With a violent wind from the south and the tide receding steadily, the river becomes an arena of chaos. The coarse water swells and waves, crested with frothy white heads, clash against one another like restless spirits. They seem to rise and fall with a primal force, as if they are dancing wildly to the rhythm of an unseen orchestra. Amidst this wild watery waltz, a little boat struggles for balance, rolling and tossing like a leaf caught in a storm. The river, at this moment, does not welcome peace.
Inside the boat, the boatman’s hands grip the oars tightly, knuckles pale with effort. His arms are weary, his mind clouded with anxiety. The boat, though small and fragile, is his entire world. It holds not just his body but his hopes, his thoughts, his fears. The helm resists his control, pulling him left and right, and for a moment, it seems the storm outside has awakened a storm within. Madness whispers from the corners of his mind, tempting him to surrender to the river’s will.
As the tide continues to ebb, revealing the secrets of the riverbed, long brownish mudflats appear on both banks like ancient tongues licking the edges of the current. These flats, glistening under the softening light of the afternoon, stretch far into the horizon. Upon them, the world finds a moment of calm. A little white egret, elegant and still, stands like a statue carved by the hand of serenity. It balances gracefully on one leg, the other tucked beneath its wing, eyes half-closed, indifferent to the turmoil nearby. It is a picture of peace in the face of unrest.
Somewhere beyond, a group of little birds resumes their quiet singing, repeating the same notes like a lullaby handed down through generations. Their monotonous tunes are not boring but sacred, an ancient comfort that tells of endurance and continuity. The wind carries this melody across the water, reaching the boat and softening the rough edges of the boatman’s mind. It is a yearning, a longing for something gentle, something still.
The river’s current continues its course, flowing with a resonant roar. Yet even this sound, powerful and rough, seems to become a kind of music – a song of the tide, a chant of nature’s clock. And there, right in the heart of it all, floats the little boat. It does not drift aimlessly. It resists, it struggles, it dreams. The coat it wears is not of fabric but of determination, holding it together as the world around it churns and moans.
Downstream, a cluster of water hyacinths bobs along joyfully, carried effortlessly by the current. Their purple blossoms wave like tiny flags of farewell. Unlike the boat, they do not resist. They follow the flow, unburdened. They have no destination, no fight, only movement and surrender. They vanish into the distance, turning their faces away from the struggles of the little boat.
But the boatman has chosen a different path. He must go upstream. He must fight the course of the current. The tide, though fading, leaves behind a coarse and muddy texture on the water’s surface, making the journey all the more difficult. Yet he continues. His arms may ache, his breath may grow short, but his will does not falter. The river may threaten to break him, but it will not break his resolve.
The oars in his hands are small. The whirlpools ahead must be avoided with skill and intuition. Each paddle stroke is both an act of survival and an act of faith. The sky above darkens slowly, the late afternoon bleeding into dusk. Shadows stretch across the mudflats. The wind begins to hush. Night is coming.
Still, he rows.
The river becomes more than just a body of water. It becomes a metaphor for life – a wide, unpredictable road filled with storms and whirlpools, soft melodies and sudden winds.
Each of us is like that little boat. We do not always travel on calm waters. Our paths are not always clear or easy. Life’s current does not always carry us where we wish to go. And even if it does, sometimes we must choose to turn against it.
Some journey downstream, flowing effortlessly with the current. They do not struggle; their passage is smooth, graceful. They wave as they pass, like the hyacinths, unaware or perhaps uncaring of the effort others must make to move forward. But it’s not always the safer journey. Even downstream, rocks lie hidden beneath the surface. Even the easy road can lead to unknown danger.
Others, like the little boat, must journey upstream. Their path is harder, but perhaps more meaningful. They learn resilience, they build strength. Each paddle forward is a triumph. And though the progress is slow, every inch gained is won with honour.
Not all travellers reach their destination. Some may be lost along the way, caught in the whirlpools of circumstance, pulled down by the unexpected. Others may find themselves turning in circles, unsure of where to go. But in the heart of every journey, there must be purpose. There must be a reason to keep rowing.
The little boat, though tired and tossed, keeps its sight set ahead. The boatman, though nearly overwhelmed, listens to the wind, watches the water, and whispers, “Oh, little village, you are not far away, are you?” He believes in the destination. He believes that beyond the bend, past the storm, there is a place of rest – a quiet harbour with lights in windows and warm meals waiting. A place of belonging.
The sky deepens into indigo. Stars begin to shimmer above, faint and few at first, then multiply into a soft cosmic field of light. They do not speak, but their silent presence comforts the boatman. They, too, are travellers, voyaging across the heavens. Their light is ancient, yet it reaches him now, reminding him that he is not alone.
In the river, the waves settle slightly. The moon begins to rise, casting a silver ribbon upon the water. It is faint, but enough. The boatman’s eyes, though weary, find strength in that shimmer. It becomes a guide, a thread of hope stretching from his tired boat to the unseen shore.
So he rows.
The journey is not yet over, but it is not without beauty. The struggle is not yet finished, but it is not without meaning. And the little boat, though bruised by waves and worn by wind, continues forward, with grace, with courage, with hope.
GNLM
When I was younger, the market felt like a stage, and I thought I was one of its clever performers. Every time I bargained something down to half the price, it felt like winning a secret game. I remember the silent pride that rose in me when I walked away holding something I wanted, feeling light, satisfied, and quietly pleased with myself. I never thought about the other side of that moment. I didn’t see the whole picture.
Back then, I believed I was simply being smart. But growing older teaches us to see not just outcomes, but emotions, especially the ones we once ignored. One day, I remembered a time I bargained with an elderly woman selling handmade baskets on the roadside. I had pushed the price low until she nodded, wrapped the basket in old paper, and handed it to me. Her smile was small, but her eyes looked distant. At the time, I saw only my success. Now, I see her loss.
Looking back, I realize she didn’t agree with delight. She agreed with quiet reluctance. Maybe she hadn’t made a sale all day. Maybe she needed some extra money to get home. I had been celebrating a win, unaware that she was giving something up with a heavy heart.
That basket, once a prize in my eyes, now feels different. It carries something invisible – an unspoken sadness. It wasn’t a gift freely given, but something surrendered. And it taught me that what we take, when it comes with discomfort or pressure, is never just a thing. It’s wrapped in emotion. It comes with weight; we don’t always feel right away.
But there’s another side to this.
