Starry, starry night

One of the things I like to do when I was a kid was to climb out of the room window onto the roof just to sit down and look at the stars. Back then the are outside the back of the house was secondary forest of which some bit of the area were cleared to plant stuff. My parents and the neighbours spent their free time planting vegetables and fruits, most notably banana trees and yam.

The lack of artificial lighting would mean that the whole area would be in darkness as there were no buildings within view except for the medical lab located long the road - the area were not as developed then as now. Whenever the moon is high up in the skies of a clear night the area would be bathed in serene bluish-white lunar radiance.

My favourite though, is when the curtain of night is punctured with countless stars, their faint celestial lights blinking from the heavens. Being on the roof gave me a sweeping view of the sky, vaguely lid into a shade of dark blue.

I often ponder about life then - me myself and I, and the Universe. The stars in the skies got me thinking about my place in this thing called Creation. I am such a small thing, so minute that by comparison to everything out there I'm such an insignificant speck. Line us all up and I wouldn't even be microscopic - I'd be invisible. Have me terminated and it won't look any different.

 It's funny when you think that (existence of aliens non-withstanding), this little speck of fragile carbon-based life form is the most intelligent thing in the Universe, potentially (read that as many times as possible until you get my angle) the only living thing out there that is sentient. And if that much is true, then we're truly special indeed. I am special, you are special, he is special, she is special.

So special that sometimes one would gladly give up the world for the hope of achieving or to keep something as they were. The police put their lives in the line of fire to ensure that others don't have to. A mother would shield her children with her own back from the upcoming danger. A brother would gladly give up his food to feed a younger sister. A soldier would gladly run into the thick of battle in hope that what he does will keep his wife and family safe.

As I look up to ancient illuminations from globes of fire that might no longer be there anymore, there's a humbling feeling that as humans, we're not the mightiest - a single comet hurtling dirty ice to earth would annihilate most if not all of mankind - but we have the ability to try, because we can. A beaver would continue to build dams regardless of what CNN reports of incoming cataclysm, dung beetles would continue to do their part is breaking down compost, whales would continue to nurse their cow in the sea.

Pity I couldn't relive the habits of a childhood anymore of climbing out the window to the roof - an incident of burglary in our neighbour's house got everybody spooked that metal grills were installed to bar any kind of entrance (and exit) without keys.

Furthermore houses were now built in the are that used to be the secondary forest - so more lights now fill the night than before, making it all the harder to see anything so vague in the night sky.

"There was a complaint from next door about you standing on the roof".

So much like my own

"Haven't had this for some time now. Not even the last time I was back".

I sat at the round table of our house which would be about 20-years old this year, its top covered with mom's usual collection of tablecloths made of plastic that were durable, looked good and cheap to replace. I leaned sideways to the cool tiled kitchen wall of white under which my late grandmother's portrait photo hung. My brothers and I used to 'ask' her to join us at the table during Reunion Dinners, more to the cultivation of respect to elders rather than actually believing that she was looking down on us from that piece of that enlarged sepia-toned photo. The round table was placed adjacent to the wall to conserve space as the three of us brothers and two parents need not so much room. Unseated square stools made of wood circled the base of the foldable legs, supporting so many buttocks for so many years.

Little Me looked up but kept working at the bowl of fried kuey teow flooded with tasty gravy, venturing no replies as I munched on my own.

"You haven't been home much", he said, pausing a while to chew, the words clear from his full mouth.

"It's not like I could at a whim", I said. The lightly smell of pickled szechuan cabbage simmering in the pot of pork hind bones wafted around the kitchen.

"Of course not. That would be well costly. Not even Mom would think it wise to come home every few months as the tickets, whilst cheap, are still not cheap enough to be bought on a regular basis".

"I know. Though I do miss the comfort of home - who wouldn't - I cherish it more the lesser I return. Like once a year for the New Year's Eve dinner. We always sat down together at least once a year for that meal and I do mean it, it's special when you don't do it every month, what more every week".

"You could at least call more often you know. We might not get to see you hear but at least Mom & Dad knows you're fine, being so far from home all that. You might be in the thirtieth year of your life, bro, but you're always their son and Big Bro's brother".

"Since when did you turn from a little scoundrel to a wise guru?".

"I have always been a little scoundrel or a wise guru. You should hear me detail to Dad the brilliant plan about making money from trading Panini Thundercat stickers with my friends at school".

"Indeed, except that all the capital would from him, not you so that is hardly 'brilliant' ".

He stuck out his tongue and continued with the kueyteow in the bowl, half finished.

I was certain he had no trouble showing me the finger, that little rascal, but perhaps his mood was good that morning. Good thing I outgrew that habit and relied on quick wit instead. Not only do you insult people, done well it even make them laugh. Mom's words about my temper is still fresh in the head as if it was told just yesterday, "Your temper will lose you more than you get".

"Cousin Ringo is coming today", he said, hardly able to keep the excitement hidden. I could see what they would be up to that afternoon now, play acting as ninjas and warriors in the room, trashing it around like little maniacs until it was time to bath and had dinner. Then it would trashing around and playacting again, with breathers in between for reading Gila-Gila. We'd be up all night watching television and talking until the wee hours of the morning. That and Maggie or Indomie in between to satisfy our monstrous appetite. Day after day.

"Have fun", I said benignly.

"You've been smiling more nowadays", he said, belching whilst pouring the remnant of the gravy into his mouth.

"I did?".

"I'm not blind you know and not deaf either. An angel told me you'd look better if you can just curl your lips upwards instead of keeping it in a straight line".

