Hello friends and lovers, surprise! So while I’ve always been a writer at heart and I enjoy being on other podcasts, I’ve never really thought about having my own. But one of the things I wanted to do this year was something that would scare me and something that would be new. So voila, here it is!
I would love to share more about the Deema & Co collaboration that’s close to my heart but I rather have you listen to me ramble instead on The Shy & Curious Podcast. I would love to have your feedback and ideas for future episodes so do drop me a DM on Instagram!
Love Story 1 : Adoration
Dasha Heart Bead Set
Without realizing it, she loved to pepper conversations with his name.
“Will and I had the most amazing meal last weekend…”
“Holland Hill? I think Will has a friend who lives there.”
“That’s so funny! That reminds me when Will…”
Will. Will. Will. Will.
His name fell from her lips like a broken string of pearls – white orbs scattering as they slip from her tongue, and bounce off the floor and rolled away echoing through the hallway. The irony was that she didn’t even like his name at first. Will? How pedestrian. William sounded so much better. But as time passed, his name became a prayer to her. The airy, breathy sound expelled through her pursed lips calmed her like a meditative chant.
Will. Inhale. Will. Exhale. Will. Inhale. Will. Exhale.
Like rosary beads, she’ll count in time with each ‘Will’ uttered and fall deeper and deeper in love.
He was definitely a Will.
Just Will.
Her Will.
Love Story 2: Lust
Saoirse Freedom Tassel Earrings
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la….
“Oh my god it’s my song!”, she squealed in delight as she wriggled her way to the packed dance floor.
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la…
It seemed like the throng of Saturday party-goers agreed with her as they bounced enthusiastically and sang the familiar refrain in unison in the club.
I just can’t get you out of my head…
She closed her eyes and smiled to herself as the reverberations took control of her body. With her arms raised and head tilted back, her hips gyrated like a serpent as the dangling chains on her earrings chimed with each sway in time to the music.
Boy, your lovin’ is all I think about…
The dance floor is her happy place. It was where she could lose herself to the rhythm and yet felt absolutely like her true self. When she danced, nothing existed except her and the music coursing through her veins. Time stops in this little sanctuary of hers. That is until she opened her eyes and spotted him.
I just can’t get you out of my head….
In between the sinuous bodies of other revellers, she caught a glimpse of his eyes first. Dark and intense, it caught her off guard as his piercing gaze was solely focused on her. His lips curled up into a wry smile as he realized he’s been caught and he raised his drink to her and took a sip. She felt the heat rise up in her cheeks and turned away.
Boy, its more than I dare to think about…
Woah, did he feel that too? She wondered as she bit her lips to prevent them from revealing her true feelings at that moment. It was a mix of thrill, bashfulness and a bolt that shot straight down to her loins. She took a deep breath as she kept dancing and casually glanced over to his direction again. He was gone.
Every night, Every day, Just to be there in your arms…
She was surprised at how disappointed she felt at that moment. Oh, maybe I’d imagined it. That was until she felt the graze of soft skin and stubble on her left cheek and a deep voice purred in her ear, “I love the way you dance…”
The slight scent of his vetiver cologne and saltiness of his skin so close to her lips made her want to grab his face and kiss it deeply. Instead she looked up and met his brown eyes and sheepish grin, he continued “And I like your earrings too…”
She broke out into a grin and laughed wholeheartedly.
….Won’t you stay…..
Love Story 3: Mothers & Daughters
Nour Love Set
“Dayang-dayang! Lekas, nak pakai barang kemas ke tak?” I heard my mum’s shrill voice from her bedroom. (“Handmaidens! Hurry up, do you want to wear jewellery or not?”)
It wasn’t an actual question but instead a summon to my sister and I as we march in like diligent soldiers. My mum sat on the edge of her bed in all her splendid glory like a queen in her traditional baju kurung songket, bold blue eyeshadow and her hair teased to the heavens with hairspray. Despite resting directly in front of the fan whirling at top speed, beads of perspiration trailed from her hairline down her cheeks as she looked up and me and asked, “Is Mummy’s make-up ok?”
My mother may have been a homebody but she was a stickler for looking your best when you leave the house. Even a short jaunt to the corner mama store required a powdered nose and dab of lipstick as she considered it a basic sign of respect. As I stood there sweating my ass off as well in our thick songket outfits, I heard the undertone of anxiety in her voice and understood. She wasn’t really asking about the make-up. We were heading to a cousin’s wedding with her new status as a divorcee.
