Nasi Kerabu

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. The place is a hit among students in the college nearby.

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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.

"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.

In short, nasi kerabu is indeed yummy.

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.

And perhaps the same way sushi is to the Japanese.

Javanese <-> Japanese – two different things.

These students are having their packed dinner of nasi kerabu before going back to their residential halls

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Leprosy

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.

Now, the place will very soon be replaced by the medical faculty of Universiti Teknologi MARA (UiTM) and the construction works have already started.

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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.

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.

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Do you wonder why I write about this?

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.

When I was little there was a man in our place called Pok Ya.

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.

And he was not too familiar to us either because only once in a blue moon we would see him in our village.

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.

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.

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.

The time when I shot these pictures, Pok Ya’s face came to my mind. I knew he was once roaming in the vicinity.

I felt as if the apparition of Pok Ya was there in the trail.



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Storm In A Cup

This is the immigration check-point in Wang Kelian, Perlis.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

No, not me!

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.

May be it is still not enough but nothing can be too ideal in this life.

A kilometer to go... The road is somehow clear from traffics most of the times.


A flag war between political parties decorates the scene days before the election. Malaysia went to the polls on March 8th, 2008.

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Mud Cookies

I read in the Star 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.

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.

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.

Wonder how it tastes like.

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.

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.

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.

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 “haruan” sure looks like a snake – no wonder in English they call it snakehead fish – but it’s rich with protein.

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.

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.

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.

Let alone if compared to our live today.

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 “saji” right on the “mengkuang” mat, I would eat it with no grudges and enjoyed it, just as much as our kids today are enjoying their burgers and pizzas.

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.
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The Oracle

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.

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.

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.

It was no fun when I had to recite Quran 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.

I would be on grandma’s tail to “madrasah” together with grandpa every now and then. Despite of my lack of interest, I switched my preference to liking to be at madrasah when I knew I would have opportunity to play with friends.

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 “sujud” that louder than usual, it was enough for three of us to burst.

It didn’t fall below my expectation. Right after the second “salam” 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.

It happened for reasons when I was ushered by granny for my “Asar” 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.

It took time for me to understand all these.

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.

That’s just a small piece of me.

Everyone has got his or her own unique story to tell. It somehow is exclusive to the individual that makes you as you.





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In Contemplation

Sam, Edrin and Fara are in their good mood here. All three of them on their bellies on the floor in the hallway of our home.

At times I'd feel that I am disclosing too much information about my private life in public over the internet in the blog like this. At the same time it brings some kind of satisfaction expressing myself somewhat in anonymity manner, except to some handful of my family members, close friends, neighbours and so forth. How I wish I could personally be in touch with all the readers in my real life.

Whatever it is, I am looking at the lighter side of the thing that the rule of thumb says good things will come to you when you expect good things to come.

Expecting good and beautiful things, I can’t help pondering about what future holds for me in years to come. It sparked ponders in me when yesterday my wife inadvertently had to add another year to her age. It was yet another birthday for her. I thought of writing something in my blog glorifying her birthday like what I did last year. Here

But my hands were full yesterday. I had to attend to something outside of the office premise. I even obliged a friend to attend a talk on CIMB Unit Trusts held in Bronx Room, Berjaya Times Square Hotel in the afternoon. It was amazing to see two beautiful young sisters in their 20’s managing an agency, Platinum Partnership Group, dealing with unit trusts. It in no qualm has made them millionaires with the venture. After all they call themselves “The Amazing Millionaire Sisters”.

Now back to my contemplation. What will it be in 20 years to come? As much as I do love to see my kids growing up before our eyes now, I would also love to see them one day venturing out this world and learn everything about life.

For they have to find reasons to revere what the reality of life can offer.

I could imagine that by then, my wife and I would be longing for our grown-up kids to drop by our house as they have their own lives to run somewhere. They could possible be living somewhere in any corner of the earth. They would have their own sets of problems to settle while we are in the twilight of our living years.

Edrin poses for the camera

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New Year Kick-Off: Tagged!

