Doubt & Fahmi Mustaffa

Fahmi Mustaffa posted this comment in his Facebook after reading my book Doubt. Thank you for the lovely comment on the book. This is what he says:

Last night i seduced myself (that sounds wrong isn't it?) and get some me-time reading this:

DOUBT by Bissme S

This collection of 45 stories of life, love and loneliness is really a page turner.Bissme Bissme Bissme is a good story teller, and being a good conduit, the stories went naturally, with some jaw-dropped and mindfucked plot twist, leaving me with such a mental excitation, reading one story after another.

I would personally promote this, as this is my first time of minimalistic self indulgence that leave me wanting more and more.

Wait, there's more, entitled DOUBT by the same author himself.

"A woman who hates motherhood ... A man has sex with a dead body to win a bet ... Two brothers have incestuous relationship ... A man recalls the circumstance that led his best friend to take his own life ..."

DOUBT is the must-read fiction! 135 pages of mind-blowing stories, leaving you curious about human and all their beings.

Grab your copy via whatsapp - 0122290944, or contact Mr Writer himself. DOUBT and BITTER are in stores now, published by Merpati Jingga. 

Bitter in Press

 I am highlighting all the media reports ( the good, the bad and the ugly) on my book Bitter. Whether they are good or bad reviews, I really appreciate  the journalist effort to read Bitter and to dissect it.  A big  thank you to them. 

1)  The first person who wrote about  Bitter is the  well known Uthaya Sankar. His article appeared in the website Kuala Lumpur Post . Below is the full article 

Title : Bissme Teroka Sisi Lain Kehidupan Manusia 

Kemampuan menghasilkan buku fiskyen sulung pada usia 45 tahun pasti suatu kejayaan yang membanggakan. Bayangkan pula jika mampu melahirkan buku fiksyen kedua dalam masa hampir dua tahun selepas itu.

Itulah yang berjaya dilakukan oleh Bissme S, seorang wartawan yang berpengalaman luas serta menang beberapa anugerah dalam bidang kewartawanan.

Seperti diakuinya sendiri, dunia kewartawanan menuntut dirinya berdepan dengan fakta dan objektiviti, manakala penulisan fiksyen membuka ruang seluas-luasnya untuk mengembangkan daya imaginasi dan kreativiti.

Saya berpeluang bertemu dengan Bissme pada 2 Februari 2015 di Pesta Buku Selangor yang berlangsung di Pusat Konvensyen Shah Alam (SACC). Kebetulan, buku keduanya, Bitter (2015) baru sahaja siap dicetak dan mula dijual.

Mahu tidak mahu, sebagai penulis dan pencinta bahasa serta individu yang berpengalaman dalam bidang penyuntingan, saya secara spontan membelek-belek halaman buku baru ini untuk meneliti kualiti bahasa dan ejaan.

Harus diakui bahawa berbanding buku pertama, Doubt (2013) yang dipenuhi pelbagai kesalahan bahasa dan kesilapan menaip, koleksi fiskyen terbaru ini lebih kemas, bersih dan profesional.

Bissme ternyata mengambil kira komen saya sekitar dua tahun lalu dan memastikan ada orang menyemak, menyunting dan memperkemaskan manuskripnya sebelum diterbitkan.

Sebagai seorang editor akhbar yang berpengalaman, N. Shashi Kala telah melaksanakan tugasnya dengan amat baik bagi memastikan Bitter yang disajikan kepada khalayak lebih kemas dan bebas daripada kecuaian bahasa.

Bagi Bissme, pengalaman menghasilkan sejumlah 13 cerpen dalam koleksi ini agak berbeza dengan cerpen-cerpen dalam koleksi sulung dahulu. Fiksyen kali ini lebih panjang dan standard berbanding koleksi pertama yang agak bercelaru dari segi panjang setiap cerita.

Suatu lagi perbezaan yang ketara adalah bahawa semasa menulis fiksyen sebelum ini, pengarang belum memutuskan untuk membukukannya. Pada kali ini pula, kesemua cerpen ditulis khusus untuk dibukukan.

*Fiksyen Yang Tidak Sesuai Bagi Pembaca Kanak-kanak

Bissme mengakui bahawa memang ada semacam kekangan dan kesedaran nyata kerana cerpen-cerpen pada kali ini mahu diterbitkan dalam bentu buku. Tambahan pula, kebanyakan pembaca Bitterkemungkinan besar sudah membaca Doubt.

Secara logik, khalayak pasti mengharapkan sesuatu yang lebih baik daripada karya terdahulu. Pada saya, Bissme berjaya memenuhi tuntutan itu. Kerja-kerja penyuntingan yang kemas merupakan satu lagi bonus yang mampu membantu pembaca (khususnya bukan penutur lazim) mempelajari penggunaan Bahasa Inggeris yang betul.

Pembaca perlu diberikan amaran bahawa sebagaimana Doubt, koleksi fiksyen dalam Bitter juga tidak sesuai bagi kanak-kanak. Hal ini kerana kisah, persoalan dan peristiwa yang disajikan boleh dikategorikan sebagai berciri ganas dan ada aksi agak “terlampau”.

Kisah-kisah yang disajikan mungkin kelihatan seperti cerita biasa. Akan tetapi, “kebiasaan” itu segera berubah menjadi sesuatu yang benar-benar di luar dugaan dan norma kehidupan.

