Merrily Down The Stream

More excuses

2008-07-02T16:00:00.002Z

Not just from me. From all the Malaysian politicians embroiled in the current saga, especially. These people are literally talking bollocks again.

I've just started a new path in my career. Still the same job, mostly, but I will now be more involved in the administration and training of my colleagues. Less time on the road, more in the office.

Hope to be able to leave my musings here more often. You all take good care of yourselves, keep your eyes on the road.

And let not the bollocks distract us from the more important things in life.

Intermission

2008-06-17T06:13:00.003Z

Guilty as charged! I have been slacking, neglecting this spot where I can share views dearest to me. It's just that I've been rather preoccupied with my obsession of getting my new Macs fully operational with all the info that used to occupy my PCs. Plead no contest to the second charge of jumping ship and abandoning Windows after 15 years.

But it wasn't without some - rather - divine involvement. First, my two year-old Acer laptop's screen went bonkers hours before a long trip. Thus came my MacBook Pro 45 minutes before my flight's departure. Then, a severe thunderstorm in PJ three weeks ago fried my home desktop PC. And we welcomed the handsome iMac home two days later.

I'm awaiting a copy of the Nanyang Siang Pau daily from two weeks ago before publishing the next post. Heh heh, because my accidental crime-fighting exploit was featured on it. And I need the report translated for I'm a Chinese-illiterate Chinese, duh!

Until then.

Once

2008-04-16T08:46:00.011Z

The plunger had extracted sufficient caffeine from the ground 100% Arabica to deliver a mellifluos buzz to my frontal cortex. The effect is such I could almost feel the hum on my temples with a light touch of my fingers. I feel a surging emotion in my chest. My eyes well up from it. It is a song. Meaningful words meld with beautiful harmony in enchanting melody.

Sitting here in the hotel room, in Melbourne, I pound the keyboard for the latest post. Has it been that long since the last? Let's see, since then: The Malaysian General Elections have come and gone, in its wake an altered political reality for the country. Arsenal has relinquished its claim on all the possible silver-wares this season. Bear Stearns have gone bust. Locals and monks in Tibet have demonstrated big-time and the Olympic torch extinguished from disruptive protests. Jaguar and Land Rover are now owned by Tata. And I am now a delighted owner of an iPod Touch. Hah! iPod Touch, wallet Ouch!

Yup! It's about time for an update. Also time for the next paycheck, to recover my iPod outlay. I must admit I was nudged on by the fact that I just could not log-in to my Facebook account since arriving here this morning.

The caffeine is slowly losing its influence. An episode I witnessed on a ride on the MRT in Singapore comes to mind:

Yours truly was on his way from the Changi Airport station to the Lavender station on the East-West line. In spite of the availability of seats initially at Tanah Merah station, I opted to hang onto the rail-handle. I'd be compelled to give up my seat to some elderly or lady traveller eventually when the carriage fills up anyway. At Bedok station, a Chinese lady in her late-fifties settled in the seat in front of me. Sporting a checked shirt with cargo-pants, she clutched a knapsack out of which a rolled copy of Today stuck. Then, as passengers boarded or disembarked at Kembangan station, this lady was heard calling "Achi! Achi! " to an Indian lady who had just stepped onto the train. "Sini ada tempat," she said while placing her hand on the vacant seat beside her. This slightly older lady sat down and the acquaintances started chatting. My heart gets warmed easily by instances like this. As I was smiling to myself inside, the nice women's conversation was interrupted by the Chinese lady going "Eyyh... Xiao Pern Yo (little friend)" to a boy no older than 7 standing in front of the carriage doors. The cherub was struggling to fold his yellow raincoat.

The lady gestured him over, which he sheepishly did. The smiling lady then took the raincoat from his hands and, with a loving countenance, started to fold. She apologised to the bemused pakcik to her left for taking some of his 'personal' space while compacting the garment. All, while making the kid comfortable by asking him his age and the whereabouts of his school, his destination. She praised this six year-old dude for his courage to travel alone to school. Before we knew it, the raincoat was now a folded mass of 3" X 3". The kid accepted the rearranged form and, almost dumbfoundedly, back-tracked to his original location. I was close to tears by then. This surely was an earth-bound angel before us.

Once in a while, something reminds us of the kindness and love that humans are capable of. It gives us a different perspective, and with it, renewed faith in the inate goodness in all of us amidst the myriad sufferings and cruelty around the globe.

It may be a scenario like the one for me on the MRT. It may be a book, like The Witch of Portobello, which left an indelible mark on me like the other Paulo Coelho gem, The Alchemist. Or, it could be a movie, like Once.

Once, is a simple movie. And because, rather than in spite of that, it is realistic. I felt every minute emotion nuanced by the characters. The most drawing moments are those complemented by a song. The soundtrack is, as the movie, simple. When it's simple, we relate immediately. Very much like the simple acts of kindness and grace by that lady on the MRT. May God bless her.

I was touched. And I hope I am better for it.

Oh, and the song that had a stronger effect on me than caffeine was 'Falling Slowly', from Once soundtrack.

Crossroads

2008-02-21T04:15:00.012Z

Mom gave me these two photos to scan for posterity. I then undertook to clean up the photos digitally to enhance it, possibly make it look new.

The photo on the left is of (from left) my maternal grandmother, her mother and MY mom. Three generations of maternal link. The other photo is of my mom, HER mom, HER dad, HIS sister and HIS mother. My Koong-koong (or grandfather) worked for the same British mining company until he retired. And he kept his hairstyle until he passed on.

What set me in a contemplative mood and hence, this posting is the fork in the road that my grand-daddy found shortly after taking the studio photo on the right. HIS parents had decided to return to their village in Guangdong with their young daughter, who was merely months older than their grand-daughter, my MOM. The seniors reckoned they'd have saved enough to live comfortably back in the hinterland, and even contribute financially to the community there. Koong-koong chose to remain in his country of birth, Malaya, with his young family.

Fast forward SIXTY years.....

My mother is a retired teacher whose children were not required to support financially. She made a trip to the village from where her roots originated, with her husband and siblings. The village is served by basic amenities and almost everybody there are farmers. An uncle who went along recalled the awkward feeling that everybody there seemed, and literally looked like family. Later, he was told that almost everybody in the village shared the same family name. There is a dearth of people in their twenties as most have gone seeking better prospects in the cities.

There was a family reunion of sorts at my grand-aunt's abode. Though constructed of brick and mortar, it was of dirt flooring. But these simple folks made certain their distant relations (from the distant, promised land that is Malaysia) were comfortable, slaughtered their best livestock and soon a modest feast was served. Grand-aunt kept praising the Gods for fulfilling a life-long wish: That she would meet her sibling. Though Koong-koong passed away in 1990, to her, the presence of HIS children was representative enough.

It turned out that upon his arrival, great-grand-daddy was The Man in the village. He bankrolled constructions of small, but vital bridges and roads. He was known to be a charitable man with the community's interests at heart. But sadly, as the old adage goes, no good deed goes unpunished. When the communists came into power, he was somehow accused by certain envious quarters to be a corrupt bourgeois citizen. He was tortured and died from his injuries.

His family then languished as farmers. Two generations on, they are still tilling the land for a meagre living.

The uncle mentioned earlier decided to fund the education of his cousins', aged 8 and 12. He concluded that the difference in fortunes was solely due to the stark contrast in education. While Koong-koong's offsprings flourished in the Malaysian education system, his sister and her children were denied learning beyond the basic which was made worse by the Cultural Revolution.

Now, here I am, blogging about this filled with immeasurable gratitude for my Koong-koong for making that particular turn in time. But then, I could have been the dude who started Alibaba.com or mayhaps turned out to be some celebrated dissident writer living in the West. Or a successful farmer. Or buried, after being shot for stealing food.

Conjectures all. We are here, now. Let's cross the bridge, take the turn when we get to it, right? And may God guide and bless whichever path we take, as He has blessed my Koong-koong's.

Greenland and Chinese New Year

2008-02-06T08:23:00.000Z

Last month, during the crossing of the Atlantic westwards, the flight was routed way up north to avoid the strong jet streams blowing against us. We were high enough on the latitudes for us catch a glimpse of the world's largest island (2,166,086 km² /836,109 sq mi). Well, the southern tip anyway. We were about 200 km south of the town of Nanortalik, so there was no trace of life. It's winter, so temperatures must be something below zero Celcius down there. It was minus 60 where we were. But, of course, we were 32000 feet above the frigid surface below.

