Lights Brought the Future - Pieces of Japan Finale

1st January 2010
Disneysea, Tokyo, Japan

Staring across the mass of water that lay before, into the array of lights at the other end, imagining the footsteps of the shuffling exiting crowd, my breathing slowed; a stark contrast to the extended exhilaration of the day.

From the thrills of freefall in the Tower of Terror, to the constant ringing of "Compass of my Heart", to the screaming descent of Journey to the Centre of the Earth, to the tinge of Curry Popcorn still ringing atop my tongue - we had probably covered the quintessential rides in Disneysea with maximum efficiency and had gotten the  most bang for our Starlight-pass-buck, putting us in a more than apt position to cap off the amazing journey.

Disney is probably as close as to perfection that artificial beauty gets - the golden lights in the distance sparking amidst the dark winter sky, highlighting more than the silhouette of its Venice-inspired architecture; the Magical Kingdom's reach is far, sometimes even reaching into the inner chambers of one's soul, invoking a sense of almost subconscious reflection with its beauty.

I stood in place, in time, staring at the lights, thinking about the events of the day, and much beyond.

Atop the fort stood a man, peering out into the same direction, dressed in a surprisingly thin jacket for the cold winter night, the man stood still, admiring the sight that lay before him; even though it was mostly man-made lights, but queerly, amidst all that, the ill-equipped man failed to do the touristic act of whipping out a camera to capture the sight before him in eternity, while almost ironically, the shutter next to me was sounding non-stop. He stood there motionless, as if waiting for something, for someone - someone to meet up or catch up with him, just admiring the beauty.

Piqued with curiosity by his motionless gaze, I slowly crept up behind and beside him, hoping to gain his vantage point of the sights before. As I stood beside him, I subconsciously noticed that we were of rather similar height. After standing there for a few seconds, with nothing but silence between us, I couldn't help but do the instinctive but taboo act of turning to look at him.

In almost the same time, he turned and stared straight back at me, as our gazes met - when I noticed that his eyes looked exactly like mine, as my focus drew away from his eyes, I noticed that he looked just like me.

Shocked into silence, I stood there speechless and not knowing how to react.

"I know, I know," he said, with a voice that sounded exactly like mine, "I knew you would react this way. Your next question would be, 'who am I?' and knowing you, or me, the 'why' would naturally follow."

"In short," he continued, "my answer for you is.... Second Chances. And what better time for Second Chances than the turn of the New Year right?"

"Don't ask, just use your eyes to follow the lights of the buildings at the opposite end, c'mon!".

Still in semi-shock, my eyes followed the lights along the ups and downs of the rows of buildings, tracing their angular shapes further and further into the illuminated-horizon, as lights my eyes started to lose focus, blanking out into a blinding screen of white for a moment, before the warm-yellow tinge started to restore itself in my vision, as I tried hard to centre my vision of the row of lights that stood before me.

 

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Second Chance

 

Oddly, the lights yellow lights within my vision had mysteriously realigned themselves, and didn't take those angular shapes any longer, instead being neatly arranged into two neat rows.

 

I turned and looked around, and to my shock, I saw myself standing in the middle of an isolated street, dead quiet in the night save for the sound of some vehicles from a distance, surrounded by rustic traditional Japanese houses, as the gentle sound of flowing water trickled from a canal by my side.

 

Guessing from the architecture around me, I garnered that I was somehow still in Japan, but as my mind was about to make a logical guess on the exact location, I found that my index finger was used as a make-shift bookmark among the pages of a "Lonely Planet Japan" in my hand. Opening the book, I read the words:

Shirakawa Dori. Some claim it to be the most beautiful street in Asia, particularly during the Sakura Season. Looking around, I was entirely absorbed by the peace and tranquillity that surrounded me. My body hardly fatigued from the long hours of travelling via flight and bullet train, and all my initial apprehension of the initial thought of pack-and-jet subsided as I stood under the barren branches of approaching Spring.

It was February, and I was back in Japan again, except this time alone. And yet, while slightly disappointed by the lack of the company I had grown so fond and accustomed to, there was a different kind of emotion to the loneliness - one that left a lot of room for reflection, and soul-searching, especially amidst some of the most beautiful sights that the island had to offer.

Feet firmly planted on the ground, and giving it a good shuffle against the concrete pavement, the reality of the situation sank in, as the association with a Lone Wolf came into my mind - seeking, reflective and majestic.

Book in hand; I walked down the beautiful street, as the blinds got more blindingly bright the further I walked down, till I could no longer see what was in front of me...

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"Amazing, right?" a familiar voice rang through my head. "I know, this island does mysterious things to you, haha. Awe-inspiring sights, a little bit of pilgrimage, and a little bit of history; are just the perfect ingredients for a second chance, don't you think?"

"You feeling warm?" he asked me.

