Chambee's Pen

Pitfall

The Devil: There's something I need to tell you.

Me: What is it?

The Devil: I'm falling. Hard. I love you.

Me: There's something I need to tell you, too.

The Devil: Oh? What is it?

Me: I am you.

***

What Not to Say in Court

The Legal Foodchain

Morphology

I'm not so sure where to begin, but 2011 has been pretty odd to me. It's a year of metamorphosis, from a person to a roach, or vice versa, as how Kafka put it. It's easy to say time flies at a flutter of the butterfly's wings as soon as you reach the exit and the rest are placed on the antique shelves at the back of an attic. Because when you were in it, it felt like forever but it's all in your head and I remember the 28 year old male traveller with the same purpose who came over to my table at a rooftop restauran in Jodhpur telling me that there is no prison in the universe, not even physical ones, as the only thing that keeps you behind bars is your very own mind.

Generation Y has completely evolved from Generation X, W and the previous. Generation Y has a choice. Our forefathers did not. The day they were born, their lives have been divided according to the norms and systems built by their forefathers for the sake of convenience and to ensure every possible person, from pariah to blue blood stays under control. And remains that way. But not us. We completely fractured the whole balance. If there ever was one. If balance, as defined by them was even politically correct. We have a choice. We recognize the fact that we have one. But it's even more complicated that way because it runs infinity down the list without exhaustion. Either we grow big like a reborn phoenix or we fuck up in the ashes and get blown away to nothing.

Indeed, it's a disturbing thought because demons are everywhere and in one way or another, you're bound to be taunted by the boogeyman who will feed on to your dry bones. It's a moment of how long you'll manage not to flinch.

And I'm probably writing this, sitting on a huge boulder by the flowing river, at 9 in the morning, in a small Bhagsu village near the Himalayan range, surrounded by mule shits and little Buddhas, just because...

I'm in the midst of a quarter century age old crisis. Time to morph.

Charras aside.

Traverse the Sky

Voices ache to whisper
In the ceaseless night
To endings that seem like never
We ponder upon flights
Of staircases
To mazes
Of infinite abstractions
Fateful decisions
Lost in transitions
In an awkward stage whisper
You'll remember
The murals of episodes
We both painted
All tainted, tinted
Against the colourless sky
And I wonder why
We're never on the same leverage
Oh, my.

The Girl Who Used To Sit Still

Oh, how she dreads the morning
The glaring sun and the cold shower
A day after another
In the same, preppy suit
The worn out glasses
And the life mortgage
The world waits for no one
As the streets are full
But life runs empty
Like the night before
Where she recalls the day
She used to sit still in class
Just so she could pass
And be another lass
In that same, preppy suit
And the glasses that help her read
Till the day she stumbles
And awakes no more
And in the gray blue black
A boy touches her on the left heel
Then he kneels
"You can never sit still
Among the sounds that
Flow through your veins
So be the next kill
Drive up your own wheel"
She flutters her lids
Feels the air with her fingers
Listens to the stillness
Cranes her neck
Sees the world the way she wants to see
Lifts her chest, with pain
But lifts it anyway
Touches her tender waist
Stretches her legs
And tiptoes in the dark
No more stillness in the night
As she dances it away
Oh, how she dances
From the hips to
The tip of her fingers
In rhythm of the drumbeats
From her pounding heart
The whistles from the wind
The imaginary lyre
Breaks the stillness of the night
The stillness of her joints
"You can never walk straight
When the road bends"
In commemorating, she dances
She dances while the world waits
While her tears drop to the floor

-By Sydrah Mustaffa

Gegen Die Wand

Trailer's attractive. Someone help me find this, please? :)
*** P/S: And it even includes "After Laughter Comes Tears".

Not a Hero. No.

'Thank you' is said within a breath. Even less than a second. It's simple, basic manner and one of the few magic words that could make a difference. But its purpose is more often than not, neglected. I can't remember the last time I said those two words to my parents. Maybe I'm still angry. Maybe I'm still awkward. Regardless, we all utter and hear the same phrase here and there for each day. So, 'Thank you' gets boring. It becomes meaningless.

