Di pinggir bandaraya Kuala Lumpur, atau barangkali lebih tepat dirujuk sebagai Kotaraya Durjana, dia, HE, seorang Martian, seorang Machiavellian, seorang jantan, sedang duduk merenung kosong gelas minuman yang berisi koktel delusi. Dia mungkin saja tak memahami -- the general purpose of life -- atau maksud segala-gala di sebalik apa yang telah dan bakal dia lalui.

HE, juga barangkali, menyertai antara jutaan jiwa yang menjadi mutan, yang hanya mahu berhidup di atas bumi, yang telah kalis terhadap virus-virus dan energi tipikal golongan populis, telah berhasil menemui satu titik -- a turning point -- which had led him to realize -- as the world has nothing to offer, death perhaps would be less suffering.

HE, sarat membawa jiwa yang panik dengan beban persoalan tentang visi dan misi kewujudan, selalu beranggapan, pencarian definisi hidup dan relevansi-nya kepada seseorang bermula bila sahaja dia mulai rindu pada kematian, dan kegentaran terhadap bagaimana untuk melalu kehidupan, bukan menjadi ancaman.

HE, mungkin juga barangkali, tidak sesekali tahu bahawa apa yang dia mahu lari-kan diri dari selama ini, adalah perkara yang benar-benar telah membunuh-nya.

Terbuta dengan keinginan dan kemahuan yang tak tertanggung untuk menakluk dunia, HE, telah memulakan satu epik perjalanan kehancuran emosi yang berhati-hati. Satu hal yang terjelas, dia tidak mahu dengan rela terjerumus secara eksklusif dengan si Venus -- menurutnya, si Venus adalah anak kunci kepada jalan kesengsaraan -- dan dia lebih mengarah-kan hidupnya fokus dan berpusat kepada pencarian keagungan dan keabadian serta pengiktirafan -- musik, arts, dan semua perkara-perkara abstrak yang diletaknilai oleh manusia -- which legitimately, he was never good at.

Melihat dunia dari sudut pemahaman dan kanta yang bertentangan dengan massa, HE telah paksa-kan satu standard matlamat untuk dia capai, sebelum segala-gala-nya beruraian menjadi debuan partikel.

“I wanna be immortal¹ !” dia kata dalam hati, penuh semangat, sebelum menyudah-kan hirupan jus terakhir.

Duduk berseorangan di dalam kesunyian² bar, dia melirik ke arah seseorang.

Dan dia tersenyum.

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¹ Kekal, diingati, hidup, atau rujukan oleh semua pemuja dan pencela untuk jangka masa selama-lama-nya.

² Unaccompanied.

----------------------------------------------------

**

Seorang Archimedes pernah jerit-kan “Eureka¹!” bilamana dia bertemu dengan pencerahan². Seorang ahli matematik -- setelah berjaya merungkai-kan permasalahan dalam persamaan kuantum nuklear yang rumit -- juga telah menulis dalam kitab-nya, perihal yang hampir sama. Dan seorang penyair eksistential tempatan, secara sinikal-nya pernah laung-kan perkataan itu tatkala dia dipanah dengan momen-momen keajaiban -- menurut pengertian dalam konteks-nya.

----------------------------------------------------

¹ Archimedes telah menemu-kan teori yang mengata-kan daya apung (buoyancy) sesuatu objek ada-lah sama dengan berat air yang disesar-kan oleh objek (Buoyancy = weight of displaced fluid) ketika beliau mahu mandi.

² Pencerahan yang dimaksud-kan bukan berkenaan dengan pencerahan seperti yang dialami oleh Siddhārtha Gautama Buddha di bawah Pohon Bodhi.

----------------------------------------------------

Jadi, HE, setelah lebih separuh hayat-nya terpasung dengan rantaian-rantaian teka-teki hitam, setelah diri-nya bangkit dari mimpi-mimpi orgasme sang Freudian, tanpa ragu-ragu, telah pekik-kan, “Eureka!” bilamana dia rasa telah lengkap-kan puzzle-puzzle kecil yang bertaburan di dalam dada-nya.

