car troubles and my bestie :)

you know that feeling inside when you call your best friend and ask how to open your car bonnet? and ask  them wear to find the bonnet popping lever in YOUR car? imagine that added on by the fact that you called them in their first nap in 32 hrs after a long day... yea, that's how i feel right now. just a little more than lucky and grateful :)

p/s: i also hung up and then called back to find out how to close my car bonnet properly. man KV has patience! ;)

ikan bakar - fish grilled in banana leaves, covered in spicy marinate

Rathi was not sure why she was there. She knew she liked spending time with him, he had the right balance of light hearted humour and awkward charm. She knew she liked sharing odd details with him. She also knew of his taste in girls and that she was nowhere near that range.

She stared at a back that was becoming fast becoming familiar to her. He had his blazer off and was wearing a light blue work shirt with small white stripes. Rathi looked away and waited for him to take the escalator down one floor to where she stood – Baskin Robbins.

“I should play it cool,” she thought to herself and decided she would be all grown up about it. Instead she turned and smiled as he walked along the row of shops towards her. She did not realize it then but she was smiling for a good five minutes, taking in his slightly rolling gait, the slight stubble and his loafers.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked as he walked up to her.

“Dinner would be good,” Rathi said a bit stupidly. “Ikan bakar?” she added quickly, trying to save a measure of dignity.

“Ok, suggestions as to where? The best ikan bakar I know of is right here in this mall.” His smile was slow and Rathi was pretty certain he had no clue as to what it was doing to her insides. At least she hoped he did not.

“There’s this place in Damansara. I think. Went there once and I’ve yet to find a place better than that. How? Ok ah?”

James shrugged. “The thing is I parked over at the Gardens. You don’t mind the walk, do you?”

Rathi laughed. “Sure beats taking the commuter.”

They walked along, chatting about nothing much in particular. They spoke about Baskin Robbins and about how he once donned a pink hairband and another friend flashed a pink bra to get the Wednesday discount and Rathi wondered in a small corner of her mind if she had ever owned a pink bra.

Then they got to the car park and James was frowning. “I think I parked on this side,” he said a bit hesitantly and led the way up the ramp and then stopped short. The look on his face as he turned around was so comical it made Rathi laugh in bed for months to come. “The car’s on the other side.” They walked back down the ramp and took the ramp leading to the oppsite side of the car park.

James tried to keep a straight face but he could see the flicker of a laugh on the face of the small woman he was with. He led her to his pride and joy, a red Ford, as old as him, but somehow intimately connected to each of his phases of life. He watched as she pressed her hand against the windshield at a McD’s drivethru sticker.

“So you have this and have yet to stick your roadtax, eh?” she asked quizzically.

“A man’s gotta get his priorities in life right, you know?” James grinned as she laughed a most unladylike laugh and told her a patchy history of his Ford and how it had covered 1000km within the KL-selangor radius within a week more than once.

Rathi smiled and inside she wondered again why he went through so much of trouble for other people and why they hardly knew anything about him as a person. Everything people had said about him being a lady’s man could be true, but all she saw was a pretty normal guy who she liked whiling away the hours with.

She noticed his firm grip on the steering, the relaxed manner with which he shifted gear. She blinked a bit and turned to look out of the window to stop herself from staring and remembering ridiculous details like his stubby fingers with squarish nails or the strong chin or short thick eyelashes.

“Ok so we’re at Damansara uptown, now where is it?”

Rathi squinted at the buildings. “This is where Farah works and did you know 99 Speedmart has the cheapest milk powder?” Saying that she kicked herself inwardly. Way to go to impress a guy, talk grocery shopping list with him. “Let me get the directions, ok? I know there’s a Famous Amos shop opposite the hawker centre.”

James frowned a bit as she asked for directions and grinned when she said she had directed him to the wrong place. They were supposed to go to SS2.

