Falling in Love

It's not that Ahmad wanted it to happen. But, it did. He fell in love. Was it even possible for a 13 year old to fall in love? Was it love or just an infatuation? It made his head start reeling and it gave him the feeling the room he was in had no ceiling or floor.

His heart raced when their eyes met. His voice became louder, hoping he would be noticed. In his mind, it was perfect. Reality, thou art a heartless bitch.

Ahmad had a book where he would write his day's encounter with his heart's desire. Every word uttered, every small gesture, every silent wish. He wrote and wrote and boy, did he write. Poem after poem. Song after song. His book knew everything. Only his book knew anything.

He wanted to shout it to the world. He wanted to tell his friends. What would they say? What would they do? Would they tease him? Would they encourage him? Oh, the questions raced through his mind. Is he supposed to fall in love?

He couldn't wait to go home everyday to write in his book. He never longed for anything, anyone so much. So very much, that it made him cry. Yes, Ahmad cried. His heart longed for what his head told him he could not have. Did he do something wrong to deserve this torment?

The questions never ceased. But, he knew, it was a secret he would forever keep.

Because Ahmad fell in love with his classmate Jonathan Wong.

Happy Birthday, Not

The thing about surprises is that you never know when they sneak up on you. No warning, no indication and definitely out of the blue.

But, a surprise gone bad, is just a nasty shock.

Bala's day was as usual as it could get on a school day. Nothing seemed out of place.

The world was turning, the trees were blowing with the soft breeze, his friends were laughing at some lame joke Darren made. 

The school day came to an end and Bala's mother picked the boys up. Ahmad and Bala's sisters were already waiting at Bala's.

See, it was Bala's birthday which he completely forgot about and a small party was gonna be held that night.

By 8pm the party was in full swing when the phone rang.

Bala's mother knocked over a plastic cup on the way to answer it. Chong's mom, Aunty Julia, waved her along and cleaned up the mess.

A sudden shriek filled the entire house.

Bala ran towards his mother who collapsed. He held the receiver to his ears.

"Hello? Ma'am?"

"Hello?! What did you say to my mother?!" Bala demanded.

"I'm sorry boy, Mr. Chandran was involved in an accident. A police car will be arriving at your house soon. Mr. Chandran is at the general hospital. I'm sorry, he didn't make it."

Bala dropped the receiver.

He could hear his friends coming into the kitchen singing the birthday song.

Broken Table

"Do you understand me?" Bala's red eyes glared at Sajun.

"Do you?" Sajun met Bala's glare as he clenched the sides of the table.

Everyone could feel the tension in the air thicken. Ahmad put his hand on Bala's shoulder in attempt to calm him down. Bala shrugged it off, annoyed by the gesture.

A small whimper could be heard coming from the floor where the boys stood. A small circle was emerging around the boys. Although school was out, many would stay at the canteen to study before their co-curricular activities started.

On the floor lay Darren with blood oozing from his nose forever staining his crisp, white school shirt. The handkerchief that Chong held to Darren's nose helped only to cover the obviously broken nose.

Sajun spit on the ground next to Darren. He turned to the crowd and then back to Bala, "If I ever see that piece of shit again, I will break a table over his head!" Sajun's grip on the table tightened and with all his might from the anger, he threw the table towards Bala.

Bala ducked as the table smashed to the ground.

"He told the truth. You deserve it Sajun. You deserve to be expelled!"

"I'll see you in hell! I try to make you happy and you get me expelled? Wait! You will get it! You understand?" Sajun kicked the broken table.

The crowd almost ceremoniously made way for Sajun as he left the scene fuming.

Darren whimpered again. "Did I do the right thing?"

"Yes..." Bala helped Darren up.

~*~*~*~*~

Rumours were that Sajun finally got caught and was sent to juvenile correction centre after being found to be in possession of 352 Ecstasy pills.

