I’m appalled by the rebuttal, “there’s no need for more than that, it is as simple as it gets. Don’t think too much about the possibility of the hidden details, because it is not as complicated as you may think.”
For 4 years I have attempted the exam, and I have failed twice. Traumatic wouldn’t even describe the experiences of not seeing my name on the passing name list, but I do see the relevance behind both.
If I am to say, that I was naive, proud, to the extent of I underestimated the toughness of those exams, would you agree?
You might not, because even if I were to explain about the thoughts I had when I cried myself to sleep, not able to know my own weakness as I disregarded the possibility of me, who has been confident in my academic prowess, finally beaten by an exam which only allows 50% of people to pass worldwide, twice, you might think that I’m being melancholic.
4 years ago, I disembarked on a journey of pride, spending sleepless nights burying myself in textbooks, mock questions, my own notes even before I am officially entitled the title of a Medical Officer. I found it rewarding because my perspiration was unanswered by a well-printed letter of ‘congratulations’. It was 2 months since I started my psychiatry career. I was then greeted by my boss’ truthful words:
“Don’t worry, you will be a psychiatrist sooner or later. Don’t rush your way into it because your work experience will still be the milestone of your finesse. Take your time to learn, don’t worry.”
Although it was meant to be soothing, I was repelled by it. Driven by the urge to prove myself, I attempted the second part 3 months later.
Again, the letter with the ‘congratulations’ hit my doorstep. It was a kind gesture from the Gods I think, but I may have missed the cruelty behind that kindness.
Carrying the same momentum, same strategy, and same resolve, I hit the 3rd part of the exam. Not fully knowing the agenda and marking scheme, I read every book I could get my hands on. Guess what happened?
2 attempts, 16 thousand ringgit, years worth of sleepless nights caused both by anxiety and regret, I am still at the place I was in terms of the exam.
I know I have grown. 4 years in various hospitals, knowledge and skills gained given by those I spent time honing my skills with, who shared my heartbreaks and sorrows, with the same hope of overcoming this giant obstacles of skill and wits. We are holding each others’ hands marching to the battlefield, fully knowing the podium is only 50% of us.
I chose to leave my home when I realized that someone on the other side of the peninsular might have a better idea of helping me. However, it doesn’t mean that I spend none of my nights regretting my choice of leaving my loved ones. I have shed tears hoping I can undo my mistake: the mistake of pride and prejudice, the mistake of taking it lightly, and the mistake of thinking the 50% could be mine.
So, permission to speak freely, sir?
Thank you for your assurance, but I can’t afford to take it for granted anymore. For I wish to take it hard rather than regret my lightness of choices. I should doubt myself now, than I couldn’t bear the sight of myself in the mirror later.
If you think I may be misleading the crowd, I guess the only thing I can do is to keep my doubts to myself while absorbing everything then. I guess no harm can be done that way right? Since I keep the anxiety to myself?
“I need time to do all these! Why would someone suddenly ask his in-laws about their full names and date of births?” I typed furiously. I swear i could feel the screen of my phone denting.
“How could you not know your parent-in-law’s full name? What a bad child you are! We need it to prepare the invitation cards!” My mother’s recorded strong voice echoed in my car, as soon as I pressed on the ‘play’ button beside her reply message.
“We haven’t even decided the date of the reception! What are you inviting people to?!” Unable to hold my anger, I finally recorded my furious voice for a reply.
It was a mess of a debate, between a religious mother and a frustrated scholar.
It yielded an obvious outcome, but I chose to not budge because I couldn’t allow it to continue.
It started when my mother knew about my engagement, and I told them my plan of getting married few weeks before that argument. Like a clap of thunder, it revived my Frankenstein of a mom to immediately involve herself in deciding my wedding plans. So, she did what most Chinese Taoist mother would do:
She consulted a medium to ‘calculate’ the best day of the wedding, and the date given was the 6th of June 2021.
She restlessly searched for any advice regarding the ‘protocol’ of a traditional wedding ceremony and kept reminding me of the countless prerequisites and responsibilities in it. It was my starting few weeks in JB. I was tired, trying to adapt to my new life, while constantly bombarded by the pressure of hasty but sophisticated marriage plans.
