The Greatest Thief

The greatest thief was no man. It wasn’t a he, it was a she. A she that had no intimidating look on her face, no fear in her eyes, no threat in her body language. In fact, no one could have ever mistaken her for one. No one would believe that she could be a thief in the first place. It just didn’t seem likely.

She was so skillful. Before you knew what was wrong, she has already dealt the first blow. With little warning and with little notice, she creeps up even without walking up to you, she sneaks in and moves past the guards and the police and those who are alert and watching. As sneaky as a serpent and as cunning as the fox, she weaves through the holes in the quiet nights when no one watches.

No sound is heard when she walks past. No big movements, no voices, no whispers. Nothing at all. She doesn’t even come with knives or guns. She doesn’t need firearms for protection. Not protection, not to attack, not to strike. She scoffs at the idea of brute force and terror. It’s not her style, she claims. No one even fears her. No one’s scared of her. In fact, people adore her. People love her. People befriend her. Sneaky and fishy, people once claimed, but they never got to the root of the problem, let alone reckon that she’s a thief.

She’s just a little girl. Small body, petite size, pretty features of her natural face and expressions. Her greatest weapon is not in her hands, it’s on her face. Her charm, her alluring beauty, her words. Her persuasive speech and her graceful steps stuns people in their footsteps, then she strikes.

When she strikes, no one feels the pain. No one knows who she strikes, and no one can possibly tell. After the shots were long fired and the smoke ceases from the surroundings, only after the mist of confusion and doubts subsides and fades, what is left is the remains of the victim. The victim can only tell that he ‘lost something’ and ‘feels that something is missing’, but he will never know what he has lost.

Amazing.

The greatest thief in the world doesn’t steal material wealth. She needs nothing of those. She doesn’t need people’s money or belongings. She already has it all. She comes and steals the treasures of a person. Hidden in locked chests of discreet and secret, kept and tucked away in the dark corners behind sealed doors, she steals those.

Aims, she doesn’t. Targets, there’re none. So natural she steals that she doesn’t even realize that she has stolen something. Until someone that has ‘lost that something’ realizes that she has already stolen it, until that someone approaches her and confronts her, only then does she realize the crime she has committed. But by then, it’s just too late. It has already been stolen and couldn’t be returned to.

What happens next? What about the sentence? What about the punishment? Is there any justice done to the greatest thief in the world?

Nothing happens. She just smiles and walks away. No punishment dealt with. No jury, no trials, no sentences.

Justice?

The greatest justice done, is the fact that she stole something from someone. Oddly. That’s the greatest justice that could ever be done to anyone. To let her steal from you.

Her immunity is not towards the written law and constitution of the country. Her protection is not from the government.

After all, what she stole was never something written in the law. She never stole something that could ever warrant for an arrest. Hence, nothing happens. She’s free to continue stealing and striking and invading other people’s fortresses for their treasures. She’s a free thief. She’s never bound by law and order. She is above all of them.

The greatest thief in the world, doesn’t break past physical gates and doors. The best robber in the universe, doesn’t rob you off your money or your possessions. She goes only after your treasures. Not the ones locked up in safe boxes or metal doors.

The greatest thief in the world, only steals the heart.

And I was that stupid but willing victim.

Finally, Home

As I slumped into my bed, I thought I'd nearly drown in the softness of the mattress and pillows.

I slept right through the morning without waking up. I finally woke up without thinking of debates. I finally woke up realizing that I'm in my room and on my favourite bed.

I walked round in my house like a free man. With no slightest thought of going back to college and working my butt off for people that no longer appreciate efforts, or to listen to people barking orders around, treating me like coolies and their slaves.

I picked up the violin I've left for the last 2 months. The bow was once dry, the strings once dead, but now it's back to life. The music that I've missed and longed during the boring moments in hostel, were now close to my ears again.

It's good to be home. I'm finally home. Just as I've said.

