(Heart break novel, coming up next, 2025)

- To  K  who always told me to finish this novel…

-Prelude

“Come..onnn baby..! What do you say to this huh..?” Her whisper echoed in still air under the high vaulted ceiling as she spun her slender body like a ballerina clutching her long golden FENDI in her fingers. “This is soooo charming..!" Then she turned and shook the high empty walls and screamed at him; "C'MON BORR!!- TWO BEDROOMS WITH DEN?? - AT THE STATION OVER THE RIVER? ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?,- THIS IS PRACTICALLY MANHATTAN!!"

“It’s fuckin’ Brooklyn..” He coughed sniffing his nose.. “Fuck, who said earlier this is three-times closer to his work huh?” she faught back and with all the skills she gained from the 19 months drama classes, she pointed through his eyes and the bare frosty glass sparkled by the million crystal lights of Manhattan’s skyline across the East River behind him and said; "We could hear the Jazz from Washington Square in Spring mornings when we’ll have those windows opened..". And she smiled like a pink rose and brought him back to the hibernating rose gardens down below earlier all wrapped-up in warm mesh in the middle of the U-shape: 6-stories 19th century French chateau that his heart was beating fast as he walked in and looked up toward the spiral staircase with the iron railing, reminded him immediately of his Rue de Rivoli’s apartment once in Paris. Streets were quite like countrysides and by Spring will all be shaded by giant 200 years old Oaks- 7 minutes to the bridge, then bam!, Canal Street!.

“Look, the daughter hasn't been here in 20 years- she fucking hates New York she thinks stupid Americans like you are crazy! This is a plus point OK?, if you understand business this is a very plus point that I knew this information because other people don’t.” She scolded him good like a stupid student. “This apartment is just a headache for her in Japan and she wanted to get rid of it for fucking cheap..! Across the river is getting hipster and you don’t know this? You’d be stupid “Abang..”” she whimpered and pressed harder now, hypnotizing him slowly to say "yes". This was like apartment number one thousand probably they've hounded through New York and it has to end. "You know we can't get price like this again- baby I will kiss you really-really big if you take this one.., please baby take this one, please.. I’m advising you..!" She begged long and sexy in the warm chandelier lights reflected on her Jimmy Choos and her legs shimmered like Persian cinnamons in front of the empty black marble fire place with her calves tall like the legs of his birthday-to-be “baby-grand” that he immediately saw when they walked in, standing strong like a black pearl stud horse- “right there” in front of that bright square red wall, right where she is and all he needs is a wide inferno-red, “L”-shape-sectionals from Ethan Allen to match the wall and a very black wool rug would just be perfect for his private auditorium. And then just a simple dry bar against the other side of the wall. But the fake “boar tusks” in sparkling metallic gold sticking out of the wooden beam for the bike rack already had his heart sold since.

She got angry for his lack of enthusiasm and strode over from the empty wall as the gong in his stomach vibrated blood tsunami it raised into his lungs and spewed lava into the gaping well of his heart they kick in his chest as her golden stilettos echoed in the empty apartment as they dug into the shinny hardwood floor, full of anticipation coming slowly toward him, but she smiled helplessly and threw her slender arms on his straight shoulders and let go of herself so he wrapped his arms around and pulled her in tightly where she found a moment of refuge listening to his strong heart echoed like temple into her mind.. Then she stood up suddenly and pushed him to face the reality, and that mean long eyes. His nose flared when he sniffed essence of strawberry ice-cream that was melting on her glossy lips. She raised her arm again and now to his face and barely scrapped the deep dark scar in the bone half hidden in his thick black brow, always sweeping him away to fall in heaven. He commanded her with secret messages and locked their eyes with his lightning signals only she will feel it.

"You're-gonna-do-a-hell-lot-more-than-a-kiss- if-I-settle-with-this-one." He whispered warm steams to her face with her tiny wrist in his grip and she jumped at the proposal and yelled out like she just won a lottery; "YOU WILL TAKE???" with huge pink lips flashed her biggest smile as her soft long lashes fluttered like a little girl in a candy store. "Let’s see how good of a "salesman" you are." He said as she was fainting while breathing out his name and dropped the golden purse to the floor and leapt right onto him like a wild cougar and crashed them both onto the grey marble ledge under the tall white window right behind him as she lurched and started attacking his face, and she bit and pulled on his lips mercilessly and cried and moaned when he tried to tame her by the elbows. She bit on his scruffy chin again and too hard he pushed off her neck and yanked her hair away and hissed at her and pulled her back close to his face.. She shivered when he licked her melting "strawberry ice cream", slow and long as she closed her own eyes and parted them open, inviting him in- and he drove right in and down her throat as her body became so hot and tense the bitch is being out of control and slashed open his skin when she razed sharp nails down his slippery neck a hairline of fine blood inflamed along the side of his large Adam apple and she pushed that big neck away from her mouth and mulled his drenching hard lips and sucked him more. "11:30..- My office..- Monday..!" She rambled in his wet mouth and drank his fountain like a thirsty gypsy as he gathered her fiery hair and pulled it to the side and yanked up her black pin-strip skirt she yelp for he might've torn it all the while his other hand got away and right under her satin lingerie, and she cried and melted like warm honey.. "Why..- can't- you be..- my husband...?" She whined and cursed dark sorrows in helpless breaths and gnawed his sweaty neck and she bit hard again he shoved her and slapped across her flawless face but she kept begging with her Persian eyes for his love and forgiven for her regrets. "Because you've already got one- and you love fucking ol' man's money more than fucking me!" He said clenching his jaws his thick neck was about to burst as he locked his big hands onto her neck with her golden hair full and tight in the other and he just slammed her off of his body as she howled like a spoiled poodle as she crashed on the hardwood floor on her silky pantyhose. Large veins swollen along his sweaty arms they were going to burst as he gathered the silk hair and grabbed it tight again and pulled her in closer and bent down and lifted her chin and whispered tenderly; "Show how much you wanna “close” “Abang”.. and kissed her smiley soft lips as she whined impatiently as her long pink nails were working hard on his chrome belt then the stone washed 501s tumbled down his hairy thighs- and his eyes rolled back as he professed helplessly- “ya Allah..” like he was dying in shaheed as he clenched his large jaws watching her gorgeous face drenched in his hot blood as she moaned and whined with her own eyes rolling back and bloodshot with tears she would soon pass out. “Look at me baby.., look at me...” he whispered to her as he swooped up her hair and locked it around his wrist- and shoved her in deeper and she screamed in her throat to puke and he loved every fucking moment of it as his smooth white buttocks stiffen and turned bloody red with his torso quivered like a freak his eyes trembled with pain-and-pleasure seeking out to release.., seeking out to escape the fire boiling down in his blood as his heart was pumping over-doses of adrenaline to his brain’s fantasy, too overpowering his eyeballs were about to explode as he groaned and cursed at her and flood gate of sweats dripped off of his dirty hairy face and down onto her gorgeous face- AH! his chest will explode!- AH!! heaven butterflies in his stomach are about to break lose and before he could plug the hole he saw his own face then blackness and the empty love cave tremored by his violent ROAR..!!!

Her sleepy brown eyes finally opened as she smiled mischievously.., satisfied with her own sweet victory she got him finally on the balls.. Still kneeling in her golden high heels and as they both were still panting, she whispered deep from her lungs; "My office Monday.., 11:30.”

              * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER ONE

H E got awoken like somebody just kicked his back as heavy air suddenly filled and pressed inside his head as they started descending from the super altitude of 41,000 feet above and he unbuckled and stretched like a white tiger in the midnight-blue cover as his stomach growled miserably remembering a day-and-a-half "British foods" he had consumed mid-air and sat up straight now and blew off the thick clouds out of his brain as the mega object of the BOEING 747 glided down gracefully and finally touched down onto earth with her four ROLLS ROYCE turbines clipped onto her wings the length of the Yankee Stadium and thundering proud into the humid oriental sky announcing her own safely arrival from the thirteen non-stop hours voyage. He fished out the flip phone as they were taxing and immediately smiled at the small screen as he re-scrolled the text message from Shereen over-and-over that came in as he was boarding the London leg two days ago.

SHEHOT:

"Congratulations BUDAK JAHAT! Ur nu hs kys r here. Cum get'em if yo man enuf!" He laughed out loud again remembering the first time she asked how to say bad boy in Malay. “Thnx baby. Cn w play?" He typed and hit reply but all service was fading as he walked on carpeted tunnel of the jet-way to the BRITISH AIRWAYS aircraft and it never got sent.

“Alhamdulillah...Ya Allah.. Alhamdulillah...” He professed a million gratitudes in his heart as the super long aircraft jolted and bounced like the Titanic to the full stop and smiled like he was already there. Just one more little leg, he convinced himself. Just a short 55-minutes jump and he will be seeing her..

* * * * * * *

He was drowning in hot February tropical rays that blazed through the large panoramic windshield that quickly defrosting his chest as they left the high and long wooded over-hang of the charming state’s capital Gunung Airport (Mountain Airport.) 27 hours ago, he sledded in the Yellow cab to JFK in ruffling snow blizzard size of golf balls and surely thought the flight would be cancelled but the sky behemoth fled the violent storms just about in time. 

"Ai, BONDA, how surprising seeing you wearing the hijab now.." His voice was warm in his chest flashing freshly brushed white teeth as she smiled in the glittery fabric without looking at him with long diamond chandeliers on her ears danced and twinkled to the sun as the coastal breeze kissed the soft silk on her face. "It's just quite peculiar to me Dear Mother because you once said it doesn't make woman less a Muslim because she had a beautiful hair.." "It doesn't Dear Son.." Bonda re-affirmed and kept on to the road with her back up straight in her white custom-tailored leather seat as she navigated the beloved ride, taken out on occasions and the milky-blue motorcar shined through the gentle winds along the narrow country beach boulevard, a present from DEAR PAPA for their wedding and was shipped over straight from Coventry, with the fine hand-crafted silver cat etched to the eternity in the silver circle at the centre of the ivory wheel. How he could fall asleep under the cool shades of the high coconut trees along the blue East China Sea, they were dancing in warm and salty wind choir, welcoming him home.. "It's easier like this Anakanda (“Dear Son”.) Dear Mother said.

“And it's definitely better for M A T A H A R I.” She said and turned and winked at him in her large brown glasses she beamed in the glamorous golden fabric as she divulged about the preparations for the celebration of it's 75th anniversary early next year together with the launching of it’s second overseas location in Dubai. How she wished the late Dear Grandmother could witness it all, as she flashed back the family heritage of the gold smith & diamond outlets now with thirty seven locations nation wide, including the one in Singapura, that was founded by the late Allahyarhamah DEAR NANAI, The late Sultanah Fatimah Zaharah when she was still a young princess in Banjaran State, before meeting Papa. He sprained his neck trying to catch the glimpse of the smokey hut on the sandy shoulder of the road as Dear Mother was curving along the narrow sea-shore avenue. "Stop—stop! ..stop Bonda. STOP!!" He shouted panicking. "Please, will you pull over?" as Dear Mother repented; “Astaghafir-Allah-Al-Azeem...!” in her own panicked voice as she swerved to the side and breaking down and finally stopped-, blowing violent sand dusts behind. "What on earth has gotten into you..??" She said in horror.

"I'll be right back!” He said and pushed the door opened and took off but turned right back and stuck his long arm into the window and said to her quietly in English; "I need some Riyals, please..?"

"Why didn't you just say if you wanted the fritters foolish boy?" Bonda was still furious at his childish prank he already pulled in less than 10 minutes since he arrived. She fished out a new 10.00 Riyal and looked hard and long at him and said, "Get some of the fried keropok (fish sausages) for Pak Mat (Uncle Mat) and Mek Jah..- and extra chili dipping sauce for her!. Don’t forget the extra chili sauce!!” she continued and a bit yelling now as he was already gone and nodding, starving for his sweet-and-salty little golden fritters.

