"Oh Jaan, I'm in India!": (1) The Delhi-cious starter..

13 November 2010, Delhi International Airport, Terminal 3, New Delhi, India.

"So.. u miss India already, huh?" Flipping through my passport, the man over the immigration counter looked at me through the upper half of his bifocals lens.

"Hmm... last trip was a business trip.. " I understood where he came from. I could've said "OH YEAH INDIA IS SO WONDERFUL THAT'S WHY I CAME BACK" but I decided to keep the friendly-joke to myself. Basically, one is not allowed to re-enter this country for his 2nd and 3rd visit within 2 months time; and my situation right there right then in front of the immigration officer was: he was flipping through my passport and looking at the date I last checked out from India, which was about 2 weeks ago.

I really wished he figured out that my visits were valid and legal: first on a business trip visa, this time -- the 2nd one -- on a tourist visa. Both I paid, Jaan.

"Those hand signs.." out of a sudden he put down my passport and lean forward to me, pointing to the giant hand signs popping out of the wall of this magnificent arrival hall, "... are called mudra, and they have different meanings.."

I turned my head up, looked at those mudras. Amie and I were talking about those beautifully sculptured figures before we entered the immigration counter, and obviously this Mr officer noticed that.

"... and this one..." he showed his hand making one of the mudras, "means 'good luck'.. erm.. sort of. " He smiled. And put a stamp on my passport. Passed. He welcome me. I thanked him.

My other 3 comrades -- Amie, Coco & Ijol -- were already waiting for me.

***************************************

The 'Good-luck' mudra did not work on us, at least for this time.

After a long stare on the conveying belt, from the moments it carried many luggages, many hopes, then we happily picked up Amie's red rag sack, till the moment we gratefully picked up Coco's bulky backpack, to the moment where most of the luggages, or hopes, were taken, up to the final moment we saw only belt conveying nothing, but a message:

My rag sacks and also Ijol's, together with the other tens of luggages of the same flight, were left behind purposely by our dearest Malaysia Airlines, due to the cabin-overloaded issue.

"Sir, we apologize on the proo-bhlem, jour luggage will be carried from Malaysia to here via ou next flightt." The officer repeated his script for the n-th time to the n-th unsatisfying guest.

"When will it arrive?" I needed to raise my voice despite of the very noisy and chaotic background.

"Tree in the morr-ning, sir." The local officer has a very thick indian accent, I really needed to listen carefully and tried really hard to not get distracted by his head's movement.

"That's not possible -- I'm leaving New Delhi tonight..." I almost shouted this time.

"Wha dis jour next des-tinay-sion, sir?" Argh, skip that head-shake please.

"Shimla -- -- "

"In that case, jou can fill up this form, and jive us jour contact num-behr and jour addrrress -- we vill send jour luggage to jour place -- " then a form was handed over to me. The officer turned to the next panic guest.

Contact numbers? Address in Shimla? I just hoped that the solution will be as simple as filling up the right details -- but our situation was a little bit complicated here: as MAS officer told us that if the given address is not in New Delhi, then they'll need more days to deliver our luggage, depending on where is the location -- so to Shimla, 2 to 3 days.

Problem was, 2 days or 3 days, Jaan? Cuz if it's 2 days you need, then at Shimla we'll be waiting; or else, I'm going to give you another address, depending on our transport arrangement later on.

I gave up explaining to any of the officers -- obviously they only think that foreigners who travel to India will only stay in their highly-secured stars-rated hotels, with precise hotel address, and won't be wandering around. Sigh.

I looked at Ijol -- being a very chilled-out type of person and always settle with an 'OK' with most situations and demands, he's filling up the form with all the details required.

.. and I saw Amie sitting with the luggages we had so far, sketching, planning, routing out all possibles alternatives -- I believe she's doing what she's best at, she's the master-mind of our trip.

... and Coco -- now where is this buggle!?!!

Sigh.

*******************************************

We decided to stick to our original plan: Delhi - Kalka - Shimla route. The only change in our plan was: Ijol and I will be wearing what we were wearing now, until we meet back our rag sacks.

