Followers

Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

A Letter to a Future Wife

Dear you,

If only I know your whereabout now.

I do not know where you are, let alone who you are at all evidence. You could be someone whom I have met and known, or probably the total reverse, and even worst, there could be chances that you never really exist even until my mortal life is over one day.

But it is always in my favorite manner to let you know, God bless whoever you are, about what I have here inside the very cavity of my chest; the feelings that have grown so mature now that it beats rhythmically with my own heart, for you to listen to me, and here goes all the things that I have always wanted you to know, every little thing that I have always wanted to say.

You,

If only I could have expressed the amount of warm love I have collected over the years for you right now; of how much I would take you at my full capacity, how much I would put my effort into play just to keep the relationship going at full speed forward and never at all slipped to a complete halt, and how much I am willing to sacrifice my everything just to carve that flawless smile on your very lips to brighten my weatherbeaten days.

Never again my nights will be so bloody empty and never again the otherwise sunny days appear to be so gloomy.

I shall love you to the very end. I shall decorate your empty walls with pretty colors and beautiful words that I could ever come out with. I shall love you before, during and after I shake that old man's hand while everyone is watching and announce that very special sentence for everyone to hear, that will tie the loose knot in between us both, with you sitting over there next to your mother in the best wedding dress ever, smiling at me in tears.

I shall love you in makeup, I shall love you looking your very worst.

I shall hug you each and every night while we sleep just for you to know that I am there to protect you from even the slightest blow of the coldest of wind, even when you are dead mad at me over little things you could possibly be mad with. I shall sleep after you and wake up right before you do, just to have a glance at how peaceful you look when you are deep in your dreams.

I shall take care of you from every little pinch that you get along the way. I will stay up during stormy nights just to keep you company and blanket you from the hitting coldness, so that you could comfortably rest in the warmth of my guard. I shall rub your head gently every time you fall with fever, and stay by your bed all day long ready with cold orange juice and hot chicken soup in case you need any.

I shall write and read you poetry of the prettiest kinds.

I shall be there with you while we are having our very first baby, holding your hand tightly and rubbing off sweat from your forehead as you struggle to deliver. And I shall bring our baby to you myself and kiss you on your forehead with the brightest from every smile a new father could have possibly came out with, thanking you for all you have done that all nine months.

I shall build us a home on a hill facing the sea with a big lawn where we will sit every evening looking at sunset while you rest your head on my shoulder and I caress your hair gently without a word spoken in between us both. And this home will always be there for us even when we are old and the kids have grown up having their own families, doing the same damn thing we use to do every evening without getting at all bored at it.

I shall always listen to your problems and comfort you out even when you do not ask for one. I shall lend you my shoulder for you to hang on to and my chest for you to wet with your tears. I will endlessly offer you tissues and paper towels and even my own shirt until you let everything all out without me urging you to stop at all, because I know you need to cry just to feel right about things again. All I will do is to hug you and hush you with a whisper or two until you fall asleep on me.

I will do everything, everything at all just to keep that smile on your face.


* * *


But then again, I hope you would accept me the way I am.

I am just another ordinary man you could easily find standing purposely at a corner of a busy street. I do not have anything to offer. I do not own any wealth, let alone anything that promises us of such this very moment, but given enough time, patience and faith I promise you that there will come a day when we will not have to anymore worry about wealth at all. I shall work hard within my best capacity every and each day; going out early in the morning and come home later in the evening to keep the food on the table for you and the kids, even when I have to stay hungry the whole day.

I, too, am a man of many flaws. I could probably at times forget how to love; I might at times fail to become anymore perfect like you have always wished for; I could at times lose my temper over little things, hurt you unintentionally with my words, and every other thing that you find disappointing about me. And should that happens, I would want you to know that I am totally sorry, for I am only human and I could have not have an entire control over myself at all time, for the reasons that we all lose ourselves every now and then just to show how human we all are.

I hope you will read this, whoever you are.

And I just hope that this will not end as just another meaningless hope.


* * *

I am halfway from you now.
Please don't be late.
But then again if you will be, I'd still patiently wait.



Sunday, November 22, 2009

Well Here Is My Reply

This post is directed as a reply to a very distant person from which I believe we have something to make clear about. It would have been a matter of honor to clean this mess, and I shall do it here in my blog instead because I have no way of directly send this to your email whatsoever, and I hope this will be notified far enough somehow to make to your understanding.

I swear I was a bit relieved upon receiving your one and only letter earlier, but to follow up with at least three people who came and told that you are causing an entire hector in your twitter nest, this has heated me up pretty much instantly to an even higher degree.

Bear in mind that this is written during a time when I am entirely mad. Pardon my arrogance, for I wished to be a little more tender on you. But this only exist as a wish and never more.




* * *


Dear Mr. A,

It has been very disturbing to notice that for quite sometime entirely I have been noticing some sort of rampaging says about me in your recent ramblings. This may not be a direct attempt to discourage my days, but upon seeing that I am somehow a very sharp person I could not help but noticing that you were directing many of your unaddressed sending to a person from which I clearly believed was me. And these sending were somewhat offensive to my understandings.

Therefore it would be a very tough decision for me to make; either I sit down doing nothing or I strike back. Usually if I am now a man I was in the past, we don't have to resort to this sort of diplomatic conferencing - brute intimidation usually does the job very well. But both of us we are men, aged to perfection obligatory to our will, shaped into sizes we are today; so I believe it would be very thoughtful for both of us to sit down and discuss this situation very carefully.

In order for me to deliver my message in a clearer form, I hereby sentence them in points for easier digestion.


1. I am not going after your lady. Not even anyone. Do not use my status being single as a reason for me to woo her. Flirt, yes we did, and that was about it. Nothing really happened in between. I am not in a position where I am entirely ready to make any effort in relationship just yet, and this is a man's words you are currently receiving. Because if I ever had the intention to, it is safe to assume that she could have no longer been anymore with you now. Do not misunderstand this as a hypothetical, egoistic speech, but as a clear future telling.

But she is still with you. You might want to wonder why. This leads to point number 2.


2. When your lady was upset sometime ago over you, it is important to note that I did play a coincidental role as the third person not in bashing you up but as a stranger in a peacekeeping mission. I could have been somebody you saw (probably still do see) as a culprit, but it is fair to consider that I did patch your relationship with her, to my benefit of none. I understand that by being a third person could be such a devastating, ego-sinking action against you that caused you to assume I have no such respect towards you. Wrong. You are entirely wrong.

I saved your bloody relationship, you fool. But you claimed I did the otherwise.

I could have respected you, and this lead us to point number 3.

3. I could have respected you if you come to me in a good manner. I still remember the first tweet on me you did; "Let's see if @M_Jacksparrow will accept my request." Now that is the first act of disrespect towards me that you showed, and this had clearly shown that I was then looking at one potential enemy, which I was quite almost, but not quite, entirely unlikely right. I accept all incoming requests except the malicious ones.

Imagine I come to your house and said it out, "let's see if this house owner will allow me in." Is that not sarcasm? Examine what you will feel and keep it to yourself.

The reason I flirted with your girl is easy - we wanted to give you a lesson. Have you not realized that you have been flirting with numerous girls too? Many thanks to my single status, I could flirt with anyone I want, I damn well please with, no worries at all. But you are the one with the lady, and you flirt around. Did you not think what she felt when she saw your doings?

How do I respect you on this matter?

I could have shown my respect towards you like I did and still do to other men in my nest. But respect is earned, my friend, not demanded. How do I respect you if I got disrespected most of the time even since the very first of our encounter? Do not demand respect from me if it was me you treated like a tramp in the first place.

If it was the cold turkey treatment being an issue, it is fairly self-explanatory why.

Along the way you clearly have had telling around in your nest about this one particular person you have always wanted to bash by means of literature attack but never really did because all of your telling were unaddressed. I knew about this. Don't take me as a fool, for I can be at times smarter than I usually am, and this is not a case of bragging but a case of pondering how sometimes God lets you clearly see how people with bad intentions will try to go against you.

