Windmills of my mind

It's like clockwork.

Whenever the rooster crows at the first light of day, my mind wanders back to a time in my childhood where my sisters and I would spend our school holidays in Kampung Bharu. Anyone who are close to the family knows that my maternal grandmother loves her flock of chickens so much, that she'd rather stay at home than taking a long trip somewhere for a bit of R&R.

Among others, the morning crowing reminds me of the method used by my grandma to wake us up sleepyheads, who were used to sleep in late at our own house on a non-school day and more so during the term holidays. I had always dreaded sleeping over at my grandma's for this sole reason - she would simultaneously switch on the lights and switch off the overhead fan while intoning the words (in Malay of course) that "An early riser catches the worm!"

In our zombie state, we dragged ourselves out of the mattresses laid out on the floor, splashed dibs of cold freezing water over our small bodies and obediently headed downstairs to eat breakfast. And for the rest of the day, we tried our best to get out of her hair!

For the life of me, I cannot recall where my parents went or what they were doing when they ferried us to our grandma's house for a few days. They must be using the time away from us as a breather to catch up with one another. That, or they were busy spring-cleaning the house in our absence.

Or probably it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave us with our Nenek since we were enjoying ourselves so much over there, despite her fastidious regime, and took it upon ourselves to stay the night.

You see, during this time, my sisters and I had become acquainted with the children of Nenek's neighbour, who was renting Nenek’s old house situated at the back of the current one. The three children - Wati, Arlen and Ira - fell easily into our siblings-only circle, for some inexplicable reasons. Perhaps, as children, we were not predisposed to judgment calls or petty squabbles compared to when we are adults.

From my belated recollection, they were the offspring of a recent immigrant couple from Sumatra. As a kid, further details as to how and why they moved to Malaysia were of no import. In my uncomplicated mind, "They came from Indonesia and they are nice people."

With Rafiz - another timid Malay boy living at the nearby flat - rounding up the gang, we played many children games together, mostly outdoors like Galah Panjang, Lompat Getah, Polis Entry (or is it Sentry?), and Pukul Berapa Datuk Harimau. When we got bored or the weather turned dreary, indoor games like Snap, Happy Family and Congkak became the obvious choices. At times, my younger cousin, Lindsey, joined us for a bit of fun too, as long as she could keep up with us, the older kids.

Even on the customary weekend's visit to my Nenek's - when we were still living in Shah Alam - we would seek them out to play by going over to their house. Their mom would always be ready to let us in, with a weary smile likely attributed from the seemingly unending household chores. I can still remember hearing the popular tunes of Endang S.Taurina and Hetty Koes Endang as I approached their frontdoor to invite them out to play. The black cassette player on top of the table in their quaint living room locked inside my memory to this very day.

As our friendship grew closer, they even came along for the compulsory second day of Raya visits to Kampung Subang, Kuala Selangor, Kapar and back to our house. The gales of laughter permeating the air as we ran across the lawn in Kapar and played Hide & Seek around the bungalow in Kuala Selangor, etched permanently in the deep recess of my mind ever willing for retrieval as and when I need to salve a wearied soul.

On the language front, my grandma, who possesses the knowledge of conversational Javanese, was able to communicate breezily with the parents while we equipped ourselves with an arsenal of ingenious schemes and persistent harassment with the kids. But seriously, I don't remember having any difficulties talking with Wati, Arlen or Ira. Ira, the shyest and youngest of them all, was initially wary of us but frequent playtime dissolved any lingering doubts of sincerity and fears of our 'alien' presence respectively.

When I turned 10 however, my father was transferred for work to Kuala Terengganu, and we had to move out of Shah Alam for the duration. It took sometime getting adjusted to another foreign language in Terengganu, but our close sibling bond assisted the process. As a result, we were only able to see Wati, Arlen and Ira during the school holidays or Raya. Unfortunately, the long distance and the pangs of growing up further drifted us apart.

Amusingly, I remember when my Nenek remarking that we shouldn’t play freely with the boys i.e., Arlen and Rafiz because we have grown up now so as to avoid unnecessary gossips and complaints from her well-meaning (read: nosy) neighbours. We were only 11-going-on-12 at the time and I found it incredulous that she could come to such a narrow conclusion. When we* eventually moved back to Shah Alam at the end of our Standard Five education (that’s 11-year-old), they had already made their own set of firm friends in Kampung Bharu. Wati, who was much older (probably two years senior) than us, had enrolled into the secondary school and indulged in different ‘interests’ from ours.

If I’m not mistaken, the whole family moved house to a place in Gombak or thereabouts at the time when we* entered Form One (that’s 13-year-old), thus abruptly ending the chapter on our childhood friendship. Even though there were times when they would subsequently come to Kampung Bharu for Raya, we often missed them due to the bad timing of our arrival.

Coming back from the States and working, I did receive two of their wedding invites from my grandma which, save for her and my uncle, went unattended because of my unforgivable preoccupation with a budding love life! The last time I saw one of them was in Ampang Point, two years ago and it was the petite Ira. While she looked older, she still retained that pair of cherubic cheeks and an affable disposition. I, on the other hand, was still dazed and exhausted from assuming the new role of a mother. As if an indication how things have changed, we exchanged a few inquiring words and turned awkward when we ran out of ideas.

It’s funny how a rooster crowing could trigger a deluge of wonderful memories. The outdoor and indoor games, the reverberating, sweet sound of laughter, the unaffected, happy period of my childhood, leave an indelible mark that I will cherish in this lifetime.

*We refers to Kak Long, Nina and me.
Comic taken from here.