Travel to Shimla was already one of the highlights of this trip. I'm talking about the Toy Train ride, traveling northward on one of the oldest rails in India that was listed as world heritage by UNESCO.

Got out of the chaotic airport we headed straight to the Old Delhi Train Station. My last visit to this place gave me an impression of pathetic -- poor ticketing system, poor counter service, and one can easily get lost in this ticketing building.

We needed to quickly figure out how the ticketing system work here, but there's a really long queue in front of the one and only information counter, with someone behind the counter shouting at each and every inquirer through a mic. So, with the help of a real loud speaker, from far you can already know someone is being scolded or given instruction in a not-so-friendly way.

Amie and I got into the long queue, joining the rest of the helpless faces -- felt like we were in the queue for a prosecution, scary somehow; Coco and Ijol were browsing around, looking for another solution, maybe the right ticket counter for our Kalka trip, the right signboard for us to follow, or --

-- yup, the right hot chick.

Coco and Ijol had found a really hot, maybe German, young lady who had the perfect solution for us: There's a special ticket office for the foreigners.

"Upstairs." Ijol pointed up, and looked back to his girl, asking confirmation. His girl nodded. Positive. Out of a sudden I thought Ijol was from German too -- oh whatever, bottom line was, the things that happened next, was 5 of us rushed to the office via a very dark stairway and some narrow corridors, and found the golden cave filled with lovely wind flowers, oh and also equipped with air-cond, waiting benches, Japanese with weird traveling gadgets etc etc, and of course --

4 tickets from Old Delhi Train Station to Kalka, depart almost midnight.

I forgot how we left the office, maybe or maybe not after a farewell kiss by Ijol to his German girlfriend.

**********************************

The leftover..

Life has been fantastic and eventful, and it's packed with so much awesomeness to blog about -- but that's the problem. Too much, becomes too heavy to handle, and in the struggle with the time that flow too swift, he got lost and left out from the train.

..hence, he became a leftover.

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...hence, I got married.

..but getting married is never a fair reason to justify a hiatus in blogging, as out there, there are bloggers who managed to blog along the the way from how they finally decided to get married -- to what they did for their wedding preparations -- until how the wedding went eventually -- and then the honeymooning blog-along -- up to the most current marriage life they are having -- and never even paused a month in blogging.

hence I truly accept the accusation of procrastination.

*************************

... He tried to catch up the train .. but you see, blogging is not only about recapping life, it is about expressing oneself's thought to life. Whatever. Point is, he was overwhelmed by all the confusions and excitements and anxiety and deep thoughts about life and about a change of life. Hence making him a failure to express accurately..

Oh yeah, in this phase, he's a leftover waiting for the next train.

*************************

Leftover is not loser.

But it might be a quit-er, like how I used to seriously think of quitting to blog, deleting all my blog posts and gaining my peace of mind -- oh the dilemma is one of the reasons for the hiatus, if that really helps to justify anyway.

************************

Back to his confusions.

So to think of it, the point is 'expressing' and 'sharing' his thought, better still, 'recapping' the life journey -- what if, he'd got someone whom he can express his thoughts to and share his sentiments with? Better still, that someone he got shared a same life journey all these while, hence there's no need of 'recapping' but 'rejuvenating'?

Better-better still, she was the reason of his expressions in his writings all these while, and now she's the co-pilot of his in the new train.

-- Point is, there's no any necessary anymore to make the lengthy blog, when he has met someone he can talk with, all night long, through out his life. No?

*******************

No.

Please, don't quit. She begged.

When I revealed my decision of deleting this blog, my wife stopped me. Up to that moment, I never thought that she was faithfully reading my blog all these while, or rather, in precise, she was faithfully, and patiently waiting for my update of this blog all these while.

Funny -- who said those couples in love never have miscommunication? :) While I'm worried that I've already bored her with my lengthy story when we are together, she's worried about I'll stop expressing myself through my words and writings.

