I'm an LRT spy
I'm on my way back from work and it's raining outside, you can see the water washing away the day's dirt from the LRT windows. The air conditioning is cold enough to crystallize everyone's thoughts and I find myself standing in front of a boy and his father. The boy looks like he should be in Standard 3 but he speaks with a really touching childlike innocence. He's wearing a blue shirt and he sways from side to side in his seat like the train is actually a submarine exploring the undersea depths of Kuala Lumpur and we're being rocked by giant air bubbles rising to the surface.
"Bapa, bapa...hari ni nak makan apa?" he asks while still staring out the window. His father is looking for something in his pockets and nods absently before answering.
"Hari ni hujan lah"
"Nak pergi restoran apa, bapa?"
"Restoran rumah"
The boy smiles, thinks for a second then starts laughing and you can see a smile spreading across his father's face. Restless, the boy grabs his father's hand and examines it like a fortune teller. When he sees a stick of gum sticking out of his father's backpack, he pulls it out and holds it up to the light to read it.
"Bapa, apa ni? Si-apa?" I lean in and see that he's holding a stick of gum and is squinting at the word xylitol. His dad takes a look at the label, but probably has no idea how to pronounce the word. But he just looks his son straight in the eye and says...
"Silat oil"
I want to laugh, but I realise I'm wearing my headphones which I've long since turned off so I could eavesdrop on these two. So I just stand and smile silently to myself. It's a cute and wonderful thing, I think. But when they get off at the station, I catch a glimpse of the back of the boy's tshirt and I see two words: "Sekolah" and "Autistik". I wonder whether I could be a cool dad too, if my children were autistic. I really do.
"Bapa, bapa...hari ni nak makan apa?" he asks while still staring out the window. His father is looking for something in his pockets and nods absently before answering.
"Hari ni hujan lah"
"Nak pergi restoran apa, bapa?"
"Restoran rumah"
The boy smiles, thinks for a second then starts laughing and you can see a smile spreading across his father's face. Restless, the boy grabs his father's hand and examines it like a fortune teller. When he sees a stick of gum sticking out of his father's backpack, he pulls it out and holds it up to the light to read it.
"Bapa, apa ni? Si-apa?" I lean in and see that he's holding a stick of gum and is squinting at the word xylitol. His dad takes a look at the label, but probably has no idea how to pronounce the word. But he just looks his son straight in the eye and says...
"Silat oil"
I want to laugh, but I realise I'm wearing my headphones which I've long since turned off so I could eavesdrop on these two. So I just stand and smile silently to myself. It's a cute and wonderful thing, I think. But when they get off at the station, I catch a glimpse of the back of the boy's tshirt and I see two words: "Sekolah" and "Autistik". I wonder whether I could be a cool dad too, if my children were autistic. I really do.