Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. The little provision, clothes, and a couple of shoeboxes lovingly filled by many generous donors with goodies for her family was what had caused it.
This was one of the several needy families we had visited on a Sunday.
The lady's tears had totally taken me by surprise as I had thot to myself, “Hey, this isn’t really a lot, you know.” Which drives home the point that what I take for granted, can mean the world to someone else.
This particular family (parents & 4 kids) stay in a little government flat out in Setapak (Malaysia). They survive solely on what the father, a government employee, brings in each month (net – RM600 monthly + a little extra earned from collect scraps). That was mind-boggling.
I had often whizzed past by many similar government flats with clean looking exteriors, never once suspecting that inside, lived sleepless families fighting for survival.
All in all, it had been an enlightening Sunday. When Ee Lyn, a friend, first mentioned she was collecting stuff for homes, I had readily agreed to contribute a bit of rice, with no plans whatsoever of visiting the homes. I’m truly grateful that she had taken the trouble to invite me along.
I learnt a lot within that one day.
Whilst Ee Lyn had run around getting the things together for the families, it was Bernie who had led the way to the homes. The poor families we visited had approached Bernie’s church (Good Shepherd in Setapak) repeatedly for assistance.
The one family that I had wanted to meet that day was that of the widowed lady sweeper from an MIC office. It speaks volumes doesn’t it, to work in MIC and not have anyone bother about whether you have enough to eat, a roof over your head and the means to send your children to school. Simple basic necessities that people who CLAIM to look out for the welfare of Malaysian Indians should have looked into. (Fortunately someone had pointed her in the direction of the Good Shepherd.)
Well, the poor lady must have been having more trouble than she could handle. She had moved from the room she had been living in, and Bernie wasn't able to track her down that Sunday.
I must also tell you about a single mother who refused a particular pair of school pants for her son cos she kept insisting it didn’t fit him. Turned out it was just too long. Sewing simple stuff was beyond her capabilities.
Mrs Wong, Ee Lyn's mum who just happened to be a retired schoolteacher , commented that this is why school students should be taught how to sew. A pretty valid observation.
So, we’re not producing people who are able to take care of themselves, are we?
You see, when Bernie’s church mates suggested to this single mother that she should make nasi lemak daily for sale, she had said she didn’t know how to go about cooking it.
Being proactive, they bought her a blender and demonstrated what needed to be done. Now she sells about 20 packets per day; enough to put food on the table for her five kids.
I felt that this 35-year old mother had missed out on some important stuff when she was growing up. And I’m not referring to money.
Some people are not fortunate enough to have good role models in their life. Nor do they get to pick up basic skills or learn vital characteristics for basic survival in life. In the midst of a poverty-stricken life, the focus is inevitably always on making it in one piece to the next day.
I could go on about this. Especially about MIC’s role, how too many of us Hindus focus on rituals with insufficient focus on the needy in our community (I have to admit that some politicians in MIC has raised this very same point several times), how we are so self-absorbed in ourselves & the food haven that we live in, etc.
Fortunately there are people like Ee Lyn and Bernie who take constructive steps to make things right in this world. Why don’t you take a look at Ee Lyn’s photographs that she took on our outing? Or read her blog that covers it all.
Now, would you like to play a small part in this sad state of affairs in Malaysia? Not to worry, I'm not asking you to give up your job or all your spare time.
Continuing with your generous donations is one way. Another would be to spend time with the needy.
I have been doing that with a secondary student for the past two years. Let me ask you this - have you ever seen a young lad’s eyes light up with hope when you tell him that he’s smart? Faced with red marks every month, this piece of news always takes them by surprise. It's the sort of little encouragement that many need.
Today, he’s a 17-year old about to tackle the SPM. He is far from perfect, but knows for sure that he’s not as dumb as some teachers had led him to believe. Which may be why he’s more confident now and makes an effort to tackle some school subjects with more vigour.
Go on. Be a role model. Spare an hour or two occasionally to share your life secrets on how to stand tall in life. It’s that simple.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
10-10-10 for 2010
10-10-10. The magic number I’ll be applying when forming resolutions for 2010.
This 10-10-10 stuff first crept into my life out of the pages of an old Oprah magazine (BTW - just love it that there are backdated copies available in KL for a mere RM10.00). Suzy Welch raved about how this formula helps when she is stuck with a problem. In fact, she’s got a whole book it.
It’s really quite simple.
Let’s say, you really want to wear that sultry looking outfit but cringe cos you think that a certain frenemy will have a good laugh at your expense.
So, apply the 10-10-10 formula.
First 10
Will the frenemy’s reactions matter in the first ten minutes? Most probably yeah. Hey, you’re human right?
Second 10
How about 10 months later? No. Cos if you’re human, you would have done something even more “interesting” by then!
Final 10
How about 10 years later? Nah! The sultry outfit incident would be but a speck of dust in your memory. And the frenemy would have been ousted from sight.
There you have it – the 10-10-10 formula.
Thinking of furthering your studies? Saving up for a new investment? Taking up a risk in a new business venture? Lending a needy family a badly needed hand? Wondering if you should visit a neglected relative? Or mend broken bridges? 10-10-10 may help you sort out your priorities pretty quickly
This 10-10-10 stuff first crept into my life out of the pages of an old Oprah magazine (BTW - just love it that there are backdated copies available in KL for a mere RM10.00). Suzy Welch raved about how this formula helps when she is stuck with a problem. In fact, she’s got a whole book it.
It’s really quite simple.
Let’s say, you really want to wear that sultry looking outfit but cringe cos you think that a certain frenemy will have a good laugh at your expense.
So, apply the 10-10-10 formula.
First 10
Will the frenemy’s reactions matter in the first ten minutes? Most probably yeah. Hey, you’re human right?
Second 10
How about 10 months later? No. Cos if you’re human, you would have done something even more “interesting” by then!
Final 10
How about 10 years later? Nah! The sultry outfit incident would be but a speck of dust in your memory. And the frenemy would have been ousted from sight.
There you have it – the 10-10-10 formula.
Thinking of furthering your studies? Saving up for a new investment? Taking up a risk in a new business venture? Lending a needy family a badly needed hand? Wondering if you should visit a neglected relative? Or mend broken bridges? 10-10-10 may help you sort out your priorities pretty quickly
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Must Watch! Sita Singing the Blues
Every once in a while there comes a movie that you just can’t stop raving about. It’s been too long since I’ve wanted to rave about anything.
Sita Sings the Blues by Nina Paley (available on Youtube) is one show that has got me excited. For once.
It made me laugh, gawk at the graphics, nod in agreement and connect with other thots put forth. Though I’ve never been crazy about “the blues”, the music is kinda cool.
Christmas Carol that was released here in Malaysia recently, pales in comparison. That was like having bread and butter, whereas Sita Sings the Blues is more of a fantasy feast.
Devout Hindus will immediately be able to link Sita to that lovey-dovey couple - Sita and Rama from the Ramayana. Having said that, I also know that most of the Hindus that I know are only familiar with the bare outline of the epic. Why read a version with all the details when you can grasp the basics from a summarized version in 10 minutes or less?
