April.

Don't weep, my love.
For the farthest of two hearts,
Are the most difficult thing to do,
When you let your face,
To become a fountain of tears.

Asyraf Amir. 20190405.

Crossroads

“Let’s try to meet again.”

He says, he wasn’t so sure of himself either. Quite unusual for someone to say the first time they have met.

“If we meet again, it sure is fate.” 

“Then what?”  she asked, trying to get where he wanted to get.

“Then, I’ll ask you out?” he figured, just to guess. She smirked, a little skepticism was felt on her side.

Of course. For people to immediately fall in love, that’s something ridiculous to happen. That's because almost no one ever does and you’ll likely to be cheated, at least that’s what he thinks. At the same time, that’s what she thought too. 

They parted, waved off goodbye, with their very own thoughts kept in their hearts, suppressed. And walk on opposite sideways.

Is it possible to be different and be together at the same time?

We all exists in an opposite kind of form. We conform to the law of opposites stated by Marx. Positive and negative atoms have a completely different entity, yet they are attracted to one another. Don’t we somehow exist in that way? How could we be ever separated? In that case, this seems ironic. Isn't he and she supposed to be together in some other ways?

Can we talk about "incompatibility", then?

Days passed by and Haris didn’t even look for her. Never even bugged to get her number on that day, or even wondered where she might be. Of course, the thought of her has never faded from the very moment they parted. He however, still hoping to meet her while doing his daily routine. To the class, to his room, to the cafe and wherever he needs to be.

She, Arissa on the other half does seem to care and expects him to search for her. If the world was somewhat made like a natural radar for everyone, Arissa would hope that Haris appeared on her cross hair. She hopes someday, on some millisecond that they would coincidentally meet each other or he came running down to her proclaiming "finally, I found you". She too, is doing her daily routines. 

Both are waiting, while technically doing nothing to search one another. Waiting like under the night of starry sky, for a meteorite to appear.

On a rainy Thursday, they met at a bus stop. It was already dark and misty from the gusty wind. They first saw each other on a crossroad while holding their own umbrellas. The rain ceased to a light sprinkle as both of them met, nullifying the need of umbrellas.

“Would you call it a fate, if it was with someone else?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” answered Haris.

“Why not?” 

A moment of silence ensued. Haris was running out of words. Arissa was preparing to hear an omen of bad premonition.

“If the feeling wasn’t there I wouldn’t fall for someone so easily. And once I set my eyes, I only look for her.”

“But did you really look for me?”

Silence reiterated again. What was it, that makes both of their tongues swallowed to the back of his throat, Haris wondered. He wanted to scream at his heart's content, but his feelings hindered his voice. Of cowardice and courage, his words froze to Arissa's persistence; the one who had hoped so much but did nothing to get to what she wanted.

“I did. And in a way, I waited. I didn’t want to make it complicated but I tried to look for you even when I didn’t plan to. I knew you wouldn’t be at the pavilion, under the bridge or even the crossroad that we first met. I still wait for you at the same place,” he answered. Haris' words splurge out of nowhere from his mouth. 

“I wouldn’t do it if it was just another person with a different kind of beauty or perfection. I’d probably wouldn’t look for you. But I followed my heart. That’s how I probably got to you,” he continued. 

“But we’re different.” She says. “You're far away from me. You lived in the cities. I lived far off near some village you have never heard off,” she paused. "We’re just different from everything. Our place, ethnicity, everything,”

"I'm sorry," Haris blurted. "I can't understand what I said just now. I can't understand myself,"

Confused and disfigured, both cannot fathom what was going on with their complex feelings. Arissa then blurted, "I can't understand myself either."

“I don't know, but I just know that I like you”, he says. 

"I like you too", she said.

Their frozen hands, numbs on a Thursday rainy night sky. With their umbrellas already closed, a kiss broke through their moisty lips, swallowing all awkwardness, fears and worries of being watched. Where did all that courage mustered, was all Haris could ever wondered of. 

The "barrier" has been dissipated. Was it a lie to assure each of their hearts are fated with their feelings entwined, that is something no one could ever be sure of. The case is now closed; with that passionate kiss under the yellow streetlights. No buses and people are in sight, to be as witnesses of the event. 

