“You don’t have to study and be like me- a reality TV singer.”- A reality TV singer
”When I was a kid I always wanted to be a doctor but THANK GOD now I am a reality TV star with no SPM at all.”- A reality TV winner
“I don’t know who your father was and you so do you, my angel daughter... never knew who the father of your son.”-A mother who is always straightening a wet thread.
“But the kid is not my son.”-The late Michael Jackson
These legalized stuff said and quoted by people that contributed (so so) so much in our life encouraged us to believe than to know. It feels like we are putting them as our poles of guidance. Say, If I l love her, does that mean that I have to be clingy and be controlled by her 24-7 so that she would love me back? If I adore him, does that mean that I have to be an as-siddiq to accept all his teachings and preaches and his political rhetoric? It is quite disturbing when people badmouthing people that we love.
“If you believe it’s in my soul” or “If you believe it’s in my heart”?
“Poker face” or “Poke-her-face”?
And the illumination goes on and on and on like an old teacher from Damansara encouraged her son to be a dancer in a dance group and to participate in a Reality-TV show about dancing. She supported her son after she watch a Reality TV show about singing which showed a transformation of a small time rubber tapper into a pitch-less instant noodle superstar.
He formed a band. For Malays, band means a group of musicians. So how about the Band of Brothers?
He formed the band named ‘Da Crewz’. They danced at the school’s canteen. The chicks loved them while the boys hated them. They applied eyeliners so they could look cool and ‘emo’ and by doing those actions may lead their desks to be filled with love letters and applications to be their step-sisters. But the hope was vanished since the concept of letters was so outdated. School kids own hand phones which work both ways. They started a fan page for themselves. They even printed their band shirts. Their phones kept on beeping with incoming messages from flat chicks. They gave up their rempit activities and spent more money on grooming and eyeliners. They went to auditions. Rejected and rejected.
Never gave up on his dream, the son of the poor English teacher urged his dance-mates to try a new kind of dance in Malaysia
As the auditions went by, his group was finally chosen to the preliminary round of a dancing show conducted by a private television station. The heat was tough and his group was eliminated early. He blamed the choice of his dress made them eliminated.
Seriously, they sucked.
On the next day, the teacher told her students to be a good bunch students while at night she was preaching her own breed to not to be like her; broke, poor and servant. And the son bought the words for the sake of “she’s my mama” and he was fantasizing the dreams of those who have successfully win the reality TV shows and he tried to be the next silver screen star, (since he couldn’t sing). And the ending was, he quit school.
“Every end is a new beginning.”
He failed in both. Education and entertainment. But it’s OK since there are bunches of private colleges in the area of his home town. But he wouldn’t want to stay in Damansara so he took a leap outside the world.
“Every end is a new beginning.”
He became a rapper. Who knows how to rap in his own mother tongue. Without knowing English words except, “I love you” and “actually”. But at least he tried. He told the ladies that he was from Damansarra. Not Damansara. Damansarra. Her girlfriend’s name was Sarra not Sarah. And her back-up girlfriend was Farra not Farah. He went clubbing and he pierced his ears and lower lip. He left his mother behind with the reason that he had to further his studies to a place called college. Pretty far (huh?), 26km from Sungai Penchala toll gate. He drank lots of booze. Name it; Shiraz
Like a Malay boy drinks a bottle of beer, he got drunk after a sip of Great Together (Heineken). But he challenged himself in next week’s session. He recorded his wrongdoings with those Rra-rras in his iPhone which he bought it with his PTPTN money at local Apple merchandiser and sadly, the phone was stolen by his room mate, Far-Roque not Farouk from Put-Rra-jaya.
The videos got uploaded on the tube, not youtube, the ‘other’ tube. And he got kicked out from his private university and he went back home and kept himself grounded. He wanted to lodge a police report saying that his phone had been stolen by his best friend but his best friend’s father was an influential politician. Yeah. He was afraid to do so. So he just removed Far-Roque from his friend list on facebook and deleted all the photos they were tagged together.
“Every end is a new beginning.”- He hanged himself.
And the poor old teacher was still cursing her students until her retirement. Blaming the government for causing rakyat in dirt poor...
Mama, I don’t want to die. I sometimes wish I’d never been born at all.
“Every end is a new beginning.”
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