"We Don't Sell Durians in Sungai Sepi Anymore"

On the usual days in the middle of the year – no festivals, no foofaraw, no nothing – you can tell that the average build of the people in Sungai Sepi is quite lithe. Barring the sweet plump old neneks and the gaunt yet paunchy pakciks, the general populace here are strong women and men. Bodies built of hard work and hot sweat. Clean clothes and simple practical adornments reveal near-tactless honesty and lack of pretension beaming from the good, hardworking locals.

So when Raya rolls around, and the holiday exodus brings in the pale-skinned, soft-framed bodies of the city people, wrapped in allegedly fashionable, neon colour-coordinated dressings of the season, one can’t help but take notice of the stark contrast.

Despite this peaceful juxtaposition of lifestyles, there is still a century-strong commonality held close to the hearts of the people of Sungai Sepi: The love for durian.

Read the rest of this short story over at ISSUE Magazine!

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Sometimes I have too much.

I bought a subway sandwich with my own money today. Also a bowl of mushroom soup. I was hungry. The price of which all works out to about RM17.

That in itself doesn't make for much of a "new year blog" story does it?

Let's try again. 

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"Mamak Beggars"

One time I was eating outside at a mamak. It was cold and kinda wet since it's been raining.

I saw from where I was a couple of beggars several tables away. One was younger and a fair bit smaller than the other.

The older one was walking from table to table with packs of tissue and a walking stick. Her coming seemed to be met with at best a cursory wave away. She was in good spirits still, though.

The arrival of beggars always manage to unsettle me some no matter how good the table chat was. I'm never sure if I should give. On the one hand, charity is always good and people who beg are always people in need. On the other hand, the giving might be encouraging them to continue begging and not look for other opportunities to support themselves. Not to mention the alleged syndicate of beggars being used in groups as a form of organized panhandling. That's definitely not to be encouraged, right?

The smaller beggar was met with better response. People smiled warmly, asked him how he was doing. Some outwardly generous people even offered their food which he gladly accepted.

The way the two of them were going about the tables it was clear that mine would be next soon.

The older one reached me first and held out her hand. I looked up, half expecting her to say something, but really more for me to take a good look at her face. I figure it's only polite.

She took my cash and gave me the tissues. None of us said anything to the other. Perhaps she knew my giving was clouded by the insincerity of not wanting to appear miserly in public. She'd be right.

The smaller came up to me almost immediately after. He looked up at me as I gestured apologetically to the lady.

I don't expect him to know what I meant. His charmingly nonchalant way of dealing with people is part of how his gig is so successful, I gather. He nodded away and turned to face the table next to mine, still unmoved from his spot.

With his head turned away I figure I had a good chance to, so I kicked him.

Sorry to say this, but I'm not a big fan of cats.

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"Si Jimi"

Kebetulan hari ini sewaktu Cikgu Harom sedang meronda koridor kelas, beliau melepasi bilik darjah tahun akhir "5 Meteor". Kelas ini, seingatnya, adalah kelas yang paling cemerlang sepanjang tahun. Dengan markah peperiksaan yang sentiasa 90 ke atas, hasil kerja tugasan yang berkualiti, tidak lupa juga pencapaian pelajar-pelajar kelas ini menjadi juara Pertandingan Gusti Raksasa Peringkat Negeri, kelas "5 Meteor" jelas sekali adalah kelas kebanggaan Institut Latihan Muda-mudi Unik.

Nyatalah waktu ini memang waktu rehat. Tiada seorang pun pelajar yang kelihatan di bilik darjah ini, fikir Cikgu Harom. Sedang beliau mula menoleh keluar kelas, beliau ternampak sesuatu di ekor matanya. Sangkaan Cikgu Harom silap. Ada lagi seorang pelajar yang masih berada di dalam kelas. Dengan perasaan sedikit malu, beliau menoleh kepada pelajar yang sedang duduk di mejanya tadi.

"Maaf ya, Cikgu cuma meronda sahaja," katanya.

Senyap.

Cikgu Harom berhenti. Beliau mendongak sedikit, menunggu pelajar tadi membalas tegurannya. Setelah beberapa saat, beliau berjalan ke arah pelajar tadi yang masih duduk selamba berseorangan. Mejanya kosong kecuali sepucuk beg pensel yang terbuka zipnya.

Wajah pelajar tadi kelihatan muram. Badannya lentok sedikit dan matanya kuyu, dia nampak samada letih, atau sangat bosan. Mulutnya terbuka beberapa milimeter, menampakkan dua batang gigi depannya yang megah terpacul keluar bibirnya. Rupa dan lagak pelajar ini yang bersahaja meragukan Cikgu Harom, menyebabkan beliau tersentak seketika.

"Kenapa dengan budak ini. Ada masalah peribadi mungkin," fikir Cikgu Harom.

