Clearly its not as apparent in the capital of Kuala Lumpur, but from as far back as I can remember, people my age always laughed at these stories of fake friendships and an exaggerated sense of harmony.
We mixed with all races in school and we still do but the stories in those text books spoke of an era I was completely unfamiliar with.
Eager to take a break from the rat race that has unassumingly become my life, I opted to head in the opposite direction of Kuala Lumpur. What I needed was the ocean, my heart's cure to almost everything.
It seemed like the perfect way to spend a Saturday. I sat under a shady tree, close enough for the waves to wash over my feet every now and then. I could smell the salt in the air and despite the fact that it knotted my already curly locks, I was blissfully at peace.
The sun had set, and with sand stuck everywhere imaginable, I was ready for a nice shower and a hot meal. The taxi driver asked if he could make a quick stop before he dropped us off at the hotel and I courteously obliged, there was no meter running after all. The old Malay taxi driver had stopped outside a mechanic's shop to settle his debt before the Ramadhan period started.
Even without prompting an explanation, he began to praise the Chinese mechanic we had just seen. This old Malay taxi driver did not want to inconvenience the mechanic in case he didn't come around this side of the island during Ramadhan to pay off his debt. What a kind gesture. How thoughtful I remembered thinking.
Then, as an Indian waitress brought me my dinner at a Chinese restaurant later that night, we started to hear singing from across the road. I was slightly stunned to see Chinese patrons urging a Malay patron to sing, and then he did, a wonderfully in tune rendition of 'Isabella'. The end of the song was met with cheering all around.
I looked back at my food, still finding it hard to digest why these situations seemed foreign to me. Before I could come to a conclusion, the corner of my eye caught the owner of the restaurant, a middle age Chinese woman carrying a little Indian girl. The Chinese woman looked at her adoringly and planted kisses on her cheek. The toddler was the family member of one of the waitresses.
I felt warmth in my heart.
The stories I so easily condemned of being far fetched and fictional, were actually true testaments of how people outside of KL, or well how people on Pulau Pangkor lived.
This relaxing weekend getaway has stirred some important food for thought, the kind Malaysians need at this critical fork in the road.
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