Maka, fiksyen yang dihasilkan oleh Bissme hanya sesuai bagi khalayak yang khusus, iaitu khalayak yang sedia untuk melihat sisi lain kehidupan manusia yang biasanya dielakkan daripada dibicarakan menerusi karya arus perdana.

Mungkin ada pihak yang berpendapat bahawa kisah-kisah seperti ini “selamat” selagi tidak disampaikan dalam Bahasa Malaysia. Pandangan ini agak menarik kerana memang ada buku terjemahan Bahasa Malaysia diharamkan di Malaysia, tetapi versi asal (Bahasa Inggeris) boleh dibeli dan dibaca secara bebas dan terbuka.

Menurut Bissme, buku Doubt sedang dalam proses terjemahan dan versi Bahasa Malaysia akan berada dalam pasaran tidak lama lagi. Ini mungkin berita baik bagi mereka yang mahu menikmati kisah-kisah yang disajikan oleh Bissme.

“Selepas Doubt terbit, saya tidak pernah menyangka akan ada buku lain. Namun, kini Bitter sudah muncul dan saya harap ia mendapat perhatian khalayak pembaca.

“Kisah-kisah yang saya angkat memang lari daripada kebiasaan walaupun ia menampilkan watak-watak biasa yang kita temui dalam kehidupan seharian. Mungkin itulah daya penarik bagi buku-buku saya,” kata Bissme yang merupakan anak jati Kuala Lumpur.

Sebagai seorang penulis dan wartawan berpengalaman, beliau sedar bahawa setiap hasil tulisan – fiksyen mahu pun berita atau rencana – pasti mendapat komen yang pelbagai daripada pembaca.

* Adunan Realiti, Imaginasi dan Kreativiti Seorang Wartawan

Saya kagum dengan sikap terbuka yang menjadi pegangan Bissme. Katanya, sama ada reaksi yang diberikan oleh pembaca dan pengkritik adalah positif atau negati, kedua-duanya amat berguna kepadanya.

Sikap positif seperti ini wajar menjadi amalan semua orang dalam segala bidang. Biarlah kita menerima komen positif dan negatif dengan hati terbuka demi membaiki diri dan mutu kerja.

Kesemua cerpen dalam buku ini ditulis pada tahun lalu khusus untuk diterbitkan dalam bentuk buku. Maknanya, cerpen-cerpen ini belum pernah disiarkan di mana-mana.

Secara penuh sedar, Bissme memastikan kesalahan bahasa dan kecuaian yang terdapat pada buku pertama tidak diulang dalam buku kedua. Penyuntingan profesional yang dilakukan oleh editor berpengalaman juga sangat membantu.

Proses kreatif bagi seorang pengarang adalah semacam misteri. Orang ramai sering tertanya-tanya dari mana penulis mendapat idea bagi cerita. Sebagai seorang penulis, saya juga sering diajukan soalan itu dan biasanya saya tidak mampu memberikan jawapan yang paling tepat dan memuaskan.

Begitulah juga halnya dengan Bissme. Watak serta kisah yang disajikannya dalam Doubt dan Bitter adalah sesungguhnya manusia yang biasa ditemui dalam kehidupan seharian, khususnya di ibu negara.

Apa yang berbeza adalah bahawa Bissme yang kini berusia 47 tahun menggunakan daya kreativiti dan imaginasi untuk membayangkan kemungkinan yang amat berbeza dalam kehidupan setiap watak manusia biasa itu.

Kreativiti seperti ini sangat perlu ada pada mana-mana penulis kreatif. Sebagai seorang wartawan berpengalaman, kini Bissme berjaya pula mengembangkan daya kreativiti dan imaginasi dalam diri untuk memanfaatkan bahan dan idea cerita untuk disajikan dalam bentuk fiksyen yang seronok dan mendebarkan untuk dibaca.

Sepanjang saya mengenali Bissme, dia seorang yang pemalu dan kurang bercakap. Mungkin tugasnya sebagai wartawan memerlukannya untuk lebih banyak mendengar daripada bercakap. Bagaimanapun, kini dia sudah menemui “suara”nya menerusi penulisan fiskyen.

Kisah dan pengalaman Bissme boleh dijadikan panduan oleh orang ramai supaya tidak berputus asa dalam mencapai impian dan cita-cita. Bermula dengan keinginan untuk mahu berkongsi cerita, Bissme kini sudah berjaya menjadi seorang penulis yang berjaya.

* Uthaya Sankar SB adalah presiden Kumpulan Sasterawan Kavyan (Kavyan), perunding media dan penulis sepenuh masa. Hubungi uthayasb@yahoo.com.my untuk cadangan cerita menarik

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2) Amir Hafizi from Malaysian Reserve has reviewed my book Bitter .  Here is the full review 