“Yes mum, it looks good,” I smiled. Automatically I spun around and knelt at her feet with my back facing her. It’s been our ritual since we were old enough to be dressed up in our baju kurung for special occasions and this wedding was no different. I lifted the hair sticking on my neck and lowered my gaze down. The cloud of my mum’s sweet Anna Sui perfume enveloped me first before I felt the cool gold chain placed around my neck. “Don’t move!” She grumbled as she fiddled with the clasp. “Baby’s not moving!” I whined back. Finally she smacked my back and said ‘Dah’ (done).
I stood up and stepped aside as it was my sister’s turn and strolled over to her mirror. I’m not a fan of Malay weddings because I find them formal and boring with a million people whom you’ll only meet once a year and won’t recognize if you pass them in the street. However, I’ve inherited my mum’s love for dressing up for them and as I admired my getup despite feeling the sweat roll down my back, I heard my mum’s smug voice, “Cantik pun bila dah jadi Anak Dara Melayu….”
(“You’re beautiful once you’ve embraced being a young Malay lady.”)
I smirked back at my beautiful regal Mummy in the mirror, touched my matching gold necklaces that we were all now wearing, and proceeded to fluff up my hair.
Love Story 5: Sisters
Hermanas (Sisters) Open Hearts Ring
“Do you need separate bags?”
My sister and I glanced at each other with the same look of resignation.
“Nope, we live together so you can put them together. We’re sisters.”
“Oh really? Sorry I couldn’t tell!”
This was the script that used to play out when I first moved back home a decade ago whenever my sister and I went shopping. I was the eldest daughter while she was the youngest with six years of difference and a brother in between us. That was another area of contention whenever we encountered strangers – they’ll always assume I was the younger one. I was shorter, flirted and smiled more while my sister towered in the back, quiet and still with a stoic expression as she watched me flit around like a butterfly.
Our late mother used to take pleasure at narrating this particular story at family gatherings. She spoke of how when my sister was born and paraded as the prettiest, cutest, most darling baby girl that anyone had ever seen, I would curse and scowl and whisper angrily to my younger brother, “Look at that. She’s getting all the attention now, they’re going to forget about us.” It got so bad that when during one of my sourpuss tantrums sparked by jealousy, my sleep-deprived mother got so desperate and furious at me that she ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife and put the blunt edge against my face, screaming, “Say you love your sister! She is family! Do you love your sister?” My prideful eyes were tearing as I defiantly shouted back, “No! I don’t love her!”
And my mother would laugh at this part of the story as she retorts in Malay to the rest of the enthralled listeners, “Stubborn nak mampus macam bapak dia!” (“She’s as pig-headed as her dad!”). Everyone else would roar with laughter and look at Shikin and I, now sitting side by side on the couch as we gave each other the same knowing look. See, we knew this one was of my mum’s favourite stories but the truth is simply that neither of us can remember a single snippet of it. We must have blocked out of our memory.
Over the years as I settled back and started to let my roots dig back in, my sister and I started to learn and unlearn more about each other’s quirks, dreams, fears, hang-ups and occasional tantrums. I’m a Leo, she’s a Pisces. I love gold, she’s a silver girl. I’m the messy one, she had her OCD moments. I’m a Minah at heart, she’s into K-pop. I put my heart out on my sleeve, she guards her secret to her chest. But now we can finish each others sentences and know what’s on the other’s mind with a secret look between us. Lately we’ve noticed that no one has brought up the question of separate shopping bags when we go out. Instead, they dive straight into the statement: “Oh you must be sisters, you look so alike!”
This time, it’s our turn to look at each other incredulously, raise our eyebrows and smirk at each other. “Really? Ok now guess who’s the older one…”
Love Story 4: Daddy’s Girl
Mantra Beads Necklace
When I was younger, my dad and I had a secret ritual. On cool quiet Sunday evenings, the whiff of shoe polish and sound of scratchy bristles brushing against his leather shoes was my cue to poke my head outside our gate and join him. As he meticulously buffed his work shoes amongst my mother’s potted plants, I would regale him with stories of what happened in school for the week while he would listen and pique up with his own take and advice. He’ll then share his own tales in exchange about his life as a boy growing up figuring out his place in the world. I used to marvel at his adventures, while looking up at the night sky dreamily as he spoke with the rhythmic lull of the brush against leather as the soundtrack. I felt so proud and awed that it was me whom he chose me to share these secrets with.