Nanortalik means 'place of bears' and it is the southern most town in Greenland. Looking at the landscape, it is easy to fathom why there is not any town closer to the Equator here.

Jagged coastline

Alarming sight of melting ice sheets in winter. Global warming!

The view northwards - more inhospitable terrain.

A United Airways jet that crossed the Atlantic 'with' us.

It's quite ironic for this huge island to be thus named, being covered by massive ice sheets most of the year. Was it to signify hope in a severe land with a harsh climate? Much like the Chinese of who subscribe to the symbolic or connotative significance of a name. A sickly newborn would be named after an ox or dog so he may become strong like one. The number 8, it sounds exactly the same as the word 'fortune' in Chinese. Hence the preponderance of the number in phone numbers and car registration plates. In some Cantonese households, sweet and sour dishes are served regularly with the hope for an arrival of a grandchild as the word 'sour' sounds like the word 'grandchild'.

During Chinese New Year, certain dishes are featured much for the symbolism of their names. One particular dish I like is the Hou Si (Oysters) Fatt Choy (Black Fungus). They are cooked together with mushrooms in oyster sauce gravy. The name is in Cantonese and the former can also mean 'All things' while the latter, 'prosper' or 'become rich'.

I will be missing those dishes this festive season. And, mostly, the gathering of kin. This year, there are other oceans and seas to cross as the year of the Rat begins.

My hope is that the year will bring good health and blessings for everyone. And prospering some in wealth won't do any harm. And that Greenland does not turn green and tropical.

GONG HEI FATT CHOY, EVERYBODY!!

Distractions, attractions and infections

2008-01-17T14:34:00.000Z

Posting here has been tough lately. Has been so for the past two months, especially. I have a slew of drafts for publication but they remain half-baked, or less, until touches are applied. The show must go on. So here goes the blame game:

In early December, whilst helping the wife set up her Facebook account, we hit a snag. The system would accept not all versions of her name that we could come up with. She then suggested I experiment with mine. That was probably the single most significant event in 2007 for me, on the net anyway. Facebook is fun! I made Facebook-friends with a few cousins and friends within a few days. In that same interval, the wife and two kids got their Facebook accounts, too.

In mid-December, on my way back from Frankfurt, I developed a fever. Upon arrival, I limped straight to the clinic to be told that I was nursing a 39.5 degrees Celsius scorcher due to viral infection. The limp was caused by the swelling of a lymph node in reaction to the infection. For a week, I lived on a pear, two biscuits and a Milo a day. The appetite just wasn't there. Still, it was during this miserable week alone that I mustered up the Unagi posting - over four days.

The end of the year came, and my dad-in-law was bed-ridden due to a suspected spinal injury. We ushered in the new year with him. Good news is, the doc says his immobility is temporary. Great prognosis for this spritely 75 year-old who never sits still, until this hit him.

Beginning of 2008, I find myself making so many friends on Facebook, most of them gorgeous! At home, everybody fights for their turn on the PC. So, I will only get to blog when I'm on the road.

Unless, I'm on Facebook.

Tagged!

2007-12-27T18:11:00.000Z

Craig Charles in the middle.

1. Name one person who made you laugh last night.

Craig Charles, who plays David Lister in 'The Red Dwarf', dvd of which I watched alone in Frankfurt.

2. What were you doing at 0800?

Sleeping. And snoring, I'm sure.

3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?

Reading blogs.

4. What happened to you in 2006?

Adjusting to residing in PJ after 15 years of living in Singapore. Wonderful!

5. What was the last thing you said out loud?

"Alles gut, danke", to the grocer who offered me a plastic bag which I declined.

6. How many beverages did you have today?

Water, chocolate-oat drink, wine, berry juice.

7. What color is your hairbrush?

Ain't got one.

8. What was the last thing you paid for?

2 boxes of blueberries, a carton of berry juice and a bottle of yoghurt drink.

9. Where were you last night?

On a Boeing 747 from Singapore to Frankfurt.

10. What color is your front door?

Dark brown.

11. Where do you keep your change?

In my key-pouch and in the pocket of my pants.

12. What’s the weather like today?

Foggy and cold - between -3 to 0 degrees Celcius.

13. What’s the best ice-cream flavor?

Rum & Raisins.

14. What excites you?

Soccer results, cliffhangers, deadlines and sometimes, sex.

15. Do you want to cut your hair?

Soon.

16. Are you over the age of 25?

Yes.

17. Do you talk a lot?

Occasionally.

18. Do you watch the O.C.?

No.

19. Do you know anyone named Steven?

A few.

21. Are you a jealous person?

Possibly.

22. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘A’.

Atan.

23. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘K’.

Khairul Ridzwan.

24. Who’s the first person on your received call list?

Ah Fook.

25. What does the last text message you received say?

***

*****

**@**@**

***^*****^****

*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*

********************

**********************

^^^^^^^^

I send this tree with all the best wishes for you and your family this X'Mas and New Year!

26. Do you chew on your straw?

Only if it tastes good.

27. Do you have curly hair?

Only in three places.

28. Where’s the next place you’re going to?

An Iranian kebab joint for a Shawarma dinner.

29. Who’s the rudest person in your life?

Probably myself.

30. What was the last thing you ate?

Tagliatelle fruti di mare & spinaci aglio.

31. Will you get married in the future?

Errrr......... errrr............. umm.......

32. What’s the best movie you’ve seen in the past 2 weeks?

Namesake. Directed by Mira Nair, stars the still-babelicious Tabu.

33. Is there anyone you like right now?

Plenty.

34. When was the last time you did the dishes?

Tuesday night. One plate I used.

35. Are you currently depressed?

Nope.

36. Did you cry today?

Almost, when finding out that Arsenal couldn't get 3 points at Portsmouth and Man U now leads the table.

37. Why did you answer and post this?

Because d.n.a.s. tagged me.

38. Tag 5 people who would do this survey.

I don't comply to more than 37 instructions.

Narita Village: One Eel Of A Time

2007-12-07T10:01:00.000Z

The map says it: WELCOME TO NARITA. Friendly statues.

Sloping street that leads to Narita-san Temple.

Rice crackers. The spinning plate grills at the same time.

Interesting arichitecture.

The Narita Visitors Centre, in front of which is........

........ my favourite Unagi eatery in the village: Chrysanthemum.

Check out the mouth-watering displays. One could almost eat the replicas!

Some local patrons inside.

That's where I sat.

Some pickles and cold vegetables for the first course. Keep the soup for later.

BUT BEFORE WE ADMIRE THE GLORIOUS BOWL OF UNADON,
LET'S FIRST OBSERVE WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PROCESS OF
PREPARING THE EEL.

The 'slaughterhouse' gets cleaned first, by the apprentice.

The master picks a bucketful of eels.

Grabs the slippery fish from the bucket.

One incomplete chop to the head, to keep it from slipping away.

Pokes thru the head to the table, no escape for sure.

Finds the right spot and slices all the back to the tail.

The eel is now opened up. Spasmodic waves course along the vivisected fish.

The master skillfully debones the eel and

removes the inards, which isn't much.

The procedure is then repeated.

Again.

And again.

Until the bucket of eels is empty.

The bones are collected in another bucket.

They would be dried. And later seasoned and grilled.
Was told that they have aphrodisiac properties - 'adult food', said a Japanese colleague.
I have munched loads. Doesn't do it for me.
Maybe I was alone.

Back to our master. He has by now cut up about a hundred unagis.
Each is sliced in two.

And skewered for the grill.

Sometimes, they work in two. The master cuts and the apprentice skewers.

Two makes short work of the whole affair.

This requires skill and practice.

The grill cooks the unagi to perfection.

All smoked and ready! Just add the sweet teriyaki sauce.

Throw in on rice in a box and it's called Unajyu.

In a bowl, it's Unadon.

This was mine! The Unadon version of Big Mac, this.
With two slices of unagi. See the second one peeking from below a layer of rice?

The first time I had this soup (Fukuoka in 1991), the waitress said it's 'river soup'.
Took a few years, and many bowls later, for me to learn it is really liver soup - unagi liver.
That's the small bit in the middle of the bowl. The other two squid-looking things are bean-curd.