Happy New Year!
My thanks to a neighbour in Saujana Utama, KC, for tagging me up. What a nice way to start off blogging in the New Year with an entry like this.

Psyco-Cybernetic is a great work written by Maxwell Maltz, first published in 1960. It has since been improved by his student Bob Sommer with the release of Psyco-Cybernetic 2000. It is one of the books that I like for its sharp and brainy advice that one can practically make use of in day-to-day living.

Maxwell Maltz believed that self-image is the cornerstone of all the changes that take place in a person. If one's self-image is unhealthy, or faulty, all of his or her efforts will end in failure. Whilst Bob Sommer, in his enhanced version has even elevated the principles of it to the “science of imagination”.

Answers for questions in the tag like this, they actually prompted by the grey matter in the mind of a writer. It smolders through a delicate process, deliberated, reflected and imagined and on top of it, we cannot run away from the eventual responds that to still be based upon the blueprint of our mind, in a shadow of our self-image. In the end, if it falls into the hands of connoisseurs, it’d manifest the psychology behind it.

Now, come read what’s concealed in the rear of my psyche with the answers I have to offer.


1. NAME ONE PERSON WHO MADE YOU LAUGH LAST NIGHT.

My son. Sam! He’s good at making sounds, hilarious twist of reverberations that would tickle you up. Last night in the car, on our way back from dinner in Sg Buluh, I asked him to twist around a familiar tune in his squeaky voice and I had good laugh at it.


2. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT 0800?

I was running down the highway. In any working days, around this hour, you can expect me either on highway or at Jejantas Sungai Buluh, stop over for my breakfast at KAYA Kopitiam. You’d better try the place sometime. Who knows you’d be a rich person the minute you walk out out from there.


3. WHAT WERE YOU DOING 30 MINUTES AGO?

No fun for me to answer based on 30 minutes ago because of the dreary things I was doing, apart from drowning myself in the blogosphere. What about an hour before? I was down there in a shop checking on a padlock that equipped with built-in alarm. Have you ever come across this? When the padlock is shaken or wrong key is used, the alarm would go off. It’s a product from China selling at RM 70.


4. WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU IN 2006?

Nothing great happened in 2006. Managed to do what I was supposed to be doing. I wrapped up the year hoping 2007 would be a better year just like the way I closed my 2007 a few days ago with a hope that things will be good for me, wife and kids in 2008. Here


5. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU SAID OUT LOUD?

Hard to trace back because I seldom yell or shout. May be my excitement answering a phone call from a friend who was not in contact for some considerable length of time. I said “Heyyy… Where have you been? Lama tak dengar berita!?”


6. HOW MANY BEVERAGES DID YOU HAVE TODAY?

Up till this point in time, morning, still early in the day, I just had two. One at home, a cup of tea my wife prepared for me and just now almost a bottle of 500ml mineral water.


7. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR HAIRBRUSH?

For a second it makes me think that the one who started this tag is a lady. And yeah, hairbrush is not in my dictionary, comb is, and it’s blue in color.


8. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU PAID FOR?

If the charge for SmartTAG is considered as a payment, must be it when I passed through the toll gate this morning. But if you mean cash in use, well, last night when I filled up gas for my car at Petronas.


9. WHERE WERE YOU LAST NIGHT?

I was at home after a sumptuous dinner at a Thai restaurant. I find solace to be home. My night is far off from any sort of after-the-dark activity.


10. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR FRONT DOOR?

Peach color.


11. WHERE DO YOU KEEP YOUR CHANGE?

In a small pocket inside the pocket of my pant. Do you ladies know that some trousers for men are designed with small pockets inside the pockets?


12. WHAT’S THE WEATHER LIKE TODAY?

A bit gloomy


13. WHAT’S THE BEST ICE-CREAM FLAVOR?

I have to sound a bit conservative here. I do love “aiskrim potong” best. To me that’s what simplicity in enjoying ice cream is all about. I love all those Häagen-Dazs® super premium ice cream, gelato, sorbet and frozen yogurt but “aiskrim potong” is laced with sweet memories to go with.


