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.

Mothers' Day Special

9.5.10
Another day*…Live and let live**…

My propensity for verbosity predates the time of preparation for the Part 2 of the MRCOG examinations. My mentor, VM, whom I revere for his invaluable support and guidance, is the guilty of unleashing this quality from me. He would make me talk on things totally unrelated to O&G just to train me to talk during the practical examinations, i.e. viva voce and clinical; of course talk sense not talk for the sake of talking (Malaysian colloquial slang: talk cock). He also conned me to croak to tune of ‘Let it Be’ in a Rotary Club dinner all in the name of building self confidence.

During my posting in Johor Bahru, I was fascinated listening to the BBC World Radio FM transmissions from Singapore, in particular its weekly editorials. A 15-minute rendition of some mundane topic like ‘The pros and cons of Daylight Saving Time’ was really intriguing. That got me thinking- that there are always two sides of the stories to everything in life, even something as pure as Mothers’ Day.

Mothers’ Day is joyously celebrated by mothers and people in the business community on the second Sunday in the month of May annually. Mothers naturally are overjoyed as they are glorified as the centre of attention, especially in she is a community where women are always considered a second class citizen, a burden whose opinion do not count and female infants born are considered curses. Of course it is heart warming to hear and see Rajnikanth singing praises and carrying his stroke-stricken mother to temple for cure in the movies (reel), but in real life?

Well and fine. Mothers become mothers because of nature’s unstoppable clock work of continuation of species and the society expects her to be a mother sometime in her life cycle. Of course some women are impregnated via unscrupulous man and divine intervention of Act of God through Man. I read somewhere of an immaculate conception without man as an accomplice a century ago (circa 3 AD).

True. Nature, through its progestogenic effect, has primed and prepared mothers into motherhood. While fathers sleep through the night like a log (or like a baby), mothers will be instinctively be awoken by a slight jolt or squeak of her infant even late in the night or wee slumbering hours of morning in spite of back breaking feats nurturing these brats (and possibly other brats too) in the daytime. Have we not heard of mothers running into burning houses in desperate attempts to save their offspring and instead perish in the fire themselves? Or the real live events of mothers who cannot swim drown to save their struggling toddlers? No mother would give a second thought to sacrificing their meal, appearance, entertainment, worldly pleasures or even partners to ensure their children are sufficiently prepared to sail through into adulthood. Or would they not? We generalize. (too cheesey).

Having done all these over the years and guiding them through the shark infested ocean of life, these same warm hands that rock the cradle, pulled us off the rocky roads, rock and roll to our antics may also rock families or wreck families altogether! This is especially so with domineering Indian mothers who think that their sons are still clinging on to breasts for milk and their sons have no mind of their own with just mud between the two ears and the world is out there just out pollute, manipulate and mystify their mind! Sometimes they blame it on black magic. Or are they just reminiscing their own devious mischievous earlier deeds? They expect pay back time for all the earlier sacrifices all these years. They expect royal treatment in the shadows of Cleopatra and Jhansi Rani and everyone should dance to their fancy tunes and pick their crumbs. They have no qualms about everybody else feeling miserable. They would continue doing all these without an iota of guilt but instead plead self pity through emotional blackmail. And they would seek solace, eternal peace from the Almighty after this long path of destruction by attending prayers and temple soul cleansing rituals. I think I have been watching way too many M.R. Radha and Manorama movies!

Girls are born daily, they become mothers and they die to complete the cycle of life on earth. Mothers should learn to live and let live. They should learn to let go of their sons and let him live his life. They should not stick to the dictum ‘My way or no way!’ Diplomacy is the essence of civilized living and above all common sense should prevail. Like what a not so famous guru once said, ‘Expectation only leads to disappointment but acceptance brings contentment.” He was not so famous hence nobody has heard his sayings and he was so insignificant that I cannot remember his name!