“Oh my God, did you just get me lost in my own backyard? The irony…” the melodrama in his voice made them laugh. He pulled over to the side of the road and Rathi watched as he determinedly tapped on his phone screen and GoogleMapped the hawker centre.

Twenty minutes later they were seated under the KL sky, yellow bulbs shining overhead as they tucked into ikan bakar, claypot chicken rice and popiah nyonya. She remembered his need to drown the fish in sambal and his ironic humour as he recounted work to her. They laughed over common friends and how their friends were convinced that something was up between the two of them.

As James laughed it off, Rathi told him how he was supposedly dating two other women at the same time, all mere speculations and how she had told a friend that it was his life and he could date whomever he fancied. She listened as to how he had developed feelings for one and was best friends with the other. She remembered how each guy friend she had ever known had fallen head over heels for both of these girls. Rathi looked down a bit self-consciously at her yellowed nails; yellowed from the saffron she had rubbed into the fish she had cooked earlier in the day. She could feel her appetite lessening as he described how those two girls were every guy’s dream girls and Rathi was enthralled. “So that was definitely his type of girl, eh?” she thought to herself.  

“So leaving on Wednesday, huh?” his sudden question brought her out of her reverie.

“Yup,” she replied, nodding. “It has been a good summer, you’ve made it a bit more interesting.”

James’ expression was unreadable as they drove back. They were racing against the clock as he had an appointment with his mother. His phone rang and he picked up.

“Which girl you with now?” Rathi could hear his mother ask teasingly on the phone. “Amma will be a bit late, Aiya,” she heard her say.

“It’s OK, Amma, I’ll just hang out with my friend a bit longer.” Saying that he hung up, smiled at Rathi and made a U-turn at the traffic light. “Let’s maximize our time together, shall we?”

Rathi laughed and wondered if he knew how charming his subtle wit was. They drove back to PJ and swapped stories on PJ outings, his more social oriented, Rathi’s a bit more commonplace.

“You do realize we’re going around this roundabout for a second time, right?” Rathi pointed out.

“Ah, damn, you noticed,” his voice was light. “It’s just nice, driving around, I do it at times.”

“Indicator’s still on,” Rathi said and smiled at the flash of annoyance in the corner of his eye. It felt shockingly comfortable, spending time with this person she was just getting to know.

His phone rang again. He was to go get his mum in fifteen minutes.

The drive back was relatively silent, each lost in thought.

“The white gate,” Rathi said, aware that she might never see him again. “Thanks for dinner, twas good.”

He held out his hand. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Rathi stared at that hand for a while then smiled and reached out for an awkward half hug. She felt the slightest sense of relief as he hugged her back and then they drew apart and she opened the door. She was about to close it again, but then bent down and said seriously, “You still owe me Vitagen you know, I guessed your passion for cars and interest in photography without even knowing you.”

His slow smile wreaked the same havoc on her insides and she gripped the car door a bit more firmly. “You should have reminded me, next time OK?”

Rathi nodded, not trusting herself to answer.

She closed the door and waved. The car did not move. She sighed. He was obviously one of the few guys left that wouldn’t leave until she was safe inside the house. She locked the gate and watched the red car move away.

“Hi, Farah,” she said a bit listlessly, suddenly feeling empty. “Gonna change.” Rathi went into her room and sat on the edge of her bed. So what if she did not see him anymore, she would still try and keep in contact with him. Being his friend was all she wanted, right? Not like he would look at her in any other way. But why had he made that U-turn and that unneeded roundabout circling? What was that? Was that how he was with all the girls? Rathi shook her head.

“Stop over analyzing. He’s being a friend, hopefully enjoying your company as much as you enjoy his,” she muttered under her breath. She giggled as she remembered how she had gotten a hug back.

45 minutes later she dialed his number. “Back home safe?” she asked him.

“Yup, made it just before the weekend jam. What’s plans for the night?”

