Another Deepavali commercial........

This one is by Yasmin Ahmad. Yes, the filmmaker behind Sepet, Gubra, Mukhsin, Muallaf and Wasurenagusa. View the full article at

http://yasminthestoryteller.blogspot.com/2008/10/what-malaysians-will-see.html

I remember Narin was pestering me to go to Yasmin's Blogspot page and take a good look. I did. And I almost wept.

I can relate myself to the boy who became a pilot.

When mom was alive, and when I was still small, she gave me my very first heartbeats - biologically and musically. She sparked in me this passion for rhythm when I was three - I was with mom, I was silently knocking on the drum ; she took it from me, smiled, and beat her rhythms. I was enthralled. I only spilled my passion for rhythm to her when I was fifteen. Today, I have a constant yearning to excel musically and be who I wanna be.

But, unlike the pilot, whose father didn't know about his passion for flying, mom knew about my passion for the drums and she even did me a big favour a few months before she died - she accompanied me to Yamaha Beatspot Mid Valley and I got my drum kit - on the second week of April, as a birthday present. Unlike the pilot, whose father may have died naturally or during a freak accident during work, my mom was snatched away from me. And it wasn't God's doing. Maybe now, she's up there. I can't say for sure. It's been two months since she died and to this very day, I wish she'd come to me in a dream, and tell me if she's proud of me.

And then, I notice that the star drummer for the worship team's missing today, the backup drummers have taken his place just for today's mass. I'm not one of them, and it's no surprise. I'd really love to have a chance to elevate myself to be who I want to be, but at the mention of my name, everyone disregards me (except for a select few - those people who've heard and seen me playing the drums). Today, after mass, when we were on the way back home, dad asked me, "Who played the drums today ? There was no oomph !" I didn't want to mention names of those who played - because deep down I felt that they could do much better someday; so I just told him, "That's what happens if Uncle Cyril isn't around." And he said in reply, "Yeah, he's good. He's goooooooooooood." I said, "I can only yearn to play as well as he does."

To that, I had no response. Well. I doubt he ever heard me. And I doubt he'll ever hear me. For a second there, I guess it's no wonder that I heave loud sighs these days... I'm in need of someone to listen to my heartbeats, someone whom I can share them with. And dad is so not that person. Mom was that person... at least while she was around. I want them...

I want them to hear the heartbeats mom gave me. I don't want them to be just confined to the room, like they've been all this while.

Yasmin, if you do come across this post...... I don't know if you'll ever say anything. I'm one of those people who seek for a place for their names to be etched, and at the rate things are going, I doubt I'll ever find a place to carve my name. There're many hearts out there who aren't willing to be opened, and the hearts who are really touched by these musings, if not my songs, are few and far between.