The Bagan Brick and the Mortar of Jaggery
The Bagan Brick and the Mortar of Jaggery — an invention story. 10 illustrated pages, narrated, on the kids shelf, free to read on Wonder Inventions.
Page 1
The oxcart wheels slammed into the gateway stones and the whole cart bucked sideways under the great brick arch of Tharabha Gate, taller than three men standing on each other's shoulders. A stack of fresh red bricks lurched, tipped, and one toppled off the rail, bursting on the cobbles into a puff of rose-red dust. Mi Thuzar sprang down and dropped to her knees beside the broken brick, brushing shards away with both hands. Behind her, U Ba Toke hauled hard on the ox's rope to stop the cart from rolling further, bracing his sandaled feet against the stones, while Po Po scrambled down after his sister, nearly tripping on his too-big shorts, the parakeet flapping to keep its grip on his shoulder. As Thuzar knelt in the settling dust, she lifted her face toward the plain beyond the gate — and froze, pointing at the far red spire of Sulamani Temple, where a whole chunk of arch had vanished, torn away by last night's storm wind.
Page 2
The corridor swallowed the lamp's little flame, brick walls rising taller than three men stacked head to toe on either side. U Ba Toke braced his bare feet wide and hauled Mi Thuzar up by her ankles until she sat astride his shoulders, her hand pressed flat against ancient brick for balance. She drew her brass knife from its cord and scraped it hard along the mortar joint, leaning and dragging it brick after brick, but the blade only skated and would not bite. "Nine hundred years and not one crack to slip into," she muttered, scraping harder. Below, Po Po trotted after his parakeet as it swooped at the oil lamp sitting on a brick ledge, and with one flap of green wings it toppled the lamp off the edge. U Ba Toke lunged sideways, nearly spilling his sister, and caught the lamp in both hands before the oil could spread across the floor, hot wax splashing his wrist. Po Po scrambled underneath, arms out, ready to catch what nobody dropped.
Page 3
They hauled the broken bricks in armfuls, dropping them beside the big stone quern with dusty thuds. U Ba Toke set his shoulder against the grinding wheel, taller than Thuzar's waist, and shoved it round in slow red circles while she fed in chunks of brick between turns. Po Po staggered up with a basket almost as big as himself, powder already sifting from the cracked rim.
"Careful, little monk, carry it low!" U Ba Toke called, wiping his brow with a red-smeared forearm.
But Po Po, grinning, lifted the basket high over his head to show how strong he was — and it tipped. A whole cloud of rose-red dust burst upward, swallowing all three of them. Thuzar coughed and grabbed for her brother, pulling him back from the quern's turning stone, while U Ba Toke flung up his arms too late to catch the basket. When the dust settled, their hair, skin, and clothes were stained brick-pink, and the parakeet on Po Po's shoulder sneezed, shaking a puff of red powder from its green feathers.
Page 4
The palm trunk rose eighty feet, thin as a mast and swaying with every gust off the dry fields. Ko Lin hooked the bamboo hoop around the trunk and his own waist, planted his bare feet on the bark, and walked himself upward in jerking hops, higher and higher until the cattle below looked like beetles. At the crown he untied two clay pots brimming with sap and lowered them hand over hand on a long rope, calling down warnings each time the swaying sent them swinging. U Ba Toke braced the rope's end round his own forearm, grunting with the pull. Suddenly the rope jerked, slipped through his lime-whitened hands, and one pot tipped loose, spinning down through the air. Thuzar was already running, bare feet slapping the stubble, and she flung herself flat across the dry field, skirt stretched wide between her hands like a net. The pot thudded into the cloth, sap sloshing but caught, only a splash lost into the dust. Po Po shrieked with delight, clapping sticky hands, the parakeet screeching on his shoulder.
Page 5
Smoke curled under the thatch as the long paddle dragged through the iron pan, slower now, the sap thickening from pale gold to deep amber. U Ba Toke leaned his whole weight into the stirring, his pale forearms gleaming with lime dust and syrup, while Ko Lin fed split wood under the fire, flames licking the pan's waist-high rim. Mi Thuzar braced the paddle handle with both hands, pulling against her grandfather's push, their arms working as one. Po Po darted close, sticky fingers reaching for a taste, and knocked the ladle sideways — a bright ribbon of syrup slopped onto the swept earth floor and spread flat. Before anyone could shout, Po Po's bare foot planted right in the middle of it. The syrup cooled fast, setting hard as resin, gluing his foot to the ground. He yanked and toppled, parakeet flapping off his shoulder, while Ko Lin dropped the firewood and knelt to pry the boy's foot free with both hands, peeling it off the floor like old varnish.
