A Faraway Loving

How then, and why, suddenly, in this faraway land with four seasons and different spellings, did I long for the humid, tropical jungle of home? It was hard to explain- it was not exactly homesickness, but more an acute sort of love. Very painful and deep in the sewers of the heart, it came unbidden and unannounced inside your soul and mind. It was not that I remembered the jungle particularly well, or even liked it. On the contrary, it was because I had disliked it so much- that vile greenness, the sticky muddiness of the soil and humid festering inside the claustrophobic space, that it had imprinted upon my malleable and impressionable mind and represented to me, home.

I began to crave spicy things and began to act very carefreely when I was around other Malaysians. There was a certain comfort to being glib about serious things when you are in the company of your countrymen and women because there exists an invisible shield about you that allows you simply to be. The cultivated Americanisms would drop slowly, to make way for the curt, staccato-ed Malaysian English with its proudly broken, rojak grammar. You started to become patriotic again, though it was pertinent that you spoke good English in front of Americans because you did not want to give them cause to judge you and your origins.

Despised people became liked again, even Rahul. Distance makes the heart grow fonder after all, and Rahul