The Crying Princess

Just got back from Johor, the land of Maksiat. My brother just got married to his fiancee, whom is from a village called Kampung Puteri Menangis, near Sekolah Kebangsaan Senang Hati at small town of Pontian. Johoreans indeed have remakable sense of humor when it comes to giving names.

Been appointed as a pengapit, or loosely tranlaslated the groom's bestman, both my parents gone through all the trouble, just to get my hair trimmed. However, their mature and obviously good looking son is so babel (damn stubborn), which, they finally hav to accept the fact that my hair will remain long like this on the pelamin (altar) at their new besan's house in Johor.

It is not the in norm of my family, to take pictures. In fact, we dun even have any camera! So, for events like this, the first marriage in the family, camera is indeed a must have thing. However, the economic policy of my father, will never allow any of his penny, to be allocated to purchase a camera.

This is the time where my Nokia Daun came in handy. However, it is undeniable, that pictures took by it, is damn low quality. The cam on my sis's fon also is damn low quality. She wud never want to have anything at his hand when we are attending the feast. And being a pengapit lelaki in a Johorean wedding ceremony, I need both of my hand to hold the kipas and also to pay the "tolls" (ask the Johoreans bout this). So, who should keep my fon and take the pictures? My parents are totally out in this technological matter.

So, to have the long story short, there are no single picture of me, being the pengapit, except for those captured by the cameramen hired by the wedding host.

Pathetic.

But I dun really give a damn, I just prayed that all the bersanding things to be quick, and off to the table, special for the couple and our delegation from Terengganu.

I dun give a damn to the damn polluted songs sang by a bloody old Johorean, nor to the ladies who keep saying "Makan la..makan la.." to our delegation.

I just warm the chair, beside my father and my sister, and finish all the dishes that i cud get my hands on.

Owh..it was heaven.

Fried prawns attached to pineapple, squids stuffed with eggs, satays, fried red fish poured with sweet n sour sauces, and all other dishes that i cant even name it. Owh dear...

Bloated, we dashed back to Kuantan for one night, and off back to Terengganu where preparations have to be arranged. God, the walimatul urus is on this Thursday. May God bless the ceremony.

Now came another problem. My morning sleep is now often been disturbed by the shouts from my parents.

"Bangun la! tolong ayah tu angkat beras! Berkampit-kampit Ayah beli tu!"

"Hosni! tolong amek pandan! Pastu turunkan pinggan mangkuk dari kabinet!"

"Basuh porch!"

"Cuci la bilik air tu! Orang kan nak datang!"

"Kemas!"

"Tolong ayah tebang buluh"

"Amek periuk2 besar dari surau!"

And many more. My advice to you, if your siblings is getting married, persuade your parents to book a hall for the feast, and get a catering service!

This is a pathetic story of a lazy-ass handsome guy. I am Lord Hosni, If you are reading this, you are the Ressistant.


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