Artistic Encounterz

Sometimes it is not so easy to write on topics like this. People can say many things – many different opinions. But the most important opinion is our own opinion and outlook on life. How we perceive life is very crucial and it determines the consequent choices we make in our day-to-day living. Be it during meal times or when you are just taking a stroll at the supermarket, our perception on life plays a pivotal role.

 

I will just share my opinion and perception with you now.

 

Life is not just a daily routine that you are forced to enjoy. It adds more flavors to each and every one of us. Forrest Gump once said, “Life is a box of chocolates.” I disagree with that statement. Life is more than a box of chocolates. It is a tinge of spice, sourness, sweetness, and bitterness – all rolled into one. It all comes in a package, whether we like it or not.

 

Life will give us what we want only if we use it in the right way. There are many ways we can use it to our advantage. There are people who dip straight into it while others like to just let it flow. Sometimes when we squeeze it, we get the best results. Again, it depends on our perceptions.

 

When we were kids, we stay detached from life. As we grow older, we begin to realize and enjoy the taste of it. We should realize the truth about life as quick as we can. We should not regret not making full use of it during our final days.

 

This is my view on Life. After all, how much can one write about a bottle of chilli sauce?

Bloglessness^TM usually happens when we get really busy with life and go through life threatening changes that threaten to enlighten the soul within.  Bloglessness^TM will create a purpose-driven path for our lives and drive us away from our destination. It will force us to actually do work at work. I mean, isn’t that taking away our basic rights?

Thinking back at the times when I used to sit at work and blog away happily make tears form at the corner of my cochlea – I mean cornea. I even do it on overtime hours back at the company I worked before. But now it’s all gone! Bloglessness^TM has attacked me and caught me unaware for a whole year. It is a ferocious virus that catches you unaware. One-year worth of literature masterpieces – all gone. What a waste.

If there is one thing I regret more than being attacked by Bloglessness ^TM , it is graduating. I sat down yesterday, thinking of the Sunday morning in my MBA class where I sat and wrote "The Sunday Morning Blog". It was Global Marketing or something, but who cared at that time? All I wanted to do was to sit in the comfortable seat, smiling at my laptop screen while the upper hemisphere churned creative blogs. It was the sweet and memorable pre-Bloglessness^TM era.

There are many people walking around claiming to be enlightened souls. They talk about spirituality, going within and performing their duties at work and at home. These are people in self-denial. They cannot accept the fact that blogging will set them free from the shackles of the real world. It takes a strong man to step up boldly – and blog!

Just as you are reading this, think, my dear citizens of cyberspace. Have you blogged before or have you recently stopped blogging? If your answer is yes, then there is no doubt about it. Bloglessness^TM has attacked you.

Now that I have realized and discovered this disease that is plaguing mankind, I urge all of you to join us in fighting against useful living. There is a cure to all this. Open up your word processor and start typing again. There might be some people who will tell you that blogging makes you lazy and weak. My answer to them is - if bloggers can change the political terrain of a nation, I might as well be called the laziest man on earth.

The day was getting darker as we approached the midpoint of the mountain. I could see flowing snow-capped peaks and valleys right ahead. There was one peak that was looming higher than the rest, disappearing into the misty clouds. It was Mount Titanhuaca – the highest point in the Mandaka range.

We were cold, hungry and exhausted. The last bottle of water is nearly finished. Our legs were aching badly. We have hiked for nearly 7 hours with only a 30-minute stop a few hours ago.
In the middle of the valley, stood a majestic wooden ranch house. It had a small minaret in the middle with a bell and pinnacles all around. The house looked like a wooden castle – elegant and captivating.

We were delighted to see the wooden sanctuary ahead of us. There was a sparkle in all our eyes. It was just half a kilometer away, and we felt a special kind of courage and determination building up inside of us. Our mind hallucinated of a buffet of mouth-watering dishes, wholesome meals, desserts, fruits and drinks.

