Going somewhere?

19.5.2010
Going somewhere? Anywhere but India!

Warning: Readers’ discretion and common sense should prevail. This description is of personal nature and is not a travel advisory and should be used as a guide under any circumstances! And Indian Tourism Board should not be offended by this article as it not directed at them and I am sure it must be administered by level headed officials .
After 47 years of living on planet Earth, I have not stepped on Indian soil and do not plan to do it in any near future. Why not, you may ask. Why should I, I ask.
I am Malaysian, born, bred and hope to die here in my motherland (tanah tumpah darah ku). I will go there when I want to go there, i.e. when there is a calling. From young, all the teasings and name calling must have left its effect on my psyche. Even in the mid twenties after burning the midnight oil and burning the candle at both (or if possible at three) ends and toiling day and night to successfully complete medical studies in USM, when people see an Indian doctor they would invariably ask, “So, you studied in Manipal, ah?” Maybe it is because I do not look intelligent or the charisma that I lack or the X factor that is sorely missing! Still it is a sore point.
Why visit India? The temples? Well, sages say God is everywhere, even in the tiniest of the crack and our heart. So, why go so far to worship God. Mother Theresa once said that God lives amongst the poor, so why go to a temple where the priest do a 8-hour shift counting money and donations received by the temple. Furthermore, this particular temple has a branch in Malaysia.
Why visit India? The people? We have of Indian expatriates for us to see if you want to. They also look like us. The poverty? Do you really want to spend so much money to see poverty? We have it in our own backyard. Or do you want to see it to show gratitude to your ancestors who through their foresightedness had immigrated to Malaya?
Why visit India? The food? Really? Have you not seen enough people walking around with two important things close to their body? Their passports for fear of being duped or pick pocketed and their mineral water bottle for fear of tropical sprue. That too, the seal on the mineral water bottle cap had to be checked to eliminate possibility of tap water contamination or recycling of bottles.
Anyway, scenes from Makkal TV are real turn offs to visit India. If you insist, there is always Discovery Channel to view the edited views of India. As for me, I am still waiting for the calling. No, thanks, no need to pay for a visa either! And I do not think India is missing me.

What's My Line? (Alfred Hitchcock)

Alfred Hitchcock's cameo appearances

To Sir & Teacher with love…

18.5.2010
To Sir & Teacher with love…
Teachers’ Day Special (Primary)

The Chinese proverb says, “If you give someone a fish; he will eat for a day but if you teach him to fish, he will not stay hungry a lifetime!” FG says, “You cannot teach anybody anything, you can help him learn.” My friend Regu in PPSP USM used to say that any student can learn something from even the most uninspiring tutor because of their (the tutor) superior experience in life. With that background let me indulge in a little of retrograde recollection of my school teachers, starting from Hutchings Primary School. This is about the time when the screen is supposed to be hazy and the plucking the harp strings is supposed to reverberate in the background and kaleidoscope of colours is supposed to twirl round and round…

In Standard 1, Cik Aishah Abdul Rahman was my class teacher. Her fine curly hair used to be tied up into a bun at the back of her head, donning colourful fine floral baju kurung, smelling fresh with liberal splashing of strong non alcoholic perfume and her grinning toothy smile exposing her gold filling at her incisor tooth. I met her after 15 years later at a post office looking not a day older than how she appeared in 1970.

In Standard 2, the smashing teacher with the 70s Chinese matinee actor’s look, Mr Khoo Cheow Hin was the class teacher. We looked forward to his fortnightly stories, spiced up with his good story telling techniques. I remember once he told us the story of ‘Si Tanggang’ – the prodigal son. As he had forewarned us before the story, that students who do not show any emotion after the story ends do not love their mothers, many of us were seen wetting our eyes with saliva just to show that we care for mothers. Of course, many of my colleagues actually cried! He must have been quite a story teller because many young pretty lasses actually used to come to the classroom, some crying to and some quarreling with him. With his looks and story-telling technique, I wonder how his ending was. Towards the end of Std 2, a trainee teacher, Ms Tan Gaik Lee and another gentleman took over the reign. The male temporary teacher had taller tales to tell – he told us that he was almost decapitated when he was about to see just how deep his father had dug when he was still at it! Ms Tan was hardly able to control the class.

