On Assimilation and Integration

I am not ashamed to say this. As I was growing up, I used to ask myself why I was born an Indian. In Malaysia, the stereotypical casting of an Indian was that of a poor, unkempt, poorly educated, loud, smelly, hot-tempered and drunk. They are assumed to be dark-skinned and occupy low-ranking menial jobs. They were often the butt of jokes in social circles and even on the national TV.

Our perspective and values are formed by the association we keep with, so thought Amma. Coming from a Tamil school background but cutting short her studies after primary school for being born into the wrong gender, she had a very negative opinion of vernacular education. In her mind, the way forward is mastering the lingua franca of the most expansive Empire of her time, English.

My sisters and I could only speak English when we stepped outside our flat. We were not to show others that we knew Tamil, as that would, in her own words, draw unsavoury characters. These people would skew our minds away from our one purpose in life: to secure excellent academic results. She did not want us to know about the latest Tamil movie star antics or the latest fashion in India. By mixing with non-Indian peers, she thought positive values on education and self-improvement could be inculcated.

On the other hand, within the confines of our home, as if having a split personality, she would insist that we converse in Tamil, practise Indic practices, and be well-versed in Hindu culture. She was quick to condemn others of other ethnicities and races as being lost. In her mind, our ancestors had it all right, and we should follow without asking too many questions.

As curious minds, my sisters and I would not consider all her nonsensical practices gospel truths. Once, we were told that it was a time of lunar eclipse. Amma told us to finish dinner and go to sleep early. We should not be outdoors or engage in strenuous activities. Questioned why, she told us that the Goddess who had been holding the planet for so long had become tired. She wanted to take a breather, hence the temporary darkness. So, we should refrain from mocking the Goddess by doing work when she is exhausted.

Rubbish, I told her, as my teacher had taught me the day before about planetary positioning and eclipses. It was one of her relaxed days. She did not get upset but told me and my sister that we were all too smart for our pants. Our ancestors were not stupid.

Of course, we grew up imbibing the best of both worlds—learning the sciences and trying to scientifically explain the seemingly unscientific ancient Hindu traditions.

EV Ramasamy, at a time when his social reform lectures pushed the South Indians to earn self-respect, made a working trip to Malaya. In his address to the migrant Indian workers, he told them to leave all their traditional beliefs behind and learn from the locals and progress. He said, after all, their motherland had failed them. She could not sustain them and pushed them away to new shores. Rather than be sentimental about the whole thing, he advised them to emulate the other ethnicities from Malaya in earning self-respect, women empowerment and wealth.

It even makes sense in the 21st century, specifically in 2024.

 
The world has not changed much since the last time terrifying sirens were heard over Europe, followed by bombarding warplanes. It is still not a peaceful place. Economic migrants are still floating as they have been throughout the years. Wars, famine, and persecution push people from their borders. After settling down amidst many difficulties in host countries as guests, one would expect them to be eternally grateful to their host nations. Heck, no, at least the current wave of immigrants.

Like Amma, who thought her newfound country and its inhabitants were a notch lower in the civilisational hierarchy, these 21st-century immigrants run down their host. Instead of appreciating their kindness for helping set home in a new place after creating a cesspool of their country of origin, they sing praises of their motherland and their own civilisation, creating unrest in their host countries. Essentially, they want to bite the hand that feeds them. Like vultures scraping every sinew and cartilage off the carcass, they want to leave their host nation a barren wasteland as they did theirs.

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Race, Religion and Rock N' Roll!

Blinded by the Light (2019)
Director: Gurinder Chadha

Maybe it is the slave mentality at work. The slaves looked up to their masters and wanted to be like them very much. They see them as the proof of success, the pinnacle of achievement, and yearning to walk in their shoes. That is where the buck stops. The slaves chose what was 'good' and what was not acceptable.

Many middle-income Malaysian Indians who were teenagers in the late 70s and early 80s had to endure this, yours truly included. The parents worked hard to provide their offspring what they missed growing up. What they thought they missed most was the ability to acquire education, pass examinations and the remunerations that came with it. They wished to achieve what they did not get, like the opportunity for education, freedom by their standards and academic achievements through their children.

They did not, however, want the Master's idea of independence. Their idea of children is to be seen but not heard. The last thing they wanted was children talking back to their parents. They did not appreciate the parents' shortcomings in parenting to be pinpointed. No matter how high the children flew, they had to display Asian values, filial piety and show unwavering loyalty to the clans till their dying days. 

