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What else can I help you with?
Who are some successful world leaders who relied on God for guidance and strength?
Pope John Paul II. :D -yun yung sabi. pero na papag isip-isip ko rin, tama rin pala ung POPE JOHN PAUL II. :DD
Climax in the story footnote to youth?
Dodong and Teang live happily ever after..
Malalim na tagalog sa salitang silya o upuan?
Oh, it looks like you're curious about the deep Tagalog word for "chair" or "seat." In Filipino, the word "silya" or "upuan" is already commonly used to refer to a chair or seat. Remember, language is like a beautiful painting with many colors and shades, each word adding its own unique touch to the canvas.
Pamana lamberto gabriel at ang mga tauhan nito?
Dapit-hapon na. Sa pagkahiga sa papag ay nakikita ni Mang Karyas ang anino ng malabay na akasyang sumasablay sa dingding na sasag ng silid. Dapithapon na nga. Naririnig na niya ang sunud-sunod na pagkukukiya ng asawa sa kanilang alagang mga manok.Kruuuuk. . . kiya. . . kruuk. . . tikatik. . . tik. . . tik. . .Makasandali pa ay narinig na ni Mang Karyas ang tila naghahabulang mga paa ng nagsisipanakbuhang mga sisiw, inahin, at katyaw. Nakinita -kinita niya ang asawa, si Aling Asyang, na nakaupo sa nakahigang lusong at may kandong na bilao ng mais.Mabubuudbod na si Aling Asyang. Naging ugali na nitong patukain ang mga manok bago iyon magsipag-hapunan sa kanilang masinop na silong.Hiyuu… hiyu. . .hiyuuuu. . .Mandi'y binubugaw ni Aling Asyang ang kapong baboy na gayong kapapakain pa lamang ay nanginginain pa ng mais na ibinubudbod sa mga manok.Maya-Maya'y narinig ni Mang Karya ang sunud-sunod na kahol ni Sagani. Alam ni Mang Karyas kung sino ang kinakahulan ng aso. Iyo'y ang kanyang matandang kalabaw, si Pugante, na umuwi buhat sa pakawalaan. Magkaaway na mahigpit ang kanyang kalabaw at aso.Inut-inot na bumangon si Mang Karyas sa pagkakahiga sa papag. Nais niyang makita si Pugante. Parang may isip ang kalabaw niyang iyon. Itataboy iyon ni Aling Asyang kung umaga, manginginain sa pastulan, at uuwi iyon kung ganoong magdadapithapon.Hindi na kailangang saklawan pa si Pugante. Nalalaman nito kung anong oras dapat umuwi.Kapag nakikita ni Mang Karyas ang kalabaw ay Hindi niya napipigilang kahabagan iyon. Matanda na si Pugante. Payat. Wala na ang dating laman sa dalawang hita. Kung wala lamang siyang sakit ay Hindi magkakaganoon ang kanyang kalabaw.Mabagal nang lumakad si Pugante. Kung nadadala niya marahil ito sa higit na madaramong pastulan ay Hindi mananalim ang dati nitong bilugang likod. Naihambing ni Mang Karyas ang sarili sa kalabaw. Kapwa na sila matanda. Subalit malaki ang kanilang pagkakaiba. Laya si Pugante samantalang siya'y namamalagi sa papag na iyon., nasasabik makabangon, makapanaog. . .Matagal nang Hindi nadadalaw ni Mang Karyas ang bukid. Malapit lamang sa kanila iyon. Kung durungaw siya'y matatanaw niya iyon. Kung gabi'y dinig niya ang ingay ng traktorang gumigiik ng ani ng kanyang mga kahangga. Lihim na naiinggit si Mang Karyas sa kanyang mga kahangga. Kung Hindi niya marahil napabayaan ang bukid ay kabilang siya sa maliligayang magsasakang nagbibilang ng mga kaban ng palay."Tssk. . . tssk. . .tssk. . . Aba't lalo pang binagalan . . . "Napahawak nang mahigpit si Mang Karyas sa palababahan ng bintana nang Makita niyang pabiglang hinatak ni Aling Asyang sa paghapon ang nagmamabagal na kalabaw. Nakaramdam siya ng pagkaawa sa matandang kalabaw. Nagpumiglas at tila naghimagsik ang nakabalatay na mga ugat sa kanyang mga bisig.Nang makaradam ng pangangawit si Mang Karyas ay itinukod niya ang bisig sa papag upang huwag mabigla ang kanyang paghiga. Ilang sandali lamang siyang naupo subalit sumasakit na ang kanyang likod. Nakagat ni Mang Karyas ang labi nang sumayad ang katawan sa papag."Darating na raw ang anak mo, Karyas. Dumaan kanina si Pablo at sinabi sa akin. Mamayang gabi raw," narinig niyang pagbabalita ng asawang nagluluto sa dapugan."Ngayon pang gabi ay humuli ka na ng dumalaga, Asyang," habilin ni Mang Karyas."Ipagpatay mo si Kiyel."Malalim ang bunting-hiningang hinugot ni Mang Karyas sa dibdib. Naisaloob niyang matutupad na rin ang kanyang pangarap na mahango sa bukid ang anak. Sumingit sa kanyang kamalayan ang nangyari nang minsang tangkain ng anak na tulungan siya sa pag-aararo."Kiyel, Anak." Natatandaan pa niyang sinabi sa anak, "mag-aral ka sanang mabuti. Sa kabila n gating kahirapan ay itataguyod ka naming ng iyong ina."Napadiin noon ang ugit ng ararong hawak ni Kiyel."Hindi ka sadyang laan dito sa bukid, Kiyel. Hindi ganyan ang pag-aararo. Patag ang kailangang paghawak sapagkat sa minsang magkamali ka ng diin aay mababali ang sudsod."1Natitigan siya noon ni Kiyel. Alam niyang sa titig na iyon ay kinahahabagan siya ng anak."Matanda na kayo, Tatang. Ipaubaya na ninyo saa akin ang paggawa rito sa bukid. Kailangan na ninyong mamahinga.""Hindi mo ako nauunawaan, Anak. Tingnan mo ako. Ilang taon na akong naging alipin ng araro? Tingnan mo ang aking kamay, kulay sunog. Isa akong magsasaka, Kiyel. Kaya lamang ako nasisiyahan sa paggawa sa bukid ay sapagkat dito ako nakalaan. Kailangang mag-aral ka, nang Hindi mo malasap ang hirap na aking dinaranas, nang maging higit na maganda ang iyong kinabukasan. Magsikap ka, Anak, at sa pamamagitan ng bukid na ito'y igagapang ka naming ng iyong ina.Kaligayahan naming Makita kang Malaya sa ugit ng isang araro."Hindi kumibo si Kiyel nang sabihin ni Mang Karyas iyon sa kanya. Nalalaman ni Mang Karyas na nahihirapan an anak sa pagtatakwil sa buhay-magsasakang kinagisnan. Subalit na kay Kiyel ang lahat ng katangiang mapupuhunan sa pagtatagumpay. Hindi siya nangangambang mabibigo si Kiyel.Nang minsang umuwi si Kiyel ay ganoon na lamang ang galak ni Mang Karyas nang isalaysay nito ang ginagawang pagsisikap sa pag-aaral. Nagmamalaki ang kanyang puso. Ngayo'y may karapatan na siyang magmalaki sa nayon: mayroon na siyang anak na nakapag-aral.Mamayang gabi ay darating si Kiyel.Maligayang-maligaya si Mang Karyas sa pagkakahiga sa papag. Sa wakas ay malalagot na rin niya ang tanikalang nag-uugnay sa kanilang mag-ama sa bukid. Malalagot na niya iyon- sa pamamagitan din ng bukid na sinasaka.Parang nag-iinit ang katawang napaupong muli si Mang Karyas sa papag. Isinaklay niya ang kamay sa palababahan ng bintana at tinanaw ang dakong pagbubuhatan ng anak. Naramdaman ni Mang Karyas ang malamyos na dapyo ng amihan sa kanyang pisngi. Naramdaman niyang parang nasabukay ang maputi na niyang buhok.Gumagala ang kanyang paningin sa bukid. Sa kumakalat na kadilima'y nababanaagan pa niya ang punong manggang naghuhumindig sa kalagitnaan ng kanyang bukid. Napangiti si Mang Karyas. Bukid din niya ang magpapalaya sa kanyang anak. Nagbangon sa kanyang alaala ang paggawa sa saka. Sa silong ng ulan at liwanag ng kidlat ay nahuhukot siya sa pag-aararo at pagsusuyod ng putikang linang. Sa panahon naman ng anihan ay tila natatayantang pati ang kanyang mga labi sa tindi ng sikat ng araw. Isang pagpapakasakit ang buhay ng isang magsasaka, isang walang katapusang pagpapakasakit."Ano ba, Karyas, Kumusta an gating palay?" Kung Hindi ko naalagaa'y baka inaksip." "Ano ba, Karyas, kailan ang