This is a normal post turned emo.It was Malaysia's 52nd (and my sister's 18th) birthday yesterday. Given the recent headlines Malaysia made, I would not loudly proclaim Malaysia as my pride. Yet, Malaysians will know, whenever Hari Merdeka or festive seasons draw near, we will definitely see heart-warming advertisements on TVs - advertisements that tell stories so real, so true, so close to our hearts and so impossible to forget. The mere thought evoked this sudden nostalgia that has been hidden inside for years, and the feeling just overwhelmed me like a tap turned on.
With this sudden thought in mind, I decided to Youtube "iklan hari kemerdekaan" which means Independence Day Adverts. Little did I know, I went from nostalgic to suicidal afterwards. Just kidding. Then I Youtubed Yasmin Ahmad - the director of the advert I saw, and to my delight I could watch all the clips she made as a playlist!
If you do not know Yasmin Ahmad, think again. Remember the touching confessions of a remorseful workaholic son, talking to his aged mother about moving in with him? Or the scene at an old folk's home where a few aged mothers boasted about their children's businesses and salaries, yet in the end none of them came, except the lady whose son drove only a Proton Saga, yet who brings his mother along in all his trips? And how about the one where two old men who met at the hospital recounting their fond childhood memories - of those kinship and warmth we were once so familiar with, that got overlooked and forgotten along the way in our pursuit of greater standards of living?
Those adverts, just to name a few, were Ahmad's works. And impactful ones too. Somehow talents do die young, and with her passing, our next Chinese New Year or Hari Raya or Merdeka Day will never be the same again.
Watching those clips playing back to back just constantly reminded me of my being away from home for every festival.
Almost every festival. They reminded me of the holidays I spent in Singapore - those times where I could have gone home to accompany my family, my grandmother especially, instead of staying back in the name of studies. Those quality time have all been wasted, in my blind chase for a better life!
My grandmother, she must already be sleeping now. For as long as I can remember, she always sleeps beside me, or around me. When I was little, I slept beside her. When I grew up, we slept in the same room. But as I grew up even more, I began sleeping at a good 300 miles away from her.
When I look back at these years I've been away, yes, I've gained. Yet, I've lost, and I've lost those precious times with her - those times that can never ever be replaced. Suddenly, I feel so alone, in my own room, on my own bed. Where the world to me, there's only me left.
Such is the night where that beating muscle of mine gives way to loneliness and grave remorse, and such is the night I feel so physically distant from her.
