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Stories for my three heroes.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Faim the Defense Lawyer.

Aku menuruni cerun mengekori Faim yang mendahului di hadapan. Sambil merentas halangan kami juga menyelit sedikit sebanyak bercerita. Satu ketika kami berhenti rehat kerana Faim mahu meneguk Gatorade.

'You got another speeding ticket, Ayah?', tanya Faim.
'Yea', jawab aku pendek. Mesti Ibu yang kepohkan kepada dia ni.
'You better pay Ayah, or I will have to defend you in court later ', sahut Faim pula.
'You need a lot of training and experience before you can be a lawyer. But yes, I would want you to defend me. Err.. How you are you going to defend me? You plead guilty, and I ll go to jail?', tanya aku sambil sedikit tersengeh kepada Faim.

'Well, I think I have a good defense for all your speeding', jawab Faim sambil menyerah kembali Gatorade ungu kepada aku.
'What is it?', tanya aku sambil menyambut dan menyimpan botol pada bag yang aku galas.

'Muscle spasm', jawab Faim selamba sambil berpaling meneruskan perjalanan.

Aku bangkit dan mengekori Faim sambil ketawa dalam hati.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014


Aku bergegas menuruni bukit menuju ke arah belakang. Lutut kanan aku yang merah berdarah melambatkan gerakan aku. Aku tidak peduli. Bukan sebab ia tidak menyakitkan, Tetapi luka dan cedera di lain-lain bahagian badan membuat aku tidak memperdulikan.

Jauh di sebelah kanan, berkepul-kepul asap dari loji  Normanton yang terbakar meluru dan menutup pemandangan dan menyesakkan paru-paru. Tapi, aku tidak punya masa untuk meneliti itu semua. Aku harus segera sampai ke Alexandra.

Akhirnya aku sampai juga. Tapi aku sudah terlambat. Mereka sudah lebih awal tiba dari aku. Kedengaran suara-suara halus menjerit dalam kesakitan dan ketakutan, meminta tolong. Aku tak tau samada itu suara pesakit atau suara jururawat. Mungkin antaranya suara Alexandra.

'Alexi, di mana kau', aku bertanya dalam hati sambil mengagahkan langkah aku masuk dari ruangan tepi rumah sakit. Tangan aku memegang erat belati Kepten Rix. Darah masih mengalir deras dari kaki kanan ku meninggal jejak garisan merah.

Perlahan aku menolak daun pintu dan melangkah dengan sangat berhati-hati. Melihat ke dalam, aku tidak terkejut. Badan-badan yang kaku bergelimpangan dan berselerakan. Darah merah seolah tersimbah di serata penjuru. Hasil tangan anak buah Mutaguchi. Aku yakin.

Aku sentuh salah satu sosok yang tergelimpang. Suam-suam. Baru saja 45 mungkin. Aku putarkan kepalanya supaya matanya yang terjegil tidak lagi merenung aku. Aku harus segera bergerak mencari Alexandra sebelum terlambat.

Thursday, October 30, 2014


I am standing here at this same spot.

The same spot I first met her two years ago. Tired, worried face and constantly checking her watch. I asked and offered help but was kindly rebuffed. Still I saw that she was in trouble. So, I stayed with her until help arrived. I was late for office that morning. Something out of character for me. But, I would be late for many other mornings as well, from then on.

During such mornings, for about half an hour, I get to speak to her. And as the days went by, I learned more about her. She worked the whole night. And sleep mostly in the day. She was someone's favorite. 'Someone important'. She told me she was tired of the whole thing but could not do anything. She was trapped in a situation she can't figure a way out. Truthfully, I think she was afraid to find a way out. I knew it was most likely because of her daughter. Her cute 3 year old girl who meant the whole world to her.

As we became more familiar, we talked more about ourselves. Things we were ready to share. I was always excited to hear about her little girl. She would show photos of her antics captured in her handphone. I enjoyed everyone of those photos.

We would talk until someone working for 'someone important' would arrive to fetch her. Back to her place she called her hideout. Away from the prying eyes. But, I corrected her, calling it her sanctuary. Where she can be herself; a lady and a mom. Those mornings continued for about a year until my health temporarily kept me away from those moments.

Not long after, troubles started to show their ugly faces. It wasn't surprising to me though, as she had forewarned me that this 'someone important' would not take kindly my knowing of her. The threats are nothing. It did nothing to me but made me more determined to resolve the issue at hand. But, soon the threat became physical.

Despite her strong protest, I turned to the authorities. Not for my safety, but for hers and her daughter. Soon after, they took them away, of course.  The police did. But, not before promising they will put away the source of the threat on her, her daughter and indirectly on me. It also meant that I won't be able to continue my morning chat with her. It was a small price to pay for her happiness and new lease of life. I promised her I wouldn't regret my decision.