In Standard 3, Mr Beh Seong Leng, our class master drove a 1300cc golden metallic Volkswagon. He had a reputation of being a disciplinarian and a terror at that. His secret weapon was pulling the side burns and pinching the inner aspect of the thigh. His ultimate torture device was public stripping. I remember once Liakat Ali failed to memorise his timetables when he was subjected to this form of torture. Lucky for him, the school bell rang just as he was stripped to his undergarments. Lucky for him too because it was not customary for most of his contemporaries to be clad with undergarments!

The pretty Ms Yeoh with her impeccable spoken English was our class teacher in Std 4. She once told us a racist joke about a Indian headmaster and his way of sing song way of pronouncing ‘Good morrning laydees and yentlemen’. The petite curvaceous Ms Olive de Mello with her body hugging gown was our teacher for a while whilst Mrs Indrani took us a few lessons in Civics. Mrs Indrani was also in 70s straight cut body hugging gown but with the XXL type.

The ever smiling bespectacled Mr Cheah Yong Chee was my class teacher in Std 5. He was a dedicated teacher who hardly loses his temper even when I once turned up at his classroom after recess!

Mr Chan Leong Huat (Std 6) was a lean mean master who did not mince his words. He would sneak behind the classroom as he entered just to find out who the class noise makers were. We have a good time seeing his favourite Deputy (aka Class Monitor), Ang Jit Eng, hated by us – we called him Anjing which sounded like his name anyway!- got into trouble this way. Mr Chan disliked people who tried to prove their point by swearing (sumpah). Mohd Yassin once got punished for a crime he did not commit all because he swore he did not do it. At the same time, Mr Chan would talk to us in a friendly manner sometimes. Of all the animals in the world, he hated cats to the bone. He would tell how he poured hot water from his bedroom window at night over noisy cats in heat during mating season! (ouch!)

Somewhere along the way came Mr Khay with his piano playing skills and his music class. He taught us to play the recorder and mouth organ and prepared us to play at the school’s parents’ day. Mr Phuah was the senior assistant who claimed to have eyes at the back of his head and rotan up his sleeve, drove around in a Morris Minor station wagon. Mr G.S. Reuten, the headmaster took us a few classes too. One interesting character came in our life in the form of Mr Tan Ah Bah. He was a temporary teacher (probably retired) who forever asked us to sleep! He had a fierce appearance, podgy like a boxer, slighty curly haired with multiple moles over his face and neck. He walked around with a cane in his hand telling us, “Kun… ah bah, pak lu si ah bah!” – Boy, sleep! If not, I will whack you dead! (Hockkein dialect) I remember going to Mr Paul Ng’s class for relief lessons and beat the daylight of the boys in the back classes for misbehaving. He was a man of few words. His cane did most of his talking! Even though I was in direct contact with Ustaz Sheikh Abdul Rahman, I heard a lot of good things mentioned by the Muslim. He was apparently a strict disciplinarian but at the same time loved by his students.

All these people are instrumental in where we are today. To all these teachers, Thank you very much… you are the true meaning of 1-Malaysia.

Run the race

16.5.2010
Run the race

16.5.10. Four significant events happened today – the New Balance 15km run in Padang Merbok, Teachers’ Day, Sibu by-election and the passing of Pastor Indra Shan.
The day started with New Balance 15km run. This time around I had a fellow running bug-hit comrade (maybe midlife crisis at 44 years), who join this run too. We ran our race and completed it good times.