As usual, boy cleans up everything except the liver.
But after the pix was taken, the waitress comes over and says that it's good for the eyes.
So, boy gobbled the liver.

The meal ended with two cups of green tea, one regular and the other brown-rice blend.

With the stomach filled, Narita Village was then further explored.

That, is another story.

Tokyo Narita Village - Prologue

2007-11-26T08:19:00.000Z

Went to this quaint village three times this year. The pictures posted are an amalgamation of the three seasons during which I was there: Winter, Spring and Summer. Didn't go during Autumn. Narita Village, to quote WikiAir, is 'the host city of Narita International Airport'. It is akin to Subang Village as to Subang Airport.

While the map of Greater Narita above may not be entirely legible, suffice to say that the area covered by Narita International Airport is represented in orange. The history of the airport is an interesting read, for its conception and eventual construction attracted much resistance.

Today, with further expansion of the airport all but cancelled, the peaceful village serves as a transit point for international air travellers in and out of Tokyo. It may not have the glitter of Shibuya nor sounds of Harajuku in downtown Tokyo, but it is subtly charming in its simplicity.

Stay tuned. Chottomatte kudasai.

Distraction: Smoke Rings at 36 000 feet

2007-11-24T09:29:00.000Z

Nope. No tobacco was involved in the formation of these. Only plenty of jet fuel. The streaks of jet contrails we see trailing jetliners look like this up close. The spinning vortices are always present in the wake of an airplane due to the sheer velocity of airflow over, and under, the wing surface. These turbulent eddies can be so strong, they can rock a jumbo jet violently. It is a well documented fact that the Boeing 757 'wake turbulence' - as it is termed in the aerodynamic and aviation world- had contributed to a considerable number of aviation incidents and accidents, some fatal.
Anybody who has been close to a passing train, bus or truck would know the rush, or gust, of air in its wake. A jetliner zooms around at speeds 10 times faster. What makes the disturbance potentially deadly for a following aircraft is that it is not always visible like in the picture. Only when there is visible medium, like smoke, through which the wings penetrate can the extent of the vortices be seen. But don't cancel your flight bookings just yet. Years of research and studies have improved the understanding, and hence, the avoidance of wake turbulence related incidents. Around ground level, where the loss of aircraft-control is deadliest, such vortices do not pose substantial danger after 2 minutes. And in the air, standard practices regarding distances between aircrafts pre-empts any potential hazard.

The smoke rings in the photo were visible as moisture in the jet engines' exhaust condensates in the sub-zero temperatures of high altitudes. Even so, the combination of the ambient temperature, exhaust temperature and humidity of the (already dry) surrounding air determine whether or not the visible smoke rings will form. And when they do materialize, they can be such a sight to behold:

Just don't get too close. For the buzz is beyond any tobacco-infused smoke ring could ever muster.

Gimme a (toilet) break

2007-10-26T10:18:00.000Z

KLIA: Approaching the common main entrance to the rest rooms, I saw a cleaning lady, I took a quick glance at the gender sign and made a left towards the Gents. But the lady was staring at me. Walking past her, she followed me with her eyes. As I entered the wash basin area, she was actually tailing me, shouting 'Oi! Oi!'. Crap! Did I just enter the Ladies? Bladder was about to burst, result of trying out some 'water therapy' in the morning and not making any stops all the way from Sentral. I was on the verge of panic. My engorged bladder would undoubtedly relief itself should some lady in the loo screams. Then I see urinals. MALE urinals. The aunty saw them around the same time, too. She hushed, blushed and got the **** out. I skipped, unzipped and let the waste out. Coming out of the dunny, the lady was nowhere to be seen, her bucket and mop waiting her return from exile somewhere.

CHANGI: Bladder was about to explode again. Toilet, check. Gents, check. I hurried in. Then I see the above on the wall! Did I actually goof and brought my grief into the Ladies this time? I was livid. In Singapore, they'll brand me a perv, jail me and the papers will have my sorry face all over it. Just then, a great sight for exploding male bladders: The urinal. It was the Gents, after all, 'Mommy's Helper' or not. Just why would they still call it 'Mommy's Helper' when it's in Dad's John?

Twice within 3 hours, I was mortified with the prospect of having entered the Ladies. Wonder if I should do the water therapy again.......

Water therapy info

Lencongan

2007-10-13T04:28:00.000Z

I was supposed to blog about a visit to Narita Village in the outskirts of Tokyo. But I came across a LENCONGAN (diversion) that had me write about this instead. All because the darned portable 60GB hard-disk holding a few thousand photos, including the hundred-odd taken around Narita, decided to check out of permanently. I was hopping mad. "Du-uh! ******* hard-disk mati katak!" (literally: to die a frog's death) was my internalised exclamation upon the discovery. Interesting idiom this one, relating to the seemingly ignoble end to the frog. And there are many ways the frog doth croaks. One photo of which I kept in my laptop:

This amphibian hopped into the wrong pond for a dip: A hot spring. Took this picture on a drive from Cameron Highlands to Gua Musang, along which route is the hot spring. Other scenes of a frog's demise are too graphic to be shown here or even be photographed. You must have all seen plenty. I must say that the frog population must have dwindled a lot because I, for one, can recall coming across a lot more dead frogs when I was younger. Global warming? More roads and more vehicles? One too many biology lessons? Or the wise men of old really knew something about the leggy ones' inevitable leap towards extinction, mostly under undignified and unglamourous circumstances?

Then it got me wondering if anybody actually calls his/her blog mati katak? Voila! There is one such. I sincerely hope it is a misnomer, for such an appellative certainly comes with it a foreboding connotation. I am not about to jump to conclusions. For I have a more pressing undertaking at hand: To procure a new portable hard-disk, so I could travel around with my collection of photographs once more.

Before that can happen, I must first make sure the 500GB external drive at home hasn't gone the way of the frog looking for a hot dip.....

SELAMAT HARI RAYA EID AL-FITR to MUSLIM FRIENDS.

Maaf zahir dan batin to all.

A short day in Bangalore

2007-09-24T03:59:00.000Z

India has always been a favourite destination of mine. The people, the place, the food, the history... the whole subcontinent is soaking with culture. And recently, I had the good fortune of spending 36 hours in Bangalore, the Silicone Valley of India.

Bangalore is the state capital of Karnataka. Located on the Deccan Plateau some 3000ft above sea level, it enjoys wholesome mountain weather most of the year. As my stay was short, I had to give utmost priority to two must-do's of mine: 1) Stock up on Hindi movie DVDs and, 2) Eat!

But of course, along the way, picture-taking is customary. Firstly, I headed for Brigade Road, for my DVDs. This relatively short street is the local Jalan Bukit Bintang or Orchard Road. While snapping away, I inadvertently caught this beauty in my viewfinder. She is most likely from the north-east of India. How fortuitous.

A scene from the middle of the busy Brigade Road.And this is the junction of Brigade Road and FM Cariappa Road.The hustle and bustle of FM Cariappa Road.
The streets are peppered with Bel Poori stalls like this:Bel Poori is healthy stuff. It's made up of puffed rice, a little potato, plenty of coriander, raw onion, a little chili, tamarind and, possibly, date juice, and what seem like crispbread made from chickpea flour.

However, my gastronomical attention was elsewhere. Specifically, here:
I first dined at Nadhini about three years ago, on my very first trip here. It is basically banana-leaf rice. But having it here on the Indian continent, I must say, the authenticity of the meal scores highly. Psychologically or otherwise.

Now you see it.....
.....now you don't! And nothing like a cup of Masala Chai to end it.
Strolling back to the hotel I came across this enterprising little 'un manning his dad's Bel Poori stall next to some Army quarters. He saw me with my camera and immediately waved me over, "Uncle, uncle. Please take picture."
A little further down the road I encountered street kids.
The instant I took this shot, they all surrounded me, asking for a few rupees each. Heart-wrenching. Looking around to make sure there aren't any bigger groups of kids, I handed over a couple of notes. Walking on, I couldn't help but think about Nurin and our children in Malaysia. Are our kids really luckier to have been born in Malaysia as opposed to these children here in India? The arguments go both ways. My philosophical pondering was then abruptly halted by this sight:

I stood there laughing with my camera clicking.

*Click for more info on The Holy Thirukural and forget about Da Vinci Code...