His heart was skipping and pumping like turbulence mid air as he approached the peasant establishment with black and white smokes were flying everywhere although everything including the burning wood fire seemed to be under control. Three huge branches of green and yellow bananas dangled off from the bamboo beams tied together under the low roof of coconut leaves and there she was behind the roaring fire where two giant woks sitting next to each other smoking in ponds of boiling golden oil. She turned and grabbed a giant wire-spatula and jabbed it hard into the roaring oil and wiggled the gorgeous pieces apart to separate. In a few minutes they started to float to the bubbling surface happy and ready with their golden crunchy smiles. She kept moving without looking up- or at him because too busy with customers requests as she cut the grey fish sausages diagonally that looked like long eel with a tiny sharp knife and expertly using her other own palm as her “cutting board” from under and let go the long diamond-cut pieces into the bamboo tray before frying. Nice big banana glistened and sticky with sweet sugar in her small hand as she sliced and dropped them into the pink rice flour batter in the old green enamel tub as she moved swiftly with her pony tail was melting by the inferno they were sticking behind her long sweaty neck as she grabbed the giant wire spatula again now and scooped off the scrumptious little devils away and slammed them down onto the large bamboo tray to drain as he swallowed hard the moment their eyes finally met.

"Nak berapa"?

He got back on earth as she woke him from his tropical dream with her small voice and he answered her in their dialect; "Ten riyals please, packed-by-two with some "keropok" (fish sausages.) She nodded and smiled revealing her treasure sets of beautiful white pearls, happy by such big order. Most customers would pay a couple riyals or three for families’ afternoon snacks. "A little wait please, I need to start with a big round." Her eyes were cool like waterfall and deep as the green ocean as she looked at him and his jet lag is now cured by their magic power. A bright red hibiscus bloomed with joy on her small ear that contrasted her dark blue Kebaya hugging her small ribs, if this is still New York she would be making statement. "It's no problem. I'll wait." He said in low charming voice as one-by-one of the three customers and two little village children without their shirts or sandals on finally left and they were now standing facing each other with hot boiling oils steaming like maya in between their souls. He savoured every moment of waiting praying they would never get done as he was lost in her movements and body languages. Cash and two bundles of plastic bags exchanged hands and she thanked him for his generosity. Bonda scolded him as she could hear him whistling on the street as he threw himself back into the luxurious white seat and craned his neck to reach her face and anchored it with his hand and planted a huge kiss on her cheek again and said to her in English; "How happy I am to be home.." and Bonda smiled from ear-to-ear and resumed their journey toward home. As she took the hilly curves right before turning into quite private estates she asked him, "Did you get the extra chilli dip for Mek Jah?” His heart stopped, and he just said, "Yes Bonda, I did."

Black-and-gold iron gates split and glided open as soon as Mama hit the flat button on her key-chain as the brand-new engine of the MK2 was buzzing proudly in its incredible long hood as they waited and he thanked Mama for the assistance with the new apartment and promised her again and again that he will re-pay it off in short couple of years but she scolded and forbid him from mentioning the insignificant subject ever again. "Your sister got hers in Kensington..!" She chirped happily and regretted it a moment after. "What?? When??" He yelled out, with a sudden change of tone now as he replayed family’s private memories when he was 11, and the 3 years old sister Maryana came running and laughing from the other room with a plastic doll in her arm like she had the best joke to tell and banged on his thigh at the breakfast table with the other hand and exclaimed; "This is my flat! Papa said this is for my birthday present!" announcing her new home to everyone in toddler accent but it wasn’t even her birthday and scaled up to his lap to have another bite of their British scrambled eggs with orange preserve. “Ask your Grandfather.." mama said, disappointed by her own surrender. “By the way”, Dear Mother said changing the subject as she pulled up and taxied along the black driveway and he finally arrived home around the high 3-tiers stone water fountain in the middle of green grass “roundabout” adjacent to the main front veranda; "You will have new Baju Melayu (traditional Malay dresses for men) to wear for the majlis next week- I had it newly cut for you by JACOB’S”- and she winked again and he went over and kissed her fragrant cheek so ever tenderly and said to her in English “Thank you Mama”. “Anakanda (Dear son), you will fall head over heels with her." Dear mother said again- of Jasminsari- her own niece- his own first cousin. "You should see how beautiful she turned out now. I just want you to look at her and tell me if she ever had any shortcomings- look, she's independent like you- and with successful track record to prove!” Dear Bonda was lobbying hard for a "trophy wife" again when they got distracted as Pak Mat ("Uncle” Mat) came running from the side of the building in his tall and crisp white linen uniforms with his black velvet songkok (a traditional head gear worn by Malay and Indian men) and walked briskly toward the car and came around to Mother’s side and bowed slightly as he opened the door from the outside and came to Borr’s side now who was already out."Apa khabar Pak Mat..?" Borhan said as the lanky and dark gentleman bowed down to take his hands. His voice was kind and charming and took Pak Mat by surprise who was shy and loving. "I am very well Nak Engku ("Son majesty") and welcome home..” He said and took Borr’s leather briefcase off his shoulder and disappeared inside.

"I don't trust her being in London by herself and I told your Pappy that! Dear Mother sighed long with desperation when speaking about Maryana and it’s becoming a bit peculiar by the way she’s been acting. Mek Jah (“Auntie” Jah) appeared and stood by the 18-seating mahogany dinning table with carvings on its six elephant legs that is almost as tall as her chest and waited where Bonda laid the red plastic bags on the table and announced that they will have the tea in the side garden where Borhan was already at the sliding door, too eager to say hello to his fat white and orange fishes underneath Japanese red bridge that connects the patio to Mother’s rose gardens.. "Bonda, she did half her primary there and again for her undergraduate. I think you can trust her. I just had coffee with her yesterday and she was perfectly fine". He looked up and said to his mother.

* * * * * * *

CHAPTER 2

Borr woke up way early on the third day with enlightenment and decided to stretch his jammed muscles by biking over to Pantai Pasir Merah (Red Sands Beach) popular for its safe swimming condition and to make a few laps and to scrub his frozen New York City skin all over with the golden sea salts. Besides he hasn't been taking the bike out for how many years now. Pak Mat told him yesterday that he did the tune-up on it just earlier in the year and he checked the brakes and the tires and gave them a few good pumps. But his wife (Mek Jah) and him were at silent war for fearing Mak Engku (“Mother majesty”) would discover what “young American” was up to so early in the kitchen- whipping up his own breakfast all by himself as Mek Jah nervously insisting for fearing her own death, that he would let her finish the cooking. “Ala relax lah mak Jah (auntie Jah).., I just made a bowl of oatmeal, not lamb biryani.” He said casually still in his white robe with the white bowl in his hand and out the sliding door to the fish pond where the pink sky was just waking up on the warm sea gulf as his heart was whistling with the morning birds. Mek Jah still looked shocked but impressed and wondered where would he ever get such knowledge and ability for preparing foods and arrived a moment later at the stone table with a steel pot and a glass of hand pressed orange juice on a silver tray. After the American-speed breakfast, Borr ran upstairs to his chamber and reappeared in bright orange shorts and T-shirts with his personal Nike knapsack strapped on his back as he grinned from ear-to-ear as he rolled out his baby..., she’s bright red, a present from Dear PAPA for his majlis berkhatan ("Circumcision/ coming of age ceremony" kind of like “Bar Mitzvah” for Jewish boys) when he was 10, and passed the yellow and blue bathing birds in the garden fountain in the green round-about and off toward the high iron gates.

* * * *

HE felt so energized after the saltwater spa and swim actions and was too happy for his foggy jet lag is totally cured as he guzzled down the water from the metal bottle but felt hungry again and decided to cycle down the winding country road for a few more miles and see what's new around there. 

Or maybe he could pass through the bamboo hut where the girl with flower sells her hot sweet bananas. He gathered and threw his goggles and stuffs back into the backpack and slapped the dry shirt back on and headed straight south.

He got even hungrier and in dire thirst after witnessing the sad evident that the hut was closed and wondered if it was still too early for her to come out as many village fritter stalls started a bit later after lunch, around 2 or 3 o’clock but he was relieved to see a mini market as he reached the T-intersection and crossed the quite road and stood his RALEIGH against the wall and ran into the store and came out with a cold chocolate milk and a bottle of water or he will be running empty home. He was going for the final countdown of the delicious carton when they simultaneously spotted each other’s face and everything in the world including his milky lips froze-. How could he not see her in the store? What if he didn’t stop to drink first and left right away? He could’ve missed her and that would have been the stupidest thing he could ever done!

His face was still soaking like mud puddle by the hot ride as he caught her looking at his chest and was embarrassed by his fair nipples poking through the white fabric so she looked down to the ground. Tall green lemongrass' leafs stuck out of her white plastic bag as she crinkled her nose from the mid morning sun that was beating onto her delicate face. She remembered that burnt chocolate-orange smell on him like the other day. "You didn't wear your flower today..". He said, sounding disappointed while unbuckling his silver aerodynamic helmet and hung it on the handle that was leaning against his fair strong thigh and she giggled long and hard to his surprise that made him laughed together with her and after they both calmed down, she said, “This village kid, dik Mai, (little sister Mai) sometimes came to the stall and brought flowers she plucked off everywhere. She wouldn't budge until I gave in and you should hear the happiest laughter every time I "gave in”. Her eyes lite up as she 

was telling and he got lost in her garden sky, counting her soft lashes like long coconut leaves dancing on the white beach as he smiled listening to the fascinating love story. "How old is this kid?" He said still grinning his straight white teeth. "Dik Mai is quite grown already.. 19 or 20 probably” she continued her story and after a long pause she said; “But her mind and behaviour are of a 6 or 7 years-old.." Her voice was warm and comforting when she spoke while combing away black shiny hair in her face blown suddenly by the sweet coastal breeze.

"Namaku Borhan." He said politely.

“I think I know who you are..” She said and smiled- with a little British "accent" going on. His cat eyes bulged out in shock by the news as he said quietly, “You do??”

“Not many people have the kind of registration in town..” She said smiling at his cute reaction referring to Dear Bonda’s white-on-black “single digit” plate license on the Jag: “NX 9”.

"My name is Melati..”

"But your English.." He said, forming big lines crossed his strong square forehead and she laughed again at his attentive question and said; "I lived with a foster family for four years in Melbourne and traded half the rent with the house cleaning and babysitting the little grand kids... They taught me the Australian language for free..” And they both laughed hard now at her own wit.

"No wonder the accent..." He said, captivated by her small soft lips.

A small motorcycle arrived and a young stout man in white turban stopped on the other side of the road and they both looked up by the loud repeating horns. With his short big hand’s gesture, Melati took off without warning and crossed the narrow street but did not stop when the man uttered something to her. They looked out at each other from the far for a moment before he took off on the desperate little moped..

* * * * * *

Sunny monsoon drizzles all the suddenly rolled into thick black smokes in the dark sky then thundering rains began battering onto mama's roof like hell was coming he couldn’t even see the busy town as buckets and buckets of waves water slammed mercilessly onto his windshield. He arrived finally under the roll of swinging chandeliers hung from the dark overhang with Chengal wood poles, dripping as the sporty wide tires screeched to their full stop. A young valet in black traditional Baju Melayu (Malay dress for men) with gold-threaded white sampin pelikat (traditional brocade kilt) approached his door with a large and bright yellow umbrella as the rain sprayed everywhere like mists of Tsunami and smiled handsomely and ushered him to the black marble steps as he thought about her being soaked in the storm for she was adamant and refused to be picked up so they could come together, and insisted to come by herself.