They kept talking for a while more and as they shared stories and she told him how she was checking out his ex-girlfriends, he wondered what was going on. He decided he’d just go with the flow. After all she was leaving in a few days, and she was the nerd of the group. No way in hell she was developing an attachment for him. She had already established that she did not believe in relationships and had even ‘promoted’ one of her childhood friends as someone he should consider for a serious relationship. Serious relationship. Like he needed one right now. Or ever.

Somehow Rathi’s direct interest in him had a sort of magnetic pull. There was no guile there, at least none he could sense. She was a strange person, hardly the run of the mill girl people fell for. Eh wait what was he thinking. He smiled and went to do his laundry, trying to understand why Rathi kept talking to him or texting him or why he did the same. Boredom, perhaps?

The next morning when he woke up, he looked at his phone. No text message yet. Then his phone vibrated. It was from Rathi. He smiled as he read the message. It was nice to have a friend by him day in and day out. He remembered telling her how he had not texted or called anyone this much since his last relationship. He remembered how he had said it in passing but had looked at her for a response.

It would never work, whatever it is they were playing at. But for as long as it made them both happy, he’d keep at it. It was not as if either of them was looking for anything serious.

Prologue: James and Rathi are currently dating, nothing serious, just taking things as they come. But they’ve worked out a confidant system and have reached the you-annoy-me-lah stage and are still there in each other’s faces day in and day out. Neither one believes in relationships up till today.

*disclaimer: similarities to real events and people living or dead is almost purely coincidental

Over

The semester, my undergrad life. New beginnings, continuations, whichever way I want my loved ones there each day. God willing..

Insecurities

You know the normal story

How he loves you and leaves?

Fights and lies mar the memory

Tears fall for a time so brief?

Then you wake up from the stupor

Heart barricaded, crocodiles fed

Then you wake up from the stupor

Resolute to not be in pain and sad

Then you wake up from the stupor

But the crocodiles have become meaner

You’ve fed them don’t you see,

The unnamed beasts have been fed!

You smile again, survive and dance away,

No mention of crocodiles by any breadth

Brave upfront yet afraid to let ‘em in,

The friends you haven’t met at arm’s length

You laugh and go through the routine…

Until…

One day the meticulous dams break

The fortress falls to ruins over time

Your armour rusts off piece by blasted piece

You let your guard slip, unknowingly perhaps?

And someone makes it in:

A friend you can trust

Someone who cares in too blatant a way

No deception, just plain sincerity

Honesty so painful that the beasts are silenced

And even you begin to think ‘em slain

Then something reminds you they’re there

Watching, waiting, hungry for a morsel…

And yet the friend stays

‘For some crocodiles,’ he says

‘You need to wield the knife yourself

I killed nine of ten

I left you one, just one tiny one

To help you grow, to help you decide

And through it all, I’ll be at your side’

‘So fuck the crocodile,’ I say

‘Let’s go catch that movie at nine’

Istanbul and Me

Hi all :) Been some time since i read a decent blog, much less posted one. Been kinda preoccupied, my apologies. Nyways, here I am, 6 days into my winter hols, uploading a few pictures from our 3-day transit in Istanbul on the way home last summer. Just to add a dimension to it, am tacking on some feelings to each image.

An old tree in the Hagia Sophia Musuem. A lot of wonder and enthusiasm was poured into Ottoman relics and bejeweled daggers and teapots (yes, there was a ruby inlaid teapot), but just as much amazement and awe was found in this tree, hollow inside, yet still providing shade. 

When I see you with another, this is is how I feel. Like there's something gnawing at me from the inside out, but yet I stand there, unwilling and unable to move. Jealousy and Commitment.

A pup on the grounds of the Sultan Ahmet (Blue) Mosque. I come from a Muslim country and transiting in yet another Muslim country, I was touched to see the casual passerby feed stray dogs and cats alike. And shockingly, the stray looks almost like a pure breed Lab, don't you think?

