The Maldivian Night Sky.

Spot the clouds!

I remember when I was a boy of about twelve and my brother was about fourteen, we took a family trip up to Penang, my father's hometown. We stayed in The Palm Beach Hotel, a 3-star hotel on Penang Island, a short drive away from the tourist traps and the beach.

I remember we were playing billiards till we got bored one night in the hotel, and my brother and I decided that we would walk on the beach. 

It was an amazing walk on the beach that night - the night was cloudless and the moon was in its full glory. The beach was bathed in this eerie pale blue light, and we spoke in hushed whispers as if we were on hallowed ground. The vast swallowing darkness of the ocean lay just ten metres to our left as the shells crunched beneath our slippered feet. It was a moment of mystery, and magic - and looking to my brother, I thought to myself - 'Dammit, why did I have to share this moment with you?!'

I was twelve, and already I wanted a girl to share these moments with. 

*************************************

I write this because I know that my mind is feeble, and I will surely forget. I will return to Melbourne and to work, and my mind will imagine it differently as it gets cluttered with other noises. 

I was walking back to my room to pick up something one night here in the Maldives, and above me the hazy half moon cast its eerie glow on the world beneath it. You could make out the outlines of the low-lying clouds beneath, slow-moving gentle giants moving halfway between the waters and the stars. 

My slippers slap the wooden walkway leading to our villa, and the ocean echoes underneath. There is a gentle warm breeze caressing my skin, and it causes the coconut trees in the distance to slow sway and the crystal clear waters beneath me to dance in the moonlight. 

I have heard the term 'haunted by its beauty' before. I now understand it. 

Made in Maldives.

Contrary to popular belief, we did not come here on a BMM (baby-making mission). The realities of our three weddings in Melbourne, Malaysia and Singapore back in Dec/Jan earlier this year meant that we returned to Melbourne exhausted and a little 'peopled-out'. We loved our weddings and being able to catch up meaningfully with great friends and families, but we also craved to be alone by the end of it.

Back to work, and back to reality, there have been times in the relationship where it's always been go-go-go and there hasn't been time to sit quietly and be a couple.

Nine months on, we rise and we fall like ordinary couples amongst the waves of life. We talk,we laugh, we expect, we cry, we unconsciously bring work home, we argue, we apologise, we make up, we promise it will be better tomorrow. If we are not careful, we sometimes forget what it meant to be husband and wife.

We finally understood the need for a honeymoon.

And so here we are, amongst the calming turquoise blue of the Indian Ocean, the gentle sound of lapping waves at our doorstep beating out the rhythm of a line of idle days, the white powdery sand giving way to the weight of our footprints. The sun is turned to just the right temperature, its rays dance in the clear waters beneath us.

We are children once more - 6 am dips in the ocean, pointing excitedly at the varieties of fishes swimming underneath our villa, reading aloud interesting paragraphs of the book we've brought, secretly making fun of all the other lovey-dovey couples here with their matching clothes.

We are here learning to be best friends again.


(And then we can talk about making babies. Tee hee!)

The Uncle.

It is a Tuesday night in a famous parmagiana joint in Melbourne. Two Masterchef contestants who are trying their best to remain unobtrusive are sitting over the bar counter eating their parmas, and they add a touch of celebrity to an otherwise sparse and subdued dinnertime crowd at the pub-restaurant.

There are three Indian men sitting near us.

There is a quiet white-haired gentleman, a young man in his early twenties to his right who is his son, and then there is the uncle. The uncle is travelling from interstate on a business trip. The dinner location was his nephew's idea.

The uncle sits there in his business suit, his shirt collar still crisp, peeking out from underneath his grey suit. His back is ramrod straight, he leans forward as he speaks, and his index finger is always making a point.

"You know," he says to his nephew "I know that your amma has asked to see if I can get you a job, just to start somewhere, you know? I am looking, but you know, I want to get you a good job, not just some kind of a shit job."

The nephew smiles a little, upset that he is in a position of need. "That's okay, uncle, I am applying to a few other jobs..."

The uncle dismisses his comments with a wave of his hand. "Have you thought about Dubai? You know, you can make lots of money in Dubai, even if you just start out."

The nephew smiles again, and gives a little shake of his head. His life is here in Melbourne - his family, his footy team, this new girl he's seeing.

The conversation carries on, the uncle continuing to dictate their conversations like a business meeting. They talk about the footy, he looks at the picture of their dogs, they talk about how his brother will be travelling to Europe. His voice is firm and cold - he does not smile even once.

"Wow!" the nephew shakes his head, trying to relieve the high tension of a relaxing family dinner, "I can't believe I finished all that meat!"

"Yeah, it's good. You know, young man, Dubaiii.... if you work there, you can own your own house in four years."

There is more awkward silence. They finish their meal.

"Eh, dessert." says the uncle, staring unblinking at the nephew. It is not an offer. It is a challenge.

The nephew shrinks. He raises his hand with a smile, not meeting his gaze. "No thanks, uncle. I just... can't. This is too much."

The uncle raises one eyebrow and looks down, he lets out a disappointed sigh at this sign of weakness.

He brings out his wallet. It is as thick as a small book, filled with credit cards and receipts from his travel and business cards. His personal assistant must not be able to organise this part of him.

The bill comes and he is quick to snatch it away from the half-hearted attempts by his brother to pay for the meal. It is a dance they are all too familiar with.

"Hey, it's nothing," - he lifts his hand just enough to reveal the cost of their dinner for three to his brother.

He walks to the bar to pay and his brother and nephew are left at the table. They are both quiet, the brother's fingers drum along to the music in the pub. The nephew is deep is thought, wondering what success and happiness looks like, and whether they are the same thing.

"Coffee?."

Surrendered, they stand up, thank uncle for dinner and walk out into the cold Melbourne night.