LATA CHAROK
6 years, before I am here again. The colours of nature are as beautiful as ever - the turbid cloudy brownish stream, translucent water droplets suspending in the air, the greens emerging from the crack of stones on the slippery slope. The morning here felt a tad drowsy; a serene state obscured from the concrete jungle.
A fallen log punctuates the landscape, a runway stage crossing the river like a bridge to another world. This is the center stage; where the spotlight falls - the beacon of light beaming from above while the waterfall is the backdrop sight and sound. Imran and Afiq would climb onto the wood, posing, modeling, just basking in the atmosphere of forbidden surrealism.
I was here 6 years ago, and it still felt like yesterday. This was a part of my initiation to what was to become my new destiny. Ropes used to straddle the stream of the waterfall where I abseiled down the waters, my fear of heights reverberated. Now the ropes are no more, the stones are silent, as if not letting on any kept secrets.
The outside world is sprawling, encroaching further into the pristine jungle. We remained connected to our telco service providers, 4G no less. Roofs of buildings can be seen as soon as you stick your head out of the jungle canopies. We sustained some injuries from the nature trying to reclaim what was theirs - the tracks are now covered with thorny veins, some of the tracks have disappeared altogether underneath the undergrowth - no traces of human interruption observable.
We were forced to move out once our collective presence was known.
TANJONG HILLS
Underneath the shrouds of banana leaves, we found our oasis. The lazy stream was just 10 steps away, yet the real tranquility lied where we lay down. There were a makeshift table, two flip chairs, one tent, two picnic sheets, and the panoramic sky just before our eyes. The melancholic evening couldn't even get to our emotions, even when the yellow-orange glow was painting everything it touched with its acidic hue.
The night arrived while we were busy doing whatever. We cooked our dinner - grilling Korean-marinated tenderloin cutlets, brewing matcha lattes and dicing carrots and salads into little cubes.
We talked, joked and played cards with reckless abandon; just having fun like there were no worries in the world. More than happy, I am grateful to be here. I can do this every other week, I thought to myself. I have a newfound love for these people. I loved our conversations, big and small. I love the fact that for some time in the fleeting world, we were invincible. Untouchable. We tasted glory in the air and it was delicious.
'We are now at the age of heaven's dwellers' Imran said almost nonchalantly, relating to our current age - 33. Imran taught me how to determine the qiblat using the Orion constellation earlier when the darkness fell and the stars and moon shone brightly in the Janda Baik night sky. I was amused.
Imran was anxious of staying here tonight, he didn't want to leave his mother alone. 'Can I offer you some words of wisdom?' I asked. 'Don't let the chance to create memories pass you by. You will never know the true value of memory until after it happens. Don't go back yet.' A few rounds of card games and a bottomless round of drinks lulled his determination to take off.
There were laughter, there was this understanding that we were forever young that tomorrow can't take away today, that our time here might be fleeting, yet the memories sketched into our minds make us immortal. How can something as simple as just being, could mean so many things at once?
Tomorrow was not promised, but today we lived. And lived; indeed we did.
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