A love story in the forbidden forest

Crocodiles were countless, their prey churning up entire stretches of the river. Young Chau Ma men, their skin tanned and chests bulging like honey, sat by the river, playing their bló flutes to call their mates. In the forest, the silver-cheeked monkeys also stirred their emotions, frolicking under the moonlight. K'mun played the bló flute best in Bu Chap village; his melodies were both gentle and resonant, yet majestic and wild, like the wind blowing through the ancient, vast forest.

The sound of the bló made Ruối want to swim across the river and rest her head against his strong chest. Ruối would stretch her plump, soft arms over the jagged mouths of the crocodiles, without needing the slow dugout canoe anchored at the riverbank. Ruối would do that if she hadn't met the gaze of K'líu—her father, his eyes gleaming in the flickering firelight. Those eyes could subdue even wild beasts, let alone her…

The old man stopped telling his story, reached for the straw of his drink, took a long gulp, then tilted his head back and let out a long, resounding howl that echoed through the mountains and forests. Eden shivered slightly, even though she had been warned about the old man's strange habit by her forest guide and caretaker. When she arrived here, she had met him by the riverbank, and from the very beginning, he had captivated her with his unique, wild charm.

That day, upon arriving at the forestry office, the security guard greeted her in English with a hesitant, native accent. She chuckled and said, "Speak Vietnamese!" He stared at Eden in surprise. He probably didn't know that her mother was Vietnamese and that she had known how to eat with chopsticks and speak fluent Vietnamese since childhood. She asked about the old man from the highlands by the river, and he shook his head, saying, "That's a strange old man, the only one who refuses to leave the forest."

Eden extended her hand towards the security guard:

- "Before we start our forest research, I want to meet him. Can you help me?" The young man recoiled, sticking out his tongue:

- You shouldn't get involved with that old man.

Eden shrugged and narrowed her eyes, saying:

- I'll find him myself!

"...They met on the day of the Yang Kôi festival, the biggest festival of the Châu Mạ people, held in the village of Bù Cháp. That was the only time Ruối was allowed to cross the river to attend the festival. She wore a beautiful embroidered dress that she had spent three lunar cycles completing. Only that time did Ruối fall silent at the sound of K'mun's bló."

From then on, every moonlit night, Ruoi would lie on the grass and imagine herself floating in the silvery light, while across the river, the bló of her lover lifted her up to the sky. In her exhilaration and ecstasy, she would sing:

Bird! Why are you flying so high?

I dreamed of it but couldn't have it.

I want to be like a bird.

Fly to my little bird!

When Ruối sang, the sound of the bló fell silent, the space becoming still to welcome her voice. The wind from the forest stopped at the treetops, the wind from the river calmed at its source. Both of them lay on the ground, listening to each other's words of love, words conveyed by Yang Bri. Sometimes, when they couldn't hear K'mun's bló, Ruối would go to the river, gaze at her reflection in the water, and sing:

Hey! Yang Dak, where do you come from?

Where do the people of Yang Dak flow to?

Please convey my message to him.

Yang Dak! Yang Dak!

Without a sound, he would die, Yang Dak!

Then the sound of the bló (a type of bird) rang out again, and Ruối knelt down to thank the sacred river god…

Eden held her breath as she listened to the story, though its plot vaguely resembled the Romeo and Juliet tale in the land of mist that she had heard hundreds of times. But the dramatic narration of the old man amidst this desolate landscape moved her to tears. Eden never imagined that the gentle minority people here could love so intensely, so modernly.

A strange, exhilarating feeling surged through her, and she vaguely remembered Paul, who had taught her what he called "techniques in bed," and even though she had been consumed by physical passion, she had never felt this way before. "Maybe I'm not in love yet," she thought. "Paul is probably demonstrating his new 'techniques' with some blonde girl right now, and Eden has never felt such a need for Paul that she would die without his voice..."

"...Whoosh...thump - K'líu swung his gleaming jungle knife, striking forcefully against the trunk of the honey locust tree. Before Ruối's trembling, he spoke in a deep, gruff voice: "If you don't obey me, your eyes will never see the sun again, your ears will never hear the birds sing. You are not allowed to marry K'mun!"

No one understood why K'líu hated the people of Bù Cháp so much. From the time Ruối was a tiny child, she hadn't seen her mother. K'líu carried his daughter across the Đồng Nai River on his back, his face covered in knife wounds. He pointed his jungle knife at the river and swore he would never return to the other side. To this day, no one knows what happened to him or why he made that terrible vow. Even Ruối didn't dare ask her father about her mother. The Chơ Ro people on this side loved her dearly, though they were reluctant to associate with her father.