Title : From Doubt to Bitterness 

By Amir Hafizi 

After his first book “Doubt”, author Bissme S returns with another clutch of stories — this time, Bissme focuses on even darker themes that plunge readers into a bottomless pit of despair.
This book is a downer, in a good way. Reminiscent of Oscar Wilde’s dour, heartbreaking and haunting short stories, Bissme’s “Bitter” manages to consistently capture that dark, depressing landscape in 13 stories.
There are stories of mothers becoming prostitutes and one hired to see out the death of her husband, tale of a family forever affected by the suicide of a father, how a boy is raped and the family copes, a mother tasting the flesh of her own children and many more.
Of note are the stories “Breakfast in Bed” and “All About My Mother”.
“Breakfast in Bed” is about a family obsessed with the image of the father hanging himself in his bedroom after his wife left him. “All About My Mother” is a story about a serial curse of prostitution borne out of bitterness. In it, a man would curse random beautiful mothers to a life of prostitution. The children of the mother who becomes a prostitute would one day recite the same line — almost an incantation — to another mother and the cycle begins anew.
These stories are almost fable-like in nature, their darkness a result of semi-magical happenings or the borderline fantastic.
However, the horrors are very much grounded in reality and the violence is believable while being a bit surreal. The motivations of some of the characters that instigate the weird and cruel happenings are almost like a dark version of paying it forward, or vectors spreading a virus of bitterness.
Another running theme is that the stories are often written from the point of view of the son, witnessing the real horrors of family. In some stories, the focus shifts to other types of characters, which makes for a varied reading.
The effect is that the book creates a haunting experience and readers can find themselves strangely cathartic after going through all the spite, hatred, abuse and violence in “Bitter”. It is certainly over the top and can get a bit cartoonish at times, such as one story where a mother is fed the flesh of her child, or when a man discovers he is a product of incest.
However, when the story is over, one can find a bit of relief that the world is not that dark and hopefully it is only so in the minds of the author.
Bissme writes his short stories well, perhaps fully realising that tales with such strong flavours should be short and not be drawn out too much. He effortlessly darts from one dark and depressing setup to another, from one crazy character to the next one with seeming ease.
Bitter” is only around 130 pages so even if the content is not agree-able to those with more delicate sensibilities, it is short.

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3) The Star has  featured my book Bitter as well as my first book Doubt in their paper on April 26. 

  
    

Title : Monstrously Twisted Tales 
By Daphne Lee 

Betrayal and revenge are the main themes explored in two short story collections by long-time journalist Bissme (who goes by one name).

These relentlessly miserable, casually violent tales of mean-spirited, ill-fated characters hell-bent on destruction of one kind or other are obviously meant to shock, but the outrageous details and denouements lose most of their kick from being repeated like clockwork.

Halfway through Doubt (published in 2013), the gristly, gory details, the small-minded petty axe-grinding ceases to make you gasp. You simply end up groaning, “No, not again!”

It’s the same with the recently-published Bitter. How many of the characters strip naked and walk into the sea? Just a couple, perhaps, but in a collection, that’s still one too many.

Also, what’s with every female character being called Malena? On encountering Malena the second time, I perked up because I rather like it when the same character pops up in several short stories. However, it turns out that the Malenas in Bitter are each a different person. What is the point of this? Is there even one? If so, I don’t get it. It just seems to me that the author couldn’t be bothered to think of different names.

Come to think of it, most of Bissme’s characters are nameless. I don’t see this as a problem, though, because in many cases, the premise of the story is original and powerful enough to render names unimportant. It’s the circumstances the characters find themselves in that are interesting, not the characters themselves. Unfortunately, the characters invariably end up acting predictably, just like the ones in the previous story, and the story before that.

It’s a shame, because Bissme is an engaging storyteller. His voice is emphatic, spontaneous, and defiant, somewhat flippant too.

The tone is just right for the shocking situations he describes. It’s like he’s daring the reader to protest; it’s like he’s laughing at your disbelief. “Up yours!” he seems to be saying. “You think this is bad? Just you wait!”

The thing is, while it does get worse – people behave increasingly monstrously, things get really twisted – it’s always the same kind of monsters and the same kind of twisted.

There needs to be more variety in the stories. The author needs to look more closely at what he starts, and think harder about the way things could develop. The possibilities are endless, but the way they repeat themselves in these two collections makes me think that the author is not making enough of an effort. He has a way to go as a writer, I feel, and I am excited to see him develop and grow.

Of course, Bissme has to want to reach his full potential. It’s really up to him to be the best writer he can be, and I hope his next collection shows him shining in ways that I believe he is fully capable of.

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4)  Kosmo also highlighted Bitter in their paper on April 1.  I do not have any soft copy of the paper. Anyone has the soft copy of the paper can they pass the copy to me.   

Doubt Goes For Second Print

My publisher Faisal Mustaffa of Merpati  Jingga has informed me that my book Doubt has gone for second printing . As a writer for the book, one of my job is to promote my own book. So I am highlighting some interesting quotes from my book, Doubt. Hope these quotes inspire you to buy Doubt.......

1)"I do not want the truth. I am not interested in the truth. The 
truth is not important. I just want to be happy.” 
(Page 6)

2) I know what I have done is madness. But when love is not madness, it is not love. When the time comes, I will be ready to face God's wrath, his punishment and his hell.” 
(Page 12)

3)"Why do you hate me so much," I asked his mother, once. 
She didn't have any rational answer. 
"Not all mothers are meant to love their children,” she explained. 
(Page 13)

4) "Jebat must not die," he says 
"He did not commit any crime. I will not allow Jebat to die. I will save Jebat any cost." 
(Page 20)

5) It was strange to have my twin brother undressing me.... to 
have his lips kissing my lips ... to have his naked body brushing 
against mine... to have his hands touching my manhood.
(Page 22)

6) I have been married for the past seven years. And in all those 
years I have not been faithful to my husband. I had slept with 
countless dashing man that had shown any slight interest in me 
and the worst thing is, I feel no guilt.
(Page 27)

