Dear Thelma...

27.4.2010

Malaysian Indian, Indian Malaysian or Malaysian?
Dear Thelma,

I am confused. I am at a crossroads. I was born in Malaysia some almost half a century ago in a government hospital to two Malaysian parents whose parents were also born in Malaysia. My parents and grandparents contributed in their own way (albeit their low status in the rung of the social ladder) to put Malaysia on the world map so at least some Americans now know that there is not a void space between Thailand and Singapore; and Himalaya and Malaya is not interchangeable; or Malaya is not a female equivalent of He-Malaya!

I started my primary education with Malaysian Language as the medium of instruction even though other countries in the region were keeping up with the Joneses and emphasized on the English Language because our leaders told us that it would unite the people and stop internal squabbling. All my subjects from Standard 1 to Upper Six were taught in Bahasa Malaysia, even though we did not have enough reference books at the higher levels and we had to translate (in our head) what we read in English before writing it on our examination papers. I only learned my mother tongue from my mother (duh!) and the POL classes. I obtained a distinction in Bahasa Malaysia at ‘O’ levels. I speak the Malay Language, English, more than smattering of Hockkien and Cantonese dialects (also swear in these dialects as well) and Hindi/Punjabi. I can understand the Malay in its different dialects – Apo nak dikato (Negri); also a Malay song by the local group, Blues Gang; Hangpa pi sana ‘ngan sapa? (Northern); Kecek Kelantan gak gewek (Kelantan); Makang ikang (Terengganu), etcetera. I have many Malaysian friends of various ethnic and religious backgrounds. I also rejoice during their merry making cultural and religious events.

I furthered my studies at a Malaysian university, spent 2 years living and dining amongst people of Kelantan. I started working with the Malaysian Ministry of Health (12 years altogether), serving people of all races in various states in Malaysia. I pay my dues as a responsible citizen by paying hefty taxes regularly and vote in the General Elections. I know the lyrics of the Malaysian anthem (Negara Ku) by hard and stand at attention when the Jalur Gemilang is hoist or Negara Ku is played. I cheer my Malaysian team whenever they are competing even though they are losing. When I am overseas and foreigners asked me whether I am Indian, I proudly tell them I am Malaysian. That reminds of the 80s’ song by ‘Men at Work’ titled ‘Down Under’…

Buying bread from a man in Brussels
He was six foot four and full of muscle
I said, "Do you speak-a my language?"
He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich
And he said,
"I come from a land down under
Where beer does flow and men chunder
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You better run, you better take cover." (Yeahhh!...

But now, my Deputy Prime Minister (and Prime Minister) say I am Indian first then only I am Malaysian. How can I call myself Indian when I have not set foot on Indian soil and have no plans to do so either? I am sure the Indian Government has no interest in me too. Maybe they and their people may want our economic support via the well orchestrated guise of temples. Thelma, I am going ravaging mad. I need an answer now. Please help me fast. I can hear the paramedics entering my house to strap the straight jacket on me!

FG.

Dear FG,

I will see you in person in the psychiatry ward after you are more lucid with your insight intact and after the doctors have medicated, stabilized and rehabilitated you. You see, I do not want to lose my publication licence. Please fight your own battles as I have been fighting mine.

Thelma.

Food for thought - Thoughts of food

22.4.2010
Memories of RRF - Food for thought (Thoughts of food)

Even though we were brought up not to emphasise food but rather eat to live (c.f. live to eat), we all had our chance to indulge and savour various delicacies and cuisines. Thanks to Amma’s culinary skills, she learned from Sultan Ammah in Caunter Hall and thanks to Appa for his preoccupation with rich food. In fact, my 2-cents worth of theory of aetiology of the Shams’ fall from grace after the financial tsunami in 1970 is probably due to his undying desire to fulfil his insatiable palatal gratifications. He must have been regularly eating and spending his friends at regular outlets on credit. When the time came for payments, he must have discovered that he had overshot his budget. With burgeoning family expenses due to the expanding family, he would not have been able to pay the outstanding bill. That would start the first signing of the blank I.O.U. Chits with the friendly money lenders. To pay interest on the loans, more loans must have been taken so much that what appeared as an initially measly sum had later snowballed into avalanche proportions and glaciered the collapse of the happy young Sham family originally lived in 15, Road 5 of Brown Gardens. Very wise indeed…and the hijrah to RRF commenced…and finally returned 12 long years later! (Like Santhi Nilayam in a Sivaji movie).