“Bitches love me!” dia kata dengan puas, buas, penuh yakin, lalu tersenyum dalam kesinisan, seraya merangkul kembali tubuh lesu yang berbalut selimut di sebelah-nya.

Dia, HE, seorang Martian, seorang Machiavellian, seorang jantan, mungkin tak pernah mengalami debaran rasa-rasa cinta¹ sebenar, tetapi -- perhaps he had been blessed with the ability, or had been cursed with the idiocracy -- dia juga tak pernah gagal dalam menikmati dan melunas-kan keperluan asas biologi-nya.

"I'm gonna make you scream now!" dia berbisik di telinga tubuh lesu itu.

----------------------------------------------------

¹ Cinta, menurut-nya, tidak wujud, dan yang wujud hanya-lah aksi untuk membiak dan menguasai. Cinta, adalah rensponsif pra-matang, dan sama sahaja seperti perasaan takut, ia juga hadir untuk satu tempoh. Cinta juga adalah sebentuk kegilaan yang bersifat sementara selain sebagai justifikasi untuk pertukaran cairan seminal, dan menurut-nya lagi, indah atau buruk-nya ada-lah seperti tindakbalas pemahaman terhadap kisah Lucifer yang telah terlalu diperbesar-besar-kan dan di-tanam secara intensif ke dalam hati-hati manusia sedang yang nyata, ia adalah sebuah dongengan.

----------------------------------------------------

Sejelasnya, dia tak mahu terperangkap dalam kekarutan janji-janji palsu alam utopia¹, dan dia tak mahu terlemas dan terkekang kepada ketaatan mengemudi komitmen dan tanggung-jawab. Dia percaya, you are free to exist, life is a factum-brutum, and as an agnostic himself, moral hanya untuk moralis² dan sebagai manusia yang tak terikat dengan mana-mana dan apa-apa doktrinasi, dia mahu bebas untuk hidup bebas dan tidak dipengaruhi oleh sebarang ideologi ketika membuat pilihan dan keputusan.

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¹ Cerita-cerita indah dan retorikal tentang kemanisan hubungan vagina-testis dan kehidupan pasca perkahwinan.

² Kelompok manusia yang mahu membetul-kan kelompok manusia lain atas nama penyucian dan pembaptisan terhadap, apa yang sebenar-nya ada-lah, alter-ego mereka sendiri.

----------------------------------------------------

Dia tak mahu, kryptonite -- apa yang dipanggil oleh manusia sebagai garis panduan dari Tuhan -- perkara yang diperdebat hebat di kalangan sejagat -- subjek sensitif yang telah dan sedang dan bakal membuat dunia sentiasa bergolak dan bergerak ke arah kebinasaan -- akan melemah-kan, akan menghancur-kan, akan mencerai-berai-kan kehidupan yang sedang dia nikmati.

Bagi-nya, dia hanya mahu hidup dan mati dalam ribut kompleksiti fakulti minda-nya yang tersendiri.

Bebas, tanpa ada belenggu-belenggu halusinasi (daripada adat, budaya, agama, kekeluargaan, serta ketakutan akibat ketidakupayaan untuk memahami) yang dapat mengikat mahupun menjerut keberadaan perjalanan-nya.

**

66 Tonnes of Weight

"Honestly, I miss my childhood times, when everyone was honest and free. The only competition among us was how to be unbeaten in games."

"The games have changed now. Everyone is rival to each other. Everyone is racing to be on top. They make comparison."

"There are no more honesty in friendship."

"People create pictures of how life should be. They put every beautiful things they could possibly imagine. But sadly, at the end of the day, they find it as hollow as their soul."

"They could not find the missing pieces."

"Happiness is never a destination...," she said, delicately, almost a whisper, in the loud continued noise of a restaurant --- the chatters, the clanking of glasses and plates, the shouting from illegal waiters --- and she added, "It is way of life...".

I grinned my approval, because I had already said it before. At times. I raised my glass high, like setting for a toast, and drank.

She smiled upon my reaction, reminiscing the older days.

"Live your life. Embrace them. Beat them in pleasure. Enjois. Indulge. Be gratified. Smile. Never regret. Bla bla..," she mumbled.