Let’s imagine a moment when, instead of bargaining, we offer more than what is asked. We say, “Keep the change”, or compliment the seller’s craft with sincerity. We look them in the eye and mean it. In that moment, something shifts. The seller lights up. They feel seen and valued, not defeated. What they give us in return carries their joy. The item becomes more than just a product—it becomes a token of human connection, given with pride and peace.
This, I’ve learned, is what truly matters in any exchange: not the price, but the feeling behind it. When we take something that someone offers freely, we carry their warmth with us. But when we take what someone is not ready to give, even if they say yes, we carry their sorrow.
This lesson isn’t only about markets. It’s about our daily interactions – our relationships, our conversations, the way we treat people’s time, energy, and trust.
Sometimes we ask for favours. Sometimes we borrow someone’s ear or heart. And often, people say yes even when they don’t want to. They smile, they nod, they do what we ask. But deep down, they’re tired, unsure, or unwilling. We don’t always notice, and sometimes we choose not to.
But the truth remains: when we take from someone who is hurting, hesitant, or afraid to say no, we don’t walk away with a gift. We walk away with a burden.
It’s easy to forget that the quiet discomfort someone feels when they give us something they didn’t want to give doesn’t disappear. It stays in the space between us. It may not be visible, but it lives in the memory of that exchange, and in the way they feel the next time we speak.
That’s why giving more – more patience, more presence, more care – matters. When we offer a kind word when it isn’t expected, when we give our full attention even for a few minutes, when we help without waiting to be asked, we create something beautiful. These moments become little gifts of their own. Not just to the other person, but to ourselves. Because kindness, freely given, circles back in quiet and powerful ways.
Even with strangers, these small acts can mean the world. Holding the door a little longer. Letting someone speak without rushing them. Smiling sincerely when the world seems too fast. These are the things that make people feel human again, even if only for a moment. But just as we must give with intention, we must also learn to receive with care.
There are times when we want something: someone’s time, someone’s understanding, maybe even their forgiveness, but we sense hesitation. We hear the pause. We feel the silence between their words. And in those moments, we must be brave enough to let go. To respect their boundaries. To walk away without taking more than they’re willing to give.
Because what we gain at someone else’s emotional cost never stays sweet. It begins to weigh on us. It becomes a quiet sadness we carry, whether or not we admit it. Someone’s unspoken grief can become our silent regret.
But imagine a different kind of world. A world where people give only when they want to, and where we take only what is freely offered. Where every exchange, whether big or small, is filled with willingness, not pressure. Where people leave each interaction feeling just a little more whole, a little more respected.
That is the kind of world we build when we choose kindness. When we speak with care. When we notice what’s behind someone’s yes, and listen when their silence speaks louder. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being present. Aware. Thoughtful.
So, before we take something from a market, a moment, or a person, let us ask ourselves: Is this being offered with joy? Or am I pushing too far? And when we give, let us give not just what’s asked, but what’s meaningful. Let us give with warmth, not obligation. Let us leave behind peace, not pressure.
Because in the end, what truly lasts is not how much we’ve gained, but how deeply we’ve connected. Not what we’ve held in our hands, but what we’ve left in people’s hearts. The things we carry in life are not always seen. But they are always felt. So let us make sure that what we take – and what we give – leaves behind light, not weight.
GNLM
Brief bio-data of poet Maung Swan Yi
The poet Maung Swan Yi (real name U Win Pe) was born on 17 February 1937 near a village in the town of Myingyan in what was then upper (British or colonial) Burma. He attended the University of Mandalay in the late 1950s and 1960s. Since his early University days, he had published his poems in various magazines and newspapers. He had also worked in various departments in Burma/Myanmar as editor, writer and one of the drafters of the curriculum, mainly for Burmese language texts for high school students.
In a collection of most of his poems, which he had published from the late 1950s to about 2010, Maung Swan Yi modestly or unassumingly wrote that he had not been ‘that much of a prolific poet’. That was written in his Foreword to his collection of poems published in August 2017. His foreword was dated 29 June 2017. The 2017 collection contains 342 poems. Yours truly has translated perhaps about 16 of his poems into English.
The poet Maung Swan Yi is of leftist persuasion politically. One can say that he was at least in the 1960s and early 1970s a ‘militant leftist’. In the mid to late 1960s Vietnam War was raging. Maung Swan Yi took a very anti-imperialist and (in the context of that particular period) anti-American political stance. On 22 December 1966, he wrote a poem titled ‘Want to commit murder’. It was an anti-Vietnam War poem. A few phrases in the poem read in my translation, ‘I want to have a million hands where I hold a million guns … a million guns yeah, therefore a million bullets’. I refrain or forbear from translating the full poem. The poem is reproduced on page 206 of the 2017 collection of poems.
The anti-imperialist and erstwhile anti-American Maung Swan Yi ‘migrated’ to the United States in 2002. For about 23 years, he has been living in an apartment in New York City. This is the brief biodata of the now 88-year-old poet. I recently spoke on the phone with him. He is now very hard of hearing. A visitor to his apartment had to ‘translate’ my conversations to him. But from what the visitor and others based in New York told me, he is quite prolific and resilient. I was told that he tried to write in long-hand poems or essays almost every day in his apartment in New York.
One of the poems that Maung Swan Yi composed on 8 November 1969 reads in my translation:
New Year Wish for the Scientific Age
By Maung Swan Yi
Translated by Myint Zan
with advances in biology and biochemistry
using scientific methods
‘artificial’ life is created
from inside the test tube:
a human has ‘descended’
viola!
may the human
born out of a test tube
have compassion and metta (Pali- loving kindness)
for the human
worldlings born out
of the of the breast of the creator, dispenser of loving-kindness
Poem composed on 8 November 1969
Translated on 19 June 2025
Maung Swan Yi composed this poem in November 1969. Eight years and eight months after Maung Swan Yi composed the poem, the world’s first test tube baby, Louis Joy Brown, was born on 25 July 1978 through what is called in vitro fertilization in the United Kingdom. A quick web search indicates that there are currently about eight million humans who were born as ‘test tube babies’.
Maung Swan Yi used the phrase Phaya Thakin in his poem, which can be translated as ‘Creator or Deity’. The translator will express his view that, in context, the phrase indicates the ‘creator’ God of the Abrahamic religions. The poet Maung Swan Yi is a Buddhist. One ventures to suggest that the poet was taking poetic license when he used the above phrase, for the Buddhist doctrine is that humans, indeed all sentient beings, are not the ‘creation’ of the Deity as such. But it is fine for Maung Swan Yi to use his poetic imagination to compose this insightful poem. Did the poet envisage or ‘foresee’ the future of not only in vitro fertilisation, which took place eight-and-a-half years after he composed the poem?