The Candle's Last Tear

It's been such a long time since I've last been home. 8 weeks and counting. I couldn't believe that I still and actually haven't went home since I came down to Shah Alam. It's been debates, CA, church, studies, debates, more debates, nothing but debates, and even more debates. INTEC Cup is coming up, and it's not a good thing for me. Have never been pushed any harder.

I'm tired. I seriously am tired. So tired until I just wished that my bed was a 20 inch thick wool or feather mattress that I can just sink into it and fade away, or simply drown in the comfort of sleep. When have I last rested completely?

Doesn't matter. That's the price I have to pay for having people that need me.

Not that I'm complaining. I enjoy helping people. I love the fact that I could contribute something in helping someone get better or solve their problems. You become part of the celebration, you share the joy when a brother or sister actually gets well don't you? Same here..

It's just that, right now, at this point of time, I need that someone.

Erin's equally exhausted. I've already tired her out like mad. Couldn't ask more from her. Sometimes, somethings can just never be explained. Just can't understand myself, just can't understand the things that I'm going through, and at those times, she helps me get back to where I last left off at. She helps me to get up and get back on my feet. But even now, she's burdened, she's burnt out, she's tired too. She too needs to be there for other people, and I don't want to be that extra part of her shoulder.

It's only August. There's still September to November. For me, there's still the debates. The debates will never end. There's still CA. The calling is always heard at the corner of my ears. There's still church. The service of God is always seen in my eyes.

But all I'm asking, is to have a dream. To dream like a normal person that sleeps every night. To live normal. To be able to sleep without worrying about tomorrow, or to sleep from thinking about what to do in a situation.

All I'm asking, is that someone will just save the candle's last tear, as it burns out, as it's light fades into the darkness, as the shining assimilates into the emptiness of the night, that someone will take back those tears and make a new candle altogether. A candle can never burn forever, but what is left makes the essence of a new candle. Who will take what's left of me, and create new essence?

I'm just tired people. Tired. It's been such a long and lonely run, and in the process of that run, I've lost a lot of things. Time, people, life, laughter, love. Not much's left now. But I'm savouring whatever that's left. At least, this journey has taught me to never take for granted what we have now.

I miss home. I'm coming home. Soon.

What You Have Done

You reminded me
How it felt like to be hated, to be rejected
To not be given a chnce and not be alowed to explain

You showed me
That again I was the moron, the jerk
The one that people will always hate and despise

You made me see
The failure of my self and being
How insensitive I can be and how unobserving I can be

You brought me back
To the memories of my past and the hauntings of my before
How it was like to be stepped on, how it was like to be condemned
How it was like to be alone

And yet,

You proved to me
That no matter how bad things may have turned out
How bad I have failed or wronged a person,
There can always be a second chance.

Maybe that wasn't the second chance
Maybe it wasn't even a third, a fourth

Who knows?

But I know,
that deep beneath the mask that you wear
beyond the face that only smiles and frowns
long after the door has been closed and the curtains are drawn

there is still, and after all,
a hope that makes you wait
for something to change
something beautiful to happen

I'm sorry. I still am sorry.

By the Lake

There was a party behind me. Australians, Koreans, Japanese, Malaysians, Thais. It was a poolside party hosted as a welcome session for the debaters in Australasians.

Eating. Laughing. Swimming. Dancing. Smoking.

Fun.

I stood beside the lake near the pool. It was at night. The water was calm, the moon was clearly reflected in the calm waters of the pool. The occassional breeze brought few ripples on the surface.

Surely it was a familiar sight. I've been by the lake before at a different place at a different time on a different occassion.

With different people.

Like that lake, back then, there was no party. No noise. No chaos. No loud music.

Just the company of a quiet person that would listen. The assurance of a friend that was always there. Sitting opposite me surrounded with the music of nature and the songs of the birds. A light chat, some giggling, but other than that there wasn't even much talking. Just enjoying the presence and the company of that person.