And alhamdulillah, He let me see this, and this lead us to point number 4.

4. The reason why I strike to you back was simple - I was attacked. It is always in the simplest manner of human behavior to defend when attacked, and this had got to me. Do not come out with misdealing behavior towards people, for that may cause backfires. It is saddening that we started this way, and to always remember abut the way you first came to me, I must say that I have grown a grave concern towards your every tweet.

I could have humiliated you so much beyond you every possibly-dictated degree of expectation, especially after how you somehow alarmingly posting numerous mumbles about my being, but being a little nice did not harm me much. I have been observing this very well, and strangely enough some other people did too. Including your girl. Did you not realize how this affected your relationship as well?

Only if you talked to me mano-a-mano. But you did not. You never really did. You prefer to match with my reputation instead, childishly. And everyone saw this happening. But you blamed me for ruining your little pride.

This will lead to point number 5.

5. Do not worry much about your reputation. Hardly anyone knows about it. And I have been told that there are certain rats in my twitter that could possibly are related directly to you. This remains unconfirmed to date, but I must remind you that such act of dastard cannot be tolerated by all means at all. If there is such, please remind them to stop doing it.

6. Stop judging me just because I have no ladies at the current time from which I could have called a lover. This does not mean I am a loser, let alone not knowing how to love. If I could have bragged about my relationships, and only if. I am not such men who walk around telling tales. I did not only have conversations with your lady, in fact, I talked to others as well. Does this mean I am anymore lonelier than a stud of cold, dark pebbles?

I have loved more ladies than you could have possibly imagined. Beautiful, smart, stunningly wonderful ladies.

Me and the simulator, what's the problem really about it? I have a dream, I have an ambition to serve in the aviation industry, hence my practice with the simulator. My specialization being in engineering are Petroleum Engineering, Energy and Turbo-machinery, hence my interests in the turbines passenger planes currently are using as driving power plant. What is wrong with you?

What madness as to seeing how could it possibly relate to me being lonely, from which I really did not? Insult a man's dream, and that is as far as you are going to go - there's no more pulling back anymore. And I shall remind you that I accept your humiliation towards me pretty much easily, but little that you know how this has caused rage in my chest so massively destructive enough to redden my tanned skin. But then again to think that it was from you, all I did was laughing my head off at it. At you.

Arguing with you will only place my intellect to the lowest degree achievable. So I rather not to.

Questioning my existence and conversations with other ladies are entirely out of your concern. They say hi, or I say hi, and we go from there. If they don't like the conversations they might have just pulled off, but they never did. So you get the point. You are not my father, let alone theirs. So stop telling before people stop listening.

And you were wrong about flirting with other women when one man is in a relationship - I never did such ridiculous act when I was in my previous relationship, and that is the highest degree of respect you could have possibly shown to someone you claim to be a lover by only giving a hundred-percent attention to her and only her. What nonsense, flirting around with other ladies especially with the existence of your lady near you. Shame on a man like you, really, for telling me how to love a woman, the thing even you yourself are failing miserably to even achieve at.

You have got to show some respect to your lady instead. Clearly she deserves it more that I do. I am a self-made man, I don't have to demand respect. It comes along naturally. I don't need to make an announcement for it, for it comes to me pretty much hourly.

You could always come out with outstanding insults like you have always did, you know, getting some attentions in your small nest with hopes that someone will jump out and ask, "my, my pretty boy what happened to you?", but we both know who is at the better advantage. I am the real article. But I do not want to comment more on this. My position stands as it is.

7. You ended your letter to me, after your apologies, with 'I do not want to know and have anything to do with you anymore." A very perfect, dramatic ending to an apology letter. You know what?



Well neither did I.



Insecurities.


Certain people have expressed their worries over my existence, oftentimes in intimidating manner, especially men whom their ladies are befriending me, though this intimidating behavior of them shook me none at all. They thought I one day will be winning their girls away from them.

Rather childish, I'd say, for them to have such thoughts.

Listen now;

If your ladies keep talking about me to you, or having frequent conversations with me, that is because I have a blog that somewhat pleases them by means of reading. Although I am good with words relative to the most of you insecure boys, I could have sworn that somehow my capacity of patience is somewhat lesser than all of you.

As I said earlier and always have: as long as there is no ring in her finger, a girl can do whatever she damn well please with. So don't try to act a husband around her.

Nevertheless I hope the panic could slow down, now that I am announcing that I am not in any way interested at the particular moment to have any relationship with anyone. So please calm down and be cool in front of your ladies, for these females look high on you to behaving like a man. In fact when they (the ladies) talked to me, they always complained about how you have been treating them lately. Be nice to them, will you?

You can now have all the spotlight you want, but this does not mean you are anymore better than everybody else, me included.

And as a token of apology/appreciation/love/change/LRT/absolutely-bloody-nothing-at-all for your stepped-on ego issues (please check under my foot for recovery), I shall recite this poem personally to you for your own entertainment. Presenting 'Two Types of Men' by Mr Goodfella:


"There is one problem
with those men who do not write.
They seem to think that we,
the men who write,
get all the juice.
The problem is,
in terms of relationship
we were always on the
losing side.
We, the men who write,
we write our sorrow,
we write our madness,
we write our life,
of living and wandering,
not a grand one,
in style.
We, the men who write,
under the bridge,
in the gloomy and smoky, cheap hotel room,
in the middle of the city, alone.
Never tired.
Because, we know,
that, their (the men who do not write)
women are reading.
And wondering,
why didn't my man write like this."

* * *


"May the best man wins," he said from the other corner of the empty lounge, "cheers!"

I hold up my glass pointing at him at a distant and gave a slight nod and a thoughtful smile

"Cheers to the cloud," I replied, "and cheers to the both of us"


Saturday, November 21, 2009

November 20


It has been a year since he left us.

My, wouldn't it be wonderful if he is still around. I would have imagined him walking to class with those grins around his thick lips every morning, in his first studying year in this engineering school. How proud I will be to see just another Mechanical Engineering student to become, steadily walking around the campus ground for knowledge.

I did not have many things to talk about him, but all I could have said is, I still get the emptiness; the longing, the crave to see him at times especially like this one. I owed you and I do still, over past courage and bravery you had shown to me in assisting my difficulties trying to help a loved one.

I still owe you a dinner trip to Ipoh. It will never happen eh buddy?

I did take your advice on things and I have tried my every best to keep precious valuables of mine from leaving me though some of them eventually did. I took my best shots at everything, never really leave any detail at all.

I still hope to teach you some of the engineering materials that you might fancy to know.

But you have went away, so far away. At times, I had thoughts that I'd rather follow you too, after all these torments I oftentimes receive on a daily basis. But I must say that, the courage that you showed me n the past prevented me to; it keeps telling me that this road does not end here, yet, at least not yet.

I would like to take this moment to thank you so much, dearest Imad, for all the things you did to keep me happy for the rest of the days even since you're gone. Never I would again see you, but I must assure you that since the very beginning, you are always remembered.

Thank you for showing me the value of a friendship, of respect, courage and bravery, and thank you so much for doing the only thing you did for me before that changed me a lot into what I am today.

But I am so sorry that I have failed you in the end.



I am sorry.


* * *


Al-Fatihah to Allahyarham Imaduddin who ended his mortal journey here on earth and ever on November 20th, 2008.

This is the post about him one year back: Engineer Going Medical.



Friday, November 20, 2009

"Coco."

Slightly before Friday prayer.


* * *

"Funny, how just when you think life can't possibly get any happier it suddenly does."


Today, I would want to talk about this one tiny little girl that captivates my attention each time she does stuffs. Never I have met her personally, let alone any type of direct connection between us both, but I would have resorted to say that I find this girl rather charming than any other kids her age.

Let's call her Asna.

One day Amira, from which I do not know until now what is her connection to Asna, told me that Asna was made alert by her about my existence.

"Fine," I said to Amira. "Why don't you tell her I love her?"

"Sure," Amira replied. "Hang on a sec."