One of the most important lessons that we learned in childhood was never to live on credit and never lend money to others. This invaluable life lesson was taught to us by Amma’s debtors through their antics when we were assigned to retrieve the monthly collections. Coming back to food and RRF…

With the tragic story of boiled rice and canned sardines prepared after selling off a table fan, the financial climate improved after the shrewd and hawkish financial management by Amma. After the mandatory bimonthly deductions, Amma was given the salary packet to prepare a thrifty budget that helped the family sail through the choppy weather. Despite the modest income, she managed to save some money for a rainy day. Her sewing and embroidery skills helped her in this end. We even once were part of a cottage industry earning money by cutting 'papadum' into pre-designated sizes, thanks to the introduction by Mr Jeevah of Jalan Boundary.

The preparation of daily meals was not an essential agenda in our household. One of Amma’s famous quotations was, “When you go for an interview, they would not ask you which food you have eaten before but rather on your academic achievement.” There was no place to order our menu for the following day, like what my children are doing today. No way, Jose! Meals were balanced with rice, a protein dish and roughage. Every third or fourth day, there would be leftovers for lunch, followed by noodles or wheat flour thosai for dinner. During the tail end of the month, when the coffers were low, and lunch was leftovers, we would all be waiting eagerly for Appa to return with the salary packet. We would have a self-indulging meal of Char Koay Teow bought from the seller at A Block. For 80 cents, one can indulge in a lard filled flat rice noodle, giant prawns, cockles, thinly sliced dried pork meat sprinkled liberally with Chinese chives (kucai). Sometimes when Appa has to work overtime in the bank at the end of the month, he would buy home a big packet of Beehoon Singapura from Craven ‘A’ Restaurant in town. Memories of the taste of that glass rice noodles instantaneously stimulate my salivary glands, making me salivate like Pavlov’s dogs. I suppose in needy times, everything and anything would taste heavenly.

Breakfast was just another meal without much fanfare. Every day without fail, it was bread, Daisy margarine and coffee. On Sundays, we had thosai for breakfast. The bread (Vanggali Rotti – aerated bread) is bought from the Mamak bread vendor (from Ismalia Bakery in Transfer Road) who would come on his motorcycle (earlier it used to be a bicycle, but he never actually got a full driving licence, only learning licence till we left RRF!) in the evenings (at Block A). This bread vendor had a great following; many people would be waiting for his arrival. Some Malay ladies were openly seen flirting with him despite his shabby appearance and sweaty putrefying body odour. Scientists say that the axillae's apocrine gland is one of the rudimentary glands that supposedly lost its aphrodisiac properties when man climbed the evolutionary ladder. I wonder if that is true.

So it was bread, margarine and sometimes jams almost every day for breakfast. Appa would prepare this, and he would pack a slice of margarine spread bread to take to school. I religiously eat it during recess as it helped me save the 5 sen or later 10 sen that was given to me. On the other hand, my siblings hated this preparation. They would bring it back home untouched and throw it off the balcony before anybody found out! Of course, Amma once found fungus grown bread in Sheila's bag. Unlike Alexander Fleming, who got the Nobel Prize after discovering Penicillin from a leftover sandwich, Sheila got a bashing (kasta kaalam). This routine of breakfast has remained with me till today (minus kaya and jams).

The Hindu scriptures mentioned that the taste bud is one of the senses that need to be controlled to attain salvation and improve our karma standings. Being the human, we all are, tempted by temptations, but we can always blame it on Satan's devilish work! Thanks to the excellent management of the household, the family dining menu became varied and more sophisticated. Of course, this was far in between as the main priority was to regain family pride via academic excellence. As I tell my kids now, the untold secret of life, “Set your priorities straight; do not let other teeny weenie hindrances in life sway you away from your priorities!” echoing what Amma told me decades ago.

On rare occasions, twice or thrice a month, we would have the luxury of indulging in chicken or mutton. Being the excellent cook that Amma is, all these dishes taste good to the last drop, so much so we would stir rice on the remaining gravy of chicken or mutton varrukal to literally taste every minute bit of its goodness. There I go salivating again! She once prepared “mutton cukka” with liberal use of vinegar, onion and spring onion. All the “mutton chukka” that they are selling in the Indian restaurants today are a shame to the dish's name.

