Malaysia Day

In Mukah, there is this cafe called Kafe 1Malaysia.

I had never been inside, but then since today is the first ever Malaysia Day, I thought, why not go and have a look to see whether there’s some celebration going on.

Alas, the whole cafe is empty. Deserted. Only a couple of flies humming around in the lazy afternoon sun. The same applies to the whole Mukah town. Apparently the spirit of Malaysia Day had not caught on. One of my staff is even unsure why we are having this holiday. Okay, maybe here people lives so harmoniously that they don’t need a holiday or some celebration to remind them that we should treasure our independence.

Nevertheless, it is amazing that it took 47 years for those higher ups confined in their plush KL ivory towers to admit the fact that, well maybe, we can’t hide that elephant anymore.

That jumbo being the fact that the true day our nation achieved independence is Sept 16 and not August 31. Even though they called today “Malaysia Day” instead of “Independence Day”,  lets just accept it and give them some face. It’s hard to admit a mistake.

And so today was the first ever Malaysia Day holiday. A day where all Malaysians are given the day off, so that they hopefully can search within themselves or online what actually is Malaysia Day all about. Or maybe to attend the various state and national levels govt sanctioned speech and dance combos.

Well, unfortunately I know, this is being optimistic thinking.

In Australia, Anzac day saw masses throng the streets to ponder and remember the sacrifices of their soldiers . The realistic truth is, Malaysia Day will see most people will just use the day to sleep in, play games and jalan-jalan cari makan. We just aren’t a country with first world mentality.

Do we have the spirit of 1Malaysia? Do we use this day to reflect and contemplate? To be thankful that despite being in an imperfect nation, we are still living in relative harmony?

Just wondering, in this Malaysia Day, what had you done?

Whatever, Happy first ever recognised Malaysia day.

Chocolates (Bite 2)

She is a beautiful young lady, as often complimented by her friends. Svelte and slender, one said. Hazel eyes with long lashes that can melt if you caught her fleeting attention. Long flowing black tresses with a hint of auburn finished with a frontal straight fringe that swayed ever so elegantly in the soft zephyr.

Her suitors are numerous and varied, a cacophony of human morphology. They came like roaring waves or trickled water, depending on the seasons, bearing fruits of their toil. And chocolates of course, because they all knew: oh, how she loves them. Sweet, dark, milky and bitter. Dainty little pieces or rough huge chucks. It is a guaranteed failsafe to her heart. Or so they thought, for every time the tide ebbed and waned, it leaves behind a spotless beach without the tiniest hint of even half a footprint.

She had flipped though their names in her mind like a virtual Rolodex as she stared intently at the macaroon, willing it to blurt out the answer. Alas, this stunt does not match any of their signature moves. When the rocky road also chose to remain silent, she knew she had to do something.

Long before the clock chimed nine on Wednesday, she was already crouched by the window which gave a partly unobstructed view of the door. She felt the adrenaline flowing inside every single cell of her body. The apartment was eerily silent and dark except the soft glow emitted by her laptop.

Just before the luminescent hand of her watch tethered over to twelve, the guy appeared, a thick coat covering most of his body. Her heartbeat picked up as he shuffled nearer. She craned her neck a little for a better look. Alas, the surrounding darkness camouflaged him well, and he wore a hood over his head. She was getting despondent until he stepped onto her doorstep. Oh my god, it’s him! She could hear herself wonder aloud. For as meticulous as the guy was, he forgot to mask the distinct purple laces of his shoes!

She saw him placed the cardboard box carefully in the middle of mat and pressed the doorbell, before beating a hasty retreat. She waited until his footsteps melted into the night before retrieving the gift, her brain a cacophonic mix of thoughts and feelings. The revealed white chocolate praline topped with a glazed strawberry slice with leaf intact looked at her, puzzled at her intense expression. If only it could talk and offer a dime for her thoughts...

Chocolates (Bite one)

It had been a while since I let loose my vocabularies to have a run in the pen, Mukah being the sort of place where tranquillity (itself a better word than boredom) can lull your brain to sleep.

Actually it had been more than a year.

Luckily, the recent dose of cold Melbourne air had been a blast of freshness, the breathtaking city and beautiful people providing a revitalizing effect. 

This short essay is named Chocolates. First part appears as below:

***

 

The silver ribbon unravelled upon the delicate touch of her dainty fingers. Like a flower bud on the throes of blossoming, the petals of the pearl white cardboard wrapper wavered momentarily, before slowly springing outwards to reveal the sweet gem enclosed within.

It is a rugged piece of chocolate brownie, dusted with an uneven patch of cocoa powder and with dark chocolate rivers oozing deliciously from the seams at the side. She can discern a faint smudge of a fingerprint on the wrapper, peaking from underneath a corner of the cake. It jumps up like a playful taunt, a suggestive allure from the mystery cake deliverer. Now you got my fingerprint, find the police and search for me! She feels a tingle of excitement running down her spine.

Tonight is the sixth night in a row the chocolate themed treat appeared right on her doorstep. The first time it happened was on a slow dreary Monday night. She was immersed in the dreamy world of Grey’s Anatomy on her pink laptop when the ding-dong of the doorbell suddenly chimed, echoing the ninth and last mellifluous note of her Made-In-Japan angular analog clock.

She rose and went to open the door of the apartment, curious to know the identity of this unexpected late night guest. She was greeted by a blast of cold empty air, and the blackness of the wintery night stared back at her. She was flummoxed for a moment, before she glanced down and saw it. There it was, as it had appeared today, an exquisite whitish square positioned grandly right in the middle of her oval rattan woven mat, exuding a classy glow under the fluorescent porch light shining on it, taking in all her attention like a film star on stage.

She had picked it up tentatively, eyeing it with suspicion. She scrutinized the four sides slowly for clues and found that it was blemish-free. She opened the box with trepidation, her heart picking up pace, unsure of what she will find inside. She caught the aroma of the warm cocoa smell before she saw the perfectly round chocolate macaroon inside. A yellow stick-it note adorned one side of the interior wall. It contained her name and the neatly written Especially for you. It was unsigned.

With clockwork precision, the parcel reappeared on Tuesday. The only difference was that it was a chocolate rocky road, with fluffy pink marshmallows, crunchy hazelnuts and fine flakes of desiccated coconut sandwiched between the generous layers of chocolate. These sudden surprises filled her with apprehension, yet she found her insatiable curiosity piqued. Who is this cake delivery man, shrouded in mystery?