Enigma.

It all started when the people who were supposed to be there during my difficult times thought it was okay to leave me fight my battles alone. “Supposed to”, you ask. Well, I guess I had expected them to.

It got worse when friends whom I shared my darkest secrets with thought it was okay to let strangers peek into my private life, without my permission, of course. It was okay to sell someone else’s story to earn the trust of another friend, wasn’t it?

It didn’t affect me when people started spreading rumours about me.
It started to affect me when my friends started to spread these rumours. It started to eat from within, when I found out that those whom I had expected to defend me, found pleasure in spreading these rumours and adding on the finer details to the story. Rumours are inevitable at social gatherings and over some thanni (alcoholic beverages) right?

It finally dawned upon me that there was no one who was true with their friendship. Each of them had their own agenda in wanting to be my friend. I mean, who doesn’t. That’s just part and parcel of growing up, isn’t it?

It was all because… I had money, I had a car, I knew people. More so, I was kind, nice and compassionate. Most importantly, I was stupid to believe that these are friends I had, I needed and I wanted.

I started to have trust issues. I started building a fortress. I scrutinised every single relationship, every new friendship, all new persons I met. I chose who to allow into my space. “Even if I noticed a spark of mistrust, I would distance that person”, as described by a wise individual (don’t ask who, you don’t need to know).

Friends said I changed. People thought I was arrogant, unfriendly, rude. Friends started leaving. People stopped acknowledging. Friends had their own reasons and stories for the “new” me. People threw judgements (because it is free mah), not knowing what changed me. I didn’t expect them to find out either; it is not their duty to. Friends, family, strangers felt I was being mysterious. I felt alone, isolated but liberated. I was no longer shackled to these human bonds we call friendship.

It was my story to tell. It was my life to live. It was my future to worry about. It was my fortress that I had refused to tear down.

Over the years, I have let only a handful in. Some I regret but choose to see it as a lesson learnt. Still learning. Some, I allow to make themselves home – these are the souls I treasure, cherish and am grateful for.

I am an enigma and this is my story.
#openbookmissingpages

Be kaypoh and save lives.

Recently a good friend of mine had texted to share that he had lost a friend to suicide and that this person was suffering from depression. He went on to say that he was telling me this because he had noticed that I had been sharing articles related to mental health on FB lately. He added on that my sharing could have been simply to raise awareness or I could be suffering from a mental health issue. And that if it was the latter, he told me never to think of suicide as an option and that I have friends and family who are there for me.

It was indeed a very sweet gesture. I thanked him (added some heart emoticon). If those people who were suffering in silence or those who had taken their own lives, had friends like mine, much lives could have been saved, I suppose.

However, I had this nagging question at the back of my head.

Why hadn’t my friend texted me to ask if I was suffering from depression (or any other issue) when he saw that I was frequently posting about mental health?

Yes, he could have assumed that I was just sharing, doing my part to raise awareness. Most of my friends do know that I take great interest in mental health.

But what if I was really going thru a difficult time and all those sharing was a subtle call for help? If he had PM-ed when he noticed the frequent sharing, would it have made a difference?

Did it take the loss of one life to identify that there might be someone else in distress?

I am not blaming him or finding fault. I truly appreciate him texting to assure that I have friends to talk to. I am trying to see it from a bigger perspective, from the POV of others who suffer in silence and friends who fail to identify the silent cry for help.

The lesson here is that sometimes we take things for granted. We see a friend posting “emo” picture and quotes on FB, Instagram or Whatsapp status, and we assume that he/she is alright because they do it so often.

Or we are too afraid to ask. Yes, it is a sensitive question to ask. And more often than not, those who are suffering might simply reply with a “yes, I am fine”, “don’t worry” or even “no la, just sharing so that other people know”. But sometimes we have to see beyond that and be a little more “kaypoh”, just sometimes. Curiosity killed the cat, they say. But a lack of it can kill many more. (The actual saying being “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back”.)

I did have friends who saw the frequent sharings and texted me to ask whether everything was alright. Only a handful of them actually. I greatly appreciate that. Then I thought about it – I have more than just a handful of friends on FB, don’t I?

