Monday, 2 February 2015
He talks about his mom; a strong mom. About how last year was a tough year for her and that he had to separate from his family to come study here in Malaysia. How his father is working in Aceh. She still feels the pain in her stitches. She had cervix cancer. 'My Self', the title, but he dedicated it to his mother back in a foreign land I know nothing of. A mother I do not know of, but could feel their bond, the heart of her son. I wonder... who's statement was I reading? This anonymous turned-back canvas in front of me.
"Are you OK?" I looked up to see Mr. Amir wearing a mirror-type sunglasses staring at me staring vacantly at the back of the canvas. How strange I must have looked. Yeah, I say, and stood up. Everybody retrieved their canvases that were leaning on the walls and there it was, the last one. I waited while the others filed into the studio. There was a last guy; he must be the one. He took his sketchbook and walked over to take his canvas.
How is your mother? Is she still OK? I heard Madam Sri softly speaking to him across the room last Thursday. I don't know why I heard. I had eavesdropped a little but couldn't hear the rest.
A prayer for mom... That is what his artwork is. I could glimpse what it was - ah, the Queen. When we had to showcase our art in front of the class, I remembered marveling at his work, his use of colours and the wholeness of the art. He did a card kind of thing, with the king and queen - I couldn't remember much except that it was well done.
I hope it could be better for your mother, Raven... And for you too.
~*~*~*~
Please don't do this; you are scaring us. I don't want friendships to be ruined because of this. But I will accept it for the moment, and hear you out; why you are so willing to do this. I will be a good friend, and that also means standing my ground but being flexible. So, please... don't do this.