There was no one to be seen anywhere near the house. There was a rope hanging above the front door. As I pulled it, the huge bell above the minaret rang – sending echoes of the chime across the open valley. Thunder reverberated as if in reply to the bell. The clouds got thicker and thicker.

Suddenly, the front door clicked open. We pushed the heavy door and it creaked badly as it opened up. As we stepped in, the door slammed shut as heavy winds gushed out of the house. Now, there was silence – and darkness. I fumbled through my backpack looking for the flashlight. I found it but before I could switch it on, the room lit up. The light was blinding. As we got adjusted to the sudden change, we saw a beautiful ranch house interior with carvings and classic decorations. In the middle of the room hung a stunning chandelier and far ahead a fireplace that was smoldering slightly.

We were awed and frightened at the same time. We did not know whether it was a good sign or a bad one. We had a slight doubt about the whole string of events, until we saw what we saw. It was a buffet of glorious food, fruits and drinks arranged in a row of neat cabinets and tables. We could not believe our luck.

Outside, there was torrential downpour. We could see shrubs and trees moving violently outside in the strong wind. There were continuous flashes of lightning but we couldn’t hear any thunder or even the sound of rain. But there was a more important agenda waiting for us at the dinner area.

I don’t know whether anyone anywhere near sanity would enter a lonely wooden ranch with ghostly lighting systems and eat a buffet of food laid out for no physical person at all… But the situation forced us mentally to accept it as a gift from above I guess. We savoured every bit of the delicacies, looking out the window at the terrible weather conditions. It was surprisingly quiet and calm amidst the storm outside. For a wooden house it was quite unusual.

The desserts were superb – honey coated banana splits, fruit salads and ice creams of three flavours. There was satisfaction in all our faces. We glanced at the huge sofa bed near the fireplace surrounded by a home theatre system. What more could we ask after hours of tiresome hike… But there was more. The sofa facing a huge glass window panel was an automatic massage chair!

We couldn’t digest the whole situation, even as much as the food was being digested. We sat and gave an extremely long sigh in unison as we flicked the sound system. There was a soothing melody in 3D surround. We looked outside of the huge glass panel window. It was a breathtaking view of Titanhuaca. It was dark but we could see the outline. We could see soft snow being blown violently across at sharp angles in the storm.

Suddenly we saw the base of the mountain shudder - and right across, in front of us, the snow layers at the sides gave way. The huge mass of snow was hurtling towards the valley we were at. We rushed to the main door, panicking. The door was locked shut. All the windows were sealed. From the ground floor window, we could see the gush of snow coming at speeds I have never seen before.

Then, in a flash, the view outside the window changed back to normal. Not only did the huge avalanche vanish, the rain and storm stopped too. We went back to the lounge and we saw perfect weather outside. We sat back again on the massage sofa. Closing our eyes, enjoying the soothing music and the wonderful massage.

It dawned on me at that moment that it was a well-deserved reward for an excruciating journey we had trying to get there. Nothing seemed logical, but the fact was that the tiring hurdles we passed brought us to a sanctuary where it felt like heaven.

Nothing that happened outside mattered to us. We were undeterred by storms or avalanches. We lived like kings, ate like kings and were in the safest paradise we could ever ask for. We never expected it. But it came to us.

Now we started wondering, with all these comforts to pamper us, there was no reason to continue to the peak of Titanhuaca. But, the journey had to continue and more rewards await us at the end of a successful journey. We had to journey on…

Don’t think too much, there’s nothing hidden

As soon as I left the airport, I felt a strong feeling of loneliness. I felt as if someone precious has been grabbed away from me. I tried consoling myself that Australia is just a continent away, or in the same continent - as the Aussies claim.

But slowly, I noticed everything around me seemed so quiet and lifeless. I sensed an obvious void in my life. I started associating myself more with Akon than ever before.

It was a very scary feeling as if I was driving on an endless highway with nothing but green signboards and roadside landscapes. No roaring engines, no honks, no policemen and absolutely no noise outside. The rest areas were empty, and so were the petrol stations.