He got off the stool and had the bowl washed before returning to the table with glasses of cold soya bean milk mom made the night before. Cubes of ice clinked as the glasses were raised and set down, melting away in the wholesome drink heated just an hour ago. Mom had always liked to have it all prepared by herself for the family, from soya bean milk, to santan to curry paste. None of that mass produced stuff at the grocer's shelf if she can help it.

"What else did this celestial creature tell you?" I said with a mocking smile.

"She also told me you brightened perceptibly of late. I can say though, it's as if years had fallen off you somewhat".

"Yeah, you're right. Even the mood is better. Haven't been doing it much during in the past many years that I felt like Cloud. You know, the music 'Cloud Smiles' from the Advent Children soundtrack?".

"Come to think of it, why the sudden change? What's so funny or happy about anyway?", he said, gulping the glass of white beverage. A quarter of it disappeared down his gastroinstestinal tract.

"Just something I decided to try to do more. Smiles are cheap you know - they only cost several ATPs to move the face muscles. Far easier to smile than to frown. And it does make me feel somewhat better, marginally or not. Whether it makes me look better is not up to me to say though".

"Won't you look like an idiot grinning for no apparent reason?".

"I'm not really grinning or putting on a hearty smile. It's more of a putting on a more cheerful face rather than one that looked as if being pulled over by the police. It was somewhat weird at a start, but after a while it becomes a lot more natural. Even when I take the train to work my lips are slightly curled upwards, eyes opened a little bigger".

"You still look like an idiot".

"A happier idiot", I corrected him.

A blue plastic bird slid out of its wooden house and cuckooed nine times before disappearing with a slam of its little door. I'm still somewhat fascinated by that beautifully constructed clock with a swinging cone as the pendulum. It has been with us for as long as we moved in.

"You wash these!", said Little Me who rushed to the living room. A short moment later the television came to life with the famous voice of Peter Cullen, "... Voltron, Defender of the Universe... " accompanied by the heroic music that heralded the second of the four-hour marathon of great television shows on a Saturday morning.

"Enjoy yourself, you little brat", I said.

He shouted back impatiently for being disturbed, "I will!".

I walked towards the stairs to go up after doing the dishes and took a glance at him. He took his eyes off the old Sony Trinitron television with dial knobs for tuning and looked back.

"Yeah, you improved your face somewhat. Good effort but can be better", he said, half looking at me half at the Ding Dang commercial on the TV.

"Oh shut up already and go watch Princess Aurora in her tight pink suit".

For a moment we just looked at one another.

A little grin blossomed on his lips that were so much like my own.

His footsteps

I met Little Me the other day.

We were walking along the peaceful pond hidden by the shade of the trees adjacent to the wide open field that seemed to sway like tides of an ocean when it breezed. The air was cool and crisp, the sun sending shafts of light through the clouds of the young morning.

"What are you up so early for, Brother", asked Little Me as we sat at the side of the slow flowing brook adjacent to the sea of green grass blades.

"Haven't been sleeping well, brother", I said, looking at him skip some stones over the surface of the mirror-like water.

"What's bothering you?", he asked without looking up.

"I don't know. Nothing is. At least nothing much is. I am doing all right at work, not financially in any straits. Friends are all boss, life is not at all sour", I said a-matter-factly.

"Then how could you have sleepless nights like this?".

"I don't know. Perhaps I'm jaded. Been thinking of a short vacation for a while".

"You think that's enough?".

"Why not?".

"What will you do during that vacation? Sleep your head away and slave the hours away to the morning on the computer?".

"That's the plan. At least the sleep my head away part. Just wanted some time alone to myself of my own".

"Don't you get that every weekend?".

"Yeah, but two days never seem to be enough. They just zoom by like that", I said, snapping my fingers.

"And you end up feeling as if the weekend never happened?"

"I wouldn't say so, no. Perhaps that life in the city - things just fly by, even the quiet times to your self".

"Perhaps you've had too much 'quiet time' with yourself".

A frog jumped into the water, creating a ripple from the edge that spread throughout the surface of the water until they met criss-crossed one another.

"What do you mean by that?".

"Isn't it obvious - you work your days, sleep the nights but you never seem to achieve anything that meant much to you, no?".

I looked at him.

"Have you ever had anything else but 'quiet time', brother?".

A bird called from one of the branches of the trees lining the surroundings of the pond.

"I don't know", I said.

"Time-consumerism at its best, I'd imagine. Day in and day out worth of things to do by yourself, none of which you remember when you wake up next Thursday. None of which are worth remembering".

I yawned, taken by the serenity of the atmosphere around the still pool of dark water. An insect skipped its way across riding only on surface tension.

"Some are", I told him, watching the sun peer through the trees like glitters of diamond when they sway to the breeze, causing minor waves to crest and disappear on the pond.

"Not enough".

I turned to look at him. "I know".

He stood up and brushed the dirt and grass of his shorts, a little guy a bit taller than half of me, the haircut that of a bowl and clad in a the old Superman t-shirt with its cape cut off. He told me Mom did it so that he won't think myself Clark Kent's alter ego and jump down the verandah and into the hospital.

"Time for breakfast, bro. I'm hungry. Mom's making the fried rice again, my favourite!".

"Enjoy yourself", I said, in envy of the carefree way he carried himself with, the swagger of a king without the worries of the world.

"Don't forget to call home more often. Mom & Dad will appreciate it".

I nodded as he paced down the meadows and out of sight.

I stopped to look at the flowers that swayed to the gentle breeze of the morning, at the gathering clouds that cast a huge shadow over the rolling hills, at the rainbow that arched over the horizon and at the footsteps that the little feet of Little Me on the ground that disappeared onto the grass.

He's right - his footsteps had not been mine, enough.