One peculiar thing about my mother is she was not too keen on us, the children, listening to Western songs. They wanted us to be conversant and proficient in English, but Tamil songs on RTM Red Network were the only songs blaring over the family radio. When my parents were away on errands, we heard English songs clandestinely over Radio RAAF and the RTM Blue Network. She feared we would be wild kids, showing disrespect and forgetting our roots. That was what she thought of the Masters - only substance but no soul. She wanted us to learn the things that would pull us out of the clutches of poverty but keep the Indian values.

Fast forward to the 21st century. A few of the family members have uprooted themselves from this country, seeking greener pastures in the land of the Masters. In their minds, their children would be more assured of a comfortable lie ahead.

With the children now at rebellious ages, these parents face the same dilemma as my parents. Like my parents, they wanted their kids to absorb what they viewed as 'good' qualities and reject the 'bad'. Of course, life is never so easy.

Boy George

That is what Malik, a Pakistani immigrant to the UK, had to encounter bringing up his children in Luton in the 1980s. On one end is Malik, who uprooted his life for a better life for his family. He has big plans for his family, things he never had in Pakistan. On the other hand, he wished his host country could be more cordial with their arrival. It was the 80s at the heights of unemployment and Thatcherism. Malik's son, Javed, has a mind of his own. He wants to experience life, be a writer, enjoy music, and not follow the uninspiring path that a typical Pakistani teenager is made to follow. Somewhere along the way, Javed is introduced to Bruce Springsteen's music. It just blew his mind. He finally found someone who reads his mind.

The rest of the movie is a musical galore for teenagers of the 80s who grew up with liberal doses of synthesisers-filled Brit new-wave music. It is a long trip down memory lane with the likes of 'Pet Shop Boys', 'A-ha' and an overdose of Bruce Springsteen. Sadly, I never grew up appreciating his type of shouting melody. It was a time when girls dressed up like Boy George with pleated hair, thick make-up and chequered dress, and Boy George was not a boy. But nobody made a fuss about it.

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The end is in the beginning

Children of Men (2006)
Director: Alfonso Cuarón

From being cave dwellers, homo sapiens slowly evolved to learn to live in communities and eventually became the most successful species on Earth. Many related species, like the Neanderthals, lost out in this rat race.

After leading an agrarian life, Man evolved to lead one of entrepreneurship and mercantilism. Schisms developed within societies between the masters and slaves. One per cent of the population came to rule over the remaining 99%. The survival of the former depended much on the toiling of the latter and their consumption. The population had to increase at a rate of at least 2.1% to maintain this status quo. Anything below that level would spell bad for business and the collapse of a population. There would be nobody to work or buy to spur the economy.

As the working class became more affluent and more educated and started disbelieving the existence of Divine powers, they became less interested in having big families. Immigration of foreign workers came to fill the void of dropping numbers. Trouble brewed when the newcomers were not accorded the same status as the original inhabitants. In our civilisation, we are at this crossroads. All the progress we have made thus far as human development has stagnated and stands the risk of regressing as the world economy reaches a standstill. Mayhem is the only logical sequelae of this, as everyone exerts their dominance over the other.

This is the impression of the 2027 view of the world where global collapse has occurred, and the UK is the only country with a functioning government. Infertility has made no made pregnancy impossible for the past 18 years. There is hardly any economic activity, and immigration is illegal. Against this dystopic background, an illegal refugee conceives and gives hope for humanity to continue. The story is based on P. D. James' novel of the same name (1992). 

Whichever way we look, humanity seems to be leading to self-destruction. They either annihilate themselves with destructive devices or ill-thought actions because of self-interest. 

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Masala in banana leaf restaurant?

Velayutham from Pudukkothai

It looks like every Malaysian leader who claims to represent the Indian community in the country also wants to bend over backwards to represent Indian migrant workers. Ever since a migrant Indian worker who escaped his abusive employer in Kuala Lumpur to showcase his sufferings on a Tamil Nadu talk show, every leader here, the ruling as well as on the opposition seems to be jumping up and down like an excited kindergarten child wanting to have the last say on the issue. To summarise the point at hand, a 40 years old carpenter from Tamil Nadu came into Malaysia, through an agent, with a tourist visa to work. His agent's arrangement was that he would be placed to commensurate his carpentering experience and that his tourist visa would be converted to a working visa in time.

Upon arrival, he found himself having his passport confiscated, sent to be enslaved in a banana-leaf restaurant from 5am to 11pm every day. His wages were withheld, exposed to verbal abuses, be witness to the immolation of a fellow worker, beatings and sexual abuses of other workers. Eventually, he made a dash out, walk almost 300km to another state, begged to survive, did odd jobs and finally made it back home with the help of a Malaysian NGO. He finally decided to give a 'no holds barred' interview about his escape from terror with a private TV in Chennai. 

