Post

It took me quite a while, thinking about what to write for my 100th post on my blog. Maybe, for once, I should just write some ramblings like what people usually do on their blogs for a change. Couldn’t quite believe after nearly 5 years into blogging, I’m only about to reach a century of posts.

But certainly, I do take my time in everything. Probably too much and too often. Well, life’s about making mistakes and paying dearly for them afterwards. A romantic would say, give in everything to your passion, and enjoy the aesthetics of life, appreciate the beauty of beauty. A pragmatist would reply, be practical, work hard, play hard and live hard. A modernist, would simply refute both, and claim that life is not what they think is, and nobody is equipped with the correct definition of it.

I can’t provide you a definite explanation either. But allow me to try. Life’s more like a dream within a dream. There was once I found myself in one of the coffee shops back home in M’sia, eating my favourite dish, siting in one of those big round tables, helping myself to the splendid food and drinks. But then, I asked myself how I ended up being there. Funnily enough, I couldn’t recall catching a train to London, nor a flight from the UK back to M’sia.

At that instance, I realised, I was dreaming.

Then there was once I found myself leaving a building, for whatever reasons I couldn’t recall. But at the entrance I encountered several primary school friends, friends that I’ve not seen for years. We chat, spoke and joke for quite some time, until someone came up to me and said, “You gave me something before you left, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me yourself?” Taken aback, I realised she wasn’t there a minute earlier before. Feeling my face going red in embarrassment, then I woke up.  

Dream within a dream. Isn't life life within a life? Just as there are different “scenes” between dreams, you get different “landmarks” in life. Just like dreams, sometimes life gets ridiculous, illogical, yet at times reflect the upmost, deepest desire and longings that’s very well hidden. Unlike the romantics, I cannot always express whatever is inside. Unlike the pragmatics, sometimes I need to petrify myself with fantasies and dreams. Unlike the modernists, though uncertainty is fine, there are always qualities, such as friendship and kinship, that remains constant and unchanged.

This “post” is merely another landmark, to determine where I am now, and to decide which way to move on towards. My journey from the first posting till the 100th has been a truly remarkable experience. Many a times, it’s just like a dream within a dream, scenes within scenes. But I’m truly glad, to have reached here and now, and to move forward again soon.

Luna & Venus

He has lived to see better nights. The sky tonight is dark, and the moon, is presumably hidden by the dark nimbus clouds. What is left visible through the dark veil is only a little bright shining star, glimmering out of the abyss of darkness in the sky. Someone once told him, that star is actually Venus. It is also called the Evening Star.

He knows her long enough that there is far more graver situation that needs his immediate attention than the stars. Rushing upon the stairs, he strived towards his destination as fast as his legs could carry him, almost taking 2, even 3 steps at the time.

“Sorry, I’m late…I brought you something spe-“

Whatever excuses he thought might be sufficient, there is no helping it. There she is, resting her arms onto the railing of the overhead bridge, overlooking the busy traffic in the double lane roads beneath. Somebody once said that you can read a lot from one’s body language. She looks like she could just crumble at any second.

What’s left in her that prevents a total collapse?

Walking up next to her, he folded his arm and lean onto the railing. The cold breeze brushes gently onto his face while he admires the long, red serpent-like creature that crawls and slithers slowly beneath him. Stretching his view as far as possible towards his left without turning his head, he sees two streams of tears flowing down her cheeks. As she remains still and oblivious to his arrival, he lets out a short sigh.

For the next minute, the only thing in motion is the red dragon below them.

“Why so quiet?”

“What’s wrong with silence? Silence, at times, could be a good comforter.” 

“Well, some ladies would prefer a more ‘aggressive’ comforting than this!”

Upon finishing her sentence, she turns her head towards him, and looks intensely into his eyes. She smiles while awaiting for his reply.

Right then he feels that he would give up the whole world for another look of hers in like this. And he would not avert his eyes for anything that is less angelic than the sight that is currently beholding his eyes.

Sensing no reply, she turns 90 degrees towards him, with the left side of her body leaning on the railing. Her right hand, is placed behind her back, presumably holding onto the edge of her blouse, which is a little habit of hers.

“No wonder you’re still single to this day. When was it that you went out for a date?”

“I would like to believe that I’m still young, in my prime, and time is a precious luxury that I can still afford. You don’t get to be young forever.”

“Well, you’re NOT really young anymore…”

Replacing both her arms onto the railing again, she reverts back to the position he found her in earlier. Suddenly, she straightens  up in a jerk, turns around and points  towards him, face bewildered, trying to express some kind of epiphany that has just descent upon her.

“I know…you like GUYS!”

“Wha…”

All that follows after is her own ruckus laughing uncontrollably, with her right hand covering over her mouth.  As if a disease spreading around, he follows suit and laughs as well.

“Ah…this is so funny!”

Upon saying this she rubs her eyes. He knows, there is still sorrow hidden behind that facade. Behind every brave face, there’s always this sad clown.

“I must say, thank you very much. You are a good man, a good friend.”

Deep down his heart rejoiced and mourned this pleasant yet devastating statement.

“For? I’m not going to buy you supper.”

“We might as well go get some. And yes, you ARE going to buy me supper!”

“I thought you are supposed  to show me some gratitude?”

“Yes I am, that’s why I’m buying you alcohol while you buy me supper, deal?”

“If my memory serves me well, I bought you lunch in China Town two days ago.”

“Race you to the Gardens then. Loser pays for everything!”

Without waiting for his reply, she turns and runs down the stairs, leaving him alone behind, still leaning both arms on the railing.

He looks up to the starry sky, and realised that the full moon is now visible, no longer hidden by the dark clouds. But the Evening Star, Venus, is nowhere to be seen.

She would still need time, to mend the wounds and the pain. But she is strong. Strong enough to shine through those invisible barriers. With help of course, with sacrifice that Venus would gladly give up, for another sight, another view of the splendid, magnificent and beautiful full moon.

Could both the moon and the Evening Star co-exist in one beautiful night sky? Nobody knows. Only time would tell.

