an unexpected learning experience...
Just returned from KLIA; my plane landed around 5 pm and boarded the ERL to KL Sentral where both of my parents have been waiting for me. Dropped by at my grandparent's place at TTDI and finally headed back to Ipoh around 9 pm; arrived safely at home around 12 midnight.
I can't say that my journey back have not been an uneventful one; right from the moment I left my hall for the Malaysia Hall and up until I reclaimed my baggage at KLIA, the return journey was filled with its share of re-discoverved joys and laughter, brief frusfrations and nostalgaic sorrows - some of us didn't manage to get a room in Malaysia Hall even though we were one of the earliest to book it, one of our number lost his camera at KLIA, a few of us got hold up at the immigration and the boarding gate because they have forgotten to take their hand luggage with them and had left their laptop in the plane respectively.
But the important thing I think was that we made it at last; we finally reached home.
As for myself, my moods has been a series of alternating ups and downs, of the happiness of being able to travel together with close friends and the sadness due to the knowledge that we will need to part eventually.
On my last night in London, I sat looking out of the window of my room at Malaysia Hall, reminiscing all the adventures I had, the experiences I gained; I recalled how accommodating and comforting London could be to you and at times, how it could mercilessly and cruelly treat you. And as I took one last look at the place which I had the honour of calling home for the past 9 months, I can't helped but to feel some kind of enigma and magical quality emanating from the city, as if the city was bidding farewell to all of us as well.
After the excruciating and somewhat painful journey (well, more painful for some... hint: shan..) from the Malaysia Hall to Heathrow by the underground, we managed to stumble upon Bad, Alvin and Heidir, and they stayed with us throughout the whole journey home. Being together with all of them somewhat rekindles some of the distant memories from our time in KMB.
In addition, I realized that no matter how much we have changed by choosing our own paths, there is something fundamental and deep, a kind of bond which still remained strong; a bond which does not suffer from the ravages of time. I thank Allah for that.
I was overjoyed to be able to see my parents again; to smell my mother's hair and perfume and to feel the strong and firm grip of my father's hug. I just hope that the happiness I've shown was enough to reciprocate the happiness and joy they showed when they saw walking towards them at KL Sentral.
I too was happy to be able to meet my grandparents again, to be in their caring embrace; to see their old yet 'youthful' faces again. I thank Allah for giving me the opportunity for me to see them again; I sometimes worry that I might not be given that chance.
I am glad that they seemed to like the gifts and tokens I presented to them. Not that I'm attaching any value to these items, but it's heartwarming to see their unexpected and delighted faces when they were given their respective gifts. Such is the gift of giving I suppose.
And yet, as I write this post, there is a tingling sense of nostalgia and silent longing of London; several questions comes to my mind: would I be able to sleep soundly in my own bed at home after being away for so long? Would I be able to reforge and rekindle the connections with my friends and family members after losing any sense of physical connection for the past 9 months? How do you move on when you know that so many things have changed? Would you be able to catch up and keep up?
People often complained about complications inherent to long travels such as jet lags etc. but I think a more pressing problem - the problem which would effectively consumes us - is whether we would be able to fit in and move on when deep down inside you know that your perspectives, your ideals, your expectations are to a certain extent, radically different from what they were before?
If you were to do or say something differently or in a way which is unexpected by your families and friends, will they think less of us and view us with skepticism?
But then again, all of these could just be a figment of my hyperactive imagination which has been severely tainted with misplaced sentimentalism.
Whatever it might be, I am certain that this would not be a holiday in the 'normal' sense; instead, this 3 months would be filled with learning - learning how to fit in and move on; learning to FIND and BE myself.
I can't say that my journey back have not been an uneventful one; right from the moment I left my hall for the Malaysia Hall and up until I reclaimed my baggage at KLIA, the return journey was filled with its share of re-discoverved joys and laughter, brief frusfrations and nostalgaic sorrows - some of us didn't manage to get a room in Malaysia Hall even though we were one of the earliest to book it, one of our number lost his camera at KLIA, a few of us got hold up at the immigration and the boarding gate because they have forgotten to take their hand luggage with them and had left their laptop in the plane respectively.
But the important thing I think was that we made it at last; we finally reached home.
As for myself, my moods has been a series of alternating ups and downs, of the happiness of being able to travel together with close friends and the sadness due to the knowledge that we will need to part eventually.
On my last night in London, I sat looking out of the window of my room at Malaysia Hall, reminiscing all the adventures I had, the experiences I gained; I recalled how accommodating and comforting London could be to you and at times, how it could mercilessly and cruelly treat you. And as I took one last look at the place which I had the honour of calling home for the past 9 months, I can't helped but to feel some kind of enigma and magical quality emanating from the city, as if the city was bidding farewell to all of us as well.
After the excruciating and somewhat painful journey (well, more painful for some... hint: shan..) from the Malaysia Hall to Heathrow by the underground, we managed to stumble upon Bad, Alvin and Heidir, and they stayed with us throughout the whole journey home. Being together with all of them somewhat rekindles some of the distant memories from our time in KMB.
In addition, I realized that no matter how much we have changed by choosing our own paths, there is something fundamental and deep, a kind of bond which still remained strong; a bond which does not suffer from the ravages of time. I thank Allah for that.
I was overjoyed to be able to see my parents again; to smell my mother's hair and perfume and to feel the strong and firm grip of my father's hug. I just hope that the happiness I've shown was enough to reciprocate the happiness and joy they showed when they saw walking towards them at KL Sentral.
I too was happy to be able to meet my grandparents again, to be in their caring embrace; to see their old yet 'youthful' faces again. I thank Allah for giving me the opportunity for me to see them again; I sometimes worry that I might not be given that chance.
I am glad that they seemed to like the gifts and tokens I presented to them. Not that I'm attaching any value to these items, but it's heartwarming to see their unexpected and delighted faces when they were given their respective gifts. Such is the gift of giving I suppose.
And yet, as I write this post, there is a tingling sense of nostalgia and silent longing of London; several questions comes to my mind: would I be able to sleep soundly in my own bed at home after being away for so long? Would I be able to reforge and rekindle the connections with my friends and family members after losing any sense of physical connection for the past 9 months? How do you move on when you know that so many things have changed? Would you be able to catch up and keep up?
People often complained about complications inherent to long travels such as jet lags etc. but I think a more pressing problem - the problem which would effectively consumes us - is whether we would be able to fit in and move on when deep down inside you know that your perspectives, your ideals, your expectations are to a certain extent, radically different from what they were before?
If you were to do or say something differently or in a way which is unexpected by your families and friends, will they think less of us and view us with skepticism?
But then again, all of these could just be a figment of my hyperactive imagination which has been severely tainted with misplaced sentimentalism.
Whatever it might be, I am certain that this would not be a holiday in the 'normal' sense; instead, this 3 months would be filled with learning - learning how to fit in and move on; learning to FIND and BE myself.
posted by wanaimran at
7:50 PM
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