Chronicles of Shah

Be careful of what u wish for...

"Three tissue for one dollar." Sounds familiar? If u frequent kedai kopi's, then the answers woould be a yes. Our typical response would be shake both our heads and hands as a universal gesture of 'No, i'm not intrested' Sum even charge a packet of tissue for a dollar. Of course we wouldnt want that. Go to any pharmacy and u'll find that they r selling a carton of tissue for that same price.

But wht if...

The person sellin it is hunched back, staggering and having breathin problems? His breath wheezing and raspy voice. Staggering and stumblng from table to table, plying his trade. That was what I encountered at Changi while eating after a brief fishin trip.

I didnt look at him when he made his offer. I was savoring ny satay and I dont hav eyes behind my head. Imah already hav this sympathetic look on her face, while Boboy n Maya was very quiet. I soon found out why as a hunched back figure encumbered by his backpack and trolly bag ambled past me.

I stopped eating and zoned out from the conversation that they started again. I look at him for long moment, tirelessly plying his trade table to table. I detected several sympathetic looks thrown his way, though few actually help him buy his tissues. I started calculating his earning, trying to guess the average he earns a day. Will it pay for his sustenance and his medication? His bills? What about the quality of life that he's having? Can he ride the bike like me? Does he hav material comfort? Does he hav anyone to support back at home?

Even if he can support himself with his earnngs sellin tissues, can any amount of money cure him? His ailments... it really rends my heart to look at him stagger from table to table wif his hunched posture. Often I do encounter the tissue sellin man... though most of the time its able body apeks that do the same thing. There were times blind man escorted by an aunty that do the sellin.

Are we self centered individuals in persuit of materialistic comfort? Are we so deep chasing after these phantoms that we sold away our compassion and empathy? Is this the price that we pay... the price of our own soul? We are so blinded by materialic perfection. Obsessed with how good we look... fashion accesories, gimmicks... reasons that are purely human wants and desires.

I realized then how blessed I am. Despite my haunted past.. I still hav my faculties and physical assets wif me. I can see, I can feel... I can hear. I am physically strong and capable. I can stand straight and sound of mind. I still hav my family, friends and luved ones.

How many times hav u encountered old men and women alone in the hospital? No one attending to them. I hav this sudden insight.. a moment of ephiphany while looking at that poor soul trying to eeke a living. How would u feel when u hav given all ur strength and money at the expense of self to raise ur own flesh and blood only to be abandoned, all alone... and unloved? When strength hav fled ur body and u can no longer stand on ur own two feet... where's the reciprocation?

Was it not my wish to take care of my parents? Parents? Not parents. Juz my mum. Dad passed away before I could realize that dream. Who am I tryin to kid? For so long... I always said parents. I tried so hard to cover up for this loss. My mum n sis. My shield and support for so long when I was trying to run away from the truth. They r my parents. Perhaps I now know my constant sadness.

I remember now. Back when my father was still alive, he lived his life wif these ppl. Ppl wif physical disabilities. He luv werkin wif them. I remembered that I used to follow him around his werkplace @ Bizlink centre. This is the only company that provides employment wif these physically challenged ppl.

I remembered makin frenz wif em. Teasing me 'he's a very small boy. Dun worry, u'll grow up strong juz like ur daddy' I remembered admiring them for their never ending willpower. Do u knw how hard it is for a wheelchair bound person to navigate his wheelchair up the incline? I remembered them always struggling to manuever up the incline into the company... but they never stop and giv up to ask 'Hey, can u lend me a hand here?' They juz resolutely and slowly made their way... but dad would then push the wheelchair up wif his never ending enthusiasm... "Hey u r makin progress everyday!"

I tried once to copy my dad of helping push the wheelchair up, but I almost ended up upsetting the wheelchair... LoL! Perhaps, it was there that I learned compassion.

