A sobering Malaysian saga

188, Hugh Low Street.
The Stories of the Scissors Sharpener's Daughter. Written by Ipohgal. 2013.

This is not a story of conquerors or industrialists who shattered the course of a civilisation or something like that but rather of the stuff that Malaysia is made of -  of small people who had a big strong heart to work hard to bring a better future for the family and the country.
Ipohgal, an avid blogger, has earned another feather to her cap. Now, she is an author and this is her maiden publication.

It traced to a time when it was peaceful and safe where children could play in the streets without a care. They did not need expensive gadgets to pass their time but rather they used their ingenuity to improvise. To give a nostalgic twang to her book, Ipohgal managed to capture a few pictures of the inside and outside the building that she knew as home. Coincidentally, the Indian eatery that she refers to 'Kedai Nasi Ganja' is the same one whose owner's son (deceased) was my brother-in-law's best friend.

The book starts by tracing the birthplace of her parents and the circumstances that brought them to Malaya. Her paternal grandfather, fleeing from the Qing Dynasty, landed in Batu Gajah with his young village headmaster's daughter wife. He built a reputation as an excellent bean curd maker. In those days, if you wanted a helping hand in your business, you just contacted your people in China and they would send you, not maids but rather maidens to be your wife. Like that, her Grandpa got himself a third wife after the second one got raped en route to Malaya and fell into depression. There is a funny part where the first wife avenges the husband through the grandchildren by cajoling them to get their grandfather broke by asking for this and that!

After panning through some harrowing moments during WW2, her father moved out of Batu Gajah to 188, Hugh Low Street, Ipoh to start a coffee shop. This shop was witness to many eventful events in the writer's life. Her parents were married and all her childhood memories were in that simple shop.

Kedai nasi kandar 'ganja', aptly named for 

the addictive quality of the food. Customers 

do not mind queueing long to be served!

The book goes on to innumerate many significant events that happened in her life - her memory of playing near the drain of her home, of a time she fell into the drain, her first exposure to the work peeping tom, her exposure to movies, the interesting places of leisure in Ipoh at that time, of the various tenants and characters who rented rooms in the building. A great proportion of the book is spent on the most important moment of anyone's life, the schooling years. 

Thanks to her stubborn mother, the father relented and Ipohgal received English education, unlike her elder siblings. Bad times befell on the family in the early 70s when like an avalanche, barrage of misfortunes fell on them. The family savings were exhausted when two close relatives where inflicted with aggressive terminal cancers. To add salt on wound, the shop licence was suspended. Her father had to give up the shop and had to use his resources to support the family. That is when he learnt the art of scissors and knife sharpening and he carved a name for himself as Ipoh's famous scissors sharpener.

She further narrates the many fond and sometimes unpleasant moments of her schooling life, especially in primary school. She soon discovered about discrimination and class segregation.

All good things must end. The last few chapters were melancholic as it describes the passing of her parents in such descriptive and touching manner. Their home is now in unkempt and is in a deplitatory condition, occupied by foreigners. Another topic that keeps popping up every now and then is the ability of the author and some of her relatives who had an eye to be able to see visions of the dead!

A light enjoyable read that reminds all its readers of where we came from. Like what the old adage states, 'One who does not know where he came from, will not reach where he is going to', I think it is important for all to be reminded of the past so that success does not go into our heads. It helps to maintain sobriety!

The Sigh!

The Moor's Last Sigh, 
(1995) Salman Rushdie
Ever since there was a bounty on his head, the desire to read his books increased. Even though I have not had the chance to lay my hands on the coveted book that attracted the world's attention to his work (Satanic Verses), I nevertheless managed to read more than 4 of his books.
Just as his other books, his work is quite a hard read. The text is quite compact with loads of information that the readers have to digest. I had to take a break from reading this book to dwell into something less taxing to unwind. He, being an Indian lives up to the trademark of one, of being very verbose, expressive, long winded and not economical with his word. It is not that it is a bad thing. His indulgence in circumlocution and tangential talk illustrates his wide knowledge of things and his occasional swipe at things considered sacred to some. To drive his point into his flow of story, he brings in unrelated things like mythology, history and religion.
In the same vein, this book involves all of the above. It narrates the protagonist, a half Jew half Catholic in India, telling the story of his family. It is a brooding account a sad man who is born with a rare display where he aged twice the rate of an average human, his dysfunctional family on both sides of his family tree and especially his flamboyant mother and her antics. It takes us through the history of India and it ends in the Moorish land of Spain.
It is a very imaginative book and works just fine for a sarcastic and truth seeking person like me....

