Lost in KL?

Lost in Bukit Bintang?

It has been a long since I came to this side of town. More than 30 years ago, this place was 'happening' like the lingo in those days. A place brightly lit with neon lights, the epitome of capitalism, the enticement of the giant evil as it ushers in its sheep to the slaughter. Innovative advertising and enchanting window dressing were baits to detach the salaryman from his hard-earned in a jiffy. That is capitalism 101. There were a few choices back then, and Bukit Bintang was it. The place to be for the hip and trendy.

Now, I feel lost. Walking on the footpath, I feel like a foreigner in my own 'Tanah Tumpah Darah Ku'. Everyone passing me looks foreign, speaking in incomprehensible tongues. Even the servers at the stall that line the footpath do not look local.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, I felt like the proverbial deer that entered the village (Rusa masuk desa). I was too afraid of how things had morphed so fast since the last time I brought my kids here.

Oh, deer! An Englishman in New York?

Come to think of it, this is how my 84-year-old mother would be feeling right now. Born at a time when Malaya was under the tooth-and-nail of the Japanese Army, she must have a green, lush, malaria-laden tropical country transform into an oasis of modernity with skyscraping structures lining its skyline. With modernity came automation, artificial intelligence and self-working services that needed users' input. Computers and remotes are complicated for the non-IT-savvy individuals who missed the boat to educate themselves to be computer-literate. To top it all, the mind is willing, but the body and brain functions are weak, frustrating any attempts at wanting to partake in events of the changed world. 

With declining cognitive function, I fear the day when she would feel like a drowning person struggling to hold on to straws, trying to make sense of the murmurs that surround her telling her to do something...

What is it for the rest of us who want to be included in the wave of changes? It constantly reminds us that we should stay abreast of things. We do not want to be like India, thrown under the bus while Britain rode the bus of the Industrial Revolutions' first and second waves at the expense of India's raw materials and market. India is now doing a catch-up. Why bother with the bus now that we have hoverboards (hint: Back to the Future)!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

...to pull the plug?

Thalaikkoothal (Mercy Killing, Tamil, 2023)
Director: Jayaprakash Radhakrishnan

I grew up frequently hearing that Mr So-and-so died a 'good death'. I was often curious about what was defined as a 'good death'. In my naive eyes, all deaths were terrible, a tragedy. Everyone cried at a funeral.

In time, I realised that a good death is one in which one dies in his sleep peacefully after leading a long, satisfying life fulfilling the purposes of his existence. The problem is that no one is given the choice of death he eventually gets. We still do not know what is in store for us anyway.

This movie tells us the story of a filial son who would go to all lengths to care for his father, who is basically in a vegetative state. The doctors have told him point blank that there is nothing more the hospital can do. The father has to be given hospice care. Because the father needs so much attention, he does a less-paying job, provoking the ire of his young wife, who has to work as a miserable factory worker in a match factory. Because of that, she has to tolerate unwanted advancements by her blue-bearded supervisor. She has to stinge on niceties that she used to pamper herself. The wife is high-strung, scolding the preteen daughter and hate the sight of her husband and father-in-law. Gone were the times when husband and wife shared intimate times. The husband, who planned to seek better employment in the town, can also not do so. The thought of leaving his father, who cared for him through thick and thin, was too much for him to stomach.

Looking at how the ailing old man affected the whole family, his relatives and village elders frequently advise the son to consider performing a form of assisted suicide practice called Thalaikkotal to end their misery.

Of course, the husband vehemently opposes the suggestion. He performs a sacrificial prayer at the local temple, hoping for the Divine powers to change the course of his ailment. The father's condition hardly changed. Creditors close in to demand his house. His wife left him to return to her father's house with their child. The husband thought he could stand alone against the world. He soon came to the realisation of reality and agreed with the villagers to perform thallaikooliyal.

The ritual, a senicide, involves liberal early morning oiling of the head and body with sesame oil,  followed by forced feeding of tender coconut water infused with a cocktail of herbs that damage the kidneys.

