RIFLE RANGE BOY: ... and that's how the cookie crumbles.

Belfast (2021)
Director: Kenneth Branagh.

In the mid-70s, as a secondary school student, I saw some of my classmates leave the country. Their parents were affluent and had lost confidence in the Malaysian education system. They thought that the New Education Policy after the May 13 riot with Malay as the medium of instruction was doomed to fail. And the New Economic Policy, which emphasises affirmative action, will only produce a nation of mediocres at best.

Affluence could make them picky on their choices in life, whereas the rest of us, the mere mortals, could only make do with what is available to us. We took everything in a stride with the sentimentality of nationalism thrown in and the conviction that the divine forces would help those who help themselves. Still, we were grateful that opportunities unavailable to our parents were there for our taking, so we thought.

Then came the early 80s. Suddenly, we saw another section of our classmates disappear. They had been offered national scholarships to study overseas. Some were pinched by our neighbour. In contrast, the rest of us were thrown into the deep end of the pool of cramping 2-years' of studies into an 18-month extensive course which is viewed as the most difficult examination in the world, equivalent to the A-levels, the Higher School Certificate. The added problem was that they were no books in Malay, but we were to use older English books and do our mental translations as we answered the questions! We soldiered on.

Then came university, the ridiculous bi-peaked academic performances of its students and the apparent push to pass sub-standard 'scholars' came to light. As if like magic, mediocre students miraculously perform well in final examinations. We turned a blind eye.

Fast forward to the present era. We now realise that the bubble of a dream that we had all this while had just popped on our faces. We wake up rubbing our eyes, trying to make sense of the time of the night. Then it dawns upon us. We realise the master plan of social engineering. The bus has left. Now, our children feel unwelcomed to serve the nation. They have a funny feeling that we threw them under the bus. They now have to seek greener pastures elsewhere, much like what the millions had doing the same over the last century. It is just our predecessors marched into the country, not out. Only migrants of a particular religion are welcomed, not the rest. This, my friend, is modern religious cleansing.

This film is about the tumultuous time of the Northern Ireland conflict in August 1969 when a riot broke out in a Catholic neighbourhood in Belfast. The story is told from the point of view of a 9-year old boy. It is a coming of age tale of the boy who has to grow up fast to face the challenging times as unrest spread in the housing estate, and his family, being a closet Protestant, are forced to choose sides. His parents have to decide whether to stay on despite the uncertainty or flee to more peaceful environments. With them are the grandparents who feel sentimental about their Irish identity and the good old days.

Between the push and pull factors, everybody has to make life-altering decisions to face their futures. Even though events in life are by chance, mere coincidences, altered by simple things like just a flutter of a butterfly, our actions and inactions are in the equation that changes the course of destiny.

(P.S. I write this as I witness ridiculous things happen around me. Pea-brained people argue about trivialities as the elephant in the room goes on a rampage. Young larks fly off the roost seeking newer terrains as their nests become toxic cesspools. The cacophony of small minds in big numbers is mind-blowing.)