tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-202922082024-03-14T13:29:15.397+08:00From The Governor's DeskI was joking with some friends when I said I wanted to be the Governor of Pedra Branca during the time the dispute & tussle over that tiny rocky island between Malaysia & Singapore came to light a few years ago. Call me GAB...~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-64110991932903749762009-06-04T10:12:00.004+08:002009-06-04T10:19:19.526+08:00Nasi Kerabu – When Eating is Art<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3464405456/" title="HBW: Nasi Kerabu – When Eating is Art by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3533/3464405456_26dea9d14c.jpg" alt="HBW: Nasi Kerabu – When Eating is Art" width="500" height="412" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style="font-family: arial;">“Nasi Kerabu” literally means assorted vegetable rice or rather “Salad Rice”. Gastronomically speaking, it is rice served with special coconut-based gravy called “tumis” together with local herbs, leaves and vegetables. Apart from that, it is also served with fried fish, “keropok” (fish crackers), salted egg, "solok lada" (fish fillet and coconut-stuffed chillis) and pickled garlic. </i></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><i style="font-family: arial;">Of all you know the beautiful flower in the picture is the key to the real aroma and taste of nasi kerabu.</i></span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /><br /><i style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Nasi Kerabu</i><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" > is one of the classic specialties originated from Kelantan, a multicolored state of Thailand border in the northeastern coast of the Malaysian Peninsular with multi-faceted and interesting people as her denizens. The only not-so-cool thing about them is the potential of running amok and start burning things when their darling state team loses in the football match</span><i style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"> (soccer to the Americans)</i><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >, but as a counterbalance, I can assure you this is the land that produces the most beautiful girls in the country.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >If one is adventurous in trying out different taste of victuals and gamed for gourmet foods, the right place to be at is no other than Kelantan state, located some 450 km from Kuala Lumpur. If you ever planned for a visit to this country, I’d advise you to take connecting flight right away upon your landing at Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA).</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >One of those that ought to be tasted is “Nasi Kerabu”. No, no, no…. it’s not like the one you tasted from the stalls in Kg Baru, Keramat and Pantai Dalam in Kuala Lumpur, different from the one selling over in Permas Jaya, Johore, dissimilar to the one offered in Geylang, Singapore, and far off from the taste that selling in Ipoh and Penang for that matter. I even ate nasi kerabu in Bloomington, Indiana in the USA those days, but my taste benchmark is rather of a higher bar.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >The real taste of “Nasi Kerabu” is not easily found as the recipe is a well-kept secret, closely guarded that being passed down from one generation to another among the Kelantanese people, as much as pizza is eaten the world over, and yet the real taste can only be found in Italy, perhaps the pride of the Sicilian folks. Just like sushi can be found in New York, Paris, London and Kuala Pilah but the real thing can only be enjoyed in certain districts in Japan, and tell me about Cajun cuisine and beignets </span><i style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">(pronounced like "ben-yays")</i><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >, the unique specialties to the descendants of Acadian exiles in Louisiana or maybe some parts of Mississippi, USA. Oh, it reminds me of the best Burrito, Taco de Harina and Tortilla I have ever tasted just a few miles crossed the border from El Paso, Texas, in the Mexican territory. But, the paradox of them all, I couldn’t find “Mee Bandung” when I was in Bandung, Indonesia, same goes to “Nasi Pattaya” when I was in the coastal resort township of Pattaya, Thailand. </span><i style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">(LOL! Errr…. we have foodstuff named after foreign places, thus, understandably, they don’t exist in the actual locality)</i><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >One of the myriad secrets in preparing "goooood" </span><i style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">nasi kerabu</i><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" > is the use of the flower in the picture above as coloring for the rice to be served (although some sellers in the city use artificial equivalents). Beats me on the name of the flower because I only know it called as “Bunga Nasi Kerabu” </span><i style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">(“Bunga” is flower)</i><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >. Handful of these flowers need to be grinded and squashed to yield its juice with little water add. The precious extract of it is then mixed with water the time rice is cooked. And voila, it will result with blue-colored rice when it is ready.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Blue-colored rice for </span><i style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Nasi Kerabu</i><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" > is no fun and game as it is always served like that for centuries in this colorful state of Kelantan.</span><br /><br /><br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com314tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-91298593500732936862009-05-26T12:28:00.003+08:002009-05-26T12:32:11.206+08:00An Old Lady in “Smuta”<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3564235181/" title="An Old Lady in “Smuta” by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3558/3564235181_48e9b1f7d2.jpg" alt="An Old Lady in “Smuta”" height="312" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><b>“Mok Cik, ambo puko gamba sbutir deh?”</b> <span style="font-size:85%;"><i>(Ma’am, do you mind me taking a picture?)</i></span><br /><b>“Hok aloh…. puko wat ggapo nyo?!!”</b> <span style="font-size:85%;"><i>(Goodness…. what’s this for?!!)</i></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >That’s the exchange of words between me and this old lady. Despite of her reply sounds like a hint of protest; she paused and looked into my lens and I took it as consent. Before she had time to think on what’s next to say, I already had done capturing her. I gave her silly grin in return and walked past her with slight bow without thanking her. Least spoken about the verity of the local culture, particularly in this state – in certain conditions, the word “thank you” is not necessarily uttered out when the gesture is more than sufficient displaying the gratitude and appreciation. And the other party would understandably take it as thanks.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >This is happened in Kota Bharu, Kelantan. Kota Bharu is the capital town for the state of Kelantan, located some 450 km away to the northeast of Kuala Lumpur, not far from Thailand border.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Make no mistake; if next time you see old woman with pastel-colored headgear made out of a sheet of speckled floral-motif fabric like the woman in the picture is wearing, she must be from this place. Locally, the traditional headgear she is wearing is known as “smuta” and the said thin floral-motif fabric used is called “kain lepas”.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >There are no specific rules on how to wear it but the motive is to have the whole length of the 2-foot x 5-foot “kain lepas” to be wrapped around the head to form as “hat”. The headgear of “smuta” is actually prevalent to be worn by men but the women of old would do such as well. More often than not, those days, women would use this as a buffer to cushion up loads carried on top of their heads while men would rather wear it as part of fashion and also as a practical mean just like bandana is worn in the west. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Such a pity, we even hardly found men walk around in “smuta” in Kota Bharu these days. And it never happened in Kuala Lumpur. I am sure it’ll be a head turner with a barrage of wolf-whistles to be accrued if one is wearing it here in Kuala Lumpur.</span><br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-87664065721677779692009-05-22T15:19:00.003+08:002009-05-22T15:23:34.802+08:00Luring Snakeheads In Puncak Alam<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3552206081/" title="Luring Snakeheads In Puncak Alam by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3313/3552206081_3e4df2f273.jpg" alt="Luring Snakeheads In Puncak Alam" width="351" height="500" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">It doesn’t take much money to make me happy. Spending my morning on weekends at places like this to me is a luxury thing to do. And with such elements right before my eyes, it never fails to entice that precious little feeling in me.<br /><br />This place is located in my backyard, known as Puncak Alam, which takes less than 10 minutes drive from my house. The place, more of a pond than a lake, is far cry from the bustling of livelihood, quiet it seems. Only once a while you’d be stirred by the foolhardy sounds coming from big but cheap exhaust pipe of a car running down the almost deserted road tens of meters away from the water’s edge. I hate it when it disrupts the thoughts I was harboring, feel like giving the driver a real sports car as a present.<br /><br />There are a lot of snakehead fish <i>(we call it “ikan haruan” locally)</i> in this pond. I came a few times already checking on the activities of the snakeheads in it. Pretty soon I’ll bring over my kids to fish here.<br /><br />I doubt I am in position to give you helpful tips on how to capture beautiful landscapes but if you ask me tips on how to catch snakehead fish, I think I can be very accommodating.