或许，我不是你所需的，更加不是你所要的。但我想让你知，我现在，还在你心窍门前徘徊。或许我太在乎你，不容自己逼你做你不要和不想做的事。很自愿地，为了成全你，就牺牲自己。双目无神，泪满双襟，默默地守候那渺然的期盼。
难道你不曾心动，仍然坚持拒我于千里之外？难道你不曾心软，对一切无动于衷？难道你麻木了，就好比我盲了双眼？难道，一切的一切，这些的这些，所有的所有，都弥补不了你心中的空缺，你心灵里的缺陷？
你可真的是那只永远不会出现的野兔？苦苦守着株树，换来只有岁月的冲洗，光阴的遗弃？难道一切都是纯粹的偶然，真的并非冥冥之中的天算？
望梅，倒可以止渴；画饼还可以充饥。对你单恋的痛楚，相思的悲哀，我到底要用什么来麻痹自己？
你在我心里设下的毒，何时方解？
Picking up the chilled tankard, he emptied it right down in several big gulps, before slamming it onto the surface of the black, sleek table. Feeling it rising inside him, he braced himself against the incoming burp. It hit him hard, almost ending up regurgitating all the booze he had been drowning himself in for the past hour.
Trying to sooth that dreadful feeling, he held a palm across his chest, another against the table, resting his forehead upon it. When it finally passed, he leaned back against the chair as far as he could, both hands covering his face, giving his stiff back some stretching. All he had been doing for the past few weeks were just typing and drafting proposals and documents, and that’s gradually hitting his breaking point.
In a spur of madness he laughed hysterically, drawing plenty of attention from the other patrons of the bar.
Screw it. Nobody knows nobody here.
This wasn’t the usual place they hit on girls or get drunk all those times. It’s more of a pub than a karaoke lounge or a club. The patrons here are usually senior citizens or people that actually wants to have a proper conversation surrounded by somewhat jazzy ambience. He wasn’t in his suits either; just jeans and a denim jacket hiding the hideous Spiderman T-shirt he got last Christmas.
Like all bartenders, this one seemed to telepathically read his mind, popped another bottle of Heineken free of its cap and placed it before him. “Thanks,” he smiled bitterly. The bartender replied with a thumbs up before saying, “Haven’t seen you around before. You new in this neighbourhood?”
He nodded, “Just passing by.”
“Where’re you headed to?”
“Anyway but the city, I suppose,” he answered after giving it some thought.
The bartender stared back at him, then smiled back at him empathically, before he was summoned to serve the other customers. Feeling relieved yet partly disappointed, he was sipping his beer alone, left to his own thoughts. One hand holding the bottle, his left was constantly reaching out to the peanuts, stuffing them in at a staccato-ish tempo…
“There you are!!” A voice boomed from the back, before a palm landed on his shoulder.
“Another one of his, please!!” Dyke, in his suit, rested himself right next to him, while busily texting someone on his mobile. A moment later the mobile was shoved into his pocket, and Dyke turned his attention to the beer of bottle that was just placed before him.
“Cheers,” he held his half-drained bottle mid-air, waiting for Dyke to return the gesture.
“To your health, mate.” Both of them took a big sip, before resorting to another stretch of silence.
“You cool?” Dyke broke silence, while staring intently at him.
“Yeah…no…No, I’m not,” he replied, decided to be honest to his workmate in the end.
“You mad?? It was that night, isn’t it?? I’m sorry but we were all high. I was freaking high. I couldn’t tell from left to right,” Dyke resorted to his apologetic tone.
He allowed himself the luxury to chuckled for a moment of two, before sipping on his beer, almost choking himself when he tried recalling how high they were that night.
“YOU, my friend, were TOTALLY WASTED,” he continued, “no offence taken.” Dyke sighed in relief, but in no way was prepared for what came next.
Raising his beer mid-air, he gave Dyke toast. “To your ignorance and stupidity, for which if absent from my life would result in a severe deterrence to enlightenment and understanding, of which I be subjected to a loop of endless self-gratifying and self-pitying of my own.”
Without waiting for a response, he emptied his tankard, leaving Dyke stunned and speechless in his spot. Dyke was just starring at him, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. Slamming the tankard onto the table, he said, “The tab’s on you,” before standing up and left for the door.
Making his way onto the streets, he paced northwest towards the city, not exactly sure where he intends to go next. Even more so after insulting and pissing of his one of the few friends and colleague he could actually mingle around at work.
