My Heaven on Earth

The lockdown ends.

Malaysia’s 84 days of quarantine following the Covid-19 pandemic ended June 9 and life as we knew it resumed. Shopping malls began to fill, restaurants began to waft, traffic began to hum and millions of domestic inmates were released.

I was sitting at home in the tiny town of Taiping with Momma and my dog Bisky when the Prime Minister announced the lifting of the lockdown. While we were imposed with the Recovery Movement Control Order, a decree that allowed regular life with the exceptions of all schools opening and the prohibition of contact sports, gatherings and traveling abroad, the rehabilitation of life was clearly beginning.

I was gutted.

5 days before the lockdown was announced in Malaysia, I had come home for the weekend, thinking I would be back in a matter of days to Kuala Lumpur (KL). I packed light; shorts, singlets, a toiletry bag and 2 paperbacks. My life in KL was typical of most city folk. I had my share of adventure and dream-achieving, I also had stress and financial worry. Coming back to Taiping was always something I loved. The pace and vibe of the town was a panacea for the harried mind. I came back for holidays and every few months where I would spend a week or two before heading back to the city.

I was sheepishly elated when the lockdown was announced. I looked forward to a break from my hurry-burry city life and kicking back. Never once did I think the lockdown would go on for 84 days. But go on it did and I found myself having the most heavenly life a harried adult could ask for. I realise that the lockdown isn’t good for businesses, economy and whole load more. It’s certainly tragic and I apologise for any insensitivities. I would not wish this on anyone. I received no income during this period too as my business was completely affected. But putting the economy aside, life just became a dream from the moment the lockdown was announced. I secretly whooped with joy each time our Prime Minister announced an extension in the lockdown. It was an undebatable reason not to work. I suppose maybe I just wanted to escape reality for awhile. The sharp corners of life and what it entails can often be unpleasant for a sensitive soul like me.

I had vivid and colourful dreams in the first two weeks of the lockdown. Dreams that gave me palpable feelings, new realizations and life-like depiction. I would wake up in a good mood from these dreams, or positively pensive because of an innate message communicated by the dream. Never had I experienced such dreams in KL. The only difference I could think off was that my mind was so relaxed that I slept like a baby. I guess I didn’t realize that my body was recharging. We read about how busy people need to step back to recharge the body. I’ve now realized that recharging is not just not working. It’s not enough to not work if you’re in an environment that doesn’t allow you to switch off. Being in KL when I took a break just meant going about my regular life, but without the work. The thoughts and worries went on.

The thoughts and worries stopped during the lockdown. I didn’t have to worry about the school program I was running because programs were strictly not allowed in schools. The stricter the lockdown ruling, the happier I became. I had a legitimate excuse that didn’t allow me to feel that I wasn’t doing enough. I didn’t have to speak to people I didn’t feel like, I didn’t have to stress about events and I didn’t have to worry about lesson plans in where I grapple a love-hate relationship with. I had this giant excuse of not doing anything. WOOHOO!

Every morning after attending to Bisky, Momma would be making breaky. I realise the dynamics in my home are looked at with horror by many, especially Asian households where the child has a lesser ranking in the home compared to the elder one. But that’s just the way it is in my house. Momma cooks, I eat. My contribution to my Momma comes in other ways. My lack of culinary skills is a handicap I’ll concede too. I survive on eating out and takeaway in KL. Whatever I cooked in my KL kitchen came from a box or required minimal work, like dropping vegetables in boiling hot water. Ker-splash :D Eat with sauce.

Bisky would wake me up in the wee hours of the morning, whining by my side or scrabbling by my bedside. I would wearily bring him to the garden while I sat in a stupor. Bisky would sniff around and peer into a drain before galloping back into the house. Before long, waking up early became easier and I found myself relishing the dark of the morning with my coffee and iPad. I began to see how many extra hours I had when I rose early. I developed the habit of reading and watching a podcast or MasterClass in the morning, and it pleased me greatly that I had achieved all that before 8am.

Once, Bisky and I ventured into a lane unaware we were entering the territory of a new gang of dogs. The sight of an entitled Jack Russel must have provoked them for four dogs came flying toward us with ferocious barks, petrifying me in that instant. I wielded my stick to protect Bisky while Bisky didn’t do very much to protect me. The dogs were easily shooed and we promptly jumped into our car and sped off. “Wasn’t that something Bisk?” I said with relief. Bisky looked at me with blinking eyes. He did become extra clingy to me during the lockdown. He wouldn’t go to the garden if I wasn’t there and even if Momma was attending to him in the morning, he would come to my room to wake me up, leaving only when I had groggily sat up.