安抚与自疗

天色阴暗，乌云满天。只见约有五六颗星星逃避了乌云的遮盖，狂热的燃烧，发光。

他边跑边喘着气，爬上楼梯。

“对不起，我迟到了。但我带了…”还没说完，眼见她垂头丧气，双臂在栏杆上的捧着那憔悴的身子。天桥下的车子来来往往，一列列的红灯、金光犹如大江的急流。

看来雨过了但天未晴。

每当她在感情上、事业上、甚至家庭里碰钉子，都会一个人跑到这里。虽然如此，这可是他第一次是受约而来的。

叹了一口气，走到她右边，学她一模一样，俯身躺在栏杆上。偷偷地斜望了她一眼，只见脸颊上流着两条小溪，双眼目不转睛望着远方的乌云随风而飘。

双方都不说话，都不出声，双方都不想打破僵局。

“怎么来了，却不说话呢？”她终于开口，转向他微微苦笑。

“你约我来，难道就是要听我说话吗？”看她笑得太勉强，心里不禁难受，接着道：“安静也可以是个很好的安慰。”

“哈哈哈…女人的特权就是要男人安慰，说好听的呀！”

此刻一望她那诚恳的笑声、由心而发的笑容，顿时让他解去许多心中的不安。

见他只是望着自己微微笑，什么也不说，就道：“难怪你到现在都没女生喜欢。都那么大年纪了，女朋友一个都没。”

“这样不是很好吗？自由自在的，我行我素啊！要做什么就做什么，要去那里就去哪里，没人管我，只有我管人。”

“难道，你喜欢…”说到一半，不禁笑出声来。这时见他迷糊的样子，提起无名指指着他接着说：“你一定是喜欢男人！”说完了，又哈哈大笑。

听了这番话，顿时也不知要说什么，也就陪她一起大笑。

如果真的喜欢男人，我才不会在这陪着你了。

“啊…笑得出泪了！”此时心想，她一定又触动了那些伤心事，心中难过，不禁流泪。她右手擦一擦双眼，抹去眼泪。

“真得谢你呀。那么晚了，还约你到这样的地方消费时间，浪费光阴。”她把手搭在他肩膀上，又说：“真够朋友！”

不由自己的，他心中有如被刺一般。

“一起去吃宵夜吧！我好饿！照旧，我请喝，你请吃！”

“那么不公平！这不是占我便宜吗？”

“哪…先到的拿主意！”话还没说完，她转身就跑了。

看着她奔跑的背影，心中悲喜交加。转身又搭在栏杆上，望着依然繁忙的大道。心中有意成全她，特意怠慢，故意输给她。

他可真大方，宁可牺牲自己心深处的感觉，用来弥补她心灵的皮外伤。但真正的伤口，可得让时间慢慢医治。

此时有如海湾的新月逃出了乌云的遮盖，乌云却把那五六颗星星盖了。虽然她未能完全把心事放下，心情却是好多了。他不禁自问，这个夜晚，这个地方，这些对白，究竟是为了安抚她，还是为了自疗伤处？

Rites of Passage

A day out in the park in such a weather is always nice, though she is very well aware that any given day could have any kind of weather, be it rain or shine, you can never tell. There is a children’s playground right next to the main path, while a football field is approximately a hundred yards away.

As she walks along the path that she had become so familiar with over the past year, it is hard for her to shut away those feelings, even in a day like this.

Regret, is what she feels. Or not, remorse might be a better word to describe her feeling. They had those moments, didn’t they? But nothing came to fruition. All the time she considers whether it would have been different if she did something different.

Yes, by many people’s standards, she is not…”conventional”. In cases like these, most of her friends would have jumped into it without a second thought. Young heads were governed by young minds of passion and instinct, as for her, rational and logic comes first.

Then as she walks past the children’s playground, she sees a boy of probably twelve or thirteen, staring rather intently towards the group of little kids enjoying themselves on the swings, sliding, shouting, cheering. She can see that the boy is struggling. But she knows that she could not help.

For wisdom comes with age. Maybe it came a little too early for her. With wisdom one begins to wield more caution and hesitancy. There was too much to consider. That is why, she often believes, things remains sparks where it should have been a disaster.

Could she ever return to the same point in the future, that she may try taking a different path? No one could tell for certain. The boy finally turn and start to walk away, seemingly decided to not join the kids at the playground. He stop right next to the football field, where a group of boys are playing 5-a-sides football.

It is not the time yet. She knows she does not fit anywhere just yet. There is a need to do a little of soul-searching, as the boy must now try to determine his own identity, rework it and build on it for the future. The regret, or remorse, would always remain, adding onto whatever amount of wisdom that is already available, to help decide what to do in the future. 

What are you doing?

 

It repeats, replays itself in his head like a never ending loop. It’s a question, that he keeps asking himself. It’s a statement of defeat he condemns onto himself.

He had long believed this is his destiny, and he put great faith in it and walked it diligently. He knows what he is to become, what he needs to do in the process, and what to expect by the end of his little walk.

But the problem is: He doesn’t know what he is doing.

Too often and too naively he take this blind faith for granted. Yes, he took the road bravely as any travellers of the wilderness. There is a destination, but there is no road. How should he travel? East? West? He realised that there is a luxury of methods to finish the race. But in what way should he achieve that?

But he knows it is way to late to turn back, journeyed too far to return. If there is no road, then he shall make one. The process determines the quality of the product. What he is or plans to do, decides the results of his labour.

So, what are you doing?

Limbo

This can’t be true.

How did I end up here?

A look around the room revealed that it was no bigger than a normal primary school classroom. But it was way more crowded with people than any classrooms I’ve ever seen.

But…

Why am I here?

The last thing I remember was driving my 4x4 Land Rover Jeep back home, listening to the silly DJ’s on the radio bantering. The next thing I knew, I woke up in this room.

Surprisingly, nobody took notice of me, standing looking bewildered. Taking a second glance around the room, the faces now seemed familiar. I know them, but I can’t remember their names.

What is happening?

A sudden blinding light shot across the room, I had to involuntarily shut my eyes. I seem to remember something, but it’s still to vague, like mist in the dark night. I took a step back, and felt my spine hit something. Something wooden, perhaps. Turning myself around, I saw my perfectly stilled body lying within the fine cheddar coffin.