And he wondered if she would show up at all remembering how she refused to come out twice, before he stopped for one last time yesterday. “You should at least say why you can’t..., or why you won’t.” He said to her when the hut was free again. “You’re not married, and you don’t have a boyfriend, and you won’t go for a small lunch with me- and you won’t even tell me why and how can that be fair..?” He rested his final speech disappointingly as she looked at him with the saddest eyes of a child and almost snapped at him; “Because you are anak raja..! (Lit: “son of king.”)

“But I’m not!” He shot back- too disappointingly.

The iconic ISTANA PANTAI (“Beach Palace”) gave MUARA BIRU (“Blue Bay”), the State’s capital and all the districts of NEGERI MENGGUNUNG (“MOUNTAINOUS STATE”) the moniker "Little Monaco of Malaysia”, all because of the oldest MALAY restaurant to ever known existed in the country with “full” dinner reservations up to two months ahead average- all year round- guaranteed- unless you have “connections.” Small Cessna planes and Air Malaysia flights ferry intimate movie stars and international business elites directly into the coastal airport from Kuala Lumpur, Penang and Singapore and Dear Papa has been on the mission to enlarge the runway to get direct rights-and-transits from Hong Kong and Shanghai. They’re only three-four hours away with billions of opportunities just because of the extravagant live heritage theatre and the musics of Bangsawan and the traditional shadow cinema known to the locals as Wayang Kulit (“skin cinema”/ shadow puppet show) with Mak Yong (Folk/Ritual theatre) performances that were presented to full house audiences on its outdoor triplet stages that could accommodate 18-dancers shows, sprawled under the towering three layers roof of traditional design of angin gunung ("mountain winds") and adorned with glittering satin drapes that were hung high from the night sky as they danced to the divine musical treasures. There's only one ever Istana Pantai in the world and it's only located in Muara Biru- a short 55 minutes flight from KLIA or four hours cruise on the Northwest highway.

Three Dayang Umbek angels gleamed in their four hundred riyal uniforms behind the long desk with icy glass top ran like fiery river and anchored by it’s high tiger legs, carved with jasmine leafs called "Sulam Jati", made popular since the reign of Sultan Riayad Shah since pre-Portuguese. Melati smiled like a bright sun from the golden sofa as she spotted him and jumped up and walked toward him. 

"Welcome to Istana Pantai.." The host sang in English in the fine room like an Air Malaysia stewardess and smiled at the approaching couple with gentle sounds of Gong in the traditional Gamelan music echoing in the back ground with thousands of gold threads on her dark Kebaya sparkled like fire under the dripping oval chandelier above them with two elegant black books clutched in her hand. "Please follow me.." She said and smiled and walked in front of them under a “secret” satin entryway. Melati was swept away by the silky black bun of her hair secured tightly with a long golden needles and looked up at Borhan and they both smiled in the anticipation of lunch that was famous the world over, including of the late Lady Diana, the British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and the great Japanese Emperor. The long relic Malay architecture went through its many restoration works since it was first founded said to be in 1874 by the heritage journals, by a legendary and fortunate local fish monger who said to have “golden hands” in the kitchen who started the restaurant that began more like a bangsal or a stall to serve the Chinese and Siamese as well the Javanese merchants who docked their sailing vessels in MUARA BIRU that used to be one of the busiest ports in the Nusantara continent for it’s iron and copper and has been in the same family line since and after hundreds of years and layers of generations later, the four acres of green and sandy property surrounded by bunches of tall coconut gardens finally got tucked away off the modern days’ hustle and bustle of Jalan Pasar (“Market Street”) downtown on the bank of the river mouth. The last and final renovation was done in 1961 after it was half destroyed by the Japanese army invading from the northern border during the second world war, and after the family then agreed to incorporate the Chengal woods with the concrete and stones into the new design. The building stood strong and proud today protected from the equator heat above by thousands of thin pieces of golden clay hang on to each other shoulder-to-shoulder from the highest triangle point of the roof that faces the calm blue sea with dining halls divided by “museums” of ancient wood palaces drawings and large black-and-white palaces photographs in fine golden frames on it’s walls with silky yellow drapes- as yellow is the formal “royal colour” that cascaded down like tropical falls and split themselves in the middle giving each of the section the half privacy as you walk through the gleaming black marble floor with giant beams that were held together by four indestructible Chengal posts that were cut a hundred years ago that stood on towering marble knees, they shined under massive chandelier lights in the centre of each high ceiling’s dining ballrooms. The storms outside were cold like black night but the air inside was radiated with warmth of passion and spices, she glowed like bonfire embraced by her own fine Kebaya and by the white block candles on white glass tables around them. The host asked as soon as they were seated in their velvet chairs whether they preferred the silvers or to eat by hand and like excited little children they shouted out simultaneously; "By hand!!" and everybody just broke into happiest laughter. Melati smiled like a little princess watching the beautiful host removing all the heavy cutlery away as another tall older gentleman approached their table dashing in his traditional attire of black Baju Melayu uniforms with pelikat sarong kilt complete in his new black velvet Songkok. "How are you today..?” He said as he poured cold icy water from the metal jug into their tall stemmed glasses."Kami baik, Alhamdulillah.." Borr said still wearing his charming smile as the gentleman smiled and left.

With tens of 5-star chefs standing on duty during all hours, orders came like speed of the first. He growled like a hungry lion as theirs have finally arrived. Half of a fish head the size of an elephant’s teased the senses in his big nose as the server dropped the long platter in front of them. Heavens of sweet basil, fresh galanggal and sour pieces of Javanese asam fragrance the room, all coming from the rich creamy broth in front of them, cooked in one hundred hand-ground spices with it’s sweet Omega-3 fats rendered off from the moistest parts of the bones. Next: giant blue crab pieces- par-shelled and crash-landed on an oval hot plate, still a bit sizzling from the oven like creepy skull on "American Horror Story" with the killer padi chilies, charred and scattered everywhere the entire thing was still on fire, and- a giant clay pot of kangkong belachan (Waterlily stir fried with prawns, shrimp paste, garlic, shallots and hot chilies.) Borhan lifted the slender silver pot closer with both hands and waited for her who realized and was too shy, but immediately brought her right hand under the waiting spout, above it’s pairing bowl carved with betel vines pattern as he poured the cool fresh water over her soft little fingers as she smiled, starstruck by the royal treatment.

"How did you learn to make the Kebayas?” He asked as their conversations continued in English, after discovering at her hut about her fascinating hobby of sewing her own dresses as he finished washing off his own fingers, and jabbed them into the fluffy hot and fragrant Siamese rice (Jasmine rice). "I learned it from ibu." She said smiling, covering her chewing mouth with the other hand, before continuing; “She was known as the "royal Kebaya maker" who made the dresses for the countesses and their relatives in town- and some times from out of state!”. Her eyes sparkled and shot into his heart as her glossy red lips moved with her stories while savouring the luxury blends of Asiatic spices. “Is that why I never saw her at your gerai (stall)?” He said, feeling grateful for the lucky circumstances. “No.., ibu died when I was 14 and my ayah remarried with emak (step mother) who has four children from her previous marriage who are all grown with their own families. Ayah died of a heart attack two years as I was in the school in Melbourne and I couldn’t afford to return home as the scholarship agreements did not include funeral trips..”

“Aku bersimpati..” He said very kindly.

“But the year ibu passed away was the year I “graduated”.” She said proudly.

“Graduated”? He stopped eating and looked at her.

“I made my first entire Kebaya all by myself- from A to Z under ibu’s supervision and it was for celebrating Eid-Al-Fitri..” His oily red lips dropped and smiled, disbelieved by her exceptionally early accomplishment.

"You should bring the Kebayas to New York. I can introduce you to people in fashion." Borr said smiling and her big round eyes floated away in fantasy dream and into his dark mesmerizing eyes."Yes, and then I'll never hear from you again." She sat up straight to allege him and they giggled hard with sweet crab in their cheeks, with their oily fingers lifted off their dishes.

They became quite as they went for a long feasts again."But it's hard these days..” She continued after sipping on the coconut water with lime served straight in its fresh green fruit garnished with a fresh purple orchid. “Young women don't wear them much anymore and Mohsin doesn't really like me making them either.” She said simply. Mohsin- the short guy on the motorcycle who went to community college and works in the Statistic department in town- who’s also a young muezzin (the person who called for prayers) in the village surau (small village mosque)- whom she used to bash his head with her own hard knuckles every time he cheated while playing teng-teng (hopscotch) when he was small- who is now her fiance and her own second cousin.

“Why”? he said half shocked.

“He thinks the dresses are too provoking for Muslim women.” She said, trying to ignore the sparkles from the silver neck chain that dangled wildly around his lean neck, like a wild eagle who was awarded a medal for flying the highest. If only she could hang on to his strong back so he would fly her away.., and suddenly be so far away- just very far away from here like an impossible atonement.

“But you need to be a night person to create good dresses. And I'm a night owl! She finished her story as she jiggled her dark brown eyes wide opened like an owl. He "encored" and confessed; "Me too!!" and they broke down in laughter their shoulders shook and swayed far and closer to each other as she glanced at his hot lips as he suckled on the succulent and sweet meat off his big oily fingers. She got light headed from laughing and looked down to re-focus on the scrumptious spread. "I think they're beautiful." Borr said looking into her soft heavenly eyes. "You looked like a Dayang Umbek Princess.." referring to the mythical sky angels of the local folklore and his heart swelled watching her being shy with her lovely smile. Her pony tail was tight so high above her smooth oval face and dramatically free fall and splashed behind her long spine and the black satin tail shined by the golden candle lights every time she moved in her own fine red Kebaya.

They were taking turn to the loo now to properly re-wash the strong spices off their hands with soap and warm water while a busboy clad in his traditional "baju nelayan" ("fisherman's outfits") uniforms paired with dashing sarong belt with black head guard cleared their table and re-set for them with rounds of carved copper trays lined with gleaming fresh banana leafs and poured more of cubes of iced water into their glasses- a complete entertainment every time as every meal ends with sweet Malay kuihs (desserts) of guess’ picks with tea or coffee. He smiled handsomely and made golden shadows on the marble floor as he left and Melati spotted the black wallet and fished it up from the floor as it was clapped open in her clumsy hand so she brought it closer to her face and immediately chuckled as you would at a silly troubled boy but she stopped suddenly and frowned at the sharp smell of the cow hide and he was returning suddenly so she flipped it close and laid it beside his service place.

The crazy end of monsoon whether turned again now as they were leaving the big lunch,- both confessed for a dire need of walking exercise as he was too glad that she actually agreed to the free lift. The valet boy arrived and rushed to the other side and opened the door for the Malay princess.

* * *

He pulled up cautiously under the shades of the tall Rhu trees (Asian beach pines) stretched endlessly along the white beach. After leaving their belongings in the trunk, they simply started walking under the shades of high branches of the tropical beach forests with their tips scrapping the sunny sky tens of meters above. It’s cooling blue ocean mists moisten and rejuvenated their skins with it’s sound therapy created by orchestra of the waves..

“Thank you for meeting me Mel.. I’m sorry you have a fiance..” He said as they both laughed lightly in the ocean wind.

“I have a fiance not a husband.” She replied quietly and distracted herself not looking at him.

“Why did you call me that name..?” She said as they walked quite apart. “I don’t know.. I’m sorry.. I won't call you Mel again if you don't like.” He turned and looked at her.