Help Find Nurin

2007-09-19T04:02:00.000Z

NURIN. This cute, innocent little cherub is missing and is feared to have been kidnapped. She was last seen in Wangsa Maju, Kuala Lumpur. Please keep a lookout for her. Two days ago, the naked body of another girl was found in a sports bag in KL. A post-mortem has revealed that this poor girl was sexually tortured:

Let's find Nurin before she is harmed. Nobody deserves a fate as horrific as the one that befell the dead girl above. Except for the sick and perverted murderer who committed the most heinous of crimes, who should get worse. Let's find Nurin. Let's pray for her well-being.

*Update: Two DNA tests had confirmed that the body found in the bag was Nurin. Our hearts go to the family. We pray for Nurin. We pray for the family. We pray for all children.
(22nd September 2007)

Losing It

2007-09-18T09:10:00.000Z

I've finally done it! After ten years of buying, trading-in and using mobile phones, I have gone and lost mine. Duh! And it was in Singapore - land of the line-toeing and law-abiding. My Nokia N95, with all the pictures of the wife, kids, friends, sceneries; hundreds of songs and contact information. Good thing I'm not into putting explicit acts on phone-video. Left it in the taxi while alighting. Tried in vain to get it back by calling the cab company. Calling my own number repeatedly only resulted in the option to leave messages in the voice mailbox. Got me thinking....

Have I got so reliant on this piece of electronics? And why did I have to spend a ransom on it? What other gizmos will the boffins come up with, gadgets that we don't really need to live our daily lives?

After deactivating the SIM card in the N95 at the service provider's branch, I looked around for a replacement phone. Naturally, I was feeling very miserably miserly after 'throwing away' S$1000. Signing another two years of subscription, I got this Nokia 2626 for nothing.

While I hope not to lose this, too; I would certainly feel less wretched if it happens. Trouble is, do I have the discipline and will to resist the siren calls of newer, more feature-packed mobile phones? It has only been three days, me using this very basic Nokia 2626 ....... and already I am lusting for this:

I am praying that I don't lose it! Or do I? Duh!

An end to the 'graffiti'....

2007-09-12T10:54:00.000Z

Today, I was surprised to see the school finally putting a dignified end to the atrocious poster previously lambasted here. There is, after all, hope for our children. At least, where correct English grammar and spelling are concerned, in this particular school. Kudos to the Principal, I presume, for taking the step to whitewash bad English. Literally.

PS SELAMAT BERPUASA TO MUSLIM FRIENDS.

Not an excellent start

2007-08-28T02:48:00.000Z

Spotted this at a Sekolah Kebangsaan in Bandar Utama. There are four, so everybody gets a 25% chance of getting it right the first time. Unlike the teacher or teachers who got it totally and awfully wrong with the grammar AND spelling. Apparently, more than a few concerned parents have pointed out the gaffe to the school principal. Evidently, it has all fallen upon deaf ears and blind eyes. I'm sure they have better things to attend to, like learning English properly! Poor kids.....

Do, Re, Meme.

2007-08-18T12:46:00.000Z

missy is K.U. tagged me with this meme a while ago. Why? Because I'm from Perak. Dek missy, here goes:

1. A person is only as good as his/her actions.

2. Friendship is always about trust and respect.

3. To love is to accept and cherish.

4. Money makes me spend.

5. I miss the days when mornings were cold and the air crisp.

6. My way of saying I care is by listening.

7. I try to spread love and happiness because they are the very core of human relationships.

8. Pick the flowers when absolutely necessary; otherwise leave them where they belong.

9. To love someone is cherish someone.

10. Beauty is found everywhere in everybody.

11. When I was thirteen, what I remember the most was starting my life in boarding school.

12. When I was twenty one, I remember feeling blessed to have achieved my childhood ambition.

13. I am most happy when my loved ones are happy.

14. Nothing makes me happier than a quiet moment with my loved ones.

15. If I can change one thing, I will change the human tendency to hate.

16. If smiles were rewarded in cash then I would be Carlos Slim.

17. Wouldn't it be nice if the world is at peace and there were no sufferings.

18. If you want to read on, it’s your choice.

19. Money is not everything but almost everything needs money.

20. The most touching moments I have experienced I remember clearly.

21. I smile even to myself.

22. When I am happy, I am thankful.

23. If only I don't have to exercise to keep fit then I can eat like I did as a teen.

24. The best thing I did yesterday was catching up with a friend I haven’t spoken to for 20 years.

25. If I ever write a book, I will give it this title: MERRILY DOWN THE STREAM.

26. One thing I must do before I die, to be at peace with God.

27. Doing this meme, I feel relieved I’ve fulfilled my obligation after being tagged.

Who will be next? Heh heh, not to worry. I'm not tagging anybody. Well, not yet......

Strategic Advertising

2007-08-17T01:53:00.000Z

As seen along Tembeling Road in Singapore:

Wonder how much are the fees for the 'facility'?

My Afternoon At Kensington Gardens

2007-08-08T03:51:00.000Z

Some time back, I went to London. During the approach into Heathrow, I managed to take the above picture of Kensington Gardens, which was originally part of Hyde Park. That's the (obvious) Round Pond with Kensington Palace to its left, across The Boardwalk.

As usual, I headed straight for the lovely park with my camera and (then-new) Nikon 70-200 f2.8 VR lens. A guy and his new toy, no obstacles to deter them. Straight to shooting around Kensington Gardens, en-route to Nahar Cafeteria at Mara House. Needed my fix of nasi campur and teh tarik. 10 Sterling Pounds for the meal, aiyo! A man and his hungry stomach, no obstacles to deter them, too.

Some of the hundreds of shots I took that day:

Then this little girl caught my eye. Cute little 'un this one. She was with two ladies, the older one presumably her mom and the younger one pictured below in the green jumper.

A short moment after this snapshot, they were all having snacks back on their picnic mat. I then continued to enjoy my zoom lens with shots like this:

That same cute girl from earlier on was back at the edge of the pond. I took this shot below of her and I began to focus on the swans and ducks, when there was a splash and some screams.

I turned to look, with my viewfinder of course. And my finger instinctively pressed the shutter and caught this piture.....

The poor little toddler was about 10 meters from where I was so I had to dash towards her. Her mom got there first and she promptly jumped in. It was slippery beneath. Thus, they were both slipping and sliding. The mom was gasping for help. When I got near them, I had a momentary doubt. Around my neck was a few thousand bucks' worth of equipment and should they have a swim in the murky waters of The Round Pond, I will face a murky situation indeed.

Proudly, I overcame the selfish thoughts to reach out for the lady's hand. But I still found myself in a tricky situation. The lady was just too heavy for me to pull out. I was myself slowly slipping into the water. Timely assistance came in the form of a middle-aged man. He took my other hand and together, we managed to haul mother and daughter out of the pond.

Mom thanked us and got straight to cleaning themselves up. I thanked the good 'uncle' and he just went 'Jolly good show, ta!' and off he went. Relieved that my photographic equipment was intact as was my pride (could've had to call for help had I slipped in), I decided to escape to somewhere safer:

... where this Pakcik (uncle) dishes out the best comfort food for me this side of The Round Pond,

NAHAR CAFETERIA!

Permission To Reincarnate, Sir!

2007-08-07T02:08:00.000Z

I read this in the news a few days back:

I was tickled silly, gigglish at the irony of the headline. The article piqued my curiosity enough to Google the subject. I've even bought and commenced reading this book by one Stephen Batchelor.

I would think that 'living Buddhas' would mean 'Bodhisattva' - an enlightened being destined to be a Buddha, but purposely remaining on earth to teach others. Buddhist reincarnation concepts can be read about here. The authorities in China want the final say over the appointments of reincarnate monks. Red tape and rubber stamps. Wonder if there are forms to be filled.

Seventeen pages into the book now. Interesting. What's more interesting is this website I stumbled upon: The Reincarnation Station. One needs only to answer some simple questions and at the end, be told what you'd be reincarnated as in the next life. Me? I'll be a tiger. Grrrowll.....