For me, “Hasty but sophisticated” is an understatement, “mystical with no sense of human logic” will be more appropriate.
Being meticulous and anxious, my mother is a strong devotee of Chinese traditional teachings. The tradition depicts ( I will add in some of my understanding on the matter since I’m still considering myself a scientific person) :
1. Choice of a wedding date is better to be decided by a medium who specializes in calculating dates using the Lunar calendar, our birth times and dates, with mathematic formulae that baffles modern mathematicians, who have no proper understanding of the recipients’ needs, such as job requirements, living difficulties, financial constraints, beliefs, and daily routine. Also, they seem not to know that THERE’S A FREAKING PANDEMIC HAPPENING!!
2. Items to prepare for a wedding ceremony, as an exchange of gifts includes a wide variety, which most of them technologically redundant to use in daily life and no other purpose than to just buy it, present it, and keep it at the groom’s home to occupy his living space. The long list includes: a red towel, a red tea set, a red Chinese-hand-fan, a red baby plastic bathtub, a red potty, an extravagantly not comfortable bed set, etc etc, which amount to a thousand ringgit to precure.
3. Registration of marriage is not as important as the Chinese wedding ceremony. Only by going thru the customs of a long 3 day battle of constant makeup, grooming, following rules by other people, telling the whole world and wish for their blessings, and finally end with an overly expensive dinner with half of the hundreds of people I don’t even know they existed, THEN ONLY, you are considered married.
4. On the due date, the groom expected to move at a very specific timing of the day, usually early in the morning, along with a handful of his best mates, to go to the bride’s house, only to be met with a closed door and opposition of the bride’s family and friends. To gain ‘access’, the groom’s side will be tested on their devotion by playing multiple games, which at times inflict pain and shame. Not to mention that the groom is expected to hand out angpau like a charity event. I thought we agreed to get married that day? What’s the deal with the tests?
So my mother had a vision, to see me baffling everyone with my beautiful and glamorous wife, walking down the aisle in my army suit.
Yeah, good one. Did you forget the mask? It’s worth 1500 ringgit a fine nowadays for breaching social distancing protocol, you know?
So the argument at the start of this story ended with my brother calling each of us to calm down, telling me to just allow my mom to do what she wants. After all, she did it for me.
Well, I’m not going to argue with that, but not because he is right, I just think that I have made my point across.
1 month later, I sealed the deal. Signed me to be my lovely wife’s lawful husband. It was an awesome experience.
Well, it did not quench anything. Rather, it started a storm, one in my mother’s heart driven by the urge to see his firstborn holding an extravagant wedding, receiving smiles and blessings from all our friends and relatives.
“Too risky,” I said, annoyed being surrounded by my relatives. They were not giving any constructive opinions. Rather, they were just supporting whatever sentences that came out of my parent’s mouth. For better or worse, the meeting held in my grandmother’s massive guest area was split into 3 teams:
Me and my grandma: who believe in safety above all. We stand for simplicity, ease, and not to rush ourselves. There’s a pandemic, I’m a government doctor, my exam is coming up, and I live at another side of the country. It will be impossible to plan a wedding in 3 months.
My mother and youngest aunt: who was enthusiastic about seeing me married, wanted it to be flawless, glamorous, and fast. Apparently, the registration was not enough for them. They defended for ‘tradition’ and ‘a good show’. For whatever reason that is…
There’s my father: who previously kept his silence between the crossfire, was turned the judge. He took the seat at the long end of the huge wooden table (which he always does), overlooking the crowd with stern cold eyes (which is what he always does). He stared at us ‘discussing’ while holding the thick lunar calendar in his hands, contemplating the best course of action.
There were 6 more people on that discussion, serving the role as mere audience and showing support to my parent’s input.
“I’m not sure if it’s doable,” I plead while staring up at the rotating fan above. The white ceiling in the background was more pleasant than my relatives’ anxious stare, “There’s still a chance that the pandemic will worsen. Even now I am scheduled to do shifts in Covid ward…”
“But the date is the best! The medium chose that date for you! There are many other couples who get married on that day! Can’t you make the adjustment?” My mom anxiously replied.
I don’t know why others were nodding to that statement. I suppose they can see the reason behind it, however irrelevant and incoherent that sounded to me.
