29. The Ram

“Call me Ishmael.”

~ Herman Melville (Moby Dick)

 

That was how he introduced himself, The Ram. Not in those words exactly.

Similar.

It was an introduction that made me very happy, until I realised he had quoted (in a modified way) the book. (I will explain my disappointment later.) Perhaps that was why I didn’t get the quote at first. Or I was tired and hopeful. Or I just was (am) not a fan of Moby Dick :p

Actually, the Ram does not really qualify as one of the Unspoken, Undeclared … Non-Uttered… ours was more a case of Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Circumstances to such an extent that even if we were the Right Person for each other, at that time, in those circumstances and being oceans apart, things could not work out.

I am happy to say, that we are still friends. And while I cannot figure out which Unspoken characters to write about next (without jeopardising friendships etc), I think I will write about the Ram.

Why? Because he pointed out, teasingly I hope, that he noticed he didn’t make the list, so basically he is asking for it :p And because I think we have reached a comfortable place with each other that the friendship will still be ok after I am done, and that there are still lessons to be learned from our story.

Ready?

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28. One Year

It has been almost a year since my last post (life has a way of keeping me occupied), and much longer since I last had a connection/communication with Mr SG. However, I guess if you have a certain closeness with someone, it is possible to have some sort of psychic connection with them.

Of late, I have been dreaming a lot about him, even though in wakefulness I have not spared a single thought in his direction.

And it is because of these dreams that I thought to revisit this blog, and saw the message that it has been a year since I signed up here.

Time flies.

27. Business as Usual

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

~ Dr. Seuss

A couple of weeks after I settled into my new home, and got the internet properly set up, I went through my email notifications for news about Mr SG’s activities. I found that I felt no resentment towards him and reading the articles just seemed “natural”.

I continued to add on to the repository and saved images individually. When I had enough images, I emailed them to him labelling my emails with numbered subject headings, so he could figure out the set.

While in the past he would acknowledge having received a complete set, ever since that last meeting where I didn’t take a photo standing next to him, he just didn’t respond. I learned not to expect it.

There were some articles that did not sit well with me. He was becoming more involved in politics and some of the media pieces became more intrusive and not really newsworthy. Where I had an opinion, I wrote him. I cautioned him about how he was being presented, advised what I could for future reference and hoped he saw it not so much as nagging but a silent partner watching his back and being the voice in his head. If he read my emails.

It was not all hunky dory in celebrity land and I wondered if he ever thought that he had bitten off more than he could chew. As a demonstration that I harboured no hard feelings for things said in the past, and that I could set aside whatever personal affections I had for him to maintain a working relationship, I offered an olive branch.

It was about 5 months after our meeting as colleagues. The silence having started even before that. I sent him an email, said what I had to say about what I read, and offered him my ears as his sounding board whenever he felt he needed an outlet. While I stated that he need not reply to that email, I ended it with a proposal to forget what had been uttered and to pretend that none of it took place.

He replied a few hours after. His reply was simple: “Thank you” for the email and that he “appreciated it”. That was how we broke his silence.

Months after that, his PA had informed me that he was planning to visit my home country. He had asked if my family was interested to attend the formal event being held, for which he was the invited guest speaker. I extended the invitation to my sister and asked her to spread the word.

Unbeknownst to me, my family met him not only at the event venue, they also sent him off at the airport.

During the event, the sister who had met him before was re-introduced to him. He recognised her and in his opening address, she said he spoke of how good it was to see the familiar faces of people he regarded as his family. He then looked in the direction of my sister and the other members of my family.

How unfair is that??? They, he considered as family. Me, a colleague. If I had not had affections for him, I would have been very angry. :p

My family saw him leave at the airport and my eldest sister said he had taken the time to meet with them first before he left.

We continued to communicate through emails, snail mail for a few years after. I could still ask him what I wanted and when it counted, I always got a reply.

He eventually got engaged to the girl who had made an appearance by his side, as his date, at a community event. Mutual friends reassured me that I was better off. They got married in one of the most publicised wedding ceremonies for that year.

He was my Facebook friend for a while too but I had the strange suspicion (with less than concrete evidence) that she checked on my wall using his account. I promptly removed him from my friends list and was annoyed that he had allowed for my privacy to be compromised. I don’t think he noticed the disconnection. Most of his posts are probably updated by his PA.

 When their first born was delivered, I made the conscious effort to stop contacting him. I left it open to him to reconnect – I keep the same email and that was the most common way we kept in touch, and he has my mailing address, if he kept it, if he ever wanted to.

I just stopped everything on my end.

It was not all that difficult to do.

26. Escape

“If I had not met him, I would not yearn for him. If I did not know him, I would not think of him so much. If we had not been together, I would not have to disappear. If I did not treasure him so much, I would not have so many memories. If I did not love him, we would not need to throw each other away. If we had not been face-to-face, we would never have been together.
Perhaps, if I had not met you at all…”

~ Hae Soo (Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo)

I arrived at the hotel safe and sound. Covered my mouth with the soft hotel pillow and screamed. No one heard, I don’t think.