Still unable to answer, I shook my head at the obvious answer, my hand naturally clasping my jacket tighter to my body as I sensed the approach of a chilly wind. Puzzled at his question, I looked at him with bewilderment.

"Then why are you perspiring?" he asked me.

A sudden realisation of droplets rolling down my forehead dawned upon me, as I raised my hand to try to dab the beads of sweat off, but somehow, despite the cold winter's night, I just would not stop perspiring.

A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead and into my blind, causing a temporary irritation, as I tried my best to blink it off, only to have the situation aggravated by the dry, cold wind that was blowing across my face.

Unable to stand it any longer, I moved my hands to my eyes and tried to rub them through my gloves. A sense of relief came over me as the edges of my knuckles met the corner of my eye, but that's when I realised that my gloves were off...

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Space

In fact, so was all my winter wear, and my entire top.

I was now in an all-too-familiar space, surrounded by the four walls that have literally held me in since childhood, but yet, something was amiss, the usual furniture was missing, and all that was left was my bed and my wardrobe, both covered with a glossy, wet, black sheen of paint, with me looking down at them.

I found myself atop a ladder, with a paintbrush in hand, with its tip dipped in a dark-grey shade of paint. I tried to raise my arms to move the paintbrush, but the soreness and aches of the muscles gave a biting realization of reality.

Not having slept for almost a continuous period of 18 hours, the clock struck 7.30am as my arms continued to move up and down along the wall, while my mind yearned for something a lot less torturous and monotonous.

"Almost there, almost there. I just got to finish this for once and for all," the voices in my head willing my body to go on. Putting the final touches to the wall, I laid the instruments down and headed for a much-needed shower, one that signified the end of 3 weeks of hard, manual labour; I task I had yearned to do for over 10 years, and hope not to do for another 20 if possible.

But as I re-entered the refreshingly monochrome space after my much needed bathe, I stood at the doorstep, looking in and nodding to myself, seeing that it was good,; and more importantly, a space I was proud to call my own.

I laid down on my bed, with my hair still wet, my body automatically shutting down as I fell into a deep sleep, feeling my senses shutting down one at a time, when the last thing that I felt was a drop of water, slowly rolling down my forehead and onto my eyelids, my hand subconsciously raised to wipe it away...

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When my eyes open, blinding golden light was shining through all again. I was starting to get the idea of what this was all about, as I couldn't help by give a sly smile, upon knowing.

He knew that I had reached my realisation, and gave me a cheekier smile back - one that reminded me of when times and life was a tad simpler.

From the Fort, I looked down, and saw her, probably still oblivious to the fact that I was missing, finger still trigger-happy on the shutter, as the little Minnie Mouse ears atop her head dangled with each clumsy movement she made to get a better angle.

I looked at him, and slowly broke out into my sly smile...

"Oh, you want to know about that..." he said, hesitating briefly. "Yeah sure, why not?" he said, after 2 seconds of thought. "I can tell you though, the word is: Patience."

"Popcorn?" he said, stretching out a long box of popcorn at me.

With the tempting taste of Curry-flavoured Popcorn still etched in my mind, I reached into the box, but couldn't feel anything. Puzzled, I dug my hand a bit deeper in but still to no avail, when I lowered my head to peer into the darkness of the box, seeing something at the corner of the box, as I reached my fingers in to grab it....

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Patience

Feeling something solid between my fingertips, I inched it out of the box, only to find that a familiar golden brown French fry was in my grasp instead.

Chatter from all angles filled my auditory senses, as I picked up the familiar words of "Module, grades, and lectures". I looked around, to see myself surrounded by young faces, none of which looked familiar, while some of them stared back at me with a slight sense of wonder, as I stood out like a sore thumb amongst them in my chic office attire.

I was back at my Alma Mater, with my laptop on in front of me - fries in one hand and my other on the mouse in front of me, as trees on screen moved towards me against a black background. Dragging and Dropping, bugging and debugging, while my other hand continued to circulate the fries to my mouth.

My phone rang as I answered it, hearing her familiar voice on the other end. "I'm done, Vampy!" she said semi-excited.

"Ok," I responded, as I finished up and packed my stuff, heart full of anticipation as I walked down the stairs, ready to see her countenance again after nearly a week. Dance had come into her life in full swing, adding to an honours year of oddly-timed modules; our weekend schedule had been dramatically affected and compromised over the months.

As I walked towards her at the bus stop, I was all-smiles, having learnt to fully accommodate to the changes and learn to make the best of the time together, as I knew that we had probably entered a different phase of the relationship, one that was less wilful, and more assured; one that could was durable enough and yet malleable enough to withstand changes to lifestyle, and eventually life.

"Where do you want to go darling?" I asked her, as I reached out for her hand.

She responded with an answer and a shrug, reminding me of her rule of not showing ANY affection within campus.

