The hand that whacks, embraces too?

@AryamanBodh

One of the regular feature during my childhood days was the visits by lonely housewives to engage in a prolonged banter with my mother.

In RRF, my childhood home, a new neighbour had just moved to our oft-emptied next door flat. In came a seemingly perfect family, the head of the family, a tall, lean man donning dark glasses in the midst of the dimly lit corridors of the neighbourhood. He would walk as if he had a severe case of cervical spondylosis, straight-backed, walking straight ahead without tilting his heads even for a moment as if he had a mission in life like a racing horse prancing on with blinkers. The wife, a slim lady with long wavy hair and polyester floral sari with a faced stained in turmeric powder, an Indian natural skin whitener and scar-blemisher, would follow suit, well aware of the roving eyes around her. To complement this seemingly perfect couple was a pair of children of every dream of a middle-class family of the 70s - a daughter and a son. Then some distant back trotted in a middle-aged lady, all dressed in white widow's saree and a matching short white blouse, and a chubby man in his thirties with eyes protruding out like a frog's and appearing not quite right in the head!

They went on their lives just as we did ours. There was not much communication between both families. Most of the time, they were left to their own devices.

Three months or so into their move into their flat, we would occasionally hear shouts, yelling, sounds of punches on raw skin and crying, sometimes interspersed with groans. Like what kind neighbours would do, my family would just mind our businesses and carried on life as if nothing happened.

One morning, after a night of yelling and screaming, the lady of the house made an appearance at the corner of our kitchen window. Like a drug peddler looking for clients, she whispered her problems to Amma. Occasionally, she would turn around and look sideways just to make easily volatile husband would suddenly reappear to make minced meat out of her. It would be a regular feature for the rest of stay in RRF.

Through inadvertent eaves-dropping, I managed to gather the going-on. She had a victim of abuse by her husband and her mother-in-law. Periodically, she would show her wounds and her racoon-eyed face like her badge of honour. Amma, in her own feministic stance, would suggest ways to set her life in order - how to go about making a police report, to get a medical report on her wounds.

Credit: Andy Capp

Like a broken record in the typical fashion of a battered wife, her actions are always predictable. She would be so gung-ho about 'letting it all behind', in 'starting it all over' and putting 'a full stop to all these' on the day after the whacking. And a few days later, it would be status quo. 'He is actually kind-hearted when he is sober', 'it is my fault, actually', 'I irritate him', 'I have to take it for children' were the usual replies.

In my naive mind, I could not understand why was it is so difficult for my stupid neighbour to make up her mind. When somebody is hostile to you, you retaliate!

Nothing much really happened. She continued her mid-morning rendezvous at the corner of the kitchen window, telling her inner feelings and inner ramblings whilst Amma would go on with her stirring of her meals on the stove. It would all come to an abrupt when either Amma finishes her cooking, or the neighbour's husband comes marching back during his lunch break.

All things will/must pass...

A coincidence happened a few days ago to convince me that all things will pass and not to get upset about things. And it also convinced me to look at the other side of things. Somehow, wearing the other person's shoes, the problem does not look like a problem anymore!

 A few days ago, my neighbour's puppy started barking incessantly. Prior to that, nobody in the neighbourhood even knew of the existence of  a dog in their backyard until the eventful day. Calls after calls rang of the  hook of my neighbour's phone complaining about the nuisance so much so that he became phobic receiving calls and stopped answering them.

Almost like magic, during a casual conversation with my sister living 300km away a few days later, she was complaining that her neighbours were unhappy with their loss of sleep over the continual barking of her dog. She was at wit's end trying to get to the root of the problem with no avail.

Back in my neighbourhood, the barking ceased. It could be one of the follows: dog died/put to sleep/whatever offending the creature was removed/ dog just stopped barking/in somebody's cooking pot! Whatever it is, my neighbour never saw his neighbours the same way again after all the hurtful words hurled at him at the spur of the moment.

 On the other side of the 300km end, my sister zeroed it on the fact that the dog must be feeling cold after an overzealous grooming. After probably the disappearance of the initial irritation and adaptation, her dog stopped whining in the next few days and everybody in her neighbourhood were all smiles again. 

And life goes on.... Hurdles, tragedies, ailment, loss and calamities are just obstacles that we have to pass through in our voyage of life. No point getting upset as all thing must pass. Sometimes we pass with them too but we may be in a better place (so they say)......