14. WHAT EXCITES YOU?

I am confused between “what excites me” and “what turns me on”. Oh dear, you want me to let the world knows the wild side of me when it comes to libido or what? Just kidding! Actually, I get excited every time when I am harboring thoughts of making a trip back to my hometown with my kids and family.


15. DO YOU WANT TO CUT YOUR HAIR?

Yes, in a few day’s time.


16. ARE YOU OVER THE AGE OF 25?

If my friend KC says she’s way over the age of 25, I would say I am slightly over… hahahaha! Now comes the question of how slight is slight?


17. DO YOU TALK A LOT?

I’ll bet giving speech to an audience does not count as I can go for hours talking at the podium (conducting trainings & presentations) – that’s speak. Talk – you can say it’s a lot when I do have the right sparring partner on an issue that dearly to me. If not, I’d be as quiet as a mouse.


18. DO YOU WATCH THE O.C.?

What OC?


19. DO YOU KNOW ANYONE NAMED STEVEN?

I know many Stevens. There is one Steven that I know but he doesn’t know me; Steven Spielberg. Silly joke! Well, of all other Stevens that I know, there is one Steven Keong I would like to give tribute here. He is my personal friend from Brinchang, Cameron Highlands and he's heckuva nice man.


20. DO YOU MAKE UP YOUR OWN WORDS?

Not in particular as I’m trained to plain-talk when I need to talk. But I may be using barrage of words often used by others like, “Holy Shoot”, “Holy Cow”, “Alahai…”, “Mama Mummia” and so forth.


21. ARE YOU A JEALOUS PERSON?

I am not a jealous person as what jealous is. But, if a pinch of it as a must in a person, of which it demonstrates responsible and protective nature in you, I’d say yes.


22. NAME A FRIEND WHOSE NAME STARTS WITH THE LETTER 'A'.

Adnan


23. NAME A FRIEND WHOSE NAME STARTS WITH THE LETTER ‘K’.

Karen


24. WHO’S THE FIRST PERSON ON YOUR RECEIVED CALL LIST?

It comes out as * YanG * on my screen – must be my wife.


25. WHAT DOES THE LAST TEXT MESSAGE YOU RECEIVED SAY?

The last one is no fun to share because it says only “OK”. Neither does for the second last, it is even shorter with only “K”. The third last is fine, it says, “Futsal on Sunday at U-One Sport Center USJ 1 at 11 am. A farewell game to our “Footballer of The Year” Mr E.P Yeo before he joins AC Miri at San Sarawak”


26. DO YOU CHEW ON YOUR STRAW?

No. I have better things to chew on.


27. DO YOU HAVE CURLY HAIR?

What do you call that between wavy and curly? You know, like Tom Hank’s. Mine is in that category.


28. WHERE’S THE NEXT PLACE YOU’RE GOING TO?

In the context of day’s work today, I’ll be out to Cyberjaya. In the context of long distance traveling, I may be going to Japan for Tokyo Anime Award Competition 2008 in March.


29. WHO’S THE RUDEST PERSON IN YOUR LIFE?

The rudest person in my life I want to mention here is not rude at all in the eyes of others. It happened when I was little and it was my uncle. Knowing he was my uncle, I then purposely get myself closer to him in a crowd with the hope of him acknowledge me as his nephew. But he turned his face away that until today the very incident is still vivid in my recollection. It hurts me deep. I was only a kid, had no slightest idea on what the bickering in the family had been.


30. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?

I took chicken sausages for my breakfast at home. But it was only 2 or 3 pieces, feel a bit hungry. I am now opting for an early lunch.


31. WILL YOU GET MARRIED IN THE FUTURE?

Let me do my mathematics for a while. I am married and now the question is about getting married!? Perhaps the question is meant for non-married person?! I don’t think it is a hint on polygamous issue in the question. And it triggers in my mind that the person who started this tag is not just a lady but single too.


32. WHAT’S THE BEST MOVIE YOU’VE SEEN IN THE PAST 2 WEEKS?

If in the past 2 weeks I hardly watched any movies. My movies had been all real-life drama & play with my kids on the centre-stage or graced my widescreen while they were concluding the last precious minutes of their school holidays.


34. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU DID THE DISHES?

It was the night before yesterday after my dinner at home. I’d do it every time after a meal for my own plate.


35. ARE YOU CURRENTLY DEPRESSED?

No


36. DID YOU CRY TODAY?

No


37. WHY DID YOU ANSWER AND POST THIS?

Because I am honoring the person who tagged me up.


38. TAG 5 PEOPLE WHO WOULD DO THIS SURVEY:

I would love to tag them up but I want to end it in a bad way by breaking the chain. I’d spare those 5 potential people from being tagged and if you are interested to know, they are among the last 30 names that left their comments in my previous entries.

Previous Tag

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Congratulations Fara!

I was at SMK Saujana Utama this morning. Fara booked my time weeks before to have me going to school for her PMR results.

She just couldn’t hide her anxiety when results were due to be out today. In fact since the day it was announced on TV, the date the results would be out, she had already shown her fretfulness, let alone when it was only less than an hour away this morning.

I was in the couch next to my favourite little fountain in the living room. I observed some strained smirk in her face the time she slouched down the staircase from her room upstairs. I led her to the car. I saw a little tremble when she settled in her seat. It has been an extensive silence throughout. I purposely switched-on her favorite Hot FM radio station but I noticed little attention paid to what’s on air. She covered her face with hands the time I broke the silence asking how she was feeling the moment we were at the road bend overlooking rows of houses in Pristana, some yards away from the school entrance.

I could feel what she was feeling at that moment.

But nothing can beat the angst I had to endure the time I was abiding the due results for my SRP those years (SRP is PMR equivalence of today).

It was very crucial to me. It was like a last roll of dice for me to score flying colors in order to remain schooling in boarding school. Passing exams were not a big deal to me because I was very sure I had no problem with it. The deal was, I had to strike the aggregate 10 or below (those years it was calculated in this manner with the highest possible aggregate of 5). What more, even if you clinched 10 or below, the aggregate for Science (Sains Paduan) and Mathematics cannot exceed the total of 6. Walla Weiii! It had put me in pins and needles. It would be too much a pride for me to swallow if I didn’t make it and got sent back to daily school.

Now back to Fara. I was interested to know what her confidence-level like in her PMR. That was long before the D-Day today. In her gallant, she surmised to make it with 6A’s.

“Why not all A’s, 8A’s?” I disparaged her slightly.
“Not too confident with my BM and Sejarah” she alleged.
“I made a blunder with my karangan and confused with some facts in Sejarah” she added.

Deep down in me, regardless of how many A’s it would be; her confidence was enough to please me. In my stride, straight A’s, all A’s, many A’s, are all overrated. Back in my mind I knew she was having a handle on what have been taught by teachers in the classroom. I summed up; she has already reached a satisfactory standard in the nuance of what learning is all about. That’s imperative to me.

And what is it for her today?

Yes…. This is the moment of truth. It brings to an end to her qualms just as it does to my conjectures. She has got all A’s except "B" for Geography, better than what she has predicted.

Initially, a tinge of dejection could be observed in her gesture, as I supposed some hopes for luck to get straight A’s must’ve conceivably been kept in her clandestine. Anyway, it was enough to overwhelm her up and it fuels up even more with relentless laudatory from her teachers and comrades.

She is a happy young lady that in turn makes me a happy "old" man. She is a joyful daughter that I am a cheerful father.

Congratulations to my girl, Fara!


GAB: Number of A’s does not count. It can only be counted.
Here

Fara is showing her PMR slip
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Paleolithic in Us – Hailed From the Caves

Only in the recent civilization of the world, mankind started to establish and institutionalize jobs and its specific nature, type and category that people would do for living.

You can be anything today; from technician to engineer, from musician to politician, from kindergarten teacher to university lecturer, from medical assistant to brain surgeon, from ambulance driver to F1 race-car driver, from bicycle repairman to rocket booster specialist, from minyak urut seller to fighter aircraft trader, from GRO to PRO, from storekeeper to company chairman and from housewife to jobless husband.

