Tangled Dreams

CHAPTER 3: AT DESTINATION'S CROSSROADS (Part 4) | Kareena Chopra

I was stunned by Faez's last question. I felt he was able to look into my store of secrets. How could it be possible others knew about the job offer from Oxford? Even I only got to know about it the night before coming here. This journalist was truly as slick as people said. The information he managed to obtain was so precise that he had left me flabbergasted. To be honest, during the entire journey to London yesterday my mind was in a quandary over the offer. To be a member of the panel of educationists who contributed to the University of Oxford did not really appeal to me. It may truly be a golden opportunity coveted by many, but not me. Teaching was not something I could do. Facing a huge audience of students in the lecture theatre would be terribly unnerving for me, let alone when all eyes would be focused solely on me. Impossible! I felt queasy just thinking about it.

Only one aspect of the job offer attracted my attention: to be able to make use of all the available resources at Oxford for my next research topic – autism. Why autism? I felt that the traits of autistic individuals were fascinating, because I was also peculiar in a certain way like them. They seemed to live in their own world. They enjoyed being alone. Other people did not understand them; sometimes, their own families were unable to communicate with them. Those who were autistic were like strangers in this world. Like me. Could it be that I was autistic?

The University of Oxford had agreed to support my research through a fund that would accommodate all necessary costs – equipment, laboratory facilities, access to library resources and others. In effect, full support for the research in my field of specialisation.

I should feel ecstatic. Who would not be happy when there were people willing to support your research? Any researcher would surely grab a golden opportunity to surge forward in their chosen field. However, not me. The problem now was that I was not certain which path I should take. Deep down inside, I wanted to return to Malaysia and work as a psychologist specialising in autism. I wanted to dedicate my life to the nation, as Tunku Abdul Rahman had done when he sacrificed everything in the interest of developing the nation. But was I capable enough?

Demand for people like me was rising in Malaysia. Increasingly more children were afflicted with autism in Malaysia. I should return home to help them while continuing with my research. Yet, I doubted if the research I wished to do would be successful in Malaysia. Who would assume responsibility for the costs incurred? Where could I get exclusive research materials like those offered by Oxford?

I was startled when my mobile phone suddenly rang. The other bus passengers turned to look in my direction. The woman sitting beside me glared at me because her nap had been interrupted. I signalled my apologies to my fellow passengers and quickly reached for the phone in my bag. One glance at the screen and I knew who the caller was.

"Hi, Mum," I greeted her as I turned my body towards the window. I purposely lowered my voice to avoid disturbing the other passengers.

"Is the interview over?" She seemed really excited over the interview. After all, the apple of her eye would be splashed across Malaysian newspapers as a success. From this perspective, I realised how important all this was to my mother. I could almost visualize her brandishing the news article in front of her friends and family as she blabbed away. My mother was like that – always flaunting and showing off!

"I'm on my way back to Oxford. I'll call you as soon as I'm there, Mum. Okay?" I whispered gently.

"Surely you can chat with me while on the bus? So what's your decision? You are going to take up the Oxford job offer, right?" she suddenly asked. I was dumbfounded. How did she know about that?

The anger in me suddenly started to boil over. I ended the call with the excuse that the battery was running out. I could not speak to her now. Otherwise, I would be terribly tetchy. My mother was a force to be reckoned with. This was not the first time she had news about me before I had even told her. When I joined the reading club, she knew. When I sprained my ankle trying to avoid colliding with a bicycle, she knew too. Even if I had a stomach ache, she would know. I was increasingly certain that my mother had spies in Oxford shadowing me.

It seemed Faez Ibrahim was not as smart as I had thought after all. It must have been Mum who told him about the Oxford job offer. If not her, then who else? In this world, no one else knew about this matter except me. And Mother. And Mother's spies. Who else?

Suddenly, the phone in my hands beeped twice. A text message from Mother.

You told Faez that you took up the offer, right? – Mum.

I had not decided yet, but my mother was already busy making a fuss over it. I was incensed! I switched off the phone. She had better leave me alone at this crossroad of my life. Despite everything, all this was about me, my life, my path to take. I would be the one to decide.