Life improves after the father's demise, and everyone is happy. 

That is the problem with longevity. Sometimes the body stays in a much better shape than that of the mind. The body continues its bodily function, but the mind is not cognizant of what it can do or is doing. This describes someone in a coma. Just how long can or should be kept in a non-responsive comatose state? As long as finances allow or the relatives are willing to sponsor? Is it worth the effort to wait for the possible miraculous recovery to happen? The living needs to continue living, while the ones who have lived a full life need to go.

 

Sometimes the body fails terribly, but the mind faculty stays intact. This can also be a devastating experience for the sufferers as well as their caregivers as the victim projects his frustrations on people around him, fate and God. 

Should euthanasia be legalised? Are humans qualified enough to decide who should live or die? Should assisted suicide be legalised? Who decides who deserves to live or be resuscitated by all means? On what basis is this decided, productivity, past laurels, societal status, or a level playing field for all?

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Poverty amongst the seniors!

The Bacchus Lady (2016)
Director: E J-Yong

Bacchus was a new word to me. It actually refers to the Greek god of wine, sometimes associated with Dionysus. Following the 1997 Asian financial crisis, many elderly people found themselves needing to fend themselves. The Miracle at Han River, following years of economic boom following the Korean War, left a country so entwined in the material chase that the traditional Confucian values had lost their appeal. Many young Koreans had emigrated, leaving their elders at home. South Korea is said to be having one of the worst social safety nets amongst OECD countries for its senior citizens. OECD (Organisation of Economic Co-operation and Development) countries comprise intergovernmental economic organisations with 38 nations founded in 1961 to stimulate world trade and stimulate economic progress. Its precursor, OEEC, was started in 1948 following the implementation of the Marshall Plan to develop post-WW2 Europe.

The poverty rate of elderly people in South Korea
is the highest among the OECD countries

In 2015, the local police arrested 33 ladies, including an 84-year-old woman, in a park in Jongno district in Seoul for soliciting customers for prostitution. Sociologists determined that the poor retirement benefits put the elderly, especially single ladies, below the poverty line and fend for themselves. Many turn to prostitution to survive. These ladies make a living by selling bottles of Bacchus-F, a popular energy drink, hence their nickname 'Bacchus Ladies'. The packaging suggests that it is sold as 'Livita' here in Malaysia. The Bacchus ladies' clientele is usually lonely old men. Transitioning to sexual services is optional.

The film starts with a postmenopausal lady, So-Young (sic), getting treatment for gonorrhoea. Just she exits the doctor's room, a ruckus begins. A Filipino lady barges in to demand from the doctor paternity support for their kid. In confusion, the kid left outside scoots off only to miss a major accident and be saved by So-Young. 

Slowly the movie shifts to the day-to-day of So-Young. She lives in a house with a transgender lady and a leg-amputee artiste. Like So-Young, these people are considered fringes of society, scorned for not conforming to the perfect mould to make money. We follow her through her clientele seeking exercise, the fights for customers, the bad-mouthing colleagues, the escape from police busts, and meeting old friends/clients.

So-Young discovers that an old acquaintance, called Saville Row Song for his immaculate haberdashery perfection, is now unwell with stroke. A visit to his nursing home revealed a dispirited Song, all ashamed for his condition, incontinence, immobility and all, begging to die. After a few visits, she actually helps him to die. 

All through, she introspects on the appropriateness of her action. She once sees a cardboard collecting lady by the roadside and ponders who had sunken lower in society - the lady dealing with dirty discards or herself for prostituting?

A good movie with a positive social message. A good watch.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Hard times, like good times won't last!

Milestone (Meel Patthar, Hindi/Punjabi; 2021)
Director: Ivan Ayr.

It has been ingrained upon us that we are what we can contribute back to society. In philosophical terms, that is the tithe we pay back to the community for providing the security of numbers and the helping hands from the herd. So, as long as we have something to offer, we will not be looked upon as a burden. It sounds simple enough to prevent sluggards from hogging on the society for alms. And we also assume life will be the same forever and the Universe will be kind to us till the end of time.