It was as if everyone knew that my precious someone has gone far away and decided to take a leave. It was an odd sensation. Of course I did the obvious thing by pinching myself. The emptiness is true after all. I further tried to console myself by playing some loud music, then some soft sentimentals. Both did not help much. I couldn’t believe such a small event can cause so much change inside of me.

I came to a T-junction and the traffic light signaled me to stop. There was no one on either side. And in the middle of the highway exit, two rats crossed the road happily, enjoying the empty roads. The hallucination of my mind was getting a bit too comical. I hit the sides of my head to get back to my normal self. What I got was more emptiness (no, not from my head!).

As I reached the Damansara toll plaza, yup, it was empty all across. And the guy in the toll booth had both his legs on the cabinet beside him, whistling, reading The Star.

As I gave him the cash, I wanted to ask him whether the place was really empty. But I thought he might get scared. I was still worried whether I was actually suffering from some kind of serious syndrome.

Then I saw the golden words flashing on the electronic board at the toll - “Selamat Tahun Baru Cina dari PLUS Expressways!”

Then images started flashing in my head as in a Tamil movie climax sequence.

Empty roads {fade} whistling toll booth operator {fade} rats crossing roads {fade} empty t-junctions {fade} the electronic greeting {fade} then back to empty roads.

I slapped my forehead, and drove on.

I met this guy, Desmond last week when I went for hospital visit. Frankly, my initial perception of him was quite unpleasant. I thought he was a cranky mad man. He wears worn out jeans and t-shirt, had an eerily unkempt hairstyle, and most importantly, he stared real hard at anything in his view.

But when I started to chat with him while waiting for my friend, my view changed completely. He spoke in a very professional manner and about various subjects.

“My young child wants to be a business psychologist,” said Desmond David.

“How old is he now?” I asked.

“He just turned four last week. He reads all my psychology books,” said the proud dad.

Sometimes you get this kind of feeling when you’re not so close to the other person and you fail to give the right reaction. If he were my classmate or something, I would have just asked him to stop kidding me.

But Desmond had that incomparable serious look.

“Oh… Wow!”

“He just finished his ACCA last month. The results should be out anytime next week I guess,” continued the lethal Desmond.

“Oh w…that’s kind of unbelievable,” I responded.

“What do you mean unbelievable?”

“I, I mean. For a four-year-old to finish ACCA… Don’t you think?”

“Do I know you…” Desmond raised his voice.

I was taken aback. “Well…”

“We just met last week and you have the courage to tell me I am a liar?”

“No, I didn’t mean to.”

“Shut up. My son is a genius and that’s a fact!”

“True,” I stammered.

“Now you are making fun of me. That was clearly a sarcastic comment. Have you heard of the hare and the tortoise?”

I nodded, nervous.

“You are a tortoise man. You think the tortoise wins at the end? Never… never… never… never! My child is smarter than you, pea brains!”

“That’s it! You are stopping it right there,” I said.

Just then a hysterical lady came running around the corridor corner.

“Desmond! There you are! Come here, dear. I made your favourite cookies today. Look.”

“Yahoo! Choco pops! Choco pops!” Desmond shouted in a childlike voice.

I looked at the lady, then at Desmond. Desmond looked at me, with puppy eyes. Then he crouched and slowly moved behind the lady.

The lady waved her hand slightly to me, apologizing for Desmond’s behaviour.

Mariappan was lost. There was no question about it. At first, the jungle had seemed a nice enough place - full of interesting birds and animals (to watch), and lots of green plants growing all around, to eat (since he was vegetarian).
    

Now, four days later, the plants had all been too damp to light, the birds kept him awake at night and Mariappan had yet to encounter an animal which did not try to attack him.    

He was lost in an alien jungle on a far away planet in a completely parallel universe and those hums were driving him insane. The impossibility of the humming to suddenly go away hit him about the same time as the spear-butt from out of the bushes to his left.

