Again Shauqina

Chapter 2 : Enter CG 32

Three days into college life, I was given a rude, sober shock of the reality that was in the rat-race college life.

                 I was already getting adjusted to the daily routine: wake up, clean up, subuh prayers, read at least a page from the Qur’an, fold my uniform neatly, breakfast, kiss parents’ hands and off to college - in my full hijab - by train. Reach the MRT station - go to nearest available toilet - change into college uniform, fold neatly my hijab outfit, bundle the hair, pat on the wide headband, pull up knee-length stockings and up goes the hoodie. In fact, I got to know that the  majority of the student population call girls like me ‘Hoodie’. Some of course said that with a smirk and whatever but I know a majority also said that with utmost respect. I really couldn’t care less which opinions I preferred. I am Nurul Hafeza. Eza to my close friends, Eze to my father. I am who I am - a Muslim girl in sunny Singapore. And that’s that.

                Just when  I thought life in college was going to be a mundane studying and mugging routine, on the second day of college life, something happened during morning flag-raising that left me with a sad feeling even till this day. We had just completed taking the pledge when, during the normal slot for announcement, a small girl with bob-styled hair, seemingly out of nowhere, took the mike from the startled Student Counsellor on duty. She cleared her throat and then rattled cheerfully:

                “Good morning teachers and everyone! I am Lee Peng and to my new JC1 collegemate, please come and see me if you want to enter badminton, NPCC, Art Club....”

                Then she went on to list every other known and unknown CCA in the school she was supposedly ‘in charge of’ and there was a horrified silence as everyone began to realise that this poor Senior has lost her marbles, so to speak. Kudos to the teachers up there on the podium, including our Principal, who let her complete her almost ten minutes of announcement before firmly but gently, led her down the podium. We later learned that Lee Peng was an above average student excelling in Physics and Additional Mathematics. She was an only child, so she lived comfortably with her parents and grandparents. She was well-behaved and the gentlest creature in the college until that fateful day. She wasn’t exactly unattractive, just normal. In college, I guess, being normal can be abnormal, if you know what I mean and to some people, especially those with low self esteem like Lee Peng, being left out in social events and going unnoticed could be a torturous experience. Nobody actually thought she minded being left out for she would always smile and remained brilliant academically. The last straw came when she confided to a friend about her crush on this school athlete, who later wasn’t too pleased to find that out. Such an egoistic guy! He didn’t have to do it, but belittled her he did. That was the last straw for poor Lee Peng. She did not come to school ever again after this incident.

                Thankfully, there were no egoistic guy to match that athlete in my tutorial group. In fact, my tutorial group however, was typical of Singapore rojak - a hotchpotch of multi-racial Singapore. There were twelve of us out of which six were in my study group. Three Malays - two ladies, Rina and myself and Matin, a Malay boy from Raffles Institution, the premier all-boys’ school in Singapore. Well-mannered and chivalrous, Matin and Rina hit it off almost immediately. Rina came from a neighbourhood school. If I could tag her, then she will be the #lastMalaywomanonEarth. She was petite but elegant, with long straight hair which she would neatly braid in two, or plunge it high up in an elegant chignon. She spoke softly and was well-mannered. She was a skilled Malay traditional dancer and I have seen guys just ogled  at her gentleness and beauty as she slowly turned in tune with the haunting song. Yet, she was also the College’s ace centre-forward hockey player. As an ex-hockey player myself, I found her skill breath-taking and I guess that was how we clicked in the first place. She was kind without being patronising and she was my beacon so to speak in this ‘alien’ college land.

                Then there is Kumar. Tall, dark and seriously good looking Kumar. In fact, at a certain angle, he would have put Hritik Rosham or Shah Rukh Khan to shame. He was  however a loner, a brooder and kept much to himself. This mysterious air I guessed made him popular and an urban legend so to speak has arisen that he was a drug addict turned good. The fact that he had with him a Vicks vaporiser handy added to the ‘truth’ of the ‘legend’. He smiled a lot. Too much, in fact. “Kumar, you are late again. Go report for detention.” Smile. “Kumar, can I borrow ten dollars from you?” Smile. “Eh! Just now your girl friend right?” Smile.

He was nonetheless, one of my favourite classmate.

                   Shanmugam, or Sammy, as he would have us call him -however, was the complete opposite of Kumar. He was questioning, cynical, a little 'mental' up there and always had devious ideas and tricks up his sleeves. His favourite past time was to tease Kumar to the point of no return - Kumar would asked him to kindly stop but ended chasing him all over the campus to box that silly head of his. We all knew better than to ignite the time-bomb inside of Kumar.

                Dennis Chan on the other hand was too skinny for his own good. Standing at close to 1.8 m, he had large full rimmed plastic spectacles. Intelligent and witty, he was a respected member of the college’s English debate team. His favourite phrase? “Let’s think about it people..” I can go dizzy just counting how many of that phrase he uttered daily. Our naughty habit was to let him think we were thinking, when in fact he was the one doing the thinking. Smart eh?

                If there was an angel personified, it had to be Geraldine Tan. She was an evangelist - always sensitive to people’s need and always somehow could find ways to weave in her sentences ‘God Almighty!’ and ‘Jesus Christ Our Lord!’. She would always close her eyes, clasped her hands together and say thanks before every meal, of which I would feel deeply ashamed for not thanking Allah enough when the food was too delicious for me to remember the prayer. Geraldine was never imposing of her belief - she saw the world with rose-coloured lenses and was a source of positivism when things got really hectic especially during tests and exams. Initially, she was always careful with her words in front of me and was cautious of me but I guess after finding that I did have my crazy moments, she loosened up and the both of us sometimes enjoyed a sparring on religious beliefs. We were always respectful and tried not to cross the boundary of being altruistic and pedantic.

                The wild one has got to be Wilma. She was well-endowed and a self-declared clubber, which made me wonder because you had to be 21 before being admitted to such places - so how did she do it? She would just winked wickedly and said - ‘Insider’s connection’. We had sworn  that if there was ever a police raid in school, we all had unanimously agreed to ‘disown’ her as our tutorial mate.

                There was Geetha, our CG monitoress - a born athlete with the speed and elegance of a gazelle. She looked like one too - long-legged with a long plait of hair that bobbed up and down as she ran. She had a kind of a complexion problem - her face was riddled with pimples and that she would lament no end. Otherwise, she was a responsible person yet fun to be with.

                The rest of my classmates were not in my study group but were nonetheless studious and kept much to themselves. They formed their own study group too. Our favourite place was this spot under a shady angsana tree - breezy and with a lovely view of the college’s main building from where we sat.

                There was of course one more person left whom I, no all of us, have not met. Isaac.

                Man Isaac - Who is Isaac? Aina Isaac - where is Isaac? I giggled to myself as I explained these Arabic terms to my study group. All we knew was that his flight from London was delayed and he would report to school pretty late in the week.   Can the real Isaac please enter?