UNCLE SHAR & WIFE
I used to think that the feeling of envy could only be directed towards people who had more or better in life than you. Last Friday while hunting for noodles on the fourth floor food court of Sungei Wang Plaza, I noticed a couple slowly and painstakingly inching their way towards a row of Muslim coffee shops who were closed for the Eid holidays, though they seemed unaware of this because the blind gentleman who was leading his wife by the hand called out the specifications of their drink orders twice into the abyss of shutters and stacked chairs and waited patiently for a response. In mangled Malay, I fumbled to communicate that the stores were closed before the uncle responded with an incredulous, “But why?” in perfect English.
For the next 45 minutes we held hands and shuffled like three geishas in slow motion all the way across the mall and down into the basement grocery store where they had asked to be taken. I learned that Uncle Shar had once sold 5000 cans of unwanted Abalone to a hotel in Genting Highlands for RM300,000 in the 70’s when no one else had been able to move this product for months. A marketer in his day, he suggested I marry again, this time to a European but warned me that partnership was full of jealousy. When I explained that I hadn’t met anyone I liked enough to get re-married, he offered a simple and decisive solution, “Like everyone! Then you’ll have a lot of options to choose from!”
After learning that the grocery store was just a navigational landmark for their route home, I was finally able to settle them into their second choice of a coffee shop in the neighbouring mall but not before expressing my concerns on how they would get home. Uncle Shar chuckled and gloved my hands in his while seeming to smile right into my eyes and said, “I have lived here for 77 years and I know every corner of this area. We were just enjoying your company.” As I looked back two more times while reluctantly walking away, I could feel myself brimming full of envy but also desperate hope, that one day, I too would become grateful enough to appreciate the routines of daily life and its small pleasures instead of always wanting more of what never seemed to satisfy me.