<br /><br />Catching snakeheads requires special skills unlike catching some other types of silly fish. If you’re gamed for this, I would start by advising you on the type of lures to be chosen at the fishing shop apart from the types and sizes of hooks and strings needed. Snakeheads would likely to snatch on moving lures as compared to using worms or palette as baits. Yeah, you may use crickets as baits but often time your rhythm will be sporadic with downtime to replace the baits. On top of it, crickets do not give those sexy dances when it is hooked and drowned. Anything flashy and sparkly with nice little dance when it is pulled in the water would surely look appetizing to the snakeheads that make them lose their minds.<br /><br />I will also share with you on the habits of snakeheads and teach you how to make studied guesses on their possible party time and places for resting, feeding and breeding by looking at the conditions and activities in the pond.<br /><br />With the right knowledge, right tools and right skills, I’ll make sure you won’t be fishing like silly but put the snakeheads on the silly side instead. Or else it makes me a silly advisor.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><i>Note: Strongly advised to view the image above <a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;" href="http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/onblack.php?id=3552206081&size=large">On Black</a> </i>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-2551057450170192672009-05-12T16:22:00.001+08:002009-05-12T16:25:46.569+08:00The Story of a Cup of Tea<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2805575384/" title="The Story of a Cup of Tea by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3020/2805575384_72f05e1bdd.jpg" alt="The Story of a Cup of Tea" width="500" height="333" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Has it ever occurred to you a stranger offers you drink from a cup that exclusively served for him? If that’s already peculiar to your norm, so then what’s the odd like for you to accept it if it does? </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >The odds were against me. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Firstly, upon seated right in front of him, there was a cup of tea readily served for him. He offered me to have it. Reasonably, I refused the offer as I thought it was out of mind to drink from the cup that served for someone else. The offer then turned insist when he was adamant to have me drink it. The reason being, it was freshly delivered and he could always order for another cup and perhaps as an honor to me as his guest.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >I conceded defeat upon his obstinacy and kindness. I had to take it as a kind gesture from him and started drinking moments after. I could see him happy watching me sipping it amidst of my struggle controlling my composure when the tea was a little too hot pattering on my tongue. Little did I know he had to go without his morning tea when he later said he didn’t feel like it to have a drink, and left me feel sorry with slight mixture of silly.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >That is the incident when I first met him. He prefers me to call him Pak Ngah Ya. In my short conversation with him at the mosque, I learned that he was a commando in the Armed Forces before he retired in 1990. Now he devotes his time for some religious work at Sultan Salahuddin Abdul Aziz Shah Mosque, Shah Alam.</span><br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-79064075724556565232009-04-28T12:15:00.003+08:002009-04-28T12:21:08.276+08:00When Lady Luck Decided To Take Side<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3478443968/" title="When Lady Luck Decided To Take Side by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3654/3478443968_99673ffd0a.jpg" alt="When Lady Luck Decided To Take Side" width="500" height="340" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >It had been a nerve-wrecking ball game on the other part of the globe over in London, England when the Reds, the Anfield club Liverpool edged over Hull City with 3-1 win. The Reds kept up the pressure on the Devils, the Old Trafford club Manchester United at the top of the Premier League table. While here in Malaysia, almost at the same time last Saturday April 25th, 2009 at the National Stadium, Bukit Jalil, Kuala Lumpur, we were dealing with reds of our own. Our reds, The Red Warriors of Kelantan and The Red Giants of Selangor, red & white and red & yellow respectively were facing one another in the mother of all football matches – in the Malaysian FA Cup final.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Pardon me for not displaying the picture of the football game (as I don't have any), only a ticket in my son Edrin’s hand, taken prior to the time my three kids and I left for the stadium, 50km away from home. My children left their mom behind whilst I left not only wife behind but my camera as well as I didn’t want it to intervene with my sole purpose to enjoy good ball game and to really feel the ambience and dynamics of the place, as much as I didn’t want to intervene with my wife’s sense of fun with my shouts and screams right into her ears during the height of the match. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >The stadium was bursting at the seams with its full capacity of 90,000 spectators – perhaps yet another record of full-house for this state-of-the-art stadium. The sights and sounds were just magnificent. You have to be there to feel the gravity of it with spectacular sight of Kelantan supporters decked in red & white while the Selangor came in red & yellow, occupying half of the circle each on the packed 3-tier terraces of the stadium. And the very sounds of thundering roars of fans from both sides have made an excellent atmosphere that even stood up the least excitable geeks and morons.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >The match went into extra-time as the score tied at nil-nil after the official 90-minute playtime was over. In the second minute of the extra-time, Kelantan opened scoring that sent the fans into frenzy, and I too shouted my lungs out, and was amazed seeing my girl Fara got excited just as much. Let alone my boys Sam and Edrin, I saw them jumped as high as the stadium. Again, you should have witnessed the way Kelantan fans rocked the stadium and observed the looks in the faces of Selangor fans – the most pathetic look I have ever seen in the so-called “Red and Yellow Giants”. Kelantan fans were celebrating thinking that it will be their day. However, their celebrative moods were short-lived when Selangor came strongly for the equalizer in the late hour to make the score tied at 1-1 and thus sent the match into penalty shoot-out.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Prior to the game, the “psychic” in me was telling that the score would be 4-1 or 4-2. But I refused to believe what rings in my head as I felt it was ridiculous for either team to garner big goal margin since on paper, both teams stands 50-50 chance of winning, with only minimal score. What more, I didn’t want to entertain the idea of Selangor was winning. Goodness, I never thought the score I was toying around with on my mind would actually be the results of the penalty shoot-out, instead. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >The final results of the penalty shoot-out: Selangor 4, Kelantan 1 </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >It was a tight game, not too pretty or spectacular, though, I personally think Kelantan played better but Selangor had the better luck.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Lady luck somehow smiled on Selangor side.</span><br /><br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-12919631752045443582009-03-16T11:45:00.006+08:002009-03-16T12:08:16.448+08:00My morning in Ijok<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3329825428/" title="A Funky Dude by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3298/3329825428_d340e5b5ec.jpg" alt="A Funky Dude" width="500" height="455" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">This tiny sucker is elusive. He flies in random order and only come to rest, perched on the foliage merely for seconds. After a cup of sweat and dirty pants, I still couldn’t get a decent shot on him. This is the best I could get that I need to crop heavily for my image – less than satisfactory. </span><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Ijok is a constituency in the state of Selangor, some 65km from Kuala Lumpur. From my house to this tiny dreary township of Ijok, it is only some 15km on a straight line, no big deal for me to get there. But it’s a big deal to go there if I don’t really have any apparent purpose.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Of all the places on earth, I went there looking for butterflies to capture. As if butterflies are that scarce that cannot be found elsewhere but Ijok. When I got back home, I saw similar butterfly was happily roaming in my yard.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3331327927/" title="A Splendor of Ijok by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3587/3331327927_e7bc2ab7cf.jpg" alt="A Splendor of Ijok" width="500" height="453" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >This is my catch of the day – a splendor. What good is Ijok without her?!!</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: georgia;" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3587/3331327927_e7bc2ab7cf_b.jpg">View Large</a><br /><br /><br /><a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3340576790/" title="Stateliness in Her Spread by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3308/3340576790_2731e40ac9.jpg" alt="Stateliness in Her Spread" width="500" height="455" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >This beautiful girl in the picture gave me a nice spread of her wings for my shot.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;">I have a feeling that it is less fun to go capture butterflies in the Butterfly Park where there are actually plenty of beautiful butterflies with wide varieties of sub-species to shoot at.