Another blinding light blinded my eyes. At that instances, I understood.

I’m dead.

Then came the loud wailing and crying so loud that I have to shut my ears which I didn’t seem to hear earlier on. As my ears adjusted to the sudden noise, it came to my sense.

I’m at a funeral parlour.

Now I remember who these people are. My family were leading the guests to their seats. Friends, some crying silently, some sobbing. There are also some whose faces remain indifferent. These people came to pay me my last respects.

This must be a bad dream. It has to be.

I felt so bad that I wish I could just wake up from this bad dream. I’m way too young to just leave things like that. I can’t possibly accept this. This is not my fate.

This shall not be my fate!!

I turned and ran, without knowing where I’m heading to. Suddenly all the bickering stopped. All the people are gone, only a lonely casket in front of me.

Where did all the people go?

The door swung open, and a guy walked into the room, carrying some flowers in his hands. Ignoring my presence, he walked straight past me onto the altar. He picked up the incense, lit it up, and stationed the flowers beautifully next to it.

Then I realised, I’ve gone straight through the walls into someone else’s room. The guy turned to leave, and just before he went through a door, I heard…

“No one’s here yet?”

“Nope, the other room’s pretty busy…”

“Yeah, I see you bring flowers again.”

“He might have been lonely in life. Nobody deserved to be lonely...”

I couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation as the closing door shut off any sound from the corridor. Walking up towards the altar, I see a middle-aged man lying in the coffin. He looked dandy, probably didn’t matter much since nobody came to see. There’s this sense of pity rising in me. We’re both dead, yet it is a contrasting sending off between him and me.

I realised that I may never been rich or famous, but I had friends that are loyal and kind, family that brings me warmth and love. I may fall short of other’s expectations, but in the end they all came.

I went back into my room, taking another glance at my loved ones. I remember everything now. The car I was driving must have been in an accident. Someone once said that you can measure how successful your life is by judging the quantity and quality of the people that attend your funeral. It seems to me know that is quite true. I realised, the ones that remained indifferent, unmoved, are my closest friends. It seems that they are already ready to let me go.

At this point, a tunnel of light opened up on the side. I couldn’t see the end of it, but I knew that I must walk through it.

How did I end up here?

It doesn’t matter now. Now I can move on, in peace and rest.

夕阳与黄昏

不知不觉，太阳西下。

“喂？”

“是我…”。随后却是一片肃静。

心想着，又是这阵不自然的安静…恐怕，是最后一次了。 望着窗外的柳树，不禁叹了气。

我们到底怎么了？

“我决定了-我要离开。”对方憔悴的语气，把气氛弄得更为僵硬。

隐隐约约地，他的答复早就在预料当中。却也知道，这答复是经过一段的思考、体谅和琢磨换来的一个回应。

不知该说些什么，也就什么也不说。此时又是一片安宁。

斗嘴，也斗过了。架子，也摆了很多遍。人人常说，情侣不打不相识。想回来真有点懊悔。但饭已成粥，却也难免的。

“那…我祝你…一路顺风。”听见自己的声音，吓了一跳。这战战兢兢，吞吞吐吐的声音竟是自己的？

低头一望，就看见房间里夕阳照着自己身体的影子。很羡慕这没有表情，没有情绪的形象。他是否也这样？

“我要挂了，你多保重。”不知不觉，不禁地流泪了，脸颊湿了。

“对不起…”他没等回复，就把线挂了。一切都了断了，也算是一了百了。

挂了电话，回身倒在床上。窗外看见大半太阳被山脉遮住。空中金色的云彩也逐渐被天色吞没。

满脸眼泪流不停，嘴里带着苦笑，又叹了一口气。

只可惜，太近黄昏了…

Once Passed, Gone Forever…

“Why are you pulling over?” Caleb asked.

“I need a drink”, Adam droved into the almost empty parking lot of the little pub by the road. Adam greeted the bar lady and the cute waitress that was cleaning a table, and chose a table right next to the corner. The old jazz pianist was playing the piano. Caleb ordered a tanker of beer for Adam, another cup of Coke Malibu for himself. I’ll need the extra kick, he thought.

Before Caleb sat himself down, Adam had already downed nearly half of his beer, then said,“Still can’t right believe it, Jean and Desmond getting married huh?”

Caleb appeared to have not heard Adam, took a little sip of his drink, and returned it onto the table. Adam was already taking the last gulp of his beer.

“I’m just glad for them.”

“Really?”

Stunned, Caleb looked up and saw Adam starring right into him. His cheeks were already red, face like a ripe tomato. Just like usual, casual and playful on the outside, yet a sharp and bright mind on the inside. Drinks a lot, but never drunk.

“I’m happy that she’s happy”

“You look far from happy to me”

“You’re drank too much”

“But never drunk”

Caleb knew Adam’s excuse to get a drink is for Caleb to loosen up and relax. He knew this was coming when Adam pulled over. Adam was sensitive enough to know that the night had been a long and tough for him.

“There’s nothing to be done; she’s happy. I’d have done something if she’s not”

“Ah…correction: You should have done something back then. When she was depressed and alone”, Adam ordered another tanker from the cute waitress.

“What do you want from me? I was going away. Away for a very long time. Too long, too far. It’ll never work.” Agitated, Caleb finished his drink in one take, and slammed his cup on the surface table. It was loud, but the jazz pianist playing on the side covered the noise. The bar lady and the waitress didn’t seem to hear the noise.

“That’s more like it. If you feel that much for her, why not give it one last try? I still stick by what I said. You never know till you tried.”

Then there was a long pause between them. Adam, probably coming to his senses, drank his second serving slowly, sip by sip. He would still have to drive them both home safely. Caleb, on the other hand, was starring through the mirror into the dark. Their silence was interceded by the graceful and optimistic jazz music.

 Old in body, young in heart huh?

“Give it another try, would you?” Finishing his drink, Adam went up to the bar lady and paid their tabs. He tipped the cute waitress handsomely, before walking himself out to the car.

