Cerita Orang

“This isn’t a lie or a tell tale. It is as real as life is in dreams…in which before you wake up you had no idea that it was a dream”.

I read it aloud in a sharp, steady tone. Making it easier for me to comprehend what I just read out. Subsequently thought to myself on how it would feel to suddenly wake up and discover that the present now wasn’t as real as I thought it was. And on how many times more I’ve to wake up till I finally discover the true real life that has been so elusive for something that’s supposed to be…real.

I knew it belonged to someone in my family and it isn’t appropriate to read other people’s personal belonging but I was too intrigued now. my curiosity shadowed my judgment and guilt. I returned my gaze to what I was holding and once again resumed reading but this time in a lighter more cautious tone, ‘I curse myself, I am cursed! Though I clearly know that what truly matters is within and not on the surface.’

‘But the next minute I see something attractive I am attracted to it. And when I see something that is not, I look away. I know that I am not supposed to but it seems to be in my nature to react that way.’

‘I ask myself again, do I understand that it’s what’s inside that count? I nodded a little in agreement but still with a slight amount of hesitation, I realized. As I write this I am aware that I am not able to come up with an answer without a certain amount of uncertainty. I think about it and am saddened by it. I have to free myself from this curse but clueless I am in which path I should undergo in order to lift the curse.’

I once again jumped pages, this time on the top right it stated, ‘June 9th 1989’. I studied the place around me. Listening for any sound or movements and then looked at places vulnerable to intrusion and I stared at them for a while. When I was satisfied that I was completely alone I continued.

“Everyone is one only divided by phase and circumstances”

I take that what he wrote above was the title of this time’s writing. I continued venturing lower, the hand writing a little messy than before but nevertheless readable. But I liked it anyhow it was small but not too small and it showed the complexity of the writer. It was the sort of cursive looped hand writing.

‘It is known that that there are people around us. Some who we consider luckier and some who are not as, but at times I feel as the most wretched of all, like everyone’s detestations were arrowed towards my direction. That God himself was repentant of my life. Could all this feeling be caused because I feel only for myself?

I stopped, looked around me once again, took a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. I had trouble understanding what he wrote this time so I skipped a several pages, it went, ‘we were there sitting on a couple of long metallic poles that was sticking out of the asphalt road that could fit 5-6 people on it. The seats were green in colour. It was a noisy night and the air smelled of exhaust smoke, cigarette smoke and garbage. Then I realized a huge dustbin that had rubbish piling up and sticking out of it -- my friends next to me were busy looking at passerby’s as there were many passerbies’s that night. Some were tourists, some locals, hawkers and just people from everywhere. Everyone seemed busy with their lives walking towards a destination.

There were people right ahead of where we were sitting; just a few feet away, street vendors were merchandising their goods. They sold goods from socks, hand bags and anything sellable. I look at their children who came with their parents. Little kids who should be at home sleeping at this hour. Their clothes dirty with dust, food stains and the colours appeared seasoned and washed off.

I noticed one of the little ones chasing a cockroach that was making its way on the street, heading to somewhere in particular. And a child followed the cockroach obviously intrigued by it—the cockroach as if annoyed of being followed made its way to the middle of the street, it made a bad decision, a huge mistake and was soon trudged by giant oblivious feet that were directed to somewhere. It tried to persevere and struggle to move to a safer place but that was the end of another toy. I too instantaneously without remorse moved on.’

The weather outside was getting dark and so was the inside. I put the reading material I was holding down. Stood up and made my way to the windows and yanked the curtains open. Despite being dark, it looked peaceful and still. Breeze blew in my face, I could feel it caress my skin and the coolness of the wind was cold but rejuvenating. I smiled a little, felt at ease and relaxed once more. I walked a little, switched the light on, sat on the floor, picked the thing lying on the floor and resumed reading it.

‘I was now concentrating on the vendors every movement and was more focused on how they reacted with the customers, towards their children and with each other. For some reason they didn’t notice or didn’t care of my sharp stare. I was studying them trying to come up with an answer. I spotted weariness in their face apart from that I couldn’t tell. I look at them keeping an eye at their kids and calling them when they were playing out of boundary. I saw the way they smiled, it was real. Was it contentment? I asked myself. And why do they smile? I questioned again.

‘For what reason do they strife so hard? A life that is filled with hard work, in order to earn an earnest living and that no matter how clean their lifestyle is, They’re are still at the bottom of society and will still be looked down at – a life without respect and acknowledgement and so little value…A life that even fails the ‘hierarchy of need’ according to the Maslow’s theory, a theory nonetheless.’

‘My friends didn’t seem to share my thoughts and whenever I mentioned things such as this; their reply would be of how I should think about myself first and that I am in no position of saying that I am any better in life. This was life and I am part of it, this is how it works and i am not capable of changing the way it works. Be realistic they’d say, and told me to accept and grow up. It was true, I guess u agree with them.



“Saraah, Saraaahh.” I heard. Someone calling my name, I Once again placed the material I was reading on the floor. I peeked out the window hurriedly but found no one. The voice was familiar but one that I couldn’t recognize. I said to myself that my mind was probably playing games with me. It looked like it was about to rain outside. I inhaled the fresh air in as if trying to cleanse my lungs with it. The cool air was as refreshing and had a way in keeping me at ease. I looked at my surroundings once again and when I thought it was safe. I moved back to where I was and picked up the reading material.


