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The Cello

Cellos...
Deep and suppressed,
Gloomy…

Cello tries to be outstanding in the Jazz music. But saxophones wouldn’t stop attracting attention. Saxophone wants to lead the song. Cello can only follow its rhythm and perform inconspicuously.

Cello speaks its language cheerlessly. Each string that is plucked and vibrated holds a sorrow feeling. Bow that scratch along the string hurt it, as if a sharp knife is running across the skin of a baby. Melody that came out from its f-loch shakes the air and brings more tears to its eyes. Cello played in jazz music feeling miserable. It feels neglected and unimportant, playing a role of the unwanted ones.

No passer-by stops by the amplifier for its melody but people were amazed by how the saxophone has made the song so beautiful and soulful. And the audience notices the piano too, piano gets the applause. Spot lights above the stage shines for the pianist and saxophonist.

The dazzling reflection of the shiningly black color from the piano and the reflection from the polished saxophone have blinded the cello. Cello is left out, standing heavily with its satchel at the side of the stage, in the dark… The heavy burden of cello is felt by the floor where the satchel’s end pokes profoundly on the floor. At this very moment, only the floor’s caved-in comprehend the cello’s emotions.

Cello used to be a great solo instrument. It doesn’t need any company to reflect its capacity. Its melody alone was so heartrending. Violin was once its best partner but violin has parted from it 2 years, 3 months and 8 days ago. Violin was sold to a rich English family across the town. The son of the famous lawyer owns it now. Cello was left in the shop because of its pale color, Cello wasn’t as striking as the sold out violin. But the cello does not blame anyone because it was made by the old cello maker, the poor cello maker who was unable to afford an expensive painting material.

Cello is slowly forgotten, disappearing from the stage. Its string is loosing slowing. The cello can only stays in its case, the old, fading red case, in the storage room. Leaning against the wall and spider webs are covering its case. Just like a funeral. A funeral attends by nobody. The earths are covering the coffin. And the spider webs are covering the pale red color of the cello case. Cello is forgotten and dying slowly. And the cello take its last breath when the forth string, the final string broke. A crispy breaking sound is the last moan for the cello’s life.

It dies. It crushes nobody’s heart.

how to say good bye?

I never had a twisted balloon bear. Every time I see the clown making the bear for children, I wish I can have one. But end up walking away, leaving disappointment feelings in me.

That day, I walk to the clown and asked for one. Thanks for my friends that did not laugh at me, thanks for the kind hearted clown that promised to make one balloon bear for me, despite he was busy at that time, surrounded by children that laid their eyes on the clown desperately, as if the bear was what they've long for. The clown doesn't look tired, he kept smiling even he had his smiling face painted on him, perhaps he feels like a hero that brings happiness to the children.

I was very happy to have a twisted balloon bear. That feeling was so simple. Merely like a child gets his favorite candy. Guess this is me? Feel happy over small things in life. I held the bear gently as I walk around the mall. A balloon bear really makes my day, everything that I see was so beautiful. Yet, happy moment do not last forever in life. This is an inevitable fact. The balloon bear wants to leave me after a bursting sound. No matter how I took good care of it, it still wants to leave me when one of its arms burst. But I did not ditch it but tried to fix its shape. And so, bear stays with me.

I brought back the bear and kept it nicely in my room on my desk. It still put a smile on my face when I see it, it was my first balloon bear. But it shrank day by day. Like an old man dying slowly in his death bed. Time flies and brings the bear along the journey. I guess everything in life is leaving us, sooner or later. It's just a matter of time.

This reminds me of my greatest fear. I recalled a saying of "Nobody has the chance to choose their parents in life". This is what Mr. Wong SP told me. I was born in a lower class family. My parents are not educated and so they are unable to guide me and my sister on important decisions in life such as education and career. But the love that they offer is strong enough to help us through tough times. Since young I understand that my parents got married late and their age is elder than my friend's parents. When I start to understand what death is, I am very afraid to think that my parents are going to leave me anytime especially they are already aging. Whenever I see them asleep, I will stop for a few seconds to make sure they're still breathing. This fear started since I was young.




Still, I consider myself as fortunate to have this pair of parents. I love them so much. I like to watch how my father munches his biscuit with not many teeth left in his mouth, sitting on the rocking chair, taking a sip of his cup of black coffee. Papa will always offer me his biscuit when he sees me watching him. And I've took a photo of this sweet moment without his notice. He doesn't even know there's a built-in camera in hand phone nowadays. Look at his smile, how he look at me and offer me that biscuit. My sister always says that my dad love me more since young. I still remember how I like to tag along when he goes out, riding on his motor bike. I will sit at the front of the motor bike at that time, land my small feet in the basket in front. And when Papa ride the motor, as if he's hugging me, protecting me. I like to look at the back of his hand when he's gripping the handle tightly. I feel so secured. Papa was like a hero of mine, nothing will harm me when he's around.


Time flies and Papa is now 70 years old. Many people will think he is my grandfather. This perception was presumed by many since I was young. When he brings me out, the person in the petrol station or the person in the food stall where Papa used to brings me will ask him: Is she your grand daughter? And he will answer with a smile, saying: She's my youngest daughter.


I have a wish, a wish to bring Papa to go to China, a place where he always wanted to visit. The only fear that will fail me from bringing him to travel is time, his age. He has not much time left and the furthest place that he has been is Singapore where my mother's family are living. I have come to understand that the world is so big, so many things are there for us to explore. The saddest thing that can happen to a person is to think the world is indifferent. They have no chance to see the culture of other country and the beautiful scenery that this world has offered. I hope god will give me more time. Don't bring away my father like you do to my balloon bear. I haven't told him enough how much i love him, I haven't repay his love, haven't make him smile enough. And most of all, I do not know how to say good bye...

fly me to the moon

Fly me to the moon and let me play among those stars.
Is there a playground on the moon? Because I want to ride on the swings. Let my long hair sway and catch up with my speed when I ride the swings violently as if the ground of the moon are made of marsh mallow, and if I fall on the ground. I will not cry, I will take a bite on the marsh mallow and give you a smile and you'll take my hand and let me start my ride on the swing again.
Will you fly me to the moon?
I want to hug you tightly along the journey. We will take off from the balcony of my room tonite when everyone else are asleep. And please drop by at the rainbow because I want to touch the colors of the rainbow, and I want to climb up to the peak of the rainbow and slide down, I will see you at the end of the slide trying to catch me so that I will not fall down. I will ask the stars to let us make a wish upon them. Stars will not lie to us because they will be at where they are forever. I was told not to trust the meteors because meteors are just like those flirtatious guy that come and go. But wishes upon the stars are promising.
And I still remember how you said you'd rather be the stars on the sky for me. Stars are forever there, at the same position, even the sailors trusted stars for direction. Just like your love for me. And I still remember how you convince me that you will be the brightest star that will shine on me. Be there for me in ups and downs of life. Thank you for the promises. If there's any meteor in my life, it will not affect your love for me. You will always be there. Be there for me. I will not be neglected.
Let's fly to the moon tonite.