It was hours yet till my flight, but I didn’t want to linger in the room and I knew I would not be able to sleep, though my eyes had stung from being kept open by my hyperactive brain.

I got to the airport early and loitered for the next few hours.

There’s one thing to be said about Asian airports – they’re good for those needing lots of space for aimless wandering.

It was too early to check in and I was not really hungry to occupy a table at any of the restaurants there. I found myself a spot at the internet cafe and started yahoo messenger, and got in touch with my sister.

I told her what happened and she kept me company while I finished up the hour of online connection that I had purchased.

Then I went to the prayer room. I prayed. I sat for a while after my prayers, and thought of all that had transpired just hours before.

My sisters, both of them, bless their hearts, had dropped off their sons at my mother’s and met me at the airport. It was well past midnight but they were there waiting for me when I landed. We sat at a booth of the 24-hour eatery there and stayed all night chatting. They asked very little and listened a lot. I am so lucky.

I got home and cried what tears I had left.

I went back to work when the new week started. I focused on handing over what I needed to and tried not to think of him. While I was not expecting anymore communication from him, I could not help checking that stupid inbox for even the slightest encouragement. Thankfully, my list of to-dos was over-full.

Keeping busy (not by choice) was what helped me keep my sanity. I had too many things to do. Aside from a brief explanation to my closest colleagues (who had been cheering me on) why things didn’t work out, no further mention of him was made.

Then all too soon, my migration papers and details were confirmed and I flew out to the other side of the planet. It was the furthest I could have thought of going.

25. Colleagues

“They had no conversation together… but what the commonest civility required. Once so much to each other. Now nothing! …  Now they were as strangers; nay, worse than strangers, for they could never become acquainted. It was a perpetual estrangement.”

~ Jane Austen (Persuasion)

As  I was led to a table almost in the centre of the hall, I wondered if it would be better if he joined me sooner, or much later. Later would have given me some time to regain what little composure I had had and perhaps I could have made an excuse to not wait if I wanted to chicken out.

I didn’t really get a chance to dwell on it too much because he walked over from his group almost right away. I cannot even remember if I had a drink brought to me. I just remember he sat at the small square table with me.

The atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable.

He picked up the book that he authored, and I had brought with me, got a pen out and signed it. I then gave him the compilation of newspaper clippings from all the newspapers and magazines that I had put together in a book. It was a little messier than what I had done before but I had been pressed for time.

He flipped the pages but his cursory glance through the articles lacked the same enthusiasm that he showed the previous gifts.

We were both quiet. I didn’t know what I could say to lighten the mood. And he, I believe, didn’t know how to broach the subject I had written about. There was a business-like air to his movements that night.

I was silently willing him not to say anything… because somehow I knew it would not be a response I wanted or needed. Inside, I berated myself for insisting on being there. I wanted to just get up and leave and hoped that he would provide me with an exit. He didn’t.

Finally, perhaps he too couldn’t stand the silence anymore, he said that he appreciated what I had done. He said, he thought of me as a “colleague“.

I have always read how people said that they wished, at some point of embarrassment in their lives, that the ground would open up and swallowed them. I didn’t understand the analogy or how profoundly mortified  a person could be to wish that, until that night, at that very moment.

I remember nodding my head as I tried to find the right words to say that would make any sense and not make things worse. All I could do for several seconds was nod. I didn’t really hear if he said anything else, or maybe I don’t remember. It was almost like he was talking to no one in particular, he was looking down at the table as he spoke and therefore he didn’t see my nods. He didn’t seem to notice that I had not said anything.

I think I finally said, “it’s o.k. ******, it’s fine”.

Then he nodded and added, as if he was offering a consolation, that he thought I was very brave. I thought “huh?” and didn’t quite comprehend what he meant. Brave? I must have looked very puzzled because he explained, that he thought I was “brave for writing” what I did, for letting him know my feelings.

I don’t recall what I said exactly but I know I thought at least I have said what I needed to say. He seemed to think he needed to say more and all I wanted to do was to say, stop. Enough.

So I said again, “it’s o.k. It really is.”

He nodded and then we both got up and walked in opposite directions. Me towards the main exit.

As soon as I was out his sight, I sat on a stone wall and called X. I needed to talk. The driver who drove me there would have only just started his dinner and I didn’t want to make him come right away. A part of me needed to get away to figure things out and another part just wanted to crumble and cry. I still had the drive to the airport and a flight home to get through so I needed my wits about me, but my brain was all foggy and my heart, well that part of me was confused with feelings of disappointment, sadness and frustration.

I was a colleague??? Not even a friend? Not even an inner circle? After all that he shared, after knowing so much about him and his family and being included by the people he was close to… I was just a colleague? The outer ring that is just one away from the general public? Ouch!

Brave? That was my consolation?

I was his brave colleague.

Give me a medal.

