One of my best friends is going home.
She is leaving her job in the UK and returning home to Malaysia where she is going to pursue further goals and realise different dreams. A single step for some, a giant leap for her.
I came to know her in 2004 when I had just arrived in cold, blustery Edinburgh that became my home for the past 5 years. She became part of my life in my 2nd year, when a series of events put us together as flatmates.
She made me dinner for a week when I had my ACL operation in my knee and was fairly incapable to even get a cup of water without using all the muscles in my body. And when I say all, I literally mean ALL. I have never taken the function of my now almost-normal working limbs for granted anymore.
Then there were all those times when she would go and get my yoghurt from the fridge when I requested - demanded - just because she is sitting closer to the above-mentioned-item. I mean, really what, if you are sitting closer to the fridge and I am sitting further away, makes more sense for you to get it right? Even though both of us are sitting?
After 4 years, I have succeeded in training her to agree to my ideas and thought processes because they obviously always make sense.
Including the person standing nearer to the door answers it when someone buzzes. Which more often or not, is her.
I'm a strategist ok. I sit further away.
Including the person standing nearer to the door answers it when someone buzzes. Which more often or not, is her.
I'm a strategist ok. I sit further away.
Her ability in chopping/slicing/mincing/grating, basically anything to do with a knife is insurmountable. Cooking for 20 people might take 5 hours, but with her, it is almost certainly diminished by half. And to top it off, she has never given herself a finger cut. Or maybe she has, but I am too busy quality controlling the food that I took no notice.
I would also be eternally grateful to her for my degree in medicine. Many a time has that crucial knock on my door on the morning of an exam pulled me from too deep a slumber.
I owe the fact that I managed to get myself to the exam hall every time, well fine, most times - I managed to make it in for some on my own - to her.
Her name is Kai Lin.
Then there is flatmate 2, who was (and still is) my bitch buddy for pretty much most of my years in Edinburgh.
I miss the hours of standing in the doorway/corridor - WHY did we always stand and not sit?? - bitching, I mean talking about intelligent - scratch that - completely useless information about medical research, I mean, people.
I remember the first time he cooked dinner as part of 'cooking group', I had diarrhoea.
Oh, yes I did.
From all the spices shipped from India, Bangla, Pakistan or wherever he is from. And there was his Chicken Taj Mahal that is my favourite dish (rightly so deserved the splendid name I Christianed it) which is one of all his other nameless recipes. I have yet to understand how he calls them all 'curry' but they all taste completely different. And also I spend minutes - oops, moments (didn't think it was too important hun) - debating why one cannot mix vegetables with meat in curries.
Oh, yes I did.
From all the spices shipped from India, Bangla, Pakistan or wherever he is from. And there was his Chicken Taj Mahal that is my favourite dish (rightly so deserved the splendid name I Christianed it) which is one of all his other nameless recipes. I have yet to understand how he calls them all 'curry' but they all taste completely different. And also I spend minutes - oops, moments (didn't think it was too important hun) - debating why one cannot mix vegetables with meat in curries.
And his brilliant answer is - Because it is not the Indian way of curry.
Sorry, excuse not acceptable.
Of course, who would forget our key-perfect, mellow and yet powerful rendition of Breaking Free from High School Musical that was heard across 4 blocks? I still have the record of that. Best it never be played again.
There is also his vast knowledge of the music scene, mostly Mariah Carey (no love, you would never come close to touching her, lest be her personal doctor) and also his endless supplies of American soap downloads.
That is transferred to me via MSN in 3 mintues. Damn, I miss ResNet.
His name is Alvin Anthony Soosay. THE one and only aas.
Only, it usually never works.
Also, who can forget her vast knowledge of medicine? Who can rival her ability to help me out of pickles when being put on the spot? Who can beat her immense knowledge of things like how on doodly-twink earth do we get to the Borders in time for 8am start? Who can parallel her forethought of.... of.... basically, who do I turn to if I need to know stuff like how to get the serial number of the new Coco Pops cereal box I bought?
Aye.
Sharing the same love for Asos (yes, yes, cheapo online shopping store, hey we're STUDENTS OK) and Debenham's - mostly bags and shoes - I always say great minds think alike.
Literally the next Aristotle/Hippocrates/Minister of Health in the making.
Her name is Phey Ming.And I miss them all, too much -
for the times we spent together -
for the years of being my family -
for the months of shouldering each other on -
for the days where we had so much fun -
for the hours of merriment and companionship -
for the minutes of feeling loved -
for the moments of joy and laughter -
for the seconds that took my breath away - and
for the memories that will last me through a lifetime.
I really love you all.