If folks from pre-civilization era were to wake up from their graves in today’s world, they’d die on their feet due to shock within minutes of their resurrections, if not, chances are they would be sent to psychiatric asylum for failing to grasp the assortments of jobs in today’s contexts.

It does not mean that prior to the modern civilization people did not do work, let alone to suggest that the earlier living humans did not have specific things to do. Those Homo Sapiens, Cro Magnon races or Paleolithic men, as we fondly call them cavemen in our contemporary term, did too have their jobs and worked to bring back dinner to the family in the caves.

I presume that during the cavemen time, the works, tasks and duties were segregated into much simpler form as compared to today’s standard and measure. Probably they might have started off to segregate using gender-based; men would go out hunting and women would stay in caves to raise their young, help gather edible fruits, leaves, nuts and beans in the “orchard” nearby the caves and help roast meats of men’s day catch.

“Phewww… What a bad day! I ain’t catch a single damn boar today…”

“It’s OK honey! We do have some berries I plucked this afternoon”

“Grrrr… May be my club is way too small, need to have bigger, heavier!?”

“Oh no, honey dear! It’s just not your day. Am sure you’ll have a better day tomorrow!”

That could possibly be the exchange of words between a distressed “husband” and a supportive and caring “wife” on one fine evening at the mouth of the cave whilst kids are drowned in their own world playing with their pet tortoise that lucky to be too small for a barbeque.

I have a theory. I think, the initial part of it, both genders would be out of the caves doing similar things until such time they figured out it would be better if men and women would assume different roles. That would probably happen only when they started to see their daily living would run rather smoothly by dividing tasks. They were far cry from female chauvinism and bigotry. It’s just that, nature had taught them to compliment each other to have things in place.

From the initial move of gender-based segregation in tasks and duties that saw the efficacy and efficiency in daily living, they started to get more profound and insightful. Gradually, the idea would be like, let one group focuses on skills in a few things while other groups would tackle other parts of it.

Throughout the course of living – hunting and gathering food for survival, they would then see explicit needs to master on specific skills for the individuals. Hence, works, tasks and duties were beginning to get more complex if not sophisticated, that would see them go deeper in knowledge. They went through stages of developments and evolutions in learning. As their clubs get bigger and heavier, the demands for knowledge get further and farther. As they were busy grinding and sharpening axes and spears in their errands, their knowledge also started to grind and sharpened by the day.

Over the course of time, not only they have perfected the essential skills for them to survive, but striving from one milestone of achievement to another, that in turn, it has done wonder in the civilization of mankind.

Eventually, after millions of years, it makes us living the world as we live today and doing what we do now.

Well, starts from this point onwards, you will see an idiotic or may be preposterous thinking that can only be written for blogs purposes, far removed from the world of intellectual sense.

(This is the beauty when you have time in hand like I do now)

I just wonder what I would be doing if I had a chance to use time machine to travel back through time to be in the eon of cavemen.

Since I am now in the business world dealing with IT, I wish I would still be dealing with something similar in my Paleolithic time. The way I see it, IT stems from the words information and technology. Cavemen loved to disseminate their thoughts, leaving traces of information by drawing & painting on the walls of the caves with a fair deal of “technology” of their time.

So then, my trade is to prepare you the technological side of it, apart from tools. I would barter-trade for good chunk of meat and fresh berries or may be a cave-girl for me to marry, have kids and live-happily-ever-after. In exchange, I’d provide you nice spots on the cave walls and tools for you to write, paint and draw with. But, since you’ve been my good friends all these while, I’d give you free space on the cave walls for you to draw just like the way the cyberspace today provide you free to blog with. Hahahaha!

As it does in our modern world to connect & communicate using internet or to broadcast & spread our feelings and thoughts through blogs in particular, it’d do the same to your drawings & paintings on cave walls. It will last for millions of years that later the asinine archeologists would meticulously study what you had drawn.

Now tell me, what would you like to be in your Paleolithic time?





