Malam Gema Merdeka (Malaysian Independence Night) reminds me of several things about Malaysia I would love not to forget while in the Land Downunder.
Like the way Malaysian men pretend to look past me in shyness, they look so remote, vulnerable, and yet appealing at the same time. The moment I put out my hand, playing damsel in distress, they will look at me, as if surprised and yet proud at the same time. Admittedly mischievous, I am unfortunately spontaneous in teasing people.
Like the way I could wear my baju kurung (traditional dress) and feel so beautiful in it. Despite my preference in putting on my casual shirts and long pants, embodying a picture of the journalist in me, I know I can always reach my dress in any day and wear it without hesitation and be proud of it.
Like the way I hear Malay songs, poems, and fables and not only I could recognize it, but I could feel a surge of pride, excitement, and devotion well up in my blood for my country and for my people.
Somehow along the point, I think our love for our country, for our land and our home, our love for our people - is something as natural as the blood itself, seeping through our flesh, across our heart, passing by our bones - every drop of it mark our yet living self.
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