scribbled this in a meeting this morning. mind the grammar.
My name is Shuharli Rusmanov, yes I know but I am no Russian. I possess a degree in Actuarial Science, which means I am more intelligent than approximately 78.88% of the world’s population. Now if you bring it to a smaller context of this country I am probably the smartest in 12.5 states including the federal territories and definitely smarter than Rafidah Aziz and all of the other less popular Cabinet Ministers. You might think I’m cocky but I am not. I’m just good at Maths!
Of course my father named me, that was how. My father is Marmono bin Haji Sebi, and yes, that makes me a Shuharli Rusmanov Marmono now go on imagine how my childhood life was. Father was a builder by profession and everyone back in Kampung Parit Warijo calls him Wak Mono and no there was no Wak Stereo in the Kampung only one, Wak Mono the builder. My father is Orang Jawa and when he was 19 he went sailing to America where he met a Ukranian Idealist Busker named Vassili Rusmanov who was an immigrant. They became close but not the Brokeback Mountain kind of close. Vassili lent my father some money and then he left America for Estonia, they never see each other ever again.
Hence the name Rusmanov.
To a 59% Malay breed born child.
Father used to have a plan, to run his own construction business, expand it and then later go IPO... but then ekonomi meleset, 3 chinesemen who were supposed to be venture capitalists turned out to be vulture capitalists and in the end what started as MONO BUILDERS now known as TONG JAYA. They went IPO last year, priced at 4.5 at the opening but some of the insiders told me they are overvalued. As for father with all his plans to get rich and famous and maybe then rub shoulders with few billionaires failed to materialise, he had to resort to live back in kampung. However, he did manage to put me through college and also thanks to MARA now i'm indebted for life!
But above all I love my father. He died last year. But he still visits once in a while, and I will occasionally bumped into him at the most awkward of places like beside me in the LRT! And everytime when I tell him to decompose quietly he will fix me with his weary eye in a characteristically deadpan way,
‘Son, stop living like a rat! You must leave this country’
And everytime, those words... will get me to think never endingly. Oh well, its been months now since last I saw him... part of me feels glad since its quite scary sometimes especially when you are seen talking to yourself but mostly I’m feeling empty, I kind of miss his company.Yesterday I quit my job, withdrew all my savings and bought a one-way ticket to London.
I haven’t got a plan but I know I have to stop living like a rat.