Conversations

It is a drizzly evening. The downpour during the late afternoon provided a chilly damp atmosphere to the city. It also contributed to the snarling traffic congestion on Federal Highway. Kok Meng just managed to break loose from the gridlock in Jalan 222, but by which time his mental anxiety has reached feverish level. He is tired, cold and hungry. His disagreeable day in the office offers no consolation. All he wants is to get home, take a hot bath and dine on his warm dinner. But then he thought, his dinner would probably not be so warm by then, and he would have missed the greater part of Astro’s Wah Lai Toi daily series. The thought added to his impatience. He steps on the car accelerator, going even faster than the already quick speed.

As the car swifts across the dark narrow bend before Kampung Tunku, Kok Meng caught sight of the familiar building on the left. He knows the building well. It is the local crematorium, a very famous landmark in PJ. And on his right stands the graveyard. Kok Meng would never consciously and directly fix his gaze towards the cemetery; not after dark, apart from the occasional unconscious peep. Kok Meng always wonders why that particular long and winding road is always dark despite the beaming street lights. It is almost as if there is a permanent gloom overcasting the whole vicinity.

Kok Meng is well acquainted with the area. He used to be a student in the primary school located within walking distance from the crematorium. During that time, electric incineration was not yet in existence, and the exodus of the bellowing fumes from the wooded burning would fill the atmosphere with a malodorous pong. It would be the most revolting smell that has ever greeted Kok Meng’s nostril. Even the thought of it now would nauseate him.

Kok Meng steps down further on the accelerator, trying very hard to move away from the eerie area. As soon as he reaches the traffic light up in front, the lights turn yellow. Damn, he curse to himself. It is almost as if the sprints are steadfast to keep him there. As the car lay idle, Kok Meng looks around. The light drizzle has not yet stop. Oddly enough, there are no other cars on the road. Not even on the opposite side. And to add to the chilling atmosphere, Kok Meng notice that the shops down the road are closed. “Perhaps, they closed shop early because of the rain,” he explains to himself.

The red light sign seems to go on forever. As an impatient Kok Meng gets ready for the change of light, he takes a quick glimpse on the top mirror. In a quick flash his eyes caught a reflecting image. Kok Meng’s heart skips a bit. He looks up again. No, there’s nothing there. “Must have been my imagination,” he assures himself. He then steps on the pedal. Barely 50 meters were passed when Kok Meng, almost instinctively, peeps into the mirror again. There it is again. The image. This time Kok Meng immediately freezes. His eyes darts back and forth, but each time the recurring shadowy apparition remains.

Beads of sweat has already formed on Kok Meng’s forehead. His hand on the steering wheel is visibly trembling. Thoughts of fear and terror begin to fill his terrified mind. He peers up again. He is not imagining. There is a man sitting at the back seat of the car. An elderly man - very pale, ghostlike. “Shit, oh shit,” the panic stricken Kok Meng murmurs to himself. “Oh God, there is a ghost in my car,” he whispers again. Kok Meng then quickly rants out Buddhist chants. But what came out from his mouth are just nonsensical ramblings – courtesy of his shaken nerves and the fact that he has never taken any effort to memorize the prayers chants.

Nevertheless, he made sure his chaotic recitals are within earshot, in the hope that whatever evil being at the back of his car will disappear. Kok Meng looks up again as he continues his celestial murmur. This time, the figure’s raging eyes looks straight at him, clearly displease with Kok Meng’s heavenly petition. Kok Meng is now at a loss. Buddha’s help is clearly not forthcoming. There is no other spiritual amulet that he is currently wearing to protect him. And if Kok Meng carries on driving in this horrifying state of mind, sooner or later he will drive himself to an oncoming vehicle and die. Kok Meng decides that he needed to take matters in his own hand. He swerves his car to the side of the road, steps on the brakes and immediately halting the car to a crashing jolt.

The car lays idle for what seems like a whole minute before Kok Meng musters the courage to confront his uninvited visitor. As he slowly turns his back, his mind was making wild prayers in hope that the ghostly being is no longer there. But it is. Kok Meng’s eyes lays sight on the old man. The ghost looks back. Kok Meng, intuitively and almost unconsciously, blurts out, “What do you want?” The figure looks back, motionless and expressionless. After a few daunting seconds, the ghostly phantom answers, in a clear and lucid voice, “Oh! You can see me?” “Yes,” answers Kok Meng in his choking tone. “Oh, I am truly sorry. You should not be able to see me,” says the old man. Kok Meng keeps quiet. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t know I was visible to you,” the ghost continues. “Are you … a ghost,” asks Kok Meng, clearly surprised at the ghost’s well mannered speech. “Oh,” chuckles the old man, “Yes, a ghost, as you put it. More accurately, a spirit of a dead man.” “You know, you shouldn’t be able to see me. It’s not supposed to happen. You must be, what they say, low spirits,” continues the old man.