Memories of RRF – here, there and everywhere*

Indra (H Block) used to look like this in her heydays (the 1970s) 

7.5.2010
Memories of RRF: Here, there and everywhere…*
There are a few loose ends for me to tie to rekindle old memories of RRF. We started going to Bhajan class around 1975 after Mr Rajagopal (aka Kojak) requested Appa to send us. The main base of the Bhajan class was at D17-8 at Mr & Mrs Rayan’s place. Sometimes the classes would be held at different venues upon request. Mr Rajagopal was a member of the active Shiva family in Penang which was affiliated to the late saffron-robed Swami Shantananda who initiated the Temple of Fine Arts in Kuala Lumpur.

So there we were all us religiously learning the Bhajan songs. In fact, I think Lats, who naturally enjoyed singing perfected her singing skills. Once a week we used to look forward to attending it and rush back to see ‘The Six Million Dollar Man’. We got acquainted with people like A. Rajasegaran (we later took tuition classes from his sister, Veni), Ragupathy (who later started the Sai Baba Bhajan group and I became his official flower ‘picker’ on Thursday afternoon) and Ramess Manohar whom I mentioned earlier.

In our lives, we, human beings, also go through certain phases in our lives just like how Lord Vishnu goes many ‘avatars’. By the way, my children are utterly convinced that ‘avatar’ is an undisputed English word! Thanks for James Cameron and his recent Hollywood blockbuster ‘Avatar’. Just like those few years, I was sucked into a lot of spiritual activities. There was a time I join a group in Udini Road singing hymns all through the night on Shivarathiri 1977. It proved too much for me when I realised that I had already dozed off at 4am when I thought I was meditating. Then there was Thursday’s Sai Baba Bhajans at Raghupathy’s house in PBA flats.

When I was in standard 4 to 6, I was in the Boys Brigade 2nd Penang Company based at Wesley Methodist Church in Burmah Road. I do not remember how I got introduced into this movement. It, however, did expose me to many outdoor activities like the obstacle course in Youth Park, overnight camps (in Teluk Bahang, Tanjung Bungah and Batu Ferringhi), marching drills and of course, all these were in the guise of spreading Christianity. There was this lovable Warrant Officer Colin Muthukannu who used to be quite popular with us all and many seniors like Kenny Lim who strummed the guitar like ringing a bell (so good). I remember once we had a camping trip at the Teluk Bahang beach. It was a delightful outing, and our campfire lasted till midnight. In the wee hours of the morning, it started raining – the mother of all tropical monsoon rains. The tent could not keep us and ourselves dry. We were all drenched to the bone and had to march all the way in the pouring rain to a nearby community hall to spend the rest of the night. On the following day, we were all overjoyed as Lt. Colin cooked chicken curry!

There was once a funfair held at the Church grounds. By taking part in that fair, I realised that I was not cut to sell for a living. Then there was this Flag Day where we were literally begging for alms.

On the Christianity part, I learnt a lot of things which were of the common good to everyone – Thou shall not steal, thou shall not lie, etc. – with the twist of the Daily Bread…when Thy Kingdom comes, thou will be treated on earth like how Thou art treated in Heaven…and so on. I remember getting into an argument with one of the Sunday school teachers. She said that we should accept the Lord Jesus as our Saviour because when the End of Days comes, God will only take Christians into Heaven. To this, I told her that Gods from other religions will bring their own people into their respective Heavens and at the end of the day everyone will be saved! On one Easter celebration, I took the role of Jesus in a pantomime acting out the scene of the Resurrection. After this, the boys started calling me Black Jesus! Of course, they do not know that the recent archaeological studies actually have deemed Jesus to have dark skin and Negroid facial features!

Then stop! After I entered upper secondary school, all these met an abrupt end – Stop, short. Never to go again... like in the folk song ‘Grandfather’s clock’! No more Bhajans and no more Sunday schools.

Let us cross over to the side of the main road which houses Blocks F, G, H and J. Of course, we knew a few people in Block F, one of which was the paternal grandparents’ family! We affectionately call them ‘Tai Tai’ and ‘F Block’, grandpa and grandma respectively. In the Chinese culture, Tai Tai ladies are wealthy charitable ladies who spend the leisure times sipping tea. Our paternal was called so because he was drunk all the few times we have seen him and used to carry small children and dance “Tai, Tai, Tai…” Hence, the name aptly got stuck when he was referred to. Our paternal grandmother had so many children in her collection (of high gravidity and parity – 3 or 4 sets of twins, some miscarriages, some given for adoption, 16 still living), all stacked up to coincide with 16-storey RRF! As one can make out, we were naturally not close to any of them (including uncles and aunts). In fact, more than 11 of them used to stay there (at F9-18) with occasional visits from Aiyyah with loads of big tasty fish and tidbits! (Now, that is another story!)