A smile cracked on Caleb’s face. Once again he took up his cup to finish his drink, only to realise that he had already finished it in his fury earlier. Now he set his cup gently on the table, bided the bar lady, cute waitress and the old jazz pianist goodnight.

At the door he felt the cold breeze against his burning cheeks, drenched a little by his tears. He knew, he passed his chance a long time ago.

Some things, once passed, is gone forever.

 

Q: Sending offs??

A:

There are reasons why people dislike “send-offs”. Unlike “goodbyes”, its usually more negative. If you put the farewells in order, the highest, the most positive one would be “See you again!!”. Then followed by “Goodbyes”.  The worst would be seeing your friends off.

It’s not the parting that marks it a sad and depressing occasion. In fact, it may even be a positive occasion, especially when you’re seeing off somebody-you-don’t-really-like-but-don’t-have-a-choice-of-not-sending-him/her-off. My point is, you can feel either happy and sad while sending someone away or even both at the same time.

But there’s always these at the end of every sending off. You’ll wonder: why aren’t you on that cab, train, ship, or plane. What in the world are you sending people off  repeatedly replays itself like a broken projector in your mind. You thought you had come to terms long ago that you are never going to get on that cab/train/ship/plane.

I can tell you, despite all those feeling, nothing would top this: the feeling of being left behind. In its strictest sense, you are being left out. You’re omitted from embarking the same journey your friends are taking. You’re one of the few, maybe even the only one, to remain stagnant at where you are.

That’s why people would rather not meet, for every meeting ends with separation. I would rather avoid “send-offs”, so that I’m spared this melancholic, self-denial, confession of a person in solitude, feeling left behind.

But then again, would there be “send-offs” without anybody being left behind?

Money Talk $$$$

Now I know there has been a lot of hype surrounding the “rental” issue. Now here's my thoughts. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. If you’re unreasonably unable to accept criticism, or unable to process my personal yet I think is legitimate reasoning, or simply because you can’t stand me as a person, PLEASE DO NOT READ.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Now friends,

The Situation: Escalating Rents, Reduced Services

Rumours has it that its now up to 400 Pounds!! Hell yeah!! Cleaners no longer work on our god damn ever so dirty kitchen!! What do they work on anyway??!! All I see them doing (hear to be exact) is to vacuum the house then go outside having bedside-girl-talk with fellow cleaners about the latest X-Factor…Now I don’t remember paying that amount of money for them to sweet talk around the village….But well I must say, there are times where you hear spicy stuffs like This is your job and I had to cover your ass etc. Yeah, these cleaners DO know how to quarrel.

Well then, what’s the real problem??

Higher Rent means Lesser $$$

Now this is not rocket science; it doesn’t take the Bank Negara experts to figure that out. Student life is the peak of passion, passion for things and enjoyment. Let’s take a peek at my wish list:

1. I wanna own a Xbox, or at least a game console…

2. I wanna own a brand new laptop, for my assignments and games…

3. I wanna get a brand new Nike football boots…

4. I wanna go home for the summer!! It’ll be good if I can get a de- tour around Europe before heading back to the M’sian sun…

How on earth am I suppose to own all these stuffs (or achieve them for point 4) if I gotta pay more rent??!?!! No please Marjon, I need a happy young adult life since I’m deprived of a happy spoilt childhood.

As you can see, a student life can be depressing, demotivating, and dangerous. Dangerous?? Why??

This is why:

The Conspiracy Theory

You know how people can come up with crazy ideas/theories/hypothesis that there’s a conspiracy planned against them?? If you think you are different from the guy/girl sitting next to you, think again. PEOPLE ARE PARANOID. We keep thinking how people judge us, how they scheme to bring us down, to make us feel bad.

Back to the topic, there is a theory speculating that more locals are moving out the village, the halls, so to cover the high maintenance costs, ours are increased. You know how Malaysians always think that other people think Malaysians are like cash cows?? They like to think it that way; it makes them feel….what’s the right word?? IMPORTANT. Well yeah, the whole world MUST conspire against you if you’re important.

Okay..it’s kinda long-winded and tiring to read all this shit. So let’s take a break before we look at the arguments.

So?? What’s your point, Genius??

There are two different stands on this matter.  Most people (cause I don’t wanna make sweeping statements) take it as a Financial Tsunami. Why do I call it a Tsunami?? It all started with a deep sea quake, which people on land barely feel. Well, in fact they may be aware of it first time, but they’ll think, Ah, it’s nothing. The tidal wave then comes in. You don’t quite see it, because it gradually builds up.Then when it really gets near, say the shore, you’ll pee in your pants.

Likewise, nobody really gives it a damn in the first place. Then when one starts to talk about it, another gets hooked up. Like how hysteria spreads. A girl sees another cries or wail suddenly, they can’t resist the urge to get the same attention. It is INFECTIOUS. It spreads until nobody, literally nobody do not speak about it. It becomes such a grave matter that people resort to this ultimate ultimatum line: We need to talk. And there was a talk. It sound almost like God saying Let there be light.

You know nothing good comes from it if someone says that to you…

The other stand, which is my stand, is not entire opposite, but certainly different. Let me do it in point form, easier on the mind:

1. Higher rents = Less money. Which means less numbers on my bank account. But why Marjon didn’t provide an official statement???!!! And shit, I got a really really tight window to get a new place..Ridiculous.

2. Reduced service = I don’t see that much of them for me to like them. It’s okay if they’re there, if not, its not too big a problem.

3. Conspiracy Theory = I just think it’s childish. I’m not that full of myself thinking that people would wanna take advantage of me. I’m just a poor government sponsored student studying in a backwater Plymouth. If I’m not, I won’t be here.

4. Financial Tsunami. To be frank, I’m totally not worried about it at all. I can see a few outcomes of this matter. Either the KPM would be generous enough to give us an increment in our allowances (which I highly doubt), or Marjon would come to an agreement with the Ministry to sort things out. My point is, I don’t really carry much weight. Even if there’s 99 of me’s.

Let me just summarize my stand: I’m grateful for everything I have. (ring a bell, people??) Strictly speaking the chances of me to die on my travels to Europe or back to Malaysia is higher than my odds of dying of starvation, or being homeless. Yeah, yeah, our families poured millions of ringgit of taxes, but I would like to think that I’m always on the receiving end of abundant goodness which many could never have experience. I would like to remember that I’m far far more fortunate than those poor Plymouthians sleeping in the streets, the jobless hoping for food from the Salvation Army.