A Simple Pleasure in San Francisco

2007-08-04T06:55:00.000Z

No too long ago, I was in San Francisco. Great city. And it's summer. One of my favourite things to do there, apart from stuffing my face ( which we'll get to soon ), is a simple but professional shoe shine.
Along Market Street, there are at least two shoe-shine booths. This particular one is in front of Virgin Megastore. The contraption above is where one rests one of his feet.
Both booths are manned by African-American gentlemen. Soul music blasts from their masta-blastas. On this occassion, it was Percy Sledge, Barry White, Otis Redding and The Platters. These were the few that I could identify.
For 7 US$, your shoes get the deluxe treatment which is claimed to retain the out-of-the-shop shine for at least two weeks. For 20 bucks more, the leather gets the ultimate treatment, which is going to make your walkabouts appear spanking new for 3 months! Being a cheap dude on a budget, I sheepishly declined the superior service. So Mr.D then got working on mah shoes.....

...while his partner, dozed holding his cup of coffee. Must have been the regular ashtray-brew most diners serve in the country. Free and unlimited pouring! But I digress.
Mr D started by rolling up my jeans a notch, before cleaning my Florsheim boots ( purchased at 50% off from One U) with what seemed like soapy water. Then it was an assortment of creams and black polish, and cream again.
After what seemed like 20 minutes ( judging by the number of soulful singing from the masta blastas) , he was applying the finishing buff. Voila! I was eight bucks poorer, with a pair of shiny boots. An extra buck for the tip.

To me, it is money well spent. It is a simple yet fulfilling pleasure. Simply because I am TOO LAZY to polish my own shoes.

Gone Bananas, Over The Flower

2007-08-01T16:42:00.000Z

The banana flower caught my eye recently. And my heart, too. I was so taken with it that I took around 30 shots of the bloom. On top is my favourite photo. It wasn't my first encounter with it, but it certainly was my first 'crush' on it. Funny how I did not realize how beautiful and captivating the flower is.

The flower matures eventually into the banana fruit bunch(es). It is also used as an ingredient in cookings in The Philipines (kari-kari - a beef stew), Laos, Vietnam (as salad), Thailand (eaten raw and cooked in various ways), and Sri Lanka where it makes a great curry dish. Wonder why it didn't catch on in Malaysia.

If it did, I'd probably not get this moment of unbridled attraction. Normalcy will resume shortly..... I think.

I Love You Ah-Ma

2007-07-29T14:14:00.000Z

My grandmother passed away yesterday. All of 88 years old. The last time I saw her was exactly a year ago, at an old folk's home in Ipoh. She was no longer lucid, and caring for her required professional assistance. All that remained was her instinct to love her loved ones, and to defend herself. While she could only muster an uncertain though caring smile for any family member, any nurse that got near her incurred her wary wrath in the form of a stinging pinch. Feeble as she may seemed then, but one could see plenty of skin agonizing in the grip of her thumb and index finger. Her alertness and reflex towards the nurses did not wane for two whole days. In the end, she had to be brought back to an aunt's home to be supervised by a live-in nurse.
So caught up was I with my life, I did not pay her a visit since, merely enquring about her well-being through my parents. Then mom called, telling me the news in between her sobs. Mom was most fond of ah-ma for being a non-imposing mother-in-law. Gathering my siblings, we made the trip back to Teluk Intan. It was great fun bonding during the 3 hour drive, reminiscing our experiences with our father's mother.

To many visitors and well-wishers, it could have been confusing arriving at my aunt's house where ah-ma (grandma in Hokkien) was laid in rest. The first sight was a significant number of telekung-clad ladies milling about. Then the boisterous greetings and chatter were peppered with equal amounts of English, Malay, Tamil, Hokkien, Cantonese and Hakka. But yes, they were at the right wake. That's the family that my ah-ma raised, a true Malaysian smörgåsbord. It was organized chaos, four generations in all. Isn't it ironic how a death in the family brings more relatives together than weddings and births? Still, it was such joy to get together, to catch up and renew the ties that bond us. Ah-ma had apparently mused some years ago, that she wished for her funeral to be a warm affair and not the sombre occasions of which she had attended plenty. She got her wish. Though her clan is in sorrow at her passing, we were joyful for the kindship reaffirmed.

Ah-ma had the Holy Bible held to her chest. It was the Chinese version, so I had to ask an aunt which verse it was opened to. It was Psalm 23:

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever

Ah-ma had many prayers dedicated to her by all her kin who practice different beliefs. I believe she is truly at peace now. I feel her love still.

Of Law and Justice, and a boy who murdered yet set free.

2007-07-26T01:22:00.000Z

Five years ago, I read in disbelief, of a murder committed by a 12 year-old boy. He was repeatedly called 'Fatty' and a spat ensued between him and the 11 year-old daughter of his tuition teacher. They were alone in the teacher's home. He snapped and attacked the girl with a sharp weapon. The girl died from massive loss of blood resulting from four slash wounds and twenty stab wounds.

In the intervening five years, from the magistrate's courts to the KL High Court to the Court of Appeal, the prosecution and the defence did their thing. All while the boy spent time in prison. Yesterday, the boy, now 17, was set FREE.

The court said it had no choice. (Read about the facts and technicalities here.) This is one of those occasions where one goes 'Huh?' and ponders about the world we live in. This is the law. But is this justice? A question asked too many times around the Courts of Justice. Courts of Justice?

Most would accept whatever outcome as decided through the channels of law and order, even if it seems obviously skewed. Some have felt disgruntled enough to carry out themselves the justice they deemed more appropriate than that ruled by the law, breaking another law in the process.

There is the law and then there is justice. The law is laid out plainly in black and white, albeit with exploitable loopholes and interpretations. As loose as it may seem, it IS laid out in letter and cast in stone, so to say. Justice, unfortunately, is largely a concept, an opinion. More so to parties on opposing sides of any issue or case. They may accept the rule of law, but the absence of justice may still be perceived.

In this particular case, the boy and his family may feel that justice has been served rightly. And it is understandable that his victim's family are shocked at the sheer lack of justice. The public at large may offer a myriad of other views on this, very likely colouring the entire spectrum from freedom to the death sentence.

We all want justice. But given the nature and variance of the human mind, the law is all that we can rely on. If everyone should get the justice they want, it could throw us back to barbarism in a free-for-all world. Justice can be continually pursued. But it must be done within the law.

PS
And if we still feel that we did not get justice, there is always Judgment Day. No lawyers needed.

Re-branding exercise

2007-07-21T09:15:00.000Z

MUCH PONDERED PONDERINGS. The title has bugged me since 2005. In a rush to publish my first blog, I settled for that lame title. In a fit of shame, the original blog was deleted along with the title. Then, when the itch of blogging overwhelmed, I started a new blog in haste. Still with the same crappy title! I suppose it is unfavourable feng-shui for the blog having that name as I did more pondering than actually typing. Heh-heh, it's good to apportion blame on the defenseless.

Let's see if this new title will bring forth a healthier 'flow' of posts. OK, I do acknowledge it is still lame.......

My Recent 24 Hours In New York

2007-07-03T12:55:00.000Z

Herald Square
And thus, I eschewed sleep (as demanded by the body-clock) for the full benefit of taking in NYC. First destination was the COMPUSA store on Broadway. I have been itching to get myself a MacBookPro but the prohibitive price of admission has so far thwarted me. Hopes of a super sale were soon dashed. It's even more expensive when the 8.25% municipal sales tax is factored in. I then drifted along Broadway until Macy's. That's where I snapped the picture of The Empire State Building on the left. It was on that spot, too, where I suddenly felt peckish. Aimlessly walking, I found myself quite tempted by this kosher deli.

Perusing the menu for five minutes without any commitment, I decided to walk on. There were many hot dog and bagel joints by the roadsides. And this time round, I noticed there were a lot more Halal stalls. However, I felt that I needed a full meal. Like two or three hot dogs. My legs just carried me along as I anguished over what to eat, wondering what happened to the meal I had on the airplane three hours prior.

Along the way I saw this:

It's a common sight all over NYC streets. Africans flogging 'branded' handbags and sunglasses.

Soon, I found myself walking past the AMC 25 Empire Cineplex on West 42nd Street, with the Loews Cineplex Regal Theatre across the street.

I took this picture,
and saw a sight at once heart-wrenching and heart-warming. A pair of Siamese twins who were joined at the head walked pass me. One twin was about the size of a 10 year-old and had no use of her legs. She was perched on a trolley-like contraption. Her twin-sister provided the mobility. But barely. Manoeuvering the trolley with the heads joined must be difficult, to say the least. Yet, they were smiling and talking to each other. They are somewhere in this picture.