My life became a lovely routine of reading, writing, learning and exercising. I wrote a movie proposal during this time and sent it off for the Call for Pitching by the National Film Development Corporation of Malaysia (FINAS). I rewrote and edited stories and sent them off to a publisher. I created a website on Squarespace and wrote 3 articles. I read 10 books. While it seemed that I did a lot, I venture to say that I had plenty of free time despite the productivity. Focused attention gets you far and buys you a lot of guilty-free lazy time - I watched all the season episodes of House of Cards, Suits and many more. I spent loads of time scrolling on Lazada and watching jigsaw puzzle reviews on YouTube.

I also read news about how tough it was for families during this time and I saw the ugliness that came from evangelizing poverty. It amazed me how people insisted in hostile tones that the rich ought to help the poor, as if it was compulsory and unquestioned. I believe in the virtues of helping without a judgemental wagging finger. During this lockdown, a friend and I helped support a poor family in KL by giving money in three phases of the lockdown. We are not rich people. This was something we did out of the willingness of our heart and our desire to help. I do not think it right for people to guilt and insist that it was the duty of the moneyed to help. No, this is something that must come voluntarily. I was shocked when a friend asked “Why aren’t the TV producers helping the crew?” Good God. Maybe the TV producer isn’t rich? Maybe the TV producer has commitments to worry about? Maybe it’s not their compulsory god-given duty to help? I did not like that the wealthy were vilified as evil people while the poor were looked at as completely innocent.  Let’s be real, the poor have plenty of habits that can be improved.

When I gave the first batch of money (my own money) to the poor family I was helping, I saw through social media that they spent it on an unnecessary birthday cake and held a tiny party in their cramped apartment with their neighbours. In a time of strict quarantine! This was shocking, seeing that I knew the extent of their poverty as I had been involved with them before the quarantine. Later they would come to me with woeful tales, hinting for money. I finally berated them after ghastly accident pictures of their relative were texted to me while I was playing with my neighbour. I don’t mean to cast a shadow on all poor people, as I know these are anecdotal, but it’s also time to stop thinking that all of them are saints. This happens a lot in my country. To be poor is almost a noble sacrifice that will be greatly rewarded by God in the after-life.

Well that bit aside, Momma and me spent lots of time doing things together. We found an unopened jigsaw puzzle with yellow stains on its cardboard box. We opened it and set ourselves to this hellish 1000-piece torture. It wasn’t a good puzzle, one that had too many similar hues throughout the entire picture. I sat for one hour and fixed four pieces. Momma’s progress was no better. Finally we resorted to cheating by looking at the alphabets behind. That sped up the process significantly, although the difficulty remained. We were elated when the puzzle completed and gungho for a new one. We purchased another 5 jigsaw puzzles online and had lots of fun fixing them. We found ourselves getting big-headed. “I’m quite a good puzzler now,” momma said in self-praise. After that, I googled ways to frame up a puzzle without puncturing a wall and soon enough, momma and I set out to DIY frame the puzzles. I’m pleased to say 6 puzzles adorn our cosy home now.

The lane where I live is also home to a pack of friendly stray dogs. Momma had identified a family of four as hers but the lockdown solidified the guardianship. Two of the dogs were given away to a nice man without our knowledge and it caused 3 nights of misery for Momma and I. After some mildly dramatic phonecalls and texts, the two dogs were returned, and they came striding happily to us. Momma and I have since taken a bigger responsibility with them, especially with food and kinship. Momma got all of them dog tags from the town council and I’ve taken to chatting with them, much to Bisky’s chagrin. Taylor, Haley, Brodie and Mama Dog stay in the empty house next to us and waddle lovingly to us each morning.

There is an abundance of food in a small town. Food came almost everyday to our home. My neighbors were a family of 5, headed by an attractive hustler of an Indian woman name Latha, and her 4 children, 2 of them adopted Chinese. Everyday we got fish curry, thosai, poori, rasam, fried rice, sweet cakes, noodles and desserts. Momma had other neighbours and friends who would bring over Chinese herb soup, glutinuous rice dumplings, kaya puffs, sweet potato buns, red bean soup, laksa and the likes. There was always too much delicious food and I became quite pudgy by the end of the lockdown.

Evenings would be spent playing with the little girl Papa. We helped her with her homework where the three of us sang Malay poems, “Air pasang penuh rata, melambak-lambak di kakinya kota.” Momma taught her taichi, I taught her dance, Bisky nosed about with his new adopted brothers and sister and the neighbours came out to chat. Typically wonderful town life. When an ex-boyfriend of my hustler neighbour returned, I eagerly awaited for him to leave before running out to poke my head over the wall. “What happened?” I asked in unvarnished eagerness.

