A Ramadan Love Story
by Zaidel B or Sinatra_Z
(an electronics engineer and he blogs at Catatan Seekor Lipas).
(gua cilok from Malaysian Insider... nice story... hehe...)
by Zaidel B or Sinatra_Z
(an electronics engineer and he blogs at Catatan Seekor Lipas).
(gua cilok from Malaysian Insider... nice story... hehe...)
SEPT 9 — Yes... even cockroaches like me have a love story. It’s not dramatic, it does not involve many people nor did anyone else get hurt. It’s not worth to be made into a drama, but nonetheless, it is just as sweet, beautiful and melancholic as any love story out there.
I rarely write about things like this.
Her name was Nurul and I was 11.
I studied at Sekolah Kebangsaan Taman Permata and Nurul was my first crush or one could say love. Well an 11-year-old definition of love, of course. She was my classmate...
Nurul was this athletic student who was also a prefect. She wore the tudung in class but when she did sports she would tie her hair back into a ponytail. She had this nice tanned skin and beautiful black straight long hair. She was my definition of a Gadis Melayu............... back then. As the Malay saying goes, “Hidung mancung bak seludang, rambut hitam ikal mayang kulit halus hitam manis.”
On the other hand I was this chubby curly haired kid who was also the smartest boy in the class. I was not athletic, and known as the bookworm and clown of the class. I was very knowledgeable in science and very good at math.
So there I was trying to join any clubs or activities she was in even when I knew I was not suited for it. I tried to play hockey and football to impress her and failed miserably. I was more of a Tug and War person if you know what I mean. She joined Pengakap (Scouts) I joined Pengakap when I was better off in PBSM (Red Cross).
Every night I listened to oldies on Radio 4 and recorded them in a bunch of mix cassettes. Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, P Ramlee, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Louis Armstrong you name it. They were the ones that soothed my aching heart. In fact I already knew the song “Mr. Lonely” by Bobby Vinton long before Akon.
When I was in Standard Six I was promoted to a better class. So my chances of bumping into her were less than before, plus it was UPSR hence we were quite busy. One notable thing did happen though. One day I dropped my pencil box as we were entering the library on the second floor. I rushed down to get it and there she was picking up every single stationery and neatly place them back in. Then she smiled, looked at me and I heard the sweetest voice...
“Awak punya ke?”
“Haah...”
I took it and went away, never looking back, didn’t even say thank you. You know how boys are, always wanting to look macho and all that crap.
Time went by and I never had the courage to confess anything to her. UPSR was done and I heard that she was enrolling in the Lembah Keramat secondary school. I got into Melawati. So I knew I would probably never see her again. I tried to see her and tell her about things on the last few weeks of school but I just couldn’t find the words.
Then before I knew it school was over and Ramadan arrived. I like all my friends at the time would visit our small surau (mosque) in Taman Permata to meet and play around; we would skip the Tarawikh prayers and come back for moreh (supper). That was when I saw her going in for the Tarawikh prayers with her mother.
So one night, one of the nights of tujuh likur. I decided not to join the boys. I prayed. I have never before prayed as hard as I did that night (well I was 12). In my Doa, I asked God for many things, to forgive my sins, protect my family and at the last line I prayed that I would be given the chance to at least, at least see her one more time, even if it’s the last, I just wanted to have the chance to see her before it was all over.
After the prayers I headed home.
And like a miracle there she was at the entrance as she too was heading home. The other kids had gone off somewhere and the adults decided to stay. There were just the two of us. We both walked in that breezy beautiful tropical night no less than a meter apart yet not a word were spoken. It was as if everything stopped moving except the two of us, I didn’t know if the stars were shining or the moon was as beautiful as even but I did know that the wind was whispering in my ear coercing me to say something...... Anything…..
“Mana mak awak?”
She replied... “Dia sambung sampai 20 rakaat.”
“Saya dengar awak pergi kat Lembah Keramat, betul ke?”
“Haah, awak sekolah kat mana nanti?”
“Melawati.”
“Oh okay.”
Then came a junction… one was to her home and the other was mine. Then she looked at me and said..
“Ok Zaidel, kita balik dulu ye. Bila-bila nanti kita jumpa lagi ye. Bye....”
“Bye-Bye.”
Selamat Tinggal…..
So that was how my love ended.
It had no climax, no plot, no twist, no background music, no romantic line neither any dramatic scene.
All it had was me ..... her...... and a beautiful tropical night. I learned what heartbreak was at a very young age.
P/S -
Indeed, I never saw her after that. I wonder what happened to her. By now she is probably happily married with two kids. Selamat Berpuasa.