"How could I always forgotten about things I love and celebrate the most, eh?"

I sighed. I grabbed my elbow, as if I was cold.

"Life is like dreams. It feels like just yesterday I was introduced to pornography. Now everyone is whining about kids, babies and money, money, money---" I said.

There was an awkward silent between us. I was longing for her to break it.

"What's wrong with that smirky face?" she asked out of sudden. "Remember? It was you who said that to me last time!"

"When you were younger, you talked a lot of bull craps. You wanted to change the world. You were against the popular opinions. You were odd. You listened to hard sound. You created your very own philosophy. You fancied the idea of being different---"

"Things have change," I said.

"No, you don't change!" she replied, almost shouting. She rolled her eyes as they were going to pop out of its socket.

**

"How can you be so diss---"

"Oh, please. If I ever to pick up an argument, I will find a better adversary," I rushed into the sentence. I did not want her to finish the statement.

She nodded reluctantly. It had been quite some time since I last met her. We were both preoccupied in redefining the meaning of existence. We were both desperate to make an impact.

She utterly distracted by my absurd responses.

She had driven alone all the way from the city to this outskirt town. Unfortunately for her, I was on difficult time. The world had been harsh on me for so long, I thought.

I was not in good shape. My concern was at somewhere else. I was not intrigued by domestic affairs. I was not interested in small mind.

It may sounds ridiculous; I feel silly to entertain things that I have thrown away.

Well, if you give me peanuts now, surely you'll get monkeys.

"I hate statistics. It always does not reflect the reality, the truth."

"It only represents the speaker, the presenter, the abuser."

"Debating using statistics only makes you feel winning. You will successfully impress people when they see and hear about numbers and figures."

"Technically speaking, you are deceiving them!"

"But look, it does not last for long. At the end of the day, when the result takes over, it crushes all fantasies and lies."

"You can't calculate future, can you? That is why the arithmetical value ends at infinity."

"It may sounds cheeky but trust me, this is for you to think and make a wise decision---"

"We are bound by divine ordinances."

**

"Darwinism is totally distorted but it is still taught in school. Some of the scientist and science scholars spend their whole life time to deny the existence of God. And we learned from their corrupted books."

Earlier conversations about investment and monetary manipulation and all --- a manifestation of financial freedom --- suddenly changed and turned into something more serious and I hate it. It always make me look like a monster, a grumpy old man who hold grudge over the simplest thing.

"What are you trying to suggest?" she asked.

I shrugged my shoulder.

I put out my nicotine pack and lit another one.

"As human, it breaks me to witness the death, the tragedy, the diseases, and the disaster."

"I always wonder why can't we live as one, in peace and harmony and love. Why some of us would like to have created conflict, and waging war against another?"

"It makes clear to me when I started to read and study the history. And it becomes clearer when the sources are varies."

"An astonishing discovery? Is that what you are trying say, isn't it?" she asked.

I stopped my ranting. The blue smoke from the cigarette was curling around us. The smell of burning tobacco provided me momentary strenght and momentum to continue.

"Hh--hmm. Then what?"

"We are taken hostage without we ever know it!" I said before clearing my drying throat.

**

I began to unravel my version about reality. It was not a wise decision. I had to transpose the purpose of the meeting to a new level of discussion.

It really was not a good three hours catch up.

"I did not know about this and I am not sure," she said, unleashing her uncomfortness. "You are scaring me!"

"No, I am not," I replied. "We are living in very sophisticated lies! Things have been staged!

"You have to make a wise choice."

"You are nuts!"

**

Menyisih dan menyurai hiba dengan cermat, bagai menakung hakikat dalam syariat.

Tertumpah sesat, tak tadah bejat, tak endah khianat.

Memugar rasa cinta akhirat, ia satu tarekat yang meroboh berhala-berhala harap dan taat.

Hanyasanya cinta yang bulat berserta rahmat mendapat nikmat syafaat.

Mahu aku khabarkan tentang apa yang aku dikhabarkan tentang syurga? -- Heh, pastinya ia bukan tempat cumbunya sang korup dan si konyol -- yang mencandui harta, pangkat dan puja, yang lisan dan tulisan menyebut-nyebut Tuhan dalam keterpaksaan, di kala hati mengharap redha
dari sekalian makhluk-Nya.