“Can’t we change the date? It’s Sunday, everyone will have a hard time traveling. I will have to rush back to Johor right after the wedding.” I refuted.
“7th is The King’s birthdate. We can change.” my dad finally spoke, after a long 10 minutes of listening.
“We can?” my mom looked at her husband, who is unlike us, composed.
He then whipped out the calendar, flipped it to the 5th of Jun, then pointed at the description box below the date. It wrote in Chinese:
“Good for marriage.”
Yes, even our calendar has a fortune-telling function. So in the cultural sense, my mother is not the weird one, I am.
Then he flipped it again to 6th, “bad date- not recommended for any ceremony”.
I almost shouted out, “In Your Face!” but of course I restrained myself. I just smacked my lips and acted as though I’m shocked. Besides, I understood what my dad was trying to do. Being a man of the military, he is not a believer in the mystics. It’s the King’s birthday, he will be expected to lead his troops for celebration. He too needed a break. But he too knew there’s no good in testing my mom’s devotion. Instead of arguing his way into it using science as I did, he spent 10 minutes in silence looking for anything that could shake my mom’s belief: in this case, was the conflict of statements between the schools of mystics: the fortune teller, and the calendar printing company (I don’t believe in either, so judge all you want.)
My mom was stunned, “Wha- How? I thought the medium said…”
“What can I say? I chose to believe in mass publication over a word from a single person.” He answered with a poker face, “Besides, if we chose to do it on the 6th, we will face many problems. We already have to rush things along to prepare in 3 months, with so much uncertainty, I think it will be sensible to choose a date where everyone is comfortable to return home.”
“I-I guess so…” My mother’s confusion made her agreed to my father’s immediate suggestion.
So the meeting ended with a slight change of date, still in a rush, but a rather satisfying experience. I was doubtful about the probability of success, but knowing that the fortune teller will be told that we chose to change the date, priceless.
My satisfaction was immediately extinguished by a call from my dad a week later, when I returned back to JB:
“I think the date is OK, we will do it on the 6th, because the arrangements can be done easier that way.” My dad said with a rigid tone. He sounded like he rehearsed it, reluctantly.
Then my mom’s voice followed, “Well, aside from that because the fortune teller said it really is a very good date.” She sounded worried. I supposed letting my dad do the opening was a way for her to avoid any more conflict between us.
“That fortune-teller is uncle, right? They are not happy with the changes we made?” I finally asked. My tone was as rigid as my dad’s. I supposed we were both too tired to argue any further.
“Y-yes…” My mom’s voice turned weak. I guess she was too, tired like us. She tried to explain their actions further, but I no longer pay attention to it, since it was only a repetition of what we know.
Is that what this is? A show of ego? Turns out the fortune-teller we decided to consult in good faith is one of our own, our family. Weirdly enough, we chose to change our date driven by our real-life difficulties, which has been interpreted as a rude gesture towards them. They aren’t happy? What the hell does that have to do with my family? What are they trying to prove? Is ‘Tradition’ meant to be used as an excuse to prove that a fortune teller has more justification than a medical doctor? They know nothing about our situation, yet they can afford to give me disapproval?
What a shame, even with my mountain loads of logical reasons, I can’t beat a fortune-teller being ‘unhappy’ with my choice.
“OK,” I answered simply, “we do it your way.”
Without much of a follow-up, I hung up the phone.
My wife tried to cheer me up. Fortunately, she tried her best to follow the plan. It was a rush, a reluctant one, but we enjoyed every bit we spent time doing it together.
Great job to the graceful Dawn’s Wedding, for producing our great photos.
Then, the reality struck, almost like nature’s ‘I told you so”.
“Why are we even doing this? Are we even doing this for ourselves? Do they understand the risks we need to take?” She asked a few days before the new MCO, in tears, pleading me to put an end to the pointless struggle. At that moment, we both knew the Covid situation was worsening, and there was no chance that the 6th of Jun will be spared by the MCO.
“You have to weigh your options, Thong,” my Head of Department’s voice lingered in my mind, “You are a government doctor as well as a soldier part-time, what would the public make of if you chose to hold a wedding amidst of the pandemic crisis?”