It has been two years. And, although I know I won't see that face here, I will just find myself driving to this spot. Not wishing very hard, maybe, to see her sitting calmly sipping coffee, eager to show photos from her handphone. Smiling at me when I open the glass door. But, no. That won't happen.

Still, I am here anyway. Just to remember those times. Those moments. Moments when I was standing here with purpose.  At this spot. In the early morning like this.

PS : 

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Friday, October 24, 2014


One day you'll wake up and realize that all the games that you played have reached the proverbial injury time. You'll realize that the ref and the linesmen would no longer be siding with you.
You will notice that the pitch could now be soggy and laden with water. The grass are too long. The ball is too soft. Your boots are one size bigger or smaller. 
And the crowd would not be cheering your every move anymore. But they be more discerning and judgemental. They will remember all the fouls you committed, all the fake dives, the hand's of God that you employ and the shirts you pulled. They will be less forgiving.
Then, it would be too late. To late for everything. Too late even for me to save you.
You can turn to me. But, I'll be waving the board with your number on it. And another number so you know that your time is up.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Sometimes when the night gets too cold..

Sometimes, when the night gets too cold, I would just wake up and I remember.

I remember the day the damn bike just would not do what I want it to do. The day the damn brake just would not grip strong enough. The day the stupid handle would not budge to the left enough. The day the stupid truck would not stop long enough.

I remember holding you. But, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to keep the blood to stop flowing from your bloodied everywhere. I don't know how to keep you awake and your eyes to open. I don't know how to keep you labored breathing to continue or to last longer.

I remember holding close but losing you at the same time.

And, on those nights when it gets too cold, I remember hugging your warm body getting cold. I remember my warm tears running down my cheeks and falling on your face getting cold.

I remember your warm smile telling me everything will be alright.
But, they never did.

So every night when it gets too cold, I will hold my body warm and I remember.

Natasha Wong :
Forever in memory

Wednesday, May 28, 2014


Abang has returned. For his summer vacation. Three months. Home in Malaysia. I was really looking forward to see him. Talk to him. Discuss things with him. Things that matter to him. And to me. Two guys talking.

However, it has been three weeks since he arrived. I have yet to do any of those that I wanted to do. Well, one or two maybe. But, not as I wanted it to be. I am seeing him less. In fact sometimes I forgot that he is home.

Every morning, I will leave early. He is not up yet. Even if he is awake, I will be too preoccupied with my morning routine to sit and chat a little with him. I learned from Ibu that occasionally he would send Acik to school and back home. He will drive my Black Proton to do that. At night, when I returned, late as always, he would be there in the living room, eyes glued to the computer. He would dutifully shake and kiss my hand. I would go up to change and pray, if I haven't in the office. Thereafter most likely I will check on Ibu and fall asleep quickly. Some time, I would be able to go down, chat a little with Abang and promptly fall asleep on the couch before I could say anything meaningful.

It has been almost 4 and a half month since I returned to work. New job and new demand. I didn't realise if it had changed me. People around me say so. People I know say so. I don't feel so but I must have. I feel so enthusiastic in things I have to deal daily that I'm lost in all of them. I need sometime or something to do always to reclaim my private space. I tend to value too much on spending my private time by myself that I am only aware the weekend is over when I woke up Monday morning. I don't seem to have time for others including those important to me. And I will forget the limitations that were imposed on me and continue with my pace that would worry those caring for me.

I can't stop. And, I am getting reckless.

Thursday, April 03, 2014


Adik's birthday is coming up. Ibu and I are busy thinking of what special gift to give him now that he is 16.

'He likes to listen to music. So, let's get him an ipod touch. His old ipod is already giving problem. Maybe he'll like a new one', Ibu suggested.

I am not too keen on giving him ipod, simply because he would then be lost in his own world. I know I would. I am more concerned that it was quite difficult to get in touch with him when he is outside with his friends or at school. The Blackberry he's using, the old worn out handed down by me seemed to have its own mind and preferred its own working hours. It is difficult then to reach Adik whenever we have to tell him of any change in plan or if there was gonna be some delay in picking him up due to one reason or another.

'I think it is better for him to get a new iphone. The phone would solve all these problem of communicating to him. And the iphone also has ipod facility, so that would address his current problem with his ipod', I tried to reason with Ibu.

But, Ibu being the ever Minister of Finance enforcing economic austerity programme that goes on forever came back to me with just this simple reply, 'But, iphone is more expensive than an ipod touch'.

So, I finally decided that Adik is big enough to decide on what he wants without us having to make his every decision.

I spoke with Adik, 'OK, this Sunday we go to Pavilion. You see what you like and tell us.'
'Alright Ayah', Adik looked relieved.
'Yea', Ibu said, short.