Synopsis from Part 1: It was not until the pilot announced we were about to land that I realised how on earth am I going to explain to abah and mama about bringing home a complete stranger who I just met less than four hours ago!! "Owh- O, I'm in trouble!" I heard myself whispered. At the same time, I did want to take her home with me no matter what..have I gone crazy?
There was a hard 'thud' as the flight touched down at Bandaranaike International Airport. As I exited the aircraft and walked out the corridor, my eyes were wild searching for familiar figures. I jumped as I spotted abah standing 6 feet tall and mama dressed modestly elegant; both were in their mid 40's waiting as promised. I ran toward them with bouncing rucksack, pecked mama on the cheek and recieved a big hug in return from abah. I was so happy; at that very moment I put my guard down. No need to behave like someone 10 years older or constantly looking around my surroundings for anyone/anything suspicious anymore..its the safe and secured feeling once more. A red name tag that read 'Diplomatic Pass' was on abah's dark blue linen suit; well tailored to adapt Sri Lanka's warm and humid weather. I recalled from my leisure readings that other than precious gem stones and tea, Ceylon also has good quality cotton and linen clothing. I bet mama must have started her collection, I was looking forward to try them on. It was an advantage to be able to fit in mama's clothes - at least her casual blouses and shirts - thanks to my height from abah's gene.
Overjoyed to meet my siblings at home I totally forgotten Aunty Anne! I pulled my hands away from my parents and turned around to find Aunty Anne standing exactly where I left her before jumping off. What if I had not remembered and left her watching me walk away? Suddenly I felt horribly guilty, looked straight up and said in one breath "Abah, mama..I met a friend on the flight, her name is Aunty Anne, she is from Malaysia and has no where to go, can she stay with us, please?" Well... I did not leave them any other choice do I? But somehow I expected they would not mind because one, they rarely say 'no' and two, we always welcome guests - relatives, friends including strangers err.. once in a while. Also, abah is a Malaysian Embassy diplomatic officer; thus hosting a Malaysian in need is an obligation. After the adults were introduced, we head off to the immigration counter and baggage claim.
The surroundings outside Bandaranaike International Airport was totally different from Subang International Airport. The scents were unfamiliar to my nostrils, not sure if I sneezed because of the smell or the dusty air perhaps both; many taxi drivers were offering service like five at a time and porters busy lifting our two luggage bags as if we had 10 of them. The taxi-drivers were frustrated because we already had our transport arranged and I saw abah hand the porters a few Rupees. As the car sped leaving the airport, I saw women with babies strapped to their body walking in colorful sarees, men in white dhotti and some children running around naked. We passed by a number of mini round-a-bouts, and shared the road with cattle carts. However, a totally new scenery to me was to see 'families' living in card board tents carefully built under the bridges and at secluded corners in public gardens. There and then I felt like such a spoiled child, riding a nice car towards a nice house belonging to a nice family...thousands out there would feel like being in dunya heaven if they get 1/4 of what Allah has given me, Alhamdulillah. The next time I want to complain, I should rephrase this thoughts again. I looked at Aunty Anne and thought 'Who is this woman?'. Having her in the car felt like I have succeeded in a big mission. In the car, other than eves-dropping boring adults' conversation I had nothing else to do, so I read every sign board on the roadside. 'Colombo 7' was the last signboard I saw before falling asleep.
It was 4pm, we finally reached home at Kinsey Road in Colombo 7. My cute brothers and sisters aged between 11 and 4 were eager to greet us. I felt so old to be around them. We did not realise how much we missed each other; all 5 of us hopped on a single bed and exchanged stories - most of the time we lost track who was saying what because all of us were talking at the same time; except for our youngest sister Mira who was happily seating on my lap. From inside the room, I saw abah, mama and Aunty Anne also busy talking while sipping hot Ceylon tea. An hour later mama escorted Aunty Anne to the guest room.
Three days passed, I realised that Aunty Anne did not talk much even with mama since day one; she stayed in her room all day and sometimes skipped meals (maybe because she was fasting?). I too, did not have many chances to talk to her. During meal time, I pretended not to pay attention to details when the adults were talking but my ears and head were actively eves-dropping and thinking. So I got to know that Aunty Anne was either a soon to be divorcee or already an ex-wife to an aristocrat back home. Listening to the description of her 'husband'...abayyah did not fit in their life style (oops!..was I wrong to say that? That came from a 14 year old logic).
Something happened and that was why she came to Colombo. My curiosity grew stronger each day, so I decided to spend some time with her - in her room. My mission was to know exactly what happened to her back home and why did she come here? And also, why was she always wearing abayyah even at bedtime (or did she change to other clothes right before going to bed?).
To be continued in Part 3
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