“I was called by that name back in Melbourne..” She said after her silence. “Only in Melbourne and I didn’t even know anymore how it all got started. But "she" died on the day I returned to Malaysia. I was never “Mel” before anyway..” She said tenderly.. her voice was deep in secret sorrow.

“And I’m “Borr” only in New York”. He said.

“Boar??” Like pig???” Her eyes bulged out as she screamed into the wind and he chuckled by her clumsy reaction and said kindly; “Yeah.., kind of- but spelled B-o-r-r..”

“Ahh!! Alhamdulillah..-that’s good.” she said feeling so relieved as they kept walking closer towards the water..

“When did you return Mel?” He said and she was caught by surprise by the questions he always asked.

“It will soon be three years..” She said. “And it still feels like yesterday every day I woke up in the morning.” She gazed out to the opened sea that seemed so endless, too unreachable even the place that once stole and shattered her heart and soul.

“You never said what you do..” She said suddenly changing the subject while trying to mend her shiny tail that was going wild into the sky. “I'm a free-lance photographer and I have a small vegetarian food column in a local area newspapers.. I get to meet some people in fashion sometimes.. I was serious about you bringing your Kebayas to New York. It will blow up like nuclear fireworks!" He said and they smiled into each other’s eyes. The tiny black dot sat in the corner of her sweet eye was simply "the cherry on the cake” as they said nothing for a long time as she drank his gaze and wondering when was the last time she had a meaningful conversation with an adult man as she was swept away by the baby tides that came washing to their toes now blown in by the most peaceful rhythm in their salty breeze.. And then she looked up to his face again and said; "What happened there..?" She smiled as she scratched the brow of her own with her small index finger. "This..?" He said and laughed nervously while touching his own thick long brow. He knew she looked at it.. He knew she always stared at it.. "I got into a fight in the classroom back in junior-high. I still remember that little shrimp named Suhaimi. I knocked off 2 of his teeth so he shoved my head to the opened "nakoh" window (the standard school windows made of rectangular pieces of frosted glasses that can be “flipped” open-and-close with a handle on the side.) I bled the entire white uniform and got 9 stitches and two weeks suspension.., but so did he!” He said proudly as she squirmed with her slender fists folded tight her neck stiffened like she was going to vomit all the exorbitant lunch by his obnoxious picture. “I locked myself in the room the entire time while my parents were plotting to murder me outside...” he said, skipping the part where Mek Jah was the only person he let in every time she brought him in-chamber meals through out the 2-weeks imprisonment. Her mischievous smile lighted warm flame in his stomach and looking at it made him want to live forever. "Must be over a bad girl." She said, squinting

 "No, she was a good girl!!" Borr shouted out and they laughed together with the sea birds above as they stood facing each other in the winds with warm golden salts below grinding their relaxing sole.. 

  “He stole my cigarette in my book drawer and smoked it with a couple other kids in the boys toilet. My only cigarette left for the ride home." And she smirked and shook her head so ever slowly feeling sorry for such stupidity.

“Now you believe why they say cigarettes are bad for you..? She said.

“Yes ma'am..- 15 years clean..!” He said and raised his palm proudly like taking oath to her smooth silky face. But she turned around suddenly while looking down at her watch and paced back as she said; “I must get home.”

                       * * * * *

He whistled cheerfully like he just won the 300 millions New York lottery as he skipped down the blue velvet staircase and stopped at the landing where a humongous black-and-white photograph of GRANDPAPA sitting on a tall black horse with small golden letters engraved at the bottom that read: CAMBRIDGE – 1949, among other family European photographs in thick golden frames on the dark Meranti wall they beamed under the spectacular lead chandelier hung from the copper dome high above, and he leapt over the wide marble handrail and zipped down back word and smoothly made a perfect stop at the square bottom like he always did since the age of four, and hopped off toward Bonda’s indoor-garden hall with high glass walls but stopped short- and backed up to the high Jati cabinet, and after ensuring his left-and-right, he propped open its tall glass doors and got on his tip toes and stopped breathing, and carefully brought out a long and thin wooden box and put it down on the next lamp table and ripped the top opened and snatched one of them out and gave it a long passionate sniff  like a first class pussy and his evil eyes rolled up like he was cumming. Then he expertly put the box back in place and prayed to Allah for one of these years Bonda may finally find out about his serial heist of an old forgotten secret wooden case.

The plan is to pick her up at the busy intersection of the main boulevards where the blinking “BIG MEK” (“LITTLE FAT LADY”) is- a busy local super market infamous for it’s neon lights ala “red-light district”, outlining a fat “auntie” in head scarf with two little kids and her blazing red shopping cart- next to the 2- bays district bus connections attached right by it. He saw her from the far and flicked on the high-beam as she smiled and approached. She knew he cannot get out.

Mel got alarmed when he slowed down suddenly as they were half way on the long quite bridge heading into town as he flicked on the elegant switch and fantastic buzzing sounds suddenly came from above as the roof suddenly detached from the front and folded itself down slowly and swallowed by it’s low sporty trunk as he turned and they smiled at each other and resumed their sailing over the bridge in it’s warm sea winds. Borr wanted to check out the old town and they smiled like happy tourists as they strolled along the narrow stone street of the China Town with Chinese New Years decorations with red and gold lanterns dangled charmingly under the Asian sun. They made two rounds of the old downtown before turning onto Market Street boulevard and passed the restaurant they had lunch at and gave his blinkers towards Pantai Asmara (“Beach of Romance”) that all of the late suddenly became a name of a problem stirred up by the new wave of so-called “Marabic politics” (Malay + Arabic), that the name of the beach is now “very dangerous” as it was quite suggestive and would condone immoral issues among the Malay Muslim youths. Dear Papa conferred that a name is a name and it’s what it’s known to the international world and guests, as well as the layers of local generations. The name stays so far. Famous for it’s towering Rhu (Whistling/ Asian pines) trees that shaded the long narrow black street where young couples and families parked along and hang the day out breathing in cooling air from the blue sea. Mama’s little red SLK spider blazed smoothly along the old beach drive with soft winds combing his straight black hair and flapping on the most comfortable black t-shirt on his long hard torso. She woke up and realized she was actually sitting with a strange man in his sports car without a roof and looked down to the floor to find reality but now caught herself at the tight cup on his jeans she better distract herself. Behind his black aviator sun glasses he took a puff of PAPA’s extra-old CUBAN cigar that was once misplaced at a party and blew the white smoke like a happy captain as they turned and grinned at each other in ecstasy...

They needed to walk-off the MEE SIAM (SIAMESE NOODLES), the Rojak Buah (Fruit Salad with chunks of crunchy guava, pineapples, water guava and sengkuang (jicama) tossed in thick hot and sweet coconut sugar dressing and sprinkled with crunchy golden peanuts and toasted sesames), – and their sweet ABC “special” (pay extra Riyal for the extra cream corn and roasted peanuts over the top of the sweet red-green-and yellow fluffy ice mountain in giant plastic bowls..) along with other toppings of red beans, basil seeds, red-and-green jellos, kabung fruit, and the disgusting black seaweed jello, (which he skipped) so they ran toward the shady ocean but gave up half way or their stomachs would explode.

“The-- other day-- at “I.P” (Istana Pantai)...,” She said with hesitation.. “Remember you dropped your wallet, and I accidentally saw your I/C..? (The National Identity Card that has to be carried at all time by law and for safety.) She said slowly like a little girl got caught stealing a cookie. And with that he exaggerated his anger and yelled to the sky “So it was you who stole all my heart!??!” and she laughed nervously. “I..- I- accidentally read your name..” She insisted still carefully. “So, big deal!?” He said without looking brushing her off as they continued walking toward the long rolls of white waves and that was when she got brave and pressed him for it- “Your- your names.. were not spelled with the “Tengku” (Malay royal title by birth) and..., there was...., the Chinese name.” She let it all out and just waited for him to hit her but he got fed-up with her nosy interrogations so he revealed all his secret of ancient histories and told her of how his great-great-grand father who arrived from Fujian province in the late 1800’s and from a small general store to settle in Singapura and grew to become the largest cotton merchant, hundreds of years before Dear Daddy met mama at NUS (The National University of Singapore) where daddy pursuit his Medicine, and Bonda had just begun her Master in Anthropology- and how they moved to Britain for daddy’s specialization later where he was born.

“After converting to Islam, Ayahanda (Dear Father) chose to keep his surname on my birth certificate and that was how the name on the I/C that read “Tuan Borhanuddin Helmi Ibni Tuan Kamarulzaman Chen”-, without the “Tengku” came about.

She was stunt by the galactic revelation and smiled into her own wonder and said unconsciously, “Will you keep it on your own children..?” And struck by regrets of her own village manners. “Of course.. It’s my name.. It’s my Dear Father’s name.” He smiled widely as he answered her wild curiosity.

“But I’m confused- are you Muslim, or Malay or not...?” The girl was adamant to find everything out about his life and he answered her again with great patience; “Astaghafirullah-Al-Azeem....! Of course la I’m Muslim.., I’m Malay lah!!” He said, scolding her good.

“But you look..-” She said and smiled but stopped- trying to avoid more troubles.

“What-?” He said. “Like Chinese..?” And they stopped and looked into each other’s eyes, long and happy to be lost in important conversations that don’t mean anything.

“A bit..” She said and smiled from afar, gazing into his dangerous and mean sad eyes.., his bitter-and-sweet naughty white face.

“Can you speak Chinese?” She said, still not over by the fascinating news. He rolled his eyes at her relentless annoying questions like he was mad by her insult. “Of course la..! He sighed softly. “I went to CHUNG HWA (the only Chinese vernacular primary school in Muara Biru) and Ayahanda taught me Mandarin before I was grade-1 and my late grand parents in Singapore only spoke to me in Hokkien.” And her small mouth dropped opened disbelieved by such reality as he walked down toward the water leaving her behind still in her dream bubble..

“How many siblings do you have..?” He said while squinting his long eyes from the golden rays of the sun down as they walked apart next to each other. She shook her head and frowned as she kept stepping forward. “My younger brother Desa drowned when he was eight while swimming with other village kids after school. People found his body the next day in Tanjung Daku about five miles away.” She said.

“I am so sorry Mel...” He stopped and moved closer toward her. “It was long time ago...” She said shaking her head.

“My older brother Hamzah also died in an accident right after high school final exam.. She was shocked and turned to him with glassy eyes and said quietly. “Aku pun bersimpati..”

“Mel..?” He called out her name into the soft ocean breeze as they walked becoming too far apart from each other with fields of morning glory with big purple flowers crawled in white fluffy sands as they continued toward the pink sky. “What would you like to do in your life..?” He said and she got too overwhelmed by his presence her eyes were wet by the calming rays but they were called for silent attention unexpectedly as the touching melody of Azan calling for prayer came and gone in the high wind from a surau (chapel) in coconut village.

“It’s already MAGHRIB...” She said and looked backward and squinted her eyes under her palm trying to count how far they had walked. The journey target later became the Prince Cove where its majestic granite hills stump into the violent blue waves just a bit more in front of them now, where they would’ve definitely driven should they decided before coming so he blamed her now on how they would have to walk back all the distance home..

“I didn’t want to come this far- you did..!” she shouted to the hard wind and blamed him back. “I did not!” He refused. “I wanted you to come to America!” He yelled back.

“No you did not!” She yelled back at him.

“Why not?” He yelled back, even louder now.

-“B- because you smell!” she screamed out- confused by all the arguments.