7) Love is not enough to keep my mother happy. My father failed 
to understand that. He was utterly shocked when she wanted to end 
their marriage. 
“Do not leave me…I will change… I will become a better man… I 
will change… I will change,” my father kept begging my mother. 
Truly, there was nothing to change. There was nothing wrong with 
my father. He had been a great father, a great husband and a great lover. He had showered my mother with love, laughter and happiness. 
Most women would die to have a man like my father as their 
husbands. But my mother was not like most women. She wanted more out of life. Simple happiness is not for everyone.
(Page 29)

8)Death is the only thing that could give me the peace I desperately want. Sometimes death is not bad thing. Death is ending of all misery. 
(Page 35)

9) I was her secret. And I was tired of being one. I wasn't expecting her to shout our love from the roof top of the Twin Towers. But I didn't want her to hide me, either. I could not totally blame her. She has a lot to lose if we display our feelings, openly. Ours is a society that is not comfortable with two women falling in love…with two women lusting for each other.
(Page 38)

10) “God had failed me, once,” she said. 
“God will not fail me again. He would not let me lose my son. God 
is great. God is not that heartless. God is not that cruel. God 
is great….”
(Page 47)

More Reviews on Doubt

1) A reader Needa Lim recently wrote to me to my email after buying my book Doubt and this is what she says :

"Hello sir! I purchased your book, Doubt two weeks ago. At first, the cover and the summary does not attract me that much. But as I opened the book and I still remember, I read chapter 17 and I was like, this book is non like others (well, as far as I know, not much local writers would write this kind of story). So, I decided to buy it and I read the whole book. It was entertaining, some have made me speechless or in disbelief. And most of the stories, I did not expect the ending of the story would be like as it is. I also love the trademark that you have inserted into that book. The suicide part, where mostly they will go naked and went towards the train? That is like, odd but interesting. I cannot describe how much I love your book. And not forget to mention the randomness of one of your story, the mermaid and the werewolf. Hahaha its hilarious, I don't know what do you expect from your readers reading that but I thought its funny. And the story of An Earth without rain is also one of my favorite, because like I've said, I didn't expect the ending would be like that. But sir, I think what's best describe your book is what madness can cause people do and how mad people can be. Overall, I enjoy your book and it actually triggered my creative side. I actually Imagined all these scenarios as I read them. Plus, most of the short story you wrote, I have thought about it when I was younger and especially when I was playing this one game : The Sims where I always destroy a perfect family when I get bored of it. But, don't get me wrong, I love my family and they are perfect. Its just that sometimes, our mind needs to be open to something else too, that is out of the norm ones, I guess? That's all. Keep it up!"

PS To Needa Lim, I would like to say thank you very much for the lovely compliment. Your letter had brought a big smile to his face

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2) Recently I came across that someone from Thailand had bought my book Doubt and has written this review on my book Doubt on his blog: 
http://wasan-on-line.blogspot.com/2013/09/best-book-by-malay-writer.html
This is what he says about my book Doubt: 

"I bought this book at Time Square Shopping Mall, KL.  This is one of the best foreign books I ever read. This book helped to boot-up my reading after it had been drought out for years. It's 45 short stories of Life, Love, and Loneliness. I like the technique of the writing and also it twisted stories.  The writer uses the beautiful language to compose all the stories.  This short stories show that short story can keep it short and still remain interesting until the last word. I spent 2 days reading this book until the last page. I have a lot of fun and stunned by the stories. Great work by Bissme S.."  👍

PS: I am glad you love the book and thank you for the lovely review on my book 

The Woman I Love

Since the publication of my book Doubt ( a collection of my short stories), I have been extremely lazy and has not been producing any new short stories. Recently  I got my Mojo back, I managed to write a few short stories and I am posting one of new short story in this blog today.  I am dedicating this story  to all those who bought my book Doubt, read them and  have been saying nice things about the book . Thank you for lovely encouragement.  

The Woman I Love – By Bissme S

"Why did you kill her?" I asked.

"Because I want our love story to have a happy ending," Malena answered.

Slowly, Malena walked towards me. Malena kissed me, passionately. Malena unbuttoned my shirt. Malena kissed my chest. Malena unbuckled my belt. Malena put her hands into my pants. I melted. We were on the floor, fucking each other's brains out, in front of a dead body.

Out of exhaustion, I slept off, on the floor that we made love. When my eyes opened the next morning, the dead body was missing. She entered the room with two coffee mugs in her hands.

Placing one of the mugs in my hands, she said:"Drink up your coffee before it becomes cold."

"What happened to...." I asked.

Before I could finish my sentence, Malena answered: "I have taken care of everything while you were sleeping. All you need to do is to make a police report."

Like Malena had instructed, I went to the police station. I told them that my wife was missing ...and I could not find her anywhere.

*****

A few days later, a letter arrived for me. It was from my wife. She no longer loves me...Our marriage was making her miserable…She felt like a bird in a cage that was crying for freedom…She had found a man who brought joy into her miserable life…She wants to spend the rest of her life in his arms.

She wrote: "Forget that I existed in your life. Forget that our marriage existed. When I married you, I really believe you will be the first and last man that I loved. Perhaps, we are not meant to love one person for the rest of our lives"

I showed the letter to the police...To my friends…To her friends…To my relatives….To her relatives.

"My wife is not missing," I said.

"She had abandoned me.”

They believed every lie that was written in the letter. My wife was dead before the letter was even composed.

*****

Have you seen the movie Silence of the lambs?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the character Hannibal in the film?"

"Yes."

“Like him, I eat human flesh. I have eaten every part of her. There is nothing left. I do not think the police can find any trace of her.”

Looking at my shocked expression, Malena laughed her head off.