‘I didn’t see a reason on why they resolve to such a life. I decided to try and put myself in their shoes, in their world, I closed my eyes. A few minutes passed I could hear the racketing from the street but my thoughts were somewhere else, concentrating. As I opened my eyes, I realized that it was more about means of surviving compared to anything else. Not to chase wealth but to live, eat; feed, and for shelter. It is true that some gets it easier than others.

Surprisingly enough I could see happiness in their eyes when they smiled. Maybe it was the right thing for them to do. Accept life and be content and be grateful. But what about their children, haven’t they noticed that the life of their infants were as bleak if not darker than present? They’d most probably end up where their parents are, doing the same things their parents did. “You are the product of your environment; your parents’ wealth determines your future.” A friend told me that once. I never have forgotten it. He might’ve said it out of anger, but it made sense.

Life is unfair and so are dreams that start out pleasantly but only leads to nightmares and more nightmares -- To an extent that you no longer anticipate your future but fear it.’

I didn’t feel like continuing. I forwarded a few pages and stopped at the last paragraph. I wanted to know hot it finishes, ‘the next afternoon I woke up with stitches on my head and bruises all over my body. My body ached so badly and it even hurt to even shift a little. I shouldn’t have gone over to the hawkers and state my opinion on what a terrible mistake they have done by bringing children into the world. Despite the hurt, it somewhat elevated the weight on my shoulders that I felt last night, at least momentarily. It was expected from the hawkers – their actions, they were cursed too, with a life, with surviving skills, ignorance and pride.’

I closed the book… exhausted from the reading. I felt my head all clogged up, I got up and decided to get out and indulge in something more relaxing and cheerful.

Never Mind

I closed my eyes; I was listening to a beautiful music. I don’t remember the name of it but it was a product of many instruments combined that made one feel serenely in peace, at least for a split second. It’s as if I was living in a fairy tale filled with loving creatures and everything so colorful….before the awakening.

I realized that I was dreaming, dreaming about the peace and even dreaming of the music I was hearing. I was actually walking from nowhere significant to somewhere. My journey was pointless but moving about looked like it held a purpose.

As I continued walking, I remembered when I was sitting side by side with her on a wooden bench. I was slanting on it with my head tilted upwards, looking at the blue sky. She was sitting straight, almost on the edge of the bench looking at the scenery with a smile on her face. Her posture was utterly feminine and she looked so gentle and fragile, I could smell the faint smell of her perfume that at that time was the sweetest scent, because of its wearer.

Although that particular phase of my life was chaotic and filled with making the right decisions. But whenever I was with her, I felt that I didn’t need to think of anything else but her presence. It’s hard to explain what was going through my mind, but at that time her happiness meant the world. I know that I won’t be able to feel such things of absolute foolishness anymore, to be so vulnerable and believing in things that only realize in movies.

I just went up to her and said that I’d like to spent some time with her, I was acting bold but my expressions and my stuttering gave me away, she looked oblivious to my discomfort but surprisingly agreed to my invitation. That was how we got to know each other.

I got to know her better and I liked her even more. She did to but to a different outcome. I tried to get her to like me back but to no avail. She seemed so sure about it that she convinced me that she didn’t like me and that I didn’t like her too.

I was back in the present now, in disbelief, on why I allow myself to think about those kind of stuff. I shook my head, disappointed in the choices of thought I chose to put in my head.

I am now back, once again in the office talking to my child on the phone, who said his teacher wanted him to buy some fishes for a school project. After I hung up, I was complaining to my colleagues of not having sufficient money to keep on buying stuffs but still wanting to fulfill any of his wishes. And I thought to myself that after nearly twenty years of working my luck still hasn’t change. I look at the young colleague who sits a few feet away eyeing me. I bet he was even listening when I was expressing myself to my colleagues, that bastard. I don’t know if it was just me but I noticed him shaking his head, I am not sure. But I don't care, I don't.

I am walking again, come to think about it I have always been walking…you might think that I was getting somewhere but I just keep on walking not getting to grasp any dreams, nor gaining any wisdom.

I changed the song that was playing inside my head; it was rather boring and not cheerful, this time to something more jovial. The scene changed and I was now walking along a happier path.

I was still walking but with ease and really content with my life. I started to think of the things that I have and come to realization that I am happy, at least as happy as everyone else is. As I think that everyone is just as happy as everyone else is. It is the people who judge each other wrongly.

Selamat Hari Raya

Hello...Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri and may everyone be in peace and at ease.

p.s. Cat Stevens Rocks!!

Turmoil

He sat there on his chair facing the desk, precariously searching for something in it. And while he was fiddling in the last drawer he found what he was looking for, a book. He took it out, cleared his table and laid it directly in front of him. He started to take deep breathes to calm himself down, his hands shaky from the ruckus he caused. It took him a couple of minutes until he could focus again.

He once again opened the top drawer of his desk and brought out a blue color ball pen. He started off scribbling so fast as if pouring his thoughts out…I looked at him utterly amazed, I don’t know what happened, but I knew that what had happened was bizarre enough to the extent of inexplicability. It all felt so normal, normal as every other day, I was just about to wake up, and as I opened my eyes I was already abruptly walking down a familiar street. I stood still trying to digest what was happening to me. The weather hot, it felt as if it shone was directly on me, it was also dry, dry as my mouth was. I knew that the sun had something personal against me, the way it shone, I knew it.