GAB: I have a “caveman” friend hailed from Batu Caves.

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The Remembrance: I’ll take it Bold or Smooth

I'll get MCDonald's to pay me for this free advertisement

My Air Asia flight AK 6328 Kota Bharu bound was scheduled at 20:20 on Saturday the 15th.

Delayed, yet again.

I didn’t mind a little late because I had nothing to rush for anyway.

Since it was delayed and rescheduled to 21:25 instead, I decided to kill my time at McDonald’s in LCCT.

The taste of the coffee was not that meritoriously great but I am a type that fond of old memories. My "Kopi Cap Kapal Api" prepared by my girl Fara is actually way better, or even I won't trade for anything when it comes to "Kopi Cap Badak" when I was little – hell of a great locally roasted coffee.

The pleasure of entertaining thoughts supercedes the taste. I would reflect over thousands of memories in my every sip of it.

The look of the cup has got its own story to tell.

The lid with bulge of “Decaf” and “Other” and perforated tear-off on it brought back memories of decades old.

The spatula – what can I say, the design never had changed in yonks.

The sugar – creamer – hey, only at McDonald’s my coffee goes with the creamer.

The steamy cloud came out of it led me to the unknown territory of my own ponder.

The smell – refreshing – uplifting – made me forgot about Starbucks for a moment.

My Fillet-O-Fish – it’s not the best combination in the world to go with my coffee, but what the heck.

The influx of recollections came into my head were unrelenting – unremitting – inexorable.

Tens if not hundreds of people were around me – come and go. But, I wasn't deterred by the mass.

Ahhhh… I’m a junkie of old things. Here

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Musing Over Rain, Reminiscing Winter

Pardon me for having a quick update on my blog. Only last Saturday I had my previous entry posted.

It’s raining in the evening these days, most of the evenings.

I love it.

I don’t know what kind of character would suggest I am for liking rainy days.

Just like those days in the US, I would prefer winter better than any other seasons. May be it’s beautiful in spring and nice colors of leaves in the trees in fall season. You may enjoy some phenomenal view on the changes of colors from day to day, spend your precious minutes watching leaves fall off that unwittingly kills your invaluable hours, as much as you may take pleasure in seeing the vegetations start to blossom in spring season until it creates heavenly scene all over the place.

Or perhaps the carefree of summer too.

But I like it cold.

I liked it to be wrapped in a heavy coat, with a pair of gloves, winter boots, thick sweater and bandana around my neck and also a cap & earmuffs when the temperature drops way below freezing point with ridiculously harsh wind chill factor. But I hated it when I had to use chapstick (a kind of lip gloss for winter use, if not lipstick). It makes me feel like my lips an-inch thick and when it dries up in the chilly winter breeze; it ends up your lips turn whitish like a type of monkey in Barbados. Initially I refused to wear chapstick as I imagined like a lady would but I ended up hurt my lips. You know when it’s exposed to cold winds, your lips will be too dry, you smile, and the surface tension on your lips becomes too great and it cracks. Bloody smile! And blood oozes out, like a Dracula.

For the consumption of people living in temperate countries like us in Malaysia that have never experienced winter in your life, do you know that in winter when it’s cold, it’s really cold? The kind of cold you'd have never imagined in your life. Nah, they would be running around naked for the kind of cold in Genting Highlands.

It could even freeze up the whole river and we would then have fun skating on it. It sometimes freezes up petrol in the gas tank of your car too.

You know, when it’s too cold, you’d feel like your ears are falling off? They say it does but I never came across one. And are you aware of the myth that if you pee in the open when the temperature falls below freezing point, your urine will freeze right up and you can see the spurt of frozen urine arched?! Don’t believe in it, of course it’s a myth.

Another myth is, if you lick up a metal object that exposed in cold, your tongue will stick onto it and when you try to pull it off, it snippets a good deal of the surface of your tongue. Foolish of me, I did try that on a guard rail next to our apartment. And prooven it’s not a myth. I was struggling to take my tongue off. Friends were laughing like hell. And it took me some time to have my tongue healed and even longer time as a subject of ridicule.