Hence, I'll keep this blog alive, may not be kicking-ass-alively-alive but it will stay here for my thoughts, my sentiments, and my new dose of passion underneath my affection towards words and life.

---- to my wife,

you'll never be my leftover.

love.

realize .. (..a sequel, perhaps..)

Once upon a time God gave me a vision of a bridge, and I perceived it as a hope for the final linkage of two lands...

.. I looked forward the bridge to come, and I whispered to myself, "I wish I could see how it built... I wish I could see how it built...." .. with tears down, I thanked for the guidance.

*************************************

Not long ago from then I looked at the bridge, I found my vision blurred...

... and I told myself, "keep your faith... the bridge is still there, InsyaAllah... " .. with tears down, I hoped it could clean the dusk from my sight...

************************************

Not far away from now I reached the river bank, and I saw no bridge..

.. I hopelessly fell on my knees and asked God what happened... with tears down, dropped into the water of the river, I saw my reflection..

I saw a bridge. The bridge.

************************************

Not so far away from now I was reluctant to accept the true message of the vision, avoiding the great responsibility that was assigned..

.. I helplessly begged God to take away the burden.. with tears down, I saw myself crumbled into bricks and pebbles, into sands and dusk...

I could never be the bridge...

************************************

Just ago my struggle broke me down and I fell on my bended knees.. ..

"There's no bridge -- you are the bridge, face it.."

... the greatest challenge, the deepest dilemma, the darkest struggle, the most heart-tearing battle, the tinniest hope.. -- face it.

.. with tears down, I pray for strength, for perseverance, for wisdom, for guidance and for a stronger faith, to face a destiny that I couldn't run away from..

***********************************

Ps..

It took me more than 2 years to realize this heavy message behind the vision I received once upon a time...

I realized now, that the moment when I received the vision of a bridge once upon a time, a task had been destined to me already;

I realized now, that when I was on my bended knees once upon a time and praying for the bridge to come, a responsibility had been added on my shoulder already;

I realized now, that when I was on my bended knees once upon a time, listening to the fear of letting my loved ones down and wishing for a strength to raise myself up, a calling had been made louder in my ears already;

I realized now, that when I was writing about a bridge once upon a time in February 2009, and posted it and titled it as 'On my bended knees', another post echoing it with my realization, had been written, somewhere in my life, already.....

Tangled..

I'm tangled.

Face it: after all the while where we thought things are ok, I'm still in deep fear.

What did I do that dragged everyone else to the drowned what did I do that pushed everyone else start whispering at the corner what did I do that poured the silence spell to my love ones what did I do that faked every worries with a plastic relieve what did I do that made my old men stayed up in the night and stared the empty ceiling with their empty eye what did I do that sucked the soul of a sunshine what did I do that made a shout a yield a tease a sigh an insult what did I do that made my love ones wiped their tears quietly?

Is my vision that pushes me to take the less-traveled trail, or it's just my fear that blindfolds me from seeing the right way?

.... but vision, do I still have the guts to claim there's any, after all what had happened?

................ ....

Sorry, I truly am.

... waiting is another episode.....

He's waiting for her to come back. The one he used to know.

For the time being, things gone hazy -- he's unsure about the journey she'd travelled, neither the duration of the deviation.

Maybe forever it is.

Hence, the episode begins.

******************************************

Many of my readers waited, I then realized.

The best (most sarcastic?) response I've received regarding my hiatus of blogging was:

"Hey so you left behind your 'lEft Nothing Behind' eh?"...

:) I mean, thank you -- Yup I've been to India, twice, within 1 month time.. so I assume I'm supposed to blog about the awesomeness of the journeys -- but look at here, this is how we spell 'procrastination'...

... and I'm sorry for the long wait, things gone hazy lately. Promise I'll come back.

Soon.

The perfect wedding..

"What's the furthest distance for you?" He asked. The time was 1 minute after the silence when she announced a break-up.

"The furthest distance is when I'm sitting close to you..." She finished her drink, ".. but I'm not loving you anymore.. "

He looked at her.

*********************************

(1)

She's a famous wedding planner, but yet to have any plan of 'The Perfect Wedding' for her clients.

