The Dawn of Detachment

“Dear ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at Kuala Lumpur International Airport. Please ensure to take all of your belongings with you. On behalf of our crew, thank you for choosing Turkish Airlines as your Airline and we hope you had a splendid journey.”

Upon hearing the final announcement, my heart sank into my stomach, which squeezed its way down my leg and popped right out of the hole in my show. It struck the damn carpeted floor and crushed into pieces. My legs suddenly became light, wanting to run towards the cockpit and to request a detour of the flight because I had arrived at the wrong destination.

I could vividly remember the excitement in Prisha’s voice upon knowing that I’m returning home- which is Malaysia, for good.

“We are going to plan trips! We shall have weekend getaways to waterfall picnics! It’s going to be so much fun! All my days of loneliness are over now that you’re back, Janie!”

Prisha was my trump card to a smoother and fun filled return to a place which is supposed to be my “home” but somehow felt strangely foreign. Reluctantly, I dragged my feet out of the 18 metre high Business Class Airbus. (Since it’s my last flight for a long time, why not treat myself to Business Class, eh?). Thoughts were running through my mind, like a hypo-mania episode - thoughts of moving on from the past and picking the scraps of present to build the future.

I eventually found my way to the Immigration Checkpoint. There were 2 lines: one for locals and the other foreigners. I was still contemplating on which side I should go to, until I saw the direction for the Red Passport. I lead my way towards the counter, handed my Passport over for examination and walked through the Checkpoint in a breeze.

The moment I opened my mouth to greet the Immigration Officer; I immediately knew I landed in Malaysia. The lack of English language command with a cold shoulder and unfriendly service  one may receive at KLIA would give an undoubted impression of a bloody halfwit son of gun, whose job’s to stamp some unknown papers and wait till it turns 5.30pm to rush back home where he continues being a bloody halfwit son of gun.

I looked outside the 22 feet paned windows, up towards the sky and asked God (if any),

Seriously?? Is this what you made me come back to?

Disheartened, I trailed my roller bag behind me and continued walking towards the airport main entrance. Throughout the journey, I refused to look up or at anyone. I did not like the faces I saw and I did not like the place I was at. It was not welcoming like how it used to be; it was not as friendly as where I came from; and I feel that I don’t belong.

There's nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered. Nelson Mandela.