“Huh- I smell??” He scoffed at her and bowed down into his armpit, and looked up at her and shouted; “It’s you who smell!!” She got so angry now and lurched toward him and pushed off his arm and stabbed her nails into his skin and pulled the deep of his hard stomach as he howled in tense pain struggling to get rid of her as she shrieked like a naughty wolf and shoved on his chest, and bolted off- so he sprung to chase her, he almost got that thick black hair as they left trailing foot prints in the wet sands, and as soon as he got real close, he leapt over and pinned across her thin shoulders and dragged her down to the ground and she fell onto his body as they screamed like happy kids as they rolled and tumbled in the wet fluffy sands as their faces glowed by the sleepy golden sun setting down behind the blue coconut mountains as they could not stop laughing with each other in their bubbly baby tides..

It was way dark by the time they got back in her village and as they were walking toward the car while bidding their sad goodbyes, there he was, absolutely leaning against Borr’s driver side door as Mel shouted in horror; “What do you think you’re doing, spying on my life???”

“KAU PULANG MELATI SAHARA!!!” He shouted into the quite night with his fat short arm pointing out into the village, ordering her like a child.

“It’s OK Mel.. Let me handle this. Why don’t you get on home for now.., please.” He said softly to her and with hesitation she left the men and prayed that one of them would just vanish and disappear away from her life.

“I know who you are, but I want to ask you to stop seeing my fiancee..” Mohsin said calmly in his white kopiah (scull cap) still blocking access to his car.

“OK..” Borr said simply as they stood still and looked hard into each other’s face. Mohsin took a long last drag of his cigarette and flicked the bud to the ground followed with a hard spit and left.

                      * * * * *

"Ai Anakanda, where have you been missing to these days eh?” Dear Bonda said as he got in with his red plastic bag yet again as she was seriously focusing on her orchids hanging around from the beams of her gazebo with garden scissors stuck out of her hand before continuing, "We know what you’ve been up to. You brought in the fritters every afternoon and you didn't even touch them." Then she turned to look at him.

"Ala Mama..., I had some there while waiting."

“You were eating while waiting??” She was shocked as a look of horror jumped out of her face as she slowly stood up to face him and said; “Anakanda, I want you to stop this American nonsense right at this moment and never forget about where you are. And no need for bringing in anymore fritters. Jasminsari is looking forward to seeing you.” She said and turned back to her orchids.

* * *

The next evening was the Friday to the majlis of Uncle Merican’s retirement party from his office in the Negeri Menggunung’s State High Court, the husband of Dear Bonda Zamrood, Dear Bonda’s younger and only sister- Jasminsari's parents- his so-called "blind-date.” He was so late and that set Bonda off earlier as she left without him and he was that close to be missed by Pak Mat who had just arrived back from driving Bonda and had to stop him at the door that his sampin (the traditional gold-thread kilt for men) was actually inside-out. Embarrassed by his own “refinement”, he ran upstairs to his chamber but came back in his new H&M charcoal blazer with black jeans. Something about the “teluk belanga” neck line that was rather off on the traditional attire anyway. The “JACOB’S” is no longer the same since the son took over the business after the death of it’s founder.

Borr salam (shook hands using both) with Pak Mat and jumped out of the brilliant white sports utility vehicle and looked up to the sky and immediately smiled like a lunatic by the high voice of a heart break saxophone of the celebrated piece written by the honorary legend, the late Allahyarham Tan Sri P. RAMLEE's "Jeritan BatinKu" (“Screaming Of My Soul"), howling and wailing into the night sky. Cursive copper spellings that read "Villa Zamrood" ("Villa Emerald") shined like old gold on the concrete fence hit by the two spot lights hanging on the top corners of the large wooden plaque as he could see Pak Maip (“Uncle” Maip) and his short wife Mak Munah (“Auntie” Munah) who were greeting and welcoming the guests stood by the both sides of the opened gates at the bottom of the hilly mansion and screamed in shocked as they spotted his charming body. They salam lovingly as he bowed and kissed Mak Munah's chubby hands as she would jerk every time as she blinked off the tears while caressing the little boy's head, the boy that she raised for his first 4 years and beyond while his own parents were still in England. That same fat boy that was two-weeks-old that she had covered in thick blanket from all the harms in that long scary plane ride in her own strong short arms to bring the royal baby home that night and she fed him milk day and night from her own mother chest since, as his own birth mother was not able to provide for him. And so she got stuck to raising him with all the verses of Al-Quran lessons until he "khatam" ("commenced") all the thirty chapters by age 10 and now grew tall and strong to be a real prince charming. Hundreds of heavy German cars were parked systematically, but eventually got pushed over onto the green “golf course quality” grass. For years Uncle Merican joked that when he retired, he will spend all his time looking after his lawn. He would have to die to witness this. A short stage was erected in the middle of the long driveway and facing the side of the south-wing, adjacent to the long and narrow swimming pool. Heart break jazz tune ended with mixed applause and humorous yelling for stopping and picked up again with trembling sounds of standing bass and the drum, shaking the night blood into the hearts of young and restless. Neither Mama or Dear Bonda Emerald was in sight as he scan through the crowds in diamonds and pearls that non he recognized as the party seemed to be a little “louder” possibly because Papa was not in attendance. Bloom staircase cascaded down from the upstairs and parted to the left-and-right at the middle landing and came back together again almost semi-circle as they reach the floor and there she was gliding down the blue stairs as she sparkled like Cinderella under the soft golden lights from the chandelier above as she smiled and waved to other guests before heading straight toward him, and she rolled her eyes and hissed at him; "Fuck off Borhan..!" as she even tried pushing him off with her tiny hand and glided away in tall glass shoes and left trail of evening perfume from her million Riyals Tiffany diamonds dangled low from her small white ears, a gorgeous attribute of Uncle Merican and the one-and-only child Bonda Emerald ever loves. Still in shocked, he raised his big voice to fight the loud band and the waves of cheers and noises and yelled; "What the f-....??" His suffering was long, confusing and absolutely unbelievable as he repeated slower to himself and more consciously now, "What..the.. fuck..was..that??" beginning to enjoy the party at the expense of his own cousin’s ridiculous hijab wrapping around her crazy head, whom once dared him to show his own penis as they were all being drunk on the dance floor among adults almost every Friday night back in high school years, in a discotheque called “Stardust” located on the observation deck of the top floor of the Grand Hyatt Beach hotel in downtown Muara Biru. Borr noticed the smokey crowd in uncle Merican's cigar room that was converted to two service areas while chasing her as he wasn’t nearly done with his torture and tapped on her shoulder and gave signal and went in for the sign that says “Non-halal” and asked the tall bar tender in white suit for a scotch on the rocks and called on Jazz in the noisy hall and made the "drink" gesture with his hand. She shook her head and turned and left him mumbling alone in the packed hall while witnessing the funny nightmare. “What do you mean no..??”

The roofless stage outside was suddenly hit by a bloody shower, the jazz band and all the guests cursed and shouted as they collided into each other trying to save their lives inside, some even reference the idiotic weather reports earlier. He spotted Uncle Merican within the chaos who was laughing with a few other guests and went to him as they salam and embraced for so long and ever tenderly their eyes turned red and watery. Uncle “Mark” is a jazz freak and they were bonded through his record collections and he was naturally fond of Borhan from the day that he was supposed to be born in Wellington hospital where his father was waiting, only he hardly arrived since he can't wait to come out earlier so he came out early at home on the way instead, with Uncle Mark the young lawyer was his doctor and Auntie Emerald who was three-months pregnant herself was his nurse as they happened to be at the Kensington manor for a few nights before off on their adventures to Chateau Ducks in northern France celebrating their fifth year anniversary and Jasminsari came along six months after he was born. But how could he ever run into Bonda and Auntie Emerald now within these crowds of this semi-formal of sprawling party? Uncle Merican hadn’t seen them in an hour by then with the long blue-and-gold carpeted hallways and other rooms and halls jammed-pack with people in wet diamonds when sudden cheers erupted with two of Uncle Merican's associates, trying to murder each other at the long snooker table in the centre of the room and that was when somebody else tapped on his shoulder and as he turned around to look, they both screamed at each other’s faces like they were both dead ghosts as the live jazz music suddenly resumed in-door followed by pops and explosions of giant rubber balloons that were tight along the ceiling, and screaming of children coming far from the east side garden, under the large patio roof. Steven, a.k.a “Badang” in “S.J” for his stature (Malay version of “Conan the barbarian”- Uncle Mark's sister's (Auntie Bridgette) son, growled at him lustfully with his hands going to spread open, can't wait to bear hugged by him and they bear hugged for a long long while catching hard for their own breaths from the endless laughter. It had been years since their days at St. Joseph where they shared all their lives and saw each other last, and got split by the Atlantic ocean as Steve, inspired by the legacy of his grandfather headed for LLB in London while Borr studied weird arts and smoked pot and partied on LSD with Jazz, Dylon, Sam and Bimmel the Dutch in NYU. The “ad-hock” bar tender struggled through fragranced guests to get around the buffet table dressed with tens of freshly cut and tall white roses in the enormous silver vase several of their petals fell to the ground on the white clothe. In his fine and muscular Indian-Portuguese tuxedo, Steve plucked out two tiny shot glasses and slammed them onto the white linen and carefully poured shots of Jack Daniel's almost to the rims and picked them with his both hands and passed one to Borr. Like two long lost brothers, they raised their hands and shouted simultaneously into the loud jazzy rain: "TO UNCLE MARK!!!"

It was awhile until Auntie Emerald appeared and glowed in her green and pink rose long Kebaya as she and Bonda were gliding slowly toward him with her Sophia Loren’s hair shimmered in golden sparkles by the diamonds chandeliers on her ears. “My handsome son...” She exhaled tenderly and smiled. “Apa khabar Auntie Emerald..?” he said and bowed down with his left arm rested strong on his back and kissed all the soft hands of the diamonds dames, then he embraced and kissed Bonda Emerald on the cheek long and wet until they both laughed hard. Then there she was- the bratty little princess he’s been crazy for came approaching again from behind. How it has been several years since the last time they saw each other. Her face was still beautiful in her uneducated hijab as Auntie Emerald spotted some guests and waved at them excitedly and the princesses left the children as Borr immediately pinned Jasmin with his long arm against the moulded post and pulled the side of his own short hair and scoffed quietly at her; “What the fuck is this..?”

“It’s a hijab! And fuck you!” She looked up and challenged to his face and left.

“Fucking why..”? He screamed in his throat.

“Coz it’s my fucking business and none of yours..!” She shot back with her glamorous eyes and ran away from him and he chased up to her and pounced on her covered ear and whispered;“I thought Bonda said you were running a business or something. What kind of stupid business is this- the village folks corporation??” He smirked handsomely, still tormenting as she rolled her eyes by his boredom without looking at him as they surfed through the noisy crowds heading toward the high French doors to the pool garden. She pointed and smiled to a group of yelling kids who looked like angels or colours in their formal Baju Melayu (Malay dress for men/boys) with game cards in their hands, the tall one was giving her a thumb up like they were exchanging secret codes as so did she”; “Actually it went quite global.” She stopped his hard round shoulder and looked straight into his sharp eyes and said to him slowly in serious conviction; “Over one hundred millions muslimah (Muslim women) around the world, 20 millions in Indonesia alone, wear my hijabs, dresses, shoes, sunglasses, “The Haj accessories” and my HALAL cosmetic lines. “MUSLIM GUYS” launching next fall in Dubai and Paris targeting EVERY young-and-hip professional hot guys around the world (not a kafir (infadel) like you) and by the way, FORBES Asia are interviewing me next month..”

“And wadaya got..”? She answered him with a long great satisfaction and smirked right back and abandoned him again like a pariah..

“A hundred millions huh”? He said, sipping the Jack Daniel's close to her face and his mouth was sad.

“And counting and I’m about surpassing my parents’ net worth. Unlike some people, I’m allowed to say that I no longer need my parents..” And she stuck out her ugliest tongue at him and left him with fragrance crystal dusts from the nine thousand Riyals trail of her magnificent evening dress..

