Unlikely Meeting Place

Since I am using highways everyday, it has been ages I don’t really feel the bore stiff from getting stuck in a real traffic jam. Yesterday was peculiar to my ordinary traveling. It took me two-and-a-half hours to get to office, with one meeting too many to skip. I could see the humdrum looks in the faces of other drivers when it took some 30 minutes to travel only less than 200 meters once passed the Jalan Duta toll. Only today I realized some processions were going on at Batu Caves for Thaipusam that the customary users of MRR2 would instead detour at Sungai Buluh toll, just to pile up at the exit.

I heard a car, black-colored BMW 328i, honking, diagonally to my left with merely a car-length behind as I was in the rightmost lane after passing through SmartTag inching my way. And I knew it was me he meant for he kept honking when I turned my face away – in his effort to lock eyes and get noticed. Quick assessing on my mind to look for what wrong I did. “Am I too close for comfort with other car?”, “He spot my broken tail light?“, “Is he the guy who got pissed off with my stern voice when he jumped queue at Dunkin’ Donut at Jejantas Sungai Buluh the day before?” or “Am I mistaken for someone else?”. No! Nothing!

While with little consternation I was harbouring, a smile in his face gave me clue. Great resemblance of the very face I knew some yonks ago – last seen when we bid farewell in school. It became certain when clarion features of him matched the input in my geriatric and tired database. If not for the kind of fortuity we had, we’d have had brushed shoulders in the streets, perhaps exchanging a punch or two over scuffles but we wouldn’t have noticed for who the other party was. The old school alumni sticker proudly displayed at the back screen of the car had done a bit of justice to me.

I tried not to move as he tried to catch up with me to be on my left. I rolled down the window almost simultaneously as he did. It was almost at one go we confirmed each other’s schooling days’ call name and hearty laughter followed.

That laugh has brought back to the time when I carried him on the wheelbarrow in the peach dark of the night playing silly, racing with another wheelbarrow team in the football field while we were supposed to be in bed sleeping. Making funs on the possibilities of the hostel wardens may drop a bombshell on us. We spent time laughing and rolling in the grass over our foolish acts more than we were actually racing. We laughed more than it was funny. We cracked at any slightest tingle. It was not even funny when we hit the goal post, but we were still laughing like mad. Even until this day I could still laugh as much as my kids had when I relate the story to them.

When you are in the driver’s seat and you’re talking to the car driver on your left, it’s a bit awkward on your part. Hardly could hear one another. Only after a few shouts so then we realized we were still as silly as when we were racing using the wheelbarrows those days, I then asked his mobile number.

I was fully aware that when after too long a halt and the car in front start moving that creates space in front you, the driver at the back would be itching for you to move even a yard or two. I could see a gentleman in his Honda Accord behind me started showing choleric expression in his face when enough space for one car in front of me.

It was time to roll up the window and start calling up on the mobile. May be this week neither one of us is in position to make arrangement for a meet up but very soon we will.




GAB: Old friends are incomparable to the newly-met friends. What more when they are childhood friends. And I wonder how the friendships like when it is through the net? Chatroom or Blogosphere! Any idea?

Men Are At Risks Too!

Ladies who are generous in the chest department have always caught my attentions. I hate to say this as if I am opening up my own can of worms, especially in writing – in a blog, of which what’s written is considered as the reflections of what’s on the writer’s mind. It can be read by people who may or may not know me in the real life and it could be perceived wrongly by readers. Perhaps some might get offended. But reality has it. Manal used to describe me in her comment as, GAB: A doting father, a persevering husband, man's man who likes it heavy at the top and resourceful nonetheless.

The trait of liking heavy at the top doesn’t blend well with other traits as a man who appreciates love and loving, it seems. Or does it? Manal has got PhD under her belt while I don’t; perhaps she knows better than me what she is talking about. So I pull myself down to believe what she said, a great deal to my penchant anyway.

