Dad left me a message on Whatsapp this morning about an old colleague of his who died today. They used to work together at the DID (Jabatan Parit dan Saliran in the new money) workshop in Ipoh back in the late 60’s. This colleague had this thing for this lass in Ipoh but couldn’t do anything about it because her parents didn’t really like him. Obviously, he was the butt of his mates’ jokes, as you do, lads’ banter and all that.
One memorable moment was that he once took this lass to the cinema, and she shoved him away when he tried to steal a peck on her cheek. His well-remembered retort to her rejection was, “Eh what do you think of my $1.40[1] aa?!!!”
The lass, however, got married to another man obviously to her parents’ approval. And this colleague of dad’s, over the years, didn’t. Once again, banter amongst the lads would make him once again the butt of their jokes.
Dad left DID in the early 1970s to join Volvo, and would still catch up with another one of his old DID mates (not this love struck romeo), and would often ask about how everyone was doing. When it came to this particular guy, it would always be, “Laaa… dok tunggu Limah[2] tu lagi ka?” And this would be the remark ad nauseam over the seubsequent years and decades.
Many years later, the day then came when this lass’ husband died, probably like 5-6 years ago thereabouts. Apparently, this ex- colleague (I think he would’ve been in his late 60s then) took the opportunity to get close again to his old flame. He sometimes does little chores, like buying an extra packet of food, basuh her kereta and even drove her to the market. Dad and his friend could only give a sigh and in their occasional catch up seshes would say, “Pi la kawen. Mak dia dah mati nak takut apa lagi?”
Neither dad nor his friend knew exactly what the circumstances were for this faithful friend of theirs – especially the question of why didn’t he ask for her hand in marriage. I am not privy to whether she had kids from her marriage – if the kids had objected to such a proposal.
I do sincerely hope his wait had nevertheless not been in vain, though. And dad’s last sentence in his Whatsapp message this morning read “Sampai mati tunggu si Limah.”
Take that, Marquez.
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[1]RM wasn’t the currency then, and $1.40 was the price of a cinema ticket.
[2]Obviously not her real name. You can’t be too blasé on the internet these days.