“One photo and my career will be jeopardized,” I sounded firm when I made the call to my dad the next day. To my surprise, he immediately agreed to call off the wedding.
I guess he was waiting for my call all along.
“What about mom?” I asked curiously.
“It will be fine. I will talk to her.” He briefly replied.
And so, it ended with the landing of the new MCO. Everything has to be put on hold. All our preparation: the props, the wedding photos, the applied leave are now staggered but paid. The invitations have to be canceled one by one.
There were instances when I would have chose to accept the reality of the situations, which most I fully aware that they are consequences of my actions in the past. Still, it sometimes become a burden so painful to bear, especially I found myself being powerless to change it.
I chose to start anew, in a new place, a new culture, and a new self. Knowing the previous me was not emotionally well to handle the burden I put on myself, I adopted a new philosophy of things, which rings like this:
“Accept my limitations, but do well for things you hold dear, because in the end, as long as you have done your part, you will sleep better at night, even when the results are not favorable. Because you are not almighty, and people change only when they wish to.”
It worked. For the least, I feel I can connect more with my patients with that in mind. It was a slow grind, but ultimately, I can feel myself being comfortable in my work, even feeling happy to know my patients eventually find resolution at their own pace.
Once a formidable psychiatrist said to me, that, “when you are being too dedicated, you might not control your temper to those you wish to help. That is not therapeutic.”
That is for work, but in life, I feel that I’m losing ground.
A young man came to my clinic today. He was referred for having depression. Well, it is not a complicated case, rather straightforward actually, that I was able to diagnose him with Major Depression, and had a holistic plan that he quickly agreed to follow through. It was not the illness that bothered me, it was the cause of it.
He shared that he has been away since his teenage years, from his family in pursuit of education. He has adopted life in other side of the country, from finishing his formal education in a boarding school, to his degree in a university, and secured a simple job as a chain storekeeper for 2 years. He did it away from his family which has no background of any form of abuse, alone, in solitude.
But he said he has been sad, since his university years, because he is lonely.
Solitude is one thing I find myself sympathizing with this young man for. When I looked at him, who is aware of his own choice to not tell others of the times he yearns for someone, I can’t help but think, “Why is he torturing himself for doing that?”
“Is it that hard of a question?” My mind quickly challenged itself, “You have done the same, why indeed?”
“Shame, guilt, desire, doubt, jealousy, grief… Name it, you know it best. You pulled through, but it will always be there. When things got heated and the memories come haunting, you will find yours, just like this young man right here.”
It did today, or maybe yesterday, when I couldn’t get myself to sleep on my comfy bed? I have chosen to be here, I liked it, am I? I’m just tired from being alone for too long too, I guess?
I just hope that I can finally hold my loved ones again. I think I am on the verge of my tipping point already, which I am coping with solely by focusing on my job. It seems to be insufficient.
Please, allow me the strength to outlast this damn MCO.
I tried my best to hold it in when I listened to her cheerful voice. She was genuinely happy talking to me, even if it was just hearing my voice over the phone.
“I see… yeah, the other’s can’t make it back too…” hidden within her cheerful voice was a tinge of despair, hoping that there will be someone who disagrees with her statement.
I can’t help but wonder: Have I made the right choice of leaving Pahang and came to Johor? Leaving my loved ones back at Lipis?
It’s the eve of the Year 2021’s Chinese New Year. after finished my groceries and some leftover tasks from work, I finally able to sit down and start my holiday’s rest. It was a busy month since I started anew in this new workplace called Hospital Sultanah Aminah. Compared to my previous hospital in Kuantan, this place has different systems, different work cultures, and of course, a different game of politics. Well, I made a promise to myself not to distract myself again by involving too much in the latter, so I occupy myself with providing the best for my patients, especially those who requested to be my returning customers.
Still, I am tired. In addition to my hectic job, there are also other matters to tend to: my rental options, my wedding plans, my finance… the kinds of stuff that most 31 years old with a stable job wouldn’t even trouble themselves with. I guess starting anew means picking up the neglected pieces from our past, huh?
And there’s the big elephant in the room, or should I say ‘the world’, the COVID-19 pandemic. It got its revenge. We defeated it once, but somehow we lowered our defenses when we were eager to elect our leaders- or the leaders are eager to elect themselves? Are racial issues more urgent than a pandemic outbreak? Being a medical practitioner, I for one will chose the latter. However, I will let you be the judge of that.