Moments passed.

"Alright," Amira said. "Told her already."

"You did?" I said to her. "What did she say? What was her reaction?"

"She said coco."

"Coco?"

"Coco."


* * *

Even until today I do not know what the hell did that word means. Nevertheless, I still like her. :D


Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Common Rarity

Stormy rain in my heart, as seen from the viewing arena window.



It rained again today.

I must say that the rainy season we are now currently facing since the past weeks has somehow affected my mood.

Badly.


* * *

I made a friend with a lady from the land below the wind today via an online-connect service.

Being somewhat ill from the sickening weather, she was complaining about her sore throat and flu, to which I told her to fix them up by taking a cup of hot drink.

"I am bah," she said. "By the way I am lucky to get to know you. I hope this would start a beautiful friendship. You are one hell of a guy, do you know that?"

This has caused me to think for a while. I believed I did not make any extensive impression just yet to her, provided that we only knew each other for only a couple of minutes. So I asked why did she say that.

"Because you talk too much," her reply came. "Guys usually don't. You are a thinker and the result made you a talker."

I did not see how thinking and talking related to each other. She then continued:

"You are rude and extremely open to others. What is on your mind, you say it without regret. That means you have a very big ego," she said.

"Tell me why am I rude," I replied.

"Rude in your own way ba," she answered in her medium-thick Sabahan slang. "That's why you are different," she continued, "Other guys when they make appearance, they hold their tongues up. Nda mo slip all the kasar2 one."




I see.


* * *

It rained again today.

I used to love rain so much. Rain in the little mining town of Tronoh was once a scarcity. It was one of the thing you could only wish to have but never did, really.

But now it rains daily.

And I learned something from this :-

When you love something so much, because it rarely comes before your eyes, causing the pain of longing for and the missing and the fear of losing, you hold tightly to it. You endure to loving it more, despite all circumstances, just because it doesn't always appear for you to see.

But one day it does. And this cause you to lose interest. You don't feel the missing, the longing, the pain of waiting. You get tired of it even.

Slowly your sworn love fades away. Just like that. Just like how rain sweeps off dust from your balcony window.

* * *


I used to love the rain.

Now I hate it.



Monday, November 16, 2009

Ajib


This, was one of my highly celebrated in-Malay short story of all these years since I started writing. This was from a few years back, and as you can notice the style of writing was rather shallow and naive. Nevertheless it is worth reading. Please drop some comments for my improvements. Thank you so much.


* * *


"Tumpang tanya," lelaki itu berbicara.

Sekali pandang mukanya nampak resah, seakan kerisauan. Renik peluh merembes dari celahan
roma di mukanya yang ditumbuhi jambang tebal. Riak wajahnya menampakkan sedikit kematangan walau usianya tampak lebih muda daripada bilangan kerut di dahinya.

"Ada nampak Nadia?"

Lelaki ini cukup popular di kawasan rumah kami di Kampung Keramat. Lingkungan pertengahan 40-an, bertubuh tinggi lampai dan berdada bidang. Jambang yang tumbuh melata di pipi dan dagunya menyerlahkan tulang rahangnya yang tegap dan bersegi. Rambut hitam lebat dan agak panjang tetapi kemas melengkapkan rupa parasnya yang tampak kacak dan matang, bijak dan berpengalaman.

Sering kelihatan duduk bersendirian di stesen bas lama di sebelah kawasan perumahan rumah kami, lelaki ini cukup dikenali ramai. Bukan hanya kerana parasnya yang bisa merenggut jiwa
mana-mana wanita yang lemah diruntun wajah kacak lelaki itu, tetapi juga kisah tentang dirinya sendiri yang sering menjadi bualan orang ramai.

Kami panggil dia Ajib.

Ajib ini pandai budaknya. Siapa yang duduk kawasan rumah kami yang tak kenal Ajib? Semua orang kenal Ajib. Ajib tak pernah gagal untuk menjadi murid nombor satu di sekolah rendah di penempatan kami ini. Sama juga ketika di sekolah menengah. Ajib merupakan hero kawasan kecil kampung tempat kami menetap. Ajiblah orang pertama yang berjaya memecahkan kebuntuan bertahun lamanya untuk melihat anak didik sekolah di kampung mendapat kejayaan cemerlang di dalam peperiksaan. pendidikan rendah dan SRP, Ajib sapu habis dengan membolot semua A dalam semua matapelajaran.

Hebat.

Sejak dari itu nama Ajib sering disebut-sebut oleh jiran tetangga. Anak-anak kecil disogok dengan kisah Ajib, seolah menjadi satu inspirasi besar kepada kami termasuk saya sendiri yang masa itu masih di peringkat sebelum hingusan.

Ajib juga pandai mengaji. Sedap suaranya, rajin pula ke surau. Mana orang tak sayang pada Ajib. Sopan santunnya pada orang-orang tua juga menyebabkan ramai dari golongan ibu merebut Ajib untuk dijadikan calon menantu, walau pada masa itu Ajib masih belum mencecah umur 20 tahun pun. Tak kurang dari itu, gadis-gadis yang baru tumbuh memekar (bertemankan ibu masing-masing) juga sering mengintai dari balik cermin tingkap rumah acap kali Ajib melintas di depan rumah waktu pulang dari sekolah atau dari surau. Kadang-kadang kakak-kakak kerja kilang yang ramai menyewa di sini pun sempat mengambil peluang mengusik Ajib.

"Lawa kain pelikat," usik mereka. Begitu besarnya pengaruh Ajib pada masyarakat di sini.

Tapi Ajib tak pernah ambil pusing.

Ajib bukan jenis lelaki yang gemar hu-ha. Ajib tak naik motor dan merewang sehingga malam buta. Ajib tak ada lesen motor pun. Apa yang Ajib tau cuma pergi sekolah balik sekolah, pergi surau balik surau. Nak tengok Ajib pergi ke arked permainan di pasar Keramat bersebelahan dengan masjid? Jangan haraplah. Sampai akhir zaman pun takkan ketemu. Ajib pun tak pernah keluar dengan mana-mana perempuan baik muda mahupun berumur. Budak-budak nakal yang iri hati (biasalah, Melayu) pada Ajib menggelar Ajib ‘tak cukup jantan’ kerana tak pandang perempuan. Kadang-kadang sampai yang panggil Ajib perempuan pun ada. Baguslah, sudahlah tak sekolah, Ajib itu yang dijadikan bahan mainan. Tapi tak ada yang berani hendak sentuh Ajib kerana datuk Ajib (Ajib anak yatim piatu) adalah guru silat di padang surau lama, jadi apa yang mereka mampu lakukan adalah dengan menjerit-jerit mengejek Ajib dari jauh. Bila Ajib menoleh, semuanya akan berlari tak cukup tanah bimbang wajah mereka dicam. Bila sedikit sudah sedikit mereka mengejek kembali.

"Ajib takde awek. Ajib takde awek. Ajib takde awek."

Ajib bukan tak mahu berpasang-pasangan. Cuma Ajib rasa dia masih belum bersedia, tambahan tak ada lagi wanita yang bisa menyentap hati batunya setakat mana dia hidup waktu itu. Itu kata Ajib. Dan situasi ini berterusan sekian lama sehingga Ajib berumur 21 tahun. Dan selama itulah gadis-gadis kampung memendam rasa pada Ajib seorang sehingga menimbulkan rasa kurang senang di hati pemuda kampung yang rata-ratanya pernah mengejek Ajib ketika kecil dulu, bimbang gadis idaman mereka terlepas dari genggaman.

Tapi itulah. Kadang-kadang dalam seronok melompat, tupai pun tergelincir juga,

Pada satu hari ini, adalah majlis keramaian kampung yang diadakan untuk menyambut pernikahan tok siak masjid dengan wanita pilihannya selepas 20 tahun membujang dek kematian bini pertama. Hai punyalah gembira orang kampung masa itu; ada yang berjoget ada yang berzanji ada yang berkompang. Mana tidaknya, tok siak masjid dah berbini semula. Lepas ini makin berserilah masjid lama kami tu. Kalau tidak malap aja macam rumah orang mati bini.