He's a famous wedding planner, but yet to reveal his plan of 'The Perfect Wedding' to any of his clients.

She knows she needs to have 'The Perfect Wedding' planned-out. Sir Gomez, her current biggest client gave him 2 years time to lay out the plan -- 2 years -- "sufficient enough", she smirked with a plot drafted in her mind.

++++++

(2)

They fell in love -- I mean, she made him fell for her, and when the night he kneed down with a ring and made his proposal, she knew she's almost there.

-- What's 'The Perfect Wedding' for the best wedding planner in the world? His own wedding.

That night, in front of the kneeing him, she nodded to the proposal, but smiled to the victory of her plot..

++++++

(3)

He started to plan his wedding -- the perfect wedding of him and his love. She's totally overwhelmed by the wonderful idea -- the plan of The Perfect Wedding is so gorgeous and flawless she just have to admit his status of the world's best wedding planner.

She rewrote every details of the plan to Sir Gomez in her email. "..only a heart that's deeply in love can create this perfect wedding plan..." Sir Gomez commented in his reply -- she almost can see Sir Gomez's smilling. She knew Sir Gomez was so impressed -- every words in Sir Gomez's replies carried emotions and expressions, she could feel that Sir Gomez was the happiest client on the planet, without the necessary of meeting him at all.

She smirked at Sir Gomez's comment, while thinking of the earliest date to dump his wedding planner fiance.

**********************************

He looked at her. The heartless silence conquered every drop of air in between them.

"I used to think that, " he broke the silence, "the furthest distance is when I'm standing in front of you, but you don't know how much I miss you, and how much I love you..."

She took off her engagement ring, put it on the table, "I'm sorry," stood up, grabbed her handbag, "..it's over." cold-hearted, headed towards the exit of the coffee house.

"..but in the last 2 years I realize that, " he continued, "the furthest distance exists when you know how much I miss you and how much I love you, but you just pretend to do the same, for some reasons other than love..."

She stopped. Turned around to him.

"... the perfect wedding plan is not yet complete," he looked at her, his eye filled with disappointment, "it requires a heart that is deeply in love..."

Her handbag slipped off of her hand. A hopeless weakness smeared from her feet, upward.

".. the furthest distance, " he stood up, "is even though we have been together for almost 2 years, you still don't know who am I -- that's the furthest distance -- " he walked pass her,

"-- ever..."

Once upon a cloud..

"Such a cliche, man!" I mumbled to myself when I was about to type the word 'DREAM' into the note in my phone.

PapaJai and MatDuang were still behind me, at a distance of not-seen; and the rest of the troop -- Dila, Cecilia, Amie, Zahir, Ijol, Tita, Zeta, Alin, PokDin, Iman, Johan, Fatma, Zana and KakYam -- were way in front of me, at a distance of also not-seen.

So I was alone at that particular of time, somewhere inside the heart of Mount Kinabalu, the highest mountain of Southeast Asia..

... and it was the perfect lonely feeling that made me feel like writing something, but of course I called it off after realizing I did not really have something great to actually write about, hence the phone turned from a digital note device into an mp3 player, I plugged my earplug beneath my head buff.. the first song played.

It was an old song. John Mayer's "Bigger than my body".

****************************************************

"Look, uncle.." This little kid pointed far, leading the guardian's eyesight towards a magnificent view that framed with blue sky, green hill, and white clouds.

The guardian thought it was about the colors that pulled the kid's attention, until the kid said,

"...we're standing above the cloud."

The guardian smiled. So it's the altitude that you started to appreciate. He rubbed the kid's head, "jom?"

"Jom!" The kid shouted, high spirited.

***************************************************

Back to cliche -- "Bigger than my body" is a song about dreaming, and dreaming big.

Hey I used to dream about climbing up to Mount Kinabalu, the highest peak of Southeast Asia when I was young.

The dream started to mold when once upon a time someone senior brought me climbed up to a hill. I do not remember which uncle who took me up there, how did he look like, and which hill it was..