Mahukah pula aku khabarkan tentang isi neraka? -- Heh, ia tempat cumbunya sang korup dan si konyol -- yang mengurusniagakan Tuhan untuk harta, pangkat dan puja, yang menyebut-nyebut Tuhan dalam lisan dan tulisan, sedang hati mengharap laba dari dunia semata.

Heh. I cheated

I may have told you. Or, perhaps, it was not eloquent, you had missed the whole point.

Time has gotten me. It ages me. It sinks me. It breaks me.

I have died twice in my last dream. I have swam to the farthest sky. I have torched the brightest light. I have flown to the deepest unknown.

I have seen the shadow of the wind.

I may have told you. Or, perhaps, you have not listened. You only listened to yourself.

I have a little to live. I have too much to breathe. I have nothing to give.

I have done pleasing the bitch.

The world you'd live in with, is the same world I'd been warned six thousand years ago on the blistering desert.

I may have told you. Perhaps, it was unsound. My tongue always slips whenever the words come out of my teeth.

I may have told you.

It is wrong to be left and leftist? Is it right to be right and righteous? Or is it all about being known and 'inspirous'?

How do you measure the pressure? Who do you picture in the picture?

I have told you. You may have not.

''The more I try to ignore, the clearer the figure I see.''

''We are going to meet and greet them, sooner or later. It is all about the right hour.''

My mind suddenly could not squeez the right amount of stimulation to build a beautiful story out of the lines. Instead of structuring one, I am taking an easier way out.

I am writing the algorithm.

''My concern is at somewhere else. I am not listening eventhough I looked considerately listening.''

''There are different things in my mind demanding my immediate attention now. Losing faith is on the top of it.''

They kissed me, and disappeared. I am suffered to ditch the impression. I am suffered to leave the temptation.

Fate is curse. Curse is acquiring undesired things and feelings. It is colder when they are sentenced to your knee.

''Our priorities have shifted, we became obsessed with little details, and neglected the big picture.''

''What is the big picture?''

Growing older supposingly makes you wiser to choose between wine and water, they would say. 

No my dear, things are just passing through you. You have no power to even lift a finger. You lift a finger under deep whisper.

There are written stories await, to prevail.

Aku bukan penagih, aku juga bukan pencandu.

Aku cuma seorang perindu.

“Wah, pasang jambang? Misai pun?”

Sometimes, silence explains better than words.

Aku hanya senyum. Ya lah, bak satira Harith Iskandar, selain stating the obvious, apa lagi yang Melayu pandai?

Berada di atas kerusi di sebuah restoran separa eksklusif di ibukota, dikelilingi kumpulan teman yang sudah lama di-anaktiri, mungkin bukan dalam kawalan kewarasan aku. Banyak perkara tertinggal, banyak peristiwa perlu disingkap, banyak kenangan yang perlu digali -- hampir semuanya tidak berlabel, bertabur berciciran, dan tidak tersusun rapi di dalam laci memori -- aku jadi ralat mengatur kata, cerita, dan reaksi, semata-mata atas satu niat murni; courtesy.

Tindakan mengambil sikap untuk memencil diri, prejudis, buruk sangka, dan tidak peduli terhadap kelompok orang lain yang berlainan arah dan tujuan -- arrogance dan ignorance -- akhir-nya telah memakan diri sendiri.

Bot-bot mereka telah berlayar jauh. Sejauh ini. Sejauh ini (depa-kan tangan).

A sudah hampir sepuluh tahun berumah-tangga, B sudah punyai anak yang menginjak alam pra-persekolahan, C sekarang hanya perlu memberi arahan, D baru sahaja menimang cahaya mata ketiga, E, heh, masih kekal berseloroh tentang kehebatan sistem pacuan kenderaannya.

Hanya aku yang masih terkial-kial, berkira-kira mahu membuat satu lompatan nun di pesisiran pantai.

“Buku macam mana? Kau menulis, kan?” tanya D memecah mood, selepas sesi hey-apa-khabar-lama-tak-jumpa-what’s-up? -- sesi menyelindung kepura-puraan -- antara kami berenam.