That night, that person was far away. I looked up into the clear dark skies, looking out for a star.

Where have the stars gone to? Where is the company that I look for when I need it the most?

I sighed.

The stars are not seen. The company is not found.

But they are still there.

It's just that we can't see them. It's just that we need to find them. And find it harder.

The only solace I took by standing at the lake this time, were the memories of the last time I stood by a lake. The person that made me realise that the stars will never fade. Not until we think they have.

Behind the Bronze Mask

The war.

And it very simply changed everything.

Our last hug, our last kiss, I could still remember it so vividly. I gazed into her wet eyes for the last time before leaving for primary base. Both hands holding her cheeks gently, rubbing away the tears that was rolling down from the edge of her lovely eyes, I was at a lost for words for a while. Not knowing what was best to say, I just blurted something out.

“Don’t wait for me if you can’t. If you find a man you can love more than me that loves you more, just go. I want to see you happy.”

With that said, I turned and left. Tearing my hands away from her, I left without even looking back. It just hurt so dearly to part with the people that you love especially when you don’t have any assurance of seeing them in any near time to come.

“Come home colonel!”

Come home colonel!

Her voice still rings in my head. Now lying on the hospital bed, surrounded by groaning patients of my same fate, her voice now haunts me. It taunts me. The reminding of sweet memories and times I had with her only causes me grief and sorrow. It just doesn’t help anymore to think about her now that I’m alone and injured and immobile. Those thoughts, no longer keep me alive. Those thought, unlike the war days, no longer inspire me to stay strong and keep moving. Instead, it only makes me wonder why wasn’t I killed in action.

She was supposed to wait for me at the base when I was being transported back, but I was already knocked out before the carrier chopper touched down in base. She could have been there. She could have seen me in such a terrible condition. Perhaps, she couldn’t accept the Me that was before when she last saw me.

If she left me then at the base and never return, I don’t blame her.

I blame myself.

I blame my foolish self. I blame myself for letting her go too easily. I blame myself for not being the tough soldier I should have been where she was concern. I honoured the call of my country to protect the Zanotopian citizens. And as I protected the house from intruders at the front gate, I was robbed of my very own belongings from behind.

I love her enough to let her go.

Maybe she was never mine to hold. Maybe she never was meant for me.

Such self pity and self comforting words just doesn’t work anymore. I pushed the little red button beside my bed. A nurse came to my aid. Young and fresh from nursing academy, she smiled and asked courteously how she could assist me.

“This bronze mask…” I whined. “It’s suffocating me.”

She let out a little laugh as she rolled me to the side to check the back of my mask. She loosened the screws at the back of my mask. “Better?”

Yeah. Better. But not good enough.

I thanked her as she trotted off to check on other patients. I took great effort to move my head from one side of the bed to the other side of the bed. The mask was heavy. I had no idea what happened to me when I was still asleep, but all I knew was that when I awoke I had this big shiny brown thing over my head.

The doctors said that it was an innovation. It was a breakthrough in technology and medical research. It was supposed to initiate mitosis of skin cells at an accelerated and yet controlled rate. By right, it would help my wounds heal even faster.

But I just couldn’t see that right now. I couldn’t see how that bronze mask was going to heal me. I was already relieved from duties from Pishrow team. I was expected and supposed to be promoted to be a Reyarp in a few months time due to my excellent performance, but all of that has suddenly changed when I was planted and left alone in behind enemy lines.

A Reyarp cannot be in service as long as he is still injured.

I lost my dream. It was my next greatest dream after Nire since joining the army. It didn’t matter how many medals I’ve collected or how many letters of commendation of excellent service I received. All I wanted was to be a Reyarp. To be in the midst of the elite and Supremes of the army. To yield the best weapons and clad the most sophisticated armoury and conduct missions like none ever. To rescue and reclaim territories, to expand the Zanotopian influence.

The greatest dream I lost, was Nire.

