Continued
She told Arjun, "If a man only wants you when you are drenched and hiding, you will always be hiding."
Arjun understood, because he had been rain boy too. In Bagan Jermal 1977, he was boy who left in rain? No, left in evening while pressure cooker whistled, not rain, but same. He thought leaving was strength. He hid in Hotel Malaya Bar, room behind kitchen, small, no big places, because big places left. He hid behind bar, pouring, measuring, never wasting, talking to customers but not telling real things, until Lina vaulted over bar during blackout March 1978 and sat on his side for first time, crossing counter, crossing from village that tried to bury her to bar built by man who fled.
This was a city made of farewell footprints. Some people stay long enough to make them home. That sentence, she thought that night, wrote later in notebook where she kept debts of heart.
Now, on floor of his room, Nasi Kandar plates empty, yellow and brown stains washed but faint, fan clicking, she had told real thing about Ah Man's house. Real thing not graphic, not for shock, but plain: I went because I chose, I surrendered because I wanted to be wanted without being owed, I left because being wanted only when hidden is still hiding.
Arjun held that, not with advice, with staying.
He said, "Here you don't need rain to come in." Simple. Not poetry, because poetry is what you do when you don't know what to say. He knew what to say. Here, you don't need rain.
She cried then, small, not loud, because Lina never cried where people could see, but this room behind bar door closed counts as not being seen.
He stayed, hand open on floor, invitation not claim.
Outside, Georgetown evening creeping in, everything changing in 1977-78, but Hotel Malaya Bar kept time seven minutes slow and always remembering. Call to prayer soft, ferry horn low, trishaws creaking, Ah Lan shouting Hokkien mee ready, Mr. Chew counting limes and also counting people, because people are inventory too, best inventory, always short tomorrow too, which is good, because if you are short tomorrow, you have reason to buy more, to come back, to stay.
And that is how bar remembers Ah Man's house. Not as shame, but as map you don't need anymore, but keep in pocket, like Seiko watch stopped at 3:15 shaken to start, like pearl hairpin left by Mrs. Tan, like crescent moon scar on wrist, pale against skin, shaped like moon that is there even when you don't see whole.
That night, after inventory, after chairs up, after till counted, Lina wrote in her small notebook, under AH MAN'S HOUSE - RAIN GIRL - NOT HIDING ANYMORE, one more line: ARJUN'S ROOM - DAY GIRL - STAYS. She underlined stays twice, because once is fact, twice is promise.
Arjun, in his room, looked at mirror cracked same corner, calendar 1972 pretty girl faded pink, photo of mother face-up, and saw not boy who left twice, but boy who stayed once, which is harder, which counts more. He shook Seiko watch, 3:15, started again, like heart.
And fan kept turning, seven minutes slow, like since 1936, like since 1941, click every seventh turn, remembering everything, even rain in Kuala Ketil that poured in buckets, even bare feet that no one heard, even girl who thought rain could cover everything and learned she didn't need rain to come in, not here, not anymore, not in bar that started as lie and became home.
End of Part 6
Next Part 7
DISCLAIMER
This work is a work of pure fiction. All characters, names, incidents, dialogues, and locations including Hotel Malaya Bar, Mr. Chew, Lina, Arun, Shankar and all its regulars, staff and patrons are entirely fictitious and products of the author's imagination.
Any resemblance or connection to any actual place, whether still standing today, renovated, demolished, or bombed and destroyed during the Second World War, is purely coincidental.
Any resemblance to any person, whether alive, dead, buried, cremated, or committed to the sea, is also purely coincidental and unintentional.
No identification with actual persons, living or deceased, or with any existing establishment, is intended or should be inferred.
Nganasegaran (tapessam@gmail.com) is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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