"Sometimes you can be so gullible," Malena said.

"You believe everything I say and that is what I love about you."

Malena had invented many wild stories on what she did with my wife’s dead body. But all her wild stories had one thing in common. The truth is always missing.

 In one of her wild stories she said that her best friend owned a swimming pool filled with piranhas and she had thrown my wife’s dead body into the swimming pool.

“The piranhas had eaten all of her and there is nothing left,” Malena said with a huge laughter.

The other wild story Malena told me that she had sold my wife body to a pharmaceutical company who was always looking for dead bodies to conduct research on the effectiveness of the new drugs that the company was producing.

“They paid me a hefty sum of money for the dead body,” Malena said, winking at me.

Many times I had lost my temper hearing her wild stories. I wanted the truth and I was not getting it. But I can never stay mad with her. Malena always knows how to win my heart.

"I like it when you get angry," Malena said while resting her head on my chest after one of our love making session.

“You look more handsome when you get angry,” Malena added.

"You will never tell me the truth on what you did to my wife's dead body," I said.

"I always tell the truth even when I lie," Malena said.

"Here you again, speaking in riddles, again," I said.

"Why are you so obsessed with the truth? My darling, the truth is over rated. The truth is not important. All you have to know is that your wife is no longer in our lives. Just be happy. Do not worry about anything else," Malena answered before planting a passionate kiss on my mouth.

*****

"As long as men exist, a woman will have a suffering life.”

That was the motto that my wife believed in when she was not married with me. She belongs to a group of friends who hated men the same way Hitler hated the Jews. If they had ruled the world, they would have wiped out my species. They wanted a world without men.

The first time we met was in a college. I was studying to be a chef while she wanted to be a painter. For me, it was love at first sight. But love had no place in her life.

"I have seen many women giving up their dreams in the name of love,” she said.

“They end up in an apron and making cookies for their husbands.  I am not going to be one of those women.”

She sent back all the love letters I had written to her. She dumped all the flowers and gifts I sent to her in a dustbin. But I never stop pursuing her. I was determined to win her love…I was determined to make her as my wife….I was determined to make her the mother of my children.

“When I go hunting, I rarely go home empty handed,” I told her.

She found my determination attractive, charming and extremely, sexy. Slowly, she allowed me to dance into her heart.

*****

Our love story would have a happy ending. But I made one mistake. I introduced the woman I love to my mother. Abandoned women can be complicated and my mother was no different.

Since my dad left us, her world revolved around me.  My mother never liked any of my friends. My mother wanted me to have only one friend and that friend has to be her. My mother was a controlling freak.  My mother was choking me with her love. There was always tension between us. I wanted freedom. I wanted friends.  Every day I hated my mother, more and more.

“You are my universe and why can’t I be your universe?” my mother asked.  

The moment I was an adult, I decided that I would not stay under the same roof with my mother, anymore.

“You are going to abandoned me like your father did,” my mother said, angrily.

“Mother, please do not be dramatic. I am not abandoning you. I will come to visit you,” I said.

My mother used every trick in the book from tears to begging to change my mind but my mother failed. I kept to my promise. From time to time, I visited my mother. I just wanted a distance between me and my mother. I just want my mother to stop choking me. So I was not surprise that my mother hated everything about the woman I love, from the way she looks to the way she talks.

 “Mother, I know you want me to only love you and no one else, “I said.

“I can’t make you my universe, because I have certain needs that you can’t satisfy. I am sure your religious values would not allow you to jump into my bed.”

A slap landed on my face. I laughed hysterically.

 “Get out from my house,” my mother screamed, angrily.

“Get out from my house...Get out from my house. I do not want to see you, any more.”

******

Two years later, my mother was back in our lives. The woman I love has become my wife. And we were waiting to receive our first child.  My mother was thrilled to be a grandmother. Desperately, my mother wanted to be a part and parcel of my family. But I was not ready to accept my mother in our lives.

“Never marry a man who hates his mother because he will end up hating you,” my wife said, jokingly.

“I do not want you hate me, so you need build a better relationship with your mother. Besides, it will be nice if our child has a grand mother’s love.”

Reluctantly, I listened to the advice of the woman I love. And that was my second biggest mistake.

*****

Most daughter- in- laws hate their mothers-in- laws. But my wife became my mother’s new best friend. They spent a lot of time together. Under my mother’s influence, my wife had changed a lot. There was a time my wife was ambitious. She harboured a dream to be a well known painter.  As a wedding present, I built a shack in our garden where she spent many hours painting.

But she no longer dreams to be a famous painter. She transformed the shack I had built for her painting into a play house for the child we are going to have.

She was outspoken. Not anymore.  My wife became a docile house wife who whose main aim in life is to make me happy.  My wife became one of those women that she despised – A woman who gives up her dreams in the name of love, ended up in apron and making cookies for her husband.

“I have trained her to be a better wife for you and a great mother for your future child,” my mother said, proudly.

My mother, the woman I hate, had changed the woman I love. I could no longer recognise the woman I love. She had become a stranger to me. Slowly, I was beginning to hate the woman I love. What do you do when you hate the woman you love?

*****

“Let us face it, God has an ego problem. Why do we need to worship him, always?  I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time.”

That is what my wife said when we were dating. But motherhood changed her drastically. My mother took my wife to one of the church sermons and my wife had fallen madly in love with God.

“I want heaven,” my wife said.

“I want heaven for my husband. I want heaven for my child.  Follow the road the God had chosen, heaven will be given to us on a silver platter.”