Well, to figure it out as a levelheaded person, yes, nothing’s wrong with it. It is only wrong when one is a hypocrite, a quack to his own self, even. Say one thing meant another – loathed the outmoded dressings and observe its etiquette religiously and yet not wearing underwear himself. Got it? Nobody in the right mind would slide fingers into his pants to find it out. Would you?

But, wait a minute! Are you saying I should’ve kept it to myself and not necessarily have it written down? Oh boy, I can never get away with smart alecks. If that’s the case, I am doomed with my own words.

Be it!

That was just the preamble. I was actually browsing through the net to gain better knowledge on cancer, breast cancer only came to my attention a while later. The thought of cancer in general is scary somehow, with its mockery, when you have it; you have it, regardless of what. Prevention measures are just so much to curb the inaugural of it and medical doctors are in fact still in lurch over its actual cause. The closest we can get thus far just know the contributing factors of it and the best thing to do is to wean away from those. Of the hardest one is when cancer cells run in your blood “genetically”. The experts are still debating over this possibility though. Let them be.

Talking about cancer, breast cancer, I am annoyed by another fact. Unlike many of us think, breast cancers among men, actually is not a strange thing to happen even though it is prevalent among women. According to the report by the National Cancer Registry, in 2002 and 2003 there were 56 and 24 cases of men diagnosed with breast cancer in Malaysia respectively. Statistically small in number but it exists.

My layman apparition when it comes to breast cancer in men is underlined on persons who are overweight with palpable bacons dangling from their chests just like women. And, of course my fact is not substantiated medically. Though, at this juncture, I stopped for a while checking on how I am doing. And, entertaining flashes of a figure that I had known when I was little.

Pak Ngah Pak Mat, I fondly called him Tok Ngah since he was a brother to my granny, was known to be wandering around village in his kain pelikat, shirtless, with only kain lepas hanging on his shoulder. He was a full-bodied man with superfluous flesh if not fat to tolerate his body frame that when he sat down, his breasts would droop and resting on his round and happy tummy. They moved in pace with his breathing, even much more interesting sight to see when he laughed. It amused me as a kid seeing that. I can barely remember when I would go fondle them (with his consent). I wouldn’t have done that if I was already in school – I must be very small still. I’d be playing with it minutes after minutes until perhaps he got annoyed, then his tone of voice told my senses to quit niggling. And it happened again in the next meet.

Tok Ngah had nothing to do with breast cancer to relate to what I am writing here but the first thought came to my mind when I naively theorized; overweight men are most likely would develop big and meaty chests and hence susceptible to breast cancer.

Somehow if we look into the contributing factors in the table below, the food we eat contributes the biggest (not necessarily being fat).

Just to make myself happy with my unfounded theory, based on the factors in the table above, I’d say, what is food and eating if not related to gaining weight, be overweight and get fat? When you trash in more food than your body ever needed, chances are, and you will be overweight and get fat. When you are fat, rule of the thumb for men said, you will experience meaty chests as good as a user of 42D size. But not necessarily for ladies I supposed, I can swear Dolly Parton never made such impression on me as being fat to be her as her.

Now I am happy!

So gentlemen please consume good and healthy food and eat less to remain healthy and happy. If you already have those unwanted meats dangling from your chests, I don’t really suggest for you to waste your money to pack ‘em up with the brassieres. As an alternative you can borrow it from Jokontan! (Kidding, man!)

La Isla Bonita

We were walking along Colley Avenue on that evening in spring.

That was minutes after Razin and I arrived from Hampton-Newport News looking for the unplugged albums of Black Sabbath, Judas Priests or Deep Purple in one old music store there. I particularly liked the classic look of the store owner with heavy traces of a hippy in 70's, hardly an inch without tatoo on his body but damn nice a guy. Not for what we went for, we came back with a rare piece by Eric Clapton instead. I was a proud owner of the track that contains fancies of the unreleased songs for album even some came in with raw string works.

We were about to step into the O'Sullivan's Wharf when I pulled Razin’s hand to draw his attention to such a pleasant bona fide tune coming from the music store nearby. I always loved that kind of rhythm. I could feel inside me grooved on with jigs on every beat of it.