Stupid perhaps, but I took little heart to it, as she walked on in front of me, her image getting blurrier and blurrier and she continued to step forward while I had seemingly become more stationary....

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"Yup, all's gonna go well in that aspect, man. Don't worry about it," he said, as I looked down at her still scurrying about, but suddenly turning around, and looking a bit lost.

"I probably need to go soon," I said to him, "but just one more thing that I really need to know."

"You mean about THAT thought?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"That's gonna be huge, you know.... but yeah, why not right?" he said, almost nonchalantly.

"Close your eyes, and reach out your hand," he told me.

Not questioning anymore, I did as I was told...

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Change

A cold metal surface touched my palm, as I grasped it within, feeling the familiar shape and texture of a metal door handle, and a white door that stood before me.

Somewhat forcefully, I pressed down on the door handle and stepped through the door, into an empty room and stood in the silence. But gradually, that silence was broken, as I heard a familiar voice uttering the words "Good Morning" and other familiar voices faintly in the background. The voices grew louder and louder, and more audible, but just before they were audible enough to decipher who they belonged to, they disappeared and silence filled the room again, where a mysterious white door just like the one before had appeared at the other end of the room.

Stepping towards it, I did the same thing again, and stepped through the next door, into the next room, and stood in the silence. Again, I heard the same words, and I heard the increase in volume, only this time the increase in volume seemed to be amplified. But still, before I could make out the identity of the people speaking, it stopped, and another door appear.

I did the same, and went to another room, where the same events occurred again. After going through the same thing for about 20 times or so, one room at a time, over and over again; I was finally able to make out the owner of those mysterious voices - they were the voices of some of the students.

The moment I had this figured out, another door appeared, but this time a golden one. As I opened the door that led to another room, a pot of gold and a mirror awaited me at the other end of the room. I first approached the pot of gold, which was hardly full, and went on to pick up a few gold coins from the pot. Realizing the authenticity of the gold, I grew excited and wanted pour all the gold out to count the number of coins.

Pouring them out onto the floor, I started counting them, and when I had tallied the final amount, I reached for the pot of gold to put the coins back in, when I realised that the pot was filled with gold coins again, roughly the same weight as before. I poured out the coins to start counting them again, and I realised that the coins were exactly as before. But while this never-ending pot of gold was strange, the even stranger thing was that I couldn't put any gold coins back.

Believing the mirror to be equally enchanted, I approached it cautiously, my mind wondering about the possible enchantments within. But as I stood in front of it, it seemed to be nothing more than an ordinary mirror. Making gestures in front of it just to make sure, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. But as I stopped to look at it for a while, I realised that the reflection within had taken on its own will, its own soul; doing as it pleases. But when I rose to perform an action again, it followed suit. A strange object indeed.

A little label was attached to the handle of the mirror, in which read the words: "Choose."

I placed the two objects on the floor, knowing fully well what each of them meant to the decision that I had to make soon, and after much contemplation, I reached out my hand to pick up the pot of gold. Stepping through the door that I came in from, and the 20 before that...

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"So, that's going to be your choice?" he said to me as I found myself back at the top of the Fort.

"I think so," I said, "I think it's time for a change; for a little bit more stability in my life you know, after the last couple of years."

Through a smile that hid a tinge of sadness, he said to me, "I guess you're ready for that. It's never going to be like it used to anymore you know? You're going to have to.... grow up... I guess..."

I paused for a moment, before I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "I know", assuringly.

"Then I guess you're all set for the New Year then?" he said, rhetorically.

"Yup, I guess this is where we have to part ways," I told him.

"Yeah, it's been one helluva ride," he said, with a forced chuckle. "One last question though."

"What?" I asked.

"Can I use your camera?" he asked. "You know I've always been dying to grab a photo with THAT camera for the longest time now, right?"

"Haha, I know." I said, as I tossed him the camera.

I slipped back down the Fort and behind her, only to find that she was not playing with her camera anymore, but instead, just staring out into the lights across the mass of water that lay before us. And I could only what the lights led her to see in her year ahead....

BLU @ Shangri-La Hotel: 3rd Year Anniversary - The Experience

14th September 2010

"Any champagne to start the night, sir?" The waitress asked promptly, after we were firmly rested in our comfortable red seats.

"Two glasses, please," I replied, without batting an eyelid; and more detrimentally, without the slightest clue about the price.

Indeed, the mood of the night was set with that exemplary opening gesture - a night or pure indulgence and bliss, on a sensory and, more significantly, emotional level - as I reached out for her hand.

It all felt so natural by now - and it should afterall; considering that it has been exactly three years since I placed her hand firmly in mine, remembering the caption and the phrase of "holding happiness", from our initial and discreet hand-holding moment immortalized on film.