From test tube babies to designer babies and a few ethical and legal issues
Both Maung Swan Yi’s poem and my translation do not define (in layperson’s terms) what a test tube baby is. One website defines
QUOTE
A test-tube baby is a term used to describe a ‘test tube fertilized’ embryo or fetus that is created outside of a woman’s body. Sperm and the egg are manipulated using a scientific process for successful fertilization.
UNQUOTE
That process albeit not that prevalent world-wide is no longer a rare phenomenon since that July day in 1978 when the pioneering medical doctors and scientists Patrick Steptoe (9 June 1913-21 March 1988) and Robert Edwards (27 September 1925-10 April 2013) enabled the birth, so to speak, the world’s first test tube baby Louis Joy Brown.
The term ‘designer babies’ has quite a different connotation from that of test tube babies. Another website defines designer babies also as
QUOTE
gene editing, which allows scientists to remove, add, or change genes to prevent or treat certain diseases. If successful, this could prevent the transmission of genetic diseases to future generations. In the future, parents may also be able to choose the genetic traits of their unborn baby.
UNQUOTE
The web article excerpted above was dated 7 February 2025 and was written by Rosalie Rung. She continues that though this method is to ‘stop the transmission of heritable diseases. experts don’t consider it safe or effective for widespread use’. Hence, it may not necessarily be a ‘giant leap’ from ‘test tube babies to designer babies’, but it is neither a ‘small step’. Perhaps it may be stated that there are arguably more ethical, indeed legal issues to confront vis-à-vis designer babies than as regards ‘test tube babies’.
Surrogate motherhood?
When a surrogate mother uses either her own ovaries or the ovaries of another woman mixed with the intended father’s sperm to ‘carry’ the baby in her womb can generally be defined as ‘surrogate motherhood’. As early as 3 February 1988 in the case of ‘Baby M’ (a pseudonym) the New Jersey Supreme Court in the United States ruled that the provision of monies (10,000 US dollars) to the surrogate mother who used the sperm of the intended father and carried her pregnancy to term is illegal (under relevant United States law and statutes). Note that the decision by the New Jersey Supreme Court (citation 109 N J 398 1988) was made less than 10 years after the first test tube baby (not designer baby, not surrogate pregnancy) in July 1978. Hence, ethical and legal issues regarding designer babies and surrogate motherhood (as an offshoot of test tube babies?), which the poet Maung Swan Yi wrote about more than 55 years ago in November 1969, have come to the fore. And it took less than twenty years after Maung Swan Yi’s imaginatively wrote his poem.
(Non) Applicability in Myanmar?
Subject to correction with evidence, the procedure for in vitro fertilization (IVF) test tube babies is not available in Myanmar. I understand a few couples have visited Thailand to ‘obtain’ ‘test tube babies. Surrogate motherhood and designer babies do raise ethical and legal issues subject to restrictions, limitations and perhaps prohibitions in certain medically advanced countries. This article is a brief addendum to and commentary on Maung Swan Yi’s poem of November 1969, where he whimsically wrote about compassion and Metta (loving-kindness) among ordinary worldlings and test tube babies.
Dr Myint Zan is a retired Professor of Law. He has established a Myint Zan Prize in the Philosophy of Science in perpetuity for undergraduate philosophy students at one of his alma maters, The Australian National University. From 2018 to 2024, six undergraduate students have been awarded the Myint Zan prize in the Philosophy of Science.
GNLM
Most people might all too easily think that it is not difficult for anyone to become a teacher of a foreign language. After all, this is not as easy as they thought. In my experience, many students tend to pay less attention to a foreign language teacher than a native teacher, even though they express an interest in the language. This is because, in my opinion, they are under the illusion that a foreign language teacher cannot teach the language as well as a native speaker can. Also, some students would like to study a language only from a teacher who speaks it as their first language. Of course, a foreign language teacher or a native teacher will have to teach the same language.
The first language barrier that a foreign language teacher could face is nothing but pronunciation. The pronunciation of a language will be most correctly uttered by a native speaker only. Even so, not all native speakers can pronounce any word of their language with the exact utterance. That is, they might also do it wrong sometimes. Hence, we can never say that only native speakers’ pronunciation is always right. A foreign language teacher will be able to overcome the difficulty of pronunciation in a language by going and staying in that language-speaking country for a few years, watching or listening to news broadcasts in that language, using a pronunciation dictionary, or learning phonetic symbols. Despite this, inarticulate teachers often run into difficulty while teaching pronunciation to young students. And usually, foreign teachers’ pronunciation may not be as excellent as native speakers’.
The second language barrier for a foreign teacher is vocabulary. As a teacher of a foreign language, it will not be convenient for him or her to have a limited vocabulary in the long run. In other words, a language teacher should have a wide vocabulary. In spite of this, a foreign language teacher will find it difficult to have a rich vocabulary. Any language teacher must have studied essential vocabulary, core vocabulary, specialized vocabulary, active vocabulary and passive vocabulary in advance to enrich an extensive vocabulary as regards the language. To build vocabulary items, a teacher has to use dictionaries, thesauruses and language activators. Though the dictionary is a bank of vocabulary, daily newspapers can be best seen to look up vocabulary words for such a large vocabulary as common or current usages.
The third language barrier for a teacher is grammar. Grammar can bring accuracy and fluency to the language, we all know. Nevertheless, many foreign language teachers are given to saying a grammatical pattern, whether it is right or wrong, just depending on what they have ever seen or read, if they are asked by their pupils. Thus, their reply to questions on grammar relies too much on a certain extent to which they have read. It is not a good habit for a foreign language teacher at all. For a language teacher, a grammatical structure can be said exactly if it is correct or not with reference to which dictionary, what page, and so on, as needed. As far as I am concerned, grammar looks boring for most language learners or even language teachers, but nobody can avoid grammar in speaking or writing. Most of all, grammar is the `half-life´ of language writing.
A language teacher’s fourth barrier is often found to be speaking the language. As I am aware, most foreign language teachers are unable to speak that language effectively and efficiently. As a result, they are more likely to use the translation method in language teaching and practice instead of the direct method. Here, I do not mean that the translation method is in vain in language instruction, simply because this method is used in many countries where a language is taught as a second language. Nonetheless, almost all students like a foreign language teacher teaching the language, just speaking in that language.