The rain had calmed and the band too had moved back out the other side of the building along with the new canvas roof easing out the congestion along main arteries of the “T” hallways where tens of tall and wide canvases painted by Bonda Emerald hung along the high moulded walls. They stopped at another service station before walking out to Auntie Emerald’s swimming pool garden, the passion and strength she was born with, even won a few competitive medals back in the English school. There were several general guests outside having a break from all the noises while enjoying a drink under the velvet night and they walked toward the dry end corner of the pool and he sat the tall cold Perrier bottle on the ground and flipped the glass down side up like a professional bar tender and laid down his short wide glass that was still half full. Then he kicked off his shoes and folded his jeans up to his knees and with her Cinderella’s glass slippers laid next to her, they dipped in their legs now down in the nice water.

"I think I like girls..." She said like a crazy person straight into the water and looked up to his big eyes and with her saddest voice she confessed to him again; "I like girls.." and then looked down. “You what??? Adinda (Dear Sister), I must kill you now!” He shouted softly, not impressed by her endless antics from all these years. But she just kept quite and still looking down into the glowing water the tail of her skirt fell in and floated about and twinkled on the surface.

“C’mon Jazz, stop this shit. I even let you see my dick!” He said and she turned and looked up hard at him like she was going to cry. “Wait- but- wait... Was it me..?” He said, totally ignoring her threat of tears like he hasn’t seen those a thousand times already. “I mean- or was it the “lack of” me??” He continued leading her evil drama as she rolled her eyes, disappointed by his lack of compassion. “Not you stupid..!” She convinced him. “You were pretty big for a skinny guy!” she scoffed at him looking jealous like she wished she’s got his penis. “Well you know homosexuality is not allowed in our family.., and just so you know, our religion as well.” He finished his important preaching before raising his arm and took another sip from his cocktail glass, then continued; “And definitely not in our country.” Then he smiled and winked at her.

“And I’ll say you’re the smartest jerk I’ve ever known. Now I can trust you to save me..!” She smiled victoriously, looking fine suddenly again. “Save you?” He shot, “You said even my big dick didn’t work for you..sorry deary, I don’t think it works like “that”. He just kept shooting her to pieces..., then he said, “Besides.., you know I live in America.” And she looked up at him again with her most evilest smile and said; “Exactly someone I need with the “qualification”!” Now it was her turn to wink at him.

“You’re becoming crazy, Jazz..” He said while looking out passing the long glowy blue water and to her Dear mother’s pink and purple roses in the soft garden lamps, reaching high along the tall privacy fence behind, her most favourite spot on earth to spend the day in front of her canvas as the sun goes down. People said he got his “talent” from Bonda Zamrood because of the “shot” he took with his 35mm Nikon when he was 14, when she was wiping away the sweat on her temple with her gentle finger and the long paint brush sticking out in the air, the piece he named “Secret admirer” and the cover image he already chose for his dream New York’s exhibition. His long muscular calves felt so good wading in the warm water but he was running low in his ice and really wished to god for another round of drink, but broke open the green bottle and poured the mineral water for both of them instead. “I’ve been planning to return to New York for a few years now..” She said again after their long silence. “Well then fucking go..” He mumbled quietly as he tried to mend the bubbles as he poured the sparkling water into her glass in between them, and into his- diluting the JD even more now, annoyed by his own laziness to get out of the water and to put his shoes back on and to walk so far back inside for another whisky as there were no foot-service available in the private garden.

“You knew I cannot go on my own. You knew mommy and daddy would never allow me to. Not to live on my own. Not anymore now..” Her voice was sad with regrets.

“I thought you don’t need your parents anymore.” He said and regained victory.

“I don’t!” She re-affirmed.

“I need you. She said and looked sharp into his eyes.“I need someone good to do this Borhan..., and mommy said it’s you!!” She shot at him with disgust but they both got distracted by the sudden invasion of lightning bugs, their smiles were frozen by the magic glow in the night as they both pointed to them before the twinkling fire flies flew away and disappeared into the rose gardens.

“And I heard you already managed to get us a pad in Manhattan. I must warn you darling, I would need extensive spaces for my wardrobes- if I were you I would get me another unit next door so I can convert it all to closets.” She said as she moved forward into the battle.

“It’s not in Manhattan and what do you know about anything..?” He fired back at her insult.

“I even knew your cock!!” She scoffed, launching her first attempt to stab. And suddenly everything felt quiet again and awkward he should really get up and go get the drink. “I really thought of all people that you would understand!”

“Wh- what- understand what”?? He said becoming confused.

“Oh fuck off Borhan, I saw that American guy sucked your dick!!” She shot at him and brought them back to the dark secret by time machine when they were all living in the Greenwich village when he was attending NYU for Contemporary Art and Jasminsari studied her shoe design at PARSONS when all the sudden his Argentinian roommate dropped out and a new nerdy guy moved in as a roommate who always left the door unlocked, and when the morning after a wild party in Chelsea as he just walked out of the bathroom, when she showed up without calling like she always did and walked right into the crime scene and screamed her fucking hair off, and everything went down hell from there..

“Oh for fuck sake, will you ever be done with it??” He said sneering. “How many times do I have to fucking explain. He asked if he could suck my dick and before I can even answer, his girly face was on my crotch! I was still legally drunk with morning wood on so it wasn’t even my fault and what kind of idiot would refuse a free morning blowjob??”

“Astaghafir-Allah-al-Azeem..! She confessed to the water then looked up and cursed at him; “You’re disgusting.!”

“I’m not- I was just being practical!” He said.

How he remembers she went disappeared on him for almost three weeks as he tried dialing her thousands of times and left hundreds of messages till her tape ran out because she refused to answer the phone and Sam her roommate suddenly would not buzz him in. She stopped hanging out at POETRY and their neighborhood Irish pub and skipped all the weekends parties at HIGH for almost a month. He wanted to tell her that he had taubah (repented) and moved out after the nerdy guy came back in two days and asked for “more” and that was when things got weird and he himself moved out the next day. He remembered it took her a good few months to come back around completely and not being upset with him anymore.. “I repented see..!?” He said still seeking for her old forgiveness. “I didn’t let him the second time did I..??” And they went quiet again as the western winds brought over the roofs the classic melody of Anita Basheer from the jazz stage.

“I knew you needed something to start with your own project in New York..” She said softly. “And I knew Bonda Rogayah is holding back on the high-risk proposals..” she said seriously with her low seductive voice. Her elegant lips were moistened by the protection of luxury color of evening fire with her Christian Dior’s lashes looked fabulous on her sad bratty eyes.

“If it’s only a million dollar that you need, that is just three million Riyals..” She said. “I have plenty that you can start with. And I will inject a million more every year after that whether you need it or not..” She said every word clearly into his eyes. “Sure, and what’s in it for me..?” He said hoping that will stab her.

“You keep “half” the book and you get to be my Kakanda (Dear husband) for 4, 5, maybe 6 years and you get to fuck who ever you want.” She said as a matter of factly. After my greencard, I will let you free.

“Jazz, let me ask you this..” he said impatiently. “How the fuck did you do it in short five years huh..?”

She looked point blank at him and told him all her so called “hard work” and “business experiences”. “Syarifah “Sherry” Mehrani, the Malay super diva of 70’s disco era.., the renowned "Diana Ross of Malaysia" with big afro hair whose got the biggest fan a.k.a DEAR PAPA for all her life. Miss Diana Ross of Malaysia received the hidayah (enlightenment from Allah) and retired from making records and went off for Umrah in Makkah all at the same time when PAPA and NANAI Chemara did theirs and they were pleasantly surprised to become the happiest neighbours at the Four Seasons’ penthouses until she came back in massive black diamond hijab. I figured it was a sign from God so I got her signed her name away to me and ever since I am the sole global-holder of “SHERRY MEHRANI”. Papa let her have seven million Riyals, and I let her have a million more every year for as long as she agrees to full make-up “clause” for promotional statements and the international Eid-Al-Fitri’s collection commercials..”

“And I kept the rest of quarter billion, and remaining as you suggested it- five years old history..”

“You’re disgusting you know that..?” He said winning in the end.

“No I’m not. I was being practical..!” She said. 

“But you know I always admired your works.. I know you are a talented artist Borr.. I always knew soon you’re gonna make it..”

All plans were put on hold as the third and the youngest princesses of Negeri Menggunung appeared in their gleaming traditional dresses. “There they are the lovely birds..!” Auntie Emerald said as she made the hand gesture for them not to get up.

* * * * *

His fair New York skin bloomed and revitalized when blazed by the vitamin D of the golden oriental rays of east Asia as he took the time bathing in the green-grassed air half-naked, with his silver necklace sparkled happily on his wide chest as he grinned alone like a maniac as he massaged his bare feet on cloud nine of little oasis of white sands with tall and green coconut towers were dancing so high in the blue sky to the music of the waves that came crashing onto the black boulders and the white and grey stones behind the endless short and white concrete fortress that fends off the family estate from the strong Chinese monsoon down below. From afar he could see Mek Jah's short and round body bending over pouring the tea. He sneaked up on his sandy tiptoes and crouched from behind and clapped both of his palms on Dear mother's eyes as she jerked and laughed. "I know!!" She yelled out and all of them laughed as he embraced her so ever tightly from behind and kissed mama’s cheek long and warm.

"Apa khabar Mak Jah.."? Borhan smiled and looked at the plump woman who was pouring the tea into his cup. She was a spitting image of Mak Munah, her twin sister, Borhan’s milk mother, except for the huge black mole above her upper lip. "I am well, Nak Engku." She answered and smiled lovingly. Bonda lifted off her golden wrist of the white-clothed stone table and Mek Jah bowed slightly and went back about her duty hugging the shiny tray in her arms. Bonda was just looking straight into the horizon one could see the triangle peak of Mersing Island, just off to the North direction as he reached for the bamboo basket lined with fragranced banana leafs and fished out a freshly hot cekodok! (his lifetime favourite of fried banana muffin balls.)

“Mama, are you alright..?” He said and looking concerned as she kept on being unusually quite.

“I want you to stop seeing the village girl, Borhan", Dear Bonda said in English, still looking out ahead to the endless sea as the soft Northern breeze caressed her immaculate golden hair.

“Mama, what are you talking about..? He said with the hot sweet ball stuck in his cheek.

Words travelled fast in small towns, and “fritter girl” was going around among the ladies at the royal party the night before including Jasminsari. Pak Braheem (“Uncle” Braheem), a chauffeur of a relative, lives in the same village with Melati. 

“You must find someone that is suitable for you Anakanda (Dear Son). Someone with education like yourself..., successful like Jasminsari, not a dropout!” 

“A dropout..??” Who’s a dropout?”  He raised his voice as he got up from his large white wicker chair to excuse himself when Bonda raised her own arm and commanded to the noisy birds above that were hoverring, begging for some of his sweet muffin balls; “Don’t you walk away when I’m speaking!!!”, she shouted to the sky almost sending the seagulls above scrambled.

“Be careful with your life Borhanuddin Helmi.. Be careful for you could face unimaginable consequences..” Then it was Bonda who was up and left.

