CHAPTER 19: An Unexpected Opportunity

 Amidst the yearly rhythm of academic and athletic events, tradition dictated the hosting of lively sports and academic festivals across the various Asramas scattered throughout Malaysia. In this unfolding tale, it fell upon Asrama Kuantan to organize these events for the consecutive year. So, our Asrama collectively undertook the discerning task of selecting those deemed most deserving to represent us.

I, a rather unassuming figure among my peers, did not have any illusions about being among the chosen few to represent our Asrama on this grand stage. To my no surprise, the volleyball team had already picked its members. The notion that these selections might not necessarily be based solely on merit nagged at my conscience, but such is the way of things in these circumstances.

To my astonishment, news reached me that I had been chosen to represent our Asrama in carom sports. A chuckle, unexpected, escaped my lips at the absurdity of it all. I had never imagined that my modest skill in carom had drawn the attention of discerning eyes, leading to my selection over peers with more apparent talent.

To tell the truth, carom had been a faithful companion since my early years. An older sibling, passionate about the game, had ignited my interest. A carom board, a prized possession in our family home, often witnessed lively gatherings of neighbours who joined us in spirited matches. Through countless flicks of carom seeds, I honed my skills, acquiring a degree of proficiency unbeknownst to me until this significant moment.

As the day of our trip to Asrama Kuantan finally approached, my excitement brimmed like a surging river. Being a novice visitor to the state of Pahang, I was engulfed in anticipation. The journey, beginning at dawn and concluding in the late afternoon, proved smooth and uneventful.

In anticipation of our trip to Asrama Kuantan, I looked forward not only to the Asrama Kuantan itself but also to the companionship of my fellow Asrama-mates. The feeling of not quite fitting in weighed on me, an invisible burden evident in my interactions with this group. An inner voice whispered that I need not have embarked on this adventure, as the familiarity of our own Asrama might have been a more suitable environment for my spirit.

For within this group, decisions flowed with an unstoppable current, with collective will taking precedence over my individual desires. As I've often stated, the mantle of complying with others' dictates didn't sit comfortably on my shoulders, and I found solace in charting my own course.

Not to be forgotten, an anecdote from that time emerges from the annals of my memory—a story of the male Asrama contingent's effort to acquire their own distinctive jersey. Initially, one among us obtained the garment as everyday attire. However, the allure of this jersey, a sartorial marvel, soon captured the curiosity of others. It wasn't long before a consensus formed, designating it as the official attire for our Asrama's contingent at the upcoming sports festival.

Ironically, the jerseys saw limited use during the actual tournament, as the Asrama generously provided uniforms for the participants. Thus, the jersey became everyday wear, a common sight. The spectacle of multiple young men dressed identically elicited both laughter and camaraderie.