 Can fish dream like human beings? If they can, what dreams do they
dream the night before their mouths are hooked by the fisherman, squirming in the air at
the last moment before their death, before being chopped and fried or grilled and, last of
all, entering the stomach of that creature known as a human?! Do they possibly dream of
having a tooth fall out, or perhaps of becoming a bride or bridegroom?
What a destiny! Like humans, of course, those fish have children, brothers and sisters, as
well as friends. And those left behind must, of course, feel deep sadness. Now, are
fishermen guilty of committing a sin when they hook, chop, cook, and eat fish?
It was questions such as this that disturbed Sam as he waited for the fish to eat his
bait. These questions suddenly rushed into his mind, and generated more and more questions
in his heart. But the curious thing was why the questions had surfaced only at this
moment. This was not the first time Sam had been fishing; he had done it many times
before.
Sam could not answer the questions that trapped him. His eyes became fixed to the bobbing
float on the surface of the brownish-red water. As soon as the float dipped up, into the
posture of a mosquito sucking blood, he would conclude a fish was taking a bite.
He was quite familiar with the language of the line in the water, and from the signal of
the float he came to know exactly what to do. He could lift up his fishing line to the air
in a quick, spontaneous action, and from the tilt of the float he knew whether to make a
sudden pull or a slow lift. There was the kind of fish that would pull loose from the hook
if there was a sudden tug, and then often the reverse was also the case. Therefore, in
order to get a lot of fish, understanding the language of the float was a must. And Pak
Sam was master of such language.
This time, though, the float had not changed position for a long time. It swayed only in
response to the movements of the wind and the water. This was quite uncommon. Usually, as
soon as the bait plunged into the water the fish demolished it, all in less than two
minutes.
Pak Sam wondered where the fish were that afternoon. Were they taking a stroll to places
of recreation - to shops, supermarkets, or wherever - as grandpa once described in his
stories? When still a young child, Sam had liked to go along with his grandpa as he went
fishing. And his grandpa enjoyed taking Sam along with him. Every time he asked his
grandpa why it took a long time to get fish, the answer was this: “The fish are not
at home now. Perhaps they are still on a trip. They are like human beings, aren’t
they? Like you, they like playing. And if they are playing until late in the evening,
ghosts can kidnap them.
“Do those fish also like fishing, grandpa?”
His grandpa nodded, simply tilting his head slightly.
“What do they fish?” he demanded.
“Fish, of course. Small fish.”
Sam used to believe his grandpa’s stories, and only when he turned twelve did he come
to realise that the stories were not true. He learnt that his grandpa told stories and
answered his questions just to please him, and not to let his unexpected questions go
unanswered. And what was more, his grandpa did not want him to become so involved in his
play that he did not have time in the evening to do his school assignments. He was sure
that the purpose of his grandpa’s stories was reasonable.
It is said that getting fish or not getting fish when fishing is a matter of luck for both
the fish and the fisherman. “Are the fish simply lucky this time,” Sam wondered,
“while I am simply unlucky?” If the luck is always on the fish’s side while
the fishermen have bad luck, the hours spent fishing will bring no fish. But the reverse
is also true; if bad luck is on the fish’s side, and the fishermen have good luck,
not much time is needed to get a lot of fish.
He once opposed this belief. “What if both the fish and the fishermen have the same
luck, either bad or good?” he asked himself. But he was now doubtful about this
opinion. He had been having many problems these last few days. Whatever he did was just
wrong. When he switched on the TV, it broke down. When he took a glass for making coffee,
the glass fell down and broke. When closing a door, the handle became loose.
The breeze of the afternoon was swinging around green trees. Anticipating the coming of an
enemy, all birds swarmed into the air in formation like an abstract picture against the
red canvas of sky. Several dry leaves flew high in the air before dropping down to the
surface of the water, where they whirled around momentarily like canoes blown by the south
wind before at last being carried away by the running water.
While watching the moving leaves Pak Sam thought: Suppose I were sitting on those leaves,
where would I be carried? Would I be carried to the sea? Or would I get caught in an
unknown place where I would not be able to save myself and, therefore, die? If this
happened, indeed those fish would strip my flesh into pieces as revenge for my slaughter
with the hook.
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