A National Anthem

While I’d already been told that three ghosts would be visiting me on the September 16th, I hadn’t really expected them to actually turn up. I mean, come on! What was this, ‘A Christmas Carol’?

So I wasn’t very surprised when I found myself standing in the middle of Padang Merdeka in my pyjamas. Sheesh, couldn’t they even let put on a decent pair of clothes? Or shoes, for that matter?

And there was no one there besides me. Which was just peachy because here I was, in my pyjamas, barefoot in the middle of Padang Merdeka at midnight. Alone. And heaven knew what kind of unsavoury characters strolled about at this time of the night.

“Ah, there you are.”

It’s bad enough when ghosts appear out if thin air in front of you. It’s even worse when they appear behind you and then tap you on the shoulder. So it really wasn’t my fault that I screamed out loud. “Argggh!”

And then, “Holy Mackerel! You – you’re Hang Tuah!”

“The one and only.”

And it was him. He looked pretty much like how he was portrayed in the history books, though a little shorter. And more, um, rugged. Or something.

“Are you here to show me the sins of my past, or something like that?”

He waved his hand in answer and the ground beneath me suddenly bumped up to send me sprawling onto the hard tarmac of a… school? My primary school! What the heck?

It must have been a Monday because I’d landed in front of an assembly of kids which went on singing Negaraku despite the fact that a woman in pyjamas just fell out of thin air in front of them.

While Hang Tuah had been a fearsome warrior, he wasn’t quite a gentleman, leaving me to pick myself up from the hard ground without any help, not that I needed it anyway but the gesture would have been nice. “Okay, okay,” I said, brushing down my pants as he tapped his foot impatiently. “So what now?”

“There.” And then came the dramatically pointed finger, poking indignantly in the direction of – me.

“Oh.” It was me, fifteen years younger, short, pig-tail haired, perky nosed, the whole nine yards. It was me, whispering and giggling with a friend while the national anthem played.

“Um, ah… I was seven?”

Now it was my turn to be at the receiving end of Hang Tuah’s threateningly pointed finger and boy, he needed a serious manicure. “That is no excuse! It wouldn’t have killed you to stand still and sing for only three minutes. And may I remind you that this disrespect has continued up to now!”

“Um…”

“Think about it. My time is up and my colleague will be here soon.”

“Um, right. Bye?”

He faded away without so much as a goodbye or a wave or anything. Leaving me alone in my former primary school with my snot nosed younger self. Gosh, I spend ten years of my life trying to escape school and this is where my life brings me? Great. Absolutely great.

I took off walking, because there was no way I was going to spend another second here, and jumped back a foot, tripping over my own clumsy feet when I almost ran into a guy in a songkok.

“I’m sorry, Mr, I didn’t see – oh my gosh, you’re Najib!”

“Hmmm, yes, I know I am. And come on, I haven’t got much time. I have a meeting with the cabinet about three hours.”

Unlike Hang Tuah, Mr, um, Dato Seri Najib turned out to be a lot more gentlemanly and pulled me to my feet, though that could also have been because he really seemed to be eager to go off. As I dusted my off my butt he tapped his foot impatiently and finally we were off. A quick trip through time and space and we ended up in my living room.

“Why here, of all places? Uh, Mr – I mean, Dato Seri.”

“Because yesterday you were writing rather deprecating comments about your country to your foreign boyfriend.”

“Um…”

“Have you no shame?”

“Well, they were justified!”

His glare is glacial.

“Um, mostly. I might have exaggerated a little.”

Gosh, his look could stop the icecaps from melting.

“Okay, I exaggerated a lot. Sorry.”

“If this is the behaviour of most Malaysians, we are in deep – nevermind. Just keep this in mind. What has the country done for you? You’re still alive, aren’t? Haven’t been bombed, aren’t starving, aren’t being prosecuted for your race, et cetera. Be grateful. Goodbye now.”

“Uh, good–”

He vanished into thin air.

“–bye…”

And again I was left alone, though this time in much more comfortable and familiar surroundings. Thank heaven for that. Now I could finally–

“What the–!”

I had been just about to relax on my couch when the world had once again dissolved into a swirl of psychedelic colour and wham there I was, somewhere in the past… or was it the present or the future.

“Watch out!”

I had promised my parents to cut back on my swearing but I really could help but shout the ‘F’ word out loud as a brick narrowly missed my head. Actually, I think that I didn’t quite manage to avoid it but it seems that one of the perks that come with being thrown across time and space like some cosmic volleyball is intangibility.

“You all right?”

“T – Tim!”

“Hi,” my boyfriend said. “Enjoyed the trip?”

“You are a ghost?”

“Sorry sayang, I can’t answer that question. Let’s get out of here.”

Somewhat belatedly, I realised that we were in the middle of a riot. Though I knew I was intangible, I couldn’t help but wince as another brick flew right through my chest. “What’s going on?”

“Racial riots,” Tim explained matter-of-factly. “The whole country’s gone to the dogs. And look.”

He pointed a body. My body. It was quite clear that my future self was dead. And somehow it was just so… cheesy. Definitely a ‘A Christmas Carol’ rip-off.

“My fate it I don’t change my ‘evil’ ways?”

He looked surprised at my lack of shock. “Aren’t you scared? You’ll die.”

I was sick and tired of this. “Look here. So all this is happening because of me? Because I didn’t respect our national anthem? Because I criticised ISA? What the heck?”

“Well, it’s not exactly just you,” he explained with a sheepish look on his face. “It’s a lot of people.”

“So why bug me only?”

“You’re not the only one being taken around on this joyride, trust me sayang. We’re trying to avert a disaster here.”

“Yeah. Okay. Whatever. I’ve learned my lesson and now I’m dead tired because I’ve spent the whole night being tossed through time and space. Send me back! Please!”

Tim sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

“And why are you a part of this anyway? You’re not even a Malaysian!”

His only answer was “Farewell!” with an added echo of “Farewell, arewell, well, ell!” which was really lame.

Later, I would wake up and find that I had overslept. And waiting for Tim to pick me up for our date later that night, I would decide, very firmly, never to mention any of this to him. Ever.

But before that, I was going to delete that seditious blog entry before I got arrested under the ISA.


Based on ‘A Christmas Carol’ by Charles Dickens. All rights reserved.
Intended for humour only. No discourtesy was intended and the writer apologises sincerely for any offence caused.

By Simone Koo