Only when the song ended could I hear that sad cry in the middle of a soundless night. It was so sad… I could not bring myself to stop her. I just cried with her. And I prayed that someday, someone could love her for the rest of her life. Honest and true.
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Honest and true.
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Posted in Hurt | Leave a Comment »
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Kehadapan Abang yang Ida sayangi,
Ida tau Abang takkan baca surat Ida ni sampai Abang dah selesai kerja. Walaupun Abang jumpa surat ni terselit celah pocket laptop Abang awal-awal pagi. Ida tau Abang tak suka confrontation, tak suka complication. Siap buat aksi macho lagi malam tadi tidur pakai sleeping bag depan TV. Pastu buat-buat pejam mata konon dah tidur bila Ida pasang ubat nyamuk letak kat tepi kaki Abang. Nyampah!
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Abang tersayang… yerrr still lah sayang!
Kali ni, buat julung-julung dan jarang-jarang kali nya Ida mengaku Ida salah. Memang Ida ikut hati. Memang Ida over-reacting, over-acting dan Ida over melenting. Dan puncanya memang Ida berjauh hati dengan Abang. Tapi Ida tak nak jadikan itu alasan. Ida dah mengaku Ida yang bersalah. End of story.
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Dengan ini, Ida mohon ampun dan maaf sewangi daun pandan yang Abang letak dalam Sago Gula Melaka yang Abang buat dengan seriousnya minggu lepas, sampai tak bagi Ida masuk dapur. Ida mohon ampun dan maaf dengan hati yang bersih, sebersih kereta Ida yang Abang basuh berjam-jam lamanya sambil pasang lagu Randy Travis ‘I Told You So’ tu kuat-kuat sebab nak perli Ida.
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Ida tau Abang marah, disappointed. Tapi Ida harap Abang tak marah lama-lama. Ida tak biasa tidur dengan lima bantal. Nak kena enam jugak. Bila Abang marah, Ida tak ada ilham nak menulis. Sebab tu kena tulis surat ni dulu selitkan dalam bag laptop Abang sebelum Abang bangun pagi. Semalaman Ida menulis dalam gelap, punyalah tak nak Abang perasan Ida mengarang surat mohon maaf secara terbuka, jujur dan ikhlas ni sambil bercucuran airmata. Ida tak lalu makan bila Abang marah, pegi La Cucur pun minum air suam je sambil duduk bawah escalator mengarang pantun.
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Abang yang Ida kasihi…
Dengan hati yang tulus lagi mulus, Ida akhiri surat penuh sesalan Ida ni dengan serangkap pantun khas untuk Abang tercinta.
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Tegap kukuh pohon cempaka,
di anjung pintu teduhkan pagi;
Sedap sungguh Sago Melaka,
di hujung minggu buatkan lagi.
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Salam peluk cium bantal untuk Abang. Sila jangan cemburukan bantal yang Ida tiduri malam tadi ya? Siapa yang beralih kasih kepada sleeping bag lagipun? Naaahh, nyaman rasa tek tido dibaham nyamok. Meski pun yang demikian bak kata Cik Nan, whatever cinta is… I cinta you.
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Salam cium tangan Abang,
Ida Nerina
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Posted in Abang, Humor | Tagged Lesson | 6 Comments »
It’s short, it’s insignificant, it’s mengada-ngada… I know. But I have to tell you this. Bahawa yang sebenarnya, selain daripada kerja-kerja terjemahan yang mengambil banyak waktu saya, penulisan buku saya yang tersadai, dan tuntutan tanggungjawab saya sebagai Mommy, saya telah kembali berlari.
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I am dusting my runners tonight, updating my MP3 running playlist, and ignoring my booming headache… to run again.
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Selain itu, saya lari dari cinta yang tiada ertinya. Itupun kalau itu benar cinta.
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Posted in Write On | 2 Comments »
I don’t pretend to be the superwoman many struggle to be. I don’t know what ‘super’ is. And so I won’t say I am okay when my face is burried six pillows deep, and my tears is enough to fill a waterbed. I feel. And I am not running away from feeling it the way I always did.
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I doubt.