It took a long time to win her heart. Many many years of loneliness and waiting, many sleepless nights of soul searching and wondering why she would never respond or reply, the times where the body is just shouting to give up but the heart quietly tells me to hang on, the moments where I look at all the other guys from military academy trying to tackle her from a distance and swallowing all the bitterness in my guts.

And I couldn’t see how the bronze mask was going to help heal that dream I lost.

Again, I was left to doubt in the Sergeant. Shortly before I went into unconsciousness, he again promised that he will take care of me, that he will make sure that he sees me right until I recover. He promised that everything will be fine after that.

Everything will be just fine. Yeah right. You can count on that.

It was the same type of loneliness that crept into me again. The very same loneliness that I felt back when my troops left me. Alone to face the enemies and alone to face death. The same loneliness I now face behind a bronze mask where people try to show their concern and care to me without knowing how I look or feel. My family visited me. They tried to sound encouraging but they just couldn’t see me. They couldn’t look through the bronze mask.

The bronze mask was supposed to heal me. But now it’s hurting me. It’s suffocating me. It’s killing my soul. Deep inside me, I wished the doctors just didn’t give me the bronze mask. I wished that they would never put it over my face. I want people to see me. I want people to know what I’m going through. I want people to understand all that I’ve went through for my country and nation.

Was it?

Or was it just that I wanted Nire to see the face behind my mask?

No, she wouldn’t be able to accept it. She wouldn’t be able to take it. Maybe, perhaps, the mask is doing me a good. Maybe it’s protecting the people I love from being further hurt.

Maybe…

The sound of crunching boots was getting louder and louder. That sound was familiar, and soon enough I saw him. He grabbed a chair and sat beside me and warmly greeted me.

Sergeant.

“How are you doing?” I couldn’t bear to answer that question. I couldn’t allow myself to let him know the truth about how I’m doing. Deep down I was doubting him; I was questioning every single word he said. Although he has always proven his words to be trustworthy and reliable, but this time I couldn’t believe what he said. Again.

He looked straight into my eyes. Past the solid bronze mask that hides the face and my eyes, hides my tears and my pain. Past the mask that I wore not just on the face, but over and around my heart.

"Colonel."

My eyes met his. For once, I saw such concern, such love, such mercy and grace. The tears that now rolled down just felt different. No longer were they cold lonely tears from a shattered heart, but they were now warm, so full of hope, so full of joy. Tears that I’ve never felt before, tears that never rolled out of my eyes ever before.

"Eyes on me. Eyes on me, your commander, your chief, your leader..

.. eyes on me, your friend, a partner in arm, a companion in battle, a counselor in your war." He could read my mind. He knew exactly what was on my mind. He could sense the doubt I had and the disappointment that I’m going through. He knew me inside out.

He stretched forth his arm, and as his sleeve folded back as he stretched, the scar obtained from the blast back in the mountainous desert was seen clearly. A dark bluish black scar that formed a little valley from his wrist to his elbow, the stitch marks were could still be identified from a distance.

He touched my mask. Though the bronze mask, it failed to hinder his warmth from reaching me.

"Eyes on me. As you look towards me in battle, as you look towards me behind your bronze mask and not on Nire or anyone else, you will not be disappointed.

I promise you."

From the ashes of defeat came the fire of hope. A small spark ignited in my heart, and though the wounds are yet to heal behind that mask, still it gave me the courage to continue my battle and to continue to fight on. I slumped back into the comfort of the bed, now resting in total peace that the bed could have never offered me. That peace came from the assuring Sergeant when He saw the tears behind my mask. Not only had he saved my life, now he's saving my soul.

Sergeant, I trust you.

“Come colonel, let’s go for a walk.” He called a nearby nurse and summoned for a wheel chair. Helping me get on it and making me comfortable, he pushed me out of the ward slowly.

“There are some things that you are yet to know Colonel,” he said calmly. “There’s much that you have to know about the things I see and the things you don’t see.”