"Are you ready to order, sir?" The waitress asked politely, as I rested the base of the long champagne glass on the white table cloth, the bitter aftertaste that tore through the sweetness still lingering in my mouth - a delightful sensation. 

"We'll have 'The Experience Menu", I told the waitress. 

"The Experience Menu" - a more than apt word to sum up the dining encounter we had at the Shangri-La as we marked our landmark celebration. 

I've always believed dining to be an art in itself, and more importantly and more essentially, an 'experience' (for the lack of a more suitable word). "The Experience Menu" at the Shangri-La not only reinforces, but utterly validates my point.

Led by Chef Kevin Cherkas, with footprints imprinted on some of the globe's Michelin's Restaurant, his creativity and culinary abilities shone through as we were introduced to the concept of "progressive dining"; which was not only a feast for the stomach, but also one for the eyes and the mind, as we left the restaurant in full appreciation of not only his skills, but also his creative talent and hospitality.

"Foie gras is a must, lobster, beef and if possible, oysters." I recited to the waitress, as she noted my preferences down.

"The Experience Menu" at BLU is a special menu where patrons are asked for specific food preferences, allergies and the like; which is then reported to the chef, who will set customise a menu for the patron based on the patron's preferences, and maybe, a little bit based on the chef's mood on that day. Akin to a degustation menu, except that it is a two-way deal between chef and patron rather than a one-sided affair.

For us, even though the menu was recited to us, the names themselves were inventive and at the same time abstract, sometimes being a little bit difficult to visualize, leaving plenty of room for the chef to surprise us, and indeed, he did with one dish after another.

Looking out of the tall glass window over a quiet stretch that would eventually meander to the much busier Orchard Road, she spoke of how it reminded her of Otaru, or in general, Japan... again. Some things in life probably leave a deep imprint on one's soul, and travelling on a magical getaway is probably one that still thugs at her heartstrings ever so often. Nostalgia is sweet in itself, but perhaps more so for me than her, the memory of sharing special travelling moments with a loved one is more than the icing on the cake, it is the very essence of the Experience; one that can only be fostered over a period of a compromise between a passionate love and a comfortable trust built over a course of time.

Mushroom Bubble

A spoon with an odd-looking bubble-shaped object was placed in front of us, as we were instructed on how to consume it. Placing it on my tongue, I applied pressure from the top of my mouth onto the bubble, causing it to burst and releasing a potpourri of flavours, dominated by those of mushroom and an after-tinge of cranberry sauce.

Analogous to drinking of the potion in Alice in Wonderland, this little bubble only served as our entry point to the more fascinating things to come further down the rabbit hole.

Lobster "Thermidor"

Washing up onto the shores of our journey-towards-gourment-excellence next was the Lobster "Thermidor." A rich dish that served the most succulent bits of the Lobster coupled with a rich lobster-based broth that had roe floating on the surface, pieces that I almost missed completely in my blindness and negligence. The combination of the succulent meat with the mixture of the rich and thick lobster broth brought back memories and inevitable comparisons of the lobsters I had in Boston. 

Memories of a time of difficulty and a time of need, as I remember the lazy Sunday afternoons that I would be sitting in front of the laptop in my dorm room, literally reaching out to touch the face I saw on the monitor in hope of getting just that little bit closer to her, despite knowing an inch wouldn't make a difference to the miles apart, but still did so regardless. 

Stealing more than a Glance

That familiar smell, that beckoning texture; stood right before our eyes, as I uncontrollably used the knife to spread over the top of the slab, just to attest its texture and its firmness. Expectations rose by the millisecond as I dug my knife gently into it, watching it crumble softly, as I raised it to my mouth and pressed my lips tightly closed after putting it in my mouth.

Typical of those of the higher grades, the piece melted slowly in my mouth, emitting an assortment of flavours within my mouth; a tinge of saltiness, the familiar taste and an additional spruce of nuttiness thrown in for good measure, Foiegras@fruits.com (yes, the official name of the dish) quickly rocketed to the top of both our Foie Gras favourites list, sitting very closely to that of Le Saint Julien's, and playing hosts to a whole deluge of memories.

Foiegras@fruits.com (no, you can't click that)

Memories of the different times we shared Foie Gras. Perhaps a mark of luxury and celebration on our part, most major celebrations in our history is somehow always graced with a platter of Foie Gras at the table; and through these different occasions, I think it is safe to say that we have jointly established it as our favourite couple-dish. Mainly because of the taste, but partially for the memories, the numerous candlelights and romantic-slow-burn dinners we've had over the major occasions in the last 3 years closely associated to the taste of the dish.... the smiles, the tears; the birthdays and the kisses.

The Egg Came First, or so states Chef Kevin's witty answer to the age-old question. My retort: it doesn't matter which came first when the egg tastes THIS good. Cutting down the middle to allow for the yolk to soak in and through the thick onion broth, the combination of the inherent sweetness and saltiness from the egg combined with the sting of the onion in its broth was only made more heavenly with the sprinkle of bread crumbs that littered the top of the dish.

