As the curtains drew to a close on the PMR examinations, a palpable burden lifted from my shoulders, and my mind found solace in the tranquillity that followed. The relentless weight of the examination, a formidable burden I had carried, now gave way to the liberating relief. Yet, in the silence that ensued, I realized that this was merely the beginning of the grand tapestry of my life. Taking a moment to rest and reflect, I turned my attention to the neglected aspects left behind.
Within the confines of Asrama, an unsettling turbulence had overtaken the demeanour of Form 3 students. For some, Asrama had appeared as a paradise, but for others, it had become the opposite of what they desired. The once pristine sanctity of the dormitories had faded, while social issues spread insidiously. To my chagrin, I remained in Dorm 1, wrapped in my solitude, unaware of the unfolding chaos. With the PMR chapter now closed, I found myself adrift in Asrama, suspended in anticipation.
Time's relentless march had brought about numerous changes in the surrounding environment. While I was aware of these transformations, I had previously regarded them with benign neglect, assuming that adaptability would always prevail. I was mistaken, as I now recognized the vast realm of experience and knowledge that lay before me.
In a moment of boredom in the rest room, a fellow Form 3 student introduced a VCD player provided by Asrama, providing entertainment for those grappling with post-examination lethargy. The initial offering, "Mr. Gadget," failed to capture my interest, but among the collection of Hindi films, one title shone brightly— "Badshah." Its unique storyline and melodious songs brought unexpected delight, revealing a previously undiscovered aspect of my cinematic preferences.
Following a well-established tradition, schoolchildren gathered for an end-of-year "jamuan," a festive farewell to the concluding academic year. My comrades from 3L1 had decided to organize a modest gathering in our classroom, marking the impending dispersal that would redefine our academic camaraderie.
With unwavering determination, I pledged my contributions to the success of this intimate gathering. On the appointed day, we all came together, each participant eager to take part in this rite of passage. Collective resources were pooled to acquire food from fast-food outlets, snacks, drinks, and various edibles.
The celebration unfolded with simplicity—sharing bites, drinks, and reminiscing about shared experiences. Three years had woven a tapestry of memories, and the moment had come for a poignant farewell. As time passed, I fervently prayed for favourable PMR results, thoughts of which dominated my mind, stretching time into agonizing tedium.
Within a mere two weeks, the school holidays would begin. During this break, I contemplated the abrupt change in the atmosphere around me, pondering the shifts that would accompany the dawn of a new year. A strong desire arose to dispel the unwelcome thoughts that clung to my mind as I eagerly looked forward to a fresh start.
Amid this lull, Asrama offered an optional trip to Kuala Lumpur for the Form 3 students. Despite the absence of extravagant entertainment, I agreed to join this journey, yearning to fill the leisure gaps in the company of friends.
On a Saturday morning, we embarked on our journey to Kuala Lumpur, utilizing two buses provided by Asrama. Our initial stop was at the National Science Centre in the afternoon. Our night's stay took place at KJ Asrama, a familiar location from this year's sports and academic festival.
As I roamed within its premises, a fellow comrade from Asrama KJ recognized me, recalling my previous extraordinary participation in quizzes. Despite a modest surge of pride, I maintained a humble demeanour. He exhibited the traits of a dedicated scholar, a character familiar in academic circles. After exchanging pleasantries, we drifted apart.
The following day involved further explorations, including visits to KLCC, PetroSains, KL Tower, an emerging Putrajaya, and concluding at KLIA. Despite its recent inception, KLIA appeared as an architectural marvel, radiating modernity and sophistication.
Upon our return to Asrama, it was evident that our trip had left lasting impressions on our collective memory. However, Kuala Lumpur, as a geographical entity, remained largely indifferent, a canvas waiting for the vibrant strokes of life.
Life at Asrama returned to its usual routine, a mundane period devoid of novelty. The ambiance deteriorated in tandem with the declining conditions, a predictable outcome given the presence of 15-year-old boys unburdened by significant concerns. Predictably, Asrama faced various challenges, with Form 3 students at the centre of some.
The lowest point came when junior students were denied access to the common room's VCD player, a privilege reserved for Form 3 students. This seemingly trivial incident escalated into a conflict, leading to juvenile disputes. I maintained an impartial stance, avoiding involvement or assigning blame. Such challenges were an accepted part of life in Asrama.
Rectifying these problems seemed futile, a never-ending task given our impending departure from Asrama. Wisdom dictated acceptance in the face of such tribulations.
Technically, post-PMR attendance at school remained mandatory, but who among us would willingly participate in the empty rituals of classroom discussions without purpose? The teachers silently hoped for our absence.
Despite scrutiny of attendance records during this period, I remained unaffected by the accumulation of absences. A pristine attendance record, obtained through compulsory attendance, held no appeal for me. I refused to regress to the level of an elementary school student.
Instead, I preferred the comfort of sound sleep in my Dorm 1 sanctuary. The dormitory exuded serenity, a peaceful cradle accompanied by the melodic sounds of insects from the nearby Hutan Bandar—a harmonious symphony that never failed to soothe the soul. But I digress.
My journey to school served a single purpose—to participate in the "Ujian Lisan," the oral examinations in both Bahasa Melayu and English that students typically underwent after PMR. However, in my post-PMR inertia, I lacked enthusiasm or seriousness for this task.
I approached it casually, without preparation. Bahasa Melayu posed no challenge, and I navigated the examination with ease and grace. It was the language of my upbringing, so handling this basic test was second nature.
Yet, as I pondered this seemingly insignificant episode, I grappled with an undercurrent of melancholy and sentimentality. Profound and elusive mysteries troubled me. I longed for solutions as clear as mathematical problems, with answers easily attainable.
However, life's mosaic did not resemble the clarity of mathematics; instead, it held the potential for boundless possibilities and enigmatic uncertainties, unsettling my spirit.
At the same time, time continued to slip through the hourglass, and my tenure at Asrama approached its inevitable end. The intersection of farewell sentiments and unresolved mysteries defined this period.
I faced these final days with the equanimity befitting a transition. The changing landscape pointed towards uncharted territories, inviting me to explore new adventures and unknown paths. If this was my destiny, I would embrace it. If this was the path to liberation in my life's story, so be it. Previously indifferent to such matters, the time had come for me to give them due consideration.
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