Who are you really?

R Arumugam @ Spiderman in action

I remember a time in primary school when Malaysia was playing hockey in the World Cup, and we were hosting them. One of my friends, ignorant that he was, predicted that Malaysia would lose, not because India is a good team but because Malaysia had too many players of Indian ethnicity. The Malaysians would not play with as much zest due to allegiance to their ancestral roots. Of course not, I told him. It was like the national goalie Spidey R Arumugam letting in a few goals during Merdeka tournament to India for old times’ sake. No way that was going to happen.

In the same way, I fail to see why many individuals of the Indian diaspora are getting all excited, ad nauseam, after the announcement of Kamala Harris as Joe Biden’s running mate. For the record, Kamala is half Indian on the maternal side and Jamaican on the other.

Kamala @ Momala with hubby and stepkids.

Kamala Harris is an American true and true. She was born in America, read in the American education system and lived the American Dream. True, the motivating factor in her life was her learned Tamil mother who migrated to the US for greener pastures. That is where it ends.

Beyond that, it is all politics. Ms Harris was initially riding on the African American ticket, but now that the Indian Americans are a force to be reckoned with and are mostly aligned to Trump and the Republican Party, there is a pressing need to woo the American Indians back to the Democratic Party.  

Charles Sobhraj

Whatever way the US election results swings out, it is not going in any way going to affect the day to day of an average person in the Indian diaspora. The leaders of any country have the best interest of the nation that elected to heart, not allegiance to the land that once bred their ethnicity but not kind enough to nurture them to full fruition that their ancestors had to fleet.

Funny nobody staked claim to proclaim Charles Sobhraj @ The Bikini Killer as an Indian when he hit the headlines four decades ago!

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Love is never enough?

Life in a... Metro (Hindi; 2007)

Thomas Sowell, an American economist, surmises that the main reason behind the disparity between the blacks and whites as depicted by the Black Life Matters (BLM) movements is the destruction of the family unit and the libertarian policies of the US governments in the mid-60s. Two-thirds of black children born in America today are out of wedlock. 90% of inmates of correctional facilities in America had grown without a father if that is telling something. Sowell himself uprooted himself from the shackles of poverty, growing up in Harlem without a father, dropping out of school at 16, only to eventually become a prominent academician in Stanford. He recently entered his 10th decade of existence.

The implementation of liberal economic policies in tandem with changing social norms seems to reward the sluggards. He posits that minimum wage actually discourages high achievers. Having social policies favouring single parents actually encouraged single-parent family units. Welfare states just promoted laziness. His research showed that living standards were actually better off for the black during the Jim Crow era despite its discriminatory policies. People just had to pull themselves with their bootstraps.

Their grouse then was how they could pull themselves by their bootstraps when they did not have shoes!

How is all that connected to this story?

One of the characters of this story goes through the life of a lifeless marriage. She has a preteen daughter and a philandering husband but feels rejuvenated all over again as she finds love in a single man. They are about to commit to an amorous relationship only to have the thought of her child, and the sacrosanct institution of marriage jolt the lady back to realisation. Concurrent to this dilemma, the movie also narrates the pressure-cooker living condition of the metropolitan city of Mumbai, love life-wise.

The protagonist's husband is in a supposedly meaningless affair with his worker. As the matters the heart are not straight forward, she soon demands more than just physical love, a commitment. This worker, however, has a secret admirer. The protagonist's sister is devastated that she is still not married at 28, and her recent boyfriend turned out to be gay. Meanwhile, a guy with awkward social skills is getting close to her, but he is also getting married soon. The protagonist's widowed mother, who is living alone in a retirement home, receives a letter from her teenage flame who is returning from the USA after all these years to meet.

Through this winding maze of story, the storyteller tells a tale of love of different kinds and how most our decision on life and love eventually turns out dissatisfying. Perhaps, modern romance is expecting the oxytocin-infused addictive feeling of amorous disposition to be forever and ever. Unfortunately, being chemicals, we develop tolerance to oxytocin or serotonin over time, and we need a more enormous boost in different thrills to attain satiety. That is human nature. Society mores and restrictions were made to ensure that the unwanted effects of this primordial desires do not come back to plague the society.