* * * * *

Just a week before his flight back to New York mother and him had another "moment" yet again, now about the "smelly" car. "Pak Mat has been complaining that my seat became dirty and so oily that he had to take it for detailing and he said it smelled like your head!" She scolded him as he walked in and cannot wait to jump into his cool bath and blood of shame flared up in his white face as it now turned red. "I did not wish for you to see the village girl anymore, and what were you doing,- HELPING HER FRYING THE SILLY FRITTERS YOURSELF???” The gigantic chandelier that was hanging by the iron chain from the roof rattled by the frequency of her voice. “Of course not..!” He answered back but did not look at Dear Mother. But it had been several days since Borhan signed up for a job helping Mel with her closing chores of hauling the six gallons of the hot oil after it cooled off as she had to make about five or seven other trips back-and-forth on sandy flip flops to carry all her supplies and the large utensils back home to soak them in water from the well next to the house by the kitchen for washing the next day, or the village drug kids will take them all including the damn oil. They were robbed a while back so they decided to commute them all every night since. He found this out one evening as they were debating about the hot topic of the new “Marabic politics” as he hung out until late at her bamboo hut. And the “hot oil” would be the last heaviest chore she would have to deal. First, she would scoop out the warm oil that has been cooling for about an hour and pass it through a huge funnel and filter back into two huge square tin buckets with a thin metal handle on the top. Because they were so heavy it was better for her to carry them both at the same time so she could balance her tiny body better with both of her thin arms. "See??" She said while flexing her non-existence biceps that were hidden in her baggy t-shirt when she first declined his offers to help and since that night Borr has been disappearing from home every evening. He got smarter since the incident and came up with a new strategy by sneaking out a fresh shirt with him to change for his way home after scrubbing the oil off his arms with soap and rinsing off his hair with the cool well water retrieved with a tin bucket tight with a rope.

"How I wish I could afford to pay you to stay forever.."She said and smiled pathetically as he calmly climbed the high and wide wooden steps of her back patio surrounded by lush dark bushes and banana trees protecting the wooden “chalet” on thin stilts from the harsh monsoon nights of the sea, and “touched down” the metal buckets smoothly by the corner with his oily arms throbbed with large tubes of veins crawling up toward his shoulders. She noticed how the smell of his body spray became so strong every time he got hot and sweaty while helping, like the day they met at the mini market with his racing bike as she went quietly inside as step mother was performing the evening prayer of solat Maghrib in the living room under the white florescence tube on the wooden beam in the ceiling and she brought out a huge plastic glass filled with water and ice as she watched him gobbling down like a thirsty horse, dripping all over his big scruffy chin and down his wet shirt as she swallowed her own throat watching his large adam apple jumping up-and-down as he quenched the glass impatiently every time. "Thank you..!" he sighed satisfyingly as he handed the plastic glass back to her as she smiled with her heart filled with love and gratitude, until it got too heavy so it sank in her own deep sorrow as they bid their heavy good nights. How he wished there were more things to do so he could stay longer so she would always be by his side. From afar down the sandy valley in her dark battered window, she could see him opening his mother's trunk that was parked along the sandy shoulder and changed into his new shirt. From her dark opened window she savoured each glimpse of his tall body under the white moon and the dancing shadows of the high coconuts and leaned her dying soul for strength as she watched him leave.., as she gripped the old flannel curtains and unconsciously brought it to her own face.., then to her own nose as if she could still smell his overly-reacted body spray...

***

Borhan was shocked to find the big crystal bowl on the console table was totally empty suddenly the next evening as MEK Jah appeared from the wide hallway looking scared of her own life and started weeping as she confessed, "Mak Engku perintah.." ("Mother majesty commanded me..") "Tak apa Mak Jah, it's not your fault." He said kindly  to her as Bonda suddenly appeared from behind and questioned as where would he need to be as the evening is getting dark and soon will be Maghrib (the prayer time at dusk) and before he could answer her, the roof was ripped off by her thunderous voice; "DONT YOU DARE TO STAIN YOUR OWN BLOOD BORHANUDDIN HELMI!! DON'T YOU FORGET ABOUT WHO YOU ARE!! AND DON'T YOU EVER DARE TO STAIN THE "NOBLE ONE!!!”  The tremor in the family chateau was too intense as everyone cowed and disappeared into their holes as Swarovski crystals swung violently on her red ears their brilliance reflected on the shiny brown piano and slashed through his eyes like hundreds broken mirrors as she pointed to the enormous golden framed of black-and-white portrait clamped by the amber sconce on the pastel moulded wall of herself clutching her baby bottle in her tiny fat hands on DEAR PAPA's lap when he was a young crown prince, the current AL-SULTAN ABDUL MALEEK AZMANSHAH, the State Ruler of Negeri Menggunung. He looked down to her feet searching for mercy just to no avail. Then she continued in English with her low voice, the same kind of low voice she would use in her official speeches for her TUN TEJA Foundation, an elite NGO helping and supporting the rights of young girls and single motherhoods as she shook her head slowly and with that voice she sanctioned him for his rights to choices; "She’s no longer pure Borhan.. I will not accept her." She said and left him crumbling in Dear Father’s piano room for his heart was about to explode for lacking oxygen so he marched outside his eyes were burning in rage as he headed to the dark four-car garages below Pak Mat's and his family's living quarters, calculating in his broken heart that 7 or eight miles was not far..! He does fucking two three times that everyday in New York! and bright ceiling lights blinked and brighten as he slammed the front switches ON and walked straight to the back and yanked the bike off the wall with his angry muscles and threw it onto his shoulder and slammed the helmet on his face. He stopped at the side post and pressed in the numeric code and the high iron gates split and shook the earth as he flew off away toward the night beach boulevard and never looked back at the evil castle.  

Mel had just started her step with the black oil as he rough landed from behind and threw the bike into smokes of sands, drenching in victory as he actually almost made it. "Wait, Mel, wait!" His milky voice yelled gently into the warm evening wind as he ran toward her. She stopped and carefully dropped the heavy tin buckets besides her they were as high as her knees but she did not turn to him at all. She just stood there and looked on ahead far down the shallow valley where small village of Malay houses with their white florescent lights floating about on their wooden stilts. "I'm sorry Mel I'm a bit late today.." He said still in his gentle voice as he neared. Who was this man,? and why was he suddenly appearing like a malaikat (angel) since and what angel must come complete with such a handsome voice? "Mel..?" he called for her name again it drilled her ear and into her crazy mind that her body suddenly started shaking as she broke down and wailed in the dark winds as she hugged her own body. "I thought you wouldn't come.., I thought you would not come anymore..!"

* * *

He waited for almost two hours by the water until she was sure that her step mother had dozed off as they never met outside this late. From the far his tall silhouette glowed by the black sea as he sat on a high log that was washed ashore with a warm pit of fire in front of him.

“I’m going back to New York in a few days Mel..” He broke the sad news again to her as she smiled bitterly to the charming knight.

“It’s just...., impossible for you and him to be together.” He said without looking at her. His long square face glowed by the calmed fire in front of them shadowed by soft black hair along his jaw and large chin and down his strong neck. He turned and slowly pulled her thin shoulder and said straight from his sad eyes; "What happened Mel..? What happened in Australia..?" The sparks were too great she turned away from falling and looked up to the starry sky her own dark brown eyes looked pale and golden by the reflection of the fire in the sand and after the long silence, she revisited the long way journey that changed her life forever..

“For the first time in our lives we were finally in the same class in form 4 (grade 11)”. She began. “He'd been bragging how he saved all his money from the “ampaus” from the previous Chinese New Years and bought a ring band for my birthday." She continued with her calm voice. "I didn't believe it was real gold so I showed it to Kak Aisyah (Sis Aisyah) next door to confirm..” But that birthday was when she knew she wanted to be married to Benji. To be married only to Benji- the youngest son of the family that own the large "NYC" (New Yap Cheng Supermarket) at the busy junction in 6th mile square. On the final high school exams the next year they bet on each other 50 Riyal plus movies at the Shaw cinema and the Char Kuey Tiaw so off they went for the new Samo Hong movie and she spent all of her own saving from the part time Kebaya orders for the fried noodles and the satays and the movies before as she lost 10-Straight to Benji’s 11 As. They applied to the Australian’s MIT and UCLA and Ben was accepted by both. She didn’t get UCLA. She paused and carefully took another long breath and continued re-confronting the ghosts of her passed life. "We both got jobs under the table as soon as we arrived you know..?” She smiled proudly as she continued. “I worked at "Little Panda" and he made pizzas at "Bobbie's". She paused again and looked down to find her strength and after the long moments went uncounted as he was still there next to her and only looked at her face and never once complained about the subject matter, and never once rushed to cut her to the finish line. 

She knelled down to the ground like she was suddenly feeling cold and needed to be closer to the fire so he came down too with her. She continued again after wiping her eyes and as they both looked out to the black sea as she replayed the darkest history of her life. Ben had saved every dollar he made at the pizza parlour and wanted them to have enough to start their new lives after they graduate such as the apartment deposits, used cars and the furniture. He was already excited even from the end of their second year, they'd decided to stay on in Melbourne as Ben will sign up for the ISAP (International Student Apprenticeship Program) and stood a great chance for a paid training position with QANTAS, as she would continue for the MBA and to continue doing her shifts at "Little Panda." They celebrated their life plans by driving 5 days along the journey aiming for the Ayers Rock, the iconic calendar shot of the outback that they had been planning to visit from the first day they landed from Malaysia as they were both “Lion Kion” nerds as she recalled their mutual passions of road trips, and how they “switched driving” systematically and Benji thought she was the best travel buddy sent to him by God and they knew they would do this for the rest of their lives together. “We had never wanted to be so close we didn't care if we had to face circumstances because there won’t be any circumstances..” The fateful Spring vacation came to the tragic turn when Ben felt asleep in one moment when everything became too late to save as she woke up and caught him swerving like he was drunk when their car collided head on and into an animal transport truck while being outside of their own state of Victoria. Allah had mercy on her the 2AM truck was not pigs truck it was a wool sheep truck.. All the other Malaysian students knew in the span of twelve hours as she opened her eyes in a foreign hospital bed with a Malaysian official guarding next to her four days after the event with eleven breakages and seven fractures, two were near the spine that could’ve paralyzed her for life but Alhamdulillah, that didn’t happen. She understood by herself later in the rehab the magnitude of the tragedy that it was just random that Allah didn’t let her go with him that night, two days before her own birthday and for the rest of her life. His heart shattered as he saw her soft face harden and suddenly looked up and became so brave as she owned her own reality as tears of water tumbled down her golden cheeks and into the sinful fire.  

Ben died on impact and his remains were cremated and repatriated to Negeri Menggunung for his Methodist funeral by his own family as he was not on the government scholarship like her, while she was being irrelevant in Australia, as she laid there unmoved as she was shown the gate of hell but not allowed to die so she laid there in the same hospital and the next door rehab for the next 54 days her eyes were sharp like glass remembering facts of the chilling nights of the Australian Spring. Then heavy rain of tears fell into the hot sands as her long thin body shook as she wailed and called him for the first time by his name like she was dying;"Borr.., I left a part of me in Melbourne..” She wailed in the sea of tears.“I left a part of me in Melbourne.." she said again and she shook, and shook as her soul was destructed and destroyed into the pure ocean.  

Moments passed them by again before she regained her energy and continued with how Ben left without knowing he left a legacy in her and how could he knew it, she herself didn’t know it, even the hospital didn’t know it until half way through her rehabilitation and the entire quite Australian town was joyed by the news that the baby had been fine and healthy. She loved the coziness of baggy sweaters and by the time everything was found out openly by the Malaysian government back in Melbourne by mid Summer, Vivienne, the nice German woman, the Foreign Student Advisor at MIT and “only friend” during her ordeal stepped up and fought for her stay so she could continue her study as usual with doctors backing them up but they cut her dry and retracted the Ministry’s scholarships shortly in the end, not even long before the last final and all be done and her current CGPA at the time was above 3.5-, four days after the birth. The letter stated that there were no national budgets for a second person on flight so the baby cannot come so she rushed and fed her breast milk as she was extradited eight days later and a story with no name or picture about an “Ex overseas student learned hard lesson” published in local sections of the Malaysian Posts. She knew everyone knew..

