killer dream

waking up next to you

eyes-half closed

your sleepy face so beautiful

against the morning light

stirring gently

i don't want to wake such an

angel up from a slumber 

so peaceful

you smile your sexy crooked

half-smile.

i smile too

i pull your body closer to mine

our skins brush against each other's

you put your hand on my chest

your head on my shoulder

your hair smelling so lovely

just as i was about to kiss

you on the forehead

and say 

i love you

i wake up

and no one is there

right next to me.

p.s: ah dreams.

the letter, and the boy.

Sarah was cleaning her closet one day. she was going to sell some of the things she didn't need and things that she had outgrown: a few dresses and t-shirts, a pair of ballet shoes, some toys from her childhood. it was a way for her to move on from her old life, and to make space for new things. while she was taking some of the clothes down, a shoe box fell from above the closet shelf almost knocking Sarah's head. luckily, the box's content didn't splatter all around the floor and Sarah's head was safe too.

hey, what's this box? it looks familiar, Sarah thought to herself.  

slowly, she took the box and sat on the edge of her bed. she slowly opened the lid of the box, and instantly a soft smile appeared on her face. inside the box were the gifts, treasures and memories she had with her first love. as she slowly, and painstakingly removed the items from the box one by one, every memory that the items carried individually rushed memories into her mind. like for instance, the small, blue hot-wheels toy car was the one she took when she had entered his room the first time, a torn-out ticket from their first movie date, their pictures together. without Sarah realizing, a pool of tears started to well in her eyes.

she placed the items carefully on her bed after looking, scrutinizing over them. finally, placed at the bottom of the box was a letter, written by him, that she, once upon a time, had read the contents over and over again that she had memorized the letter almost word by word. the letter was folded neatly and it still had the smell of his perfume. after all this while, the letter still smelled like him. Sarah was contemplating whether she wanted to read the letter or just leave it where it was, lying at the bottom of the box.

she took the letter and slowly, unfolded it and the contents rushed into her mind as if she had read them just a few minutes ago. memories after memories invaded her mind, of happy(er) days, those stupid arguments over nothing she had with him, those nights when they'd both lay together in the backyard of his house, watching the stars (and sometimes the moon) glow at night. Sarah's heart beat was drumming loud. Sarah remembered the day he gave this letter to her. he was in his black hoodie and was solemn. 

"don't see me anymore," he told her.

"why?" she asked.

he handed her the letter and said he was sorry for everything, and he left her standing, and the rain fell. she remembered the moment very clearly now. the moment she had been dying to forget now was haunting her yet again. she ran to his house but no one was there. it was empty. she asked his neighbors where did the whole family go. They've moved out, they say. she knelt at the front porch of the house crying. why didn't he tell me why? a question left unanswered even with the letter in hand. she wanted to hear the answer from him but he was gone. no new address or any forms of contact details were given by him or the family. it's as if they wanted to disappear. now, 13 years later, reading the contents of the letter yet again still made her feel like the first time, distraught, anguished. she gulped, and read the contents of the letter:

"Dear Sarah,

by the time you read the letter, one of us has left the other pursuing dreams, making a mark in this world. i just wanted to say how happy you've made me. how memorable my life was with you. how fortunate i am to have met someone like you. but life has to go on Sarah, i'm sorry for leaving you the way i did. i'm sorry. i regret the way i left you but i had no choice. i didn't want my last thoughts of you was a girl with red hair sobbing, begging me not to go away, leaving her, and so i wrote this letter.

you are one of the sweetest, kindest, most forgiving, understanding person i have ever met. beautiful, charming, a girl i could only dream of having and yet you came into my life, and made my wildest dreams came true. every bit of the times we spent together i shall cherish with all my heart and soul. the day you first cried on my shoulder, the time you boxed me in the face, the time we got chased out of Lynderman's yard for making out and the first time we kissed, that warm April night under the stars, in my backyard. those are priceless memories i would never, ever forget. 

i'm sorry love, but sometimes in life, we have to make tough choices and letting go of you was the hardest one i had to make. i hope by the time you're re-reading this letter (i know you will, don't lie to me you cheeky girl) that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whoever you end up with, you're one happy girl; happier than you ever were with me.

i love you. i really do. remember that. every time you read this letter, think of me, of our times together, and i will do the same. don't you worry about that love. whatever path both of us choose to take, i'm sure one day it will lead us back to each other.

if things are meant to be for the two of us, it will be. if things aren't, then the both of us deserves someone better. i'm just glad i had you in my life. a part of you will always be with me and i hope for the same with you. i love you so, so much baby. 

wish me all the best,

i will never ever forget you.

