Selasa, 30 Ogos 2011

Wan Gayah, Cekgu Bedah & Monsoon

India is a wonderful country with diverse colors and cultures. Fertile lands with rich sources underneath it, India attracts many investors and businessmen leading to booming international trade. One of the biggest and famous S of India would be its Bollywood movies.
     Cliche yet thrilling, Bollywoods never fail to amuse its fans. I remember one of its fan was once my house maid by the name of Wan Rogayah. An old lady from Kijal, we used to call her We Gayoh. She did most of the house chores including tending to me when I was 5 years old if I'm not mistaken.
     Being at work doesn't stop her from devoting herself to every Bollywood movie on air, usually on Friday afternoons back in those days. After all, it was only she and I left at home when the movie was on air.
     The movie would be screened at about 2pm and would last at least three hours. And my cartoon time would start around 4.
     There would always be a war between us when my cartoon time was supposed to be on air. And of course, that was around the time when her Bollywood movie was at its best part- THE CLIMAX.
     I remember that I would be crying out loud and rolling on the floor to force her to switch the channel, while she, without a single sign of being disturbed, glaring at the TV screen, watching an epic fight between good and evil and said to me in enthusiasm;
     "Kejak dek kejak, tu napok tu ye tengoh gocoh tu!" (Just a minute, look at them fighting!)
I was never good at Maths. I really couldn't get my hand on it. Hence, I chose this math-free path. This math-phobia that I suffer reminds me to my primary school math teacher named Zubaidah.
     Cikgu Bedoh was not known  for her gentleness. Every single mistake would end up with a slap on the face, a brutal pinch at the belly, or a one-metre long ruler landing on your palm.
     I remember her favourite line when we couldn't solve the maths problem given;
     "Itu pon tak tau buat!! Itu sambil berak bole buat tau!!!"(Can’t even do a simple thing like that!! That can be done sitting in the toilet!!)
     Well, it was a Standard Two question after all.
     So when we were given maths homework for our semester break, again the cliché’ line of hers was barked.
     The innocent boy in me back in those days didn't take it metaphorically.
     So what do you do if you have a disciplinary teacher as your mother, Cikgu Bedah as your math teacher and a soaring rectal pressure with lunatic inferior rectal nerve?
     It was the traditional Malay squatting toilet bowl and I squat there grumpily. It was supposed to be a holiday! Grrr!
     Using my mother's small stool that she used to wash clothes as a table, I began tackling those pesky questions.
     "Bior betul Cikgu Bedoh ni. Wat sambil berok pong dok leh gi gop!!"(Cikgu Bedah can’t be serious . I’m sitting in the toilet and I still can’t do the questions!!)
     This monsoon season here in southern India reminds me of our very own monsoon in the east coast of  Malaysia, or  known as ‘musim tengkujuh’.
     Monsoon is where most outdoor activities are halted including football. Fishermen desert their job for a while, mending nets and boats instead.
     Though football has stopped for a while here in Manipal due to awful conditions of the field, I remember that monsoon never stopped our football activities back in our childhood time.
     In fact, it was the most awaited time of the year! We wouldn't really be playing football actually, but rather enjoyed sliding on the wet and slippery field.
     The consequence paid by us that time was none other than our mother's wrath. I remember that one day during my innocent time my mother got fed up with my dirty muddy shirts.
     "Mak nak mu basuh sendiri!! Sekarang jugak! Pandai sangat main padang hujan tu kenape??!!"(I want you to wash it yourself!! Now!Who told you to play in the muddy field??!!)
     She thundered around the house, followed by an absolutely painful pinch at the triceps. So I went into the bathroom, rinsed my shirt, sprinkle some washing powder and began brushing the mud stains. After a while I got tired of it. So my creative mind started to tell me that I should use a variety of detergents.
     The following one hour was spent with me trying different shampoos, lotions, and all other bottles  I could find in the toilet.
     The long time that I spent in the toilet "washing" ONE piece of shirt brought curiosity to my mom. So she went into the bathroom to see the progress. And that time, I was trying a bottle of which the label had worn out.
     Seeing that, she went terribly mad, which ended up with pinch and ‘PANG’ on my back. I immediately finished up my washing and headed outside to hang it.
     I had no idea what made her so angry. As I grew up, I learnt that the very bottle that I was holding at the time she entered the bathroom was a bottle of feminine intimate wash.

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