Today’s emphasis is constantly on Rama (the really good guy) defeating Ravana (the bad dude from your first nightmare) who had abducted his wife (Sita, the beautiful one who had sacrificed all to live in the forest with hubby). This is usually linked up to Deepavali, the festival that marks Ravana’s defeat with traditional clay lamps.
I admit that my reading of Hindu related material is somewhat limited. I knew that Rama had doubted Sita’s “virtue”, forcing her to take on a stringent test involving fire. What I didn’t know (shame on me) was that
he had dumped her much later even though she had passed the fire test. There’s no pleasing some people!
All this was done to keep up his good image, making her suffer unnecessarily once again in the forest for donkey years. Not unlike some cold blooded politicians / public figures who want to retain their image. Did I just spoil the show for you by telling you what’s going to happen? Tough! Well, there is something else that I won't tell you.
Nina Paley’ who put the whole show together, says in an interview
When I watched it, a couple of things crossed my mind.
How over the years not many (at least not in my corner of the world) have highlighted Sita’s struggles. Is it because till today most of the Indian productions (i.e. those made in India) are dominated by men, who would not be too keen on highlighting this aspect? Perhaps they are like Rama in ways than they would not care to admit.
Or is it the audience who doesn’t want to have that image of Sita and Rama as the perfect couple being marred.
Nina Paley does have a point. If the Gods (reincarnated) can’t make their marriage work, then who can?
Okay, if you’re bored with the issues raised, don’t trouble your pretty little head with them. Just watch it cos it’s a whole lot of fun.
Oh yeah, one more thing.
If you’re devout Hindu, try not to take some of the interpretations of the Ramayana and the characters in it to heart. Relax, it’s just one person’s interpretations.
Have fun singing the blues with Sita!
Sita Sings the Blues by Nina Paley (available on Youtube) is one show that has got me excited. For once.
It made me laugh, gawk at the graphics, nod in agreement and connect with other thots put forth. Though I’ve never been crazy about “the blues”, the music is kinda cool.
Christmas Carol that was released here in Malaysia recently, pales in comparison. That was like having bread and butter, whereas Sita Sings the Blues is more of a fantasy feast.
Devout Hindus will immediately be able to link Sita to that lovey-dovey couple - Sita and Rama from the Ramayana. Having said that, I also know that most of the Hindus that I know are only familiar with the bare outline of the epic. Why read a version with all the details when you can grasp the basics from a summarized version in 10 minutes or less?
Today’s emphasis is constantly on Rama (the really good guy) defeating Ravana (the bad dude from your first nightmare) who had abducted his wife (Sita, the beautiful one who had sacrificed all to live in the forest with hubby). This is usually linked up to Deepavali, the festival that marks Ravana’s defeat with traditional clay lamps.
I admit that my reading of Hindu related material is somewhat limited. I knew that Rama had doubted Sita’s “virtue”, forcing her to take on a stringent test involving fire. What I didn’t know (shame on me) was that
he had dumped her much later even though she had passed the fire test. There’s no pleasing some people!
All this was done to keep up his good image, making her suffer unnecessarily once again in the forest for donkey years. Not unlike some cold blooded politicians / public figures who want to retain their image. Did I just spoil the show for you by telling you what’s going to happen? Tough! Well, there is something else that I won't tell you.
Nina Paley’ who put the whole show together, says in an interview
“The aspect of the story that I focus on is the relationship between Sita and Rama, who are gods incarnated as human beings, and even they can't make their marriage work [laughs].”
When I watched it, a couple of things crossed my mind.
How over the years not many (at least not in my corner of the world) have highlighted Sita’s struggles. Is it because till today most of the Indian productions (i.e. those made in India) are dominated by men, who would not be too keen on highlighting this aspect? Perhaps they are like Rama in ways than they would not care to admit.
Or is it the audience who doesn’t want to have that image of Sita and Rama as the perfect couple being marred.
Nina Paley does have a point. If the Gods (reincarnated) can’t make their marriage work, then who can?
Okay, if you’re bored with the issues raised, don’t trouble your pretty little head with them. Just watch it cos it’s a whole lot of fun.
Oh yeah, one more thing.
If you’re devout Hindu, try not to take some of the interpretations of the Ramayana and the characters in it to heart. Relax, it’s just one person’s interpretations.
Have fun singing the blues with Sita!
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Totally unhappy with AIA’s breakdown services
Drivers, especially ladies – if you have been lulled into feeling safe with a breakdown service number on your windshield, read on.
When I renewed my car insurance with AIA last December, I was relieved that it came with breakdown services. I thought that it was something that I could depend totally on.
Unfortunately, I learnt that this is not necessarily true.
My battery died on me at 9.30 pm on Friday 13th out in SS15, Subang. Filled with pure panic, my initial reaction was to go back to the room where I had attended a talk to get help. Then I remembered the number for AIA’s breakdown services on my windshield and sighed in relief.
When I gave my car registration number to the lady on the line, she said it was not in the system. Huh? Then, get this, she asked me for my policy number. Am I supposed to be driving around armed with my car insurance policy number? Never knew that & wish someone had told me about it!
I was told to pay RM40 to the guy who would come out to jumpstart my car; extra if it involved paying for a new battery. Which worried me immensely as I did not have a lot of cash on me. As I was feeling quite terrified to be stranded out on the street at night (okay, I could have got home but i didn't want to leave my beloved old car there), I quickly agreed to the RM40. At that point there was no talk of reimbursement.
I have no problems with the actual service, as the guy was prompt and did the job well.
When I got home I called to give the same lady my policy number to be told that - yes, I am covered and that she would get the guy to return the money to me. So, why wasn’t my details in the computer system? Her rather defensive answer was something along the lines of “it has not been updated”!
A 11 month policy, for which I had already received a renewal notice, had not been updated? What were they waiting for?
What really bothered me was: what if it was something more serious and I had required urgent help in the middle of the night in a more remote area? What would AIA had done without my policy number in such a situation? Would I have been told to fork out a fat sum on the spot for urgent help? The whole experience had been unnerving.
These competing car insurance providers constantly try to up one another on services provided, leaving me wondering who is monitoring these "extra services" they provide.
Plus, I need to renew my car insurance. Anyone got any recommendations?
When I renewed my car insurance with AIA last December, I was relieved that it came with breakdown services. I thought that it was something that I could depend totally on.
Unfortunately, I learnt that this is not necessarily true.
My battery died on me at 9.30 pm on Friday 13th out in SS15, Subang. Filled with pure panic, my initial reaction was to go back to the room where I had attended a talk to get help. Then I remembered the number for AIA’s breakdown services on my windshield and sighed in relief.
When I gave my car registration number to the lady on the line, she said it was not in the system. Huh? Then, get this, she asked me for my policy number. Am I supposed to be driving around armed with my car insurance policy number? Never knew that & wish someone had told me about it!
I was told to pay RM40 to the guy who would come out to jumpstart my car; extra if it involved paying for a new battery. Which worried me immensely as I did not have a lot of cash on me. As I was feeling quite terrified to be stranded out on the street at night (okay, I could have got home but i didn't want to leave my beloved old car there), I quickly agreed to the RM40. At that point there was no talk of reimbursement.