He awoke to find himself sat in a clearing surrounded by about four dozen exotic young women wearing the sort of bikini that would have made the textile industry suffer tremendous dip in sales volume.

He very carefully didn’t pinch himself in case he was dreaming.

"Hallo," he said, in typical Chennai style.

Several of the younger ones (aged around 18) took flight across the clearing towards the mud huts that surrounded it. "My God!" he thought "They look almost like angels from that angle"
The eldest woman there (23ish) looked him up and down.

"You are male?" She asked.
"You cannot see?" he replied, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice and with additional emotions.

She smiled with joy.

"All our men were killed several years ago in a bizarre accident involving a herd of Tortoises. Don’t ask. We have spent the last few years searching the jungle for more men to help with the whole ‘making babies’ thing. We are not really familiar."

Mariappan quietly resolved never to pinch himself again for as long as this lasted, just in case.

"So, when do I start?"

"Right away, if you like," said the tall girl to his left.

Mariappan rubbed his hands with glee.

"The BabyGen is over here," said another girl.

  Mariappan was confused. "BabyGen?"

"Yes," informed the tall girl.

"First we will let you know the baby type, then all you have to do is keep pressing the Red button all day long and the BabyGen will do the rest…”

         The day was getting brighter as the sun set. The waterfall gushed furiously upwards and the rivers flowed upstream. As the dark cloud hovered above, the day got even brighter.

         Suddenly, it started raining. Streams of water rushed from the ground shooting up towards the sky like geysers. It was an odd experience, but I wanted to explore further into the land of mystery.

        I journeyed on into the countryside. There was a cute little hut with a chimney - sucking smoke into the hut. I went nearer and knocked on the door and a little boy opened it.

          In my heart I feared that he would speak with his rear end but thank God he did not. The thankfulness did not last long as he started speaking in reverse. Well not the real ‘reverse’ reverse but you know the Master Yoda kind of reverse.

"Help you how can I?" he said.

It sounded a little sarcastic though, but I knew it was a friendly gesture after all.

"Oh well," I chuckled. The boy stared, confused.

"What is this place? Everything is happening in reverse. Am I dreaming?" I asked.

"Inside please come," he said. Frankly, I felt nervous. I slowly stepped inside.

            Suddenly a mob of masked hooligans rushed in. But the boy remained calm. They came in rushing with large knapsacks and started arranging household items on the shelves and tables. The placed television sets, DVD players and expensive decorative ceramics.

"Why are they putting these things in your house?" I asked, puzzled.

"Thieves they are. Good things they bring to us."

            It was getting eerie all around me. It was very comical. Nothing made sense. And my brain was operating in speeds it has never before trying to think of other things that might be happening in reverse. The boy switched on the hall lights and it got darker in the cabin.

             I sat at the dining table sipping coffee, that, by the grace of the Lord poured OUT of the jug. Suddenly the boy’s eyes turned bright red. He kept smiling, but his eyes got wider and blood shot. I asked him what was wrong. He said nothing.

             I got scared and a bit tensed because I could not go on. It was a very difficult situation now. The story I was writing has gone out of context. This is what happens when you sit down to write a story without a proper idea. Damn!

I always wanted to write a horror narrative, but never got around doing it. I have read in many articles on journalism about this strange phenomenon. The majority of horror genre scholars experienced some kind of supernatural events in the course of their writing.

I don’t really believe in them because it’s natural to have these feelings. For example, when you are so absorbed in writing a horror piece, any small flicker of light or hissing sound will be construed as a supernatural event.

So there I was sitting on my bed last Sunday, figuring out a simple, scary, frightening, intense plot for my story. It was not too good a time to test my guts as no one was at home. My parents were in Penang for the weekend and I have to share the night with darkness.

Being the exponent of nonsensical blogs for quite some time now, I was lost trying to write some serious stuff. I stared blankly at the fan. The blades were slicing through the chilled air. I imagined a rope hanging from the fan with a human head. It just made me laugh.

