Apartheid in pipeline?

Pendatang (Malaysian Cantonese, Malay, Newcomer; 2023)
Director: Ken-Kin Ng

In the old days, most houses will have a single bathroom. Two, if you are in the upper middle class. Bedrooms were hardly to go by, usually reserved for the female members of the family for modesty. The males would usually rough it out wherever there was space. This was especially so when relatives visited the household. Everywhere they lay their pillow, it was a sleeping place. 

Fast forward to 1990 and beyond. Even siblings find it difficult to share living space. They talk about wanting personal space and wanting privacy. The concept of her sharing and accommodation for a fellow roommate or a sibling has suddenly become an alien concept. Hell hath no fury for a person whose personal toiletry or cosmetics are used without consent. 

Outside the confines of the home, we were a tolerant lot. We did not tolerate but instead accepted each other with each other's idiosyncratic ways of eating or worshipping. There was no concept of one ethnicity dominating one area over another. No doubt there were majorities, but each just accepted the other. Nobody claims an area to be theirs, even if there were the majority. 

We had Indians in Kampong Melayu, Malays in New Villages, Chinese in rubber estates, etc. In the 1980s, we saw townships with a particular ethnic flavour. Shah Alam and later Putrajaya claim to be Malay-centric and refuse to exhibit 'features' or engage in businesses that go against the grain of Islam. The local councils barred the sale of alcoholic beverages and the opening of pubs and nightclubs. Slowly, everybody developed a 'holier than thou' attitude of themselves. 

Now, in 2023, even illegal immigrants who had somehow stayed undetected below the radar for years have risen to the occasion. The Rohingyas, Myanmarese, and Bangladeshis have all claimed their pieces of the pie. After congregating at certain localities around the country and developing them by their standard through business and occupation, they claim legitimate ownership of those places. 

Naturally, the self-proclaimed princes of the soil would not take any of these. Their leaders, whose mental capacity never grew after the 1960s, used racist and religious catchphrases to bulldoze their agenda through small-minded straw man arguments. The trouble is the people who matter most opt for peace rather than combat bigotry at its core. The future looks bleak. 

This film imagines a dystopian Malaysia where an enactment is passed to ensure races are kept separated. It becomes a crime to interact with or harbour a person of a different ethnicity. The race felt that that would preserve the sanctity of the race, but it was a bitter pill they had to swallow. To ensure conformity to the rule of law, there is a group of ragtag vigilantes. 

A Chinese family moves on into a traditional Malay house. Unbeknownst to them, a young Malay girl is spotted hiding in the ceiling and scavenging their food. 

After some initial trepidation, the family decides to care for her, much to the wrath of the junta, which came for a home inspection. Next to follow is a series of escapes from this hell hole to a neighbouring country. 

Something obvious amongst the high-level officials and mega businessmen is that the segregation law does not apply to them. A Chinese factory owner is married to a Malay girl, and a Malay politician is seen making business deals with the Chinese. 

The take-home here really is that each race needs the other, and they have no ill feelings towards the other. In their lust to stick on to power and usurp money, the politicians and leaders create a non-existent bogeyman to create fear, divide and rule. It worked for the British then and will work for present-day East India Company 2.0, run by the country's own son of the soil.

The Klang Valley and the nationalities who claim stake.

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A lotus by any other name...

There I was, minding myself performing my daytime duties, when someone approached me.

"Excuse me, where can I meet Mr Rajeev?" 

I scratched my head thinking, "Rajeev, Rajeev…?" 

"Sorry buddy, can't help you there. Don't know any Rajeev." 

Then it hit me. Of course, Majid. Before Majid was Majid, in another life, he was known as Rajeev. 

"Oh yes. I remember now. Ranjeev is on the 1st floor. He is now Majid." I told him. 

Then I left the place thinking… 

A name is for the convenience of others to pick us out of the 8 million people on Earth. If Majid is comfortable with his new name, so be it. We should respect it. It, in no way, changes who Rajeev or, for that matter, Majid is. In the imagery of Avicenna's flying man, he is who he is. 

A new name does not exclude the follies of the previous past, just as Pakistan came to discover. Wanting to carve itself out of the perceived vagaries of its motherland, it realised it could not disentangle itself from the shared history with ex, no matter how much it detects. 

During the Great Game era, Imperialists sliced much of Africa for personal consumption. Imagine, Cecil Rhodes even named a vast piece of land after himself, which years later became a country. Of course, descendants of the initial inhabitants of Rhodesia renamed their country Zimbabwe, after the stone enclosure they used to live, after Independence. After years of being inadvertently referenced to the poultry industry and the colloquial term of a moron, Turkey applied to have its name, or its spelling, altered. Türkiye, as it was written in its Latin script, has become the official name. As we know, Türkiye, in its zest to modernise after the fall of the sick man of Europe, the Ottoman Empire, chose a Latin script over Arabic. That explains the umlaut over its 'u'. 