All of the above are just rumblings of a fool with artistic and writing licence. Of course, I love my mother for all her sacrifices and undying devotion. And I pray for her health and long happy life. I love you, Amma. Happy Mothers’ Day. Now, can you take the dagger off my jugular?

She broke the bread into two fragments and gave them to the children, who ate with avidity.
"She hath kept none for herself," grumbled the sergeant.
"Because she is not hungry," said a soldier.
"Because she is a mother," said the sergeant. —Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
The Hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world. --William Ross Wallace (1819-1881), U.S. Poet and Songwriter
*Another Day (1965)-written by Paul McCartney;
**Live and let die (1974)-written by Paul & Linda McCartney, Soundtrack for James Bond movie.

My brush with the Other side*…Mariska Hargitay™**

6.5.2010
My brush with the Other side*…Mariska Hargitay™**

Over the weekend I was roped in (probably by divine intervention) to be an interpreter to a pious man who was addressing a predominantly non-Tamil speaking congregation at a home cleansing (housewarming) ceremony.
I arrived there with a lot of fanfare. As it was pouring cats and dogs en route to function, my family and I arrived fashionably late. Another faux pas moment happened here. I honked as I parked at the porch to get help to bring in the food and cutlery from the car, not knowing that the prayer was already in session! (Probably to the annoyance of the attendees, I suppose). Anyway, only after parking the car and entering the house did I realise the foot in the mouth moment.

Upon entry to the abode, I was whisked in like some kind of VIP to sit beside the holy man to help him to address the audience. And the sacrificial fire started burning…
The joist of the teaching of the day was (as interpreted by my unenlightened, non-vegetarian mind):

• From a time in memoriam, man has awed by creations around him and was puzzled about its origin and its creator. The elders and the learned told that the black rock (the Shivling) is the original rock representative of the Maker. And so our forefathers decided that it should be our guiding light.

-I have learnt from other sources that the Shivling also signifies the union of the two fundamental union of nature- the male and female components- Shiva and Shakthi.

• That the Shivling is within us. Through meditation and guidance, one can achieve a state of mind where one can be in control of his human desires, temptations and knowing what is right and wrong. And the Shivling will follow you wherever you go like a sun and the moon that can be seen at the four corners of the world.
• That the sound of the universe is the same as our breath – Aum

 -but, but…my simple mind says the universe is vacuum and sound waves need air to transmit!

• That life is a gamble. Everything you do involves risks, your daily duties, your marriage, your spouse from a different background, your relationships, etcetera. All this will progress well via divine intervention and through guided intervention of man and woman.-via religion discipline and self-control can be instilled, I suppose.

I guess we all know all of the above, but when a third person tells you it all makes sense. Just like when a piece of news gets repeated repeatedly, this piece of news becomes a fact of life, and when it is mentioned by a person in power, it becomes a doctrine! And when it whispered by a holy man, it becomes the divine truth. Amen.

*Otherside – Red Hot Chilli Peppers (2000)

**Phony Hindi greeting by Guru Pitka (Mike Myers) in the Love Guru (2008). Mariska Hargitay is actually the name of the leading actress in the Emmy Award-winning TV show Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. She is the daughter of the 1950s sex symbol, Jayne Mansfield.

N.B. The writings in italic are scribbling of my uncontrolled warped mind, excuse me!

Run to me*… (from your shadows!)

All roads lead to PFS

Road pathway in Penang Free School

Dr Wu Lien Teh MB BChir (Cambridge)

Queen Scholar 1896

First medical student of Chinese descent in Cambridge

2.5.2010

Run to me*… (from your shadows!)