<br /><br />The thrill of locating them in the wild and chasing after them is perhaps to me reckoned to be called fun as compared to getting just pictures as pictures of beautiful subjects. I don’t know, maybe I am befuddled between my infatuation and my preference here – just like my ambiguity over blogging or just simply upload image in the flickr. Cool!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;">All I know, I had so much fun hunting them down next to the nippy cemetery in an isolated part of Ijok, Selangor.<br /></div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3344872361/" title="The Grandeur by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3399/3344872361_5aedd6cc27.jpg" alt="The Grandeur" width="500" height="452" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; font-family: arial;font-size:85%;" >This image is my personal favorite. I favor this based on the merit of photography (that I perceived as one)</span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I’d suggest you to view </span><a style="font-family: georgia;" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3399/3344872361_5aedd6cc27_b.jpg">LARGE</a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> to appreciate it better, or </span><a style="font-family: georgia;" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3399/3344872361_86bba392fb_o.jpg">LARGER</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia;">You’ll see fine details on her upper body with lucid tresses until the head part and the antennas that make significant contributions to the image character. Blurry upshot at the tips of the wings is to illustrate the proximity of the subject being captured as in a way to suggest a sense of depth. And, please don’t be overlooked; the exquisite adornment on the wings with the electrifying color is no less than interesting either – apart from the smooth <i>bokeh</i> that to me is something to be valued at.<br /><br />It is worth my while to spend my morning in Ijok with these great captures.<br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-90783242661978687082009-02-14T09:55:00.009+08:002009-02-14T10:26:07.487+08:00In Memories of Raffie Hussain<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2942758897/" title="In memories of Raffi Hussain (#1) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3227/2942758897_109edbe25e.jpg" alt="In memories of Raffi Hussain (#1)" width="500" height="372" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >This picture is my last photo of Raffie Hussain. I took this in the office during an interview with a local publishing house, 2 weeks before Aidilfitri last year.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">He had already becoming an artist when I was still in high school. He was one time dubbed as Elvis Presley of Kelantan for his singing style. During my absence for studies in overseas, I learned that he was also making name in acting ─ he played in a popular local movie, Azura.<br /><br />Little did I know in my later years, Raffi Hussain would be my business partner of which it abruptly ended in October 2008 when he collapsed and passed away at his parents' home in Gombak due to heart attack. He was supposed to celebrate his 49th birthday the next day, 15th October.<br /><br />I was in the middle of Hari Raya Celebration at my wife's work place when I received the news. I took my whole family, rushed to the Selayang Hospital, only to wait for his remain at the mortuary. He was pronounced dead on the arrival.<br /><br />His movie project on "The Chini: Awaken" came to a halt and had practically die off as well..<br /><br />May Allah Bless His Soul!<br /></div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2943620480/" title="The offsprings of Raffi Hussain by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3051/2943620480_2a5ae382d8.jpg" alt="The offsprings of Raffi Hussain" width="500" height="333" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">These are Raffie's kids out of five (The youngest was not born yet the time he passed away). It is taken during the family "majlis buka puasa" at our office. I'll do what I can to see these kids grow up.</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><br /><br />~<br /></span></span> </div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-55038644456036718682009-02-05T10:33:00.003+08:002009-02-05T10:40:22.124+08:00Istana Jahar, Kota Bharu, Kelantan<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3207636371/" title="Istana Jahar, Kota Bharu, Kelantan by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3405/3207636371_3187a6bc9e.jpg" alt="Istana Jahar, Kota Bharu, Kelantan" width="500" height="333" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: georgia;">Istana Jahar is a remainder of the great Kelantan Monarchy in the bygone eon. As I learned, this palace was built in 1887 by Sultan Mahmud II for his grandson, Long Kundur. <i>(Note: We hardly have this primeval name around for a person now)</i>.<br /><br />This palace is finely carved out of wood with complex patterns; a conspicuous testimony of fine craftsmanship employed by the people in the state.<br /><br />It's now been transformed into a museum showcasing Kelantan’s culture. If you have the opportunity to be in this part of the planet, please do visit the place. They also have things on display include photographs, artifacts and other exhibits.<br /><br />Looking at this magnificent edifice, I couldn’t help but fantasizing me as a king living in it. I could imagine I’d be at the balcony enjoying my tea brewed from the finest tea leaves while watching a cock-fight in the compound, cheering for my favorite rooster to beat the hell out of the opponent rooster.<br /><br /><br />~<br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-39362194205854357072009-02-03T09:43:00.007+08:002009-02-03T14:28:03.058+08:00Gunung Senyum.... Here we come!!!<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3246406520/" title="Welcome to Gunung Senyum (#1) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3107/3246406520_107af58b44.jpg" alt="Welcome to Gunung Senyum (#1)" width="500" height="333" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >You can see big smiles on my children’s faces in the photo (Sam – left, Fara – middle and Edrin – right) They had better, as to live up to the name of the place, Gunung Senyum.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">The place is located some 160 km from Kuala Lumpur in the state of Pahang. It’ll take you to a sleepy township of Temerloh after a smooth ride on the Karak Highway. From Temerloh to the mountain proper, you’ll enjoy the ride on the trunk roads with the staple view of oil palm plantations all the way. Travelling time from KL is about 2½ hours <i>(2 hours if you’re driving Porsche)</i><br /><br />If you care to scale a mountain as an adventure for the whole family members, Gunung Senyum is the right place to be at. It comprises a fairly less challenge climb as the track to go up is readily available. With little boost in stamina, even an elderly grandmother can make it to the peak.<br /><br />It’s a pity if you’re overweight that could even barely enjoy a climb on a stairway of a 2-storey building. If that’s the case, better off stay in the comfort of your living room.<br /><br />SMILE!<br /></div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3245574971/" title="Welcome to Gunung Senyum (#2) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3411/3245574971_0bfdc1500a.jpg" alt="Welcome to Gunung Senyum (#2)" width="500" height="333" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;">Fara and her little brother Edrin are impishly making faces for my shot. This is taken at the entrance at the foot of Gunung Senyum. </span><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">The mountain does keep her secrets that only meant to be disclosed to the nature lovers who are keen to make realize a rendezvous. If you are one, you’d be delighted to explore the place. Apart from her natural beauty with lush greeneries of the virgin forest, the place embraces many interesting caverns and handsome rock formations.<br /><br />Later in the day, you’ll head home leaving the grandiose of the mountain behind with respect.<br /><br />Oh yeah, don’t forget to bring along your smile to the mountain.<br /></div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3245573781/" title="Welcome to Gunung Senyum (#3) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3304/3245573781_6daf5582ec.jpg" alt="Welcome to Gunung Senyum (#3)" width="500" height="333" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Do you have 6 hours 45 minutes of your life to see what the place has got in store for you? That is what reads in the notice prepared by the state authority the approximate time taken to summit and back.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-family: georgia;">These images, as in any other images of my kids, they will serve as a record of a good time we have had. As it is valuable and precious now, it would be even more in years to come.<br /><br />One fine day when the kids are no longer under my arms, I’d wake up in the morning; flipping through prints of the images of the past just to feel exactly what I was feeling many years before.<br /></div><br /><br /><br />~~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-68912761467803385642009-01-30T13:03:00.002+08:002009-01-30T13:06:32.036+08:00My stopover along the KL - Putrajaya Highway<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3232733353/" title="KL - Putrajaya Highway, Kuala Lumpur (#2) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3133/3232733353_37abee51c5.jpg" alt="KL - Putrajaya Highway, Kuala Lumpur (#2)" width="500" height="315" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family: georgia;">I stopped and parked my car at the truck parking lot at the Rest & Recreational area along the KL - Putrajaya Highway for this capture. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">The trains of traffics with the headlights beaming and the street lights looked amazing when I was on the top of the hill tolerating the undulating slopes with smooth roller coaster ride minutes before. I thought I would have captured it nicely but what can I say, the view point at the place I stopped at was not as good as what I saw before.