Konark Sun Temple

Nobody chose to raise the alarm when Czhechia (Czech Republic,1993), Myanmar (Burma, nee Brahmadesh, 1989), Eswatini (Swaziland, 2018) and even Netherlands (Holland, 2020) changed their names. 

The World suddenly looked up when a dinner invitation card to G20 delegates read letterheaded from the President of Bharat, not India as commonly known. To the rest of the World, the name Bharat reminds them of the nationalistic RSS's desire to reinstate India to its ancient name, as mentioned in the old scriptures. To the nationalists, this exercise of renaming old names is a branding exercise to spur its citizens' sense of patriotism. The leftists, who missed the nostalgic days of Fabian Society card-carrying Pandit Nehru, decry the majority's dominance over the minority and the oppressed. In their minds, this move reaffirms their belief that the ruling party is ultra-nationalist, Islamophobic and Hindutva in ideology in wanting to create a Hindu Rajthra. 

A bit of context here. In Indonesian and Malay languages, the word for west is Barat. Since Bharat was a civilisational icon in those days and was situated west of the Malay archipelago, the term 'Barat' was assumed west. Article 1 of the Indian Constitution starts with 'India, that is Bharat, shall be a union of states.' It denotes that both names are interchangeable. A name is for others to use. What others decide to call us sticks with us. Back in the day, the people on the West of the Sindhu River, i.e. Persians, had a problem with the letter 'S'. It simply did not exist in their language. They would refer to the people on the other side as Hindus. This is further exemplified by how they address their God, Ahura Mazda. The people in Bharat also have Asura and Deva. Both their belief systems were not much different - fire temples in Zoroastrianism and Agni pooja in Hinduism. Asura became Ahura. 

A rose, by any other name, smells as fragrant. A lotus, irrelevant to where it grows, appears as pristine. India, or Bharat, will stay as chaotic, colourful, and opinionated as ever, with much culture and wisdom to impart to the World. With its newfound zest, it is going places, including the Moon and the Sun. The name change is merely a branding exercise to remind the World that it catching up after missing the bus that brought the World's first two Industrial Revolutions involving steam and coal, respectively.

P/S. Thanks to Aman for instigating me to write up this piece.

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Knives, daggers, and bullets cannot destroy religion.

Manto (2018)
Netflix

We always try to portray the world as a place of hope, of joy, dream, and the sky is the limit of our achievements. This is just hogwash. In the real world, Mother Nature is particularly hostile towards its creations. And we, the products, are no different towards each other. We sugarcoat the world around in perfect harmony with apple trees, honey bees and snow white turtle doves. In reality, it is ruled by bigots and kleptocrats who use their Machiavellian techniques to hoodwink everyone to fill up the world with their preset agendas. They paint an image of heaven on Earth, but deep in their pockets, they have conceived a plan of chaos and entropy. But still, these flag-waving jingoistic cabals have only one thing on their agenda - control and the power that comes with it. 

As if to entice its followers, they create an imaginary enemy and a promise of an unproven paradise. Consequently, the conforming automatons think with their brain; not with their heart, losing the only thing that keeps humanity alive. Compassion. 

History tells the story of the victors. Theirs would be the account as depicted by the powers that be. Writers, especially great ones, tell a different view of history. They say what is going at the ground level and is more indicative of that is true to life. Look at the mainstream media. See how 'truth' is hijacked to suit the narrative of the day and the viewpoint of their paymasters. Nobody likes bad news. They feel motivated when things are going on well as planned. They label writers as nihilistic and pessimistic as they tend to highlight only the things that are rather unseen, unheard, suppressed and marginalised. The raw reality of life is viewed as obscenity.

Hassan Sadaat Manto was a successful short story writer, novelist and screenwriter who lived in British India around the time of Indian Independence and Partition. Having a successful career in pre-Independent India in Bombay and Delhi, he was forced to leave for Pakistan after increasing aversion against Muslims in Bombay. He was deeply affected by the Partition by the things that he saw. Describing in detail, with no holds barred, the accounts of atrocities of Sikhs and Muslims against each other, he got into trouble to the Pakistani newly drafted obscenity law. He became progressive depressive, hit the bottle, jobless and succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver.

