Left Behind.

Kuala Lumpur Railway Station: Originally uploaded by: Magnus Caleb

“I know about being left behind” I said in the quiet of my room, the curtain drawn.


In the platform of a partially crowded railway station in Kuala Lumpur under the Moorish arch, we rushed to say what we could not finish the last couple of days in breathless whisper. Our eyes kept darting back to the train waiting on the track. We both knew when she climbed in, we can never return to the type of relationship we had. And when we meet again as we surely will, there will be an unbridgeable gap between us.


She reached out to hold my hand. She was always the strong one. I was concerned. What if someone recognized us? As she applied a gentle squeeze, I admired her strength. She was always truer to her feelings and I was a little ashamed. I had a rush of feeling. I wanted to hug and pressed her against my breast but I did nothing. Her eyes watered. She released one hand to rub them and then assured me that she was alright. I did not know what to say or do. I was an idiot.


If I wanted to do anything drastic, that was the time. Was she waiting for me to ask her to stay? And if I did, what would she say? Maybe, I should ask anyway. At least, it will make her happy that I asked. But what if she says yes? That thought frightened me for suddenly all the problems associated with that decision rained down on me. My shoulders felt the weight and they sagged.


I was saved by the whistle. “Love is not everything” I told myself. Passengers were scrambling on board. She was squeezing my hands so hard they hurt. Soon, we were the only ones left standing. There were curious looks from those on the benches waiting for the next train and passengers who had already found their seats. “She had no future with me”. The conductor moved along the train and blew his whistle again impatiently. She bent over and kissed me on the cheek. I had not expected that. She was crying again.


She climbed hurriedly on board the last segment. One hand holding the railing, the other waving as the train slowly moved away. I waved back and kept waving till it disappeared. Then I was left with my guilt, unable to move away from the spot, eyes fixed on an empty track.


I grew silent as I relived the past. I would have prefer to indulge in it a bit more but the old ghost intruded with a disturbing question – “She left you that day. But did she leave you or did you leave her?”


I became angry. That was an unfair. I suffered too. It was for her good. We would not be able to make it work. I was going to go on with a thousand reasons but I suddenly became tired. Over the years, I have tried convincing myself hundreds of time that we, I made the right decision. If I cannot convince myself, how can I convince a ghost?


I fell into silence again. And the ghost and I nursed our private thoughts in the silent, empty room as the night closes in.

To be continued...

Once There Was A Hill.

Staring at the sea... Originally uploaded by me jules

There was once opposite his village a spit of land that curved out to sea in an arch which ended with a solitary hill. When the sun sets, the fisherman liked to walk along the beach till the sun is framed against the hill at that exact position he would like it to be that day. That would be the spot he would choose to sit and idly gazed as the ball of fire doused its flame beneath the waves. Sometimes, he would climb the hill behind his village just as the sun was sinking mumbling Wang Zhi Huan’s poem “If one desire to see further, one has to scale higher.” He amused himself by timing his ascent to reach the peak the moment sun disappeared. He often examined his feelings when he was early, late or precise and found them inconsistent and sometime contradictory to what he expected to feel.

The hill is now gone. There is no angle out there now in the sea for the sun to be coy. They tore it down for the earth and rock to build jetties and wharfs. The padi fields and duck farms from Shekou to Shenzen are also gone along with any hills along that stretch. Huge mechanical monsters gobbled up the proud hills and spat them out to fill fields till all that is left is just an ugly flat land. Buildings sprang up all over the places and outsiders with no attachments for the land descended upon it like invaders from the North overwhelming the residents. The villagers lost their voices for they had become the new minority clinging to a way of life these newcomers have fled from.

He missed that hill. He loves it more now that it is gone. The absent hill reminded him constantly of his loss. He never once told the hill how much he loved it. There was never any need. Now he wished he had.

He had no love for these newcomers. Wherever they were from, they assumed an air of superiority and boasted about the places they left behind. Their focus was only on how to make money as fast as possible. They were rude, impatient and look down upon the local’s way of life as backward while they cramped themselves in unsanitary quarters no better than the farmer’s pig sty and went to work in sweat shops just as bad. They wanted to imitate the ‘modern way’ having no real idea what that is except making lots of money. So they aped the Honkies they saw in TV and put on an air to differentiate themselves from ‘ordinary’ Chinese. The villagers stayed away from the newcomers whom they viewed with equal disdain.

One day returning from his evening walk at the edge of his village, a figure rushed towards him, stumbled and fell. Instinctively, he bended down and pulled her up to stare into a pair of frightened yet defiant eyes. There were rushing feet and shouts as several men ran towards them. The girl pulled away but some reason he held on to one of her arm preventing her escape.

“Thank you brother” one of the men breathlessly said. They were newcomers.

“Why are you chasing her?” he asked.

“Oh, she owed us money. Tried to run away without paying.”

He looked at her for confirmation. “They promised me a good job in the city but now they wanted me to be a bargirl.”

He released his hold on the girl. Turned to face the men and told them bluntly “you cannot take her away” hoping that his voice was not shaken by the pounding of his heart.

“Friend, don’t give us trouble” he threatened. The five men spread out to cut off their escape.

Suddenly, there was a shout. “Hoi! What is the problem?” A group of villagers came upon them and now it were the newcomers who were outnumbered. The villagers were armed with sticks and poles of their trades.

The leader of the pack spoke conciliatory “Ah, it is only a small misunderstanding, a small misunderstanding” but from the look of it they are not willing to give up so easily. Some of them dug their right hands into their pocket reaching for something.

“Let me through, let me through.” A shriveled old man with a bad leg hobbled into the circle. He was the village headman. He ignored everyone and limped to the leader and they talked in low voices. An intense negotiation seemed to be going on punctuated by fierce looks and threatening gestures. Then the rough thug with the unbuttoned shirt and tattooed arm and the frail old man just stood there staring at each other.

The thug then gave a nod, turned and walked away, hastily followed by the rest of his gang. The fisherman walked over to the headman but he shut him up with “don’t say anything. I’ve been waiting a long time to repay you for saving Xiao Lo’s life”. He wanted to protest but the disapproving look from the headman told him not to. So instead, he just gracefully said “Xie xie” bowing his head which brought a wide smile to the old man. “Very good, very good” the old man sounded very pleased.

Everyone then left leaving him alone with the girl. As he stood there watching them go, he recalled how he saved the old man’s grandson when a huge wave washed the inexperienced youngster into rough sea. It was nothing. It was a natural thing to do. And he was embarrassed to be repaid for it.

He suddenly realized the presence of the girl, turned and said to her “you’re free now.” With that, he rushed to catch up with the departing villagers.

To be continued...