Friday, 19 March 2010

Are you OK, Annie? Who knows? I am still standing…yeah,yeah,yeah!

6.3.2010

Are you OK, Annie1? Do know why2? I am still standing…yeah,yeah,yeah!3

In the course of our conversation, I casually asked my accountant about his health. To this he replied, “Oh, I did my medicals and the doctors told me that my results were fantastic. The doctors were so happy with the result and told me that my results were better than the cardiologists’.” That’s P, my accountant, the ever optimistic chap who looks at the world from a very positive outlook. You ask him about his son who was studying in Ukraine, he would say the lecturers were so impressed with his performance and so are the Consultants he is working for now as a house officer. And his daughter is so happily married in the cold mountains of Germany!

Well good for him, P, if only everyone in this world is as contented as him, the world would be a better place and it starts with the man in the mirror4.

On one hand, I feel happy for him for his good results as it gives him a sense of satiety to enjoy his happy life as he is. On the other hand, it gives him a false sense of security. That started me thinking, one of my friend’s sister was diagnosed by a professor in UHKL to have a lethal form of lymphoma back in the 80’s. Her prognosis was grave and her days were numbered, so she was told. As the Americans say, when the going gets tough, the tough gets going, she went on various traditional medical treatment modalities – Indonesian, Chinese, Japanese and Indian. The testimony of her endeavour is that she is still standing and has outlived the professor by a good 10years so far. So, has Prof Balasegaram, the first liver surgeon who was diagnosed to have Chronic Renal Failure in the 1980’s who is still going strong yoday at the age of 80 also outliving the physician who gave him the bad news!

Nobody knows how healthy or sick a person is! An able body can just collapse just like that after a brain aneurysm. Nobody can say that he is healthy. Every living day is a gift from the Almighty and all of us are living on borrowed time. We should be glad that we can actually get up in the morning and continue with life. Que sera sera, whatever will be will be5…Obladi Oblada! Life goes on bra…6

References:

1. Michael Jackson: Smooth Criminal

2. Norah Jones: Don’t know why

3. Elton John: I’m still standing

4. Michael Jackson: Man in the mirror

5. Doris Day: Que sera sera

6. Beatles: Obladi Oblada

Thursday, 18 March 2010

Pearls of wisdom


18.2.2010

  • Poverty hardly qualifies as a qualification for handouts but it a sure motivation for success.
  • Things in life do not come in black or white, it only comes in shades of grey!
  • Academic excellence is no substitute to poverty of character. (Mr Goon Fatt Chee, Headmaster PFS 1974-1979)
  • The greatness of a man is in how he treats the little man. (Anon.)
  • Priorities, priorities, priorities...

Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Indra Shan and RRF

16.3.2010

Indra Shan and RRF

Every time the Shans and the Shans meet up, we will invariably be talking about our escapades in RRF. Just to set the family right – Indra and Rada (@Seetha) are daughters of SM Muthu whose father used to be a man of some standing in his heyday. He used to be a proud owner of a 3-storey mansion in Queens Street, Penang. As is the case with most Indians in Malaysia, we can only talk about our glory days. There is nothing much more for us to show, our ancestors have either drank or feasted our wealth to the ground. SM Muthu, in his single generation tattered his family wealth only to work as a worker in a printing press and later driver-cum-gardener in his silver years with his trophy wife. SM Muthu had 4 kids (Saroja, Indra, Radamani followed by Murthi) and 2 adopted kids (Sambu and Susila). The people those days were quite charitable. Adoption was a occurrence then. According to stories from my mother and Mama, SM Muthu was not an exemplary father figure or much of a provider. He seemed to be more concerned with worldly pleasures and self satisfaction. When his missus succumbed to breast cancer in 1959 (at the age of only 39 years), he left his teenage daughters and adolescent son to fend for themselves whilst he got married to a lady named Lily in Cameron Highlands to start a new family of his own. This was constantly a sore point in later relationship within the family and lack of filial piety of the offsprings to SM Muthu.

Saroja who was not the sharpest tool in tool box was swiftly married off to a Maniam who overindulged in intoxicants. After 3 kids, she went incommunicado and was later resurfaced as Soraya Bee Abdullah in Kampong Baru in Kuala Lumpur, married to Booram Shariff, a bread vendor.

Indra was married off to Shan, a high ranking Government officer in the Boys’ Reform Home and started the Shan clan – Joe, Usha, G and Daniel.