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Who wants to live forever?

Afsos (Regret, Hindi/English; 2020)
Amazon Prime Video

The human race is the way it is because we are mortal beings. We know we have a shelf life and we want to finish all our humanly possible achievements within our lifetimes. Since our existence is finite, we yearn to immortalise it via discoveries and inventions. Our zest to explore the world we are born into pushes us to yonder to foreign shores and new frontiers. 

Without the fear of death, we would probably be fat blobs, uninitiated to pursue any endeavours. Everything would seem purposeless. Relationships are meaningless as there is nothing to expect anymore. We know what happens and how it will end. The diseases that we will get will give us the pain of illnesses but not relief from the distress. We will regress to our primal state; engaging in purposeless activities with impunity, knowing that nothing awaits us at the end. The seven deadly sins of Man will have a field day.

With the fear of death and hope of a comfortable after-life or re-births, we tend to empathise and care for the less fortunate. By creating stories about a possible after-life which seems forever or another lifeform which may be worse than the current one, we are cowed into submission of an unseen power. That sets law and order. Only death can save our lives on Earth.

A refreshing dark comedy about a loser who is even hopeless at suicide: he has had 11 failed attempts. He tries to lie down in front of a moving train; a vagabond distracts him. He tries to drown; fishermen save him. He tries placing himself amid busy midday Mumbai traffic; motorists avoid him skillfully. He finally hires a hired killer but even the assassin fumbles as she is given the wrong address.

The protagonist suddenly finds a purpose in life. His story that he had written and had been repeatedly rejected receives attention from a possible publisher. Life suddenly has meaning. The problem is that the killer that he hired has a one-track mind. No job should be left unfinished. She goes after him repeatedly in a twist of errors and comedy.

Duleep Singh 

Meanwhile, on the other side of India, in Uttarakhand, 11 monks are killed. The remaining 12th monk is the suspect and is at large. He is purportedly holding the elixir of immortality (Amrut). The investigating police officer goes over to summon assistance from the Mumbai Police. Also in search for the Amrut is a British scientist. Hot on the trail of all these is an investigative journalist who is looking into the activities of the agency that sends hired assassins. To complete the imbroglio is the protagonist's therapist who wants to stop him from killing himself.  

An impressive feat with a touch of philosophy and a peek into thanatology, the study of death and dying. An exciting addition to the story is the character of Duleep Singh, the last Maharajah of Punjab and the Black Prince of Perthshire. He, at 180 years of age, is seen loitering around the railway station dying to have Death embrace him! He had apparently tricked the British by convincing them that the Kohinoor was indeed the Elixir of Immortality. The British realised the dupe when Queen Victoria died! Meanwhile, the elixir was nicely tucked unceremoniously in a vessel in a small temple in the cold, snowy mountains of Uttarakhand.

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A bigger agenda?

Diriliş: Ertuğrul (Turkish, Resurrection: Ertuğrul; 2014-19)
Season 1-5, Netflix.

They say it is all planned. Work has been on ever since the sick man of Europe crumbled at the might of the West. When the enemies stabbed their coup de grace into the heart of the pinnacle of their laurels, they knew they had to take matters into their own hands. The fall of the Ottoman Empire in 1923 heralded the Khalifat movement in India which subsequently saw the development of an Islamic State, Pakistan. But work was not complete, until and unless the glory of their past is resurrected. Leaders came, and leaders went. The world saw them all shrivel up and cosy up to the swaggering fingers of the enemies.

My realisation into this topic was triggered way back 40 years ago. I had just read about Mustafa Kamal Ataturk in my Std 6 history books. Yes, there was a time when the Malaysian Education Ministry actually thought that students need to be exposed to more things than just Islamic history. Discussions with my nerd friends a few years later made me realise that not everyone was happy with Atartuk’s modernisation endeavours and his female empowerment stance. They felt that he and the Young Turks were puckering up to the Non-Believers. Ataturk and the Young Turks could be the Abu Dajjal, the mythical Anti-Christ in the Islamic eschatology. 