A long silence followed as Kok Meng scrutinizes the ghost. The ghost merely sits there, returning to Kok Meng a kind smile. “Err … may I ask, what are you doing here? Are you going to take my life?” ask Kok Meng after the long hiatus. “Ha-ha … ” laughs the old man again. “Of course not, young man. Why should I kill you? I don’t even know you. I needed a ride. You came by. I took a lift. No other intentions. Too bad things have to turn out this way,” continues the old man. “Where do you want to go?” a less nervous Kok Meng asks. “Nowhere really. I was just bored. Especially during the late evening. Some days, I’ll just pick a ride. Just to pass time,” come the answer. “I don’t understand. Pass time for what? Are you waiting for something? Someone?” ask Kok Meng again. “No, not really. I am already dead. Time is somewhat relative to me,” smiles the old man.

“What then? Are you one of those wandering ghost?” probes Kok Meng, almost disbelieving at the conservation. “Wandering ghost. Yes… in a way,” says the old man, suddenly looking rather desolate, “Yes, when our soul leaves our body, we no longer have a place in this world. We cross over to the other world beyond. Therein lies a new life for us.” “But you are still here,” pointed out Kok Meng. “Yes, I am. Let’s just say this is my ultimate punishment,” replies the old man. “You see, young man. I was not a good person when I was alive. I committed a lot of unwarranted deeds,” he continues explaining. “You mean you are a wandering ghost as a punishment?” questions Kok Meng. “Yes,” came the reply. “For how long?” asks Kok Meng again. The old man lets out a long sigh, “I really don’t know, young man. Perhaps for all eternity.”

Kok Meng gasps at the answer. “Exactly what did you do to deserve this?” queried Kok Meng. “Ah, young man. You really want to know?” Kok Meng nods. The ghost started his story, in a low whisper, “I was not a good person when I was alive. I committed a lot of bad thing; very, very big sins.” “What … exactly did you do?” inquires Kok Meng again. “I kill people,” came the curt reply. Kok Meng froze at the answer. He is face to face with a cold-hearted murderer ghost. “But … but, uncle, you really don’t look like a murderer to me,” argues Kok Meng. “Ha-ha,” laughs the old man, “No, young man. I’m not a hands-on murderer as you think. I was a powerful figure then. I don’t really need to do the killing. Other people will do it for me.”
The old man then looks out the window. A nostalgic look etched on his face “Well, that was so many years ago. I am now dead. As you put it, a wandering ghost. Paying for the sins of my living years,” surmise the old man. The old man then leans his head closer towards the window. “See that house across the street. No. 53. That’s where I used to live. The biggest and the grandest house in Kampung Tunku.” Kok Meng looks out. He can’t see much beyond the dark street.

Another silence followed. Kok Meng no longer knows what to say. The old man felt it as well. The man then said, “Well, young man, I really should be going. People might think you’re crazy, talking to yourself in the car by the road.” And in a flash, the ghost slowly fades away like a mist. Kok Meng is no longer shivering anymore. He slowly starts the car engine and speeds off.

The next morning, Kok Meng drives back to the exact spot of his ghostly encounter. He parks his car right in front of the No.53 house and got out. To his dismay, he finds a dilapidated abandoned bungalow. Kok Meng just stood there in front of the big gates. Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of someone. An elderly lady was peering though the neighbouring garden. Kok Meng looks at her. The lady returns with a kind smile. Kok Meng then asked her, “Is there any one staying here?”, knowing full well the silliness of his question. “Not for the last 15 years,” replies the old lady, still smiling.

“Who are you looking for?” she inquires. “An old man who used to live here,” Kok Meng says. “Ah, you must be referring to Dato’ Peter Lim, the master of the house. He died 15 years ago. Since then, the whole family has moved out,” the lady answered. Kok Meng goes up closer to the lady, “This Dato’ Peter Lim. Is he a local gangster?” The lady suddenly gives out a loud laugh. “A gangster!” she utters, “Whoever gives you the idea?” But sensing Kok Meng’s pensive demeanor, the lady mellowed her snigger and continues, “No, Dato’ Peter Lim is no gangster. He is a fine gentleman. He used to be a judge, you know.” “A … judge?” a surprised Kok Meng exclaims. “Yes, a judge. Why do you sound surprise? Dato’ was a High Court Judge in the Kuala Lumpur Courts. Before he died of a heart attack more than a decade ago,” the lady replies. “You mean this Peter Lim is not the killer?” asks Kok Meng again. “Killer? Of course not. Justice Peter Lim is a fine judge. In fact, he sent a lot of criminals to the gallows. Killers, murderer, drug pushers … he punished them all. Sent them to the gallows he did,” revealed the old lady.

She then continues, this time in a hush whisper, “But you know, some people … the more traditional Chinese neighbours, they believe being a judge is very ‘suei’. Sending people to their deaths like that. Although they are very bad people, one cannot just kill another. People say Dato’ Peter will pay in his next life. Aiya, I don’t really believe-lah. Dato’ Peter is a good man. How can say like that. Right or not?”

Kok Meng just stared at the elderly lady in disbelief.