It’s gonna be so AWKWARD…
He wasn’t sure why he acted that way, and the reason he had uttered such hurtful words was beyond his comprehension. But he felt good afterwards; some kind of poison expunged from the inside after his outburst. Someone had to pay for that and Dyke was the unfortunate scapegoat who took that head on like a champ. To be fair, nobody is MORE QUALIFIED than Dyke to be at the receiving end.
Perhaps I should apolog…
CRASH!!!
All he felt next was a crushing blow descending upon his skull, and a searing pain punctured through his left temple. He crumbled onto the ground almost instantly, before feeling his hands on some kind of slack fabric. It was pitch black but soon enough he was tasting blood in his mouth. There were lots of shouting but there wasn’t anything that he could make out before he lost consciousness…
There can be no worst start to the year 2014 with the news of the raiding on the Bible Society of Malaysia looming over the headlines of every major news reporting portal. It is utterly offensive, intrusive and disappointing that the whole “Allah” row has come to such a stage.
Some say that this is a mere political gimmick. A hand dealt by the politicians to divert the Rakyat’s attention from the more abrasive issue of rising living costs and inflation rates. Like first delivering a body blow which is swiftly followed by illegal elbow to the chest. Surely both hurt like hell, but the victim would most likely cry foul over the illegal assault, forgetting about the real damaged done by the prior attack.
I would say that is a rather fair assessment of the situation, but I believe despite the grumblings and complaints everybody is set on adapting to the higher living costs and the weaker buying power that the year 2014 entails. Because there is simply nothing much that we can do to change that fact. It’s part and parcel of life.
But now it seems more to me that they really mean business. To weed out all potential elements that may cause confusion among my Malay brethren, to deter all un-Islamic influence that may cause my Malay brothers to divert from their faith. A blanket ban on exclusive Islamic terminology which are prohibited for non-Muslims. The thought of second guessing what would happen next is really what scares me. The unknown and the probability of religious persecution lurking right behind the corner is what terrifies me.
In all honesty, it doesn’t really matter to me whether I am allowed to use the words such as “Allah”, “Nabi” etc. It is after all, in their words, “non-integral to the practice of [my] Christian faith”. It doesn’t really matter what man calls God, for God has declared that “I am who I AM”; He is God regardless of what you call him.
But I can’t say the same for my Malay-speaking brothers and sisters in Christ. Whose fault it is, that they have little or almost no command of the English language? And who are the ones that go all out to try to reach out to these people that can only communicate in Malay? What started as a mere gesture to reach out to the secluded became a tradition of the church, which has also become an inheritance, a mark of identity especially to those in Sabah and Sarawak.
The truth is, the verdict delivered by the Court of Appeals has almost no bearings on the practice of my Christian faith. I can readily accept that verdict and leave it to God, praying that one day all Malaysia will finally have a leader that Malaysians of all ethnicity and religion can be proud of. Leaders that believe in tolerance, respecting each other and love. A society where churches visited by non-Christians, Friday sermons frequented by non-Muslims, Buddhist prayers attended by non-Buddhists. Isn’t the very core of the whole “Allah” issue is the shallow understandings of our own religion and of others, as well as the ignorance we beheld against each other? It is a really terrifying notion of how little we understand about each others’ religion!!
Aren’t we all Malaysians? Aren’t we all entitled to the same rights enshrined in the Constitution? The right to religious freedom and to practice them in a peaceful manner? Is it even Islamic to protect ones of privilege at the expense of another? Would conducting raids and enforcing bans promote Islam? Mind you, that the more you ban something, the more popular it becomes.
I don’t wish to sound condescending, but allow me to make several anecdote based on my experience studying overseas. There was no “surau” in our campus, but the Chaplain of my university offered a “quiet room” to my Muslim friends to pray in, as many times as they need. This room is situated inside the Chapel itself. He even had prayer mats and Kiblah signs prepared in the room for the Muslims.
On another note, our Malaysian society was organising a festival for the locals one day. We were busy entertaining our guests with performances, food and games throughout. But contrary to popular beliefs, my Muslim friends were as pious as any Muslim could be. When it was time, everybody stopped working and the “imam” led the prayers right in the middle of the campus, open air for everybody to see. There were many curious stares, some whispering in wonder about what they were doing. But for me, I couldn’t possibly be more proud for my friends, for they were carrying out their duties as best as they can, for all to see. The wonderful thing is, while the Muslims were praying, the non-Muslims were explaining to the local visitors (mostly British) what they were doing.
