Dave's Delight

Where have I been?

2008-08-03T21:16:00.000-07:00

I am totally confused with this blogspot.com. Everytime I try to get in I am blocked and it is getting on my nerves. So much so that I have not written for some time now and I fear if I let it go I may not ever write again.
So today I am just going to tell all of you about my utter frustration in getting into this site.
Can anyone tell me why this is happening?

The Roaring Seventies

2007-02-22T22:27:00.000-08:00

Born in the late forties, I was just the right age to welcome the Roaring Seventies. I had just started my first job in a local company based in Jalan Ampang in 1971. I was just 21 then and had began to earn some money at last. But now I had a permanenet job and was being recognised for my artistic and creative talents. I was posted in the PR department and did a little copywriting and designing of point of sale posters. In those days production was a bit old fashioned and stuff you had to print was made into a block and then printed. Soon they changed into films and into offset printing. But I learnt a lot from the advertising agency that I was dealing with.
The place I worked in was a motley assemblage of different characters.
This office was also the place where I first began to date girls. Throughout my schooldays I had always been uncomfortable with women and tried to avoid them. But now I had plucked up courage because of the guys I was mixing with. So the office annual dinner was the first time I began to dance with girls. By then I had also begun dating a special girl. But two years later she dumped me for a friend of mine. I remember how heartbroken I was. But God had other plans for me.
More office parties and soon I forgot about my first girl. Then came my biggest break. I was offered a position in a new subsidiary of my company as a manager. It was 1994. The money was also good and it came with bonuses. It was time to party. So I put my akward past infatuations behind me and decided to live a litte for the years in the wilderness. At the same time I was placed as the Public Relations Manager of a hotel in Petaling Jaya.
Things began to look up a little. I was sent abroad to see how Italian and Chinese restaurants were run. I got a new Mini 1275 GT and besides that a second car, a Alfa Romeo coupe.
Then began days that lasted well into the morning with a lot of boozing and crazy stuff. We used to drink well into the mornings and get up the next day for work with mighty hangovers. We used to party every night. It was also the time when a lot of house parties used to be organised. Every one's in a while a friend would throw a party when his or her parents were not in. Some of us would bring the liquor, some would organise the girls, some the lighting and the decor and some the music to play.No worries about 'snoop squads' or cops. Our bodies were young, it could take the punishment. I used to meet a lot of people, nice and some not so. When you are doing well, you have a lot of friends.
After I got married, things started to change. Kids came and along with them came responsibilty. I bought a house and changed jobs. Its been good so far. The kids have grown up and I have gone a bit wiser. My wife and I still like a night out and the pub to listen to music and just relax. There is this quaint little pub in PJ that we hang out in. The place brings good memories back to me. Most of the bands that play there have one or two guys who used to play at the Disco in my hotel back in the seventies. Some have grown fatter,some are balding like me. But we remember the good times and we still love the Roaring Seventies.

Bloggers against mainstream media

2007-01-29T23:12:00.000-08:00

I started blogging last year and I love writing on many issues. My favourite, really, is about my younger days when I lived in a kampong, Kampong Pandan. I love reminiscing on the past especially the kind of stuff you don't see or hear nowadays. Things like playing' police and thief', marbles, tops, koundi kounda, rubber bands, kotta (cigarette packets) and kites. Kids these days don't even know what a top is. So sad.
But what I am really sad about is the current situation in this country where a couple of bloggers have been taken to court over what they have written in their blogs. These two guys have been forthcoming with news that the mainstream media are reluctant to print. By their reluctance they have unwittingly given rise to blogs that give alternative news. You see, in this country the main papers are controlled by the ruling political party so they have to be careful about the stories they carry. But that is not the case with bloggers. They do not have to worry about editors and the ones who are paying their salaries. Bloggers are free to write, albeit with responsibility. What bloggers write are actually opinions and thoughts -they could be wrong or right. People are free to leave comments if they so wish.
These two bloggers are being sued for defamation. Now I am no legal counsellor but I believe that the onus is on the plaintiff to prove that there is malice in the reports and it was done intentionally to make the aggrieved person loose face (reputation) in society. The case is before the courts in Malaysia and this will become a landmark case.
The problem is that many people have now begun to read the blogs of malaysian bloggers. Blogs are in fact really coming up with scoops and it is with relish that the ordinary folk lap it up. We have a large percentage of urbanites who have computers and who surf the net. The interesting thing is that, like always in this country, whatever is reported in the alternative media somehow turns out to be true.
A point in case is the recent blogs by Raja Petra Kamaruddin or RPK, Jeff Ooi and Rocky's Bru. These guys have reported about a number of things and all turned out to be true to the embarrassment of the PM and his government. The recent purchase of an Airbus plane which is being refurbished in Switzerland at great expense came to light through the website of certain bloggers. Photos of the plane and the costs were published. A few days after the blogs were out about this issue, the PM returns from the Davos summit and makes a statement that the government is only leasing the plane from another company (PMB) which purchased the plane. The funny thing is that company is the investment arm of the government. So it other words the plane was actually bought by the government! And who, therefore, is leasing from who? It does not take an Einstein to work this out.
I for one will continue to read blogs and write my own. My support goes out to the bloggers who are being persecuted. I hope that justice will prevail although I feel that the clout of the government will ultimately influence the outcome.
I feel sad about the state of affairs in this country. We were promised by the incumbent PM of this country that he will be transparent and accountable to the people. We gave him a huge mandate and elected him in.
Will we do it again in 2009 ?

