Stronger

Earlier today I was at The Curve with my friends. We were walking towards an escalator and we saw a boy, no more than 8 years old, lying face down on the ceramic floor of the shopping mall. The boy of Chinese descent was lean and thin, with red rosy cheeks colouring his face. He was crying and right next to him was his father, telling him to get up.

At first it seemed as if the boy was a spoiled kid, not wanting to get up because his father didn't let him have his way.

"Get up! Get up now!"

I realized that the boy was crying not because he was spoiled, but because he literally couldn't get up. Leg braces were covering most of the boy's thin legs, a clear statement to the world that he has trouble walking without support. It was when I saw those braces I started to feel bad for the boy.

A question popped up in my head and probably in many other passers by was "Why isn't that father helping his son? Is he that frustrated with his son that he just resorted to yelling at his kid?". 

It then struck me that the father was sweating, and his eyes weren't eyes of anger but eyes of trepidation. They kept shuffling between his son and the public who had their gaze on him. Judging him for being a bad father.

After countless of "Get up now!" by the father, the son did what we all thought he couldn't do.

He pushed his chest away from the floor using his hands, moved his legs and wearily got into a squatting position. Slowly but eventually, his body raised and his legs straightened. He was crying throughout his motions as it was obvious that it took a lot of effort and he was very much in pain.

But there he was, without any support from his father, standing straight.

Turns out he wasn't angry nor frustrated with the metal plated boy in the first place. He did what a great father would've done.

He helped his son grow stronger that day.

Screwed

"Babe, I want to follow you tonight,"
"Okay sayang, if you say so."

Shakir lit up his cigarette. Tonight would be his 12th time taking part in an illegal race. A jackpot of RM5000. Winner takes all. He doesn't really care about the jackpot though. To him, illegal racing is just for the adrenaline rush and a way to remember his dad who had died in a car crash when he was 11. An insane method to pay tribute to someone, but he couldn't care less about his life.

Someone he does care about is his girlfriend, Syazwin. The one who has always been by his side through his ups and downs, perpetual delusions and constant nightmares. The only one who actually cares about his life, since his mother somehow just vanished from his life 10 years ago, never knowing what happened to her. His mother never really showed much compassion to him after his dad passed away, she was always by the window, gazing at the sky as if hoping that her husband would miraculously come down from the heavens above.

The only theory he could think of is that his mother abandoned him, not being able to bear the weight of taking care of a 13-year-old, damaged teenager alone. There he was, a lonely teenager who was taken in by his uncle and aunt, and they did so just to get the extra cash from the government for taking him in.

Albeit his depressing past, career-wise, Shakir has been doing pretty well. A few years back he took part in a local amateur racing tournament and won the cup. A motorsports company scouted him and offered him a pretty decent contract. Racing illegally is just another method for him to relief himself from all the bad nightmares of his past that has been haunting him his whole life.

---

Shakir stepped on the gas the second the light turned green. His girlfriend was riding shotgun, shouting in excitement as they sped through the dark road, overtaking his opponents with ease. They were leading comfortably after 5 minutes in and another 3 km to go. A sharp turn was ahead of them and Shakir decided to accelerate through it, thinking he'll make it through with an unbeatable record time but he miscalculated his speed and the sharpness of the turn which caused his car to skid violently. He tried to control his car, his girlfriend's excitement immediately turned into high-pitched screams for dear life. The car rammed into a tree at a speed that would render most drivers and front passengers to bits of flesh.

---

Shakir's eyes opened slowly, trying to adjust his eyes with the brightness of the room. He then postured himself in a sitting position with surprising ease. He looked around and realized that he was in a hospital bed. His body was physically wrecked, bruises and wounds all over his body but he did not feel any sort of agonizing pain. "It must be the painkiller," he whispered to himself. Suddenly, he remembered everything that had happened that night and his stomach turned as he thought about Syazwin. He quickly got up from his bed to hopefully find her somewhere but before he could leave the room, his mother, out of all the people in the world, entered his room.