We did not have a cordial loving relationship with my paternal side primarily because of Amma’s undying desire to elevate the status of the Sham family away from the shackles of poverty and money related miseries that used to plague us every now and then like the unstoppable waves that hit our shores year in and year out!

We did come in contact with these people usually for not a happy occasion, e.g. retrieving loan money or somebody’s funeral. Extracting loan money was a Herculean task and usually ended with a sour exchange of remarks.

In F Block too lived my friends, Kasi (F15-6) and JS (FG-3). Kasi and JS were both in PFS. Kasi is now a bank officer with HSBC after graduating from a U in Australia and JS is working in the Silicon Valley after graduating from USM. Nirmala (Rajasegaran’s wife) and Shyamala also lived in this block.

G block was occupied by many people of Thenkasi origin who were relocated from Kedah Road area when the area they were living was developed. They filled three lower floors and carried on with their traditional job of pounding rice flour manually and grinding chilly and spices with their large stone grinder and wooden pounders. They were quite comfortable with their simple loud way of living, draped with their colourful sarong and scarves, moving noisily in droves with strong non-alcoholic perfumes.

H block only reminds us of Amma’s close friend who used to frequently visit her and talk to talk to her for hours on end, with no punctuations, just to stop to inhale. The sun may rise and set, but her stories never seem to have an ending much like The Arabian Nights. She had three daughters, and her husband was working in Singapore after some complications with IRS or loan sharks or something like that. In fact, he passed away in Singapore, but he could not be brought back for his final rites. Her younger brother lived with her but he was just a loafer, hanging around here, there and everywhere*.

J block housed two unforgettable characters who were mentioned earlier, mainly for their antics of dodging loan repayments!

Just further down from J Block were situated MKS’ house. MKS is related to Amma’s family. How close? Now that is a taboo subject, but there seems to be an uncanny resemblance of his children to Amma and Indra! MKS was a peculiar character in that he walks around swiftly like a desert rat without any footwear and does not dare to use the lift. He smokes with his cigarette placed between his middle and third finger while inhaling via his rolled hand! He was a frequent visitor to our house but unfortunately has great problems identifying it and ended up many times at some Chinaman’s house calling loudly at the top of voice for Amma (Seetha). I remember he passed away on a Chinese New Year day and his Chinese neighbour kept his whole house vacuum shut fearing evil spirits will enter his abode and haunt him the entire year till the following lunar year!

*Here, There and Everywhere (1966); written by Paul McCartney, performed by Beatles.

