As the school year approached its end, the PMR examinations followed their scheduled dates. For those in Form 4, there was a one-week break granted, but we couldn't go home during the PMR period unless it was a semester break on the calendar.
However, a determined group of students managed to persuade the Asrama authorities to allow a short break during the PMR season. Their plea was heartfelt, with the intention of maintaining a quiet environment for our Form 3 juniors who were facing the challenging PMR exams. We wanted them to have an undisturbed setting to strive for excellence.
Finally, I found myself heading home, filled with euphoria. In the midst of mental exhaustion, I sought comfort in the familiar embrace of home. Engaging in lively conversations with my parents during this break offered a sense of peace that had eluded me for some time. The sanctuary of home, even if only briefly, allowed me to escape the sombre atmosphere of the Asrama.
However, my family remained unaware of my unique experiences, as I had never discussed my life at the Asrama with them. Since I started in Form 1, I had kept the details of my Asrama journey hidden from them. My mother, in particular, was perplexed by my silence, which often vexed her.
Instead, our conversations revolved around family matters and the happenings in our neighbourhood, a constant source of anecdotes. Even though my life was entwined with these narratives, the essence of home resonated more profoundly during this break.
As the PMR exams approached their conclusion, I eagerly anticipated the year-end break. Once the exams were over, I lost interest in the daily affairs of the Asrama, focusing solely on counting down the days until I could return home. I existed in a peculiar state, a mental space I had carefully constructed, impervious to the external world.
The final exams, which passed swiftly, yielded commendable results despite the mental and emotional pressures. Amidst the whirlwind of stress, I clung to the principle of unwavering academic diligence, understanding that success in academics was a solitary pursuit, unaffected by external judgments.
As the academic routine eased, leisure moments emerged, fostering camaraderie among friends and creating quintessential teenage experiences. My friends quietly guided me through this transformative year, their companionship alleviating the regrets that had plagued me for so long.
During this period, I was appointed as a school prefect, a distinction that made me ponder why I had been selected from among the Asrama's students. Nevertheless, despite this recognition, my life increasingly felt mundane, lacking the vibrancy I longed for.
The final stretch of my Asrama journey passed without noteworthy events. While communal activities and cooperative efforts were abundant, I intentionally avoided physical exertion, preferring to provide moral support from the sidelines. My heart had grown distant from the demands of the Asrama, a paradoxical disconnect from my surroundings.
As the end drew near, I found myself reflecting deeply, indulging in idle contemplation. A lack of meaningful engagement left me in a state of languor, surrendering to idleness. No significant events occurred because everything that did happen was fleeting, leaving no lasting impact. I abstained from pursuing anything new.
Year after year, the Asrama's climax centred around the presentation of the annual Asrama magazine, known as the "Pinang Raja." This eagerly awaited publication was distributed once a year to Asramas across Malaysia and displayed the previous year's PMR examination results.
When I saw my name among those who had achieved commendable distinctions, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. Although a year had passed since that significant moment, the euphoria of my outstanding performance remained vivid in my memory.
This was a moment of enduring significance, a treasure trove of memories that I knew I would cherish for years to come. The excitement that coursed through me was heightened by its immortalization in the pages of a modest yet meaningful magazine that had become inseparable from my life.
Time passed swiftly, and I eagerly awaited the end of the year, the beginning of a new chapter. Despite the seemingly monotonous routine of my life in the Asrama, I found solace in the consistency of my academic achievements, the only remedy for the challenges I faced.
Despite the discomfort I experienced during my time at the Asrama, there were moments of positivity that shone through. I focused on the connections I made with fellow students, allowing myself to engage with those who sought my company. While my preference for solitude persisted, I recognized the need for interactions that led to memories that would outlast my time at the Asrama.
Finally, the long-awaited end arrived—the last day of school. As I embarked on my journey home, I did so with immense relief and tranquillity. I was grateful for having navigated the trials of this academic period to a successful conclusion. The Asrama, too, was poised for change, as it was every year. Challenges would come and go, but my presence, in the same temporal continuum, remained constant.
I could never have imagined that my life in Form 4 would be so diverse, filled with moments of joy and moments of sadness. I grappled with a range of emotions, swinging between exuberance and despair, creating a sharp contrast to my experiences in Form 3. The previous year had been joyful, but this chapter in my life unfolded differently.
One of the significant differences this year was my increased openness to the Asrama's surroundings. This newfound receptivity made me susceptible to experiences that were different from my usual preferences. A paradoxical conflict arose, causing anxiety, lethargy, and ultimately frustration.
If only I had remained indifferent to the Asrama's surroundings, as I had done the previous year, I might have been spared this emotional turmoil. My life had revolved solely around my own goals, without room for external disruptions. My adolescent mind was too limited to accommodate ambitions beyond academic success, fearing that they would disrupt my carefully constructed world.
This was the gamble I had taken, a decision that left me dissatisfied with the life I had created for myself. So, I resolved to return to the contentment of my Form 3 mindset, undisturbed by the happenings around me.
With this intention firmly in my heart and mind, I chose to ignore trivial concerns about the Asrama's surroundings, so that my journey would remain focused on the ultimate goal: the upcoming SPM examination. I carried the mantle of perseverance, determined to prove to all doubters that my decision to extend my Asrama stay would eventually be rewarded.
Although I was clear in my own conviction, my ego remained the final hurdle to overcome. Despite being just an Asrama resident, with no obligations to anyone but myself, the need to prove myself remained strong.
In the present moment, I found myself searching for divine wisdom in the pages of a life that had perplexed me thus far. Surrendering to the will of Allah, I embarked on the final chapter of my Asrama journey, knowing that my heart's desire was within reach—an additional year within the Asrama's embrace.
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