I paid my dues!

Sand in my face, no bed of roses, no stroll in the park, no pleasure cruise...

Go fly kite?

Now that the general elections are imminent, all the political parties have engaged into turbo gear to bulldoze their respective opponents. I managed to catch one such political lecture recently when organizers, in the pretext of ushering in the new Tamil year thought they should rather usher in a new dawn by inviting candidates from the formerly opposition camp to ventilate their views and promises for the upcoming elections. Even though the function was a predominantly Tamil event with Tamil issues on the limelight and Tamil language was used by the master of ceremony, the mixed crowd had no issue staying till the end. Certain leaders from a overtly religious based political party had no qualms in partaking and wishing the organizers well wishes. Are we becoming more tolerant or is it a ploy?
As expected, corruption and wastage issues was the mainstay of the series of lectures. One particular part that strike me was on how life is becoming harder by the day. He went on to say how, after all the years after toiling through rain and heat of the tropical sun, life is still no pleasure cruise. Their forefathers came as labourers and the descendants are still labouring through life labouriosly. They say that predicament is caused by the ruling party and a new dawn awaits them through a new government.
I am sorry that these people are going to pretty disappointed come 6th May. It is going to be new day, a new dawn but the sun is still going to rise from the east. They still have to get up and get down to the same job that they had been doing. They still have to break their sweat and break their backs!
It is not that suddenly find themselves in Utopia or in Garden of Eden or transform into mythical monarch with slaves at their disposal at the snap of the fingers.
Get real! The leaders can only show you where to fish, maybe give you a net. Do not expect them to provide the drinks, lullaby and entertainment!

14 going 16!

16 Vayathinilae (16 வயதினிலே, At the Age of 16, Tamil, 1977)


This movie is considered a watershed in the Tamil film industry. It marked the superstardom of its three main actors, and it also opened the floodgates for outdoor shooting and 'art' life-like stories revolving around life in the villages. Slowly, the use of makeup diminished.
It was alright for the main characters to look unappealing, dark and oily faced!

After establishing herself as a child star, this 14year old starlet Sri Devi, acts as a 16-year village lass. After this flick, Rajnikanth and Kamal Haasan hardly performed together in a full-length feature film anymore as they became too big a star on their accord. This village themed flick became a precursor for the innumerable Tamil films of the similar genre that followed where unrefined colloquial language was the order of the day. Many copycat movies followed some bordered on testing the intelligence of the viewers with its thinly thought plot and ridiculous Neanderthalean practices of remote villages (if ever such methods still exist)!

The dialogue also started becoming very straight to the point with surgical blade sharp precision without the usual innuendos and symbolisms that the Indian movies are famous for. Little kids too were talking about things way above what little kids were supposed to know. As the conversation became more life-like, I became less of a chaperone for Amma and her movie buddy, Rajamah. Anyway, as my public examinations were imminent, the thought of spending more than 2.5hours of a day idly staring at a white screen was unimaginable. And the chance never came until many years later.

Thanks to Aiyer, our friendly neighbour across our flat for the daily dose of the loud music of new Tamil songs, songs from this 1977 keep vibrating our eardrums like an ear-worm or a leach that just refuses to let off the skin! Once you hear the songs from the movie, like an avalanche, the nostalgia of RRF and the memories of staying in a 1-room flat come pouring in.