A really good muslim

2007-01-24T01:13:00.000-08:00

I have had the pleasure of knowing and working with this person, Rabiatu Abu Bakar, for over 3 years. I first met her when she came to work with me as an intern when she was completing her degree in Public Relations. My first impression of her, with her head scarf and serious disposition was that I had to be careful and sensitive when dealing with her or else I might offend her and her religion since she was a foreigner. She looked pretty conservative.
But over the years, she has not only become to me a colleague but also a kind, gentle and most of all a conscientious friend. 'Rabs', as I would call graduated with a degree in Journalism and was offered a post in the establishment I work for. She writes well and that is a premium in this country where the usage of English has literally gone to the dogs. So she was duly hired to assist me in my work. Although not paid what she was worth she continued to produce and write a vast array of articles for the media. She never complained one bit about her pay and managed to live with the meagre salary all by herself. Through her writings she also became a book reviewer and received a number of by lines in the local press.
Not once have I heard her complain about any one in the office. I would rant, rave and use foul language but she would just smile at me and tell me to take it easy or that the person did that because of a good reason. She would be the pacifier. She would slip out quietly during the day to fulfill her daily prayers.Never one to take sides she was always trying to make things go well with her colleagues.
At times I would tease her about this and that but she would just smile and retort with a nice saying that would make us both laugh. She brought my blood pressure down for sure.
Although many people did not realise it she was the daughter of an ambassador. She carries herself in a dignified manner and has this wonderful disposition that I really admire. I wish sometimes that I could be like her.
She would be leaving this country soon and I for one would really be missing her.She is a true blue muslim.
Good luck my friend and Salam.

Only in this country lah!

2007-01-11T20:13:00.000-08:00

The other day I was reading one of the main English dailies in the country and stumbled upon something that we in Malaysia can be very proud off. We have the the most amount of awards before a name. It goes like this ' Tun Tan Sri Dato Dr Professor Ling K T. "
Boy! The man surely is somebody. Just look at the awards he has got. His family must be mighty proud of him. The only problem is that this guy is somebody I know and to my knowledge he has got only his Senior Cambridge. The rest of this came through rubbing shoulders with the right people. But to his credit he also is quite talented.
But one thing I am sure is that he is not an academician and cannot profess to be a Phd or Professor emeritus!!
But what the heck!! We are known globally as ' Malaysia Boleh'!!
Anything goes here in this wonderland.

Calgary, Canada - Rocky Mountain High

2006-11-30T09:11:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Calgary. The land where your butt literally freezes over. This is the story of my trip to Calgary, Canada with my wife, Malina.
It all started sometime at the turn of the century when my wife began to speak to me about her mum in Calgary and how she was getting old and whether she would ever get the chance to see her. Meanwhile, she was also talking to our daughter, Mel, about perhaps visiting her grandma after the final exams of her degree programme. Being the adventourous girl that Mel was, she hopped to the opportunity. So it was that in 2002 when I got a little of my savings from the EPF, I booked her a ticket to Calgary to visit her grandma, aunties and uncle who are permanent residents there. She left in 2003 September and stayed in Calgary for sometime (about 3 months) before returning via Vancouver where she stayed with her cousin Pam for a couple of weeks. Well, to cut to the chase, Mel loved Calgary every bit and has plans to return one day.
So we began to plan our trip to Canada. Meanwhile, my wife had also received news that her mum was now to undergo a heart bypass at the age of 81. The doctors had said that if she did not, she would not survive, so the desicion was made to go ahead with the operation. The survival rate was less than 50% but she made it. We now had to go and see her. Again the EPF can in handy, my wife received a reasonable sum and she said that we should use it to see her mum.Tickets were bought and bags were packed. The children were informed and leave was obtained from the office.
We were booked on the Cathay Pacific airlines from KL to Hong Kong and then on to Vancouver. From there we were to take a Westjet flight to Calgary. It was going to be a long haul, about 18 hours of flight but with the transits and waiting time it was more like 24 hours.
The day came in late November 2006 and we headed off to the KLIA. The flight to HK was ok but then we got onto an Airbus which had very little leg space. Boy, we sure had a rough time but landed in Vancouver in freezing weather. It was like minus 40 and snowing. We had just seen snow!! It was bedlam in Vancouver airport as the whole airport was snowed over. Our flight to Calgary was delayed and we got in to the little town of Calgary just after 1 am. My sis in law had heavy clothings for us as we dashed into the car to get away from the cold.
My sis in law stays alone but has borders in her home. It is a cosy house and warm. The first few days were spent just gazing at the beautiful landscape - just like the Xmas cards you see on sale or receive. My wife was so excited to see her mum and siblings. The next week we went to a little resort town in the Rockies called Banff and spent two nights there . We also toured Lake Louise and saw glaziers. Passed some wildlife like elk and deer before we returned. Banff is a resort and ski town nestled in the famed Rockies. Needless to say it was cold like minus 20.
But the best part of Canada is the food and booze. I just went ga ga over the fantastic range of sausages, salmon, nuts ( not human) and the beer and ale. We just guzzled down pints of ale and beer every day. And I kind of put on weight in the few weeks I spent there. Mum in law was looking good after the operation and health care is just amazing there. She was also good enough to give a couple of thousand Canadian dollars for our expenditure while there. So we never stinged.
Christmas was also drawing near and the decor of the houses in Calgary was so beautiful. Lights were on the Xmas trees outside the houses and it was just like a picture.
Soon it was time to leave and this became the most difficlut part as the wife had to leave her mum. But sis in law kinda put it well, " Just remember your real family is in KL and they are waiting for you."
And so it was that we packed our bags and said our goodbyes to all and left Canada.
It was a bitter sweet ending to our sojourn in Canada.

