They Found Me(Edited)
The crowds at the Sunday bazaar begin to thin away with the decline of the sun towards the upper end of the riverside town.Kassim has just finished eating the rice given by Mak Minah, a generous lady who runs an economy rice stall at the bazaar. Licking the leftover gravy off his lips, he sits on a curb beside the bus stand with an intent look at the slowed-down transactions between vendors and customers. The vendors begin to pack up their stalls while the customers are in haste to go home. He never comes to the bazaar when it is thick with people. He makes his usual appearance at the bazaar around 5.00pm. He always sits in the same spot, biding his time and waiting for an opportunity to collect unsold, wilted vegetables.
"Come on here, Pak, I have some vegetables for you!" A Chinese vendor named Wong hollers, while beckoning him over with a wave of the hand. A grateful smile is etched on Kassim's sagging, wrinkled face. He props himself up on his walking stick from the cold concrete stone of the curb. He struggles for balance because the long sitting has given him pins and needles in the legs.Taking a deep,raspy breath, he adjusts the tilted Songkok on his skeletal head and staggers in Wong's direction with tottering steps. The cramp, tingling sensation gradually subsides with each dragging movement of his feet. When Kassim has reached Wong's van, the tall, pot-bellied vendor asks him to open his dirty sling bag and shoves two rust-coloured cabbages into it. Kassim says a hoarse thank you. He turns on his heel and walks deeper into the market against the homeward flow of people, his shadow trailing long behind him in the dimming, ochreous light. Something catches his eye and he bends down to pick up three stray bananas from the rubbish-strewn ground. He puts them into his bag and resumes walking. He makes an obligatory stop at the rubbish dump of the bazaar.
There are a few skinny, mangy cats in the dump, gnawing thrown barbequed chicken bones with ravenous relish. They scurry off in a freak of timidity at the sight of Kassim. The old man smiles bitterly to himself. Don’t they know that he is like them, too? He bends over and starts combing through the rubbish for empty tins and bottles. He earns a pittance by sending them to recycling centres. Kassim has grown inured to the overpowering stench. Half way through the search, he hears two people talking a few metres behind him.
"Mama, what is that old man doing in the rubbish dump?"
"He's looking for food."
"How dirty he is. I feel like puking."
"If you don't study hard, you may end up like him."
"I don't want. Mama!"
"You should study hard from now on. Read as many books as you can."
"Mama, reading books is so boring. I'd rather read comics."
"Boring? Laziness will make you become like that man of filth there!"
"I am not dirty,Mama!"
The exchange is obviously made between a mother and a son. Kassim can feel the weight of their stares on his back. He looks over his shoulder, and sees a fortyish woman and a boy who cannot be more than eight or nine years old . They are sizing him up with covert sneers on their faces. Their conversation comes to an abrupt stop when Kassim’s eyes meet theirs. The woman looks away in uneasiness. She whispers something to her son and they hurry off in the direction of the car park without looking back. Kassim envies them a great deal. They have one another, but he has none.
By the time Kassim calls his scavenging a day,the last vestiges of twilight have faded and the whole town looks like a picture blotted in with ink. His bag is bulging with the addition of empty cans and bottles. With a sigh, he retraces his way back to the bus stand.He can hear his shuffling feet amidst the waxing and waning sounds of pushcart wheels. The buzz of voices around him is wearing off. Streetlight halos illuminate the dark streets. Vehicles roar past him, leaving gusts of wind into his face.He blinks away the dust, clears his throat and spits a gob of phlegm into the grass verge that borders along the road.When he has reached the bus stand, he feels as if his frame of bones is dismantling into a heap. He is dog-tired. He wants to lie down and sleep on the straw mat in his house. If possible, he doesn't want to wake up. He is tired of his long life. Sometimes he cannot help wondering if God and His angels have lost trace of his soul. He is wasting his life as one of the living dead on earth.
Suddenly, he catches sight of two men across the road. Their faces are not visible in the faint lamplight but Kassim can tell from the size of their bodies that they are tall and well-built. It is not the first time Kassim sees them. He saw them in the same spot for quite a number of times over the past four weeks. He has a strange feeling that they are looking at him. Who are they? What are they up to? Can others at the bus stand see them too? He can feel his skin crawling.
