Nearly murdered

I have never been so afraid for my life.

I come back here to write, a little shaken, but relieved that this little episode is over because I was nearly that random victim you read about in the newspapers, being battered and smashed by a gang of people to death or to the hospital.

So let’s start from the beginning.

I was on my way as usual in the fat-ass Serena to my Chinese class, and it’s just like any other day except that this was my final class before I fly to Laos. I signalled to the right – as I have always done, I remember this particularly well because an accident along this road has robbed a junior’s life before – and turned into the apartment’s guard house. As I did so, a motorcycle sped from nowhere and rammed into the left of my car, and I could see his apparently shocked face in slo-mo as he failed to brake in time.

Let’s just say the first thing I did was to sit down there in front of the wheel feeling utterly stunned. The next thing I noticed was my car obstructing other cars from coming out, and after deliberating on what to do, I decided to get down instead and see if the guy was alright.

And the first thing he did? He lunged towards me, pushed me around while screaming “PUKIMAK CIBAI ENGKAU” and other quite uncivilised words. Needless to say I didn’t just stand there to be pushed around (considering my body mass, I would’ve lost the fight anyway should it happen, plus there was his passenger friend), I stood up to him and muttered something incoherent I couldn’t quite remember because I was really, really afraid. He then swung his helmet at me which missed me.

A random 50 year-old uncle popped by (bless him) and spoke something to me in Cantonese asking me to get into the car and dial 999 wtf. I did so, making doubly sure I locked the door, moved forward into the guard house, winded down the window and talked to the guard and said uncle. As I pressed my phone into my ears, it was still ringing wtf so I just ended the call and continued talking to both of them (doesn’t seem that calling 999 is useful in an emergency).

Then the uncle continued speaking to me in Cantonese and.. guess what. Because I was panicky, helpless, and completely afraid, I couldn’t think of how to reply in Cantonese (my brain just jammed I reckon) and suddenly I replied in fluent Mandarin WTF. I was stuttering as well when replying in BM to the kind ol’ guard, and I went inside the apartment’s compound and parked my car.

I breathed in and out very loudly and decided that calling my dad would be the next best move. I did so, rushed down the car without my books and scaled the stairs to my teacher’s unit. I went inside, related to her as best in Mandarin as I could muster what just happened, and my classmate probed me like a policeman and concluded that “Then it must be your fault la” wtf how is that even helping me.

Because I didn’t bring my books down (out of sheer panic, and because my dad said he was coming soon), I had to borrow my teacher’s extra books. In retrospect I didn’t even pay much attention because.. yes I was quite traumatised. Anyone who was just threatened violently by two Indians (not that I’m condemning their race mind you) would’ve reacted the same.

Halfway through the class, both my dad and my mum kept me updated on what’s happening outside at the guard house wtf, such as “There are now 4 Indians outside the guard house, must be waiting for you” WTF.

Haha I was seriously scared. Feared for my life. I was thinking things like “Laos is only a few days more..” and “Is that why I was feeling nervous about the trip lately?” and some other random crap.

About 20 minutes later when the coast was clear, my parents and my mum’s friend picked me up and we went to the USJ 8 police station together. There, standing in front of the police station were the 2 Indians and an Indian auntie speaking quite fluent English. The auntie was speaking on their behalf saying things like “This police station is asking us to go to SS15’s police station, and I think we can just settle this outside ourselves”. It seems like they have lodged a police report as well wtf.

I was quite taken aback by the Indian dude’s change of behaviour (maybe because his auntie was there) because he was suddenly polite, speaking in quite good English (rather than the earlier’s “PUKIMAK CIBAI ENGKAU”) that he panicked when he rammed into my car and he didn’t know what to do. WTF does that give you an excuse to react so violently?

Again, the auntie continued to explain that his mother is critically ill in the hospital and they just came back from visiting her and his heart is surely anxious and probably aggravated further by the accident yadayada dunno can believe or not wtf. She further said that she prefer this matter to not go to the police station due to the recent Hindraf issues and probably further discrimination against Indians.

So his auntie made him apologise and shake hands with me and she asked me to do the same wtf which I did. Some more sempat say “Let’s all be friends” ya right I wish I can believe that myself.

“So whose fault is it?” asked the auntie. I said I guess it was partly his (he didn’t have his motorbike lights on thus I didn’t see him) and partly mine, ‘cause I really didn’t want to prolong this incident any further.

The previously aggressive Indian dude said that he merely want me to pay his medical fees which I am more than willing to, and said that he doesn’t care about his badly damaged motorcycle. Seriously this wouldn’t really turn out to be a full-blown matter if he didn’t threaten me violently and told me so in a more genial manner there and then, and didn’t gather a troup of Indians in front of the guard house wtf.

-____-

So I went back to class feeling relieved this somewhat heavy episode is over. And when I reached home, my mum said she too feared something would happen because before I left the house for my class, I kissed her which, according to her, I rarely did wtf. You know like those “last unusual things done before the person died” kinda thing you read in newspapers, to explain something if any.

This entry’s title is also probably somewhat exaggerated, but if a skinny person like me were to be bashed up, I’m sure I wouldn’t survive it anyway.