Sunday, May 4, 2008
-10:19 PM-

Melody:

Here is the second part(:

Chapter 2

No pain.

She listened to the silence. She was perfectly alone. She was not perfectly sure whether she was there herself.

It occurred to her she must exist, for she was lying on some sort of tiling. As this sentiment came through, her eyes opened wide. She found herself in a dark living room of sorts, with elaborate furniture. They all seemed like on of those antiques that you go to a shop to buy for ornamenting your house with.

Standing, she found that she was clothed in the garments she wore when she… what? She could not seem to remember. Jump, something about jumping.

Giving up the pursue of her train of thought, she began to explore, stunned that her feet made no sound when she traversed the marble tiling.

Suddenly she was aware of a presence. It had been dark and she had not sensed the woman, but now she sighted her. To Melody’s astonishment, she wore a traditional costume, something called…a kebaya. She had dark skin, but in the blackness, everything was dark. Her face was a stunning blend of Chinese and Malay.

“I am sorry! I didn’t mean to, I don’t know how I came here-” gabbled Melody.

The woman did not seem to have noticed. She continued picking her way delicately towards Melody. As she became uncomfortably close, Melody stepped back awkwardly and realised there was another woman a few steps behind her, dressed exactly the same, albeit with her hair in a bun and the kebaya a pale blue with different intricate patterns.

Suddenly she felt an odd sensation in her body and looked down. To her shock and fear, a hand from the first woman had extended into her body through to the other side to grasp the other woman’s hand! But there was no pain.

“Chiak pah boey?” said the first woman. Both females did not seem to have noticed Melody, let alone noticing the hand through her body.

Melody screamed but no sound came. Wildly, she backed away into another room, another and another. Her body just floated through the flesh of the two women. Thoroughly freaked out, her eye caught a photograph hanging on a nearby wall. In big capitalised words on top of the picture, it read: “In remembrance of the 80s-90s 20 years later – taken yesterday”.

Horror.

She wheeled away from the two women’s distant figures as she put her hand to her mouth. She wanted to yell. Couldn’t. She wanted to throw the ornate furniture that she could not touch. Couldn’t. She wanted to cry. Couldn’t.

Finally, she sat down on the tiling. Her mind was unraveling, no doubt. She must be at the hospital now. This must be the aftershock of the fall. This a dream. A Dream.

She stood up blankly. Well, if this is a dream, why not make the most of it? Her childish curiosity surfaced, and she began to poke around with interest. It seemed to her that the occupants spared no expense in acquiring fine furniture, porcelain, beadwork, embroidery, implements and vessels for their altars and ornaments. There was a seroni propped beside a table which a picture was laid. It was a blurred photograph of a Chinese wedding. (*note: seroni, a wind instrument, is only restricted to Chinese weddings).

She heard voices, remembering the two women. Cautiously, she ventured through the spacious rooms back to where she had found herself. Light now flooded the room and Melody could see the two women clearly. Both were wearing the kebayas complete with a sarong and beaded shoes (kasut manek). The beauty of this ethnic wear, Melody realised, was that it gave emphasis to a woman’s figure.

“It is hard, my dear friend,” the first woman was saying, and sighed. “That servant does not know how to listen to my instructions. The other time she starched my husband’s clothes too much and he spent his day scratching his neck as the collar was too stiff! The chauffeur too… he sent my girl to riding lessons and my boy to dance class. Doesn’t he have common sense!? Ever since I’m married to this family, I have to organise the household and make sure everything is spick and span. I do get respect, but it is tiring… With that devil of a mother-in-law Bibik, I have to be meek.” (*note: from this we can infer that women have much respect and is expected to run the household well after being married into the family)

“Yes, I know. My daughter is complaining that she does not get the attention she sought for from her husband. I told her that she must learn to run the household, and harness as much power in the family as she could. There is no hope for that husband of hers. He has many women outside. Although that is the case, my daughter still has to take care of him because it is her duty. I regret forcing my daughter to marry him two years ago…” (*note: from this we can infer that marriages were planned by parents in the past) said the second woman sadly.

The conversation became much more casual after, as if both women did not want to dwell on the resignation of their lives.

Some time later, the first women glanced at the clock. “It’s almost dinnertime! The servants should have prepared the food. My husband is out and my son is at boarding school. That old Bibik is out visiting her friends so I guess it’ll just be you and me…”

Melody followed in the two women’s wake as they ambled towards the dining room. One glance at the table sent Melody watering at the mouth.

There were many dishes and one which she identified as a bowl of Penang asam laksa (a spicy and sour noodle soup). As the women ate, they exchanged recipes and as Melody listend, she learnt the names of the savoury Peranakan cuisines she never knew. Peranakan specialties include otak-otak, a popular blend of fish, coconut milk, chilli paste, galangal, and herbs wrapped in a banana leaf; Ayam Buah Keluak, a distinctive dish combining chicken pieces with nuts from the Pangium edule or kepayang tree to produce a rich sauce; and Itek Tim, a classic soup containing duck, tomatoes, green peppers, salted vegetables, and preserved sour plums simmered gently together.

She made a point to try all these out when she returned. Suddenly a dreadful sentiment hit her. What if she never got back, in this case, woke up? Well, wouldn’t it be better? She would never have to meet that old crone of a mother again…

Just as she thought this, the door banged open. The resounding crash echoed through the house and both women dropped their cutlery.

-----THE END-----

WATCH OUT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!!! There won't be a snippet this time if not it'll spoil the surprise... haha >:D

_______________