I remembered... when dad passed away... they were really sad. Wif red teary eyes they said that they're gona miss him... his warm friendly banter. They hugged me one last time... and said that they'll never forget me.

God created us as equals. What they lack, they excel in other areas. I wana believe that. Hw's it like if I was blind? I couldnt ride... I could see the sky and all the things that I luv. What if I'm deaf.. I cant hear the sounds of the bird chirping or the gentle sounds of the waves by the beach. What if I'm mute... how could I converse wif ppl around me? What if I cant use my legs...

What issit that I want? Inner peace? A clear conscience? Wisdom? These are the qualities required for a good life. Qualities that many seek but few ever attained. What is the price? Izzit compassion? My soul? If its really true, am I willing to part it all away for all these qualities?

Hollow man... sumtimes I feel like I am a walking emptiness. There is always temptations at the back of my mind... I call it my DarkSidE. The voice of temptation. It was only a few days ago I met two of my old frenz, Don and Sid. Both the proud owners of superbikes. Don a YZF-R1 and Sid a ZX-636 mk II.

I met both of them separately yet both of them ask me the same question. "Bro... when U wana own ur own hot wheels?" Both of them know of my passion for high performance bike. I knw, I once promised to never again ride such high octane machines. But my old self got the better of me...

I remembered the adreline rush as I pushed the machine close to 180km/h. The torgue was amazing, the handling flawless. Its like the machine was an xtension of my own body. I negotiated a sharp winding corner into ECP @ 120, leaning into the curve. I felt fear... but the more fear I feel... the more joyful I am. There's sumthing elated in facing fear and gettin away with it. The roar of the engine like a jet in my ear. Both were modified... one wif a Micron titanium and the other Yoshimura street mod. The sound of the engine was fantastic.

The YZF was amazingly light for such a CC, while the Kawa was unmatched in raw power. Both I had to tiptoe when I'm mounted. I'm vertically challenged, small and lithely compact, perfect frame for such handling. My pulse pounding, I thanked both my companion for letting me test ride and for 'volunteering' to becum my pillon. LoL! They said I really should own one... but I thank them niway, and went home wif my beloved cruiser.

Money.. bike... dreams and desires. I am a self-centered hollow man. But when I think of that hunched back man, all my dreams evaporated away, replaced by shame and humility.

Can one man make a difference? I don't think so. Even all the money in the world cant help and cure that man. There is a saying, giv a man a fish and he'll be fed a day. Teach a man to fish and he'll feed a lifetime. Givin money is juz a short term help... that was why I didn't rush to buy his tissue or givin him a donation of ten dollars. I know... I am not the person to help that man. I went home that day thinking... and I did my Ishak prayers and prayed that he'll find his niche in this world. I prayed for my own peace too.

Lookin into the mirror... that faint scar on my left eyebrow never fail to remind me of my own price that I had paid. They said a dying man can see his hearts desire. Perhaps I had seen it, perhaps not. Perhaps it was juz my own mind playing tricks on me, givin vision to my own dreams and desire.

What izit that I saw all those years ago as I lay unconscious? Walking down that dim path. So peaceful and fragrant. There were lush beautiful flowers... butterflies and birds chirping. So cool, the air so refreshingly soothing and vibrant. There, at the end of the road, he was waiting for me with that sad smile on his face and his hand out as though welcumin me back home.

Sappy. Like an emotional movie story. Hw I wished it was so. How I wished I hav a happy ending.

Happiness makes me weak. Happiness makes me soft and take things for granted. So I remind myself now. Why I am sad.. the reason why I choose to write my sorrows and inner thoughts. Not to bemoan fate or cry over spilled gruel, but rather, to remind myself the things that I often do not wish to face. A line between happiness and sadness hav to be drawn sumwhere. Balance in all things. I face the dawn of day wif joy and hope, and turn towards twilight to nurse my real life pains and sorrows. In reminding myself of my responsibilities, I draw upon cold hard reality and hatred to giv me strength. Let the end justify the means.