Mr. and Mrs. Hanafee

Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Hanafee! Yay!!

Turned 25 yesterday. Double Yay!!

Ok, that's all. The updates from me. Hahaha.

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Short Story Part 8

I walked towards the door exiting the old construct. Passing on my left and write those old school tables made from wood. There are no metal tables with a plastic surface here. There are no plastics chairs. Every chair is made of wood. Most have been fixed using available extra wood taken from "unrestorable" chairs. I walked towards the blue painted door equipped with old shackles and locks. The smell of old wood, filling the air in the room. I like it, it makes me feel nostalgic. It makes me see in black and white or at least agfa gray. Reminds me of the smell of home. I turned myself facing the structure, locking the door behind me.

"Cikgu Huzir!" a small soft voice said from behind me.

I turned around to see Aishah standing in front of the gate with an old man. In her hand was a container wrapped in red plastic. While the old man was holding on his old bicycle. The old man, looked weary, not tired. It looks like he's been tired for quite some time now. But still, he smiled. With the white kopiah on top of his head, faded long pants folded up to just under the knees and slippers on his feet. Somehow, his hands caught my attention. Tanned hands with veins and bones of his knuckle obvious.

His hands somehow radiated in strength, silent strength. His face was clean, clear, dark skinned and yet he shone like the sun. Aishah ran towards me held my hand and pulled me towards the direction of the old man. As soon as we got closer, she stopped me and stood facing me close to the old men.

"Cikgu, ni mak bagi, lauk makan malam ni... eh silap, teacher this food my mother want to let go to you." Aishah said uncertain. In her eyes I saw the words i uttered in class. "Nak belajar Bahasa Inggeris kena guna selalu."

Moved by her, i reached down for the container, placed it on the fence together with my bag and lifted her up.

"That my student!" I said while making an excited face. To show her that what she is trying to do is a positive thing. She smiled. Broad, beautiful but most of all innocent.

"Ni saper?" i said to Aishah.

"Ni abah!" she said whispering into my ear.

I placed Aishah on the ground and shook the hand of the father of one of my brightest student. He smiled. He turned to Aishah and said;-

"Sha tolong tolakkan basikal abah ni pegi tepi pagar tu." Aishah nodded and pushed the bicycle to the edge of the fence around 10 meters away.

His father quickly turned his attention to me and pulled me close.

"Cikgu, saya nak minta maaf cikgu, saya takder duit nak bagi cikgu untuk kelas tambahan yang cikgu buat untuk anak saya ni. Boleh tak cikgu tunggu sebulan dua lagi, sekarang musim hujan, menoreh pagi, getah rosak, menoreh petang, getah rosak. Saya minta maaf sangat-sangat."

Teachers nowadays are often mistreated. I too have over time, encountered some really nasty parents. But here was a man, twice my age, asking me to forgive him. I looked into his eyes and saw in them remorse, regret, guilt and it killed me. It twisted my stomach, and crushed my heart. This old man who has seen so many things in life, would stop ask for forgiveness from a young man who was young enough to be his son. What was even worst was the more i thought about it, the more it killed me.

"Macam ni lah pakcik, takkan lah saya nak keje percuma je kan? Saya pun nak hidup jugak, so kita tukar lah..." i paused. I saw worry in his eyes.

"Kita kira lauk ni lah sebagai pembayaran saya. Sebulan satu lauk boleh pakcik?" I said.

The strength in his eyes grew weaker as I saw the tears begin flooding his senses.

"Dan kalau pakcik tak kisah, pakcik benarkan saya salam cium tangan setiap kali saya jumpa pakcik." I held out my hand to grab his and bend over to kiss his hands.

As he slowly lifted his right hand and placed it on my head and rubbed my hair. I lifted my head to look at him. "Terima kasih cikgu." he said, his voice shivering.

"Sama-sama pakcik!" I said as I watch him walk away slowly, towards Aishah.

Aishah hopped on the bicycle turned towards me and screamed. "Bye Teacher! I lob you!"

"I love you too!" I said smiling.

An in a minute, they were gone around the corner.

Living in KL people have told me that more often than not, you will have to earn your respect. You cannot demand it. Tapi di kampung, orang berbudi kita berbahasa. Biarpun cuma lauk sebagai bayarannya.