Every foreign language teacher’s linguistic instruction needs to have both validity and reliability in language teaching, as well as accuracy and fluency. And a teacher of a foreign language had better have self-confidence not only in language study but also in language teaching. For language teachers, great writing is their life too. Every foreign language teacher ought to listen to news on TV or the radio and read as much as possible, to say the least.
GNLM
About five or six years ago, I opened a computer training centre. My training centre operated with 20 desktop computers. Since I also ran a small English language course, I taught computer skills once a week to the young students who came for English lessons, while also providing dedicated computer training for those who wanted to learn separately. The computers were purchased at affordable prices from the second-hand market in Yangon, so the initial investment wasn’t too large. Within about a year of starting the business, it became quite successful. However, over the next two years, the unreliable electricity supply made it impossible for the desktops to function properly, especially during the day when power was available for only a few hours on a rotational basis, and even then, frequent outages occurred. This created significant challenges in running the computer training centre, so I ended up dismantling and storing the computers.
Since the computers were second-hand to begin with and had been stored for about a year, they started to break down. Keeping the broken computers at home felt cluttered and took up space, so I sold them to a scrap shop for a negligible price, more like the rate for scrap metal than old computers. Now, I’ve kept only two good desktops at home and rely on laptops for my needs. I haven’t been able to reopen the computer training centre either. One day, I read an article in Reader’s Digest about E-Waste, which made me understand the issue and regret selling the old computers. That’s why I’ve written this article to share with readers.
Technology permeates modern life, with smartphones, laptops, tablets, and other devices becoming indispensable. However, when these gadgets become obsolete or malfunction, many are discarded carelessly, contributing to a mounting issue known as electronic waste, or e-waste. This category encompasses discarded electronics like old phones, computers, monitors, keyboards, batteries, and household appliances such as microwaves or refrigerators. Improper disposal, often in regular trash bins, poses significant environmental risks. Recycling e-waste offers a sustainable solution, yielding benefits like reducing toxic pollution, conserving natural resources, cutting greenhouse gas emissions, minimizing landfill waste, and fostering a circular economy. This article explores how recycling e-waste protects the planet.
Understanding E-Waste
E-waste refers to discarded electronic devices or their components. Globally, millions of tons are generated annually, yet much of it is improperly disposed of, ending up in landfills or incinerators, causing environmental and health hazards. Recycling involves dismantling old electronics and reusing their materials or parts to create new products, mitigating these risks. Below are five key environmental benefits of this practice.
1. Reducing Toxic Pollution
Electronics often contain hazardous substances like lead, mercury, cadmium, and brominated flame retardants, which pose risks to ecosystems and human health. For instance, lead can impair the brain and nervous system, while mercury contaminates water sources, harming fish and wildlife. Improper disposal, such as landfilling or incineration, allows these toxins to seep into soil and water, polluting rivers, lakes, and groundwater. This contamination affects plants, animals, and communities relying on these resources.
Recycling prevents such pollution by ensuring safe handling of toxic materials. Specialized facilities extract and dispose of these substances properly, preventing environmental contamination. By recycling, ecosystems remain protected, and air, water, and soil stay cleaner, safeguarding biodiversity and public health.
2. Conserving Natural Resources
Electronic devices contain valuable materials like gold, silver, copper, and rare earth metals, used in components such as circuit boards, wires, and batteries. Extracting these materials through mining devastates forests, rivers, and wildlife habitats while consuming significant energy and water. Recycling recovers these materials for reuse in new products, reducing the need for virgin resources. For example, gold from an old smartphone can be repurposed for a new device, decreasing reliance on mining.
This process preserves natural landscapes, conserves water and energy, and minimizes environmental degradation. By reusing existing materials, recycling supports sustainable resource management, benefiting the planet’s ecosystems and reducing the ecological footprint of electronics production.
3. Lowering Greenhouse Gas Emissions
Recycling e-waste combats climate change by reducing greenhouse gas emissions, such as carbon dioxide, which trap heat and contribute to global warming. Manufacturing new electronics from raw materials is energy-intensive, involving mining, refining, and production processes that often rely on fossil fuels. These activities release substantial emissions into the atmosphere.
Using recycled materials or refurbishing old devices requires significantly less energy, cutting emissions. For instance, recycling metals for new products consumes less power than mining and processing ores. Additionally, recycling reduces emissions from transporting raw materials globally. By prioritizing recycling, the electronics industry’s carbon footprint shrinks, contributing to a healthier planet and supporting global efforts to mitigate climate change.
4. Minimizing Landfill Waste
E-waste is among the fastest-growing waste streams worldwide, with millions of discarded devices adding to landfill volumes annually. Overcrowded landfills struggle to accommodate this influx, and many are ill-equipped to handle electronics safely. Toxic substances can leak, exacerbating environmental harm, as discussed earlier. Recycling alleviates this burden by diverting e-waste from landfills.
Recycling programs collect and sort electronics, reusing components and safely processing hazardous materials. This reduces landfill waste, lowers the risk of pollution, and helps maintain cleaner, safer communities. By keeping electronics out of landfills, recycling addresses a critical waste management challenge and supports sustainable urban development.
5. Promoting a Circular Economy
E-waste recycling advances a circular economy, a sustainable model that maximizes resource use and minimizes waste. Unlike the traditional “take-make-dispose” approach, which extracts raw materials, produces goods, and discards them, a circular economy emphasizes reuse, repair, and refurbishment. Recycling e-waste enables materials from old devices to be repurposed for new products, reducing the demand for new resources and minimizing waste.
For example, components from a discarded phone can be used in new electronics, extending material lifecycles. This approach conserves resources, reduces landfill and incinerator waste, and promotes sustainability. By embracing recycling, society moves toward a system that prioritizes long-term environmental health and resource efficiency.
Why E-Waste Recycling Matters
Recycling e-waste transcends simply sorting electronics into designated bins; it’s a vital step towards environmental protection and sustainability. It prevents toxic chemicals from contaminating soil and water, conserves valuable resources, reduces greenhouse gas emissions, alleviates landfill pressures, and fosters a circular economy. These efforts collectively safeguard ecosystems, mitigate climate change, and promote sustainable resource use.
Achieving these benefits requires collective action. Governments can enforce regulations to ensure proper e-waste collection and recycling. Companies can design products for easier recycling and incorporate recycled materials. Individuals play a crucial role by choosing to recycle rather than discard electronics in regular trash.