There was no one around, the road was busy with traffic but there were no one in their cars. It was as if everyone else was invisible, I clasped my head with both hands, trying to calm and come up with an explanation to what I was witnessing. Again, after a couple of minutes of trying, I gave up. Nothing I experienced before can explain what I was going through. I decided to just move forward. I took off my shirt and tied it on to my head, to protect it from the evil, ever so glaring sun.

Soon the tar covered street was a place I no longer recognized and as I continued the tar road now replaced by a muddy road, a dried up muddy road. It felt like I was on a desert, though I’ve never been to one before. As aimless as I was I wanted to keep on walking in hope that I would exit this…realm. As I was walking I noticed something changing; it wasn’t as hot as it used to be. I felt a great amount of relief for a brief moment. I could see the sun going down and was covered by the clouds in the sky. The weather almost instantaneously started to change before me and just like that from hell hot it turned to a malicious cold.

I was now, not thinking but a walking and cursing being, I cursed at everything including and especially myself. It was snowing; I stood there with my head looking upwards not believing what was happening. The day turned to night and the familiar scene of a Disney movie when it was Christmas was reliving in front of me, only without the merry sounds of bells or music or anything merry about it. It was pitch black, except for the now brightly lit moon.

I knew I couldn’t and that my body couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t used to this type of weather. I knew that if I was exposed longer, I would turn into an ice sculpture. Amidst the pitch black surroundings, I now almost crawling managed to locate a place I thought would be a suitable place for refuge. It was sloping down; I climbed down carefully the huge rough walls. When I reached down, my hand was caressing the rough walls as I walked by it I found a hole in it, it was like a tiny tunnel or something and fortunately big enough for me to fit in. I went deeper in until I felt that I shouldn’t go any further.
I checked my pockets for some thing and if possible a light, though I don’t smoke and never carried a lighter before.

I could’ve sworn that that was the worst I ever felt. The chills getting into every bone in me and in to my head, I curled up, trying to get some warmth. My head was pounding, I tried to get myself in control but I was too weak. Everything that’s happening is just some sort of sick dream. It was so surreal and so intense that it was all primarily about me. I hadn’t had the slightest flash of my family or friends. My thoughts were in the present, dwelling in the obstacle before me. I laid there shaking so severely, getting weaker by the second.

I closed my eyes really hard trying to escape from this dread-ness but there was no difference in closing my eyes or keeping it open. It was the same tone of darkness everywhere. My head paused, my nerves thumping; I didn’t know what to think of or to focus on it was just static but with a helpless feeling that only made me feeling worse. I gave up; there was no more fight in me. I laid there just waiting for something to happen. In what seemed like years of torment. I sat down resting my back at the wall behind me. It was revolting, the sheer emptiness. At that time I felt tiny and it was as if an icy giant hand was clenching my whole physical body, but just not hard enough to let me go.

I woke up, feeling paranoid and with an extreme feeling of cautiousness overwhelming me. I took courage to very slowly open my eyes and as I did that everything around me appeared normal once again. After what happened before, nothing could shock me. The pain I felt physically was all gone now. I crawled out from the hole and was now standing at the ground of what appeared to be a huge sewer system.

It was dark, not too warm neither too cold, just the way I liked it. As I climbed out of my refuge I realized that all was still as quiet as it was before. I continued walking; I had to drag my legs to keep on moving. I could sense that I was nearing somewhere familiar. Suddenly there was someone walking towards me, a woman. I was relieved to see someone living once again and hoping that this would be an end to my living nightmare. She had a wooden stick in her hand and as she was around 10 feet from me she threw the stick at me and with great arrow like precision and directly hit my head. Blood was gushing out from my head now. She was no longer there. I took off my shirt once again and covered my head with it.

Finally I reached a path that I recognized; I was never so happy and relieved. I fasten my haste despite my weariness. I reached home, walked towards my room and as soon as I set foot on my room. A gush of rejoice enveloped me, I landed on my bed feeling better than ever. I closed my eyes, appreciating the comfort. I noticed something moving and was making some clattering noise. I slowly opened my eyes, afraid of what I might see this time. With the corner of my eye, I saw a man sitting on my chair and going through my table in haste…

Wheels

As he laid there unmoving on his bed, staring at the white ceiling in his room and taking pleasure in the weather, the gentle wind made the curtain in his room blow up as it passed.. He looked outside the windows, the sky outside was starting to look dark and was covered with dark clouds. He let out a slight gasp and as he closed his eyes, using both of his hands to support his head despite the fact that he was already laying on a couple of pillows. There was no notion of him disrupting the comfort he was feeling, he laid, trying to banish every thought that came into his mind. Wanting to let go completely, until one random one came in and got his attention.

It happened some time ago when a beggar who was collecting his toll pausing briefly at each occupied table, and when he stood beside them and as they paid him. After saying thank you, he added these sentences as a gesture of thank you;

“The century we live in is connected with many issues but not with faith and ideology.” And with that the beggar muttered some other things and walked away.