(The following day, I saw a picture of them in USA Today. They were among the many guests of honour at the re-opening of Ripley's Believe It Or Not Odditorium in New York. I had probably missed the proceedings by a few hours.)

Then I met Mr. Morgan Freeman!

Well, his likeness in all his waxed glory, anyway. Waxed glory.... you know what I mean. 'He' was standing in front of New York's Madam Tussauds

A couple of minutes later, the Naked Cowboy of Times Square comes into view.

That's the cool dude with the guitar in his white briefs and ten-gallon hat, in the bottom right of the photo.

People actually tip this man to just to have a photo taken of or with him. I've seen him in winter, peddling his umm, talents in the sub-zero temperatures here in Times Square. Attired exactly the same! I'd have tipped him a buck then for his tenacity but getting to the warm sanctuary that the Virgin Megastore is in winter took priority . On my previous trips, I've seen a lot more curious admirers around him. The novelty must have worn off, I thought.

Walking past the singing half-nudie, I crossed the road and found THIS very compelling signboard outside the Hawaiian Tropic Zone.

There was actually a queue of five eager-looking guys outside the restaurant. It did cross my mind to dine there and get myself an autographed souvenir. It was around 2.30pm local and jet lag was probably impairing my judgment. And taste.

"Naaaah!", my inner voice told me, "What's the big deal about a woman taking off her clothes?" Yeah, and I'd have to pay an inflated price for the meal AND the magazine . And to what end? Laughing at myself for even considering the whole thing I walked on towards Virgin Megastore, my favourite stop in Times Square.

Just before I reached the entrance to this must-go place of mine, someone caught my eye from across the street. Could it be? Sure looked so. I dashed across the street, thanks to a red light further up. And there she was:

The Naked Cowgirl! I didn't know the Naked Cowboy had his counterpart. This lady had so many more fans. Male and female tourists, families, all thronged her. That explained the dwindled fuss around the poor dude in briefs. I joined in the jostling, too. Played tourist. It was all in the interest of this blog, of course. Found out later that she has appeared at Times Square for quite a while now. Pretty enterprising, this lady.

Eventually, I made my way to the massive music store and had spent an hour browsing when I abruptly remembered that there was unfinished business. By then, the munchies had deteriorated to near-starvation.

And so I hi-tailed down East 51st Street to my favourite burger joint in Manhattan:

After gobbling down two cheeseburgers, medium rare, I straggled back to the hotel five blocks away on Lexington Avenue. The subsequent warm shower relaxed my time-zoned-out muscles. Easing into the nice king-sized bed, the comfort was oh-so heavenly. As I was slipping out of consciousness I thought, "What's the big deal about a woman taking off her clothes, anyway?" My inner voice offered: "Maybe some, if she plays the guitar and earns money while at it...."And the last thought I could recall was: "The cheeseburgers were superb."

My Recent 24 Hours In New York - Prologue

2007-06-30T16:30:00.000Z

Crossing The Queensboro Bridge

It was probably my fifteenth or sixteenth trip to the Big Apple in the past 12 years. But the buzz was very much present as soon as I learnt that I'd be going, three weeks prior. It's work, but there's always a little time to immerse into the hustle and bustle that is New York. The time difference is, well, exactly 12 hours behind Malaysia, Singapore, The Philipines etc. 3pm there is 3am for the body. Walking around in the day time is often accompanied by uncontrollable yawning and drifting train of thought. But it is very satisfying. Especially when pounding the pavements and bitumen armed with a camera.

While the jet lag may not be such a big problem, but it still needs tackling. The best approach is sleep. And thus, I shall continue with this very soon. Yawn.

Religious Passion and Compassion

2007-06-19T15:19:00.000Z

The world today is witnessing more large-scale violence and atrocities. Whether the occurences have actually increased, we cannot really tell. What has increased is the awareness of such events. The ubiquity of the media and internet has made the world smaller. Wars and massacres are reported almost instantaneously from the battlefields and killing fields. Watching and reading about these conflicts, I cannot help but ponder: Why?

The causes of these horrors are multifarious. Humans can be driven by almost any idea or emotion. But of all the motivations behind which hate and hurt are committed, the most saddening are those that are religious.

Most people, of all faiths and following, are not sages nor gurus in the knowledge of their own religion. As such, many experience the guilt induced by someone who is seen to be more 'religious'. 'I didn't see you in church yesterday' and 'Did you pray at another mosque last Friday?' have probably caused many blushes, within and without. We are humans. We always fall short of the demands of our faiths. Hence the guilt. And the occasional urge to be more 'pious'.

What I'm getting at is this: It is very easy to use religion to stir up feelings. We all want to do right by God. We will do anything under the banner of God. But who waves the banners? They are human beings like us.

It can be said with certainty that the root cause of religious clashes is anything but of faiths. Which religion exhorts its followers to go forth and annihilate? Human frailties are the origins of all misery. Greed, envy, fear, pride and such are surely the motivations driving warmongers misguided enough to abuse the attachment and reverence with which religions are held. When it comes to religion, we can become very passionate. Murderously so, at times.

But where is the compassion? Are we less spiritual or religious were we more compassionate? Are we apostates for forgiving somebody who, say, denigrates our faith? Would we please God if we kick the crap out of the insulting unbeliever?

God is the most compassionate, the most forgiving.

Why then, are we hating, hurting and killing fellow human beings in His name?

akula's related story

Being our age, not acting any other

2007-06-13T14:35:00.000Z

This is not new. This is not the first time I've heard it. However, this is the first time I really felt it. Age has crept up on me. And boy, did it give me a big kick in the gutter.

I must say, that I was extremely enthusiastic about taking to the pitch when the offer came: A friendly match with like-aged opponents, for a like-aged team. How bad could it be? Then I got news that a buddy from my formative years had passed on. Mat Awet was my age, born of the same year. Mortality bit a little deeper. My mental age jumped from sixteen to thirty-eight in an instant.

Nevertheless, my thirty-eight year-old mind was just as keen to reclaim the glory on the field. Never mind that my last soccer game was two whole years ago: a kickaround with my little daughter. During the said interval, I probably ran to the toilet three times. And jogged my deteriorating memory on five occasions. That ought be sufficient exercise, I reasoned.

This afternoon, I drove to the shopping centre. In one receipt, I acquired my pre-requisites: A pair of Adidas boots, a pair of Adidas socks and a pair of Adidas shin-guards. I've already two children, so I saved on the ball-guards. An hour after the transaction, my trusty brother in-law drove up to my front gate and honked the inevitable: The time of reckoning has arrived.

So he drove me to the padang where the match was to take place. We were early. I put on my spanking new gear and I decided to do some warming up. I stretched. Shockingly, I could not quite reach as far as I set out to. Then I decided to jog the length of the field. Like in a horror movie, the end of the field seem to stretch out further as I approach it. So much for warming up. My new team mates arrive in trickles. Five Dutch, two Italians, two Nigerians, a Korean-Dutch and three of us Malaysians. The two Africans were the youngest and had enough fitness for the whole team. Our opponents were probably older than us on average. But they seemed fitter. Yes, I wasn't worried about their skills. Just their fitness. Skill and experience I possess. Fitness, I have not. When asked about my favoured position, I chose defense. I may have been a lethal striker but I thought: I may be deadly in the first 10 minutes but after that, I'm dead.

The whistle blew. After 15 minutes, we were leading 2-0. I haven't made any blunders, that was more important for me. After about 30 minutes, I found that I was merely willing myself forward. Spirit is willing but flesh is weak? Hogwash! Even the spirit was cashing out.

I then did the noblest deed I could muster in my hazy brain: Ask to be substituted. During the subsequent corner kick after I walked off, the team conceded a goal. I felt selfishly glad I wasn't on the pitch. For surely I'd have contributed to that goal against us. The first half then ended 2-1. I just watched the second half, hoping that nobody would ask to be substituted.

The whistle blew. We won 4-3. WE? I suppose I had a part in it, I gave my all for at least 35 minutes. Though it may not amount to much, but it was my ALL.

At the drink up after the game with my new-found friends, the captain voiced his appreciation for my game. He also asked for my passport and birth date. For future matches and tournaments. I have been accepted into the team! Whatever I did was good enough.