The Egg Came First

A refreshing refresher of grape yogurt and soda-infused grape later, our main courses were served. A fresh snapper with vanilla-scented paella for the Lady, simply entitled "Catch", and the manly Wagyu Beef Mustard for the Gentleman.

"Catch"

Well-coloured and even more well garnished, with the brown sauce taking the shape of a perfect diamond, the Wagyu Beef Mustard melted slowly in my mouth, rivalling the texture of the Kobe Beef that I had savoured in Japan a good while back, before the sting of the mustard kicked in to give the meat a sensational after-taste. Passing her a piece, I saw a similar reaction in her eyes as she savoured the meat through the consumption process.

Wagyu Beef Mustard - A Perfect Diamond

My personal belief is that a good relationship changes a person, ideally for the better; as we work towards the notion of becoming more "complete" through our partners. It wasn't too long ago at Morton's that I instigated and tempted her to break her abstinence from beef, never to look back. And while this is highly debateable on whether it is a change for the better or not (in my books, more than definitely), over the months and the years, I can safely say that we've both changed one another.

No more is she the wide-eyed gal with an infinite sense of wonderment, but blossoming into a butterfly of confidence and an opinion to back it up; and no more am I the impatient, self-centred jerk that I used to be, but blossoming into an impatient, and slightly less self-centred jerk now upgraded with enough room for two in my mind, trying my best to consider her thoughts and her feelings along the way alot more (ok, maybe I didn't change THAT much).

"It was still swimming yesterday, so that's super, super, super, SUPER fresh," he said, pointing to the fish. "Not that it makes it any more appetizing, but it makes it a lot healthier."    

A rarity to see the chef outside the kitchen, but yet Chef Kevin made it a point to make personal trips out of the kitchen over the course of the night to play host and explain his creations to the patrons in the small, cosy 40-to-50-seater lined with a traditional, but nonetheless, elegant decor of velvety reds and soft-wooden browns.

The candlelight continued flickering as her unsteady hand tried to capture a shot of our dessert. The Egg proved to be a highly innovative dessert, shaped convincingly like an egg, but tasting nothing like one - but instead, with a mango centre, and coconut white and finished with passion fruit sorbet at the bottom, the combination of flavours was fruity and refreshing, and served as an excellent finish (almost) to our "experience".

Candlelight is perhaps another one of the totems of our relationships, simply because the abundance of candles in the places we've graced, and when you have a predominant-couple-activity of (fine) dining, it is not hard to find the association.

More symbolically, and perhaps more exaggeratingly though, is that this love has indeed proven to be my Light-in-the-dark cliche. But as much as I hate to conform to such, the truth is that, no matter how frivolous and non-committal we wanted to establish it to be at the start, at many a time of darkness and gloom cast upon my career over the last three years, the romantic candle has often remained my source of strength, simply by the virtue of it's presence beside me, and perhaps to much (of her) chagrin, the listening ear to my neverending moping and the little haven for my perpetual brooding.

Customarily, I wrapped up the bill and passed it to her after paying for the dinner, as she picked up the hand-written menu based on our "Experience".

And as we walked out of the doors of the restaurant with happy bellies, I knew deep in my heart, that there was more to the night than that. More so than a Celebration of a Milestone, a Celebration of a Record, a Celebration of History, a Celebration of the Future, a Celebration of Memories, or a Celebration of Love - it was a Celebration of an Experience.

ex·pe·ri·ence (k-spîr-ns)

n.

c.  the totality of a person's perceptions, feelings, and memories



Dark Metamorphosis: Stage I - The Over-Achiever

met·a·mor·pho·sis   /ˌmɛtəˈmɔrfəsɪs/

1. Biology . a profound change in form from one stage to the next in the life history of an organism, as from the caterpillar to the pupa and from the pupa to the adult butterfly. Compare complete metamorphosis.

2. a complete change of form, structure, or substance, as transformation by magic or witchcraft.

3. any complete change in appearance, character, circumstances, etc.

 

Metamorphosis. Caterpillars to butterflies.

 

"Profound" is definitely the ideal word here to describe the process of change from a wormy green caterpillar to a dazzlingly beautiful butterfly. 4 different stages to become a butterfly, and as a striking parallel, so too can my life be divided into 4 different stages before the Immortal Vampire of today took his Flight of Darkness.

 
 As with all things, it all starts with an egg; and in me, deeply implanted was an egg of ambition...
 
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The class gathered round and waited with bated breath as she held the stack in her hands. The warm afternoon sun peered in through the open windows, as sweat from most of our bodies had visibly penetrated and soaked through some portions of our uniforms - uniforms that we would wear for the very last time, but at that moment, none of us really made a conscious effort to realise or remember, as all our gazes were fixated on the stack.