Gugup dan agak keliru, dan mungkin tampak sedikit teragak-agak, aku jawab soalan dengan soalan, “Buku? Random gila! Buku apa?”

B, yang sedang enak mengunyah kentang goreng menyampuk, “Ha'ah, mana buku kau?” tanpa mempamer sebarang riak terkejut.

A, C, dan E masing-masing memaku mata pada aku. Aku tiba-tiba jadi lemas; darah membuak-buak menyerbu daerah muka.

Aku benci menjadi subjek dalam perbualan apabila tidak berada di zon selamat aku.

“Merepek lah. Siapa kata aku tulis buku?” aku tepis, mempertahan-kan diri, dan cuba berlagak bersahaja. Kopi panas disisip perlahan, sedang otak aku cuba memintas apa yang sedang mereka fikirkan. Atau rancang.

Binatang! What the hell is going on?!

“Come on. Kau kan suka menulis? Takkan tak ada blog?” D menembak aku lagi. Matanya liar cuba mencari mata aku. Aku tidak pasti entah sejak bila D mengambil tahu hal kewujudan aku.

Tidak puas hati, aku balas, “Bullshit! Mana ada aku blogging?” dalam nada paling naïf dan mungkin berbaur sedikit ugutan.

Tiada siapa yang tahu aku menulis. Er, hanya 5 orang yang aku beritahu, itupun sebab aku tahu they are not going to read them. Dan 5 orang itupun, aku klasifikasikan sebagai teman rapat, dan tiada langsung perkaitan dengan kelima-lima mereka.

Dan set-set teman libur seperti ini, there’s no way of telling them. No fucking way.

No, not them.

“Apa nama blog kau?” tanya A tiba-tiba sambil tersenyum mengeluarkan Iphone-nya. “Aku dengar kau ada followers?”

“The fuck? Apsal korang ni?” aku meluah kata-kata yang terpendam di dalamnya sebuah ketidakselesaan. Ada peluh sejuk merecik keluar.

“Letak la gambar. Sure ada sangkut. Kau pun single lagi! Dah umur dah!” D bersuara, sambil diiyakan oleh A. E kekal memerhati aku dengan senyum misteri.

“Jangan letak gambar C sudah!” D menyambung lagi seperti menahan satu kelakar yang tak terluah. Setiap perkataan yang keluar dari mulut D membuatkan suasana menjadi tegang dalam diri aku.

“Fuck you lah!” aku balas, tegas. Aku hidupkan tembakau bercengkih aku.

To my surprise, mereka berhamburan ketawa. Oh my god, what crack they are on? Kenapa aku berada di zoo ini?

Didesak dari kiri kanan, dengan D mengetuai serangan provokatif, aku kata lagi, bercampur sedikit ketegasan dan kemeluatan, dengan harapan dapat melonggarkan keingin-tahuan mereka dan membunuh topik: “I DON’T FUCKING BLOGGING!”

Ia berhasil, dan konversasi kembali memburu tajuk normal -- perkahwinan, perempuan, buah dada, tetek, bontot, politik, Najib, dan bagaimana cara-cara menggandakan wang di dalam saku dengan kaedah paling menguntungkan.

Duh.

Aku mengharung malam dalam rasukan keanehan suasana membencikan -- cubaan memalsu kemesraan untuk menjadi lebih bertanggungjawab, lebih pop, lebih dewasa, tidak judgmental, atau sarkastik dan sinis, semakin kalut dan berkecamuk dalam diri yang bukan diri. Celaka, aku terpaksa tipu-tipu ketawa dengan lawak jenaka mereka!

Banyak ketika, aku terasa seperti mahu muntah dengan tahap 'kesucian' dan rentak lengguk perbualan mereka. Banyak ketika, aku berasa kepintaran aku terhina dengan idea, gagasan dan pandangan mereka tentang erti sebentuk kehidupan. Banyak ketika, aku menahan diri dari tergiur mencetus konfrontasi.

Ada sesuatu yang menyekat kerongkong aku daripada berbijaksana meluncur keluar patah-patah kata dengan gembira.