He knew that he had heard or read the quote somewhere, so he went to the nearest library, the book shelves outside his room. He had two words in particular in mind, century and ideology. After a few minutes of eagerness and almost anxiously looking for it, he found the book he was looking for. It was an old book, its covers crumpled and the pages yellow. He went back into his room, shut the door and sat down with the book in his hands.

He randomly opened it and started to read what was printed on the page.

“Great thinkers of history with their limited sources could gain knowledge and come to a certain revelation, knowing and understanding what most people nowadays wouldn’t possibly come to think of. People, who managed to come up with beliefs and many other important discoveries, their main and most important tool being their culture and mind.

At first I came to think that there weren’t many things that are left to be discovered anymore. Everything that we think of, could think of, someone else has already thought of it. Nothing that we do or think can be considered the very first anymore. The notion of nothing is new and that nothing new can be created has somewhat polluted and de-motivated people from wanting to exceed their predecessors. But it also occurred to me that though it isn’t some new discovery to the world, it’ll still be an astonishing, important knowledge acquired by the learner.

And then there is the ever going sensitivity towards the people who does or tries something different than the already prescribed way. They’d either be looked at as people who don’t abide by rules or renegades that are a threat to the system and to the traditions.”

After finishing that particular page, he once again flipped a few pages and began to read what it had to say, “Of course the normal man, nowadays rather not talk about the creation of the sky or the self or his purpose in this universe, but consider these questions and subjects as a nuisance and not of importance. The worst part about them is that they don’t respect nor listen and to add up to that, to these shallow minds it evokes their ego whenever a sensitive subject is brought up.

However, the normal man has a point here seeing that, to them it doesn’t really make a difference by knowing or not knowing the answers of questions such as that when the true goal here is material not knowledge.”


He closed the book for a while as if to digest what he just read, took a deep breath and opened it, again randomly. “Recently, I had the opportunity to meet thinkers who regard themselves as intellectuals. Although proved to be smart thinkers on specific subjects and people who read. They tend to dwell amongst themselves and have the air of arrogance around them perhaps as their shield from threats. They consider themselves to be on a superior level than the common lot and think of themselves as a group of elitist. Now what we have is the so called elitist looking down at the materialist and the materialist views this group of “elitist” as a group of rebellious outcasts, who can’t fit in society.

Of course knowing or understanding something that others don’t, can make one feel superior but I think that, that’s one of the challenges of how one deal with his knowledge and remain unaffected by what he knows. To me a person who is wise has to be in peace with oneself and not want to prove his superiority to others.

Note: Some of the points here might not be precisely accurate seeing that I translated it from a different language and so the translation might not be as perfect as the original. Points were taken from the book ‘Ideologi Kaum Intelektual’, Ali Syariati

He flipped a couple of pages and came upon the stages of development in Europe, at the back of his head he thought of how Averroes played a very crucial part in the rise of Europe.

“The 17th century came in as the intellectual class that was released by the influence of the churches. Intellects, free and conscious, able to think, find, analysis and evaluate everything critically, selectively and assertively. Different from the past traditionalists, these new intellects were attracted to methods and critical analysis.

Subsequently followed by the 18th century known as the rise of nationalism and the freedom of revolution. The 18th century also was a humanitarian century. The intellects of that time had analytical thinking and a way of thinking that is curious and leads to explorations. They carried democracy, freedom, humanism and the French revolution.

The 19th century was an ideological century. You’d be able to see how Europe systematically grows. Its evolution was with par with the mental ability of a single individual. Though at one time it was backward, step by step it became to know itself. Consequently Europe came to face fanaticism.

Its revolution helped itself gain the freedom of thinking; and became an expert in analyzing every little thing and coming up with many different theories. Towards the 19th century Europe was blessed with a special and clear confidence- a type of ideology.

During that period too Europe produced plenty of huge ideologies, to the extent that existentialism which dominated the 20th century was owned by the century. Many important figures were from this century. Fascism, Socialism, Marxism and Sentimentalism are also connected to the 19th century.

But the 20th century that we live in is a huge disappointment/draw back. This is the century, in which is the beginning of the power crazed class and wealth/material lovers. With power and money, they conquer the mind and the leading philosophers of this era.

They cleverly built up the learned minds of this century to make a general assumption that knowledge is neutral and doesn’t support a specific side, and also doesn’t have any relations in the development of man in a higher level.

Knowledge as they claim, is no longer interested in the relation of how something has to be; it only relates to the relation of ‘why’ and ‘what’. They say it depends on the ideology whether or not to include themselves or not include themselves with the question, ““how a certain thing or a concept should be.”” By degrading knowledge into a neutralist position, the group of thinkers and learned people of the century let themselves lose from the ideals and questions that are of a higher level than man, and so they prepare themselves to become students of power and wealth. Constrained in their labs, head of academics, corporations, capitalists, republics and etc. knowledge is no longer made available and is insufficient to provide and to benefit the meanings of the human ideal.

Hence, this century has been married to money. The belief that knowledge wasn’t meant to bring resolution, or to bring forward protests and is of importance to the future, is now the general mode that is followed by all modern universities. That is the knowledge of this century.