Category	Gender	Overall	Name	BIB No.	SPLIT	TOTAL TIME
80	300	338	SURESH KUMAR SHANMUGAM	3160	41:12.59	1:30:25.65
104	426	491	ASOKAN SHAMUGANATHAN	3027	45:32.00	1:36:46.53

The run took place from Padang Merbuk all the over the hilly terrain of Bukit Tunku (Kenny Hills). It was a good exercise on a Sunday morning. Of course we not were telling that while we were running. We were asking why we were not like normal KLites who enjoyed getting up late on a Sunday morning after a late Saturday night outing! Like the hard core runners will tell you, the joy in running is after the run when all your endorphins are at its peak. So, we ran the race. Period.

16th May is marked to honour our teachers who through their tiresome efforts have managed to mould us from a white plain piece of cloth to a colourful floral designed piece of fabric paraded in the fashion shows of Milan to New York! They prepared us to compete in the rat race of life. They helped us to run the race.

DAP won in the Sibu by-election today. After intense campaigning by both sides (ruling and opposition parties) hitting each other below their belt, shooting from the hip and ungentlemanly conduct, democracy ran its course. The DAP candidate ran the race and won with a paper thin majority.

Finally, 16th May 2010 saw the demise of my aunt, Pastor Indra Shan (nee Indra Devi S. M. Muthu) after a very valiant struggle with breast cancer. At the wake prayers held at The Mercy Home in Taman Wahyu, it became apparent to us all the good things she had done and the changes she has helped to make in peoples’ lives! It is amazing how a puny lady with just gift of the gab and belief in God could touch so many lives. Unless, of course if it is all mass hypnotism –like in the Wacko incident in the US where there was mass suicide! If only eulogy were read for the living, more people would be appreciative of each other! In the obituary announcement in the Star newspaper, there was a mention of a verse from the Bible (from the book of Timothy?) about running and completing it. It looks to me that Indra Shan not only ran the race but came out with flying colours! May her soul rest in peace in Heaven, Amen!
N.B. The amorphous head of coincidence strikes again! Sibu by-election and Mercy Home is situated in No. 47, Jalan Sibu 6, Taman Wahyu!

May 13

13.5.2010

May 13. A bad word (or a good tool) for some Malaysian politicians. The date of birth for my friend, Mike Kumar as well as an uncle who is a good 9 years younger than me, named Muthukumar and the launching date of his unity book by another friend of mine, Anas Zubedy.

Mariska Hargitay 

Talking about scary strange coincidences that I had mentioned in my previous rumblings and their occurrence in pairs, give a little thought to the below. Early this morning, I had just published my blog on the biography of Major (R) Samantha Murthi. Guess what was staring on the morning Star international headlines – Picture of David Cameron (new premier of UK) and his very pregnant wife, Samantha Cameron! 

David & Samantha Cameron @ 10, Downing St, London  

And over the weekend after writing about my encounter with a religious guru and Marishka Hargitay, Marishka Hargitay was in the Star papers again on Sunday posing on the red carpet!
Ooooooooo….. Who are you going to call? The Ghostbusters!!!*
* A sensational 80s Hollywood comedy with soundtrack by Ray Parker Jr.

From rags to ri¢he$

Fred Astaire tap dancing to Putting on to the Ritz 

12.5.10
An unauthorized abridged mini biography of Lincoln Murthi (the man with a mission)

From rags to ri¢he$ (Penny-wise to Ritz*, Shangri-La** and Caviar)

After seven years of marriage, Mrs S. M. Muthu (nee Letchumy Ammal) was getting desperate. She had almost exhausted all avenues of prayers and vows. After three unsuccessful attempts at procuring a son for her cultural needs, she was even toying the idea of adopting a son when it finally happened. On 30th August 1942, a baby boy was born and he was named Samantha Murthi. A nice Tamil name indeed they thought but it also created confusion later when he went to the UK where the English expected a vivacious lady named Samantha but instead their Malaysian candidate was a mustachioed Indian gentleman!

She had many dreams for the young boy but was concerned that her dreams would not materialize as her husband has been showing many unhealthy traits. He found it hard to keep his job, was a spendthrift and a little irresponsible as a father.