From the movie, I discovered two heart-wrenching short stories - Thandha Gosht (Cold Meat) and Toba Tek Singh (his last composition in 1955). Thandha Gosht tells the story of a Sikh man who meets his fiery and suspicious mistress after going missing for a couple of days. The mistress, suspecting that her lover had been disloyal to her, especially when he failed to rise to the occasion, slits his throat. The man confesses that he had gone off to kill Muslims. This was at the time of Partition. He joined the band of men at revenge rape of Muslim women. He emotionally tells how he attempted to rape a lady only to discover that she had already died. She was just like cold meat.

Manto with his wife Safia and sister-in-law Zakia
Manto Family Archive

Toba Tek Singh is a sad tale of an elderly Sikh man who is institutionalised in the Pakistani mental asylum. He longs to reunite with his family whom he left in the town of Toba Tek Singh. The old chap is unsure whether the city is in India or Pakistan after the Partition. Every one whom he asks gives a different account the town is situated. Then comes the day when Pakistan and India exchanges prisoners and mental patients. This old man is at the no man's land between two countries when he is released to India. Confused whether the town is actually situated, in India or Pakistan, he just drops dead in the agony of frustration.

Read an account of this remarkable storyteller here.

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Fractured world we live in

© Manuel Strehl

What is in a font, you may think. The choice of a font could be a matter of personal picking. Some may be pertinent in a formal setting (e.g. Times Roman); other in a jovial environment (e.g. Comic Sans in a birthday party). 

Ever since printing became a reality in Europe in the 15th century, blackletter typeface like Fraktur and Antiqua were the mainstay chirography. Most publications were in Latin. Over time as people become more educated, local languages developed and the seed of nationalism was planted. Reformation works of Martin Luther and collection of fairy tales of Brothers Grimm created a need for the schism between Latin and German works. Antiqua was the default script for Latin and Fraktur for German.  

All through till 20th Century, Fractur typesetting continued in Germany and many Scandinavian countries. Most of the Europeans had theirs set in Antiqua. The Fraktur-Antiqua difference persisted till 1941 when the Nazi Party declared Fraktur was Jewish writing. The real reason behind this was commerce. Their clients found it hard to read fraktur script. By putting an 'acceptable' rationale behind the decree, the herd just followed blindly.

In modern times, neo-nazi or anti-migration movements use this font to subtly remind its readers of nationalism and to reminisce the time when there was a call to keep the land 'pure'. 
Newspapers with old traditions like 'New York Times', Washington Times' and 'Daily Telegraph' have their mastheads emboldened in fraktur font. Beers, pubs' signboards, tattoos and surprisingly heavy metal bands come in this similar typeset to add to their exoticness and mystique.

Closer to home, one wonders why radicals are hellbent on introducing the Jawi in the learning of the Malay Language when in reality the script does not improve the richness, the spread or the usability of the language in any way.

A political statement in Dresden, Germany 'This bus is driven by a German driver' it says.

The Fraktur font emphasises the 'Germanness' to drive home the message. © 99% Invisible.

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Nippon Antisemitism?

The Russian Protocols of Zion in Japan (2009)
Author: Jacob Kovalio

One assumes that Japan, being a homogenous country practising Shintoism and Buddhism, would not have issues with Judaism. Surprisingly, Jewish Peril (Yudayaka) has had its roots in Japan's late 19th and 20th-century history.

Only when the Japanese aristocrats landed their eyes on Commander Perry's navy fleet in 1858 did they awake from their slumber. At first, the Japanese thought that the American ships were the mythical celestial dragon that they had heard so much in their legends. This became their wake-up call as they realised that the world had passed them by. Emperor Meiji opened the floodgates for modernisation. For a start, his army was no longer hostile to damaged American whaling boats. Business flourished. Cultural exchanges took place. Loans from American banks (owned by Jews) started trickling in.

The Japanese noblemen and intellectual's first exposure to the Jews must have been Shylock in Shakespeare's play 'The Merchant of Venice'. He is portrayed as the miserly, greedy and vengeful moneylender who would charge exorbitant interest and stop at nothing to collect his dues.

The Japanese and the Russians had been perennial enemies fighting at their borders for aeons. In 1918, however, the Japanese Imperial Army was sent to support the Russian White Army to fight the Bolshevik Reds. It is said that here, the elusive Protocols of the Elderly of Zions was distributed to the Japanese soldiers. The Protocol is a notorious document that purportedly outlines the Jewish plan of world domination. Some quarters argue that such a book never existed in the first place. At the closest, there was just a figment of imagination from a fictional novel about cemetery, spirits and Satan. It was a ploy by Europeans who had been persecuting Jews since AD 73 when Emperor Titus ransacked Jerusalem and expelled them.


The ember of suspicion and Yudayaka (Jewish Peril) grew stronger as echoes of their ill-intent were fanned by the academia and media after 1919. The Red movement, the Communists, were mostly run by Jews. Karl Marx was a Jew. So was Leo Trotsky. The Jews alleged run their work by proxy, through the work of the banks, the Masons and the Illuminati.