This miniseries has taken the Islamic world by storm. It has also been referred to as the 'Islamic Games of Throne' - the halal option to the raunchy storytelling of Tinseltown's 'Games of Throne'. Followers insist that one can get all the fun with their clothes on. In GOT, strategies and deceptions are often planned in compromising positions whilst in the latter, they are done in a poetic language under the tent of the nomadic tribes. It has even a more significant following in Pakistan than in Turkey where it was made. Look around the cyberspace, and you will find only positive reviews. Evaluations coming from Islamic nations are only glowing ones. They are happy that an Islamic country can show Hollywood how to make movies without unnecessary exposure of flesh and commodification of the female body. Women empowerment is present, the Islamic way.

The miniseries, over five seasons and 448 episodes, tells the supposed tale of the father of the founder of the Ottoman Empire, Osman I. Apparently literature on Erdugul, father to Osman I, is scanty and only fills a single page. Still, the screenwriters have taken the liberty to expand their imaginations to come up with this smasher. A nomadic tribal Turkish tribe combats the Crusaders in a saga of sorcery, masculinity, great outdoors, swashbuckling violence, deception, pretty women, love, obedience to tribal mores and the worship of God Almighty. With each episode taking almost an hour to view, one will take eternity completely digest the whole story!

Detractors are mumbling that this offering is Turkey's way of announcing to the world that they mean business. Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, after elevating himself to the post of President, perhaps has secret ambitions of making himself the de-facto leader of the Muslim (Sunni Muslim) world, akin to the Caliph or Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire. Erdoğan is forming an allegiance with Pakistan, Malaysia and possibly China to see the fruition of his plan. At the same time, he would like to see Saudi Arabia, whom he accuses of sleeping with the enemy to crumble. Iran, who spurred the imagination of the masses that an Islamic Republic is even possible, simply cannot take the helm for their deviant ideology. Even the Pakistanis are finding more commonalities with their Turkish brothers than the motherland that they have carved away in a frenzy preceding the Partition.

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What's next?

With the single click of the cleat, I knew we had taken our relationship to the next level. After a year of trying to tame the shrew, I had taken a plunge deep in the unknown, rightly or foolishly, smitten by the latest craze around town. Drawn into the quicksand of recreational road cycling by a group of mad friends, who, as if by fate, happened to live just a few doors from each other, it has been quite a journey thus far. 

Getting up as early as 4.30am on almost every Sunday to cycle in the misty countryside of Hulu Langat and Genting Peras is not 'ride in the park'. It also took the group traversing the 633km track in the heart of the Korean peninsula. And not to forget the handful of cycling competitions in Penang, Cameron Highlands, Putrajaya and Lekas Highway.

I guess I must have listened to my mother when she used to say, "Choose your friends wisely!" But then, she also said that not everyone who is clad in saree is a lady. I wonder what she really meant by that. Did she mean that sarees are worn by all strata of society, from a world leader right down to a sex worker, hence not to judge a book by its cover? Or perhaps, she was referring to cross-dressers!

After more than a year of settling in (or rather saddling on) my Gusto road bike, I thought I could only call myself a cyclist (versus one who cycles) if I invested in a set of clipless pedals. After a few bumbling acts and faux pas, looks like I kind of got the hang of things (I think).

What better way to put the knowledge to the test than embarking on a journey along what has been described as the ultimate challenge to the cyclists around here - Broga Jantan Loop. Even though the name seems to exude the toxicity of the masculine type, it is just a description of machoism. Many a female cyclist regularly scale through this route seamlessly. So, on July 26, 2020, my cyclist group took the 115km challenge and succeeded.

• 
• Now that we have done this and that, I wonder what is next in the pipeline. For the next year or so, organising an overseas cycling expedition seems unlikely, looking the wave of the pandemic that has engulfed the globe. This must surely be the best time to arrange a 'Cuti-Cuti Malaysia'.