Not just Plymouth, apparently the whole world is going DOWN. It’s a economical ARMAGGEDON. Why do you think the cleaners service is reduced?? Why no more free tissues or free washed clean linens? You can do the math. People are getting lay off every single day.

Dear friends, before you even think that the rise in house rent is unfair, look at the streets. And don’t you dare yell at those officers that is just trying to do their best in their job. They deserve more than a speculation of your brilliant conspiracy theory you so wisely conceived. We have been blessed, don’t give God a reason to stop doing that.

Please, grow up.

p.s. Let me hear it from you!!

The heart & the arms

 

Alas, although you’re him whose in my heart, I’m not her who is in your arms.

It is the last time she’ll see his back. As often as she had done so for the past 9 months, staring into the infinite suction of hope and wonder, it is time that they be parted.

She is so close to him that she hears him breathing the gentle sea breeze. There is some sunlight, but not enough to provide sufficient warmth to her; she wraps her arms around her.

She wonders, every time at the sight of him, that what would have become of them if she had come clean with him. But even if she had the courage, would that change anything?

There are so many If only’s, If only that’ll never be. Looking at his back from afar, thinking, If only you knew how I felt about you. 

It is just like the weather, a raging storm contained in the dark clouds, awaiting the opportunity to burst free. But her feelings must never obtain freedom.

She then hears him say, “Nine months in a flash, and we’ll be home.” A small fissure-like smile appear on the face of the girl warmly tucked in his arms.

She turns around, and with her heavy footsteps, gradually moving away. He did not notice her departure.

Platform “L1F3”

She continued to sit there, even after he had long left, watching the trains speeding past her. How long has it been, she couldn’t remember. All she does, is the fleeting sharp prod she felt in her heart when he bid farewell.

How many times have he said goodbye? Too many times, too often that she took them for granted. This time, there’s no more next time. It was his last farewell to her.

‘This time is for real; I’m leaving for good,’ he said with a firm, determined expression, before adding, ‘I’m going after her’.

There was then an awkward paused, both of them being impervious towards the crowd that were walking past them, like river rocks amidst the river flow.

‘Why won’t you stay?’  said she while hugging both her arms. Droplets of tears started to drench her slightly crumpled polka dotted sleeves. ‘You know how I...’

‘…I must go,’  he interjected, trying to avoid her teary eyes by looking at the departure board. After another period of uncomfortable silence, he said, ‘It is time.” Out of his pocket, he produced a piece of paper, folded into two, and gave it to her.

Without another word, he turned to board the train, the train that would lead to his happiness. But to her, it is a journey that would take hers away from her, one that would bring grieve unto her.

Then he paused in his steps, before uttering, ‘Thank you.’  It was almost inaudible, drowned by all the noise and din of the railway station. But she caught every single word, every single intonation, and the mixture of gratitude and sorry in his short yet cruel bidding.

She then watched him blended among the crowd through her watery eyes, trying not to blink at all, so as not to lose sight of him. But what must go would go. She wiped her face while she unfolded the note, and just as a ray of light emerged from the cloudy sky, she smiled.

“Life’s like a platform; people come and go. Some people wait, some people go.  One day you would find what you are waiting for, and go after it, just as how I’ve waited, hence now, I must go.”

What shall he do??

There is this unspeakable fear, a dreadful feeling that remained stuck in some corner of his heart. You won’t get hurt if you don’t hope for it, they say. He used to think it was silly, but now it start to make sense to him, such philosophical words.

She always have been on his mind, as a friend. Although he hopes that there would be more than just friendship, it seems unlikely in the circumstances he’s in. But he longed for her presence, be it little messages on Twitter or pokes on Facebook, phone calls across the continent or the far distant memories of the little coffee shop they sat and talked all day together.

Probably it was work, he would like to think, that she gradually drifted away. More and more phone calls went unanswered, messages un-replied. To some extend he began to think that he was probably being a nuisance. Or maybe her boyfriend felt it was too improper, improper to adhere to his desire for her affection and attention.

He stopped suddenly, no more attempts to communicate with her. Why not leave with some dignity intact than to strive for a lost cause? He chose pride over friendship, as well as potential romantic interest. Over time it seems that he had finally got over her. Making new friends, meeting new people, trying new and different things.

I shouldn’t have done it. Just out of curiosity, he poked her on Facebook. To see if she does it in return. He wasn’t even really hoping, but she did poke him in return. Now I’m in a dilemma. They chatted and reconnected their abandoned friendship on that fine afternoon, catching up to each other’s tale of the lost 6 months. She apologized that she was busy for a moment of time, and was sorry for not sparing much time for him. She promised that they will properly speak to one another when both of them were available.

Available? When is considered “available”?  He used to call her once every fortnight, sometimes once a week. If it is her, he could call her everyday if she likes it. She didn’t realise that her promise brought hope to him, and also equally fatal dose of disappointment. He wonders if he could take another rejection again. What if she suddenly breaks off again after they re-established their relationship? What if she finds him too irritating?

Should I? Should I not? This is killing him. It is almost like drugs. It corrodes you within, but you need it to keep you going, to keep you feeling like you’re actually living. So curiosity DOES kill the cat. There is only himself to blame, for pushing that self-destruct “poke” Facebook button.

What shall he do??

You’re Not Listening Yet.

I would not brag that I know it all, seen it all, heard it all. For always and often, pride comes before you fall. I don’t claim to understand how my fellow Muslim friends feel, or understand whenever they see their Holy Scripture being threaten, or being derogated in any ways. But I know that not in my lifetime I wish to see the Holy Bible is being molested in any method thinkable.

People are different. Hence beliefs and faith are different. How are we, and who are we to coerce others to follow what we believe in?? If you feel justified believing in what you believe in, don’t others deserve the same respect for their judgement??