What about the story when I started off just now telling about rain? Oh yes, I like it when it rains. Again I am telling you.

It brings me back to the time when I was a kid.

We lived in kampung with poor living condition. When it rains, the ground becomes mushy and muddy. The only way to move around outside the house was to step on mud. Don’t even think of using shoes or sandals. They are of no use.

I remember when we had to brave through marsh of mud of calf-high for some 500 meters before we hit the main road to school. We would then hold our shoes in hands with funny looking schoolbags tied on our back. We only had our shoes worn after cleaning our feet at the well next to the wakaf at the main road, the point which did just half of the journey walking to school.

On our way back, just when we started to enjoy the warmth and comfort of our shoes, we had too soon reached the wakaf. Took them off and prepared for a sail through a marshland of mud and sludge yet again to get home. We thought we had cleaned the mud on our legs thoroughly in the morning but sometimes it stays filthy for the whole schooling day just like when we thought we had cleaned them sufficiently when reaching home but occasionally we slept with it till the next morning.

And guess what? The game we played after school sometimes had to deal with mud too. To the very least, we did enjoy sliding in the football field just like a pro stealing a ball from the opponent. Avoiding the squirt of mud into our face already requires half of the skills needed on the field and it perhaps contributes half of the fun for the game.

Scoring goals were only bonus.

That was all due to rain….

It was not too pretty then but it is a sweet thing for me to reminisce today. And we don’t talk about monsoon season towards the end of the year just yet. It’s another nice story altogether for me to relate. They call it flood but I call it big waters that cover the entire village. Love it! I used to write about this a year ago, Here but I’ll illustrate it in another perspective in future.

What makes me today? The rain still is dearly to me.

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You'll grow up anyway, Wada

No, Wada is not in the picture.... (I snatched the pic from the net to grace my entry)

It is a wake up call when yesterday KC commented this place needs some dusting. Phewww... it piles up an inch. Thank you, neighbour!

My fingers seem heavy to start thumping on my keyboard. Is that the sign of me loosing steam in blogging? It is not so much of loosing interest to write, and KC knows it too well; I’ve been writing quite heavily in our community forum, even thousands after thousands of words were done.

Take a deep breath…and ahhhh!!! Feels better now!

Lately, something inside me is telling, that little girl of 4 years from the house adjacent to mine is not as happy as a child would. She would sometimes display temperamental and her peevishness. Being the only child in the family with a working mother, she’s under the care of an Indonesian maid most of the time in a day. On top of that, since the father is working on the big tanker at the sea, round the globe at the alternate 3-month intervals, I would feel that she is highly strung and missing a father figure in her growing up years.

That little Wada, anyhow, is always charming to me. It is music to my ears when she would greet me the time I came back from office in the evening and I just love to see her giggling while pedaling her cute little bike the time I shoo her up. I would lend my ears almost everyday to listen to what she has to tell me even though most of the times I could hardly connect to what she was trying to relate. All I know when she chuckles with her own story or titters to my respond, I would take it as a good bantering already.

My wife concurs with me, at one point she resembled very much of our now 15-year old Fara when she was little. But not anymore after Wada has grown a bit bigger. She seems to get bigger by the day. I look at it as a reflection of me witnessing Fara who was then growing up before my eyes until one day I was awakened by the fact that she was longer a baby.

Umairah in her 6th year of age, whose house is contiguous to Wada’s, would be there coaching her on many skills like how to sing a tune or two or even how to pile up sands nicely in the yard. Umairah would assume a mentor role in many child plays. But it crumbles and unjust for her role when in one evening I brought out our hamsters for the kids to look at. Despite of the hamsters were kept in the cage, Umairah started jumping and screaming. Wada had her share of scream too, reasonably shoddier than Umairah’s. But not Adam, Umairah’s big brother of 7. He showed his guts to get close and started playing with our lovely hamsters. Only then Umairah started to simmer down and tease. But Wada was obstinate that they were “mice”.

