Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun. Show all posts

Saturday, 11 August 2018

Life in the fast lane, not easy!

Did you forget to reflect?
shuttershock.com
Living in the fast lane is not for the faint-hearted. After the recent Weinstein-type of exposé in a hospital in Malaysia, my thoughts were drawn to an event that happened more than some 30 years ago. 

As the Weinstein effect goes on hyperdrive, one cannot help but wonder whether how the perpetrators did what they did. It baffles how they got away with it. Did they not realise that it was morally wrong what they were doing? Are they too engrossed into it that they find it difficult to untangle? Was it an addiction? Was the power trip too compelling? Did they think that it was mutually agreed upon; hence it was entirely legitimate?

I remember a varsity friend, who, with his new found freedom away from the prying eyes of his parents and having almost securing himself of a degree, wanted to live to savour the forbidden fruits of life. With his self-perceived appreciation of his physique, he ventured into the business of swinging. Justifying nature's design of random spewing of the male's seed in search of the best chalice, he was on a prowl; in search of companions but not for long-term but for 'hit and run.'

These are some of his life experiences that he was willing to impart even without my prodding. Adultery, fornication or whatever you may name it, is no child's game. It is not for the individuals who have more to lose than a bruised ego and a negative public perception. He must have a hide thicker than an elephant's. He must be immune to the ignores, the non-approval looks of the intended target and must have quick enough to duck when the flying missile or even shoes go airborne. It is an art to pick his choice but even the hardcore in the game sometimes flounder. He must be shameless in showing up in the most unexpected places to create the element of surprise to market himself as interestingly unpredictable enough to pluck the string of the hearts of the heart he intends to pierce. He must be so self-assured of himself that nothing can crack his nut. A lot of precious time need to be sacrificed towards this end. 


Of course, the whole excitement is a passionate one, but emotion has to be kept at bay. One does not want to carry a piece of baggage so heavy when all this is over that it would come haunting during the next hunt. The separation, when it eventually happens, it has to go as that is the plan, should be amicable. Both parties must go on agreeable terms, leaving only with good memories and no resentment. There is also an unwritten 'bro code' where everyone is gentlemanly enough not to come in the way of their next stealth.  No trails should be left.
The post breaks up meets must be cordial if the parties ever run into each other paths.

So, you see, the whole affair of spreading the web is hard work. It is not for sluggards who cannot stomach disappointments, rejections, and perseverance. 

What happened to the varsity friend character, you may wonder? Well, after about a decade of smooching around landing on nectar after nectar, he called it quits. Decades after chasing skirts (or attempting to remove them), he settled for an arranged match from a God-forsaken place. The last time I saw him, he described himself to be blessed in a union made in heaven. Things could not be better. He could not ask for anything more. He sometimes asks himself whether he deserved such a boon!

He also reiterated that his old ways are history and do not excite him anymore but one always wonders the truth is such statements...

Saturday, 27 February 2016

Heart, brain, liver and soul

I remember one of my classmates, KT, asking a teacher when we were in Form 2. It was a Malay language class. And the guy had a coarse way of demanding an answer to his question.

He asked,  “Why are the people so stupid? Why do people say, ‘jatuh hati’ when you fall in love, ‘patah hati’ when you are heart-broken or falling out of love?” trying to sound like a smart alec. “We think with our brain, not liver!” (Hati is liver in the Malay language)

Sounds like a simple question but believe me, it is not. Greek philosophers have been arguing that the soul a person is in the heart or the mind. It was Galen who first proposed the tripartite division of souls; the rational one in the brain, the spiritual one in the heart and appetitive one in the liver.

As love and lust are forms of desire just as appetite satisfies the culinary desires of an individual, they must have bundled to arise from the liver. So, the message is, do not listen to heart, do not rationalise the relationship by overthinking. As long as she can satisfy your appetite, gustatory, i.e., go for it.  As they say, the way to the man’s heart is through his stomach! And he can stomach her, that is.

N.B. 'Berhati perut' interestingly means 'showing compassion' in another Malay proverb.

Monday, 14 December 2015

Oh deary, silly me!

(...Cont. from Oh deer, my dear!)