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">I bet many KLites have not even used this highway yet. It only opened in recent months.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">It offers road users a shorter and more direct route to the federal administrative capital Putrajaya, Cyberjaya and the KL International Airport (KLIA), cuts short by 30 minutes to get to the airport from Kuala Lumpur. It is accessible from KL starting at Kg Pandan Interchange.</span><br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-81762094579171287822009-01-29T15:37:00.007+08:002009-02-03T14:37:15.839+08:00Of an old man in a sorry state<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3213921755/" title="Staring point blank by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3319/3213921755_6ccd0736f4.jpg" alt="Staring point blank" width="500" height="354" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><span style="font-family:georgia;">The old man of 80-plus in this picture is actually no other than my own flesh and blood. He’s my mom’s cousin. He’s been down with hemiplegic for the past 6 years, helpless and confined to a wheelchair. I knew him as a well-built and strong man when I was little but now he is in a sorry state. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I visited him during my last holidays in the hometown. While talking, he seems lost in his own thought. He spent much of his time pondering – staring point blank moments after anything he rests his eyes upon. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">It made me sad. I could almost feel what he was feeling especially when I asked about whether his grown-up children in KL visited him or not. He scrambled for words amidst his grumble and I knowingly nod without a definite answer given.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet;font-size:85%;" >Note:</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet;font-size:85%;" >Often time when I have image of an old man in hand, I would want to have it treated in Black & White. The image of this old man is no exception. It must be something to do with what entrenched in the back of my mind. Perhaps, I’d automatically associate old man with the past era when the technology of the day had yet to see the arrival of color printing. </span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet;font-size:85%;" >Maybe the scars of experience crafted in the face make good exercise for my experimentation with tones. Or maybe black & white finish would give better mood due to his suffering.</span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:trebuchet;font-size:85%;" >Be as it may with the underlying principle, I think it’s cool to have this image treated in such a manner.</span><br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-70956907388936992762009-01-28T11:38:00.001+08:002009-01-28T11:40:03.070+08:00God of Prosperity and the winning photo<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3218897175/" title="God of Prosperity and the winning photo by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3448/3218897175_690a3971c2.jpg" width="500" height="350" alt="God of Prosperity and the winning photo" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">This is a picture of a man in God of Prosperity costume showing thumbs up for the photo hanging on the wall. <i><b>“Ichiban”</b></i> he said, means, “Very good!” in Chinese.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">That photo is actually one of the selected photos exhibited at the Annexe Gallery in Central Market Avenue, Kuala Lumpur (Jan 18th - Feb 1st, 2009). The exhibition is organized by PhotoMalaysia.com with the theme “OUR VANISHING HERITAGE”. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">I am proud to tell you that, the photo on the wall is a work of my own personal friend and neighbor, Dr. Zul, <b><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/saujanautamamtb/">here</a></b>. He deserves to be recognized for this great street photography shot. The photo complements the exhibition theme and it satisfies the panels’ stringent criterion for quality photo to be exhibited.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">I went there this morning for the exhibition. I didn’t know they were having function in the area in conjunction with the coming Chinese New Year Celebrations. The Minister of Arts, Culture & Heritage, Dato' Seri Shafei Apdal was the guest of honor. They have lion dance, musics played using traditional musical instruments, a parade of men and women in traditional costumes with photographers from local media on the tail and the God of Prosperity as a mascot. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">I just blend in with the photographers and even met my old friend <b><a href="http://www.bazuki.com/">Bazuki</a></b>, shooting for Reuters.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">When the entourage reached the gallery, I looked for the opportunity to have the God of Prosperity to pose for me with Dr. Zul’s picture. He sportingly did what I asked with both his thumbs pointed up. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">The God of Prosperity is very often associated with Chinese New Year, as in the new coming year, the Chinese will pray that they can prosper and become richer.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Gong Xi Fa Chai to all my Chinese friends.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Have a nice weekend and HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!</span><br /></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-87163799474716586542009-01-28T11:32:00.003+08:002009-01-28T11:36:49.004+08:00Finally... they tamed the lion<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/3227893681/" title="The Tamed Lion by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3529/3227893681_afc4d25010.jpg" alt="The Tamed Lion" width="297" height="500" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >Seen here is the lion head of the costume for the lion dance lying on the pavement. In a moment, a trained chap will be behind it with help from his buddy ducked behind him to form the lion's body and the hind legs. The lion will then dance to the unassailable yet rhythmic pounding of a drum and cymbals with the agile moves and finesse that would mesmerize the spectators.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >I was once standing next to the cymbals player watching the dance, only to have me ringing in the ears for the whole day.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" >This year, the Chinese celebrate the Year of the Ox in their lunar calendar. In Malaysia, people at all levels would “celebrate” the occasion as much as everyone would also “celebrate" Eid Al-Fitr for Muslims, Deepavali for Hindus and Christmas for Christians. Well, even if it isn’t essentially everyone’s festivity, to the very least everybody here in the country is enjoying the long public holidays.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:georgia;" ><b>HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!</b></span>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-21342964514536633772008-07-01T10:37:00.001+08:002008-07-01T10:42:12.081+08:00Expensive things always come in a cheap way<div align="justify"><a title="Remembrance of Sekinchan (1) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2626106789/"><img height="333" alt="Remembrance of Sekinchan (1)" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3178/2626106789_392967c299.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc66cc;">The shells are cheap but the memory is expensive. No big deal if we go buy ‘em somewhere but it is a big deal when we had fun collecting them at the shore.<br /><br />It happened many months ago. I was at the unlikely place with my children, early in the morning at a small fishing village in a tiny coastal township called Sekinchan, Selangor — collecting these shells.<br /></span><br /><a title="Remembrance of Sekinchan (2) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2626106775/"><img height="333" alt="Remembrance of Sekinchan (2)" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3166/2626106775_b130a93baa.jpg" width="500" /></a></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-62145008862036096322008-06-12T14:16:00.012+08:002008-06-12T14:31:05.121+08:00Bakawali bud and cactus in flawed pot<div align="justify"><a title="Bunga Bakawali by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2571619447/"><img height="333" alt="Bunga Bakawali" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3098/2571619447_db43d68b4a.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">Call it mysterious if you like. The flower only blossoms at 12 midnight and lasts for as good as 3 hours. The plant in my yard flowers a few times already but I am yet to witness it blooms before my eyes.<br /></span><br /><a href="http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/onblack.php?id=2571619447">View On Black</a><br /><br />***************************************************************<br /><br />From <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epiphyllum_oxypetalum">Wikipedia</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It’s known as Epiphyllum oxypetalum scientifically. Epiphyllum oxypetalum or Dutchman's Pipe is a species of cactus and one of the most cultivated species in the genus. It is also referred to as Night blooming Cereus and often confused with species of Selenicereus.<br /><br />This species was originally described from cultivated material and its true place of origin has never been truly understood. In 1909, C. A. Purpus collected a slightly different type in St. Ana, Orizaba, Mexico. It has carmine red outer petals and the flowers have an unpleasant smell, rather than being fragrant. It was originally named Phyllocactus purpusii, but does probably not deserve any botanical recognition.<br /></span><br />***************************************************************<br /><br /><br /><a title="My Cactus by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2571619439/"><img height="381" alt="My Cactus" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3003/2571619439_90bbbf120e.