Signed

(Your Love)"

Sarah cupped her mouth and tears started flowing down her cheeks. after all these years, the letter still brought tears to her eyes. she was feeling a little angry and frustrated even, like the first time she had read the letter. she wanted to throw it in the dustbin but thought better of it. it was after all a piece of her life's history, one of her best moments of her life.

after crying for a while, she placed the things back where they belong, inside the shoe-box and the letter was neatly folded and was the last piece of her past memories placed in the box. she took the shoe-box and placed it where it always had been, and she pushed it even deeper into the closet. Sarah started collecting the items she wanted to sale at the garage sale her family was holding in front of their house and she went down the stairs, out the main door and into the front-yard where her father and mother had set up tents and a few tables and chairs.

neighbors were slowly crowding the front-yard and as Sarah was busily helping her parents and brothers selling their things, a familiar face stood out from the crowd. Sarah gasped and her eyes widened. it can't be she thought. but the man had the same features, that golden brown hair, those green eyes, the small scar on the chin; that smile. 

Sarah wanted to run up to him and gave him a big hug but then she spotted him holding the hand of a child on one and the other holding a hand of a beautiful lady with a smile so sweet and eyes so blue, they were blinding the sun. Sarah's heart beat dropped. they looked so happy together, so perfect.

he's found someone else. i guess, fate is not on my side, she thought to herself. no, fate is not on OUR side.  she remembered the contents of the letter. Sarah smiled, and a tear streamed down her face. 

p.s: the things we regret most may be the best thing that could ever happen to us. and if things are meant to be, they are meant to be.

true love

i was at the nephrology clinic waiting for my turn to see the doctor for my routine checkup. there were a lot of people but as the time slowly ticked away, the room got less crowded. a lady on a wheel-chair was placed near the entrance between the waiting area and the nurse's station. she was old, probably older than 50. she was wearing this bright coloured baju kurung with a tudung to match and a pair of small, oval-shaped spectacles. she had this sad, confused look on her face and an eagerness to be out of the place as soon as possible. 

i couldn't blame her for feeling that way; i wanted to get out of the clinic too. 

i didn't remember who wheeled her in but a man (whom i can only assume, but is pretty sure of as her husband), frail, thin and weak, with somewhat of a concerned face mixed with a bit of anguish and tiredness, accompanied her at the door. he was a small man, with a blue shirt and a black songkok with an unshaved face. i only assumed that they had went in to see the doctor because a couple of minutes after that, the lady and the man were out of the clinic, the old man faithfully pushing the wheelchair out of the place as i looked at them while holding a book at my face to as not be seen too obvious that i was staring at them. 

by the way, the lady had only one leg. 

i was instantly touched. my thoughts jumped into crazy mode and started conjuring questions that i found very difficult to answer. the very first question that came to mind was: will i ever find that one person who'd be there for me when i need him/her? the second question was: will or can i do the same?

in life, you will always have to depend on someone to live. try as you may to be a recluse or a loner: the fact of a matter is, everyone needs someone, or something. it is like a universal, unspoken but knowing rule or something that it is without a doubt a necessity for us to be dependent on something, be it living or non-living. of course though, everyone wants to have someone in their lives: someone who'd be there for them through thick and thin, someone who they can rely on, someone they can trust; someone they can love and cherish. i want that someone too.

in each of us, there will always be this hunger, this void, that can never be fulfilled until love is found, and cherished. i don't know if i have found that one person who will be there for me or i have yet found within me the will to do exactly the same thing but i know i am learning towards there. i have people: family and friends who've shown the tremendous amount and care they have for me that i am very, very thankful to have them in my life.

as the old man and the lady exit the clinic, i can't help but think how lucky they are to have each other. how very, very lucky.

p.s: and true love i believe, is out there. 

what's your excuse?

i walked to the masjid today. the car wasn't at home because my cousin had to use it to go to the clinic. since we didn't have a spare car, my uncle and i had to walk to the masjid. my uncle went first as he was always early to the masjid. i left the house about 15 minutes after my uncle left.