I was not really someone who was active in sport when I was in school. Out of necessity to make my school leaving testimonial well balanced – not just glamorous on the academic side, but also with a few sports achievements, my dear friend Kameel and I started jogging when I was in Form 4. This self motivating sport helped me to win the 6th place in the Under-20 PFS Cross Country Run, even beating my house captain in a photo finish.
In primary school, sport activity was essentially playing football in the school field before and after Tamil class. All the boys would gather at around 8.30am, play till 10am, Tamil class from 10 to 11.30pm, then play again till 1pm before we dispersed. It looked like football was main show and lessons were the side show! There were 4 school houses namely Arnold (green, I was in it), Cheeseman (Yellow), Mortimer (Red) and Hewitt (Blue). The house names’ were after PFS’ old Headmasters (except for Cheeseman who established the Scouts movement in Penang). My primary school, Hutchings occupied the old Penang Free School building. It was founded in 1928 and was closely linked to Penang Free School. It was a feeder school to its secondary students.

In Penang Free School, there were 6 school houses –

1. Wu Lien Teh (green) – named after PFS Queen Scholar who read medicine in Cambridge. He was an exemplary student there winning all medals and scholarships. He returned to Malaya but was disappointed not to get a suitable post to match his qualification due to bureaucracy. As he was vocal in social issues, he was framed in Malaya for having opium in his clinic even though it was legal for its medicinal properties. He left Malaya disappointed to work in China. Wu did a lot of pioneering work in fighting pulmonic plague in China in the 1930s He was later decorated by the world medical fraternity for his work in China. He returned to Malaya later to work as a GP in Ipoh and passed on at the age of 81, a year after retiring from Medicine. (Déjà vu?)
2. Tunku Putra (orange) – named after the most famous Free School boy who needs no introduction, Malaysia’s Father of Independence.
3. Pinhorn (blue) – named after the Headmaster of PFS (1904-1925)
4. Hamilton (yellow) – named after the Headmaster of PFS (1925-1926)
5. Hargreaves (brown) – my house, named after Headmaster PFS (1891-1904). He was appointed as the first Headmaster of MCKK in 1905.
6. Cheeseman (red) – named after the legendary founder of Scouts movement in Malaysia.

Coincidentally, at least when I was in Penang, 4 major roads were named after these figures, Hamilton Road, Cheeseman Road, Hargreaves Road and Pinhorn Road. And of course there is Free School Road.
In Penang Free School, the Cross Country Run was an annual event, usually in February. There were (I think) 2 categories of events – Under 15 (3.8km) and Under 20 (4.4km). The run started at the school gate past the State Mosque into Ayer Itam Road till the Muslim orphanage. At the orphanage, we turned into Thean Teik Estate up the cemetery hills and came over near the Georgetown School. From here, we went into Hamilton Road and back to where we started. When I was first exposed to this race in Form 1, I could only run to the Mosque (400m) but by Form 6 (1982), I had finished the race as 6th in Under-20 category, even beating the Hargreaves house athletic captain in a photo finish. The idea of using jogging as a form of recreation and its positive effect of memory power was mooted by my bosom buddies like Kameel, Sas, Farouk and Hari. These people were good friends indeed. Kameel was a good motivating factor in helping us to improve ourselves and is probably doing the same to his students in IIU. He put forward the theory that jogging improves cerebral functions and I have been running since like Forrest Gump!
My first jogging track was the greenery paved tombstones lined tar roads of the Rifle Range–Batu Gantung cemetery. Here I found peace, serenity, silence and peace of mind which was sorely missing in RRF. Only in CSI dead people got a tale to tell, in real life they lay dead and motionless! And they will not haunt you unless provoked! Somewhere along the way I used to meet fellow joggers and I will follow them all the way to Botanical Gardens via Batu Gantung Turf Club and Western Road and back.
The desire to make my school testimonial more illustrious pushed me to involve myself in the school rugby team. Even though I was no superstar, I somehow made it to the school B team to play as a hooker due to my puny size. That was enough for me! And all the jogging helped me to be victorious in the 1982 Under-20 PFS Cross Country Run.
In those days, before Sylvester Stallone became Rambo, he was a motivating factor for me. His depiction of Rocky Balboa (a.k.a. Italian Stallion) in the original Rocky film and his raw zest to train as an underdog to challenge the mighty Russian boxer spurred us all to work and play harder. The original music score 'Gonna Fly Now' by Bill Conti used to vibrate repeatedly in our minds. Well, it helped us all to reach our destinations.
I continued my jogging activities all through my varsity and working lives. After relocating from RRF to Brown Garden, I used to jog around Minden Heights and USM campus. In Kubang Kerian, there was a nice track behind our hostel to run. In between my houseman duties, Taman Andalas in Klang was my jogging ground. Just like that in Kuala Pilah it was Taman Seri Bahtera, in Seremban it was Rasah Jaya, in Malacca it was Sin Hoe Garden and Forest Reserve, in Johor Bahru it was Bandar Baru Uda, and in Kuala Lumpur it was Taman Cuepacs!
Somehow in early 2009, out of the blues (may be mid life crisis), I had the burning desire to take my recreational pastime to the next level. I signed up for the 2009 Standard Chartered 10km run and one thing lead to another and I am now standing as a proud finisher of 3 Half Marathons.
The take home message here is that it is important to find friends who give us positive influence to improve our lives. Friends who strive to improve themselves will shed off some of their good qualities on us to do the same. It will be just the reverse for association with bad hats. Like what Amma used to tell us, “the calf who follows around piglets in the pig sty will eventually learn to eat shit!” It is just a crude way of what I am trying to say above.