With the progressive lengthening of our life spans but incongruous to the available economic opportunities, there is a continual fight for the struggle for the young blood to fill in for the slowing older bodies. 

The average worker will give his life, breath and blood to perform his job to the best of his abilities. He does that not necessarily due to his undying passion for his job. It may be the only thing he is good at. It may be the only thing he has control over; perhaps the scene at the homefront is too depressing with constant harassment or a tone of overbearing melancholy. His job could be his escapism. Over the years, he would be comfortable in his position and start thinking that he is indispensable to the establishment. Slowly he will realise that his service may be replaced by the younger generation. Reality will strike hard.

In this movie, Ghalib, who had just clocked 500,000km on his lorry trips, is respected by his fellow lorry drivers and employers. He has been working in a father-and-son run transportation company. After seeing his colleague dismissed for deteriorating eyesight, Ghalib realises he could be next. Hanging like a dark cloud over his head is the sad memory of his wife, who had just committed suicide. On top of that, his wife's family demands compensation for Ghalib's alleged neglected duties as a husband. Ghalib's wife had suspected that her husband was having an affair which Ghalib vehemently denies. She attributed his constant absence from home due to that. 

Meanwhile, Ghalib's employers ask him to train a young apprentice. Ghalib can see his pink slip coming...

The exciting thing that is apparent in this movie is how senescence may vary according to one's economic strata. A blue worker has an exact shelf life; after that, he has to fend for himself. On the other hand, the professional or managerial groups can continue working till health permits. In the movie, we can see Ghalib living in fear of being replaced at any time. His boss, an old Sadarji, carries on life, delegating the complicated work to his son whilst still holding the right to make crucial decisions. He does not have to worry about retrenchment. He is the boss. 

This is a very slow-moving movie but is heart-wrenching in showcasing the hard knocks of life and how we have to deal with them.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

We are losing our leaves

The Father (2020)

The good die young, they say. So we look sentimentally at the 'Club 27' and bemoan their premature departure from the world of music; we lament the loss of many of their yet composed pieces. We remember them forever as the spirited and creative maestros they were. But, on the other hand, we abhor the many who had obviously overstayed their welcome; a particular nonagenarian two-time ex-Prime Minister comes to mind. It seems the longer we seem to stay alive, the further we get away from the public likeability scale. 

Perhaps we tolerate the old because of fear of what would become of us. In the hope of hope, we think all the good deeds will somehow be recorded and duly reciprocated by the Universe! Maybe, we are struggling to stay afloat in this Ocean of Life that we are looking for support in what we are doing. With the wisdom of having traversed similar paths, we secretly wish that they would give a nod of approval to our actions. 

Jim Morrison, Amy Winehouse and Kurt Cobain 

27 club (has at least 10 members)

We have fond recollections of young relatives, of children who succumbed to ailments way before their time. We remember the charming smile, their pranks and good times spent together. But, unfortunately, it is not the same of a sick relative who demanded de has to endure terminal care of a protracted. Despite all the good times they had offered in their happier, somehow, the memory that lingers in our minds is the latter days of pain and suffering. That, unfortunately, seems to be the first image of them that comes to mind. 

We are familiar with movies highlighting the trials and tribulations of the caregiver or the mess that the person with a mental disorder goes through. Unlike the rest, this movie tells the narrative from the point of the sufferer. As confusing as the orientation to time, space and person can be to a person afflicted with dementia, we, the audience, also get unsettled by the linearity of the story. It keeps flip-flopping, the scenes appear repeated, the background keeps changing, and we cannot really pin down who the bad person. Actually, there are none. Everybody is merely playing their part.

We soon realise that the main character just wants to cling to what he sees as reality, convincing himself that he is not off his rockers, that his judgement is right, and he has everything under control. Despite all the abuses hurled upon her, his daughter feels that caring for her father and sacrificing all her personal desires and ambition is the most filial thing to do. 