By the mid to late 70s, goat tripe was introduced to us. Only Appa and I particularly enjoyed this delicacy. The meticulous preparation of tripe from a stinking, slimy raw material from the butcher’s to the dinner table was indeed a Herculean task. Thanks to Amma, who had mastered the art of clearing the green chlorophyll filled inner lining of the stomach and clearing off the mucus from the intestines by inverting it with the aid of a long thin stick, boiling off the stench, making a spicy dish and curry out of it with mixed with horse gram dhal or dhalcha. Both Appa and I had a field day, but the not the weak-hearted ones like both my sisters. I remember Amma once cooked the sinful cholesterol-laden heart vessel clogging omelette of goat brain mixed with chicken egg. Another was spicy mutton liver preparation and goat hooves’ soup. (Of course not all on the same day).

On most days, the menu is predictable. Invariably we will have leftovers on Mondays for lunch followed by light dinner. Tuesdays and Fridays will see sambar/ rasam/ tomato soup/ thanisaar (either sayur manis, murunka keerai or taugeh) with fried tauhu/ fried fish sambal or fried fish with belacan sambal/ ikan bilis sambal ± leafy green vegetable (spinach with coconut gratings, sawi or kangkong). Cabbage is considered high class and is usually prepared with chicken or mutton. Cockles were affordable; hence, they were often cooked with cloves spicy as a protein source. I still enjoy these, much to the others' amazement, due to its infamous unenviable ability to disseminate many communicable foodborne diseases!

Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays were the time for fish curry (the small varieties – sardines, kembung), canned sardines’ curry or salted fish curry (including anchovies and the dreaded ikan gelama). Somehow salted fish curry will go with taugeh and tauhu. I really hated this salted ikan gelama curry as the delicate bones have got stuck in my throat more than once. I cursed the person who had first thought of the idea to prepare such a curry. We all look forward to Sundays when black pomfret, dhalca or chicken is on the menu.

Sheila and Lats also picked up cooking from Amma and perfected Sultan Ammah’s secret chicken sambal. Talking about Sheila’s cooking, I remember once when a piece of roti canai accidentally slipped into the tiny crack between the kitchen table-top and the kitchen wall. All our ingenious manoeuvres in trying to retrieve the bread proved futile, much to the joy of the colony of cockroaches residing with us in the unit! Their party must have gone on for months. Roaches were indeed a real menace in RRF, and they thrive in the gutters and rubbish chutes. I particularly enjoyed squashing them with my feet after a traumatising childhood with multiple unpleasant encounters with the flying variety (female) and creepy crawlies in the shadows of the night whilst sleeping.

From food, I ventured to roaches… It will not be complete if I do not harp on the farmer who collects food remains from each flat daily (363 days a year – off for the 1st and 2nd day of CNY). Like all the characters in our childhood, he had no name. We call him ‘Pandi Tomb Man’ – the man who collected in barrels for pigs- and that is precisely what he was doing- to feed the organic waste to his poultry and pigs. Once a day, between 12 and 1pm, the brigade (he and his assistants) will make a clean sweep of all the leftovers left for them, leaving a trail of stench enough to leave a pregnant mother retching all her guts out! Nobody complains just before CNY when he actually distributes 20 large ‘grade A’ farm eggs to each house!

Eating out was unheard of in those days. The most we did was to take away food from the stalls. Besides the A Block Char Koay Teow man, a lady used to plain simple beehoon and noodles (mee) in the mornings between Blocks D and E. A Mamak man used to Mee Goreng and Mee Rebus at this same site but later relocated to the market site behind H block.

All these discussions on food have made me crave something to eat. When we were young, we did not have the means to eat what and when we wanted, but now we have the means but not the heart for it, got to watch the abdominal girth! That is life for you and me…

Kids say the meanest things!

Back in the 90s, the legendary Bill Cosby (of the Cosby show and Hey, Hey, Hey, It’s Fat Albert!) hosted and produced a comedy show involving toddlers and pre teen children. I suppose the politically correct word now would be tweens. It was called “Kids say the most darn things” and did well for a couple of seasons. Kids have posed adult-themed (not the X-rated type) questions (like how are babies born) and children would, with a straight face, answer them with some naïve and quirky replies much to the amusement of the studio audience, making the producers laugh all the way to the bank!

In reality, as most of us already know, kids say the meanest things as well, especially to their weaker and smaller mates. Let me tell you about my experience when I was growing up.

