A Passionate Prisoner
Funny, I always feel no compulsion to settle down. So, you can see that I keep moving and moving for all sorts of reasons and excuses I can find in the world. And last week, I moved out again into a new place in Melbourne. The second time in Australia, and the 15th time in my entire nomadic life.
Moving Out
“I don’t know how you lived in this place, Hilmi. It’s horrible!” Mark said when he looked at my cramped studio room. He was kind enough to borrow his father’s car and offer his help to carry my belongings. I was lucky I wasn’t alone on that day. I had someone to witness another critical milestone in my life.
“Why? What’s wrong with this place?” I asked him.
“Well, to begin with, this place can pass for another scary prison besides the Old Melbourne Gaol. And you got two H1s while getting stuck here. How did you do that?”
I was laughing at his cynical remarks. But seriously, I didn’t have the answer to his last question. How did I do that? For the past six months in Melbourne, I lived in this small room and deprived myself from all the good things I used to enjoy. Six months.
No living room.
No bathroom.
No kitchen.
No radio.
No view.
No TV.
No life.
Yeah, Mark was right. I saw myself as a free man but, as weird and ironic as it might seem, I actually imprisoned myself there. I was a prisoner.
“I’ll take this bag, Hilmi!” Mark said while he was pulling a huge red bag and putting it around his left shoulder. I looked at him and said, “You know what, Mark. There was one thing that kept me alive in this so-called ‘prison’ for the past six months.”
“And what was that?”
“PASSION.”
“You’re right, Hilmi. I hope I’ll be passionate enough to carry all these giant bags!”
We laughed and dragged all those bags fully loaded with my crazy Passion for the past six months.
Moving In
Thanks to my extremely organized packing system, Mark and I cleared everything out of my old place and moved them quickly into my new place within one hour! While doing this demanding task, I remembered the more demanding tasks when I moved 33 boxes from KL to JB, and 32 boxes from JB to Pasir Mas. But it wasn’t that bad this time around. My old small studio room had no enough room for unnecessary accessories. And I have no reasons to complain because my new fully-furnished studio apartment has every reason for me to be thankful. It comes with a great package. It offers everything for me, the material things that I have been deprived for the past six months.
A bedroom with a queen-size bed plus a Heating cum Cooling Split System.
A flat wide-screen screen TV cum a DVD player with a lot of free channels.
A kitchen with matching stainless-steel set and complete accessories.
A microwave, a toaster, a kettle and a bar fridge with fancy gadgets.
A bathroom with a space for reading and a library collection.
A balcony with a stunning view of Melbourne city.
A life.
Of all these luxuries, the balcony is the most outstanding. A good balcony, for me, is one of the most crucial criteria of a good living place. It bridges souls and spirits to an unfounded land, so to speak. Standing there at the balcony on the Lucky eighth floor, I have the inspiring vision of queer eyes again. I know that I have found the most perfect spot to “settle down” for at least the next 12 months. Looking at the serene fountain of Bali Memorial Park right below me, gazing at the glorious sunset on my left, and admiring at the beautiful campus of Melbourne University on my right, I feel like a lazy King living in a 10-star presidential suite. I know that I will adore this place. And for all these passionate reasons, I decide to imprison myself again.
Thanks for pointing that out for me, Mark. Yeah, I am a passionate prisoner.
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Now you’re living!!!
Oh yes, dolah. Life has just begun. Over and over again.
Hey Prisoner, at least your prison is better than ‘berbumbungkan angkasa kelabu, lantainya bumi retak seribu’.
Orait, you’re free now. Enjoy your freedom.
You’re right, Ik. All these blessings are too much compared to what happened to those people in Haiti. I shouldn’t complain, I always know that
..and also people in our beloved country, masih ramai anak-anak yg belajar dalam kesempitan..
Salam,
Hilmi,
Oghe kelate sokmo dayo saing dan caknonyo pado hidup berjaya amat tinggi! You another example. My father leave Pasir Puteh with rm 7.00 in the 60′s and now me and my siblings are his symbols of “hidup berjaya, biarlah susah dahulu”.
Salam Aliff.
Oghe Klate ko, oghe Kedoh ko, oghe Johor ko, yang penting, kena gedebe sokmo! haha… Yup, the fields are always ripe to harvest. Sow and reap with JOY!