I have no problems with the actual service, as the guy was prompt and did the job well.
When I got home I called to give the same lady my policy number to be told that - yes, I am covered and that she would get the guy to return the money to me. So, why wasn’t my details in the computer system? Her rather defensive answer was something along the lines of “it has not been updated”!
A 11 month policy, for which I had already received a renewal notice, had not been updated? What were they waiting for?
What really bothered me was: what if it was something more serious and I had required urgent help in the middle of the night in a more remote area? What would AIA had done without my policy number in such a situation? Would I have been told to fork out a fat sum on the spot for urgent help? The whole experience had been unnerving.
These competing car insurance providers constantly try to up one another on services provided, leaving me wondering who is monitoring these "extra services" they provide.
Plus, I need to renew my car insurance. Anyone got any recommendations?
Totally unhappy with AIA’s breakdown services
Drivers, especially ladies – if you have been lulled into feeling safe with a breakdown service number on your windshield, read on.
When I renewed my car insurance with AIA last December, I was relieved that it came with breakdown services. I thought that it was something that I could depend totally on.
Unfortunately, I learnt that this is not necessarily true.
My battery died on me at 9.30 pm on Friday 13th out in SS15, Subang. Filled with pure panic, my initial reaction was to go back to the room where I had attended a talk to get help. Then I remembered the number for AIA’s breakdown services on my windshield and sighed in relief.
When I gave my car registration number to the lady on the line, she said it was not in the system. Huh? Then, get this, she asked me for my policy number. Am I supposed to be driving around armed with my car insurance policy number? Never knew that & wish someone had told me about it!
I was told to pay RM40 to the guy who would come out to jumpstart my car; extra if it involved paying for a new battery. Which worried me immensely as I did not have a lot of cash on me. As I was feeling quite terrified to be stranded out on the street at night (okay, I could have got home but i didn't want to leave my beloved old car there), I quickly agreed to the RM40. At that point there was no talk of reimbursement.
I have no problems with the actual service, as the guy was prompt and did the job well.
When I got home I called to give the same lady my policy number to be told that - yes, I am covered and that she would get the guy to return the money to me. So, why wasn’t my details in the computer system? Her rather defensive answer was something along the lines of “it has not been updated”!
A 11 month policy, for which I had already received a renewal notice, had not been updated? What were they waiting for?
What really bothered me was: what if it was something more serious and I had required urgent help in the middle of the night in a more remote area? What would AIA had done without my policy number in such a situation? Would I have been told to fork out a fat sum on the spot for urgent help? The whole experience had been unnerving.
These competing car insurance providers constantly try to up one another on services provided, leaving me wondering who is monitoring these "extra services" they provide.
Plus, I need to renew my car insurance. Anyone got any recommendations?
When I renewed my car insurance with AIA last December, I was relieved that it came with breakdown services. I thought that it was something that I could depend totally on.
Unfortunately, I learnt that this is not necessarily true.
My battery died on me at 9.30 pm on Friday 13th out in SS15, Subang. Filled with pure panic, my initial reaction was to go back to the room where I had attended a talk to get help. Then I remembered the number for AIA’s breakdown services on my windshield and sighed in relief.
When I gave my car registration number to the lady on the line, she said it was not in the system. Huh? Then, get this, she asked me for my policy number. Am I supposed to be driving around armed with my car insurance policy number? Never knew that & wish someone had told me about it!
I was told to pay RM40 to the guy who would come out to jumpstart my car; extra if it involved paying for a new battery. Which worried me immensely as I did not have a lot of cash on me. As I was feeling quite terrified to be stranded out on the street at night (okay, I could have got home but i didn't want to leave my beloved old car there), I quickly agreed to the RM40. At that point there was no talk of reimbursement.
I have no problems with the actual service, as the guy was prompt and did the job well.
When I got home I called to give the same lady my policy number to be told that - yes, I am covered and that she would get the guy to return the money to me. So, why wasn’t my details in the computer system? Her rather defensive answer was something along the lines of “it has not been updated”!
A 11 month policy, for which I had already received a renewal notice, had not been updated? What were they waiting for?
What really bothered me was: what if it was something more serious and I had required urgent help in the middle of the night in a more remote area? What would AIA had done without my policy number in such a situation? Would I have been told to fork out a fat sum on the spot for urgent help? The whole experience had been unnerving.
These competing car insurance providers constantly try to up one another on services provided, leaving me wondering who is monitoring these "extra services" they provide.
Plus, I need to renew my car insurance. Anyone got any recommendations?
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
AN UNEXPECTED LESSON
Everything has got EV (entertainment value) now. Even meditation.
Last night I went for a talk on this very subject matter. Though I was ready for some hands-on stuff, I wasn’t quite expecting the rest.
As we waited for the main event to start, soothing music enveloped us and words of encouragement promising us inner peace appeared on stage. Very effective.
Then there was a short sketch at the start that sort of explained the “our senses have been taken over by materialism” story. Quite well put though I did feel I was back in school. All followed by a short intro, then the main talk.
Did I learn anything? Without a doubt, I did.
Anger, lust, envy, attachment, ego. Our enemies that plunge us into darkness. Yet, there are ways to find inner peace.
Since I am a little familiar about meditation, that’s not what left a huge impression on me. It was the fact that for today’s audience, no matter what the subject matter is, you have to jazz up everything.
When I do training, I try to remember that. This means that for most participants, I have to dig deep for interesting facts (not unlike Discovery Channel), or get them involved in some interesting activity or other.
Ignore this, and you can expect a feedback form that will have you banging your head against the wall.
What I hadn’t realised, and made me feel like the proverbial katak under the tempurung (frog under coconut shell), is that entertaining the crowd has become a staple in every single area, even, or should I say specially the more serious ones. Silly me had assumed that meditation would have been one area that would have been exempted.
But then why should it be?
A couple of years ago, when I used to hit the gym, the fast paced power packed yoga sessions there always left me agog. Having already taken up yoga under a trained in India instructor, I knew that generally hatha yoga poses were meant to be done slowly.
You do them at your own pace, stretching as far as you could. Some poses (like the peacock pose) were not recommended for women. The muscle man at the gym didn’t seem to know this cos he was always hurrying through a gazillion poses in 45 minutes. Gym yoga was a like child given way too much sugar.
So, instead of coming away totally impressed with ideas and thots on meditation last night, I came away thinking how everyone caters to their audiences’ whims and fancies. When you look at the big picture, the danger of this is ….
Well, aren’t there lessons that you have to force upon a teenager no matter how distasteful it is? And if you are going to say we should never “force” anyone to do anything, please take a look at the funny work attitudes that today’s fresh graduates proudly display. It’s all linked.
We now live in a consumer world, where our customers are always right, no matter what it concerns, cos it all affects our goals (bottom line).
Last night I went for a talk on this very subject matter. Though I was ready for some hands-on stuff, I wasn’t quite expecting the rest.
As we waited for the main event to start, soothing music enveloped us and words of encouragement promising us inner peace appeared on stage. Very effective.