These very characteristics are the reason for LM’s education to be frequently disrupted. The frequent changing of jobs and houses had left a toll on his studies. Frequent and hurried transfer left no time for collection of school certificates resulting loss of a year of studies by the time he was twelve. There was an incident when she was told by her friend that LM was seen manning a porridge stall (ordered by LM’s father to stock up his (father’s) pocket money!) A major logger head would ensue and his mother would plead to a school teacher to take LM in. This type of setbacks in LM’s life were far too numerous to be enumerated. These landed him in many schools (usually private schools due to lack of documentation of his studies) which are unheard of and nonexistent now, e.g. Guru Nanak School in Ipoh as well Lutheran School!

At 12 years old he was placed in Std 4 class due to the above reason and made it to Std 6 the following year by Double Promotion. Before entering Form 1 there was another disruption in his studies and LM had missed entering secondary school. This is the time when he walked into a school Headmaster’s office (again private school) to enroll himself into Form 1. After listening to his sob story, the Headmaster (a Caucasian) told him, “Boy, poverty is not a qualification!” and placed in one of his classrooms. He was hoping to be placed in Form 1C but halfway through the day did he realize to his utter shock that he actually was in Form 2A! The first thing that went through his mind when he realized this was the amount of school fees that he would be saving, not whether he could sail through Form 2 without the proper foundation! In spite of dissuasions of his old schoolmates (who were in Form 1C), he stayed on in Form 2 and performed well in his studies. He was aiming the clinch the second last place in class (to convince himself that he was better than at least one student in his class) but he got the fifth place instead. He told himself that he was more than qualified to stay on. He went on to Form 3.

A day before his Form 3 (LCE) examinations, his boat started rocking again. He had high fever and was diagnosed to have chicken pox and was advised hospitalization. He requested for the school authorities to allow him to sit for the papers but his request was vehemently denied. His Headmaster told him, “Son, no one can help you now, except if the Director of Schools gives you special permission.” So this 15 year old disgruntled boy (LM) marched in to the Director’s office and pleads his case. Fast forward, the next day while he was hospitalized, Education officers brought his examination papers for him to sit in the luxury of the hospital bed. So were reporters from the local daily and the same Headmaster (who denied his earlier request) posing gleefully to newspaper photographers!

He passed and went on to Form 4 with pride. They say lighting never strikes twice and the banana tree does not fruit twice (in Malay). Well, LM knows it is not true. In 1959, Madam Letchumi Ammal succumbed to breast cancer after a brief battle with the disease. LM had lost not only a mother but a pillar of hope that played a pivotal role within her means to ensure that her son whom was a gift from the Gods after many trials and tribulations would one day somehow be free from the clutching shackles of poverty and misery.

After the mandatory ceremonies of the death, LM’s father summoned all the 5 young children (including 2 adopted) to get them to start working. LM, of course, refused and stated his wish to continue studying as he had bigger things set on his mind. LM was told to resource his own ways to finance his school fees while his father literally went around the country side and married a lady named Lily in Cameron Highlands a year later. And his daughters of marriageable age were left high and dry at the mercy of relatives for caretaking (spread all around the country).

Like the Americans say, when the going gets tough, the tough gets going! Desperate times demand desperate measures. LM dug deep into his bag of entrepreneurship to device various ways to scrap that extra cash to finance his education. He used to buy boxes of matches from Penang Island (a tax free port then) after his classes and sell it off on the Mainland. It sounds simple but it had its moments of suspense as it was illegal. He was almost stopped at a check-point but hawkeyed LM managed to throw the merchandise off to sea just in the nick of time. Ironing clothes was another way to pay his $15 school fees. It is about this time his acquaintance with Mr Jaganathan blossomed. Mr J took it upon himself to ensure LM’s smooth sail into the ocean of education, in spite of the half a score of his own children to handle.