I swear I had seen that surname somewhere. But the name Indie? Surely it must be a shortened version of the name Indiana. Indiana for a British? Strange. Anyway, I never understood why someone who name a child after a state. Saying that, Malaysia was the most popular newborn girl’s name in the USA last year among the black community. The only association between England and Indiana that I remember was the riddle when I heard as a young adult about where Prince Charles spent his honeymoon! Go figure.

In the modern age, when in doubt, what does a sane person usually do? Google of course. Within a fraction of a second upon typing the surname, the whole anthroponymy of the said name appeared in full glory. Now, it made sense. I could not have guessed.

When she offered vegetarian food for the dinner as she thought we did not consume beef as she thought venison and beef were from same cattle of fish (pardon the pun), I was wondering why she said ‘deer meat’? My usually dull grey cells went into hyperdrive. I thought that perhaps she was one of those true blue Anglophile, who was trying to restore old glory in the English language. She was attempting to restore the language to its glory days before it was corrupted by foreign words from the self-appointed bourgeois societies like the French or the contaminations of the returning members of the British Raj office who boast of the world knowledge through logorrhoea and perceived gibberish.

“Jungle, bungalow, khaki, juggernaut, loot, shampoo. We have our own words,” they said just like any hardliner would say. “And we need no ham, mutton and no venison.” We need to keep our language clean just like our bloodlines!

Well, well, well, I did not know. My little research revealed that the ‘deer meat’ lady is indeed a descendant of whom the British Raj tried to abandon in 1947. Her surname was a dead give away, originating from the cattle rearers clan of the Punjab Valley. Her pale complexion and her pseudo-accent fooled me. For all you know ‘Indie’ could have been an abbreviation if ‘Indira’. Gone were the head bobbing and the singsong intonation of speech. “My, my, Oh righty!” she said in a typically British manner.

The same way Farrokh Bulsara became Freddy Mercury to be blended well into the society to become a British icon.

I was telling myself, “Here are we, two descendants of the Indian subcontinent, one displaced away to another colony and another deciding to snuggle up to the masters trying to outdo each other thinking that is more British and know more English than the other!” Interesting coolie mentality.

Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Oh deer, my dear!

........as I was passing...

Like the Sword of Damocles, it hung over his head. There was a constant nagging heaviness over his temples. He knew it was bad, really bad. He had certain arbitrary lines but this one had crossed it all, imaginary or otherwise. But still, life had to go on. And the show too.

He knew it was a bad idea. With all these problems plaguing him, he thought it was inappropriate for him to partake in this event. But then, it was also a lifetime achievement. A success hailed upon by his kinsmen as the epitome of his checkered life. Akin to a water lily, growing wild amongst the filth of marsh, stench and reptiles honoured to glorify the lotus feet of Buddha, an achievement enviable to some but yearned by all, privileged to a few!

Anyway, the problem is not an overnight one. Like a crystal, the lattice had developed over the years slowly but surely to its full wrathful glory. How could he have been so dumb? Or was it beyond his control and was decided by the constellations and the genetic predisposition?

In other people's faces, he saw joy and happiness. Photograph flashes kept blinding periodically, a reminder for achievers to immortalise and digitise the moment. Unfortunately, for Gus, it was only melancholia. With philosophical rationalisation, he decides to forgo everything.

"Professional studio photography, sir?" somebody suggested, pointing enticingly at the display of families of graduates flashing their enamel possessions as if they were advertising for a tooth care product.

"No, thanks," said Gus as he hurried through the main hall. "What is the meaning of all these?" he thought to himself, "is there is no peace of mind?" His mind wandered through his childhood. He recalled all those seemingly hopeless times when sad songs were the flavour of the day. Happiness was an then unattainable feat. It still is. "Oh, how I had longed for this day!" Gus lamented.

Just as his mind was deeply engrossed in the nostalgia of yesteryears, his daydream was interrupted.
"Do you have any food preferences, sir?" the lady at the reception voiced out, appearing slightly irritated, probably as Gus' appearance did not exude cordiality.
"Pardon ma'm?" Gus replied.
"Do you have any preferences for your dinner, vegetarian or vegan?" the receptionist read out mechanically.
"We are okay," Gus replied in unison, with his wife nodding in agreement.
"As long as there is no beef."
"So, can we serve you vegetarian? Since we are serving deer meat tonight," she replied.
"Dear meat?"
Oh dear, it's venison!
"Yes, deer meet!"