When it got its revenge, it hit hard. When the toll reached 5000 in our country’s daily reported new cases, everyone panicked. Messages in groups rang, the social media was all over the place, both with speculations of what will happen to our gracious New Year plans.
I bought my train tickets back to Kuala Lipis 2 weeks before the news about another movement control order hits. When it did, I just lowered my phone and smile at my patient in front of me, who was having depression following her struggles during the pandemic. She was anxious and sad, so I have no room to express my emotions, not at that moment at least.
As soon as the consultation ended, I checked my phone again. This time, it was my parents, dropping messages to ask if I’m still able to make it back.
“I couldn’t, even if I want to, however badly that is,” I whispered to myself.
A lot of my friends and colleagues asked why wouldn’t I use my job as a reason to get a pardon from the police, to allow myself to cross the border? It should be easy to get their permission given my profession.
As if he too shares their belief, my father offered to summon me back to the army camp, which conveniently is at Raub, next to Kuala Lipis, using an official order from the Reserve Army.
I gently refused, while doing so, my heart aches as if it is pierced by a blade.
There is something one must stand for, call it pride if you will, but I can never break the trust people entrusted to me when I am called a Doctor. Every doctor’s souls are tested by the pandemic, I cannot abandon my post just for a new year celebration.
Besides, I might be a carrier and infect my love ones. I will never forgive myself if that happens.
That doesn’t mean it was anywhere near pleasant. It hurts, a lot, especially when being alone in a new place.
So after that, there was a brief exchange of frustration between distressed me and my short tempered mother. It’s the usual, nothing special about it.
Every night, my fiancé video calls me on the phone. She smiles and jokes, to cheer me up. I would do the same, because deep down, I feel sorry, for not able to be there when I made her longed for it.
That’s my girl, who I have to problem calling and chatting with her now and then. Unlike another, who I am afraid to call and tell her I couldn’t make it back to her this year even though I am within the country.
That woman is my grandmother, who is the one I mentioned at the start.
I am afraid, that I might lose it and broken down in tears when I tell her that. She made her concern heard when she said she is worried about me moving so far away from my family, all for the reason of career and some family difficulties. She asked me: is there really a need to leave?
“Don’t worry grandma, I will still visit you often! The train ride is easy, and my girl is here so I need to come back often too!” I said with a cheerful confidence, while enjoying her delicious cooking which i already learned from her but kept my silence.
“Chinese New Year I’ll be back, definitely,” I said before I left for the train station, at night.
Whenever I leave the town, if she knows, she will always look at me reversing my car out of the front lawn, keeps her eyes fixed on my car until I disappear as I drive down the slope. Maybe she hoped that the car would just stopped moving, and let us back to her side, not chained by our jobs and obligations?
I kept thinking: Have I done wrong, to be so far away from home, from my grandma, from my newly engaged fiancé? If solitude is my forte, why does it hurt so bad when I couldn’t be with them? Is there some sort of a silver lining amidst all these cruel moments? How am I supposed to heal my patient if I couldn’t even heal myself?
All these dreadful thoughts swept away when my grandmother cheered when she realized it was me on the phone. On and off, my heart still aches on the fact that I couldn’t make it back to her this year, but it was quickly countered by her optimistic remarks, her cheerful tone, and her hopeful expectations.
The conversation was brief because, for the first time in years, I just wanted to hear her telling me whatever, without my dull stories of being a doctor. All in all, this time, solitude doesn’t taste as bitter as the last time I was here, thanks to the two women I loved most.
Another artwork inspired while playing a video game! Can you guess what game it is? Allow me to present: The Awakening (Light in D&A series)
The Awakening- a suppressed power, coupled with an imprison soul of the Lord of Burning Hell- Light awakened with his new-found power which consumes all.
Introducing the main character- Light Nagi with his trustee katana Shirogane
“Don’t assume your dreams are just fantasy. If you can imagine a world, believe in it… and dive in.”
~Tetsuya Nomura, Kingdom Hearts 3 Trailer
Is it hard to believe that whatever you imagine is true?