Each moment spent with a loved one is like the moment the pup had, lying in the sun on the fluffy green green grass. A feeling of comfort and peace. Content :)

This is the replica of the candle chandeliers they had in the Hagia Sophia Cathedral. The Cathedral is easily one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen - even in the state of reconstruction it was in! Despite the 70 odd tourists in the same building complex, there was a calm about the area, unmatched in any other part of Istanbul.

Sharing small everyday things with a loved one switches on a myriad of bulbs in me, each one almost routine, but not a single mundane one unimportant. Many small things that matter to me, that keep me warm inside.

The curved domes of the Sultan Ahmet Mosque, the interior covered entirely by mosaic. Another intiguing thing is that this building has no corners, each angle is rounded. The prevailing hues of blue and gold gives it its alternative name - the Blue Mosque. And apparently it's considered sunnah for a Muslim to pray here. Aside from the central mosques in Mecca, this mosque is another one of the holy centres of Islam, or so a friend told me.

Beauty at a glance, but as we consider each slab of mosaic, we realise that's what we are. Just stone without others around us. And we realise that each of us contribute to make the bigger picture that much more alluring as we reach out to others. Humanity.

Blue sky with distant clouds, the deep blue sea. A view from the grounds surrounding the Hagia Sophia Museum. A warning to the wary, the grounds is extensive and it took us fairly fit individuals a full 10 hrs to complete it without break. There are benches around for people to sit and catch their breath, but we were on a  tight schedule and each wonder had us trotting form one to the next ceaselessly, like workaholics on amphetamine.

The want in us to seek greener pastures. The drive to go the distance and race along to an unknown destination. The stuff of dreams and that which fuels aspirations and consistent hardwork. Ambition. 

We had the chance to take the Bosphorus cruise and view the East and West banks of Istanbul. Surprisingly the cruise is government run and it costed 3 Lira - I think! I cant remember for sure now :P... 3 Lira is approximately 3USD, which works out to about 10bucks of my home currency. Not too steep a price for travelling students I feel :) Each cruise ship had floats lined up one the sides like this one and we saw the remnants of the old forts and watchtowers, the homes of the wealthy, lush greenery that later reminded me of Kerala a bit, and the famous Bosphorus bridge, a picture of which I think we and has to be somewhere in the collection of Istanbul pictures.

For a person afraid of open water, you make me want to jump into the cold waters anyway. Why? You make me feel safe and cared for, that's why. Security.

     The Hagia Sophia Cathedral and the Sultan Ahmet Mosque stand as symbols of religious renaissance in Istanbul. Also The Spice Bazaar, Central Bazaar, lighthouse, Caverna Basilica (which is eerily beautiful!), and the Hagia Sophia Museum are places not to be missed. 

     Will try to dig up some pictures and write another post some time :) 

     Oh and if you're at Istanbul, do walk along the tramline, use the tram with their cute red tokens, try their non-melting icecream, drink their apple tea, and don't forget to try their small ring shaped pastry with kas-kas on it. If you arent a travelling student on a  tight budget, Turkish tapestries and rugs should be on your wish list too :P 

     Turkey is worth the visit..! :)

Crustaceanness

First off I know I've been MIA and not commenting on your blogs and all. But I'm home and that means little or no spare me time, so bear with me. When I get back to uni I'll catch up on all I've missed. I hope :)

Being home's weird. Hard facts hit home, old friends rediscovered, new friends make waves in our lives. The family never changes at the core though and I like that. That's what coming home means. PEOPLE I belong to. And I've found that I can find that in something other than blood relatives. I'm not too sure what to make of it though.

My family's my family and I've always known they'll be around to catch me and I've never wanted anyone else to cushion any falls before this. Now, I'm afraid that I've become dependent. Yeah, I used the D word. Dependent. And it nags at me.

I've always been me, doing what I want when I want. I'm not a rebel nor a trend-setter. I'm just content to be and believe that in whatever I do, I need to do it right. Now I've begun wondering what THEY think of me. These new people I've become dependent on. And I don't like it.