I have a constant worry that, if the maid would ever abscond from her employer again just like what she did last year. It created some kind of mayhem in the neighborhood when she teamed up with the maid who takes care of Adam and Umairah to run off. Absconded was one thing but when small kids were left to mend for themselves, it’s hard to tolerate, then. What both of them did, they put Wada in Adam & Umairah’s house, locked them up and threw the house key in after giving instruction to Adam who was then 6 years old to take care of the two little girls until such time their parents are back from work. So irresponsible of them and it’s absurd too.

Unlike in many similar incidents when the maids flee, this time around the maids’ networking labyrinth was busted and managed to be traced. They were spotted some 60 km away in Puchong before transported back. You could imagine the way they looked when their mission was foiled. It was the most pathetic looking maids begging for mercy that I have ever seen in my entire life. Anyway, due to their trifling fault and yet with the display of some degree of penitent and contrite on their part, the employers still keep them instead of sending back to their home country.

It immensely gave good reasons for the employers to take heed. And hopefully it will not happen again.

And Wada will one day grow up to understand all these.



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The Meaning of Success

I feel like it to write today after seeing the date of my previous entry just now. It has been ages since I last rambled about the trip back to KL after Raya. I am very sure the regulars are pissed off seeing the same damn old thing every time come in.

I am actually touched by the recent news of a young girl in Nibong Tebal, Penang by the name Subashini who committed suicide after her unsatisfactory results in her UPSR with 4B 1C. Well, is not too bad after all and the least notion in my head to regard it as fail, what more when it is merely an assessment for primary school students.

The first thing came across my mind upon reading the news was the coincidence in the name, my wife’s student also named Subashini, who also committed suicide two years ago. And she was from Penang too. She hung herself with self-woven rope from the ceiling fan in her room at the hostel. It didn’t make the news on the national front as it was protected by the authority to keep the good name of the governmental institution.

Anyway, it’s easy to comprehend when a college-going adult in her 20’s to do such thing for she might have had too much to bear on challenges in her threshold of adulthood. It must be a major slip of thought that never had given her second chance to think.

But it’s hard for me to understand when a 12-year old kid would have had guts to act out something like that.

The only thing that lingered in my mind is something has terribly gone wrong in our education system if not the life value itself. We are pushing them too much, aren’t we?

To me, kids would never have thought of committing suicide if they are allowed to grow at their own pace and achieving what they would achieve in their performances and let them choose the means for them to grow up (and of course parental guidance never out of sight). Let them live the life of children and thus to love life will be second nature to them.

At that tender age, they still have no idea on the benchmark of any target-setting and oblivious to what failing and succeeding are. What can we expect? They are only kids that are very dependent on adults and the systems adopted by the society. They would only be such if it is systematically in their surrounding pressuring them to be at what designated them to be. That in turn, failing to reach the mark would mean to them, they are of no value to face the world and live.

When the time they needed such encouragements and motivations to absorb what they comprehend as failure and deeply wounded over what wrapped in their fate, nobody was there to give words of comfort. And it is imperative to note that, a cliché goes like, no such thing is called failure until a time when one stops trying. Being overwhelmed by the thoughts cascading from their kiddy surreal indulgent, they would have had a hunch that, adults are giving them cold shoulders; of which it is as good as adding salt to the wound. And there goes, it makes the news when they execute what they thought it was the only way out.

It’s time for us to reform. It’s time for us to look at educations objectively.

Every parent wants his or her children to do well in educations. No doubt with good results it will be a motivational factor for children to reap another milestone of success in their academic years, but it is still not a guarantee. Poor results do not mean their futures would be bleak and desolate either. The most important fact that every parent has to understand is, not all children are the same. Some are slow learners while others are fast. Some bloom earlier in life while some are having hard time to be out of their buds.

Doing well in school with flying colors is only a bonus. On top of anything, all the children need is only the unconditional love from parents, and it is important for them to not just know they are loved but for them to feel it too.

Let them know, let them feel it. Let them have life.

See HERE




GAB: Uncelebrated successes are equally as bad as condemned failures.

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