The Red Bicycle

After a grueling 3 hours of badminton with the guys, Chong was anything but tired, somehow. He dreaded how one by one his friends got off the car as his mom sent the boys to their respective homes. He was so pumped up with adrenelin that he couldn't even keep still in the car. It was a Saturday afterall.

"Mom, can we please go play tennis at the club? Please..." he begged his mom.

"Boy, cannot la. I'm going out for tea with my friends."

Disheartened, Chong flopped down in front of the television and attempted to play something on his PS3. From the corner of his eye, he saw something red pass outside his gate. Instinctively, he turned to his right, past the glass doors and hoped to catch a second glimpse.

Then it happened again. But this time, the slow flash of red was going the opposite direction, opposite his house. He ran out, jumped on his LeRun bicycle, opened the electric gates and rode off in search of the red flash.

About 100 meteres from where he was, he saw a kid with a red hoodie cycling away. He stood up on his bike and made a dash towards the stranger's direction. 

When he caught up to him, he yelled, "Hey, slow down! I've never seen you around before. I'm Chong"

The red hooded stranger slowed down and stopped by the side of the road. Turned towards Chong and waved just as Chong stopped beside the strangers bright-red bicycle.

"Hi! I'm Ash. Nice to meet you Chong." the girl smiled.

A girl! Chong did not expect to see a girl. Somehow, it never crossed his mind that the cyclist could have been a girl.

"Ash?" he asked panting from the quick sprint.

Ash laughed, "Well, my name is Ashwini but, mot people call me Ash for short. I just moved here. My house is there at the end."

Chong looked at her and then at the end of the road and said, "Wanna race?"

Ash smiled.

Grey School Buses and Yellow Skies

He saw the crack of a lightning in a distance as the strong breeze messed up his hair. He looked down. The apartment parking lot somehow felt too far away. The Proton Sagas and Wiras were all nicely lined up in an almost artistic collage of sorts with the different colors appearing and disappearing with every flicker of the street lamp.

He could smell the rain in the air. Thunder rolled somewhere in the heavens and startled him. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to calm his racing heartbeat. His temples threatened to burst behind his closed eyelids. He could feel the beads of sweat on his palms turn ice cold. His stomach grumbled; he did not have his dinner.

The sound of a horn could be heard breaking the silent coldness of the night. He painstakingly pried his eyes open. A grey school bus rumbled up to his apartment. From where he was, he could see the rusty top of the bus. Grey and rust colored. Almost like it was tossed into the sea for many years then brought out to collect dust from a Kalimantan forest fire. The rumbling of the rickety choke of an engine came to a sudden backfire and died right next to more grey busses. The Protons were no longer there.

He heard a bird chirp above him. He looked up at the flying creature. A thin yellow line marked the trail of the bird’s flight. The heavens rumbled again. He blinked. The bird vanished. The thin yellow line started broaden. It looked almost like a tear, a crack in the sky maybe. Yellow blinded him. It was almost as if a single ray of concentrated sunlight poured from heaven’s crack.

His left leg shot out. He stepped away from the ledge. He fell.

Ahmad woke up screaming. Three nights in a row he had that same dream. His heart was pounding.

What did it mean?

Si Kelenga

It started off as any other mundane day at school. Mr. Ng the Mathematics teacher walked past Ahmad as he walked into the staff-room. There was a rumor going around in the staff-room about Mr. Lee getting a divorce. Puan (Madam) Devi was passing out her famous Indian desserts while discussing the matter with Miss Quah who was just nodding and hoping Puan Devi would just leave her to marking her student’s essays. Ahmad overheard the entire conversation as he put down the stack of homework from his class and collected another from Mr. Wan’s history stack.

It was only the first month of Form 1 and already their homework was piling up. Ahmad, Bala, Chong and Darren all managed to get good grades and ended up in a good secondary school. It was an all-boys school which took some getting used to but then again, all good schools on the island were single-sex schools. Ahmad and Darren were both in 1 Biru (Blue) while Bala was in 1 Hijau (Green) and Chong was in 1 Jingga (Orange).  The segregation of the students was based on their results for the UPSR.  The first 3 classes, Biru, Hijau and Jingga were classes for the all A students and Kuning (Yellow), Merah (Red) and Ungu (Purple) were the others.