I was doodling away with my pencil on my notepad trying to get inspired. It was no use. No inspiration, no drive, no hope whatsoever. I am just horrific at writing horror genres. I smiled and looked at the collection of horror stories I borrowed from my college. (As references for my debut attempt). I opened up one of the short-story books.

Missing Passenger was the first story.

It was about a taxi driver who finds that his passenger was missing half way through the ride. He looks at the rear view mirror and suddenly finds that there was no one but a vague shadowy figure hovering behind.

My reaction changed for a little while. My muscles tensed and my chest was palpitating in an unusual way. I couldn’t read on. It was strange for me to get scared like this. It was just a book. I looked at the opened window of my room. It was facing the back alley and the wind was blowing the curtain to the sides.

Suddenly there was a feeling of loneliness. I imagined myself alone in the house, surrounded by darkness. The vague, shadowy figure in the story kept appearing in my mind’s eye. I closed the book. I slowly walked out of my room to get a drink from the kitchen downstairs.

As I put my feet on the first step, I heard a creaking sound from the sliding gate at the front door. My body shuddered, getting cold along the spine. I retreated into my room and sat on the bed, head between my knees. My palms were sweating profusely. I felt stupid – but I was scared.

I tried listening to the sound coming from the ground floor. There was still some noise – some creaks and knocks. The sound was coming closer. I was terrified beyond my wildest nightmares. I edged towards the window. I wanted to close it up because the wind itself had a haunting effect. I shut the windows and waited.

Suddenly, my handphone rang with my X-Files ringtone. I screamed in utter terror. It was getting too intense. I picked up the call. There was no answer to my hello. Then I heard hisses. The hiss was getting more and more high pitched. Then I heard a scream of a little girl. I dropped the phone, standing erect and motionless.

Just when I thought nothing could get worse, I heard taps on the window behind me. I didn’t want to turn. The taps changed into light knocks then taps again. I turned, getting myself prepared for the worst. True enough, it was. There was a small hand of a child, completely white and pale, tapping on the window.

I couldn’t see the person, but just two little hands. Every time the hands touched the glass, it left a jelly-like palm print. The hands kept pounding on the window.

Then, everything slipped into gloom.

When I woke up, it was nearly 10am. My whole body ached badly. I had scratches on my ankles and knees. My nose was bleeding. I immediately went to the window. There was nothing there. I went downstairs and everything was bright and nice. I slumped on the couch.

Till this day, I couldn’t figure out what had happened.

Maybe the scholars were true after all.

Wake up erly today because kakak never close the bedroom door when she put the radio.

Today my toothpaste new flavour – strawberry. I like it.

Kakak pack for me sandwich today. Yesterday also sandwich. Boring kakak. But the lychee drink very nice.

Bus driver scold me for standing on the bus steps. Stupid man.

Today first period is matematik. Yahoo! Cikgu Lily is very good ticher. She never scold me. But today Jason kena naik atas kerusi. Hehe. Good for him!

PJ time we played rugby. Cikgu Wong tich us how to run with the rugby ball. So susah but nice. Not like football – jus kick and skor.

Recess time throw away stupid sandwich. Buy ice cream (strawberry flavor) from apek. Mother gave kakak 10 ringgit for me. But she only give me 8 ringgit. She very bad kakak.

Today English class I got 90 marks for homework. I write about ‘My Parents’. Cikgu Ravi said he thinks that I am a very good son because I write nice things about mommy and daddy. He don’t know that I bluff the story. Hehehe.

Today school bus came late. Ah Cheng said ‘itu bolo punya polis tangkapla. Itu pasal lambat.’ All of us laughed cannot tahan. Hehe.

Balik rumah. Must makan then go tuition until night. Very malas. My friends going football. But they won’t call me because my parents say cannot call me. I mus study.

Very not fair la.

Matematik sir puji me because I finish all my work in 30 minit. My friend Jason jeles. He looking at me like animal. Hahaha. He angry ticher make him stand on chair in school. I made funny face to him.