He wheeled me out of the ward and headed to the cafeteria. A few people that passed by recognized the Sergeant and greeted him cheerfully. And in return he acknowledged them graciously. He sure is popular everywhere he goes.

The cafeteria was abuzz. People were moving here and there. Some were going in and some were going out. I was still wondering why Sergeant brought me here when my eyes just caught hold of something.

It was a small lady with her head nested in her hands, lying on the table in a little sleep. My eyes turned moist as I slowly and carefully analysed her features. The same long hair, the same eyebrows, the same ear, the same hair band that I once told her was my favourite, the same green T-shirt that she always wears when we’re at home…

“You see Colonel, she was always here from the very day you were warded. She never left you; neither did she ever look for anyone else. She was always waiting for you to come home. She was waiting for you to take her home.

“And she’s still waiting.”

I looked up to the Sergeant. “How did you know all this?”

He smiled back. “She’s my younger sister.”

Behind the Bronze Mask - Epilogue

That day finally came. Both excited and nervous, he went back to the hospital. Not alone this time.

He was nervous and worried at the same time. Would I look the same? What if my face was equally deformed? What if the wounds didn’t heal properly? What if she couldn’t accept me again?

There were a few doctors in the room. As he was the first and only patient in the country to be tested with the bronze mask, a panel of top specialist was formed to monitor his progress with the mask. They were very assuring and encouraging, but it still didn’t do much to help him.

Inside him was a great struggle to maintain his composure. He thought he was experiencing a nervous break down. He didn’t know what to expect from the meeting with those doctors. What if something went terribly wrong with the mask?

And he prepared himself for the worst.

“Colonel,” a representative cleared his throat. “We have discussed and debated for a while on who should have the honour of removing that mask for you.”

The rep paused for a while. He stole a glance at Sergeant who was also part of the panel. “And we have all agreed,” He said calmly, “that the only person who deserves to take that mask off your face is your lady.”

Nire was stunned for a moment before her trademark smile was carved over her face. She didn’t even give him time to react. Before he even knew what was happening, she was already behind him.

Slowly removing the screws, his heart was racing. Palpitating and perspiring hands, he feared the worst. She was done with the screws, and then she came back in front of him and gently took off the mask. A gush of fresh cool air caressed his face. It was such a relief to get the mask off his face. He was so grateful and wanted to thank all the doctors one by one, but he was stumped and rooted to his feet when he saw Nire.

She gasped. Nire’s expression was written all over her face. The smile before she removed his mask suddenly vanished and evaporated into thin air. She nearly dropped the mask that she was holding. Clearly she was shocked and dumbfounded by what she saw.

His heart sank. He knew what was happening. Something went terribly wrong, right?

He nearly broke into tears when a nurse handed a mirror to him. Initially he refused to even look into that mirror. He didn’t want to see the face that crushed her little heart. He didn’t want to look at himself. He pictured a hideous monster looking face. He imagined himself as a Dracula with half of his face rotting and chewed away and gone, probably revealing part of the skull.

He stole a glance into the mirror. Just a glance. And that glance turned into a stare. Then he grabbed the mirror from the nurse and brought it closer to his face.

He gasped. Now it was his turn to be stupefied.

No scars. No signs or indications of a wounded face. A totally new layer of skin. He touched the once-burnt part of his face. It was even new flesh.

He looked better than before. He looked greater than before going into military. That mask gave him a new face. And with that new face, it gave him a new life. More than just a new life, it was a new perspective and outlook of life.

Entering the car, Nire finally broke her silence. “There’s going to be a problem,” she mumbled.

“What’s the problem?” he pushed the keys into the keyhole and turned it clockwise.

“I’m gonna need to get used to waking up and staring into a handsome face now onwards.” Then she grinned cheekily as she pecked him on his new face. “But wash your face and your hair first thing when you get home. You seriously need a hair cut.”