Memories of RRF – and the hits keep on coming…

12.4.2010
Memories of RRF – and the hits keep on coming*…
Continuing with our juicy gossip, let us look at Block C. This block was occupied much later than Block E and was much cleaner; thanks to the absence of the Royal Malaysia Army’s monkey children. We did not have many contacts with occupants here, except for the Chinese tailor at the ground floor and a Chetty teacher who later committed suicide many years later. Oh, yes! I guess I forgot mentioning about the various people who chose RRF to free themselves from the constricting tentacles of life on earth and jump off the balcony! In fact, these suicides were common occurrences in Blocks A and B. Block E had also played host to these events. The Shams have all witnessed the gruesome aftermath of the jump but not once in our entire life did we visualize any form of apparition or ghost to haunt us in spite of having a Chinese cemetery nearby. In fact, just out of curiosity, I had once sat under a shady tree studying at height of noon at this cemetery. No sire, no ‘one’ acknowledged me! Probably they were quite acquainted with me as the site was also my regular jogging area.
Speculations were rife on events leading to demise the Chetty teacher and spread like wild fire soon afterwards amongst the gossipy and tale mongering Indian housewives of RRF. He had led an exemplary life, a dedicated Tamil school teacher, a responsible father of two children (a boy and a girl – dreamt as ideal to continue our generation), a husband of a average not so ugly wife (even though he was shining bald!), a quite and unassuming man who kept to himself. The High Court of RRF gossipers finally zeroed it down to extramarital affairs (what is life without masala?) and clampdown by loan sharks. The jury is still out and probably dead by now!
This is probably the time when I started hearing the Tamil proverb being mentioned again and yet again about how one’s secrets and shortcomings will all be exposed and scrutinized out in the open after death – lies, sex and videotapes!?! (About vandavalam and thandavalam)
Another house of interest is the Chinese seamstress from whom Amma went on to learn the finer points of lady dress stitching. (Of course you do not have male dress in spite of what they say in Tamil movies. When a guy in the Tamil movie goes to change his attire, he will say, “I’ll go for a dress change!”) She used to come back after class crying complaining that the tailor was racist and ‘kiasu’. She apparently was not going the full mile to teach but holding away the finer points of sewing techniques from her which Amma later had to discover herself by trial and error. It was indeed an eye opener for all of us in our later part of life to discover things for ourselves rather than living on handouts. The sewing lessons that Amma went for also helped her to supplement the Sham’s household income by making her a household name in saree blouse stitching among the Indian ladies of RRF and places beyond.
This skill was instrumental in uplifting the prestige and status of the Sham clan in years to come. All her pawned jewelry was eventually redeemed and it helped to pay most education fees incurred by the children. Of course, this was not done with a gleaming face but with plenty of fretting and cursing, setting a sad tone most of the time when we all grew up. Whenever any payment crops up, which are not in the monthly budget set by the family, a small whirlwind (in the form of nagging) will come by and would eventually settle over a few days. In fact, many a time, I have avoided asking for money from Amma when an extra expenditure is incurred and resorted to using my measly savings from my favourite “Chicky Bank”.
Now, how do I manage to save money? Believe me, it was all legitimate (halal). Besides saving money on bus fare as mentioned earlier, I would also skip spending money at recess and the occasional alms received for Deepavali and the occasional visitors.
Another way Amma generated extra cash is by lending money! (Great! Paupers lending money to paupers!). Isn’t the world strange? We got hit by financial tsunami via debts and we tried to improve our financial status by being creditors. The lesson I learnt was that as long as stupid people walk on planet Earth, there will be people borrowing money. People will promise the moons and the stars when they wish to have your RM but once they have got their coffers fulfilled, the creditors will be ignored and be treated like a tramp or a leper. This I (and my sisters) can say with great conviction because we were sometimes summoned to collect dues (interest money) from the debtors. In present day scenario, we would be called ‘Ah Long’s. Sometimes when we knock on their door, nobody will answer but we can eerily sense movements and activity behind the closed doors! Televisions or radios can be heard too. Sometimes you would pretend to go away just to hide around the corner to nab them when they eventually surfaced from behind locked doors. Some hard core debtors (like Siva Guru –the teacher of Lord Shiva) knew all our tricks and would sneer at us from their flats after dodging all our efforts. I was once summoned to collect money a defiant debtor (Ramu, also happened to be my uncle) on Deepavali eve. He was coolly painting the grill of his gate and shooed me away! He said he had no money to give. I ridiculed him that he must have some money so as to be able to paint his gate! To this he got angry and chased me away, saying I was rude to an older person.
Things that seem so mundane and uninspiring then now bring a sparkle and a smile or two to our sometimes monotonous life which we would one day in turn savour and yearn to re-live!!! That is mankind, never satisfied...

*Casey Kasem used to say this in the American Top 40s those days!