Radamani had to also fend for herself working as a helper in many places including in a whiteman’s bungalow. After a short stint staying with Indra in Johore Bahru (which apparently turned sour), she returned to Butterworth to marry Shan and start a family of her own after a little opposition here and there. On 27th August 1960, they tied the matrimonial knot in Queen Street Mariamman temple. Shan was working as peon in Mercantile Bank earning $110 per month and was the mostly educated person on his side of the family. Life was blissful. They moved from rooms to rooms (Penang Road, Green Lane, Lorong Seratus Tahun, Caunter Hall) till they finally their house in Brown Gardens for $8000 and a brand new Honda 50cub in 1964.

All this while a young Dato Murthi (armed with ambition filled mind and confidence nurtured by his late mother) struggled to make ends meet to finance his education – ironing clothes to pay his school fees of $15 which was a gargantuan sum of money those days, making extra cash by selling match boxes in mainland Penang as the island was a tax-free haven then. During these desperate times, his relationship with Mr Jaganathan (a.k.a. Station Master) blossomed. His completion of Senior Cambridge herald a new dawn and a new lease of life carved by Dato Murthi, all done by himself which makes success even sweeter. We (the Shan and Sham clans) literally grew listening to stories of his trials and tribulations again and again. These stories were best heard from the horse’s mouth, often laced with humour and maybe a wee bit of exaggeration!

Sambu did not complete his studies and went on to do us odd jobs. Susila was a bit precocious for her age, her hormones were raging, and was quickly married off to someone in Johore Bahru but subsequently set off series of heart aches and affairs. Periodically they used to surface during my childhood just like a hippopotamus resurfacing after a dip and vanish just as quickly. Sambu was staying with Rada till all hell broke loose when he got engaged without his sister’s knowledge. Bridges were mended 15 years later when he had fractured his femur and is still in touch with his sister. Susila has no forwarding address.

Now…now…where was I? It appears that these tangential style of writing could be a tell tale sign or a precursor of me being dragged into the kaleidoscopic world of schizophrenia! The Beatles, however, described a girl with kaleidoscopic eyes after LSD in the song “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”.

Oh,yes! Indra Shan and RRF…

The Sham couple was not really well received into Munusamy’s (father outlaw) household which was already overflowing past with 16 over children growing wild like lallang (Amma’s side of story; Appa’s side: silence is the code). Madam Visalachee gave birth birth to almost two dozen of children (in our last count, many many years ago), with at least 3 sets of twins, a few neonatal death and a few were given for adoption. Her obstetric career reigned between 1938 to 1968 (3 years after Sheila was born) – 4 decades of fertility.

This is supposed to be a write up on Indra Shan and RRF but I digress and I digress – oh, what the heck! Like I have said earlier, this is my blog. It is no exercise in literary skills like Lesley Gore sang in 1963, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.

The Shams resided in RRF between 1970 and 1982. All the Sham’s clan’s memories of childhood will only include visions of RRF in its background and foreground. The 30 by 30 ft pigeon hole of a low cost flat situated on the 15th floor of Block E housed 5 individuals – 2 adults and 3 children. Our unit had a sitting room which connects to a balcony (15 X 3 ft) overlooking another block of flat, a single designated bedroom (15 X 10 ft), a kitchen (15 X 7ft) and a washroom.

The Shans’ pilgrimage to Penang used to occur on an annual or sometimes biennial fashion. All 11 of us used to cramp up into this tiny flat after rearranging the furniture. There would be lots of laughter in the family. Rada and Mr Shan will be chit chatting till the wee hours of the morning about the childhood days. One peculiar habit (or skill) that they seem to have mastered is the ability to talk and laugh at the same time! They sometimes would be laughing incessantly for no obvious reason without uttering any words. Then they would stop for a minute or so, lull and the storm would start again. Amazing stuff! This, none of the other adults and children could understand.

During one of these trips, the two families decided to have a professional photograph taken at a studio. When we view the photograph now, everyone in it looks so alluring and like movie stars!

We also went for a family outing to the Kek Lok Si temple (a.k.a. Pagoda). During this trip, G got lost in the crowd. Everyone was looking out frantically for him at every nook and corner. G was smart, he was coolly smiling and waiting at the car.

Oh, boy! And I remember all the pranks that we, the cousins did at RRF…

My first exposure to cross dressing happened to me in the corridors of the fifteenth floor of block E. During a game of hide and seek, where I was the seeker, I spotted Sheila wearing Ramesh’s attire (T-shirt and pants) and hold behold Ramesh was wearing Sheila’s green floral batik dress that Amma had sewn, just to hoodwink me!

