The World Is A Swirling Dervish In A Boiler Suit.
Uploaded by Bergen.
I RACK MY BRAIN TO PUT TOGETHER a face of Pakcik Syed to help me remember what little memory I have of a man who doesn't stay around the house long enough for anything other than to yell at Aunt Su at the top of his lungs when he comes home late in the night swaying like a coconut tree in the middle of an excellent monsoon storm. By this time, I've lived in this house close to sixty days and I've begun to get used to the idea of not praying and not asking God for help anymore because I'm pretty sure He's not listening that I might as well do as I please and that simply means walking up and down Penang Road during Maghrib time just to prove to God that I'm not afraid of what He might do to me. I walk up towards Jalan Burmah and further up to Simpang Enam, and walk back down towards Lebuh Chulia until I get a little sore in the feet. I stop to look at the neon lights that goes round and round at Pasar Chowrasta. I walk on the pavement to soak in the smell of apples, pears, nutmeg and meat floss. I like the smell very much because it takes me further and further away from Dungun and I've decided to forget about Dungun and about every one there because there's no point thinking about any of them when they don't really care about me; but this kinda thinking makes me so alone all of a sudden that I'd better get home because I hate to knock knock knock on the door to get in. Aunt Su gives me the face as if I've annoyed her schedule when she has to open the door for me.
Pakcik Syed works in the dockyard. He talks rough and swears a great deal especially on Sunday before he leaves the house in late afternoon to gamble away with friends what money he has on him. He doesn't win very often but he always have some money left to get himself drunk and to come home late in the night to swear even more than he's done during the day. He swears at everything in the house especially at Aunt Su. He even swears at the pots and pans and the shoes he's wearing. I am in my room staring at the ceiling not thinking about anything in particular and not wanting to write Aunt about any of this because I know for sure she's given up on me and I'd better get used to the idea of facing up to the world on my own.
Six months in the house I'm hatching a plan to run away and go find some place nice to live. Yusof says I can come live with him and I kinda like the idea too because Yusof has a nice mommy who took care of me when I was sick on account of being drunk for having too much to drink but everyone knew that it was Yusof and Siva who taught me how to drink drink drink until the room started to swirl round and round so hard that I remember throwing up and getting very ill that I couldn't move. I thought of God and I was scared. I thought of Grandma and I heard her reciting a surah. I saw Aunt reaching out to me. I saw Cousin looking forlorn. I saw Pakcik Syed in a boiler suit. And the room kept on swirling and spinning and bobbing like a drift wood in the water.
I RACK MY BRAIN TO PUT TOGETHER a face of Pakcik Syed to help me remember what little memory I have of a man who doesn't stay around the house long enough for anything other than to yell at Aunt Su at the top of his lungs when he comes home late in the night swaying like a coconut tree in the middle of an excellent monsoon storm. By this time, I've lived in this house close to sixty days and I've begun to get used to the idea of not praying and not asking God for help anymore because I'm pretty sure He's not listening that I might as well do as I please and that simply means walking up and down Penang Road during Maghrib time just to prove to God that I'm not afraid of what He might do to me. I walk up towards Jalan Burmah and further up to Simpang Enam, and walk back down towards Lebuh Chulia until I get a little sore in the feet. I stop to look at the neon lights that goes round and round at Pasar Chowrasta. I walk on the pavement to soak in the smell of apples, pears, nutmeg and meat floss. I like the smell very much because it takes me further and further away from Dungun and I've decided to forget about Dungun and about every one there because there's no point thinking about any of them when they don't really care about me; but this kinda thinking makes me so alone all of a sudden that I'd better get home because I hate to knock knock knock on the door to get in. Aunt Su gives me the face as if I've annoyed her schedule when she has to open the door for me.
Pakcik Syed works in the dockyard. He talks rough and swears a great deal especially on Sunday before he leaves the house in late afternoon to gamble away with friends what money he has on him. He doesn't win very often but he always have some money left to get himself drunk and to come home late in the night to swear even more than he's done during the day. He swears at everything in the house especially at Aunt Su. He even swears at the pots and pans and the shoes he's wearing. I am in my room staring at the ceiling not thinking about anything in particular and not wanting to write Aunt about any of this because I know for sure she's given up on me and I'd better get used to the idea of facing up to the world on my own.
Six months in the house I'm hatching a plan to run away and go find some place nice to live. Yusof says I can come live with him and I kinda like the idea too because Yusof has a nice mommy who took care of me when I was sick on account of being drunk for having too much to drink but everyone knew that it was Yusof and Siva who taught me how to drink drink drink until the room started to swirl round and round so hard that I remember throwing up and getting very ill that I couldn't move. I thought of God and I was scared. I thought of Grandma and I heard her reciting a surah. I saw Aunt reaching out to me. I saw Cousin looking forlorn. I saw Pakcik Syed in a boiler suit. And the room kept on swirling and spinning and bobbing like a drift wood in the water.
9 Comments:
In whatever tone you are writing, Sir, you will always write well, and I will always looking forward for your next entry.
Hold on...you drink drink drink and planned to escape...? How old are you at that time?
Zackzara: I was in Form 1, ma'am.
You sound like a Sufi now, You must have a clean heart. Syabas
Mike
Dear En Bergen
lagi pls?
Dear Sir,
I have been lurking for looong time but first time comment, enjoy your writing remind of me Harold Robbin kind of writing. I like. Plse keep writing
MIke: It's so difficult to cleanse the heart of impurities.
Fi-sha: Will do, ma'am.
Anonymous 10.47. Thank you, sir / ma'am.
Yup, I want to read more....
Azudesu: The entries about Aunt Su may not come in a chronological order. I hope you don't mind.
Thank you, everyone, for dropping by.
Nice brief and this mail helped me alot in my college assignement. Gratefulness you on your information.
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