I do understand, that authenticity is highly valued, especially in the world today, where the fake is as real as reality itself. Mind you, I held fast to my belief that my God is the one true god. But that doesn’t leave my fellow friends’ God lesser than mine. To them, their God is as holy as my God to me. Being disrespectful to their God, is a testament of my weak faith towards mine.

You can burn all the Korans you like. You can prosecute all the unbelievers you like. You can say anything you like. You can incur all kinds of propaganda for all you like. If there’s anything worth learning from history, the more you burn, the more it spreads. Nazis burnt the bible, yet it remains the most printed book on earth.

It was written, Love your enemies. I presume from my lesser wisdom that it includes accepting what others are for just who they are, doing onto them what you wish them to do for you. Certainly, I don’t want them to burnt my Holy Scripture!!

Shame on you, if you believe that’s your calling, If you believe that is what God calls you to do. You’re not really listening yet.

Motivation…

Right now I need a little push,

an urge to get me off my seat.

For I have hid too long behind the bush,

of comfort, fun and play.

 

I need that desire to make the leap,

to reach that glorious golden heap.

But right now I’m stuck where I stood,

no where near that passionate mood.

 

If only I can heave myself,

to work, to toil, to break this shell,

and bask my face under the shine,

What could I not make mine?

 

Though knowing and doing are two good friends,

I am torn stuck somewhere between.

But just as much as rivalry prevents,

I know I must soon make a stand.

 

For the flow of time awaits no man,

it is a crime to waste a second.

What I need now is a gentle hush,

but who would be the one to push?

l.o.v.e & Sacrifice

The doctors aren’t too positive about her condition. She barely survived the gruelling 8 hour emergency surgery. Nobody is hopeful for anything now. She’s at the verge of life and death.

After all, it doesn’t take a specialist with a long list of doctorates to understand how serious her ailment is. She suffered third degree burns over 70% of her body. It is a miracle that she is still fighting, struggling with her strong will to live. Too bad that her body doesn’t match her strength; she is fading away by the second.

Everybody is sad, depressed for her. What she did was really brave. But Grandma is taking is very badly. She fainted when the doctor announced the degree of her condition to the family. She thinks that it is all her fault.

“Had I been more careful, this would not have happened”, Grandma lamented. “Had I been more careful…It should be me in there…”

“No one blames you that this…come on,” her middle-age son takes her by the arm, gently put her onto the seat. “It can’t be helped.”

“Of course it can!! She didn’t have to return…not for me, on top of everything!!” Grandma is starting to lose control again, arms covering her head, swinging wildly on her seat.

Fearing that Grandma might just faint and fall, he swiftly took hold of her. He tries not to be forceful, because he understands her need to vent her pent up guilt. He remain quiet. His wife, visibly shaken, sobs quietly a few seats next to her.

“She needs that too,” he thinks, and he is going to give her that.

The fire department couldn’t determine the cause of that tragedy yet, amidst all the rubble. Nothing was left, everything charred into ashes. And now, he is losing his previous daughter to her act of chivalry. But he understood her. She has been a strong, kind and brave girl. It is hard and would take a long time to accept this loss, but he respected her decision to risk her life for their beloved Grandma.

Holding his daughter’s heavily bandaged hand in his, silent sobs hidden deep inside, he sits next to her. It seems that she redeemed her Grandma’s fading life with her life of vigour and youth. If he really tried, he could have stopped her, withheld her back. He should have gone in her stead.

She opens her eyes, now visible as small shiny marbles through her heavily bandaged face. Her eyes tell him that she wants to say something, but she is too weak. He attempts a smile, interjected by little sobs of his. Droplets fall onto her bandages. At that moment, he feels her hand tightens her grip, a sudden outburst of strength from her failing body.

Then there is this long flat tone of the ECG machine attached to her. Her pulse stops beating, and a nurse arrived almost immediately trying to restore life in her. Several doctors and nurses come to her aid, trying very hard. He is hounded out of the room, as the medical experts tries to revive her.

It will be a terrible loss, for anybody who love her, he thinks, to lose a person of her quality, but it is a loss that she readily accepted, a price she readily pay. The least he could do for her who sacrificed all, in honour of her memory, and her brave, determined soul, is to let her go.

The doctors and nurses then exit the room several moments later. She is proclaimed dead. Grandma wails as if she’s going into a fit. The nurses have to administer her sedatives to keep her calm. One life has ended, to prolong another.

One lays it down, that another may pick it up again, and live.

Attachments…

“Attachments!!”

“What’s with them?” his friend asked. His eyes were very much focused onto the screen, fingers tapping the buttons in rapid fire.

“I might not wanna get so…emotionally attached anymore,” his tone was flat, with hints of absent-mindedness. He was also concentrating on the screen.

It is a newly released console game. It was rated highly for its state-of-the-art graphics and supposingly tantalising gameplay. They decided that they must not missed this new game. So they chose a day to hang out together and try it out. To see how good the game is.

So they did.

“Well, you’re bound to interact with people or some sort. You can’t escape from them…Wow!!” His friend was interrupted by his own dramatic shout. He had just lost a live.

Throwing the controller aside, he continued, “I mean, it’s unavoidable”. He now had to wait for his avatar to re-spawn. He continued to observe the screen, eyes on the re-spawn countdown timer. Every lost second caused him to itch more and more; he can’t wait to get started again.

“It’s just that being attached to people, emotionally, can be frustrating. Friends, I mean,” his friend was wearing a suspicious look. “Look, we all lead different life, each to our own aspirations, needs, and to fulfil our own purposes…DAMN!!”

Now it was his turn to be ejected from the game momentarily. He would also have to wait to re-spawn.

“Ha, just about time! I was hoping that we could team up and kick his ass again! Looks like the HERO’s gotta save the day,” taking up the controller, threw a smirk, his friend continued the onslaught, trying to take out as much enemy as possible before his partner returns.

“Even between you and I, though sharing so much in common, we don’t do things together all the time.Sometimes I want to do things together, but my friends won’t necessarily be there for me. Then I’ll get upset about all this. Attachments, disappointments.”

“What do you mean? Hey, you’re back in the game,” his friend tossed the controller towards him, continued the game saying,”You mean you don’t wanna hang out together anymore?”