I'm afraid that these bonds will be severed come a few weeks, coz face it I have massive commitment issues and I know I might end up walking away. I just hope they keep me coming back for more because from where I'm standing right now, the view's pretty good and if I do have to budge, I hope I try to scale this mountain again.

~There's always gonna be another mountain, I'm always gonna wanna make it move~ Yep. I was inspired by Hannah Montana. Lolx.

Back to my train of thoughts. Actually winding country road of thoughts would be more appropriate.

I find myself with this insane need to UNDERSTAND people. I know. Knock me flat and call me blind. I've always liked being able to read people, figure out what makes them work. Hence the field I'm in right now. But there've been a couple of people of late where I want to know every single mundane detail. I wish people came in cans with the ingredients written on the label, along with the calorie count. Then I wouldn't become so bloody obsessed with figuring them out and I can go back to being nice old peace-loving garden-weeding couldnt-give-a-damn-bout-who's-not-talking-to-whom me.

Might as well wish I was a crustacean living in the Pacific then, huh?

Bottom line is this. I'm interested, aware of my inability to commit longterm, too curious even for my usual nosiness, annoyed at myself, slightly excited at my non-crustaceanness.What, I cant be all a lump of cynicism, now can I? I need to believe in SOME things.

I believe in NON CRUSTACEANNESS among other things :)

p/s: Crustaceans feature big in my blog, all for different reasons. I'm gonna have to start a label on that soon. Soon-ish

Fire

You can't really fight it with fire, can you? And if you were gonna fight it with ice, wouldn't you lose your ammunition? And not fighting it aint an option. Maybe we should starve it, decline it of fuel. And keep combustible materials far away. But wouldn't that be morally wrong? Almost inhumane? And why can't we just walk away? Because we're family? Because we're honour-bound? We stick around even when it makes us hurt. Because we have each toher. When one tires, the other steps in. Like the fire-brigade. Except we don't wear uniforms. Then we joke about it over tea, making the gigantimous seem almost trivial. That's just what we do.

Conforming?

Let Go - His

Your smile’s always kind, polite;

Your conversation ceaselessly bright;

When we go out, you’re dressed to the nines;

And your humour is a definite gold mine,

But never once have I seen you let go:

I haven’t yet heard you chuckle or yawn,

Nor have your eyebrows come together in frown;

Your aura always seems a controlled brown,

And the golden halo is your perfect crown;

But I want to watch how you let go:

To dare and be more than society’s norm,

To be a bit crazy and let your hair down;

I’ll stand by you as you let it all go

Because, I only want to know the real you,

Not the shadow propriety can subdue.

Like always, each person gets his and her say for the sake of balance.

Today, Yesterday, Tomorrow - Hers

It felt good to see you again,

You in your T- shirt, its colour a bit waned,

Your humour light, as humble as rain,

Yet there were many things changed:

The way you looked so long at me,

As I searched for the rebel within;

The appreciative slight nod at me,

As you watched me frown, laugh and grin;

We were just not the same, were we?

I have changed you see,

Irrepressible daredevil no longer,

I am not who I used to be,

I am now a very different me.

Gone is the glaring individuality

I’ve become less of an eccentricity.

Experiences gained and friends lost,

Have made me that much more calmer,

Dreams let go off, achievements reached,

Have made me judgemental and stronger,

I’ve been moulded by the passing of time

And assimilated the rest traits you see.

And if you don’t much fancy the new me,

Then do us a favour, leave and let me be

Don’t expect me to turn back the clock for you

I cannot go back to who I once used to be

Or you could just hang around and learn:

To accept me as I am today

To remember what I was yesterday

And dare to stand by me as I grow tomorrow.

So what do you say?

The guy just wanted back the girl he had known and wondered why she would conform to an ideal she had not upheld previously. The girl, apparently not having an answer to that question, is just asking him to go with the flow and see what comes of it for she cannot undo the changes that she has made (has been made?) to herself.

Isn’t conforming part and parcel of everyday life? If not we’d find people walking around with leaves as clothes, using blood to write, sleeping in the bathroom and peeing in the kitchen and only heaven knows what else.