i took my time walking, admiring the shady green trees, people's homes. the sunlight was cooled down by the slow breeze and fluffy clouds and i actually enjoyed the walk. the road was quiet and i could actually hear what i was thinking in my head. i was thinking about how it would be cool if i have my mutant powers: which is the ability to change people's thoughts and re-write their lives, and create illusions and also (possibly) to move objects with my mind.(maybe i should write about this imagination of mind someday)

i reached the masjid about 7 minutes later. i chose the same place i sat two weeks ago and started fidgeting with my blackberry. a big, tall guy with curly hair and chinese eyes sat next to me. he smiled and held out his hand to salam and i returned the favour. as i was looking around the inside of the masjid, a man caught my eye.

he entered limping into one of the entrances of the masjid. funny, i thought to myself. before he sat down, he pulled his jeans a little bit and then i saw it, his metallic leg. he was wearing(?) prosthetic on one side of his leg. i was in awe. i had never seen a man, a real life man, wore a prosthetic before. i've seen people wearing(?) prosthetic on tv but not in real life so i was a bit 'jakun' you would say. though he was sitting in front of me and quite a distance as well, i could still see the metallic parts of his prosthetic leg.

then, there was the azan and the khatib read the khutbah and when it was almost time for the prayer i saw two guys, chinese rushing to enter the masjid because it was time for prayer. muallaf, must be, i think to myself. after finishing with the prayer, i waited for my uncle. he had difficulty of getting up and from a far before the prayer started, i could see that he was praying while sitting on a stool. 

we walked back together and he was talking about (well more like complaining) about the masjid's committee members and the unfinished white masjid which my uncle said one of the non-muslims referred to as "like a white elephant," and my uncle of course, laughed. i just smiled. my uncle was not so healthy and he had some problems with his knees and plus, he is old so our walked back took some time. the weather was beautiful though. the sun was covered by the fluffy, dark clouds and the wind was blowing. this made the walk back home easier and bearable.

i'm writing this because many of us tend to make up lame excuses for things that we can actually do. our flaws, our deficiencies, our insecurities should not stop us at doing something. we may be crippled, we may be not part of the majority, we may not be young and in the best shape of health but that should not deter us from doing the things that we love, or the things that we are obliged to do. take a moment to reflect what we have, what others don't, what others have and what we don't and just be thankful for everything, every God given opportunity. take chances, don't back down before trying. prove to people we can do it. don't give them the opportunity to bring us down. inspire people, even if we've only inspired one.

p.s: because really, we've got nothing much left to lose. only one life, and time's a ticking.

garisan penamat

berlari

berlumba

aku di depan

kau pun memotong

aku jatuh di belakang

kau berhenti tolong aku

kau hulurkan tangan untuk ku genggam

aku pegang dan kita lari bersama-sama, kau dan aku

melepasi halangan, di bawah terik mentari dan juga di bawah sejuk hujan

tapi tiba masa aku terpaksa lepaskan genggaman tangan kau, kau pun tahu 

mana boleh di dalam perlumbaan ada dua orang pemenang. itu tidak masuk akal.

jadi aku pun berlari sekuat hati, kau terhenti. aku semakin jauh, kau masih berdiri di tempat sama. aku pecut.

tiba masa nya ku sampai di garisan penamat. aku senyum melihat sekeliling, kosong, sunyi dan engkau berdiri jauh di belakang.

aku menang, dan aku kalah.

p.s: cinta dan peperangan.

the high-school mosque

My dad, my cousin and I went to the Masjid Besar in Kuching. It’s an old mosque given a modern touch. Its walls are now painted in soft pink and its golden yellow dome shines under the bright sun, reflecting the sunlight. Before entering the Masjid, I took the ablution and after leaving my slippers at the rack, I entered its door. There was a stark contrast between the heat outside and the coolness inside the mosque. The mosque has two floors and I went to the first. I walked up the wide stairs and upon reaching the floor, I walked around before randomly picking a place to sit; which was adjacent to the railing which allowed me to see the congregations on the ground floor. A huge chandelier was hanging under the dome right at the centre of the mosque. Before sitting down, I spotted a few school kids in their school uniform and suddenly I was hit by memories from my school days.