Anggerik-Laksana is a girl so Ben’s family were not interested to pursue further.. Her long silk hair burnt like black gold by the fire in front of their knees as angel wings on the kindest eyes shattered diamond waters into their lazy waves.., they splashed quietly with sorrow of night violins along the shallow shore and cried with her as she hugged her own tiny self in the giant t-shirts and confessed the secret sin she committed.. as she waited for the judgment by the handsome king.  “Ya Allah.., you are so beautiful sayang..” He whispered as the king had lost his throne and extended his arm and reached behind the base of her scull and helplessly moved his head toward hers, and with all their eyes closed, he kissed the cool waterfall of her forehead.., so ever tenderly and long.., she woke up from the nightmare and felt like living for a moment by the pricking of his short beard. “Ampunkan saya (Pardon me my Lord) I didn’t tell you before.. Ampunkan saya for you have been too kind to me..” She finally said as he came down and kissed her salty wet lips.., and he sipped her sweetest taste as she dug her nails into his arm not wanting him to let go..

“HEY BETINA!!!” (“WHORE!!!”) Mohsin shouted as he suddenly appeared from the dark night and charged from the higher ground toward Borr in his long sarong pelikat (long cotton sarong skirt worn by Malay/Indian men) with his rubber flip-flops blowing white sands up his ass like a drunk rhino and he just flew off over the long giant log as his white kopiah (skull-cap) flung to the ground, good enough sin to be burned in Jahannam (Hell) but Borhan dodged him and tackled his knee by reflex and Mohsin stalled mid-air and clumsily crashed right into their sacred fire almost extinguished it all together but immediately jumped up screaming as he ran toward the water like he was swooped by an evil spirit and slammed his rhino body into the night ocean as the sinners fled the self-defence scene..

It was after two o’clock in the morning when he got home from the high-speed runaway, he was grateful that Mohsin didn’t bring his gang with him. He thought about Bonda as he paced back-and-forth trying to cool off before going in, in front of the super black tarred auto garages with his wet shirt dangled off his sweaty shoulder under the basket ball net hung from the top forsaken like a lost soul since Hammer and Dan had gone. He thought about their fight that sometimes happened between them but the fight earlier today was when he saw how lonely Mama has been since her best friend Daddy passed away. Maryana is busy with her diamond issues and always in London and Dubai these pass couple of years and spends more time in Singapore with her Chinese cousins than in Blue Bay. Nine months after Daddy passed, Kanda Hamzah (Dear Brother Hamzah “Hammer” along with two other cousins, Danial and Iskandar perished in a car crash in a winter storm in Germany-, when Borr himself was barred last minute from joining in for his shingles were not even going down. Bonda challenged him to ask all uncles and aunts that he will never get into Germany with those scary red dots. He cried for days when Uncle Mahmood raised the red flag as it was going to be their first boys trip overseas- sans parents. Isq (Iskandar) rented a Range Rover in Berlin and they were on their way to a ski resort in Harz Mountains when the “jeep” slipped and flipped over the edge and a hundred times more into the snowy cliff. The autopsy shown they had T.H.C in all their bloods including the two foreign European girls discovered along with them. And since then Bonda stopped speaking for 8 months with Uncle Mahmood, Danial’s Dear Father, stopped by on his way from his cancer hospital and checked on her almost on daily basis during her ordeal. He got choked silently under the tall and lush Chemara tree with his eyes heavy with rains of regrets. During their arguments today he saw Bonda’s eyes with the same sadness he saw when she lived in those eight months until the day she slashed open Pak Mat's black arm with her own broken glass for him trying to remove her Vodka bottle. She had given up drinking since her wedding to Daddy and that has been years since she last touched the canister. Maybe the new head covering business could also help deepen her devotion to Allah. He contemplated to make a quick visit to her wing and say good night as he climbed the split marble staircase when he heard a commotion so he walked faster along the moulded wall of

 green hallway toward the secret end of the south building and was surprised to see the high chestnut door was cracked opened so he barged in for surely somebody had broken in and he found her on her blue velvet sofa facing the shimmering brass sliding doors that were opened to her reading veranda with fluffy green leaves with pink and orange bougainvilleas glowed under the bright moon as they snuggled with each other in between the iron fence and up the spiral posts soaring towards the roof behind her tea table. He walked closer and saw her golden brown lock ala Farah Fawcett whipped to the side of her soft face with her lips looking young and pink and twitched slightly in secret pains with her slender wrist sparkled in grey African rocks and rested unconsciously on the low glass table, next to her own broken pieces of glass with her Grey Goose bottle laying with wet puddle on her Ikat Persian carpet, was a much better investment compared to a brand new Proton Saga but with something else was smelling rather off. "YA ALLAH Bonda, you're soiled..!” He declared in panic as he spotted the reddish stains on her Japanese black robe as Mek Jah appeared now and stood loyal by the door. “Just bring a tub!” He ordered and Auntie Jah scrambled and came back with a round enamel tub with small towels. “Never mind Mak Jah, I’ll take it from here..” He said as she nodded silently and closed the door and sprinted to Bonda’s bathing chamber and came back and sat the tub down on the other side of the king-size bed and he rushed back to the sofa and just scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the tiger clawed bed with carvings of hibiscus leaves spread through the high moon head crown. Her beautiful face shined by the warm light on the golden walls as he wiped her cheek and her mouth with the warm soapy clothe and down her youthful neck and chest, and he scrubbed the crusty stains on her lapel and the sleeve and rinsed it again and dabbed them over using another fresh dry towel as his eyes burnt in grief by the familiar fragrance of her hair. 

How could he leave her in two days..?

* * *  

He woke up to the unfamiliar sounds hours earlier than his flight back. The melodic versus of holy Quran played in the cool morning air so ever gently on the radio but who would do such a thing..? so he followed on his longfoot steps until he arrived in Bonda's chamber and he saw her on the velvet praying carpet reciting the Quran after SUBUH, the first solat prayer of the day performed before the rise of the morning sun. He had never seen her in the full white prayer gown except during Eid maybe that only her beautiful face that was left to be seen.. With the most calming melody she ended her recitation with; “Sadakallahh-huul-Azeemmm.....” and he felt weak by the angel’s voice and crouched to the carpet to be with mama as she welcomed him from under pure white gown her beautiful face glowed like Allah, as he cried and called for mama with his head on her lap..., as his mama cried with him as she combed and caressed his soft straight hair..

* * *  

He had nine minutes until the gate closed as he looked out through the glass wall to the waiting Fokker F-50 plane outside with it’s propeller spinning gently, warming up under the golden blue sky with passengers scooting along the grassy pavement to board. He prayed and prayed to Allah for hope and he just kept praying. He never had problems with returning until now and was contemplating to just burn this lag. It's less than 24 hours now until his main SWISS Airlines flight leaves Singapore but maybe he just change the date but this one is leaving in 10 minutes! He spun around helplessly like a lost puppy in front of the shiny metal phones lining on the wall. It’s been two days and she still didn’t pick up the phone even her emak suddenly stopped picking up also so he knew she unplugged the phone. His heart stopped as he turned and looked up and saw her silhouette in her dark blue kebaya with fine silver lace on the long collar..,, the same one that he saw her in when they first met barely three weeks ago as she walked up closer in her bamboo sandals with her long batek sarong (traditional long hand-printed skirt) hugging her slender legs, and she stopped just a few feet away with half her face hidden in the long silky white shawl. His strong nose burnt by the sudden fury as he lurched forward and looked desperately for the sacred key to her eyes and dived in as soon as he found it and into her beautiful soul.

"I can’t seem to let go of you.." He said with his long eyes glistened like black marble his thick lashes wet and clumped like black ancient swords. "You made me want to succeed my previous life and begin a new one.” Tears fell free as she looked up, taking in everything of him as much as she could as old giant clock on the high wall was ticking like gold in their moments of silence. “I will use my strength to protect you sayang.., never to hurt you.." He said as he lifted his hand and cautiously cupped her small chin and she jerked away as it hurt and the white shawl fell of the blackest hair in slow motion and crashed on her crumbling thin shoulders and a large and fragrant white petals suddenly bloomed on her ear. But the hurt was suddenly gone by his warm healing touch and as gently as a dove feather, he diverted the tears with his thumb so they would fall into his own hand. He could barely touch the nasty cut on her temple, half her high cheek bone was bashed black-and-blue as they stood and faced each other in the airy hall as their souls were dying but the thirst for potion to live were too great all they needed to do to survive is just to drink of each other. Her hand trembled as she reached for the white hibiscus on her small ear it's thick cool petals wet like tears from the sound of sad Chinese harp quiet and crisp in the high ceiling speakers as she handed it to him.  

"May I have your attention please..!" The low sweet voice echoed through out the high domestic terminal building."Air Malaysia flight AM21, flight AM twenty-one to Kuala Lumpur; this is the last call for passenger Tuan Borhanudin Helmi...-,” the voice paused abruptly and resumed;“This is the last call for passenger Yang Mulia (“Your Nobility”) Tuan Borhanuddin Helmi Chen, kindly check for boarding immediately, the gate will be closed in five minutes, thank you!"  

"Sayang I have to go.." Borr whispered to her sad eyes and stuck his hand into his deep pocket, and pulled out jingling metal keys and clenched the ring opened with his strong white teeth and rolled out a golden piece. "Hold these!" he ordered as she got alarmed suddenly by his strange action as he handed the key and the flower back to her and swiftly went to the back of his own neck and in a split second the sparkling necklace came undone and he snapped the golden key off of her fingers and slammed it through the silver chain and reached over to the back of her neck and locked them forever with the very chain as her broken lips trembled as she looked at his.  

"Borr, you stink..!" she whispered at him and he jumped at the sincere comment and turned red like shrimp. "Shit, the deodorant got packed in and I forgot.. I brushed my teeth though, heh, see..?? He grinned to her face like she was a mirror but stopped his silliness as Mel looked down to mend the watershed. "It's the smell that would be the hardest.." She said, closing her eyes as the pressure from inside was too much now to bare. How he wanted to kiss her pain away his heart bled once more as he barely touched the dried blood on the lower lip with the tender of his knuckle, his eyes bloodshot dripping with rage as he recaptured the red and blue of her cheek if he was the ruling king, the fat bastard would already be at the market square so folks will get to see the process of Mohsin’s painful death. He touched her small chin and lifted it with his finger and said; "I can't live in Melbourne sayang..., but you should bring Anggerik-Laksana to New York.. and if you be with me, I promise you will have a home....and I will let you wear the Kebayas until we both get old.." She trembled as she brought her fragrant hand up to his face so near to his full moist lips his breaths steamed in her palm as calm waterfalls welled out of her glistening eyes and tumbled down to the shinny floor."It has been an honor to have met you your majesty.." she said in her dying voice as she touched the dangerous scar that split his thick black brow he always knew she always looked at so he will let her now and waited until she was done and satisfied.. How he wanted to kiss her so much that kissing her now would be the only reason to live. Hot spring burnt his eyeballs as he realized she just let go they filled heavily in the lines and a drop of water dripped and absorbed into her palm and she was too overwhelmed to discover that even god could cry..

He bowed down to her head and kissed the base of her fleecy hair line long and soft.. then he pulled her small hand and reclaimed the large white flower off her. "I will keep it safe until the day we come and meet each other again..” Then he let go of her elbow and turned around and galloped like a white horse into the tall opened glass doors to the waiting security officials. Her views were getting cloudy as she watched him go, as her small hand still clutching tight the golden key on her own beating heart..

Bersambung..