16 Vayathinele tells the trials and tribulations of a young 16-year-old intelligent girl, Mayil (Sridevi) who is love-smitten and thinks with her heart rather than her head. The society in which she grows in actually encourages the sexuality in her. One such tradition is the coming of age ceremony when a pubertal girl is enlightened with matters of sex and marriage. Another ceremony depicted in this movie is a 'Holi' like the celebration where maiden girls are allowed and encouraged to pour turmeric-laced water over the guy they fancy! So when this pretty lass is lovestruck by the newly transferred bored veterinarian, she is naturally careless with protecting her reputation. Hence, she is labelled as a loose character by village folks and primarily by the new kid-of-the block bad dude, Rajnikanth, who plays the role of a loafing card playing a baddie, Paratthai. A mentally challenged orphan, Sappani (Kamal Haasan) comes to the rescue when Mayil herself loses her only parent who succumbs to a heart attack precipitated by vicious bad mouthing razor-sharped tongue of the villagers.

The union of Mayil and Sappani is ridiculed. As Paratthai attempts to rape Mayil, as a punishment for insulting him, Sappani drops a boulder on Parrathai to fatally wound him. Sappani goes to prison. The movie ends with Mayil waiting anxiously at the railway station for Sappani's return....
Bharathi Raja, the debutante director, made his mark through this film by bringing forth the pure chemistry that developed between the three main characters.

*all the songs from the movie carry a special meaning to us kids, even though we never watched the film!
Senvanti Poo Mudika Sinnatha (http://youtu.be/Lzu2pOcCsek)
It was a special code for my sis to blackmail the youngest about her dark secret - of breaking the 'Fanta' drink.
Senthoora Poove (http://youtu.be/qfXAvRve-tk)
This melodious S. Janaki's award-winning song will lullaby you to the good old days of RRF, every time! Of the neighbour's gramophone record blaring in the middle of the day! 
Aatu Kutti Muttai Ittu (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXVPl2aLQbc)
This loud song with the song of braying of a donkey was quite an irritant when you are trying to cramp in the concept of Form 5 physics!
Manjalkkulichu (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zaGfCOpb3xc)
Another irritant!

Spoilt for choice

Spoilt for choice
But Then Again

By MARY SCHNEIDER

Can’t stomach it: Too much variety can result in indigestion.

It’s great to have choices – in moderation.

VARIETY is not always the spice of life, because too much of it can result in indigestion and regret. Choice is a good thing, but only in moderation. When I’m presented with too many choices, I usually end up in a confused state of indecision that either causes me to make all the wrong choices or renders me paralysed and incapable of making a decision.

I mean to say, there’s nothing worse than paying for the latest iPhone while having the features of the latest Samsung phone dancing tantalisingly around the inside of your head. Or lying on a beach in Turkey while wondering if the ski holiday you considered might have been a better option. Or looking at facelift packages when your butt is sliding down the back of your thighs and could be made perky for the same price.

And don’t get me started on food choices. I try to avoid restaurants that have a menu the size of a telephone directory. Any decent restaurant, in my opinion, shouldn’t diversify to the extent that its options take up more than three pages.

I once had dinner at a restaurant where I was presented with a complimentary bread basket containing 20 different types of bread. This baked abundance came with five different types of butter, resulting in a whopping 100 possible bread/butter combinations. I felt an ulcer coming on just thinking about it.

Restaurants should really confine themselves to only two choices of bread: Brown and white. I’m not a big fan of white bread, so I’d be laughing all the way through my first course. Of course, that’s assuming I could decide whether to have the pate de foie gras, or the barbecued prawns, or the fresh air-flown oysters, or the grilled peppers…

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I feel that first courses should be outlawed altogether. We should just cut to the T-bone, or the pork loin chop, or the rack of lamb … And while we’re at it, let’s confine menu options to just a few dishes made from each type of meat.