After all these years, she suddenly decided to show up, Shakir felt a surge of anger quickly building inside him. Her face was full of guilt. She also didn't seem to age much in the past 10 years.

"Hi Shakir, it's been a while," His mother said.

"Why.. How.. WHY ARE YOU HERE?! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"I'm sorry... I know I've been away-"

"10 YEARS! WHY NOW?!"

"I was drunk that day and I made a terrible mistake... I followed some bad people and-"

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT WHAT YOU DID, YOU LEFT ME JUST LIKE THAT!"

"As soon as I heard about the car crash, I immediately tried to be here for you..."

"Oh god, where's Syazwin?!"

"The girl who was sitting next to you in the car? She's not here and... she's not around dear..."

"Oh god, no please no, oh my god I just killed her, I... She would've been alive if.... if I hadn't let her follow me to that stupid race..."

Hot torrents of grief coursed down his face, his violent sobs robbing him of his ability to breathe properly.

Suddenly, the door of his room was knocked on and a figure came in. Shakir clung on to hope that it was his girlfriend, his Syazwin who had knocked on the door.

It was his dad.

"But son," his mother said, "she did survive..."

Help

It wasn't his fault

To be created by lust

A hopeless enigma

Marked as a stigma

Nine years old

Never learnt to be bold

Does as he's told

To beg for gold

Fake sorry glances

They waved him away

There goes his chances

For he shall pay

Back to his shelter

As usual, empty-handed

To his 'caretaker'

Where he would be belted

He couldn't comprehend

What he did to deserve this

To feel sorrow and pain

Every day, again and again

He would look up to the stars

While praying for happiness

And to get rid of all the scars

That rendered him helpless.

--

Me and you, we're basically living in heaven on earth. That boy has nothing. The only difference that divides us and him is that we were born in different circumstances. Ours much better than his. So give out a helping hand for those in need. For each step towards helping humanity is a step forward in making happier lives.

We are the lucky ones.

And it wasn't his fault.

Daydreamer

I'm a daydreamer

daydreaming 'bout the girl

the girl who changed me

she made me whirl

I'm a daydreamer

daydreaming 'bout how she talked

the way she smiled

the way she walked

I'm a daydreamer

daydreaming 'bout our first day

I wasn't doing so good

but you accepted me anyway

I'm a daydreamer

daydreaming 'bout that night

when you collapsed,

I held you tight

I'm a daydreamer

daydreaming 'bout your illness

I wish you didn't have to suffer

and worry about your fitness

I'm a daydreamer

daydreaming 'bout those meth

you wanted a party

I didn't know it brought you death

I'm a daydreamer

daydreaming 'bout joining you

a suicidal plan,

can't wait to see you

Here I am in my last seconds

hanging by a rope

contemplating if you were actually true

because it might have been just a daydream

 

Awareness

Yes boss? Teh tarik and roti canai? Got it. What? You want me to sit down and have a talk with you? Right now? I would if I could but I'm in the middle of my shift here, my boss might fire me if I do so. You already talked to him and he said okay? Oh all right... Now that I've taken my seat, how can I help you?

You want to know more about my life? That's unusual... I've never had someone else ask me that question. But if you insist, then I'll do so. I was born Bangladesh, with both of my parents at home raising me and my brothers as we grew. We were considered lucky, to have parents who did not run away from their kids or passed away because of some sickness. But we weren't the richest family either, we were just, average.

Dad worked 2 jobs to pay for my school fees, and I did quite well in school. I got good grades, but I guess it wasn't enough because, well look at me now.

Both of my parents passed away when I was 16. My mum was assaulted by a group of young men and my dad was with her during that time. He tried his hardest to save her, but the sheer number of the group was overwhelming. In the end, mum was raped. Dad was beaten to death. That's what the police officials told me bluntly.

After that day, me and my brothers had no one to take care of us. They were only 4 and 6 at that time. I had to beg at families whom I knew to ask them to take care of my brothers, as I wanted to get a job. People said Malaysia is a good place to start. So I migrated here, illegally at first... You seem like a nice person, I have faith that you would not report me to the police. After all... I'm just here to help my brothers back in Bangladesh. I do have a proper working permit now.