Kalau ditengok di muka tok siak tu, amboi! Sengih sampai ke telinga. Satu kampung dijemputnya. Dua ekor lembu tumbang untuk menjadi santapan para hadirin. Mak Jah Jono yang menjadi bini baru tok siak pun apa kurangnya. Sama sajalah laki bini.

Iyalah, orang baru kahwin.

"Untung tok siak. Jah Jono tu kan andartu. Anak dara lagi tu!" Helingan lucu yang disambar dengan gelak ketawa ramai orang kampung menunjukkan betapa gembiranya mereka malam itu.

Seperti biasalah, Ajib mesti datang. Lengkap berbaju melayu bersamping pelikat. Anak-anak dara semuanya tak berkelip melihat Ajib yang kini sudah matang dan ditumbuhi jambang. Macho kata orang putih. Kerja-kerja potong bawang apa semua di dapur tergendala seketika bila Ajib tiba di pintu rumah. Semua bertenggek di celahan dinding mengintai Ajib.

Dan seperti biasa Ajib akan duduk dengan orang tua-tua mendengar celoteh zaman tok nenek yang tak pernah lekang daripada bibir-bibir tua itu. Macam-macam cerita keluar. Dari hal kampung ke hal politik, dan tentunya yang paling kritikal adalah hal wrestling. Hui orang kampung kami memang suka wrestling. Kalau tengok wrestling ramai-ramai di kedai roti canai sebelah kedai Pak Harun, badan pun sampai bergerak sama. Orang dalam TV mengelak, eh
dia pun terbaling sama. Tangan menumbuk-numbuk ke udara, sampai orang kiri kanan naik risau kalau-kalau tangan singgah ke muka.

Dalam melayan kerenah golongan antik kampung itu, Ajib terpandang seorang perempuan di balik tirai yang digantung di pintu dapur. Rambut panjang ke belakang, lebat dan lurus. Berbaju kurung Johor warna kuning cair duduk bersimpuh berlantaikan tikar buluh dan bersandarkan dinding kayu. Putih melepak orangnya, nampak gayanya tinggi lampai. Tersenyum riang bergelak ketawa mendengar celoteh Mak Piah and the gang sambil mengupas kulit keledek untuk direbus dijadikan kuih keria dan dijamu kepada tetamu.

Tak berkelip mata Ajib menatap wajah budak perempuan itu, sehinggalah diri sang perempuan perasan dirinya ditenung lalu melihat tepat ke arah Ajib. Nah, mata bertentang mata sudah.

Ajib gemuruh tak terhingga. Pertama kali jatuh cinta, pandang pertama pula tu. Dalam mana Ajib kelam kabut itu, terlihat bibir merah itu mengukir senyum. Aduh! Mana tak sakit jantung dibuatnya.

"Hei anak jantan! Merenung anak dara macam nak keluor bijik mata!"

Kau memang spoil la Mak Piah. Macam manalah orang tua tu boleh perasan? Dan berdentanglah halaman dapur tok siak dengan hilai tawa Mak Piah and the gang, dan sekelip mata wajah manis yang ditenung Ajib sebentar tadi merona merah sebelum hilang di sebalik tirai dapur yang ditarik oleh Mak Piah.

Mak Piah pendengki.

Ajib tak tau yang budak perempuan itu adalah anak tok siak sendiri. Anak yang menyebabkan tok siak mati bini dulu. Tok siak tak mampu untuk membela budak itu lalu dihantar kepada kakaknya untuk dijaga. Kini selepas hampir dua puluh tahun berlalu, dah dewasa budak itu. Anak dara sunti lah kata orang Melayu adat. Yang memberitahu inipun adalah adik tok siak sendiri yang mana sama-sama belajar mengaji di surau dengan Ajib dulu.

"Sekarang abang dah nikah balik, boleh la si Nadia tu duduk di sini." Oh Nadia namanya.

Hai sejak dari hari itu Ajib selalulah datang ke rumah tok siak kononnya nak menjenguk dan bertanyakan hal agama. Tok siak yang sememangnya menganggap Ajib itu anaknya sendiri pun mulalah melayan bagai apa. Mak Jah Jono pun dua kali lima. Air kosong yang diminta, air kopi yang dihulurnya. Dan seperti biasa setiap kali Ajib datang ke rumah, Nadia akan berada di balik tirai dapur mengintai wajah Ajib sepuas hati. Ajib pun samalah tu.

Dari mata jatuh ke hati.

Cinta Ajib dan Nadia berputik dan mekar walau tak pernah berbicara. Hanya mata bertentang mata. Saling bertukar senyum dan berbalas sengih saja, berdindingkan kain tirai dapur.

Tok siak bukan tak perasan. Mak Jah Jono pun dah lama perasan. Sampai sudah masa untuk dua insan itu ditemukan. Satu hari ketika Ajib datang ke rumah seperti selalu untuk lawatan berkalanya, tok siak akhirnya memberikan kata putus untuk Ajib. Kata yang bisa merubah hidup Ajib selamanya.

"Nak kawan, kawanlah. Tapi jaga baik-baik."

Gembira Ajib bukan kepalang. Habis ayam itik di halaman rumah tok siak dijulangnya. Ruang halaman yang bersih pun disapu dua tiga kali. Lalang yang baru nak tegak melihat dunia habis ditebas licin oleh Ajib. Hai makin berserilah rumah tok siak. Nadia yang hanya melihat di beranda rumah tergelak riang melihat Ajib dikejar angsa muda milik Mak Jah Jono bila angsa itu pun cuba dijulangnya. Piat punggung Ajib kena sudu, tapi Ajib tak kisah. Senyuman Nadia bisa menghilangkan segalanya.

Hebohlah satu kampung mendengar Ajib bercinta dengan Nadia. Pemuda-pemuda kampung semuanya berpakat nak beri sedikit ajaran kepada Ajib. Beraraklah mereka dalam tujuh lapan orang ke rumah Ajib satu petang ni. Yang ada masalah kononnya dengan Ajib ini cuma seorang tu saja tapi biasalah, kalau bab-bab berbuat kecoh dan huru-hara ini mestilah ramai-ramai. Barulah meriah kata orang.

Tapi hajat nak menyentuh Ajib tak sampai ke mana. Semuanya lari lintang pukang apabila melihat datuk Ajib mencangkung tak berbaju dan hanya berseluar panjang hitam sedang mengasah parang panjang di halaman rumah, padahal parang itu nak dipakai buat menebas saja. Sampai di situ sajalah. Biasalah, samseng Melayu.

Yang anak-anak dara pun apa kurangnya. Semua pakat nak pulau Ajib. Tak mahu layan Ajib dan Nadia, kononnyalah. Dek rasa runtun hati dan kecewa yang tidak terkira banyaknya terhadap cinta yang tak berbalas. Bila Ajib melintas di depan rumah bila pulang dari surau, melelehlah air mata masing-masing menghempaskan rasa kecewa yang amat sangat. Sehinggakan ada dua tiga orang yang kahwin tiba-tiba, menunjukkan rasa protes terhadap cinta Ajib dan Nadia. Tapi bila waktu mereka bersanding dan Ajib muncul di depan tangga rumah sebagai jemputan, melelehlah air mata pengantin perempuan. Mana mempelai jantan yang bersanding sama di sebelah tak naik seriau.

Cinta Ajib dan Nadia berlangsung hampir setahun lamanya. Mereka sering ke surau sama-sama, minum air kelapa sama-sama, beri ayam makan sama-sama, semuanya sama-sama. Cuma bila bab dikejar angsa muda milik Mak Jah Jono, cuma Ajib saja yang selalu kena.

Sampailah satu masa ini Nadia perlu ke Batu Road untuk membeli kain ela untuk Mak Jah Jono yang kini dah pandai melaram untuk tatapan tok siak tercinta. Tapi Nadia ini tak mahu berteman walau dipelawa beberapa kali oleh Ajib.