I convinced Razin to delay a bit going in despite of his protest, kept on whining of empty stomach. O’Sullivan’s could wait for us as much as Lafayette River below, always there for ages. Those Oyster Rockefellers could wait for Razin as well. But, I couldn’t wait to have my curiosity answered. In haste, I lead Razin to the store and the first thing I did once reach there, I went straight to the counter and asked the lady whose song was it.

It was “La Isla Bonita” by Madonna, just a day old in the market. “La Isla Bonita” means “The Beautiful Island” in Spanish.

This morning, at Jalan Duta, in my morning-crawl ritual to get to office, I didn’t have heart to listen to Fara’s Crazy Frog CD and haphazardly pushing buttons on the steering wheel from one radio channel to another; from Sinar FM to Hot FM, from Mix FM to Lite & Easy, from ERA to Yusri KRU (no such channel), back to Sinar FM.

Lo and behold. Halim Othman was kind enough to play La Isla Bonita this morning by the time I tuned to Sinar FM. The moment the opening of the song was aired, it brought back all the memories of my younger days. Felt like all the images came rushing, bottlenecked on my comprehension for a moment. Out of the suddens I felt like I was all alone on the road. That Halim guy perhaps of the same age group as I am, almost the same time as Juliza Adlizan, a now singer cum vocal instructor who read musics, when was in the States. My presumption is based on the selections of songs he has and his “in-depth” knowledge in old songs. May be he gives the impression of him as a young dude due to his bachelor title. Is that makes me old for having married and have kids? Anyway, thanks to him, he has made my morning.

While driving, I refused to entertain thoughts on works. Instead of the regular airtime of wife & kids broadcasted in mind, my focus was narrowed to the song that now filled up my small space, “La Isla Bonita”.

Last night I dreamt of San Pedro
Just like I'd never gone, I knew the song
A young girl with eyes like the desert
It all seems like yesterday, not far away….

Tropical the island breeze
All of nature wild and free
This is where I long to be
La isla bonita
And when the samba played
The sun would set so high
Ring through my ears and sting my eyes
Your Spanish lullaby

My mind went to all islands; from Seychelles to Sicily, Barbados to Pulau Kapas, from Guam to Tioman, to Pulau Perhentian and then, settled at Seychelles – due to what I recently read about my respected friend, Idham has experienced.

“Damn! That guy’s lucky while I am still here seeing my regular Guthrie – PLUS – Jln Duta – Mahameru route”. Oh, by the way, “You are doing OK there, trust me, your hair is fine, give a room for a little extra pound – it won’t hurt you, and you are still as handsome as ever”.

Lollies' lots were in the picture as well. When it hits on 'a young girl with eyes like the desert', it has brought me to the Wadi Basking thing, forts and fortresses, sands and dunes. "One day I’ll be there Lollies, I’ll see it with my naked eyes".

Como puede ser verdad? That’s the opening line before the song proper comes in, means, “How can it be real?". Errr.. I took some Spanish before for my elective but now too little traces of it registered in my memory apart from some profanity words, vulgars that refused to go off. Rogelio, a friend from Guerrero, Mexico, was responsible for teaching me those. It claims permanent spot in the head when learning while having big laughs. And… Como puede ser verdad? How can it be real when Baddin sneaked into my mind for a second or two? "You have nothing to do with the island on my mind, kiddo!" I’d better ask his mom.

A white Porsche Boxster came squeezing into the lane I was in. I didn’t mind to give space for him. As a matter of fact it compliments well with the look of it and the imaginations I had, to be in front of me with the song on the background. I could feel the spirit of it surged in.

“La Isla Bonita!”

“I am on my way to office!”

Today’s Your Day, May Be Tomorrow’s Mine

To be stranded on the road or highway is the last thing motorists would want to have when commuting.

In numerous occasions, I would stop over and try giving helping hands on the stranded motorists along side of the road. For my own consumption, I find it satisfying when I stop over; to see the thankful looks in their faces for having someone concern enough to at least ask what their problems were. Sometimes nothing much can be done. But when some helps are delivered, they can get on the road again, I just love to see their happy faces.

