Kuala Lumpur is magnificent in December.
I have always loved December. The sweet melody of the monsoon wind lends me an immense comfort; the rain soothes away any pain imaginable; the gray cloud eases the glaring sun every once in a year. Life, once again, slows down to pave way for Christmas and the new year.
Growing up, I used to lay awake in the still of the night, listening to the rain drops drumming against the zinc roof of our small house. It poured and poured in Kuala Krai. Rubber boot would become fashionable, if not downright sensible, to wear during musim tengkujuh.
Back in London, circa 1997, my friends and I rode the intercontinental train en route to London from Sheffield. The whole England froze you to the bones, the wind chilled and bitter, but our excitement knew no bounds.
Waiting faithfully at St. Pancras train station was Abang Pin, a distant relative, a close friend of mine. We camped at Abang Pin’s house in Bayswater from Christmas to new year.
On new year’s eve, Abang Pin drove us – the the three excited goons – around London. He then slid opened the rooftop of his aging Mercedes and snow flakes fell onto my face. I was young and alive. London was bathed with neon lights and leftover Christmas ambiance. Kisses where recklessly thrown among friends and strangers at Trafalgar Square. The Christmas decor at Harrods and Whiteleys was still in full display. Drunkards took over the streets of London.
Even if I lived to be a hundred, there would be no other new year like 1997.
I wanted to marry Jefree on Christmas day until winged cupid got in the way, and married us on November 24, instead. However, it looks like Daliya and Tajul have found love again. This time around, winged cupid decides to be generous and marry them off comes this Christmas. Thank you Santa, for resurrecting the hope in Daliya’s heart.
As it is customary at the end of the year, I would temporarily leave the office, shut down the faithful laptop, set the blackberry on silent mode, to steal a moment or two with Jefree. Often, in our daily rush, we forget the things that matter: a peck on the cheek, a big bear hug, a little touch. As such, we are packing our bags to hide away somewhere at the fringe of the South China Sea.
Write Away bids you a thousand times goodnight and till we meet again on Christmas eve.