How to Contribute
Participating in e-waste recycling is straightforward. Start by locating local recycling programmes or drop-off points, often available through municipalities or electronics retailers. Many manufacturers offer take-back programs for old devices. Before recycling, erase personal data, such as photos or passwords, to protect privacy. Extending device lifecycles through repair, donation, or second-hand sales also reduces e-waste. These actions, though small, significantly impact environmental health.
In brief, e-waste poses a growing challenge, but recycling provides a powerful solution. By reducing toxic pollution, conserving resources, lowering emissions, minimizing landfill waste, and promoting a circular economy, recycling protects the environment and fosters sustainability. Every recycled phone or computer contributes to cleaner ecosystems, reduced climate impact, and efficient resource use. Individuals, governments, and companies must collaborate to ensure responsible e-waste management. The next time you replace an old device, choose recycling — your action can make a meaningful difference for the planet’s future.
GNLM
In a world that is becoming increasingly loud, fast, and self-centred, there is a quiet strength that often goes unnoticed — consideration. Not the kind that simply says “thank you” and “excuse me”, but the kind that genuinely thinks of others before speaking, acting, or reacting. This kind of consideration is not just about manners. It is the culture of the heart — the emotional politeness that reveals who we truly are beneath our words and actions.
True consideration begins with empathy. It springs from the deep, quiet well of compassion. It is found in people who don’t just live for themselves, who aren’t driven by ego, and who don’t always place their own comfort and desires first. Considerate people are those who think: “How would this feel if it happened to me?” or “Would I like to be treated this way?” They don’t make everything about themselves. They don’t seek the spotlight, but they bring light wherever they go.
When someone thinks, “I don’t like this behaviour, so maybe others won’t either,” and adjusts themselves — that is consideration. When someone reflects, “I enjoy this small pleasure, perhaps someone else would too,” and chooses to share it, that is also consideration. These moments may be small, almost invisible, but they are what make us feel seen, respected, and valued as human beings.
Consideration is never loud. It doesn’t announce itself. But it is deeply felt. People with considerate hearts tend to be graceful, emotionally mature, and culturally rich — not because of wealth or education, but because they carry a genuine warmth within. That’s why others naturally feel drawn to them.
On the other hand, we all have encountered people who believe the world revolves around them. They say things like, “It’s none of my business,” or “I’ll do whatever I want,” or “I don’t care what others think”. These individuals live in a bubble of self-interest. They don’t realize it, but their behaviour often sends the wrong signal, turning away the very people they wish would draw closer. Eventually, people sigh in frustration, avoid eye contact, or distance themselves — not because they hate, but because they are emotionally exhausted.
A lack of consideration shows in many ways. Think of someone shouting and talking loudly in a quiet room, cutting lines in public places, asking overly personal or inappropriate questions, or demanding something from others without knowing whether it’s convenient or welcome. These behaviours speak loudly of emotional immaturity and a lack of awareness. They are not harmless quirks — they are signals that someone hasn’t developed the soft skills that bind society together.
Yet, being considerate is not difficult. It’s found in small choices. It’s in the way we look at someone’s face and wonder how we might ease their discomfort. It’s in the words we choose when someone is hurting or struggling. It’s in knowing when to step forward and help — and just as importantly, when to quietly step back.
There is power in not doing what shouldn’t be done. Consideration includes restraint. It’s about choosing not to boast in front of someone grieving, not to eat lavishly in front of someone who is hungry, not to show off success in front of someone who is going through a rough patch. These are simple yet profound acts of emotional intelligence. They may seem small, but to the one receiving them, they can mean everything.
And then there are moments when kindness flows not from what we hold back, but from what we give. When we eat something delicious and suddenly think, ‘My friend would love this — I should get one for her,’ that simple thought becomes a beautiful act of kindness born from genuine care. Even though it costs us little, the joy it brings to someone else is deeply meaningful. Similarly, when we cook something delicious at home and remember to share with our neighbours, that thoughtfulness doesn’t just feed stomachs — it nurtures connections.
The way someone remembers what we love, even the smallest detail, and then acts on it —that kind of thoughtfulness quietly settles into our memory and never really leaves. It’s not the gift that matters, but the thought behind it. That’s the magic of consideration. It turns ordinary moments into something tender and unforgettable.
Sometimes, the deepest form of consideration isn’t in what we do, but in what we choose not to do. It’s about holding back, preserving dignity, and protecting the emotional space of others. For instance, imagine someone who has just faced a personal loss, and someone else is laughing or celebrating loudly in front of them. That lack of emotional awareness can wound more deeply than we realize. Or imagine someone who is struggling financially, and someone brags excessively about their latest purchases in front of them. These things might be unintentional, but they reveal how little we think about others’ emotional realities. And yet, when someone chooses silence over showiness, chooses sensitivity over selfishness — that is when their humanity shines.
This quality of being considerate is not limited to strangers. It is most beautiful when practised in our closest relationships. Between parents and children, between spouses, among friends and siblings — consideration is the emotional glue that holds these bonds together.
It’s often within these familiar relationships that our kindness carries the most weight. When children grow up and begin to notice that their ageing parents are becoming more emotionally sensitive, they realize the importance of being thoughtful. As parents grow older, they may feel lonelier, less strong, and more vulnerable. They need their children not just for financial support, but emotional companionship. Listening to them with attention, taking them out to peaceful places like temples or parks, cooking food they love, involving them in simple family rituals — all of these actions say, “I see you. I value you. You still matter.”
Consideration within a marriage is just as essential. A spouse who notices what the other needs, who remembers what they love, who offers help without being asked, brings not just comfort, but peace to the home. Imagine a wife who is cooking while her husband quietly helps wash the dishes — not because he was told to, but because he notices she’s tired. Imagine a husband who carries the groceries every time they shop together — not as a duty, but as a natural response to love. These gestures may not make headlines, but they build lifelong bonds.
Even among siblings or close friends, consideration shines through. It’s in how we speak. Even if we’re close, we should always be mindful of which words to use and which to avoid. Closeness is never a license to be careless. Respect and boundaries matter, even in intimacy. When a friend is going through something, being there in silence can sometimes be more supportive than flooding them with advice. When they don’t need us, giving them space is just as valuable as showing up when they do. These aren’t rules written in stone, but principles etched in the heart. Consideration is about emotional alignment — it’s about holding space for others, gently and quietly.
