‘In matters of the heart, beauty is subjective and resides in the eye of the beholder.’
– Margaret Wolfe Hungerford (1855 – 1897). She is best known for her popular quote, ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’, which she coined in her novel ‘Molly Bawn’ published in 1878.
One day, at 12, my innocence was shattered when my friend and elder, Uncle Rin, hinted that he had feelings for a girl. Although he didn’t explicitly confess, his few words and odd behaviour left no doubt.
My little brother (Little B) and I with the help of our cousin, Ratum, embarked on a week-long quest of investigation and covert operations to uncover the identity of this girl. When we finally discovered her, our hearts sank. For this story, I call her Imi (from Amy which is the nickname for Amelia). She was about my age.
Uncle Rin, a cherished member of our all-boys club was slipping away from us. We, and our activities, were no longer captivating enough; his attention now lay elsewhere. We were the same age, both on the verge of teendom in 1965. Yet, he seemed to have surpassed us in some intangible way.
Due to his position in our familial lineage, he became my uncle because he was a cousin of my mother. In our culture, we’re forbidden to call our uncles, aunts, parents, and other elders by name. Thus, he had always been Uncle Rin to me, regardless of his behaviour.
We sometimes used this honorific social title against him, especially when he misbehaved or when we had to persuade him. Whenever he acted in an “un-uncle” manner, we’d remind him it didn’t befit his status. And when we needed something from him, we’d appeal to his “duties” as our uncle. With these tactics, we usually got what we wanted.
As a group, we were curious and adventurous souls, always exploring the world around us with wide-eyed wonder. We spent our days climbing trees, fishing, trapping birds, chasing butterflies, and imagining grand adventures.
Now, back to his infatuation with Imi, we naturally tried to dissuade him. However, our efforts were in vain. He was captivated, blinded to any shortcomings the girl might have. In his eyes, she was the epitome of beauty, even though he, like all of us, had not seen other more beautiful girls outside our remote village.
We resented Imi because we thought she “took away” our friend and uncle. We could not understand why he was attracted to her. To us, she looked like most other girls of our age in the village. Yet to Uncle Rin, she could do no wrong. He even declared that she was the prettiest girl in the world. What in the world!?
In vain we showed him pictures of beautiful girls in books, magazines, newspaper cuttings, and old-fashioned Chinese calendars that adorned the walls of our houses, to convince him that there was nothing special about Imi. But nothing worked. His heart was already captured. To him, Amy reigned supreme.
To Uncle Rin, Imi was not just any girl; she was a radiant sunbeam in his otherwise mundane existence. How did we know that? Well, we “twisted his arms” as usual to make him talk. Well, he stammered more than talked coherently.
In his eyes, Imi’s smile was like the first ray of sunshine after a storm, warming his soul and brightening his darkest days. Of course, I am paraphrasing here because he could not explain his feelings well. To be fair to him, I have never met an articulate 12-year-old in my entire life.
As time went by, his presence in our once tightly-knit circle dwindled. His emerging passions, which we couldn’t grasp or relate to, stirred up discord among us. We felt let down.
Every time he saw Imi, he often found himself lost (according to him) in the depths of her sparkling eyes and radiant smile.
“But she has a funny laugh,” we ventured.
“No!” he protested. “Her laughter is music to my ears.”
“There’s no such thing,” we said.
“Yes, there is! Remember our teacher said ‘Music to my ears’?’ You know, that story he told us … Ah, never mind!”
“You’re lost, Uncle. We can’t save you,” we said.
“Who said I need saving?” he retorted.
It wasn’t just Imi’s outward appearance that captivated Uncle Rin. It was the way she carried herself. Eventually, we had to admit that upon closer look, she did have a gentle spirit. We told Uncle Rin so and he clapped his hands with glee.
“I told you! And she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said, a dreamy look on his face.
In later years, upon looking back, I must say that there were signs of changes in Uncle Rin as we grew older, but we were too engrossed in our activities and adventures to notice them.
