It was a pre-planned meeting between yours truly and a good friend, Azza. I still remembered our first day in UiTM; how we skipped orientation days and how she missed her friends, the thought of it made her crying. We were through university life from the start and until its finishing line.
For all I know, whenever I am asked to write a legal opinion, the memories of us staying back in the spooky level 7 of the law faculty preparing our legal opinion assignment overnight and phoof, the whole building went black-out, still lingered in my mind. That night, braving ourself with whatever was left, we walked to the car with the help of handphone’s light.
Over O’briens’ trippledecker sandwiches, we talked about life beyond the gate of university. She has been in service for already one year while I am officially a le/gal practitioner. It was in deed a pleasant meeting where we ended up buying a piece of clothes each.
Since our meeting coincided with my high school’s gathering, I proceeded to the bowling lanes. Apparently, few people turned up. I said the usual hi, hello and the common questions. Most of the people who turned up were those I had little topics to discuss with. Mostly because we either never talked at all in school or we talked only few times over five years.
My high school days were not the days I desire to cherish on. It was the culture in the school that I so hated. In my batch, the boys hated the girls and vice versa, for a reason I still cannot comprehend. There was even one occassion when the girls came up on stage to sing a song, “Jangan ada Benci”. The girls were segregated according to domitory and hardly spoke to the one from different domitories unless they were in the same class.
If not for my bravery to date the bad-in-reputation senior, if not for the many fights I had with my teachers; especially Cikgu Zurinah, Mansor (Principal), Cikgu Naim and the guy who taught the stupid computer class, if not for the yearly hockey tournaments up until one point where I was selected to represent the state, if not for a month of truanting for which I was never been caught, if not for the caning punishment I had for “flying out” of the school, if not for the one hour of my life spent standing on the stage during a weekly assembly because I was fooling around when the national anthem was sung, if not for the rounds of jogging I had to endure almost every week because I was late to class, if not for all these, my high school days would mean nothing but five years of waste.