During my teenage years, I went through a living hell called the Royal Military College of Sungai Besi. Days of endless training and torture- mostly for building our resilience, has rendered my body and mind exhausted. So I looked towards the stars, thinking:
“Is there someone out there too enduring hardship and in search of his destiny?”
The truth is, everyone is like that. All of us have our own stories to tell, and all are equally interesting, thrilling, exciting, and fun. If there are 16 billion people in this world, there will surely be 16 billion interesting stories to tell.
But I was not fond of my own life back then, so I created a boy, someone I can look up to, and started daydreaming about him, as a form of mental escape really. From a single boy I constructed his behavior, values, and hopes. Then, I move on to his environment, his friends, his enemies. Later, his origin, his future, then his world.
Everyday for the past 15 years I think:
“What would Light do?”
“Why did he do that?”
“How will his surroundings react to his choices?”
Now, his life is in my mind. Before Light is forgotten, I will need to tell you his story. So, will you embark on this journey with me? To my Milleu?
For my friends in Malaysia, I strongly suggest to check out Google Play Books and Rakuten Kobo. Thanks for your support!😊
Sypnosis:
Is it so easily defined between good and evil?
The Millieu, forged by a millennium of brutal war between heaven and hell, has now flourished under the command of the Red Emperor- the only Ange left of his kind. With the emperor’s grace, the strong nation of Avalon has stayed dominant against its other two rivaling countries.
Another millennium has passed, and the savagery of war has mostly forgotten, replaced by the illusion of tranquil, reinforced by people’s blind ignorance.
But the war is far from over, residing at the north is a vast land of Bhadura. Covered by desert, beneath the deadly sandstorms lies a hidden enemy, which has the power to bring threat to the mighty Avalon.
Guarding the Holy Nation of Avalon is the group of holy knights of four. The Four Saints- a title granted by the emperor to his greatest warriors, with powers rival to the gods, they won countless battles against this unknown enemy. They are closing in towards the front door of the enemy, solely for the sake of peace.
Now, there’s a boy in his youth from the peaceful nation of Rosaria, in a bustling harbour city of Neberium, is hoping to become one of the Saints. With the light of hope, and the flames of hatred, he walks the path where his future is undetermined….
To be honest, this is more than what I have expected.
For a novel I constructed out of the blue, driven by the urge of giving a tribute to my belated grandfather, I spent 3 weeks writing it, and 3 months printing it, all facilitated by my writer consultant Miss Izza.
But I was nervous, being the first publication, I’m worried that my work is not on par yet. “Am I good enough to continue down this path?” I even question myself.
So, just to answer myself, I have asked for reviews from my family and friends. They tell me it’s OK… but being a man of science, I need more evidence.
There, 5.25/10 from a trusted writing platform. I consider that as a pass.
Thank you BookLife prize, for your honest review, to let me know which part of my work is to be improved.
Looking forward to the next competition, I have many projects that need reviews in near future.
Gabranth Flaringgail- The Dark Knight of the Four Saints imposes his will upon the Diable Lilith. With darkness infused sword and armor, he fights an impossible foe which supposed to only exists in legends and folklore. The clash between light and dark lays ruins to the beautiful Red City.
Well, I must say, I did not expect myself to go this far. Being a traditional artist myself- who mostly rely on physical brushes and paper, this is the first time I find digital drawing to be so accessible, satisfying, to the point where I find it unfair. 😅
Still, I’m glad I tried using a tablet for this. If I didn’t, this piece wouldn’t be this satisfying, for me at least.
Thank you, my dear brother, V8, to provide me insight and guidance as I scribble on my tablet, even unlocking the secrets of this crazily good hardware and software I have difficulty getting used to. There is a lot of trial and error so please bear with me. I hope to improve further.
Now, please enjoy the Timelapse video of the creation of this piece. I hope you all like it. Thanks for your support.
With teary eyes and a beautiful smile, you tell me that you didn’t see this coming.
I think you are bluffing, how could you not notice the mistakes I made, which almost revealed my ruse?
Lets go back a little, to 1 month earlier:
After the completion of the book intended to be used for the occasion, I stopped myself to go for mass production of it and to print only one copy of it.
I purposely named it “the only one edition”, because there will only be one such copy in this world, and it’s yours.