Page 6
U Ba Toke tipped the bucket and the pit of burnt limestone roared up in a wall of white steam, hissing like a hundred kettles. Mi Thuzar jumped back, shielding her face with her arm, while Po Po shrieked with delight and clapped his sticky hands until the parakeet flapped off his shoulder in alarm. 'Shovels, now, before the gusts come!' bellowed U Ba Toke, already plunging his into the bubbling putty. Ko Lin swung his bucket in and hauled it dripping to the steps, his big arms corded with effort. Thuzar dug her shovel beside him, scooping fast, while Po Po scrambled to hold the bucket steady so none spilled. Up the cliff steps they ran in a chain, passing full buckets hand to hand, the white sky darkening fast over the river. 'Faster, the wind's turning!' cried Thuzar, grabbing Po Po's bucket when his small arms shook. They slammed the last full pail down at the top just as the first storm gust tore sand up off the sandbank below.
Page 7
The wind came out of nowhere, black and screaming, flattening the sand into stinging ribbons that whipped across everyone's shins. The oxcart rocked, and the squat clay jaggery pot — waist-high on Po Po, heavy as a sack of rice — tipped off the cart edge and bounded down the sandbank toward the river, bouncing hard on each landing. "The pot!" Mi Thuzar screamed, lunging and missing it by a hand's width. U Ba Toke grabbed the cart's rope to stop it rolling further, shouting over the wind. Po Po clutched the parakeet to his chest, ducking low against the blasting sand. Ko Lin dropped the rope coil from his shoulder and ran, his long legs eating the slope, then slid the last stretch on his bare heels, arms flung wide, and scooped the pot up just as the river's edge licked at its rim. He held it high, grinning, sand-blasted and triumphant, while the fishing boats behind him strained against their ropes.
Page 8
Rain slammed the monastery roof like fists on a drum as the four of them ducked through the stone doorway, taller than two of U Ba Toke stacked, into the painted hall. Thuzar set the clay measuring bowl on the floor and it split clean in half under the weight of brick powder. She stared at the broken halves, then grabbed Po Po's wrists and pulled his sticky hands into a cup. "These'll measure for us," she said. U Ba Toke knelt, scooping brick dust into the small cupped hands, counting aloud as Po Po tipped each load onto the stone floor. Ko Lin hauled over the lime sack and jaggery pot, slamming them down within reach. Thuzar counted the handfuls — eight of brick powder, four of lime, one of dark jaggery — and dropped to her knees to knead the pile with both fists, pressing and folding until U Ba Toke slapped it flat and smooth with his float-trowel, murals glowing gold around them in the candlelight.
Page 9
The rope creaked, twice a man's height long, as Ko Lin hauled hand over hand, bracing his bare feet against the bamboo pole lashed across the scaffold. The last brick swung up out of the grey morning air, and he caught it one-handed against his chest, grunting, then slapped it down on the plank beside U Ba Toke's knee. The old man dipped his float-trowel into the mortar pot and buttered the brick's edge so thin it looked like a wet shadow, smoothing it twice with his thumb. "Thin as breath," he muttered, "or it won't hold the old stone's trust." Thuzar and Po Po threw their shoulders against the brick together, shoving it into the gap in the cracked arch until it seated with a soft grind. Po Po puffed out his cheeks with the effort, bracing his small sticky palms flat on the brick. Thuzar pulled her brass knife free and dragged it along the fresh joint — and the blade skated clean across, refusing to catch, same as at Dhammayangyi.
Page 10
They climbed the steep red stairs of the great terraced pagoda, each step waist-high and crumbling at the edge, Ko Lin hauling the long bamboo pole over his shoulder while the others scrambled up behind, grabbing the carved ledges for balance. At the top, the whole washed plain opened below, two thousand temples steaming in the dawn mist and balloons lifting slow and round over the river. Ko Lin planted the pole against the terrace rail and lashed a little white pennant to it, pulling the knot tight with his teeth while Thuzar held the fluttering cloth still. U Ba Toke clapped the dust from his hands and dropped cross-legged with a grunt, pulling the last slab of jaggery from his waistband. He snapped it into four sticky pieces, pressing one into each open palm. Po Po lunged for the biggest piece — but the parakeet beat him to it, snatching it off his sister's hand and flapping up onto the rail, cheeks already stuffed with victory.
About this story
- Audience: kids (ages 6–12)
- Format: 10 illustrated pages, narrated, on the kids shelf, free to read on Wonder Inventions
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