Imagining & Hoping

"Remember, remember, remember the 13th of May - interracial clashes, fire and blood. I see of no reasons why this bloody incident should ever be forgotten"

Striking blue and white banners parade trees, lampposts and streets. Entangled to each other, flags of a white moon surrounded by a sea of green looked as if they were being swallowed wholly by the vast blue ocean of those banners. Not far away, light blue flags with vivid red stripes at the edges confining two crescents curved outward were fluttering frantically in the air as the swift wind persevered to shake them off from the fence.

I couldn't help but to notice how similar each places looked alike as they were inundated with the same raves of blue, green, red and white. Repeating faces that could only smile motionlessly appeared everywhere to subdue drivers into believing that each of their smile was genuine and sincere. And the lifted hands were made real like they were meant to outreach to the people who were scrutinising at the posters mindlessly to keep themselves occupied while waiting for their buses to arrive.

I couldn't help but to drown myself in my own imagination while travelling back home that somehow the hectic streets of the capital were resonating with Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture whilst moment exactly when the clock struck midnight on the 12th May, the Sultan Abdul Samad building that stood majestically in front of Dataran Merdeka which housed the Malaysian High Court were erupting in sudden flashes of bright, colourful light and basked with massive heat together with huge chunks of bricks thrown into every single direction.

I couldn't help but to imagine that my idiot box would go blank for a few seconds at the afternoon only to find a man in a P.Ramlee mask engraved with a wide grin taking responsibility behind the artistic demolition of the old court complex earlier and uttering about the possibilities of democractic freedom and practice of liberal speech, expression and action in this country as promised by our forefathers 50 years ago, while conjuring up the wounds of the May 13 bloodshed to serve as a palpable reminder for this nation the very next day.

I couldn't help but to imagine that every newspaper in this country reported nothing but only the faked and fabricated illusive triumphs of this country, while TVs and radios endlessly spewing chants of Malaysia Boleh every minute to draped over the incompetency and lies that this country had to put up away from the sight of her people and the world.

I couldn't help but to imagine that the sense of renewed hope in the hearts of the people when the familiar mask of P.Ramlee erased the doubts in them towards reclaiming what's right of them from the country and repainted their inner insight that once blackened their beliefs into hatred for each other since the young and the old were not allowed to convey matters that were buried in their mind for so long publicly, which but could only manifest into something far much more sinister and catastrophic if saved too long inside instead.

I couldn't help but to imagine that critical-minded citizens together with resilient bloggers who truly cared for this country, were slowly vanishing from the forefront of the battle where vans of mysterious figures clad in ISA jackets bagged each and every one of their heads with black hoods and bludgeoned them into disappearance and silenced death without a trickle of blood left for anyone to retrace.

I couldn't help but to imagine that a year later on the May 13th, the nation marched confidently to the Parliament with great pride for unity and understanding imbued in their hearts as one which was portrayed vividly on their P.Ramlee masks, to witness the raze of the historical building in a spectacular explosive fireworks accompanied by the spirit-elevating Overture as a symbol of a new country that rose taller than her dark past which marked as a new resolution and hope for her people.

I can't help but to hope for the best for this country, for her people, for my dear family members and friends that the best would turn out from this coming General Election; that everything that was once promised to her people and by the government, would be fulfilled without hesitation and with utmost obligation that fights to ensure the rights of every citizen; rather than just becoming another nonsensical string of the crow's ugly harks that deceived the trust of the nation over and over again.

I can't help but to hope that this country would not need a masked vigilante and unnecessary fireworks-bombings like my imagination had invoked to save herself from continuing her voyage on this damned path where many crooked politicians lurked around for opportunities that would eventually lead her to her downfall.

I can't help - but only to continue imagining and hoping persistently in my heart.

Recommended extra reading: A year of bull, broken promises, “blog-heads”, bigots and bravehearts (Aliran)