Memories of RRF – more neighbours…

7.4.2010
Memories of RRF – more neighbours…

Continuing our worthless gossip of matters surrounding RRF, we will continue with Block B. Talking about RRF and its surroundings, RRF is basically situated at the foothill of the main range of hill which forms the spine of Penang island (or Pooloo Pinang as it was named in 1786 by a maverick conniving seaman by the name of Francis Light who literally hoodwinked the Sultan of Kedah by promising to protect Quedah from the Siamese attack which the knighted one did not uphold). Of course the History books do not tell this because it His (the Victor’s) story! On most days, one can catch a good glimpse of Penang Hill from RRF.
B16-3 was the home to Mr & Mrs Velu. They were formerly occupants of a room in our house in Brown Garden before the 70s. I remember Mrs Velu ( Puthu Atthei as we called her) was very fond of us, the children. We enjoyed her stories, mostly fables told in a very dramatic way in a smiling manner. She also took care of us when Amma went to hospital to ‘buy’ a baby. The couple had a son and a daughter who was hearing impaired. The son, Prakash, did well for himself. Prakash went on to study Science with Education in USM and is now a teacher. Mr Velu is now a retired bank employee.
Actually, my mother wanted to name me “Prakash” or “Thatcinamoorthy” – thank God she did not! Appa, upon hearing the temple priest that my name should start with the word A in Tamil and he decided that it should be Asokan, after the great Kalinga Emperor who later denounced war and propagated Buddhist teachings. Coincidentally, there was also a Tamil film actor at that time who always overacted and took the villain role in MGR movies. This was a butt of joke among my fellow schoolmates. Many years later, an old uncle interpreted the name ‘Asokan’ to refer to Yaso-kann (Yaso was referring to Yasodha, Lord Krishna’s mother and Kann meaning eyes) – something like of the apple of the mother's eye..
BG-15 was where we used to go for tuition. The tuition master, Mr. Balakrishnan Velusamy, was usually absent from class and his wife (Saras), a housewife taught the kids in a Hitler-like fist-and-iron manner with ruler and knuckle bashing. We all went there because somebody told our parents that they were good so they we were. I remember a FRU high ranking officer’s son Saiful whom they used to give special care. There was also Rajendran (from LaSalle School) Michael and Zarina, a very dark Indian Muslim girl. Mr Velusamy was a born again Christian who was also active in the Sunday school. He had 2 boys (Yoges and Vicki) and a girl. Needless to say, we did not stay long in the tuition centre.
B1-17, here lived a boy Elango who used to come to the same tuition as well. He used to get in to fights all the time. He must probably be in jail by now!

Memories of RRF – beyond with scandals..

3.4.10
Memories of RRF – beyond the neighbours’ scandals

Let me continue with my repertoire of thought logorrheic expressions in verbatim of people with whom we generally grew up with. Starting with A block…
A16-14 lived Gobi Attah who speaks in a very unique way emphasizing on the consonants when she speaks! This Gobi Attah character was a bubbly lady who was my parents’ landlady when they rented a room in the house that she lived soon after they were married. I remember going to this house in Lorong Seratus Tahun when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I remember the chequered tiles at the entrance and the stout Chinese pillars at outside. Little did I know that my good friend, Sasi was running around the same street at that time. It is indeed a small world after all! In the mid 70’s hard times hit Gobi Attah and she subsequently moved in to RRF. She had a son (L. Ganeson) who lived in A15-16 who was working in a bank. He had two sons (Gajendra and Sailendra). I remember the elder son had a great liking for food. The working mother used to prepare meals before she went for work. So, one afternoon when the boy returned and saw the 2 lb. of mutton gravy on the table, he actually finished the whole meal which the mother had prepared for the family for lunch and dinner! I guess the spicy mutton gravy was simply too delicious to resist!
Who is Gobi? I first knew of the existence of Gobi l from the family photographs when I was in primary school. We were both dressed in identical striped attire for a birthday party when I was maybe 5 or 6. Gobi @ Ravindra Kumar grew up in town area and finally made it to Penang Free School. He, however fell off the rat race there and stayed on in the last few ranks of classes of the form. He later became a Moslem convert and was charged with drug related offence. I remember that another son of Gobi Attah also fell prey to drugs.
A8-4 lived the cigar smoking old lady! She had a son and a daughter who never got married for a very long time. The daughter worked as a nurse in a clinic in town. I remember she finally got married. And so did his son to his long time sweetheart. Now, this lady is the same person (size 42) who used to get her saree blouses sewn by Amma!
A5-15 was the humble abode of Mr A Veera and his wife, Devi. Both couple just recently passed away in a space of less than a month (oh, how romantic!, like a Dixie birds in the Tamil literatures which depict the Dixie birds to be monogamous and the surviving pair will soon die after the demise of the other). This, however, was not the case when we knew them in the 70’s. Their household was forever in turmoil like how the West Bank is now, no peace! The couple was forever quarreling with accusations hurled by the husband to the wife of infidelity, pairing her with a jobless younger man staying just a floor below them. Nothing seriously happened out of these squabbles and they lived unhappily till their dying days.
A. Veera was a friend of Appa who started working as a peon at about the same time. He never really got any serious promotions till his retirement. (c.f. Appa served 30 over years in the same premises i.e.33, Beach Street, with many promotions).
I remember attending an entourage which was part of A. Veera’s engagement or wedding. The entourage was walking with the bride but had to hold on to the bride to keep her upright as she kept fainting and vomiting! Mmm.. I wonder if these were symptoms of early pregnancy?!*#@.
A4-17 lived a distant relative on father’s side. He had a thick Madurai Veeran type of moustache and was manning a Shell petrol pump and recently passed away.