Then there was a short sketch at the start that sort of explained the “our senses have been taken over by materialism” story. Quite well put though I did feel I was back in school. All followed by a short intro, then the main talk.
Did I learn anything? Without a doubt, I did.
Anger, lust, envy, attachment, ego. Our enemies that plunge us into darkness. Yet, there are ways to find inner peace.
Since I am a little familiar about meditation, that’s not what left a huge impression on me. It was the fact that for today’s audience, no matter what the subject matter is, you have to jazz up everything.
When I do training, I try to remember that. This means that for most participants, I have to dig deep for interesting facts (not unlike Discovery Channel), or get them involved in some interesting activity or other.
Ignore this, and you can expect a feedback form that will have you banging your head against the wall.
What I hadn’t realised, and made me feel like the proverbial katak under the tempurung (frog under coconut shell), is that entertaining the crowd has become a staple in every single area, even, or should I say specially the more serious ones. Silly me had assumed that meditation would have been one area that would have been exempted.
But then why should it be?
A couple of years ago, when I used to hit the gym, the fast paced power packed yoga sessions there always left me agog. Having already taken up yoga under a trained in India instructor, I knew that generally hatha yoga poses were meant to be done slowly.
You do them at your own pace, stretching as far as you could. Some poses (like the peacock pose) were not recommended for women. The muscle man at the gym didn’t seem to know this cos he was always hurrying through a gazillion poses in 45 minutes. Gym yoga was a like child given way too much sugar.
So, instead of coming away totally impressed with ideas and thots on meditation last night, I came away thinking how everyone caters to their audiences’ whims and fancies. When you look at the big picture, the danger of this is ….
Well, aren’t there lessons that you have to force upon a teenager no matter how distasteful it is? And if you are going to say we should never “force” anyone to do anything, please take a look at the funny work attitudes that today’s fresh graduates proudly display. It’s all linked.
We now live in a consumer world, where our customers are always right, no matter what it concerns, cos it all affects our goals (bottom line).
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Treacherous thots on a holy day
The swarm of angry thots swirled through my head. “The audacity of these people! They’ve absolutely no respect for God!” Let me tell you that this was not the way I had planned to spend Vinayagar Chathurthi (Lord Ganesha’s birthday).
I had had visions of spending this holy day with calm contemplation of God. Plus, this year, I had decided I didn’t want to get involved in passing nasty comments about others or in listening to others do so. Were all my good intentions to be washed down the drain just like that?
That’s when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the object of my ire (the people who had delayed the prayer session). And all my red hot anger took flight. In its place came understanding with a mixture of wonder and gratitude.
The incident had taken place on a windy evening at my regular temple. Let me tell you the whole story.
According to the notice stuck on the board, this particular temple function was supposed to have started at 5.00 pm. At half past five, there was still no sign of starting as the ubayam people (i.e. the people sponsoring that particular prayer session) had yet to arrive.
Since I was in a holy place I tried to curtail nasty thoughts about these insensitive undisciplined people. There had been other tardy individuals in the past, but none had dared to be as late as this! After an hour of pacing the temple grounds, trying to stomp out boredom, I spotted them.
No matter what their reason for being late was, everyone forgave them (and felt a tad bit guilty) when we lay eyes on them.
Into the temple walked in a couple who was truly in the twilight of their years. With hair like soft white cotton, white shirt and equally white dhoti wrapped around his slim frame, the fair man walked in slowly, holding his head up high. She followed, in a sari as blue as the oceans, hugging the wall, taking one delicate step at a time. Painfully slow, with no cane or loved one to hang on to. Despite all of that, her eyes twinkled and her round face exuded an eagerness to perform her religious duties as best as she could.
How could anyone remain angry with them?
As one lady later remarked, many elderly people stop visiting temples. Disappointed with their old bodies that ached constantly, sometimes coupled with anger at God for their frailty, some grasp at the slightest excuse not to visit God in his abode.
All of which just made this old couple all the more admirable.
What had looked like a religious event ruined, was revived on an upbeat mood. Two rounds of prayers had been delayed, but not a soul minded.
Admittedly, I had been quick to judge without knowing anything about this couple. Time and time again, I forget that there is a reason for everything that happens. It is a pity that my mind does not have that Zen like quality where it can remain calm and undisturbed, irrespective of the calamity it finds itself in.
Ever noticed how the mind get easily disturbed, churning relentlessly away, creating dangers where there were none? If there was no malicious intent behind a harmless comment, we sometimes delve too deep looking for one. Our minds can play ghastly tricks on us when we let it rule us .
What more when living in a logic driven world, we are trained to explain/reason every action. Even when we don’t have all the facts on hand.
I figure that in these scenarios, creative minds must have it real bad. These agile minds can all too easily cook up outlandish reasons, indulge in assumptions and presume a million things without basing it on a single concrete fact.
Well, let me just end by saying that I was grateful for being able to take part in the prayers conducted by the old couple. It was a privilege that came gift wrapped with a lesson on controlling minds from Lord Ganesha.
I had had visions of spending this holy day with calm contemplation of God. Plus, this year, I had decided I didn’t want to get involved in passing nasty comments about others or in listening to others do so. Were all my good intentions to be washed down the drain just like that?
That’s when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the object of my ire (the people who had delayed the prayer session). And all my red hot anger took flight. In its place came understanding with a mixture of wonder and gratitude.
The incident had taken place on a windy evening at my regular temple. Let me tell you the whole story.
According to the notice stuck on the board, this particular temple function was supposed to have started at 5.00 pm. At half past five, there was still no sign of starting as the ubayam people (i.e. the people sponsoring that particular prayer session) had yet to arrive.
Since I was in a holy place I tried to curtail nasty thoughts about these insensitive undisciplined people. There had been other tardy individuals in the past, but none had dared to be as late as this! After an hour of pacing the temple grounds, trying to stomp out boredom, I spotted them.
No matter what their reason for being late was, everyone forgave them (and felt a tad bit guilty) when we lay eyes on them.
Into the temple walked in a couple who was truly in the twilight of their years. With hair like soft white cotton, white shirt and equally white dhoti wrapped around his slim frame, the fair man walked in slowly, holding his head up high. She followed, in a sari as blue as the oceans, hugging the wall, taking one delicate step at a time. Painfully slow, with no cane or loved one to hang on to. Despite all of that, her eyes twinkled and her round face exuded an eagerness to perform her religious duties as best as she could.
How could anyone remain angry with them?
As one lady later remarked, many elderly people stop visiting temples. Disappointed with their old bodies that ached constantly, sometimes coupled with anger at God for their frailty, some grasp at the slightest excuse not to visit God in his abode.
All of which just made this old couple all the more admirable.
What had looked like a religious event ruined, was revived on an upbeat mood. Two rounds of prayers had been delayed, but not a soul minded.
Admittedly, I had been quick to judge without knowing anything about this couple. Time and time again, I forget that there is a reason for everything that happens. It is a pity that my mind does not have that Zen like quality where it can remain calm and undisturbed, irrespective of the calamity it finds itself in.
Ever noticed how the mind get easily disturbed, churning relentlessly away, creating dangers where there were none? If there was no malicious intent behind a harmless comment, we sometimes delve too deep looking for one. Our minds can play ghastly tricks on us when we let it rule us .
