Richard Parker
Friday, August 04, 2006
Richard Parker
Richard Parker,keeping me company in silence.
There are a couple of things somebody on sentry duty can do to pass time.This is how it works in a nutshell:
There will be four people doing sentry duties every single day of the year.Two hour shifts for each person,three times within a span of 24 hours until the next batch of unlucky troopers take over.The average load of a person on sentry duty includes a SBO,a beret,a rifle,a magazine of five rounds,bayonet and a huge rock of boredom slamming down on your head.Once in a while the RP on duty will try to have small talks with you,but as a person who hates small talks,especially the ones ridden by utter stupidity.Let's face it Lance Corporal.We have the same rank,and the fact that you have a RP written at the side of your arm doesnt make you any better than me in any way.Me,being the so much more superior than your pathetic brain.
Well,those are easy to survive,sure.But the problem really is the boredom.Two hours might not seem like an awfully long time to you.A single movie,a single sitting for a good book,probably a trip to town for some shopping at Borders would take up that amount of time.But i tell you,when your motions are limited to that pathetic curb,and the world is falling asleep at 3am while you are standing there like a sodding idiot,holding a rifle as if some lunatic is going to break through the gates and into the camp to steal all the weapons and top secret information,i dont think so.I mean come on,i dont think somebody as ambitious as that(Robbing the whole military camp)is going to consider the main gate as the entry point.
The night deepens,and the world quietens down.I remember standing on the curb once more thinking how much i resembled Pi right then.The curb was like my lifeboat,so restricted in space and the boredom was eating my insides like the spider enjoying it's late meal,clinging onto it's web that was spunned across the corners of the guard house.The red bricks that formed the road,became the ocean to my eyes.It stretched out before the curb,and i couldnt see the end of the road,as it sloped upwards and down to the other side,like the horizon Pi stared into for so many hours during his own adventure.I made circles with my boots,drawing imaginary faces with the tip of it.I squashed a couple of worms while strolling around the curb,checking out the bird nest high above my head,the nest which was so lively with constant chirping,was then as quiet as the empty road before the camp,with occassional trucks or cars speeding by,minding their own businesses.
Just then i heard a soft meow that came from under my feet.Lifting them i saw a kitten not much bigger than my palm,circling my legs and rubbing its body against it.I squatted down then,and ran my fingers through its fur.It kept purring,and at one point even jumped onto my laps.With the image of myself as Pi and the curb as my lifeboat,i couldnt help but picture this kitten as the tiger aboard Pi's own lifeboat,Richard Parker(That's the tiger's name,after a careless mix up of names by the zookeepers).
It fell asleep in the corner of the guard house,and the two of us spent the rest of the night with each other.It didnt matter to us,that none of us tried to entertain the other,really.But the mere presence of each other,i guess,was a sort of peace in each other's heart.It sure killed a lot of my time,and before i knew it was Mr. Chiah's turn to take over the duty.It was still sleeping when i left the post,and before i did so i gave the kitten a little pat on the head and left.
It was a little saddening for me,to see the kitten under the power box,alone and right next to a cold puddle of rainwater.It might have been the bad mix of colour it had on its body.Like irresponsible parents who abandon their newborns in trash bins and boxes,this kitten's parents probably never thought much about the word "breed".The kitten was badly 'painted' in a way,with parts of it in white and brown stripes while the rest in black and white patches.It was an atrocious looking cat initially,but as it attempted to crawl its way up my pants and attacked the camera at one point,i shift a spot in my heart open for this kitten and made it soft somehow.
Like everyone of us in this world for some reason,arent we all in some ways,screwed up and abandoned?Left alone in this God-forsaken camp in the middle of nowhere,with a adult size dog pacing around,i wonder how this cat feels.Probably as strange,as alien as myself at times,as i feel the cold on the streets of town?Perhaps,just perhaps.
And it attacks the camera.
"What?"
Richard Parker,keeping me company in silence.
There are a couple of things somebody on sentry duty can do to pass time.This is how it works in a nutshell:
There will be four people doing sentry duties every single day of the year.Two hour shifts for each person,three times within a span of 24 hours until the next batch of unlucky troopers take over.The average load of a person on sentry duty includes a SBO,a beret,a rifle,a magazine of five rounds,bayonet and a huge rock of boredom slamming down on your head.Once in a while the RP on duty will try to have small talks with you,but as a person who hates small talks,especially the ones ridden by utter stupidity.Let's face it Lance Corporal.We have the same rank,and the fact that you have a RP written at the side of your arm doesnt make you any better than me in any way.Me,being the so much more superior than your pathetic brain.
Well,those are easy to survive,sure.But the problem really is the boredom.Two hours might not seem like an awfully long time to you.A single movie,a single sitting for a good book,probably a trip to town for some shopping at Borders would take up that amount of time.But i tell you,when your motions are limited to that pathetic curb,and the world is falling asleep at 3am while you are standing there like a sodding idiot,holding a rifle as if some lunatic is going to break through the gates and into the camp to steal all the weapons and top secret information,i dont think so.I mean come on,i dont think somebody as ambitious as that(Robbing the whole military camp)is going to consider the main gate as the entry point.
The night deepens,and the world quietens down.I remember standing on the curb once more thinking how much i resembled Pi right then.The curb was like my lifeboat,so restricted in space and the boredom was eating my insides like the spider enjoying it's late meal,clinging onto it's web that was spunned across the corners of the guard house.The red bricks that formed the road,became the ocean to my eyes.It stretched out before the curb,and i couldnt see the end of the road,as it sloped upwards and down to the other side,like the horizon Pi stared into for so many hours during his own adventure.I made circles with my boots,drawing imaginary faces with the tip of it.I squashed a couple of worms while strolling around the curb,checking out the bird nest high above my head,the nest which was so lively with constant chirping,was then as quiet as the empty road before the camp,with occassional trucks or cars speeding by,minding their own businesses.
Just then i heard a soft meow that came from under my feet.Lifting them i saw a kitten not much bigger than my palm,circling my legs and rubbing its body against it.I squatted down then,and ran my fingers through its fur.It kept purring,and at one point even jumped onto my laps.With the image of myself as Pi and the curb as my lifeboat,i couldnt help but picture this kitten as the tiger aboard Pi's own lifeboat,Richard Parker(That's the tiger's name,after a careless mix up of names by the zookeepers).
It fell asleep in the corner of the guard house,and the two of us spent the rest of the night with each other.It didnt matter to us,that none of us tried to entertain the other,really.But the mere presence of each other,i guess,was a sort of peace in each other's heart.It sure killed a lot of my time,and before i knew it was Mr. Chiah's turn to take over the duty.It was still sleeping when i left the post,and before i did so i gave the kitten a little pat on the head and left.
It was a little saddening for me,to see the kitten under the power box,alone and right next to a cold puddle of rainwater.It might have been the bad mix of colour it had on its body.Like irresponsible parents who abandon their newborns in trash bins and boxes,this kitten's parents probably never thought much about the word "breed".The kitten was badly 'painted' in a way,with parts of it in white and brown stripes while the rest in black and white patches.It was an atrocious looking cat initially,but as it attempted to crawl its way up my pants and attacked the camera at one point,i shift a spot in my heart open for this kitten and made it soft somehow.
Like everyone of us in this world for some reason,arent we all in some ways,screwed up and abandoned?Left alone in this God-forsaken camp in the middle of nowhere,with a adult size dog pacing around,i wonder how this cat feels.Probably as strange,as alien as myself at times,as i feel the cold on the streets of town?Perhaps,just perhaps.
And it attacks the camera.
"What?"
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on Friday, August 04, 2006 at 11:02 PM.
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