When he went away for business trips, I would pace around the house restless and almost bursting at the seams with keeping my stories to myself as I counted down the days when he’ll be back. Then just like magic, I’ll wake up to the heady sting of tobacco and tiptoe to my parents bedroom where my dad sat in the morning light smoking his cigarette next to my sleeping mum. On one of those returns, he saw me peeking at the doorway and motioned me towards the dressing table where a small plastic bag was. “Baby, Papa saw this and thought of you. Papa hope you like it.”
Gleefully I ran over to it and open the bag, it was a beautiful black beaded necklace with a large gold heart pendant anchored to it. It felt so smooth to the touch and glistened in the soft morning light. Not only was it so pretty but it was the fact that he had me in mind back home even while he was out conquering the world. One day 30 years later, I’ll be sitting in my own bedroom with trinkets and baubles from my escapades around the world and wonder when did we drift apart. But on that quiet Sunday morning, the little girl was so happy that Papa was finally home. “Yes Pap, baby love it! So Papa, guess what Baby did this week…”
Love Story 6: Finding Love Again
Crucible Love Set
Whenever I forget to love you, I go back to the list.
Your eyes when you first met mine.
The scar on your thumb because you were too stubborn to get proper stitches after the accident.
The tattoo on your pelvis which you were so proud of but when I first saw it I thought you’d lost a bet.
Your sheepish smile when you don’t know whether to protest or agree when I call you out.
The way you sleep on your side covering your ear with one hand like a cocoon.
Your crazed look running around the bedroom trying to kill that lone mosquito at 3am.
The koel who woke us up but I know that one day you’ll miss his song.
The way you clasp your fingers between mine.
When you kicked me out of the kitchen while you were cooking curry which we pretended was good later on because we were starving.
Going up and down the supermarket aisles trying to find that perfect ice cream flavour.
How I caught you sneakily munching on gummie bears from your night stand when you thought I was asleep in the middle of the night.
Your warm sweet scent of Jean Paul Gaultier when you kiss me goodbye in bed before you leave for work.
When you forget to love me, it’s ok.
I still love you anyway.
Some day we’ll find someone else to love and we will. Not more, not less.
Just someone else.
Until then and forever more, I’ll always say a prayer for you.
Love Story 7: Self-Love
Amor Sui Statement Choker
Hi Baby, it’s me.
Or rather it’s you, at my age. Don’t be afraid. I’m just here to talk.
Wow, I forgot how obsessed you were with BSB and the Spice Girls.
No, we didn’t marry Nick Carter. But Victoria does marry David.
Yes, you actually got to meet them. No, you’re not besties. That’s another girl you’ll meet in your new school next year.
Your crush? No you don’t marry him. Yeah we’ll still see him around. Yes he knows you’re sorry you weren’t brave enough to tell him you liked him too.
Nope, no boyfriend either. Awww… don’t be sad. I didn’t say we’ll be lonely. You know how mum always reminiscences about her seven ex boyfriends? Well you’ll have more than that! No no, we’re not a slut. Well kinda… K, don’t worry, just trust me k? You’ll find love and still have fun at the same time.
Speaking of mum, hug her and take more pictures of her ok? Even if she says no and thinks you’re being weird. Be nicer to her too. She’s trying her best.
Ooo… no, sorry you’re not the editor of Vogue and you don’t move to London.
Hey, hey… wait it’s even better! You move to New York and you do end up writing.
What type of novels? Mmm.. not yet, but maybe soon. Actually you write essays about your life.
Yes really, people will want to read it. No, we’re not fashion writers. No, we’re not travel writers.
You really want to know?
We write about looking for love.
Awww Baby don’t be sad. Just because we’re still looking doesn’t mean we didn’t experience it before. Yes, we did. But no, he couldn’t stay. I know it doesn’t make sense now but sometimes love isn’t enough.
But that’s the best part Babe, you’ll find out something else that’s cool.
You’re already enough on your own.
Yeah, yeah, I know. It doesn’t feel like it right now.
And even at my age, I don’t believe it sometimes.
But with each goodbye, you’ll learn something new.
With each high and low, you’ll find out what you want and what you deserve.
Then finally you’ll realize it’s actually just you.
You’re the cool one. You’re the one who’s always growing.
You’re the one who’s always getting better and truer to you.
So yeah, maybe one day we’ll meet someone.
But he has to love us for who we are and who we’ll grow to be k?
Until then, don’t worry so much ok? Just be yourself.
Awww it’s ok, I’m always around. I’ll take care of you. We’ll be besties too.
Oh and by the way, buy that choker that you like so much from the magazine. It comes back in fashion in 28 years.