Kassim heaves a sigh of relief when a bus trundles into view on the shoulder of the road. It rumbles to a halt beside the bus stand and disgorges a stream of eight to twelve passengers.Then, everyone at the bus stand pile into the bus, ignoring the poor old man who is too weak to join in the frenzied rush. It takes Kassim a great deal of effort to board the bus. His slowness is frowned upon by the driver, who almost barks profanities at him. He gets into a coughing fit after the exertion. Some cheeky youths sitting at the back parody the way he coughs, and burst out laughing without a shred of conscience. He shakes his head in utter disapproval of their action.His blood would have been boiling with anger had he been younger. Old age has emolliated his emotion. He scans his myopic eyes over the heads in the compartment and finds an unoccupied seat next to a young Malay girl. However, he dares not sit beside her. He knows how stinky and dirty he is. He grabs hold of the overhead rail with his fingers, trying to keep his footing in the shake and sway of the bus. Suddenly he hears a gasp. The girl gets up from her seat and edges towards him. Grabbing his left arm with one hand and putting the other on his back, she brings him to her seat with gentle peremptoriness .He wants to say no but the sincere smile on her face makes him `yield to her will. He thanks her when he is seated.
"Are you feeling better now, Pakcik?" asks the girl.
"I...I'm alright," stammers Kassim, still half-dazed by the the unexpected gesture.
"Where is your house, Pakcik?" asks the girl. She looks like Faridah, pretty and kind-hearted.
"I live in Simpang Tiga," replies the old man, his voice quavering in discomfiture.He is unwonted to the girl's outpouring of concern.
"Simpang Tiga is quite far from the bazaar!" frowns the girl, her voice tinged with surprise."Why don't you ask your family members to take you there?"
"I have no family," says Kassim, shaking his head in the negative. Faridah died of miscarriage fifty years ago. He is dirt poor, living on the monthly subsistence allowance given by the welfare department.
"I'm sorry, Pakcik," says the girl, giving him a sympathetic look.
"It's okay, I am used to it." Kassim's voice falters. He is touched by the girl's truthfulness. She does not show any sick feelings towards him.
"Hari Raya is drawing near. Will you be celebrating it with your relatives?"
"No, I have no relatives," returns Kassim.
"Poor Pakcik," sighs the girl. "You must be very lonely."
Kassim opens his mouth to reply, but he chokes on his words. He turns his face away from her, trying to hide his teary eyes. But the girl grabs hold of his hands and says:
“Don’t worry, Pakcik, “says the girl. “ Your loneliness will soon be over.”
Kassim is startled. What does the girl mean?
The girl seems to know what he thinks. She smiles and says,”They’ve found you and soon you will be with them.”
Kassim feels confused. He does not know who the girl refers to. He wants to ask but the eyes of the girl have a strange effect in quelling his urge.
The girl looks out the window and says, “Pakcik, we’re almost reaching your house. Let me press the bell for you.”
With that, the girl rises and presses the bell. Kassim looks at her in disbelief. The girl’s eyes gleam with all-knowingness but she vouchsafes no explanation.
The bus grinds to a halt. Kassim recognizes the purlieus of his house. They exude the same aura of loneliness . He thanks the girl in a muffled voice and alights the bus, bringing a lot of doubts along with him.
Kassim’s wooden house stands back twenty yards from the main road. It is half-buried in a copse of trees. He can hear drones of circadas as he walks along the trail to his house. Moonlight filters through the overhead layers of branches and leaves, giving some brightness to the dark surroundings.
When Kassim has reached the facade of his decrepit house, he sees two dark shadows flitting past before him. He looks around him but sees nothing except trees. Did his eyes play tricks on him just now? He shrugs and walks up the steps. He produces his key from his trouser pocket and inserts it into the rusty lock of the front door. After some twisting, the door opens and he steps inside. As usual, he fumbles for the light switch in the dark. He switches it on when he locates it. The florescent tube on the ceiling blinks blue and orange before becoming steadily bright. Just as he is about to drop his bag on the floor, he has a sudden bout of heart palpitations. The rafters above him spin and his legs buckle under him. Holding his chest in agony, he sinks to his knees. A cold, stinging sensation pulsates through his arms and his breathing becomes jagged. Through his ringing ears he seems to hear the creaking of loose floorboards coming his way. Before he knows what happens two warm hands circle around his shoulders and a gentle voice whispers into his ear: “Welcome home, Kassim.”