Tell that to me, I was in the situation once when my car engine simply died at the traffic light, ran out of gas. It didn’t surprise me because I knew the car I was driving had a faulty fuel gauge all those while. I was a bummer in that sense for not spending only an hour of my life to get it fixed at the mechanic’s while I would only have to sit there in the fully air-conditioned waiting room reading car magazines until the mechanic comes to me and says “Siap!”. Instead, I had fun guessing when the gas would dry out based on the mileage traveled. With your own car, you’d know the fuel consumption well but not all the time you can get it right.

That’s what had happened. The car stopped, disrupting traffics. Small kids at the back in their evening ride while their mother busy preparing for breaking fast at home. With just minutes to spare before breaking fast, least expected people would stop for you. I tried to push the car. Pushing a Volvo was just like pushing a bulldozer, damn heavy. The gears set free, the door opened, and with all my might tried pushing from the side while still have to control the stiffened steering wheel and prepared to jump in to hit the brake if necessary. Gosh, if one was looking at me with that kind of look in my face, with the hardened loaves of butts sticking out in the air when I was in full throttle pushing, one would sure chuckle. Hardly a yard moved.

How happy I was when a group of young men in an elaborated Satria full of stickers with sport rims and spoilers and sub-woofers beating to the sound of music stopped over to help. From the cigarette smell in them I knew it too well they were not rushing anywhere for breaking fast. But, out of courtesy, I still voiced out my worry for them to be late for their fast breaking, and of course they said don’t worry. They helped me pushed the car to the side and get the fuel from a gas station some 3 km away. You guys sinful for not fasting but sure rewarded for your kindness!

On the turn of the Year 2007, I had a run on Guthrie Highway heading to my house in Saujana Utama. From the distance I saw a van in distress signals pulled over close to the guard rail. I switched to leftmost lane, slowed down the car and prepared to stop. And did. I hurried down just to see a family of foreigners – a father, a mother, two teenagers – a boy and a girl and a 3-year old toddler, of which later I learned they were from Australia. Before I opened up my mouth to ask what the problem was, the time I was walking to their vehicle, I already saw big smile in both the adults.

The gentleman holds up his hands in “kow-tow” style that reminds me my friend Alice Lee would have done when she thank me, and say To-Che, To-Che. It appeared that they had no mechanical problem with the vehicle. They were just busy studying the map. The time I reached their vehicle they had already had all figured out, and my help was least needed. They just showed their appreciations when someone care enough to stop over and ask. The way they thanked me made me feel like I didn’t deserve for what I did – just merely stopped over and asked. I walked back to the car feeling somewhat proud – feeling like a true countryman giving good impression to foreigners especially in the wake of Visit Malaysia Year this year.

Only last week, I was on my way home, going through Mahameru, not far from Istana Negara, I saw a Proton Iswara with hazard lights on in the mid of rain, slowing the traffics even more. Without second thought, I pulled over and stepped out with my EconSave umbrella to help. There were two couples in the car. It seemed that they had been there for the past 20 minutes, trapped in a car. They looked astounded over me smartly dressed in office attire with the blue tie on stopped over to help. And it was raining some more. After asking what the problem was, I asked the driver to open up the hood. I bent down checking because it appeared to me either starter or battery or distributor went faulty because it did not ignite. I asked the driver to start the engine when I was looking in it. It starts! Honest to God, I did not touch anything except I was just looking to determine where the wire goes. I had my fair share of surprise as much as they were happy but I didn’t claim credit in front of them. Instead, I asked them to send for wiring check once they safely reached their destination.

Next time around if you happen to have flat tyres somewhere and a Good Samaritan stops over offering help, it could be me. That is only if I would be able to determine someone in trouble ahead and still within braking distance of my normal cruising speed of 160 km/h.

Of The Life Pattern Encrypted In the Big Book

It was on Sunday morning a couple of days after New Year, decades ago. Sunday in other places is a day to wind down but not in the East Coast of the peninsular.

