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Fishing

I once stood knee deep in a vast and winding body of water that was Kelantan River. In my hands, a no-frill fishing rod that my father bought for me. I would switch back and forth between enjoying the scenery and monitoring a nylon line for a pull. I was not more than a fisherman than I was a boy who simply wanted a new adventure. I so happened to come into contact with a classmate's elder brother who took me once to a swamp where he fished for fighting fish. From then on, I learnt to skewer my first poor bloody worm into a metal hook and swung a sinker as far as I could. I was grateful that I didn't lose my eyesight in the process as the sinker could have pivoted back into my face. I discovered from my Malay friend that prawns were actually smart, in that they knew to bring the bait and tied it up around rocks and woods so that when I retrieved the line, it would get stuck and I would have to cut it loose. It sure was antithetical to the Malay idiom “Otak Udang”. In the brief stint that I had as a hobby fisherman, I once successfully caught a puny fish that I brought home and persuaded my mom to cook. After telling me that this fish was no good to eat, she proceeded to fry it and let me have a bite. It tasted bland and I was done. They said what you did during your childhood determined your purpose in life. Well, I had very fond memory of doing this fishing thing and the change of scenery it brought me—though I can't say much of its purposefulness, except that I'm writing this for you reader to read. Perhaps in the vast scheme of things, this was its only purpose. These days, I switched between looking at this computer screen or a phone screen or a TV screen. My occassional enjoyment ironically comes from - through YouTube or Netflix - watching others enjoying nature and scenery and immersing in experiences and trials of life.

What happened?