What are we fighting for?

2006-11-19T23:53:00.000-08:00

In 1957, Malaya got its independence. I still remember the day although I was only 8 years old. It was nostalgic. We had become an independent country, off the clutches of Great Britain which had ruled the country for almost a century. But the British gave us a good educational system, good roads, transport and an excellent legal system. They also took away a lot of stuff from us but I do not intend to get into that here. There are many publications on the British rule in Malaya which are available at the bookstores. In 1963, Malaysia was formed and Sabah and Sarawak joined us to form the new entity. Singapore decided to break away. Today Singapore is far ahead of us and is a country to be reckoned with in many ways. Their universities are ranked higher than us. Their dollar is higher than our ringgit. Their cars are better than ours. Their transportation is better than ours. Their economy is doing better than ours. They have property in Malaysia. But we started earlier. How come?
I am not a politician but sometimes it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why. It is simply because we are continuously badmouthing each other. As Malays, Chinese and Indians we are preoccupied with who is having what. We have not learnt anything at all. Our forefathers were much better. They fought for independence, not each other. It is a sad situation. We are getting deeper and deeper into the quagmire. Racial tones are becoming more apparent. Religion is taking centre stage. There is a great divide between the races, although we pretend its not happening.
My children, wife and I were born in this country. We do not have any other. Wewant to live here. We have no desire to migrate. Our fathers toiled to carve a foothold in this country. Why can't we do something about this? Why can't we live together peacefully? I said in my earlier blogs that the 50's in my area was such a beautiful place to live. It was kind of a 'kampong' quarters for government servants. All races lived there, and happily too.
I wish for this country to become more united. I wish that we could all go about our daily lives without fear of our neighbours. I put a twist to what Dr. Martin Luther King said, "I wish that one day our children would be judged by their content and not their ethnicity'. I wish for a lot, really.

old movies

2006-09-20T01:06:00.000-07:00

I have this friend, Stewart, in the office who doesn't forget to drop by my desk daily to talk about football, movies (old movies and new movies especially westerns) and the latest news. We sort of exchange views and shoot the breeze for a while before he gets back to his desk at 9. Well this fellow is actually an old friend whom I met in an advertising class over 30 years ago. I remembered him when he first joined the organisation except that I could'nt place him till one day when we were talking about advertising I remembered where we had met. He still has the same gruff voice and hairstyle albeit less hair and grey.
The other day we were speaking about old movies and some of the old classics and he suggested that I write about it in my blog. Swell idea I thought.
So here goes.
But before I name some great movies and actors, I would like to reminisce on the old days and the black and white movies that some of us would have seen in our small towns and kampongs. Most of the old movies that I saw were the cheap matinees at the Star theatre, Cathay, Pavilion or Rex. It would be shown on Sunday mornings at about 10 and costed only 40 cents for a seat. I would always look forward to going for the shows after Sunday mass. I would quietly sneak out of the house and ride my bike to the theatre and buy the ticket, always alone. If I had money to spend then I would get some 'cuaci'. I loved to get in early to see the supporting shows. My elder brothers would always talk about the good shows with their friends and I would listen in and then save some money and go for it. Most of the time they were right and I would come back satisfied and tell my kampong friends. Movies were the only form of entertainment then, besides the games we played in the evenings. I remember in the fifties when TV wasn't around yet, my elder brother who worked in the Information Department would bring home a projector and films from the office. Word would go round that there would be a film show that night at the cement court where we played badminton. At around 6pm my brother and I would pack the films and projector into a friends car and drive to the screening area. Boy, what a crowd there would be waiting for us. Old folk, kids ( for the cartoons that would be normally be screened before the feature for the night) and ladies would be seated on the ground with packets of kacang and cuaci. I used to swell with pride when we arrived at the place. My brother was the star attraction. Everyone used to watch his every movement as he put the projector on a table and then adjust the screen ( a white piece of cloth). Then the reels would come out and he would slowly feed them into the projector. How much fun we would have then.

Stewart is one of the few persons I know who remembers quite a lot about the old movies and actors(westerns). Some of the names he mentions I can remember , some I can't. So I aked him to list the them out. Here they are:

John Wayne - The Searchers/North to Alaska/Rio Bravo

Burt Lancaster - Lawman

Steve Mc Queen- Nevada Smith/Magnificient Seven

Kirk Douglas-Last Train from Gun Hill

Henry Fonda - Once upon a time in the west

Robert Taylor - The law and Jake Wayde

Richard Widmark- Warlock/Last wagon

Glen Ford- The fastest gun alive

Charles Bronson- Chato's Land/ Magnificient Seven

Gregory Peck-The Bravados

Richard Boone - Have gun will travel (TV)

Alad Ladd -Shane/Drumbeat

James Garner- Hour of the Gun

Robert Rayan-The Professionals

Lee Marvin - The man who shot Liberty Valance/Cat Ballou

James Stewart-The man who shot Liberty Valance (remember the song)

Lee Van Cleef-The Good, Bad and Ugly

If any of you guys remember some good ones we left out, we would be pleased to hear from you.

So long!

Food, Glorious Food!

