A Red Day

‘Red Star’, the communist flag, towered high above Dataran Merdeka. The ashen skies blared with the rhythmic thundering of bombs. This was 2020, in Kuala Lumpur, where mud mixed with azalea-red blood. In dark labyrinths of the underground, Malay, Chinese and Indian slaves marched in resigned despair. All fell under the tyranny of Chairman Ong, even his own kin.

Far above the chaos, an almost ethereal aircraft hovered above the clouds. Inside this aircraft was a face struck by unspeakable horror. His once handsome features twisted by remorse, the lone figure turned away from the display screen.

No! Muhammad Qalif bin Faizshal would not bow to this cruel fate! It was still not too late to bring back the prosperous nation of Malaysia onto the beach of time. But the hourglass had been turned. He only had 24 hours before the effects became irreversible. “I must correct the mistake that should never have been!”

But first, he had to find out what went wrong in the first place. Hailing from the year 2091, where time travel was in an experimental stage, Qalif had previously travelled back in time to a small Malay kampung. There, he had collected several samples of dirt for research for the global environmental crisis. Sure, along the way he had met a few friends, but that was all.

“Sayang…come and take a rest…” Well, maybe more than just a few friends. Sharifah was stunning in her traditional baju kurung, and she had yet to know of the destruction that plagued the future. So sweet. So demure. So ignorant.

Qalif had first seen her washing clothes at the riverbank. The sun was shining brightly, and the way her black hair became one with the wind was so…so… intoxicating. Qalif flushed when he thought of the time when their eyes met, she was as red as a chilli padi, all the while biting her lip. Their gaze met for too long a time, and they fell in love. Finally, Qalif brought her here to the future.

Waking himself from his fantasies, Qalif waved her off, and added a smile for good meaning. There was too much at stake here to be wiling away precious time. Time. Such a mysterious creature; so short yet so long; so slow yet so fast- nothing in the world was as bewildering, as unpredictable, yet as certain as time.

And now, Time played an elusive game of hide and seek with him. Where had he gone wrong?! Qalif decided to eavesdrop on a few conversations on the surface. He zoomed in to the Chairman’s palace.

“Oi! Where’s my nasi lemak!?” The pompous Chairman roared like a spoilt, impatient child. “Sorry ah, boss! Wait ah!” Qalif shook his head and chuckled to himself. Despite the completely different timelines, the Malaysian attitude had persevered. Amazing.

Focusing back on work, he soon found the cause. Malaya never rose as a united nation because UMNO did not surface. It was never founded because Dato Onn Jaafar, UMNO’s founder, was never born. Instead of the pacifist UMNO, new radical pro-Malay mastery parties grew, and threw the country into civil war. The dream was shattered. When the dust cleared, only the red flag of communism remained.

Swiftly, Qalif set the mega computer to work to find out why the founder of UMNO was never born. In his heart, he knew he had inadvertently caused this. And only he could bring back Jalur Gemilang and Malaysia. He mechanically, efficiently navigated the time ship, and once more Time warp enveloped the massive vessel.

Back in the past, Qalif feasted his eyes upon the lush greenery of ancient Malaya. Carefully, he activated the ship’s invisibility mechanism and discreetly landed in a secluded area. He took his wife’s hand, and together they walked. He could smell the dried salted fish and the durian (already extinct in the future), and hear the gleeful laughter of children from afar. Funny how the little things in life are what you miss most.

Upon returning to the ship, Qalif eagerly checked the results. His excitement soon turned bland. His worst fear has been confirmed. The cold mechanical display screen showed only a face. Sharifah. The dagger of realization plunged into his heart, knowing he had taken away Dato Onn Jaafar’s great-great-grandaunt. Such an insignificant part of the family, could change the entire course of history.

“Sayang… why are you crying?” Qalif could only dry his cheeks, and meekly reply: “Because I love you too much.” Sharifah gave him a modest peck on the cheek, and then went away, stealing a concerned glance once in a while. She had learned to respect his privacy.

Qalif then administered the sleeping pill into her glass of ‘teh tarik’. Unsuspectingly, dear Sharifah drank it and fell into slumber. As Qalif erased her memory of him with a mind cell modifier, every second he pained inside. With every memory gone, he killed a part of himself.