Almost immediately after that interview, the Human Resources Minister, the enforcement agencies and the employers all sprang into action to determine what actually happened. Investigations are ongoing. The bottom line is that many corners have been cut in his employment. And the whole fiasco has given the nation a bad name.

The employers have come out to clear the air. They give a totally different account of what actually transpired, backed with supporting evidence. Many procedural shortcuts were done on compassionate grounds. They asserted that workers were supplied by an agent, and the employee had mishandled petty cash. They insist that any criminal act was amongst the workers and had nothing to do with them. 

We, the viewers, are clearly left baffled, confused about what actually happened. Obviously, one side is bending the truth or simply lying. 

No one believes in anything anymore. We are all desensitised with the violence. So what if the worker is torched? We have seen worse things done by housewives with children upon their helpless domestic help. And we have witnessed mafia-like employers torturing their workers. Let us not forget the shenanigans of some disgruntled employees expressing their resentment in murderous ways. Hence, anything may be possible. 

In this post-truth world where emotions and pre-conceived notions about something prevail over objective truth, media and access to expression just make the situation murkier than it already is. Even the juries assigned to give an unbiased decision on the final say will find it an uphill battle. Information seeps through the tiniest crack.

Video link-up: Host Lakshmy Ramakrishnan discusses Velayutham's complaint with Malaysia's Human Resource Minister in the talk show 'Nerkonda Paarvai'. Some netizens are up in arms with Minister's instantaneous response in this case. They allege that the Ministry had remained mum in many other issues involving its own citizens. Others suggest that the employers may have strong political links.

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Should I stay or should I go now?

For Sama (Arabic: من أجل سما‎ ‘min ajl sama‘)
(Syrian Documentary; 2019)

Recently I read of a young mother with her 4-month old infant participating in a civil objection against CAA and NRC at Shaheen Bhag in Southern Delhi. Soon after being in Delhi for a couple of days, the child fell ill and succumbed to pneumonia at the protest grounds. The mother said in a TV interview that she was not saddened by the demise. In fact, she felt proud that her son gave his life for the future of the country. Deep inside, she must be feeling like 'Mother India'. Given another chance, she would do it all over again.

Now, would you call that bad parenting or patriotism?

This is the same question the maker of the documentary 'For Sama' seems to be asking. Waad Al-Kateab, who started filming her life experiences as a university student in Aleppo, realised that her country, Syria, was slowly plunging into civil war. She started getting involved with students' resistance front against Bashar Al-Assad. As from 2011, as the violence by ruling regime against civilians escalated, she had to make a decision whether to stay and fight a good fight or escape the country. She opted to stay back. She soon met a similar-minded doctor Hamza, who made his personal mission to remain to treat the victims of the unrest. Waad continued filming her day-to-day events and sent it to Channel 4 of the BBC for broadcast.

Aleppo: Before and After Bombing pics
©boredpanda.com

Hamza and Waad decided to tie the knot despite the constant bombardment and destruction around them. All through her filming, she kept asking herself whether what she was doing was correct. The uncertainty became more acute as her daughter, Sama, for whom this documentary is dedicated, was born. She often wondered if she was ruining her daughter's future or depriving her of opportunities for a brighter future by her (Waad's) inactions.

All through the presentation, viewers are served with dead bodies, death and rubbles of what used to be buildings. Hamza, who ran make-shift hospitals with necessary facilities to treat victims, was bombed by Assad's and Russian bombers.

Finally, in 2015, Hamza, Sama and a pregnant Waad made a dash to Turkey as refugees. They eventually settled in the UK but has plans to return to Syria once normality returns.

When the comfort zone is rocked, what should one do? Should he run away from the offending agent or stand his ground and fight for his place that his ancestors had set foot, developed and attached their root deeply into the ground? Is it easier to maintain the peace and look elsewhere peace of mind? Anyway, discrimination, inequality and injustice are there all over the world. Deep inside, we are all entirely self-centred. Should we just mind our business, give a damn about others but just care for our loved ones?

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You, your Master!

Yes, I do my job but I am not your slave!

They tell your vocation is God. They tell you stories of postmen clinging on their mail-bags like it was their dear lives they were holding on to in fatal motor-vehicle accidents. You have seen simple men giving their whole lives away doing repetitive mundane jobs to bring food to the table. You have heard of Men of God or self-appointment saviours of mankind in obscure places performing seemingly meaningless rituals that garner no worldly gains but only personal satisfaction. To the uninitiated, it may appear that they are just deluding themselves into doing something worthwhile for the rest of humanity. You, the simpleton, may not visualise it. In short, in the old world, a person's job was viewed as their purpose for living. You are born, you do your part for the continuity of species, then you wither away.

