Wednesday, October 24, 2012

The miles to go before I sleep....

I was driving home from work late one evening. Rain was falling in a drizzle, chilling the air. The rain droplets cut a million shimmery threads in the beam of my car headlights.

Weary from the day's toil, I drove slowly, my thoughts thick and jumbled. I navigated the narrow kampung roads in a mechanical daze. Another pair of headlights shone in my gaze, causing me to move to the shoulder of the road to let the other car pass. The road, although separated into two lanes, is a tight fit for two cars. My automaton brain decided it was easier to let the other car pass first rather than squeeze by at the same time. I waited there, left tyres mere inches from the roadside gutter. The other pair of headlights inched forward and stopped. I moved forward a little more, right up to the orange traffic cone someone placed at the border of asphalt and gutter. The other pair of headlights inched forward some more. I stayed where I was, having nowhere left to go.

The other car, a white MPV of some kind, lowered its window revealing a glaring, bespectacled man with dark skin.

"Ada kon kat depan," I had no idea why I was explaining myself.

"Ke tepi la! Banyak lagi ruang sebelah saya ni," he gestured with his right hand.

I didn't understand why he was annoyed. I had willingly moved aside for him leaving what I had judged to be enough space for him to pass. Pushing that knowledge aside, I released the break pedal slightly, allowing my car to lurch forward a few more inches. As the man moved his vehicle onward, raising his window, he said, "Bodoh!".

I was stunned. I couldn't imagine how the situation warranted such a comment. My tired brain tried to think if I had done something wrong -- misjudged the clearance, maybe. I wasn't sure. Maybe I did.

Bodoh! The word was spat out with such force, such vehemence, such feeling.

Why, though? The exchange lasted barely 10 seconds. Even if I was in the wrong, which I can't be sure of, was it something horrible enough to warrant such a passionately spoken insult? I was hurt more than a little. I have had a long day at work -- my mental defenses were laid bare. That one word, spoken with such careless hatred, was a direct hit to my emotional bulls-eye. My hands shook as I struggled to contain my haywire emotions.

I know I'm not stupid. I know the word that main spoke could not be applied to me in that manner. I call myself stupid all too often, knowing that I'm not stupid, not really. So, I wasn't hurt by the word itself.

What hurt me was how easily that man came to the conclusion that I could deserve to be called something undesirable with such noticeable spite. It hurt me that he said it loud enough so that I heard it. It hurt me knowing that he wanted me to hear it, that he wanted me to be offended. What have I done to him other than politely move aside to let him pass? It appalled me to know that that man became petty and mean, lashing out at another person, from a mere 10 second encounter. It this were a 9gag post, there would be a picture of that scientist dude from Futurama, captioned 'I don't want to live in this world anymore'.

“I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right; and I guarantee a house in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun; and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners.” [Prophet Muḥammad - reported by imām Abu Dawud]

Do we go around with such pent up anger that even small inconveniences like kampung road ballet can cause us to spitefully attack one another?

More as a consolation than anything, let us consider the following facts:
1. That man lives in a neighborhood with narrow, winding roads.
2. He saw fit to buy a huge, expensive MPV.

Who is the bodoh one, really?

Monday, October 8, 2012

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.

RPG character