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">Right! The pot is not perfectly circular. I got it 3-for-RM10 from the reject shop in Merbau Sempak, and not too bad for my cactus.<br /><br />P/S: I am still having hard time to figure out how the name Merbau Sempak comes about.</span> </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />________________________________________________________________________~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-23878763255028122972008-05-29T12:32:00.019+08:002008-05-29T14:11:05.797+08:00Of governing Pedra Branca and reminiscence of rice field<div align="justify"><a title="Ready To Be Planted by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2266211974/"><img height="333" alt="Ready To Be Planted" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2275/2266211974_4ae464ff80.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Those square shapes are actually paddy plants that been moved from the nursery before it is plucked and planted in rows and lines with 1 or 2 or maybe 3 strands of it in a single cluster. More room for them to grow when spaces are created in between the clusters. The nursery for breeding the plants is in another plot of land. They are taken care of right from the seeds until such time to move them over to another land plot like in the photo above, to be planted and to yield the rice when they mature.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">Pedra Branca is better known as Pulau Batu Putih among Malaysians. It is a sad thing when we have lost our dominion over the tiny island to Singapore. A few lessons can be learnt from the incident. On the administrative level, the lesson is, do take care of our soil and never let people establish their footing for you will later loose the ownership.<br /><br />For civilians like you and I, accept it wholeheartedly when we were once put the trust in the International Court of Justice (ICJ) to tackle the dispute and they did their job, delivered the verdict and substantiated well legally.<br /><br />Whilst it has been hard to accept the fact of loosing Pedra Branca as far as sovereignty and pride are concerned, perhaps it is not too hard on me personally as I still remain as the governor for the island – GABENOR PULAU BATU PUTIH. I am kidding! I know that’s silly but I love saying foolish thing like this. LOL!<br /><br />Forget about Pedra Branca for a moment. Let me relate to the pictures that grace this entry (as you may later see my digression due to pivotal point of Singapore). These pictures are taken when I brought my family to Tanjung Karang a couple of months back. For those of you who are not aware that Tanjung Karang also does have rice fields, I want to assure you, it does. Their economy is not just confined to sea-related produce alone as the impression one might have. Or you may not even have any idea about it?!<br /><br />The serenity and tranquility of the rice field brings me back to my childhood days. And not without the kind of special feeling that always comes knocking upon looking at it. On an occasion when I am all alone entertaining my own thoughts at the edge of the field while my eyes would go as far as my eyes can see, mixture of feelings would come without warning that makes my eyes water. I would see my frail body splattered with mud playing in the field. I could hear the echo of a cow mooing in the distance. I’d vividly hear grandpa shooing a school of birds to be away from the field. And I would see cynical smiles and contemptuous smirks from specters for no apparent reasons.<br /><br />Yet I am there slightly get my pants soiled upon sitting on the grass and come to realization that it happened in the past decades when the giggles of my kids playing nearby overshadows.<br /><br />I was staying with grandparents as dad passed away since I was small and mom had her own life somewhere. To make matter worst, we were staying with another two cousins under the same roof. Due to some ill twist of fate, my uncle had divorced his Singaporean wife. The wife refused to take the kids along and he was then facing concrete wall in juggling his life in Singapore between career and small kids under his arm. By the way, my uncle studied in Singapore when he was small, staying in there since and even calls Singapore as home until today. See</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#6633ff;"> <a href="http://gabenor.blogspot.com/2007/05/to-educate-is-to-be-educated.html"><span style="color:#ff0000;">here</span></a><decision></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"></span></div><span style="color:#993399;"><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Decision was made; sending his small kids under the care of my grandparents would be better idea, at the onus of poor old folks. </span></div><div align="justify"></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><div align="justify"><br />There we were, surviving by the day with least allotments to continue living. Somehow we pulled it through despite of the hitch, thanks to the fine nurturing that taught us to be not just tough but also not to be deprived from self-esteem. And it also circumstantially taught us to tell no difference between siblings and cousins.<span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"><br /><br />Now all of us have grown up, became adults, have families and lead quite successful lives on our own standard, but the very lives we had under the care of grandparents is always special to us.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"><br />And rice field will always be dearly to me.<br /></span><br /><br /><a title="Wooden Bridge by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2266211976/"><img height="333" alt="Wooden Bridge" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2141/2266211976_5f3e480a01.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">It's a classic design of a simple bridge made out of wood that normally would be constructed to connect between the dry land to rice field across the waterway. This sight can be seen everywhere in the area.</span><br /><br /><a title="Waterway by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2266215234/"><img height="333" alt="Waterway" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2285/2266215234_4ff6312b34.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">This is an essential element to grow rice – a waterway, to irrigate the land. With its presence, not only it is meant for practical reason but it adds serene and beauty to the area too.<br /></div></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />_________________________________________________________<br /></span></span></span>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-51053783282535025572008-05-22T12:48:00.016+08:002008-05-23T12:09:29.249+08:00Moronic product of edification<div align="justify"><a title="Doraemon by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2509612169/"><img height="333" alt="Doraemon" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3216/2509612169_f1233babe2.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br />It captures the imaginations of kids with this icon of a Japanese cartoon series. The irony of it all is, many years ago, it became an issue and debated over in the Parliament. I don't know whether the MP was silly or Doraemon was too influencial until it makes a debut in the Parliament. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">I was once wondered why kids like to watch cartoons!? It took me long before I got the answer, that not until I stumbled upon an article about it in the local dailies.<br /><br />As kids do not possess the complexity in thinking, simple by nature; they would prefer to see things in simple form. The outward appearance of cartoon characters made kids easy to be acquainted with, perhaps requires less chemical processing in the brain to finally accept it as something they like.<br /><br />The cartoon character is only drawn with the basic outline to resemble the look as for the eyes, nose, mouth and ears which finally sheathed in the shape of human face. Likewise the basic outlines are applied to resemble animals and objects too.<br /><br />For kids, that is enough to incarcerate their thoughts and imaginations as those are life characters, impartial to the level of their brain activity.<br /><br />But we adults, our minds are corrupted, way too sullied to see those simple characters without harboring thoughts of proper skin tones, precise facial expressions with specific facial muscles at work, a degree of grace in movements and all until it becomes less appealing to enjoy those cartoon characters as much as kids do.<br /><br />In short, we make things complicated. Throughout the years lived, we keep on adding unnecessary paraphernalia in our standard for taste and liking. All the basic outline and figure of things are no longer enticing as we keep on piling the pre-requisites for our penchants.<br /><br />Onto that, little wonder the real fight between humans is only demonstrated when they are grown-ups and are smart enough to discern between good and bad. The irony is kids fight more often than adults do even at a snap over a cookie. But, due to their simplicity in way of thinking, the inferno settles down as quickly as the outburst and tantrum built up and oblivious over the earlier affray. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"><br />Adults can be at their lowest point, worst than kids. Adults even fail to see flag as a flag when they start seeing what colors and design they made up to be.<br /><br />Sheesh! Kids are better than you! </span></div><p align="justify"><br /><br /><a title="Boys of Kg Baru by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2470202702/"><img height="333" alt="Boys of Kg Baru" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3098/2470202702_a11f379a34.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I was driving around on that Saturday morning looking for good place for breakfast and it brought me to Kg Baru area, a traditional village in the heart of the city of Kuala Lumpur. I stopped over at Dewan Sultan Sulaiman to find out that an open field next to it was filled with school kids from the elementary school nearby.