Narrative

X

Title: Semalam, Mama Datang Dalam Tenunan Senja
(Yesterday, Mother Returned Within a Weaved Sunset)
i.Night

A side of Changi Beach chaperoned the jetty where boats shuttle to Ubin. Prussian blue leaked typically over the silhouettes of anglers, migrant birds and ancient trees. Mapped out waves before devouring them whole. The night always win here in eastern Singapore. Tales of spirits rest amongst banana leaves and bottled relics. Of others at loss, by the margins.

Singapore slowly unfurled from the reins of lockdown with visitors flocking nature for respite. For Sulaiman and his son, Isa, this meant being on edge; their temporary homes out of makeshift canvas and cardboards embroiled by a strange case of agitation and surveillance.

The lowest tide today coincided with dusk. The plan was to collect remis, a type of Southeast Asian molluscs on the shorebed. Sulaiman urged Isa to pack up to the farthest end. Isa nodded in silence. Strewn of ragged foils, umbrellas, oversized shirts and chains hooked unto their haversack. His dearest possession packed last, tugged between the bag and his spine.

ii. Is a textile made of

A traditional tikar mengkuang battered by salt and strong winds its underside bruised by way of charcoal, camphor and chlorine. Interspersed between the mengkuang strips was a batik fabric at its base. Almost cauterised by hot glue and fraying threads. A hybrid form of a batik-mengkuang. On this,  emerged archipelagos of dried sambal, peanut sauce and rose syrup. Isa would use the blue pen he found by the bin and ink across the mat. Off-center, a gaping hole began to form as the pandan fibres ruptured when tangled against a stranger's bait one night.  The feint floral motifs of the batik relented, their petals however, unscathed. The same night Isa fell mum.

They both spoke few words naturally. Only by familiar gestures since resettling at the beach park. Yet, the last three nights Sulaiman noticed Isa's brooding tantrum. Isa would fold the mat and refuse to let their bodies rest upon it. He snugged it under the radio transmitter.

Few nights now that the rain was unforgiving. Their bodies shivering in tandem with the disturbed ferry lights across the horizon. Once, Sulaiman tried retrieving the mat. Isa stomped out unto the bridge and wailed into the night together with the merciless rain.

"Don't touch Mama!"
iii.Light

It was the first time the sun unveiled herself in 2021. Near dusk, similarly the shore went nude. Lines embroidered her skin with harvests of reflected light. Silky rims of seaweed islands now unearthing diasporic remis and shards of wastage.

But what distracted Sulaiman was Isa's peculiar ritual. Isa inched into the tidal pools. He lifted a granite rock, first gently rubbing it then by sufficient drag, unto the batik-mengkuang. He sieved it into the shallow water, frothing the interlacing gaps of the batik-mengkuang. Sulaiman flinched when Isa overturned a comb-like fin from under a shell. He unpicked the mat along the already wounded core with utmost care. He then surrendered the batik-mengkuang up to the sunset, the wound now perfectly bordering the deep haloes of the sun. The batik-mengkuang fluttered softly against the breeze, as a rush of crimson flooded the textile, glowing in almost divine light.

"Baba, look. Mama is here." 
____________
Poetry 1- c. 2007

Kata pujangga pada rembulan,
Bak kaitan emas cadarnya baldu
Kata hati pada sang bintang
Bak irama zaman nadanya layu

Tarik awan, kumpulkan kejora
Susun kata manis bicara
Tempias hujan pada si duka
Rintih ombak sambung gerhana

Kata nelayan pada lautan,
Ikan emas khazanah semesta
Kata emak pada gendongan
Adat resam khazanah purba

Tolak perahu berlintang selatan
Tergigit lidah, tercalar bumi
Rebah lelah bintang berzaman
Samudera membaham, janji dinodai.
Poetry 2- c. 2021

Berdiri aku di garisan senja,
cuba fahami kekata janji
Janji yang dibentuk lidah bahasa,
janji yang sapa waktu berdiri.
Buat berteman, gubahan lagu,
buat sang bayu, tarian baharu.
Antara benam mentari, terbit purnama,
pulang kembali kepangkuan ibu.

Tubuh menyembah hala tiada,
tubuh menyembah hala yang duka.
Luka tadah benih cahaya,
Luka ludah benih bernyawa.

Di atas nama kehilangan, aku lihat wajahmu
Kau lena dalam kapas malam, usang,
terurai beban, kelabu sang moyang.
Kau terjaga pada saat pancaran pertama
siang  jilat bumi,
Dikala badan-badan lautan,
yang berlumba-lumba
untuk memeluk susukmu.

Kau hadir dalam kehilangan,
kau lahir dalam lupaku.
Back to Top