My wife had became a born again Christian. Literarily, my wife twisted my hands to believe in Jesus and churches.

“Don’t you want your child to grow up with religious values?” my wife said.

“Don't you want your child to go to heaven? You have to be religious at least for your child’s sake."

I have always allowed the woman I love to run my life. I can miss paying my taxes but there is no way I can miss going to church on Sundays. I pretended to be excited about angels, devils, heaven and hell. Inside I was miserable. This was not the life I wanted. I hated God. I hated religion. I hated churches. And most of all I hated my wife.

*****

 “I did not only lose my mother- in- law… I have lost a mentor … I have lost my best friend.”  

That is what my wife said at the funeral service of my mother. I was not interested to give a eulogy on my mother. I would not have anything nice to say about my mother. Gladly, my wife filled my shoes. My wife worshipped the ground that my mother walked on.

“I was a lost soul.” my wife said. 

“But once she entered in my life, I was no longer lost. She had put some direction into my life. She was an angel that saved my soul. She has made me a better human being. I do not have my mother-in-law besides me, anymore. But what she had taught me will never disappear from my heart.” 

Indeed, there is some much truth to what my wife said. My mother was gone but not her influences. My wife had become the carbon copy of my mother.  The woman I hate, my mother had taken over the soul of the woman I love.  My wife was no longer the woman I love.

*****

“I was born to love you and no one else.”

Boldly and bravely Malena confessed her love to me.  Malena wanted me. Malena desired me.

"What you feel for me is madness," I said.

"When love is not madness, it is not love." Malena said.

"Stop chasing me, I would not become your lover at any price," I said sternly.

“When I go hunting, I rarely go home empty handed," Malena said.

Malena never stop pursuing me. Malena never stop seducing me. Malena never stop writing love letters to me. Malena was determined to be my lover.

Malena wrote to me: "I am in love with a man I can't have and you have a woman that you can't love. What a tragic life we are living."

Then, one raining cold night, I became weak and allowed Malena to jump into my bed.

"You are born to ruin me," I said.

Malena wrote poems about me.  Malena painted me. I never felt so loved in my love. I was no longer miserable. When you are in love, you are rarely miserable. We took extreme measures to make sure no one knows about our affair, especially my wife.

*****

The first time I was impressed with Malena when she had her first art exhibition. We had not become lovers, then. Malena presented a series of paintings that depicted the relationship between God and human beings. Her paintings tell the story of human beings who are tired of their God who wants to be worshipped and praised all the time .They invaded Heaven, captured God and beheaded God.

Malena ended her painting series with a quote:" Men will never be free till the last priest is strangled to death."

The paintings were visually stunning but the messages were too twisted for most to digest. God was not portrayed in the good light. Some cursed her. A few spat on her face.  But Malena didn’t care.  Malena had a sheepish smile. Malena enjoyed the havoc she had caused.

Malena said to me at her exhibition: "I find all religion have one thing in common. They are all annoying."

Two days later, our church priest visited Malena with aim of reforming her.

"Repent! God will forgive you and you could likely enter heaven," the priest said.

"But I do not want to go heaven," Malena said.

"Why not," asked the puzzled priest

"Because in heaven, all interesting people are missing," Malena answered with a loud laughter.

******

Malena was a painter, an activist, a rebel and a feminist.  Malena had spent many nights behind bars for taking parts in street protests. Malena believes in speaking up against injustice and making the world a better place.

Malena is not the kind woman who dances her life to the music that society had set for her. I loved her rebellious nature. But then again, everything about Malena fascinates me.

"Well behaved women do not spent time behind bars," I teased her.

"I never wanted to be a well behaved woman," Malena said.

"Every woman dreams to be a well behave woman," I said.

"Not me. I want to create history and well behaved woman seldom create history," Malena said with a huge smile

****

I became careless. Malena became careless. My wife found the love letters that Malena had written to me. My wife found paintings Malena has done of me where I was not wearing anything.

My wife shouted : "How could you let our daughter paint you naked?.

How could you have sex with our daughter?"

I tried to explain to my wife that what Malena and I have is not an ordinary case of incest...we love each other...  we are born to be lovers. My explanation infuriated my wife even more.

"I will report you to the police," my wife yelled.

I will make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison. I will make sure you will never see our daughter again... "

It was then Malena appeared from no-where with a hammer in her hand.  I just watched Malena smashed my wife - her mother - to death. I did nothing to stop Malena. I have always allowed the woman I love to run my life.

The End

A Book Review On Doubt

Recently a blogspot titled The Perks Of Being Me (http://mynameisnazir.blogspot.com/2013/06/doubt-book-review.html?spref=tw) has recently review my book Doubt. I am just posting what he has written..... 