2006-08-17T01:29:00.000-07:00

I love food. And there's no two ways about it. The problem is that I have a lousy stomach and have to be careful of what I eat nowadays. I sometimes envy some of my colleagues who just scoff down roti canai's, mamak mee, mutton paratel, char kwey teow, fried potato chips, and guzzle down pints of beer and don't have a problem. I wish them well. It is just my luck.
But I do like to check out new places to eat.
When I was in my early twenties, I had a Chinese friend who would take me to the best Chinese restaurants and some of the most dirty Chinese stalls you can ever imagine. But, he would say, " the dirtier the place the better the food, we Chinese believe this." Anyway, I never argued with him because he was always right. Some of the shanty stalls he took me to served some of the most delicious food I have ever tasted. I remember the one occasion in the early seventies when he took me to a shop near where the Guinness Brewery is today. Then there was a village around there. He had to drive quite a bit into the area before we came to the restaurant. But guess what, there was a whole load of Mercedes Benz's parked in front of the shop. How did they know about this eating place?
" You see," he told me, " the Chinese are like this. They spread the word when they eat good food in a place."
So he took me in. All eyes were on me. A young Indian with a Chinese towkay in a Chinese restaurant meant only for food connoisseurs. I did not bat an eyelid and sat down to a meal of ' Kum Loong Yee', butter prawns, abalone, deer meat and frog legs. Then one day he said to me, " Today you come with me, one table only for ten people." It was at the Hotel Malaya. So I went with him. There seated around the table were some of his business friends. Again, the young Indian sat among the wealthy Chinese businessmen and waited for the dishes to come. It came. The piece de' resistance that day, I was told, was the bear's paw. A bear's paw from a honey bear shot in the Malaysian jungle. It was illegal, but then how could I protest. So I took a bit from the plate, it tasted like stewed beef. No big deal. I thought that the king prawns served that day was any time better. I may be wrong, it could have been my aversion to eating poor honey bears!.
Nowadays I go for simpler food though. I enjoy a nice bowl of fish ball noodles or a good pak cham kai chicken rice. I try to avoid fatty food but you see, these are the things that taste good. So I do indulge sometimes in a good steak or lamb chops or even a good steak and kidney pie.
I happen to be a good cook also. My kids and my wife enjoy my cooking but that has also been far and in between these days.
Must get back to trying some good food soon.

'Today a child from this village has entered the gates of heaven'

2006-08-10T01:18:00.000-07:00

The bells tolled at 6.45 am in a small village in south India on 13 March 2005. The priest who presided over the mass that morning in the village, said to the congregation,'' Today a child of this village has entered the gates of heaven". He was talking about my mother who passed away on 12 March 2005, at the age of 85.
I was told about this statement made by the priest by my mothers' relatives who live in the village of Viriyur, somewhere near Pondicherry. I remember the village quite well as I visited it with my mum in 1978. We had gone there to transfer the title of the property on which our relatives lived from my mother's name to my brothers and I. I was only 27 then, young and energetic.

Easy enough I thought. But when I reached the village after a frightfully long trip in a ramshackle bus in the wee hours of the morning, I was never prepared for what I was about to see. Our 'property' was thatched huts without electricity and running water! The land under our name was dry and devoid of any real crops. They had to do with whatever they could grow. Water was from a well and light was a kerosene lamp.
That was it. I told my mum in no uncertain terms that I will never be able to transfer the land, from where they were eking out a living, to the well to do ones in Malaysia. She did not argue. And so I stayed there for two long days enduring the heat, hard water and no toilet.

My mum came to Malaya as a 16 year old bride in the early thirties with my dad who wanted to work in Malaya, make some money and return to India. Unfortunately he died at the age of 57 in 1965, and his dreams of returning with the family to India was dashed. It dawned upon us then that we could never live in India and so we had to manage with what little we got from the government as a monthy pension (RM 62.90). We had to leave the government quarters and live above a shoplot. Seven people crammed in two rooms. I had to work and earn some money to supplement the family's income. I had just finished my Senior Cambridge. And so one day I trudged to the La' Salle Peel Road School, met the Headmaster and was given a temporary teaching job at the age of 17. My salary, RM 190. Most of it I gave my mum. To save money, I walked to school everyday, about 6 miles each way.

I can still remember my mum and how hard she worked trying to keep us fed and together. Relatives and friends disappeared overnight. We were alone. Then May 13 happened and we had leave to leave Kampong Pandan, one of the hot spots, and settle in Petaling Jaya.

My eldest brother had by then got a better job in the Welfare Department, My second brother was doing well in the University of Malaya and my youngest brother was still in school. I had finished my HSC by then and was looking for a job again. My mother was so proud the day my brother graduated from the university. He got a job immediately in TV Malaysia and we were slightly better off. My mother's brother lived with us then and he recommended buying a house in Bangsar. It costed only RM 27,000 for a double storey one. My mum made the down payment and we settled in Bangsar in 1973. We were one of the first famlies to live on the Lorong Maroof stretch. My mother began to live comfortably as by then I too had a good job and she managed the family comfortably. Relatives and friends became more visible. My brothers and I began to have our own circle of friends and our house became a meeting point for a motley group of people. Some would come and spend week ends with us. Many came because mum made the best curries you could ever imagine. Her fish curry was legendary. Her mutton chops, awsome. Even the simplest meal was something to relish. She was always hospitable to any one who dropped by, never allowing them to go without a meal or at the least a cup of tea.

Then came the grandchildren. While she was still healthy, she took care of most of them, always doting. She exerted herself when she was in her late fifties, carrying flower pots in and out of the house and the doctor advised her to take it easy from then on.