Memories of RRF – neighbours and beyond…

25.3.2010

Memories of RRF – neighbours and beyond…

Besides occupants of the 15th floor, there were a few interesting characters who emerged in our childhood. Most of the end units were occupied by personnel of Royal Malaysian Army and the families. Their children were usually brats who behave like monkeys without tails. They would be jumping here and jumping there, destroying public properties (like the lift and defacing the whitewashed wall with graffiti) while the father supposedly protect the sovereignty of the country and her property, i.e. its citizens! Most of them study at SRK Padang Tembak, some of use the military truck to ferry them to other schools and all of them perform dismally at school. Invariably all their names will be “Man” and all their mothers can say is lamely, “Man, janganlah Man!” but Man will just continue doing his thing. The wives will be sleeping of the time or at least appear so when they occasionally come out to sweep their homes which were incidentally near the dustbin chutes. Even minus the rubbish smell, the household had the characteristic belacan (shrimp paste) and petai (twisted cluster beans @ stinky beans) smells. But life went on and on... like Proud Mary going round and round on the Mississippi.
Actually, we never really got acquainted with most of the occupants of the block but a few who left an impression or two.
E14-10 was initially occupied by Anantha and his parents. Actually, we (my siblings and I) never got to know him at all. He was like Remington Steele (the 70’s TV series where everybody has heard of but none have actually seen him in person). He rarely appears at his unit except late nights and leaves in the morning. He follows his parents in the morning to their electrical shop in Chulia Street and spends the afternoon after school. His father was working as a barber, speaking only a smattering of the Malay Language. I remember once he and the carpenter (of E16-14) who was also could not converse in Malay having a conversation in our home. It was like a canine-feline conversation…. “itu messai semua adaaah..” and both the speakers were nodding their heads in unison! I wonder if each of them understood each other.
Anantha was a kind of a braggart, I did not really like him but all the Indian housewives there admired him for his gift of the gap. You know me, I believe that action speaks louder than words and I do not say niceties about people easily. A person who tells the whole world that he is committing suicide will not die and a politician or a holy man who promises his voters or followers the world will not keep his promise. Only still water runs deep!
Some time later, the unit was occupied by Anantha’s brother (Subramaniam), his wife (Kamalaveni, Chinese adopted by Indian) and her parents – an ailing bed-ridden father with betel leave chewing mother. Kamalaveni’s fashionable lady friend (?Kalpana, we called her Seensatti due to her hairstyle!). After marriage, Balan and Kamalaveni had to wait a long time before they had a boy – Siva Kumar who won a brand new car on a dancing competition on Astro!
E14-16 here lived a widowed lady with 2 children. Mdm. Thilaga had an unenviable reputation of being a “fighter cock” and a “carry tale”. People generally avoided crossing her path due to infamous reputation. Just like many ladies in RRF or maybe Penang generally, Thilaga used to come to the house and try to engage Amma in conversation. It was more of derogatory gossip, what happened where, in whose house and they give their 2 cents worth of advice. I do not think that Amma particularly enjoyed these conversations as she would still be engrossed in her sewing with an occasional "oh?' and "aahs?"while the ladies went on yakking and blabbing… Two other ladies who used to the same were H Block Indra and Raja Ammah.
There was a time when I had to teach her ‘not-so-bright” daughter Mathematics. I do not think I managed to teach her much as my explanations never really made it to her thick skull. maybe Iwas a bad teacher rather than she being a bad student! It takes two to tango. These tuition sessions helped me to decide never to be in the teaching profession.
E16-14 lived a carpenter with penchant for making Lion Dance paraphernalia. The carpenter had no furniture in his unit. He only had a fabric lazy chair and drums for the dance. Basically nothing happens in the house. Once a year in Chinese New Year, they all become alive and perform the Lion Dance all around RRF. The carpenter’s boys and their friends/relatives will be playing the musical instruments and the characters in the performances. After CNY, it will be back to their snail paced life.
E16-11A lived the tall mutton chop side burned Mr Paul and his Chinese wife.
E11-1 was the home to Mr & Mrs Manohar. Mr Manohar was an army officer who got transferred to Penang around 1976. I came to know Ramess through the Bhajans group that my sisters and I attended. He was one of the few of them in RRF who could converse in English. Before coming to Penang, he was in Kuala Lumpur. The friendship extended beyond RRF, we kept in touch via mail even after he left for Kuala Lumpur again after 4 or 5 years staying in RRF.
He did not really do well in his studies (SPM) and ventured into spiritualism and meditation. He even spent a good 2 years in the mountains of India in search of the elusive truth. Reality hit back when he returned to Malaysia and he had to take over his ailing father’s daytime vocation of a cab driver. He married a priest’s daughter who was a good 10 years younger than him. I attended his wedding to in Jalan Ipoh Vinayakar Temple. On and off I kept in touch with him. I met him again when I was working at Klang Hospital to examine and follow up his wife’s pregnancy. When I left Government service, his wife continued her follow-up and delivered under my care. Ramess and his family (including the children) were full time vegans. By mid 2005, he was a single man again when his wife allegedly left him and his family for a younger man!
E8-18 was occupied by a distant relative on my father’s side. It is not surprising as he grew up with 15 other siblings! We called her puttu as she was selling puttu in the market.
E7-12 occupants were a childless couple who used to frequent our house. I wonder why people actually liked coming to see us. We never really went out of our way to entertain people. In fact Amma will continue her sewing in spite of visitors and Appa is not much of a conversationalist. I guess people then did not expect much other than friendship or they had too much time! The husband (Mr Subramaniam) was hard of hearing (even with the hearing aid!) and the wife (the Hornet) was a carbon copy of Ms Olive Oyl (of Popeye fame). To me, she looks more like a turkey as she had long ear lobes further accentuated by the dangling earrings that she always wore!
Looking across the balcony we could see D block. After a hard session with the books and Mathematics, people watching, like bird watching, can be therapeutic and relaxing. On the hand, of course…
D16-14 was more of a nuisance. It was occupied by a City Council bus driver who would come back from work without fail every day just to listen to his gramophone record player belt out his favourite Hindi songs at full blast. Lyrics from songs of Bobby, Aag Gale Laag Jaa, Julie, Yaadon Ki Bharat, Aradhana still appears to be reverberating in my mind!
D15-12 was occupied by an Indian family. The couple had 2 kids but will be forever at logger heads. This would sometime happen way past midnight when the wife can be heard to be chasing the husband away from the bed at the top of her voice, much to the embarrassment of those who understood the language!
D17-8 was where many children used to congregate on Saturday evenings for Bhajans. It was occupied by a Mr & Mrs Rayan. Mrs Rayan was barred by her husband to come out of the flat without his accompaniment as she was too good looking in his eyes. Vendors and peddlers in the market place would apparently stop their business just to be mesmerized by her beauty, so the talk around the flats goes! True she was fair and did look a wee bit like Jayalalitha (South Indian movie star in her heydays) but probably 3 or 4 sizes bigger, not that Jayalalitha was small by any means! My sister and I used to run back after the Bhajans so that we would be in time for Six Million Dollar Man!
D4-2 lived a little devilish of a girl with the name Sheela who borrowed my Fairy Tales book and never returned until we literally begged at her door step only to receive a debilitated worn out book.