In RRF, there were kids who used to address me as ‘orh kia’ or ‘kling kia’ – black kid or Indian kid in Hockkien dialect. Malaysians then and now assume that, just because they are dumb, not intelligent enough to learn any other language their mother tongue, the others are the same. In fact, I have been caught in an embarrassing situation when an apparently Malay looking person turned up to Chindian! So, have to be more careful in future.

In PFS where students are mostly from the upper crust of society, bullying and insensitivity were also rampant. A short shy ebony hued Indian boy with braces was a God-sent target for these mean boys. Kids like DK, GR, KS, KTS, QKB and JS would hum ‘eee…’ whenever I passed by them (because of the braces). LSY would coin some new words like ‘Padukang’, ‘Pegu Yama’ etc. just to sneer at me. I wonder want these words mean and why everybody else joined in façade. Whenever we were learning anything linked to the colour black, like the Negritos in Geography (who are short and dark) or black box concept in Physics, I would be at the receiving end. DK was also instrumental in ingeniously changing my name from Asokan to Arse-Hole-Cunt!! All these teasings left its toll on my psyche and my performance in Forms 1 to 3. I used to wonder why I was born Indian. In Form 4 onwards, I managed to pull myself together with an association with good motivating friends like Kameel, Hari and Farouk.

I have no grudges against all the people above. In fact, I feel like Gandhi or Jesus Christ – let them alone for they do not know what they are doing. Like Swami Sivananda once said, “Bear injury, bear insult; highest sadhana!”. It is not for me to judge. By the way, these people are now my facebook friends now!

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts..." As You Like It, Act II, Scene 7, 139-42.

Another two bites the dust*

16th April 2010
Another two bites the dust*…The green green grass of home**…

We cannot be living in the past all the time, can we? Every once in a while we must shake ourselves from our slumber, laurels and the shadow of the past and live in the present tense so that the future will so bright that we will have wear shades!
Another two bit the dust today, one to greener pastures and another to the after world. The former refers to our family friend who got admitted to Harvard for undergraduate studies while the latter refers to my dear friend’s father in law who succumbed to after a long lonely struggle with cancer. 

Dr Goh (third from left) congratulates Ryan

while Avinaash, Michael (second from right),

Dr Coffman and Tan look on

Avinaash Subramaniam is every Indian mother’s dream son except that he does not speak any Indian languages! (Bad words do not count). He excelled academically (13As in 2008 SPM) and had represented his school at national level inter-school debate and international level Science competition among others. He failed to secure a PSD scholarship, so he did his A-level studies in a private college and sat for SAT examinations at his own accord. He performed extremely well in both these his examinations and called to join Harvard (all expenses paid, thanks to US). And there goes another Malaysian heading to the beeline to green pastures, contributing to an additional number to the list of Malaysia losing its citizens to brain drain. Another one bites the dust… Incidentally his sister, three years previously, had earned a scholarship from Bank Negara (she scored 14A’s and was one of the top students in the country) to read Economics in MIT! Malaysia’s loss is US’s gain. Most probably Malaysia has loss its two bright children forever. The final product of an individual is sum product of nature and nurture. In Avinaash’s case he is endowed with good genetic contributions of a Brahmin University Professor in Anatomy, a Ph. D. mother and a famous Deputy Public Prosecutor of the 70s in Malaysia. Nurturing had obviously been beyond compare considering the correct exposure, environment and vibes they drew in the thick of things in Petaling Jaya. Ironic*** that our country failed miserably to identify him as Harvard material! Probably they were more interested in grooming Adi Putras (child prodigy who is now doing direct sales) and Nor Amalina (who obtained 15A’s and failed her English entrance examinations in Cambridge).

