One fine autumn day, I quietly slipped out of the house without a word to anyone. My destination was Dhaka airport, and my mode of transportation was a humble bicycle. I was a mismatched, dusty, disheveled teenager, feeling a bit out of place as I settled into my economy class seat on the plane bound for Burma. In my heart, I feared that someone might approach me and ask, "What are you doing here, young man? You need to go back home." I kept waiting for the moment when the plane would touch down in Dhaka for the last time. It felt like a dream as I disembarked at Rangoon airport. It was five in the morning, and after clearing customs, I embarked on a cycling journey towards the Thai border. My stomach was empty, and my eyes were heavy wi...

I woke up early that morning, my excitement having granted me just two hours of sleep the previous night. My pocket held a substantial portion of the money owed by Batsaikhan, a sum totaling around sixteen million Tugriks. It was likely that Dadu had harvested and sold the barley, as he was to transport the potatoes to Anak Ranch—a journey that would prove costly for him to undertake alone. The anticipation of returning to the ranch was palpable within me. Despite Mr. Temujin's repeated offers, I couldn't be convinced to have breakfast before departing. With heartfelt parting words, I dashed to the bus stand along Ulaanbaatar's main avenue. I quickly found my spot on a vibrant, colorful bus destined for Bodrak. Settling in, I armed myself w...

When the flocks of beburn grass sway in the gentle wind, raising their half-eyed eyes and wanting to shake their heads and titter with them, the drunken gusts of wind come and wave across that boundless, primeval, treeless, grassy plain. Bands of drunken winds bring with them the life-giving fragrance of unknown, never-seen wildflowers. The mind then wants to go mad, wants to shut up and sit, looking at the white crown of the far-off hilltop, I just think that this is a beautiful decoration of nature! A cold old man's oldest memory Called to a melody centuries older than the oldest living man, The maddened mind, like the poet's mad melody, Wished then, Oh, that life could last forever! Kazakh people say that once upon a time there was a m...

Those days and the emotions they carried are etched deeply within my memory. Every morning I would awaken, feeling like a grand fool. I pondered, what folly it was to abandon my homeland in pursuit of celestial happiness, to wander the world's fields like a nomad. How negligent of me to disregard the greatest source of joy that lay right before me! My thoughts would often drift back to the imagery of Altentsetseg Firminbaishin, the elderly man puffing on his cigar, the enchanting lakeside, the gracefulness of Margarita… My mind would remain blank, and for a moment, I'd berate myself for my foolishness. Then, out of the blue, a semi-dark room would materialize before my eyes, a square window devoid of grilles. In that room, with wooden walls...

"Thank you very much, Mr. Batukhan!" I said, breaking free from the warm embrace of the jovial man. "I really want to see the island! I'm out to see the whole world!" As I spoke the last word, a tremor ran through my body. Every time I shared that sentiment, my heart raced. A strange and exhilarating happiness filled my chest. Perhaps Batukhan understood that feeling well, as he started showering me with sincere and bright compliments, making me feel somewhat embarrassed. In the shade of a tall tree in Belabhumi, Batukhan spread a mat, inviting me to sit. The young boy, Gutiguti, had accepted me as his father-uncle's friend. He approached me hesitantly, holding his hand to his cheek and widening his eyes in curiosity. Now, he extended his...