masterwordsmith-unplugged

The nondescript man walks into town roughly at the same time when the south-west monsoon strikes. No one is aware of his real identity, his place of origin, his occupation or why he visits round about the same season each year. One thing is for sure. His presence is made known when his yacht sails to the shores. The flapping sounds of the sails seem to announce his arrival to the villagers who carry on with their routine tasks nonchalantly even though a significant few are dying from curiosity as they yearn to know more about this stranger who visits their shores.

That morning, the wind rustled the leaves of the coconut palms kissing the many fruits that were ready for plucking. As he docked his yacht at Teluk Bahang, the sea gulls flew past him as though they were happy that he was back in town again. Walking across the sandy beach, he heaved a sigh of relief that once again the atmosphere was quite stable for sailing. Time to stock up before the next stop. He nodded and smiled to a few familiar faces as he made his way to the kedai runcit round the bend. The familiar salty scent of dried salted fish assaulted his senses and woke him up to reality. Painful memories flooded his mind and once again, from habit, he pushed them back - deep into the recesses of his brain not knowing when they would begin their next onslaught.

How long had he been doing this? He could not even remember. All he knew was that he had to get on with his life and leave the past behind him. Dried leaves crackled beneath his Reebok sandals as he walked towards the familiar corner shop that was manned by a stout Chinese man.

"Hello, sir!" hailed Mr. Chong happily for he knew that this gentleman would be contributing a fair share to his income for that month. "You are back again. How can I help you?"

"The usual stuff. You know the amounts, Mr. Chong. Been the same for the past few years," was his cold reply.

"Er...but the price is no longer the same," snickered Mr. Chong.

"It does not matter as long as it is fresh goods that you are giving me," he answered crisply.

"Nothing but the best for you, Sir. It is my job to make you happy and your job to make me richer," he answered loudly and guffawed even more loudly.

With that, the chirpy sundry shop owner quickly ordered his docile wife to pack the supplies that his obviously wealthy customer needed.

"Three hundred and fifty ringgit, please."

As the crisp notes exchanged hands, he looked around the shop and his eyes fell upon the cob-webbed corners of the ceiling, darkened by the smoke spiralling from the incense being burnt at the altar placed at the back of the shop. Piles of newspaper were stacked untidily either to be sold or to be folded into paper bags by the faithful and quiet madam of the shop.

"Thank you," Mr. Chong replied while grinning from ear to ear.

Lugging his sundries along, he made his way back to his boat. The scene was all too nostalgic. The lapping waves seemed to welcome him as though they had missed his presence when they did their dance against the rocks.

The years had not been kind to his face. Deep frown lines spoke volumes about the struggles he had experienced. Battles with man and weather left their mark in the many wrinkles at the corner of his brow and the many fine lines at the corner of his eye. His weather-beaten skin seemed to crack up in protest for neglect while the soft tousled hair seemed to be the only humane touch in the demeanour of this man who hardly ever smiled. Did he know how to? Could he ever smile again?

The haggard look wore him down and it was a challenge for him to walk upright, weighed down by the many concerns of his heart. His calloused hands bore testimony of the tough life he led at sea while his lean body hinted that meals did not seem to be a priority in his life.

If only...


*to be continued*

written by mws

*to be continued*