Every Friday, my friends and I, we would walk from our school to the Masjid. It usually took us about 10 minutes to get to the mosque, depending on the weather. We would walk in small groups of 2-4 and our walks would usually contain small jokes, laughter and even the occasional serious talk about homework .  We’d usually leave our school bags at the canteen and some of the non-muslim girls we were friends with would take good care of the bags for us. We’d usually take the upper floor and perform our prayers there. Today, as I saw from afar the place that we used to sit at, a pang of nostalgia hit my mind. I miss those times. I looked down at the carpet and it was replaced with a new design. Everything was/is change/d/ing. I was sitting alone.

After completing my prayers, I walked out of the mosque and walked downhill as the mosque was built on a small hill or more likely a mound. I imagined myself walking down, surrounded by my friends laughing and joking, in our school uniforms sweating under the hot sun. I couldn’t help but smile at those memories.

It made me realize how far I have come. I wish I could go back to those times again but I know the only way is to move forward. I’m just glad my memory allows me to remember those years; those wonderful, less stressful and dramatic years.

p.s: some things we can never get back. 

Dania

“Di, here’s RM10. Could you please go to Pak Ayek’s shop and buy me some Coca-Cola?” asked my eldest brother. I smiled at him and said, “Yeah, sure.” So I went up to my room, put on my shorts and ran down the stairs. My 4 year old niece, Dania Maisarah was drawing on the whiteboard. “Dania, come follow Anjang to the shop,” I asked her. She looked at me and stopped drawing, placed the marker down and went to me and I smiled at her, she didn’t smile back but she did answer, “O.K”.

After putting on her slippers and I put on mine, we both walked out of the gate and went on our journey to the shop. Dania is a smart, beautiful girl whose mind is beyond her age. She talks like an adult and is a tad spoilt but is still tolerable (and adorable). She has the most amazing laugh and every time she laughs, I can’t help but smile and laugh along.

“How’s school Dania?”

“It’s O.K.”

“Did you make any new friends?”

“I did.”

“Are there any handsome boys there at your school?”

“Oh, no. There are no handsome boys in my school. They are all short and ugly except this one baby. He’s white.” She said while we were walking to the shop. I giggled a little.

“How bout the girls? Are there any pretty girls?”

“Oh there are pretty girls.”

We reached the shop and the first thing Dania saw were the gumball-like machines which dispenses the eggs containing toys in them. While she was enchanted by those, I went to the freezer to take a few cans of Coca-Cola, 100Plus for myself and a grape drink for my mum. I called out to her and she came over. I asked her what she wanted and she pointed at the ice-cream box. I lifted her up and she pointed towards the ice-cream she liked. After paying, we walked back home.

“Dania, keep the change in the pocket,” I said to her.

“But later it will get lost if I put it in my pocket,” she replied.

“Haha, it’s o.k. I will remind you bout the coins in your pocket.”

She faithfully placed the coins, one by one, into her shorts pockets. “Hold my hand Dania,” and a car swiftly drove past us. “See what I mean. You can get hit that’s why you have to hold my hand.” Our walk back home was quiet. She didn’t say a word. When we reached the turning to my house, Dania spotted a small hole on the road. She picked up a pebble and threw it inside the hole. She then walked to me and took my hand again. “You know Dania, Anjang used to do that too,” I said to her. “Oh Dania likes to do it too,” she replied. “I like to throw small stones and big stones inside the hole.” “You think a rock that big can fit into the hole?” I pointed to a giant rubble of a rock to Dania. She kept quiet. I smiled. We reached home.

The trip to the shop with Dania made me realize how much things have changed around me and how much I have changed too. But most importantly, the trip made me realize how wonderful and beautiful it is to be a child. Dania’s carelessness gives her freedom, something that, as we grow older, we tend to lose. Her deep black blank eyes show no signs of worry about the world, no stress about financial status and yet they also show a deep but basic understanding of how things work around her. Holding her hand evoked in me this feeling of longing for something that I know I couldn’t have: innocence. Dania enables me to reflect about time, how fast it has moved and how cruel and selfish it can be and yet, how beautifully powerful and controlling it can be as well. The shop we went to also showed signs of change. Dania’s point of view of the shop is not the same as mine but we will both, I know, have memories of walking to this shop buying canned drinks and chips and sweets. The road I used to walk on as a child to the shop may not be as dusty and busy as the road is now, but it’s still the same path that me and her, people of different generations, use to get to the same destination. Dania makes me realize that being a child is priceless. There’s little to worry, so much to discover and life is all about learning and having fun. In all her child-like innocence and ignorance, little did Dania realize how much things I have learnt from her on this short trip to the shop.

p.s: growing older.