That's not, however, the case in UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees). When someone there thanks you, it bears a different meaning. Because each and every one of them goes through much harder battle than you do.

I would always remember a one, fine day when a Pakistani refugee spoke to me in Urdu: "Thank you so much. You are an angel. I would always pray to Allah for your blessing. And when my children would ever make it to Malaysia, I would tell them to pray to Allah for you, too." I, like the rest of the world, find gratitude as a mere courtesy but that moment kept me in silence for a while. Within split seconds, my mind whirled like a vortex. In my 24 years of living, I have never been bothered about religion. And here it was, on that day, I just found out that someone, a complete stranger, is willing to pray for me when I, my self am not even willing to pray.

So, thank you.

2010: To Sum It All Up, I Would Like To...

2009 has been amazing. My final struggle as a student, the dramas, the stupidity, and the list goes on. I made it to the last day at my university, and I was glad. I was glad I had the patience for 5 years, I was glad I met those who matter, I was glad they saw me when no one else could.

But it can never beat 2010. 2010 is a whole lot of stories. From my hogmanay with drunken whities, to non-stop dancing in Istanbul, friends, acquaintances, foes, what does it matter, the bus to Batumi, and the train to Tbilisi, winter to spring, to humid Malaysia.

And I was back. With a short-term mission and out-of-the-blue choice of becoming a lawyer. With no wizard in my head, with a few papers that validate what I'm made of, I never thought I'd be taken in. And so, RDL is also a different volume altogether in 2010 journal. I'll admit the telephone is a pain in the ass, my blazer looks stupid, and every lawyer I've met has really shitty taste in music. I find it nauseating to talk about Order 14 over dinner and I honestly don't give a hoot about who's who used to be what-what.But there's one thing I'd like to say, and I swear, it's not a lie. I do love the chambees in the pen and by the time I'm gone, I'll miss them the most. And Mr. Francis.

2010 was the time I ran all the way to the airport and bought a ticket to Jakarta on the spot, not wanting to miss RamaSita's divine union. I didn't sleep. I can't sleep. There was too much catching up to do, but I had to leave few hours later at 6 in the morning.

And there was UN, that one, particular, discreet place which struck my curiosity for ages ever since high school. I knew it felt right when I first set my foot there. As for the rest of the stories in it, well, it's strictly confidential.

Not to mention Penang, another event that brought out the randomness out of everyone. Which, of course, is another strictly confidential matter.

So, what else revolve around good old '10? Oh, yeah, the World Cup which brought out the celebrity in Paul, as compared to other players, Justin Bieber having more than 50 million viewers, Deep Purple and Slash in Malaysia, Malaysia kicking Indonesia's ass over football, Kyrgez President fled Bishkek, eruptions of ice cap in Iceland (and we believe sacrificing Bieber would make the world a better place), the red shirts in Bangkok, which killed my mood for backpacking, and Edward fucking Bella in Eclipse (he must have came in seconds, being a glittery fairy werewolf and all).

Oh. That's all for 2010? Oh, what the heck. Anyway, to sum it all up, I'd like to say Good Riddance. More surprises to come for 2011 :)

Knuddelmaus

At times I run out of reason to smile,
Giddily staring at the space
millions of miles above,
In its vivid blue and orange,
Amidst the battle of wanting
To drown myself in swimming pool
Soothing skin
Mermaids murmur
Shouldn't let my conscience take over
For once,
I would love to be
Your little cuddle mouse.
-Sydrah Mustaffa-

The Good Employee

Dear Boss,

With all due respect, may I please take off this monkey suit of mine, and these dull, black shoes, and replace them with my original uncombed hair, my overused tank tops, and my faded jeans that seem to give more credit to a piece of rag you use to wash your car with instead? Not to mention my feet hurt, shoes only give them more odour enough to kill everyone in the department and suffice to say, I'm pretty confident about my feet being dainty and how they look much better without being covered with anything.