We do it for society, our family and friends, work, strangers, world peace (??) and ourselves. We do it knowingly and unknowingly. I feel Sigmund Freud-ish here.

I mean, all of us are rebels in our own ways, and allowing oneself to fit into society isn’t all that wrong, now, is it?

Peanut Butter vs. Marmite – A Matter of Choice

http://www.notjustbeans.com/images/peanut-butter-spoon.jpg

You’re like peanut butter.

The smooth richness of your talk, the heavenly aroma of something nice and the crunchy bite of your wit and humour, all made complete by the outer packaging that’s just too alluring to the eyes.

Just one bite assures a craving for more.

But when you are there, the throat swells up, words won’t come out right, the heart starts pounding and chest starts heaving as I gasp to breathe. Once you’re in the system, my BP starts going nuts, I break out in cold sweat and my heart palpitates, rhythm gone awry and I truly believe that I’m about to die.

You’re like peanut butter.

You set off an anaphylactic reaction in me.

You’re like peanut butter, the ultimate temptation, the one who gives me a glimpse of heaven and hell all at once.

You’re like peanut butter, perfection on the supermarket shelf. You’re the one I walked right past by because you’re no good for me.

Now marmite is all I need to get me through the day. An acquired taste, I know, a humble one too. Without your pomp and marketing, but see, peanut butter’s the unattainable ideal and marmite’s the real flavour of life.

And I choose marmite.

Courage and Determination. Herbs

“Courage doesn't always roar.  Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says ‘I'll try again tomorrow’…” 

- Mary Anne Radmacher -

“You lose half the battle when you lose faith”

- My sister, though she may have gotten it from elsewhere! -

“Any idiot can fail. To be truly great, dare to fail big, get up and face the world and try again and again till you get it right”  

- I think it’s from a movie, the title of which escapes me right now :P. Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Durnst, I think...-

“Success : 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration”

-Thomas Edison -




Talking of courage, guess who tried making white sauce WITHOUT garlic? Hehe... turned out pretty decent though, thanks to the oregano, basil n bay leaf. And boy do basil and bay leaf have a BOLD taste. Completely unlike Western spices, but it's not nice to stereotype anyone or anything, even if it's just a bunch of herbs, so pretend I didn't say that, aite? ;)


Ooh-kay... too much talk about dried up leaves and stuff sprouting from the ground. Sleep deprivation talking here...


Good night, all. Am gonna eat and sleep and hopefully wake up in time to study :)

Life’s Drama: Lies and Forgiveness

Adam looked at the two adults seated at the same table and he thought back to the day that this had all begun:

“You talk too much!” the lady’s voice had been harsh with hardly suppressed anger.

“You should know,” the man had almost sneered at the beautiful woman dressed smartly in calf-length skirt and a light blue blouse. “Judging a person’s talk is what you do at work anyway and you never knew how to keep work and personal life separate, now did you?”

Adam had just looked on in bewilderment, gripping the handle of his little plastic mug tight, unsure of what to do.

“Are you saying something here? If you are, say it outright! We’re both adults. Aren’t we?” Her voice had become louder and louder and her eyebrow had shot up, a danger signal that the man knew very well.

“You want me to utter those filthy words. Words that you have no qualms about acting out.” He had wanted her to hurt. She deserved to after the hell she had put him through.

“I have had enough!” Her fists had been clenched into tight balls. “You are jumping to conclusions, and I will not stoop to your level! You did it before, you think I didn’t know? Well, I do and I think of it everyday and I-would-love-to-do-the-same-to-you!” Her words had been grated out between clenched teeth.

“You ungrateful ….!” The man had brought his fist down on the glass coffee table, shattering it in one violent movement and drowning out the rest of his words.

Adam had felt the tears falling and his chest had clenched in fear. “Mummy?” he had managed through his sobs. “Why are you and Daddy fighting?”

