Dr Renuka

I remember that day in second semester like it was yesterday. It was a Thursday. I had my Politics class as 10. And on the way to class, I met the other three: Diana, Lils, and Wenli. They were giggling like mad, walking like three drunken teenagers. I asked them what's up. And one by one they started recalling their History II class, or more specifically the lecturer. "Our history lecturer is so funny. You're going to meet her soon because she's the World Religion lecturer too," Lils said. And true enough, after politics I went to religion with Lils and sat anxiously while waiting to see how this funny lecturer looks like. And soon enough came this small Indian lecturer with henna-red hair walking through the door. She didn't struck me as funny at first, but cute, definitely. I don't remember if she smiled that first time I saw her but based on the person I got to know later on, I think she must have.

After that, Dr Renuka definitely succeed in getting me to class. No, in fact she actually made me look forward to her class. She's funny not because of her jokes, but because she tried to make light of everything and her demeanor is just funnily cute! Especially after 10 minutes or so of dry learning, there was always something that would come out of her mouth that made us laugh and it would rejuvenate us again. Therefore I would never call her a dry lecturer. She's always smiling, and when she's not, we know that something really bad must have happened. But usually her frown didn't last long. She's like the godmother everyone wants. In fact, there was once that I fell asleep in class while she was showing a video. I thought she won't catch me in the dark but it turned out she did and after the video ended she came up to me and said, "You look reallly tired. Why don't you go back?" I sheepishly smiled and shook my head. No other teacher I know of ever allowed me to go back in the middle of a class...and without a hint of sarcasm! At the end of that semester she brought sandwiches for all of us. How can you not love someone who brings food for 30+ people? Besides that, she will always be remembered as the only person to ever call my full name (Seyazafarrhana) up until the last class I had with her.

If that 2nd semester was like an introductory between us, I would say during the next semester we got to know each other pretty well. She can even joke about him and I always wanting to be together, again, without a hint sarcasm or irritation in her voice. I took history with her and I remember laughing over everything she said during the first day of class. I missed listening to her! She's always nice to me. But I guess sometimes she would also get annoyed with me always nodding off for 5 seconds every time during her 8am class. She always tried to make things comfortable, nonetheless. I think I can sense that somehow she did not enjoy that class as much as religion. Maybe it's the subject or the students, she's just not as jolly as before. So when her antics showed I would always be one of the persons laughing most. I love her!

After teaching me for two semesters straight I asked her to do my recommendation letter. She of course did not object and she also put quite an effort in both his and my letters. I can tell from the way she described me that that was exactly how I acted in her class and with her. I remember the second last time I met her when we waited for her to finish class near FOLA. And when she saw us from afar, she actually shouted, "I haven'tt write your letterr yet!" and rushed to her room. I giggled like mad. We followed to her room and she showed us the other students that asked her to write for them too. We told her that we're there not to pick up the recommendation letter but simply to remind her. She looked really glad after that. She said she'll work on it and we can come by two days later. So we did. And that was the last time I talked to her.

I know I am a bit late to write this entry. But the truth is I was in denial before. I know she was in a coma but I didn't want to think that she's really gone. I told him that until I hear it from an INTI official, she's very much alive to me. But then today Dr Lim told us that she passed away last Friday and today her body would arrive in India to be cremated. I really cannot believe it, but that's the truth. Someone who wrote and thought of nice things towards me is no longer with us. She was such a marvelous person. Everyone kept asking why does something so tragical has to happen to someone so beautiful. Fact is, when the time comes, it doesn't wait for a 'right' situation.

Dr Patilla Puzhankara Renuka Devi, you will be greatly missed.

-C-

A Girl I Know

Once upon a time I was a form one student. A student at SMK Seri Keramat to be exact. I had a best friend, her name is Fayyadhah or we simply call her Fay. We were inseparable. And then around March a new student joined our class. She just moved to the AU4 area. At first not many wanted to befriend her because of her very thick English accent. It turned out she had been living in England till a few years back. She hadn't mastered the Bahasa Malaysia language well yet. Since she's new, she sat at the back of class. And guess who loves to sit furthest from the teacher...yours truly.

So my friend and I decided to be nice to this new kid. We talked to her, got to know her, and even invited her to some of our 'outdoor' activities. One Monday, after the weekend we invited her to join us to the National Library, she suddenly distant herself from us. Being typically me, I wondered of it out loud. She then confessed that she felt 'a bit' left out during the excursion, as if like the third wheel. I felt like patting her on the back to reassure her she's not but at the same time I also felt like slapping her. Fay and I had been best friends since we were nine, so of course we are very close and whatnot. Couldn't she appreciate the fact that at least we ASKED her to hang out with us? After accepting my explanation she apologized and we continued as before. But then it got worse. She was suddenly like the tahi hidung in your nose. You want to pick at it, but fear of disgrace if others see you at it. She annoyed me too much not because of her dependency on us, but also because slowly I saw her wanting to become...me. The day after I brought my first ten paged fiction to school, she brought a draft of hers. One day I showed Fay a picture of Rob Bourdon I drew, the next day she has a picture of Christina Aguilera - signed the previous day. I play guitar, suddenly she's all interested in it too. It's fine if I 'inspire' her, but to do EXACTLY the things I hold dear? I just want to get rid of her.