It was now our turn to look after her and we began to make her spend weekends at our homes. She was quite reluctant at first prefering to remain in Bangsar with my youngest brother, his wife and kids. But soon she got used to the idea and came willingly.

How she used to enjoy watching TV in the evenings. Her favourite show on the black and white TV was, guess, Johnny Cash, the Saint, Ironside, The Big Valley,and tamil movies. She began enjoying fast foods and her favourite was the McDonald's fish fillet burger and chips.

As she grew older, she began to slow down. She sufferd a stroke in the early nineties, went into a coma and came out off it miriculously. She had little strokes after that and her speech began to slur. We wanted her to go for speech theraphy but she adamently refused. Slowly we could see her getting slower and weaker but she stiill visited us at home. She would spend the weekend with me and I would try to get to tell me about the Japanese occupation, her early life in Brickfields, my dad and her relativers in India. We used to speak well into the night and then I would take her to bed. She would always kiss me and ask whether her rosary was under her pillow. In the morning I would wake her up and make breakfast for her and spend the whole day beside her in case she needed to go the toilet. She used a walking frame so that she would not fall.

Then one day her face swelled on the right side. We took her to hospital and the doctor thought it was a dental problem. Her molars were extracted but the swelling did not subside. Suspecting something more sinister they did an MRI and found that she had a cancerous growth in her sinuses. We were told that she hadn't much time left. By this time she could hardly speak anymore. It was December 15, 2005, when she was diagonised. We made sure that that Christmas, which we knew would be her last, would be remembered by her. All her children, spouses and granchildren came to wish her. Some she could recognise, others she could not.

My second brother and his wife took her home for the last few months of her life. She was taken care by a maid and my sister-in-law. We even managed to celebrate her 85th birthday on February 19 although by then she could hardly recognise anyone.

On the 12 March 2006, I received a phone call from my brother to come over to the house. She was going into a coma he said. I rushed over and saw her lying in bed, her life slowly ebbing away. All her children were around her when she breathed her last.

A legend had passed away.

Try a little kindness

2006-07-25T01:17:00.000-07:00

My wife and I raised our two children over the last 26 years without any help from our in-laws and least of all any domestic help. I can't say that they are the best behaved children but by any standards they are good examples of children who have grown into their adulthood quite nicely. In fact, my wife should take the credit for raising them up, when they were still young, single-handedly. She quit here job at a multi national firm and looked after her two charges for 7 years. and when they went into primary education she took up a job at a Kindie still having half the day free to cook for the family. Today she still works for a private school teaching pre-school children.

What's my point? Maids, that's what. And how some are treated in this country. I have always made it a point to observe how these migrant workers are treated by their employers. Sad to say the majority of them are treated worse than refugees. A good indication of how a maid is treated is to see how they are made use off when they are at restaurants with their employers. Most of the time they have to look after the toddlers, ensuring that they are fed while their parents go on an eating frenzy. Nobody even bats an eyelid to see if the maid's plate is full leave alone put some food on her plate. They fear to reach out and take food from the ordered dishes because of the looks they might receive from around the table. So most the time, eating out means not eating at all. I wonder how they keep on going without proper nourishment. You can only guess what they get at home. Besides that, to keep a long story short, most of the kids are raised by the maids who transfer their own values to the young ones.

But the other day, I had a plesant surprise when my wife and I were having dinner at the Esquire Kitchen in Subang Parade. A large family, grandparents, their children their spouses and of course, toddlers. Lo and behold, while the maid tended to the small kids, the young gentleman ( and I say gentleman) made sure that her plate was always full. More than that the grandpa urged her to eat and not to be shy. What a happy maid she looked, nicely clothed, neat hair and so well groomed. And when the children mother's had finished their meal they digilently took took over the kids and allowed the maid to finish her meal in comfort.

It really coddled my heart to see that scene that day and made me feel somewhat that there was still some good people around

My Cup runneth over

2006-07-03T20:44:00.000-07:00

My world cup has ended even before the end. And it looks like it has happened to almost half of world, that's a consolation at the least for me. I can't say how much I looked forward to this World Cup. With my favourite team Brazil boasting of incredible talent. But all the hype about this going to be the Cup to watch has come to naught. It has been the teams with little known players that are in the final four. Who ever heard of Philip Lam the little classy left back of the German team or Maxi Rodriguez of Argentina who blasted a last moment kick to send the Mexicans home or Camoranesi the Italian with his pony tail who runs tirelessly and controls the mid field or Fabio Grasso who sent back the Aussies or Ribery of France who is a revelation. These chaps upstaged the more famous names like Ronaldinho, Nistleroy, Adriano, Kaka, Sevchenko, Cafu, Ballack, all who did not really live up to expectations. But I am really pissed off with the Brazilians who thought they could turn the game over with a moment of magic. It never came. They were all too busy trying to get their name in the goal scoring sheet. Old warhorses like Cafu who had Ronaldinho totally unmarked still tried to go for goal even though there was absolutely no chance. Or Roberto Carlos who is said to have been looking at his boots when Thiery scored. And Ronaldinho, for all his hype, was the biggest flop of the 2006 world cup. I am glad they burnt his effigy in Brazil. He had better not go back home for a while or they might just bump him off. Frank Lampard, John Terry, Steven Gerrard, Wayne Royney, all were miserable disappointments, totally impotent. Fellows could hardly get a kick right.
But the consolation was to see new chaps like Lam weave his magic down the left flank, Camoranesi, an Argentinian by birth, by the way he controlled the midfield with astute passes or Rodriguez who was a fearless warrior in all the games he played. Ah, and the beautiful and elegant Zidane who singlehandedly tore the Brazilians apart. What a display of artistic, classy football, and at his age too.
Anyway, I am still watching the games only because my daughter is a die hard soccer fan, something I inadvertently taught her when she must have been about ten. I still recall the 1994 World Cup when I thought it was time my son, about eight then, should see this major sporting spectacle, once in four years. So I prepared him by getting him the World Cup Soccer magazines and briefing him on all the teams and players. My daughter, I thought, was meant for more ladylike things like her Barbies'.
The first night of the Cup and I had prepared sausages and other snacks for the opening game. Time 2.30 am.
Get ready, I said, and come down quickly, its going to start. I heard little footsteps coming down the stairs.
Come Danny, I said, Daddy has prepared some nice yummies for the game.
Thank You Dad, she replied as she took her place next to me. I looked around for Daniel, my son.
He is fast asleep, Dad, don't bother, she said. And that was how she got started.