But for their very own reasons, they do not meet each other again. Who knew again, that both of them matured into something else that has been going 5 years ago. To each their own, following a thread of fate and got entangled into someone else's story. That was five years ago. Five years ago. If this is read by people and this story be passed on going from the year it was told, that'll be some years ago.

It is a lopsided story. For those who have never felt love as such, will probably say this is the most absurd form of love. Haris and Arissa have never felt love but lust, they say. Little do they know if it were to happen to their own story, they'd be thrown into illusive form of self-denial, thrown into the complexity of love. It does not make sense. It will never make any sense. What you saw yourself in the mirror was just irrationality. But that is love. It makes you irrational.

For Haris and Arissa, their hands and hearts were intact to know what they wanted at the time. Whereas the space and time continuum goes on, their love thrives through an energy that burns out of the feeling of loneliness and fears. Finally, their love was so short-live. Only to leave traces of past time, which one and another was connected through time and space.

Some of you ask, why didn't they stay together?

Probably because of fate, does not allow them do so.

The kiss and the feelings stayed, only as a secret to remember.

Asyraf Amir. 20161210.

*

I looked at the date created from the properties of the document, it was December 10th 2016.

I could be studying but I also could be procrastinating out of writing.

Or that I smoke too much.

Could be.

Asyraf Amir. 20190322.

The Fault Between Equality & Feminism.

"Men are Trash".

I am born as a male. I grew up to become a man. But did I deserve to be called "trash"?

For starters, I am able to write this long because I want the whole world to know that there is no need for us to use "men are trash" or "women are trash". No, I am not in a bitter mode and I am not having any break ups or so.

Supposed if I write this, there'll be many others who will raise up their hands and say "this is about discrimination against women". These people, they know that there'll be another group of people who'll say "not every men are trash" and they admit that the term is used against those who discriminate women. So on and so forth.

I reiterate; I support feminism, the one that promotes gender equality and against discrimination for both sexes.

Ladies & gentlemen, what are we as youth teaching the next generation about "feminism"? Do we need radical or extreme feminism?

Let's not divert the attention. Arguments are mostly coming from women who went on relationship and broke up with their partner for various reasons. Particularly young women referring to their partners as trash and saying "men are prone to cheating". Statistically, it is correct. However it should be noted that there are circumstances which the women are wrong.

When men say "women are trash", all hell breaks loose. Then, there's the question of double standard where many will start saying "it's her choice" or "she shouldn't be treated like that".

What's even more surprising is that when people use these two sentences; "men are trash" or "women are trash", we have to explain towards the masses twice about "not all men/women are trash!"

So whichever that I use "women are trash" or "men are trash", it doesn't matter because people get the part "not every men/women are trash". Is that it?

For over 100 years, our predecessors have fought against the narratives of colonialism, imperialism, patriarchy, racism, oppression and slavery of which you still see the extreme elements of these ideas are still there. The derogatory term of "negro", stereotyping races and religion and the list goes on. It is all still there.

The narrative of saying "Malays are lazy" & "Chinese are bunch of capitalists" - it is still there! And we have to sort of explain to people twice about "not all" part. I'm not going to touch on the issue for opportunists because that is another issue.

How many of you know about women's right to education? How many of you heard about women's suffrage (right to vote)? How many of you address the issue of male's rape equally to female's rape?

Does the name Emmeline Pankhurst ring a bell? Katherine Goble Johnson?

Forget about those big names. What about Shamsiah Fakeh, Aishah Ghani and Sakinah Junid? The ones who fought for equality and women's voice in politics back then in Malaysia?

Nothing. The ones we ever seriously discuss about (and still keep talking about it!) are the ones about relationships. The ones what is best about a boyfriend and girlfriend. If this keep going on, a person one day may say "feminism has lost its track from its original struggle".

I understood the evolving issues. I admit that people need to comprehend the evolving challenges which people have to adapt and troubleshoot new problems that needed newer ideas. But today, we are heading to a dangerous direction, in which a more radical or extreme ideas of feminism will be borne.

There is no doubt regarding our stance in fighting issues such as domestic abuse, underage marriage and honor killings is still rampant. In other words, the idea of extreme patriarchy persists. 