Gasping in shock, Kassim finds himself kneeling face to face with Faridah. She looks surprisingly youthful, glowing in undescribable beauty. He can smell the sweet fragrance of plumeria from her too. She seems real, very real. His heartbeat slows down to a normal pace and a torrent of energy is washing over him. He feels as if he were young again.
“Faridah!” Kassim cries, hugging Faridah tightly.“It’s you! You’ve finally come back to me.”
“I am always with you, Kassim” replies Faridah in a calm, soothing voice.
“I have wanted to see you very much,” says Kassim. “God has finally granted my wish.”
“God is always good to us,” says Faridah, kissing Kassim’s cheek. ”He knows when is the best time for us to reunite.”
“Am I dreaming?” asks Kassim, looking at Faridah’s shimmering face, seeking assurance from her.
“No, you are not,” says Faridah.”We were predestined to meet each other today.”
Kassim’s eyes are brimming with tears. He has been in solitude for fifty years. He does not want to let go of Faridah this time. He loves her to the last fibre of his being.
Noiselessly, two hands rest on Kassim’s shoulders.
Kassim looks up and sees the girl he met on the bus.
Faridah puts her hand on the girl’s shoulder and says, “Kassim, she is our daughter, Hapsah. You met each other on the bus earlier on.”
“Hapsah? Our daughter?” murmurs Kassim, turning to look at Faridah with a questioning gaze.
“Yes, Kassim,” nods Faridah.
Bending her body, Hapsah takes hold of Kassim’s hands and brings them to her forehead.
Tears of gratefulness roll down Kassim’s cheeks. He puts his hand on Hapsah’s shoulders and puts the other on Faridah’s. They are one family.
Two dark shadows glide into the house through the open door. They become brighter and brighter as they inch towards the hugging trio. Soon, the room becomes blinding with the light they radiate. It engulfs Kassim, Faridah and Hapsah until they are seen no more.
The next day, a few social workers come to Kassim’s house. Hari Raya is just around the corner, and they want to give him rice and some new clothes. They are shocked to find the door ajar and see Kassim lying unconscious on the floor. While Kassim is being carried into their van, he opens his eyes and says, “They found me, they finally found me.” With that he closes his eyes and wakes up no more.
"Come on here, Pak, I have some vegetables for you!" A Chinese vendor named Wong hollers, while beckoning him over with a wave of the hand. A grateful smile is etched on Kassim's sagging, wrinkled face. He props himself up on his walking stick from the cold concrete stone of the curb. He struggles for balance because the long sitting has given him pins and needles in the legs.Taking a deep,raspy breath, he adjusts the tilted Songkok on his skeletal head and staggers in Wong's direction with tottering steps. The cramp, tingling sensation gradually subsides with each dragging movement of his feet. When Kassim has reached Wong's van, the tall, pot-bellied vendor asks him to open his dirty sling bag and shoves two rust-coloured cabbages into it. Kassim says a hoarse thank you. He turns on his heel and walks deeper into the market against the homeward flow of people, his shadow trailing long behind him in the dimming, ochreous light. Something catches his eye and he bends down to pick up three stray bananas from the rubbish-strewn ground. He puts them into his bag and resumes walking. He makes an obligatory stop at the rubbish dump of the bazaar.
There are a few skinny, mangy cats in the dump, gnawing thrown barbequed chicken bones with ravenous relish. They scurry off in a freak of timidity at the sight of Kassim. The old man smiles bitterly to himself. Don’t they know that he is like them, too? He bends over and starts combing through the rubbish for empty tins and bottles. He earns a pittance by sending them to recycling centres. Kassim has grown inured to the overpowering stench. Half way through the search, he hears two people talking a few metres behind him.
"Mama, what is that old man doing in the rubbish dump?"
"He's looking for food."
"How dirty he is. I feel like puking."
"If you don't study hard, you may end up like him."
"I don't want. Mama!"
"You should study hard from now on. Read as many books as you can."
"Mama, reading books is so boring. I'd rather read comics."