Short Story Part 7

Picture by Sqaull17 from deviantart

It was cold. The breeze flowing into the moving car right after the rain had stopped was cold. I preferred it like that actually. I prefer to drive with the windows down at night, or after the rain. So since it was 830pm and the rained had stopped an hour ago. I drove home. In the best condition. The wind in my face, messing up the right side of my hair. But I didnt care. This was the best part of my day. I looked again at the clock. Slowing my car down. I didnt want it to end. I wanted to drive for as long as I could.

Then my phone rang, waking me from my imaginary flying abilities.

"I cordially invite you to our wedding on the 5th of March 2011 at..... Hanafee and Sabrina." The main details of the text message. My eyes widened. Surprised. I havent talked to him in a very long time. Suddenly, out of the blue he tells me he's getting married? Crap!

I rushed home. Questions after questions after questions in my head. He didnt seem like the one who would want to get married so soon in life. I mean come on, we're only 26. Hanafee was not a close friend of mine. But we shared a lot of common ground. The weirdest of all was that we were both born on the same day. 17th of January 1985.

I got home, rushed into my room, ignoring my housemates in the living room, saying only "hey!" as i walked in. I got into my room, windows opened, wind rushing to the door, like cats trying to get out of a house because its been trapped all day. I put my bag down and took out my phone and dialed Hanafee's number.

"Hello, assalamualaikum. Fee?" I said

"Waalaikumsalam. Wei Zir, hahahahha."

"Dude, what happened?" I asked making it sound like something bad had happened.

"Why? what happened?" he said panicking a bit.

"Youre getting married?"

"Stop making it sound like its a bad thing hahaha."

"Hahaha well it is a bad thing, for her!" Hit! right in the forehead.

"Funny.." he stopped laughing and used his sarcastic voice.

"So whens the ceremony?"

"read the text you lazy twat!"

"Hahaha... so tell me... you still working there?"

"Yeah... But i might be moving soon. I dont want to jump into it, but I think I cant keep up the long distance relationship with Sabrina. I mean when we were dating it was fine. But shes going to be my wife and I want to be closer to her.... and at a more constant rate." Hanafee went on explaining things to me.

"So youre quitting huh? Im quitting my job too, just havent found a place to get work yet." I paused.

"I thought you like working there." I said to Hanafee.

"Yeah I do, that place is awesome."

"So you okay leaving?" I said wanting to know his answer, as i was having the same problem leaving my workstation. Hanafee had always spoken fondly of the weird ensemble of people working at his company. He had grown attached to them and it was weird for me to hear him quitting. To be honest I never saw it.

"what good enough reason do you have to leave?" i continued my question.

He took a deep breath, i could sense he had given this matter a lot of thought, or maybe he was just tired of answering the same question over and over again. Im sure someones asked him before I did. Then he said:-

"There are a lot of good reasons for me to keep working here, for me to stay here. But Sabrina, my future wife, is a better reason to leave. She alone is a better reason compared to all the good reasons to stay my friend."

At that moment, I was convinced. I was convinced he knew what he had to do and he was going to do it. I envied him. Mostly because I wasnt so sure of what to do next. We chatted for almost an hour until I told him I just got home and I needed some rest. He hung up. And i sat on my bed. The lights were off, the fan circling gently on top of my head and the breeze blowing in through the window. I closed my eyes as i allowed myself to bathe in the breeze for awhile. Somehow, I fell asleep. So deep was my sleep that night, I had no dreams. Just a large dark space and Im just falling with the wind as a bed. Tonight, ill sleep, Ill handle my mistakes tomorrow. Ill have regrets tomorrow. Ill have a bad day tomorrow. But tonight, Ill just sleep.

Why theres only one Reception

One of the most frequent asked questions (usually come form idiots who barely know me but still wants to strike a conversation about my love life) are why is there only one reception for the wedding?

The Doa in the card was specially design to give you the first hint. I have no parents. Theyre both gone so having a second reception is down right unnecessary.

Take time to read the card. So i dont have to be reminded that I am without parent every time I pass you a card.

I have no parents, so one reception - Nuff Said!

