When I was Young,

My computer feels like a brand new one! But no, I sincerely don't fancy it this way. Every single piece of my document is gone and can never be retrieved. AHHHH sad case.

Anyway, miracle do happen sometimes and when I thought I already lose every single file on my laptop, I found one; the one and only survivor of my reformatted computer!

Lo and behold, the last survivor of my computer crash :

           

“Grandmama! Grandmamaaaa!!!! Look what I have got you from the river! Come, come grandmama, faster come and see this!! Cepatlah grandmama!”

 I remember that was how excited I used to be, how eager I was to show to my late grandmother what I have caught from the river each time I went there to take a dip with my brother, Ahmed. Yes, the river that we never fail to go to on each Friday after our prayers at the mosque. Memories of bathing in the cold river and the fresh feeling afterwards are still vivid in my mind, as if it has just happened yesterday...

 I still remember that my grandmother used to always bring us to our neighbour’s paddy field to help out. Those were the days, where pure kindnesses still exist, and neighbours help each other without hoping or asking for a repayment.

In the paddy field, Ahmed will always be the champion among us kids when it comes to catching the ikan keli , or cat fish as it is known in the mat salleh language. There were also grasshoppers that looked so cute with their big eyes. We will never fail to bring one or two back and keep them in the bottle together with leaves. There were also birds that flew so free, making rounds above the yellowing paddy, and trying hard to avoid scarecrows that stood in the middle of the field, like terracotta warriors.  Then there is the big green grass field that we always go to when we wants to fly a kite or just to run with the wind.

 Those were really the days... It’s been so long yet it seems like it was just yesterday that I went to swim in the river with Ahmed and catch fish together, the taste of the curry fish that my grandmother cooked seems to still linger on my tongue. It has been 8 years since grandmama left us. It has been 8 years since I last visited the place I had so much fond memories of.

Today, on the anniversary of my late grandmama’s death, I decided it is time I pay a visit to this place I once called paradise. Whether to taste the air of this place again or to just plain reminisce the past, this quest must be fulfilled.

 I took my car, plan to drive there, using the long winding roads instead of the expressway. I look for signboards but found none. No one signboard is referring to another route other than the expressway. Shocked, my face drew a puzzled look.

 Nevertheless, I still go on. With no other choice, I still have to drive on the boring expressway. I only got to look at balding hills and also concrete walls, whereas if there is still a rural and windy road for me to drive on, there are so much more to see and so much more to feel.

There might be goats or cows that cross the road suddenly, accompanied with sounds of forest which are consistently made up of crickets singing and monkeys playing with each other, catching bugs for one another.

After going through many toll booths, I finally come to this place I used to call home. So much has changed, that I cannot recognize it instantly. I drive and drive and drive around. It seems as if I’m just going round and round in circles, and cannot find the way home.

I do not know anything about those that I used to call playmates anymore. Playmates, where are you? I cannot find all of you anymore. Where are the rest of our friends - the river full of fishes, the yellow paddy field that glitters in the evening, the big green grass field, where are all of you??

Sadly, I manoeuvre my car round and round, still looking for them. I want to show them that I am loyal to them, that I still do miss them, still do remember them.

 But i found none of them.

The river, with cold fresh water, full of fishes has become a dead, brown flowing stream. The fishes have become plastic bags in an array of colours, all floating in the dead brown stream.

The yellow paddy field does not glitter anymore, even when the eye of heaven shines so energetically. The terracotta warriors are no longer needed as birds do not even want to hover above the field anymore.

Kite runners can no longer be seen in the big green grass field. In the past, when there’s a rainbow, there will be groups of people running with the wind, with kites sashaying so freely in the sky. But today, neither can be seen....What has happened to my paradise? I know it’s been 8 years but surely, development would not have eaten it all up in such a quick time, right???

It seems like it was just yesterday that Ahmed and I went swimming in the river, catching grasshoppers and felt terrified by the terracotta look-alike scarecrows. It seems like it was just yesterday.....But I understand that everything changes all the time, even though my love for paradise will never. 

Whatever is happening to our river and lands? Forests are no longer aplenty; it has become a rare property of nature now. Let us all appreciate the nature before it’s too late – before each of us lost hold of this treasure. Let us each protect our own paradise as it needs us and we need them to keep on going and to survive!

*******

Wait, before you start bashing me; I understand perfectly that it is a piece of work full of flaws, especially the tenses and grammar. And boy, the story isn't that refreshing and I personally do feel that it is rather cliche, after I re-read it.

So why do I post it here? Simple. I want it to be immortalized here wtf, cause I wrote this myself and I don't want it to vanish together with my other documents, if *touch wood* anything happens to my computer again.

Okay, I should seriously start taking basic grammar lessons. Not joking. Really.