Mori and Dolly

My eyelids are drooping and I am very tired. But I want to tell you about Mori and Dolly.

Aileen and I went to the beach for dinner tonight. She just got back from Sydney where she was for over a fortnight and I was without a friend in that period. So much could happen within two weeks and we had lots to catch up on.

The food centre by the beach has round tables with three curved benches each. The benches could basically seat two persons if you squeeze, so all in all the table could accommodate six.

We were lucky to get a whole table to ourselves and all around us people were looking for one. As Aileen was getting her food, a couple came around and asked if they could share our table. I said sure, I only have one friend.

So they squeezed onto one bench. They were, for some reason, very grateful. I offered half my bench for the lady to put her paper bags and she was even more grateful.

They were both people in their 40s and both attractive people. The man was rather good looking and you could tell he is not Singaporean. The lady you could tell, she was. She went to get drinks for them and he asked if I come here often.

And so we got to know Mori and Dolly.

I am not Japanese, he said. I can tell, I said. Mori is an Iranian.

I told him he was the second Iranian I met in my lifetime. The other one being a shopkeeper in New Orleans, who was a fugitive and wrote books in French.

Mori and Dolly owned an education centre together, but they were more than business partners. We found out because Aileen actually asked them if they are a couple. “Well, we are two persons,” Dolly coyly answered.

And so started a lovely and unusual but most pleasant evening of discourse about religions, faiths, God, love, partners, brains and hearts, stars and black holes, and more.

Mori told me when I am 40, I will realise that my roots are in Malaysia. But I would need to be 40. He understood me perfectly when I said Aileen and I are displaced individuals in this world.

Here is a thought: He said sending me overseas when I was 18 was a mistake my parents made. I said it was the best thing that happened. He said I will realise when I am 40 (that magical age) that it was a mistake. Had I stayed in the country, I might have a compromised education, but I would have felt like I belonged.

I don't have to wait until I am 40. I know my bouncing here and there contributed to my displacement. But I also knew even growing up as a child and teenager, I needed to explore this world. Not wanted to. Needed to.

Lying on my bed as a child, something deep in my heart told me that there must be more to this world as I knew it then. There must be more to this life. So it was not the living overseas that started the displacement. It was divine restlessness, I like to believe.

Dolly runs six times a week, 2.4km a day. She looked very good. She said she cut down her running time now that they start work early. And what time is that, Aileen asked. It used to be 11am, but now they start at 10am, Dolly said. Aileen and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

But we work late, Dolly said. How late is late, I asked. 7pm, Dolly said. We laughed again, even harder. Mori asked if that was really late, and he asked that innocently.

What a life!! They both love what they do- she teaches and he manages the business. He also runs a judo club, and was once Singapore’s national coach.

“I didn't leave Iran because I wanted to run away like some other Iranians. I came because of my business. Iran as the world sees it is as the West wants it to be seen. We have 70 million people, 1014 universities (our eyes popped), and over 60% of our graduates are female. Does the world know that?”

I said I'd check the UNDP Human Development Index. Because they have to reflect the truth. Don't they?

Mori said he would go back to Iran. His dream was to have a farm away from the city. I completely brightened up and smiled. Aileen burst out and looked at me; Dolly asked if I also want a farm. I said yes, I do.

We said adieu but did not exchange contact details. We had an unspoken understanding that we didn’t need to. We were just distant stars that crossed paths for a moment in eternity.

“You are not 30," Mori said. "You are 40 million years old. That’s how long it took for particles to travel in this universe for us to meet at this point in time.”