This is a question of who I want to be.

(but I can’t tell the six people advising me that)


I want to be something more, and for once, the people I idolize are asking for me.
They sent three people, and the other side sent me a line written in gold for a CV.


This is about who I want to be, but for the rest of the world it’s sheer stupidity.

The boy from the slums told us to just do what we want, and we’ll get to the top, like he did in his penthouse in London.

Flip a coin.

(Are you scared of which side will face up?)


Maybe I’ll come to regret not having a golden line on the CV, one that’ll bring me a job.
But is it my place to decide as a 17yr old what is more important – loving myself or my future?
What audacity can one have at 17 to make a choice like that.
What insolence can I have to choose the thing I love?


The coin falls. It falls on the same stone slabs as it did two years ago.
Last time, it set my sights here, to these halls where I must make the decision.

I have a golden line on my CV, but I’m no different.
I am still not the person I came here to be, but what I came here to do is set in stone.
I chose returns over happiness.
I’m the person I came here to be, but I regret not being the person I want to be.
But I can hate myself and blame it on something bigger, something that’s not me – something that’ll give me 3 lakhs a month, but I will regret.
Maybe the regret will be worth it.


Maybe insolence is when I choose to do what I love on my father’s money.

I will hate myself anyway.







The coin shows me a heart.



Walking through Klang is like living in a Gorillaz music video. The sun shines through a still, cloudy film of grey haze, buildings, shops and cars are a tetris of falling pastel plaster and metal. The ruins of old industry and suburban streets is reminiscent of the seventies, although that very landscape of Chinese and Tamil eateries today is nostalgic of its absence at that very time.
Walking from the maze of shops, hotels and flats surrounding the golden mosque on one side of the Klang river to the railway station on the other is twenty minutes of surveying the lives in the belly of the country which keeps the urban pillars of Malaysia alive.
The rebellious angst of a hidden people is seen on the river walls, decorated lavishly yet meticulously with graffiti. The very  middle-class, earthly vibe of rusting and new cars alike parked in monotonous long rows along the base of four-storey closely packed matchbox houses is strikingly different to the traveller’s eye, conditioned to the modern aesthetic of Kuala Lumpur.
What I will remember of the place is briskly crossing the bridge over the moss and filth veiled shallow streams of the river, in which the reflection of the sun setting over the horizon of emerald and umber trees between the two mosques shimmers in harmony with the maghrib of the evening.

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Prints – https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/srobonagd/klang/

Playlist for Klang
Kano- This is England
Gorillaz- Revolving Doors
Gorillaz –Feel Good Inc.
Jacob Banks – Worthy
Kwabs- Perfect Ruin
Tigran Hamasyan – Lilac
Ibrahim Maalouf- Beirut