Mr Choong Choon Nam (Sasi’s father in law) passed away peacefully after 3 over years' battle with cancer. His last three years had taken a lot of toll on himself and his family, especially his wife. Ever since he was diagnosed with terminal cancer of the gall bladder and given less than 6 months to live, he chose to shut himself off from everybody due to depression. He stayed with his wife in a condominium refusing to meet many of his relatives or go anywhere (even church) till his dying days when he was admitted for internal bleeding. The irony of the diagnosis is that he was given less than 6 months to live in mid 2007. Mr Choong was so disappointed that he would be missing his 2008 China Olympics. Not only he savoured watching his China Olympics, he lived just 2 days short of his 79th birthday 3 years later!
Every dead man has a tale to tell. At the “wake” prayers before the cremation, I learnt about his life and times till adulthood. He grew up in KL, was bought a ticket to Perth. He managed to enroll himself into an Australian school and went all the way to study Engineering in University of Western Australia! Having a degree in Engineering was a formidable achievement in the 60s and was given a post to work in the Penang Ports. He met his future wife (Annie, a Kirby trained teacher) and started working to develop Port Klang as the leading port in Malaysia and the rest as they say is history. His 3 children all did their tertiary educations in Australia keeping up with the family tradition. Equipped with this asset, his 2 sons decide to relocate to Hong Kong and Australia respectively – again brain drain. His 4 grandchildren would also probably land up in a university in Ozland to keep up with the family tradition. 
In these two instances, the common denominator seems to be the story of immigrants coming to Malaya, working hard building and improving its economy, upgrading themselves economically and intellectually; but their offspring heading away from this country to greener pastures and continue to do what their parents did a generation before in their newly found motherland. What we see now is another wave of immigrants to fill this vacuum and the cycle will continue. Malaysia appears to be a favourite stopping point for immigrants and refugees, from Indians to Chinese to Vietnamese to Indonesians to Rohinyas to the so called students from Nigeria. When is Malaysia going to prosper and be a force to be reckoned with if it continually run by immigrants who have one leg in Malaysia and the other in the parent country?

*Another one bites the dust – Queen (1980)
80s hit by the great band Queen, led by Fred Mercury (a.k.a. Farrokh Bulsara). Did you know that he is of Parsi origin (of Zoroastrian belief), born in Zanzibar grew in Mumbai and then settled in the UK at the age of 17? And during the administration of chest compressions during CPR, to maintain the recommended rate of 100 compressions per minute, it is advised to think or hum this song as the bass line of this song is at such a rate! What a morbid song to hum when you are trying to save somebody!
**The green green grass of home – Tom Jones (1956)
***Ironic – Alanis Marisette (1996)
One of the lines in the song says, “isn’t it ironic that it rains on your wedding day?” Of course it may be suitable for southern California but not in Malaysia as it rains almost everyday here. It is a good omen if it rains on your wedding day. On my big day, however, it not only rained but it poured cats, dogs, elephants and everything in between. The musicians and well wishers were all stuck in traffic and the bride was almost whisked to the wrong wedding hall. Miraculously everything cleared soon and the ceremony went on to finish on time. All's well ends well. But it is ironic that one hand we are talking about brain drain but on the other hand we let our sons and daughters born and bred here just keeps slip sliding away… That’s another song by Simon & Garfunkel. The bottom line is we are not part of the country's social engineering. I get the feeling that I am a rash that does not want to go away!

Too late for Happy New Year?*

14.4.2010

Too late for Happy New Year?*
And a happy new year... But 2010 started 4 months ago! The Gregorian calendar, yes, but for many cultures and civilizations it starts in mid April. For the Zoroastrians and those of the Bahai faith, it starts on the March equinox. The Telugus commence the New Year a month after this date as well. The Christian Churches decided long ago that the single most important event in their religion (i.e. The Resurrection) will be celebrated on the first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the March equinox as Easter Sunday depending whether the church follows the Gregorian or Julian calendar. The Malayalees, Sindhis and Sikhs celebrate their respective New Years (Vishu, Cheti Chand and Vaisakhi) around now. Not to forget the Red Shirts in Thailand who called it truce to honour their Songkhran and at least the Singalese and Jaffnese celebrate something together on the same day. The Laotians, Cambodians, Myanmarese and the Dais of Yunnan celebrate similar function at about the similar times. I vaguely   remember the Balinese start their New Year in March by fasting, silence and meditation for 24 hours on Nyepi. All Hindus and Indians generally all over the world celebrate New Year today.

 The buck stops here, so to speak. This is how far the similarities go. Unlike their Chinese counterparts who celebrate their Chinese New Lunar Year irrespective of their practicing religion with their traditional mandatory reunion dinner, for a Tamilian who professes any other monolithic religion (e.g. Christianity or Islam), the Tamil New Year would be a non-event. Rather than being a cultural event, Tamil New Year is so intertwined with religion that it is now viewed as a religious event. Instead of looking at the similarities, people are going all out alienating each other from fellow homosapiens!

N.B. *Too late for goodbyes – Julian Lennon (1984)

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!

Coincidences – Are they really? Or another force..