 

She reached down into the stack, and drew the first sheet out, announcing the top score, and a name - my name. 

 

Shock, awe, joy, fulfilment; all came rushing in at the same time. Applause from all around, as the friends around me patted me on the shoulder and the back. My (then) best friend and closest rival held my neck, wanting to drive my head into the table; partially in jest, but perhaps partially as an outlet to vent his frustrations on the eventual outcome.

 

I had left as I had came, marking the first and the last years being at the top of the class - the cohort in fact; and at the moment, all the years in between where I had "fallen" started to fade away from my mind - all the tears I shed, the disappointment I endured, and the envy in my eye as I saw my peers race ahead in front of me; all just dissipated with that One Moment of Glory.

 

That was my world; that was when it mattered - when it mattered more than anything else. Means never mattered, only the Ends did; Results over Process. That was me, implanted deeply with the eggs of ambition, wanting to be the best at everything I did, of worse, at everything period.

 

The role-model student on the stage reciting the pledge - that was me. The group leader and overall in-charge of the boy scouts - that was me. The class monitor who gained the trust of the teachers - that was me. The swimmer who raced towards the finish line during the weekly swimming lessons - that was me. The one who stood out as the natural leader among my peers - that was me.   

 

I had my hands in many different cookie jars simultaneously, and in each cookie jar, I wanted nothing but the best cookies. It was often about the competition, but it was always about the victory. Rivalries abound in everything that we did, finding any form or basis for comparison. Victories were always sweet, but defeats were all the more bitter, often too bitter to stomach.

 

I remember the first time that I had fallen from grace, and fell to a rank of sixth from first, tears ran down my face with no restraint, as the reality sank in and my peers watched on as I took it in, as I took it all in. My (then) best friend still tells me this day that he never forgot that sight, and even felt bad for actually doing better than me, when in retrospect, it was my fault firstly, and secondly, and more importantly, it doesn't matter anymore when you look back at it now.

 

But yet, that was me; and that was my world then. I thought the world to be my oyster, and myopically, I believed that I had the world in my hands to shape; a world full of ambition, a world full of ideals, a world full of hope, a world full of confidence, and a world that was about to be shaken drastically in the years to come...

 

I sprinted across the familiar fields in exhilaration and joy, wanting to rush home the soonest possible to share the good news with those I loved. The uniformed onlookers muttered words like "crazy" under their breath through the weird stares they gave as I whizzed by. But it didn't seem to matter, I was the King of the World at that moment, and more importantly, I was definitely going at a pace too fast for any of them.

 

Perhaps I ran a little too fast that day, too fast for myself even, as in my mad dash ahead, I seemed to have left something behind on the green grassy fields that very day; I left a part of me behind that was never to be found again...

 

 

Delusions of Greatness-to-Come

Many Different Seeds

108

31st December 2009

She took quaint little steps up the stairs as all eyes were on her. Holding the handrail, taking one step at the time, she was unable to go any faster due to the dark blue robe that hung till her knees. The crowd waited patiently in silence as she reached the top of the staircase and took a bow. Making a right turn, she grabbed the wooden log that hung overhead and with all might, reclined her arms and held that position.

Her face white as snow and her expression deeply concealed behind that thick white mask, but a moment of anguish resonated through the crowd, as we looked on while one of her size held her position just beyond a second.

A sudden force and a forceful release saw the log flying forward with an immense velocity, as it struck the huge chunk of metal an unexpectedly loud gong rang throughout the still night air, filling the entire vicinity with the soothing sound of the bell, as the crowd cheered on while she took modest little steps down the stairs.

The Japanese believe that ringing the temple bell 108 times helps to quell the 108 Earthly Desires as defined in Buddhist doctrine. While hardly a believer of the intent, it was hard to deny that there was something oddly Zen and soothing about listening to the sound of the bell ringing through the cold winter air, inducing a slightly hypnotizing effect on me, as my mind started to wander.

I could hear some Japanese being spoken in the background, announcing the name and bell number, as a man dressed in a business-suit took brisk steps up the staircase and took a bow just as the lady before. The only words processed by my wandering mind and subpar Japanese was the number "24".

A gong as loud as the previous was heard shortly after that, and as the sound of the ringing bell was carried across the temple grounds, so did my mind wander further and further into the cold, winter night...

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24...

A small light flickered away, and slowly, it grew stronger and brighter. A sudden sensation ran along my cheeks as I felt something warm and slightly moist making contact.

I burped as I felt a familiar taste of cream and beef running through my insides before being emitted from my nostrils. I raised my hand to my mouth, and uttered a quick "Excuse me."

She just looked at me and smiled, as she ran her thumb along my index finger.