Nowadays knowledge is only related with external facts, with objective analysis and research per se. But if knowledge is separated from the divisions of problems, of mankind and society, if it can’t rise/ defend the opposed society, to govern and rule their ascend and their revolution, help and lead them towards the ways of advancement and development, to reach directions and their ideals and if knowledge is not hoped to tell man of what he has to do and who he really is, then is there a different alternative?”

After reading that he looked for the word ‘Ideology’ and he went through the book till he found it, it went like this, “members of sociology have defined each type of influences, but not realizing that there is an influence that is of most important and valuable. That influence is a specific influence which is not knowledge, technology, art, religious sect or social politics.

It is a special realization, I like to call it “human self consciousness” what does that human self consciousness means? As long as human civilization, thinkers who gave/ helped in shaping mankind have dug out that consciousness but no one was able to grasp it precisely. To the extent of popularizing it universally like the other branches of knowledge. This self consciousness shines like lightning, it glimmers, and lights up its surrounding and instantaneously vanishes. That is the type of consciousness in history.”

He looked at the book, starred harder, he realized that he was starting to feel drowsy and with that he closed his book and put it on the table, climbed on his bed and laid on it, and after a few moment laid there unmoving on his bed staring at the white ceiling in his room and taking pleasure in the weather that brought with it soft cool breezes. He looked outside the windows, the sky outside wasn’t too dark but were covered with dark clouds. He let out a slight gasp and as he closed his eyes…

Folktale Story

I have been having this problem of coming up with new made up stories for my blog, nothing comes to mind, nothing inspiring so far. I figured that since I can’t come up with any tales I might as well update my blog by giving reasons on why I weren’t able to update.

I have to say that I feel a lot more stressed out than I was a few months back. I am not sure if what I am expressing has any truth in it, it could just be more excuse for not being more disciplined and productive. Though I like to think that I’ve been emotionally unhealthy and therefore, less productive. The need for some sort of escape also arises, an attempt to somewhat try to get myself on track. This could also be a mere excuse for wanting to indulge in some form of leisurely and fun activities. You hear yourself saying, ‘I need this.’

This story is not a made up one, at least not by me, I heard this a long time ago and I just happen to remember it, anyways, without further ado.

In an ancient time where people weren’t very much different than the people today, there lived two brothers. They lived in a double storey house, in which the upper part belonged to one and the lower to the other. The elder one which had the upper part of the house was a very pious man and had been meditating for as long as one can remember. He was 50 years old and so was the younger brother.

The younger one however was the opposite of his brother and despite his age, still very inclined to material pleasures. A bad example of man, and also a bad influence to young learners who aspire to become less inclined to worldly pleasures.

One night, while the younger one was sleeping and the older one meditating, they both came to a realization. The older one came to the think that, all his life he was being so tedious and that he left out on the pleasures that life had to offer. He decided that he should enjoy life while he still could; he went down to meet his younger brother, to ask him to expose him to life’s pleasures.

On the other hand, his younger brother thought differently, he was thinking that he had been a bad human and he came to the realization that no matter how much he enjoyed himself, nothing lasted for long and no matter what, he wasn’t able to find inner peace. He thought about this for a while and decided that he should change his life. He decided to go upstairs and ask his brother to teach him and guide him.

Both of them overcome with joy with their new resolution and they ran to the stairs anxiously. As they were on the staircase and eager to meet each other, the brothers bumped into each other and fell down the stairs. The brothers died and the younger one went to heaven while the older one went to hell.

Disclaimer

I might get a little personal and sensitive in this one, so I hope no one gets shock… kidding. This is something I think I owe to my very few, almost extinct readers.

Firstly I would like to say that the blog name is discordant constellations yes a bit lengthy and somewhat hard to spell and even harder to remember. I am aware of that, and at times feel sorry for myself. But that’s not the point, and before I forget my point, it’s called discordant constellations and not Alam. So when you read it just imagine that you’re just reading some anonymous blog or if you’re unable to do that, at least think of it as a work of fiction which is what it really is.

Please don’t come up to me and say things that directly or indirectly give the notion that I may not be as normal or hateful or just plain bitter and negative or even just slightly insane. I assure you that I am actually a very loving, a rather positive person and most important of all healthy both mentally and physically and not too bad on the looks. *hint* (girls)

Well on the negative and somewhat bitter ‘ideology’ that I include in almost every entry of mine some might even think of it as the main ingredient or the only ingredient. That is just to show that I am merely expressing and questioning things that I don’t quite understand, I hope you buy that. And I think that, that writing style suits me.

Writing is a therapy to me; it gives me a pleasant satisfaction every time I complete a story. Okay, one should be good enough I don’t want to express myself too much and risk embarrassing myself.

Lastly, I like to think that I write fiction so I would like you to think that you’re reading fiction instead of thinking of it as a story about me or a session of ranting via bad experiences.

So, I’d like to Thank you readers for being nice to me and (I should know) reluctantly read this very dragging and not as amusing blog.

Thank you.

Necessary Syndromes

I had a friend, his name was Prad. One might think of it as a weird name but It is not a weird name, it is similar to Brad but with a ‘P’ instead of a ‘B’. When I was little and thought of the world as my playground, I had a bunch of other kids whom I called friends and amongst them there was one whom I was closer to than the rest.

I believed that we had an invincible bond of understanding of each others mind and that no matter what we’d be friends and value that forever. This was long before I realized that my world was not just a play ground. I hadn’t know of the true face of the world that I was about to encounter.