Together with a girl from the neighborhood, Anie, we tagged along our old folks walking on the bank of the rice field for our first day in school. By the time we reached school, our shoes were substantially wet from the dew on the tips of the grass we ploughed through, kemuncup stuck on socks. Mud splattered here and there.

Kindergarten was a strange word, none in the area. I only knew such thing as kindergarten when I was bigger. To be put straight into primary one, I didn’t know what to expect nor had slightest idea on what they actually doing in school. There we were, crammed up into a classroom of more than 40 pupils, seated in the front row, amazed with the big yellow ruler rested below the blackboard, startled seeing the feather duster hanging on the wall behind teacher’s desk.

I met many new friends. All sort of friends including the ones who stick out their tongues when our eyes locked, those who like to make funny faces with eyes crossed, push up the nose tip and snorts and handful of them who would quietly scratch their crotches. Not uncommon to find the ones sporting gooey stuff oozing from the nose. One or two that would cry at slightest provocations. And it was not short of fun.

Learning strikes me as an interesting thing to do. It didn’t take long for me to get hold on my learning after mastering the correct way to hold pencil and to write a letter ‘A’ that can be recognized as an ‘A’. Sometimes ‘S’ faced backward, ‘N’ suffered the same fate and “W” with extra zigzag. Agitated but determined, I dropped a tear of disappointment in my attempts to twist the tail of ‘g’ but it didn’t work, exhausted the eraser. A tear dropped right on ‘g’. Rough if not clumsy application with the eraser on the watery spot, it punched a hole in my exercise book. And more tears dropped.

Not long after, I discerned such thing called exams too and to everyone’s surprise, I was numbered first in class. I was oblivious. In any other exams, in any terms, I was then always top in class. Anie happened to be behind me all the time if not trailed by two steps. Me smart kid? Nope! I look at it in different way. It was just God’s way of offsetting me on being inopportune and sad kid as an orphan for a feeling of self worthiness. I did nothing. God set it up for me. So then, being top in class had turned out to be impermeable throughout the primary years.

There were times when medical team from district health center made visits on us for health checks or vaccinations or dentistry. It was seemingly so scary. Blood shoots to the head upon seeing the white Land Rover with the Red Cross on it (mind you, those days cross was used before it was changed to crescent) entering school compound, anticipating something horrible were about to happen.

It was this particular girl, a play mate long before schooling, the one that came walking with me on the first day of school, Anie that was. She suffered the worst “panic attack” among us. I don’t know what came into her mind when it comes to doctors or dentists things. Freaked out, at one time she was nowhere to be found. She sneaked out of the school; hide in the dried rice field with crops taller than her for some considerable amount of time before she decided to head home. It worried everyone including our gardener cum care taker, Pak Mail (Pok Well). It only came to everyone’s relief after Pok Well came back with the news she was behind the door sniffling at home. I took trouble to bring back her funny looking basket used as her schoolbag she left behind, after school.

In one of the medical team’s visits, as expected, it frightened her to death and she cried yet again, much to the hilarity of other pupils – making fun of her. But, I on the other hand, gave her sweets (cakelak anging) I bought from Kedai Tok Ku that morning to pacify her. Hey, she seized the “ordeal” better, except still crying when her name was called. And, her cry could be heard miles away when the needle pierced her skin.

As time went on, my routine was as such, without any clue on what future would’ve hold for me. In the first place, what did I know about the nuance of future? And why would I care? The only thing I knew, I’d walk to school everyday with friends, enjoy my meehoon and air sirap during recess, play some “Denis the Menace” here and “Sinchan” there and look forward for a playtime after school. Since Nintendo and PlayStation were yet to conceptually exist and TV sets were scarce, we had much fun playing hide & seek (nusuk), rope jumping and dekcok. Our daytime seemed too short. Like just minutes before we switched from golek para to dekcok and still halfway to “buat rumah batu”, old folks start calling us home. Darn! The bell rang much too early. It signified the day was called off and the toughest thing to do in the day awaiting – to take a bath.