Some like to believe that these lost opportunities and the serving are just unsettled business transactions from another lifetime that needed to be completed. Ageing is just like the shedding of leaves of a passing season. Just like a tree that sheds its blades in autumn to go into hibernation before springing out new shoots, old age and passing are inevitable. We 'pass away' into the annals of time. In Tamil, a dead person 'becomes time' - 'காலம் ஆனார்'. 

[P.S. The octogenarian Anthony Hopkin won an Oscar for Best Actor for his role in this movie].

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Doing the right things?

Piku (Hindi; 2015)

Are human beings innately wired to know what the right thing to do is? Do people do the right thing because it was is expected of them? Deviation of what is accepted as the right thing by consensus may lend an average in collision with the law. Alternatively, he may be doing it to avoid future repercussions.

More often than not, we make our decisions using our emotions, not reason. Peer pressure, fear of the unknown and unquestioning obedience to the herd all form ways of our response to a situation. Are our actions paved with personal motivations or remunerations rather than altruistic intents?

Sadly there is no universal law for all our dilemmas. We make up rules as we go on. Just when we think we have seen it all and have all the answers, pop comes a different scenario just to mock us.   

If simply existing as a human being is a boon itself, then every human owes a moral responsibility to other humans and in turn in another; what more to the people who are the reasons of your existence - your parents.

Cycling is therapy?

This film questions the above philosophical enigmas in a rather comical and subtle way. It revolves around a whiny father, his forever disgruntled 30-something single daughter and the owner of a taxi service who has to drive both of them from Delhi to Calcutta as none of his drivers can stand the daughter.

Bhaskor Banerjee is a 70-year old eccentric and opinionated widow who drives everyone crazy. He is fixated on his irregular bowel habits. He borders on hypochondriasm and demands undivided attention from his architect daughter. His deceased wife used to deal with all his demands, but after her demise, Piku, his only daughter feels duty-bound to serve him much like what her mother had done. He is quite generous with his unsolicited advice which he thinks is life experience needed to be imparted to generation next. The problem is his opinions are considered passe. But then, social norms dictate that the elders must be respected.

Probably because of the stress of caring for Bhaskor, Piku, becomes a high strung individual. She explodes at the slightest of provocation. Her love life is zilch. She feels compelled to be by her father's side. So when Bhaskor needs to go to Calcutta to settle some property issues and is too ill to fly, she accompanies him, albeit reluctantly. 

The journey turned out to be a life-changing experience for everyone.  Metaphorically, we come to realise that calm prevails when the journey ends. Death is a necessary event for continuity of life.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

If you love someone let him go!

K.D. @ Karuppu Dorai (2109, Tamil; கேடி என்ற கருப்புதுரை)

This story reminds me of the many stories that I discussed with my fellow partner-in-crime in the not so distant past. Quite many a time, seriously ill patients with advancing age with the myriad of medical illnesses that complements the geriatric population often gets admitted to his unit. Invariably, the patient's children would insist that their moribundly ill elders get all the best treatment that money can buy. The oft-repeated dialogue would be, "money is not a problem". My friend knows it is no use flogging a dead horse but like a good servant he is, he obliges, every time. 

The tide would be going against the acutely ill patient. The next of kins would, however, stay hopeful. The life is literally hanging on a thread, living on a prayer. But hope lies eternal in the human heart. 

Days move ever so slowly but the patient's condition doe not improve. Slowly, the number of visitors hanging around the visitors' lounge becomes thin. People have to go back to their daily routine. One has to live for the living. Occasionally, the nurses can hear arguments amongst siblings. One busybody nurse overheard one relative threatening to stop contributing to the family coffers. Then another would butt in to say that the treatment is the least the family offer to the patient. And yet another would throw in the towel citing economic reasons. Collectively they all would agree that the successful one amongst them take the tab. 

