I've not written for some time now. Too lazy to do anything. So I'll just post this work in progess first. Enjoy:
Trains purposely sway, so as to rock you to sleep. Which is probably great, seeing as how the view from a train window, while exhilarating the first time, loses its novelty almost instantly. The static buildings and greenery become blurs and rushes of colour, not affording the mind any moment to take it in.
Omar, however, was wide awake. On his face was those sort of expressions that authors like to put as 'furtive', as it was very clear for all that some thing was on his mind, and it was also very obvious that he was net doing a very good job in hiding his concern. Not that it mattered. His fellow passengers were sound asleep, with the exception of the small toddler on his mother's lap, staring unflinchingly at Omar.
The child's stares robbed Omar of his concerns. 'What a cute kid' he thought, 'Rin would have said the same thing'
'Rin loved children' his mind continued.
'Oh Rin, where are you?'
He had now returned to his original concern, that of his Rin, his absent angry wife.
He glanced at his mobile phone. Nothing.
He glanced again, just to be sure. Still nothing.
He dialed her number. "The number you have dialed is currently unreachable" the nice lady informed.
'Are you still angry?', he asked,and continued to stared blankly out the window, as if in anticipation of an answer to his silent question.
It was not so long ago they were quite the jovial couple. The sort that friends and family whisper softly to each other, "Oh, they look so happy" during parties. In fact, they were quite happy together. They did everything together. They ate together. They went for movies together. They went to the gym together. Occasionally, they went for a night out, and spent the night singing at their local karaoke place together.
Suddenly, every thing's changed. She's not even talking to him. Omar racked his brain, why, why is she acting in such a way? How can everything suddenly turn bad so quickly and so suddenly? Omar was consummately baffled by all this, and he could not help wishing thatPak Mael was by his side, giving him advice. Pak Mael always had a handle on everything.
Pak Mael is Omar's father's cousin. Omar, as was his father, is an only child. Omar was also an orphan, having lost both his parents at a very early age. Though he lived the most part of his childhood with his mother's sister, and the majority of his teenage years in a government boarding school, he felt a very strong attachment toPak Mael, even if he usually spends less than a month with Pak Mael's family. Maybe it was the change of scenery that made him love his stays with Pak Mael so much. To be able to escape the sterile urban jungles and really breathe in the morning air, each day, as he followed Pak Mael to the sea. Or maybe it was the warmth he felt in Pak Mael's house, that though void of the electronic wonders that littered his aunt's home, always made him feel welcomed and loved.
As a matter of fact, it was not too long ago that he visited Pak Mael and his family, for precisely those reasons. It was a visit that he remembers vividly.
As was his tradition each time he visited, Omar followed Pak Mael to sea. Pak Mael was now an old man, a faint shadow of his past, but he was not one to idle about. Everyday he would take his small boat out to the South China Sea in search of fish. His was no modern operation, it was as how his father had done it, as how his father's father had done it, and countless generations before. Omar enjoyed these sojourns, the feeling of being able to sustain one's self independently of others. The freedom from the crushing culture that expects everyone to speak, act, dress, walk, and eat the same way. The opportunity to follow where the wind blows you.
This time however, Omar couldn't help but noting something different, although he could not actually put a finger on what it actually was. Pak Mael too, seemed oddly downcast, although he tried not to show it in front of Omar. He loved the boy, he didn't want him worrying for nothing.
Some miles out at sea, as the waves gently rocked the small wooden boat, Omar started to question Pak Mael.
"Pok, bakpe mung machang bera jo?"
Pak Mael smiled, his kretek dangling from the corner of his weathered lips.
"I'm sure you noticed, how there are so few ships around us."
Omar looked around,
"Yea, I thought so too. But I thought it was only because it was still early"
Pak Mael gave a heavy laugh, " No, no, its not too early. There's just no fish"
Omar didn't know what to say.
"There's just no fish," Pak Mael continued, "or even if there were, they're too small"
"What happened to them? I thought there were plenty of fish here?"
"We thought so too, but now look, there's none." Pak Mael let up a hand to greet his fellow fisherman.
"Some say we caught too many of them, some say its the big boats over there in the deep sea, some say the ocean's just too dirty for the fish to live."
"So where are the others?"
"Where do you think they are?"
It was one of those quaint mosques that you can always find when you visit the small villages of the east coast. The worn carpeting, the peeling paint, the crackling ancient speakers, and the empty halls. Omar remembered his time spent here before when he was younger. Pak Mael then was the imam, and he made it a point to bring all his children (and whoever was staying with him at the moment) to the mosque, at the very least for maghrib prayers. The halls that used to be alive with children swaying to and fro reciting the Quran, was now empty save for the few geriatric regulars who were always there.
Omar knew these men seated around him. He knew them when they were broad-chested and proud.
There was Pok Jusoh who taught him how to chop firewood.
There was Tok Sani who taught him how to slaughter chickens.
There was Pok Halim who had once tried to pair him with his daughter.
It seemed that he knew all the men except the new imam, Haji Saleh, who he only knew vaguely as being very well connected.
They knew his questions, the moment they saw his eyes dart towards all corners of the mosque, and they were prepared.
"Much has changed, 'Ma" Pok Jusoh informed him, calling him by his nickname. "This is no longer the kampung of your youth."
"How could it not be so? The fishes've dissapeared. Jobs are few. The youngsters are idiots and addicts. And the leaders don't care!" Pok Halim thundered.
"Now, now. Aren't we being a bit emotional, abe?" Haji Saleh interrupted.
"Emotional? You're saying I'm being emotional!" Pok Halim continued "Leh, I know you're the Imam and all, but that's the truth. We are being left to fend for ourselves on this sinking ship while everyone just stares at us."
"That's not entirely true, the government has helped us" Haji Saleh objected.
"Puih, help? What sort of help is it when you make it difficult for poor people like us fishermen to go to sea by narrowing the river. Why, just because some rich people want to sail their boats! Is a few hundred ringgit for rice and sugar enough to cover our losses."
Haji Saleh had lost his patience. His face was now all red under his ancient songkok.
"You people better not become ingrates. Look at all we have now. Ten years ago, would we have electricity in our village? Would we have our televisions sets? Would we have our water spouting from pipes in our houses? Do you people have such short memory!"
"Oh yes! Progress!" Tok Sani countered. "Is that why now all our young men are monkeys on motorbikes, mosques empty,..."
It was at this moment of the heated debate that Pak Mael tapped Omar lightly on the shoulder.It was time to leave these old men to their business.
[end of part 1]