Pusan, South Korea, 2019

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Two wrongs do not make a right

Mumbai Police (Malayalam, 2013)

When one thinks of a commercial Indian police drama or a police procedural film, the first thing that comes to mind is the gravity-defying stunts. Thankfully, this movie does not have any of those, but there is the blatant abuse of power and the idea of one man singlehandedly manning the whole is still there, nevertheless.

A police officer, Anthony Moses, is seen informing his superior, Farhan Aman, over the phone that he had solved the case they were working on and on his way to discuss it. A freak accident happens and he has selective retrograde amnesia. He does not remember his investigation but Farhan pushes him to finish what he had begun. The problem is that he does not remember even things about himself, his subordinates or who his siblings are. He learns many things slowly just by observing. 

Anthony realises that his previous self must have been quite a nasty character. His co-tenants had it enough with his previous antics and want him out of his apartment. His subordinates now find him pleasant. All the while, the fact about his amnesia is kept hidden from public knowledge so as not to jeopardise his investigations. The more Anthony digs into his past, the murkier his life appears to be. And then suddenly, a flight attendant enters his apartment from a long trip and gets cosy with him. Anthony is clueless about his status in his life. Yes, the flight attendant is a guy and seems romantically linked to Anthony.

'Mumbai Police' was the tag given to Farhan, Anthony and Aryaan as they had all trained in Mumbai. Aryaan was assassinated and Anthony was investigating Aryaan's murder when he was involved in an accident.

Memory is just an important component of our life as we know it. All our joys, anger, emotions, ambition and even our daily work depend on it. Memories are the only thing that we carry to the end of our journey of life. We fondly remember pleasant memories but painful ones are equally important in making us who we are today. Our ability to retain painful thoughts of the past is sometimes viewed as a curse of mankind. Life would be more peaceful if we did not continue to act upon negative outcomes of old events. On the other hand, however, these distant memories make us smarter when a similar situation arises. But then, we, as a human race, have a poor track record of not repeating mistakes of the past.

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Doing the right things?

Piku (Hindi; 2015)

Are human beings innately wired to know what the right thing to do is? Do people do the right thing because it was is expected of them? Deviation of what is accepted as the right thing by consensus may lend an average in collision with the law. Alternatively, he may be doing it to avoid future repercussions.

More often than not, we make our decisions using our emotions, not reason. Peer pressure, fear of the unknown and unquestioning obedience to the herd all form ways of our response to a situation. Are our actions paved with personal motivations or remunerations rather than altruistic intents?

Sadly there is no universal law for all our dilemmas. We make up rules as we go on. Just when we think we have seen it all and have all the answers, pop comes a different scenario just to mock us.   

If simply existing as a human being is a boon itself, then every human owes a moral responsibility to other humans and in turn in another; what more to the people who are the reasons of your existence - your parents.

Cycling is therapy?

This film questions the above philosophical enigmas in a rather comical and subtle way. It revolves around a whiny father, his forever disgruntled 30-something single daughter and the owner of a taxi service who has to drive both of them from Delhi to Calcutta as none of his drivers can stand the daughter.

Bhaskor Banerjee is a 70-year old eccentric and opinionated widow who drives everyone crazy. He is fixated on his irregular bowel habits. He borders on hypochondriasm and demands undivided attention from his architect daughter. His deceased wife used to deal with all his demands, but after her demise, Piku, his only daughter feels duty-bound to serve him much like what her mother had done. He is quite generous with his unsolicited advice which he thinks is life experience needed to be imparted to generation next. The problem is his opinions are considered passe. But then, social norms dictate that the elders must be respected.

Probably because of the stress of caring for Bhaskor, Piku, becomes a high strung individual. She explodes at the slightest of provocation. Her love life is zilch. She feels compelled to be by her father's side. So when Bhaskor needs to go to Calcutta to settle some property issues and is too ill to fly, she accompanies him, albeit reluctantly. 

The journey turned out to be a life-changing experience for everyone.  Metaphorically, we come to realise that calm prevails when the journey ends. Death is a necessary event for continuity of life.

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