I recall a sunny afternoon when we were playing in the mountain stream behind our house. Downstream, a cluster of girls giggled as they bathed, their laughter swirling in the breeze. While the others paid them no mind, Uncle Rin seemed strangely captivated by their infectious joy.
I couldn’t quite understand this newfound fascination, but as days turned into weeks, I saw him stealing glances at the girls whenever they passed by. His face would take a trance-like expression when he saw the girls smiling and their laughter echoed long after they had gone.
One day, while sitting beneath a big ‘engkabang’ tree (illipe trees – scientifically known as Shorea macrophylla) on a hill slope at the edge of our school compound, watching some students playing on the grassy field below, Imy called and waved her hands at us, calling out Uncle Rin’s name.
“Rin!” she called. “Come, play rounders with us. We need one more player.”
For a moment, Uncle Rin was transfixed. He looked at us for a second, perhaps wanting some encouragement but we could not help him.
Imi repeated her invitation and when he got up and ran downhill towards her, I knew our group had lost him to something he could not resist. It was clear he was drawn to something beyond our understanding.
Several moments later, when we passed by the playing field on the way to our favourite playground by the stream behind our house, Uncle Rin did not even glance at us. He was in a different world and looked so happy. We were all envious though we did not understand why.
Twelve or so years later when I had two children of my own while Uncle Rin had four (but not with Imi), I reminded him about that episode in his life, and he laughed. He described it as part of growing up and finding himself.
“Ya, I remember that moment,” he said.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“Hard to describe. What I felt was something clicking inside me,” he said.
“You were attracted to her.”
“Not right away, but the feeling was more than just curiosity.”
“You seemed so happy.”
“I was. As I ran down the hill, I felt like flying. My heart was racing. Oh, I never felt like that again. Never!”
“Not even when you met your current wife?”
“No. I had several girlfriends before I met my wife, but there was no repeat of that particular feeling for Imi.”
“Maybe it happens only for first loves?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“What happened between you and Imi?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“After you left the village for high school, I was sent to Kuching to stay with my uncle while attending a private secondary school. It did not work out well, so I ended up working first as a construction worker and later as a motorcycle mechanic.”
“And Imi?”
“Just like you, I seldom returned to the village, and so I did not see her for many years.”
“Was she ever your girlfriend, or something?”
“No!” he laughed. “Right from the beginning it was unrequited love. I was infatuated with her but she never reciprocated my feelings.”
“I see. It was so crazy. We all thought that it would amount to something that would last.”
“I thought so too,” he said.
He recalled that the world seemed to sparkle with a newfound magic at the onset of that first love. He saw the beauty in the smallest moments, the wonder in everyday adventures.
Even as he recognised his youthful status, he also started comprehending the interplay of attraction among individuals of different genders and ages.
Uncle Rin has passed away, but I remember him well because he was part of my growing up. His infatuation with Imi symbolises the universal experience of first love.
As for Imi, I see her as a symbol representing the concept of beauty and desire. Her allure was subjective, reflecting the idea that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Regarding our negative reaction to Uncle Rin’s infatuation, it was due to our resistance to change and the fear of losing cherished relationships. We dissuaded him to maintain the status quo and preserve our childhood innocence.
I think Uncle Rin’s emotional journey from innocence to infatuation mirrored the psychological development of adolescence. His newfound feelings awakened him to a heightened awareness of his emotions and desires.
The fact that we envied his happiness highlighted the psychological complexity of jealousy and longing. We struggled to comprehend his feelings because we had not yet experienced romantic attraction ourselves.
In the end, the story advocates for respect for individual choices and autonomy in matters of the heart. Despite our initial disapproval, we came to accept Uncle Rin’s feelings and recognised the importance of his happiness.
Overall, I hope my narrative offers a poignant exploration of love, friendship, and the complexities of adolescence, inviting you the reader to reflect on your own experiences and beliefs about these universal themes.
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.