Soon it would be a single relative hanging around to get daily updates on the patient's progress. Then the Universe will speak and lead to an amicable curtain call so as to give a suitable closure to the whole brouhaha. Nobody gives what the patient wants. The living decides what is best for the dying. 

Everyone says that there is an absence of sufferings on the other side. One can enjoy of all kinds, eternally satiating all the senses at a divine but first, one has to die. That is the problem. Nobody wants to die no matter how much one is convinced of life after death.


This offbeat but entertaining drama tells of an unconventional bond between an 80-year-old man, KD, and young orphan boy, Kutty. This octagenarian was in a coma for three months. Lying in his daughter's home, given up by doctors, he holds on his life. Refusing to die, he becomes a burden to his 5 kids. They just want to go on with their lives. One sibling wants to marry off her daughter. Another is waiting for his inference to settle his debt. The youngest child, however, does not like the idea but relents anyway when collectively the family members decide to terminate the old man miseries by performing euthanasia using traditional village methods. By a twist of fate, the 80-year-old came around at the precise moment, overheard the conversation, and scooted off the scene on a local bus. He paid the fare for the last stop but the bus broke down in the middle of nowhere. KD decided to hang around a small temple, help around the temple, and make acquaintance with Kutty.

His friendship with Kutty gives KD a new lease of life. Kutty, an orphan, a street smart boy, was left at the doorstep of the temple at infancy. For the first time in his life, Kutty found love in an adult. Kutty made KD's bucket list and together they try to fulfil the list. The family, upon realising KD's disappearance, assigns a private investigator who is hot on the old man's trail. 

Another entertaining story with a picturesque spread of the Indian countryside. It has its fair share of quirky moments as two members of different generations try to find commonality. 

A lesson to learn: Do not let your family members decide the fate of your life. When your faculties are no longer yours to make a decision, they will make decisions that suit them or what is expected of them by society. Your suffering will be their bargaining chip. Write a legally binding declaration of refusing resuscitation when the situation arises. Have a difficult but necessary discussion of opting to turn off the plug when things do not look promising. Let people remember you as the ambulant and cheery person you are; not as the pain with tubes that drained half of the family heirloom, if there is any left.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

In the twilight years...

Kominsky Method (miniseries, Seasons 1 -2; 2018-19)
Netflix


People may have led different lives using separate yardsticks as guides to pave their journeys in life, but as they sail towards the tail-ends of their shelf lives, their concerns are the same. They worry about how they would spend the remnants of their human existence. Appreciating that end is nigh, every mild ailment is perceived as the coup de grâce. Many of the familiar faces grace the obituary column. They wonder whether the life that they led could have been better. Regrets start trickling in. So do guilt. The dilemma of 'what ifs' and 'if only' starts playing in their minds. After some soliloquy, they would probably realise that given the circumstances, that was the best they could do.

Invariably, the question of offspring would stream in. The elders would go all out to pave a safe path for the young to pursue. Unfortunately, Nature dictates that the next generation would rebel. Perhaps this is to ensure diversity within a gene pool. Maybe, growing in shielded environments removed the guard that the before had to survive trying times. This would invite frequent intergenerational loggerheads. Ego comes in the way for reconciliation.

Regrets of omissions will be a few. Over time with the experiences drilled by the Life's School of Hard Knock, it would be clear as water their stupid actions made in the spring of youth.  Rather than crying over spilt milk, they would come in terms with their deficiencies.

Growing old is difficult. The world is only for the young. It has no patience for the aged. Having the other half can sometimes help, but it may be a bane as well, especially if the significant other is a source of stress. With the ever-changing family dynamics, many end up alone in their twilight years. 

This sit-com starring Michael Douglas and Alan Arkin highlights the difficulties of growing old, the heartaches, the pain, the fear and the ailments. It pokes fun at many of the things that only the seniors would appreciate. Simple things like having a good stream of urine mean a lot to an old man. He cannot understand why being politically correct is so important. Why should everyone be so easily offended? When did cultural appropriation become a thing? Why don't the youngsters find their jokes funny? When they start a conversation with a young lady, they are labelled as 'dirty old man'. Their interaction with children is viewed as inappropriate.