Specifying feminism solely on the issue of relationship is narrow minded. It's not to say feminism does not have a say, is not needed or does not serve its purposes. It does. In fact, it has defended several times but often the idea is sort of tainted by those who think "the world is all for themselves".

We do not need to use "women are trash" and "men are trash" narrative, then explaining to people about the "not all" context to everyone. It's a never-ending pointless debate. At times, it does not have anything to do with gender. A quarrel between a boyfriend and girlfriend; the boyfriend cheats. Heck, anyone can cheat. If it's the woman cheating, what do we call it? Women are trash? We don't need it. We treat people the same respect as how we want to be treated. We all have dignity. There is no need to public shaming a person's face over the internet. If a crime is done there, report it so justice will be served.

We have to pay attention to what values are we teaching the next generation. What shapes us as society. What needs to defended and what needs to eliminated whether it is coming from our culture and perspective.

Relationships are an opportunity for us to grow. It is a platform to learn more about life, serving you hands-on lessons where did you go wrong and what can you do right later to avoid similar mistakes in the future. If that kind of thinking does not work for you, we all know who is wrong.

For that, I rest my case.

Asyraf Amir. 20181227.

Kelambu

Sayang
Tidaklah aku jemu dengan alur wajahmu
Bersama cahaya Kuala Lumpur memintas helaian rambutmu
Igauan yang merajutkan fikiranku

Jika
Dapatku capai bayu tubuhmu
Lelaplah kita dalam kelambu bintang
Lupakan saja kesibukan kota & kerja

Siang
Teras matahari subuh bakal memancar
Asap dua puntung sigaret memenuhi ruang
Di bawah lampu aku menunggu kamu

Asyraf Amir. 20180827.

Untai Kata.

Salam.

Jam menunjukkan 2.06AM dan mata aku tak lekang dari telefon. Tapi cukup lama aku bukukan dalam hati aku. Sekarang aku mahu luahkan.

Ada beberapa orang bertanya, kenapa aku kurang menulis di sini. Inilah alasan aku.

Banyak karya aku simpan dalam buku buruk. Buku buruk inilah aku panggil "jurnal". Segala isi hati, ilham & buah fikiran aku conteng di situ. Sempurna atau tidak, itu cerita kedua.

Dalam jurnal aku, ada cerpen, puisi & prosa. Tak ramai yang tahu, aku sebenarnya minat sastera sejak aku sekolah rendah lagi. Lagi terkejut bila orang tahu aku tulis puisi Bahasa Melayu, sebab hampir semua karya aku dalam Bahasa Inggeris.

Seperti karyawan lain, Pak Sako, Haruki Murakami, Nizar Qabbani, Yukio Mishima, Chairilanwar & lain-lain, aku juga berhasrat untuk membukukan karya aku satu hari nanti.

Pernah aku menjadi penulis freelance seketika, mengulas politik semasa sewaktu aku menganggur. Dari pengalaman itulah baru aku merasa, sukarnya menjadi seorang penulis.

Hari demi hari, terus berlalu. Cita-cita aku menjadi komitmen utama. Aku mahu berjuang untuk negara. Hasrat aku sejak di bangku sekolah untuk membukukan karya aku sendiri tertunggak sehingga aku bekerja hari ini.

Perasaan blogging dan menulis amatlah lain bagi aku. Selalunya aku akan tulis dulu dalam jurnal, baru aku publish dekat sini. Dah lama juga aku simpan blog ini, tak ramai yang teruskan untuk kekalkan blog sendiri. Cukup tahun depan kalau aku simpan blog ini lagi, kiranya sudah genap 10 tahun aku luahkan isi hati aku dekat sini. Kalian boleh lihat sendiri kematangan penulisan aku sejak 2009 hingga hari ini.

Tapi lama kelamaan, aku jumpa ketenangan bila aku tulis atas jurnal aku. Mulanya aku fikir, "post nanti sajalah". Tangguhan ini lama kelamaan menjadi satu tabiat sampai aku persoalkan "eh, buat apa aku post?"