“No, I’m just saying that people need their own spaces. And I don’t wanna always be the bad guy who trespass onto that space.”

“Did I do or say something that offended you?”

“No dumbass!! Well, apart from the fact that you’re in the lead now.”

At that moment, several seconds of genuine laughter erupted, taking away most of the tense, gloomy atmosphere in the room.

“So you don’t wanna expect too much from people huh??”

“Ha!! You’re dead again. Exactly,” taking up the baton from his unfortunate friend, he resumed his mission. His friend lied on his back, face sulking.

He continued, “The lower the expectations, the less harder you fall. I love being with my friends, but sometimes they just don’t need me to be there. I don’t want to ruin what’s there between us by being overly demanding. Crap!! This game is a waste of money!!”

The war zone image in the interface vanished. Instead, the words “GAME OVER” flashed on the screen, with images of blood and gore decorating it.

“You shouldn’t have hoped for too much…” His friend gave a sarcastic laugh. He gave no reply.

Throwing himself back onto the sofa, he stared through the glass roof into the starless night, sighing,

“You wouldn’t fall if you won’t climb. You won’t lost any if you never had them.”

“Then you are as good as dead,” he interjected.

“I probably am, the way things are now.”

Projected Image of Confession…

“Can we talk?”

They find this request alarming, and she felt something bad approaching. She takes a look at her friend, asking whether she could be excused and adhere to his bemusing request.

Before she could get any reply from her friend, he interjects again.

“You too, if you may. This concerns you too.”

Both their eyes reveal some sort of confusion that they cannot comprehend just yet. The fear of the approaching unknown entity begins to engulf them. They steal another glance at one another, and follows him out to the fields, where he is walking towards without turning back.

If only he could spare them the suspense, they would have enjoyed the day. It is sunny. Occasionally shades appear across the fields as the swift eastern wind blows the clouds westward. Birds are chipping around; a group of 3 little kids, probably not older than seven, running after one another, presumably playing hide-and-seek.

Why this queer feeling, she thinks. The playing children seems to remind her of something, something precious, but she couldn’t remember exactly what. Then she realises, he has stopped several feet in front of her, under the withered Willow tree. A few new shoots is growing out from one of the branches.

His expressions indicates that he is struggling for words too. Except that he appears to be torn apart for some reason, reasons that is still vague to them. She looks to her friend; they know something is amiss.

“We need to talk.”

Silence.

“I need to know something. About us.”

There is no answer. But instantly he could see that any colour that is on their faces begins to fade. How should I proceed from here, he thinks. But he is mercifully interrupted.

“It was in the past. Why mention it again?”

“I need to know for sure.”

“Can’t you just let go?” She retorts swiftly, then turns herself around, deciding not to face him.

“You have not let go, as far as I can tell.”

“I have.”

“No you don’t. You knew instantly and instinctively what’s this all about. And you,” turning to his right to face her friend, “you know what’s this about too.”

Silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

If there were any moment that she wished to be invisible, this is the moment. She could not muster a word, then buries her face among her hands. She starts to cry.

“Can’t you see that it’s eating her up too?” Her friend speaks for the first time, trying to defend her, so fragile and delicate. She stands between him and her, as if trying to shield her friend from this aggressive, seemingly hurtful proceeding.

“So has it been easier for me? You, you know it all. But you did not defend me.”

Immediately her face shows it all. A blend of twisted agony and guilt appears on her face.

He feels enlightened, surprisingly. After all these years, bearing a shame, a shame that is not his. Bearing the mark of an offender, an act committed in the name of friendship and love, paying for a crime wrongly pronounced onto him. But this is still far from over.

He is happy, some part of him, knowing that his instincts are true. For a certain period of time he began to doubt his own judgement, and blames himself for what has happened. Now he knows, the mistake is not his.

But he feels disappointed too. That the truth is not totally owned up to him. That her friend did not defend him, though knowing what really happened. That she, she herself never admitted her mistakes.

Then it appears to him that one of the children is crying loudly. He does not know why. They might have been fighting over some feeble things. A child throws a punch at the other. As the punch landed perfectly onto the child’s cheek, he falls backwards. How ironic, he thinks, this is just child’s play.

But it takes a lot of courage to do what he intends to do. He wants revenge, but knows that vengeance is not his. He knows he must forgive, but God, he thinks, I didn’t expect it to be this hard. He can no longer hold his tears back; it flows like a gentle stream downwards his face. He makes no effort to wipe them as the wind gently dries his skin.

He turns around and takes a piercing look at them. She is hugging her arms, while her friend is holding her hands across her mouth. Neither says anything. At that moment, nothing matters anymore. It is, finally over. He walks past them in the middle, as how he once walked into them. The overdue bond has been broken. There is nothing left between them. He stops just about a earshot away, saying “I forgive you, both. And I’m sorry too”, he walks away after uttering these words silently.

As he walks away, she drops herself onto her knees, sobbing loudly. The only words audible among her cries are “sorry, sorry.” As for her friend, she is staring blankly onto the horizon. At one point she turns and look at him, thinking that she caught him saying something, though unsure of it.

The children have stopped playing their game. One is walking out of sight, one hand caressing his injured cheek,  visions of him gradually obscured by the thick hedge. The other two are standing rigidly, as they observe their friend walks away.

Do you know?

“Do you know?”

“Know what?”

Would you feel that intense longing that I feel for you? If I think about you hard enough, would you know? If I dream about you in the night, would you, half a globe apart, think of me too?

If I close my eyes, while walking in town, or eating, sitting, standing, listening to the melodramatic Chinese pops, would you stand before me? If I were to sing a song now, bid the winds to deliver them to you, would you be able to listen to the whispers of my heart?

“Know if you know.”

What if I look at your picture, would you feel it if I stare hard enough into your motionless eyes? Or when my fingers caress your face, could you feel its warmth? If I think of you hard enough, would you heed my call?

Or is it because at the moment you think of me, that I would think of you? Could it be that when you say your prayers, and pray for me, that I come to think of you? Or is it that when you walk, stand, eat, sit or listening to songs that remind you of me, that I could feel it?

“I don’t know if you won’t tell me properly.”