It was then that someone told me about a story of a friend back in college. The dude, like this girl, was trying to imitate this person in every sense even when he is not as smart or as cool. Whatever this person does, the dude wants to do too. EVERYTHING including academic stuff. Guess what? The dude went to the extent of becoming almost EXACTLY the same as the person he imitated up to the point that he's now more successful. Fine, people can say it's his luck and rezeki and maybe he did crack his brain to be as smart later on. Hey, even that person holds no grudge against the dude now. But it's the annoyance of the moment.

I told my parents about the girl at the start of my story and their advice was a typical parental advice: be patient and be nice.

But I also remember of another advice my mum always tell me - always take care of yourself first. It means, before you start helping others or care about another being, make sure you have covered yourself first. It makes sense, doesn't it. Before you tutor another, you must be a master first. At times it does sound selfish. Why can't two or more people learn together without one being better? I guess you can if you want. But my mum knows her daughter better than anyone else. She knows how competitive I am. I don't want to be better, I want to be the best. What's my 'best' is of course relative. But the point is, my mum, being a mother, is afraid - and I think she will always be afraid - if someone starts taking advantage of her daughter. First of all, she knows how disciplined I am when I am working. I don't stray or procrastinate, I'm focused. A few bad qualities I do posses, but the basis I have covered. So if someone takes advantage of me doing more than 50% of the work and ends up getting better (or more, or earlier, whatever) of what I worked for, she knows I'm going to beat myself up over it. Extreme it is, but fiction it's not.

Oh by the way, the girl at the start of the story, she finally woke up from her state of 'finding herself' and left me alone. She realized that she can't and never will be me however many research she does on my interests and settled for being the academician that she is. Both of us had a fair share of being top of our form. She then went to a boarding school. Three years later I saw her name above mine in the SPM 2006 100 Top Students. She is actually very smart so I know she worked hard too for everything she had gained.

She work, she doesn't depend.

-C-

Happy 20th Birthday

A year ago on this very same day I wrote about how happy I was.

Writing this entry today is actually no different than then: I AM HAPPY.

Twenty years...it took me twenty years to finally be where I currently am. Read my previous entry? Yeah, I did have a rough time growing up. Therefore I never thought that I would ever find real happiness, seriously. I've always had doubts...on everything. Basically I feel like I don't deserve to be happy in this lifetime. I deserve to live and to achieve, yes that part I have covered, but to be happy AND joyful? It never crosses my mind.

Oh how rude of me. Today is not about me, today is about him. I should start learning to be selfless, eh?

To Abdul Rassyid Bin Ramlan, what else can I say to you that I haven't said before? What more can I say to you here that is safe for everybody to read? You know how I feel, and not just the mushy part. You know how I appreciate you being in my life and accepting me whole, with no expectations and thinking no less of me as a person. I thank you for that. Because a lot of people have a lot of opinions regarding us. And I admit that sometimes I can be harsh too. But you know that if I don't love you I wouldn't even care to say and to do what I did to you. You know those are just my way. Those are just me.

On your birthday I guess I should say all the good things there are about you. But I believe there is nothing good about you that escape anyone's mind that ever met you. You are the perfect male. Patient, understanding, kind, gentle, intelligent, knowledgeable, hardworking, playful, loving, thoughtful, handsome, and beautiful. But as a person of course you are not perfect. Sometimes you annoy me. Understand however, that it is not because it is you that I don't like; instead, it is because we are so different that it hurts. It hurts that at times you could not see my point of view or understand my sarcastic jokes. But God is gracious. I understand now that he gave me you so that I would understand more the nature of a human being. A human being that is more scarred than me but at the same time always makes me feel as if I'm the stronger one. No, I'm not, and I know it. You know you can't fool me too long. I thank you - again - for always feeding my ego even when I asked you to stop.

Twenty years...it took you twenty years to be as you are and I don't blame fate for holding our meeting until a year and a half ago. At least I don't have to watch the manufacturing of you and got the finished product...kidding!!

Happy birthday to you. May you get all that you dream of because you definitely deserve all of it. May God bless you with all His glories. InsyAllah, I hope to be writing this post for many years to come.

-C-

I'm sick

I did not have a picture perfect life whilst growing up. But I guess no one does, right. "There's always a trade-off," they say in economics. Try applying that in everything else and you get the formula to life. I'm always happy to share my stories and opinions concerning experiences faced and dealt with even if they're not perfect. Although I know that they don't mean much to most, I believe that everybody has the right to tell his story so why not spare a few minutes to listen.

Wait. Did I just write that? Let me check back. Oh yeah, I did...

Sometimes I find myself so funny that when I laugh I frown. I wrote once that sometimes I avoid other blogs because I'm afraid to read undesired materials especially if it's about me. In other words, I am not allowing others to explain themselves. So how dare I made that earlier comment.