Doubt A Book Review

Kalau korang nak tahu, aku ialah seorang lelaki yang berhati kulus, kudus, mulus (ada makna ke frasa tu semua?). Buktinya: Aku tak mampu nak tengok cerita kekejaman manusia waras terhadap manusia lain seperti dalam Saw, Hostel etc. Pernah satu hari kekawan aku perangkap bawak aku gi wayang yang tajuknya totally sangat aman damai tapi once lagak kejam tu bermula.., aku terus berpaling ke arah seat belakang sehingga cerita tu habis. Hmmm...
Apa novel tempatan yang paling best bagi korang..? Please jangan kata 'Sebenarnya Saya Isteri dia' or 'Suami Aku Ustaz' ialah pilihan korang. Dari tajuk je dah tahu yang cerita tu gila-gila mengarut. p/s: Sorry, aku tak layan novel-novel cintan cintun macam tu lagi yaa. 
Minggu ni tadi aku dah meletekkan satu novel baru sebagai novel tempatan dan tak salah aku katakan kalau ia adalah novel terbaik yang pernah aku baca. Novel yang aku maksudkan ialah Doubt oleh Bissme S. Sebenarnya ia bukanlah novel sebaliknya antologi 45 buah cerita pendek. Dan buku ni sangat kecik dan nipis tapi effectnya sangat besar bagak.
Korang percaya pada penamat happy ending? Atau korang lahir dan membesar dalam persekitaran orang baik-baik? Setiap cerita ni berakhir dengan penamat happy ending tapi bukan dari perspektif yang kau mampu fikirkan. Dan membaca buku ni akan membuatkan kau mampu mempersoalkan sisi lain yang ada pada orang-orang baik disekitar kau. Buku ni sangat kejam. Ia sangat gila tapi cukup pasti ia mengghairahkan.
Macam mana aku nak gambarkan tentang buku ni ek? Kau selalu menonton drama Cerekarama di TV atau filem-filem Melayu di pawagam? Then buku ni totally tak akan menggambarkan 1 peratus pun tentang buku ni. Buku ni bergerak di luar norma yang normal. Ia tentang seorang ibu yang sangat benci dengan anaknya sendiri sehingga dia sanggup tatookan tangan anaknya since dari kecil lagi, tentang seorang pencinta yang sanggup upah orang bunuh anak si kekasih semata-mata mahu hidup berdua, tentang adik beradik kembar yang sanggup have a sex bersama semata-mata untuk duit, tentang lelaki yang sanggup bersenggama dengan mayat untuk membuktikan rasa cintanya dan etc. 
Still aku tak dapat nak gambarkan sedikitpun tentang cerita ni. Ia ditulis dalam Bahasa Inggeris yang cukup mudah, sekadar kurang 5 muka surat tapi penggunaan ayatnya sangat detail, kejam, gila, berahi etc dan ia menghasilkan impak gramatis.
Aku baca buku ni di tempat yang ramai khalayak lalu lalang. Setiap kali aku tamat satu cerpen then aku toleh kiri-kanan dan aku perhatikan mereka semua. Sebab watak dalam cerita ni could be anyone. Walaupun cerita dalam buku ni terlalu gila tapi ia boleh berlaku kepada sesiapa sahaja. Sebab semua orang ada kegilaan dalam diri tapi ia bergantung kepada sejauh mana kita nak jayakan kegilaan tu or just simpan kemas-kemas dalam hati je. Dan mereka-mereka dalam buku ni merealisasikan kegilaan mereka dengan gila sekali. 
Aku pun ada kegilaan yang aku boleh relate dengan cerita ni cuma aku tak nak share sebab nanti kau akan kata aku gila pulak. Btw buku ni sememangnya mesti dibaca dan dimilikki. Cuma nasihat aku pada orang yang berjiwa lemah, jangan terbawak-bawak sebab kau memang ada kebarangkalian untuk mencuba. Hmmm..

My First Book

I am happy to announce that my book, Doubt, a collection of my short stories  has been published recently. It is my first book. Thank you Merpati Jingga and Faisal Mustaffa for having tremendous faith in publishing my work !
Some of the stories that are in this blog are featured in Doubt. I am also attaching two reviews  from friends who have been reading my short stories  for some time now. 


* The first review is from  N. Shashi Kala, news editor fz.com a vibrant website that offers news and views across a wide spectrum of subjects. : 

“ I have  been a fan of Bissme's short stories ever since he sent me one  - albiet reluctantly - back in the late 90s. The themes - incest, infidelity, revenge (of the most twisted kind), murder - are all rooted in relationships gone wrong. Whether it is a girl who takes extreme measures to get her father to fall in love with her, or the tale of two brothers who become porn stars to make ends meet, Bissme excels in drawing out the essence of the characters and the twisting perceptions. There is no subject that is taboo in his eyes - we are all flawed creations of God and Bissme is keen to make us realise this through his stories. He takes us into  the dark recesses of the human soul and shows us the creatures we've become. It takes an insane mind to dwell here and that Bissme has chosen to build his home here speaks volumes. But his gift is in making these characters relatable and in some ways symphatetic despite the compact nature of his stories. 
I hope he eventually moves on to novellas and novels - his short fiction always leaves me wanting more.” 

* The second review is from Roslan Jomel the author for Namaku Epal Kuning  &  Selamat Datang Ke Malaywood


“Saya sebenarnya tertarik pada beberapa cerpen Bissme kerana saya dapat merasai kehalusan emosi. dia menulis cerita manusia-manusia biasa yang melalui kehidupan pada zaman moden. hero-hero untuk ceritanya hanyalah manusia tulen yang bergelut dengan teka-teki kehidupan itu sendiri. temanya biasa tetapi ditekan dengan penuh nilai humanis. sejujurnya, cerpen-cerpen Bissme sangat memikat kerana kesederhanaan penyampaiannya. lingkaran kehidupan domestik dan liku-liku perasaan pada setiap perwatakan, dilukis dengan telus dan unik. sangat mengejutkan kerana cerpen-cerpennya pendek, namun kesan yang diperolehi pembaca membawa jauh ke dalam naluri.
jika kita ingin mendekati gambaran permasalahan manusia urban, cerpen-cerpen Bissme menawarkan perspektif yang sungguh berbeza. bakat Bissme sangat besar ertinya untuk kesusasteraan Malaysia. keluasan kasih sayang, batasan perasaan dan apakah yang lebih bermakna pada kebahagiaan seandainya ia tidak memenuhi hati seseorang manusia? dengan begitu pintar dan teliti, Bissme berjaya menulis cerita-cerita yang sangat memukau kepada pembaca. tiada cerita yang lebih mengasyikkan berbanding tentang keanehan manusia itu sendiri. pendekatan sebegini mengingatkan saya kepada gaya penulisan Haruki Murakami dan Etgar Keret.” 