"Boring? Laziness will make you become like that man of filth there!"
"I am not dirty,Mama!"
The exchange is obviously made between a mother and a son. Kassim can feel the weight of their stares on his back. He looks over his shoulder, and sees a fortyish woman and a boy who cannot be more than eight or nine years old . They are sizing him up with covert sneers on their faces. Their conversation comes to an abrupt stop when Kassim’s eyes meet theirs. The woman looks away in uneasiness. She whispers something to her son and they hurry off in the direction of the car park without looking back. Kassim envies them a great deal. They have one another, but he has none.
By the time Kassim calls his scavenging a day,the last vestiges of twilight have faded and the whole town looks like a picture blotted in with ink. His bag is bulging with the addition of empty cans and bottles. With a sigh, he retraces his way back to the bus stand.He can hear his shuffling feet amidst the waxing and waning sounds of pushcart wheels. The buzz of voices around him is wearing off. Streetlight halos illuminate the dark streets. Vehicles roar past him, leaving gusts of wind into his face.He blinks away the dust, clears his throat and spits a gob of phlegm into the grass verge that borders along the road.When he has reached the bus stand, he feels as if his frame of bones is dismantling into a heap. He is dog-tired. He wants to lie down and sleep on the straw mat in his house. If possible, he doesn't want to wake up. He is tired of his long life. Sometimes he cannot help wondering if God and His angels have lost trace of his soul. He is wasting his life as one of the living dead on earth.
Suddenly, he catches sight of two men across the road. Their faces are not visible in the faint lamplight but Kassim can tell from the size of their bodies that they are tall and well-built. It is not the first time Kassim sees them. He saw them in the same spot for quite a number of times over the past four weeks. He has a strange feeling that they are looking at him. Who are they? What are they up to? Can others at the bus stand see them too? He can feel his skin crawling.
Kassim heaves a sigh of relief when a bus trundles into view on the shoulder of the road. It rumbles to a halt beside the bus stand and disgorges a stream of eight to twelve passengers.Then, everyone at the bus stand pile into the bus, ignoring the poor old man who is too weak to join in the frenzied rush. It takes Kassim a great deal of effort to board the bus. His slowness is frowned upon by the driver, who almost barks profanities at him. He gets into a coughing fit after the exertion. Some cheeky youths sitting at the back parody the way he coughs, and burst out laughing without a shred of conscience. He shakes his head in utter disapproval of their action.His blood would have been boiling with anger had he been younger. Old age has emolliated his emotion. He scans his myopic eyes over the heads in the compartment and finds an unoccupied seat next to a young Malay girl. However, he dares not sit beside her. He knows how stinky and dirty he is. He grabs hold of the overhead rail with his fingers, trying to keep his footing in the shake and sway of the bus. Suddenly he hears a gasp. The girl gets up from her seat and edges towards him. Grabbing his left arm with one hand and putting the other on his back, she brings him to her seat with gentle peremptoriness .He wants to say no but the sincere smile on her face makes him `yield to her will. He thanks her when he is seated.
"Are you feeling better now, Pakcik?" asks the girl.
"I...I'm alright," stammers Kassim, still half-dazed by the the unexpected gesture.
"Where is your house, Pakcik?" asks the girl. She looks like Faridah, pretty and kind-hearted.
"I live in Simpang Tiga," replies the old man, his voice quavering in discomfiture.He is unwonted to the girl's outpouring of concern.
"Simpang Tiga is quite far from the bazaar!" frowns the girl, her voice tinged with surprise."Why don't you ask your family members to take you there?"
"I have no family," says Kassim, shaking his head in the negative. Faridah died of miscarriage fifty years ago. He is dirt poor, living on the monthly subsistence allowance given by the welfare department.
"I'm sorry, Pakcik," says the girl, giving him a sympathetic look.
"It's okay, I am used to it." Kassim's voice falters. He is touched by the girl's truthfulness. She does not show any sick feelings towards him.
"Hari Raya is drawing near. Will you be celebrating it with your relatives?"
"No, I have no relatives," returns Kassim.
"Poor Pakcik," sighs the girl. "You must be very lonely."
Kassim opens his mouth to reply, but he chokes on his words. He turns his face away from her, trying to hide his teary eyes. But the girl grabs hold of his hands and says:
“Don’t worry, Pakcik, “says the girl. “ Your loneliness will soon be over.”
