… is, all around. I’ve heard that if I should ever feel sad, down, depressed, torn, glum, sorrowful, unhappy, regretful, hopeless, heartbroken, and the countless other ways one expresses that feeling on the days that life is a notch below beautiful, I should think about the arrivals hall in Kuala Lumpur International Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. The arrivals hall. But what I saw that day in the Low Cost Carrier Terminal’s departure hall changed everything. It mattered.
Boy cut hair. Red t-shirt, like a sweater. Youngish, early twenties in my opinion. A chinese couple looking on. Wearing a backpack. Holding the boarding pass in her left hand. Wiping away her tears with her right. But they wouldn’t stop coming. The chinese couple were still looking on, hoping she would look back, so they could give her a smile of encouragement, to keep on walking. But she couldn’t. she just couldn’t. she was now leaning against the pillar for support, with her hand clasped over her mouth, trying desperately to let it all go, and look ahead. I was glued, staring at this scene before my eyes, wondering what was going on. It was like, one of those moments, 10, 15, 20 years after the loss of a loved one, when suddenly we feel alone, alone in the room with the most deafening of silences, and remember how much we miss their presence in our life. And the tears trail down our cheeks as the memory gets stronger.
She gave up. Got tired of being strong. Letting the tears flow, she walked on, to the immigration counter. But she lost her way. All the signage was in English. She wasn’t sure where to go. A few looks to the left and a few looks to the right later, she finally looked back, more out of confusion than that feeling that was bringing all those memories back minutes ago. I went numb when I saw her face. The chinese couple smiled. They called her back to where they were standing, which was just a family away from where I was, using the everyday hand signals. Over the noise, I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying to her in Malay, but one needn’t be born a prodigy to realize they were showing her the right way to her counter. She was still crying. I was still numb. They were still smiling.
She was their maid. Trying to say the final goodbye. going home. Going home and never coming back again. She gave the resonance of someone who’s world had just ended. Someone clinging to the last straws of logic. Someone praying for a miracle. You can argue that she feels this way because of the income she was earning, the standard of living she was experiencing, away from the pressures of family matters. A life she might never see again. Yes, it is. But I’d like to think that its because she was grateful for the kindness the couple showed her, for the love they gave her, the treatment of a human being not needing a better definition. She cared. All I wanted to do in those few moments was just to walk up to her and give her a hug, saying nothing, praying time would heal all her wounds, if she would let it. Hoping it would give her the courage to walk away. I remember my eyes being watery, but I assumed it was because of the dry air coming from the air conditioning.
I saw life in the blink of an eye. I saw a complete stranger break down for a couple she was now calling family. I saw what I wanted to see, restoring my faith in humanity. But most importantly, I saw love. I saw it for the very first time. The way it deserves to be shown. I considered taking her photograph, to remember the moment, but walked away with my family, smiling like I didn’t have a care in the world, but deep down feeling rather insecure. I can write as much as I want, but nothing will better describe what I saw than the moment in my mind. And for once, I want to be selfish. No photos. No videos. Just words. The memory will be for me, and for me alone. As the day I saw love, and knew there was still plenty of it in the world. Thank you, the girl with the red sweater. Thank you.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Roobaroo
"your first flight in a light aircraft brings back memories of the first takeoff you experienced as a child. that big smile carves on your lips. it was so cool to feel the earth struggle to keep you on the ground then eventually let go. in 9 out of 10 scenarios, you yell out a loud 'whoo-hoo!', with your eyes peeled to the window. you watch the runway disappear beneath you. you see the green, the houses, the people. you see lifestyles in front of your own eyes. you see civilization. you see the world the way God sees it everyday. the bumpy conditions are more than welcomed, seeing as light aircraft are easily affected by wind conditions and the occasional gust."
i wrote that 1 year, 2 months, and 13 days ago after clearing my first solo. and i have never forgotten that feeling. not even with everything that had happened over the last 2 years.
"maha 04 tango, wind is calm, you are cleared to land runway 03".
"cleared to land runway 03, maha 04 tango".
i taxi back to dispersal via taxiway bravo, unsure of how to feel. after shutting down the aircraft, Capt Zul grabs the aircraft technical log, and leaves for the hangar. i don't move from my seat. i'm glued. i close my eyes and try to look in deep. real deep. i think about all the times i've had here. good. bad. stagnant. my friends and the stunts we pulled together. like that time we went around town stealing all the spiderman 3 promotional posters off the lamp posts at 5 in the morning. my instructors and the shit they put us through. like that time my instructor ordered me to get out of the aircraft and run alongside it all the way off the runway because i was taxiing it faster than the standard operating procedure. the scheduling and the delays that proceeded, stretching the course to 25 months from the original allocated 14 months. all those times we spent in our rooms, with the air conditioning cut off during the day, wandering aimlessly, waiting for 5pm when the schedule came out, praying once for the rest of the world and twice for ourselves, so that we may fly the next day. how do i want to feel? how do i want to walk away from this? when i look back, will i know that i made the right choice? i know the answer. i had been practicing it over the last one week. its going to be perfect.
just to prove that i'm guilty as charged. there were 3. i gave one away to my young cousin.