"Happy 2 Year Anniversary Darling," she said to me, with a look of bliss and happiness.

Indeed, it was the 24th month, and a rightful celebration over some of the finest pasta that I've had at Garibaldi. And it was definitely a cause for celebration, as we had indeed came a long way, from an experimental relationship of exploration, to one that is an unexpected balance of bliss, excitement and comfort - and indeed, there was no better way to celebrate "us" then the activity that defined us most.

"Happy Anniversary Darling," I said to her, looking deep into her eyes and stared right through her into the future.

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I felt a weight on my shoulder as I turned my head to see her head leaning on my shoulder.

"Tired Darling?" I asked her, and was met with an expected nod.

I looked at my watch. "12.45 a.m."

Quite expected for her to be tired at this time, considering the pattern that we've developed over the trip.

"62" was the number that I could pick up with my level of Japanese, as a grey-haired man in a business-suit made his way up the stairs and rang a rather weak gong with the bell.

I stared into the flames of the bonfire before me as my mind started to drift off with the dying sound of the bell again.

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62...

Still slightly groggy from just waking up from a deep sleep not too long ago, I stared at the top panel of the lift as I saw the numbers flash.

"5...6...7", the lift jerked and the doors open.

I stepped out of the lift and walked down the familiar hallway, the monotony of the white-washed walls broken up by the occasional glass window made up the perimeter of the building; in fact, the entire campus had that consistent look.

It was hard to imagine the comfort of which I have slipped into my thrice-a-week routine, doing the same thing almost mechanically.

In Bon Jovi's words, "It's all the same, only the names will change." But the "names" in this case definitely give the "same" a lot more meaning, as the human touch adds a lot more to a task that could otherwise be mechanical and monotonous.

Surprisingly nonetheless, as looking back to the time of graduation, I remember telling myself (and those around me) that, "I want to stray the furthest away from teaching as possible" when it came to career choices, and yet, life's irony always has a way of getting back at you.

But more ironic than the circumstance however, is perhaps the consequence - which oddly has its own gratification and fulfilment in and of itself.

I took a deep breath as I reached for the door handle and opened the door the last time before the term break.

"Good morning", I said, for the 62nd time.

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"You want to go, darling? If you're tired, we can just leave now," I said to her, looking at the obvious signs of fatigue on her countenance.

She shook her head in a semi-autistic manner. She always displayed such queer signs when she was tired and still trying to be obstinate. Her eyelids blinked heavily as she tried to watch on.

Number 72 was another lady that had her face painted white, but this time clad in a dark red Kimono. From her posture and her movements, one could tell that she was older than the first, perhaps in her 60s or 70s.

She swung the wooden log back as far as she could, and thrust it forward with almost all her body weight.

The log didn't hit the bell squarely, and as a result, the gong was hardly as loud as it should have been.

I looked up at the full moon hanging in the cloudless sky as the sound of the bell rang off into the distance.

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72...

I looked at the moon on screen, as I tried to move my mouse to shift the man a little to the right, to align it closer to the centre.

My eyelids were extremely heavy as I felt the bodily fatigue sinking deeply into my body and perhaps my soul as well. It had been too long since I last had a proper sleep, 72 hours in fact, since I had slept anything more than 4-hours.

All physical indicators were steering me towards getting into a horizontal position on the bed just a few steps away, but my mind kept reminding itself of the necessity of staying awake and finishing the job. The weight and the responsibility suddenly felt so heavy, too heavy for one man to bear, and yet, that was the feeling that I experienced almost once every 2 months, every time that we were rushing for something or meeting some deadline.

The "Crazy-24" as I've come to call it, happened a bit too often, where the 24-hours before the submission would have me glued to my seat at a frantic multi-tasking pace and clearing and coordinating tasks one after another.

"5:22 a.m." read the bottom right of my screen, as I placed my chin on my hand, willing myself to persevere.

"The whole is greater than the sum of its parts" has never resounded more untruly, as the act of juggling between 2 part-time jobs definitely weighed more than that of 1 whole one.

It has been too long since I last slept, and even longer since I had a proper weekend.

My sight grew blurrier and blurrier as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. I sat upright and shook myself out of it, etching a single word in my mind.

"Passion."

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I was quite amazed at her determination and that she managed to persevere for so long as the 99th person made his way down the stairs.

The 100th saw another suit-clad business man taking to the stairs, and repeating the procedure like the 99 before him.

One at the time, we had reached the 3-digit mark and almost set out what we said to do before we came for the trip, to survive all 108.

The 100th bell tolled as its familiar sound filled the temple grounds once more.

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100...

We stood outside the restaurant, flipping away at the menu, looking at the tantalising pictures of the gastronomical possibilities that awaited us within.

I glanced to the right column, noticing the little numbers and totalling them at the back of my head.