A sense of relief washed over me. Followed by the dawning of a realisation:

I SHOULD NOT EXPECT TO BE SIXTEEN WHEN I AM THIRTY-EIGHT. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!

After all, who would expect me to run around like a teenager, except myself?

I am looking forward to the next game. In the meantime, I may do well to actually go out for a walk in the mornings or evenings. And cut down on second helpings. After all, I am not sixteen. Not like the guy in the picture.

On the 6th of June

2007-06-12T01:58:00.000Z

On the 6th of June
Disbelief
gave way to Grief
Into pieces
Many a heart broke

On the 6th of June
Friend, Brother
Mat Awet left
Leaving spaces
Where he had stood

Fare thee well,
Friend, Brother
May God guide and bless
your soul
and ours.

Akula's Tribute
Hobo's Tribute
Almost Anonymous' Tribute

BRING DOWN THE BIG UNS. NO MIS-SPELLING THERE.

2006-11-17T16:17:00.000Z

I was reading USA Today recently because it was the only daily I found at my workplace that day. This particular edition had a letter from one Chris Sage of Tom’s River in New Jersey. He was clearly upset with the recent concerted movement by many churches to discourage, if not, ban Halloween.
He found pamphlets on his car windscreen, that were effectively telling him that his children of eleven and nine ‘will rot in the bowels of hell if they dress up like characters from the Pirates of the Caribbean and go house-to-house with friends – while supervised – just to get some candy, all while socializing and participating in a friendly neighborhood tradition.’

I could empathize with Mr. Sage.

Merely days earlier, I had a rather robust discussion with my father on the very same topic, Halloween. My parents have become very staunch and committed Christians since they were baptized two years ago. I am happy, almost envious that they have such an intense spirituality, after all these years of not aligning themselves to any faith. They have been soft-selling the same path to me. But that’s another story.

My Pa made a remark about finding it difficult to handle kids that may turn up at his gate with a ‘trick or treat’. I was taken aback on two counts: 1) That Malaysian kids are already into Halloween, and 2) That Pa is taken in with the anti-Halloween effort. The former I dealt with easily, the media being what it is today has made virtually everything American known and mimicked the world over. The latter, however, begged clarification.

I am of the opinion that dressing up fancy to partake in a social activity is basically what Halloween is about. It has nothing to do with one’s faith. If anything, one’s faith is the anchor with which one does not overstep the boundary between ‘activity’ and ‘obsession’. Halloween's origins, after all, are not demonic but for avoidance of such. Pa, of course, was driven by the church. Such activities are just un-Christian, he said. Soon, we were debating on how Christian were Christmas, Chinese New Year, New Year’s Day and so forth. I insisted that he was not giving me his opinion from his own conscience and merely repeating doctrines propagated by the church. My Mom probably sensed the rising temperature from the kitchen because she abruptly sent the old man out on an errand. We moved on to other topics after that, with no hard feelings. I’m thankful for Pa is open for discussions without me feeling unfilial or kurang ajar. I love and respect him for that. That, too, is another story.

What disturbs me is the ease and regularity with which all and sundry are declared un-Christian, un-Islamic or un-democratic. Un- Whatever! We used to have to deal with isms. Today, it’s the BIG UNS. Most of the time, the basis on which such declarations are made is frivolous and debatable. Like the religious expert from a bank in Malaysia who declared it haram (forbidden) for Muslims to wish Hindus a happy Deepavali (or Diwali). His odious email could have dealt inter-faith and inter-racial goodwill a bloody nose. Thankfully, the insipid motion and notion was shot down and clarified by the authorities. I wonder if the poor man is aware of the hurt, insult and misinformation that he instigated. Many other similar summary declarations are hardly ever debated upon and that is very frightening. Just because a decree comes from a holy office or holy men, it has to be obeyed regardless.

More often than not it comes with an air of holier-than-thou condescension. Mr. Sage wrote of the anti-Halloween campaign as ‘an effort led by self-righteous egotistical holy men blinded by their own delusions of grandeur’. It may not be entirely true but the possibilities are horrifying. A bigot who sits in the position can easily spread hatred and fear.

The decisions are still man-made in essence. Indeed, their assumptions are based on the Scriptures and Traditions. I query: Under whose interpretations of the Scriptures, then? There lies a great danger of seeing what we wish to see, to find the means to justify the end. This is why research, discussion and debate are vital. Facts are needed for reasoning. The path to enlightenment is not without questions. There is no faith without doubt. These Big Uns, they are so often borne out of narrowly-learned minds.

Life would be very much simpler if the world were mono-cultural, mono-religion, mono-racial and maybe, mono-sexual. It wouldn’t take long to understand everything there is to know and identify the un-social, un-spiritual or un-cool elements for such a society. Alas! We don’t dwell in such a world.

Judicial Law is fairly common everywhere we go, for crime as we see it affects us all in a generally similar manner across cultures and geography. Murderers and cheats are abhorred everywhere. Cultural, traditional and religious practices are not entirely uniform. Some would appear so alien; it may even go against the very grain of another. Seek first to understand before passing any judgment, on ourselves and not on others. Deepavali is a symbolic celebration of Light’s triumph over Darkness, of Good over Evil. Where’s the wrong and unholy in that?

My brother decides to dress up as Sponge Bob Square Pants to get candies. Even if I see Halloween as a great waste of time, I have no right to sentence him to an eternity in hell. That’s for God to judge. It is not part of our tradition but I owe it to myself to find out what Halloween means to him, although I'm aware of how removed the present-day concept of Halloween is from its origins. He says, it’s only for fun with friends and is neither about the devil nor worship of evil. Having understood, it now seems no more a waste of time than a trip to the beach. With understanding, we will be able to appreciate the intent behind the practices of every culture, tradition and religion. The intent is invariably always good, pure and simple. With knowledge there won’t be fear and suspicion. The Big Uns evidently are rooted in ignorance.

Ignorance and misinterpretation of cultures and religions outside one’s own is still very prevalent. Rituals of a pantheistic Ticuna tribe in deepest Amazon may not be necessary knowledge to one in Petaling Jaya, but a neighbor’s faith and related anathemas surely warrant some understanding. Love thy neighbor, ring a bell? To love, love, love him is to know, know, know him. Alright, that may be stretching it a bit but we all do loathe committing a faux pas and understanding your friends and neighbors will prevent red faces of embarrassment and possibly, of rage.

Is it a sin to learn about another religion? Will learning about Buddha’s teachings convert a Muslim into a Buddhist? Would studying the Holy Quran apostates a Christian? We all learned mathematics, are we then mathematicians? What matters is we know numbers and are thus able to do sums decently for day to day usage. If you are comfortable and confident with yourself being a mathematician, learning history won’t make you a historian overnight. As the anguished parent from Tom’s River charged, ‘If the church is doing its job correctly, it’d have the confidence in the spirituality of its congregation to know that Halloween is just a fun day for kids.’ This statement hits at the very heart of every faith, belief and individual in this plural world of ours. We need to sort things out from within, right from the roots up so there won’t be a need to nip buds all the time, more so buds from another tree. Or go off tangent and come up with an assortment of Uns. Once unleashed, they may corrupt the tenets of the very religion or faith they purport to defend. The pure and holy made murky. More so in the eyes of people of other beliefs.

Only objective minds can readily separate the faith from the practitioners. This is why knowledge and discourse are indispensable, especially in matters of faith and tradition.

Ignorance won’t be such a problem had we COMPASSION for one another. But that is yet another story and will be discussed next.

God Willing. God Bless.

A few axes to grind, but not yet.

2006-11-14T02:01:00.000Z

First off, an unreserved apology is due to Irene for my no-show to her Halloween tag. Like Princess Shin, it is very much due to the fact that we in Malaysia don’t exactly partake in the end-October tradition. It would have been fun to do so, though. Of course, that’s not a water-tight excuse for being a spoil-sport. Princess Shin did a great job circumventing our handicap with her response to the tagging. I, on the other hand, sat on my blogging hands while anguishing over how to get about it. It was events and news during this index-warming period that moved me to (finally) write this:

MY JOURNEY THUS FAR

Before I embark on a few rounds of heavy-duty ranting, I feel compelled to provide a brief history of my life; if only to give a glimpse of the journey that brought me to my present set of belief and mindset.