The two seasons with eight half-an-hour episodes has had heads turning and a third season is in the pipeline.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

The light does not shine forever...

Admit it. One cannot remain in the limelight forever. Everyone has their temporary sojourn in the hall of fame, after which they would have to relinquish their baton the next Johnny-come-lately. One cannot stay perched on top of the pecking order forever. Professional decline generally happens in all professions, some earlier than the others. Athletes commence their declines quite early, whereas teachers, writers and researchers lose it much later. Peak performances of many professionals rarely happen at an advanced age.

Not everyone takes the dimming of the spotlight gracefully.

Charles Darwin 1809-1882

Charles Darwin was just 27 when he returned on the Beagle with his discoveries in botany and zoology. From that time, for the next 30 years, he was the go-to scientist who published the famous 'On the Origin of Species'. After 50, Darwin hit a brick wall. Not keeping up with mathematical calculations that were so important in later researches, he became irrelevant and depressed.

On the other hand, Johann Sebastian Bach was also a musical prodigy early in his career. New artistic trends and excellent classical compositions by his children (Carl Phillipe and Johann Christian) made his Baroque-style music passè. Instead of plunging into melancholy, Johann Bach became an instructor and diverted his attention to other areas. He enjoyed the prestige.

Cognitive and performance decline is inevitable after a certain age. The question is whether one is going to embrace it like Darwin or like Bach? Be like Darwin, and you will be the grumpy old man who whines about everything and sings praises of the good old days. Be a Bach, spread your wisdom to the younger generation and be a hip and happy senior citizen.


REF: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2019/07/work-peak-professional-decline/590650/

(P.S. Apparently there are two concepts of intelligence, the fluid and the crystalline one. The fluid intelligence is the raw intellectual horsepower that reasons, analyse and solve novel problems. It is abundant in innovators and entrepreneurs. It peaks early in adulthood only to diminish after the 30s and 40s. Crystalline intelligence, in comparison, involves the ability to use past knowledge. As knowledge increases with age, historians, writers and poets find their voices late in life.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

Ageing with Grace

https://mybukz.tumblr.com/post/174902329732/poem-aging-with-grace-by-farouk-gulsa

JUNE 15TH, 2018

WINGSWORLDWEB 

Poem: Aging With Grace by Farouk Gulsara

Photo by Pranav Jain on Unsplash

Ageing with Grace

My mane, my crowning glory,

Once my pride, my joy,

Is now but just a silvery tuft.

My dimples, my charm,

Have lost their twinkle, now just wrinkles.

My charming Bella Donna eyes,

Cataractic, xanthomatous, have lost their glaze.

My neck, so nimble, so supple once,

Now only arthritic, sprouts crackles.

My breasts sprout proud once,

Parturient, now sag, atrophy. The curtain bows.

My female chest so majestic once,

Now left kyphotic and osteoporotic.

My midriff navel tease, sari for cover,

Left now with striae, protuberant and scarred over.

My posterior, an asset, my pride,

Adipose now deposited on both sides.

The thigh, the thunder,

Is flabby without tone, none to wonder.

The feet used to be so petit.

Now their shoes fit Big Foot.

They say it’s worth the goal,

To see one in your own mould,

To deliver, to nurture,

Two seeds for the future.

I shudder, I wonder,

Is it just me, I ponder?

My mind is no more mine,

Which I lost, rearing my kind.

Oh, those lost years,

Now in old folks home. I hold my tears.

My sacrifice, my parenting,

Are they just a passing?

For my benefaction of my gene pool,

I gave my health, my youth, no exception.

Joy and reason of living

Are seeing your offspring growing.

With pride I completed my Dharma,

Hope to escape the cycle of karma. 

FG.

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

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.