D13-8 lived a Chinese girl who attended the same kindie school as Sheila by the name Ruby. She never really learnt Sheila's real name. She used to call Sheila "Gila" and the worse thing was she used to lung her name from across the block from Blocks D to E!

DG-4 was like the house in the nursery rhyme about the lady who lived in a shoe. So many children lived here and they walked in and out of the house at their whims and fancies as they had opened up the bars at the balcony for easier access.

Addentum:

D4-22 housed the family of Mr & Mrs Sundram. Mr Sundram was constantly borrowing money from people and used to overindulge in alcoholic beverages. He was also employed with the bank like father. The family actually did not see any living daylight until Mr Sundram succumbed to heart attack at the age of 54 years. With his gratuity monies and after his eldest daughter was employed as a bank employee in her father place the family actually prospred. Coincidentally, she was our tuition teacher for a few months before she got a job.

Memories of RRF – neighbours

23.3.2010

Memories of RRF – neighbours

E15-11 was situated behind the lift near the electrical meter board. The frontage was not overlooking into the open space like other units but was kind of dark and was a place where children would gather and play their games like “S”, photos, cops and robbers, chiabak etc. etc. All of us have bitter and sweet memories with the lift. At one time or another, we all had the bad experience of being trapped in the lift, no big deal actually, only if you are in a hurry. Actually the lifts were used and abused again by its occupants. In the later years, I even took my mini bicycle up the lift for safety reasons. If only it was not German made, it would have given up long ago. The day to day running of the lift was done by Council appointed handicapped individuals who were supposed to be manning the lift by being inside the lift but they seemed to find joy by playing the fool among each other, talking like they know everything and basically doing nothing! Beh Beh was the longest serving attendant there. He had difficulty articulating due to some spasticity with his neck muscle and tongue. Hamzah was another character but he did not look so handicapped. Desmond joined later; he had a small underdeveloped contracted left upper limb.

