Raya used to be a special, joyous occasion for me. It was hugely an important day - bigger than the day I found my legs were covered with hair or the knowledge that I could now sperminate a girl with a healthy uterus. I religiously marked my little calendar months in advance. I simply couldn’t wait to put on my brand new raya clothes and my new raya shoes that my mom had painstakingly color-coordinated with the rest of our family members.
It was the day too, I was allowed to watch TV all day long and play with some hand-made mercun, which, by the way, probably were smuggled from our neighbouring countries. Raya was the only day I truly felt like belong - kinda like grand birthday bash for me that everybody are celebrating. It really did
Sigh, now not anymore. I guess, only kids can see that unrealistic, border-less optimism that no adult can.
We see, treat and feel the day exactly like any other day in our adult, hot-mess year. Okay maybe a little less Monday morning and more like Friday night but still, we can shake off the feeling of ordinariness that lingers throughout our waking moments - raya or not. We become jaded and materialistic to the core that clouded our inner, much deserved happiness. Thus, there’s nothing much to look forward to this year, except you know maybe, a couple of nagging questions like, "Man, how will I lost this extra 10kg of post raya weight?", "Did I forget to turn the faucet off before I left?".
Strangely nowadays, raya has become the day of utter emptiness and hollowness; Sadly, much like my wallet and bank account right this moment.
A few days before Raya, I was on the phone with my dear friend, Herman. He’s the kind of 'go-to' friend whenever I have some personal issues where I can’t tell anybody else about, even my mother or especially my mother. We’ve been friends for years and I find it endearing how comfortable we are with each other and able to just be. And I love him for that. (I, however detest him for having such thick hair and being 32 while I have almost no hair and just, erm, 27 and all)
Anyway, we were talking about our raya preparations and stuff when suddenly he mentioned something quite staggering. It completely threw me way off balance.
"I am hiring a maid for my mother to help her out for raya," he said triumphantly, as though he just won a political seat in local election.
Whoa, that’s so original of him. Where did he come out with that idea? Oprah? Hallmark Channel? Queer eye for the straight guy?!
"Really? That’s so sweet and so thoughtful of you."
He let the idea sunk in with me before launching the inevitable. "So, what did your get for your mom this year?"
I chewed on my thumbnail.
"Owh, the same thing I always give her - Money!"
This was followed by an awkward, crushing silent.
"Why don't you get her someone to help her too? This would be a grand gesture from you to her, a great 'ang pow' raya. I am sure she’ll appreciate that".
Aces aligned in my eyes, like a winning slot.
The truth is, the idea of hiring a cleaning lady in Kulai is not as bourgeois as it might be in KL, really, but , hmm, still..
"You know what other thing you should do? Try getting one for yourself”. He added with pretend concerns.
Gosh, he’s probably right. I am such a lazy bum, relying on my good looks alone to see me through life. I would never have time to clean my apartment. As it was, I was reduced to taking one Sunday a month and just scooping everything into trash bags.
I mean, I regularly drop off my laundry to be washed and folded, so why wouldn't I have somebody else to scrub the inside of my toilet bowl?
Suddenly the idea wasn’t felt that extravagantly bourgeois after all.
"Maybe I should”, I said to him in a renewed conviction.
I hung up before he got the chance to further guilt-trip me.
That wise friend of mine, always has something brilliant to share. As you can see, he’s happy to share the Raya’s ultimate secrets of happiness to me; togetherness, be thankful for everything that we had, blah, blah, blah you know, that sort of thing.
Well, at least one of us really knows the true meaning of Raya, doesn’t he?
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