Gambaran mudahnya, ia lebih teruk dari menyedut 8 syot submarine sekaligus.

Ya, atas nama; courtesy.

Apa pun, perjumpaan ini buat aku sedar, aku tidak perlu belayar sejauh mereka. Untuk aku terbius dalam kehuruharaan pencarian harta adalah sesuatu yang bakal membawa malapetaka kepada hidup aku kerana pada pandangan aku, sebuah kebebasan jiwa itu lebih bermakna daripada terjerumus ke dalam kemahuan kebebasan berkewangan yang pastinya penuh dengan kos -- helah, pedaya, jerat, dan perangkap tipu-daya.

Ketika semua bersalaman mahu pulang ke kandang masing-masing, aku sempat bisikkan di telinga D, “Picasso doesn’t really write. No wonder we see things differently,” dan aku palingkan satu senyum dan kenyitan rindu penuh makna.

Sepanjang jalan pulang, hati aku puas berkeras mengkhianati apa yang aku mahu percaya: “He didn’t buy it. He didn’t buy it.”

I Invest My Life In You

Your words are miraculous, I hear she says. Your envies are ridiculous, I hear she says. Your worries are superstitious, I hear she says. Your thinking are dangerous, I hear she says.

I nod.

Don't get me wrong, it just, maybe I am too ambitious, me says. Or perhaps too cautious, me says. Note, I speak in silent.

How do you want me to be, she says.

We are living in two different world. Apparently, after months of dating, we realize that we only share the passion -- the only thing that bonds us together. The temperature is always high, as she hardly think us as an item, or maybe I am alone have that kind of sight.

You are too critical, she says. I can't match with your faculty of thought, she says. And I'm still young, she says. Not as old as you, she says.

Yes, I am older than she is. Six years to be exact.

She is stepping on my past life trail and I am well awared about the challenges --- the all-I-want-to-do-and-change bull shit thing when I was at her age.

I'm afraid of many things, me says. Losing the one I love the most once again is on the top of it, me says. Note, I speak in silent.

You are insecure, too insecure, she says. Too insecure.

You don't believe in me, she says.

Well, I've been into many relationships from time to time and they didn't work out as planned. Eventually, I found a pattern -- a stigmatic judgment -- a simple non-mathematical equation to justify the level of affection. This mechanism designs me to be very discreet and careful towards a simple or even a slight change in voice, tone, dressing, appearance, treat, and gesture of my partner.

I hate it when someone labels me with something that I am not. And it doubles up when the one you admire, says it.

But anger doesn't solve problems, it is more likely fuel for fire. I don't want to add up more energy for arguing.

I think we have to go on separate ways, me says. We don't understand each other, me says. We are wasting our time, me says. This time, I speak out.

There are thoughts crossing my mind. When you love someone, you just love him/her no matter what, right? You always think about him/her every single second, right? In the busiest day of your life, you will find a way to spare some moment with him/her, right? And before you knowing it, you change, just because you want to be with him/her, right? You put him/her ahead of everything, right? You want him/her to be the best and you give the best of you for him/her, right? And it works for both. That is how people stick together for 100 years.

Yes, I'm ignorant, I am. I believe what I chose to believe. People cannot put their words to my mouth.

But I'm not arrogant enough to right what is wrong or to wrong what is right.

It's unethical. It's idiotic.

I'm not tired of loving you, me says. It just, I'm tired of getting in a situation, getting hurt, and hurt again, me says. Note, I speak in silent.

And suddenly, I remember what she had sms-ed earlier, "Some people are meant to stay in your heart but not in your life."

And I also remember what had I said to myself, just after receiving every heart-aching texts, "I could not tolerate this kind of behavior."

There are three words which always change the consequences of the world. They are the most powerful weapon of all kind. They are the wisest solution to end the war instead of raising up a gun.

And the three words are: I love you.

It sounds cliche, but yes, I, too, failed to decode the puzzle behind it.

Life should be joyous, me says, voiceless.

I love you, she says. And it brings down my strongest defense line.

I love you too, me says, almost without hesitation.

I am defeated. No, it is not defeated, it's completion of surrender.