*Run to Me - Bee Gees 1972.

Quack, quack!

30.4.2010
My early liaison with medical services
For an Indian family, the only fields of jobs that strike the correct chord and are worth being called a career are law, engineering and medicine. On the sly, in a family function, they would sneer at people who proudly announce of their kids’ success in any other fields beside these big kahunas. “What pilot? That’s a glorified driver!” they would say, “…and a flight attendant is nothing more than a maid in the sky who would serve your juice.” Those who do not go to a 9 to 5 job or don a tie to work are considered loafers to these people. And teaching is for those who did not quite make it to the three fields above. This perception is slowly changing of course. In this time and age, if one were to look around Kuala Lumpur, it is easier to find an Indian doctor or lawyer than to find a convenience store! And not all of them are minting money, as some has have to stoop so low to make ends meet in this ever competitive dog eat dog world. Anyway, I was roped into the field of medicine not because my undying thirst to serve mankind or to find a panacea to treats all ills of mankind but rather as to secure a honest recession-proof way out of poverty without having to depend on others. It would be just me, my knowledge, skill and goodwill. At least that was the advice given to me by my Mama when I completed my STPM (A levels) and was at a crossroad deciding between Medicine in University Science Malaysia and Engineering in National University of Singapore.
Growing up in RRF, I never really had big ambitions. I always aimed small. Before any examination - be it school test, SRP, SPM or STPM- my game plan was to give the best shot and hope for the best. The mission was only to clear the immediate hurdle; not aim for the moon and if you were to miss it, you would be among the stars! It does not make much sense because the stars are so much further than the moon anyway!
My initial liaison with the medical field started in RRF with self medication. Panadol seemed to work for aches, pains and fevers most of the times. Failure of this modality of treatment would require a bus trip to Ayer Itam Health Clinic armed with 3 or 4 glass bottles just to be seen by a dresser (Medical Assistant) and given medicines in the bottles that we brought. For minor bruises and wounds, crushed M & B (May & Baker) aspirin tablets in coconut oil or Gentian Violet solution worked wonders.
Sheila and sometimes Lats were bogged down with frequent exacerbations of bronchial asthma needing Nebulizer. They had to be taken to Klinik Koon at G Block for emergency treatment if it was outside office hours. (If not, it would be trip to Ayer Itam). When I say the adverse effects of the treatment are worse than the treatment itself, I am of course referring to the constant whining and soliloquy of Amma for money wasted on them after they have got better! There was also a time when Sheila was seeking ayurvedic treatment from a Mr Abbas for her seemingly intractable asthma. My parents spent quite a fortune on this seemingly useless remedy without batting an eyelid. Sheila was on a couple of white, greenish and yellow powders towards this end. For all you know it could be wheat, greenpeas and horse gram dhal flours respectively! Anyway this hereditary disease thankfully did not follow her into adulthood.
There was a time (over a span of a few years) when Amma was suffering from excruciating bilateral knee pain. We were also suffering as well from her constant complain of the pain. After many trips to Ayer Itam clinic which proved futile, she resorted to the advice of a Hindu faith healer. His dodgy treatments which involve abstinence of certain food stuff and avoidance of food consumption in certain ‘unholy places’ was however able keep her in remission for a mighty long time. I was assigned to pluck a certain leaf from the edge of the Chinese Cemetery near RRF which was wrapped around her knees followed by application of pre-heated bricks! Retrospective analysis of her condition probably places her diagnosis as between psychosomatic illness and ligamentous injuries. This kind of mumbo-jumbo also showed its ugly head again when I went off to Kubang Kerian to complete my 4th and 5th year of studies. I was asked by Amma to wear an amulet to ward off any evil charms put by the pretty Kelantanese lasses on her short, dark and uninspiring son.