I’ll leave you with this: Aren’t this two instances the best possible testimonies for the respective religion? Aren’t these two instances the epitome of tolerance, understanding and respect?
AMEN/AMIN to that!!
It was hard to say for sure, but it was quite a long fall, and by the time he finally came to his senses, he could feel his back against the hard, cold floor. He could feel his arms, and the strength that was returning to him after the ordeal. Reaching out to his migraine-ridden crown, he caressed it gently, trying to ease that throbbing pain.
And there was light; the morning sun pouring into the room, its radiance gradually heating up the air enclosed within it. Trying to learn more about this strange surrounding, he screwed his eyes into focus, with his left palm shielding his vision from the light.
But he wasn’t alone. While drifting in and out of consciousness the night before, he could sense others around him. Anybody but his colleagues, he reckoned. There was no doubt that Richard and co. were totally wasted in the lounge at this time. They usually don’t come around until the effects of the drugs totally wore off around evening.
Well, at least nobody’s gonna work today.
“Aha…I see you’re awake,” a voice interjected into the silence. Very much taken aback, he was holding up the pillow in a stance, his back against the mouldy walls.
“That pillow isn’t going to do much as a shield or a weapon,” the old man joked, “but this will warm you up.”
The old man placed a warm bowl of porridge into his cupped hands. Watery and diluted, it didn’t seem to be very appetizing. He looked up and saw the old man staring at him, who as this point was already seated on a chair next to him.
“Eat up. It’s not poisoned,” the man chuckled.
He spooned some of the porridge and started eating. It was then he realised that his hands were trembling. The porridge was bland, but he was so starved that he licked the bowl clean. The old man was right, he did feel much better. Warmth started to return to his hands and his body.
“It’s not much, but we gotta deal with this. Here.”
He took a stained porcelain cup from the old man and started drinking. It tasted a bit mouldy but he didn’t care. The water soothed his burning throat. The old man was holding his water flask in anticipation, subsequently refilled the cup again.
“Don’t rush it, hush.” The manner the old man spoke to him was as if one coaxing a child not to cry, and there was some sort of authority and meekness in the old man.
Soon questions started to flood into his head. Unanswered questions. There was so much to ask, but before he could say anything, the old man stood up and walked towards the basin, cleaning both the cup and the bowl that he just used.
“You’re badly dehydrated when we found you. If you’ve woken up any sooner we would have to send you to the hospital already.”
“Thanks.” That was all he could muttered, not knowing exactly what to say.
He got onto his feet and started walking around the room. There was nothing in the room apart from a mattress, a desk and a chair; it was stripped bare. Turning to his right, he observed the old man was still cleaning the utensils, cleaning each and every one of them diligently.
He looked away when the old man finished his chores. Turning around to face him, the old man dried both hands on a sackcloth, and beckoned him to sit.
BANG!!!
The door suddenly swung open, and through it was a young lady whose eyes set upon his for a moment or two, as he was petrified by her sudden appearance, which was then followed by a really awkward moment of silence. From his position he could see the lady starting to turn red in embarrassment, so he turned towards her and offered his hand.
“Hi, I’m Frederic, Fred for short.”
“Hey.” She stood motionless, observing him from head to toe, as if he’s bore something contagious on him, not showing any intention of returning the gesture.
“Hi, nice to meet you?? And you are…”
“Naked,” she remarked. His confused expression bade her to explain. “You’re not wearing anything.”
“Owh,” he replied. His eyes were still fixated upon hers, but he did give a swift glance at himself without trying to move his head. And true enough, he was wearing nothing apart from his yellow ducky boxer. Before he could say anything else, she remarked, “I’ll wait outside.”
Now that’s how I rock. In a yellow ducky boxer.
The old man dropped his set of clothes into his arms, gave him a gentle pat in the shoulder, and then mouthed the word “go”. He hastily put his clothes back on, walked out the door and found her leaning against the wall at the stairway. She gave a smile that he could only rate as angelic.
“Well…I must say you looked better with nothing on; you really nailed it with the boxer,” she sarcastically complimented his choice of fashion.
“Thanks.”
She looked at him as both of them travel down the stairs, putting on a surprised face on her. “Are you a Masochist??”
“Wha…oh no, no…I mean…for yesterday.”
Damn it. What am I getting so flustered for??