The alleged modus operandi was by breaking family values, increasing individualism, early sexual activity, spiritual rupture of the parental-children bond, non-arranged marriages, replacement of monarchies and domination of media. These social changes were already apparent in Japanese society as the ruling class (emperor and samurais) lost their grip on society and the people became more assertive.

Commodore Matthew C Perry
(not of 'Friends' fame)

Around that time too, Henry Ford and Thomas Edison started distributing pamphlets about the Jew takeover of the world. Their conniving pursuits go back as early as the French Revolution, it seems. We all know about the 1869 gathering in Lviv, which eventually led to the Balfour Declaration in 1929 and the birth of Israel in 1948.

The bashing goes on even in the 21st century in the likes of Tun Dr Mahathir who still preaches about this grand scheme. He gets a mention in this book.

In the Jews' defence, throughout history, they have always been marginalised by the mainstream. It could be because of the peculiar practices or their conviction that they are the Chosen One. In the fringes, for survival, they had to resort to trades that were shunned by the mainstream. They indulged in moneylending, for usury was prohibited by other religions in their vicinity. They prospered in craftsmanship like diamond trade, photography and publishing. Their exile state of existence not only made them resilient. It became a fertile ground for conspiracy theories.

Antisemitism was debated in the 1930s. Some looked at the Jews favourably as they were of 'Asiatic' stock. During the industrialisation era of Japan in the 20th century, bankers, predominantly Jews, were there to finance them. The military, however, clang upon this Yudayaka. They entered an allegiance with Hitler on his anti-Jews stance. In the South-East Asian countries that they overran in WW2, they perpetuated their idea of the Allied forces (through their association with the Jews) a sure proof of world hegemony, to garner support from their subjects.

The Japanese, in wanting to protect their country, society, economy and way of life, immersed themselves studying and debating the contents of the Protocol. In contemporary times, they are doing the same to ward themselves off the 'side effects' of an unabashed open invitation to foreigners who could possibly derail the progress they have made after being flattened out in 1945. 

The debate on the Protocol amongst the members of academia, civil societies and the elite generated keener awareness that hostile, predatory ideologies from abroad were out there to sway the Japanese culture and to derail their national aspirations. 

Thanks to AqSS for input.

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Science may not be the panacea!

Fritz Haber

Of late, some of my friends and I have been engaged in lengthy conversations about religion and science. Many insist that what the world needs is science, not more religious sermons. They surmise that science and rational thinking could change the world into a peaceful place. Anyway, religion has been getting a bad reputation of late as the single cause of mayhem in the world. Logic, critical mind and the courage to question the status quo has been hailed as the only saviour of mankind.

This is not the first time in history such a predicament had come to the fore. In the latter part of the 19th century, there was a real concern that the then expanding world population would outrun our the ability to feed them. As the population growth grew exponentially and food production on a linear path, leaders appreciated the relevance of Malthusian theory and foresaw the impending doom. Nutrients in the soil were being depleted and the guano, the natural fertiliser was hard to come by. Businessmen were hoarding, and nations were going to war for bird droppings!

Along came Fritz Haber, who later earned a Nobel Prize for this, with his scientific formula (Haber-Bosch reaction) where he literally pulled fertilisers out of the thin air. He made ammonia, from nitrogen and hydrogen in the air. Ammonia saved farmers and the world from famine. He went on to discover many more things.

Unfortunately, the same knowledge that saved the world also led to its destruction. Being a nationalist, a humble Jew wanting to be part of the greater German nation, Fritz Haber, the chemist extraordinairè had no qualms devising ways to kill people effectively. His invention, canisters of chlorine gas, was used during World War 1 in Ypres, Belgium, to devastate the Allied Forces. His earlier experimentation with ammonia somehow also led to the discovery of explosives. His pesticide, Zyklon A, which was cyanide-based and came with a cautionary eye irritant, was modified to gas the inmates of concentration camps later in World War 2.

Haber who devoted his life to science had a rather sad ending. His first wife, a scientist herself, could not stomach his use of sciences in World War 1. She, a pacifist, committed suicide at the end of the barrel of a gun, witnessed by their 12-year-old son. After the war, he tried to extract gold from the sea, unsuccessfully. With the change of politics after The Trench War, and the Jews persecuted, he had to resign from his post and leave the country. He died an unhappy man.

So science does not all the problems. Knowledge is out there for all to scoop. It cannot be protected forever. For whatever good thing that science may offer, man will find ways to use it in devious means for his own benefit; to control the others under the umbrella of nationhood, race, religion or any hodge-podge association that may suit the flavour of the moment.

 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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