paggaas?" "Kung Hindi gagapasin ng kabisilya ay papayukin naming mag-asawa!" "Ano ba, Karyas, kailan ang giik?" "Mamayang alas dose ng gabi, pag nagdaan ang traktorang galing sa ibayo."May panahong uhaw ang lupa. May panahong tigang na tigang. May panahong maraming bitak dahil sa pagsasalat sa bukid. May panahong mabulas ang palay, walang sakit, at nangangako ng mabuting ani.Naranasang lahat iyan ni Mang Karyas.Nangakakintal ang mga karanasang iyon sa lapad ng kanyang tila mga luyang mga paa, sa putik ng kanyang hinahalas na binti, at sa pangangapal ng dalawa niyang palad.Sa pagsisikap na mapaunlad ang ani sa ginagawang pagpapaaral sa anak ay lalong humigpit ang kaugnayan ni Mang Karyas sa sinasakang lupa. Naging bahagi sa buhay ni Mang Karyas ang bukid at sa dakong huli'y tuluyan naman siyang inangkin nito. Nang minsang dinaramuhan ni Mang Karyas ang mga puno ng palay ay inabot siya ng malakas na ulan. Doon nga nagsimula ang kanyang sakit.Nang lumalangitngit ang sahig na kawayan ay napalingon si Mang Karyas. Nakita niyang nagpapasok na ang asawa ng pagkain. Dagli niyang itinukod ang kanang kamay upang maalalayan nito ang kanyang paghiga.Subalit huli na. Nahuli siya ni Aling Asyang sa kanyang pagkakapanungaw."Sinabi ko naman sa iyong huwag ka munang mag-uupo, e," may paninising lumangkap sa tinig ni Aling Asyang."Ikaw nga ang dumadaing na masakit ang iyong likod.""Tinitingnan ko lamang, Asyang, ang ating bukid,: dahilan ni Mang Karyas at tiningnan ang asawang nakakunot-noo."Siya, siya kumain ka na, Karyas. . .," wika ni Aling Asyang at inilapag ang mangkok sa papag. Tinanganan ang kutsara at sinimulang subuan si Mang Karyas.2"Sipag nitong anak ni Ba Kayong, oo!" pagbibiro ni Mang Karyas sa asawang may salit-salit na ring puti ang buhok."Sulong. Kumain ka't darating ang anak mo!" Marahan pang dinunggol ni Aling Asyang ang baywang ni Mang Karyas.Nalarawan ang kasiyahan sa mukha ni Mang Karyas. Kay bait ng kanyang asawa! Hindi pa rin nagbabawa ang kanyang si Asyang. Ito pa rin ang dating masuyo, masipag, at mapagmahal na anak ni Ba Kayong."Ano ang pakiramdam mo?" mayamaya'y nausisa ni Aling Asyang."Parang namimigat ang aking katawan, Asyang.""Kasi'y bangon ka nang bangon. Hala, ubusin mo ito, o . . ."Walang imik na kumain si Mang Karyas. Wala siyang gana. Pinipilit lamang niya ang pagkain ng nilugaw at ng malambot na tapang inihaw."Inggit na inggit sa iyo si Kiko, oy," ani Aling Asyang kay Mang Karyas,"mabuti ka pa raw at nakapagpatapos.""Paggaling na paggaling ko'y lilibutin ko ang buong nayon at ipagsisigawan kong tapos na ang ating anak, Asyang!" nagmamalaking nawika ni Mang Karyas." "Paggaling ko ay lilibot kami ni Kiyel at tingnan mo kung Hindi nila ako hangaan!"Nasa gayon silang pag-uusap nang makarinig sila ng halinghing ng aso. Hindi hahalinghing si Sagani kung kilala nito ang pumapasok. Tatahol ito."Bakit si Kiyel na 'yan, Asyang !" nausal ni Mang Karyas at nagsikap na makaupo upang makadungaw sa bintana.Marahang diniinan siya ni Aling Asyang sa balikat.Pagkaraa'y dumungaw ito at inaninaw kung sino ang sinasalta ni Isagani."Tatang, Inang!" Narinig nilang dalawa ang tinig ni Kiyel, Nagmadaling sinalubong ni Aling Asyang ang anak. Noo'y wala na ang sakit na naramdaman ni Mang Karyas sa likod. Dumating na si Kiyel! May dumadaloy na panibagong lakas sa mga ugat ni Mang Karyas.Waring para siyang biglang sumigla."Naku, ang dami-dami mong dala, Kiyel!" Narinig niya ang tinig ng asawa." Ang Tatang, kumusta?" Noon pa ma'y nais na ni Mang Karyas na iwan ang papag na kinauupuan at salubungin ang anak. Sabik na sabik si Mang Karyas. Sa sinabi ni Kiyel na "Ang Tatang, kumusta?"ay nais niyang isagot na "Narito ako!"Nang makapanhik na si Kiyel ay tila tumaas pa ito sa paningin ni Mang Karyas.Mabulas ang katawan ni Kiyel.Matitipuno ang mga bisig, masiglang-masigla ang pusong-ama ni Mang Karyas."Tatang!" ani Kiyel at hinalikan ang kamay ni Mang Karyas.Makapal ang palad na nadama ni Mang Karyas nang tangnan ng anak ang kanyang kamay. Subalit Hindi niya pinansin iyon. Sa wakas ay narito na si Kiyel!"Magaling na ako!" Naisaloob ni Mang Karyas. :Lilibot tayo sa buong nayo! Ipakikita k okay Kiko ang aking anak na aking napagtapos! Lilibutin ni Kiyel ang buong nayon. Ipagmamalaki ko si Kiyel!""Maghubad ka muna, Anak," anang ina ni Kiyel at ibinigay sa anak ang tsinelas na malapad ang dahon. "Pagod na pagod ka marahil sa biyahe." Pagkawika niyo'y nagtungo sa labas si Aling Asyang upang maghanda ng hapunan."Paparito bukas ang mga kaibigan mo, Kiyel," pagbabalita ni Mang Karyas sa anak."Marahil ay babatiin ka."Piit ang ngiting nakita ni Mang Karyas na sumilay sa mga labi ng anak. Nakita niyang napatungo si Kiyel. At naramdaman na lamang niya ang pagpisil ni Kiyel sa kanyang palad."Ikinalulungkott ko, Tatang, na sinuway ko kayo," marahang sabi ni Kiyel sa ama.Nabaghan si Mang Karyas. Piit nitong sininag sa mukha ng anak kung ano ang ibig ipakahulugan nito sa sinabing iyon."Sinikap kong sundin, Tatang, ang iminungkahi ninyong kurso ngunit Hindi ko iyon naipagpatuloy."Sinalat ni Mang Karyas ang palad ni Kiyel.Parang binubuhawi ang kanyang kalooban."Makapal ang iyong palad, Kiyel.""Agrikultura ang kinuha ko, Tatang, sa Los Banos."3Nakuyom ni Mang Karyas ang dalawag palad. Gumapang sa kanyang katawan ang init. Nang pagdaupin niya ang mga palad ay naglitawan ang mga ugat sa kanyang mga bisig."Sinuway mo ako, Kiyel," mariin niyang sabi sa anak. Sinuway mo kami ng iyong ina. Sa kahirapan natin ay sinikap ka naming mapag-aral upang mailayo ka sa bukid. Ayaw kong maging magsasaka ka. Ang pagsasaka, Kiyel, ay panghabambuhay na pagpapakasakit. Ang bukid na dati kong sinasaka'y minana ko pa sa iyong mga ninunong nangamatay na mga magsasaka, Kami'y binhing natanim saa bukid. Sa pagnanais ko na lamang na Hindi ka rin makaugat sa bukid kaya pinapag-aral ka naming ng iyong ina. . . Binigo mo kami, Kiyel.""Kung kayo'y aking sinunod ay Hindi ko maituturing na ako'y inyong anak," pagpapaliwanag ni Kiyel sa ama.Nanlalim ang mga guhit sa noo ni Mang Karyas sa itinugong iyon ng anak."Ako'y anak ng isang magsasaka, Tatang. Anak ninyo.Nananalaytay sa aking mga ugat ang tubig na dumadaloy sa mga linang. Nakahasik sa aking puso ang mga binhing inyong isinasabog kung panahon ng punlaan. . ."Naramdaman ni Mang Karyas ang pagpisil ng anak sa kanyang kamay. Hindi niya namamalaya'y namalisbis sa kanyang kulubot na mga pisngi ang luha. Napabaling siya sa bintana upang ikubli iyon sa anak. Pinilakan ang liwanag ng sumisikat na buwan sa kanilang bukid.Mayaman ang liwanag subalit ang kanilang lupa'y pagas, tigang, mabitak.Mandi'y naghihintay ng ulan."Kayo'y matanda na, Tatang. Tulad ng ginawa ng aking mga nuno'y hinihiling ko sa inyong ipaubaya ninyo sa akin ang paggawa sa bukid. Ipagmamalaki ninyo ako, Tatang!"At nayakap ni Mang Karyas ang anak. Ang binhi ng kaligayaha'y muling sumibol sa kanyang puso. Mayabong ang kaligayahang iyon."Ang pagsasakang aking natutuha'y di tulad ng pagsasakang ating ginagawa sa kasalukuyan dito sa atin, Tatang. Iyo'y pagsasakang pag-uugatan ng pag-unlad. . ."Naghuhumindig sa bughaw na liwanaga ng buwan ang punong mangga nang tanawin ni Mang Karyas at Kiyel ang kanilang bukid.
