese equivalent of "Aha, we got him," and ordered a page to lift the bowl. There lay the mouse, suckling four young. After that, there was no stopping the astrologers. Some, however, think they have gone too far. Siam's most revered astrologer, Phya Hora Thibodi Yarnavej, retired a few years ago with a bitter valedictory:

"Astrologers have become too mercenary. I prefer to play the violin and grow orchids. If you think too much about the stars, you get muddled in the head."

Bapa v. Bunya. There are other superstitions, including the suea yant, a red jacket enscribed with Cambodian letters , Which is guaranteed to protect the wearer "against all harm so long as he has faith in the magic jacket. Seven lucky possessors of these jackets in one of Bangkok's northern suburbs recently took advantage of their invulnerability to terrorize the neighborhood. A fortnight ago, some 50 of their fed-up neighbors took axes and dropped in on the seven to test their magic garments. Before the cops arrived three of the seven were dead. But a brisk demand for the red jackets continued. The dead men, everybody agreed, lacked faith.

On a far higher plane than such folklore is the religion of the Siamese. They claim theirs is the purest form of Buddhism in the world; many travelers have been impressed by the relaxed and decorous atmosphere of Siamese temples, the devotees reclining with happy, compassionate smiles, the priests all dignity and kindness. Buddhists believe a man by good works stores up bunya (merits) to balance against his bapa (sins).

A Buddhist monk may not preach until the congregation asks him to. He usually asks that they gain bunya by agreeing (for one day, not for life) to obey five commandments: 1) thou shalt not kill anything, not even the mosquito that bites you, 2) nor steal, 3) nor lie, 4) nor commit adultery, 5) nor take intoxicating drinks. Many Siamese strike a balance between bunya and bapa by agreeing to observe commandments 4 and 5 only on alternate days.

Mai Ben Rai. This moderation even in virtue is characteristic of Siam. As the Spaniard says manana, so the Siamese says mai ben rai. If a government official is proved crooked or a wife unfaithful, if a favorite gamecock refuses to fight or an old friend proves treacherous, the Siamese says mai ben rai. It means never mind.

Are all the spies in Bangkok lodged, as rumor says, in the Oriental Hotel? Mai ben rai.