“We aren’t fighting, honey,” the lady had told him.

The man had been swearing under his breath.

“Jaan, you’re bleeding.” She had grabbed the table cloth and reached out for his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” he had snarled and stalked out of the room, a fury burning within his throat. 

Anger at her for seeking solace in another, anger at himself for not being able to deny her accusations. Disgust at himself for the accusations he had hurled at her, disgust at her for not honouring her vows. Fear for their home. Pity for Adam.

The cool wind from the porch had hit his face, helping him breathe a little easier. His hand had begun to throb where the glass pieces had pierced through.

“Da?” The voice had shook slightly.

The man had turned to face his eight-year-old. “Come here, son.”

The boy had gone to the man’s side. “Mummy asked you to hold the hand tight and wrap it in this,” the child had told him, brown eyes big and saucer-like as he held out a dish cloth. “Does it hurt, Da? Shall we go to the doctor?”

The man had laughed a short curt laugh. “I am a doctor, Adam.”

The boy had nodded and kept quiet for a minute. “I thought you told Mummy that she was always your doctor?” His brows had been furrowed as he tried to recall a memory.

“I’m not sure that’s true anymore.” The man’s voice had been gruff.

“Do you have another doctor now?” the boy had asked seriously.

“Jaan, get into the car. You probably need stitches.” The lady had appeared at the doorway with her handbag slung over one shoulder.

“Mummy, why are you crying?” Adam had asked noticing her tear-streaked face.

“Stop being melodramatic. I’m the one with the bleeding hands.”

“Just shut the hell up and get into the car.” Her voice had been cool. She knew her ability to keep an even temper infuriated her husband even more than her anger.

“Let me tell you what you can do with the car…” His voice had been dangerous and his eyes glinting as he advanced on her, pinning her against the white walls of the porch.

“Daddy, stop…!” Adam had started crying again as he watched his mother’s face pale with fear.

“Jaan, I never slept with him,” the lady had whispered into his broad shoulders. “There was flirting, but it was on his side.”

“You lie,” he had growled in a low voice.

“You believe what you want. I made it seem that way because I was mad at you about Anita.”

“What?” His dark eyes had been fixed on her face.

“She told me that…”

The man had taken two steps backwards. “That’s untrue. You actually believed her?” His tone had been incredulous.

“Why would she lie?”

“I wish I knew…”

“So, shared custody?” his father asked his mother and his polite voice cut through Adam’s reverie.

“Agreed. We’ll sell the house and car and share the sum equally.”

Now they were signing a whole sheaf of papers.  His father was in a hurry, he was going to meet Aunty Anita for tea. His mother’s cell phone beeped and she picked up the call.

“Hi, honey,” she said into the mouthpiece and Adam saw his father grimace.

His father had said that his mother was going to marry a friend from work but he still looked at her in the same way and at nights sometimes his mother cried herself to sleep and mumbled his father’s name in her troubled slumber.

The nine-year-old looked at the two adults who had been the pillars of his life and wondered how they failed to see what was so clear to him.

He watched the weave of the pen across the divorce papers as they signed the agreement to end their marriage and Adam felt hollow inside. He felt helpless and wished he could do something to make it right again. He watched and wished that they would see and understand that he did not want this.

“Take care then.” Adam stood by his father as his mother walked away and he heard the shallow intake of breath from his father and knew that it was a sigh of regret.

Adam wanted to cry but instead he put his hand into his father’s and held on tightly, willing him some comfort.

“Mummy won’t be coming back. She’ll be happier this way,” his father said softly as the black Toyota pulled away.

Adam wondered if what his father had said was true and wondered if his father actually believed it to be true. Adam wondered if his father was just pretending to be OK, like his mother was. Adam wondered how much longer he could wear the façade of the shoulder to lean against for his parents for he too was pretending not to hurt inside.

“All the world is a play and we are but actors in it”             -William Shakespeare -

“Forgive and forget. Easier said than done.”                        - Anon -