200 hours. and they were all over. i earned every single one. i unbuckle my seat belt, collect my navigation log sheet, put it in my nav bag, grab the pitot cover, and step out of the aircraft, locking the canopy in place. after placing the cover on the pitot head, i reach for my nav bag. the following are its contents at all times :- aircraft flight manual, the CRP-5, the douglas protractor, a folder with spare log sheets and flight plans, pencil case, sony discman, sennheiser headphones, flight training report, map, log book, letdown charts, and 'a heartbreaking work of staggering genius'. i take the headphones out with the discman already set to track 10. i place them over my head, adjusting the length, and press play. the guitar comes in, and i smile like the terminator, only with a touch more realism. i wish there was someone i could hold on to and never let go. the moment is perfect. and the song never stops. it never stops.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Lord Of The Rings
A circle. a closed curve which divides the plane into an interior and exterior. a special ellipse in which the foci coincide. a conic section attained when a right circular cone is intersected with a plane perpendicular to the axis of the cone. a ring. a shape. one with no beginning and no end. perfect. that's what God is. that's what the Kara is.
"Early science, particularly geometry and astronomy/astrology, was connected to the divine for most medieval scholars. The compass in this 13th century manuscript is a symbol of God's act of Creation, as many believed that there was something intrinsically "divine" or "perfect" that could be found in circles."(Reference: Wikipedia for circle)The Kara is a gift from the guru to constantly remind us that our will at all times must be god-like. the Kara in every aspect represents God's true nature. we wear it on our hand. we, to politely put, 'wear god' on our hand so that every action we perform is one fueled by pure thoughts. yes, god is everywhere, and yes, god is in each and every one of us. but how often do we look within?
In the tenth month, you were made into a human being, O my merchant friend, and you were given your allotted time to perform good deeds." (Sri Guru Granth Sahib Ji page 76)
Every man is born to make another's life. no matter how unimportant we feel our lives are, we affect the people around us. a kind word. a gesture of good faith. the stand for all that is right. that's all. if only with every breath we took, we remembered that.
This is the true nature of the Kara. this is why it is one of the 5. now can we all stop referring to it as a 'ward for evil spirits'?
Come Home.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
T.I.A.
“Sometimes I wonder, will God ever forgive us for we have done to each other? But then I look around and I realize, God left this place a long time ago”. 200 000 child soldiers. A life for a stone. Civil war for years. This is
I talk about changing the world. That’s it. I talk. Children die of starvation. I shed a tear. Then pass the newspaper to someone else. Massacres happen all over. I scream outrage. Until the next commercial comes. Life moves on in an instant. She said, “people back home wouldn’t buy a ring if they knew it cost someone their hand”. Did the diamond rates fall? It’s pointed out in the film that we are led to believe that diamonds are rare. But who are we kidding? What has changed? Did we even flinch? All we manage is a sigh, and say ‘what is the world coming to?’
You know that something has hit you when the credits have been rolling for the last 10 minutes and you haven’t even flinched. You continue to stare at the screen, even you if you’re not looking. The last two hours flash before your eyes in bits and pieces. You just want to get on a rooftop and scream. And cry. And scream again. Sorry. I keep forgetting that this is supposed to be about me. I generalize too much. It’s almost like I want to hurt in order to feel happy. I caught myself doing it again. Grabbing the skin on my chest that covers my heart, almost as if I was trying to tear it off. It’s been more than a few times. Life just gives me these moments to feel alive.
Look at the photograph. Now look closer. In this scene, he is standing in front of a standing ovation that’s waiting to hear him speak for the world, for the voice of those suffering from the chaos and bloodshed. What do his eyes say? What are they trying to tell us? They look like they have been crying for generations. So much that the trail of the tears on the cheeks has just become natural. Just another facial feature. Believe it or not, he was not tearing in this scene. I noticed this when I saw the film for the third time. I couldn’t digest it. I just couldn’t.
“My heart tells me that people are inherently good. My experience suggests otherwise. What about you Mr Archer? In your long career as a, journalist, would you say that people are mostly good?”
“No. I’d say they’re just people”.
