Thursday, March 02, 2006

The Cop and the Runaway

Is it a given trait or social conditioning of Big Bros that made them disciplinarians? Hatta was one such Big Bro who died a tragic and untimely death at the age of 28. He was an obedient child who lived by the rules even when his own father and siblings abandoned their responsibilities to pursue their own self-interests, at some point or other. When his parents were finding it hard to care for four growing children, he and his sister were sent to live with their grandparents. There, they were relegated to the lowest rung of the family hierarchy and subjected to domestic chores and torments from their more dominant aunts and cousins in that extended family. His more independent sister had planned her escape with the help of a girl friend and left him flabbergasted. But he dutifully waited for instructions from his parents to return to the fold.
Back with his family, he took on the role of the head of household in the absence of his father. He made sure that his younger brother and sisters behaved and adhered to their daily schedule. And they would dash home as soon as they saw him walk down the hill from work in the evenings. However, the family moved away after a calamity and he was left to his own devices. Being family-oriented, he gravitated towards his male cousins, Aim (Rahim) in particular. But Aim was sucked in this mystical movement that left Hatta lost and lonely.
Although he was a diligent student and very well-read, it took a few attempts before he passed his Senior Cambridge examinations. He just couldn’t think “outside the box”, to use a present terminology. He was just so stiff that he couldn’t bend, even if he were tickled. Being recruited into the police force seemed like a right vocation for him.
Missing his mother and sister KKN, he sought comfort in the company of a widow cum caterer. The circumstances around the last days of his life were so obscure but the tragic news of his watery death made the headlines and dealt a severe blow to his mother’s conscience. The guilt of abandoning her first born son endured until her own demise. Now that mother and son are gone, I wonder if the bidadari reserved for my Big Bro in paradise will resemble the widow mother or the runaway sister that he so adored?

The Cave and the Torchlight
On a lighter and more cheerful note, I remembered feeling so embarrassed when Erik used the metaphor of the cave and the North American torchlight to refer to the search for knowledge. Since the similes chosen are that of nature and tools (or the nature of tools?), the issue naturally leads to:
Should the cave look for the torchlight?
Or shouldn’t the torchlight look for the cave?

HOW CAN WE BE LOVERS
Michael Bolton
How can we be lovers if we can't be friends
How can we start over when the fighting never ends
Baby, how can we make love if we can't make amends
Tell me how we can be lovers if we can't be,
can't be friends
Look at us now, look at us baby
Still tryin' to work it out
Never get it right
We must be fools, we must be crazy
Whoa, whoa, when there's no
communication
Whao, Whoa, it's a no win situation
We lie awake, this wall between us
We're just not talking, we got so much to say
Let's break these chains, our love can free us
Whoa, Whoa, ain't it time we started tryin'
Whoa, whoa, gotta stop this love from dying
Baby, love is tough but we can take it
Baby, times are rough but we can make it
We can work it out

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