Ahmad and Darren walked over to met up with the other two boys as they went to the canteen to eat their brunch (recess is at 10:45am).

“What can you expect of that Indian? All Indians are like that, lazy!” Darren overheard a boy who was pointing at Bala. “Ya la! All Indians are drunkards and are lazy pigs” said another boy. Bala looked really bothered that day as he made his way to the rest.

“Oi Bala! Why la so sad? Rough day?” Chong gave Bala a pat on the back.

“No la. Yery lousy day la.” sighed Bala. “I actually really forgot that the group assignment had to be passed up today. I spent the whole weekend doing my part and I don’t know how I just forgot it today. But, no one believes me. They just think I’m lazy and did not do it. Now my classmates are calling me ‘Si Kelenga’ and don’t know what else la” Bala said frustratingly almost in tears.

“Aya! Just screw them la! They all ‘boh thak chek’ wan!” Chong tried assuring Bala.

The four of them went to the edge of the canteen and ate. Darren’s mom packed sausages and sandwiches for them all to share. Chong got up to buy 4 roti chanai as well. Growing boys has big appetites. As Chong made his way to the table, a group of boys approached him.

“Eh, Chong, why you mix with that Kelenga and Huan Na? You forgot you are a Chinese ah?” one boy said as the rest chorused in laughter.

Chong ignored them and went back to the table. He thought for a while if he should continue mixing with the group. Darren’s eyes caught Chong’s from opposite the table.

“Hey are you all right?” Darren asked, concerned. Ahmad and Bala who sat next to Daren opposite the table turned to look at Chong.

“I don’t understand how you do it Darren. How can we all be a Malaysian race? There are Chinese, Indians and Malays and that’s a fact! How can you sit there and think we are all the same?” Chong demanded Darren.

His frustrated eyes looked at Ahmad then Bala, “Are we all one race or multi-raced? Must I still be called a Chinese if I’m Malaysian? I don’t understand how this works. I don’t want other Chinese to think I’m betraying my race but I don’t want to lose you as friends. What can I do? I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do. You are my best friends and I need you to know this is how I feel.”

Bala then got up and walked away. Ahmad turned from Chong to Bala then ran after Bala.

“You try, I guess. You try to be one and all at the same time. You follow your parent’s traditions but you live as a Malaysian. It’s hard. But, think about it, if you use race to divide yourself, then what would people like me be? Left out. We’re all people at the end of the day, friends, race or not. The only person that can make that change is you. You need to start thinking yourself as a Malaysian and not a Chinese.” Darren got up as Bala and Ahmad came back to the table.

“I’m sorry guys.” Chong apologized.

“It’s ok. We know how you feel. Sometimes we feel that way too but, let them think what they want. We are friends and they all have to accept it.” Ahmad said as Bala stretched out his hand and pat Chong on his back.

“You know, we all should be like Darren, ‘others’", laughed Bala.

The bell rang.

The boys cleared up and made their way back to their classes. But in every one of their minds, they were thinking about what happened. They were thinking about race.

Somewhere in the back of their minds, they put up a wall that divided one from the other.

Peer pressure to conform to a particular race?

The beginnings of a social divide.

~*~*~*~

Glossary

1. Si Kelenga - Bloody Indian

2. La - Commonly spelled 'LAH' Used to affirm a statement (similar to "of course"). Frequently used at the end of sentences and usually ends with an exclamation mark (!). It is derived from and has the same meaning as the Chinese expression "啦".

3.Boh Thak Chek - Hokkien for literally 'none study' or non-educated

4.Roti chanai - parata

5.Huan Na -  Hokkien for Malay

Darren the Other Boy

Somewhere in Penang lived 3 best friends, Ahmad, Bala and Chong. They all stayed in the same neighborhood and all went to the same school. Chong's mother usually drove them all to school on her way to work whilst Ahmad's mother supplied them with scrumptious Nasi Lemak for breakfast and Bala's mother fetched them from school where they would all eat, shower and do their homework at Bala's home. It was the perfect little community. And so on and so forth.