The beauty of consideration lies in its subtlety. It’s not always about grand gestures. It’s in remembering someone’s favourite dish. It’s about waiting patiently in line. It’s in staying quiet when words might wound. It’s in speaking up when silence might hurt. It’s in all the small choices we make each day to make life just a little more bearable for someone else.
The best part? Anyone can practice it. We don’t need wealth, beauty, or brilliance to be considerate. All we need is the willingness to care, the courage to pause, and the humility to think beyond ourselves.
So, let’s carry this gentle power with us. Let’s be the person who brings ease into a room. Let’s be the one who thinks of others even when we don’t have to. Let’s teach our children not just to chase success, but to honour kindness. Let’s be quiet listeners, warm helpers, and gentle souls in a world that so desperately needs softness. Because in the end, what people remember is not how loud we were, how successful we looked, or how much we had — but how we made them feel. And if we can leave behind a trace of warmth, a ripple of comfort, and the memory of being deeply understood, then we have lived a life not just successful, but meaningful.
Source: GNLM
Preamble
This reflection captures the essence of traditional Asian values and their quiet yet powerful form of strength. When placed in the context of the younger generation of Asians growing up in the Western world, it takes on added layers of complexity, resilience, and transformation.
Whispers of Strength in a Louder World
For young Asians raised in the West — children of immigrants or those born into diasporic communities — strength often wears many faces. Yes, it still whispers through discipline, perseverance, and deference, but it also must learn to speak up, to navigate cultures that value expression, autonomy, and visibility.
In Western classrooms, where individuality is often prized over conformity, many young Asians juggle dual expectations: the silent grind expected at home and the confident self-advocacy celebrated at school. The phrase “Dripping water hollows stone” still echoes — but now, the drip has to find its rhythm between two cultural worlds.
The Silent Curriculum: Discipline and Duty
Asian families in the West continue to carry forward a deep respect for education, but here, it’s often interpreted differently. To Western peers, success might seem like overachievement — violin lessons, perfect grades, coding at age 10. But behind this is an unspoken narrative: to honour the sacrifices of parents who came with little, to carry forward centuries of values in a land that often doesn’t fully understand them.
Education becomes not just an academic pursuit but a moral mission, where discipline is a birthright, not a burden. This can lead to quiet but fierce resilience — the kind that keeps going when no one’s watching, the kind that measures progress in small, daily victories.
Bicultural Brains, Multilingual Minds
Growing up in homes where English blends with Cantonese, Urdu, Tagalog, Tamil, Burmese, or Korean, young Asians develop more than just bilingual skills — they build mental flexibility. This mental code-switching doesn’t just help in conversations; it translates to a more adaptive mindset, one that can switch between worldviews, navigate nuance, and read the unspoken, crucial skills in a multicultural world.
The Pressure Paradox
High expectations — from family and community — can be both a torch and a weight. Many young Asians in the West feel caught between wanting to meet those expectations and yearning to explore paths less “acceptable” to tradition (like art, activism, or unconventional careers). This creates internal conflict, but also rich soil for growth, where identity is self-forged, not just inherited.
They are learning to blend Eastern endurance with Western self-expression, to be strong not just in silence but also in story, advocacy, and leadership.
Where Growth Truly Happens
So, what happens when bamboo is planted in different soil? It doesn’t just bend or break — it adapts. It might grow with new shoots, different leaves, or in unexpected directions, but it still carries the strength of its roots.
For young Asians in the West, success isn’t just survival or assimilation. It’s synthesis. It’s saying: “I carry the quiet strength of my ancestors, but I also find new ways to speak it.”
In Summary
• Hard work, family honour, and persistence are still foundational values — but they must coexist with individualism, freedom of expression, and evolving identity.
• Multilingual and multicultural upbringings sharpen cognitive and emotional flexibility.
• The pressure to excel is real, but it is slowly transforming into a desire to redefine excellence on one’s own terms.
• The new Asian generation is learning to nurture intelligence and wisdom, both through heritage and choice.
And in that delicate balance, a new kind of strength is blooming — still quiet at times, but also learning to roar when it needs to.
Source: GNLM
It was a balmy morning. The bright rays of the sun, through the thick foliage of trees, were beaming down on the cars we would board. I stood near the Mogok Refectory in the precincts of State Pariyatti Sasana University, looking at the spire of the glittering Kaba Aye Pagoda that stood majestically. I saw the leaves of the Bodhi tree and toddy palms on the platform swaying due to the wind. Soon, we were ready to leave the Mogok Refectory.
When our minibus set out, it was around 8 am. Our group was comprised of 12 people: 8 monks from the State Pariyatti University (Yangon) and 4 lay persons, including myself and my elder brother. Our destination was Thongwa, a small town near Yangon, and on our arrival there, we would attend the 80th birthday celebration of Rector Sayadaw Dr Bhaddanta Kumara. Moreover, we would honour the Sayadaw who had recently received the esteemed religious title ‘’Abhidhaja Maharatthaguru “conferred upon him by the State.
Our car departed from Kaba Aye Pagoda Road towards Gandama Road. Soon, we reached the junction at which Okkalapa Golf Resort is situated. After passing through Inno City Buildings, our car ran quickly along Waizayanta Road without any halt until we reached the newly constructed Thanlyin Bridge. At 8:45 am, we crossed the toll gate of the bridge. I gazed at the turbulent Yangon River flowing below. I saw some seagulls floating with the current, a fleet of cargo ships at anchor in the middle of the river and one or two motorboats moving fast. I looked towards a hill where the Lwan Ceti is situated on the other bank. Instead of the Ceti, I saw just a small hill clad in the green rainforests and some buildings in the neighbourhood. The Ceti was hidden amongst the groves of leafy trees.
Having passed through Aung Chantha Junction, we turned right and proceeded along Kyaikkhauk Pagoda Road. We saw the colonial buildings, ancient buildings, etc. It suggests that it was an ancient town. Legend has it that Thanlyin was so named after Maung Thanlyin, who founded it, while it derived from ‘’Mya Thanlyin”, a princess who ruled over it. But their times could not be traced back exactly. It was a garrison town of the Portuguese during the Nyaung Yan period. It developed a district-level town stationed by an assistant commissioner during the colonial period. Soon, we got to Thanlyin Myoma Market. The marketplace was in commotion. It was buzzy with many buyers, sellers, etc. I saw some motor-trishaw drivers under a big, branchy tree. Shops and mini-stores were tucked in the buildings on both sides of Myo Ma Market. At 9 am, we reached the foot of Uttaringa Hill, at the top of which, the historic Kyaikkhauk Pagoda stood majestically. Our car turned left onto a road leading east. Soon, we saw Yangon Eastern University on a wide estate sheltered by the green leafy trees. It is learnt that it was built in 1999. It offered young people in the neighbourhood access to higher education. At 9:04, we arrived in front of the eastern archway gate. Nevertheless, we proceeded nonstop. Soon, we were outside the town and continued along the No 6 Road, which is the main road towards Thongwa.