"Ey bangla! sirap bandung aku mana?! Sudah 10 minit aku tunggu, cepat la, dahaga ni"

Hold on for a while boss, I need to help my fellow colleagues. It's getting crowded here.

All right, I'm back. You're asking me if I was offended when that guy called me by that? Yes I am offended by it. But I've gotten used to it. It's been 10 years that I've been here, speaking in Malay is not so challenging as it was at first, but locals would still insult my weird accent. Most would think that I don't understand when they insult me in front of their friends, as I just put on a neutral face most of the time. I just don't want to cause trouble if I argue with them because I know I would lose my job easily. I am not a stupid man, as most of the customers in this restaurant would perceive me as.

They would call me with all sorts of insults, which to them, are not insults but mere jokes for their friends to laugh about. This job that I have IS a proper job, but me and my colleagues who aren't from Malaysia are always treated like slaves, like a lower class of human beings that do not have the right to be around here.

Do not get me wrong, I love Malaysia like as if it is my own country. After all, this country has given me a second chance in life. But discrimination is always present whenever I work here. It's so rare to see a customer smile politely at me while saying out their orders or any kind of interaction. Whenever someone does smile, a sense of hope would wash all my doubts away, thinking that maybe, I might just be accepted into the society. But the other 99% of people would prove me wrong.

You have to go already? Oh all right. It has been a good chat. What? No no no no no, I can't accept such a big amount of money from you. You insist?.... I can't thank you enough, RM100 would do wonders for me and my brothers back in Bangladesh. Thank you so much. Hope you have a good day too. And thank you for your generous smile.

Incertitude

'I'm not sure this is a world I belong in anymore. I'm not sure that I want to wake up." - Gayle Forman. If I Stay

When I'm alone, my mind goes wandering deep into the abyss of doubt and wonder, visualizing a thousand images of possible actions and outcomes of my life.

Yet past me could not have possibly imagined me being in my current state.

---

I've always had a hobby of observing people's behaviour, making theories of whys and hows. A sense of accomplishment would surge through my body as I finally make a sensible theory in my brain.

But all theories would ultimately lead to one final question, why are we alive?

It's an amazing yet disturbing question which has everything to do with our being. Truth be told, nobody knows, and nobody will ever know.

So why do we wake up in the morning, why do we take care of our health, why do we try to love, why do we even try to survive, when in the end, we would be lying still and lifeless.

Let me visualize a scene for you. Imagine it's 7 o'clock on a Monday morning, people waking up to get ready for school or rushing to get to work. And on roads, there are thousands and thousands of cars speeding to their destination. Yet none of them truly know why they are doing what they are currently on to.

It's like we're on a fixed pattern of living life. Be born, survive, die. Harsh as it seems, it's reality.

---

The fate of this post is not meant to end in a depressing note.

Now that I've realized I basically have no apparent reason to be alive, I try to make my own reasons. Personally, I don't want to die and rot and leave no substantial difference to the world or even worse, a bad difference.

Leaving the world knowing that I've done my part in making it a better place to live in for future generations is my reason to be alive, and that is what I strive for while this body I possess is still able to do good.

Guilty pleasure

We first noticed each other in KFC where I was having my favourite snack plate. The moment she walked through the door, I was instantly hooked to her. She was wearing a white blouse that showed her sexy legs. She joined her friends at a table opposite of mine and soon after I mustered my courage to ask for her name and we had a short conversation together.

I guess I made a good first impression, because we hung out frequently soon after that day. She would often wear short pants to flaunt her fit legs, which I've always adored. After a few weeks of knowing each other, I told her that she was my addiction and she said i was hers too.

But I guess she misunderstood my meaning of 'addiction' because her face expression changed when I pulled out my knife.

--

PETALING JAYA: A body of a young female was found in her apartment this morning by the police. The officer in charge of the case stated that the female has been dead for only a few hours before they found her body. He also stated that this case could possibly be linked to 8 other cases which had a similar pattern; the bodies found are all females and their legs are nowhere to be found.