Khairul Talks

There’s a few ways I can recall the phases of my life. Scents are one of them.

The smell of scorching heat on any road in Singapore would somehow transport me to the times in enjay when I had PE at 1pm in the afternoon. The smell of the burning red track together with the artificial grass was so distinct. On the other hand, the fragrance of Issey Miyake would instantly remind me of my SJI-SJAB Mr Marcus Soh, who wore that fragrance and introduced me to the world of perfumery and scents. Also, I can spray a little bit of Lacoste Essential deodorant in the air and it would bring me back to the HTA days. Back then, I would spray the deodarant so as to mask the smell of grimy sweat. Ironically, the sweet calming cucumber note in the scent now does not conjure freshness to me, but instead the images of damp sweaty PT shirts worn by myself and my squadmates.

Another way I recall the past is through music. They also help me to mentally divide my life into more manageable parts. For example, in HTA I had no choice but to listen to the club music being aired over the radio, such as by LMAO etc. In the feverish lead up to As, I immersed myself mostly in the brooding music of The National.

Billie the Vision and Dancers was somewhere in 2009 when I was JC 1. Here’s the album cover for their first album!

Arent they cute!! This independent band is from Sweden. As you can guess, the music is of the indie-pop genre. The  happy go lucky kind. The type that makes you feel good and feel sad at the same time. I think it really suited the mood during the year of 2009. It was a year full of highs and lows. It was the year when we had to adapt to JC life and then we took our Promos (nerve wrecking) and immediately after that was Oral Presentation, which was, well, a totally fun and carefree period (if you had an awesome group that is!).

Billie the Vision felt really true to me because they arent like other bands who are either depressingly down all the time (james blunt and those other emo bands), or so irritatingly upbeat and lively they just seem so fake.

In one of the songs they go,  If this is not called happiness and don’t know what it is/ So take a deep breath, tell me what you smell/ I smell a good time in my life/

Despite that, the lyrics betray their upbeat pop tune with this, Do you remember when my best friend played the piano for you and me?/You were sitting on the couch I sat beside him and I watched you/You were tapping your hand in time/He played Imagine at your funeral/Oh I miss you so much so much so much so much/I wanna tell you about the things that we’ve been through/He’s married now grandpa 

Here’s another album cover:

If you’re interested you can just google them and get the music for free! Yupp its free. For real. Of course, you should donate to them if you really like them. After all, their (own) label is named Love Will Pay The Bills. It’s awesome if love really does.

I scared lah. Later you buat benda sama untuk I how? Lebih teruk than last time tau. Tsk. Then cannot explain. How like that? Alamaaaak problem ah apa macam gini…  Sorry sikit eh, bukan I tak mau tolong, takde time ah nak layan. Sudah lah, nak tido. Anything dont call.

[A living room. A daughter and father reclines on the sofas in the living room. Daughter is reading intently from a newspaper.]

Father: What are you reading, the Straits Times? Don’t you know that most newspaper articles are biased and unreliable?

Daughter: Pa, don’t be silly! How many awards has this newspaper won already? Best Commentary of the Year, Best Picture Design, so many I can’t remember.

Father: So what does it say?

Daughter: Well it states here that 63% of Malay households are living below the national median household income.

Father: Is that true?

Daughter: Yes pa… Wow! That means we’re better off than 63% of our cousins?

Father: What makes you think that we’re so fortunate?

Daughter: Come on! We live in a bungalow, we have two maids. And you saw fit to raise four children instead of the recommended two point one, and not only that, we own two cars. How many families are as rich as ours?

Father: Not many.

Daughter: (laughs) I think the point of this article is to tell us Malays, that we have a 37% chance of living above the median household income and let’s see… a 59% chance of passing our O Levels.

Father: What if I told you that only 20 out of 1000 CEOs from the top companies are women?

Daughter: I don’t mind being a housewife then.

Father: But what if you wanted to be a CEO, or a lawyer or an engineer for that matter, but you couldn’t because of the overwhelming odds against you?

Daughter: But in your case, you managed. You became an anomaly in the statistical table of Malays.

Father: That’s right. Even though I am a minority, even though I wasn’t born with a silver spoon, I still managed. Honey, you might think that I am simply Singapore’s first Malay billionaire. But I’m more than that. I am the embodiement of every Malay’s first. I am the poster boy for the policy makers. I am the success story of Lee Kuan Yew’s meritocracy and social mobility. You can find my picture beneath the headlines ‘ Singaporean Malays Improving”, beside the article on the half Malay half Indian girl who topped the PSLE for that year.

Daughter: You don’t have to rebel against the statistics you know pa.

Father: But we form the statistics, my dear. Who’s going to raise that average household income for Malays if not for us? Or are you going to lepak and wait for someone else to do it?

Daughter: Yeah, perhaps. Maybe it’s because, unlike you pa…

[Daughter looks at Father unwaveringly]

Daughter: I don’t do things for the sake of challenging the status quo, and definitely not while proving an old man in white right.

Last night, I came back from my driving lesson at Eunos, Ubi at around 11pm. Misty-eyed, exhausted and alone, walking through the quiet brown passageways to my house, I suddenly realised that I am very lonely.

I checked my phone, and there: a couple of messages from you (never continued cause I saw no point in it), next a few reminders for the class BBQ this coming Saturday, and then conversations with the other female friends that I have (cause all the guys are in NS). I read through the messages you sent me. ” -.- ” ” okayy malay and maths only”. It conjured up images in my mind as I thought, what if that conversation was to be enacted out in real life? I probably would have been talking to myself.

Like an experienced user, I then thumbed my way to the game Bounce. I found it to be entertaining, comforting in fact. It provided me an escape from the outside world when there were awkward or boring moments. I could stare into the tiny backlit screen of the handphone which you lent me, for hours, bouncing the big red ball into dangerous and unfamiliar virtual places. It’s ironic how you would chide me for playing Bounce. When it was an escape from awkward or boring moments. With you.

I walked past the silent flats, through the fluorescent  lit corridors and wondered how many people were sleeping, and then how many else were just quiet, pretending to be asleep. Those asleep must have been loyal to their sleep routine. What about the others? Perhaps some of them are facing troubles in their lives to the point of insomnia, while others were enjoying theirs through the humble television set or reading a book. I wondered what you were doing. Were you still playing on the computer? Maybe you were finishing up the last piece of your homework, maybe malay. I walked past my neighbour’s unit and it was all dark, silent. And in some ways I see an uncanny resemblance, we’re like neighbours, we’re so close but our backs are turned against each other, oblivious to each other.

I thought of all the things we’ve done together. All the memories shared. And I felt really lonely. I don’t know whether I should hold on to you, or let go. Some would say to let go would be to give up, but I’ve also heard that giving up someone does not mean you’re weak, it means you’re strong enough to let go. I was hurt badly enough at one moment to let go, but can I do that again? Do you really need me that badly?

Someone please  talk to me. Tell me everything’s all right.