The pipes in my home began making creaking noises, and another Taiping samaritan appeared. Momma had a steady flow of friends who were willing to help. Mr Yeoh came over 4 mornings to repair our kitchen pipes besides fixing a few things around the house. Momma insisted on paying while he insisted on not taking. Momma won, but he returned a few days later with pickled anchovies.

Because falling into a cesspool of laziness and lethargy was so easy during the lockdown, I got accountable about ensuring my routine was followed through. I discovered that exercising in the morning did wonders for the mind compared to the evening. I made myself dance everyday even on days when I was completely moodless. The magic of it was seeing how repetition brought about improvement. I began dancing with joy. I applied the same thing with my writing. Though I’m not sure writing everyday is for every writer, I discovered that I wrote more productively in the afternoon or evening. Often at night, my mind was distracted and itching to watch Harvey Specter crush yet another suit with his arrogant panache.

Reading worked fine whichever time of the day, and I lost myself in many paperbacks, some of which I found while scrounging around the house. I also took the opportunity to read challenging books like “The Madness of the Crowds” by Douglas Murray and Steven Pinker’s “The Blank Slate.” The mind is indeed like a rubberband, forever expanded after stretched, for these books changed me and if I may say, smartened me up during this lockdown. One book would lead to other people and new facts and before long, I was busy googling and reading just from book peripherals. I watched many Douglas Murray videos thereafter, learning so incredibly much while admiring his diction and dry sense of British humour.

When the death of George Floyd sparked off riots and an aggressive Black Lives Matter movement, I followed the news with trepidation and curiosity. While 2020 has been a tragic year mostly, never did I think that I would live through such historical times – a worldwide lockdown and anarchy and looting in the world’s biggest economy. It was also during this lockdown that I got to know people like Coleman Hughes, Thomas Sowell and their politics. I was amazed at Hughes. 22 years old and breathtakingly intelligent and articulate. He just knew everything. From American policy to Zimbabwe history. Can I be him when I grow up? Oh wait, I am grown up.

The Malaysian stock market went on a scary trajectory during this period. It crashed to heart attack levels in the beginning, causing many including Momma to put her phone away. The red figures were too painful to look at. Momma told me that selling meant losing 60% of what you put out there. I had friends who were numb and began zombie-like focusing on other matters. But as weeks rolled by, latex gloves and protective equipment stock counters began going through the roof. Momma’s a seasoned stock market player and she had held on. I heard her cackling with laughter with her remisier during breakfast. “Did you make money?” I hollered. “Just a little,” she replied. “Shall we celebrate with some fattening nasi lemak?” I continued. “Hoho of course!” Momma joyously agreed.

I completely and thoroughly enjoyed the joys of small town living. The thing about growing up in a small town means all you want to do is go out and see the world. As a teenager, I would walk along lanes thinking “There’s a bigger world out there for me.” And there certainly was and is. But we never see the beauty of provincial life until life takes a slight twack at us. The lockdown was the first time in my adult life that I experienced the unfettered languid joy of being in a neighbourly town.

It was also during this lockdown that I got good news from a book publisher that they had accepted my book manuscript. Times were bad for the book industry in Malaysia though and they were unable to publish new submissions until the economy picked up. If I was willing to wait, they would still publish my collection of stories. While it was a combination of good and bad news, I only felt happiness. Every writer wants the validation of a respected publisher. By no means do I think that I am a great writer, but this is a bucket list achieved. Congratulations to myself :) God knows how much I wanted it. I’ll figure out something next with that manuscript. I don’t mind going down the route of self-publishing now that it has the approval of a publisher.

In two days, I leave for Kuala Lumpur. Ah. Sadness weighs indefinitely in my heart. I realise I have to get back to reality and start hustling, but I need a moment to untether myself from this literal heaven on earth. I’m a changed person after these 84 days of lockdown. I’m more disciplined. I’m a less clumsy dancer. I’m a tad more knowledgeable. My new heroes are Douglas Murray and Coleman Hughes. My attachments for things and people are lower. It’s been amazing!

I’m so thankful that I come from this town called Taiping. I’m very thankful for Momma too. She’s not the best listener and always shushing me when I’m talking to the dogs, but I guess if I’m honest, she’s a big reason why Taiping is my heaven on earth :)

Happy unLockdown everybody!

My neighbour Latha, her daughter Papa; our 3 dogs - Haley, Taylor and Brodie; momma, Bisky and the other wonderful inhabitants of my neighbourhood. This is my beautiful Taiping!