What is the short story Sunset by Paz Latorena?
SunsetPaz LatorenaThe ManShe came to him out of the rain like a rabbit of flotsam washed from the distant seas to the shore by uncertain tides. The wind blew from the east that night and as the door of the rustly shop opened westward, it slammed shut behind her with a sort of vicious cheated force when she hurried in. The whole place rocked with the impact and startled him as he sat on a stool mending a pair of brown shoes in the dim light of a small, red lamp that hung from the blackened sawali ceiling.Outside the shop, the rain lashed down the narrow street with the fury of an aroused maniac, a steady flood from a sky of impenetrable darkness. The water streamed along the gutters, foaming at the heaps of filth congested there, rejected scraps of food, bits of yellow paper, pieces of rags, and untidy dirt. In what weather, no light shone along Barranco, the heart of the slums of the northern district, early as the hour still was.He stood up and eyed her uncertainly as she leaned heavily against the threshold, a slender, half drowned wisp of a woman clutching a faded violet scarf tightly around her narrow chest."Yes?" he said with rising infection.She looked around the small shop―it was shabby but it was clean―and then at him as he stood under the red lamp, tall in his sleeveless undershirt and dark blue trousers with white stripes."I was caught by the rain," she exclaimed in a voice hardly above a whisper, "this was the only place with a light."She coughed a dry, unnatural sound that shook her small body from head to foot."So I came in," she gasped on, "but now I shall go."She turned to the door and opened it. The rain darted in and awoke him from his trance-like immobility and silence."Don't," he protested, striding to the door and closing it with finality. "Sit down and wait for the rain to stop."She looked up and a tired smile of gratitude lighted up her face for a moment.There was his stool in the middle of the small shop, directly under the red lamp, and there was a small papag in a corner by the small tightly closed window. He led her to that. The only chair in the shop had been borrowed that afternoon by a neighbor and had not yet been returned he apologized with an embarrassed laugh.The papag creaked unpleasantly as she sat down without a word. She cast off the wet scarf from her shoulders with a quick movement, as if its dampness had suddenly become oppressive and intolerable.He sat on the stool once more and resumed his work.Did she live far? Was his tentative query.She nodded.Was she looking for someone living in the neighborhood?Again the mute answer.There were other things he wanted to know but the question that surged to his lips were stilled by her reticence.He glanced at her furtively. There was something vaguely disturbing in her stillness her feet barely touched the floor, her hands were quietly folded on her lap, her eyes were turned down, seemingly intent on the pattern of her red chinelas.The silence deepened, lengthened into minutes. A musty odor of damp earth and humid air hung heavily in the room. Dark wetness crept in through the slits in the nipa wall. The wind continued the havoc without, and in all the world there seemed to be no other sound but the drip, drip on the roof.Then, as suddenly as it had come, the rain stopped. From somewhere in the distance a church bell made itself heard and tolled the hour.He looked up. The woman had fallen asleep. She had dropped on one side, and one of her arms pillowed her head while the other was carelessly thrown across her breast.He put his work down and lighted a stumpy candlestick.He stood up and made his way to the corner to wake her up.Drops of water still glistened on the mass of black hair that was knotted loosely at the black of her head. A stray tendril threw its shadow across her sleeping face. The large mouth with its full but colorless lips was slightly parted by her irregular breathing.He gazed at her for long while-the mass of black hair, the closed eyes with their long lashes the tips of which touched the soft brown of her cheeks. And a sudden desire to touch her face overwhelmed him as he stood above her. She was so small, so soft, so still in the flickering candle light.He remembered that she had looked at him from the door with eyes made enormous by dark circles under them. In the dim light of the lamp he had not discerned the color of those eyes. Were they black? Or brown?They were dark-brown in the clear morning when Barranco woke up to find a strange woman in the cobbler's shop. And they were sad as they met his in the cold and cruel light.But could anything else have happened, he asked himself hopelessly. He closed his eyes and saw her again in the frail and haunting loveliness that had been hers in the flickering candlelight.A long silence bridged the charm of speech. When the spoke it was almost as if her words were so many pebbles flung into that chasm for themer purpose of sound, as full of hopeless regret was her voice."I suppose, I should…" the words halted there.It was many days later when he learned how she came to him that night of wind and rain. She had been working in the house of a vaudeville star. She had been happy, she assured him, because the señorita was kind. But the younger brother, coming home only that night, had been nasty in his drunkenness. She had fled from the house, from evil eyes and evil lips and evil hands that had seared her flesh with their touch. She had wandered through unfamiliar streets-from the boat she had gone straight to the senorita's house, upon her arrival from the province only a few months before―until the sudden rain had driven her to his door.From mud to mud, he thought as he listened to her story and watched her trembling hands. A sense of the enormous wrong he had done her troubled him, also an intangible responsibility and a vague to atone.He would marry her. He said that aloud, feeling he not only should but wanted to."But we have to wait," he told one evening across their frugal meal; "marriage cost money. The license… other fees…""The senorita…" she ventured timidly."I do not want you to go to that house," he reminded her, "and I shall pay for the license," he added in cold voice.She was silent.The WomanBarranco was horrified―even the slums had a code of morals loose―but not for long. The poor people had too many other things and personal affairs to worry about―for example, how to feed seven children everyday on twenty centavos.In time the neighbors forgot, for they rarely saw her. It was the cobbler who went to the market, it was the cobbler who hung the wet clothes in the backyard every morning. And something in her voice, something gay and undaunted made them stop their work for a while to listen to her and to notice how lovely the day was.For beautiful mornings came after that night of rain-soft sunshine, blue skies, tender breezes―kind days during which she learned to love her tall cobbler who made barely enough money to keep them both in rice and fish everyday.Often she would sit quietly on the papag and watch him as he sat on his stool mending a pair of shoes that would bring them a day's meal or standing by the door talking to a neighbor across the narrow street while waiting for a customer to come in and the night.So they were not only lovely but happy days as well. Yet she counted them, for if work became steady, they might save the money to marry on.Somehow nothing had been said about marriage since the night he had forbidden her to go back to the house of her former senorita. But how she could talk about it, she argued with herself impatiently whenever the question furtively intruded into her thoughts, when there were times when they did not have enough money for the market?Once or twice she was tempted to go to the señorita without his knowledge, but she could not think of a good excuse to leave the house for a long time. And she had learned his anger which was swift and silent and somehow terrible. She had incurred it once by making a friend of the wife of a neighbor and chatting for hours across the back fence for the sheer pleasure of hearing another woman's voice. He had said anything but she had cried because he had