I don’t expect you to text ALL the friends you have on FB, every day. Or go paranoid and text them the moment they share one or two articles or emo quotes. But if you happen to see a prolonged period of emo-ness lingering on their timeline, perhaps drop a text and check on them. If they dismiss you, saying they are absolutely fine (even when they are not)… well, at least you tried. A text or a phone call can’t cost that much, right?

Let’s all practice some compassion and spread some love, shall we?

Gay stereotypes

The following is a conversation I had with a 30-odd-year-old male, whom I got acquainted with during my frequent visits to a bar. We were talking about something else and not surprisingly, had digressed to the topic of marriage.

 

He: You intend to get married, right?

Me: Yes. But not anytime soon.

He: To a girl, right?

Me: Ermmm… Why would you ask such?

He: Hmmm. You know… you’re quite soft, feminine. And you are a nurse too. So I thought you might be (paused for a long while)… gay.

Me: (rolled my eyes) If I can find the right girl…

He: (heaved a pretentious sigh) My virginity/ modesty is safe (translation: கற்புக்கு guarantee) (and giggles)

 

Our conversation continued covering many other topics, that are too boring to share.

But my point of sharing this conversation is….

Point No1:

Being soft, feminine, girly, effeminate is not a “gay thing”. Just because someone is effeminate does not mean he is gay. On the contrary, there are gay guys who are not effeminate at all. And there are masculine gays. And there are effeminate straight guys too (revelation!). And it is nothing wrong being masculine and being gay. And there is nothing wrong being straight and being effeminate. But it is entirely wrong to assume that all gays are effeminate or that all effeminate guys are gay. Where you study sia?

Point No2:

Being a male nurse does not make you gay. You can be a nurse, be male and be straight. Yes, nursing is predominantly female but that does not make a male nurse secretly female. Your career has got nothing to do with your sexual preference. You can be gay and still be a nurse. And no, gay nurses do not get turned on when nursing their patients. It is a respect every nurse gives to his/her profession. So if you see a policewoman she must be lesbian la. You see a male dancer he must be gay la. Singapore has its first female president la dei. You from which country sia?

Point No3:

Not every gay friend you know wants to have sex with you. Being gay does not make someone sexually active or desperate. Homosexuals, just like heterosexuals do have their (sexual) needs. Just that they prefer satisfying their needs with someone of their own gender (if it is safe to say such). And homosexual couples are not together just for sex. Just like heterosexual couples, they love each other regardless of their sex needs. Love is love la; sex is sex la. The world will be chaotic if every hetero woman is going to think every hetero man is out to rape her, since every hetero man assume a gay guy wants to rape him. You which planet sia?

 

I have no issues with people thinking I am gay (extremely used to that). But stereotyping the gay community in terms of how they behave, their profession, their sexual needs is something that needs to stop. Fundamentally something wrong with our society… which sadly is not gonna be changed anytime soon.

Trust?

Do I have trust issues, you ask?

 

I trusted you yet you chose to lie for selfish reasons.

I trusted you but you used me to climb the ranks.

I trusted you but I was merely a decoy for your relationships.

I trusted you yet you chose to backstab.

I trusted you and failed to see that you were a devil in disguise.

I trusted you but never identified your hidden agendas.

I trusted you yet you proved me wrong by doing what is wrong.

I trusted you but all you did was make use of me.

I trusted you… when I should have trusted myself all along.

 

Trusted myself when I knew that…

All of you were mere hypocrites.

All of you only cared about yourselves.

All of you wanted to see me fall.

All of you gave me reasons not to trust.

 

Do I have trust issues, you ask.

Not at all.

Never did.

Never will I.

 

“Don’t be sorry. I trusted you. My mistake. Not yours.”

The closure.

It is been about 5 months, hitting 6, since you had decided to leave us. Like many others, the question still stays – why (did you decide to do what you did?) Looking back, it seemed like it was the best for you, you felt. We all felt that it was unfair, that you decided to take your own life, leaving all of us here to suffer. But this the exact reason why you decided to leave – cause everyone was simply selfish. And you had enough of it. Just enough.

When I received the news, I was hoping it wasn’t you, it wasn’t true. I kept praying… but you were gone. Like how your sister put it, it seemed like you were just loitering somewhere out there and that you would be home soon. But we knew this wasn’t true. We knew you were gone, gone for good.