“You’ll know if you know.”

Lunch Break…

“Do you know, or have any idea, of when is the loneliest moment one could have?”

It has been almost a month since she last seen him. They are the best of friends, having known each other since high school. But lately, each of them have been tied down by their respective commitments. She has been working hard to justify her employer’s faith in promoting her to become the department leader. As for him, rumours has it that he has recently acquired a new girl friend.

“What?? After so long the first thing you ask is this??” He could barely supress his chuckle, then runs his palm across his face, hiding his laughter with his head thrown backwards.

She gives no reply but a smile on her face, still focusing on him, as if trying to read his mind.

He then goes on to unwrap his lunch: a chicken sandwich. He takes out the first slice, pauses, then say, “Probably…during the night? I mean, when it’s all quiet and silent. Sometimes I would just think of crazy stuffs. Can’t help it…”

She can't follow what comes next as his chewing impedes his speech. She takes a gulp of her coffee, now looking towards the open sea. The sea breeze masks the scorching heat of the summer sun. This mixture of hot and cold blends perfectly, too perfect for anything or anybody, she thinks.

He probably won’t understand how she feels at the moment. She thought the same , that the loneliest time of the day is when she’s in her bed, quiet and solemn. It is then thoughts about him comes to life, thoughts she tries so hard to supress by her sheer determination and commitment towards her career.

But she realises, it isn’t that simple.

He is now stuffing the second slice of sandwich into his mouth, but his eyes are focused onto the interface of his mobile. It must be her message, she assumes, nobody could make him work when he is taking a rest. Suddenly she is jealous of her; jealous that she could capture his heart to that extent.

Sensing no reply from her, he prompts, “So when’s the loneliest time of the day?” He looks into her eyes, but fingers still firmly grasping his phone. She looks at his hands, those strong hands she wished she could put hers into.

She looks up, wanting to answer him. But he is now busy with his mobile again. How would he understand, she thinks, one in his shoes would never know. The fact that a girl likes a man so much that she’s willing to spend all her time with him, if possible. The fact that a girl is so thrill to have the boy she likes to share lunch with. The fact that despite having his body sitting next to her on a bench facing the sea, blessed with blue skies and cool breeze, yet his mind, is miles away with a different girl that he loves.

She can’t bear to break his concentration; his face glows and cherishes the tiny little messenger in his hands with great affection. She feels her hands tremble, the coffee in her hands almost dropped. Immediately she holds it with both hands.

“It is now”, she says very silently, yet wishing him to hear her, “now is the loneliest time of the day.” 

Monologue…

“You don’t belong with them.”

Silence.

“You don’t belong with her.”

“Now, that’s rather unfair to say that.”

“Am I?”

It must have past midnight, for it is very quiet. To him, such quietness is a cruelty. It is during these time of the day, or one should say night, the ignored thoughts returns to haunt his sleepless mind.

“You come from a different world, of a different upbringing.”

“Not entirely, we share a lot in common. In tongue and culture.”

“That is what you believe and what you want to believe. You belong to those of your own kind.”

Silence. Then there comes several uncomfortable sound of him shifting his body to the other side, facing the wall. In times  like these, he thinks, the wall is a better listener, if not a better advisor.

“You know it, you have always known that. It’s just you living in self-denial. Not willing to take it as it is. I’m telling you, there’s no hope.”

“So much for the talk about transcending culture and time.”

“You’re forgetting the miles in between.”

“What’s your point?” He sits up abruptly, it seems that lying down does not help quelling the argument.

“I’m just saying, even if you manage to achieve what you want, distance is still going to be an issue. You know it. You don’t have faith in that, in yourself.”

“You’ll never know for sure!” Upon saying this, he lies back onto his side, choosing again to face the cold wall, as if to protest, to make himself believe all that is said is not true.

Silence.

Soon all there is are just crickets singing lullabies, putting him into a deep dreamless sleep.

Her absence…

“Her name hints upon the strength of a warrior, a guardian. I know she is. It is a beautiful name, and magical, as if it craves itself onto my heart”. Upon finishing that sentence, the backyard where they were sitting in the mid-autumn night fall back into silence, a sweet length of quietness.

“Is that so?” The response was swift and brisk.

“It’s a pity you have not met her. You would have liked her too, I’m sure of it.” A gentle breeze was rushing through the valley, brushing against the small country side house on the east. It was refreshing to just sit there and look out into the clear dark skies. I suppose I could count the stars, he thinks.

“What won’t I give to have her here? Just sitting around, no need for talk as I know what she thinks as she would to mine.” He took up the orchid petal that was on the floor, hold it close to his face and took a deep breath, as if trying to take in as much fragrance as the petal could offer.

Silence was the response.

“Love’s just like these little flowers, don’t you think? At first sight it’s looks all the same, just a common flower. But one day you look out into your garden, all that catches you eye is this one flower. The one that stood out from the rest. Then you realise, you couldn’t have love it more than anything else.”

It was all quiet except the rushing gust.

“Soon you feel attached to it. You care for it, longing to spend time with it. You take pride in its growth.” He cracked a smile at the edge of his lips, which became a soft laughter. “But death awaits after its peak, in beauty and stature. Before you know it, life is at the end.”

Another long pause followed, but he broke the silence for the first time. “But love, in all similarity to it, is no flower. I would be at peace to think that love endures more than just life. She lives again, whenever you see this plant, not because it reminds you of her, but that she still lives in you.”

“You’re uncharacteristically talkative this time. It’s rather unlike you.”

“So do you.”

He smiled in response to that witty reply. As the season died into a colder night, they sat quietly once more, was quiet again, each to his own thought.

Thoughts of My Shaken Jealousy

 

At first thought,

I stared into the page, frozen in shock.

How could this be, how can it happen?

Is that a mock??

 

At the next thought,

I realised, how hard it must have been.

What a battle it was;

she cannot lose but only win.

 

At my final thought,

I say to myself, “What a lucky girl she’s been!!”.

To have come this far, bracing herself and take the leap.

Yet to know whether there’s harvest to reap.

 

I realised, I am jealous too:

Just how much I would give,

Just how much I would leave,

for that one chance, for that one dance.