“Miss, mau beli pen, ka?” asked a man while I was enjoying my tuna croissant at a café just the other day.

“No, thank you,” I answered.

“Beg pun ada, tali pinggang, pouch… semua kulit punya barang,” he said, starting to place the items on the table.

“Sudah ada semua barang. Thank you,” I said, trying to get rid of him so I could enjoy my solitude.

“Murah, miss. RM35 saja. Tahan lama juga. Miss cubalah pegang,” he said, handing me a gorgeous version of an imitation leather purse.

I took the purse and turned to get a better look at him. The poor guy was sweating profusely and kept pulling at his wet shirt to stop it from sticking to his body. Despite his greasy hair with its 60’s style side parting and his tanned complexion, he very much reminded me of Raj Kapoor, the Bollywood hero of yesteryear.

“Duduklah. Ada fan dekat sini,” I invited him. Not always do I get the opportunity to dine with ‘Raj Kapoor’.

It didn’t take him long to consider my invitation. As he took big gulps from his water bottle, seated opposite me, I decided to satisfy my curiosity.

From our conversation, I found out that Basheer was from Pakistan and has been living in Kuala Lumpur for the past four years. He came with a tourist visa in 2011 and stayed with friends who were working several jobs – selling carpets, managing small street eateries, being handymen and doing plumbing. They took him sightseeing and got him acquainted with the city, its people and local language.

When Basheer’s visa expired a few months later, he was brought to Putrajaya by his friends. There, they met an official who provided him with a work permit for RM300. According to him, all his friends acquired their permit the same way and there were a few more from his village who would join them in Kuala Lumpur soon.

I tried getting more information about the work permit – who did he actually meet at Putrajaya– but he was tight-lipped about it.

“Saya tak boleh cakap banyak. Tapi ada orang mau tolong…” he said reluctantly.

“You ada passport?” I tried digging.

He chuckled, “Mestilah ada. Kalau tak ada passport macam mana mau datang sini…”

Feeling silly, I rephrased my question: “Apa document you kena bagi untuk dapat permit?”

“Foto. Passport. Sudah cukup. Senang saja,” my Raj Kapoor smiled.

“Sudah empat tahun you di sini, polis tak pernah check ka you punya permit? Tak pernah kena tangkap?” I was intrigued.

“Kenapa mau tangkap saya? Saya ada permit. Betul-betul punya permit bukan tipu punya. Saya tiap-tiap hari juga ada keluar, polis pun sudah pernah check,” Basheer replied, adamant that his RM300 work permit was legal.

Looking at Basheer, I wondered how many like him were flooding our country to join the two million already here through legal channels. And let’s not forget the 1.5 million Bangladeshis who will be coming. Soon, they will comprise more than 10 per cent of our population, making them our second largest minority.

The question is, with more than 3.5 million foreign workers in our country, how efficiently can our authorities carry out enforcement operations? On second thought, having seen too many people like Basheer who do their own business around the city, the right question to ask would be – is there any enforcement at all?

“Kakak beli lah…” Basheer tried persuading me.

I smiled realising that I had just been promoted from a ‘Miss’ to ‘Kakak’.

I shook my head, “Tak apalah. Lain kali saja. Thank you.”

As much as I admire their survival skills and their commitment to hard work, I do not think it is right to encourage these illegal foreigners to continuously find their way here without using the proper channels.

As Basheer walked away with his backpack and a few items held in his hand, I took a last glance at my Raj Kapoor and sighed.