24. Personal Circles

Colleague: [noun] A fellow worker or member of a staff, department, profession, etc

~ Dictionary.com

Back in the mid 90’s, I went to Japan on an exchange, friendship visit. As a part of that visit, to foster cultural understanding and appreciation, the organisers arranged for each delegate to reside with a local family for a night. Just so we understood how precious and exclusive a home-stay was to the Japanese families that were going to receive us, how much it was outside of their comfort zone, we were given lessons on what was normal for Japanese people, traditionally.

At one of those sessions, we were told how the Japanese maintain boundaries within which they place the different groups of people in their life. While other societies do the same, the boundaries tend to be flexible and can even be vague – friends can be closer than family, for instance. For the Japanese, the lines are clear and (fairly strictly) adhered to.

In the inner circle, there is the person and their immediate family – which may include paternal grandparents. They live in the same household and know about all the goings-on of that household. They share the most intimate “secrets” of the family/household, which they maintain as privileged information just among themselves.

The home is sacred ground, where they can shed their outer persona and be entirely themselves. No pretense, no masks.

The next circle out from that innermost one is where they place their friends, family, and family friends, and perhaps a close neighbour. These people may have an insight about the family and may have even been invited to the home.

Further out from that is the more superficial circle of colleagues, business acquaintances, and clientele. This group of people may hang out with the person (karaoke sessions, business dinners) and may meet with the spouses. Often they don’t get invited home and only know what they need to know. They will also know the person based on the personality he chooses to show – a front, polite, and stoic, laughs at the right time. They may never know the person as he or she truly is.

The outermost circle is everyone else.

Considering how we (the exchange visitors) are foreign to our host family, for them to agree to have us stay a couple of nights with them, that was really taking them out of their comfort zone, having to reveal their innermost secrets to perfect strangers, most of whom don’t even speak their language (we were all given a crash course).

In our culture, the lines are faint. I grew up with friends visiting our home and I have visited theirs. My sisters even had friends sleep over at our place and we have accompanied my eldest sister at her friend’s place when that friend’s parents were out of town. When we went for Quran reading lessons, we helped our teacher with her home food sales business – packaging, preparing the ingredients. We hung out in her home.

Sometimes, I think I forget that while I function on that faint boundaries principle with the people around me, there are others who maintain very fixed lines like the Japanese do.

23. Silent Treatment

“She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she hardly knew of what… She wanted to hear of him, when there seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they should meet.”

~ Jane Austen (Pride & Prejudice)

He was silent for a long time.

I thought then that maybe he had the impression that I didn’t like him, and that he misunderstood my interest.

My plan to migrate was materialising slowly but surely; it was weeks before my departure date and I was wrapping things up at work. I had 2 options. Leave things as they are and fly far away, or, make my feelings clear and see what happens (and then fly far away). Option 1 was the simpler thing to do. It was also safe.

Option 2 had all the risks, and went against everything, that until then, I had put up for the purpose of self-preservation. It could lead to rejection and everything associated with it (humiliation, awkwardness, broken friendship).

Past experience has shown me that Option 1 will lead to the potential mental stress of wondering “what if” and the regret of never knowing (and decades later writing a blog about all that :p), and I am a sucker for punishment (I have a strong heart – or maybe it is just numb from the abuse I put it through :p), so I decided to select its alternative.

I sent him an email to apologise for any possible misunderstanding I might have caused that evening. Then I explained how and why I came to connect with him and confessed my interest. I asked that he gave it some thought and time if needed and requested a confirmation either way.

He said nothing. He wrote nothing.

While waiting for him to respond to the confession, I continued with my contribution to his achievements. I updated the repository of news of his achievements and his website. I sent the updates to him for his approval. I got nothing back.

I had one last project to give him. (I noticed that none of the things I gave him were ever displayed. I know he showed the 2 volumes I gave him at the gathering to his father but there was also a portrait sketch that I have not seen since. I know he has received it since he acknowledged as much – others have also given him things like caricatures that they did/commissioned to have done of him, and other mementos, that went on a shelf of things his fans gifted him. What I gave him never made that shelf. I just thought, at that time, that what I gave was not good enough a likeness.). I thought twice about giving him the last gift but I had no use for it myself, and it would be a waste to just leave it laying around.

Bracing myself for a cold reception, I contacted his personal assistant and made arrangements to go to that place when he was going to be there.

When I arrived, the PA, who was supposed to have been there to meet me, was nowhere to be seen. I waited outside the building and saw Mr SG pulling up in a car driven by a woman I did not recognise. He walked into the place without noticing me. I should have followed my gut feeling and left, but it was an expensive trip I was not sure I could repeat soon.

I tried to contact the PA but did not have much luck. It was getting late. There was only one thing to do. I walked to the reception and said I had something to give him. They knew me and asked if I wanted to meet him. I could not really make out his expression through the glass wall of the attached meeting room.

As I was contemplating my next move, the guy ushered me in and told me to wait at a table. I did.

I should not have.