.. but I still remember the feeling, the feeling of making your step going up, for another greater top view; and the feeling of standing high, high enough like standing above the cloud; and I remember the senior rubbed my head with a smile...

erm.. perhaps that happened in a dream -- but I did not think too much about it. What I knew was I really needed to put my heavy weighted load aside, and turned back to rescue two old men who I left behind.

****************************************************

Every 1st time experience is perhaps the most vivd experience in one's life. The guardian fully understands what will this little climb bring to this little kid, like what had his first climb long time ago brought to him and his life.

.. and then he saw a little girl wearing striking pink t-shirt, guarded by her uncles and aunties, making her own effort climbing up a steep rock surface which almost all climbers will need a rope to handle.

The guardian knew the girl would make it by looking at the dedication that shined in her eye..

... and if that was her 1st experience of being committed to an effort and dedicated to a promise, that pink shirt little girl is already a grown up.

****************************************************

"This hike, man," PapaJai patted on my shoulder, "..is for you to prove, to us and to yourself, whether you are growing up to a super-man, or not..."

I was speechless.

Yup, the whole troop celebrated my birthday in my hotel room nights before our hike to the mountain, but that doesn't mean I'm already a grown-up..

..I have to pass this test -- the ultimate test that given by my big brother PapaJai, at least in this trip; a test that will put my patience on stretch, that will challenge my ego, that will make me learn to think in bigger view;

-- a test that will make me learn to be committed to an effort, and dedicated to a promise.

...... .... And of course a test with physical torture and endurance, like --- ".. so you'll be the porter for the troop," PapaJai said it to me, but announced it to everybody, "you'll be carrying most of the troop members' stuff hike up there..."

I sighed like a grown-up.

*************************************************

The guardian realized that the kid's body weight was more than any weight that he had been carried in any hike to any mountain;

... but he also realized that a little reward is essential for any kid after they've given out their best effort in completing something, like a hike up to the top of a hill.

Hence when the kid just climbed up to his back, he'd just happily provide a ride, a downhill ride for his little precious;

... and then soon enough, the guardian found out something that he never realized before....

**********************************************

The first time I realized that clouds mold their shape into various characters and live up in all stories in my fantasy, I knew that I'll be alright staying with the ability called imagination.., and I just want to safe keep it...

.... but safe-keeping the ability called imagination becomes tougher and tougher when we encounter the ability called growing-up..

Yup I mumble about growing up again. Sigh.

The fact that this was my 2nd time to Mt Kinabalu really helped me to be a lot more composed and cooler compared to the first timers like the super excited Ijol, super restless Zahir, and the super worried cum super dilemma (super de-ram-ma) trio Fatma, Tita and Dila.

.. but when I held on the coolness and composure, though they were in fact fragile and shaky, and trying to put on an image signed and sealed with 'Approved Reliability' label, I knew deep inside there's something shaking and questioning me..

..... and that 'something' surfaced when Amie told me her aim for her second chance being here...

************************************

"A baby?"

The guardian stopped.

"...A'ah..." the kid on his back pointed something behind them, ".. is that a baby?"

The guardian turned around and looked for what the kid was pointing at. It's a curled fern-leaves.

".. and she's in red color.." The kid touched the fern. There's indeed some reddish spots hided within the curled leaves.

"... and when she grows up, " the kid continued, "she'll become green.."

"......... you like red color?" the guardian broke the silence after he fell into speechless for a few seconds.

The kid nodded and smiled.

"OK.. so where were we just now?" The guardian pushed the almost-falling-down little heavy body a little bit up on his back, "..how many trees already?"

"22," The little heavy body pointed at another tree ahead of them, "..and that's the 23rd.. "

"Jom.." The wood-touching game continued.

********************************************

It's heavy. I think.

Amie said she wanted to reach the summit this time, she wanted to get through the spot after Sayat-Sayat -- the spot that she failed to get through few years back, and failed the mission of getting to the top of Mt Kinabalu, few years back.

To be frank I couldn't really appreciate how she was afraid of the spot that failed her, but from the way she put it, it was really something that was heavy for her.