And so, he left her where she came from, with no memory of their love. Soon, a young dashing fellow emerged from the bushes and saw her. The sun was shining once more. All was repeating itself, except that man was not Qalif. He felt an immoderate desire to punch the man and take her away, but his selflessness was too great. It was the ultimate pain for him to see the man court Sharifah.

With more than a sigh, Qalif stole her a last glance at her. A face he would never see again. He set back on his journey, and traveled back to the future.

He emerged in the futuristic city of Kuala Lumpur. A driver in a Proton Merpati cursed at him for his sudden appearance, and beat the hovering red traffic light. He was back, that was sure enough. Gratified yet strangely empty, he looked up and saw Sharifah’s face in the clouds. Still higher, he was the floating Dataran Merdeka, and the colours of Jalur Gemilang flashed before him once more.

Nothing

His smile frightens me.

Through the sharp speckle of light on my glasses, I see a boy, of a vulnerable fourteen years, his face pockmarked, skin a slight ebony, and a posture befitting a hundred year old. On his left cheek there are traces of yellow pus, and the light subsided, I see through those shiny marble balls.

I see hate. Suffering. Despair. Fear. Why I do not know, but what I do know is that I am dealing with an extraordinary character. His chapped lips curl into a sneer. I feel very uncomfortable at the sight of this, deeply disturbed by this sudden turn of events.

His dry coarse hands move to me, and his eyes speak to me. It tells me everything. I see his mistakes, his anger, his suffering. I know why this boy is so angry. I know the truth behind him, the reason he hates the world. Because I am his teacher. And a teacher knows all.

“ Yes, teacher? Would you like a cup of water?”

But no!... I see nothing. I am a fool to think I could understand such a complex character. I have received complaints from the other teachers and students. According to them, he dabbles in the dark arts, isolating himself in his room, plotting the deaths of many. But of course, this is all gossip. What is real is, he has tried framing others for stealing books, and most of the time, he succeeds in escaping punishment.

Just who is this boy?

His Christian name is Jonathan. He is a single child. His father is a Catholic pastor, and his mother left him at the age of three. His father, always busy with the church, is never at home. When he is, he is a total disciplinarian, and spares no expense on his education- via the cane.

But no! This is not him!

Oh… how am I to describe him? I cannot think of anything that would do him justice, but two personalities would aptly portray him.- Gollum/ Smeagol. He is like a chameleon, sometimes red with fury, or green with envy, or white like the cold Arctic. He cannot be described as one person, but many. He hates and loves the world, just as he hates and loves himself. Just like Gollum.

Gollum! Hah! Talk about bad analogies!

I laugh out loud at this point. The others around me turn at this outburst, and realising who I am talking to, swiftly turn away again, fading away into the nothingness. They see a reject, a delinquent, an outcast, a psychopath waiting to pounce. Perhaps my optimism has blinded me, but I see none of that. I see a scared boy, who wanted to be friends, until society banished him from the face of their lifestyles. I see a choice, which has yet to be made. I see a glimmer of hope, in the foreboding dark and deep recesses of his soul.

Dear, Joseph. Why, why oh why do you turn to evil? Why do you bury yourself in the sinister machinations of the occult, when you very well know that your past will forever find a way to claw its way out? Why do you insist on deviating to those god-forsaken horrors of humanity? Why do you refuse to listen to the heart-ached givings of a dear friend who loves you dearly?

“Because I hate you."

Hate me? But why? What evil have I done you?

“Nothing. That is exactly what you did, nothing. While my unfair segregation commenced, you ignored me. While the punishment of the lamb was meted, you let them torture me. While the moons and stars passed, you were in your own world. And for these and many more, I hate you, and I despise all that has come to be you."

And as mysteriously as he had come, he disappears as I sink into my chair. The dagger of realisation is not a pleasant one. It slithers in my soul, infesting my heart like maggots feeding on a rotting corpse.

I open my eyes in despair.

“Teacher? ", Jonathan asks politely , "Did you fell asleep? Are you tired? How do you feel?"

"Nothing, dear John. It's nothing. Nothing..."