I am back from the Langkawi, the island of legends. I went there because everyone in the house thought I ought to go there and look for love in the form of a mysterious Mahsuri, the legendary princess who cursed the island into perpetual backwardness, until the government declared it a tax-free haven many years ago. Everybody is so concerned about my one-decade solitary confinement that I am beginning to suspect they actually envy my carefree life as a single father of four. My mother has issued her decree she has had enough of babysitting me and my four children for the past ten years. A month's stay at Pondok Fauzi on her own has somehow enlightened her to the fact that 50-year-old baby boys actually look after their elderly mothers, and not the other way round. Well, there goes my short-lived caring society and extended family bliss!
My three dear daughters were up in arms against me, too. They are now old and wise enough to tell me that they no longer have the time to listen to funny stories, or put up with my one-meal culinary experiments or appreciate my
bhangra moves -- they have school to attend and careers to plan for. They unanimously agreed that I should not be living my semi-retirement alone anymore and are now prepared to accept a step-mother in the house, however and whoever she might be. All female names in my mobile phonebook are now suspect and they screen my incoming messages despite my protests that they are all business or casual contacts. Even Thina (short for Thinagaran s/o Subramaniam) who sent me a Raya greeting by SMS was a possible prospect because they thought his name belonged to a woman.
And the
agent provocatuer behind all this after Raya mini upheaval is none other than my dear sister, Zah, who came visiting on the second day of Raya with her (third) husband. Zah is the youngest and the fairest of my three elder sisters. She looks much younger than her age and I have never been successful in telling people that I am actually her younger brother. We are very close to each other even though we grew up in different places and lead separate lives. Maybe it was because our respective marriages broke up within a space of two days in the same week ten years ago. What a weird coincident, but never mind that.
This sister of mine has a gift of the gab; she can describe the mudane task of making a sandwich and make it sound like it is the most interesting event of the year. We would usually pay close attention to her animated narration of anything, jaws dropping like pre-school kids listening to fairy tales being read out to them. When she came to visit us on Monday to tell us about her shopping trip to Langkawi where she found a suitable prospective bride for her 50-year-old little brother, she certainly had a very captive audience under her spell. And by the time she finished her presentation, I had lost out to her three to one. She had my Mom and all of my kids on her side. Moreover she has been married thrice while I have been married only once, a record which she had always challenged me to beat.
In the end I reluctantly agreed to consider her proposal provided I get to see and talk to this mysterious Mahsuri lady in person before I decide whether the matter should be pursued further. With whatever little clues she provided to locate and recognize this woman, I made preparations to gallantly brave the open seas and seek out this maiden in distress, slay a few dragons if necessary, win her heart and bring her home to live happily ever after as fairy tales often go.
And coincidently, too, I had a couple of friends who were planning a fishing trip in Langkawi on the following Monday so I jumped into their car and we headed for Kuala Kedah to take a ferry boat from there. In Langkawi we were greeted by a mutual friend who is working there for a stint and he took us to his boat that the guys were going to use later that evening. From the ice-box in his boat, he took out a large
Jenahak that he has kept for our lunch. The baby must have weighed well over 1kg! He threw the fish into the boot of his car and we drove around town looking for a restaurant to specially cook the fish for us. We found one Thai seafood outlet that was willing to turn the Jenahak into a
Tiga Rasa (three flavours; sweet, sour and salty) delicacy. Combined with a couple of side orders, it was lunch fit for kings!
After lunch, they went back to the boat to get ready for the fishing trip while I explored the town like a tourist, amply armed with a stack of business cards, just in case I need to wriggle out of embarassing situations. After covering every inch of Kuah, I could not find any trace of the lady in question. There were many that fitted her description and I guessed my mission had failed miserably. Not entirely, as I did get an excellent lunch treat and a box of duty free chocolate cookies for the kids at home. I am definitely coming back to the island as soon as I learn how to cast a line. Or maybe I will move my office there, with or without my elusive and mysterious Mahsuri.
