I sat crouched at the darkest corner of the room. Praying he won’t find me. Yet anticipating that any moment he would get me. I heard his footsteps on the wooden floor. Purposely stumped to let me know he was coming. Peeping between my arms, my eyes caught the end of the cane first before I saw him. The cane’s end was slit into three to enforce more pain when hit. I crouched further. Trying to shrink my body. Knees clasped. Tangled hair covered my face. I wished to be invisible. But my heartbeat was giving myself away. It was beating too loud.
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain slashed through my body. I crawled onto the mattress, between the pillows. I hardened my body and stiffened. I made no sound. The blows came again and again. Then everything went quiet for a minute. “Are you dead?” he hollered. The sound muffled through the pillows covering my ears. He grabbed my shoulder trying to roll my body over. I clung to the pillows. Hit my back, not my face, I begged silently. I could’t bear to be ridiculed by my playmates when they see me. Being hit meant that I had done something seriously bad.
Being in a small village, the community ‘cared’ about each other. They would question my parents for the ‘sin’ or ‘crime’ I had done. So that when they meet each other on their way to the market or the public bath they had something to gossip.
Although I could remember the beating clearly, I couldn't recollect the wrong I had committed. Did I forget to do the chores that were assigned to me? Had I stolen fruits from the villagers’ orchards? Killed their chickens, maybe? I might have said something bad in retaliation to my friend’s abuses. Or could it be because I had startled my father when I called him suddenly from under the bed when he was passing by the opened window. I had fun. But he was clearly shocked. But then I was only nine and my father was forty.
Well, I slept the whole night. Not waking even when I was asked to have dinner. I woke up the next morning feeling very weak. I was not sick but famished. I crept down to the kitchen. Mum had prepared some cakes and my favorite pulut lemak and sambal tumis ikan bilis (glutinous rice cooked in coconut cream and a dish of anchovies fried with hot chilies and onions). And the sweet tea was so tantalizing.
I crumpled onto the floor leaning against the pillar. Looking at her with sad eyes. Usually mum would ask me to go clean myself first. But instead she put in front of me a plate, lined with banana leaves some more, to enhance the aroma of the steaming glutinous rice. And a cup of hot tea. “Eat...” was all she said. After I had eaten I couldn’t get up. I sat there watching my friends walked by to school.
“Hey!” someone shouted, “why aren't you going to school today?” I just blinked. “I will tell teacher. You are going to die!” she said. Meaning I will be in big trouble. Mum looked at me. Felt my forehead. Took a pillow and laid me down to rest. She then continued with her chores attending to the rest of my siblings getting ready to go to school. Their chattering filling the kitchen questioning her what was wrong with me.
That night I couldn't’t sleep for I had slept too long during the day. So I played with the imaginery 'dream crystals'. Some tiny, blurry, shiny objects that appeared from a dark corner. It rolled towards where I was lying. I would will it to move away, and it will disappear towards the wall only to appear again. Another would come from the previous source and I would shoo them away as soon as they got closer. Sometimes there would be three of them, not more. The game would go on until I fell asleep.
Another favourite pastime to lull me to sleep was flying into orbit. Lying on my stomach with my eyes pressed on my arms. Then I would be able to see the orbit and just fly into it. It was a very relaxing experience. You should try it. Crazy? Maybe.
Suddenly I felt a sharp pain slashed through my body. I crawled onto the mattress, between the pillows. I hardened my body and stiffened. I made no sound. The blows came again and again. Then everything went quiet for a minute. “Are you dead?” he hollered. The sound muffled through the pillows covering my ears. He grabbed my shoulder trying to roll my body over. I clung to the pillows. Hit my back, not my face, I begged silently. I could’t bear to be ridiculed by my playmates when they see me. Being hit meant that I had done something seriously bad.
Being in a small village, the community ‘cared’ about each other. They would question my parents for the ‘sin’ or ‘crime’ I had done. So that when they meet each other on their way to the market or the public bath they had something to gossip.
Although I could remember the beating clearly, I couldn't recollect the wrong I had committed. Did I forget to do the chores that were assigned to me? Had I stolen fruits from the villagers’ orchards? Killed their chickens, maybe? I might have said something bad in retaliation to my friend’s abuses. Or could it be because I had startled my father when I called him suddenly from under the bed when he was passing by the opened window. I had fun. But he was clearly shocked. But then I was only nine and my father was forty.
Well, I slept the whole night. Not waking even when I was asked to have dinner. I woke up the next morning feeling very weak. I was not sick but famished. I crept down to the kitchen. Mum had prepared some cakes and my favorite pulut lemak and sambal tumis ikan bilis (glutinous rice cooked in coconut cream and a dish of anchovies fried with hot chilies and onions). And the sweet tea was so tantalizing.
I crumpled onto the floor leaning against the pillar. Looking at her with sad eyes. Usually mum would ask me to go clean myself first. But instead she put in front of me a plate, lined with banana leaves some more, to enhance the aroma of the steaming glutinous rice. And a cup of hot tea. “Eat...” was all she said. After I had eaten I couldn’t get up. I sat there watching my friends walked by to school.
“Hey!” someone shouted, “why aren't you going to school today?” I just blinked. “I will tell teacher. You are going to die!” she said. Meaning I will be in big trouble. Mum looked at me. Felt my forehead. Took a pillow and laid me down to rest. She then continued with her chores attending to the rest of my siblings getting ready to go to school. Their chattering filling the kitchen questioning her what was wrong with me.
That night I couldn't’t sleep for I had slept too long during the day. So I played with the imaginery 'dream crystals'. Some tiny, blurry, shiny objects that appeared from a dark corner. It rolled towards where I was lying. I would will it to move away, and it will disappear towards the wall only to appear again. Another would come from the previous source and I would shoo them away as soon as they got closer. Sometimes there would be three of them, not more. The game would go on until I fell asleep.
Another favourite pastime to lull me to sleep was flying into orbit. Lying on my stomach with my eyes pressed on my arms. Then I would be able to see the orbit and just fly into it. It was a very relaxing experience. You should try it. Crazy? Maybe.
I had always thought that this imagination game was mine alone. Decades later when we were reminiscing about our childhood I mentioned about this to two of my sisters. They too had been playing this game. None of us had mentioned it before. Tell me about yours.