Playtime, I found it amusing to look back at. Boys and girls played together. We played all sort of games hardly kids these days play. The significant thing that I would later noticed, every time in play, I’d favor to be in Anie’s team. In any disputes among us, I’d take side on her as well. I became very protective over her. Is that the sign of love as a kid and yet I didn’t know how to express it out? Or maybe I was comfortable with myself in her companion? Or perhaps simply due to I knew her much earlier, together with Ariff and Fadhil. God knows, I was just a kid.

Time passed so quickly, one year after another, from one phase of life to another.

Anie, who got terrified seeing people in white robes when she was a little girl, shockingly, fortified with her baccalaureate from a university in UK, later turned out to be much to her daily routine dealing with the bedridden and dying people (she lectures in later part). I have a theory. Perhaps, back then it was too much for her to comprehend the divination foretelling in her third eye; it perplexed, and appalled her upon seeing the fuzz on what she would be dealing in her future. Sounds a bit like a Twilight Zone!

And… the biggest twist of all… She is now my wife. Yeah, right! She’s the mother to my three lovely kids, Fara, Sam and Edrin. Uhuh! You know… the one that I’d be waking up to every morning – with either my arms belted around her tummy or apparent yet pleasant warmth of breath in my chest. It answers why God had created me without a chest like Amitabh Bachaan for if it does, she’d sneeze when her nose dived in it. In turn, I’d never know what I miss.

She specializes in Cardiovascular but never did she administrate any of the routine in her workplace on me – her mere presence in my life is enough for me to enjoy “cardiovascular treats” with every single molecule of air strongly felt every time breathed in and steady and rhythmic pounding of heartbeats that strengthen my heart.

About that vaccination scar on her left upper arm, I was there when it happened – I watched it when it was administered on her. I feel like only yesterday I was looking into her watery innocent eyes when she accepted the sweets from me while she was leaning to the wall outside the classroom facing the open rice field. It is so vivid in my recollection when I was seated just a few feet away, mimicked her crying face the time she had to brave through the jab. Little did I know, sharing of pain and agony started early for us. Least did I realize, I was not only sharing it with my play mate but also with my future soul mate.

Certainly we have a long history.

Not bad for my less-than-5-sen investment with sweets when I was a little boy, huh?

Well… Everything is written up there. We are all the products of heaven. Since we were born in heaven, we intend to have our permanent address up there, as well.

(I know she’ll be blushing reading this from her office)

Today, 17th January, is her birthday… Happy Birthday, Sayang!

Previous entry HERE

An afternoon in Ulu Tamu

We had our picnic at Ulu Tamu in Batang Kali. The place is actually at the foot of Genting Highlands. The place is rather unknown and least likely choice among picnickers. Many other places are widely publicized as the spots for recreations within an hour driving radius from Klang Valley, but not Ulu Tamu. I prefer to be at the secluded areas where we may not hassle with too many people and some sense of privacy for the family.

So, on that Sunday, in the last few weeks, when my wife was away on duty down south, I brought my kids to Ulu Tamu. Yeah it was Ulu Tamu but the exact location we went to was a private property. It was some 45 minutes drive from our place in Saujana Utama, Sungai Buluh, using Guthrie Highway to Rawang and the road leading to Kuala Kubu Baru.

Well, I wouldn’t have brought the kids there if my friend Cikgu Azmi didn’t invite me to see his fish ponds nearby. He is farming out fish in 4 big fish ponds at the place and by the way it looks he is very serious in it, with tens of thousands of ringgits of investment, complete with necessary equipments & gadgets and Indonesian workers to take care of the ponds 24-7.

It was very much to the liking of my kids to be at that place. They started to pump up and got excited when the first impression of the “adventure” was, crossing the creek of 2 feet deep using 4-by-4 Ford Ranger when we got there. My saloon family car had to be parked next to the Orang Asli settlement before hopping on the pick-up truck. I kept reminding the kids to hang tight on the bar and not to lean too much outward, afraid they might fall off when the truck had to endure the rough terrain. They screamed with excitements when water starts spurting to the sides and the truck quivering and wobbling while tolerating the rough surface. It was yet another scream when the truck starts climbing more than 30-degree slope, and down. It was still safe for the kids to be at the back throughout, if not I would've not allowed them to be at the back and have them wrapped in the seats instead.