“Right,” she noted, again nonchalantly. It’s starting to get onto his nerves, the way this lady speaks and deals with him. But towards the end of the stairs he started to hear voices and chattering of several other people, dozen perhaps, stemming from the kitchen. There were also noises of utensils clanking against each other, as if a drumroll calling all inhabitants of the house to dine.
“It’s time lunch. Everybody’s waiting for you.”
As she said the great oak door was pushed open, unveiling a host of other beings crowded onto the dining table. Most of them were teenagers, a triplet of veterans, two men and a lady. Everybody was staring at the latest newcomer, none daring to blink.
“Uhh…porridge, with some leek. Nice. I’m starved.” A boy passed two sets of utensils to her as she sat herself comfortable at the end of the table and started to eat. Immediately the atmosphere reverted back to how it was before. All bickering and noise as they all dine in one cramped room.
“Are you waiting to be served?” She asked, as he wasn’t touching any of it.
“Oh…it’s alright. I’m good,” he replied, while observing and taking in the details of his new yet strange surroundings.
“Well, suit yourself,” was the reply and she spoke to him no more, ignoring him to himself and his empty porridge bowl.
He had been to one of these houses before; these were Victorian houses. Really old, but sturdy. This one could use some thorough cleaning. Some maintenance on the plumbering could help. There were water marks all over. The place would be flooded every time a storm kicks in. The backyard could use…
“Mister…Mister??” A squeaky voice broke his concentration from the left. It was the old lady. She sounded a bit like a mouse.
“I have some coffee, would you like some?” She asked sincerely, holding a big metal cup in her hand, with steam rising from it. “It’s freshly brewed.” She gave her best with her smile, but she’s lost most of her front teeth. She probably couldn’t afford a denture to hide that hideous smile anyway.
Being polite, he nodded and started to look around for cups. But the old lady nudged him in the arm and shoved the metal cup into his hands. She was waiting intently for him to taste the coffee. Not wanting to look disrespectful, he took a sip…and rushed to the sink and vomited the foul tar-coloured fluid he just drank.
“WHAT IN THE WORLD!!!” he bellowed. Looking furiously at the old lady. By this time all eyes were on him.
“That’s odd,” the old lady squealed, “I’m sure the workers used them only today. I took it from Costa near Bank Street.”
“YOU WHAT?? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GOD DAMN MIND??”
“Watch your language, young man!!” one of the old man stood up glaring fiercely at him. The old lady was so shaken that she started to sob. The teenagers were all silently watching the drama unfolding before their very eyes.
“I say what I wanna say and she’s nuts!!” he shouted, “Leftovers, man!! Leftovers!! Did you get the porridge from McDonalds and diluted it with water?”
As soon as he said it, he knew it was the truth. They were all furious and angry, yet the shame he wrought onto them kept them in their place.
“OH MY GOD. Where the hell am I anyway?? Who are you people??”
Sensing no reply, he stormed out of the kitchen and went into the living room. The condition there was no better. Paint chipping off, water leaking at several spots, and holes all over the flooring. There was barely anything apart from mattresses scattered all around the floor. The only thing that seems to work is the fireplace, burning feverishly in its place, providing warmth to the inhabitants of this badly dilapidated house.
This is a shelter home!!
“It’s all they got,” a voice reverberated from behind. He wasn’t sure how long she has been standing there observing him. “It’s all we have.”
“We?? No…no…I’m not a homeless. I’m not a freaking failure like them. I have a life, a career, a dream. I’m different.”
“You asked me, and I brought you here.”
“I…what?? You’re nuts as well,” as soon as he finished he walked right straight towards the door.
“You asked me questions, and so I brought you the answers,” she gently replied, yet from where she stood right at the beginning, again showing no intention of stopping him from leaving or whatsoever.
“You asked, and so I gave.” Then he heard the sound of the door opening and closing behind him, and all that’s left was the sound of the cracking firewood burning in the fireplace.
Against the backdrop of a chattering office, he cautiously filled out his next day schedule, trying to put his mountain load of assignment and tasks into the best possible order. He didn’t like it one bit; the monotonous, chrome-like routine that he has to put up everyday.
Life, was drained out of him, gradually.
Marking the weekends in blue, he sighed in resignation. He’ll have to finish up the contract by Saturday night and rendezvous with the client the following evening.
AT LEAST I’LL HAVE FRIDAY TO MYSELF, FOR ONCE.
That thought came too soon, as Richard waltzed in cheerily, declared that it’s Happy Hour for everybody from the department.
