Nasi Lemaks were a staple diet for me growing up. Even now. I remember vividly an incident in junior school when i was 10 or 11. I spent my allowance of the day on a steaming plate of Nasi Lemak at a food stall. The plastic plate was orange (and they usually have burnt marks on them, strange), and the utensils were soft silver metal.
I held my precious plate of Nasi Lemak with two hands, and walked cautiously towards the benches. Just as I took another step forward, a little boy (shorter and younger) ran into me and knocked the plate out of my hands.
The next few moments unfolded in front of my eyes in slow motion.
The orange plate slipped out of my hands...
... it flipped over like a failed frisbee...
... my steaming nasi lemak flew through the sky...
... the rice grains took flight...
... the ikan bilis followed in earnest...
... there goes the peanuts...
... the blob of sambal...
then Silence.
I didn't hear the items land, but then it was just there. My allowance Nasi Lemak, all over the floor. The boy looked up with me, with fear and desperation in his eyes.
I was upset. I was angry. I had no more allowance, and my Nasi Lemak was on the floor.
I stared at him with anger welling in my big wide eyes. He dropped his gaze and then ran away. There i stood, in the awkward divide between the stalls and the benches, with the remains of a Nasi Lemak on the floor at my feet and a hundred pairs of eyes on me. I felt lost, embarassed, angry, sad, helpless.. all in one big mixture of emotions. I frankly just didn't know what to do.
The vendor lady called out to me, and told me it was okay before swiftly dishing me another plate of Nasi Lemak. Her generosity was touching, but at that time, it all happened in a daze. I took the new steaming plate, walked past the forsaken predecessor and tried to pretend like nothing happened at all.
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