My Little Sideshow

2006-06-11T18:02:00.000-07:00

Ah, It's here again. Once in only four years, but it takes a toll of us once it is done. The whole country talks about nothing else but football. My preparation for the world cup got a jolt on the opening day when while having dinner with my wife and daughter, my son calls and tells me the old faithful, my 12 year Sony Trinitron has called it quits. And at 7 pm on the opening day!! Dash home we did. Frantically I tried everything I could to revive the old bugger, but to no avail. Then we mobilised the house. The daughter opens the car door, my son and I carry the mortally wounded down stairs. Straight to the repair shop. But alas, the shop is closed. Damn!
What to do? Son comes with a killer idea as usual. ' Dad buy a new TV lah'. Family conference ensues in the car. Ok , so we head to the row of shops in Taipan selling TV's. A quick survey and a new 29" flat screen is looking good but still not as good as my Sony. ' Why like this? I ask. 'Made in Malaysia mah !', the salesman says. Soooo? Anyways time was running out but wait, another hitch. ' Today cannot deliver mahh, late already mah!'. I felt like throttling him. But he was good enough to lend us a small TV just for the night since he had already swiped my card.
Next day the new TV arrives but the pics aren't good at all. So we call the salesman and he comes and fiddles with the controls. Doesn't get any better. ' I think this one got problem, mah'.
So off we go to the Store and pay another RM 200 for another brand. In it comes and out goes the other.
Time for the match to start. The family is gathered around the new TV. My wife, this time around, decides to watch the World Cup with the three of us. Family bonding. So she nestles herself next to the girl with her favourite drink. Kick off! The picture is better this time. Then it happens again. 'Daddy, what is the strange colour at the corner of the screen?'. ' Oh, Lord, it has happened again!. A strange looking hue appears at the right side of the screen. Mood spoilt.
Wife says that we need to sort it out. This means calling the salesman again and going through the whole rigmarole. Ok, we will do it tomorrow, I say.
So we follow the game. Boring match, only Robben seems to be playing.
Wife sees a glimpse of Franz Beckenbauer. ' Who's the guy?she asks. I say, Franz Beckenbauer.
'Oh, the French President!' she says.
Boy, am I going to enjoy this World Cup.

Kampong Days

2006-06-08T01:30:00.000-07:00

I proudly declare that I am still a Kampong boy. In fact, I love talking about my Kampong days so much that it sometimes upsets my children. There was so much fun living in the boondocks with nary a care in the world. I spent about 20 years in Kampong Pandan. I was born and finished my Form Five there although we moved house twice. The house that I was born in faced what is now the Cochrane Road School. It was a jungle then with some Malays living there in small huts. We used to play hide and seek there. Neighbours were a motley group of Chinese , Eurasians, Malays, Indians and Punjabis. What a time we had running into each others house from the front through the back. No fences seperated our houses, a hedge or two but no fences. Festivals were big affairs with all neighbours streaming in the whole day with our mums' dishing out tasty hot food and cakes. Malay friends walked in, ate and drank with us. Never heard of 'halal' or 'haram' then. In fact, my Malay neighbour even had two dogs called 'Blackie and Whitie'. Good banter would follow every visit and we made sure that we would return each visit. Life was good then.
How things have changed. What has become of us now? I live in USJ, Subang Jaya. It is a crowded neighbourhood. And all neighbours have been walled in. Luckily, I still get to greet my Malay neighbours with a 'Hello' of 'Hi'. But that is about it. No further communication. Their kids do not know mine. They lead a life of their own. We fear to invite them to our house for any function and be told that they cannot because we do not serve halal food. It hurts us when we are told such. It is made worse when Ulamas declare that public Rumah Buka's should be banned because it may intrude on Islam. God help us! Who are these idiots who tell us what to do or not do?
My sister studied in a Convent School in Peel Road and many of her classmates who were Malays recited the 'Hail Mary' and the 'Our Father' daily in the morning. Some even attended Mass and took Scripture for Form 5 and passed with flying colours. Ask Dr. Mahathir's wife. They have all done well for themselves and are good Muslims still. None have gone wrong. If anything, they understand and respect other religions better. But we have become too polarised. Just look at the government departments, the multinationals. The former is full of Malays and the latter, Chinese. Going for lunch is going with your own kind. Look at the new breed of kindergartens that cater for a particular religion. The children covered from head to foot must be imbibed with religion at a young age otherwise they will not get God's salvation, they say. Sorry, but what they are going to become are narrow minded, ultra radicals who will take to the streets and burn down buildings all for the sake of religion.
At least I had experienced the days when all races could mix freely without any fear of being penalised for every small thing. I feel a tinge of sadness for the new generation of Malaysians who have not.