Melancholy

Silence,

deafening silence,

as i waited,

waited for the words to come.

They never came,

it was left unsaid,

when it is unsaid,

it remains a mystery.

what hurts more than knowing,

is not knowing,

what hurts more than knowing,

is ever wondering,

what hurts more than knowing,

is realizing time is running,

less and less,

to say thing unsaid,

until when it comes over,

it gets buried.... forever.

p/s - felt like writing poetry. tapi malas giler nak carik gambar hahahaha

Short Story Part 6

picture from fakelvis at flickr

"Have a seat Huzir.... Its been awhile since I've talked to you." Said the old man behind the desk. I sat down, smiling, a bitter smile, but still, a smile.

"I've been hearing some rumors about you." He said calmly.

"Yeah well... Its bound to happen here.." I said sarcastically. He shot me a look and a smile.

He was smart, above all else experienced. The 68-year old mentor. My Mentor. When I first came to the company, our first meet and greet, he sat across the table from me as I remained glued to Obama's inaugural speech. As he sat down and said:-

"Oh he won!. The Republicans messed up." as he began to relax a bit on the sofa.

"Well written!" I declared as Obama finished his speech. He turned to me confused. Me grinning like a kid who was just handed a piece of candy turned to him and wiped my smile off as I saw his face.

"What did you say?" He asked

"err... well written?" I hesitated.

"What were you referring to?"

"Obama's speech.... I'm a fan of writing. Particularly speeches and novels, journals are fun too, fiction, non fiction, science fiction, classics, poems, haikus...." As I realized that I was rambling.

I shut up. Too much info for a stranger I assumed. The old man smiled. Warm, fuzzy, father like. I returned his smile.

"How old are you?" he asked

"I'm 24."

"Hahaha that is a very weird hobby for a 24 year old." He said laughing. His whole body shaking like a medium sized Santa.

"I have been told that many times, though I see no real reason for it though."

"What do you mean?" he asked barely stopped smiling.

"I mean, history is almost always written from a broad perspective, which is good, because it allows people to remain unbiased, but sometimes, looking at events through a smaller perspective can change how we look at times. Obama's speech for example, when I listened to it, I am transported to other speeches by Jefferson and Washington who spoke with the same eloquence about freedom, hope, dreams. The view of one person, which later became the ideals of an entire generation."

"Prof. We are ready for you." I was cut off.

Thats when I realized. He was the main man. The person heading the research committee which I was appointed to due to my experience in researching.

He turned to Mr Zarul. Head of Academic and Research Office.

"Looks like we have a talented one here." He said smiling and nodding towards me, indicating to Mr. Zarul he was referring to me.

That was it. That was how I met him. The man who would later take me under his wing, mentor me.

***************************************************

"Is it true?" He said, and yanked me out of the reminiscing.

"I dont know yet."

"Huzir, you have been in this company for quite some time now. It would be a waste to see your hard work be left behind. Starting over takes effort my young friend."

My young friend. Thats what he called me. Never son, never boy but my young friend. It made me feel positively different. He had that effect on me. I was young, bundled with pride of kings, energy of the sun, strength of an ox. But with him, with his intelligence, with his words, my pride was reduced, my sun became moonlike, and my strength remain strong only not as wild.

"I cant stay here anymore. I've lost the fire. What had happened, only happened, because i cracked under pressure. Everyone was so eager to see me fail, it came to a point, that I would gladly give them what they want. Me failing." I said as calmly as possible.

He looked into my eyes as silence ensued for the next few minutes.

"When are you quitting?" He finally asked.

"I dont know for sure yet. All i know is that I'm currently looking for a job."

He looked down. I was devastated. This old man, had taken me in, fatherless and motherless me and taught me everything I know. This man who i had looked up to, respected, admired and dare i say loved. I was devastated, because I was disappointing him.

I stood up and waited for him to stop me. He didnt, which meant, he was done. I walked towards the door and opened it. As i turned around and saw him with his face in his hand while the other hand was holding his glasses. For a moment, just for a moment, I felt the urge to walk towards him and hug him and say "thank you... in a life which i have spent a majority of it without a father, you are the closest thing I found, thank you for everything."

But I didnt, I closed the door behind me, and I walked away.