<br /></span><br /><br /><a title="Stopover by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2475616698/"><img height="332" alt="Stopover" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2234/2475616698_67d0aa2100.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Coincidently, a busload of kids stops over in that afternoon when I was there at Sultan Abdul Samad Mosque, KLIA</span> </p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />_____________________________________________________________________________~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-89956100116645114182008-05-08T13:19:00.011+08:002008-05-08T14:43:58.890+08:00The mockery of my guts<a title="Pseudo-galaxy by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2434833845/"><img height="333" alt="Pseudo-galaxy" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2389/2434833845_74fca7dbef.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">It puzzles people when I show this image to them. It is fun to see their foreheads wrinkle, as much fun as I am photographing it. I name it as Pseudo-Galaxy. Can you guess what this is?</span><br /><br /><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#993399;"></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#993399;"></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#993399;"></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#993399;">I may be writing and replying in a lot of political issues in prominent blogs in the cyberspace under assumed nicknames but I want to keep the record clean in my personal blog from politics. This is mainly due to realizing that I am not the type of person inclined towards partisan politics but more on quests of understanding the nature of the issue is raised; try to rationalize it and for my own consumption, figuring out the best possible answer to it to resolute community unrests – and on top of it to visualize what would benefit the society.<br /><br />Throughout the pursuit, I found out that more often than not, issues are just mere blusters and innuendos. They’d blow things out of proportions over the course of justifying what they want to have the way the very issue is projected. They’d shout profanity at each other and blasphemous over others’ prudent. It is hardly can be seen one agrees with what opinionated by the counterpart even though when it principally deserves an agreement for it indisputably is meritoriously spot-on. They won’t easily trade-off. It’s a tough thing for a living soul with a heart like me to comprehend, let alone to swallow – and it is saddened.<br /><br />Anyway, I don’t want to carry those frustrations, disappointments and disenchantments into this “From the Governor’s Desk” blog. Let it remain as the place for me to entertain myself with the heavenly things that I see in my day-to-day life. Let it remain for me to record the growth chart of my kids and it is for me to see what kind of emotions behind what I had to write when I would later recall. Let it be the place for me to rekindle my past to have me reminded from where I come from and what pasts made me today.<br /><br />And let it be the place of sojourn from my daily tasks.<br /><br />And….. You know what? The one I wrote above comes from deep within me despite of my digression when I hit the keyboard without knowing what I want to write. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#993399;">****************************************************************************</p></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;color:#993399;"><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I want you to enjoy these pictures.<br /><br />These are taken during our recent trip on Sunday (4th May 2008) to Kalumpang Resort in Kuala Kubu Baru. I had fun playing in cool water of the stream with my boys Sam and Edrin. Fara and her mom were just contented to just watch us from the distance.</span></span></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"><br /></span></p><p align="justify"></p><p align="justify"><a title="Kalumpang (1) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2472023235/"><img height="333" alt="Kalumpang (1)" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2195/2472023235_b083b01e4c.jpg" width="500" /></a></p><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><br /><a title="Kalumpang (2) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2472829166/"><img height="333" alt="Kalumpang (2)" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2048/2472829166_4420b09d5a.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><br />__________________________________________________________________________<br /></span></p>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-30414734212774565022008-04-26T12:42:00.009+08:002008-04-26T13:13:49.268+08:00Growing up by the day<div align="justify"><a title="At the Jetty by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2266216302/"><img height="353" alt="At the Jetty" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2144/2266216302_fbd28bdef1.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">From left: Edrin, Sam and Fara<br />This picture is taken at the jetty in Marine Park, Sungai Hj Dorani, Sg Besar, Selangor</span>.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">There will be time when I am no longer talk about “birds and bees” with them.<br /><br />Even now, I am pleasantly surprised with their advanced line of thoughts during bantering time while I'm a decade behind still seeing them as babies.<br /><br />Nah, they no longer are.<br /><br />Edrin advances faster than either Fara or Sam when they were now at Edrin's age. He has to cope to the advances of big brother and sister in his daily lives that technically trained him to be ahead of his time.<br /><br />If you do have kids with only one or two years difference in age, you’d notice the maturity of your older one would either pulled back to the lower age or the younger one excels to be at par with the older one. That is what happens to my kids. It’s ridiculous for Sam to holdup to be in his younger brother’s world but instead, methodically driven on Edrin to propel.<br /><br />From my observation, when then age gap is far too long for the youngest edition to appear, it works otherwise. The new kid perhaps learn faster in knowing what is what but get pulled back in emotional development. It takes little imagination to comprehend this due to the fact that, members in the family will set a focal point on the little one. He will observe more things around him to learn fast but requires less effort to understand and tackle his own emotions as people around him are there to cushion him up.<br /><br />I told my wife while watching the TV program “Bersamamu” where the program highlights the sufferings of the less-fortunate people in some corners of the country, that, “Look, their kids are far more independent as compared to the kids in the well-heeled family”<br /><br />Here comes the assertion of my homespun theory, “the harder you are trained, the tougher you will be”<br /><br />And… as of now, I am not prepared for a new baby.</span> </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /><a title="Fara, Edrin & Sam by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2435786858/"><img height="333" alt="Fara, Edrin & Sam" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3002/2435786858_78fe3cb50e.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">They pose for me in the living room under the dim of the lights before I sent them to school for their Maulidur-Rasul celebrations. I'd grab any opportunity to send and pick them, to & from school even though I've already hired a school bus to do the job. To me, it’s a quality time to be with the kids throughout the journey, nonetheless.</span></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><p align="justify"><br /><br /><a title="A whale of time by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2322919273/"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img height="333" alt="A whale of time" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2090/2322919273_0fd18cef34.jpg" width="500" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Edrin (facing the camera), Sam (in full body suit) and their friends are having good time at the swimming pool in the Clubhouse of our housing estate, Saujana Utama.<br /></span><br />_________________________________________________________________________________</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></p><br /></span>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-55700598806564660312008-04-19T11:44:00.016+08:002008-04-19T12:54:31.881+08:00The Singer In Me<a title="ZAID by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2323776282/"><img height="430" alt="ZAID" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2352/2323776282_0178c7e7fb.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">He taught me singing “Hotel California” by the Eagles when were kids which I memorize the lyrics until today. He went on winning the school talent-time with the song whilst I was having hard time revetting my pitch. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I liked the part that says <em>"They stab it with their steely knives.... But they just can't kill the beast"</em> apart from the opening of the song, <em>"On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair.... Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air"</em> And, my head voice will only be out at the chorus line as if I am a good singer, <em>"Welcome to the Hotel California.... Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place).... Such a lovely face"</em>. I'd be singing from the top of my lungs.<br /><br />Smile!!!<br /></span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">The one in the picture above is my good friend. Not just good friend, I can say that he is one of my only handfuls of best friends I have in this world. His name is Zaid. He used to be a rock singer with a band called BELANTARA in late 80’s. He (the band) has made hell of a name in the local music industry at that time.