DOUBT

Doubt By Bissme S


I did not believe her. No one did. Except him. I remembered asking him: "How could you choose to believe her?  Don't you want to know the truth?"

Without any trace of emotion, he answered: "I do not want the truth. I am not interested in the truth. The truth is not important. I just want to be happy."

*****

I disliked all the men she had dated. I never stopped finding faults in them. No one was good enough for her. But he was different.

"Marry him,” I told her.

“I can see in his eyes that he is madly in love with you. He will keep you very happy. Trust me! A mother’s instinct is never wrong. The greatest happiness in life is to love and be loved."

Foolishly, she trusted every word I told her. Both of us learned the hard way that love is not enough to make us happy and mothers are not always right. 

*****

I was eager to be a grandmother.  He was eager to be a father. She was eager to be a mother. But God should not have been so eager to fulfill our dreams…. God should have known some dreams are not meant to come true…. God should have known some women are not born to be mothers.

My daughter hated every aspect of pregnancy. She hated being big. She hated the morning sickness. She hated her feet was always swollen. She hated having strange cravings. She was constantly irritated. She was constantly losing her temper. She was constantly in tears.

"I can't wait for the baby to be out of me," she screamed many times.   

When Mohsin was finally out of her womb, I thought her misery would end. But I was wrong. Her misery was just beginning. My daughter hated motherhood as much as she hated pregnancy.  

Mohsin was not an easy baby to look after. He was always crying. His wailing was driving her up the walls.

 "My son hates me,” she cried.  

“I wish I never had him.”

*****

Then, one day, out of the blue, Mohsin went missing. The police was called. My daughter told them that an ape had entered the apartment through the balcony, grabbed Mohsin in his arms and left.

“I was so scared,” she said.

“I froze. I didn’t know how to stop the beast.”   

Her story was outrageous. Her story was ridiculous. Her story made no sense. Our home was no where near a forest. It is impossible to believe that an ape would be roaming freely in a street that is congested with cars and buildings.

My instinct immediately told me that Mohsin was no longer alive. His body could be buried in some bushes. His body could be under a river.  His body could be anywhere.  

The only person who refused to doubt her was her husband. “The woman I love is not a heartless monster,” he said.     

*****

The judge felt the evidence against my daughter was circumstantial. The police made every attempt to find my grandson’s body. But they could not find Mohsin. Their failure had given my daughter her freedom.   

But the society was not kind to us. They were furious with the verdict. They desperately wanted a child killer to be punished. They desperately wanted justice for the poor helpless Mohsin. 

They treated us worst than a pariah. Almost every day, red paints to eggs were thrown in-front of our door. On many occasions, people spat on our faces.

Our neighbors stopped talking to us. Our relatives no longer visited us. Our friends ignored us. We were totally isolated. The hostility was too much for us to bear. 

We had no choice, but to move away from the neighborhood that we had stayed for more than 10 years. Ironically, the new house that my son-in- law had found for us was near a forest.

“Here, nobody will disturb us,” he said.

“Nobody will harass us.  Finally, we can have some peace. Finally, we can have some happiness.”

But happiness was not written in our fate. Tragedy strikes when my daughter was alone in the house. When we returned home, she was no longer alive. She was tortured. Her throat was cut. “A monster like her should not be allowed to breath” was written in our wall, in a red paint.    

The police was called. But they showed no interest in catching my daughter’s murderer. They felt the murderer was a hero, for getting rid of a child killer.

“May be an ape from the forest had entered your home and killed her,” said one of the policemen, sarcastically.

Her murderer was never found.

*****

Her death took a toll on him. My son-in-law was depressed. He could not believe the God had been cruel to him…. first taking away the child he loves, then the woman he loves. 

Then, one morning, he went missing. He left a rambling note that he wanted some time alone to deal with his tragedy.

Three months later, he returned home, with a long beard, happiness shinning all over his face and a baby boy in his arms.   

“When I was in the forest, a strange thing happened,” he said.

“The ape who took my baby approached me. The ape had Mohsin in his arms. He put Mohsin into my arms and simply disappeared into the bushes. 

“I cried. I could not believe Mohsin is alive. I could not believe Mohsin is in my arms again. The moment I got Mohsin, I rushed home.”     

The story he told me was more outrageous than the story that my daughter had told. Deep in my heart, I knew, the baby in his arms was not Mohsin. He had made someone's son as his own. He must have abducted the poor child. Some parents out there are in agony, worried sick about their missing son. He desperately wanted some happiness and the child in his arms played the part, perfectly.

So many questions were dancing in my mind. But I asked him, nothing. I didn't want the truth. The truth is not important.  I am not interested in the truth. I just want to be happy. 

I simply put on my apron, and said: "I will make us, a delicious dinner.  We have something to celebrate. My grandson has returned home."

The End