I was angry. I was disappointed. With you at first. And then with myself. I had been hard on myself. I kept telling myself that I had failed as a brother (even now I can hear you call me “neh”; that annoying way you do). How did I fail to know that you were suffering in silence? How did I not realise that behind that smile was a heart filled with pain and suffering? Why did I not see that you needed help? Why did I not notice that you had become silent in the WhatsApp group?

Every night ended with me questioning myself, with no answers, with no you.

I have finally let go. I have finally let it sink. That you are no longer here with us. That you did what you did because at that very moment that was what you wanted (that freedom from the pain that you kept hidden from ALL of us). Somewhere within, I am happy you are gone. Cause this place is not for you, not for someone like you.

I miss you annoying me. I would miss my trips with you. I miss your stupid text messages. I miss how you easily assume that I know everything and anything. I miss how you enjoy getting scolded by me. I miss how you loved me effortlessly. Most of all, I miss having a baby brother like you.

I will continue to miss you. And continue to love you. Just that now, I have finally accepted it…

Thank you for teaching me to love unconditionally, effortlessly. Thank you for the harsh reminder that not all smiles are genuine. Thank you for your subtle reminder to learn to cherish the present. Thank you for awakening the Uthaya you first knew.

Yours truly,
Uthaya Anneh
#raghaviki

To the Force

I am so glad

I found a force in my Force.

Sometimes, together

We can be a little mad.
 
 

Have I been annoyed with her?

Have I ever bullied her?

Have I ever missed her?

Saying no would be a lie.




Despite all that,

We still stand strong,

Counting not the number of years,

But the memories formed.




Thank you Force,

For being who you are.

And allowing me

To be who I am.




And together,

In the coming years,

We shall discover

How a pregnant whale sounds.




If we will never find out,

We can always count on,

The melody we know by heart.

#wehwehtanny

#raghaforce #yellowribbon #yrp2017

Not everything needs to be up on social media.

I don’t get it. When you see a “mad” person doing something ridiculous on the streets of Singapore, the least you could do is to NOT take video and upload on social media. I mean, if you are not keen to help by alerting the relevant authorities, then just let that “mad” person do what he wants. Unless it is endangering you or someone else. But even then, I don’t understand the need to take a video and put it on FB, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter (and all the other social media). And then there are those who share it. Goes the same for those uploading those suicide videos.

Imagine the affected party, the “hero” in that video, is one from your very own family, your loved one. Would you enjoy the idea of having the video being circulated online, for everyone else to watch and laugh? To have people coming up with random speculations and those self-certified “doctors” to diagnose such individuals as “mad”.

Yes, you can argue saying “Oh, if the loved one was so concerned about the mad person’s well-being, he/ she should take more effort to take care and prevent such incidents from happening”. Let me tell you one thing. The “mad” person does not leave home telling his loved ones “I feel mad today. I am going to do something crazy.” Sometimes it just happens. The “mad” person does not realise he or she is doing something crazy. (Isn’t that why they are “mad” to begin with?)

I know that no matter how much I complaint, the tempt of social media is much more powerful. In fact, unknowingly, I might be guilty of such an act too. I think it takes just a little effort to remind ourselves and be aware of what we are posting and sharing on social media. Someday it might be you or your loved one going viral – being laughed at, mocked at, shamed and blamed.

10 questions I ask myself all the time…

1. Why am I so busy? / What am I so busy with?

 Somehow, every hour of the day I have something to do – work, ChutneySg, social events, volunteer work, family commitments and the list just goes on. Told myself this will change in 2017, but doesn’t seem like it. Just last weekend, I was busier during the weekend than I was during the weekdays. #manaboleh

 

2. Why is it so hard for people to get my name right the first time?

No, it is not RaghaV (with the V at the end). Come on, how hard is Ragha. Raga is fine (though I hate it when people miss out the H in my name) but it is still pronounced the same. And no, not Raja! And definitely not Gaga. Seriously people.

 

3. Why am I so handsome? #azhagaporanthathuenthappa #bornhandsomenotmymistake

Pretty useless a question to ask… since nothing can be done about it. I will have to live with the fact that I am handsome. How thick skinned eh! Hehe.

