BluE Scrubs

Just the one card


Why is it that when you are completely bored out of your ears, eyeballs, head (insert organs you think could combust and expulse semiliquid content),

and you just hope that somebody would just text you and say something like, “hiya, how are you” or “hi how zit going’”or anything to that effect ,

the phone keeps it’s silence like you have lost reception to your mobile phone forever?

But when you are running around like headless chicken trying to settle yourself in a new work place, missing breaking fast time because the time goes back an hour, forgetting deadline of some important tasks, your phone also beeped and burped and blushed and gone completely berserk, non-stop. Everybody seemed sooooo happy and sooooo festive. Don’t get me wrong. Love it. Ecstatic and joyous over the arriving of Syawal. But, I just wish it’s not so tight for me.

Without sounding like a scrooge, I’ll tell you what my baju raya colour is. Go on take a guess. Starts with B. Yes ..burgundy did you say? Nooo…again..what? blue? Bet yours is blue as well.

Well mine is the bluescrubs. I start at 8:30 am tomorrow and it will be a long day. And yes tomorrow is Eid in UK. Somebody suggested a baju kurung underneath the scrubs, you know just to get the flava (as Craig David would put it) and I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or cry or wax his chest. I can imagine your chest hairy for some reason.

Few things are also worth weighing against the fact that I am working tomorrow. Number one, my sister. My only same mum same dad sister scored 4 in her SPM trial.

Apparently that’s good and by definition, a perfect score. Bit like scoring a perfect ten in a gymnastic competition.

I didn’t use this system in my time, it was all about getting low aggregate. When I talked to her on Yahoo Messenger, she was very modest about it. I knew somehow that she was going to do well. She just needed to cut down reading books like Harry Porter over and over again (which will be good for her eyesight; every time I saw her the glasses seemed to have thickened more and more.); stop going to shooting range and get sunburnt like a boy, cut down travelling to Bangkok and various other places. Which she did. She said she might take up that offer to do medicine in Russia and I cringed. Don’t la darling, you want to be spinster also ke.

Next is my brother. Who is going to join The Star newspaper to do some proper writing jobby. And I just hope that with everything that’s happening around him, he could keep his girlfriend calm until the day comes that they’ll be joined in a holy matrimony. I know he’s trying to be polite and not jump the queue at getting hitched. What with me taking my own sweet time on my donkey ride up and down the Himalaya and all. To be honest bro, I don’t mind, be rude, be bold, get married, get happy. You deserve the happiness and nobody is going to give you that unless you let yourself be.

Now my little brother, what can I say. I said to him once, “Apa ni Oli, kasi perempuan nombor satu, tak hero laa”. He sulked.

However, he must have taken it as a challenge and bite the bullet, hard. He got first in his class recently and probably going to be the head boy next year. He’s going to break some hearts I am sure, but for now, I must not break my promise. Just why did I say PS2? It could have been shoes, caps, racquet of some sort but no, big sister was feeling generous and dim.

Times like this, I could hear lagu raya, smell of kuah kacang, rendang , filtering the air and flooding every corner of the living room. Could imagine Oli lighting up pelita all around the house. Screaming and shrieking full of excitement with his neighbourhood football and BMX friends. Lots of telling off later because of the mess he made and I think once it rained and he forgot to rescue those kerosene pelita from the downpour. It didn’t matter because those were the sounds of the many Hari Raya I had, at home. Those sounds and smell defined my Hari Raya.

In the morning some more screaming and shouting because everybody wanted to use that bathroom all at once and nobody wanted to be late to the Salleh’s; Tok Ayah. But again it doesn’t matter because later, we asked for forgiveness, we hugged, we forget we ever shouted at each other, or nicked each other’s stuff (borrowed without owing up to having it in possession), broke each other’s stuff, or even sold one’s painting for God knows what reason. (remember you have forgiven him)

At the Salleh’s, it’s like an international conference. Bibik talking Indon, little boys and girls talking in English forgetting Tok Ayah understood none of it. Uncles and Aunties talking ..well just about any language as long as it’s loudly because it’s just hard to be heard with that number of people around. Oh so noisy but so much missed.

I could go on and on, but all I wanted to say is yes, I am missing those merriment and joy. I wish all of you who come across BlueScrubs: SELAMAT HARI RAYA AIDILFITRI, Maafkan segala salah dan silap Naj/Mie/Me’ah/Namia (I don’t know how I got to be called and known by that many fancy names), terkata atau terkasar bahasa. And also eat well, and in moderation. Take those tablets and not too much red meat now you hear. There are doctors doing on call during this festive time, and I am sure they’d be pleased with less work and going home on time.