Year: 2008

Perempuan

Pernah satu ketika
hidupmu persis nyanyian Suzanne Vega
luka walaupun namamu bukan Luka
namun perjalanan harianmu
menempuh neraka yang serupa

Kau harungi hidup
memberanikan diri
walaupun kekurangan conviction
melewati denai-denai kehidupan
mencari kebahagiaan

Matamu yang pada suatu ketika
bergenang dengan air
kini kian ceria
apabila kau mungkin telah menjumpai
Firdausi di dunia

Derai tawamu bak suria menyinar
Senyum manismu penyejuk kalbu
Sentuhanmu bagai menghidupkan sejuta saraf
Kasihmu menghidupkan jiwa yang telah lama mati

Cuma kau perlu dengar
Perempuan
Nasihat terbaik yang pernah diberikan
buat suku pertama tahun ini
“Lupakan sahaja si taukeh daging”

Amin!

Leaving you each time tortures my heart
It’s so difficult to be apart
Never have I imagined feeling as such
I love and miss you very much

It is not the surprises in life that are so debilitating. The truly crushing force is being surprised that you’re surprised.

Sometimes I dread the surprises life has in store for me. I do not handle surprises well. Even as a kid, standing in the hallway watching the angry father choose the cane amongst canes standing in that Sarawak vase, I used to expect to be hit with the worse of the lot, and I was always right…it would be that tongkat kayu tas covered in manik Sarawak that would be used…and I was always resigning to my fate that I was in for a hell of a beating, and the night would be long…and painful.

Physical pain, I can take very well now. You can give me the most brutal of masseurs, I will sleep through the session…and snore. I can, and have, broken a leg, when two weeks later I would remove the cast, and go skydiving. I limped for almost two years after that, and still suffer from pain every now and then…I can take it all.

But emotional pain is something I do not handle very well. When I am hurt, I will immediately go on the defensive, quickly put on a front so to mask my pain. But the pain will linger for as long as it could, slowly slashing away at my heart with a thousand razor blades at the same time. I will put up weird postings on my blog, so readers would think I am okay and have moved on from certain heartbreaking episodes. The fact is, nobody knows how weird it can be when I sit at Sushi King alone, laughing while talking to a friend on the phone, and the moment I hang up, my tears would drop into my Miso soup, unintentionally.

The great (buffoon) Zainuddin Maidin once told people not to believe everything bloggers write, and in some ways what he had said is true. When I put on a front here on this blog, the postings were so weird that people started asking if I was for real, or if I was mixing fiction and non-fiction. More often than not, these postings have been misconstrued as a reflection of my true self. Did I care then? No. My life is my own. But somehow I do care now…somewhat. What was I to do then? Sit and cry and dwell in sadness? Be at my lowest and allow certain characters to inveigle me into relationships I would discover later I never wanted?

The worse part about emotional pain is the snowball effect. You are sad about something, and then all the sadness in your life starts to drown you…be they of the past, or of the present.

My quarrels with my family has gone to another level. My nephew, Ahmad Nazree (above), is getting married to a lovely young lady, Asma (the one next to him), on April 26th. My daughters have been invited to attend. I have not been invited. My ex is in the wedding reception committee. So blood is thicker than water holds no truth in my family. Maybe all the amount of statins that my family members have been consuming all the years have contributed to the thinning of our blood. I didn’t know about the invite, well, I didn’t even know Ajee (as we call him) is getting married. That is my nephew, for God’s sake, and I love him. 24 years ago I sucked mucus out of his nostrils using my mouth because he had a bad asthma attack and there weren’t any nebulizers then. I used to burp him, and put his tummy on my shoulder when he was colic. And I am not allowed to attend his wedding.

It’s okay. I’ll choose that weekend to go diving. Meanwhile, Ajee and Asma, do look after each other for always. If by any chance either one of you get to read this blog (I know someone in the family reads this blog), I want you to know that despite the quarrel I have with your mother (and uncle and auntie), I love you and wish you the best in life. Please forgive Ayah Lang for not being able to attend. I would attend if I am allowed to. But as it is, I stand a better chance becoming the Prime Minister than being invited to your wedding. Forgive also Hana and Fazira for their refusal to attend your wedding reception without me. I did not ask them to stay away; they themselves have refused to attend.

So those are part of life’s ugly surprises. Surprises I would rather not have.

And below is a message to the person holding my heart:

I can only give you love that lasts forever,
And the promise to be near each time you call,
And the only heart I own is yours and yours alone, that’s all, that’s all.
I can only give you country walks in springtime,
And a hand to hold when leaves begin to fall,
And a love whose burning light to warm the winter night, that’s all, that’s all.
There are those I am sure who have told you,
They will give you the world for a toy.
All I ask for these arms to enfold you, and a love, time can never destroy.
If you’re wond’ring what I’m asking in return, dear,
You’ll be glad to know that my demands are small.
Say it’s me that you’ll adore for now and ever more, that’s all, that’s all.

Reference is made to this posting: North Pole 10 Years – Part 2

We departed Subang International Airport on April 3rd for Moscow via Amsterdam. Upon arrival at the Sheremetyevo International Airport, we were met by officials from the Malaysian Embassy, as well as Pak Zakharov (Svet S Zakharov, Utusan Malaysia’s correspondent in Russia). We were housed at what was the Hotel Rossiya (it was once the biggest hotel in the world with more than 5,000 rooms; it is no longer there) for 2 days before heading out to Volosovo Parachuting Center, near Chekov, south of Moscow. We were met by Anatoly, the only English-speaking person at the drop zone. For a whole week, we were there, and celebrated Eid-al-Adha there as well, eating goulash and smoked salmon….daily (other than the Maggi Mee, rice and sardines we brought along from KL).

We did 3 jumps a day using Russian Mil Mi-8 helicopters piloted by veterans of the Soviet Afghan campaign. The Mi-8 are predecessors of the Mi-17 and Mi-171 that are now in service with the Malaysian Fire and Rescue Services Department. The pilots were cool guys, reading comic books while flying us from zero to 13,000 feet above ground level, and was always on h is way up with another group of skydivers as we land. It was a baptism of fire (ice) for us – with ground temperatures hovering around 15 degrees Celcius BELOW ZERO, average temperature at 13,000 feet was around 41 degrees Celcius below zero. Add windchill factor while freefalling at 196 km/h, you’ll get a three-digit negative figure. After every jump, we’d be warming up our fingers and ears – the pain was excruciating. Imagine doing this 3 times a day for a week.

My teammate, Rizlan, built a snowman outside out little hotel at the dropzone; later that day we all took photos outside for the press.

On the penultimate day, a Sunday, and literally a sunny day, we did two more jumps before tragedy and reality hit us squarely in the face. The guy next to me in the pic below (Sasha, a 8,000-jump veteran, and world no.4) died minutes after this photo was taken due to parachute malfunction. All activities stopped. When the ambulance carried his body off the dropzone, we Malaysians lined up and saluted him. That night, Russians and Malaysians grouped together after dinner at the dropzone’s bar to pay tribute to one of the world’s finest.

The next day, the weather turned gloomy again, and the staff of the dropzone bade us a teary farewell.

Before I fell asleep on board the ferry just now, I managed to write this on my phone:

“Turquoise coloured waters,
the sky’s azure blue.
All my thoughts befores and afters
are of you, and you, and you.
I pray for time to fly real fast
cos I don’t know if I can last
without having you here by my side
to calm this restless tide”

On board Bluewater 10, Tioman to Mersing, 5th April 2008

Somehow, the above is related to the below:

I know I am NOT going to get Monday blues….

It is such a lovely paradise, so why did it rain?