<br /><br />It started when Zaid was still studying in Pullman, Washington in the USA. The band was formed by students of Washington State University and University of Idaho with Zaid as a vocalist. After jamming sessions in an apartment basement, they start sending demo tape for recording. They got their break when they were called back for recording in Singapore.<br /><br />He then heads back to the USA to finish his Engineering studies after the recordings were done.<br /><br />Fast forward, he is now enjoying doing his Sound Engineering work in his own studio in Kota Damansara apart from producing songs for new talents, even nasyid for that matter. Namely, Rabbani is one of them.<br /><br />I think it is no big deal for me if I want to start off a new career to be a singer. Zaid can always help me out to produce album for me. Or, at this age, am I too late for that? Or simply not much of talents I do possess as a pre-requisite for me to be one?</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />___________________________________________________________________</span></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-61059103071935636572008-04-12T12:04:00.008+08:002008-04-12T12:30:22.634+08:00Nasi Kerabu<div align="justify"><a title="Nasi Kerabu Stall by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2406040611/"><img height="337" alt="Nasi Kerabu Stall" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3251/2406040611_f6fe81abf3.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">The car that parked at the roadside belongs to the owner of the "nasi kerabu" stall and I believe it has been in service all these while. </span><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">The place is a hit among students in the college nearby. </span></div><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><div align="justify"><br />*************************************************************** </div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">Among the stalls in Kuala Lumpur selling Kelantan delicacies, the place in the picture above is the best to me. I used to enjoy good versions of it in Kg Baru, Kuala Lumpur, especially the one at the Y-junction close to the 12-storey flat, but they can't beat this one. This one is way better.<br /><br />"Nasi Kerabu" literally means "salad rice". Kelantan's Nasi Kerabu is a "white rice" or "dyed blue rice" and served with "tumis" gravy with local herbs, leaves and vegetables. The coloring comes from a type of flower, although some sellers use artificial equivalents. Apart from that it is also served with fried fish, keropok, salted egg, "solok lada" (fish fillet and coconut-stuffed chillis), and pickled garlic.<br /><br />In short, nasi kerabu is indeed yummy.<br /><br />Don't blame me for having the taste benchmark that way because if you understand why the Javanese descendants in Malaysia would have their mouths water when listening to the word "tempe", then, same goes to me and my nasi kerabu.<br /><br />And perhaps the same way sushi is to the Japanese.<br /><br />Javanese <-> Japanese – two different things.<br /><br /><a title="Buying Nasi Kerabu by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2406040609/"><img height="337" alt="Buying Nasi Kerabu" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2350/2406040609_b218dcbbcb.jpg" width="500" /></a> </span></div><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">These students are having their packed dinner of nasi kerabu before going back to their residential halls</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">________________________________________________________________________________________________</span></p><br /></span>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-21917329905583475172008-04-07T11:15:00.022+08:002008-04-07T16:43:30.038+08:00Leprosy<a title="Abandoned (2) by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2386428233/"><img height="338" alt="Abandoned (2)" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3094/2386428233_12603b0e21.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">This building is located just a few hundred meters away from the old Sungai Buluh Hospital, which used to house the Malaysian Leprosy Relief Association. Those days the old Sungai Buluh Hospital specializes in the treatment for leprosy that makes it practical for the association to be in the area.</span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Now, the place will very soon be replaced by the medical faculty of Universiti Teknologi MARA (UiTM) and the construction works have already started.</span></div><br /><br />***************************************************************<br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>Leprosy (Kusta in BM) is a chronic infectious disease caused by the bacterium Mycobacterium leprae, that’s what I got from wikipedia. Left untreated, leprosy can be progressive, causing permanent damage to the skin, nerves, limbs, and eyes. </em></span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em>The victims of leprosy had to be obscured from mixing with the society at large due to the severity of the disease that known to be contagious and perilous. They were then placed in this area until they fully recovered.</em></span></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /><br />***************************************************************</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br /><span style="color:#993399;">Do you wonder why I write about this?<br /><br />Well, I was just thinking about the time when I was little apart from realizing my blog is not been maintained lately, and to have a little something to chatter about.<br /><br />When I was little there was a man in our place called Pok Ya.<br /><br />I was kind of perplexed over what my friends say he doesn’t have a hand. I noticed one of his hands was always wrapped in a bandage with plastic bag in the outer layer. I had a weird feeling every time walk past him because of the eccentric tales heard from friends of similar age.<br /><br />And he was not too familiar to us either because only once in a blue moon we would see him in our village.<br /><br />When I grew up a little bigger, I then learned that he’s been confined to a place in Kuala Lumpur. And as years went by, only then I drew closer to the fact that; he was apparently under treatment for leprosy in Sungai Buluh Hospital.<br /><br />The other day I chanced upon seeing the abandoned buildings in Sungai Buluh that used to be a relegate to the community of leprosy sufferers. Now the threat of this fatal disease is no longer prevalence in the country and the place has been deserted all these while with the buildings left to rot. <br /><br />But then, it will very soon be busy with activities of future medical doctors as the UiTM medical faculty is now being built in the area.<br /><br />The time when I shot these pictures, Pok Ya’s face came to my mind. I knew he was once roaming in the vicinity.<br /><br />I felt as if the apparition of Pok Ya was there in the trail.<br /></span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2386428215/" title="UiTM Medical Faculty by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2038/2386428215_147ebcf27f.jpg" width="500" height="336" alt="UiTM Medical Faculty" /></a><br />______________________________________________________________________<br /></span></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-76825078699576567942008-03-14T10:33:00.021+08:002008-03-14T15:46:18.116+08:00Storm In A Cup<div align="justify"><a title="The border by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2329988125/"><img height="337" alt="The border" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3042/2329988125_675ed0257c.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">This is the immigration check-point in Wang Kelian, Perlis.</span></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Wang Kelian is a Perlis border town on the Malaysia-Thailand Border. It is one of two border crossings between Malaysia and Thailand in the state of Perlis. The other is Padang Besar. The village across the border from Wang Kelian is Wang Prachan in Satun province, Southern Thailand.</span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"><br />I have been busy for the past one month due to many things need to settle in office apart from some business traveling. The pictures I took that graced this entry would give you an idea.<br /><br />While majority of people were busy with politics due to the 12th General Election of the country, I made myself busy with other life essential things. </span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><div align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#993399;">May be the trainings I had gone through or the circle of professional (and technically-trained) friends that I have that makes me care less about politics. It is actually not that I don’t care as a citizen of the country to participate for the betterment of future. I do care. Yes, I do. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#993399;">Perhaps, the attitude that I carry deep in me that prevails. As such, something like, I’d prefer to call spade a spade. I call it right when it is right and I call it wrong when the notion is clearly stated as wrong. You can’t carry those in politics. You have to streamline yourself and biased with the conduit of your political religion you are embracing with. You have to nod to the philosophies that bear. You have to sacrifice a fair deal of emotions and have to make room for some element of hypocrisy to be in you – may be a tinge of it – whether you are aware or not. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#993399;">No, not me! </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="color:#993399;">I think I have worked all these while contributing to the nation. And I think I have done in my little way for the integrity of the faith I am in.<br /><br />May be it is still not enough but nothing can be too ideal in this life.</span><br /></span><br /><a title="A kilometre to go by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2329988135/"><img height="337" alt="A kilometre to go" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3108/2329988135_b524be7b5b.jpg" width="500" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">A kilometer to go... The road is somehow clear from traffics most of the times.