“I really don’t mind…but Big Big Boss will be there,” Richard rejected his notion outright with his slightly emphatic puppy eyes.
“Wha…Since when we have a Big Big Boss?” he queried, thinking that this was just another trick play Richard pulls out of his sleeve.
“I ain’t doping ya, dude,” a friendly slap descended upon his weary shoulders before continuing, “You gotta be there.”
Before he could state his case, Richard walked away briskly, before pausing momentarily and shot him a warning look, ”PERIOD. The attorney has no permission to state his defense.”
MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY IT SINCE IT COMES DOWN TO THIS.
Finishing up work for the week, he joined the others on the chartered limousine and headed to who knows where. There’s ALWAYS somewhere to hang out, something to go wild over, As if something in programmed into the human nature just to intoxicate oneself, once in the while. That’s the only way that people like them can forget and lose themselves in a huge mire of nothing-ness. Nothing to stress about. Nothing to worry. Nothing to be depressed about.
YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE, NO??
“Here,” once in the vehicle Dyke shoved these little satchels into everybody’s hands.”These are top grade stuffs,” he smirked, before adding,”You won’t know what hit you till you’re done. I MEAN IT.”
He played along and took the substance the usual way. But the drug was so potent that the next hour or two his vision was just kaleidoscopic, his head was so light headed as if he’s stuck in a dream state. He could feel himself stumbled across objects here and there, but eventually settled down on some kind of cushion, not before experiencing a weird falling sensation; he was falling through a deep shaft seemingly made out of a myriad of colours.
Gradually, the nerve-wrecking sonic booms from the amplifiers encroached onto his skull. His brain was aching from inside out as he tries to make sense of his surroundings. Richard was dancing to the tune half-naked while Dyke was trying to sing while standing on his hands. The ladies, whose eyes furnished with absent look were frantically cheering them on. May, the receptionist, was holding the microphone for Dyke. Lindsey and Mariana were locking lips on the far end, oblivious to what was happening around them.
WHAT WAS I THINKING??
Grabbing a bottle of drinking water from the refrigerator, he headed towards the door, stopping only to shout into Richard’s ear. It was impossible to hear anything in that room.
“What?? All BARE?? Ain’t naked enough for you yet??” Richard laughed into the microphone hysterically.
“I said, I need some fresh air!! No…no…fresh air!!”
“WHAT??”
Taking a deep breath, he berated, “FRESH AIR!!!”
Richard showed him a thumbs up and beckoned him to leave quickly, wanting to get back to the entertainment that was rudely interrupted. He gratefully escaped from the situation, clumsily made his way out into the lounge. He bumped into several people, but he couldn’t really make out who they were.
With all his strength he made his way onto the pavement outside the lounge, and subsequently slouched himself next to a water hydrant. With a throbbing head and ringing ears, he motioned his hands to uncap the water bottle and drained the bottle dry.
On his last gulp he choked himself, and everything he took prior to that came out with it. Leaning on the hydrant, he tried to make out what was in his vomit, but his legs soon gave way. And this time he lay flat on the cold, solid pavement.
WHY…WHAT…??
His head started to clear after his body forcibly expunged the alien and unnatural toxic. He tried counting the stars, but stopped because the city lights were too bright. His eyes were still yet to fully accustom themselves after being in a dark and claustrophobic room for so long. All around him were billboards and advertisements, with lights everywhere.
On the far left, He could see that over-hyped celebrity donning mascaras and lipsticks on a large electronic billboard. A football star was showing off his latest Rolex timepiece on a roving advert, which morphed into a hot, racy Playmate posing on a super car minutes later. He wasn’t sure about the make, but he knew he would never be able to afford any of them.
SO I DON’T BELONG HERE?
Running his arm across his eyes, he tried to erase traces of his indignity weeping over something so unbecoming of an high-flying juridical executive. But his tears won’t stop, just as how he can’t stop wasting his life away.
Tuck…Tuck…Tuck…Tuck…Tuck
He could hear footsteps approaching him, which stopped right next to where he was laying. Moving his arm away, he peered into an empty silhouette, as her waist-length hair was gently swaying with the breeze. She looked magnificent, more so because it against the bright city lights.
She offered her hand, and he, summoning all his strength, tried to reach for that glimpse of salvation. But having overtaxing himself, his strength gave out and he descended once again, down into that same shaft, but now devoid of colours and consciousness.