My milk teeth were so attached to me that they refused to fall off even the permanent teeth had almost grown in entirety. That left a massive overcrowding of teeth to complement the ugly face. At least it formed the topic of conversation whenever any relative who came to my house had run out of topics to gossip. That prompted my parents to seek treatment at the newly built Dental Nursing training school in Sepoy Lines Road. My misaligned crooked overcrowded dental architecture was treated with dental extraction, braces and orthodontic treatment which spanned years altogether leaving me with a jaw that looks like some strong pugilist had given a nice right hand knock-out jab (that is what my wife calls it). The braces also brought with it some sob stories.
I remember that when Lats was small, she was not so healthy. She was a cry baby. It created a lot of friction between my parents. It was more than they could handle after the financial tsunami. Amma was feeling guilty as she had forgotten to take her pills ending up with her third (unplanned) pregnancy. Lats had problems with her gastrointestinal system, frequently passing greenish fetid stools. Again after many unsuccessful modern medical treatment, my parents obtained blessings and sprinkling of holy water (Air Zam-Zam) by a holy sage in Pitt Street Mosque! Does that mean Lats has been taken over to the Moslem side?
As far as I remember, Appa had never involved himself in recreational or sports activities. My only recollection of his involvement in sports is when he participated in a Big Walk with his bank wearing bib No.36. His inertia and increasing abdominal girth must have contributed to his affliction with diabetes at a young age of 38 years. Soon after his diagnosis was made, he was admitted to the Adventist Hospital for stabilization. His initial euphoria of being treated at a private hospital after toiling in the bank for so long was short lived when he was told at the end the man that monthly deductions need to be done on half of the total hospital bill. Being aware of the dangers of diabetes and the fact that Appa was the bread winner of the family, Amma went on great lengths to ensure that his meals were prepared accordingly. Sugar was restricted in his drinks, bitter gourd was a regular feature in his meals and neem juice was extracted from its leaves for Appa to gulp on a regular basis. I had to cycle to Adventist Hospital to buy his highly palatable high fibre bread and simply amazing cheese from the hospital canteen.
Diabetes mellitus is one disease that I would like to keep at bay for a very long time. This is one of the main reasons why I have been trying to keep my weight in check via exercise. Time and tide waits for no man but what else can a mere mortal do but try?

Let there be music...and there was RRB

28.4.2010

Let there be music… And there was Radio RAAF Butterworth!

Just like Aum is the basis of all sounds, music must be the precursor of all forms of speech. Before we learn to speak, we make sounds. Mix it up with the correct musical instruments, and you will have something which is heavenly music is one’s ears. Of course, this is very subjective, just like one of my friends once said, “Music was born in India, grew up in Europe and died in China.” He was obviously referring to clanging cymbals of traditional Chinese opera music. Ignorance is bliss. Just like my mother would not appreciate Led Zeppelin, Queen and Bon Jovi, one man’s music may be another man’s migraine.

