Death.

Silence.

Its a nice concept. One that sometimes eludes me.

This year, all I have been hearing is noise. Mainly screaming, from inside and out. Mainly due to things I couldn¹t foresee. Couldn't control.

Tonight. Something happened. Trivial. Possibly unworthy of attention under other circumstances.

But despite friends trying valiantly to help me get into the weekend mode, the silence I seek now is still elusive.

Office politics have risen again. Something I ran away from so many times before. The true murderer of any creative person's soul. Something bureaucrats usually fail to understand.

My response to tonight was less than stellar. For the cut has gone deeper that it really deserves. In a situation that could be at best seen as the product of small mindedness, my reaction was the product of nearly three years of consistent battering.

The source of these politics come from one place that has, since I stepped into my current position, sought to make my professional life one of forcedhumility and shame.

One of their members made it clear that I am not the religious ideal that he felt would justify any acknowledgement of my existence as a spiritual being. I am not the perfect virtuous learned Muslim that he and his mates felt they were. So right up front, he made sure I understood I am very low on the hierarchy of enlightenment. That I was not a good Muslim.

He judged me. And he used that to shame me every time I had to approach him on work matters. It made me feel disgusted that some Muslims could be so self righteous and so conceited. In an American organization, I would have
thought that is simply not kosher.

Other occasions, my so called lifestyle came under fire. A lifestyle they could only assess based on what they thought they knew, as opposed to what is reality. Their opinions were summarized by one single Malay expression, which they didn't bank of me hearing, that was used by one of their mates.

Translated, the word was: Dirty.

Early this year, my family suffered a personal tragedy. We took steps to make sure only those who needed to know would know. The pain and the suffering needn't be extended or exploited.

Through ways that we couldn't foresee, this same group of people who has made it their business to know everything that has happened to everyone, found out.

And word spread to others.

Something I so desperately wanted to keep private got leaked and used as gossip.

I never tried to keep my life a secret before. But this was a family affair. And that wasn¹t even respected.

When I got back to the office, they wanted details. Even though I said I didn't want to talk about it. The unit head kept pushing. Regardless of how cracked I looked.

The screams in my head got louder. For even though the things these people were doing were offensive on a personal level, their impact obviously collided with the professional.

To this day they have also made it their job to check on the performance of others. In spite of the fact that if this was ANY other company, their primary duty would be to support the production teams without question, a value I heard was upheld when one of the American bosses was still around. Now, things have changed. And they have made people like me suffer for their change in work environment.

Where do you draw the line. Between work and play. Between acceptance and tolerance. When do you say, enough is enough.

A friend said to rise above it all. I tried. But after nearly three years of hearing their whining and being the brunt of their jokes, I realize why my head is filled with those screams.

I have been discriminated. And abused. And I have had my privacy invaded.

I am not being over dramatic. I am troubled, and I am hurt. And I know what has happened tonight will not yield any good for they will personify the problem with one name: mine. The classic weapon of office politics.

Can I do anything about it. No. For even though you can endeavor to assert change in policies and procedures, it would take a lot more to change a person's heart.

From where I stand now, this constant screaming will not go away. For I have yet to find a way to understand how people can be so cruel, and so methodological in they way the trap others for the sake of power.

But there is always a choice.

Always.

And perhaps the screams can go away. And silence will return.