Maka Ajib sekadar menemani Nadia ke stesen bas kecil di pinggir kampung untuk menghantar Nadia. Sejam setengah menunggu sambil berborak dan bergelak ketawa sehingga menimbulkan rasa berbulu oleh Man Tega dan rakan-rakan (samseng kampung yang lari lintang-pukang ketika nak bergasak dengan Ajib satu ketika dulu) yang kebetulan melepak bermain gitar di simpang sebelah kurang sepuluh rantai dari merpati dua sejoli itu, tibalah bas yang menuju ke bandar.

(Man Tega memang sukakan Nadia)

Sebelum Nadia melangkah naik ke dalam bas, Nadia berpaling ke arah Ajib dan menghulurkan tangan untuk bersalam tangan buat pertama kali dalam sejarah cinta mereka berdua. Datang semula gemuruh rasa hati Ajib bila kali pertama bersalam dengan tangan lembut halus licin milik Nadia. Tangan Ajib disalam kejap dan rapat sebelum dicium oleh wanita intan payung Ajib itu. Lama tangan itu diciumnya, itupun kalau bukan drebar bas mula menekan hon memanggil Nadia naik ke atas.

Bertentang mata, Nadia berkata, "Jadi suamiku ya, abang." Sejurus dia memalingkan badan menaiki bas dan meninggalkan Ajib yang berdiri terpinga-pinga. Dan seperti biasalah, habislah ayam itik di kampung menjadi mangsa luahan perasaan Ajib, dijulang semuanya kecuali seekor iaitu angsa muda milik Mak Jah Jono yang berperangai bagai singa dan setentunya bukan sesuatu yang boleh dibuat main.

Sementara menunggu kepulangan Nadia, Ajib menyusur teratak di sungai untuk ke seberang. Buah kelapa mawar muda dikaitnya barang dua tiga biji. Buah kelapa yang menakung air kelapa kegemaran Nadia itu direndamnya di dalam air sungai Keramat yang sejuk. Dalam pukul lima lepas-lepas Asar, buah-buah itu ditimbulkan semula dan dibawa ke stesen bas untuk dijadikan mangsa menghilangkan penat lelah Nadia yang sudah tentunya haus setelah seharian di kota. Betapa berkobarnya semangat Ajib waktu itu. Iyalah, bakal pengantin baru katakan. Dari jauh Man Tega merenung dengan perasaan yang berbulu lebat.

Tiga jam sudah Ajib menunggu.

Nadia masih belum sampai. Bas pun tak kelihatan, sedangkan hari sudah gelap dan bas terakhir patutnya tiba sejam lepas. Mana pergi si Nadia ni? Risau si Ajib bukan kepalang. Penat menunggu, salah sebuah kelapa itu Ajib kupas sehingga menampakkan tempurung lembut yang seterusnya Ajib ketuk menggunakan batu kerikil yang bersepah di tepi jalan. Berbantukan lampu minyak gas yang sememangnya diwakafkan di stesen bas itu, Ajib meneguk air kelapa itu dari lubang yang diketuk tadi.

"Ya Allah!" Bersemburan air keluar dari mulut Ajib dan bergolek kelapa tapi ke seberang sana jalan. Mulutnya disapu dengan lengan baju. Pahit berdesing. Air kelapa apa pahit macam ini? Tak pernah-pernah pun air kelapa pahit berdesing macam ini. Ini sudah ajaib, fikir Ajib. Dalam mana Ajib kebingungan memikirkan hal yang terjadi tadi, terdengar bunyi enjin dari jauh.

Nampak dua lampu yang bergerak seiringan menuju ke arah Ajib, tapi Ajib rasa itu bukan bas. Bila semakin menghampiri, Ajib cuma menyepetkan mata untuk meneka jenis kenderaan itu.

Jeep warna biru kehitaman. Polis?

Jeep yang dibawa agak laju itu melintas di hadapan Ajib yang ketika itu masih terpinga-pinga dan bingung dek air kelapa pahit tadi, menerbangkan habuk dan debu jalanan. Sejenak berfikir, Ajib rasa ada benda yang tak kena.

Serentak Ajib berlari mengikut jeep tadi yang membelok ke simpang belah kanan tempat Man Tega sering berlepak bersama konco-konconya. Berdesup perginya Ajib mengejar jeep tadi tanpa mempedulikan Man Tega dan konco-konconya yang masih ada bermastautin bersama gitar dan rokok, memekak memecahkan sunyi malam dengan laungan katak puru yang selalunya hingga ke awal pagi.

Melihatkan larian pecut Ajib, Man Tega yang kehairanan melompat turun dari bangku tempat dia bersinggahsana lalu memecut membuntuti Ajib. Konco-konco setia pun turut serta, cuma mereka mengekor menggunakan motor, tiga orang satu motor demi menyahut seruan kerajaan masa itu yang menggalakkan berkongsi kenderaan. Jimat minyak, kurang pencemaran.

Di pihak Ajib, kelihatan jeep tadi membelok ke dalam halaman rumah tok siak. Tepat sampai di hadapan tangga batu rumah tok siak, hon ditekan dua tiga kali mengejutkan golongan binatang berbulu belaan tok siak, termasuklah angsa muda Mak Jah Jono yang melompat naik ke atas jeep lalu menyudu cermin hadapan sebelum dihalau oleh tok siak yang kebetulan sedang baring-baring di pangkin waktu itu. Kelam kabut orang tua itu membetulkan ikatan sarung pelikat sebelum turun menyambut kedatangan dua orang berpakaian uniform polis.

Ajib yang masih berlari mengurangkan kelajuan lariannya akibat rasa semput yang mula membukit di dada. Sampai sahaja di sebalik jeep tadi, kedengaran suara tok siak menyebut Allahuakbar sebelum digantikan bunyi seakan nangka jatuh di atas tanah yang keras. Dari sebalik jeep Ajib melihat tok siak sudah terbaring di atas lantai sambil dua polis tadi cuba mengangkat badan tua itu. Mak Jah Jono di tingkap bagai histeria melihat suami tercinta pengsan di laman rumah.

Polis-polis tadi memapah tok siak naik ke rumah. Dalam kekelaman malam, Ajib terlihat ada kertas yang terjatuh di tempat tok siak terbaring tadi. Ajib menyusup laju di sebalik jeep dan merampas kertas itu dari genggaman tanah. Baris demi baris dibaca.

Man Tega yang baru sampai termengah-mengah di belakang melihat Ajib berdiri kaku membaca sesuatu. Nama Ajib dilaung tapi tiada balasan. Man Tega yang sememangnya panas baran (dan bodoh-bodoh alang) menepuk bahu Ajib setibanya dia di belakang Ajib, itupun tiada balasan lagi. Hai, macam bara api dicurah petrol, badan Ajib ditarik kasar sehingga berpusing menghadap
Man Tega.

Muka Ajib kaku dalam riak tidak percaya. Matanya terbeliak besar dan mulutnya terlopong besar melihat pada kertas yang masih dipegang rapat di tangan. Kertas dirampas Man Tega dengan kasar sebelum dibacanya dengan suara serak basahnya sekali keluar, merangkak-rangkak.

Sejenak kemudian kedengaranlah bunyi motor konco-kono Man Tega berdentum-dentam di halaman dan menarik perhatian polis-polis di dalam rumah yang berhempas pulas mengejutkan tok siak dari pengsannya. Mereka berdua meninggalkan tok siak dan Mak Jah Jono yang kelam kabut membacakan jampi serapah dan merenjis air ke atas dahi tok siak. Sampai sahaja di tingkap rumah panggung yang terbuka luas itu, terlihat sekumpulan anak muda sedang berkumpul mengelilingi Man Tega terbaring beralaskan badan Ajib. Dua-dua pengsan. Polis melopong, konco-konconya pun melopong.

Apa kena dua ekor ni?