But that's the point of this entry. I am sick. I am very sick. I am on my deathbed if there is an actual hospital catering to emotional sickness. Not mental, emotional. After almost a year of being with him I realized that I crave the wrong things all my life. Love is not important to me, attention is. I sometimes hurt others in order to not hurt another. It's haywire up there in my head, the result of twenty years of living.

Approaching my birthday and I realized that actually I am emotion-dead, if that's a real term. However, do not fret, this happened to me before. But it happened around the same time I numbed myself from physical pain. Now, I just feel like I've been through enough emotions already to last a lifetime that I have none to shed anymore. I used to pride myself for being strong, nothing can push me off my feet anymore, I can stand and live on my own. Truth is, I am not any stronger from the next person but I have learned along the way to smile and move on. Smile and move on. Smile and move on. Wait a sec, ain't that what adults do? Anyway.

Unfortunately, this sickness, this intangible cancer of mine, destroy those that I should smile most to. Instead, towards them I would not spare a second worth of a smile if I don't feel like it. Do I take for granted that they can't leave me? Maybe. Do I take for granted that their love is unconditional? Certainly. Someone who can leave me with a turn of a heel? I would plaster my stupid grin even if it hurts the muscle around my cheek. In school, I was nominated a few times for having a 'sweet smile'. How lucky they are for this smile is really 'expensive' to those who I are important to me.

Why am I writing all these? Because I broke down the other night and ended telling him everything. EVERYTHING. How I happened to be like this, this current Syaza Farhana. And he accepted EVERYTHING. Touched? Is there a stronger version to that emotion?

I have no regrets. That's my motto in life. Maybe it sounds wrong because as a Muslim I need to have regrets in order to repent. See how sick I am? I try to ask forgiveness from God everyday but I do not regret making ALL the mistakes I've made for if not for those mistakes I would not learn. I DO NOT regret a lot of things. I do not regret reading a book just to hate it later because if not I would not know exactly my taste in literature. I do not regret saying some bad things to my friends for if I didn't our bond would not be as tight as it currently is. I do not regret having to move because, well, the decision's been made. I do not regret getting speeding tickets for I'll have stories to tell my grandchildren (not my children or they'll follow in my footsteps).

This is me. I am sick, but I have the skill to hide it. They say if there are two patients diagnosed with cancer, the optimist one, or the one best able to put on a smile during visiting hours, has the best chance to live. I wonder now what's my chance.

-C-

I Miss

I miss...
the playground where I sprained my ankle after jumping off a swinging swing.

I miss...
the road I experienced my first 'crash' while on a bicycle, head on with a parked car because I cycled close-eyed.

I miss...
where I learned to ride the 'big bicycle' with Zaida and then taught her the skill when I've mastered it.

I miss...
driving pass the huge longkang by my school where I fell and had to be taken home - the only time - by my brother. There's always that story to tell...

I miss...
the first 'Giant mall' ever built in Malaysia where I spent hours doing nothing with my little friends after school.

I miss...
the drain I used to play in, searching for either cats or tadpoles.

I miss...
the slide which I didn't use as a slide but as a the place I played masak-masak.

I miss...
Jalan AU5 which used to look so wide when I was 13, crossing it with my bicycle on the way to school.

I miss...
Masjid As-Sobirin which for me is the perfect masjid.

I miss...
the playground Shila and I used to 'rest' while eating ice cream after jogging not more then half an hour.

I miss...
the 'kedai mamak' near AU16 playground because that was my Roswell before college.

I miss...
the killing hill I had to cycle/walk on the way to or back from school. Thank God for Whitey.

I miss...
the 7E Fayyadhah and I used to go to buy Harry Potter cards.

I miss...
Titian Cahaya where Naz used to seem so cool to me. Used to. (kidding!)

I miss...
sleeping with the sound of screeching cars to calm me down.

I miss...
being able to 'run' to KLCC whenever I need to buy a nice dress or something.

I miss...
the broken kitchen floor where I would disturb Kak Nor cooking just to put on my sour face when she scolded me.

I miss...
my dad's old studio because that's where I fell from his bookcase and cut my lips, imagining it as a hill.

I miss...
the AV room I first learned to play guitar.

I miss...
the living room where I would walk from one end to the other without touching the floor...a game my parents don't know about...until now.

I miss...
the space under the stairs where I used to lie down and create stories in my mind.

I miss...
the dining hall wall that surrounded me day in and day out as I studied for PMR, SPM, and everything else in between.

I miss...
the family hall I first played Shenmue.

I miss...
my parents bedroom, where I slept in till I was nine.

I miss...
my brother's room where we read his acceptance letter from MRSM together.

I miss...
my room, where life unfolds.

I miss 94, Jalan Permata 2, Taman Permata, 53300, Kuala Lumpur. I miss it badly.

But it's no longer mine...

Another girl is going to experience the wonder that I did growing up in that small, crowded, yet convenient and lively environment.

I may just 'started' in life, but the place I started is where my roots are.

Goodbye my home.

At least I learned one thing. A home is not a place. It is what you call as your own.

-C-