Hasrat murni aku blogging adalah untuk "memberi harapan & buah fikiran". Waktu itu aku sedih sangat & tak ada orang nak bercerita. "Bakat" dah ada, tinggal nak tulis saja.

Sayangnya, "bakat" yang aku ada inilah tidak dikembang sepenuhnya dulu. Mungkin kurang didikan, tiada mentor atau editor yang boleh memberi sepatah dua kata. Tak kisah lah kritik, kutuk & apapun. Janji ilmu. Tapi barangkali aku harus jadi seperti Murakami, yang bukukan karyanya dalam lingkungan 29-30 tahun. Untuk menjadi penulis yang hebat, kau perlukan pengalaman hidup. Dan pengalaman hiduplah satu perkara yang "mahal" untuk aku ada. Tapi itu dulu.  Sekarang mungkin aku lebih bersedia. Cuma masa menulis aku amatlat suntuk sekarang.

Aku akan simpan blog aku, sebab aku percaya kalau jasad manusia itu mati, karyanya tidak. Karya aku akan hidup 1000 tahun.

Doakan saja aku sihat & berjaya di UK. Doakan saja aku mampu keluarkan buku satu hari nanti.

Asyraf Amir. 20180903.

Bridge.

Hello.

If life is like a hanging bridge, I'd be swaying in the middle. Not knowing if I would fall & only to hope I'd stay alive.

I never really expect the world to understand the depth of my problems.

But let's say I'd fall and die?

I guess I wouldn't really mind.

I'll write another one these one or two days.

Asyraf Amir. 20180830.

I ditched writing for a very long time.

I've never wrote such a long title to write something.

Blogger used to be something that I used to express myself. I didn't remember when that ever changed however, I think at times it bothered me. It irritates me when I ask myself "why didn't I write today" question after something momentous happened in my life. At the time, I felt the sense of insecurity of "what ifs" in every narrative I wrote. I wanted to write about happiness, but there was a worrying factor of what will happen. In fact, it didn't even happen. And I hate the fact that I speculated something that I didn't even wanted to happen. Which later became half-way written or just scrapped to the bin.

Fuck. Do I even make sense to you guys?

What's new about me?

I've always thought of the idea of making peace with your past.
Let's say you had unsettled feelings with your old friends who fought with you in the past and you wanted to make sure that you & him are in good terms or at least, forgiven each other.

Or you have unsettled feelings with your ex and you wanted to make sure that at least, both sides forgiven each other.

In that way, you can move on with your life without having any sense of regrets.

Tell you what, it works!

After I went for a Navy interview, I packed my bags to leave for Sarawak. And I thought about it for a very long time. It was the "fuck it, whatever happens, happens" feeling. And so I did. It was the perfect time since I already passed my portfolio and released my post to officially to my boss. Then I was free as a bird.

I landed Kuching at exactly 1900H. 7.00PM.

The feeling when I landed Kuching was momentous. I was excited. Looking forward to meet everyone. And when I arrived UNIMAS, the east gate was the same as ever when I first arrived there 3 years ago.

The week I spent was mostly related to PALAPES things. But it wasn't so much as I had experienced as a cadet. What was more exciting than this was seeing back my old life. The trees that I see everyday, the air that I smelled everyday, the people that I meet everyday. Those things had never seemed to disappear from the back of my mind.

I did everything that I could. From laughing like mad to pulling pranks like I never really got to do when I was working. It was fun.

The night that I stepped away from the airport, I felt sad for my friend Shaikh who sent me on Tuesday. I later knew today he was sending a friend of mine, who will be reporting to become Air Force officer. I didn't get Air Force because there wasn't any placement.

Then they put me into Navy. There you go. One Navy, One Air Force.

The fact that my friend had to sent two guys to the airport for one final time was saddest moment of all. We never knew if that could be one of the last few moments we see each other.

And that was the same thing as everyone else.

I also looked back to the lake that I fell in love with a girl back then. Next to the UNIMAS lake. It was pleasing sight, in fact memorable. But a story is a story to be remembered. I will well remember the moments and move on. I had nothing else to lose.

Goodbye Sarawak. I missed everyone of you.

And everyone of you will be missed.

Asyraf Amir. 20180413.