Few weeks ago was Deepavali, Festival of Light they call it. On that day, I had a few open houses to attend. Don’t get me wrong, I hate attending one. But who’s going to finish all the food if I don’t gobble some?
After the first few houses, I needed my daily dose of canned milk coffee, either Boss or Pokka, both would rejuvenate me. I stopped by a news stand. As usual, I’d flip a few pages of magazine with no intention of buying one.
Pardon my super sharp ears and my uber awesome eavesdropping technique, I overheard the shopkeeper telling his son to study, in Tamil. Though I do not have babelfish with me at all time, I could comprehend his frustration when he mentioned a few SPM subjects.
It’d be awkward for me to stay in a one sided gun fight, so I prompted for the owner.
His face was red and sometimes green. Could it be a mixture of horrid and disgust? I have no idea. I’m no doctor, but I sure hope to marry one.
Mrs Shoup (my kindergarten teacher) told me to greet, as and when necessary. Well, today is compulsory. I wanted to remind him it’s a festive day, don’t go ruining the spirit.
“Happy Deepavali!“, I blurted out loud.
He glared at me furiously. His face, then red and green, turned to blue, burning passionately like the Bunsen burner (penunu Bunsen). He is mad at me. I left without my change.
On the way to my car, I gave the shop another look, so I’d remember and draw my boundary, not to set my foot ever.
The shop’s name, “Kedai Harun“.
Crap! The owner is a mamak. No wonder he gave me that creepy look.
That’s the price of ignorance. (but hey, not every mamak speaks tamil ok!)
ps: Somehow after the incident, I laughed out loud in my car. It was good enough to be a scene in “Dude! Where’s My Car!“