And the world dies one life at a time
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
The 9th Day Of The 2nd Month
To Mataji, Pitaji, and Harkiren
Date: 09/02/07
Time: 13:30
Setting: 2 hours before takeoff
Message: I love you
9th February 2007. 4 students performing navigation exercise number 10. Langkawi to
Izwan and mE in Nando's
From Vicky
Date: 09/02/07
Time: 15:08
Setting: During stop-over in
Message: Dey don 4get my Nando’s order man! I’ll kill you if you come back without the chicken :)
9th February 2007. Hanging out in Nando’s in the
From Lavan
Date: 09/02/07
Time: 18:49
Setting: After landing in Alor Setar
Message: Dude, first of all, thanks for not giving me your sortie. U ok or not? Pick up the damn fon la!
From Murali
Date: 09/02/07
Time: 18:55
Setting: After landing in Alor Setar
Message: Harry, murali here. My aunt will pick you up from alor setar airport at 8pm. Just sit tight k?
9th February 2007. Azlan encounters an engine failure. Crashes in the water south of
From Mataji
Date: 09/02/07
Time: 20:21
Setting: At Murali’s aunt’s home
Message: Thank God you are safe. What have they planned for you now?
From Mataji
Time: 21:54
Setting: At Murali’s aunt’s home
Message: Ok then good nite. God bless you. We love you dear
9th February 2007. Having dinner with Auntie Krishna and family. Dressed in clothes not belonging to me. Sleeping in a bed new to me. My first time in Alor Setar. Azlan is saved by local fisherman uninjured. Placed in
The guest room in Aunty Krishna's home where i spent the night. Lovely family.
From Manipalian (Manmeet)
Date: 10/02/07
Time: 21:17
Setting: One day later, back in Langkawi
Message: Hi hargobind,how r u?=) heard abt d ’adventurous flight yday, glad evrythng ok=] me currently tied dwn wth sportsday;>tc, huggies! Satnam –manipalian Manmeet
From Coach Sukhbir
Time: 00:07
Setting: 3 days later
Message: Dear hargobind, heard abt
9th February 2007. The first engine failure in our flying school history. The first crash I have had first hand knowledge about. My first stay with an Indian family, and they made me feel like family. You know what they say. There’s a first time for everything.
Messages were also received from Paven Singh, Ajit Kaur from Subang, and others that were unfortunately deleted due to storage limitations before I got this idea of typing them all out. My many thanks to all of you who took the trouble to send me your messages. It was an eye opener to see how much one person’s life matters to those around him. And I was not even involved in the crash! I will end with the famous words of Roberto Benighi that you have probably seen countless times in my messages to you. ‘Life is Beautiful’. Cheers……….. Written on the 20th February 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
No Pennies For These Thoughts. No Penny's Worth That Much
3rd july 2007. sometime at night. a regular phone call for me. one that i get every couple of days. the people that mean the world to me, making sure everything is fine. my health. the food. flying. we talk. the same way you tell someone who knows your schedule how the day went. silences in between. wondering what to say next. finally, all formalities aside, its time to hang up. and then i say it, without the least bit of realization. "goodnight Phenji". goodnight. phenji.
Phenji. a distant word. a regularity as a child, but something happened as i grew up. during the last 10 odd years. it became Harkiren this. Harkiren that. just, Harkiren. sister became a word i used to describe the alien life form living next door. the one that got me into trouble. the one that shared my parentage god knows how. everything seems like a lifetime away.
i went back to my room that night. thinking. realizing. the last memory i have of hugging her and calling her phenji as a child. the day Mataji and i picked her up from school in the Ford van we used to have. the school main gate. a rare occasion. mum always picked us up from the back gate. the one with a proper bus stop. i was sitting in the front row. behind the driver's seat. phenji comes in, and yells that she got 4 A's for UPSR. the day the results came out. Mataji reaches back from the front and hugs her. breaking apart, i remember her exact words. "aren't you going to hug your sister?". i do. along with a 'congratulations Phenji'. a forced hug. influenced by a 3rd person. a term i used at my parents request. that was my last memory. it hurt. to think that's all i had to offer as a 'brother'.
i tried saying it again the other day. during the next phone conversation. it never came. not a peep. that part of the sentence muted. like the word "morphin'" from the Power Rangers theme in our early days as kids for its resemblance to the drug. medical or not. so much for being easier the second time around. you know when its hard to say, that it means something. otherwise, it becomes just another word. that's all. a means of communication. no. not anymore. everything changes. from this moment on. i will prove my worth as a younger sibling. an idiot next door. a brother.
i don't care if it makes a difference for her. it may all sound the same. but i see Pitaji calling his sister's 'Peyna'. and i see that look in his eyes. and i think, that makes all the difference.
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