Reminds me of my hunting trip in Muadzam Shah years ago when we were tracking a deer on the back of Toyota Hilux with our double barrels. Well, this one deserves an entry of its own. I digress.

Soon after, we were greeted with breathtaking view of a watercourse amidst the thick jungle with the mountain at the back. My boys, Sam & Edrin hurried with their swimming suits and goggles once we settled our things at the makeshift hut next to the fish pond, some 20 meters away from the stream. In no time, they hit the water before their sister Fara was ready.

Nice and cool. The water was so clear, the rocks were beautiful and the water flows down to Ulu Yam, a favourite spot for picnic not far from Kuala Lumpur. Hence, my kids pissed on other picnickers down the stream on that day :-)

My three kids had a whale of time playing in the water, until such time I called them back again for another 4 x 4 ride around the fish ponds, feed the fish. Jump into the water, a break in the hut for snacks, back to the water again, holding breath underwater competition, dried leaves regatta, running around, 4 x 4 ride yet another round, creeping down the brook, chasing after small fish, hauling and stacking rocks to make a beaver dam, crumble them up, play silly games… It was heckuva time for them.

They dozed off in a car only after minutes of ride back home. All in all… it has been yet another happy time for my kids for their list.

What Past Made Me

Every time I touch the keyboard with the entry for my blog on mind, my tendency is to write something of my past. I do not find it thrilling to write about what is now in my life. Whatever life I am having now, to me it’s the best life can be regardless of how bad the financial status I may be at, what kind of hardship I may be facing or what sort of worries spinning in my head.

All I know whatever suffering I may have now is nothing compared to what I’ve been through those years. And, whatever happiness I am having now doesn't erase my past history either. So to say my sad stories outnumbered the happy ones. But, they are all priceless. It doesn’t mean I am dwelling over the past; it somehow makes me feel good reflecting them back. To certain extent, it contributes to my gratefulness over life I am having now and it humbles me.

Yes, God is great. He knows what’s good for us. See HERE

Since I was not destined to grow up in the ideal family, under the shadow of a father figure and a mother to love and care, without me realizing it, I was always in a vacuum over something when I was little. It wasn’t a big deal during those tender years over the fact but it slowly started eating up on my emotions when I was a teenager.

But, I was tough (and still am). I am trained to be tough throughout my life. Physically, mentally and emotionally!

I never had complaint over poorly served food in the dining hall, neither did I complain on anything. Life has taught me to be happy with what’s in my hand and not to worry over things I never had, BUT, by no means to be complacent though.

During schooling years, some of my friends were feeling down when they were short by RM 20 to buy Adidas shoes but I on the other hand was hell of a happy boy with my Fung Keong canvas shoes.

I saw many parents attended the Parents-Teachers Day and they had big treats in the school cafeteria if not their parents brought them home cook food. And I was contented with our regular food served in the dining hall.

I saw how happy my friends were showing their parents around the school compound with their little brothers and sisters running around the turf with ice cream in hands, smeared over their cheeks.

I saw the way they part with their loved ones at the end of the day from the dormitory balcony as I had nothing to relate to my own personal experience.

I listened to them talking and bragging about promises by their parents with wonderful presents if they make good grades in the exams as I never had been trained to ask for anything.

Gosh, life is beautiful!

If God gives me a chance to have another life altogether, I’d still prefer the life I am having right from the Day 1 when I was born until now. If God allows me to be like any person I wish to be, I’d still choose to be me. That’s to show how much I cherish the life I am having. May be it was then, something was missing in my life but that something had becoming helpful in my later life. Had I not experienced all those trials and tribulations, I could’ve been hauling another set of attitude towards life altogether.

Glad to be me.