My sisters and I grew up being exposed mainly to Indian cinema music since childhood. Piped-in music from the ever playing transistor radio forms like a background musical score in our everyday life. Appa would tune in to the Short Wave (SW) transmissions from Radio Malaysia Tamil, and Singapore Radio Tamil Stations (much to Amma’s constant nagging to shut it off) as Medium Wave (MW) transmissions were of limited durations in the 70s. MW Tamil station transmissions were limited to 5.30 am to 9 am, 1.15pm to 2pm and 5.30pm to 7.30pm on weekdays and only slightly longer on weekends.

Somewhere during the Secondary school, my third eye was exposed to the magic of Western music, to the tunes of Saturday Night Fever and Bee Gees (circa 1978). Just about that time, I knew about the existence of Radio RAAF Butterworth (RRB) which was transmitting from Robena Park in Butterworth.

During Confrontation Era, the Australian Army sent its troops to help the young nation of Malaysia in the spirit of Commonwealth. They stayed on a peace mission after that. Just like biting the hand that feeds, our later Prime Minister Dr M picked a bone to clash with the Aussies. Dr M was referred to as being a recalcitrant by his Australian counterpart, but that is another story. Their base was in Butterworth, hence the radio station to cater to the expatriates’ needs. The locals joined in the folly as their choice of music was more trendy, varied and generally more appealing; unlike the Radio Malaysia Blue (English) Channel which was churning the same Anne Murray, John Denver and Kool & the Gang again and again. Their transmission time was longer, from 6am to midnight on weekdays, and 2am on Saturday nights. Their disc jockeys were more informal, witty and public service announcements were imaginative.

They had their own top-10 songs of the week and top-100 countdown just before New Year which formed like a curtain-raiser to usher in the New Year. We were exposed to many Ozzie musical bands and singers like Air Supply, Midnight Oil, INXS, Men at Work, AC/DC, Bee Gees, Little River Band, Helen Reddy, John Paul Young, Olivia Newton-John, Icehouse, Kamahl, Kylie Minogue, Rick Springfield and the contemporary singers from all over the world in the form of Dianne Warwick, Elton John, Hot Chocolate, Buck Fizz, Kajagoogoo, Blondie, Rod Stewart, Cheap Trick, ABBA, Supertramp, Culture Club, Eurythmics, Diana Ross, Eagles, Commodores, Sheena Easton, Tina Charles, Leo Sayer, Steve Miller Band, Hall &Oates, Foreigner, and the never-ending list go on and on.

A file picture of Mark Wilmott, 15, who was the voice behind Radio Raaf Butterworth's                                      Countdown Top 40 aired every Sunday.

Of course, Amma was not happy that we were listening to English songs. She was worried that we would all marry Mat Sallehs, start eating beef and pretend not to recognise her like Si-Tanggang or like how MR Radha condemned the Indians’ values and practices in his great best selling tear-jerker of a Tamil movie titled “Ratta Kanner”.

All good things must come to an end. The Australian Army started pulling back its personnel from about 1980, and RRB officially ceased transmission around 1983. By then, I had moved on to University and like they say moved on to other greater things in life.

M.R. Radha in his 1954 super duper
 hit movie 'Ratta Kanner'*

*For those in the dark the about the movie 'Ratta Kaneer', it was made at a time when Anglicization of the third world was taking place. Asian countries, just having attained independence from their colonial masters, were eager to shed their restrictive cultures to catch up with the rest of the so-called developed world. M.R. Ratha, the main character, was sent to study in the USA by his wealthy family. He had to return to India to take over the family business after the demise of his father. Here, he expresses his resentment and disgust of the Indian culture, Indian women, his 'non-liberal' thinking and basically anything and everything Indian! He was forced into marriage in spite of his wayward ways. After marriage, he was spending more time in night clubs and brothel, creating the best setting to inculcate ethical Indian values to the audience. His business fails, he becomes a leper and blind, his philandering girlfriend shuns and locks him up.

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.