My hand subconsciously reached the tip of my back-pocket as I thought about the amount that I had. Yet, there was no real need, with only a budget of 100 bucks to spare a week; it's not hard to figure out where every single cent went to.

And yet, this was the life that I had gotten used to over the last 4 months, one of frugality and conscientiousness, one that was calculative and projected.

The human heart and mind are extremely malleable things, and it's funny how when you are in abundance, wants becomes needs; but when you are stripped to the bone, you learn to see wants for what they are and form justifications to dispel them.

I was tired of feeling this way, and too often over the past few months, did I question if it was all really worth it? Can one really live on passion? Or is it time to give up on the dreams and ideals and "grow up"?

We walked away from the restaurant towards the direction of the familiar yellow "M" further down the mall, as I uttered under my breath, "just a little while longer."

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108

The last one for the night, and naturally, year, stepped up to the podium to the sounds of loud cheers, louder than most before him except the exceptional one of two extremely popular ones. Like the others, he made his way up the stairs, took a bow and grabbed the log with both hands.

As he swung the log back, I took a moment to think - to think about the desires; not so much as to quell them, as with the meaning behind the ringing of the bells, but more as to the desires I might have for the year ahead.

Instinctively, thoughts came rushing into my mind, decisions to be made, goals to be achieved, places to be visited, things to be bought - all came flooding in during that split-second.

But as much as the New Year is a time for resolutions, I believe than more so, it is a time for memories and remembrance.

And as the last bell sounded, images of the year flashed by in my mind - laughing with the students, crying on the floor, anger at the table, opening that door; aromatic smells that lingered, and spices on the tongue, singing to the music, counting meteors one-by-one.

As the sound of the final bell died down, I turned to her and smiled gently.

"Let's go." I said, as I grabbed her hand and we walked off into the new decade.

Desert Rose

A small cloud of sand arose as I bore my entire weight down upon the ground beneath my feet with each step I took.

The sun scorching and the winds dry, as it slashed almost viciously across my face; each step I took treacherous to my body and arduous to my soul. Was not the promise of the oasis only 4 miles away as the sign had earlier read, but yet, 4 miles have never felt so long and so far.

I reached for the bottle hanging off my belt in hope of finding something to rejuvenate my soul - water, the source of life And yet, as I grasped the bottle firmly with both of my hands, I knew that I had to ration myself properly if I wanted to make it to the next oasis, before I could refill my bottle.

And as difficult as it was, I knew that this was necessary; necessary if I wanted any chance of finding the coveted Desert Rose.

"4.......3......2......1", the markers read, as I bypassed them one by one, with the water in my bottle reducing in a disciplinary fashion with each milestone. Mind over matter perhaps, but it sure took a lot of mind to overcome the matter of thirst, a strain in willpower to limit myself to so little at a time, when I felt like the desire for so much more, but knew that it was a necessity for survival to stick to the regime if I wanted any chance of making it.

Too many have perished along the way, evident from the dried bones that reflected the light of the scorching sun, as I used that as a warning and a deterrent to not allow myself to overindulge in what I had left, reminding myself that I was better than them. Yet subconsciously, I knew that the shadows of Doubt were dancing around at the back of my mind, as questions lingered on whether it was all worth it, whether the Desert Rose was worth risking all for.

These little whispers of doubt grew louder and louder in my head with as I felt the strength sapping from me with each step I took. I raised my bottle to my mouth, and used my remaining strength to attempt to shake out whatever I could from the bottle, but not a single drop was left.

Step after step, I willed myself forward, as I saw the oasis at the horizon, but my legs could bear it no longer, and I collapsed unto the burning sands. Still, I crawled and I inched towards my target, my goal; desperate to get there one way or another.

Unaware of how long I had actually been inching my way one elbow and knee movement at a time, my vision gradually faded and blurred. Skulls and bones littered my left and my right, as I sensed the close proximity between me and them, literally and metaphorically. With a final blurred vision of the oasis still lying near the horizon, I shut my eyes, ready to join my neighbours.

Just as I thought that I felt that my senses were leaving me, something streaked down my face, a familiar feeling of cold and wet. Before I could fully decipher that feeling, I felt another of the same on my back, and then another, and another.

Instinctively, I stuck out my tongue, as I felt the drops gently fall on my tongue and spreading over and trickling down it, each drop rejuvenating my soul little by little. My body had cooled, as I started to find the strength to bring myself back unto my knees, and then gradually to my feet.

By some miracle, I had been saved by the sudden desert rain. And despite my typical unreligious-ness, I couldn't help but feel that perhaps I was indeed under the watchful eye and the guiding hand of a Higher Power, one that was willing to provide a sort of divine intervention when my mortal limits had been reached.

Under the cool of the miraculous rain, the oasis grew ever closer with each step I took - my steps light and renewed, but my mind heavy and pondering.