 

4. Why do I still bother keeping in contact with people who don’t even reply to my texts?

Simply because I am nice!

 

5. Why do I have so many friends? / Why do I know so many people? (Haiz!)

Ya la, smile, talk and laugh with everybody I meet, of course will have thousand and one friends la. Social butterfly, it seems.

 

6. Why is it so had to hold heart-to-heart conversations with my loved ones (especially when the topic of interest is myself)?

Maybe because it is very hard for me to express myself or understand others’ emotions. There is a term to describe such people – alexthymia or emotional blindness. But then again, I always expressed myself better in writing compared to when I hold a conversation verbally.

 

7. Why have I not started pursuing my dreams? (No, don’t ask me what they are.)

Good question. Just that I have no answer to it yet.

 

8. Why do I drink if I don’t intend to get myself drunk?

Because… getting drunk is not fun. Drinking is fun.

 

9. Why do I sign up for runs, knowing that I will never train for them? (Basically, why am I so lazy and ill disciplined?)

Okay… I take all blame for this. I still do look out for runs, jio my friends for runs, encourage them to run longer distance and even countdown to the event date. But never ever managed to train for the runs. Which reminds me of my upcoming Sundown 21km, for which (no surprises here), I have not yet trained! Bless my soul.

 

10. Why do I still allow people to take me for granted/ make use of me?

Simply because I am nice, is not a reason. Well… Given that I have secured a place in hell (with my buddies, of course. You know who you are), no point being nice to anybody and everybody right? But then, there will be people saying that no matter how nasty someone is to you, you have to be nice to him or her. See how la ah!

 

In the end, I know,

I have my loved ones,

I have all the love I need,

What more?

Maybe just,

A daily dose of proper sleep.

Valentine’s Day Short Story

“I’m so tired. It’s just Monday,” I sighed.

She put her fork down, stood up, removed her heels and started dancing. Dancing to the music in her heart.

I stared in disbelief. So did everyone else in the restaurant. Some giggled. Some laughed. Some gasped. Some started capturing this embarrassment on their mobile phones.

I left a fifty-dollar note on the table, got up, picked her heels and her handbag, and dragged her out of the restaurant.

Once out of the restaurant, we walked a mile or two, in silence.

It was quiet, except for the sound of waves kissing the shores; serenity at its best.

We walked towards the waters; the moon shining brightly above us.

Our eyes met and we laughed, remembering what had happened in the restaurant.

We started dancing. She danced to the music her in her heart while I danced to the music in my heart.

Never did we realize that our steps were in sync.

 

‘Text me when you get home.’

Most of my loved ones have already made it a habit to text me when they get home. Despite that, I would still remind them when we bid each other goodbye, usually with a stern voice, “Text me when you get home.” They know the drill (I appreciate that, thank you!)

And yet I have some (gundus) who just cannot remember to text me when they get home, until I text to ask whether they are home. Only to have them reply, “Oh ya, sorry, forgot.” or “Sorry knocked out when I got home.” (Really???!!!)

Do you know why it is important to text someone when you are home, especially when they request to do so and especially when it is late at night, when everyone else is usually asleep? Let me tell you why with a story. This is a true story by the way.

Raj and Ravi (not their real names, of course) met up for a late night supper. Ravi dropped Raj home. Raj told Ravi to text once he got home. To which Ravi replied “Aiya, 10 minutes away only la.” Raj insisted. Ravi said “No need la. You just go and sleep.” Raj reluctantly said okay, but requested for a text (again) at the end of their short conversation by the roadside (You know Indians. They say goodbye and then start another conversation, and then say goodbye again 10 minutes later).

Raj reached home and waited for Ravi to text. It was more than 10 minutes. Raj guessing that Ravi was really not going to message, headed to bed. Raj woke up to a call the next morning from Ravi’s sister, informing him that Ravi had met with a terrible accident while on his way home, near Ravi’s block. Ravi had suffered major head injuries and was pronounced dead on scene. (End of story.)

It’s a simple text – “I’m home”. Is that too much to ask for???

Oh… And there are some who text me when they are in the lift, at the void deck of their block, or just after they have parked their car. Unless you live in the lift, at the void deck, at the car park or in your car, when I say “text me when you are home”, it means when you are HOME – inside your house, safe and sound! Got it?