Then there were the “water bomb” sessions. We used to fill up plastic bags with water and throw them off the balcony targeting innocent people walking between blocks D and E. After throwing our water bombs, we used to duck and have a hysterical laugh especially when we get a hit and the helpless victim tries in vain to what and from where it hit him. These sessions got more boisterous as the days passed. Once, Encik Ahmad, the block supervisor came to our unit to question us after somehow managing to locate us. We, of course, put on our angelic faces and denied everything. Oh, boy! Those were the days…

Then the routine shedding of tears when it was time for them to leave for Malacca.

Tuesday, 16 March 2010

of beehoon and excursion...




*thanks to Penang Heritage for pix

16.2.2010
Dewan kindergarten
How far back can one remember of his childhood? I suppose it is humanly impossible to remember events of the pre-toddler stage of one’s life. Memories of events happening in the toddler era may appear in flashes akin to light from a stroboscope or illuminating disco light from the dance floor. These events may be also be reinforced by old photographs and stories from our mothers.
The earliest vivid recollection of my childhood would be my kindergarten excursion to Bukit Dumbar in Penang. I was studying in Dewan kindergarten in Sungai Gelugor. I was considered privileged to be sent to a kindergarten as it was not a practice then. A day before the trip, Amma promised to prepare my favourite beehoon to take for the excursion. I would probably had a nice sleep dreaming about beehoon, tauhu (or tau kwang as it is called in Penang), prawns and its other ingredients that all of us overslept, only to be awakened by the honking of the school master’s Austin ‘65. In midst of all the pandemonium, I refused to go for the excursion as I would not be able to taste my favourite dish. After much coaxing by the Che’gu and Amma's hurried cooking, all was settled. I joined the trip, had my beehoon, and got the class photograph taken only to be reminded again and again about the ruckus I created before the trip!
I also remember vaguely how Amma went to hospital one day in 1969 to buy a baby. I was cared for by my parent’s tenant (Puthu Attei) overnight. She only came back the next day with a baby girl, not a baby boy that I asked her to get! I was so disappointed with her.

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to...


14.3.2010
It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to...
What a stupid blog! That’s what Danny said when I coaxed him at gunpoint to peruse this blog.
I do not profess to know it all. I do not proclaim to be a guru or someone who has been enlightened by hiding in some caves in Kashmir or the desert. I have not found the elixir of youth or crystal ball to the answers of mankind’s problems. I am neither a religious nor a charismatic person oozing with charm. I am just your plain Joe with a wee bit of inferior complex and a perpetual whiner!
We all get a little philosophical with age and I am just jotting my two cents worth (if it is worth at all) of experiences to the junior citizen as history has the uncanny habit of repeating its ugly self. As they say in various cultures and civilizations, one who does not know where he came from will not reach where he is heading to.
This is not a literary exercise, hence do not expect high flowery bombastic standard of Shakespearean poetic English. It is not a theological thesis; you can expect things that may border on blasphemy. There may be tinge of sarcasm, loads of arrogance, political incorrectness and self glorification. Hey, it is my blog after all – I can and will write what I want to bearing in mind the priorities of starting the blog in the first place.
&xLike the 1963 song by Lesley Gore, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to…x&B

Saturday, 13 March 2010

Soliloquy of numbers…..numbers…

8.3.2010

Soliloquy of numbers…..numbers…

Today is the 2nd anniversary of Malaysian political tsunami. Though this may be a historical date for me as a Malaysian, for someone who did his primary and secondary school education in the National language, did his undergraduate studies in a local varsity (instead of an overseas offer, for better or worse), did postgraduate studies with a state scholarship, served 7 public hospitals and is paying a sizable amount of taxes annually, why do I still remember these insignificant dates and numbers? How is it going to benefit mankind? Why do I remember the following numbers? Why???

6103

Hutchings school registration number

5.1.1970

1st day of school in Std 1

PD 8886

Father’s first motorbike

PJ 9535

Father’s 2nd motorbike

PM 1337

Another of father’s bike

PB 581

The bike forever breaking down!

BP 6162

Good old faithful Austin that took us to KL

PAF 2584

My first bike

PAG 4297

Sheila / Lats’ bike

9.7.1961

The birth date (and death) of 1st born of Mr & Mrs Sham; stillbirth due to “slapped cheek disease”, caused by Parvovirus B15 characterized by hemolysis and heart failure. Mrs Sham had reason to believe that the fetus was slapped by Satan as she was crossing a cemetery to go to her work place at an European home in a hurry and for a long time was blaming her fate for her predicament till of late.

4388

The Shan’s phone number in Malacca as we used to call them once or twice a year after waiting for hours at the pay phone in Block A of RRF.

PF 97

The Shans came to Penang in a Fiat.

886434

The 1st phone number in Brown Garden.

NE 4411

Mama’s white Volvo 144.

106, Templer Road,Seremban

Mama’s address in Seremban.