The elusive light at the end of the tunnel came when he finished his ‘O’ levels (MCE) and secured a place in the Teachers’ Training College. Most ordinary people would be contented with his achievement thus far and then to rest on their laurels, but LM was not the ordinary run of the mill. He had other agendas on his mind. Perhaps the thought of how his distant cousins used to heckle at his childhood poverty and the ridicules when he used to admire their clothes was playing again and again in his mind like a broken record and he was not going to stop as yet.

As a teacher, I sometimes wonder what kind of a teacher he would have been. LM was studying for his ‘A levels’ after he graduated from the college. All his students’ exercise books would go missing as he would be using them to scribble his notes. When the students ask for their respective books, he would reply, “Oh, your book! Your book was handpicked by the Education officer to be used as model to other students.” That would satisfy most students. This must be the mark of a lawyer in the making!

And life went on with its usual frills and spills…

LM made it to University Malaya and graduated with B.A. (Hons) in 1970, the first in his family to do and was a mould for generations to follow. In those days, the convocation was televised on the national TV (not live telecast, but delayed). Amma was keen this see this feat. Unfortunately, our fall from grace had rendered us without a television. We had to scout around for a television but when we finally got to locate a television set at a Mr Tara Singh’s unit, the ceremony was over and we had missed LM’s momentous moment of receiving his scroll.

Matrimony came next to an equally understanding and glove-in-hand ‘Bunty Aur Babli’ kind of partner in the form of Ms Pathmajothy @ Gowry.

Being the disciplinarian that he is, he must have fit well with the Royal Malaysian Armed Forces, serving Port Dickson and Garrison Camp in Kuching. Again, the RMAF must have been his stepping stone to grasp the sacrosanct pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

I had the honour and priviliage of spending some time with LM after finishing my SPM. Amma’s noble intention of sending me there was to learn a thing or two from LM and hopefully a peel or two of his superior qualities would rub off on to me. (It is not for me to judge if it did).

He did his minimal mandatory work with the RMAF, got promoted to the rank of Major and he signed up for the External Law Degree at Lincoln’s Inn in London. He started dodging his work and was concentrating on his Law studies which needed a lot of self study. He told his superiors that he was doing some research on military law. One fine day, he was asked by them to show the progress of his work. I remember that faithful Thursday evening when he came home and asked me to rewrite some text from a book in verbatim for scrutiny by the bosses the following day. I started writing the script at 6.30pm and continued writing all through the night and managed to pass it to him at 7.30am when he comedown for breakfast- much to his amazement on my perseverance (that is RRF training!).

As part of his Law training requirement, he had to attend its highly traditional college dinners. That started his frequent Aeroflot flights to London (via Moskow) and the shock of the English of meeting a mustachioed ‘Samantha’! Of course he sailed through his examinations just like all the ocean voyages that he had cruised through albeit its choppy waters and sometimes storms to endure all his life.

His elusive pot of gold is finally here. LM is now a successful lawyer who has carved a name for himself in his field of expertise and is much sought after while sending shivers down the spine of his opponents.

Madam Letchumi Ammal must be looking down at her son from Heaven and must be nodding approvingly to his achievements, his Shangri La…


* Putting on the Ritz –Taco (1980). One hit wonder, originally written in 1929. Fred Astaire is famous for his tap dancing to this tune. “Putting on the Ritz," means to dress very fashionably (1930s’ slang). Interestingly, in its original song it was mocking the black Harlem dwellers who would spend every dime for a wonderful time parading at Lenox Avenue (later changed to politically correct Park Avenue, a white enclave!). Sounds to me like 'lepakking with their designer jean sipping Starbucks Coffee (deja vu?). The song was featured with the original lyrics in the 1939 film, 'Idiot Delight' where it was performed by Clark Gable!

** Shangri-La is a fictional place described in the 1933 novel, ‘Lost Horizon’ by British author James Hilton.

#Who is Lincoln Murthi? Apparently, Samantha Murthi had great admiration for Abraham Lincoln, the 16th President of USA. He used to pen letters to the newspapers with that pseudonym as selected letters were paid handsomely!