The day came… I, my family had plans. I was about to leave the hell that I wasn’t aware of, still thinking of it as a place of sheer joyfulness. This too I would only come to know years after I have left this place And That; I wouldn’t able to live a decent, happy life…. no not here. My mother came to the realization and figured that it was time to leave.

And the world, as usual with its reputation of working in weird ways, once again worked its way. A few days before we left Prad met with an accident and died. Yes-- I was shaken and sad. I was always paranoid of death and of things that I care of drifting away from me. I had nightmares after that and sometimes the overwhelming feeling of paranoia that hurts badly inside.

So we moved, literally moving on-- I am not exaggerating here but this new place was nothing at all like the place I was used to. However, I didn’t bother, it was new and I thought of it as my new playground. That was before we reached our new home. My old home was easily 10 times bigger than this one. The occupants in it didn’t appear as enthusiastic as I was, immediately made me thinking, now that I think about it, it was one of my earliest lesson of growing up.

And just like that everything else I left behind became my past, a vague distant memory.

Here I am a new beginning in a foreign place with foreign people who would teach me about many- many things. I started schooling and realized that I wasn’t looked at as a normal person. I was fun to poke with and so they poked to their delight, being kids oblivious to their actions towards others. Although, I didn’t realize it at that time but I clearly felt the effect. That was when I learned that people judge people.

After a few period of time passing, I realized that my world wasn’t a playground and that it was revealed to me very abruptly, without any warning….the day I left my old ‘playground’. I also realized that I couldn’t find someone to replace my best friend. The people here were different, that was what I said to myself.

Most of the times I dreamed about my past and the experiences that I’ve once experienced, and not all of them were good ones. This one was a painful memory-- Once as I was playing, running around my playground I accidentally hit an enormous wall- glass and it, right in front of my eyes began to drastically fall apart, making a huge shattering noise while it was at it. The huge glass now turned into thousands of small glasses spreading all over the ground. Later few other images appeared in my mind, I call it the aftermath. The adults started blaming each other and started fighting which eventually led to separation. After that, I had a notion about guilt and fear.

I also had a deep cut at the bottom of my back, it scarred me and it became something I was proud of showing off when someone started talking about the event and wanted proof of the story.

I still remember once I was holding this huge rock and when I couldn’t hold it anymore, I let it fall on my right toe, I witnessed my whole nail leaving my toe, I am quite sure it hurt like hell and I cried.

It was lonesome, this new place; I had to create mind games of my own to keep myself entertained. Of course I wasn’t aware of that then but now that I think about it, I am guessing that’s what it was, self made mind games.

It was also weird when before everyone was keen of me…now around here I sensed resentment. I think I know why they acted the way they did. I took it as they were putting up some sort of defense mechanism to the unfamiliarity. Maybe I was disrupting their daily lives. At times when their hate got to me I swore that one day I’d tell them how they treated me.

Among all the lessons I’ve come across this one was an eye opener and perhaps the most painful one: I came to understand that people treated you better when they think that you’re wealthy. 1, I understood why people were keen of me during my ‘playground’ days. 2, it might be the reason why the people here are not very keen of me.

The funny thing was everyone appeared religious and prayed a lot. And appear to have no inclination towards material wealth. I come to think of it as a form of ‘decoration’ to the self and especially to others.

As expected, I was beginning to isolate myself before getting any hints of displeasure. All I could do was think, question and contemplate. I never really did get any answers or solutions but I kept on thinking and questioning anyway.

One day as I walking back home, right beneath the striking sun which at that moment was also showing signs of hatred towards me. Torturing me with its heat and draining the energy out of me. I was walking and sweating badly, looking at the passing cars as I walked, carrying some really heavy books in my bag that was strapped to my shoulders.

I wasn’t eager to reach home so I slowed my pace and took the longer route back. I had this weird feeling that someone was looking at me and would frequently turn around looking for a pair of staring eyes. I didn’t find one.

As I reached a huge building, I was nearing the resting place it was a place where some of the kids whom had to walk back home would sit and rest at the pavement shadowed by huge trees. It was well sheltered and had a safe vibe around it.

As I reached there, before I started my resting session -- I surveyed my surrounding looking for familiar faces and as I was doing that I found a pair of eyes staring directly at my direction. As our eyes met, I was wrapped with fear and this overwhelmingly astonishment which unable me to move for a few moments. I took another look and there was no mistake, it was Prad and I realized that I was still dumbfounded and couldn’t move.

I must be losing my mind, I heard my mind say. He just continued staring, both his palms rested on his cheeks and his elbows planted on his knees, not doing anything else. He was fully focused on staring at me not even blinking. I tried to lift my feet up a little bit and realized that I was able to do so. I started pacing away from him, it was a weird feeling. I’d say feelings because it really was a combination of feelings.

As I got almost 15 feet away from him I glanced back and just like I thought he was still staring at me. I don’t know what came to me but I suddenly had the courage to walk back. I stood right in front of him and slowly announced, “You’re dead.”

I noticed a tiny satisfied smirk on his face as if I re-acted exactly how he thought I would. He then replied, “Do I look dead to you?”

I said: I don’t know, you tell me

He said: I certainly am not now am I? Considering that you are talking and seeing me.