* * *


"Nadia. Nadiaaa. Alahai anak aku Nadia. Alahai anak aku Nadiaa," bersahut-sahutan suara tok siak menangisi badan yang terkujur kaki di lantai rumah kayu itu. Mak Jah Jono dah tak termampu nak berkata apa-apa. Mak Piah and the gang di dapur pun menangis hiba sambil melakukan tugas rasmi mengupas bawang untuk menjamu hadirin yang datang. Man Tega yang sudah sedar dari pengsan malam tadi terhinggut-hinggut menangis sambil mencangkung di salah satu tiang rumah tok siak. Ajib masih lagi cuba dibangunkan oleh konco-konco Man Tega.

Baik pula mereka ni.

Dah nak tengahari baru Ajib berjaya dikejutkan. Terpisat-pisat, terpinga-pinga melihat sekeliling yang dipenuhi orang ramai. Rata-rata berketayap dan bertudung hitam. Di atas rumah kedengaran bunyi bacaan Yaasin mendayu-dayu. Di kanan pula kedengaran orang sibuk bertukang kayu. Kotak apa yang mereka ketuk tu? Ajib serentak bangun dan duduk untuk melihat dengan lebih jelas, dan serentak itu jugalah kedengaran suara lelaki melaung dari atas rumah. Dan semua orang di bawah rumah melemparkan pandangan ke tangga tempat suara tadi bergema.

"Haa tepi, tepi. Jangan halang laluan. Nak bawak jenazah turun ni."

Dan terlihatlah di mata Ajib beberapa orang menyusung sekujur badan berbalut kain kafan menuruni anak tangga. Tok siak mengikut di belakang dengan mata bengkak dan muka yang sememeh. Ajib yang baru saja sedar cuba mengingati apa yang berlaku sebelum dia pengsan malam tadi, dan belum sempat pun satu memori tiba di dahi, kedengaran pula suara Mak Jah Jono meraung.

"Alaa Nadia kenapa kau pergi nakk…Allah Nadia anak aku.."

Ajib pengsan lagi.


* * *


Mungkin Nadia sudah merasa yang dirinya akan pergi tak lama selepas dia meninggalkan Ajib di stesen bas tempoh hari. Dia meninggal digilis bas yang tiba-tiba terlepas dari brek dan bergerak tanpa disedari Nadia yang ketika itu sedang mengutip kain yang terlepas dari genggaman tangannya dan membelakangi bas yang bergerak itu. Nak dijadikan ceritalah, kata orang.

Yang hairannya, selain daripada dua jenis kain ela yang dipesan oleh Mak Jah Jono, Nadia ada membeli kain sepuluh ela, telekung dan selendang jarang, semuanya berwarna putih. Dan ada sepasang butang baju melayu lima biji berbatukan nilam putih yang tentunya bukan untuk tok siak kerana semua orang tahu tok siak tak pakai baju melayu. Tok siak cuma reti pakai jubah.

Yang seramnya, kain putih sepuluh ela itu bukan kain langsir atau kain tutup meja, tapi kain kafan. Dan kain kafan itulah yang menjadi balutan tubuh Nadia untuk berjumpa dengan tuhannya enam kaki di bawah paras permukaan bumi.

Mendengarkan cerita ini setelah bangun dari dua hari pengsan, Ajib bukan lagi Ajib yang dulu. Saban hari Ajib menangis di pondok menunggu bas bertemankan Man Tega yang turut sugul di singgahsana kayunya bertemankan konco-konco yang juga tumpang bersedih. Dua-dua makhluk itu bagaikan sudah tiada upaya untuk hidup. Dan itulah hakikatnya yang terjadi pada Man Tega yang akhirnya menurut jejak Nadia akibat tidak makan dan minum sehingga menyumbangkan kepada kerosakan organ dalamannya. Kubur Man Tega hanya lat dua kubur saja dari kubur Nadiah, itupun berselangkan kubur Pak Jang dan Mak Jang laki bini yang dua-duanya meninggal bila motor yang dinaiki terhumban masuk ke dalam parit pulangnya dari melawat jenazah Nadiah.

Entah apa punya kebetulan.

Nasib malang terus menimpa apabila datuk Ajib tiba-tiba meninggal dunia sebulan selepas itu akibat sakit tua. Sejak dari itu Mak Jah Jono dan tok siaklah yang menjaga Ajib. Puas sudah, sampai berbuih mulut memujuk Ajib namun Ajib tak pernah pulih. Ajib tetap akan menghabiskan masa menunggu di stesen bas kecil kampung itu dari pagi hingga ke petang hingga ke malam. Kadang-kadang Ajib akan membawa bersama buah kelapa muda kegemaran Nadia, serta memakai baju melayu berbutangkan set butang yang dibelikan Nadia dulu.

Berbelas tahun berlalu, saya yang dulu kecil kini pun dah besar panjang. Stesen bas kecil dulu pun dan berganti batu walaupun bas dah tak lalu di laluan itu lagi. Stesen itu pun dibina untuk Ajib yang masih setia menunggu sehingga ke hari ini. Mak Jah Jono dan tok siak pun dah lama padam. Angsa muda Mak Jah Jono pun dah lama habis. Kini harapkan orang-orang kampung sajalah yang masih mengenang jasa Ajib satu masa dahulu untuk menjaga diri Ajib yang hidup sebatang kara tiada bersaudara.

Dan setiap kali ada orang melintas di hadapan stesen bas tempat Ajib sering menunggu, akan kedengaranlah suara Ajib menegur.

"Tumpang tanya," katanya sebelum bertanyakan soalan yang sama setiap kali.

"Ada nampak Nadia?"


Friday, November 13, 2009

Well What Do You Know...



First thing first, this is not a post that brags about oneself. Once you are clear with it, you may proceed.


* * *


Remember 'Busuk'?

'Busuk' is a short story I wrote sometime ago in this blog, a story that depicts a loss of a friendly foe of a lady that knew very little of how sometime a very annoying person could grew so dearly in her tiny cold heart.

The revised version can be found here: 'Busuk' [Revised]

Today, 'Busuk' made my day.


* * *


A certain someone, after reading 'Busuk', emailed me this morning, offering me to write a series of articles/columns, with some contract deal.

Wow. Alhamdulillah Ya Allah, for all the skills Thou have granted me with, and the success Thou have given, for I am nothing without Thy help.

Never I'd knew that I could go this far with writing.

Therefore I would like to express my heartwarming amount of gratitudes to those who have enjoyed 'Busuk', especially Fafau and Dahlia, both who blamed the hell out of me for making them crying in the mist of morning.

Along with the other five who cried as well while reading the story. Also to those who commented on the story be it here in the blog itself and Kapasitor.net.

But well part of the deal made between me and the publisher for all articles I will soon write was that, I have to be discreet about where I will write, what I will write and also I am to write first as a ghost writer - one with just a nickname. And it cannot be any nickname I have already been using.

Thank you so much readers! I love you all yawww...!!



x0x0

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Blind


It was her hair that first captivated me.

Long, wavy hair so soft that it pulled every kind of sense to it. So much that it made me placed my hand on the liquid-crystal monitor just to feel how it felt to hold her hair. Pitch black all over her fair skin, it must be nice to own such beauty. The crown so tantalizing that, my, I would have fallen flat on my back from just catching a glance of it.

It must smelt nice too.

Not even a single day passed by without me failing to look at her hair, even though from just behind the screen, her static image smiling at me.

Her soft, round eyes and her good rows of teeth melt me in an instance. Always, pretty much neverendingly. She is a candy. The sort of sugar candy that sticks in your mouth and gives you the sweet taste the whole day long.

The gestures she made in her pictures, my, what a stunning mare she is.

But that's not all.

The way she treated me, affected me in many ways. It affected my days and nights and in betweens. Her voices calling my name, the way she pronounced it, like a bullet straight into my heart I felt. The way she laughed and smiled and talked and everything, damn, they played in my head like a high-quality widescreen movie, bright and clear, over and over again.

She even cried for me, don't you know that?

And I wish I could have more time for all that.