Then it hit Gus and his Mrs. "You mean you are serving venison!"
Gus, chuckling inside, just wanted to see the change in the receptionist's face.
She must be some kind of actress or perhaps a good hand at poker as she never flinched a muscle giving away the clue that she might be embarrassed.
Gus had two minds to start his sermon on how words like mutton, venison, beef etcetera came to the English language to give the feel of bourgeois as these words were French in origin, but against his better judgement, he decided to keep it for another occasion another day. After all, Gus was a feted guests and guests ought to behave at the highest decorum so as to honour his host. Maybe sweet revenge may come another day....

To be continued....

Saturday, 4 October 2014

A quirky dark comedy

Fargo (1996)
Story, Production, Direction: Joel and Ethan Coen
Homespun murder story on embroidery frame?
Get the punch line?

This movie can be said the most successful one coming from the Coen brothers with their special brand of quirky dark comedy. They start the film with a caption with says...

"This is a true story. The events depicted in this film took place in Minnesota in 1987. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred."
At the end of the credits, however, the usual inter-title claiming that the characters are all fictitious still appears. Now which is which?

It is set in dead cold winters of Minnesota. People who are native to Minnesota who are well versed with the Minnesota accents will appreciate the sing-song nature of their speech. The film goes at length to poke fun at their accent and some mannerism which sounds more like Swede or Norwegian - with the yaahs...

Along the way, you also notice the subtle jibes towards modern living where people are eating all the time and people tend to go agape over food that look so gross and unappetising!

The story is essentially about a docile car salesman, Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy), gets into money trouble after some bad investments. Even though he is a manager, the business belongs to his domineering father-in-law who thinks that his son-in-law is good for nothing! Jerry hires a duo of bungling gangsters from the neighbouring town of Fargo to kidnap his insecure wife to ease his financial woes.
The brutal gangsters leave a trail of destruction and dead bodies, including a policeman.

In comes an almost fully pregnant investigating police officer, Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand who went on to win an Academy Award for Best Actress), to the fore.
William H. Macy gives a sterling performance as a domesticated son-in-law who tries to cover up his deficiencies and his crime at the same time tries unsuccessfully to deal with the ruthless hoodlums.

The joy in watching the movie is not guessing the outcome of the story as it quite predictable but in the subtle jokes can be seen 'in between the lines'.

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

Holistic holy fun at the Holi?

Freud's suggestion that human beings are irrational creatures was proven true by the turn of events this weekend. The ushering of spring, which was initially celebrated with pomp and splendour by pagan farmers was given a religious perspective by including some event in the scripture. Whereas, some quarters sneer at their behavior for they were referred to as 'April Fools' as they were thought to be oblivious of the creation of the Gregorian calendar and were unaware of fast forwarding of days!
 
Evidence of irrationality came to fore during the recent colorful event of Holi. People who were particular fussy about getting any part of their body wet or soiled, decided to forgo their stance. If normally they would run away from the rain, this time around they decided to hire a container load of water to splash water on them. If appearing neat, fair and presentable was their forte, this time too, they dirtied themselves with stashes of brightly hued colors so much so that they were indistinguishable from one another, colour wise. With an array of mixed colours and water, they all looked in various shades of rust.
 
People who were remotely pious also joined in the festivities. A convoy of tourists were seen beelining in a single file in a near 2km walk from the nearest train station dressed in their typical touristy attire - thin Tshirt, short shorts, Japanese slippers and sling bag, to join in the foray. Looks like the temple celebrations must have made it to list of tourist destinations.
 
After a good 3 hours if immersing themselves in spray of water partially aided by nature's outpouring, colouring themselves pretty dirty, swinging to sounds of Hindi film songs set in Holi festivals and even modern songs to keep with the times (Harlem Shake), everybody went home happy after some free vegetarian snacks, courtesy of some kind soul. The only thing missing in the festival was bhang (hashish laced milk). But who knows what they had before to last 3 hours of non stop dancing!

Pix courtesy of N Lal
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