That’s how I’d summarize my yet to be published second manuscript. I’m still hard at work editing the story and was looking through past versions yesterday when I thought, whoa! The story has evolved! In the beginning, my attempt on exorcising my guilt for ignoring a deaf and mute boy who wanted to befriend me led me to write the piece. It was meant to be part of another project: a short story collection. I started writing the fictional narrative in mid November 2010. I however couldn't resist revisiting the tale and adding more stuff to it. The characters in this story are very loud, especially this one boy called Wong Jian Fei/fatso who has a motor mouth and can't seem to properly pronounce some words with r. Anyway, these characters kept on jumping up and down in my head, insisting that I put their story on paper, or in current terms, have their words digitized.
Jian Fei is particularly good at harassing me, even in my dreams. One time he told me, 'Sulplies!!! Woi! Sleep again one? See, see, see! I'm light! I told you! You eat lice too much during lunch, and now have to take a nap! Haiya! Stupid! Get up! Write some more! I got more stoly to tell one! You leally want to know aaa?'
By end of 2010, Blind, Deaf became a full fledged tale.
I’d like to share with you one of the earliest and latest versions taken from Chapter 1. Let me know what you think of the two!
Version 2
‘Woi!’
She ignored the call. She sensed the bespectacled, fat boy, a good two inches shorter than her was clamoring for her attention. True enough, in seconds, she glimpsed the schoolboy - standing diagonally no more than eight feet from her - cupping his hands around his mouth as he attempted a second call.
‘Woi! Oi! Oi! Here! Look here aaa!’
She continued ignoring him while she paid the ice cream man for her favorite ice cream potong – a thick slice of sweet corn ice cream wedged between two crispy, thin wafers. Holding the ice cream by the wafers, she began licking the edges of the sweet slab as soon as the ice cream man handed her the treat. The rotund humpty dumpty began waving his hands toward her similar to one transmitting semaphores. Normally, she’d head straight back to her school after buying her treat. That late afternoon, she decided to stay around as she was curious what the portly boy was up to. She stood near the entrance to the all-boys school, where the ice cream man made himself a permanent fixture. The schoolgirl pretended to examine with interest the multicolored representations of ice cream flavors on the ice cream man’s ice box. It was as if she had never seen such a display before. The fatso persisted in irritating her. He had stepped up his attempt a notch by switching to Mandarin and calling her Amoi, Chinese girl. Of course he was seeking her attention, because there was no other girl around her. For all she knew, he might be ridiculing her at best, cursing her at worst. Still, she remained unflinched by the fat boy’s attempts. She ignored him like he was absolutely not worth a dime and her time.
‘Butakah?’
Her mouth hung loose as anger rose within her. That did it! How dare that halfwit ridiculed her as blind?
Version 68
Once upon a time, a pretty girl, not quite twelve, wondered to foreign land. Bread crumbs to guide her back to where she came from weren’t necessary. After all, her place, an all girls’ school, was merely across the street.
‘Woi!’
She ignored the call. She sensed the bespectacled, fat schoolboy, a good three inches shorter than her was clamoring for her attention. True enough, in seconds, she glimpsed the Chinese boy, standing diagonally no more than eight feet from her, cupping his hands around his mouth. He hollered again.
‘Woi! Woi! Woi! Here! Look here aaa!’
She pretended to ignore him while she paid the ice cream man for her favorite ice cream potong: a thick slice of sweet corn ice cream wedged between two crispy, thin wafers. Holding the ice cream by the wafers, she began licking the edges of the sweet slab as soon as the ice cream man handed her the treat. The rotund humpty dumpty waved his hands toward her similar to one transmitting semaphores. By habit, she’d head straight back to her school after buying her treat. That late afternoon, the schoolgirl in a prefect uniform – crisp, white, short sleeved blouse, a red tie and dark blue skirt – changed her mind. She was charmed by boy’s antics she decided to hang around. Something else too about the portly boy piqued her interest. Yes, the roundness of his belly. It reminded her of the pudgy dwarfs in Snow White.
But whose belly should it be, she pondered, Grumpy’s, Sneezy’s or Happy’s?
The schoolgirl stood near the entrance to the all-boys school, where the ice cream man made himself a permanent fixture. She examined with interest the multicolored representations of ice cream flavors on the ice cream man’s ice box. It was as if she had never seen such a display before. From the corners of her eyes, she kept watch on the hyper boy. Fatso persisted in irritating her. She sensed he had given up trying to get her attention in English, the common language trendy teenagers in Malaysia, a multi racial country, would normally converse in. He had moved on, a different strategy now to Mandarin. She believed he assumed she was Chinese with his calling her Amoi – Chinese girl – and spouting Mandarin words at her. Of course he was seeking her attention, for there was no other girl that side of the street. She couldn’t blame him for such innocent assumption; after all, she looked Chinese. What with her fair skin, the girl could easily pass for one despite her Malay last name: Abas. After a few seconds, the persistent shouts from the boy started to tick her off. For all she knew, he might be ridiculing her at best, cursing her at worst. She tried to remain indifferent to the fat boy’s attempt, ignoring him like he was absolutely not worth a dime and her time. Then, intentionally or not, he made a fatal mistake. He switched to Bahasa, the country’s national language, her mother tongue. As far as she could remember, the first word he uttered made her feel like punching him.
‘Buta?’
Her mouth hung loose as anger swelled within her. That did it! How dare the halfwit ridiculed her as buta – blind!
