It was the faraway look that ...

It was the faraway look that caught my attention. His eyes had swept past the group of kids poring over a laptop and come to rest on the sun-drenched lawn.
“Ahmad, why don’t you tell us something about your childhood days?” I asked. Startled by my unexpected question, a bemused smile played at the corner of his lips.
He related that in the absence of television, the computer and other forms of entertainment, he and his friends spent most of their time roaming the neighbourhood, brimming with mischievous schemes.
One sunny morning, a group of teenage kampung friends with fishing nets and pails in hand appeared at his doorstep. Despite the cast on his arm (he fell from a coconut tree a week before), he followed his friends as they headed towards a nearby paddy field. The boys quickly bailed out the water in the field and were soon groping and grabbing at the fish thrashing wildly in the muddy shallows. When they finally emerged from the shallows, he noticed that his plaster cast was coated with a thick layer of mud. In the excitement of the moment, he had forgotten entirely about the cast!
A stone’s throw from his house, an old couple lived in a hut nestled amongst a variety of fruit trees. Beside the hut stood a mango which, when in season, was laden with luscious mangoes.
The sight of the fruits was enough to make Ahmad drool. One morning he approached the old lady and asked, “ Mak cik, may I have some of those mangoes?” “No!” came the curt reply. The next day, he approached her again. “Mak cik, can I buy those mangoes?” “NO!” The answer was loud and clear. With downcast eyes Ahmad slunk home and resolved to teach her a lesson.
The next morning, Ahmad and his friend Samad passed the old lady’s orchard. They then stopped to gaze longingly at the irresistible clusters of langsat that clung to the boughs of the trees. They inhaled deeply at the fragrance of durian wafted across the morning air. A plan was hatched.
That night was moonless. Two figures could be seen making their way towards the orchard. But for the pale flickering light of a kerosene lamp in the old couple’s hut and the crackle and crunch of twigs and dried leaves, all was dark and quiet. That night they were rewarded with four durians and heaps of langsat.
Another dark night found the boys back in the orchard. They had just begun their nocturnal activity when they heard a shout coming from the couple’s house. Had they been spotted? They paused to listen. Then they heard the unmistakable scream for help.
When the boys rushed into the hut, they saw the mac cik sobbing and struggling to lift an old man from the kitchen floor. They helped to carry the unconscious man up the few steps into the living room.
As Ahmad looked around him, he noticed the tattered furniture and loose floorboards. Then he recalled the mak cik’s harsh demeanour and their exploits. Had they been depriving the poor couple of their only source of income?
As the mak cik mumbled her gratitude, the boys saw the pain and sadness in her eyes. Riddled with guilt they decided to end their childish pranks.
Although they walked home empty-handed that night, they were not disappointed, for their little act of kindness had given them a great sense of fulfillment. They had set out to harvest durians but instead went home with a harvest of valuable lessons for life.

(596 words)
(Adapted from Wan Chwee Seng@Senior Star2, 27 July 2011)