eaten his meal without her.She was sweeping the shop one morning―the cobbler had left to deliver a pair of shoes to its owner―when a small gray car made its way through the narrow street and a girl in a gaudy sweater came down, staring with bewildered eyes at the small protection."Senorita," she exclaimed joyfully as a shadow darkened the threshold."Yes," the girl in the gaudy sweater hastened inside. "What are you doing in this shop?""I live here, señorita," she said, dusting the only chair with a sleeve of her camisa and offering it to the unexpected visitor."I had come to take you back," crossing her silk-clad legs, "because Pepe is now living with Mother. He told me what happened the night you left. But the detective I hired took a long time to locate you."The voice of the señorita was very kind, so were the eyes, and before she realized what she was doing, she had sobbed the whole story."But he is going to marry me, señorita," she smiled through her tears, "as soon as we have enough money with which to pay the license and other fees."The girl's face softened, became almost beautiful."Well. Here is the salary you forgot to ask for in your hurry to leave," opening a beaded handbag and drawing out two ten-peso bills and a small card." And here is my new address, in case you should change your mind."But señorita…" she stared at the bills in her hand."The other bill is my gift to the bride," she said, smiling. "And now is there anything else I can do for you?""Yes, there is, señorita," she clutched the girl's arm in her excitement. "Wait for him. And do not tell him you have seen me. Say that you have heard about us from the detective you hired to locate me, that you are giving him this gift of money so he can marry me.""But why?" the girl was puzzled."Because I love him, señorita, and I want him to think he is paying for the license, not I." she explained as she snatched a scarf―the same faded violet scarf with which she had come to her cobbler out of the night and the rain and hurried out.The small gray car no longer blocked the narrow street when she returned about an hour later. Inside the shop the cobbler was regarding a dirty pair of black shoes perched on his low table with evident dislike."Where have you been?" he asked casually as she came in."Looking for isis with which polish our table," she answered in a happy voice, waving a branch of rough leaves before his eyes."You should not leave the when I am out." He remarked thoughtfully. "People might come in," he added."Did any?" she challenged gayly. She stood before him expectantly, her eyes starry bright."Well …no," he spoke slowly as he resumed the scrutiny of the black shoes.A bit of the radiance left her eyes. Rather puzzled, she picked up the isis that had fallen to the ground and went inside the kitchen to prepare the midday meal.Throughout the rest of the morning she resolutely kept calm and refrained from thinking. She would not let anything, not even curiosity, master her into unnecessary doubt, until he himself should, consciously or unconsciously, give the clue to his rather strange behavior."I have a surprise for you," he told her drowsily as he curled up for his usual afternoon nap.The relief was so sudden and so sharp that it almost brought tears to her eyes. She did not speak because she knew her voice would betray her.He was keeping the news as a surprise. He would tell her about it tonight and she hoped there would be rain to remind him of the night she had come to him. And in a rush of patience for the ugly and furtive thoughts that had troubled her in spite of herself, she ran her fingers through his hair. He was fast sleep.With renewed buoyancy, she moved about the shop the rest of the afternoon, excited, humming a tune as she worked. She made fun of the dirty black shoes the cobbler began mending after his brief nap. She laughed over the very long needle and the very thick thread he chose for his work.But even the night brought nothing. Close to him in the dark she waited in vain for the words that would make of their life together a beautiful symphony, not the sordid interlude it was threatening to be.Seen through the little window, the sky of night, so smooth, so bestarred, looked wrinkled through her screen of unshed tears. Her thoughts release at last, kept her company through the long night like so many shadow specters. And something she could only feel but no name assumed definite proportions with the dawn.The new day brought his surprise―it was carefully wrapped in fine white paper, and he had in his pocket when he arrived home from the market. At first she did not want to unwrap the small package. Truth hung by a hair and as long as it hung, she could swear it was a lie. When she finally did, she was conscious of a sharp and indignant agony.She did not ask questions about it. And she noticed that he was relieved as he was surprised by her strange lack of curiosity.It was a pretty although inexpensive little thing―a square violet scarf of thin silk with a small tassels all around. But she wore the old faded one when, three days later, she told him she had found another job."But why?" he wanted to know. "I am not earning much but…""We cannot go on like this," she spoke low to keep the bitterness out of her voice, "it is not right.""You mean…""Yes. Let us both work and save money. Then perhaps…"She watched his face keenly. There was not even the flicker of an eyelash to betray him."Where will you work this time?" he asked for a long silence. She had only to show the card the señorita had given her. But her knowledge of the whole torturing incident prevented her from doing so."Somewhere not very far from here," she told him lightly.A gift was a gift, she reminded herself fiercely. She had given him that money through the señorita without his asking for it, freely, to do with it as he liked. And she chose to let her go.She left late the next afternoon. He wanted to go with her but she asked him not to, promising to send him word and her address later."The fish is under the basin, near the stove," she reminded him as he helped her into the carretela that was waiting for her.He gave her a bundle, the clothes of his dead mother which he had insisted on her taking with her. His face was pale in the late afternoon light, his hands were none too steady. She smiled compassionate divinity looking down on the puny sins of man.She was still smiling as the horse started. At the end of the street she turned her head and waved her hand to him as he stood by the gate in the failing darkness.
What is the story about mabangis na kamay maamong kamay?
Nagising kay Battling Kula sang simbuyo ng isang kamalayan, na tila siya nagtatayo ng bantayog ni Kamatayan na habang kinakapal sa luwad ay nagkakahugis sa katotohanan. Kaya malimit na mawala siya sa pagmamasid sa kanyang anak, sa di-mawaring pagkabahala sa dinaranas na buhay nito, sa pagtitining sa kanyang kalooban na makabuo ng isang pasiya kung nararapat sumuko sa simbuyo ng kamalayang iyon.Mainit na ang sikat ng araw. Naghahakot ng basura ang kanyang anak sa tambakan sa may puno ng tulay. Itinuon niya ang kanyang paningin sa mukha at katawang naliligo sa nangingitim na pawis at sa malalapad na pang bahagya nang maangat sa lupa samantalang hila-hila ng bata ang isang malaking tiklis ng basurang nag-iiwan ng nag-aalimpuyong alikabok.Naghiyawan ang ilang batang naglalaro sa pampang ng ilug-ilugan, "Arya Ito! Arya Ito… sumayaw ka, Arya Ito! Kumanta ka, Arya Ito! Ayaw mooo? Eto 'yo… Pak! Pak!" at inulan si Arya Ito ng pukol."Sasayaw na…kakanta na!" Binitiwan ni Arya Ito ang tiklis at sumayaw siya.Tila namumutok na bariles ang katawang pagiwang-giwang sa pagbaba-pagtaas ng mga balikat at pag-imbay ng mga kamay; ang bilog ng mga matang animo'y palawit ng isang orasang pandingding kung ibinababala ang hatinggabi ay palipat-lipat sa magkabilang sulok; siya'y isang laruang may kuwerdas na pinakikilos nang walang patumanggang panghaharot ng kanyang kapwa bata.Read more: Mabangis_na_kamay_maamong_kamay
Explanation of the poem my retreat' of rizal?
Jose Rizal's poem My Retreat has a simple meaning. The poem is simply about his unhappiness and exile in the city of Dapitan.
What are one directions girl friends name?