The traffic became lighter. Some cars overtook ours in a tearing rush. The further we moved, the more countrified the scenes became. We often saw wide fields, small hamlets, and dense forests. Some monasteries, sprawling plantations and vast pea fields were found on the road-sides until we arrived at Thaik Tu Kan Model Village. We proceeded along the No 6 Road. There were petrol stations, Kokku trees and a home for the aged on the roadside. Rice granaries and pea-storage warehouses stood prominently, reflecting the area’s agricultural livelihood.
We then passed the Mahasi Meditation Centre, a testament to the villagers’ deep religious devotion. Nearby, a middle school stood as a symbol of education in the community. Soon, we entered downtown Thongwa, a historic town established during King Thayawady’s reign. Its name derives from its location at the confluence of the Mawwam Creek, the Thenegi Creek and the Takaw Creek. During the colonial period, Thongwa was a district-level town. It was administered by the assistant commissioner. People were generous and pious. Thus, they made many donations. Religious buildings, monasteries and pagodas, etc., were, therefore, found in abundance. It was a thriving town, bolstered by fisheries and agriculture.
Some colonial-era wooden buildings are still extant. As soon as we crossed a bridge that spanned a small creek, we arrived at the bustling municipal market in the downtown. Turning left, we finally reached our destination, Sayadaw U Kumara’s monastery ‘’Thel Inngu Yeiktha Sasana Aung Beikman’’ at 9:36 am.
When we arrived there, we took photographs and rested in the Sayadaw’s room. Some of his lay devotees treated us to tea-leaf salad and snacks. Soon, they led us to a refectory and served lunch. The courses of meals were many and delicious. Guests were house-full. While lunching, some devotional songs were heard, coming from a wide hall. After lunch, while passing through this hall, I noticed heaps of four requisites in it. It is known that by drawing lots, the monks would be offered these requisites soon. I saw some guests watching the vocalists on the stage singing classical songs, devotional songs, etc., in honour of Sayadaw’s obtaining the recent title and 80th birthday.
When we arrived again at the Sayadaw’s room, we met him readily. We paid respect to him. We had a chat with him. He presented me and other teachers from State Pariyatti University, some of his authored books, and during our conversation, some local devotees arrived to present offerings. As far as I know, Sayadaw is currently serving as Rector of the State Pariyatti Sasana University (Yangon) and as Presiding Monk of the Maha Sima Pariyatti Monastery and the Everest Dhamma Yeik Nyein Monastery. On January 1, 2025, the government honoured him with the religious title ‘Abhidhaja Maharatthaguru’. He, as a distinguished scholar, earned his PhD in Buddhist Studies from Maha Chulalongkorn Rajavidyalaya University in 2023. His other titles included Aggamahapandita, Mahaganthavacaka Pandita, Aggamaha Saddhammajotikadhaja, and Honorary Dhamma Paragu (Litt), along with the Thiri Pyanchi Performance Award. He was also a prolific writer and had authored numerous works on Buddhist scriptures.
On our way back, we took a different route, passing the Kularwe Bridge. We enjoyed the new scenes again. We saw gardens, resorts, and sprawling fields stretching on either side of the road. Due to the beautiful scenery, we felt refreshed and peaceful. We obtained new regional knowledge, for I had never been to Thongwa before. Moreover, we obtained merits because we had to worship Sayadaw and monks. Thus, it was a rewarding and profitable trip for us.
Source: GNLM
During the summit, PM Modi will exchange views on key global issues, including the reform of global governance, peace and security, responsible use of artificial intelligence, climate action, global health and economic and financial matters.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi is set to visit Brazil from July 5 to 8 to participate in the 17th BRICS Summit, which will be held in Rio de Janeiro from July 6 to 7. This high-level gathering of world leaders is a part of PM Modi’s five-nation tour, which also includes stops in Ghana, Trinidad & Tobago, Argentina and Namibia. The tour is being undertaken with the aim at strengthening India’s bilateral and multilateral ties.
PM Modi’s agenda in BRICS Summit
During the summit, PM Modi will exchange views on key global issues, including the reform of global governance, peace and security, responsible use of artificial intelligence, climate action, global health and economic and financial matters. He is also expected to hold several bilateral meetings on the sidelines, including talks with Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva to broaden the strategic partnership between India and Brazil in areas such as trade, defence, energy, space, technology, agriculture and health12.
All about PM Modi’s five nation tour
Prime Minister Narendra Modi is set to hold his first full-fledged bilateral meeting with Argentina’s President Javier Gerardo Milei during his upcoming visit to the country. While the two leaders have previously met on the sidelines of multilateral forums, this will be their first structured dialogue.
The agenda is expected to cover defence cooperation, trade and investment, rare earth minerals, agriculture, as well as traditional and renewable energy. India is also likely to raise its longstanding concerns over cross-border terrorism during the BRICS engagements involving Brazil and Argentina.
Four-nation tour begins with Ghana
PM Modi’s tour will begin in Ghana from July 2 to 3, where he will be hosted by newly elected President John Dramani Mahama. The visit comes as Ghana undergoes economic restructuring. Key areas of discussion will include agriculture, the establishment of a vaccine development hub in West Africa, critical mineral cooperation, digital public infrastructure, and the revival of cultural exchange programmes, according to Foreign Secretary Mr. Ravi.
Visit to Trinidad and Tobago
PM Modi will then travel to Trinidad and Tobago from July 3 to 4. This marks the first visit by an Indian Prime Minister to the Caribbean nation since 1999. The visit aims to deepen historical and cultural ties and expand cooperation in areas of mutual interest.
Final stop: Namibia
The final leg of the tour will take Modi to Namibia, where he will pay tribute to the country’s decolonisation icon Sam Nujoma, who passed away on February 8. During this visit, India and Namibia are expected to sign an agreement enabling unified payment inter-operability, a step that could significantly boost financial cooperation.