39,Jalan Durian Daun, Malacca

The Shans address in Malacca.

16150

Postcode for Kubang Krian.

43,Caunter Hall,Penang

My home address on my birth certificate.

3417

My first Post Office savings book number.

3838

Sheila’s Post Office savings book number.

12.12.1970

The date I got my stamp collection book, I wonder what happened to those stamps now.

Things you learn at an impressionable age as a child tend to last a life time. This long term memory is difficult to erase from our hard drive. They are here to stay. And also a sign of senility, where long term memory supersedes short term memory and we try to hide our inefficiencies by recalling things of the past. Just like you cannot teach old dogs new tricks. Totally wrong, totally disagree!!

Thursday, 11 March 2010

Prize award ceremony @ SKTC


31.1.2010

Prize award ceremony @ SKTC

Today, Danny received his Std 3 awards. He managed to grab the award for being first in Std 3, best in Mathematics and best in Moral Studies. The whole ceremony was a mundane affair, a far cry from the razzmatazz and pomp of the yesteryears. At least I can tell from my experience in Hutchings and PFS.

I remember in Std 1, I was chosen by Mr GS Reutens to partake in a Mexican dance. 5 “couples” were chosen and it was an all-boys school, I was dressed up as a Mexican girl. I remember somebody (one of my classmates) called out, “hey, mummy, see black girl!” Now who says that Malaysia was utopia and land of milk and honey then? Racial stereotyping and discrimination was very much alive then as it is now. Anyway during the dance, my head scarf got loose and fell off, much to the amusement of crowd.

In one of the later years in Hutchings, my seniors (with the help of Ustaz Sheikh Muhammad) managed to put up a brilliant puppet show. I cannot remember the plot of the story but I remember that they used the theme score from the TV series “Voyage to the bottom of the sea” when the puppets had to go underwater to salvage something! It was a hit with the audience. In Std 6, I was chosen to be one of the dancing members of Boria. I was in a dilemma then as we were required to wear long pants for the event and I had never owned or wore a pair of long pants in my entire life (at that time). The question of asking my parents to sew a pair for me as the Sham household was perpetually in dire straits all the time. In desperate situations, the pawn shop will be the guiding light and saviour. In fact, my first pair of long pants was sewn for me for Deepavali by Malaya Tailor in Campbell Street when I was 14 years old. Anyway, I managed to borrow a pair of light purplish pants from R. Charles. After all the effort, I was dropped from the Boria group as I was apparently not good enough and had to contend with watching the show from the audience’s seat. These ceremonies were highly prestigious and a lot of effort was put into it by dedicated teachers. Off the cuff, I can enumerate a few; Mr Phuah, the Senior Assistant (who drove a station wagon Austin) who had eyes at the back of his head as well, Mr Khay, the music teacher, Ustaz Sheikh Muhammad and many more.

In PFS it was done at a much grander scale, full with pride and tradition. Scholars and board of visitors donning complete traditional colours and tunic used to be present on their Speech Day, which is what the award ceremony or parents and teachers’ day is called. Unlike in Hutchings where it used to be a real important day for me where I will be receiving awards every year without fail, it was a non event for me until Form 6. Now that is when I finally managed to wrangle myself a prize in Physics. There is a story behind this achievement.

It was May 1982 and monthly Physics test was due. As usual Mr Khoo Kay Tatt (@Ketat @Tennish) was elusive, mystical and vague on what was to be tested. His standard answer was you will be tested on what you were taught. The problem was nobody understood what he was trying to teach. He makes the subject mind boggling and mysterious than it already is. And finally test was out, 3 long questions and 2 of the subjects not covered in his classes! For the first and last time in my life, I actually failed a test! I only obtained 16% marks. I was devastated. I made a vow never to let that incident to repeat itself. I drew up a strategy to cover myself in all areas of Form 6 Physics so as not to be caught with pants down again. I detailed a comprehensive plan to cover all areas to be tested. I remember the Physics midyear examination paper was scheduled for a Monday and Friday was on off day. For three complete days (24 hrs – 6hrs for sleep), I was eating, drinking, breathing and seeing Physics and nothing else. Exam came and went like anything else in life…

When the results were out, the Physics results was last to be out as Mr Khoo was marking it. I obtained 90% compared to 3 other guys in U6Sc2 who had 92%. After going through the paper, I realized that my marks were under recorded. Then came the tormenting task of squeezing 2 marks out of Mr Khoo and I eventually succeeded! I got top marks for Physics in the whole of form 6!!! From someone who got a miserable 16 marks in the monthly test, to suddenly leap frog to receive the Physics prize is a formidable achievement I should say. RRF boy does it again!

History rhymes?