And dear Boss,

May I discreetly leave those files behind and board that flight? Those cause papers, correspondences, and meetings, heck, we'll make paper planes out of them, or pretty, little swans and even sketch pads. I feel like running around, not because I need to run away from someone or something, but just for the sake of running. A simple thrill. I want to get my life back, and maybe if I run fast enough, I'll be able to catch it before it makes a parachute from the plane.

So dear Boss,

I greatly apologize for any inconvenience caused, but I'm rightfully sure that you were just like me back then- young and callous, with a short term attention span. We were kids once, and we would still be, at heart.

Ain't we?

Amelie

"You mean she would rather imagine herself relating to an absent person than build relationships with those around her? " -Le Fabuleux destin d'Amelie Poulain

One month and she's counting. Another week and hours more. And she's still counting. In a crisp, white shirt with a pencil skirt, she stares at the mirror. Hard. So hard that her crystal eyes shatter, leaving two black, bottomless pits. So hard that she turns to stone, in lifeless black and white, shunning any possible tinge of life.

On the day of her arrival, she stared hard at the papers she was holding, the formalities she bowed herself to, and wondered, "if this is what I want?". She places her fallen eyelash on her finger, makes a wish for a day and blows it to the unseen.

People are people. They may be social animals of verbal playfulness, but they are definitely not the most merciful of judges. And she is in a field where vocal is crucial. Hard. She stares hard at the mirror again. But there is no more reflection of her. Only the opaque glass cube which she lets herself in.

My Current Obsession

Takes womanhood to a whole new level.

Şerefe!

Just when things started to get personal,
Just when we laughed at Arsenal,
Just when you admitted your past anal,
Just when your jokes have become so banal,
But you`re still so attractive, and I`m getting
Sentimental

You have vacated
Yes, you, and you, and you, and you, and you
Slowly, surreptitiously
You rest behind the clouds

Tanıştığımıza memnun oldum
Hoşçakal ve umarım tekran görüşürüz

You will be missed
Yes, you, and you, and you, and you, and you
I can bet you liras.

:´)

Alone by Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Travelogue: Incomplete. Yet.

I still remember clearly now, back in my university days, my top notch goal was to trot the globe right after I´m completely done with all sorts of conventional education. You see, I´m not exactly a classroom person, and getting a job with a steady income is pretty much not what I have in mind for now. I long to trade my life with Asha Gill, and I wish to be the next Sam Dunn. The one who goes around observing people, living their lives, learning the differences and yet being able to connect any possible similarity. A self employed anthropologist.

As cheesy as it may sound, my dream came true. My first stop was Indonesia, just two weeks after I had my graduation dinner. Oh, just a few days before, I got involved with street theater and enjoyed myself silly with underground artists and activists. I call Indonesia my second home, for all its wonderful people, people who I see as family. And freedom. I don´t know how they do it, but in spite of poverty, torn buildings, and lambasting traffics, I find peace. I have more room to breathe and fly free as compared to pretentious Kuala Lumpur. Teh botol never fails to quench my thirst in a euphoric manner under the hot sun which comes in a few inches away. And kreteks, the sweet, sweet kreteks. There was, and never will be a moment where I could stop falling in love with wayang kulit and gamelan. And batik is the most comfortable everyday wear one should ever possess. As much as my father may protest, I would still rather take a ride on the most dinghy train ever and the bus that never stops properly at wanted destination. I caught up with few old friends, met new ones along the way. Two of them will tie the knot by the end of this coming July, in a traditional Javanese ceremony. Another reason for me to come back again.

I have a thing for empty streets, back alleys and wide spread paddy fields. I´m pretty old fashioned that way. During the night, the stars were brilliant right above the rooftop of the small place I was staying in Jatinangor. We savoured the moment, an old friend and I with way too many ``Do you still remember..?´´ phrases and a few cigarettes.