9.4.2010
Coincidences – Are they really? Or another force...

Just a few days ago I was watching a documentary on Independence of Vietnam, Ho Chih Min and the Vietnam War. 4 hours later, I was talking to my dear friend, Sasi, who told me that he had just returned from Ho Chih Min City! Here I was doing my own things and suddenly the word ‘Ho Chih Min’ get in the way twice in a row on the same day. Is that a coincidence or what?

A few years ago, I browsed a thin easy-to-read book on coincidences. Some of the facts that the author highlighted were beyond the imagination of an average man. To actually think out things and somehow correlate all the events were indeed recommendable. I reckon this how people come up with conspiracy theories. The famous example of coincidence is the one comparing events surrounding the lives of Abraham Lincoln and John F Kennedy. The other example is the number ‘8’ and events involving John Lennon.

When I was working in Labour Wards, my colleagues and I had an unwritten rule that Obstetrical event, (i.e. mishaps, complications, rare manifestations of a disease) usually happened in pairs or sometimes triple. The following examples may further illustrate this.
• In those days when ultrasound scanning of pregnancies was not frequently done and available as now, we had seen undiagnosed triplets twice two in a row;
• Nail biting like torrential bleeding in pregnancies with placenta previa and unenviable near miss experiences also usually happened in duplicates;
• Unavoidable maternal deaths happened in this manner as well.

Newspaper articles have repeatedly reported of a succession of earthquakes (e.g. Haiti - Chile, kidnappings (e.g. Abu Sayaff, Philippines, – Al Qaeda, Afghanistan) and other maladies. If one were to scrutinize these events, it would be crystal clear that this double jeopardy followed this said pattern. Is it a mere coincidence or is a tiny spectre of events which comprise the butterfly effect of the chaos theory?

Some more examples…
• In the 1930s, the Fred Astaire-Ginger Roberts dancing couple were quite a hot item in Hollywood as a reporter wrote...

‘”…while Time magazine film critic Richard Schickel writes "The nostalgia surrounding Rogers-Astaire

tends to bleach out other partners." … (Excerpt from Wikipedia)
A curious coincidence between this couple and my wife and I is our birthdates - Astaire 10th May, Roberts 16th July vs. Asokan 16th July, Shobha 10th May!
• In my family, there is a scary coincidence of birth dates. My sister in law, Anjali’s birth date is the same as mine – 16th July; My sister in law missed by a day 15th July*; Lal’s (brother in law) and Lat’s (sister) – 16th June; Shobha’s and niece Nisha’s – 10th May; Danny and Pushpa’s (my good friend) – 28th March; Yagan and Natasha (niece) – 5th May; my mother in law* and Karen (sister in law’s husband) – 1st January; Keshav and Lal’s ex-secretary 13th November; Divya and Sumi (my friend) and Nisha (a friend's daughter) 15th February; Amma's birthday and Yagan-Neelu wedding anniversary 27th December; Tania and Rajes-Parames-Appa's one pair of two pairs of twin siblings 23th May ; (*authenticity of dates are questionable!)

• Also in my family, the 2 boys born to my mother (my elder stillborn and I) were born on 9th July and 16th July respectively whilst my 2 sisters were born on 9th June and 16th June!

Another point to ponder is why my house number is 25 (2+5=7), in road 2E (2+5th alphabet=7) and I was born 0n 16 (1+6=7); and why I grew in Block E of RRF and now on road 2E?

They say the eyes do not see what the mind does not know or the eyes see what the mind wants to see. That reminds me of a scene from P. Ramlee’s comedy “Nujum Pak Belalang” where the psychic fools the royal audience by showing the location of the lost jewellery in the bowl of water. The royalties, including the king, who feared of being accused to be not intelligent, all agreed of seeing the image of the loot on the surface of the water, much to the amusement of P.Ramlee -the psychic- (whose son had heard the thieves' conversation earlier) and the audience of the movie!
In ‘X Files’, the truth was told to be out there. In the later series and movie sequels, we were told that the truth is too hot to handle and should be left as it is. If I am not wrong, the Quran also tells its followers that some things in the world are beyond the comprehension of our simple minds and are not to be questioned. Like in the immortalized words of Paul McCartney and the Beatles in a message to the world, Let it be…

The answers of all of the above must be somewhere in between…

Addendum: As an afterthought. there is another creepy example of coincidence. Raja-Jaspal, living in 2F, got married in Penang on 22nd November 1990 on a rainy day just like Asokan-Shobha (SI-NI)!!