diary of a cricket diary of a cricket » tác giả tô hoài » thể lọai english 1 1 i an independent life since childhood a prank that costs dearly i have lived an independent life since early childhood su

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<b>Diary of a Cricket</b>

<b>» Tác giả: Tô Hoài </b>

<b>» Thể lọai: English</b>

<b>1. 1 </b>
I

An independent life since childhood - a prank that costs
dearly

I have lived an independent life since early childhood. Such
is the rule among us crickets. My mother used to tell her
children, "It’s good for you to learn to fly with your own
wings. Children who are a burden to their parents develop
parasitic habits and will grow up into never-do-wells."

Following her principles, she would arrange for her children
to live on their own.

My two brothers and myself, for instance, lived with her for
only two days. The third evening, my mother took each of
us to a hole she had dug in the corner of a rice field. As the
youngest of the brood, I was provided with a small supply of
food. But that was all: my mother didn’t turn back once.
Far from bewailing the situation, I rather enjoyed it. After
thoroughly exploring my new premises, I stood at the door,
looking at the stars twinkling among the top blades of tall
grass. Feeling elated, I rubbed my wings and uttered a few
enthusiastic loud cries.

From that day on, I started a life on my own. My personal
happiness would depend on whether I would be wise or
stupid. But I didn’t think of that at the time. I merely
enjoyed my independence.

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nibble at juicy blades of young grass. Only when the

austere-looking sun appeared again in the East, did we part
to go back home. Such was the joyful routine of my life. A
quite pleasant one, wasn’t it?

As I lived soberly and worked moderately, I grew up rapidly
and in no time became a healthy and strong adolescent. My
wings shone with a dark lustre. The spikes on my legs were
spear-pointed. To try their effectiveness, I would sometimes
raise my legs and give powerful kicks at the grass whose
blades would then fall down as at the blow of a cutting
blade. My wings extended to the tip of my tail. When
flapped, they gave out a powerful noise. My head grew
bigger and bigger and pugnacious-looking bumps started
bulging out on my forehead. My two white mandibles were
always moving crosswise, like the blades of some mowing
machine. I was particularly proud of my two long and
martial-looking antennae which I kept caressing with my
forelegs. My whole body was of a glossy brown.

I adopted a stately gait. When I walked, I solemnly swayed
on my legs, my two antennae shaking in a bellicose

manner. I took on daring airs and would pick a quarrel with

every one of my neighbours. When I started shouting, they
would remain silent, probably not so much because they
were afraid to answer back but merely because of a

peaceable disposition. But that made me feel too big for my
breeches. Young people often are like that: bragging is for
them a sign of talent! When I had played the bully with
some timid grasshoppers or a waterspider who had stayed
from his native pond, I believed myself a real hero.

Alas, I didn’t know that one is likely to pay dearly for foolish
bluster. Unconsciously I was doing myself a bad disservice.
Later, I would many times narrowly escape death. My heart
would then be filled with remorse. But remorse was not of
much help in setting things right again. This was how the
first mishap came about:

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all that, he had ludicrous stumps in place of antennae, and
the dazed look of a hopeless country bumpkin! And he was
not the kind of fellow to do things seriously: his hole was
shallow and had no galleries like mine.

One day I paid him a visit. After having a look at his shabby
home, I reproachfully told him, " What a careless and

slovenly way of living! What a home to live in! Suppose an
enemy comes: you will have no way to escape! Look, every
time you move in your hole, your back will show up through
the ceiling. Any hawk could easily get you. My poor chap,
you are no longer a child, yet you haven’t the wisdom of

mature age!"

The mole-cricket answered in a sad voice, "Big Brother, I
surely want to have wisdom, but I can’t. I work all night for
a living, and am too tired when daylight comes to do any
more work and make this place safer and more

comfortable. I have no time to sing like you! I know it is
dangerous to live in such a shallow hole, but I have neither
the strength nor the money to improve it. Wise Brother, the
poor are always in such straits! But now, I think that… but, I
dare not speak to you about it…"

I said in a condescending way, "Just tell me what you think.
I permit you to do so."

The mole-cricket timidly said, " Thank you, Big Brother. As
you have deigned to take pity on me, I would ask for

permission to dig a gallery linking my hole to yours. In case
of danger, I can thus escape to your place."

Baring my teeth, I snarled, " What! A gallery linking my
place to yours? How could I stand it? You smell as badly as
an owl. Now, stop it! It’s no use whimpering. It serves you
right for being such a lazy fellow."

I went back to my place and paid no more attention to my
unfortunate neighbour.

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could never get enough food to eat and so grew horribly
thin. Such is the fate of the weak! While philosophising over
the facts of life, I suddenly noticed a cormorant who had
just alighted a few steps from my place.