Come back at 8.00 night. Kakak watching TV. She put my dinner on the table. I only eat a bit. Then I went up to room.

9.00 I saw the car light in front. Must be mommy and daddy. I must tell them about my 90 marks, Jason and the tuition sir puji me. Hope they are in good mood.

I hear noise. Mommy and daddy fite. I hear the car key somebody throw on the glass table. They talking something about ‘hell’. I opened the door a bit. Mommy came near. She very angry…she shouted “Go to sleep it is late!”

I think mommy is very tired. I want to tell her that I bought an ice-cream from apek for her. It is in the fridge. But she scold me. Bad mommy. Maybe tomorrow erli I ask kakak to tell her. And also my marks. I will put alarm in my Ninja Turtle clock. Hehehe. OK Bye diary… see you tomorrow. Tomorrow first two periods PJ. Yahoo… can play rugby again.

“Thank God! I almost fainted watching it on TV. I could feel bubbles in my blood. You know… the sort of tingling sensation you have when you see something frightening. I swear I saw bright white lights flashing before me. Ya, ya, ya, I did!”

Kuttappan was actually describing an episode in Animal Planet where this monitor lizard comes out from behind the rocks and its tongue darts across to catch the honeybee.

I stared at him, annoyed. He doesn’t fail to irritate me every single time I meet him.

“You won’t understand,” he sighs, waving his hands up in the air.

The most classic scene happened last week. Kuttappan was basically hysterical, shouting and screaming to everyone. He did not finish his meals, did not sleep. I actually got a bit worried for him. After two days we found out why. The reason – Steve Irwin.

That was Kuttappan, being himself. People labeled him as over enthusiastic, restless, hyperactive and sometimes dreadfully annoying. Kuttappan has a distinct personality. He wears a vertical-striped baggy trousers with a shirt one size larger for him, completely tucked in – all the time. And not forgetting the suspender straps and the half-inch thick glasses with thick black frame. He had the perfectly centre-parted Brylcreem hair too, fondly known among us as the apple head.

There was one particular Sunday I will never forget for the rest of my existence. I was walking back to my car from my weekend class. It was a dark alley and there were no streetlights.

Suddenly, a mob appeared from behind one of the vans parked at the side. I could see six huge silhouettes. Each one had a weapon – bats, chains and parangs.

I was so terrified. It was actually happening right in front of me. It was nothing like watching CSI on a Samsung plasma TV. It was real! They were coming dangerously close to me. I clutched my car keys tightly - for no particular reason. I didn’t know what to do. Time flew past frighteningly quick that I couldn’t think logically anymore. Even my reflexes were failing me. Maybe it was for the good after all.

Then, as if from heaven, I heard something. It was something very loud and noisy, but nevertheless pleasing to my ears.

“Someone help! Murder. Murder… How can you do this to an innocent soul…? Police! Police! Oh no! I am fainting… Somebody help! Murder! Murder!” The pitch was so high I shuddered for a moment.

Suddenly all the shophouses lit up and their windows opened up. The six of them ran away hurriedly in different directions. Beads of sweat outlined my terrified look. I was confused.

Then I saw the shadowy figure that just saved my life. Loose shirt, oversized baggy pants, apple shaped hairdo! It was him. “Kuttappan, my friend!” I yelled happily, running towards him.

“I saved you from a murder man! I am so proud of myself. We have to celebrate this… Let’s call everybody… Everybody, wake up! There’s a hero down here. Hello!!! I am shivering with happiness, man! Woohoo… Shall I call the press?” Kuttappan screamed as loud as he could, his over-excitement at an all time high.

He galloped along the road, chanting it over and over again, holding my hands tight.

Annoying?

Surprisingly it was not anymore.

I looked at his face. I saw joy, innocence and a sense of bliss. It doesn’t matter who Kuttappan is or was. What matters is what he is making out of himself. He saved my life that day, and that is all that matters.