I hold my breath and eventually I got comfortable with the circumstances. I open my eyes and see nothing but water. You see, there’s something about being underwater that makes me feel ‘included’, like accepted and firmly believes that being beneath the water surface, is where my real home is. I’ve hold my breath for a long time but still felt at ease. I don’t want to go back to reality; I just want to be in here even if it means to give my soul away. PPAAP! Someone hit my head with a fishnet. “Are you a fish, son?” I answered with a simple no. “Then stop behaving like one. Grab a book and study. Your SPM is only 8months away. Get a straight A’s and you off to London for 4 years.” Dad said. My dad, Professor James Ignatious Alkin, is a renowned economist that used to work with great Malaysian economist, such as Datuk Idris Jala. He was the first Indian lecturer to teach economic in School of Economy London, and that is where he will be sending me. I am good with economy, in fact I’m good with numbers. I never got least than an A for math, add math, economy or even account. Though, that doesn’t mean I have a ‘thing’ for numbers. I really don’t. I have a passion in music, any kind of music and I like swimming. Whenever I feel like escaping the reality, I’ll play the piano or swim.
People say, you can’t run from the truth, you have to face it like a real man. So, I did and in return I got a deep chilling stare by my father. “Kay Gregory Alkin. 17years old and still living with parents but already decide how your future going to be? So, you want to pursue music instead of economy. Tell me son, how much a decent musician in Malaysia, wage for a month? Tell me.” My dad asked. I replied “I don’t know father.” With a cynical smile on his face, he said “indeed. You don’t even know the basic thing about being a painter and yet you dare enough to come here and say to my face about your idiotic dream. You think you are matured enough but you are wrong, son and it is proven today.” My dad paused. The world, well at least, in my dad home office was somehow looks scary by the time. The silent broken with dad saying these hurtful words “If your mother is still alive, she would have been disappointed with you.” Without any hesitation I said,”if she’s still here, she would only want to see me happy, and the only thing that makes me happy is painting.” I dare not to even look at his face. He stomped the table. It sounded like a nail being hammered to the wall. Slowly, he stood. His big figure plus with a dark, rigid room filled with books, makes me like a prey of his. With a deep, husky voice he said, “Get out of my room, you insolent child.”
That was a month ago, but the impact will last for years. The discussion was short but it cuts deep in my heart. My mother would only want the best for me, and she knows what the best is for me. Unfortunately, she died when I was 12 after a 10 year long battling with cervical cancer. She was the melody of the house. She always played the piano with a broad smile accompanying her. She is addicted to smile. Wherever she goes, she always spread a smile and everyone will automatically smiled back to her as her smile is contagious. Rain or shine, she will always be the ‘sunshine’. Now that she’s gone, the house seems gloomy all the time.
I and my father always argued especially since we lost the ‘melody’ of the house. I always think it is because we have different personality but mother disagree. In fact she thinks the main reason why we always argue is because we have the same personality, which is egoistic and stubborn. We always know what we want and how we want it to be. She always said “If either one of you is more considerate towards each other, the house wouldn’t be like a battlefield! A fire can only be pulled out with water, son.” Sorry mother, but I refused to be ‘water’. In this case, I am the fire and it will continue ignite until I get what I want.
to be continued........
Awesome! cpt sambung.. ^_^
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