But my time is short. I think it is, somehow. I wish I could have a little or more minutes for her. I wish I could spend a little sometime with her still. Probably buy a little more time with all the fortune I have got. But we all know time waits for no man.

Cruel thing this time is.

But then again...

After all this time I never thought we'd be here
Never thought we'd be here
When my love for you was blind

But I couldn't make you see it
Couldn't make you see it
That I loved you more than you'll ever know
A part of me died when I let you go

Well I am pretty much dead anyway.


* * *


No. This was not about the girl below this post.

Monday, November 09, 2009

First Ever: Thank You Dahlia




video

Hello,

It is never really a hard thing for me at times to let my amount of gratitudes to overflow from its tank, going against its own capacity.

And today I would like to express this endless gratitude to a certain somebody.

There was a time when a very upset young lady came to me and pour out what's left from her broken heart. There was one time too she cried when she read my stories recently posted in this very blog itself. And going backward not a little longer than that, she did once requested a song from me: Blind by Lifehouse. She wished, oh how she really wished if I could sing her the song.

And so I did - the superflu version of the song cover, now can be found somewhere in my Facebook video tab, along with other videos.

And so she made me the video up there.

This, this very video up there, the only video up there, is the only video in this whole universe and to every extend to it, that was made for me.

Yes, I never had such honor. And today I did.

And for that, Dahlia Mazelan, thank you so much. You broke my heart again, always in the good way, and with the best push you could have ever gave. Thank you so much.

I wish you both Dahlia and Topet all the best, and may your love towards each other never ever shy out from any of you, and may this blessing I prayed for be showered on the both of you endlessly till the end of time. I wish you good life and prosperity. I wish you both love to eternity.

Thank you again.


'After All This Time'


Dahlia Mazelan can be found here: http://dahliamazelan.blogspot.com/

* * *

p/s: Anne, my hand is now recovering. I'll sing the song soon, ok?




This Has Got To Be A Joke



Fine Saturday morning.

The sun somehow was a little shy to come out, but that didn't mean this day could not be anymore beautiful.

I prepared myself for work and went to the office, despite the off-day all of us are having on every Saturday. There were a lot of works to do and I was running out of time. The weather was soon to reside to a bloody downpour, I softly predicted, so I brought along my jacket and a couple of shirts, just in case.

The office was all empty when I put my foot into. The only audible sound was that of dripping drops of water from last night's rain, hitting the zinc roof next to the office block. I sat down on my chair and started to work on what I have left since the day before - a solid three-hundred pages worth of reports and whatnot for review, and a handful of one-inch thick amount of test papers needed to be marked.

After three booklets of reports, I decided that I could't take it anymore. "This has got to be a joke," I said to myself while looking frustratingly at the piles of documents on my right-hand side of the table.

I did some rough calculations on my chair that lovely evening, and the next thing I knew I was on the way back to KL.


* * *


I reached KL at around 4.00pm in the afternoon.

It was raining quite heavily so I decided to get back as early to home where the heart belongs. My mom texted me on the mobile asking if I at anytime will be back in KL in the incoming future. Well I replied, 'maybe.' For the record, it had been many weeks since I last went back to KL, and it seemed that mom was pretty concerned about this.

But I have my reasons why I avoided KL at all cost. At all cost.

When I appeared in front of the house with my wet jacket and that sad look on my face, my mom was sitting on the settee reading a newspaper. Upon noticing me standing in front of the door -without making a sound at all - she lowered the newspaper, stared at me for some seconds, before decided to put on her glass and took another look at what appeared to be a real stranger to her that time. With that amazed look, she said:

"This has got to be a joke."


* * *


"Sit here," my dad said, "we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Some stuffs, I'd say."

"What sort of stuffs?" I was drinking a glass of chilled orange juice at this very second.

"Do you know that Dato' whose house situated over there? "

"There where?"

"There."

"Oh there. Go on." I sipped my orange slowly.

"He has a daughter, you see," my dad said casually. "She's getting married," he continued, "or at least her parents decided it is time for her to."

"Well that's good," I replied, also casually. " Why would I bother anyway? It's just another wedding. All they're gonna do was to invite me and the family for the reception.

"Who's the guy anyway? Some big shot, something?"

My dad looked at me, with that fishy grin on his face. He only did that when there was something fishy to happen, so it was safe to assume that there was something fishy about to happen.

And then the fishy thing happened.

"It's you," he said. "They wanted you."

For a moment there, I felt like I was choking on an alive tuna the size of my leg down my throat. You know tuna, right? I am not talking about tiny sardine here. It was tuna. And it was there, there down my throat, struggling to make way to either of the two ways it had as options - backward of forward - either will bring doom to the unfortunate creature. But I was the most unfortunate one - I was the one with it stuck down my throat.

"They want me?" I said in the most terrified voice ever imaginable. My face looked like a small child who accidentally looks at something that destroys his innocence forever in the most horrifying way.

"Yep," my dad said. "But they were not the only family who came."

"My," I said in disbelief, "this has got to be a joke."



* * *


There were two families who came at the time the heat of Eidul Fitr was still lingering.

My mom described about the girl - the one that is from the family of the Dato. It came to picture that my mom and her mom are best friends, many thanks to my mom's heavy involvement with the Wanita movement in our neighborhood area, where this Dato' is one of the most influential person in the territory.

And it has occurred that the Datin was keeping her eyes on me during and since the trip to Bukit Tinggi and Padang sometime in April this year.

And it has occurred too, that the Datin's daughter - the one to be paired with me - is, my God, hell of a beauty queen. She is the sort of thing that men will have war among each other just to make an appearance in front of her. But this was the question in my mind: if she was that goddess, then why the hell choose to end up with a wreck like me anyway?

It was told that she, the girl, agreed to be with me, rather cheerfully.

"But that's only the first girl," my mom said. "There's a second."

"Hm," I replied, rather confusingly.

"Who's the second?" I asked my mom.

"Well," my mom said, "you can find her in UTP."

The second time around I had that feelings of a tuna struggling down my throat. This time, it went the other way from the way it went earlier.

"Oh come on!" I protested. "This has got to really be a joke!"



* * *


And here I am on my chair, back in UTP, entirely confused by the world.

Someone please clear my mind off from all these things.


p/s: MU lost to Chelsea. Hm. *lost it already* you what thefff la weyy?!! what are all these?! This better be just a joke! COME ON!!





Saturday, November 07, 2009

One Absolutely Precious Diamond




The smile that never was.


* * *

You are one absolutely precious diamond.
Thank you for making it happened.

I wish I could have hearted you before you departed.

For letting me know about all these beautiful things.

How flowers bloom and give happiness to those who appreciate.

How love evolves from just one empty feeling that makes the cut.

How Rome was not built in a day

But in many years from part to part.

I appreciate all these, I adore them so much.

But little that you knew that

Neither of these things moved me really, for I

I have no heart.

* * *


Take care along the journey, now. It's a dog eat dog world out there. Sorry I cannot be your company. I should never be, I could never be, I would never be.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Busuk [revised]

"Hi busuk."
"Go to hell, idiot. You and your stupid bike. Go die, both of you."
"After you, busuk."
"idiot."

* * *

Busuk.

Ever since from which she could remember, there was never a day when he would not come to her and call her that.

When he first came to register in campus, it was her who helped him with the documents and all. It was how she met her and also the reverse. He was a cherry in the eyes of a hungry bird, but little that she did fall for this; one part because she saw love as nonsensically hard to get/maintain and one part because she thought that he was the type of bird that does not stay long on one branch - the type that hops and goes every other time.

Turned out that he was worst than she thought he could be.

Every day when he crossed the concourse area, he came and greeted her with the word she always particularly hated. It was always the same word. It did not matter if she wore the best drops of perfume even; he still did it anyway. At first she thought it was just a joke - the type of joke a man will pull off to get her attention. After all, she is quite a lady in a way that many men have tried to woo but failed miserably in the end anyway. But after some time she started to get way too pissed about it.

There was one time when she threw her shoes at him after calling her that.

