Once upon a time, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi stood tall with the resilience of a Pyit Taing Htaung—the traditional Burmese tumbling toy that always rights itself no matter how many times it is knocked down.
Like a Tumbling Kelly, she embodied endurance and quiet strength in the face of oppression. But sadly, once elevated into the role of State Counsellor and Presidential advisor, she seemed to have unknowingly become a Yoke Thay Yoke—a puppet pulled by invisible strings, manipulated by the very forces she once resisted.
Perhaps I am too optimistic, but I still hold onto hope. After her baptism by fire—after betrayal, prison, and political exile—perhaps she will rise again, not as a puppet, but as a Phoenix: reborn from the ashes to guide Myanmar toward a just future.
As for me, I have always wished to be like the Pyit Taing Htaung—resilient, grounded, and untethered. I refuse to be anyone’s marionette. I dislike even the idea of invisible strings—cables of control that direct my every move, be they visible like a puppeteer’s thread or hidden like political manipulation.
In Burmese, we have a saying: “Ah Htet Phar – Auk Phi”(အထက်ဖါး အောက်ဖိ) —a person who speaks frankly to superiors, even at personal risk. That is who I am. I’m not very obedient. I won’t flatter or follow orders blindly. I will lead by working with others, shoulder-to-shoulder, not by giving commands from above. I’m the kind of person who takes on the dirty, dangerous, and difficult jobs myself—so that others are inspired to join in, not coerced.
The Burmese puppet (Yoke Thay) is a beautiful art form. Whether depicting princes or ogres, horses or clowns, these marionettes are often painted red or gold, with ever-smiling white faces. But no matter how elegant they appear, they are always subject to strings—controlled, manipulated, and posed by an unseen hand. That is not the life I want.
Even the Pyit Taing Htaung toys sometimes come with a string on the back of the neck to hang them up or carry them around. But I reject that too. In Burmese, I would say politely but firmly: “Pyit Taing Htaung Yoke-Kyo Ma Shoke Chin” (ပစ်တိုင်းထောင်ရုပ် ကြိုးမရှုပ်ချင်) —I do not wish to be tied up, lifted artificially, or strung along.
Let me fall if I must. Let me be kicked, ignored, discriminated against, or misunderstood. But I will rise again, not because someone lifts me up, but because, like the true Pyit Taing Htaung, my center of gravity is deep within me—anchored in principle, not propped up by power.
Like the mythical Phoenix, I believe in rebirth through trial. In legend, this fiery bird lives for centuries, and near the end of its life, it builds its own funeral pyre of fragrant woods—myrrh, cinnamon, and spikenard—and lays upon it to die in flames. From those very ashes, a new Phoenix is born, destined to fly again with renewed purpose and beauty.
I want to be like that: not a puppet that lives by someone else’s strings, but a Phoenix and a Tumbling Kelly—forever falling, forever rising, forever free.
So please—do not try to tangle the strings around me, no matter how invisible they may be. I was not born to be pulled upward by the hand of power, but to stand back up on my own every time I fall.