A wicked idea came to my mind. I called my neighbour the
mole-cricket. When I heard his answer, I asked him, "Would
you like to have some fun?"

"How so?"

"Just playing a joke on somebody."
"On whom?"

"On yonder cormorant."

"What, that big, fat female standing a few steps from our
doors?"

"Precisely."

"My God, no! I can’t afford that. And I would advise you not
to either."

"Me! Not to? What are you talking about? I fear nobody,
Mister Coward."

"Then, do it alone, please. I humbly confess that I’m afraid."
"You poltroon! Look, I’m going to play a good joke on the
cormorant."

I waited for a favourable moment then started singing.
"Bong, bong, bong!

The egret, the crane, the pelican!

All three are fat enough, which one should I pluck, Sir?
- Pluck the cormorant for me, my boy!

I will have it cooked, broiled, fried, and I’ll eat it!"

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said that insolent thing about me? Who?"

I quickly backed down to the bottom of my hole, saying to
myself, "You’re angry, eh? But you won’t get me, even if
you break your silly head knocking it on my door." The
cormorant didn’t get me, as a matter of fact. But she

caught sight of the mole-cricket in his shallow hole. I heard
her angry shout, "Mole-cricket! What did you just say about
me?"

"I said nothing, Big Sister."

"How dare you deny it? How dare you?"

A heavy stroke of the cormorant’s bill accompanied each of
her rebukes. I heard the mole-cricket’s painful whine.

Having relieved herself of her anger, the cormorant flew

away to look for fish. Carefully, I crept up. When he saw me,
my poor neighbour cried bitterly, "Heavens! You’ve caused
my death, Big Brother!"

"What happened?" I asked.

But mole-cricket could not stand on his legs. He was lying
on the ground, half-dead. Tears came to my eyes. I spoke
softly, "How could I know things would happen this way?
Brother, my heart is filled with bitter remorse. My silly
bragging is the cause of this tragedy."

Mole-cricket was in agony, but he found the strength to
give me some advice, "Being in poor health," he murmured
"I won’t live long anyway. So I am not really sad at having
to die now. But before leaving this world, I would like to
advise you not to be such a foolish braggart. Before you do
anything, pray, think the matter over carefully. Less danger
will befall you."

Moved to tears, I bowed my head and said, "Big Brother,
thank you for your wise advice. I promise to follow it."

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with remorse.

I buried Mole-cricket in a grassy piece of land. I heaped
earth on his grave so that ants would not be able to disturb
his rest. I stood for a long moment before his tomb, my
eyes filled with tears. I was so sad and felt so much pity for
my friend.

II

Start on my adventurous journey - unwittingly become a
children's plaything - I get a hard lesson from the longicorn
Thus, I began to revise all my thinking and actions

drastically. Promised to myself that I would forthwith

renounce all foolish swaggering. I started a more peaceful
life. But this didn’t last long, although I don’t know precisely
how long this episode in my life lasted. This was how

everything began.

It was the beginning of summer. One morning, as I was
nibbling at some young blades of grass, I saw coming from
the other end of the ground two young boys carrying sticks
and a water can. I quickly ran back to my hole. Soon, I
heard steps overhead, then the sound of voices:

"Hey, Lam!"
"What?"
"Here it is!"

"Ha, ha! Sure enough! Look at the earth thrown out of the
hole. And those footprints! Hiep, give me the knife so that I
can widen the entrance to the hole. Now, go and fetch me a
canful of water! Quick!"

I heard the knife being bored into the ground and bits of
earth soon started falling on my head. Hardly had I climbed
up an emergency gallery than water was poured in. But
thanks to the many emergency galleries I had dug, through
which the water could flow out, the place I was in was not
flooded.

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especially the one named Lam. He said to his partner, "I bet
there is a cricket in this hole. And a big one too. It takes
some time to drive a cricket out of its hole. It can stay

immersed in water for hours on end. Now let us block up all
the side galleries so that the water won’t flow out."

No sooner said than done. All of a sudden, I found myself
plunged in darkness: all the side exits had been obstructed.
Only one gallery was left, the main one. That was the one
down which the water was being poured. That was also the
one by which I should creep out if I did not want to be

drowned. Now the water level kept going up. It reached my
back, then my head. Finally even my antennae were

immersed. But I held on, hoping that the water would seep
through. However, the children kept pouring in canful after
canful of water. All the galleries were submerged. I was
panic-stricken. Soon, I would have to creep out of my hole
and be caught. Was I to serve as food for some
fighting-cock or pet blackbird? My tender flesh would be a real treat
for these voracious devils.

