‘Sometimes the one that got away is the one that was never really meant to stay.’
– Unknown
WHEN a man has a close relationship with a woman and hopes to marry her, the last thing he expects to happen is for the woman to change her mind later and marry another man.
But any man who is worth his salt should not be too naïve concerning such a thing. He should at least suspect that it could happen because women have the right to change their minds about many things, especially when it comes to choosing a husband.
If you have strong opinions about this and vehemently disagree, then perhaps you are not as progressive and as liberal as you think you are.
As I contemplate this subject, the image of my father’s dear friend, Uncle Lee, emerges vividly in my mind. Though you, my reader, have not had the pleasure of meeting him, allow me to regale you with his tale – as I remember it, of course – so that you might grasp the essence of my thoughts.
First of all, his real name was not Uncle Lee. I called him that (and still do) because he was obsessed with Tan Sri P Ramlee.
If you are a Malaysian and don’t know the great P Ramlee, you have missed something historically and culturally significant. But for this story, I am feeling kind and willing to educate you.
P Ramlee (1929-1973) was a legendary artiste widely regarded as one of the greatest entertainers in the history of Malay entertainment. He was a multi-talented artiste who excelled in various fields such as acting, singing, composing, directing, and scriptwriting.
For his immense contribution to the entertainment industry, he was honoured with the ‘Tan Sri’ title, the country’s second-highest honour. After he died in 1973 at the age of 44, his legacy continued to live on through his films, music, and influence on future generations.
Now, back to Uncle Lee, I can’t remember the time when I started giving him the nickname. In an earlier story, I mentioned that we Bidayuh have a peculiar custom of prohibiting younger people from addressing their elders by their real or official names. So, I took to calling him Uncle Lee, and he was pleased because it was the “Lee” from “Ramlee”.
I never really know — and still don’t — how old Uncle Lee was. As I recall, when I started attending primary school in 1961, he was already a young man and often went on fishing trips with my father. Though he had no high school education he was able to do elementary reading, writing and arithmetic.
I liked Uncle Lee a lot. Even when I was a child he always talked with me as if I was an adult. I think he liked me in return because I listened to him actively whenever he told stories about P Ramlee. He could go on and on about his idol and I wondered how he knew a lot.
Looking back over the years, I came to realise that Uncle Lee had always been a bit of a dreamer. As a young man, he longed for something more. With a restless spirit and a yearning for adventure, he couldn’t help but feel disdain for the mundane, hand-to-mouth existence of his fellow villagers.
“Surely,” he often mused in his conversations with me on our fishing trips with my father, “there must be more to life than mere survival.”
Driven by his insatiable desire for the finer things in life, he set his sights on the glittering lights of the city.
In his mind’s eye, he envisioned himself draped in luxurious clothing — just like P Ramlee — savouring the flavours of exotic cuisine, and basking in the glow of the city’s neon lights.
Whenever he shared his internal struggles, he took pains to point out that he loved the village, with its hills and mountains, green forests and rivers, and friendly neighbours. But he just couldn’t stay forever.
Technically he was jobless and had been for some time. He had tried his hand at farming, but the yield was low, and the profits barely covered his expenses. He knew that he needed to try his luck elsewhere, preferably in a town, where there were more opportunities for young men like him.
On one of our sojourns to fish, I discerned that in his muddled state of mind, he momentarily forgot my youthfulness.
Nonetheless, he continued to confide in me, revealing that the most arduous aspect of his departure was leaving his girlfriend behind. Though I was ignorant of the implications, I remained an attentive listener.
I looked at my father for some cues, but he did not make any comments or offered any advice. Uncle Lee and his girl had been together for years. She was everything to him, and the thought of leaving her behind was tearing him apart.
“On the one hand, I need to leave to have a better future, but what if she found someone else while I’m away?” he asked.
“You should ask her that question,” said Father.
“I dare not, and I don’t know how,” he said.
“Why?” said Father.
“I don’t know when I will return,” he said.
“You’re just thinking about it. You don’t have a job yet,” said Father.
“I know, but I can’t stay here and struggle forever. I must take a chance and try my luck in town. Even a lowly labourer in town has a proper wage at the end of the month.”
“But what if you never find a job and have to come back empty-handed?” I chipped in.
For months after that, he weighed the pros and cons carefully, trying to figure out what was best for him and his girlfriend. In the end, with a heavy heart, he made up his mind to leave the humdrum existence of his village.
Who knows, he thought, maybe one day he would be able to return with his head held high, ready to start a new life with his girlfriend by his side.
However, the city’s allure quickly lost its lustre, and he found himself disillusioned with the never-ending rat race of materialism. Yearning for the simplicity and authenticity of his former life, he eventually returned home.
But alas, the cruel hand of fate had dealt him a harsh blow – the sweet, loving girlfriend he had left behind was now married to another.
During another fishing trip with us, he opened up about experiencing a profound sense of pain and confusion within his heart and mind.
He had promised his girlfriend that he would come back for her as soon as he could. Life, however, had a way of getting in the way, and it had taken him longer than he had expected to make his way back to the village. He wondered what could have been if he had come back sooner.
In his suffering, he forgot one of life’s truths, that is, time is a healer. The passage of time can help alleviate the pain caused by difficult experiences or traumatic events. Although time cannot erase the memories or eliminate the emotional scars of a painful experience, it can help to diminish their intensity and enable sufferers to move on with their lives.
At first, Uncle Lee thought that his emotions were set in stone and that his perceptions were unchangeable, but after wrestling with his demons, battling his fears, and struggling to make sense of the world around him, he developed new coping mechanisms and insights that helped him process his feelings and find meaning in his struggles.
He eventually got married although he was marked by the love that got away. Even after he started a family with his wife, his heart longed for the woman he couldn’t have. But he never let it show, always trying his best to be present for his family.
Years passed, and both his first love and his wife passed away, leaving him with a lifetime of memories and regrets. As fate would have it, I bumped into him ten or so years ago at Kota Padawan, Mile 10, Jalan Penrissen. Over mugs of black coffee, I teased him about the one that got away. Uncle Lee’s answer was unexpected. He chuckled softly and admitted that he had been wrong all along.
“My wife was the one that got away,” he said, his eyes filled with emotion. “She was always there for me, through the good times and the bad. I loved her just as much as I loved the other woman, maybe even more.” I nodded my understanding.
“If my wife were alive today, she would be proud of me for finally realising what had been in front of me all along,” he continued.
And to my pleasant surprise, he closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer of thanks to both the women who had captured his heart.
I did not know it then, but that was our last and final meeting. A few months later, Uncle Lee went to be with his dear wife. It was as if fate intervened to bring us together one last time. When I received news of his passing, the first thing that crossed my mind was P Ramlee’s song that he used to sing.
Here’s just the first verse of the song, ‘Di Mana Kan Ku Cari Ganti’ (Where Can I Find a Replacement)
Di mana kan ku cari ganti
Lebih dari kepunyaanmu
Kau berikan daku kebahagiaan
Tiada tara pada dunia
Rough English translation:
Where can I find a replacement
That’s better than what you’ve given me
You’ve given me such happiness
That’s incomparable in this world
The views expressed here are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the New Sarawak Tribune.
