We were having dinner at a roadside western food stall when one of the waiters decided to put up a standard-sized Jalur Gemilang on the stall. So I asked my dinner companion;

“Does 31 August mean anything to you, anymore?”

“What, besides a day to raise flags? What difference is there during other days? It’s not like we’re merdeka only during August.

Do we get ourselves colonized again when September starts, and then the colonists take a month’s vacation during August so we can raise our flag for a while before taking it back down until next August?”

“I take that as a no, then.”

“You’re too young to even know the difference between Merdeka and not Merdeka.”

“You don’t have to remind me that. But at least now we ARE Merdeka, if being politically correct matters all that much. Being technically independent couldn’t really be a bad thing could it?”

Just then, a pack of teenage kids, in baggy jeans, hoodies, complete with the trendy gear and smoke escaping their lips and nostrils, passed us by.

“Being technically Merdeka is pointless if we’re not conceptually Merdeka. If you saw what I saw just now, come on. Define Merdeka for me, and I’ll show you what a true Merdeka looks like.”

Conversations with my 60-year old Dad, who lived through the terror of 13th May, are seldom this enlightening.