The last 4 days were spent at home, mostly in peaceful solitude. KL was nearly empty by last Friday night, Saturday it was more akin to a dead city. Tall, ghostly mechas of concrete and steel, long winding asphalt roads snaking into the distance, and traffic lights that seemed to wink at me in devilish grey. An almost surreal experience it was, driving through the deserted landscape.
What was i doing on the streets, alone, aimless? Well, they say that home is where the heart is, and mine wasn't here. As i fell in a heap on the bed Saturday night, it took a long moment to fall asleep. This tends to happen when the soul and the body are disconnected.
Sunday morning was a good time. Eid Mubarak. The mosque was half-full for morning Eid prayers, and half the people left after the prayers, the other half stayed for the khutbah (sermon). We were reminded that Ramadhan was a time of humility and reflection: now that it was over, we should remember any lessons we've learned this past month. A row of beggars lined the street near the gate of the mosque. I took a moment to do what i could for each. Then it was back home for some more time alone.
I smoked more cigars that day than i care to remember. TV. Cigar. TV. Eat. Bath. Cigar. TV. Sleep. Eat. Cigar. Ad nauseum.
Its Wednesday now, and as i stare out the window this fine morning, i watched the small ants buzzing about in the suddenly busy streets of KL. Things were getting back to normal. But perhaps, maybe more than perhaps, they never really would again. Not really.
This is the end of the Ramadhan Series. I thank everyone for your attention and comments; you've enriched me and others by visiting, reading and sharing your thoughts.
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