There was one time when her friends found her crying her heart out in the ladies after he teased her non-stop from the concourse to the cafe with that bloody word.

And this has been going on for three months.

And for three months too, she's been taking him as a complete idiot.


* * *


Fine Friday morning.

The sun shone brightly and the trees looked so green. The birds sang their song and the wind blew smoothly. The kind of day that one may be looking forward verily to have.

She sat on her usual bench overlooking the lake doing the same thing she did every other day - feeding the fishes and reading her novels. But it somehow occurred to her that something was missing somewhat. The hint of incompleteness, she was minding. She looked at her watch.

He should have been here by now, she said to herself, but he didn't show up. And it has been three days since he last made his oftenly-awful appearance.

Well maybe he died or something, she thought. She was pretty happy about this; a series of fine mornings without any disturbance, and the idea that he is finally dead, at least for the first two days. But since this has been going on for three days straight, it was safe to say that she missed the teasing somehow. She missed that stupid grin on his face. The gestures he made when he uttered that bedevil word. She missed how she used to get so angry at him and cried over that particular idiot. And this caused her to wonder about where in the world could this idiot has been residing since the last he appeared. She wanted to know where he was.

She looked around for the slightest proof that he was around, only to find nothing that gave her the idea that he was. He was not there in the vicinity of her. Not even his bike. His stupid, loud bike.

She was desperate to know where he was.

And then she knew where he was.


* * *


The cold floor was so clean, with the smell of strong antiseptic that struck her nose rather violently.

The walkway led to an end where she saw a number of people stood behind what seemed to be a huge, ceiling-to-floor thick glass wall. They folded their hands and hugged themselves to preserve warmth from leaving their bodies to the cold atmosphere of the air-conditioned hall. Some of them, all of them women, had tears rolling down their cheeks. Some of these people were familiar to her. Their eyes were pinned to something behind the thick glass wall. She moved her eyes to what they were looking at.

She stepped forward to the wall and she saw it.

There he lied on his deathbed, countless number of wires of various colors and tubes strapped, connected into and around his body parts. His head was covered in bandages. He no longer had his two legs, clearly amputated to his knees. There were tubes coming in and out his nasal passages and mouth. A machine next to him pumped fresh air slowly, circulating air in and out of what was left of his lungs. Another machine did the same to his blood. He looked terrible. So very terrible.

She covered her mouth with her hands upon seeing all these, horribly terrified.

"He's in bypass," her friend, who happened to be there too, said to her as she hugged her from her side, crying slowly. She was horrified with what she saw. She hugged her friend back, but her eyes were still on him.

Bruises. Cuts all over. There were dark blue spots on his face and arms. Blood stains at every corner of him. She felt something that poked continuously onto the thick wall of her cold heart, breaking this wall down to pieces. Something stirred from inside the wall, too, causing it to collapse even more severely. Finally she trembled. She started to cry. Past memories flashed in front of her eyes.

I hope you die with your stupid bike, she remembered this. "You and your stupid bike. Go die, both of you."

But I didn't mean it, I swear, she said to herself. But as she was told by her friend just now, his bike is dead. Would he be too? No, please no. Don't you die on me, she spoke to herself. At least not now. Not today. It has been three days you have not teased me. Three bloody days. You cannot die. Don't you die, don't even think about it you idiot!

At this point she burst into tears.

A doctor came to them.

"Maybe this is the best time to say goodbye," he said.


* * *

Hi idiot.
Can you hear me?
Can you feel me holding your hand?
I miss you, you know?

She was the last to enter. Sitting on a chair next to him she held his hand tight, hoping that he would somehow wake up. She knew he wouldn't wake up. Maybe for a long time. Maybe forever.

She had been crying a lot already by now, for a reason she could not really explain. She used to hate him so much for making her cried all the time. And today he did it again. She hated this so much. So much that she cried even more.

Eight whole minutes while she was in there, he did not even make a move.

Wake up, idiot.
Talk to me.
Tell me how smelly I am!

She sank her face onto an empty space on his bed and she sobbed more and more and more. But nature always has a way in making unclear examples of the thing we call miracle. This was when his hand grasped hers slowly, gently.

"Hi," he whispered, almost unheard, with such voice as if he was in great pain, "hi busuk."

Almost as instantly she pulled her head up and she took a look at him, totally surprised.

"Hi," she replied in her vainest voice. "Hello," she said, "how are you?"

"Pretty much alive, I guess." He smiled after saying this. Some of his teeth, his once greatly-looking rows of sparkling white teeth, were missing. She smiled back. A drop of her tears came falling onto his hand. She wiped it off with her finger.

"But not for long more, I guess," he continued to speak.

She sobbed while hearing to this. He just smiled, but one could easily tell that his eyes started to fill with tears. He grasped her hand tighter. He took a long breath and he was preparing to speak again.

"I am going to miss you, busuk."

She could not let even a single word out after this point. Her jaw was locked dead. Too many things to say, but too little time she had. Instead she sobbed and sobbed like a little girl crying over her ice-cream that fell flat on the floor. He just looked at her, smiling. His eyes did not blink at all, staring at her. She continued to hold to his hand and hoped that he will be alright. She hoped for many things for him.

Little that she knew, that by this time, he was already gone.


* * *

I am going to miss you, busuk.

She closed the holy book and placed it at the edge of the white marble cage. She fixed her scarf and her shades. She took a look at the tombstone and she spelled out his name out slowly. What a beautiful name, she said to herself.

The same thing from last night still stirred in her. She shook a little from this. She rubbed the tombstone gently before she stood up and placed a stick of rose on the fresh red soil. Then she backed off a little, gave a long empty stare on the tombstone and turned her back to it. She was about to walk away to join the leaving crowd when she turned around again for one last time.

"I will miss you too, you idiot," she said in complete despair, and continued, "I thought you ought to know that," she stopped to give way for her tears to roll down her rosy, rosy cheeks.


"I thought you ought to know that," she later continued, "that I will always be your busuk."

Sekadar.


Aku sekadar terfikir;

adakah orang yang terfikirkan tentang aku ini hari?





Monday, November 02, 2009

A Tragedy of One Legendary Lady


To date, many still ask about the legendary lady.

They ask about her whereabouts, her residual affections, her charms and her availability, among other things that could easily be related to her. It seemed that even after this long since I have ever wrote about her, she still lingers in some of the readers' minds - of her beauty, of how she turned every little thing upside down, how she put meanings to almost everything. And to satisfy this hunger for answers they asked me endless questions about her. I wish, oh how I wish I could answer all that. But life most of the time does not go the way we always have expected or worst have planned for.

It occurred to me this morning that I should have at least write something to reminisce and maybe introduce the character to some of the latest readers in this blog. And I thought the best time would be today.

Because five years back, today is the date when I first met her.

And today, too, I am going to write about this one particular lady - the one and only, who goes by the beauty of every small thing that nature could possibly give. The one and only who once have captured me by surprise. The one and only who opened the curtain that covered love from various scenes -



The one and only, who once known as Syarifah Milia Yasmin.



* * *

"Milia Yasmin - entiti cinta buta yang terpentas dalam jiwa raga seorang musafir muda di kedai kopi."

If only I could have described what I feel, or what I should have felt when I first take a look at her.

It all started by a small plastic cup of coffee.

I could have sworn to you that her scent is still fresh in my mind, first enjoyed when she handed me that little cup of coffee onto my table, her wavy hair fell down gently and her smiles brighten me quite right away. My, what a beautiful swag she was, and I bet she still is.

Well, cheers to the cloud now, I suppose. Cheers to the cloud, for today was the day.

Two of the most completed writings that ever described her in person can be found in these two posts:




* * *

Footnote: Syarifah Milia Yasmin was first introduced in a series of stories that were back then compiled into a novel with the title 'Min', with the hopes that this effort will preserve her somewhat. Unfortunately this novel was later abandoned and never completed even till today.

Because halfway to the completion of the novel, the writer thought that; sometimes, some things are better left untold.

Last he heard was that Milia Yasmin left for a foreign country some years back, never to return again.