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As much as I want to trust, I doubt. The way I dislike this feeling of falling, I doubt. Just as much as I want to fall for you, I doubt. And as much as I let myself believe you, I doubt.
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I have been hurt and I doubt I will ever love the way I loved… again.
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Trust me.
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But then again, teach me to trust.
I’ll learn.
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Posted in Hurt | Tagged Trust | 4 Comments »
I wish I could write sweet words that you would take with… when you go.
But just like you, words have left me.
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This letter can’t profess my love. Nor can it show my sorrow.
So if you can’t love my words, love me.
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Silently.
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The way you left me.
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Posted in Hurt | Leave a Comment »
To Fitrizah, the immigration officer at the Port of Tanjung Pelepas, thank you for making it easy for us to exit Malaysia even though Bibik’s departure card was nowhere to be found. And ehem, hehe! I saw you main mata with my son in the back seat.
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To Mr. Tan Chye Chye, thank you for sharing the Tony Blair-and-his-scandalous-girlfriend story. Your taxi was probably the warmest one I have ridden in a long long time. And I am not talking about the air-conditioner. And yes, the hotel on Victoria Street right across from the Bras Basah Complex is formerly known as Allson Hotel. I love taxicab drivers who know their history.
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To Siva, the concierge at the Grand Pacific Hotel, who walked along my CRaVy through to the basement parking just to make sure I wouldn’t have to carry my own luggage… what can I say. I don’t only love your budi-bahasa. I love your bahasa as well.
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This Temasek Trip is too short!
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Posted in Culture, Travel | Tagged Temasek | 1 Comment »
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When I saw you the other day, I looked the other way. Just like when I had seen you before I saw you the other day. I always looked the other way. Because I didn’t want you to see whether or not I was looking at you when you were not looking. I didn’t even know I was going to see you.
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When I saw you the second time, it was like the first time. I didn’t know I was going to see you. I didn’t know I was going to look at you. You saw that in my eyes, didn’t you? I didn’t look like I was looking to see you, did I? Otherwise, I would have smiled the second time I saw you.
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I saw you again today. And just like the other day, I didn’t know I was going to see you again. But I saw you. And I saw that you saw me. But I didn’t look again to see if you did look at me. I never looked your way again. I just didn’t want to see you not looking.
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But did you?
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Posted in Write On | Tagged Me | 2 Comments »
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If you really have to know why I love you, read on.
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I love you because it is not easy.
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If you can’t read beyond that, there is no point of me writing on.
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Posted in Hurt | 2 Comments »
He brought in the five filled bottles – each weighing 20kg – almost effortlessly, while The Driver just sat in the water truck writing the bill. Okay, it’s fair, I guess. But when I asked The Driver about the previous bill and he answered…
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“Oh the bill is with that BANGLA,” motioning with his mouth pointing at The Water Guy.
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… I looked at The Driver with disgust. And when I found the Bangla helpfully trying to turn my water dispenser on after replacing the water bottle, I knew who had the biggest heart among us all.
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Enida: Thank you for putting the bottle on, uh… what’s your name?
The Water Guy: Ammal, ma’am.
Enida: Thanks Ammal. That’s a big help for me.
Ammal: You’re welcome, ma’am.
Enida: What’s The Driver’s name?
Ammal: Eji, ma’am.
Enida: Eji? Like A and G?
Ammal: No ma’am, HAJI ma’am. Makkah pigi eji, ma’am.
Enida: Dia tak tau ke nama you Ammal? Kenapa panggil you Bangla, Bangla?
Ammal: Besa lah ma’am orang sini tada suka Bangla.
Enida: Don’t worry, Ammal. Orang tak suka it’s ok. You buat kerja baik, Tuhan suka. Cukup.
Ammal: Yes ma’am, batul ma’am. Thank you ma’am.
Enida: Suruh itu Eji pigi eji lagi. Tobat. Mulut tada baik. Hati kena cuci sana Makkah punya pasir. Haihhh!
Ammal: Wokey ma’am. *chuckles*
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Ammal left my Mesra home walking with his head held higher than when he first walked in.
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Posted in Culture, Sense | Tagged Courtesy | 5 Comments »
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Questa è Enida 