Written On Trains

Uma X Nadim - July 15, 2019

The first time he saw her, she was rushing down the steps of Pasar Seni LRT. Her hair falls flat on her head, she had a pimple on her chin. Her shoes, a pair of knock-off Adidas. He loves Adidas shoes. He knew the imitation good was fashioned from a 2014 release.

She's probably unaware, so he thought. After all not everyone could afford an original pair.

The second time they passed each other, she was wearing a cap, white, peppered with marijuana leaves design. She couldn't possibly afford weed when she couldn't buy a decent pair of shoes, he thought. His curiosity sparked.

Then they met again during a rainy day, at the usual spot, Pasar Seni LRT. The train service was interrupted. He took a seat next to her.

"Check the room. The leaves should be dry by now," she said into her phone after notifying the caller of her delay.

His interest piqued.

She looked at him and smiled when she caught him staring as she ended the call.

"Nice jacket," she commented. "Nice to have a jacket in this weather."

It took a few seconds for him to register that she was talking to him."You like Adidas too?" he countered, nodding at her shoes.

"Love it, but I can't afford it. This one is not an original. But my mom worked hard to give this pair as birthday present. So I love it more," she said.

He smiled."My jacket is a knock-off too. I didn't buy it at a genuine item shop. The life of a student is such," he confided.

He noticed her eyes, they were very, very dark brown. He saw the scar of the pimple from last week. She's 19, he hoped.

"Are you a student? Which university?" she asked before he could.

"One Academy, what about you, what do you do?"

"UiTM," she replied simply with the acronym of the famous institution.

His eyebrows shot up. But Pasar Seni, the stop right in the middle of Kuala Lumpur, to UiTM, which happens to be in Shah Alam, the capital of the neighbouring state, is a long commute.

She mistook his surprised expression with humour, thinking he was surprised that she was still studying. "What, you think I'm a drug pusher?" she jested.

Flabbergasted, he couldn't stop his retort, "You did say 'leaves' just now..."

Her laugh made the rain stop.

"I needed dry leaves for our mixed media project."

Again, he misunderstood. "Media. You're a Mass Comm student?"

She laughed harder. "I'm not pretty enough for that faculty," she quipped.

He took that opportunity to openly give her the once over, without lingering too long to offend. To other people she may seemed just like any other average Malaysian girl. But to him...

"I beg to differ."

The train came. He asked if they could sit together.

"It is a public transport," she snarked.

He believed that's when he fell for her. "I'm Nadim. You?"

"Uma."

His eyebrows rose once again.

"My full name is Kesuma Dewi. Binti Hussaini. Don't you dare laugh," she warned.

Her name must have made her the target of bullies before, he thought. "I love your name," he remarked.

She's not fair, but somehow she blushed.

"I'm 20. How old are you?" she turned the topic on him. "And a Fine Arts student. You?"

"19. Cinematography," he replied.

"Uh oh," she blurted. Watching his brows moved up she added, "You're going to be famous."

Almost instantly, her attraction to him faded.

It's true. He did. Nearly a decade after that rainy day in the heart of the city.

Ironically she too ended up becoming somewhat famous, among the so-called artsy crowd at least.

They kept in touch via Friendster, then Facebook. They never get to meet again after that one rainy day, not that they didn't try. Somehow life just happened, but they celebrated their Friendiversary yearly, as how friends who were no longer just acquaintance do.

They may have been in love with each other... albeit for a few minutes, on that fateful day they were both wearing fake branded outfits.

But it was love all the same and genuine, both realising but never thought of ever voicing this.

Then one day, a collaboration brought them together again.

"Kesuma. So you're the talent Adidas had chosen to be part of the showcase," he said right after the project manager had introduced the team.

"Nadim. So you're the hot shot ladies man directing the documentary?" she snarked, and he had expected nothing less.

He laughed at that, she smiled, then they both focused their attention on working.

The shooting of the documentary, which centres around three local talents who had made it big, took place at Pasar Seni LRT. Adidas had chosen Uma to be one of the talent as she had openly recycled nearly 300 pairs of worn Adidas shoes to build one of her art installation.

And he was a pro. The whole project ran smoothly under his watch. For Uma her job was easy, just keep installing pieces of her recycled art and look at the camera upon cue.

"So, 30 this year, right? And still wearing Adidas trainers?"

To her he sounded like her mother. But she knew he just wanted to mess with her, their continued online interaction had divulged that side of his personality.

"And...?" she challenged.

"And that is so cool. I love it that fame has not changed you. You're still the girl wearing Adidas shoes."

"I have, a little. I could finally afford the real deal. Bought one for my mom too."

He remembered one of her older Facebook post had been about that. Uma and her mom had worn their new pairs of Adidas on a shopping trip to Bangkok.

"Original?"

She smiled. "Yes."

Her voice, loaded with a sense of accomplishment.

"That's great. I always knew you'd be a successful artist."

"What? No man, I sell fake weed. That's how I made my money," she whispered.

His mouth dropped.

She cackled like a witch. "I was kidding! Love that look on your face."

He rolled his eyes. "Snarkier than before. Great. You'll love more than just the look on my face after this."

He got his revenge when he insisted they end the day with coffee.

"Thanks for this date," he said as they sip their hot coffee at a nameless road side warung.

"You're kidding right?" she nearly choked.

He laughed out loud. She narrowed her eyes, aware that he got exactly what he wanted.

"I'm still calling it date," he insisted, yet still laughing.

They met again the day after, and the day after.

Eventually, inseparable.

P/s: Wrote this cause the person I was waiting for was running late and I was nervous.

7:16 PM · Jul 15, 2019