Footnote to Youth by Jose Garcia Villa The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he would tell his father about Teang when he got home, after he had unhitched the carabao from the plow, and let it to its shed and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, but he wanted his father to know. What he had to say was of serious import as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally decided to tell it, at a thought came to him his father might refuse to consider it. His father was silent hard-working farmer who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his mother, Dodong's grandmother. I will tell it to him. I will tell it to him. The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a sweetish earthy smell. Many slender soft worms emerged from the furrows and then burrowed again deeper into the soil. A short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodong's foot and crawled calmly over it. Dodong go tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not bother to look where it fell, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he was not young any more. Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and gave it a healthy tap on the hip. The beast turned its head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes. Dodong gave it a slight push and the animal walked alongside him to its shed. He placed bundles of grass before it land the carabao began to eat. Dodong looked at it without interests. Dodong started homeward, thinking how he would break his news to his father. He wanted to marry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had pimples on his face, the down on his upper lip already was dark--these meant he was no longer a boy. He was growing into a man--he was a man. Dodong felt insolent and big at the thought of it although he was by nature low in statue. Thinking himself a man grown, Dodong felt he could do anything. He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled stone bled his foot, but he dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and looked at the hurt toe and then went on walking. In the cool sundown he thought wild you dreams of himself and Teang. Teang, his girl. She had a small brown face and small black eyes and straight glossy hair. How desirable she was to him. She made him dream even during the day. Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscles of his arms. Dirty. This field work was healthy, invigorating but it begrimed you, smudged you terribly. He turned back the way he had come, then he marched obliquely to a creek. Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray undershirt and red kundiman shorts, on the grass. The he went into the water, wet his body over, and rubbed at it vigorously. He was not long in bathing, then he marched homeward again. The bath made him feel cool. It was dusk when he reached home. The petroleum lamp on the ceiling already was lighted and the low unvarnished square table was set for supper. His parents and he sat down on the floor around the table to eat. They had fried fresh-water fish, rice, bananas, and caked sugar. Dodong ate fish and rice, but did not partake of the fruit. The bananas were overripe and when one held them they felt more fluid than solid. Dodong broke off a piece of the cakes sugar, dipped it in his glass of water and ate it. He got another piece and wanted some more, but he thought of leaving the remainder for his parents. Dodong's mother removed the dishes when they were through and went out to the batalan to wash them. She walked with slow careful steps and Dodong wanted to help her carry the dishes out, but he was tired and now felt lazy. He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework. He pitied her, doing all the housework alone. His father remained in the room, sucking a diseased tooth. It was paining him again, Dodong knew. Dodong had told him often and again to let the town dentist pull it out, but he was afraid, his father was. He did not tell that to Dodong, but Dodong guessed it. Afterward Dodong himself thought that if he had a decayed tooth he would be afraid to go to the dentist; he would not be any bolder than his father. Dodong said while his mother was out that he was going to marry Teang. There it was out, what he had to say, and over which he had done so much thinking. He had said it without any effort at all and without self-consciousness. Dodong felt relieved and looked at his father expectantly. A decrescent moon outside shed its feeble light into the window, graying the still black temples of his father. His father looked old now. "I am going to marry Teang," Dodong said. His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth. The silence became intense and cruel, and Dodong wished his father would suck that troublous tooth again. Dodong was uncomfortable and then became angry because his father kept looking at him without uttering anything. "I will marry Teang," Dodong repeated. "I will marry Teang." His father kept gazing at him in inflexible silence and Dodong fidgeted on his seat. "I asked her last night to marry me and she said...yes. I want your permission. I... want... it...." There was impatient clamor in his voice, an exacting protest at this coldness, this indifference. Dodong looked at his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and the little sounds it made broke dully the night stillness. "Must you marry, Dodong?" Dodong resented his father's questions; his father himself had married. Dodong made a quick impassioned easy in his mind about selfishness, but later he got confused. "You are very young, Dodong." "I'm... seventeen." "That's very young to get married at." "I... I want to marry...Teang's a good girl." "Tell your mother," his father said. "You tell her, tatay." "Dodong, you tell your inay." "You tell her." "All right, Dodong." "You will let me marry Teang?" "Son, if that is your wish... of course..." There was a strange helpless light in his father's eyes. Dodong did not read it, so absorbed was he in himself. Dodong was immensely glad he had asserted himself. He lost his resentment for his father. For a while he even felt sorry for him about the diseased tooth. Then he confined his mind to dreaming of Teang and himself. Sweet young dream.... ------------------------------------------- Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely, so that his camiseta was damp. He was still as a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, but he had left. He had wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he felt. Afraid of the house. It had seemed to cage him, to compares his thoughts with severe tyranny. Afraid also of Teang. Teang was giving birth in the house; she gave screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that, he seemed to be rebuking him. He began to wonder madly if the process of childbirth was really painful. Some women, when they gave birth, did not cry. In a few moments he would be a father. "Father, father," he whispered the word with awe, with strangeness. He was young, he realized now, contradicting himself of nine months comfortable... "Your son," people would soon be telling him. "Your son, Dodong." Dodong felt tired standing. He sat down on a saw-horse with his feet close together. He looked at his callused toes. Suppose he had ten children... What made him think that? What was the matter with him? God! He heard his mother's voice from the house: "Come up, Dodong. It is over." Suddenly he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he had taken something no properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust dirt off his kundiman shorts. "Dodong," his mother called again. "Dodong." He turned to look again and this time saw his father beside his mother. "It is a boy," his father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up. Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. What a moment for him. His parents' eyes seemed to pierce him through and he felt limp. He wanted to hide from them, to run away. "Dodong, you come up. You come up," he mother said. Dodong did not want to come up and stayed in the sun. "Dodong. Dodong." "I'll... come up." Dodong traced tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended the bamboo steps slowly. His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within, he avoided his parents eyes. He walked ahead of them so that they should not see his face. He felt guilty and untrue. He felt like crying. His eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to go back to the yard. He wanted somebody to punish him. His father thrust his hand in his and gripped it gently. "Son," his father said. And his mother: "Dodong..." How kind were their voices. They flowed into him, making him strong. "Teang?" Dodong said. "She's sleeping. But you go on..." His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his girl-wife, asleep on the papag with her black hair soft around her face. He did not want her to look that pale. Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that touched her lips, but again that feeling of embarrassment came over him and before his parents he did not want to be demonstrative. The hilot was wrapping the child, Dodong heard it cry. The thin voice pierced him queerly. He could not control the swelling of happiness in him. "You give him to me. You give him to me," Dodong said. ------------------------------------------- Blas was not Dodong's only child. Many more children came. For six successive years a new child came along. Dodong did not want any more children, but they came. It seemed the coming of children could not be helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes. Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children told on her. She was shapeless and thin now, even if she was young. There was interminable work to be done. Cooking. Laundering. The house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had not married. She did not tell Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet she wished she had not married. Not even Dodong, whom she loved. There has been another suitor, Lucio, older than Dodong by nine years, and that was why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong. Seventeen. Lucio had married another after her marriage to Dodong, but he was childless until now. She wondered if she had married Lucio, would she have borne him children. Maybe not, either. That was a better lot. But she loved Dodong... Dodong whom life had made ugly. One night, as he lay beside his wife, he rose and went out of the house. He stood in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him. He wanted to be wise about many things. One of them was why life did not fulfill all of Youth's dreams. Why it must be so. Why one was forsaken... after Love. Dodong would not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be answered. It must be so to make youth Youth. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet. Dodong returned to the house humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know a little wisdom but was denied it. When Blas was eighteen he came home one night very flustered and happy. It was late at night and Teang and the other children were asleep. Dodong heard Blas's steps, for he could not sleep well of nights. He watched Blas undress in the dark and lie down softly. Blas was restless on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called him name and asked why he did not sleep. Blas said he could not sleep. "You better go to sleep. It is late," Dodong said. Blas raised himself on his elbow and muttered something in a low fluttering voice. Dodong did not answer and tried to sleep. "Itay ...," Blas called softly. Dodong stirred and asked him what it was. "I am going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight." Dodong lay on the red pillow without moving. "Itay, you think it over." Dodong lay silent. "I love Tona and... I want her." Dodong rose from his mat and told Blas to follow him. They descended to the yard, where everything was still and quiet. The moonlight was cold and white. "You want to marry Tona," Dodong said. He did not want Blas to marry yet. Blas was very young. The life that would follow marriage would be hard... "Yes." "Must you marry?" Blas's voice stilled with resentment. "I will marry Tona." Dodong kept silent, hurt. "You have objections, Itay?" Blas asked acridly. "Son... n-none..." (But truly, God, I don't want Blas to marry yet... not yet. I don't want Blas to marry yet....) But he was helpless. He could not do anything. Youth must triumph... now. Love must triumph... now. Afterwards... it will be life. As long ago Youth and Love did triumph for Dodong... and then Life. Dodong looked wistfully at his young son in the moonlight. He felt extremely sad and sorry for him.
Dugo at utak - by cornelio s Reyes?
I have a copy of "dugo at utak" by Cornelio S. Reyes in my blog spot. Actually it is one of my project in my Filipino subject that's why I have a copy. I searched it for 2-weeks in any library that I know but still I found it... yeah! It is very hard to find it because their is no copy in the internet. (damn!) But now their is now a copy of "dugo at utak" here at the internet, just go to my blogspot. Wish this little thing may help you :D " http://angpanitikangpilipino.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2009-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=1 " good luck :D by: "jomzkie" note: kindly leave some message in the "Discussion" thnx :D
Could you please send you the plot of Footnote to Youth?
