The other side of the Causeway

An evening at Gentle Giants, Zhongshan Building, Kuala Lumpur, 9 December 2023.

Dear ~~Readers~~Lover-friends,

We meet again. By the time you read this, I am most likely already on a midnight bus to KL. This would be my third consecutive end-of-year trip there.

“I am remembering the term ibukota, as in capital city. Kuala Lumpur, I speak my mother tongue at home but my mind is so displaced. Give me grace as I read your road signs like a child, wide-eyed albeit a bit sleepy.”
—"Kuala Lumpur Tune (Part 1)" from Ginsberg, sing me a jiwang song

On 8 December 2023, I took the last bus out of Singapore to Kuala Lumpur…on impulse. That entire month, my friends Rifqi and Taufiq were travelling across Southeast Asia and I decided to make a stop there that weekend. If I didn’t catch them then, I would not have met either of them until 2024 as I was set to make my virgin trip to China the week after.

2023 was a year of great significance. I turned 30. Like any other productivity-crazed Singaporean, I imposed on myself two goals that year:

Get over my fear of rejection by submitting the manuscript for my debut poetry collection homesick.
Train for and complete a full marathon.

I’m a Virgo. Naturally, I ticked both off my to-do list. Unfortunately for me, the spontaneous person that I was in my 20s never truly went away. The thing about spontaneously taking the last bus out of Singapore means your friend will fall asleep while waiting for you to arrive. While waiting for them to wake up, I sought shelter at a 24-hour (thank God!) kedai kopi. Give a writer some roti canai and teh kurang manis. I didn't know it but there and then I started work on what would be Ginsberg, sing me a jiwang song.

That weekend was very special. Kuala Lumpur was buzzing with life! Firstly, Rifqi, Taufiq and I “sneaked” into KLABF. Tickets were sold out. We ought to count our blessings! A friend allowed us to take turns looking after her booth while she went to get dinner. After the book fair, we crashed an exhibition opening at the Zhongshan building. Lo and behold, there was a makeshift karaoke singalong and Sheila Majid’s iconic "Sinaran" was being sung at the top of everybody’s lungs. That night, we went from one venue to another. In transit, we saw Palestinian flags line the streets of this city. In what felt like a year of massive loss and grief, Kuala Lumpur was a vision of hope.

“Back home, we can barely mourn.”
—"Kuala Lumpur Tune (Part 1)" from Ginsberg, sing me a jiwang song

In what feels like a full circle moment, this year I get the privilege of sharing the stage at KLABF with my co-presenter Shivram Gopinath for our programme "Polysemic Fantasies". When we met to conceptualise the flow of our sharing, I proposed the format of the pandemic-popular VERZUZ in the spirit of us both playfully responding to resonant themes present in both Dey and homesick. I cannot wait to see how that unfolds. On top of that, I will also be in conversation at Tintabudi on 29 November.

Since homesick came out in June, my favourite thing has simply been the work being allowed into different rooms. Whether in Singapore or my recent trip to the Brisbane Writers Festival in October, I have enjoyed exercising a kind of telepathy with the crowd, offering pieces I feel that are in tune with their energy. I am certain that this trip to KL will offer my future self stories just as exciting, if not even better than my previous trips.

I’d like to leave you with this. A dear friend of mine, Jonathan Tan, once asked me “What do you write about when all your fantasies have come true?”

I’ll see you on the other side of the Causeway.

Love always,
nor

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