Sebagai guru yang perihatin, beliau sudah biasa melayan kerenah pelajar remaja seperti ini..

Beliau mengambil kerusi berdekatan meja pelajar tadi lalu duduk bertentangan dengannya. Beliau mengecilkan matanya untuk membaca tanda nama yang tertera di poket uniform pelajar tadi: "Jimi".

"Jimi," kata Cikgu Harom. "Kenapa kamu masih di kelas? Kawan-kawan kamu semua di kantin, kan?"

Jimi mengelip matanya sekali.

"Tak lapar ke?"

Jimi mengelip matanya sekali lagi.

Cikgu Harom semakin risau. Beliau cuba mengimbas kembali ke zaman persekolahannya. Sangat jarang ada pelajar bersuperpower yang memilih untuk bersendirian di bilik darjah di waktu rehat. Lagi-lagi dengan perasaan murung sebegini rupa. Kalaupun mereka berasa sedih atau emosional, biasanya mereka hanya akan ke gim dan melepaskan geram menggunakan kuasa mereka.

"Kuasa.." kata Cikgu Harom dalam hatinya. Jimi masih tidak bergerak. Mungkin si Jimi ini masih belum timbul kuasanya. Terjadi juga kes-kes begini di kalangan remaja. Pelajar yang bijak dari segi akademik dan cemerlang dalam kegiatan kokurikulum lain, tetapi tidak menunjukkan apa-apa tanda kuasa luarbiasa.

Selalunya pelajar sebegini dimasukkan di I.L.M.U. kerana laporan kesihatan kerajaan mengesahkan mereka mempunyai DNA superhero, namun kuasa mereka lambat timbul. Mereka biasa diejek rakan-rakan dengan panggilan seperti "lembab", "stupidhero", dan macam-macam nama lain yang memanaskan telinga Cikgu Harom. Mangsa buli seperti mereka perlu dipupuk dengan baik, takut-takut bila kuasa mereka timbul kelak, mereka mungkin terjebak jadi supervillain pula.

Cikgu Harom menyeluk tangannya ke dalam beg pensel tadi, lalu mengeluarkan sebatang pen.

"Kamu pernah guna pen yang tiada dakwat?," tanya Cikgu Harom sambil meneliti pen itu.

"Macam mana kamu tulis pun, dakwatnya tetap degil. Tak mahu juga keluar," sambungnya sambil membuat gaya menconteng pen di udara.

"Tapi pen ini masih berdakwat, kan? Nampak?," Cikgu Harom menuding jarinya ke kelongsong lutsinar pen itu. Jelas kelihatan dakwat biru yang masih banyak di dalamnya.

"Di dunia ni tiada benda pun yang sempurna, Jimi. Bersabarlah. Lambat laun akan keluar juga dakwatnya nanti."

Jimi tidak bersuara. Tidak tersenyum, tidak mengeluh, tidak juga mengelip matanya seperti tadi. Malah, dia tidak bergerak walau semilimeter pun.

Cikgu Harom mengerut dahinya. "Penat-penat aku bercerita, budak ini masih terlopong. Buang tenaga sahaja," kata beliau dalam hati. Cikgu Harom bingkas berdiri. Mungkin si Jimi ni sakit, fikirnya.

Dari jauh kedengaran bunyi tapak kaki pelajar yang riuh bergegas pulang dari waktu rehat. Baru sahaja Cikgu Harom menoleh untuk ke luar, tali lehernya terbang ke atas ditiup deras angin yang muncul lalu lesap secara tiba-tiba. Di hadapan papan hitam sekarang terpacak berdiri Mohd Farah, ketua kelas "5 Meteor". Dia sedang memegang sebatang kayu aiskrim.

"Kamu ni! Terkejut Cikgu," kata Cikgu Harom, hampir menjerit. "Tahulah kamu tu laju, tapi nak masuk bilik pun jaga-jagalah. Habuk ni!"

"Maaf, Cikgu.." kata Mohd Farah. Dia menunduk, matanya terhinggap ke batang aiskrim yang kosong di tangannya. Kepalanya terus menjenguk ke luar kelas mencari-cari, hampa.

"Cikgu nak tanya ni," kata Cikgu Harom sambil menuding pen di tangannya ke arah Mohd Farah. "Kenapa dengan Jimi tu? Kamu semua buli dia ke?"

"Mana ada," jawab Mohd Farah sambil membuang batang kayu tadi ke bakul sampah.

"Pelajar yang tiada kuasa hebat macam kamu, tak usahlah dibuli, faham?" ujar Cikgu Harom lagi.

"Mana ada kami buli dia," balas Mohd Farah.

"Habis tu kenapa dia duduk seorang sahaja di bilik darjah ni?"

Mohd Farah membelek ke arah meja Jimi.