I was born into a household that did not practice any religion. In a great multicultural Malaysia, my parents had close friends from all races and religion. I am very thankful they brought me and my siblings up blind to racial differences. My grandparents on both sides were Taoists but that had little impression on me, except for the burning of joss-sticks. I had no awareness of the concepts of spirituality and religion until one fateful morning during kindergarten.

A pony-tailed classmate told me that she feared nothing as Jesus would save her from any peril or threat. I countered with my father, the policeman, Ultraman, Superman, King Kong and a whole list of heroic characters real and fictitious. But she brushed them all off, insisting that her Jesus was far superior to all of them put together! All of five years-old, I was dismayed that I have never come across such an illustrious and capable protagonist. I was curious.

“Pa, who is Jesus?” I asked my father. Next thing I knew, I was bundled along with my younger sister to Sunday school at the local Methodist church every weekend after that. My old man certainly knew how to delegate.

Thus, every Sunday morning my sis and I would be with a whole classroom of kids learning about the Bible. I discovered Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, Moses and of course, Jesus. I learned to pray. The premise of Good vs. Evil was revealed to me. Angels. Demons. Heaven. Hell. It was quite frightening at times, especially the prospect of being punished in Purgatory for sins committed in life. But generally, the stories from the Bible I found fascinating. And the games and play we had with the other kids after Sunday school was great fun.

My parents decided to put me in a Sekolah Kebangsaan (National School) for my primary education, where I was one of three Chinese descent pupils in the entire school. Save for about twenty ethnic Indians, the rest were Melayu. As this was basically a Malay school, there weren’t any alternative lessons for the non-Muslims during Ugama (Religious) periods. Wanting to blend in, I stayed for the subjects. Soon I was learning Jawi (Arabic Text), Ilmu Fiqah (Understanding and Interpretation of Syariah Laws), Ilmu Tauhid (The Theology or Basis of Islam) and Sejarah (History of) Islam. For the next eleven years, I would be in very Melayu-majority environments and I continued to learn Islam as a subject in class.

Through the years, the practices and beliefs of Taoism, Buddhism, Hinduism and Sikhism were revealed to me by relatives and friends.

Years passed and I’m paying taxes already. My job entails a lot of traveling and on many trips I find a lot of time in my hands, mostly alone. In these moments of solitude, I’ve spent a lot of time researching all manner of philosophies, religions and beliefs. One can say that I’m soul-searching.

This is just the brief background. The axes to be ground will be coming soon.

Tomb Tones

2006-10-06T03:02:00.000Z

I have been tagged for the first time! By Irene. And am I glad. I get to pick some songs. It's a walloping fun idea.The premise may be morbid, but hey, we are all headed for the same destination. No detours, no U-turns!

Right, so "The idea is to pick five songs that you'd like played at your funeral." I'd like to go on to request that these songs be available on-demand at my tombstone (or niche) even beyond that day. Run on non-polluting, renewable and zero-cost power. Visitors who do not know me could possibly get a glimpse into the person that I was. Not that it matters to them, or even to the long-departed me. I would just like to share.

Are you ready!!!???( In the high-pitched arena scream) Let's do it:

Song #1

BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY by Queen

I wonder if Freddie will spank me for this, if I should meet him. This song is about life, full of imperfections and mistakes redeemed by love and compassion. But at the very end, nothing really matters. Death overtakes us all.

Song #2

A QUESTION OF LUST by Depeche Mode

It's a great song about faithfullness and the temptations when away from your partner. This song is to tell mine that, I'm still her's where I'm going. Definitely no chance of getting drunk where I'm headed.... and I'd rather be home as usual.

Song #3

MARGARITA TIME by Status Quo

It's a favourite drink of mine. It is also simple yet catchily hummable ditty from the comtemporaries of Queen. It's about taking chances when it feels vaguely right. In this case, probably in some ways related to song #2. At my funeral, this song and this drink will be served.

Song #4

YOUR SONG by Sir Elton John

Beautifully crafted song filled with such meaningful lyrics by Bernie Taupin. This is to thank everybody that has filled my life with meaning and beauty.

Song #5

IN MY LIFE by The Beatles

This is my farewell to my loved ones. This is one sentimental, tear-jerker when you reminisce about days gone by. Hope this doesn't introduce the water-works at my funeral.

It certainly began with much gleeful enthusiasm. As I went through the encyclopaedia of songs in my head, my life thus far, flashed by, too. I ended up reflecting deeply upon my days past and present. Upon life. Death. This excercise has made me ponder much longer than the 10 minutes I expected to spend on the post. Have I served my purpose in life? Am I living life right? Will I ever?

I'm singing 'Is This The World We Created' by Queen as I type the finishing words to this post.

Just think of all those hungry mouths we have to feed
Take a look at all the suffering we breed
So many lonely faces scattered all around
Searching for what they need.

Is this the world we created
What did we do it for?
Is this the world we invaded
Against the law
So it seems in the end
Is this what we're all living for today
The world that we created.

You know that everyday a helpless child is born
Who needs some loving care inside a happy home
Somewhere a wealthy man is sitting on his throne
Waiting for life to go by.

Is this the world we created,
we made it on our own
Is this the world we devasted, right to the bone
If there's a God in the sky looking down
What can he think of what we've done
To the world that He created.

Four Accidents In One Day

2006-10-02T14:39:00.000Z

It didn't happen to me. But that doesn't take away the shock and awe of the occurences. That I had come across four traffic mishaps within eleven hours is an accident in itself. And they all took place within 3km-radius of where I live.

A bus and a Satria. Two buses. Two cars. Lastly, two motorcycles and a car.

Didn't see anybody hurt except the last one, only because I must have come across the first three a while after their occurence. Hope nobody was seriously hurt. Nobody wants a traffic accident. The word accident itself means it is undesirable most of the time. Traffic accidents can cause damage and loss to property, limbs and/or lives. At the least, it is an inconvenience.

The question I'm pondering is: Do we think about accidents when we drive? Or at least, before we start our journey in an automobile. Most times, it crosses our minds only when we witness or come across a disaster.

Would it make us more careful and considerate on the road?

There are loads of traffic accident reports in the news. There are plenty of road-safety campaigns. Grissly pictures of accident scenes, gentle jingles, dramatic enactments and outright morbid signboards abound.

Do we consciously or unconsciously ignore, forget about these lessons when we are behind the wheel? Are we dealing with the 'It happens only to the others' syndrome?

Why must we jump the red-light? Speed? Squeeze into tight spots to move just one car-length ahead? Overtake crawling traffic on the emergency lane? Ignore lane designations? Change lanes indiscriminately? We are all guilty of one or another, one time or another.

Wouldn't these actions risk accidents? We probably don't have that consideration in our minds as we commit the acts. It's always about 'getting there'.

But, will we always get there? Especially if we drive as if we are the only car on the road.

How then can recklessness be curbed? Aside from Big Brother-style strict enforcement, is there a possibility of educating drivers altruistic driving attitudes that will result in a utopian love and practice of such values?

Well, utopian it remains. For we are dealing with human beings. There is, somehow, a grey area in any concept. Even in religion, individual interpretations abound. What more with driving rules and attitudes? We have a great tendency to justify means to an end, and vice-versa. We compromise easily for our sole benefit. How then can we prevent traffic accidents?

As long we are human, we are an accident waiting to happen.

Drive carefully. Pandu Cermat, Jiwa Selamat. Malang Tidak Berbau. Pandulah Sepertimana Anda Mahu Orang Lain Memandu.

God Bless.

The Pain Of Blogging and The Itch When Not.

2006-09-28T10:10:00.000Z

It is hopeless. I thought I have been there and I have done that. And that ought to be just that. But the itch....

I started the blog in May. Made two postings in three months. Had a handful of comments which was extremely encouraging for a virgin blogger. However, it was quite a challenge finding the time to pound away at the keyboards. Day after day, time just slipped away elsewhere. Yes, I do have a life. And thus, the decision was made to DELETE the bloody blogspot and spare a few megabytes for somebody else who has the time and discipline.

But the itch.....

Somehow I had the time to read a few other blogs fairly regularly and I realized that they post irregularly. Some took breaks, even long hiatuses. Eventually a new posting would appear.

So I thought, 'Why not?'

I hereforth return with my meandering ponderings. What's a few megabytes?

The Winged Acrophobic Flies Once More!!

If only to stop the crazy itch.