Nonplussed, Nonminused

I was sitting in a mamak restaurant, supposedly preparing for my class that evening but actually talking to my mom on the phone, when a guy asks me a question.
“Cikgu ke?” the question doesn’t immediately register to me because I was engaged in a phone conversation.

“Cikgu ke?” he asks again.

I looked up in his direction. He takes my glance as an invitation to sit in the empty chair at my table, eyes looking at me expectantly, and repeats the question a third time.

My mom was in the process of telling me this complicated story about their plans for Merdeka the following day where my brother, Adam and my sister, Amelia were squabbling for the use of my father’s car to celebrate with their respective groupies. I try to attend to my mom’s story while wondering whether the reasons for the man to try to strike up a conversation with a stranger who is on a phone is because he is rude, inattentive, or lacking in common sense and at the same time puzzling how to get rid of him so I can continue peacefully with my phone conversation.

My mind overloads and goes blank. The man continues to stare. My mom continues to talk.

Finally, I nod politely to the man, point at my phone and hold up my hand in a ‘wait’ gesture. He stays seated at my table.

I try to turn most of my attention back to my mom’s story but the man now starts to poke and peer at the books strewn on my table. It was highly distracting and my mom could tell I was distracted.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

This random stranger tried to talk to me, sat at my table while I’m clearly on the phone, and is now helping himself to an inventory of my stuff, Brain says. But of course, I can’t say that, even though I question why exactly I can’t say that. I settle for ‘Some guy is trying to talk to me’, told my mom I had to go and hung up.
I look at the stranger with a politely questioning smile.

“Cikgu ke?” he asks yet another time.

“Ajar tusyen je,” I reply.

“Oh, SPM ke?” he asks. I look at the book he had pulled from under my pencil case. ‘CHEMISTRY’ is printed in big yellow letters on the cover. Underneath that is a large ‘5’. I blink deliberately.

“Ha’ah, Form 5,” I replied.

“Anak saya darjah 6,” he says with a nod.

Trying not to think about why, in heaven’s name, will I want to know that, I reply with a neutral ‘Oh’.

He takes a drink of water from the tall plastic glass he brought with him – to my table.

“Ajar kat rumah ke?”

“Tak, kat pusat tusyen.”

He takes another drink.

“Saya nak pergi dataran,” Sip. “Malam ni.” Sip. He pulls out a bit of yellow shirt from under his flannel button down. Sip.

“Kerajaan menipu,” he says with a finality, as if that explains something. Then he gets up and walks off, leaving his empty plastic cup and a puzzled me at my table.

Note: This inexplicable story took place on the eve of 31st August 2012. It remains one of the most odd moments in my life.