This year brought a sense of newfound freedom, allowing me to act as I pleased, often without much consideration for others' feelings. This freedom was most evident in my academic pursuits, which had once been a top priority but were now taking a less significant role in my life.
I hadn't completely abandoned my studies, but they had taken a backseat to other interests. My thoughts flowed freely, unburdened by the responsibilities and commitments that used to define my daily life.
Fortunately, the leadership of Asrama had changed, with Encik Hussin stepping down as the warden. This shift in authority made my days feel more flexible, freeing my thoughts from the usual obligations. However, this newfound freedom came with a cost.
I developed a fervent passion for volleyball, an obsession that went beyond mere enthusiasm. I was deeply passionate about the game, and almost every afternoon, after our prep class, you would find me on the volleyball court, drenched in sweat, participating in spirited games.
Unlike the previous year, there were fewer students interested in volleyball. Since my school session only covered the morning hours, the male students present in the afternoon at asrama were limited to Form 4 and Form 3 students from other schools. This fortunate turn of events gave me more opportunities to play and fuelled my enthusiasm even further.
Perhaps my growing physical strength contributed to my love for volleyball. I had matured, and my body was better suited to the demands of the sport. The camaraderie with friends who shared my passion also played a significant role.
In their company, I played with great zeal and skill, often relegating those less talented to the sidelines. Such is life - you must adapt to its changes, whether willingly or not.
One vivid memory is when I suffered an ankle sprain during an intense volleyball match. The pain was excruciating, and all I could do was groan in agony. I had jumped to the net, but a slip caused my ankle to twist, immediately swelling and rendering my foot useless, unable to bear any weight.
My height surpassed that of my peers, but my ankle was slender. The shoelace, meant to secure my foot during high jumps, proved inadequate and led to the sprain. Fortunately, it was just a ligament injury without any bone damage. If it had been a bone injury, the pain would have been much worse.
With a bandage from home, I carefully wrapped my swollen ankle to reduce the swelling. Two weeks later, I had fully recovered, and the allure of volleyball called me once more.
However, my recovery didn't go unnoticed, catching the attention of Encik Zul, who decided to prohibit Form 3 students from participating in volleyball to prevent further injuries. I was surprised and contrite, as I hadn't anticipated such a response from Encik Zul. The guilt of depriving Form 3 students of the sport weighed on my conscience.
In hindsight, I realized the wisdom of this decision. Form 3 students could now focus on their upcoming PMR exams, leaving behind volleyball. It was a moment of accountability, a recognition that I needed to take responsibility for my actions.
Then came days when the sun was less bright, and the volleyball court sat empty. Whether the ball was deflated or taken away by Encik Zul after an extended play the previous day, I didn't care. My growing boredom became unbearable because I was accustomed to sweat-soaked afternoons.
However, others continued to enjoy the green expanse of the field, especially Min and his friends, possibly even Mamat. They engaged in a unique game called 'Baling Selipar,' where two teams competed to either set up three slippers or throw them at the opposing team while they arranged them.
I was intrigued by this game, which brought back memories of my childhood in FELDA kampung, where such diversions were legendary among the children. In FELDA kampung, we played 'Baling Tin' instead, a game that held a special place in my youthful pastimes. So, I rallied Min, Mamat, and others, proposing a 'Baling Tin' showdown since we lacked engaging diversions.
The next day, Min and I collected milk cans from the Asrama canteen, ensuring they were cleaned properly. Initially, there was strong enthusiasm for participation, making the first day lively. It reminded me of my FELDA kampung days when such games were cherished pastimes among the residents.
Before the competition began, teams were formed based on physical resemblance, with a secretive selection process guiding the participants' choices of the team members. I trust you understand the subtlety of these proceedings.
Going into detail would prolong my narrative unnecessarily, which I wish to avoid. Suffice it to say, we enjoyed the sport, and its appeal grew with each passing day. Our numbers swelled until the Asrama grounds were bustling with male students. Some took part in the competition, while others became spectators. These moments were marked by peculiar and amusing antics, adding to their charm.
Before the semester ended, as was tradition, an Asrama sports and academic festival was scheduled, this time in Trolak. My enthusiasm for the activities was lukewarm, but I was drafted into the Asrama volleyball team, a role I accepted with detachment.
The journey to Perak was long, and I spent most of the time sleeping, trying to avoid the intermittent disturbances that had recently affected me. I wondered why these disturbances were occurring in Perak and not in the familiar surroundings of Johor. Unfortunately, I had no answers to these questions.
The day of the match arrived, and surprisingly, our Asrama team emerged victorious against the Kuala Lumpur team, a result that was hard to believe. We had always seen KL and KJ teams as superior to ours. Winning against KL was an extraordinary and unexpected triumph.
This victory was a testament to our hard work, the daily trips to the volleyball court that had resulted in unexpected success. However, we couldn't secure the top spot, as we were later defeated by the formidable KJ team. It wasn't a disappointment, as the KJ team was undeniably strong, and achieving second place was commendable.
Among the events, I was most interested in the Mathematics and Science Quiz. For this year, I served as an observer, reminiscing about my former comrades, now scattered across different paths. Their absence was poignant, but I found solace in reliving the past.
The other parts of the festival showcased impressive performances by the JB team, ultimately leading to our victory as the overall champions. However, the joy that usually accompanied such victories didn't fill me with the same excitement as before. I participated in the celebrations with a sense of detachment, my thoughts drifting to friends who had moved on to different places.
As the festival concluded, the JB Asrama population had temporarily dwindled, with those uninvolved in the event returning to their homes in their respective FELDA kampung. A peaceful silence enveloped the Asrama, with empty hallways echoing with quietness. During this period, the disturbances that had accompanied my time in Perak now found their way to Johor, demanding my attention.
Puzzling and unwelcome, these disturbances surrounded me, their origin mysterious and their purpose unclear. I didn't have the courage to confront them directly, so I chose to ignore them, hoping they would fade away with time. Unfortunately, hope is fragile in the dark.
No comments:
Post a Comment