When I'm smoking, the people who talk to me are the weirdos.

By Ben Wada, July 4, 2024

Last weekend, I was smoking somewhere in Bukit Bintang when an old man dressed as a Buddhist monk approached me.

He was probably in his 60s and bald, but it didn't look like he'd shaved his head, it just seemed natural.

He was wearing a yellow robe-like garment, but when I looked at his feet, I saw that he was wearing ASICS running shoes.

He looked like an ordinary Chinese old man.

The old man dressed as a monk pushed a gold, oval-shaped charm-like thing (with a picture of Buddha in the middle) into my hand and said, "This is your lucky piece. Take it."

He then tried to put a rosary on my wrist.

I could tell he was trying to sell me these things.

I handed him the charm-like thing and said, "I'm a Buddhist, and I have what I need."

Old man: "This is different."

Me: "No, I don't need it."

The old man gave up and went to talk to someone else.

Then I remembered.

A few months ago, when I was smoking a cigarette at the corner of LaLaport, a strange man spoke to me.

He looked dark-skinned, but didn't look Malaysian.

He seemed to be from North Africa.

He was shorter than me, but muscular.

His English accent was different from that of the people around here, so it was easy to understand.

He said, "I have holy powers. I'll take a look at you."

He asked me about five random questions, such as what month (number) is your birthday? What's your favorite flower?

While I was answering, he was doing something in his hand.

When I answered randomly, he said, "All your answers were predicted," and showed me a small piece of paper with writing on it.

(You were just taking notes, weren't you?)

He then said, "I'm running a charity that helps children. Can you donate even a small amount?"

I live a cashless lifestyle, so even if I wanted to, I couldn't donate cash.

Me: "Sorry, I don't have any money."

The man looked dissatisfied for a moment, then left.

When I'm smoking, the only people who talk to me, other than to ask for my lighter, are the weirdos.