Martini Bianco

I was rummaging through the contents of the kitchen drawer, looking for a long forgotten key to a rusty padlock when I saw this little guy

I had to stop and for the first time in many many years, I had no idea where I'd be, come Saturday nite.

If you had never heard of Bagan, you probably wouldnt have looked twice if you saw the mansion from Jalan Bagan Jermal as you drove past. Towards to end, the place looked almost..abandoned. And if you happened to be inside during the daytime, you probably noticed that the furnitures had seen better days, and that the posters and pictures on the walls were already fading in their frames. A yatch, a winged cherub, italian vermouth, and an overtly romantisized guerilla fighter. Collectively but subtly singing la dolce vita with a lazy flair to unsuspecting guests.

At night though, Saturdays especially, in the final few months of operation, Bagan was the liveliest place. Bursting with chitter chatter, postpubescent testosterone, half-ingested cigarette smoke, and cocktails covering the spectrum of the rainbow. Livelier..but somehow somewhat departed from the Bagan I had initially became fond of.

All these years, it had been that special place for me. No matter what the occasion was.

Birthdays, gossip sessions, entertaining out-of-town guests, omforting friends in need of a shoulder to cry on, bachelor's parties, hen's nite(yes, coming-out talks, or a relaxing nite just listening to Rozz belting out soulful music and mash-ups that still gave me goosebumps regardless of how many times I had heard them.

I'm gonna miss Rozz, and listening to him, and the sight of him under the spotlight, and the glittering backdrop, and that brief moment of stillness (subtle, but its there, or maybe its just in my head) when he would take in the last breath before the first note. And the whole 'Bagan family'...people who work there, regular patrons, and the occasional, unassuming yet entertainingly quirky characters who dropped by.

I have made friends in Bagan who until this day, are my best buddies. Its weird that almost everyone I know and hang out with these days, I first met in Bagan.

When I was in Tibet, busying myself leaving footprints all over Dalai Lama's palace, I got hot-right-off-the-oven news (thanks to Whatsapps!) of 2 friends who fell in love and decided to announce to the group their affection for each other right there in Bagan. And when I was quietly maneuvering my kayak down Lake Austin in Texas on that beautiful Saturday morning I knew where my friends were at back home in Penang...at that very moment...Bagan.

The closure of Bagan, in many respects, is not merely the end of a business establishment..but the conclusion of another chapter of my life. One that i will surely cherish with happy memories for many years to come.

It was drizzling when I left Bagan for the last time. I took my time walking down the beautifully tiled stairs...and the music quietened as the glass door swung close behind us. My heart sank but I wasn't exactly inconsolable haha. I looked back from the driveway...the air was damp and fresh, and the jaded mansion seemed like it could use some.

I took one final look at the building...smiled,...and tipped my imaginary cap to the past, and to the legacy of friendship and brotherhood that the place had introduced me to.

and then we walked on..into the brand new October night, leaving September, and heaps of fond memories behind.