Plot: Dodong wanted to marry Teang and asked his father's permission. Thinking that since they are young, their love would be short, he allowed them to get married. After nine months, Teang gave birth to a child named Blas. For six consecutive years, a new child came along. Teang did not complain even thought she secretly regretted being married at an early age. Sometimes she even wondered if she would have the same life if Lucio, her other suitor who was nine years older than Dodong, was the one she married. Lucio has had no children since the time he married. When Teang and Dodong were twenty they looked like they were fifty. When Blas was 18, he told his father that he would marry Tona. Dodong did not object, but tried to make Blas think twice before rushing to marriage - because Dodong doesn't want Blas to end up like him.
Footnote to Youth of Jose garcia villa?
Characters:1. Dodong - main character of the story who got married at the age of 172. Teang - regretted marrying at an early age3. Lucio - Teang's other suitor who got married after she did and who's childless until now4. Blas - Dodong and Teang's oldest son who followed their footsteps in the end. Blas contemplated to marry Tona when he was 185. Tona - woman whom Blas wants to marry.Plot:Exposition: The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he would tell his father about Teang when he got home, after he had unhitched the carabao from the plow, and let it to its shed and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, but he wanted his father to know. What he had to say was of serious import as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally decided to tell it, at a thought came to him his father might refuse to consider it. His father was silent hard-working farmer who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his mother, Dodong's grandmother. I will tell it to him. I will tell it to him. The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a sweetish earthy smell. Many slender soft worms emerged from the furrows and then burrowed again deeper into the soil. A short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodong's foot and crawled calmly over it. Dodong go tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not bother to look where it fell, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he was not young any more. Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and gave it a healthy tap on the hip. The beast turned its head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes. Dodong gave it a slight push and the animal walked alongside him to its shed. He placed bundles of grass before it land the carabao began to eat. Dodong looked at it without interests. Dodong started homeward, thinking how he would break his news to his father. He wanted to marry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had pimples on his face, the down on his upper lip already was dark-these meant he was no longer a boy. He was growing into a man--he was a man. Dodong felt insolent and big at the thought of it although he was by nature low in statue. Thinking himself a man grown Dodong felt he could do anything. He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled stone bled his foot, but he dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and looked at the hurt toe and then went on walking. In the cool sundown he thought wild you dreams of himself and Teang. Teang, his girl. She had a small brown face and small black eyes and straightglossy hair. How desirable she was to him. She made him dream even during the day.Rising Action: When Dodong wants to marry Teang; When Dodong said to his father he wants to marry Teang.Climax: When Teang gave birth to their first baby.Falling Action And the Resolution: When Dodong realized that early marriage can result failure in your life.Setting:Place: farm, provinceWeather: cloudy,hazyTime:afternoon, duskStory:The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he would tell his father about Teang when he got home, after he had unhitched the carabao from the plow, and let it to its shed and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, but he wanted his father to know. What he had to say was of serious import as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally decided to tell it, at a thought came to him his father might refuse to consider it. His father was silent hard-working farmer who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his mother, Dodong's grandmother. I will tell it to him. I will tell it to him. The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a sweetish earthy smell. Many slender soft worms emerged from the furrows and then burrowed again deeper into the soil. A short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodong's foot and crawled calmly over it. Dodong go tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not bother to look where it fell, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he was not young any more. Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and gave it a healthy tap on the hip. The beast turned its head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes. Dodong gave it a slight push and the animal walked alongside him to its shed. He placed bundles of grass before it land the carabao began to eat. Dodong looked at it without interests. Dodong started homeward, thinking how he would break his news to his father. He wanted to marry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had pimples on his face, the down on his upper lip already was dark-these meant he was no longer a boy. He was growing into a man--he was a man. Dodong felt insolent and big at the thought of it although he was by nature low in statue. Thinking himself a man grown Dodong felt he could do anything. He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled stone bled his foot, but he dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and looked at the hurt toe and then went on walking. In the cool sundown he thought wild you dreams of himself and Teang. Teang, his girl. She had a small brown face and small black eyes and straightglossy hair. How desirable she was to him. She made him dream even during the day. Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscles of his arms. Dirty. This field work was healthy, invigorating but it begrimed you, smudged you terribly. He turned back the way he had come, then marched obliquely to a creek. Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray undershirt and red kundiman shorts, on the grass. The he went into the water, wet his body over, and rubbed at it vigorously. He was not long in bathing, then he marched homeward again. The bath made him feel cool. It was dusk when he reached home. The petroleum lamp on the ceiling already was lighted and the low unvarnished square table was set for supper. His parents and he sat down on the floor around the table to eat. They had fried fresh-water fish, rice, bananas, and caked sugar. Dodong ate fish and rice, but didnot partake of the fruit. The bananas were overripe and when one held them they felt more fluid than solid. Dodong broke off a piece of the cakes sugar, dipped it in his glass of water and ate it. He got another piece and wanted some more, but he thought of leaving the remainder for his parents. Dodong's mother removed the dishes when they were through and went out to the batalan to wash them. She walked with slow careful steps and Dodong wanted to help her carry the dishes out, but he was tired and now felt lazy. He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework. He pitied her, doing all the housework alone. His father remained in the room, sucking a diseased tooth. It was paining him again, Dodong knew. Dodong had told him often and again to let the town dentist pull it out, but he was afraid, his father was. He did not tell that to Dodong, but Dodong guessed it. Afterward Dodong himself thought that if he had a decayed tooth he would be afraid to go to the dentist; he would not be any bolder than his father. Dodong said while his mother was out that he was going to marry Teang. There it was out, what he had to say, and over which he had done so much thinking. He had said it without any effort at all and without self-consciousness. Dodong felt relieved and looked at his father expectantly. A decrescent moon outside shed its feeble light into the window, graying the still black temples of his father. His father looked old now. "I am going to marry Teang," Dodong said.His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth. The silence became intense and cruel, and Dodong wished his father would suck that troublous tooth again. Dodong was uncomfortable and then became angry because his father kept looking at him without uttering anything."I will marry Teang," Dodong repeated. "I will marry Teang." His father kept gazing at him in inflexible silence and Dodong fidgeted on his seat. "I asked her last night to marry me and she said...yes. I want your permission. I... want... it...." There was impatient clamor in his voice, an exacting protest at this coldness, this indifference. Dodong looked at his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and the little sounds it made broke dully the night stillness. "Must you marry, Dodong?" Dodong resented his father's questions; his father himself had married. Dodong made a quick impassioned easy in his mind about selfishness, but later he got confused. "You are very young, Dodong." "I'm... seventeen." "That's very young to get married at." "I... I want to marry...Teang's good girl." "Tell your mother," his father said. "You tell her, tatay." "Dodong, you tell your inay." "You tell her." "All right, Dodong." "You will let me marry Teang?""Son, if that is your wish... of course..." There was a strange helpless light in his father's eyes. Dodong did not read it, too absorbed was he in himself. Dodong was immensely glad he had asserted himself. He lost his resentment for his father. For a while he even felt sorry for him about the diseased tooth. Then he confined his mind to dreaming of Teang and himself. Sweet young dream.... Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely, so that his camiseta was damp. He was still like a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, but he had left. He had wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he felt. Afraid of the house. It had seemed to cage him, to compares his thoughts with severe tyranny. Afraid also of Teang. Teang was giving birth in the house; she gave screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that, he seemed to be rebuking him. He began to wonder madly if the process of childbirth was really painful. Some women, when they gave birth, did not cry. In a few moments he would be a father. "Father, father," he whispered the word with awe, with strangeness. He was young, he realized now, contradicting himself of nine months comfortable... "Your son," people would soon be telling him. "Your son, Dodong." Dodong felt tired standing. He sat down on a saw horse with his feet close together. He looked at his callused toes. Suppose he had ten children... What made him think that? What was the matter with him? God! He heard his mother's voice from the house: "Come up, Dodong. It is over." Of a sudden he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he had taken something no properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust dirt off his kundiman shorts. "Dodong," his mother called again. "Dodong." He turned to look again and this time saw his father beside his mother. "It is a boy," his father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up.Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. What a moment for him. His parents' eyes seemed to pierce him through and he felt limp. He wanted to hide from them, to run away. "Dodong, you come up. You come up," he mother said. Dodong did not want to come up and stayed in the sun. "Dodong. Dodong." "I'll... come up." Dodong traced tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended the bamboo steps slowly. His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within, he avoided his parents eyes. He walked ahead of them so that they should not see his face. He felt guilty and untrue. He felt like crying. His eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to go back to the yard. He wanted somebody to punish him. His father thrust his hand in his and gripped it gently. "Son," his father said. And his mother: "Dodong..." How kind were their voices. They flowed into him, making him strong. "Teang?" Dodong said. "She's sleeping. But you go in..." His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his girl wife, asleep on the papag with her black hair soft around her face. He did not want her to look that pale... Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that touched her lips, but again that feeling of embarrassment came over him and before his parents he did not want to be demonstrative. The hilot was wrapping the child, Dodong heart it cry. The thin voice pierced him queerly. He could not control the swelling of happiness in him. You give him to me. You give him to me," Dodong said. * * * Blas was not Dodong's child. Many more children came. For six successive years a new child came along. Dodong did not want any more children, but they came. It seemed the coming of children could not be helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes. Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children told on her. She was shapeless and thin now, even if she was young. There was interminable work to be done. Cooking. Laundering. The house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had not married. She did not tell Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet she wished she had not married. Not even Dodong, whom she loved. There has been another suitor, Lucio, older than Dodong by nine years, and that was why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong. Seventeen. Lucio had married another after her marriage to Dodong, but he was childless until now. She wondered if she had married Lucio, would she have borne him children. Maybe not either. That was a better lot. But she loved Dodong... Dodong whom life had made ugly. One night, as he lay beside his wife, he roe and went out of the house. He stood in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him. He w anted to be wise about many things. One of them was why life did not fulfill all of Youth's dreams. Why it must be so.Why one was forsaken... after Love. Dodong would not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be answered. It must be so to make Youth. Youth. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet. Dodong returned to the house humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know a little wisdom but was denied it. * * * When Blas was eighteen he came home one night very flustered and happy. It was late at night and Teang and the other children were asleep. Dodong heard Blas's steps, for he could not sleep well of nights. He watched Blas undress in the dark and lie down softly. Blas was restless on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called him name and asked why he did not sleep. Blas said he could not sleep. "You better go to sleep. It is late," Dodong said. Blas raised himself on his elbow and muttered something in a low fluttering voice. Dodong did not answer and tried to sleep. "Itay ...," Blas called softly. Dodong stirred and asked him what was it. "I am going to marry Tona.She accepted me tonight." Dodong lay on the red pillow without moving. "Itay, you think it over." Dodong lay silent. "I love Tona and... I want her." Dodong rose f ROM his mat and told Blas to follow him. They descended to the yard, where everything was still and quiet. The moonlight was cold and white. "You want to marry Tona," Dodong said. He did not want Blas to marry yet. Blas was very young. The life that would follow marriage would be heard... "Yes." "Must you marry?" Blas's voice stilled with resentment. "I will marry Tona." Dodong kept silent, hurt. "You have objections, Itay?" Blas asked acridly. "Son... n-none..." (But truly, God, I don't want Blas to marry yet... not yet. I don't want Blas to marry yet....) But he was helpless. He could not do anything. Youth must triumph... now. Love must triumph... now. Afterwards... it will be life. As long ago Youth and Love did triumph for Dodong... and then Life. Dodong looked wistfully at his young son in the moonlight. He felt extremely sad and sorry for him.Message/ lesson: Early marriage can result failure in your life.Summary:It is all about a man named Dodong who wants to marry Teang. He was ashame to tell it to his parents. But his Father allowed him. Then they've got married. Teang was to give birth for their first son but after that he was ashamed to his parents because of being a young father. More children came to them. Teang looks like an old lady after all the responsibilities of a mother. Sometimes, she thinks that what if she marry Lucio,who is until now childless.Then his son Blas, also wants to marry Tona. Like what Dodong did when he was 17 was the one that Blas also did. Dodong allowed Blas to marry Tona but he was disappointed to him.
Maikling kwento na may teoryang feminismo?
