Normally, I would never dare put myself in the same sentence as Martin Luther King Jr.

But I’m guessing that this great man will forgive me, today being Malaysia Day.

Because I too have a dream. Or more accurately, had one.

Malaysia Day - The Jalur Gemilang blowin' in the wind Photo by E.T. on Flickr

It involved many smiles, many colours, street celebrations, music, joyful dancing – by the people, for the people in honour of this insanely wonderful country.

Instead I login in to Facebook and Twitter only to see grumbling, ranting and bitchiness. The hot topic? Why we did not as much attention to Merdeka Day this year as we are doing with Malaysia Day.

“Is Independence no longer important?”

“How can govt ignore Merdeka? Without Merdeka we still answer 2 white man.”

“Govt only want 2 win election.”

“Tunku’s legacy is lost.”

Firstly, you illiterate twits, it was the second day of Raya. A national holiday. A Malaysian holiday. A day when houses open their doors to diversity. Would such public affection and display been possible before Merdeka?

Secondly, you crosspatches without a cause, Tunku’s legacy is all but lost. One way or another, we’ve all heard those magical cries of Merdeka, the prince’s arm lifted high into the air in triumph. We’ve heard stories from those who witnessed history, gaping and clapping. (A colleague told us her great-grandmother was there enthusiastically shouting “Mentega!”).

Somehow, and we probably don’t know from where, we also see little children in this picture, breathless with excitement.

Could it be then, that Merdeka has become a celebration that sits deep, quiet and contemplative within the soul, rather than in fanfare?

If so, my guess is that the Tunku would have been very proud to have helped create a national binding emotion, one that does not fade with generations.

Without Merdeka, would our brothers and sisters in Sabah and Sarawak have been able to point out Semenanjung’s insensitivity to their existence?

I was overjoyed when this happened. I was also ashamed for not having considered it earlier, but what I learnt overshadowed that feeling.

Malaysia Day. It filled me with fire and gave me arms long enough to bear hug friends I had neglected all these years.

Today, though, all I feel is disappointment. As I said in the beginning, I am no Dr King. My dream of a new meaning has all but died. All I can do is hope that the many, many people still exultantly wearing the mantle of Malaysia Day will pass on as powerful a message as the Tunku. And that little children will today sit on Daddy’s shoulders, with eyes like saucers and hearts filled with wonder.

Tunku Abdul Rahman crying the iconic "Merdeka!"

Dr Martin Luther King Jr "I have a dream..."

Twitter and literature — should we file this combo under ‘never-the-twain-shall-meet’? After all, how could War and Peace possibly—

Aiyoh, turns out they’ve already met-lah, and given birth to twitterature (or twiction). Notable examples here.

Micro-serialization can entail either: (1) taking pre-existing novels and breaking them down into tweets, or (2) creating fresh fiction for Twitter. (Rick Moody of The Ice Storm fame recently published his short story via 153 tweets over 3 days.)

In twitterature, the interplay of three factors (number, frequency and quality of tweets) can cause a tech-savvy author to salivate, and a tech-averse one to palpitate (not in a good way). And yet these factors are familiar to anyone who’s tried to tell a story, regardless of medium – it’s about pacing; how to sustain; what to tell now and what to save for later; what to keep and what to edit (get used to 140 characters).

Other Twitter-enabled projects have gone beyond serialization. One project involved James Joyce’s Ulysses. The novel chronicles events of a single day, June 16, 1904. The Twitter project had over fifty characters from the book tweeting about what they were doing on that day, as per the novel.

So is twitterature here to stay? Does it fundamentally change the way fiction is written and read? For now, it’s enough to make you reconsider the nature of fiction, and maybe even accept that the next War and Peace will come to us one tweet at a time.

“Well, Prince, Genoa and Lucca are now no more than private estates of the Bonaparte family.” — First line of Tolstoy’s epic novel (93 characters, with spaces).