Kassim is startled. What does the girl mean?
The girl seems to know what he thinks. She smiles and says,”They’ve found you and soon you will be with them.”
Kassim feels confused. He does not know who the girl refers to. He wants to ask but the eyes of the girl have a strange effect in quelling his urge.
The girl looks out the window and says, “Pakcik, we’re almost reaching your house. Let me press the bell for you.”
With that, the girl rises and presses the bell. Kassim looks at her in disbelief. The girl’s eyes gleam with all-knowingness but she vouchsafes no explanation.
The bus grinds to a halt. Kassim recognizes the purlieus of his house. They exude the same aura of loneliness . He thanks the girl in a muffled voice and alights the bus, bringing a lot of doubts along with him.
Kassim’s wooden house stands back twenty yards from the main road. It is half-buried in a copse of trees. He can hear drones of circadas as he walks along the trail to his house. Moonlight filters through the overhead layers of branches and leaves, giving some brightness to the dark surroundings.
When Kassim has reached the facade of his decrepit house, he sees two dark shadows flitting past before him. He looks around him but sees nothing except trees. Did his eyes play tricks on him just now? He shrugs and walks up the steps. He produces his key from his trouser pocket and inserts it into the rusty lock of the front door. After some twisting, the door opens and he steps inside. As usual, he fumbles for the light switch in the dark. He switches it on when he locates it. The florescent tube on the ceiling blinks blue and orange before becoming steadily bright. Just as he is about to drop his bag on the floor, he has a sudden bout of heart palpitations. The rafters above him spin and his legs buckle under him. Holding his chest in agony, he sinks to his knees. A cold, stinging sensation pulsates through his arms and his breathing becomes jagged. Through his ringing ears he seems to hear the creaking of loose floorboards coming his way. Before he knows what happens two warm hands circle around his shoulders and a gentle voice whispers into his ear: “Welcome home, Kassim.”
Gasping in shock, Kassim finds himself kneeling face to face with Faridah. She looks surprisingly youthful, glowing in undescribable beauty. He can smell the sweet fragrance of plumeria from her too. She seems real, very real. His heartbeat slows down to a normal pace and a torrent of energy is washing over him. He feels as if he were young again.
“Faridah!” Kassim cries, hugging Faridah tightly.“It’s you! You’ve finally come back to me.”
“I am always with you, Kassim” replies Faridah in a calm, soothing voice.
“I have wanted to see you very much,” says Kassim. “God has finally granted my wish.”
“God is always good to us,” says Faridah, kissing Kassim’s cheek. ”He knows when is the best time for us to reunite.”
“Am I dreaming?” asks Kassim, looking at Faridah’s shimmering face, seeking assurance from her.
“No, you are not,” says Faridah.”We were predestined to meet each other today.”
Kassim’s eyes are brimming with tears. He has been in solitude for fifty years. He does not want to let go of Faridah this time. He loves her to the last fibre of his being.
Noiselessly, two hands rest on Kassim’s shoulders.
Kassim looks up and sees the girl he met on the bus.
Faridah puts her hand on the girl’s shoulder and says, “Kassim, she is our daughter, Hapsah. You met each other on the bus earlier on.”
“Hapsah? Our daughter?” murmurs Kassim, turning to look at Faridah with a questioning gaze.
“Yes, Kassim,” nods Faridah.
Bending her body, Hapsah takes hold of Kassim’s hands and brings them to her forehead.
Tears of gratefulness roll down Kassim’s cheeks. He puts his hand on Hapsah’s shoulders and puts the other on Faridah’s. They are one family.
Two dark shadows glide into the house through the open door. They become brighter and brighter as they inch towards the hugging trio. Soon, the room becomes blinding with the light they radiate. It engulfs Kassim, Faridah and Hapsah until they are seen no more.
The next day, a few social workers come to Kassim’s house. Hari Raya is just around the corner, and they want to give him rice and some new clothes. They are shocked to find the door ajar and see Kassim lying unconscious on the floor. While Kassim is being carried into their van, he opens his eyes and says, “They found me, they finally found me.” With that he closes his eyes and wakes up no more.
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