Hazia’s Reflections

I took the day off to attend the inaugural KL International Literary Festival in Bangsar. It was great and I shall share it with you over the next few entries. Meanwhile, I just want to let out some steam first.

During the last session, someone called my name. It was my classmate from primary school. We haven’t seen each other since we were 12, but she recognised me.

She was now a published writer. A UK graduate, she actually gave up a career in law and self-published her first book. I read about her and was meaning to get in touch, just didn’t get around to it.

I was tired after the session, it has been a long day. I didn’t get a good vibe from her but I agreed to join her for a drink for old time sake. Well, we had a lot to catch up on. She asked her friend to wait for us at Devi’s Corner while I accompanied her to get a few things at Bangsar Village.

We chatted on the way. Surprisingly, she wasn’t keen on talking about anything related to herself. I could clearly see that she was very unhappy.

I thought that having a published book would make it easier for her to get a publisher for her second book. That wasn’t the case. She mentioned going through agents. I didn’t know we had those in this country. No, we didn’t; she was trying to explore overseas’ publishers. She has exhausted the local channels. That bad!

Not only that, she sold all the printed 2000 copies of her first book but couldn’t afford to run a re-print. The other publishers wouldn’t do that for her because she published it herself. Honestly, I picked up her book a few times when browsing at local bookstores but just couldn’t bring myself to buy a copy. I didn’t think I would read it.

Her second book was of a similar nature. I think the market place was already cluttered enough with those type of ethnic books, be it foreign or local.

We finally joined her friend at Devi’s. Another girl joined us shortly after. I have very close Indian friends, so being in a company of all Indians was not a problem for me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t understand a word they were saying. Either their Indian accent (or put-on accent) was too strong or their expressions were too ethnic or not ‘universally understood’.

They later changed the tone to talking about serious current issues e.g. politics, racism, etc. Okay, I could follow. However, that wasn’t what I signed up for.

I was tired and I agreed to have a drink to catch up with an old friend. That was it. Debating heavy topics of little interest to me with total strangers at 7.00pm was absolutely not my cup of tea.

My mind went back to our school days when she was the Deputy Head of Class. I remember her being the queen of ’sucking up’ to the teachers,  a real ‘kaki bodek’. None of us students liked her but our parents and teachers loved her. They were always singing her praises to the moon, to our discontent.

So, I gave our little gathering a decent 15 minutes before excusing myself. She offered to give me a lift home, but I declined. Yes, she lived nearby but I had no intention of socialising with her in the future. Her strong unhappiness hit me like a dark cloud but even if she was happy, I didn’t think I would enjoy her company. There was just something about her character.

The conclusion was that I didn’t like her in school 22 years ago and I still didn’t like her now! Wow! We hadn’t grown up at all. LOL!