The thinking man, however, looks at it from a different angle. Sure, everyone is answerable during his assigned time and scope of duties. He is a worker between a particular time. He is at your service at the ping of your call. Beyond that, he is not going to lift his finger to do anything for you. Outside his pre-designated roster, he executes his other duties - a father, a husband, a friend or just to indulge in his recreational duties. For him, the purpose of life is to achieve personal development besides doing his part in the continuity of the species. There is no dichotomy between the upper echelons and the plebeians. Everybody just plays their part to oil the cogwheel of life.

The first model may be viewed as a fatalistic one. It is easy to compartmentalise people into pigeon holes to ensure the smooth running of a society. Manpower shortage will not arise. Individuals are born to do their designated jobs but there is no upward mobility of people. A cobbler's offspring will stay a cobbler. Aptitude and passion for other vocations are killed but there is plenty of room for specialisation and knowledge for the obscure. 

In the second prototype, there is space for the common man to expand. Man has the opportunity to determine his own destiny, away from dogmas of archaic rhetorics. The downside of such an arrangement is that there would be many jacks of all trade but master of none.

Albeit its ups and downs, the majority of a certain locale would decide which one works best for them. Newcomers, whether they like it or not, have to conform. perhaps, that was the reason for their migration to the new found land in the first place. And their old system failed to protect them and pushing them away from the land that they tried to build their legacy, traditions and footing.

You clear your mess!

https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

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Putting the seal of God?

It is quite comical that how verses from the same book of the Bible is used on either side of the divide in America on the issue of immigration. Quoting the book of Romans, one side claim that leaders are ordained by God. Hence, their decree is equivalent to God's command on Earth, and the people are dutybound to follow. 

Paradoxically, detractors argue that it is taken out of context. Texts that were preceding and after that verse that were omitted.  The Good Book reminded the followers of the times when the people were themselves slaves in Egypt and how they were ill-treated. Everyone is a sojourner on Earth, just passing through. Words like 'feed your enemies if they are hungry, give them a drink if they are thirsty', 'do not reap to the very edges of your field, leave them for the poor and the foreigner', and 'love your enemy as yourself' may denote that one should for the unfortunate.

But life is not so simple. Scholars have decided that the passages clearly defines foreigners and strangers. Strangers deserve justice and mercy while law-restricted foreigners do not.

That is the danger when one decides to opt to follow scriptures literally and not use the mental faculties to determine what is best is for mankind, taking into consideration the perspectives of time and context. One would resort to cherrypicking and indiscriminative rationalisation by invoking the name of God.

“Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and the authorities that exist are appointed by God” (Romans 13:1).

 https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

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The Roost

https://mybukz.tumblr.com/post/175292906152/poem-the-roost-by-farouk-gulsara

Credit: FB group: Rawthers

Penang circa mid-1960 

There was once a time, a few years ago, there was a spate when many of my relatives had given up on their motherland, turned their back on Malaysia and started looking around for greener pastures. I wondered how Mother Malaysia would feel to see one by one, her children, after years of nurturing them, after growing so big and strong, feel compelled to fly away from their roost. Like a proud mother seeing her kids having a mind of their own, she must be immersed in a kind of bitter-sweet feeling.


Like a flight of swallows,
you came all stocks and barrels,
from Swatow,
from Coimbatore,
Looking for a peace of mind,
you scaled the high seas and brine.

You were hungry, I fed your soul,
you had shivers, I showed you warmth.
you were homeless, I gave you home.
you were stateless, I was your hope.

Under the yellow umbrella,
and a piece of cloth,
you had dignity, camaraderie, integrity.
a history, a legacy,
an emblem, an anthem.
The colours to spill your crimson.

Now that you have wings,
you can expand your span,
once an ugly duckling,
majestically now a swan,
I remain your dodo,
Flightless, lifeless, brainless, valueless,
And cared less.

I am not up to your mark
not up to your spark,
no path to walk.
you want to fly,
to reach high up in the sky.
you peacocked to new horizons,
no future, you cite as reasons,
you curse me, you betray me
still, I don't call it treason.

A summer love, a puppy love,
the morning after, the hangover,
a one night stand,
a nightmare to be got over?

I have my desires too,
To progress like the red dot,
And shine like the rising sun too.
Not just a chicken feed to the rot.
I stay regal, guarding,
patient, majestic,
hawking over the nest
providing a haven for the crows and the rest.