What more when living in a logic driven world, we are trained to explain/reason every action. Even when we don’t have all the facts on hand.
I figure that in these scenarios, creative minds must have it real bad. These agile minds can all too easily cook up outlandish reasons, indulge in assumptions and presume a million things without basing it on a single concrete fact.
Well, let me just end by saying that I was grateful for being able to take part in the prayers conducted by the old couple. It was a privilege that came gift wrapped with a lesson on controlling minds from Lord Ganesha.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
When polite boys slap teachers
Anger surged through his young body, throwing a dark heavy blanket across his senses. Derek’s* arm shot up. The corridor reverberated with the sound of him slapping his middle-aged teacher right across the cheek.
When my 17 year old student from the home I helped out at related what he had done, I went numb with shock and dismay.
For this was the same pleasant boy who always greeted me politely, made an attempt to do his homework (well, at least most of the time) and had improved his command of the language by leaps and bounds. From not being able to string a proper English sentence together, he has progressed to communicating his thoughts relatively well using a decent range of vocabulary.
How could he have slapped his teacher?
In the three years I had known this intelligent teen, there had never had a serious discipline problem with him. There were others before him who had not been able to sit through a short English lesson, focusing (much to my dismay) on creating a ruckus during the sessions.
“That teacher was out to get me,” was Derek's version of the entire ordeal. What was I supposed to say?
Knowing the dismal situations that Malaysian teachers had to handle I guessed that Derek:
· may be right and the teacher was venting his own personal frustrations on him, or
· had totally misread the whole situation. In trying to help the troubled student, the teacher had unwittingly alienated the teen.
Two months down the road, Derek was ordered to stop attending school. Instead, from August onwards he had to stay at the home to prepare for his SPM (a Malaysian examination that 17 year olds sit for, somewhat similar to the O Levels).
It turned out, Derek had been keeping bad company, propellin him do things he otherwise would not have. As I observed my bright student who could have achieved so much more with a little more guidance in life, it made sense.
It also drove home the point that so many of our ‘problematic” students could have fared better if someone out there was willing to take time out of the rat race to spend time with them.
That’s the one thing that always strikes me when I walk into homes, especially those for kids under 12. They crave a lot of attention and there's no one there to give it to them.
Anyway, back to Derek. Boys will think and act based on what the rest of the gang condones. Teen peer approval is a matter of life and death, isn’t it?
Then and again, you know that doesn’t change much when teens metamorphose into adults.
If you think back in the last ten days, you may have been prompted to take an action that you normally would not, just to keep the rest of the team / gang / group / buddies / department / family happy. Be honest now, didn’t you?
(*Naturally, Derek is not my student’s name as I’ve had to change it.)
When my 17 year old student from the home I helped out at related what he had done, I went numb with shock and dismay.
For this was the same pleasant boy who always greeted me politely, made an attempt to do his homework (well, at least most of the time) and had improved his command of the language by leaps and bounds. From not being able to string a proper English sentence together, he has progressed to communicating his thoughts relatively well using a decent range of vocabulary.
How could he have slapped his teacher?
In the three years I had known this intelligent teen, there had never had a serious discipline problem with him. There were others before him who had not been able to sit through a short English lesson, focusing (much to my dismay) on creating a ruckus during the sessions.
“That teacher was out to get me,” was Derek's version of the entire ordeal. What was I supposed to say?
Knowing the dismal situations that Malaysian teachers had to handle I guessed that Derek:
· may be right and the teacher was venting his own personal frustrations on him, or
· had totally misread the whole situation. In trying to help the troubled student, the teacher had unwittingly alienated the teen.
Two months down the road, Derek was ordered to stop attending school. Instead, from August onwards he had to stay at the home to prepare for his SPM (a Malaysian examination that 17 year olds sit for, somewhat similar to the O Levels).
It turned out, Derek had been keeping bad company, propellin him do things he otherwise would not have. As I observed my bright student who could have achieved so much more with a little more guidance in life, it made sense.
It also drove home the point that so many of our ‘problematic” students could have fared better if someone out there was willing to take time out of the rat race to spend time with them.
That’s the one thing that always strikes me when I walk into homes, especially those for kids under 12. They crave a lot of attention and there's no one there to give it to them.
Anyway, back to Derek. Boys will think and act based on what the rest of the gang condones. Teen peer approval is a matter of life and death, isn’t it?
Then and again, you know that doesn’t change much when teens metamorphose into adults.
If you think back in the last ten days, you may have been prompted to take an action that you normally would not, just to keep the rest of the team / gang / group / buddies / department / family happy. Be honest now, didn’t you?
(*Naturally, Derek is not my student’s name as I’ve had to change it.)
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
What’s your focus in life?
Let’s take a little time out to do word association. There’s a short list that appears after this paragraph. Quickly read each item (one at a time) and let the thoughts just flow through your mind.
1. Your Birthday
2. Christmas
3. Deepavali (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/)
(if you don’t know what this is, please move on.)
4. Father’s Day
5. New Year
All done? Alrighty then. Let’s take a stab at guessing one common item that kept cropping up in your list.
Christmas – once you were done with ruddy Santa Claus and the presents, did the image of a turkey (thank the western media for this one) or your family dinners come to mind?
For Deepavali, did you think of murukku and mutton curry? Instead of the fight of good over evil, and giving thanks to God?
Your birthday – a picture of your favourite cake. And somewhere there would also have been a banquet of your fav foods that had been whipped up for you. (For some reason the picture that pops up in my head always has party hats in it. Blame this on those primary school textbooks with their stereotype illustrations.)
What does this whole exercise prove? Food dominates our lives. It is as simple as that.
Don’t let your taste bud rule your life!
It is something that has struck home repeatedly over these past few years (blame it on middle age ruminations). Festivals and celebrations revolve around food, food and more food.
When I tried to plan an outing to one of our lovely waterfalls in Ulu Langat, the focus somehow shifted from a day out enjoying glorious mother nature to what we should have for a picnic.
Much to the chagrin of the husband of one of my old classmates, old school chums were determined to take a two hour drive up north to pig out on the local delicacies there. I can hear you say, “What’s wrong with that?”. Dear reader – it was about nothing but mouthwatering meals.
There was no decent pretense of sightseeing, or tracking down schoolmates who had settled up there. It was unashamed determination to stuff our faces with the undeniably cheap and scrumptious food on every street up there.
My mother made food the centre of her life. You could tell who her favourite child/ grandchild/ relative / friend was by what she cooked for the person and whether she served it on her lovely Pyrex dishes or the sorry looking cracked dishes used everyday.
Food was meant as a means to survive. As life got easier, we just got pickier, craving for more taste, craving for the exotic, craving to outdo whatever was on our neighbour’s designer table. Unfortunately this seems to have resulted in a loss of taste for many things that are unrelated to food.
As Oprah Winfrey advocates the less is more lifestyle during these economically challenged times, we Malaysians can definitely practice it in terms of food.
Here are some suggestions for you to act on:
· Focus on the company.