An unforgetable personality

2006-06-05T00:32:00.000-07:00

He really is quite an unusual man. Calm, unassuming and in his sixties, he is the epitome of confidence, but rarely misses an opportunity to infuse a little humour in his conversation while he checks out his patients. Straight forward and honest, he is the most relaxed doctor I have ever met. That's Doctor T. Vergehese for you. He runs a small practice which he says is sufficient for him to keep going. He is being modest having had rubbed shoulders with no less than the Tengku, President Zakir Hussein, Nehru, Queen Elizabeth, Lee Kuan Yew and African leaders while being the President of the All Malaysian Student Association of India.
The first time I met him was when he came into my office to ask me details of a mutual friend who had recently passed away. I was taken up by his effort to write about this person who had done so much for the Indian community but had not received any credit from the media. He wanted to put this right and wrote an article on the many contributions of the deceased. It was published, I think, but not in a big way.
Through a twist of events, he was appointed as my company's doctor and I began to see him for medical treatment. It has been 10 years now and we have become more than just a patient-doctor relationship, we have become good friends.
What really drew me to him was his genuine interest in treating his patients without looking at costs. One day I saw a number of poorly dressed kids in his clinic and asked the nurse what was going on and she said that he was giving free treatment for these children from a special Home. Then more information became evident, he was also building churches and housing the poor in India, he has trained a large number of Indians to be doctors and nurses also in India. This is his way, he says, of repaying the debt he owed to the Indian Government for providing him with a scholarship for his medical degree in India. He also contributes to the welfare of poor Indians here.
I feel absolutely at home with him. But I have this inbuilt fear for pain, sickness and death. My mind goes ballistic when I have a pain anywhere in my body. I break into cold sweat and my mind goes numb with fear .
Once I had this pain in an akward place and thought the worst. He smiled at me and asked, " What are you afraid off? Death? Is anyone exempt from it?
Funny, but when suddenly confronted with reality, it did not matter so much.

What the heck?

2006-06-02T19:24:00.000-07:00

I am still reeling from the shock!! We are a Chinese country where Indians and Malays speak Cantonese!. At least the Police do. This is how we are perceived by a famous Indian producer who shot parts of a film 'JURM' in Malaysia. And it starred no less than Bobby Deol and Larra Dutta. As a Malaysian I could not help but feel insulted by the film.
It stared off well with the hero, Bobby Deol, being framed by his best friend and wife for his money. He is jailed for having murdered his wife and escapes with the help of his best friend. But he is shot three times by this friend as he escapes. Unknowing to him, Deol, is saved by another girlfriend who harbours a secret love for him.
And so his best friend and wife escape to Malaysia to spend their fortune. Here is where the fun starts. The couple buy over the Palace of the Golden Horses,no less, and are partying daily. Deol finds out about this and comes to Malaysia to seek revenge. The strange thing is that we do not see any Malaysians or other people at the KLIA. It is deserted. Then he hatches his plan with the help of his girlfriend and another Indian who is a taxi driver. He traps an accomplice of his friend and drowns him in a bathtub. Again this is with the help of his girlfriend who seems every willing to help him commit murder. The plot gets thicker and he manages to convince his wife that his best friend is now out to bump her off. The ending is staged at the Bukit Jalil stadium. We are not spared the dramatic Indian fights, ala Matrix. Deol shoots his friend three times in the chest, point blank. Dead as a door nail.
Ah, the best part is yet to come. The Malaysian Police arrive and they speak ' chee chong fun' cantonese. My God!! Then it happens again at the jail as his wife gets locked up, when a Malay policeman utters ' fai ti, fai ti' (quick, quick).
The 'piece de' resistance'. Bobby Deol and his girlfriend go back home to India, scot free, without having to answer to killing off two people in Malaysia. What a wonderful country this is.
Malaysia Semua Boleh!

Lame Ducks

2006-06-02T19:00:00.000-07:00

The excuses are coming in fast and furious. Innocent people have died because of some peoples' callousness. It's not like it hasn't happened before, and it is more likely to happen again. Because even the loss of innocent lives is not taken seriously. We thought that the Highland Towers that made international headlines would have knocked some sense into the authorities but it is like knocking on a wall. We are so set so deep in the quagmire of corruption that lives do not matter anymore.
The latest landslide in Ulu Klang has not dettered the authorities. First came the Menteri Besar with his statements that he 'would investigate the matter and penalise the culprits'. Lucky he did not utter his infamous statement ' semua-nya ok' and move on. He is now more glib and has learnt how to manage his press statements. Then the Majlis Ampang Council say that they have been monitoring the development and had ' advised the developers to build a retention wall'. But the people around the area say that they have been complaining to the Council for three years now. It had apparently fallen on deaf years. They have the blood of innocent people on their dirty hands.
So where do we move from here? Suffice to say it is going to happen again once the media turns to other issues and the matter dies down. This is precisely my point. The media. They should take a more forceful stance and pursue the matter till someone pays for it.
If it doesn't hurt, it's not going to work. Do we have any takers?

'Why, Lord, did You remain silent?

