Hey chubby kid !

He must be living in the neighbourhood. Occasionally I see him toddles towards the primary school, which is located just across the street. While other children are accompanied by their parent, this boy is always all by himself. He is a chubby creature in his 1.2mt height. Curly dark brown hair falling casually over the boy’s face, bearing a look neither particularly cute nor distinctive. At times, he is absorbed in his own world, mumbling to himself as he skips and halt along the way. He would also pick up a stick from the ground and swing it like a baton.

Our first encounter occurred about 8 months ago. He shouted across the street with an infantile but acute voice: “Sir, what a nice house you have!” That remark raised my curiosity. Isn’t it a bit precocious coming from an eight years’ old? Being caught off guarded, I could not come out with any plausible reply except the word “Thanks”.

Today we meet each other again. Right before my gate. While I am searching for my key, the little boy approaches me and utters: “Guess what I have inside my pockets.”
What? What kind of question is that? I asked myself. With both hands inside his pants’ pockets, he look up to me expressionlessly, waiting for an answer.
Could he be holding some kind of spray? Is it some kind of a prank? And why me? Trying to be as calm and nonchalant as I could, I take a step backwards and replied “er..I don’t know…. a candy, perhaps?”
“No,” he murmured, with eyes looking down. “I have a purse with some money in it.”
“Then you better keep it hidden before some big boys snatch it from you.” I assert.
The boy starts to move away before I ask “and why aren’t you at school at this hour?”
“I am going there right now, sir.” He turned and walk away with his hands still in his pockets.

I gape upon him until he disappeared in the corner. My heart was hit by a big punch, causing all the surrounding blood vessels to cling it tightly like an oyster. This conversation just doesn’t make sense. I still cannot figure out what this little boy is trying to do. Something is not right and I do not know what is it. I wish I could be cleverer to interpret those eyes, those sad eyes. They are without sparkle or vitality. They doesn’t speak at all. Does he need help? Or a friend?

Please let me see him again. Next time, I will be more prepared for him. I promise.

My Rendang

“I think I have bad mouth odor today. I can sense it myself.” My friend remarked.
Quickly I tightened my lips. I cannot presume he is totally innocent but I am sure that I am guilty. He must have smelt my breadth, and mistook it for his. Sorry for everyone near me but I don’t have the slightest regret for my condition.

It is the Rendang chicken. If you want to perfect a recipe, continuous practice is the only road to success, isn’t it? What to do with the food afterwards? You eat it. Just to prove that they are not poisonous - even though it is an explosion of garlic and onions. Not to mention its dangerous look too; pieces of meat in dull, dark brown of mushy, gloomy, sticky, lumpy sauce, threatening to jump out from the casserole. Once you are able to break these barrier, it is going to be nothing but rewarding. Oh yes, it will be unforgettable too. My Chinese friend will attest to it.

Ingredients : chickens or beef, onions, garlic, ginger, dry chillies, turmeric, cinnamon,
cardamom, coconut milk, lemon grass, salt and sugar.
How to cook? Throw everything into a pot, switch on the fire.
How much time? Depends on how hungry you are.
How to eat ? With your mouth, move your jaws to chew and let it pass down your throat.

Now Enjoy!

FIRST SNOW

Silence. Not a pin drop can be heard. The quietness is so imposing that it woke me up from sleep. Where are the birds, their chirping or the flapping of their wings? Do they know something that I don’t? My intuition tells me that something is happening.

As I raised the wooden roller binds, a strong glare dashed through the window. The garden, aged and haggard by the late autumn rain, has evolved into a Christmas postcard overnight. The ground is transformed into one big snow bed. So soft and so fluffy. The trees are no longer naked trees as their branches are gilded with glittering white glace. Snow fall and loneliness are so alike. Both of them always drop in secretly and unexpectedly. And they will never let you know how long they will stay.

IT'S A SIGN

“Nick, is that you?” These words appeared in my PC.
Was it 16 or 17 years ago? I cannot remember precisely. But I cannot forget the inspiration and wonderful experience having befriended a group of special friends who introduced me to the unique community where communication means having to use our hands, body and above all, our hearts. For sure, reduced verbal ability aids the development of a highly sense of observation. Honest people they are because they can perceive if someone is not telling the truth. Ironically, those who lies are people who speaks.

A couple of months later, I had to depart. Regrettably departure puts a full stop to among many things, friendship. I never thought there will be a day to rekindle long lost friendship until internet makes the ‘impossible’ possible. What a wonderful creation to the mundane world.