The love I have in my heart is more precious than winning the argument.

I love her, really.

Imprisoned by Faith

The rain pours down heavily outside. Mother is doing what she best at and my father is reading a newspaper. It is a routine scene which I always unaware of.

I pull out the chair, I sit on it, and try to slip in into the situation. The sound and the smell of the rain bring in sombre atmosphere. No one seems to bother at my entrance.

>>    Life is unpredictable, and everyone knows. I somehow believe that our lives are predetermined. We are just playing a very tiny part in this universe -- moving our shits back and forth, then later on we deemed it as, life. In other way of saying, we are powerless. Things happen as they are meant to.

Some call it, Destiny. I prefer to stick with God's.

2013 leaves me so fast and it brings along many lives with it. My friends, my relatives, my neighbours -- some of them were very close to me -- are now become someone to be missed. Things that had been accustomed to me are dissappearing.

Even my most beloved cat is gone for months.

This is the death year, and the toll is counting. I hate the sensation of being sad, of being hit in the face, of being losing the pace, of being unable to erase the memories. I hate to be soaked in sorrow.

Some call it, Fate. I prefer to stick with God's.

In this world of confusion and melodrama -- the rush of power chasing and wealth making -- people are tend to be emotional and temperant. Probably, after the GE13, when the ruling coalition announced that they had been wiped out by the Chinese Tsunami -- which later on had drew mixed reactions from the opposition parties -- people seem to get more and more confuse.

And when people are more confuse, they are getting angrier and bitter.

I have no philosophical insight for the GE13 as I did not go for voting. None of the parties provide me a good answer for my question and misery. They are full with severe resentment.

No solution, only rethorical.

Albeit the chaos, we live -- the housewives keep cooking, the politicians keep talking, the workers keep whining, the sailors keep cursing, the students keep yawning, the thieves keep making fortune out of people's suffering, the birds keep chirping, the sun keeps rising, the world keeps spinning, the balance in the bank accounts keep depreciating, and we keep beautifying the dreams.

And to me, my beloved cat is still missing.

Some call it, Curse. I prefer to stick with God's.

If we could pause our minds from thinking about all the madness and open our heart wisely, would we ask ourselves, what do we get beside of all the propogated hatred? Subsequently, the answer is, there is more hatred.

And what do we get if we love each other? Of course, the answer is, more and more love will prevails.

We have to stop being loggerhead. No one is wrong or right. This needless energy wasting argumentation is only spreads anonimosity. The damage is ours -- a price to be better us.

A chasm should be bridged, not combated. It should be cherished in maturity, not grieved in hostility.

Make peace with the past, submit ownself to defeat. Learn to letting go. Surrender to the righteous path. Forgive and seek forgiveness. Be rational. After all, we are not getting any younger. Life is getting shorter.

Some call it, Destiny. Some call it, Fate. Some call it, Curse. I prefer to stick with God's.

The truth is, there is a plan -- a great and very detail plan for everyone.

It is proggressing, and is happening, surely.    <<

"Some people," says my father, "they are just plain stupid."

All the rumbling thought inside my ancient mind suddenly diffuses. I am urged to get back to the reality.

"I wonder how the people are thinking nowaday," he laments. His breath consists a frustration.

"Huh-- Some people--," he adds with sarcastic hopeless tone.

I was in a deep conversation with myself just now -- the universe, the Fate, the Destiny, GE13, the cat, the death, the hatred, the plan, the life, the Curse, the medication, etc, etc -- this kind of things are prone to coagulate immediately whenever my mind adrifts. When it does, it separates me from my being, from my actuality, from my surrounding, just in a blink of an eye.

It is hard to focus when you are torn out. It is even harder if you keep denying.

We are anticipating for a breakfast. There are only three of us left in the house. I must admit, sometimes there are too many things I have to digest at the table beside the food.

Abah is giving way. His hearing is broken and he is very keen on dealing with it. And he is entitled to OKU benefits now. But somehow, he never complains. His stubborness stays.

Mum is also not doing very well. She is being repetitive without she ever realizes. She lives in fear. She keeps telling me the same stories over and over again, and I listen to them just like I never heard before.

