Hazia’s Reflections

Yesterday at 9.00 am at work, I had an interesting chat with the lady from the agency. As usual, both of us get along like a house on fire and we speak to each other at bullet speed.

She has news. Her husband would be posted to Manila soon, she would follow in October. She said I can visit her whenever, she can host me. Apparently, her husband’s occupation allows them to stay at a house with a swimming pool. Yeah, they are expected to entertain like ambassadors. She said I can go and assist her to pull off high society’s ‘wine and dine’ at her new home if need be. Cool!

I first visit Manila during my undergraduates’ days in 2005. I’ve always wanted to return but never get around to it. Funnily, at first, she thought Manila was backwards, LOL! Nah, even 15 years ago, it was urban enough for me:)

Oh, I re-wrote my Manila story. Yeah, the earlier version was complicated and not really the story that I wanted to tell. So, I got stuck.

Paraiso - 2nd Cut

“Everybody makes mistakes. The most important thing is not to repeat your mistake.” A wise man once told me this a long, long time ago. It was a major mistake that brought me back home, living under my parents’ roof again, sleeping in my old room. Imagine reliving all this at a ripe age of 39. Fortunately, it was also a mistake that I did not have the luxury of repeating.

I sighed and leaned back against my pillow. I wished I could just press one button and erase the whole foolish episode. My parents used to take great pride in introducing their over-achiever son, an award winning creative director with a renowned international advertising agency in Kuala Lumpur. I used to wine and dine with the likes of Yasmin Ahmad, Sonal Dabral and Tan Kien Eng. Kancil and ADOI awards festivals were my playgrounds. It was hard to believe that my hard work all those years just went down the drain.

“Francis!” a knock interrupted my thoughts. I got up and opened the door.

My mother stood outside my room with a huge smile on her face. “Look at what I found!” In her hands were a stack of old albums. I recognised the three sets of familiar covers, autumn leaves, roses and a bullock chart.

“Cool!” I took them from her, delighted. “Thanks, Mum.”

“Hopefully that would light you up a bit. It’s been a month and you’ve been moping around the house since you came back.”

She left me to continue with her spring cleaning. I could hear her cheerfully singing ‘New York New York’ as she walked down the stairs.

~more~