Ahmad, Bala and Chong were only 12 and sitting for their UPSR when they met Darren. Darren had just moved into their neighborhood and was attending the same school as the trio. Now you see Darren, was a very recluse boy. He ate his lunch by himself on the stairs outside the classroom and seldom ever spoke. Chong was Darren's classmate but even he had never heard the boy speak more than two words; 'yes' and 'no'. Darrenrajesh Kah-Ming Newman. Now with a name like that and a yellowish-brown skin color with dirt-brown hair, he definitely got some questioning looks from teachers on his first day. A nickname amongst students soon developed. In, for lack of better words, civilized terms, his name suggested 'Mongrel'. The children figured, well, his color was not something they were used to and his name suggested that he was a bit of everything thus he should be ostracized further. And so on and so forth.

See, the three boys were really good, well-mannered little tot's that somehow had that perfect upbringing and superb morals amongst other commendable qualities, which led them to say hi to the new boy and offer to eat together. Darren just nodded his head and followed them to the canteen. He sat and listened as the three boys shared about their classes and how Mr. Lee was being grumpy in Chong and Bala's class. Ahmad sighed and groaned because he had Mr. Lee for Math right after recess. Darren ate his sandwich in silence, concentrating on their every word, rhythming it to his chewing when suddenly Bala, the most vocal among the three, turned to Darren and said, "Actually, what race are you?" Darren looked at him most puzzled, cleared his throat and said, “I am Malaysian”

To which Chong replied, “So are we, but what race are you? I’m a Chinese, Bala is Indian and Ahmad is Malay. You?”

On Darren’s forehead grew a frown. His lip curled in thought and finally he looked at them and said, “I don’t know.”

Darren could only relate to being a Malaysian because it was exactly what he was. His father was half English and Indian whilst his mother was half Chinese and Burmese.  He spoke the English language at home and ate curries, herbal soup, belacan rice, spaghetti and well, rice. He went to church on Sundays and celebrated Chinese New Year, Christmas, Deepavali and Hari Raya too because his uncle and aunt married Muslims. He was from a Malaysian race. Multi-cultural. And so on and so forth.

The three boys looked at each other and burst out in laughter. “You are Eurasian la dummy! Serani!” said Ahmad choking with laughter. The recess bell then rang and the boys took their plates and bowls back to the stalls, washed their hands and chattered on as they made their way back to their classes. Darren’s mind was still trying to digest the revelation of his race. He turned and looked around. Chinese girls and boys. Malay girls and boys. Indian girls and boys. He pondered for a moment.

As they reached their classroom Darren stopped Chong and in an almost pathetic pleading look asked, “What do I write in my IC when they ask for my race? My birthday is next week!”

Chong gave Darren a pat on the back and smiled, “You put ‘Others’ of course!” as they took their designated seats in class.

Darren thought for a moment about race then continued on with Moral studies.

Others.

Ostracized further. 

Stereotyping at its beginnings.

Rewind

He said 'Hi'.

She smiled.

They talked.

He took her number.

She replied.

They shared.

He drove her around.

She fed him chocolate.

They laughed.

She moved away.

He suprised her.

They moved in together.

She did the laundry.

He folded the clothes.

They watched TV.

She held him.

He kissed her.

They slept the night away.

She didn't say 'sorry'.

He wanted appreciation.

They couldn't agree.

They fought.

He hit the wall.

She cried.

They slept in different rooms.

He stopped kissing her.

She stopped holding him.

They didn't watch TV.

He didn't fold the clothes.

She sent the clothes out for laundry.

They moved out.

He went to Penang.

She studied in Liverpool.

They cried.

She was fed up with him.

He drove her insane.

They stopped sharing.

She did not reply.

He stopped calling.

They didn't talk much.

She cried.

He said goodbye.

Rewind.