Buod ng Paalam sa Pagkabata ni Nazareno D BasWala akong nakikitang pagbabago. Tulad nang nagdaang mga madaling-araw: ang ginaw, katahimikan, dilim - iyon din ang bumubuo ng daigdig ng aking kamalayan. Maraming bagay ang dapat mailarawan. Ngunit alam kong iisa lamang ang kahulugan ng mga iyon. Alam ko.Sa kabilang silid, sa kwarto nina Nanay at Tatay, naririnig ko ang pigil ng paghikbi. Umiiyak na naman si Nanay. Ang sunod-sunod na paghikbi ay tila pandagdag sa kalungkutan ng daigdig. Napabuntung-hininga ako. Umiiling-iling. Hanggang ngayon hindi ko pa nakikita ang tunay na dahilan ng damdaming iyon na matagal nang umalipin sa kanya.Walang malinaw sa aking isipan. Mula sa aking pagkamulat ang pagkainip ay kakambal ng aking buhay. Sa aking pag-iisa di ko maiwasan ang pangarap na magkaroon ng batang kapatid na nag-aangkin ng mabangong hininga at taglay ang ngiti ng isang anghel. Ngunit ang damdamin ko'y tila tigang na lupang pinagkaitan ng ulan.Maliwanag na ang silangan nang ako'y bumangon. May bago na namang umaga. Ngunit ang tanawin sa bahay ay walang pagbabago. Tulad ng dati, nakikita ko si Nanay na nakaupo at nag-iisip sa may hagdanan. Nakatitig siya sa sampayan ng lambat ni Tatay. At madalas ang kanyang pagbubuntong-hininga.Matagal ko nang nakikita ang sampay na lambat. Ngunit hindi ko nakikitang ito'y ginagamit ni Tatay. Noon ay walang halaga ito sa akin. Nagsimula ang pagpansin ko sa lambat noong ito'y tinapon ni Nanay mga dalawang taon na ang nakakaraan. Galit na galit si Tatay sa ginawa ni Nanay. Pinagbuhatan ni Tatay ng kamay si Nanay. Pagkatapos ipinabalik kay Nanay ang lambat sa sampayan."Hanggang ngayon ba'y hindi ka pa nakakalimot, Tomas? Alam ng Diyos na wala akong kasalanan. Ang kanyang ginawa ang siya mong ginagawa tuwing ikaw ay darating sa madaling-araw. Ang kanyang amoy ay siya ring amoy na galing sa dagat. Magkatulad ang inyong ikinikilos. Sino ang hindi mag-aakala na siya ay hindi ikaw? Huli na nang malaman ko ang katotohanan. Huli na nang siya ay aking makilala. Totoong lumigaw siya sa akin. At mula noon ay alam mo iyon. Ikaw ang aking iniibig, Tomas. Kailan mo pa malilimutan ang nangyari?"Tuluyang umiyak si Nanay. Umungol lamang si Tatay. Nanlilisik ang matang tumingin sa lambat at pagkatapos ay bumaling sa akin. May ibig sabihin ang tingin niyang nag-aapoy. Maliban sa takot na aking nararamdaman ay wala akong naintindihan sa pangyayaring iyon.Mula noon ay hindi na ginalaw ni Nanay ang lambat. Naluma na ito ngunit buong-buo pa rin sa aking paningin. Buong-buo pa rin sa paningin ni Nanay. Ano kaya ang misteryong napapaloob sa lambat na iyon? Alam kong alam ni Nanay ang hindi ko nalalaman. At kailangang malaman ko ito. May karapatan akong malaman.Nilapitan ko si Nanay na malalim pa rin ang iniisip. Hinalikan ko ang kanyang kamay. May ibig akong itanong tungkol sa misteryo ng lambat. Ngunit nauntol ang ibig kong sabihin nang magpatuloy ang kanyang pagluha."Lakad na Celso, malapit nang dumating ang Tatay mo."Sa labasan, sumalubong sa akin ang bagong araw. Tumingin ako. Maliwanag ang langit. Langit? May gumugulo sa aking kalooban. Kalawakan. Iyan ang sabi sa aking guro sa ikaapat na baitang ng primarya. Iyan ay hindi langit kundi hangganan lamang ng pananaw ng tao. Ang langit ay nasa tao. Hindi nakikita. Hindi nahihipo. Hindi naaabot. Naabot na kaya ni Nanay ang langit?"Ano pa ang hinihintay mo, Celso?"Ipinahid ko sa mukha ang suot kong sando. Humakbang pagkatapos. Maya-maya'y tumakbo na ako ng matulin.Nasa dalampasigan ang mamamili ng isang dala ng mga bangkang galing sa laot. Masasaya silang nagkukuwentuhan habang hinihintay ang mga mangingisda. Sumalampak ako sa buhangin, malapit sa kinauupuan ng dalawang lalaking may katandaan na. Sa laot ako nakatingin at pinagmamasdan ang galaw ng mga alon na pandagdag sa kagandahan ng kalikasan.Napalingon ako nang makarinig ng tugtog ng gutara mula sa di-kalayuang bahay-pawid. At sabay kong narinig ang malungkot na awiting nagsasaad ng kasawian sa pag-ibig. At mula na namang naantig ang aking damdamin. Habang pinakikinggan ko ang malungkot na kundiman umalingawngaw ang mahinang pag-uusap ng dalawang lalaki sa tabi ko."Naririyan na naman siya.""Talagang pambihira ang kanyang pagmamahal. Naniniwala akong nagpapatuloy ang kanyang pangarap habang di pa namamatay ang babae sa kanyang buhay. Hindi nawawala ang kanyang pag-asa. Kung kailan natutupad ang kanyang pangarap Diyos lamang ang nakakaalam."Dinig na dinig ko ang mga kataga habang nagpapatuloy ang malungkot na kundimang naging bahagi na ng aking buhay. Tumayo ako at ibinaling ang paningin sa bahay-pawid sa ilalim ng kaniyugan. Patuloy ang awitin. Humakbang ako ngunit biglang napatigil sa harap ng dalawang lalaking may katandaan na. Naalala ko ang sabi ni Tatay. Bawal pumunta sa bahay-pawid na iyon. Mahigpit ang utos ni Tatay. Nagbabanta ng parusa.Lumingon ako sa laot. Nasa malayo ang mga bangka ng mga mangingisda. Bumaling ako sa pinanggalingan ng awit na ngayo'y gumaganda sa aking pandinig. At para akong hinihila. Nakalimutan ko ang ipinagbabawal ni Tatay. Mabilis ang aking paglakad at sa ilang saglit kaharap ko na ang taong naggigitara at umaawit. May luha ang kanyang mga mata.Tumitig siya sa akin. Inilapag ang gitara sa ibabaw ng papag na kinauupuan. Tumayo siya at dahan-dahang lumapit sa akin. Kinabahan ako. Umakma akong tumakbo ngunit nahawakan niya ang isa kong kamay. Nagpumiglas ako upang makawal sa kanyang pagyapos sa akin. Ngunit lalong humigpit ang kanyang pagyakap. Umiiyak ako.Ngumiti siya at pinahid ang aking mga luha. Hinimas ang aking ulo. Unti-unting lumuwag ang aking paghinga. Nararamdaman ko ang kanyang pagmamahal nang tumingin ako sa kanya. Muli niya akong niyapos."Dalawin mo ako palagi, ha?"Hindi ako kumibo. Tinitigan ko siya. Ang kanyang mga mata, ang ilong, ang labi - lahat parang nakita ko na. Saan? Alam ko na, sa salamin. Talagang siya ang nakita ko sa salamin na nakasabit sa dingding ng aming bahay.Napatingin ako sa dalampasigan nang marinig ko ang hiyawan. Nagdatingan na pala ang mga bangka at nag-uunahan ang mga mamimili ng isda. Nagmadali akong tumakbo upang salubungin ang Tatay. Malayo pa ako ng makita ko siyang nakatayo sa may dinaungan ng kanyang bangka. Natanawan niya ako. Masama ang titig niya sa akin. Galit. Kinabahan ako."Lapit rito, Celso!"Malakas ang sigaw ni Tatay. Nanginginig akong lumapit. At bigla akong sinampal."Di ko gusto ang batang matigas ang ulo! Di lang sampal ang matitikman mo kapag umulit ka pa. Hala, kunin mo ang mga isda at sumunod ka kaagad sa akin."Habang naglalakad ay sinalat ko ang pisnging nakatikim ng sampal. Talagang mahirap intindihin si Tatay. Wala namang dahilan upang iwasan ko ang taong nasa bahay-pawid. Di naman dapat katakutan ang kanyang mukha at boses. Bakit kaya hinihigpitan ako ni Tatay?Matapos akong mag-almusal, nandoon na naman si Tatay sa sampayan ng lambat. Nakatabako at nagtatagpi ng punit na bahagi ng lambat. Alam kong aabutin siya ng tanghali bago matapos ang kanyang gawain. Matapos makapananghalian siya'y matutulog. Pagkagising maghahapunan. At di pa man ganap ang gabi balik na naman sa dagat. Iyan ang buhay ni Tatay. At iyan ang bahagi ng aking buhay.Sa aking kinauupuan sa may bintana nakikita ko sa Nanay na nakaupo sa may hagdanan. Tahimik at nakatingin na naman sa sampayan ng lambat. Luhaan na naman ang kanyang mga mata. At naalala ko ang pangyayari noong itinapon ni Nanay. Lahat may itinatagong kahulugan. At naalala ko ang nangyari kanina sa dalampasigan. Naalala ko iyong tao.Lumapit ako sa salamin sa dingding. Pinagmasdan ko ang aking sarili. Nakita ko sa aking isipan ang mukha ng tao. Unti-unting lumiwanag ang aking kamalayan. Biglang kumulo ang aking dugo habang iniisip ang nakasampay na lambat. Nagdilim ang aking paningin. Nadama kong inihahanap ko ang katarungan ang aking kalagayan.Nagpunta ako sa kusinaan. Hinanap ko ang itak ni Nanay na pangsibak ng kahoy. Bitbit ko ito at pinuntahan ang sampayan ng lambat. Pinagtataga ko ang lambat."Huwag, Celso!" saway ni Nanay na nanginginig ang boses. "Huwag!"Naiiba sa aking pandinig ang pagsigaw ni Nanay. Pati si Tatay ay natigilan at nabigla sa aking ginawa ay hindi ko pinansin. Hinalibas ko ng itak ang lambat at saka lang ako tumigil nang ito'y magkagutay-gutay na at nagkalat sa aking paanan."Celso!"Nag-aapoy ang mga mata ni Tatay na humarap sa akin. At sa unang pagkakataon ay hindi ko inalis ang aking tingin sa kanya. Nilabanan ko siya ng titigan. Di ako nagagalit kundi humihingi lamang ng pang-unawa. Ngunit bigla akong napatimbuwang nang matamaan ng malakas na suntok at napahiga sa pira-pirasong wasak na lambat.Nahihilo ako, parang ibig himatayin. Umiikot ang aking paningin. Parang may nakita akong anino - si Tatay na sumusurot kay Nanay."Ngunit, Tomas," nagmamakaawa si Nanay. "Wala siyang kasalanan. Maawa ka sa kaniya.""Pumanhik ka, Isidra!" singhal ni Tatay. "Pumanhik ka na habang ako'y nakapagpipigil pa."Dahan-dahan akong bumangon at sumuray-suray na lumapit kay Tatay. Ngunit isang tadyak ang sumalubong sa akin. Napatihaya ako ngunit tinangka kong makatayo. Mabigat ang pakiramdam ko sa aking katawan at ako'y gumagapang. Ngunit sinabunutan ako ni Tatay at iningudngod sa lupa ang aking mukha. Humihingal ako ngunit di ko makuhang umiyak. Nasasalat ko ang magkahalong dugo at pawis sa aking pisngi.Di ko pansin ang mga gasgas sa dalawang siko. Sa labis na panghihina'y umusad ako nang umusad. Hanggang sa nangangatog kong mga bisig ay yumapos sa mga binti ni Tatay. Naramdaman ko ang panlalamig ng katawan at ako ay napahandusay sa kanyang paanan.Hindi ko na alam kung gaano katagal ang pagkawala ng aking malay. Naramdaman ko na lamang may maiinit na mga bisig na yumayakap sa akin. Kinusot ko ang aking mga mata. Sumalubong sa aking paningin ang maamong mukha ni Tatay. Pagsisisi. Pag-unawa. Lahat ay kasalungat sa dati niyang gawa. Lalong humigpit ang kanyang pagyakap at kinabig ang aking mukha sa kanyang dibdib sa tapat ng kanyang puso. Matagal
