Yiruma's notes were flowing through my fingers. Red and blue and green. Then a texture came to my head. And I saw your fingers.
I remembered how they felt in my hands, as you held on to my little fingers when we crossed the road. They were rough, hard. They were big.
I remember the last few months I had with you, when I held to your hands when you got in or out of the car. They were soft, they were paper-y. They were still big.
And they were always warm.
I miss you, Grandpa. I wish you were still here with me. I still get days when I wake up not believing that you are gone forever. Times like this I lie to myself and say that there is an afterlife, just so I can see you again.
Inexperience. So many things over the past month I wish I had done differently. Disappointment is the price I pay for growth, I guess.
I'm a good leader, but I am a wreck at organisation. I'm only as good as my weakest link. That is a sad fact that I have learnt. I can lead an army of SEALs, but I cannot lead a handful of the PDRM.
The currents were getting stronger as he approached the middle of the river.
The bank he had just left. Well, there were still those men there. They were still in maniacal motion, hysterics. They tried to kill him when he refused to take it. That was when he jumped.
They wanted him to pocket the sweet. Sweets had been banned in that land for the past 15 years, you see. Because, it makes people happy. Happiness, is forbidden now. It's bad. It makes us sin. Happiness makes humans giddy, giddiness reduces rationalisation. Irrational people are better off dead, or so they say. Regardless, the Lord bans happiness. Bottomline. That's what they say. Sane people just don't do that, sane people do not accept happiness. They don't laugh or smile. And sweets make people laugh. That is why it was banned.
But they, those men. They had arms that reach far and wide. They had the sweets. They promised all the sweets in the world, if he would only sign the crucial petition to stop people from wearing orange coloured things. He refused. His daughter loved orange coloured things. That was when they tried to kill him. That was when he jumped. That was when he started to swim to the forbidden land.
He finally stepped onto the opposite bank. He made a run for the trees. The grass here was not any greener, but the air, it sure was sweeter. And mysterious.
And then he heard the most frightening sound ever. It sent chills down his spine. He waited for the carnage that would normally follow. But nothing else came, except the continuous disturbing sound. He made a run for the source.
Up ahead in the clearing, for there was a beautiful clearing, was a solitary girl. She was-
She was laughing!
Preposterous! Where were the police? Why have they not shot her down? He had seen countless persons getting shot before, even for accidental giggles. But here, this most absurd creature, was laughing her head off!
He crept closer, as silent as ever. She might be dangerous.
She turned.
And eyed him.
Oh my jewels. She broke another law.
Direct eye contact with the opposite sex.
Dear Lord, forgive me for my sins, he thought.
But he could not tear his eyes away like the obedient servant he thought he was.
Then she smiled.
He must have gone crazy and is hallucinating now.
She opens her mouth.
He has not seen lips move in a very, very long time.
Hello, who might you be, stranger?
She spoke!
She…she.
She speaks!!!
But he has forgotten how to.
How does one speak?
He has forgotten how to use his tongue to form words.
Speaking was dangerous.
At least, it was in the land he had just swam away from.
I. Just want to go home. And not grow up. Stuck in blue and white. And the obligatory tie. Sweating over maggi mee goreng at Selva. When there were friends. And then everyone else.
You know. If I could have only one child, it'd be a daughter. Daughters, they'll always be daddy's little girl. They'll always be that little goofy kid. With sparkle in their eyes. And a twinkle in their steps. The apple that runs to daddy. When she scrapes her knee.
I want a beagle. A snoogums. A daddy-ums, baby-ums.
When life gets tough, I find myself often returning to this one day in Sydney, when we made our way to the Royal National Park. It was the most relaxed yet adrenaline-filled day of my life. We hiked to the ends of the land, we swam in the rivers, we jumped off the edge of a waterfall, we basked on the soft white sands along a hidden gem.
But it was in the car on the way to the Park which I turn my attention to. I was in the front seat with our guide, Zee. We were shouting to the back of the minivan, conversing with the others. Then we stopped, stared at the road.
Now here's the thing about Zee. He's a true Australian through and through. He had long hair, unkempt but rugged in an Outback kinda way. He was slim, fit. He was a vegetarian. He munches on his apples and devours his bananas all day long. He exudes a chilled, laid back persona that I always associated with the mood in the book "Breath". But he loved, above all, life.
And then Zee said, "Mate, you have some good shit songs. But 'ave you ever heard of Bon Iver?"
I said no.
And he cast me a sidelong smile, slots in his CD into the old minivan's player. Turned the volume up some bit. Rolled his window down, to which I followed suit. Then Bon starts to play. The morning Australian sun was beating at us. The cool air was rushing into our faces. We were in our singlets and shorts and tracking shoes. We had our shades on. The van fell silent. Zee drove on. And I just sat there with Bon.