I observed him for a while more--he looked harmless. So I came closer to him and sat beside him. I started raining him with questions and he answered them patiently, that part of him I truly adored, the ability to remain patient and steadily respond.

Soon enough we became friends, once again. He wasn’t the old Prad I knew but still he kept me company which meant a lot to me. He was always there when I needed a friend. I no longer felt all empty inside. And life looked slightly better than it used to.

When we ran out of idea on what to talk about, we always walked around and if there were people, we’d find a hidden spot and observe them. We normally picked a high isolated spot so that we could see everything that was going on beneath us -- The busy cars passing by, people in their houses watching their TV, doing their chores, and not forgetting the people who busied themselves with work even at home.

Often witnessing how people are, Prad liked to imitate his favorite scholars and said with a straight face in a serious tone, “Of all the ridiculous things, it seems to me that the most ridiculous of all is to be busy in the world, to be a man who is prompt for his meals and quick about his work. So when I see a fly perch on the nose of a business man in a crucial moment, or see him splashed by a wagon which passes him in even greater haste, or a roof tile falls and kills him, then I laugh from the bottom of my heart. And how could anyone keep from laughing? What do they accomplish, these busy bodies? Aren’t they like the housewives who in her agitation when the house was on fire saved the fire tongs? What more do they rescue from life’s great conflagration?”

He liked to quote the people he respected and I remember this one because he told me this more than ones—“I saw the meaning of life was to obtain a livelihood, its goal was to become a minor official; that the rich desire of love is to get a wealthy girl; that the blessing of friendship was to help one another in financial difficulties. That wisdom was what the majority took it to be; that enthusiasm consist of making a speech; that it was courage to dare to lose a few dollars; that cordiality in saying ‘you’re welcome’ after a meal that it is piety to go to commune once in a year. This I saw and laughed.”

Of course I didn’t understand what he meant by saying those ‘remarkable words’ as he would like to call it. Funny thing was I had it in my memory all along and now that I am a little more grownup I guess I am able to comprehend what he meant by saying what he said.

As I spent more time in this foreign place, though I wasn’t as happy as I used to be I was slowly adapting and learning their ways. Prad existence was part of my life now, though he only appeared when I was feeling hopeless and lost. I wondered how he knew how I was feeling to suddenly emerge from no where.

I started to have friends now, not close friends but just people who know of my existence. I was happy, I was progressing.

And as more time passed by I grew attached to this bunch of kids and, among the lot I found one who I could tolerate albeit this time it was a girl.

I was beginning to get slowly accepted and I started feeling normal once again despite our differences. One night as I was getting ready to get to bed as a matter of fact I was almost drifting off to sleep-- Prad materialized. He was sitting at the edge of the bed with his legs dangling down. I could see his motion and the outline of his body amidst the darkness.

He had a look in his face which was strange to me and if I am not mistaken it was looked distressed. He quietly took hold of my arm and gripped it firmly. I tried to take it back but his grip was too strong. I was now sitting on my bed in which I started to struggle. He wanted to take me somewhere but he didn’t say where. I was too overwhelmed with fear and uncertain feelings rushing in my head. I was incapable to say anything. He was now standing on the bed with his back facing the wall.

I was by now already standing with him and trying with all my might to fight him off. He was just unnaturally too strong. What I saw next made the hairs behind my neck stand, his back and part of his leg, was slowly fusing in the wall behind him in the darkness. My shock distracted me for a few seconds and Prad took this chance to pull me even harder in it. Most of Prad was already in the wall and I began to feel defeat and give up hope. I was an inch away from the wall with Prad’s hands still on my shoulder.

Losing the will to fight physically I managed to open my mouth this time and vaguely utter the word, no. and just like that I felt the grip loosening and I felt back to my bed and I was so worn out that I wasn’t conscious anymore. The following morning I woke up with bruises and with a terrible headache. I also knew that it was the end of Prad.

When I got out of my bed and out of the room I noticed my mother looking more cheerful than normal. That was a rare sight, I thought to myself. I was sure that something good had happened and when she saw me, she briskly walked to where I was standing and pulled me to a chair nearby and as she sat herself down tried to calm herself down and muttered, “I could see that you’re having difficulty to adapt and settle down here. Well guess what? This is your lucky day-- your aunt Pat just called and said that she want us to live with her and so we are leaving to a (foreign country) different place by next month, cheer up buddy!” she patted me at my back a couple of times and with that she went of with her jolly expression leaving me alone.

'Happy Entry'

I've been wanting to update my blog. But this time i wanted to diversify, be creative and come up with something lighter and maybe brighter.

So far, the closest i've come to is on thinking of an idea on what to write about. This is when I realized that i've reached a dead end before even starting. I simply don't know of anything lively/ positive to write about. Ironically I consider myself as an optimist.

I am now thinking that I don't express myself as freely when it comes to happy, positive things, which is quite unfair to myself and perhaps to others as well. Yes, this is worrying.

A friend of mine once said that I focus too much on the negative aspects of my life. I thought about it, and just maybe might be the reason on why I fail to recognize the good things that happens. I am sure the people who know me in real life are somewhat nodding in agreement, but on a whole that's not entirely true. So yeah, refrain from nodding.