All you need to know about the 17th BRICS Summit
The 2025 BRICS Summit marks a significant moment as Brazil assumes the rotating presidency of the bloc, which now includes Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa and newly joined members such as Indonesia, Egypt, Ethiopia, Iran and the United Arab Emirates. Saudi Arabia has also been invited to join, reflecting the group’s expanding influence.
The summit will be held at the Museum of Modern Art in Rio de Janeiro and is expected to bring together leaders from across the Global South to address pressing global challenges and advance the BRICS agenda. Under the theme “Strengthening Global South Cooperation for More Inclusive and Sustainable Governance,” Brazil’s BRICS presidency has outlined a few key priorities.
These include:
- Improving global health through equitable access to medicines.
- Tackling neglected tropical diseases.
- Boosting trade and investment by promoting local currencies and alternative payment systems.
- Advancing climate action with a BRICS Climate Leadership Agenda.
The summit will also focus on responsible AI governance, reforming global peace and security systems and strengthening BRICS’ internal structure for more effective decision-making.
The 2025 summit takes place amid a shifting geopolitical landscape and ongoing efforts by BRICS to expand its influence and offer an alternative platform for emerging economies. The bloc’s expansion and focus on inclusive governance underscore its ambition to play a more prominent role in shaping global economic and political norms.
Every banknote has a journey, and the thousand Kyat note in Myanmar is no exception. Though it may seem like an ordinary piece of paper, this note plays a crucial role in countless lives. It travels through streets, markets, homes, and ceremonies – touching hands, witnessing emotions, and quietly recording human stories.
Birth of a Note
Our thousand Kyat note begins its journey in a high-security government printing press. Inside, skilled workers operate large, advanced machines that print the notes using high-quality paper and special ink. Each note is carefully designed with vibrant colours, traditional symbols, and protective features to prevent counterfeiting.
After printing, the notes go through strict inspections. Only those that are perfect are approved. The newly printed thousand Kyat notes are then stacked in bundles and prepared for transportation. These fresh, crisp notes wait to begin their lives in the outside world.
From Factory to Bank
With tight security, these bundles of money are transported in armoured vehicles to central banks. At the bank, they are received, counted, and stored in vaults or distributed to different branches across the country. For our thousand Kyat note, this marks the start of a new and exciting phase – soon, it will be in the hands of everyday people.
First Stop: The Payroll Office
The note arrives at a payroll office where it becomes part of the monthly salary payment process. Staff carefully prepare salary envelopes filled with clean banknotes, and our note finds itself tucked inside one. When payday arrives, a smiling employee collects their pay and feels the relief of a month’s hard work rewarded.
On the way home, the employee feels hungry and stops at a food stall. They hand over the thousand Kyat note to buy a plate of hot, delicious mohinga. The vendor, an elderly man who has served food for decades, carefully folds the note and places it in his metal cash box. This is just the beginning of the note’s adventure.
At the Local Market
The very next day, the food vendor goes to the local market with a bundle of notes, including our thousand Kyat bill. He buys vegetables, fish, spices, and other ingredients for the next day’s meals. The thousand Kyat note passes from his hands to a vegetable seller.
Not long after, a mother shopping for her family hands over cash to buy fresh produce, and our note changes hands once more. In just a few hours, it travels from stall to stall – fruit vendors, spice sellers, meat and fishmongers – all bustling with life, conversation, and energy.
At the market, the note sees more than just sales – it hears jokes, observes negotiations, and feels the heat of the sun and the sweat of working people. Its edges begin to soften, and its crisp texture slowly fades, showing the marks of its journey.
In the Pocket of a Taxi Driver
Later, the thousand Kyat note becomes part of a taxi fare. A passenger gives it to a driver after a trip to the bus station. The driver folds it and places it into his shirt pocket, where it stays with other worn notes.
For several days, the note shares in the life of the taxi driver – long drives through quiet mornings, noisy afternoons with traffic, and calm evenings when the roads become less crowded. It helps the driver buy lunch, pay for fuel, and keep his vehicle running.
The note comes to understand the meaning of hard work. It witnesses the patience of the driver, his small talks with passengers, his struggles with fuel prices, and his quiet hope to make enough each day to support his family.
A Moment of Giving
One afternoon, the note changes hands again – this time from a petrol station owner to a wooden donation box at a local monastery. The owner pauses, offers a silent prayer, and places the note in the box among other donations.
Inside the box, the note now becomes part of something greater: community kindness. The donations collected will help buy food for monks, support repairs for the monastery, and fund religious events. Though small, the thousand Kyat note now plays a role in something deeply meaningful – bringing people together through shared values and generosity.
This phase of the journey is peaceful. The note rests quietly among others, carrying the scent of incense and the sound of distant chanting. It becomes a symbol of faith, charity, and hope.
A Family’s Offering
Weeks later, during a traditional ceremony at a cemetery, the note is selected as part of an offering to honour ancestors. Alongside flowers, candles, and food, the thousand Kyat note is placed near the grave of a loved one. The family prays for blessings, showing love and respect for those who have passed away.
Here, the note takes on a spiritual role. It becomes part of a timeless ritual that connects generations. It helps express gratitude, sorrow, and reverence – things that go beyond money. In this sacred moment, the note reflects the deep cultural roots of Myanmar society.
A Darker Turn
But not all parts of the journey are bright. Eventually, the thousand Kyat note travels through uncertain hands, changing owners quickly, until it ends up with a rebel group in a remote area. It is used to buy supplies, such as food or fuel.
Now, the note finds itself in a very different world – one shaped by conflict, secrecy, and survival. This moment marks the complexity of human life. The same note that once helped feed a hungry worker or supported a monastery is now part of a story about struggle and unrest.
Yet, even here, the note witnesses real lives – people caught in difficult circumstances, doing what they must to endure. The note doesn’t judge; it simply continues its journey, recording what it sees.
A Silent Witness
From the factory to food stalls, markets, taxis, monasteries, cemeteries, and even conflict zones, the thousand Kyat note becomes more than a currency. It becomes a mirror of society – seeing joy, pain, generosity, and hardship. It reminds us that behind every transaction, there is a person with a story.
Money often seems like a simple tool, but its movement tells the story of a nation. It reflects who we are, what we value, and how we live together. The thousand Kyat note’s real worth lies not in its number, but in the connections it creates and the lives it quietly touches.
In the end, we realize something profound: even an ordinary object like a banknote can hold deep meaning. If we could follow it closely, if we could listen to its voice, it would tell us a thousand stories – of work, love, giving, and the shared journey of being human.
Source: GNLM