No big deal, it's only murder

I read in the newspapers today that a man was murdered – slashed to death – not 10 streets away from my house!

Being an ardent follower of crime and detective stories (and once harbouring the ambition of becoming the first woman to head the CID division of the Royal Malaysian Police at Bukit Aman), I just had to check out the crime scene.

And I did. It was a normal house. If not for the yellow line reading “Garisan Polis” I would never have guessed that a murder had taken place at that house just yesterday.

There was no one around. No neighbours hanging around to offer some stories about the victim or the perpetrators, no forensic personnel gathering evidence, no policemen interviewing witnesses, no clues!

And then there was also no eerie cold breeze blowing to somehow signify that the murdered man’s soul was still wandering restlessly around seeking revenge or justice or peace. No birds singing. No trees rustling in the wind. No rain. No drama.

Just another normal day in a sleepy town somewhere in the East Coast. Except that a man was murdered. And then life returned to normal.

I don’t know which is more tragic – a man being murdered in a small town, or the sense of normalcy of it all.