They asked Ruối to embroider beautiful dresses for them, and they gathered by the riverbank to listen to Ruối sing. Many Chơ Ro young men gave her beautiful bracelets made from the horns of the large Min animals they had hunted. They didn't know how to play the bló like the Mạ people, but they played the gongs very well and knew how to sing love songs. Sadly! Her heart had been left on the other side of the river. K'mun's bló music revived the Mạ blood in her veins, or perhaps from a past life she was the bamboo pipe on his lips.

Unable to resist the call of her lover, that night, a moonlit night in mid-April, she crossed the river while her father was checking his deer traps in the forest. The Chơ Ro girls shrieked as she plunged into the river, sparkling in the moonlight. They knew the danger lurking beneath the calm surface.

The ferocious, hungry crocodiles would not spare her. Ruoi swam swiftly, the sound of the bló (a type of fishing net) growing more and more intense, as if trying to lift her above the river's surface. Just a few dozen more strokes and she would be sitting beside K'mun. Suddenly, the sound of the bló stopped abruptly. K'mun, startled, recognized Ruoi; behind her, a shimmering crescent moon flickered. He threw down the bló and plunged into the river…

Eden held her breath, watching the strange encounter between the lovers on the river. She could easily imagine the scene. Suddenly, the old man stopped speaking, and Eden felt disoriented, as if she were swimming and being pulled down by the current. The old man stood up, went to the wall, pulled out a bamboo tube with holes drilled in it, like a flute used by the Kinh people, and solemnly raised it to his mouth. From that simple bamboo tube came a melodious, resonant sound.

Eden exclaimed "bló," and the old man nodded slightly. The bló grew increasingly mournful, like the weeping, sobbing, and pathetic cries of a deer that had lost its mate… Eden shuddered. She suddenly imagined the crescent moon behind Ruối as the crocodile—how terrifying! Eden thought, "If it were Paul, would he jump into the river to save me?" Then she thought again, "Would I have the courage to risk my life like Ruối did?"

The old man let his hands hang loosely, dropping the bamboo pipe to his feet, his gaze fixed on the river. His eyes were innocent and gentle. Eden remembered that when she first met him, he had looked at her with the same eyes—no surprise, no strangeness. She spoke Vietnamese with him, helped him catch fish in the stream, and quickly built a friendly relationship with him. When she expressed a desire to hear a love story from an ethnic minority, he smiled.

She felt increasingly close to him, as if they had known each other for a long time. The people at the station called him "the crazy old man," but he called them "thieves"! He told her that before this forest was closed, those same people supported the loggers; the teak, rosewood, and other trees were taken downstream by them to be turned into gold and silver. She didn't understand and didn't want to find out. The old man remained silent, gazing at the river. Eden wanted to ask him about "the ending of the love story," but she feared it would be a sad ending... She looked up at him and was startled to see two glistening tears on the old man's wrinkled cheeks.

The next morning, during their trek through the forest, Eden recounted the story to their guide, who laughed and said:

- Do you believe that story? I think it's just made-up. I heard the old man even claimed that he himself was K'mun and that the place he lives is where the girl used to live before she jumped into the river and was taken away by crocodiles!

"But why would he make that up?" Eden asked.

- Perhaps that story is the reason he stayed in this forest, because he was used to a life of gathering and didn't want to cross the river to farm like everyone else. Since Cat Tien was designated a protected forest, all residents were supposed to leave the forest and live in the village on the other side of the river, but this old man didn't want to go, despite our repeated attempts to persuade him.

After a moment of silence, he continued:

- That old man has the most vivid imagination I've ever met.

After saying that, he laughed loudly, seemingly pleased with his observation. Eden didn't argue; she felt that the explanations of this forest ranger and tour guide were somewhat forced and unconvincing. She gently shook her head and scrutinized the decaying leaves on the ground, hoping to spot the footprints of rare animals carefully protected in the forbidden forest.

Writer Nguyen Mot

- Born in 1964 in Quang Nam .

- Currently residing in Dong Nai, he is a member of the Prose Council of the Vietnam Writers Association.

- He is the author of nearly 20 books in diverse genres: short stories, novellas, essays, prose, and novels, which have won numerous local and national literary awards.

- His short story "The River in Front" was adapted into a television series by director Khai Hung.

- The two novels "Against the Sun" and "The Earth and Sky in Turmoil" were translated and published in the United States, with "The Earth and Sky in Turmoil" winning the C prize in the 2010 Vietnam Writers Association Novel Competition.

Source: https://nld.com.vn/van-nghe/chuyen-tinh-trong-rung-cam-20231007201934372.htm