Room 2005

The rain audible twenty storeys high at the KL International one measure of tropical downpour. Earlier the first morning of the return the thin call of the azan had reached the heights not long after 6, without three years later the accompaniment of the chortling cock from the makan place down beside the Pakistani mosque. The old local champion of the dawn here in Chow Kit now no more?... An hour before on the return from Bukit Bintang—Starry Hill—smallest drops had been falling and once back in the room veils of rain hung over the hills beyond.

On the Monorel another kind of aural surprise had arrived too: in place of the Windsor inflected MRT announcer heard down in blessed Lion City, here in Kuala Lumpur clear as day flat even notes from the great Southern land, the region of Queensland at a guess. Yes indeed, like a wonderful trumpet fanfare.

               Going out to supper one of the wall-clocks along the way showed seven. Mehran again, a better firmness over the size of the order needed. Before leaving some rough orientation was prompted by the rose flush outside the window over on the left. West; East; the ring of dusky hills stood due North. Here the kiblah on the ceiling of Room 2005 was oddly placed in the extreme front corner against the curtain as if an embarrassment. Accurate however, no mistake: the Holy Lands lay Nor-West there just as required. In the older hotels in Geylang Serai the arrow was much larger and always positioned more centrally.