Whenever my son comes home to visit, he loves to go to a certain restaurant that boasts about 50 different steak options. We can study the menu until our eyes glaze over, and our waiter considers ejecting us from the premises because no order is forthcoming after half an hour, and we still won’t be any closer to making up our minds. After much hemming and hawing, we usually end up ordering two different steaks, so we can try each other’s meal, declare the other’s more superior, and switch plates before we’re done – proving that indecisiveness must be genetic.

I think my indecisiveness stems from a childhood that was lacking in choice. My mother was an excellent cook, but she had a limited repertoire. Indeed, if someone had bashed me on the head with a blunt instrument way back then, causing me to fall into a coma for several days, upon regaining consciousness I would have been able to tell you which day of the week it was just by asking my mother what we were going to have for dinner.

You see, although we had something different for dinner every day of the week during the latter more affluent days of my childhood, the day on which a particular dish was presented never varied. There was beef stew on Monday, haggis on Tuesday, Shepherds Pie on Wednesday, bangers and mash on Thursday, fish on Friday, a fry-up on Saturday, and a roast on Sunday.

There are some people who might regard this as culinary boredom, but I never tire of this predictable diet. Indeed, if it wasn’t for my need to watch both my cholesterol and my waistline, I’m sure I could easily revert to this weekly dinner menu.

Even on those special occasions when my parents took my siblings and me to a restaurant to eat, we would always order the same thing. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it did leave me ill-prepared for the myriad choices that would confront me in my adult life.

Now, just in case you’re thinking otherwise, my indecisiveness doesn’t mean that I’m not adventurous when it comes to food; quite the opposite, in fact.

If there are deep-fried octopus hearts on the menu, I might be persuaded to give them a try. So long as the restaurant doesn’t also offer stuffed sea slugs au gratin and pickled ostrich beaks under the same section, I’ll be fine.

Roti Penggali @ Roti Benggali

HIP, HIP, HIPetizer! 
“Roti Benggali or “Benggali bread”, despite popular belief, does not get its name from the Bengali people group, but from the word “Penggali” which means shareholders. In 1928, Sheik Mohd Ismail from Madras, India, set up Roti Penggali (Bread Shareholders) as a business with his founding friends at Transfer Road, Penang. Local residents mispronounced the word ‘Penggali’ as “Benggali” and that, along with its mis-association, got passed on until today.
The bread is enjoyed in a variety of ways by the different cultural groups: the Malays, the Chinese and the Indians. It's so sedap with 'sup tulang', as 'roti bakar kahwin' and absolutely yummy dipped in 'overnight' curry! What's YOUR favourite way of eating Roti Benggali?

The Secret of Life

Our body is brilliant. After all these years, from the time we roamed about the Garden of Eden or were swept ashore as a unicellular being, one thing never changed - the life-giving proteins of DNA and RNA. The basic tenet of carbon-based life on earth as we know it becomes varied with varying infinite ways of sequences and numbers to produce so many species and variants. The central blueprint of DNA, over the years, with exposure to various offending agents, propelled the master implant to self-regulate and auto correct the sequence to ensure the continuation of species. Only the fittest survive, hence change is inevitable. When a body is deprived of food, the master-control will initiate the sequence for starvation mode. Metabolism would be reduced, and lipogenesis is commenced. And the next time we consume food, nutrients would be pushed into the body silo for a rainy day. And if you usually regularly indulge in strenuous calories losing activities, do not expect to lose much weight as the body tries to maintain the homeostasis and equilibrium.

And that is the reason, my friend, why you are not losing any weight despite your faithful early morning visits to the gym and the vigorous 2000kCal losing routines almost daily. Your body is much too smart. Your gut-wrenching diet and calories counting is not going to fool him. You need to outsmart him by varying your exercise routine to confuse it into maintaining internal equilibrium.
The DNA holds some of the secrets involving Man, a vast of it is unknown to him. Imagine a template for its progeny where it is continuously checked and improved with each generation to combat an increasingly hostile environment. Sometimes it gets too comfortable that the bored cells start attacking their own kind or show an exaggerated response to something trivial and familiar like peanuts and wheat!

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

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

https://www.facebook.com/groups/riflerangeboy/