Wish You Were Here

The weekend that has just eluded was one of that is rather odd but on hindsight, it did however made me smile benignly. Armed with my newly acquired Polaroid camera, I instantaneously mutated into a trigger happy fool, snapping away at anything that seemed remotely interesting to me. Though Polaroid films are anything but cheap, the composition and raw nature of the pictures somehow appeals to me.

My theme for that weekend was 'Old'. I shot a photo of a cracked wall, I shot a photo of my aging grandmother, I shot a photo of my old schoolbag and of the old antiques that furnished my mother's living room. Out of all these photos, I love them all. Not because of the way I managed to capture them within the 4 frames, but because each of them had a tonnage of significance in my life. Now out of all these photos, there was this particular one that made me quiver in silence.

It was a picture of a quaint little hotel, tucked away, safely within the hustle and bustle of the city. Now this hotel is not one where hanky meets panky. On good days, you'll get folks from all over the globe, sitting down and melting their life's adventures into one big melting pot, left to be forgotten as they stepped away from this magical abode.

People come and they go, and so do their stories. But the old cranky walls never ceases to forget. So much so, that as the walls peels away, exposing itself to the harshness of time, it somehow gives one the impression that it shall never crumble....it shall never forget the stories that has been told....it shall never forgot the people that tells those stories. That day, as I snapped that photograph of the Old Mitre, the walls seemed to whisper to me through the winds that was seeping through its many cracks.

It seemed to remind me of my dear friend Juliana. I remember that day vividly. The 16th of March, 1999. Juliana dragged me down from our work place, and forced me to 'chill' in this sombre looking hotel. Her idea of 'chill' was nothing extravagant. A couple of drinks, served by the oldest bartender you can ever chance upon, in a place that's older than the city itself. That was my first trip to The Mitre.

The Mitre charmed me so much that it made me its humble pilgrim. Every other day for the next 4 years was spent at The Mitre. And every time I paid a visit to this place, dear Juliana will always be by my side. I can never forget the person that introduced me to my little sweet escape.

Looking at that picture of The Mitre, it made me miss Juliana even more. Visiting the Mitre alone or with anyone but Juliana did not feel complete...and the walls told me so. The walls never lie. As I slouched into a once majestic red chair, I remembered Juliana sitting on the chair beside me, with her legs comfortably rested on my thighs. She was tired from the long walks we had prior to this and I had the daunting task of pleasuring her via a foot massage.

It was funny how each time we arrived at The Mitre, Juliana would collapse into that same chair and it was even funnier that I willingly take her shoes off and gave her a massage that she so craves for. It was definitely weird staring into that empty chair now, knowing that you are far away in London, pursuing your degree...knowing that you'll never come back, less for Hari Raya Puasa which only occurs once a year.

As I scrutinized the aging walls, I came across that little patch on the wall where we wrote something. I still remember it was a few hours before the Christmas of 2000. On the wall, we scribbled, "May our friendship last forever through the ages, like The Mitre". I signed off as a stick man drawing, and you, a stick girl. We were holding hands in that drawing. It was sweet, adn the walls of The Mitre has kept that secret of ours even up till this day.

I smiled as I carassed my hands over that piece of declaration on the wall. As I left The Mitre that day, I stopped in the middle of my tracks and took a peek behind, hoping to see you running up to me, but it was nothingness that was staring back at me.

Dear Juliana, if you are reading this, I need to tell you that The Mitre will be demolished anytime soon. It's been in the newspapers for weeks already. If my memories are correct, we would have only about 2 months before the government starts to tear our nest down. My first visit to The Mitre was with you my dear, and I long for my last visit there to be with you just as well.