2006-05-31T06:20:00.000-07:00

'Why, Lord, did You remain silent?These words were uttered by Pope Benedict when he visited the Auschwitz Nazi concentration camp in Poland on Sunday 28 May 2006. I cannot recall any other Priest, let alone Pope, ask this question of the Almighty for any catastrophe that happened in this world. And as he prayed before the camp's execution wall with his hands clasped tightly together, a rainbow appeared behind him. He was not aware of it but some survivors of Auschwitz hailed it as a sign from God, that He was indeed present at this poignant event.
How do we come to terms with a human genocide like this? It must have weighed terribly on the Pope's conscience as he was part of Hitler's Nazi Youth Movement. I remember that the previous Pope, John Paul II, had asked for forgiveness for the Church's silence during the persecution of the Jews during WW II. He had started the ball rolling it what seems to be a more open minded Vatican. One that is ready to face the many mistakes that the Catholic Church has made over the centuries. Pope Benedict has taken it one step further by this visit to Auschwitz, being a German.

Something Arabic

2006-05-29T23:34:00.000-07:00

My blood sugar got a boost today. At the Al Diafah restaurant in Sri Petaling near the Overseas Union Gardens, a suburb in Kuala Lumpur. My colleague, http://foodthesaurus.blogspot.com had invited me and another colleague for lunch since I had twisted her arm into buying us lunch with her first pay packet. I thought that she would have settled, or rather I would have settled for a simple lunch of noodles. But she had better plans and we were whisked off to Al Diafah in her Kancil. The ride to the restaurant was quite hectic, given the twists, turns and bumps that we had to endure but it did work up an appetite, for me at least.
Al Diafah is really quite a classy outfit. I never realised that a restaurant like this existed in a place like Sri Petaling, no offence to those living in and around there. But we were given to think that these Arabic restaurants would only thrive in places like Bukit Bintang or Ampang. The ambience of the place was really cool. The decor was precise with artifacts from the Middle East placed in quiet corners of the restaurant.
We were served with dates and Arabic coffee first as we sat down. The latter was a mild brown in colour as it was made, not from roasted coffee, but raw. Tasted kind off funny but went well with the dates. Next, we had a little salad before the main course arrived. The main entree was the mixed grill which came in a large plate. It consisted of grilled lamb chops, minced lamb kebabs, chicken and some garnishing. I thought the minced kebabs were nice and juicy, the lamb chops were a little disappointing as they did not have much taste and was rather bland. The chicken, however, was excellent with a tangy flavour. My colleague had also ordered some deep fried vegetable cutlets that came with a kind of salad sauce which was unique but lent a good tinge to the cutlets. Then came some samosas, the kind that you will find in Indian restaurants except that these were stuffed with minced lamb. It was piping hot and was ok.
To finish off the meal we were served with a fruit cocktail and some 'baklova'. The backlova was really sweet and good but at my age I had to restrain myself from going overboard. So I took quite a few little nips of the sweets and washed it down with the fruit cocktail.
The service was comforting. I can't remember whether there was piped music but, ah, when you have good food you tend to lose some of your senses, don't you?

A wonderful woman

2006-05-29T18:22:00.000-07:00

My sis- in- law should be at home cuddling her twin grandaughters born just two weeks ago. But she is fighting cancer of the tongue at the Universiti Hospital. Her tongue has been removed partially to stop the spread of the dreaded disease. She has been cut open from her shoulder up to her chin and her jaw split into two to to get to the infected area. She has a very good chance of recovery the specialists say. And we all are praying that she does. But what a fantastic woman she is. Any other person in her predicament would have resigned to her fate and gone into depression. Not her. She is already planning what she would do once she is out of the hospital. Having been once a lecturer at a university she has been told that her voice may be muffled. Her days as a lecturer are over. A Masters in Education holder she has vowed not to leave the profession and plans to mark dissertations, edit educational books, publish books on education and perhaps even give tuition.
When she first came out of the op she had tubes running all over her and her face swollen. The next day she had her husband get a exercise book and pen and began to communicate with everyone who came to visit. The book is almost full with all kinds of messages, but most inspiring of all, she has given glory to God for helping her.
" Praise the Lord for He is good " " I shall bless the Lord for the great things He has done for me" is written all over the book. " Blessed are those who suffer for the Lord" " Everyone day I look out of this window and I can see the wonderful creations of our Lord" is her latest entry.
How does she do it? Any lesser person would have asked why this has happened to her when she has all to live for. She has two wonderful children who adore her. And now she has been blessed with a pair of twins by her daughter. Her son's wife is now expecting. She writes in her book to her husband that she wants another 10 years with him after he said that he would like to live for another 5 years with her. He smiles at her and says, " but I will be well into my seventies lah!" And they laugh together.

Seafood soup at Seaview Restaurant

2006-05-28T22:58:00.000-07:00

The bustling little shop tucked in the corner of the Section 17 district of Petaling Jaya is the favourite haunt of some of my colleagues who swear that the seafood noodles is a cure for any cold or flu. I am not a believer of this, coming more from a traditional Indian background where the cure for a cold was the good old fashioned ' nandu rasam' (crab soup with spices) and a nice hot glass of plain ginger tea.
The noodles are good with a dash of pepper,sometimes a bit too salty but nevertheless still good eating. The place is a cornucorpia of little stalls rented by small hawkers who sell other stuff for lunch. Try the stewed duck, egg and taufu that can accompany the seafood noodles or the 'bakchang' that is noted for its deliciousness.
End the meal with a baked cha siew pau or a plate of mixed fruits. Prices are the ones you would have to pay for food anywhere in PJ. As usual the service is good as the place is not really that crowded.
Don't, however, order the popiah from the old bat at the corner of the shop. It is is a horrendous version of the one in Section 22. The owner of the stall is really duping her customers with nothing but menkuang stuffed in the rolls.