Two hours before my father and I left for Malaysia, we had a small talk about my career. I can tell he was a little worried upon seeing my Bohemian appearance and the Chinese calligraphy tattoed on my right arm. So I urged him to have a little faith although I had absolutely no fucking clue with how the world revolves as well. Better a career talk than marriage because the latter is just plain bullshit. Wear my shoes (you may cut half of your feet if they don´t fit) and you will understand why. I still haven´t found my Minke or Rama yet, but who the hell cares. ``I am my own Lord throughout heaven and earth´´.

I don´t think I´ve settled down at home properly ever since I came back from Indonesia for I had to rush here and there just to get things necessary for my next destination, which was Scotland. From gamelan to bagpipe, batik sarong to kilts, I flew for fifteen hours straight. It was a month of family trip, and it did mean something to me, albeit not that much, after almost a decade of not being able to even sit at a dining table together as a full house. It was winter. And that was the first time in my twenty three years I saw snow. But of course, reading Geography books and watching too many films, I wasn´t the least bit surprised seeing particles of frozen raindrops. Or maybe it´s just me being a person who´s hardly ever impressed by almost anything. I love Celtic art, though, and cursed myself for not being able to afford a miniature of a Celtic goddess. Currency conversion was a bitch. Well, at least I have a choker of Gaia which I still wear till now. Their churches and cathedrals were as empty as our mosques. Not a new thing, for sure, as religion is just an option these days. I walked through cemeteries, old and new alike, and felt like a metalhead. My most favourite spot was definitely Inverness, and I swear to God, if I have enough money of my own, I´ll come back again for any given summer and plunge deep into the freezing lake overlooking the mountains which remind me of ais kacang back home. There were some nights where I was approached by random strangers in the bar, who were so curious about my brown skin and big eyes. I was eighteen to everyone there, but hey, who´s complaining? I even met several new acquaintances along the way and wondered if they could ever remember my name the next morning. The best thing about traveling is being incessantly random. You just play with the ball tossed at you. It´s all up to you to paint your own memories.

And then there was London but there´s not much to say. I still don´t get why many people are so keen about it. I get annoyed by crowds, and I´m not a fan of overrated, ostentatious cities. That´s it from me.

The weather change was really difficult for me to cope with when I arrived home in the middle of January. Each night I sweated like a pig and my throat was pretty fucked up. Cigarettes just made it worse. I had fever and throat infection, and recovered within two agonizing weeks of my stay, but my coughing went on even when I left for Istanbul come early February.

Due to my father´s late arrival and the shitty traffic, the check in counter at the airport closed. It wasn´t really his fault, for I´m prone to procrastination and ignorance as I completely forgot that check in can be made via online. The staffs didn´t let me go on board at first, but decided to change their mind after some heated arguments. Maybe I have the potential for being a true drama queen. I, then, exchanged a few kisses with my parents and ran as fast I could to reach the boarding gate.


T.B.C

Welcome to the Human Condition

I'm left to the oblivion. Lethargic. Yet I'm awake. So far gone to a different dimension. Somehow strangers amuse me more than those I've known for years. Or I thought I've known for years. But I'd rather be an island although no man should be one. Ancient proverb fails.

They say aim for the moon and even if you miss, you'll still land among the stars. There's always a place for you. I just wonder how long does it take for me to land on one. The moon's overcrowded. Stars are gazillions. We're bound by choices. Choices, choices, choices and more choices enough to make one go schizophrenic. We can choose to live according to the law of the cosmos and please everyone like saints do or trade our souls to the devil for a miracle. Whichever goes.

"Congratulations!" They said. "Now it's your turn to take over the world!"

Chances are many. Pain comes in handy. You can't run away. It's a question of how much ready you are. That's how life is. Either it makes you or breaks you. Depending if you want to be the one who still lives to tell your tale.

Look, man. I ain't brilliant. And I'm scared as hell too, just like everybody else. But then again, what's to be scared of? Good Lord, I'm running out of chill pills. Blame it on the post graduation blues.

HAIL SATAN!

~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~ ~Satan~

666

\m/ \m/

HOGMANAY!

Merry New Year from up north. Merry, indeed. Time to get a new paintbrush to go with that brand new, white canvas!