As a girl growing up alone at home, I once dug up a crate full of Enid Blyton books, possessions of my siblings who were then either working or in a flying school. Books were my constant companions; and that was how my love for reading began. I was fascinated on how mere words on papers could transport one to another land, or affect one's emotions (like what Rohinton Mistry's book A Fine Balance did to me). And I wanted to affect other people's emotions too, so that was how I started to write.
In Sekolah Seri Puteri, we were encouraged to read, and hours spent in the school library and the English library helped to mould the reader-cum-writer in me. I was chosen to work in the school's English bulletin called Grapevine, and soon i started writing short stories. It was a fun time for me to explore my talent. Oh, to to hear someone tell me they enjoy reading my story was the greatest compliment.
My years while studying TESL and English Literature further enhanced my reading and writing, especially when I was doing my postgrad studies, as I learned to become a critical reader and writer - I had to write papers on analysing writers' works. Just before I graduated from UKM, I received an offer to become a journalist, but because of the then circumstance I was in, I had to reject the offer. With such remorse, i should add. But life goes on. I went on to better myself as a reader, and enrolled in an MA programme in UM. Though daunting at first, the course helped me to come out of my shell and argue in class. It helped me to think and become a critical reader. However, just as the course helped me to become a better Literature scholar and writer, I was also aware of my ignorance and self-criticism. Which is not good, actually.
Fast forward to my life in the city, I discovered, much to my dismal; that I could not read a book anymore. Not if it's for pleasure. As I was preparing to do my PhD (which never materialised, because of this important issue), I realised that I could not finish reading a Booker prize winning fiction. I really don't know why. May be my love for reading just fizzled out?
And whilst I was undergoing this phase, I was into baking. At the time, my mother would find me in the kitchen with all the utensils and ingredients and asked me what I was baking on that day. Once, she got so tired of eating my oh-so-filling bread that she jokingly took a few RMs from her purse and told me to buy her a Gardenia (okay, my bread was good, it's just that it's soo filling).15 years later, I have so many cake and bread pans in my cabinet, but not the passion for baking. It comes once in a while.
My next endeavour would see me dive into the world of gardening - roses, to be exact. I was a mad rosarian who would buy Austin and Tantau roses as well as collecting Old Garden Roses. All these babies of mine had taggings on them - their names, and my badge of pride. Unfortunately though, the microclimate at my house wasn't helping, as roses cannot thrive in shady areas. Despite my optimism in buying and caring for the plants, I had to end my hobby.
Recently, I was appointed as the Director of the school magazine, a post that I took seriously. I love working with kids in producing the magazine, because it reminds me of the Grapevine days when I was in SSP. Nothing beats the satisfaction I get when I see the students become better writers or photographers or graphic designers, because I know these skills will help them in their future. Until recently though. As much as I wish to stay on as the director, the ultimate decision was not in my hands. And just like the rest of my passions, I have to let this go.
And now, I'm sitting on the steps in Kinokuniya, surrounded by thousands of books, thinking that every episode in our life is transient. We're changing; or change is forced upon us. But whatever it is, we have to accept the changes, and go through the process of self-transformation ourselves. Because the wheel of life must go on.
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