I.

"It's bloody 3 o clock in the morning Keith! How the hell do you propose we get up that hill?!" we argued.

"But I wanna see the casino!" Keith whined, stamping his feet.

Keith noticed the frustrated look that Daniella wore; standing with her arms folded in the doorway A slow, playful smile crept across his big red face. Clearly, Daniella was not in the mood.

Laura and I sat quietly at the table, cluttered with leftover cake, chips, tin cans, watermelon, the cold remnants of a debauched birthday dinner.

Most of the party had long since passed out, spread across the apartment in haphazard positions. And now, Laura, Daniella, Keith and I sat in a darkened living room, in hotel room, halfway up the hill to Genting Highland. Slowly, we realised that yes, it was indeed 3 o'clock in the bloody morning, yes, Keith was indeed drunk off his skull and (no two ways about it)now, and we were definitely going to the Casino.

Keith and Daniella squared off in silence and I, sensing a situation brewing quipped.

"I wanna see the casino too".

As if to settle a matter that had already been settled.

Silence.

Quickly I wondered if I hadn't just added fire to the situation.

"You see!"

Keith straightened up.

"You see! Rauf wants to go to the casino too!"

And he leapt to his feet triumphantly, only to collapse again upon the tiles of the floor.

Keith picked his walking stick up and glanced around for approval, like he'd made a life changing discovery.

"But I don't gamble," I said.

"Oh?"

"Yup."

I coughed, lighting up another clove cigarette.

"I used to have a slot machine problem," I explained.

"Oh."

It seemed as if he was pondering for awhile but he soon left it at that.

"I've never been inside a real casino before" I continued, taking a long drag of my cigarette. "I just wanna see what it's like, that's all."

"He just wants to see what it's like!" Keith declared, satisfied.

"The cab's here." Laura switched the phone off and scraped her chair away from the table. "I'm going to sleep."

"Hah! The cab's here!" Keith repeated, and turned to Daniella who stood still, arms crossed, in the doorway. He wobbled to his feet and paused momentarily, trying to find his bearings, a hand firmly clutching the walking stick. Then suddenly, he reached out and pulled Daniella and like a little dog, rubbed his nose in her hair.

"I hate you Keith." She exhaled slowly, a sad smile creeping across her face

II.

"What do you mean he's not ALLOWED IN?!"

"Malay Muslim Malay Muslim..." The security guard repeated the sentence over and over again, like a mantra.

"Yes I know I'm Malay Muslim" I hesitated, "... but"

Another beefy security guard had joined us now, a firm hand poised above the walkie-talkie that he wore at his hip.

"I'm not going to gamble" I explained feebly, wondering why I actually felt guilty telling these men my personal intentions.

"Sir!" The beefy guard barked.

And, pointing at a framed plaque that loomed just above our collective heads, just above the Fort Knox style military contraption that they called an entrance to a casino, he again intoned.

"Sir! Can you read?! 'By order of the Sultanthe King!'" And this last word he intoned with much flourish and drama.

"Whoa!" Keith gasped, and actually shut up.

And I gaped at them all in amazement.

"Listen ok? Listen for just one second ok? My friend here came all the way from England, we paid 30 bleeding ringgit to get up this bloody hill and we"

My voice trailed off as I noticed the tight-lipped expressions that they both wore.

"I'm not going to gamble" I offered.

Silence.

"Gambling sucks big time man gambling's the pits," I rambled nonsensically, again hearing my voice crack.

The beefy security guard hadn't moved a muscle but stood pointing, all throughout my attempts, at the Sultan's declaration looming above us like a tomb.

"Here," I dug into the back pocket of my jeans and fished out my wallet. My last ditch attempt at reason.

"Here, you can keep all my money" I offered, "I'm not going to gamble".

"Sir! Do you want me to start raising my voice?!" the beefy guard said. And he stood, filled with righteous indignation before me, the sinner. Slowly, I realised that if I didn't back down now, he would soon hand me my chastisement. Had it come to this then?

"What? Raise your voice? What? Why?"

And I stood, ready for a fight, ready for whatever fight God or man willed me. Bring me to your leader! Bring me to your King! I was ready to slug it out, my blood pumped, and I felt Keith's eyes, and their eyes, all fixed upon me.

And suddenly, when our situation's ticking fuse had finally reached its end, a small, quiet voice of reason piped up beside me.

"Let's just go." Daniella said, a sad smile of resignation pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Lets just go." Keith repeated after her.

III.

"Y'know man, in all my adventures across this God forsaken Earth, this is the only place I've ever been to where I've seen racial discrimination practiced against a member of the majority race! In front of my own eyes! Hahahaha, isn't that some funny shit." Keith laughed.

"Hilarious". I flicked my cigarette into the deserted night and into the swirling mist and lights outside the hotel that we had paid thirty bleeding ringgit to get t

Keith's foot slipped and buckled under him as he came over to sit beside me on the pavement. And he landed on his knees in the middle of the empty street instead, quickly picking himself up on his walking stick again, he raised his hand.

"I'm okay no need to be alarmed"

Daniella stood across the street, swigging hard from a bottle of vodka coke and talking on her mobile. Trying to get a cab that would take us back down the hill instead, into some darkened living room again. With bodies sprawled across the floor.

I directed my thoughts to my forefathers. What exactly did you guys get me into when I was born? I asked. What?

Malay Muslim?

My thoughts drifted back to the Sultan's declaration that was still there, still looming above the barrier to that walled inside.

Why did the Sultan's declaration state that ONLY local muslims were prohibited from setting foot inside their casino? Why?

Was a rich Saudi oil baron Muslim?

Or were Malay Muslims not to be trusted? Had I misread the Qur'an?

Had I missed a verse that explained: Malay Muslims are not true recipients of 'Will' that is the prize of the trial and that has been gifted the Children of Adam.

Had I misunderstood a word that explained to me that goodness cane from within?

Had I?

Or was I stoned out of my mind?

As I stared blankly out across the street, noting that Daniella was still bargaining with the taxi driver, I felt a bitter tide of humiliation wash over me.

Never had I been so embarrassed by my own country, by my own people and by this guy, this guy I didn't even knowthis Sultan. I'd never met him before, couldn't even recall what he looked like, but his existence governed mine absolutely.

I vaguely knew that he had a family and that they appeared in many framed pictures in many places around the city, always in the same yellow headdresses.

Yellow, a remnant of the Hindu royals before them.

"I'm so sorry Keith." I exhaled sullenly into the night.

"Don't be! Don't be!" He slapped my arm.

"You stuck to it man! You stuck to who you are and what you are. And that's admirable! Seriously! I think it's really admirable that you stuck to the truth, even when I heard them ask you again and again, ARE you Muslim? ARE you Muslim? I heard you man! And God heard you! Me? I got no pride! I'll lie, yeah, I'll lie, what? Christian? Muslim? Hindu? Yeah yeah, bring it on, just show me where all the free food is man! Yeah I love GOD! Don't you!?"

We sat and smoked in silence, the mist rolling in.

Suddenly, Daniella called out from across the street, waving. "The cab's here!" Keith put his arm around my shoulder. "The cab's here."

"Keith? Is the British Monarchy as shitty as ours is?" I asked.

"God!" He huffed.

"Shitty like you wouldn't believe"

And we got into the cab, and left for home.

RAUF FADZILLA is a freelance writer. You may email him at rauf.fadzilla@gmail.com .