To get some air, I had to creep up the main gallery.
Little by little I was unconsciously approaching the

entrance. At a given moment, I heard a joyful shout, "Here
it comes! My! What a glossy forehead!" I hastily backed
down, but it was too late. More water came in, more shouts
were heard. A spike of bamboo was driven into the ground
behind me and prevented me from going further down. One
child worked on the bamboo spike as a lever to push me
out, while the other frantically beat on an empty can which
resounded like a tocsin. These absurd kiddies were acting
as though they were giving chase to some bandit! Finally,
unable to resist further I jumped out. Savage shouts broke
out!

"Attaboy! What a cricket!"

"Ho, ho! A real warrior-cricket!"
"It's as big as a cicada!"

"You bet!"

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bite. He uttered a painful cry and released his grip.

I started running like mad. But they were immediately after
me, one brandishing a butterfly net and the other his hat. In
the twinkling of an eye, the net landed on me. I tried to
gnaw at a thread, but to no avail. The children would no
longer touch me for fear of being bitten, using the net as a

cage to keep me in. Then they washed their hands,

arranged their tools and went home, singing joyfully.

I cast a last glance at the familiar surroundings: the green
grass, the silver-white water, the golden shine of the sun on
the tree-tops... I felt as though a knife were being driven
through my heart. Tears welled in my eyes. Death was
near!

They took me out of the grassy field, along a winding
pathway bordered with bamboo hedges, then through a
bamboo gate: we were in their home. My fate was to be
decided! Hiep said, "Let us give it to our fat duck!"

Good Heaven! Such was to be my tragic end! But Lam did
not agree. He had his own idea. "No, it's not often that one
catches such a big cricket. That one is a real warrior-cricket.
This fellow Thinh has been quite highfalutin about his

cricket. He said it would kick the life out of any other
cricket. Let's have a fight between his champ and ours."
Hiep noisily clapped his hands, "Good! Let's do that."
They put me in a cage previously destined for

grasshoppers, with a door that could slide up and down. At
noon, they took me to the place where the fellow called
Thinh lived. The latter readily accepted the challenge. All
three of them went to a shaded place, Thinh carrying his
own cricket cage. They lay face down on the grass and put

the cages close to each other, the two doors facing. Then
they lifted the sliding barriers.

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At the time, I was surprised that a cricket should behave in
such a way toward another cricket. Later on, I realised how
naive I was. Being young, I could not be a penetrating judge
of people's minds.

Although deeply offended by the other cricket's insolence, I
softly said to him, "Why kick up such a row? Don't you know
we are kith and kin? Why use such nasty language?"

Showing his teeth, the young coxcomb snarled out

arrogantly, "Nonsense! Just come up here if you're a man!"
Anger seethed in me, I jumped into his cage. A savage fight
began, amidst the clapping and cheering of the three

children.

After exchanging a few blows with my adversary. I realised
that his strength was far from equalling his insolence. A
powerful wallop knocked him down. A few more kicks made
him spit blood and broke one of his legs. Lying on the

ground, he cried out painfully. Putting my mouth close to
his ears, I said, "A good lesson it was for you, young
braggart! I hope you'll show better manners next time."
Trembling with fear, he repeatedly kowtowed to me.

Alas, though from then on, my unfortunate adversary had
become more sensible, his impudence had shifted onto me.
I started adopting the very manners for which I gave him
such a sound beating. Why should this be?

The reason was that I had not entirely been cured of my
native bumptiousness and arrogance. After I had knocked
the poor squirt down, I started having a very high opinion of
myself. "I'm really strong indeed. Only a few kicks of mine
laid this fellow down. Surely, the young masters must be
highly satisfied with such brilliant feats. They will look for
more fighting crickets to be matched against me. I shall
have more occasions to test my strength. That will give me
the opportunity to get still further into their good graces.
Perhaps I shall eventually recover my freedom."

Things happened the way I had predicted. All the children in
the hamlet went out to the fields for crickets to be set

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spread far and wide. All my opponents cleared out after a
few blows. I was at that time in the prime of manhood and
the best of health. Easy success fans up arrogance and
vain-gloriousness: I looked down upon everybody. I adopted
the insolent speech and manners of my first unfortunate
opponent.

On account of my frequent victories, I was very much loved
by my two young owners. At each triumphal return, I was
given the daintiest food. At night, they set my perch on a
pergola where I could drink fresh dew. To please my

masters, I stayed all day long close to the matchbox they
gave me as a lodging, and thought no more of recovering
my freedom. Sometimes, filled with self-complacency, I
would rub my wings and start singing: reee... reee... I forgot
completely about my statute as a slave and a plaything.
What a confounded fool I was!