Anyhoo..I'll just stick to the boring whinnings which gives me a feeling of satisfaction and the believe that I've spent my free time productively. Guess what? without realizing it I managed to come up with a new whinny entry to post up. Looking at the bright side, I atleast succeeded in posting up a new entry.

Article

He was sitting on a chair with one leg rested on the edge of the chair and was carefully rubbing some traditional ointment on his swelling leg. People of the east are always rich with their traditional values and remedies/ medications, he thought. Although at times it can be misleading but often it makes you wonder how these people knew about these remedies at their time.

He was in his late 40’s and he felt quite funny getting bruises from playing football. But nevertheless it was a healthy past time and his passion.

After rubbing the bruised part he sat back and he began to feel that his bruise was starting to get attention and it was as if thousands of tiny hands were working hard mending his bruised leg. He began to feel the warmth and the pain started to ease a little.

As he sat there while his leg was mended, he began to feel restless. As usual when someone gets bored their mind tend to drift of to a particular incident or dreams etc. he then stood up, remembering something and went to get a piece of paper which he intended on reading before. It was an old one that he kept in his drawer. It was old and looked a bit yellowish with a mixture of gold with a little rust on the edges.

He then slanted on his chair making himself comfortable and started focusing on the old page that he had read many times before.

It was entitled “The Future Me” and it began: I understand that I am not a full adult yet burdened with obligations and responsibility on his shoulders. But, during these past years I’ve come to realize that my impression of adults has shrunk to an extent where I am beginning to doubt whether they deserve the respect they expect or even get from others.

When I was little I was always told and taught to respect the elders and listen to them. We were never to oppose or question their judgments. But maybe because of that I’d probably assumed that they must have had some sort of wisdom or prowess they had with them and that it had to be more than the age gap.

Perhaps it was different before, men were probably wise and had attributes and values that not only kids but even adults admired. I remembered my first encounters with these so called ‘wise’ adults. The first thing I realized was that they were as lost as I was and it felt as if I was hanging out with friends my age. Where all we talk about is about what we want and ‘what ifs’ or ‘if only’.

Now that I had the chance to meet with them to talk to them and gain knowledge from them, I was curios on how the adult mind operated. Thanks to my line of work that enabled me to sit with them and talk to them. I was ecstatic until I met the first one.

I always had assumed that if I mixed around with more adults I’d be more wise and by socializing with them they might want to help me answer some questions that I don’t know the answer of. Not surprisingly, they weren’t able to. Not only that, I came to understand that they don’t even think of the questions I think of. Which to me are the fundamentals of living. How can one live and not ask questions about their living?

Maybe they’re all just professionals or executives in their fields and as the saying goes, ‘ignorance is bliss’.

It’s no surprise that when an old man old enough to be your grand father drunk as a fly and dancing like a maniac in a prestigious club with body guards around him ready to get him if he falls, makes you think that there must be something missing in his life. Maybe some of you will think that he’s a jolly old fellow but to me to find happiness in such a manner is not adult like.

Does being an adult means getting married, having kids, and being financially stable? Most of what I see nowadays is corrupted people living an artificial life to impress their family, friends and neighbors. Nevertheless family members, friends and neighbors treat you better if you’re as expected. Hence it’s the way people think, their shallow mindset that judge people wrongly.

Their corrupt activities, it’s not called corruption anymore but is considered merely as a gesture/ favor. It is almost as an invincible rule one has to abide to in order to get something in return.

How did this mindset get through in the first place? Was it a conspiracy of some sort, the media or traditions that was set to sink mankind to a degrading unsafe -able level? Or was it just an exemplary way of life taken from other cultures that we’ve got accustomed to?

I read before that a man goes thru a number of stages in his lifetime. Most people I see are stuck at the first stage. I was so obsessed with adults that whenever I had the chance to talk to them I ask them (most of them middle aged), what their purpose in life was and what it meant to them. Thankfully they didn’t get mad, some were mildly aggravated but nonetheless they answered. I realized that they were what their job was and all they had in common was their pride and ego.

Despite all of the bad examples I met a few, mainly one, a man whom I sat and talked for hours with. It was my first contact with a local who was vast with knowledge and experiences. The way he described and explained things were one that only a man with a certain amount of wisdom can. He was the type of person I was looking for and I felt lucky to have talked with him. I never met him again after that. Since then I met a few really nice and gentle ones whom also I had lost in touch with.

I am assuming that once people are done with their academic studies they move on into their working life, period.

A very pleasant lady that I met said to me that, “this is how things are, bow to the power and be accepted as one. That is how you survive here.” I enjoyed talking to her but she mostly talked about her children and her job. She told me about her son who was as the same age as I was and how difficult it was for him to get a job. She also told me about her daughter whom she sends for Japanese classes every weekend. The way she talked and explained was so smooth and graceful that no matter what she talked about, I’d be keen to listen.

One thing I’ve learned from parents was that they are proud of their children and they love to talk about them. No matter who, parents love to talk about their kids.

Finally, I am not concluding that all grownups are immature and shallow in the present. I am also not saying that the younger generations should disrespect their elders. I guess my message is the world would be a better place if its inhabitants were more aware of their home.

He stood up and placed the paper where he found it and reminded himself that he should make a copy of it. His leg was feeling better and he went on with his routine.