Modern Korean Literature by Chung Chong-Wha;

Author:Chung, Chong-Wha;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Taylor & Francis Group

The Afternoon of Mellow Persimmons

Sohn So-Hi

Translated by Angela Chung*

It had rained in the morning yesterday, but this morning the sky was clear and the air was fresh. Perhaps it was because the seasonal tide of the White Frost had come; the autumn was approaching.

Bobai started sweeping the stone steps that led to the temple of Chilsungdang. For exactly one hundred and one days Bobai had swept this path. One hundred and one days had been continued without interruption, and she swept it with her utmost sincerity.

‘Na-moo-kwan-se-um-bo-sal, Merciful Goddess, have pity on me!’

When Bobai had finished sweeping, she put the broom back where it was. While she was washing her hands by the well in the back garden of the temple, she kept murmuring: ‘Merciful Goddess, have pity on me!’ She stood up and walked towards her room; her steps were quick, and her face was covered with a sweet smile. As she passed by the hall of worship she heard somebody calling the mercy of Buddha. The voice was coarse and loud, and yet, it seemed to Bobai, the owner of the voice was almost crying. She peeped into the hall, wondering whether it was the woman next door to her. Her guess was right.

Curiosity gripped her, and Bobai wondered why she was crying in her prayer. Her curiosity increased as she walked to her room. Once in her room, she started to paint her face. For three months and ten days she had neglected her toilette. She had wholly devoted herself to worship for a hundred days, and this was the hundred and first day at this temple. She laboured in making up her face as best as she could, hoping that her hundred-day prayer would bring a fruitful result. When she had finished making up her face, she found herself beautiful. Her skin was white and smooth, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks rosy pink as before, her protruded forehead glistening, her nose graceful, and her mouth elegant. A wave of satisfaction swelled over her and she couldn’t resist a smile. Feeling happy, she took out a purse, in which a pair of small nail scissors and a thimble were kept. She put on her best clothes. She looked more beautiful. She exchanged a smile with herself in the mirror. Once in the good old days she had been devoutly loved by her husband, Ahn Doyong, for her beauty. He even now insisted that he loved only her. Perhaps it might be true.

‘Excuse me, next-door mother, may we have breakfast together this morning? I don’t feel like having it by myself,’ said the woman who had been crying in the hall of worship. She smashed Bobai’s happy daydream. Bobai was taken aback. Bobai felt terribly painful whenever this woman addressed her as ‘next-door mother’. It was worse this morning. She wanted to refuse the invitation, but finding no adequate excuse she agreed reluctantly.

A few minutes later Bobai sat down with the woman over breakfast. She looked at Bobai several times with her swollen eyes, fascinated, and asked.

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