"Oh. Tu bukan Jimi la Cikgu."

Cikgu Harom mengangkat keningnya tinggi. Dia menoleh ke arah "Jimi" tadi. Perlahan-lahan beliau mencucuk matanya dengan pen.

Pen tadi menusuki mata Jimi dan hujungnya tertembus keluar ke belakang kepalanya tanpa rintangan. Terasa seperti pen tadi menembus angin. "Jimi" mengelip.

"Tu klon dia. Jimi boleh buat klon guna cahaya."

"Buat apa?" kata Cikgu Harom yang terbeku di situ.

"Dah seminggu dah dia syak pen dia ada orang ambil. Dia buat klon ini untuk perangkap pencuri tu."

Bunyi tapak kaki pelajar semakin dekat didengari. Sepasang kaki yang melangkah cemas kedengaran. Dari pintu kelas yang bertentangan dengan Cikgu Harom, masuklah seorang pelajar bermata kuyu bergigi ke depan.

Jimi menuding jarinya ke arah Cikgu Harom dengan penuh semangat.

"HAAA!

..eh."

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“Hari Putih”

Helmi baru sahaja berjalan masuk ke pintu automatik KLIA. Dia menoleh ke jam tangannya. Pukul 3:30 pagi. Angin di luar yg sejuk tadi terasa lebih panas nak dibandingkan dengan hawa dingin dalam KLIA ni, fikir Helmi.

Dalam lapangan terbang ni selalu terasa macam bukan Malaysia. Cantik sangat. Bukan nak kata interior bangunan-bangunan di Malaysia ni buruk-buruk belaka, cuma selalunya tak secomplex ni. Helmi mendongak ke siling. Bentuk alunan permukaannya dan cara sudut-sudut bertemu di tiang mengingatkan dia akan bumbung kanopi kenduri Pak Cik Qasim tempoh hari. Bunyi tapak-tapak kasut yang berdetak atas lantai mengalih pemandangan Helmi ke bawah. Lantai dia pun cantik. Berkilat. Macam pusat beli belah pun ada.

“Memang pusat beli belah pun,” kata Helmi sambil mengimbas pandang sederet kedai yang menjual segala macam ole-ole last minute. Dia ternampak kedai coklat. “Alamak. Ade kedai coklat,” bisik Helmi sambil bergegas ke arah kedai tu, meraba-raba poket seluarnya, “Bawak duit ke tak ek?”

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“ku cin tai ku cin”

Waktu tu pukul 12 pagi agaknya. Entah. Tak brape pasti. Dah biasa sangat tido lewat. Tapi yang pasti waktu tu memang da malam da. Waktu tu la dia telefon.

Saiful: Wei aku dah kat luar ni.
Aku: Mm.

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“Orange Note”

“I've never been in a musician's house before,” said Nani. “He must have a lot of weird musical instruments inside.”

“Not necessarily,” said Wahid as he's driving them both to his friend's apartment. Sifar, a composer, wanted to give him his latest piece of recording to send to his studio for mastering.

“Does he have cool art at least? Maybe he's a collector or something..”

Wahid gave her a serious look.

“You're staying in the car, I don't want you stealing anything.”

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“The Count of Monte Carlo / Sweet Lady Biscuits”

Mustapha just came into the kitchen where his wife was making him a fresh pot of tea.

“Had a good day at work, dear?” she said.

He sat down on a chair near the kitchen counter, tired but still feeling talky.

“Well.. We got a new guy transferred to our department.” he said as he picked up a curry puff from the plate on the table and broke it in half.

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“Miracle Fruit”

“What are you so excited about?”, said the tall man in a white apron.

The skinny, well-groomed, smiling young lad he was talking to replied, “It's my first day in my first restaurant.”

“Really?” the man continued, with a bit of a smirk. “This'll be the longest first day you'll ever have, then. Go get dressed and help Parminder at the frying station, the lunch rush is coming in.”

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“The Fool On The Bus”

Two women were having their lunch break so Risa decided to join them. The two ladies' lively chat was cut short on Risa's arrival. Or rather, the subject of the discussion changed.

“I thought you were going to have your lunch by yourself today..” the lankier woman said, with a pout.

“Oh come on, I was just finishing up some stuff at my station, Jules.” Risa replied.

“By the way, we were just talking about your father,” the other woman quipped.

Risa let out a slight groan, "It's all I ever hear about these past few days, Ana.."

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“A Day at The Bank”

Pak Qasim really didn't feel like going out today. It was Friday you see, and although the old man is no longer employed, he still feels like he's entitled to some rest today. He can't though. He promised his daughter he would help out in paying the road tax this month. Which is only fair, since he help get rid of the old road tax sticker. Granted, he also got rid of the old windshield too. But it was already cracked and needed repair anyway, he's just helping things along.

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