Sometimes all the lifts would go on strike or there could be a power failure, we would have to climb down all 15 flights of stairs on foot and many a time I had to bring my bicycle down in this manner. Talking about the lifts, my sisters and I will never forget the old Chinese with a walking stick and gross tremors on her hands who would reprimand children who are rough with the buttons on the lift. She would say in her characteristic voice shaking all over, “SSSudahlah… satu kali cukuplah, banyak kali rosaklahhh…”

E15-11A was occupied by a single mother who worked as a seamstress to support her two young children – Ah Leng and Ah Keow. My sister, Lats, and all of us learned most of our conversational Hockkein from them. Ah Leng used to worship Lats and followed her all around. Lats would bully her and made her do all her dirty job. Quite often, both Ah Leng and Ah Keow would be in for a beating when their mother was in a bad mood.

Amma was also a keen tailor herself by dire necessity to make ends meet. She learned the finer points of sewing from Tamil Bell Club and also from a Chinese lady in Block C Ground floor. Both Sheila and Lats have had their Deepavali dresses done by Amma much to their disappointment. I had one set of pajamas sewn by her which I wore for a long time until everybody got turned off by it. When Mama come to RRF and wanted to take a family photograph with his spanking new camera, he chased me away to slip into something more appealing than the trishaw man’s attire as he addressed the pajamas!

Just the other day, Sheila just reminded me of all the long hours that she had to endure with mother’s sewing contracts and all the abuses that were hailed at her in spite of her keen workmanship in midst of her studies. I was sometimes roped in to stitch the buttons on shirts and blouses. We all spent many hours doing these before every Deepavali and Thaipusam. Of course it was not all gloom and dull, we had our own set of jokes, like the bosomy lady with bust size 42 and the blouse with putrefying smell of body odour which was with us for a long time and remained unclaimed!

E15-15 was occupied by a Chinese family who was running an illegal 4D syndicate. I remember putting some bets for Appa, usually for $1 or $2 for numbers like 8886, 1511, 7122, 2874 and others. The head of the family used to hide his counterfoils on top of the electrical meter board. In fact, I remember a time when his house was raided. He stopped his business temporarily, but it was business, as usual, a couple of months later. Things have not changed much since those days with illegal activities and Ah Longs.

E15-17 reminds me of the old Cantonese lady screaming her lungs off to her granddaughter, “Ah Lengggg……..sek fun!!! Tah leya!”

E15-9 was occupied by a group of weirdoes, Mr N (who thinks that it is his God-sent right to have a mistress, so says the wife), his forever crying wife with an equally pathetic crying face (a full bloom flower will wither instantaneously on sight!), his domineering mother (with evil written all over her face – like in Cliff Richards song, Devil Woman), his retarded brother E and his 2 kids. They did not talk to us for a very time until one fine day the wife was in for a major bashing. The feud was stopped by all neighbours of the 15^th floor. It was Ah Hock’s father (of E15-8) who called my parents to intervene as we were fellow Indians.

Over the years, Mrs N continued to talk to Amma over the kitchen window much to her chagrin. She will come all bruised, and she kept staying with the family hoping that one day the husband will repent. I wonder how she is now.

E15-8 always brings a tear or two to my eyes! It was occupied by Ah Hock and his parents. At the height of family financial crisis when the funds were way low, we actually had to sell our National table fan to our Ah Hock’s father for $15 to buy rice and tin of sardines to cook a meal! It sounds far fetch like a scene from a depressing Tamil movie like “Tholabaram” but it is true as much as the sun sets in the west! Talking about “Tholabaram”, I remember watching it in the theatre with the family (minus Appa) – when financial situation improved, of course, with Raja Ammah @ Rukumani). The theme of the tear jerker was close to all our hearts. It depicted how a wealthy girl married a poor worker due to her adverse family situation and how her life spiraled down the slimy ladder of poverty and she finally unsuccessfully poisoned the whole family (herself and her kids; she became a widow). Her best friend from college was her defence attorney. The song “Kattrunile” by KJ Yesudass carries a deep meaning and always brings back fond and not so pleasant memories of RRF, Ah Hock and the fall from grace.