Hiro Budiwata

Based on a true story.

Hiro Budiwata was cringing in pain. He could not take it anymore. He needed the painkiller so badly… but what could he do?

It was 3 months ago when he had a hero’s farewell back in Medan.

“Bapak pergi Malaysia ye… mampu beli rumah nanti…” his friends told him with ambitious expectations. His family waved at him, hoping for a safe return and good fortune in Malaysia.

And now, he stares at the stalled Damansara City construction project – the cranes were being dismantled and the trucks made their way out. Hiro’s dreams were crushed. His life was as motionless as the graphs at the stock market.

Hiro and his friends wandered around KL – there were people in suits everywhere, walking proudly or driving around in their Beemers. He was determined to get the income he promised and go back to Medan and live happily ever after.

Hiro was pressing his forehead. He could not bear it anymore. Rusli had only one tablet left – the tablet that could free them from their depression. They looked at each other – faces pale and with fury.

The dimly lit hut near the Kampung Kayu Ara flats became their abode. Hiro, Rusli and Shaari met there everyday to share their earnings from car wash, cleaning and other odd jobs. It wasn’t their dream – it wasn’t as luxurious as the construction work job, but for now, they had to do it. They had people to feed in Medan.

Hiro shouted in agony. Shaari and Rusli were equally tormented but Hiro had become too dependent on the tablet. Day by day their earnings dwindled. Hiro eyed the brightly lit Damansara Utama housing area. His eyes were scarlet red.

“Kalo kalangan atas tak bagi, kita bolos sendiri!” Hiro declared, profoundly.

It was 30 days into joblessness. The three of them had found a way to cure their depression – the magic pill. All of them fell for it, especially Hiro. And their meagre income was now going for the pills.

Hiro dashed out and grabbed the nearby parang and the rest followed him. They took hold of the 3 bikes nearby and darted out into the territory of the “kalangan atas”

They swerved into the isolated Jalan SS21/18 as they saw a lady coming out of her Benz, alone. Hiro dashed near her car. She screamed and tried to close the door. Hiro put his parang into the opening of the door and forced it open. He kicked her in the face and forced her out of the car. Rusli and Shaari confiscated everything from the car, as the lady kneeled, crying helplessly.

Across the road, her Indian neighbour was fumbling with the keys to come out and see what was wrong. It wasn’t so clear, but he could only hear the screams. When he came out, they dashed across the road.

Hiro and gang quickly dashed across – not to escape, but to another house just across – and then another. Before the neighbours could come out – three houses were attacked and robbed by three foreigners who were ‘deprived by society.’

The neighbours were out - all of them in a state of shock, exchanging stories and gossips. There were accusations of bad lighting, useless security operators and past events. The neighbours gathered around the victims as the patrol car arrived, predictably late.

Hiro, Rusli and Shaari opened a fresh, new pack of tablets. There were radiant smiles on their face – a sense of achievement.