Do fun stuff that takes the focus away from food. Instead of getting cranky on designer coffee or slurping down artery clogging curry laksa, try a game of bowling or spend time at the shelter home.
· Stop grumbling (a polite alternative for “bitching”)
If your friends only want some simple fare for one meal, just go with the flow. Come one, it’s only one meal, not a request for a conversion in your religion!
· Back to basics.
For the next religious festival, look for the significance behind it and focus on that.
If I were a poor farmer in Kerala, India, who had porridge half the time, yeah it made sense to celebrate Onam (http://www.onamfestival.org/what-is-onam.html)day with 15 coconut rich sleep inducing dishes for lunch. Since I don’t fall into that category, I think I should just whittle it down to three or four simple dishes.
· Stop food rewards.
No fast food as a reward for the kid who does his chores. No heavy lunches for the jubilant sales team. Try some other rewards like an extra hour in the park / a day at the gym / a day off, etc.
You’ve got the idea, haven’t you? So, snatch control of your life away from your taste buds today. What’s your first step going to be?
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Rare Exotic Fruits
Just when you think you know every single fruit there is in your country, you come across a couple of delightful new ones.
Sabah is a place that still holds many secrets close to her heart. When we were out at the foothills of Mount Kinabalu ( approximately forty minutes from Kota Kinabalu), we stopped at long row of stalls, filled with irresistible snacks vegetables and fruits of all shapes and colours.
There were the usual Malaysian fruits such as pomelo, chiku and mangoes that you can find in every nook and cranny out in the peninsular, making us go, "Been there, done that."
Sabah is a place that still holds many secrets close to her heart. When we were out at the foothills of Mount Kinabalu ( approximately forty minutes from Kota Kinabalu), we stopped at long row of stalls, filled with irresistible snacks vegetables and fruits of all shapes and colours.
There were the usual Malaysian fruits such as pomelo, chiku and mangoes that you can find in every nook and cranny out in the peninsular, making us go, "Been there, done that."
Then something caught our eye. And had us cracking our heads.
A rather prickly looking fruit stared at intruders from a corner. Havaing learnt the hard way how sharp the thorns of a durian can be, I poked it cautiously. Hey! It was quite soft, reminding me of one of those squashy toys that kids love.
“I assure you, you would never have tasted anything like this in KL!” gushed our Sabahan friend . So the Talap was packed up for us.
A rather prickly looking fruit stared at intruders from a corner. Havaing learnt the hard way how sharp the thorns of a durian can be, I poked it cautiously. Hey! It was quite soft, reminding me of one of those squashy toys that kids love.
“I assure you, you would never have tasted anything like this in KL!” gushed our Sabahan friend . So the Talap was packed up for us.
She was right, and it wasn’t just the taste that was unusual.
That night, the smell of diesel wafted around our room. Since the Ria Lodge was close to the main road, we assumed it was from the many huge lorries that plied the road.
When we finally opened up the fruit two days later, we realised that it was the talap that gave out that lovely “fragrance” you get at some petrol stations. Don’t wrinkle your nose in disgust just yet.
The taste was unique. The fruit was an exotic mixture of passion fruit and a very slight taste of durian tucked away somewhere in there. Rich, creamy, succulent. If it were to be sold over here, I’m sure Malaysians on over on this side will get addicted to it. So, why isn’t it? Haven’t got a good answer to that one yet.
That night, the smell of diesel wafted around our room. Since the Ria Lodge was close to the main road, we assumed it was from the many huge lorries that plied the road.
When we finally opened up the fruit two days later, we realised that it was the talap that gave out that lovely “fragrance” you get at some petrol stations. Don’t wrinkle your nose in disgust just yet.
The taste was unique. The fruit was an exotic mixture of passion fruit and a very slight taste of durian tucked away somewhere in there. Rich, creamy, succulent. If it were to be sold over here, I’m sure Malaysians on over on this side will get addicted to it. So, why isn’t it? Haven’t got a good answer to that one yet.
By the way there’s another fruit over in Sabah, called the lemak manis (literally, in Malay it means “sweet fat”). Have you tried it yet? I know I’ve got a pix of it sitting somewhere about ………
Monday, June 15, 2009
Say no to cheese
Cheesecakes. Pure golden nectar that just melts in your mouth. Yet, why is it some Hindus (which includes me) and strict vegetarians no longer partake of this yummylicious dairy product called cheese sold in most stores? Read on.
A really long, long time ago, oh like between 5,000 years ago, a young calf died. Tis was sad but the wise farmer merely accepted it as the cycle of life. Since times were tough, he wasted no time in cutting up and preserving each and every part of the poor youngster. Including its healthy looking fourth stomach.
With no adorable calf with moon eyes competing for the milk, the sad lactating mama cow had more milk than was needed. Quickly, the industrious farmer ran about, frantically filing up every conceivable container with milk. The missus, who was quite irritated to see her kitchen utensils used so, snapped at him, “Stop it! Here, use the calf’s stomachs instead!”
Now, neither one of them were expected anything out of the ordinary to happen. But something did.
The next day, the finicky farmer decided to tidy up his dwelling. When he picked up the calf’s fourth stomach, which had filled to the brim with milk previously, something felt wrong. The fourth stomach dropped unceremoniously onto the floor with a loud solid thump. Milk shouldn’t do that.
The puzzled man stood scratching his head. Not his no-nonsense wife. She just yanked up that darn fourth stomach and plunged her impatient hand into. Out came a white piece of solid mass.
They stared at it. They sniffed at it. They prodded it. Finally the wife broke off a teeny weeny piece of it. She put it up to his face, commanding, “Here, try it.” (Smart woman, that one.)
Tentatively he put it on his tongue. The mortified look on his face turned to one huge goofy grin. Even he knew that they had hit a goldmine.
That’s how cheese came about. Okay, okay, that’s my interpretation of it. There are other versions such as the weary traveller who substituted the water in one of his pouches (made out of a mammal’s stomach) with milk. As he traversed the dessert on his swaying camel, the milk was churned into golden cheese.
The point is, most of the cheese in today’s market is created using cow’s milk, often made with rennet obtained from the poor calf’s fourth stomach (seems they are quite particular which stomach it comes from).
A German friend said that back home there were many who refused to kill the young animals for this purpose (or for veal, of course). “They have stopped eating cheese altogether,” she commented.
Undeniably, there are alternatives to animal rennet, ranging from plants to microbial sources. But can you imagine me out at Secret Recipe, saying, “Eh, what was used to coagulate the cheese for the Boston cheesecake, ah? You can check the cover or not? Does it say animal rennet ah?” Yeah, right!
As a Hindu who does not eat beef, I have decided that its better for me to keep away from cheese totally. Unless it is Indian cheese called paneer (panir), which I believe is made using lime or lemon.
This whole rennet business (not unlike the veal saga) raises interesting questions.
Should we be killing young animals (e.g. calves, kids, lambs) just to obtain the rennet or some other specific part of the body that is considered a delicacy? Why is it that I had never heard about this until a couple of years ago? No one has created a stink about it because …..? I suspect it might have to do with our own attitude and personal values.