-FG-

 https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

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We are here!

Gowri (2016)
Author: V G Kumar Das


As our leaders frantically try their level best to rewrite history as they seem fit, to satisfy their personal agendas, there is no better time than now for books like this one to come out. In fact, books of this kind are long overdue. 

Family narrations of this nature must surely be a regular feature in most Malaysian Indian family circles. In fact, it is the story of economic immigrants the world over. The push factor drives a brave group of fortune seekers to go beyond their shores to explore greener pastures. Accommodating to the demands of their new found lands, with the trust in God Almighty, these new sojourners persevere. 

Losing everything and gaining nothing by becoming sluggards, they know that hard work is the only way to unshackle themselves from the clutches of poverty. Inadvertently, their labour pays back in their and their offspring's standard of living. The incidental beneficiary of all these is the development of the nation-state.

'Gowri' is a dedication of love from a doting son to his mother. The author had to grow overnight to adulthood to be the de facto 'head' of the family after the demise of his father when he was mere seventeen. He, in great details, tries to trace his immediate relatives and puts the records straight for the descendants of Madam Gowri Panicker to know where they came from, the labour of the family in establishing themselves and exerting themselves vigorously as lawful citizens of this country. 

Treading through thick and thin, from 1939, along with the history of the country, through World War 2, the communist insurgency and the dizzying era after Malayan Independence, the family, can proudly say, "they were there!"; from the inception of Malaysia to its current state.

Another recurring theme in most Malaysian Indian family's success story is education. Its importance cannot be overemphasised here too. Gowri, who had the misfortune of being deprived of higher level education because of some family issues, understood its importance. She ensured that her children had the opportunities for what she had missed. She herself was a role model for her kids as she self-taught English and Tamil and was a voracious reader.

It is enlightening to see how siblings of the bygone era sacrificed for the wellbeing of their siblings. In this fast-changing world of self-centeredness, I wonder if this virtue would still hold in time to come.

The generation before us was definitely a resilient lot. They encountered adversities headlong with calculated risk and with the trust in God. It is incredible how the belief in the divine forces can make one stronger beyond their own expectations. Rather than thinking and overthinking, sometimes putting the responsibility on the celestial bodies and entering combat wholeheartedly allays uncertainties in life. If you win, you thank God; if you fail, you accept that it was not meant to be.

Life is an unpredictable journey. There are no distinct paths to follow. The road least followed could open new frontiers, but conversely, it could be your coup de grâce! Accepting that the Gods are silent, Man looks for other telltale signs. Astrology and signs of Nature are taken as guides; chirping of lizards, fluttering of eyes, sneezing and chiming of clocks all denote hidden messages for us to consider!

The story of Gowri is the story of her new Motherland. Just like how Gowri and her family grew their roots deep into Malaysia, Malaysia also prospered in tandem. Like her children who spread their wings to the four corners of the world, the pride of the country flew majestically over the globe via the hard work of the immigrant population like Gowri who decided to call this country home and of their descendants who were willing to toil, sweat and bleed for this nation.

Running through this biography, one gets the feeling as though the ultimate question about our existence may be answered. The dilemma whether our presence here on Earth is to savour the fruit of our previous favourable karmas or to be a testbed for future births. The answer is neither; it is to propel our kith and kins forward, one notch higher than the generation before them. Period. 

 https://asok22.wixsite.com/real-lesson 

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Beware the soft signs!

Credit: Pinterest
Sarawak, 1950. 
A tattooed Orang Ulu nurse and patient.

Have you noticed how so often we are made to realise of our shortcomings? We thought the house was spick and span only to receive a metaphorical smack on the head when it is discovered that the stench was actually culminating the years sweeping the dirt under the carpet and the moisture it accumulated year in year out.

Our colonial masters left us with a community level medical services network that we could be proud of. In the late 50s and all through the 70s, every gravid mother, parturient and neonate in a village was given personalised attention by the members of the medical team. They took great pleasure in caring for them from the cradle to the grave (when the time is ripe, of course).

One of their greatest success stories is the immunisation programme that drastically brought down the incidence of common communicable diseases.

Over time, we have become complacent. Lurking beneath the surface society, amongst the subaltern community, the immigrant population, the unwelcomed sojourners, undocumented unskilled workers and overstayed students who became pregnant by choice or otherwise, are individuals who are not protected against many diseases that the adult Malaysian populations are. Since daily survival is a struggle, ensuring that their newborns are immunised is the least of their priorities. This would dilute the herd immunity and hence put the rest of the citizens at risk of various diseases that we thought we had eradicated in the country. Something to look into!