One day, something happened that opened my eyes. That
day, my masters took me to a fight, as usual. My opponent
was a pitiful adolescent, perhaps no bigger than my belly.
Hardly had he seen me when he cried out for mercy. But I
wasn't a bit moved by compassion. I pitched ruthlessly into
him, to the great pleasure of my owners. Suddenly, I heard
a sharp rebuke from a near-by branch.

"Aren't you ashamed of assailing someone so much weaker
than yourself?"

I looked up. The reproachful words were addressed to me
by a powerful, armour-clad, savage-looking longicorn. But I
was not afraid. I knew that the longicorn would not dare
come down on me for fear of being caught by the children.
So I snapped back at him, "Leave me alone, will you? It's no
business of yours!"

I went on raining blows on my unfortunate victim, now
more dead than alive. Far from feeling any pity I was quite
pleased with the spectators' cheering and clapping. Beside
himself with anger, the longicorn shouted, "You ruffian! I'll

teach you!"

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quivering with rage. But he could do nothing. After a
moment, he flew away. I paid no more attention to the
incident.

That night, the children perched me on the pergola as

usual, so that I could enjoy the dew and the fresh air. In the
sky, the moon was shining. Tree-leaves damp with dew,
glittered like sharp blades. A sweet breeze, descending
from above, gently rocked the bamboo tops. I straightened
myself up and began a war dance while singing softly to
myself. Looking at the moonlit sky, I was quite satisfied with
my lot.

Suddenly, I heard something like the noise of a powerful
engine, coming nearer and nearer. Then, from the air, a
heavy silhouette alighted: it was the terrible longicorn! I
howled out in terror! This was no joke: death was

unavoidable! I know what terrible strength lies in the

mandibles and the spikes on the legs of the longicorn. And I
was alone.

As I stood trembling with fear before him, the longicorn
smiled ironically, "You coward! You weren't so humble this
afternoon!" he said. "Don't you think you deserve death?"
he asked after a while.

"I humbly beg your pardon," I murmured meekly.

Pity probably found its way into the longicorn's heart. He
came close to me, his mandibles touching my head, and
said, "I'll forgive you this time. But as a warning, I'll cut off
your antennae. Later, every time you want to commit an
excess, the stumps on your forehead will act as a

reminder."

The thing was no sooner said than done. The longicorn's
razor-sharp mandibles bit away my antennae. Though the
pain was unbearable, I didn't dare cry out. Such was the
price I paid for that lesson.

But I benefited from it. My conscience awoke. I realised how
badly I had behaved since the day I became a slave to the
two children. I had committed heinous crimes: I had

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"Alas, not long ago I committed a bad action," I thought to
myself, "and I have so greatly repented it. But here I am,
committing still worse ones. Oh, what a coward I am! The
longicorn was kind-hearted enough not to kill me, and he
taught me a good lesson! How true it is that a bully always
ends up by coming across someone stronger than himself.
Now, I swear to myself that I shall henceforward behave like
a wise and honest fellow."

In order to start on a new life, the first thing I had to do was

to quit my two owners. So long as I remained in their

possession, I had to fight and kill. Escape! Yes, I must

escape. Only when I had escaped would I be able to live my
own life, to recover the freedom of yore. I had to wait for a
favourable occasion. All day long, I was kept in the cage.
During the night, it was also in a cage that I was perched on
the pergola.

The time spent in this weary wait lay heavy on me. I
realised that I had spent a large portion of my youth in a
completely useless fashion. Not only that, but I had

accumulated mistake upon mistake! I was so sad that I lost
my appetite and lay prostrated on the ground all day long.
Lam and Hiep, my owners, were at a loss finding me in such
a state. They lavished care on me, but to no avail. Worse
still, the more care they spent on me, the more I became
conscious of the fact that I had become a mere plaything. I
hardly touched any food at all. The moral pains gnawing at
my heart had a bad effect upon my health. At last, the
children became tired of me. One day, I heard Lam tell
Hiep, "This cricket is getting old. It might even have TB of
the lungs. What is the use of keeping an old, ailing cricket?"
"How about the feeding it to the duck?" asked Hiep.

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in was put inside a ring made of broken bricks. As I was
looking nostalgically up at the sky through the strong
bamboo bars, and brooding over personal misfortunes, I

suddenly gave a start: the door of the cage was half-open!
As it happened, the children had inadvertently forgotten to
pull the latch, and when the cage was rested upon a broken
brick, the slant of its position half-opened the door. My
heart beat violently. I watched the door out of the corner of
my eye, trying hard to keep calm. Fortunately, the children
were too absorbed by preparations for the match to pay
any attention to the cage.

Soon, the whistle blew. The match started. The children ran
after the grapefruit ball, shouting at the top of their voices.
That was the golden opportunity I had waited for! I

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