Pizzas with cheese toppings, burgers topped off with slices of cheese, spaghetti with an all too generous helping of cheese – all food from the west that is now so very part of our Malaysian lives. We have just adopted the foods of the world without giving it much though, haven’t we? Perhaps as we become more globalised, we should make it a point to examine what goes into our food and question how it is made.
The next time you are about to stuff yourself silly with something yummy, I would suggest you find out more about the ingredients first. If it blends in happily with your beliefs and principles in life, by all means, gobble it down. However, if it does not, take a minute to ponder on it before you blindly follow the crowd.
A really long, long time ago, oh like between 5,000 years ago, a young calf died. Tis was sad but the wise farmer merely accepted it as the cycle of life. Since times were tough, he wasted no time in cutting up and preserving each and every part of the poor youngster. Including its healthy looking fourth stomach.
With no adorable calf with moon eyes competing for the milk, the sad lactating mama cow had more milk than was needed. Quickly, the industrious farmer ran about, frantically filing up every conceivable container with milk. The missus, who was quite irritated to see her kitchen utensils used so, snapped at him, “Stop it! Here, use the calf’s stomachs instead!”
Now, neither one of them were expected anything out of the ordinary to happen. But something did.
The next day, the finicky farmer decided to tidy up his dwelling. When he picked up the calf’s fourth stomach, which had filled to the brim with milk previously, something felt wrong. The fourth stomach dropped unceremoniously onto the floor with a loud solid thump. Milk shouldn’t do that.
The puzzled man stood scratching his head. Not his no-nonsense wife. She just yanked up that darn fourth stomach and plunged her impatient hand into. Out came a white piece of solid mass.
They stared at it. They sniffed at it. They prodded it. Finally the wife broke off a teeny weeny piece of it. She put it up to his face, commanding, “Here, try it.” (Smart woman, that one.)
Tentatively he put it on his tongue. The mortified look on his face turned to one huge goofy grin. Even he knew that they had hit a goldmine.
That’s how cheese came about. Okay, okay, that’s my interpretation of it. There are other versions such as the weary traveller who substituted the water in one of his pouches (made out of a mammal’s stomach) with milk. As he traversed the dessert on his swaying camel, the milk was churned into golden cheese.
The point is, most of the cheese in today’s market is created using cow’s milk, often made with rennet obtained from the poor calf’s fourth stomach (seems they are quite particular which stomach it comes from).
A German friend said that back home there were many who refused to kill the young animals for this purpose (or for veal, of course). “They have stopped eating cheese altogether,” she commented.
Undeniably, there are alternatives to animal rennet, ranging from plants to microbial sources. But can you imagine me out at Secret Recipe, saying, “Eh, what was used to coagulate the cheese for the Boston cheesecake, ah? You can check the cover or not? Does it say animal rennet ah?” Yeah, right!
As a Hindu who does not eat beef, I have decided that its better for me to keep away from cheese totally. Unless it is Indian cheese called paneer (panir), which I believe is made using lime or lemon.
This whole rennet business (not unlike the veal saga) raises interesting questions.
Should we be killing young animals (e.g. calves, kids, lambs) just to obtain the rennet or some other specific part of the body that is considered a delicacy? Why is it that I had never heard about this until a couple of years ago? No one has created a stink about it because …..? I suspect it might have to do with our own attitude and personal values.
Pizzas with cheese toppings, burgers topped off with slices of cheese, spaghetti with an all too generous helping of cheese – all food from the west that is now so very part of our Malaysian lives. We have just adopted the foods of the world without giving it much though, haven’t we? Perhaps as we become more globalised, we should make it a point to examine what goes into our food and question how it is made.
The next time you are about to stuff yourself silly with something yummy, I would suggest you find out more about the ingredients first. If it blends in happily with your beliefs and principles in life, by all means, gobble it down. However, if it does not, take a minute to ponder on it before you blindly follow the crowd.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
GIMPing
I feel like a dinosaur. The minute you turn your back, there are more new tricks to learn in the world of photography, leaving me perpetually feeling as though I’ve been left behind in the 100m race.
It was all triggered off by this email that landed in my inbox a couple of days ago. The innocuous note inspired me to start whipping those lazy photographs of mine that have holidaying in my hard disk into shape; all to earn more mullah.
It was all triggered off by this email that landed in my inbox a couple of days ago. The innocuous note inspired me to start whipping those lazy photographs of mine that have holidaying in my hard disk into shape; all to earn more mullah.
Little did I suspect that there would be a fair bit of work involved.
First I had to chase them down and sort through them, leaving some personal favourites out in favour of others that are more likely to impress. Then I learnt about something called “noise”. Darn it! Whether it’s actual noise made by a bunch of rowdy kids or those grainy specks that appear in some photographs, both are equally unwelcome.
Hence, started my foray into editing and cleaning my pix. But wait, the software supplied by the camera people didn’t let me clean up the noise. How now brown cow? Photoshop is way too pricey, plus I was sure it would slow down my computer. Macam mana ini???
Fortunately, a kind Facebook contact led me to GIMP. Phew!
Now, I swear I’m a GIMPer. Okay, so the noise isn’t totally gone but I’ve learnt to distort my pictures and do some zany things to them. You’ll be see more of them soon enough.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Worst heat wave ever
This has got to be the worst heat wave ever in Malaysia. The other night I almost dropped my hot night dress in surprise. It didn’t make sense as I had yanked it off the clothes rack in my bedroom, not a sizzling kitchen grill.
I could feel the heat radiating off the walls upstairs. Perhaps it was because I had been away for a couple of hours after having turned off my tired old fans and bolted the windows tight against those damned burglars.
The heat was an unpleasant surprise for just a month ago I’d wake up to lovely cool air in the in the depths of Subang (I kid you not, it’s way cooler here than in PJ). Anyway, now I just start my day sweating like a very unladylike oink oink at the break of dawn.
You see, there are no air-conditioning units in my home (I’m a truly rare species…. okay, okay I’ve got fears of ending up with certain ailments but that’s another story) so there’s no room to seek shelter within the house.
So what do I do? Other than watering my plants who have it worse than me, twice a day, I have taken to drinking cumin water for its cooling effects. It is strange the things I get up to these days.
I have memories of my father gulping this down from the time I was a toddler until I was a working adult. I thot it was just another Kerala habit, never bothering to investigate the many benefits that lay behind this innocuous little brown spice.
Cumin, jerakum or jintan manis is something that can be easily bought at all stores in Malaysia. My mother used to fling half a teaspoon of it into a pot of water (about 3 glasses), boiling it until it turned a light yellow colour wihtin about 20 minutes. My friend (I’ve got to credit Mr Ramamurthy’s daughter for this) suggested I roast it for a few seconds before adding the water. It’s a lot more pungent, sending a sweet aromatic smell through my house. the process of making it is ridiculously simple.
Does it work? Yup, it certainly does as I feel cooler after downing a hot glass of it. Plus, it is said to help the digestive system which may be why I don’t feel so lethargic after meals these days.
It’s surprising how years later you find out that all those things the old folks used to eat, drink and grow in the garden had myriad health values. Take for instance the yoghurt mixed in with diced cucumber, giving it a really cooling effect, the yellow turmeric splattered into vegetables and curries which has cancer fighting properties and that much hated bitter gourd turns out to be an excellent preventive measure for diabetics.
