Brown Waxed Paper Brollies - Sunday Scribblings

It was raining outside as I was writing this blog. My bedroom draperies were slightly opened and I could see how beautiful the curtain of rain looked as it fell on my balcony. Sheets of rain which pelted on the wooden railings splattered into beautiful splinters of blue and settled into transparent saphire droplets.

I love rain. I love the world after it rained. It is as if the world has just returned from the launderette. Everything looks so clean, the trees and grass looks fresher than ever. And the greyish tar on the road looks even darker as if it has just been freshly laid. Even my soul feels as if it has been washed. And I love the sweet smell of rain. It reminds me of the time when I was little, in good old Penang.

My first memories of rainy days are of brollies made of brown waxed paper with ratan ribs. It gives out this distinct aroma which is unique and wonderful when rain fell on it. And whenever it rains, wherever I may be, be it when I was in Sydney or in London, or in Kuala Lumpur, the city I now call home, my senses will be taken over by this wonderful sense of smell, it is as if I am transported in an invisible time machine back to those days when I used to live in this little house, in a neighbourhood called Brown Gardens; where the neighbours were multiracial. A truly intergrated Malaysian society with an Indian neighbour on my left and a Chinese one on my right and some Malays, Indians and Chinese staying in the row of houses opposite ours. Every evening, when the clock struck 5 , I was allowed to go out and play. I and the other kids regardless of race and religion would play hop scotch, police and thief, skipping, kali toi, masak-masak and many other games which we never managed to christen with a name, but nonetheless enjoyed tremendously. Among the most significant memory I have of this era of my life is of the time when my Indian neighbours taught me how to ride the bicycle. I went for quranic studies at my malay neighbour’s house and we celebrated every religious celebration there was, with no discrimination. Those were the days when we used the waxed paper brollies which gave out the wonderful aroma of rain.

The gusty wind blew rain into my face and my invisible time machine brought me back to the current time in my bedroom. Back to the time of automatic opening, wind resistant, fibre glass reinforced plastic ribbed brollies.

Reflecting on what I saw during my “time travel”, I wish we are less discriminatory today. I wish that my children can experience the same warmth, friendship and solidarity among their multiracial, multifaithed friends as I had during the days of the waxed paper brolly. In fact their sense of brotherhood should be stronger now that 50 years has passed since Malaysia achieved her independence. How can we achieve this, if we as parents still can't put aside our differences and embrace our similarities, and grow from there...