Self-designed cover, self-arranged and edited, binding and printing of the highest quality I could find at a printing shop next to my hospital- simply put, perfection will be my mark on this book of yours.
And it was kept in my empty luggage at my hostel, together with that ring.
So with that ready, i set my plan in motion, behind your back:
1. Book a good restaurant that offers your favorite Japanese barbeque, and told you to make it to KL for our anniversary no matter what. I’m glad that your family agreed to bring you to kl for a vacation, so no issues there.
2. Following that, I approached your mother to join in the dinner, when you are out working. She was ambivalent initially, but i think it was your sister that coerced her to join.
3. Plan it with my brother, and my friends to hold the ring and book while we are out dating for the weekend. And to join the dinner and have fun.
It was a breeze, until…
I anxiously called you asking the size of your ring.
The restaurant calling me while we were driving to confirm our reservation for 11. I told you it was for 7 because I wanted to make it a surprise- that your family will be joining.
You saw your mother waiting outside the restaurant, anxiously smiling at us.
All and all, the night started wonderfully. Everyone was having a great time. Good food, nice environment, good singer on stage, and great service from the staff. (Thumbs up to all the staffs who worked on 12th September 2020, in Rocku Yakiniku One Utama!)
When I was done with the food, I prepared for the final act. NQ was still messing with the beef on the grill, everyone was still stuffing themselves with what the restaurant can offer, I made my way to the staff tending to us, and requested for Lee Hom’s Forever Love.
When the song was sung by the singer on stage, with his smooth gentle voice and guitar strings, I made my move.
It was crowded and my speech was all over the place, but the ring made my intention clear.
My brother V8 pulled out the book and red paper bag which contained the ring. I revealed to you that everything- the whole trip, us meeting with your family, my brothers being here, was not a coincidence. Everything has been planned and executed with each member doing their part. Then, I gave the book to you, explaining what it is, what you can do with it, and what I hope it can do for us.
The only one edition of my second book- Bii, Will You Marry Me?
There will only be one from me, to you, and you will decide whether to share it with the world.
Now, after the book, there’s the elephant in the room- the ring. Call me fussy, but I still think the rock is too small. I hope I can give you one that will blind everyone in the restaurant, but I suppose that we should always make room for improvement right?
You nodded quickly when I asked you the title of the book as I looked up to you, kneeling. The memories of our pasts rushed in both our minds. It was messy, and we were speechless. Tears of joy fell down our cheeks, knowing that finally, we have reached the next stage of our relationship, and we intend to take it further, way way further, hopefully until the very end.
You wiped my tears away, ignoring yours. I knew they were filing, but I pay no attention to what they were doing. I just wanted to savor our most important moment.
After it’s done, we sat together, holding hands. You kept asking me how did I manage all these. I’m surprised that you did not notice the mistakes I made along the way. Still, I can never have done it without them- who are also my loved ones. I have to say, I am somewhat affected by my own parents not being here, but considering what has transpired, and the risks of inviting them, I would rather do it this way, and deal with their onslaught later.
We utilized the opportunity to have fun- just so happens that my brother V8’s birthday is 10 days away, the restaurant offers us a birthday cake free of charge! So after the happiest moment of the night, we quickly continued the joy by changing from an engagement party to a birthday party. For that, we were greeted by what I would still regard as the most important invention in the world of culinary art- the Tempura Ice Cream Cake!
My brother V8 with his one-of-a-kind birthday cake, courtesy of Rocku Yakiniku One Utama.
Don’t be intimidated by its appearance, Crunchy on the outside, fluffy in the middle, and the burst of smooth vanilla ice cream beneath! Good stuff. I’m really worried we don’t get the chance to eat it in the future.
Now, for the fun part. After everything has settled, V8’s girl, who was sitting at the end of the table, showed me and my newly gained fiancée this:
That’s my not-blood-related-brother WJ, showing his classic “no-shit-is-given” attitude during my proposal. You laughed so hard we kept talking about it until the next day.
Thank you, to everyone who present that night, may it be my close ones, or the staffs, the singer, or even those on another table that very night, for making the night possible.
Thank you everyone.
Thank you my Bii, and congrats, we are now engaged.
Dr Vie Cheong Thong M.D. 