And of course I did not tell her those 'motivational' bla-bla-bla like 'you need to get over it to prove that you can do it' -- THAT would be the toppest classic example of being cliche.. In the midst of me pretending that I was listening and feeling her, I suddenly felt helpless about me myself being in the state of hiking up this mountain.

This hike -- this protocol of hiking up the so-called Southeast Asia Top Roof, of getting through the mental hardship and physical toughness, of reaching the peak of the mountain, of snapping pictures at the top, of feeling proud, of showing off the achievement, of expressing 'Oh My God I felt that human-being are so tiny', of ... etc etc etc all the protocol-ic cliches -- out of a sudden I felt sad about me doing ALL these.

I knew I ALREADY started to worry about the cliche of growing up.

***********************************************

What is that about counting trees in the wood-touching game? The guardian really did not have any inkling of ideas.

The counts continued, with the giggle of the kid, plus some stories shared among them, about trees and baby fern. The guardian really hopes that the kid would keep and safe-keep the most precious treasure that every kids have --

-- it's an ability, a superpower, called imagination...

"See! uncle, this wood has a coarser skin than the last one... maybe he's sick..."

.... and don't worry about loosing it when come to growing up...

"... see, uncle.. this one is soft... but it's not red color.."

... cuz uncle just realized that, the ability of growing-up doesn't harm the ability of imagination.. yup, uncle just realized that -- just -- on the peak of the Southeast Asia highest mountain -- I perceived the real lesson about growing up.. ....

"Number 27! STOP!" The captain of the vessel commanded.

"Huh? Why stop now?"

"27 trees, cukup dah." Giggling.

What is that about counting trees in the wood-touching game? The guardian really-really did not have any inkling of ideas.

*****************************************

I was walking alone after Sayat-Sayat gate. Amie and Cecilia were in front of me, while the rest of the troop were somewhere behind. I couldn't see anyone of them. I was in a dark, in the state of mind of struggling, fighting and frustrating about a loosened me.

It's all about mental game now -- when the air gets thinner and thinner, they wind got chiller and chiller, the peak of the mountain seemed to be further and further away. I started to sing -- hum, I mean. A song that kept on playing in my head throughout this trip.

"Bigger than my body".

A song about dreaming, and dreaming big. A song that reminded me that I used to dream about climbing up to Mount Kinabalu when I was young -- The dream started to mold when once upon a time someone senior brought me climbed up to a hill.

... it was a childhood me with all the grown up fantasy -- so many dreams so many imaginations that built upon a cloud, and I thought I'm going to lose it when come to growing up...

..but then I realized I was wrong when I reached the peak of the mountain, for the 2nd time in my life....

... at the top of the mountain where I finally touched the clouds, I found myself wrapped by the clouds while performing my subuh prayer -- then all of a sudden all my childhood fantasy blended into a grown up me.... I paused for awhile in my doa, recite 'Alhamdulilah' deep from my heart, for making me learnt the biggest lesson that touches straight to the deepest fear of me being myself...

**************************************

No, 2nd time to the top of Mt Kinabalu doesn't not mean that I'm great enough to brag about...

2nd time to the top of Mt Kinabalu was still an exploration for me.

Besides the mysterious part of the mountain herself, with new friends and rejuvenated bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood, plus my new role and new responsibilities in the troop, nothing seemed to be familiar.

..but I think I had great time being in the heart of this mountain -- it was somehow a mystical experience for me. :)

********************************************

... and of course another little trip bringing two little ones hiked up the little Broga Hill -- it was, again, nothing to really brag about as we all believe that the trip was all about the kids..

How we wish little Una and Uyin will enjoy the hike, the sweat, the little push from themselves, the great view, the feeling of standing upon a cloud...

...and the imaginations and the fantasy they shared in this little world that mother nature offers to them -- the imaginations, the fantasy, and the mother nature are all belong to them, how we wish they can one day learned something great from these precious things that they already have, InsyaAllah, InsyaAllah.

*The end*