<br /></span><br /><a title="GE 12 - The heat is on by ~ GAB ~, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2318366654/"><img height="337" alt="GE 12 - The heat is on" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2146/2318366654_4592901289.jpg" width="500" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">A flag war between political parties decorates the scene days before the election. Malaysia went to the polls on March 8th, 2008.</span></span> </div><p><span style="color:#993399;">________________________________________________________________________</span></p>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-7061278199119379332008-02-06T13:32:00.000+08:002008-02-06T15:11:52.603+08:00Mud Cookies<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163745003277157234" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wPNrcpGilXQ/R6lOuMcIg3I/AAAAAAAAAMM/Uo21dg6rEhg/s200/f_02yolen.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wPNrcpGilXQ/R6lOuMcIg4I/AAAAAAAAAMU/o7IGSijAawM/s1600-h/f_02mudcookies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163745003277157250" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_wPNrcpGilXQ/R6lOuMcIg4I/AAAAAAAAAMU/o7IGSijAawM/s200/f_02mudcookies.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wPNrcpGilXQ/R6lOuccIg5I/AAAAAAAAAMc/YqT8LqW2g6E/s1600-h/f_02arrange.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163745007572124562" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_wPNrcpGilXQ/R6lOuccIg5I/AAAAAAAAAMc/YqT8LqW2g6E/s200/f_02arrange.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;">I read in <em>the Star</em> a few days ago about people in slum areas of Haiti eat cookies made out of mud in desperate measures to survive. Their economy is in a pretty bad shape. They simply can’t afford even a decent plate of daily rice, let alone to feast on luxury cuisine we call it ordinary in our standard. That’s how poor is poor to some unlucky human beings just like you and me in certain corner of the globe.<br /><br />Merchants dispatch the dirt to the local market before women would go buy, then process it into mud cookies. They then carry buckets of dirt up ladders to the roof, strain out rocks and clumps on a sheet, and stir in shortening and salt. They pat the mixture into mud cookies and leave them to dry under the scorching sun.<br /><br />The whole family then consumes it just like you and your family having lunch or dinner despite of the form and figure of mud cookies that replicate our Oreo cookies for kids that aptly meant for tea time, if it is at all edible.<br /><br />Wonder how it tastes like.<br /><br />One would never have imagined having to eat dirt to continue living, at least not for us in this part of the hemisphere. But the reality is as such for them that instantaneously would give a sane in us a brush of gratitude for being born and live in this land called Malaysia.<br /><br />In some remote cases we may have heard people are having hard time to feed their families here in our country, but I never came across people starving to death for having to go without food yet or having to nosh on such gross thing.<br /><br />I came from a less-than-rich family over in east coast of the peninsular but as far as I can remember, foods were never deprived from our daily routines. Without knowing we grew up healthy by way of consuming a lot of vegetables. It was not unusual then when I was tasked by granny to go pluck any vegetables that I like to have in the backyard for our lunch.<br /><br />We eat a lot of fish too, be it saltwater fish bought from fishmonger on bicycle or freshwater fish we caught in the rice field. The head of that damn <em>“haruan”</em> sure looks like a snake – no wonder in English they call it snakehead fish – but it’s rich with protein.<br /><br />Meat diet only come every once in a blue moon. Chicken and meat were the super luxurious food that only in certain occasion we get to taste it.<br /><br />The fun starts as early as chasing the chicken that roams around the yard after identifying it in a coop before. With some paddy in hand as bait, pretending to be nice feeding it, let it enjoy the bite in its rhythmic noise for a while before at lightning speed; grab it with both hands while the heart is pounding fast. Sure it’s a major surprise in the chicken’s life when the rug is pulled underneath. Even bigger surprise when grandpa would have it slaughtered. Grandma would then busy processing it while I’d be busy to nose around. Need not to tussle with my little sister as chicken have got two feet, fried chicken feet, we get one each – our favorite snack before the actual meal.<br /><br />It’s a heavy contrast to what the Haitians in slum have to eat to continue living even when we put it side by side with our 70’s lifestyle and theirs now in the new millennium – my chicken feet were way better than mud cookies.<br /><br />Let alone if compared to our live today.<br /><br />I would see my kids, or anyone’s kids for that matter, the choices of foods are abundance. They have all the luxuries to pick and choose from. Unlike when I was small, whatever served underneath the <em>“saji”</em> right on the <em>“mengkuang”</em> mat, I would eat it with no grudges and enjoyed it, just as much as our kids today are enjoying their burgers and pizzas.<br /><br /><br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#993399;"></div></span><span style="color:#993399;"><a title="Sam's Call by GAB's PHOTOS, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2199467146/"><img height="333" alt="Sam's Call" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2165/2199467146_70bc96a81a.jpg" width="500" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Sam is studying the menu hard before placing order in Pizza Hut recently. It is his call today and he is known to have good palate for food and his choice never have failed us.</span><br /><span style="color:#993399;">________________________________________________________________________</span>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20292208.post-73548913746780841242008-01-30T14:02:00.000+08:002008-01-31T09:23:32.854+08:00The Oracle<a title="A Mineret 2 by GAB's PHOTOS, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/melor/2164816353/"><img height="500" alt="A Mineret 2" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2235/2164816353_b8924d1d56.jpg" width="387" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">An awesome display of a minaret of a small mosque basking in the evening light. The place is at the road leading to Meru. From our place in Saujana Utama, we have a back entrance that connects to Puncak Alam. Some 5 km from the entrance, there's a junction to the left where the infamous Mongolian lady, Al-Tantuya was depleted to bits by her assailants last 2 years while the mosque, as the minaret in the pic above, is located some 200 meters on the right turn at the junction.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#993399;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Do you think there is no plan for this world, this life? God is in control. He assigns our destiny. Our job is to obey the laws set forth by God.<br /><br />Talking about laws, granny never took it for granted when I was little. She was then very particular on religious matters. She would be nagging endlessly upon discovering my foul play in observing my religious duties.<br /><br />It was no fun when I had to recite <em>Quran</em> in late afternoon and you can imagine how you would have to control yourself while in the distance you heard the laughter of friends having good time playing. I had to delay my presence joining the group with much pain to endure. Grandpa would notice the less-than-focused in my reciting and I would have to succumb to his stern voice as a warning. It’s not too strange when my eyes were then clouded with tears, and dropped.<br /><br />I would be on grandma’s tail to <em>“madrasah”</em> together with grandpa every now and then. Despite of my lack of interest, I switched my preference to liking to be at <em>madrasah</em> when I knew I would have opportunity to play with friends.<br /><br />More often than not, I would be a subject that caught on the old folks’ nerves over my mischief. At times, I would be caught giggling during my prayer when friends like Fadhil or Ariff shoveling an elbow or two. Regardless of who have started, everyone would try to give a return. Shunned! And missed! And it tickles our funny bones – felt as if it was very funny. In the height of controlling the giggle, with a single knock of forehead on the floor during <em>“sujud”</em> that louder than usual, it was enough for three of us to burst.<br /><br />It didn’t fall below my expectation. Right after the second <em>“salam”</em> when the prayer was over, the very look from grandpa’s eyes in the front row signals trouble. I knew it. Well, Fadhil and Ariff have got their own shares of stares too. Lucky it happened while many people were around. If it was only me, and him, within his reach while he was boiling, it could have been different story altogether.<br /><br />It happened for reasons when I was ushered by granny for my <em>“Asar”</em> prayer while we were still in the height of our play. I couldn’t understand why; of all the kids of similar age playing, I was the only one have to rush home for my prayer. Many times over, I was in anger, dissatisfied, but had to execute order anyway.<br /><br />It took time for me to understand all these.<br /><br />May be due to age I am in now, I would reflect over small things that happened during my formative years and try to bridge my comprehension on how the conspire has worked on me and why, that in the end makes I am who I am today.<br /><br />That’s just a small piece of me.<br /><br />Everyone has got his or her own unique story to tell. It somehow is exclusive to the individual that makes you as you.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />________________________________________________________________________</span></div>~ GAB ~http://www.blogger.com/profile/12376858374014251885noreply@blogger.com9