Since I entered the revered halls of the Asrama, my young mind was exposed to a flood of new and unfamiliar experiences. It seemed that a continuous stream of new things would shape my days within its walls.
However, if my memory serves me right, at the beginning of my Asrama journey, I had no desire to quit the Asrama. This sentiment appeared to be shared by my fellow newcomers, who exuded contagious enthusiasm, and departures were rare, usually only for those fortunate enough to secure admission to superior schools in distant places.
Living in the confines of a small and cozy dormitory was a unique experience I had to get used to. The concept of personal space seemed like a luxury we couldn't afford, except for the small refuge behind our individual lockers. Luckily, at that point in my life, personal space wasn't a significant concern for me.
Unfortunately, my memory fails me when I try to recall the full list of my dormitory mates from that time. It seems my memory took an enigmatic break at that time. Oh, but there was one person I remembered - a senior named Aedes (Not his actual name).
Living in the dormitory required cooperation and consensus. Overseeing our Asrama life was a man named Encik Hussin, a repository of countless stories. He worked tirelessly to instill in us a deep affection for our dormitory, emphasizing the daily ritual of keeping it immaculately clean through a rotating schedule.
Essentially, there were two main duties: scrubbing the floor until it gleamed and ensuring the trash receptacle remained spotless. Unfortunately, aside from one lone individual, Aedes, compliance with these duties was sporadic.
Aedes, a Form 4 senior, came from a prestigious all-boys' school in Johor Bahru and resided in our dormitory. Interestingly, he exuded an air of worldly maturity that seemed disproportionate to the mere three-year age gap between us.
He subjected me to some teasing, but it was far milder than what my more boisterous peers endured. My introverted and quiet nature didn't seem to pique his curiosity, making me largely immune to his provocations. Whenever Aedes played the role of tormentor to my fellow dormitory mates, I took the opportunity to quietly withdraw.
In due course, Aedes also left the Asrama, but not through the front gates. He chose to make his exit through the secret exit in the back fence, a decision that left me utterly amazed. It seemed that his patience had reached its limit, compelling him to sever ties with the Asrama, driven by profound dissatisfaction with the actions of our respected warden, Encik Hussin.
The memory of that momentous incident remains vivid in my mind. It happened on a crisp Saturday morning, with the world beyond the Asrama just beginning to stir from its nightly slumber. The call to Subuh jemaah prayer echoed through the surau, calling everyone within the Asrama to assemble and partake in the morning devotion.
After the prayer, we stayed at the surau for an hour-long ceramah, not religious in nature but focused on behaviour within the Asrama, explained according to Encik Hussin's strict principles.
The lecture ended, and we headed back to our respective dormitories for a short rest before breakfast. My heart urged me to hurry back to my bed, but I suppressed the urge to sprint, knowing that Encik Hussin was also making his way to the dormitories.
It quickly became apparent that Encik Hussin's intention was not to take a short break but rather to confront Aedes, who had missed the Subuh prayer. Aedes' bed was in front of mine, and I watched as Encik Hussin, without his usual cane, woke Aedes with a series of sharp slaps.
In a fit of anger, Encik Hussin called Aedes to follow him, his face contorted with fury and his eyes burning with indignation. Aedes, in a state of panicked frenzy, quickly grabbed a notebook from someone else's belongings, hiding it discreetly in his trousers, preparing for the impending punishment.
As our dormitory mates watched in shock, Aedes returned soon after, hurriedly packing his meagre belongings into a bag. This included not only his personal items but also the possessions of other unsuspecting dormitory residents. We stood there, frozen in uncertainty, torn between various emotions. Some of us tried to offer comfort to Aedes during his difficult moment.
Finally, Aedes made up his mind - he was determined to escape from the Asrama. As he left, Dorm 3 collectively breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that our lives might become less tumultuous without him. As far as I can remember, Aedes' actions led to a police investigation, but for us, the most important thing was that he had disappeared from our daily life.
Thinking back, I couldn't help but recall my friend's act of rebellion - applying his own nasal discharge to Aedes' padlock locker - a small yet powerful form of protest against the constant intrusions into our personal belongings. Despite the discomfort of that entire episode, we firmly believed that our lives were significantly better in Aedes' absence.
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