When she asked me, “Why are you so cold towards me?”
I said, “I have to. It’s like an igloo. Icy cold blocks creates a wall; a cold wall to keep the inside warm. And the inside is my heart”.
Without looking straight into her eyes, I walked away. Trying to go far away, as far as my lethargic mind could take me.
Alas, it was lost.
But they say that the best photographs are inside your memory.
Words of self-comfort.
That night was especially dark. The dark figure came closer. I knew who that was. An old man that I used to know riding on an old and rusty Raleigh Superbe Roadster. The bicycle squeaked softly as it was approaching me. The front tyre was slightly twisted but not enough to make it wobble. I then could clearly see the rifle on the old man’s shoulder, balanced perfectly as if it was tightly tied to his clavicle.
Then there was a strange smell. A musk-like odour. The bicycle screeched gently to a halt just beside me. A sudden gust of chilling breeze went through the openings of my shirt. Bitter. It was then that I could see three mouse deer carcasses at the back of the bicycle, one tied on top of the others on the bicycle’s iron grill.
“What are you doing here? Wandering in the middle of the night”, the old man asked.
I tried looking directly at his face but could see nothing. I was not sure if it was because of the darkness or because my vision was weakening or even because if he had no face at all! But I’m pretty sure it was that same old man, the old man I used to know from long ago.
“I’m going back to my grandparent’s house, just a few yards ahead. I live there now since my grandmother is staying there all alone”, I answered.
“Ah, I met your grandfather a few days ago”, he said.
Right after his statement, I felt like trembling. Cold sweat began to drip from the back of my neck. I forced my feet to be sturdier on the ground. I braved myself.
“Where are you from?”, I asked.
As if there was an invisible grin on his face, he answered, “I was from the hill, hunting. Then I made my way back here through the rubber plantation.”
He lowered this right arm from pointing north-east. I could see his old, skeletal hand with a little help from the nervous moon light.
Something was obviously not right. The last of the rubber trees were cut down more than twenty years ago. The old man was pointing at the current hillside condominiums and luxurious bungalows area; a socially gated community. I was anxious. I wanted to end all this.
“Why are you here? Really. Why?”, I asked in a somewhat insolent manner.
I could feel an intangible sigh from the old man.
“I am a hunter and will always be one. In the land where I came from, there is nothing to hunt. Everything is already dead!”
Waktu senja melambai dari tirai ufuk
Kau menghampiri beranda
Membelakangi cahaya samar rawi
Maka basuhlah debu-debu neraka dari tubuhmu
dengan air wadi dalam tempayan
Tak mengapa, aku tunggu
*****
Dan habiskanlah sisa-sisa roti kehidupanmu
dalam pinggan porselin sumbing
Tak mengapa, aku tunggu
*****
Setelah seumur hidupku menunggu
Kita melangkah seiring ke dalam ranjang jagat
Rawi kini diganti purnama
Hey do what you want, but don’t do it around me
Idleness and dissipation breed apathy
At times, I would like to just fuck my conscience and obligations.
But being sane enough, I realized that the ultimate purpose is not in tasting the fruits of present life but merely the act and effort of planting the trees.
To hell with being interesting and fun (to some standards?)! And talented!
When the crooked night came to a halt,
As the chilling wind blew its last gust
When the grey rainbow threatened to affray,
As the last few drops of rain fell on incident ray
(toss and turn)
(toss and turn)
Oh, you are my dream,
So let me sleep, guarded forever under your moonbeam
*****
EXT. PERKARANGAN BANK BUMIPUTRA, JALAN MELAKA – SIANG
Bawah teduhan pokok, Bujang memetik gitar sambil menyanyikan lagu “Sesat Di Kuala Lumpur” sedang Osman Tikus mengetuk tin bir kosong dengan sebatang ranting kayu – busking.
Sepasang muda-mudi berjalan melintasi mereka. Si lelaki mengeluarkan sepuluh sen, mencampakkannya ke sarung gitar dan terus berlalu.
OSMAN TIKUS
(Kepada pasangan muda-mudi)
Aiii! Apa ni? Sepuluh sen aje?!
OSMAN TIKUS
(Kepada Bujang)
Oi! Bujang, lu main lah lagu sentimental. Lagu jiwa-jiwa, lagu cinta. Barulah orang nak dengar. Ini…? Alahai…!
BUJANG
Ahhh! Lagu buat orang khayal, jadi malas. Takde kemajuan.
OSMAN TIKUS
Apa?
BUJANG
(mengerut)
Takde kemajuan!
*****
The circus is back in town! Ah, and it seems that there will be a new ringmaster.
I wonder if the people are still entertained by the circus nowadays.
