Note : This is an old entry, newly produced after finding it tucked away in remote, forgotten files. It happens.
I was looking at the two girls playing together. One of the very rare occasions that they can do that - without tearing each other’s hair out or hurling accusations at top pitched voices. D1 (7) was a Pengantin, complete with lace trimmed gown, glittering crown, waist length veil, flower bouquet – the works. D2 (4) was a multiple role player, from the bridesmaid, groom, kompang boy, confetti-throwing guest, to the Director giving specific instructions.
Somehow, their role playing befits their characters perfectly. D1 is a sweet natured, gentle, determined perfectionist. The perfect textbook kid. D2 is … Not. Where D1 is sweet, D2 is grumpy. Where D1 is gentle, D2 is rough, forceful and loud. Wait, I tell a lie. She’s not loud. She’s LOUD. But there are similarities. D2 is also a determined perfectionist. She is 24/7 determined to get things perfectly done her way. And hell hath no fury like a grumpy, forceful, loud 4-year old, and condolences to those who dare to get in her way.
Except that people do get in her way, because D2 looks like an angel. If looks are said to be deceiving, with big round eyes, soft curls, and cherubic face, then D2 is living proof. The only tell tale sign that all is not quite as it seems, is when after every “Aiyaa.. so cuteee! So adorable one la you little girl..” remark, would quickly be followed by “Oiit..! Don’t do that! You come back here, you….*&%^”. (Original remark deleted to avoid defamation suits).
Back to the Pengantin scene.
Only now, the scene has changed. D1 is in a floaty, pink fairy dress, with wings. I don’t know where D2 is. But wait, she’s making her entrance now. D2 is in a policeman outfit. She’s blowing hard on the whistle, left hand holding a walkie-talkie, right hand dangling a set of handcuffs. She’s shouting real loud now. Annoyingly loud. She’s on a mission. Someone has just reported a fairy stealing jewellery, someone called “Krita Fatasha”, and the police is here to do justice. She grabs hold of the fairy, twists both her arms, slaps the cuffs on and marches her down to the prison. All these when the poor fairy was bending down to put on her glittery platform shoes, singing softly to herself. Poor fairy… she was caught by surprise like a chicken in a tsunami.
Pengantins and Fairies. How times have changed. I try to stretch my mind as far back as I could - and that’s a lot of stretching – but I don’t remember ever playing Pengantins and Fairies. Neither do I remember being a princess, a queen or all things nice, sugar and spice that little girls are made of. It always has to be ala Bawang Putih Bawang Merah, or Ratapan Anak Tiri – and I was always the tortured soul.
I remember playing Cinderella, being bullied and abused by the stepmother and two step-sisters, or I was a child that nobody wanted and was forced to leave the house in the middle of the night amidst heavy downpour. The latter would take place in the bathroom, and I’ll be under the shower (cold, heavy rain?), shuffling on the floor, bent under the weight of my imaginary bundle of clothes, crying my eyes out seeking for shelter. I would act until my fingers turned blue and shriveled into prunes. The former would be acted in front of my mother’s floor length mirror, and I would be jumping from one scene to the other, playing first the mother (cruel and abusive), then Cinderella (begging for mercy, pleading and always trying to please the mother). And when I say ‘jumping’, that was not a metaphor. I would be jumping first on one side to play mum, then jump to the other side to play Cinderella. Jump, Jump… Act, Act… It was a one-person theater, with multi-players, and I was lost happily confused being both the heroin and the villain.
Having said that, I’m beginning to question my childhood. Why wasn’t I playing Pengantins? Maybe not fairies, although I could have as I was an ardent fan of Enid Blyton and her world is full of fairies, pixies and goblins. Did the choice of childhood games contribute to the making of the weird, complex individual that I am now? I will have to have a word with my mummy…
Back to the Police and Fairy scene.
I'm sorry, I will be zoning off now, because the scene is no longer serene, and the two girls are not playing together anymore. They’re killing each other, if not physically then definitely audibly. The screams, the wailings, the you-did-this, no-its-your-fault, I’m-telling-on-you cries is like a jolt down familiar lane, too familiar and too often for my liking. Maybe that’s why all those years, I chose to play a one person game. Its probably more fun to handcuff yourself, then jump to the other side pleading to be free, then jump back to decide whether to be nice or mean. Jump, jump… Act, act…
Yes. Those were the good old days.