The best thing to have living under one roof is, I feel physically and mentally close and attached to them. I feel essentially exist.

The one who was the least spending his time at home becomes the most now. He is me, and I am thankful by some means. I could see how the people who are significantly a world to me gradually losing their ability because of the nature -- the frigging aging process -- the gray hairs are dominating, the skins are wrinkling, the teeth are decaying, and the efficiency of noetic faculties are deteoriating consistently.

They are showing signs of mortality.

It breaks me into pieces, but then, again, things happen as they are meant to.

"You know, son," Abah says, "the Italians are the pariah of the Europe!"

This is what I like the most about my father. He does not lose his wittiness. He knows how to amuse silent. And I always try to be all eared to his enlightenment -- even it is really hard to chew.

While listening to my father's never-ending explanation, there are questions sliding in my mind: Am I well-prepared to the next game of life? What if there is no tomorrow? Can I cheat death?

Am I being a good son? Do I have enough time to repay all debted love? Will they stick with me if they know my stories? Am I living to the expectation?

Will God excuse me for all my sinful act and wrong-doing? How the punishment tastes like? How long should I repent? What will happen there?

Why do I have to leave the one that I kissed?

Does my cat ever miss me?

I am struggling to liberate all the subconscious projections inside my mind. They overstay at my welcome. They make me careless. They diminish me to different dimension. They sink me.

"It's not the pain we cannot stand, it's the hope," my father says after clearing his earlier vindication about the Italians, which I have failed to concentrate.

Or perhaps, after he peeks at my pensive mood.

I smile in hesitancy, as I just could not let the voice passing off through my throat. Brilliant words from him classically swap a relief -- discharge me out from asphyxiating in the ocean of thought.

How I wish I had that charm too.

"Don't listen to your father. He kills me with his idea since you were born!" my mum suddenly interrupts from the kitchen. Humor, too, always a useful way to suppress regression.

Again, I smile.

They had some good times, some awful times, but they had shared them all together. Their mutual antagonism -- once a joke, a performance for benefit of others -- had slowly become, through being ritualised in that way, a mundane reality.

Amidst of all, I keep on praying neverthelessly -- in every time, in every day, in every prostration, and in every secrecy -- so that my beloved cat is fine, she eats properly, puts up some weight, finds the answer in her quest, and comes back to home somehow -- as one of His greatest plan.

It is good to have a proper good bye before I go.

Entah atas maksud apa yang mungkin tidak aku fahami, FB hantar pesanan ringkas melalui aplikasi Whatsapp kepada aku.

''Apa erti rindu?''

Tergesa untuk tidak segera menjawab, aku memulang pertanyaan dengan soalan.

''What with the question?''

''Saja.''

Mengenali FB untuk sekian tempoh, adalah mustahil untuk aku tidak bersikap pesimis. Ular menyusur akar, tak akan hilang pekat bisa-nya, kata orang tua.

Kata orang tua-tua lah. Mana aku tahu.

Jadi untuk memati rasa ingin tahu yang mula bergumpal dalam darah, aku balas, ''Maksud rindu bagi aku, ia satu perasaan runtun yang kuat, yang mengikat seseorang kepada seseorang, yang selalu mencarik hati bilamana ingatnya pekat, dan selalu muncul dan di-peringat oleh hampir semua persekitaran.

Rindu bagi aku, satu euphoria yang terhasil daripada tindakbalas emosi, ter-reaksi daripada memori dan jalan-jalan hidup.''

''Nak pikat siapa ni?'' aku tanya, mengacah agar FB segera menyahut persoalan yang semakin kuat meracau mengganggu aku.

Status 'typing...' pada gambar profilnya terasa seperti setahun.

''Terima kasih, Bro. Barangkali aku rindu arwah..''

Terpukul dengan taakulan songsang sendiri, aku terdiam. Ya, aku juga begitu. Rasanya seperti semua apa yang berlaku, hanya baru semalam berlalu.

Aku tak mampu untuk balas pesanan. Seperti tiada kombinasi-kombinasi perkataan yang tertepat untuk aku susun dan hantar, untuk aku beritahu yang aku juga melalui keadaan yang sama.

**