Let’s not forget tulsi or holy basil, the revered plant found in most Hindu homes. You could pluck some of the leaves to rub onto your skin to cure certain skin diseases, swallow it whole to gain from its medicinal properties (but I believe you are not supposed to bite into it as it may have adverse effects), or even boil it. If consuming it does not appeal to you, just grow it in your garden as the old folks say it keeps negative energy away.
Coincidentally, one article that was circulating on the net says tulsi emits a remarkably strong positive aura. No matter what, it just makes me happy to see it sprouting all over my little garden. Passersby may think that I’m a Hari Krishna devotee but that doesn’t bother me. On days when I feel down, ten minutes near my lovely tulsi plants lifts my spirits high.
When I did my research on my cumin drink, I found a whole lot of other kitchen spices with medicinal properties. There’s coriander that can be boiled for my asthma, ginger to be thrown into dishes to reduce the “wind”, and the list goes on.
By the way, seems that you can do some “oil pulling” (sloshing the oil about for 20 minutes in your mouth) with that vegetable oil sitting pretty in your cabinet to rid of every ailment under the sun. Wanna give it a go?
I could feel the heat radiating off the walls upstairs. Perhaps it was because I had been away for a couple of hours after having turned off my tired old fans and bolted the windows tight against those damned burglars.
The heat was an unpleasant surprise for just a month ago I’d wake up to lovely cool air in the in the depths of Subang (I kid you not, it’s way cooler here than in PJ). Anyway, now I just start my day sweating like a very unladylike oink oink at the break of dawn.
You see, there are no air-conditioning units in my home (I’m a truly rare species…. okay, okay I’ve got fears of ending up with certain ailments but that’s another story) so there’s no room to seek shelter within the house.
So what do I do? Other than watering my plants who have it worse than me, twice a day, I have taken to drinking cumin water for its cooling effects. It is strange the things I get up to these days.
I have memories of my father gulping this down from the time I was a toddler until I was a working adult. I thot it was just another Kerala habit, never bothering to investigate the many benefits that lay behind this innocuous little brown spice.
Cumin, jerakum or jintan manis is something that can be easily bought at all stores in Malaysia. My mother used to fling half a teaspoon of it into a pot of water (about 3 glasses), boiling it until it turned a light yellow colour wihtin about 20 minutes. My friend (I’ve got to credit Mr Ramamurthy’s daughter for this) suggested I roast it for a few seconds before adding the water. It’s a lot more pungent, sending a sweet aromatic smell through my house. the process of making it is ridiculously simple.
Does it work? Yup, it certainly does as I feel cooler after downing a hot glass of it. Plus, it is said to help the digestive system which may be why I don’t feel so lethargic after meals these days.
It’s surprising how years later you find out that all those things the old folks used to eat, drink and grow in the garden had myriad health values. Take for instance the yoghurt mixed in with diced cucumber, giving it a really cooling effect, the yellow turmeric splattered into vegetables and curries which has cancer fighting properties and that much hated bitter gourd turns out to be an excellent preventive measure for diabetics.
Let’s not forget tulsi or holy basil, the revered plant found in most Hindu homes. You could pluck some of the leaves to rub onto your skin to cure certain skin diseases, swallow it whole to gain from its medicinal properties (but I believe you are not supposed to bite into it as it may have adverse effects), or even boil it. If consuming it does not appeal to you, just grow it in your garden as the old folks say it keeps negative energy away.
Coincidentally, one article that was circulating on the net says tulsi emits a remarkably strong positive aura. No matter what, it just makes me happy to see it sprouting all over my little garden. Passersby may think that I’m a Hari Krishna devotee but that doesn’t bother me. On days when I feel down, ten minutes near my lovely tulsi plants lifts my spirits high.
When I did my research on my cumin drink, I found a whole lot of other kitchen spices with medicinal properties. There’s coriander that can be boiled for my asthma, ginger to be thrown into dishes to reduce the “wind”, and the list goes on.
By the way, seems that you can do some “oil pulling” (sloshing the oil about for 20 minutes in your mouth) with that vegetable oil sitting pretty in your cabinet to rid of every ailment under the sun. Wanna give it a go?
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Susan Boyle, the 47 year old lass
Susan Boyle, Susan Boyle. The world is agog with this Scottish “lass”. I use the term “lass” rather liberally.
Whilst the world marvels at her voice and debates on how soon her hairstyle, frocks and eyebrows are going to undergo a glitzy Hollywood style makeover, I wonder why no one has commented on the one thing that had caught my attention on that episode of Britain’s Got Talent.
Susan Boyle had no hang-ups about telling the world that she’s 47.
Didn’t that strike anyone else? I have a friend (who shall remain nameless, for I do value my life & she knows where I live), who has been 39+ for the past XXXXXX years.
Though, I’ve got to hand it to her; she’s done a good job of looking young, without the help of plastic surgery and layers of western make-up plastered on her face. Yet, some of us know that we (to be honest, that’s more me than anyone else) can make her life a living hell but just threatening to hand out a few obscure clues about her age.
She’s not the only one. There are women who would rather be shot than even give a clue to their age. Oh, sure, they will spew forth statements like, “I’ve been working in this industry for 10 years,” but God only knows if they started working in other industries during World War II.
Then you have American movies which really makes you think on the subject of age. The stories normally go something like this.
Gorgeous mature woman meets cash rich man. Woman claims to be 30. Asinine man is over the moon, marries her.
Ten years passes. She’s supposed to be 40. Then, surprise, surprise, he finds out she’s actually 60 (hmmm … what gave it away?). Oh, oh!
You’ll just have to imagine the man staggering with shock at this point and me left wondering how the hell anyone could pull that off. After all, over here, even the bank teller whom you’ve never laid eyes on before knows your age from your MyKad (Identification Card) number.
Why is it so difficult for people to accept their age? Of course there are times when my age bothers me. As an Indian female in Malaysia, some people may use different terms to address me in informal settings. This could be, “younger sister”, “sister”, “elder sister”, “mother”, “auntie” and for the really old – “grandma”.
That transition that I had to make from “younger sister” to “elder sister” was a little unsettling. From unsettling, it turned into a feeling somewhat like a mild electric shock when ten years later, I was addressed as “auntie”. Sigh!
Sigh, sigh, sigh!
On that first occasion, I just froze. My mind screamed, ““HUH? Who you calling aunite? Moron!”
Then as I stared with narrowed eyes at the person who had addressed me, it made sense. These young working adults were the same age as my college going nieces who called me Aunty non-stop. Time to wake up and smell the old roses!
So, Susan Boyle, you have my utmost respect. For going where no woman would venture. For standing in front of caustic Simon Cowell, whilst the world watched (and later more than 85 million views on the Internet) and declaring your age without apologizing or being even a tiny bit embarrassed about it.
I only hope Susan Boyle, that you’re for real and not some publicity stunt that was pulled to boost ratings.
Whilst the world marvels at her voice and debates on how soon her hairstyle, frocks and eyebrows are going to undergo a glitzy Hollywood style makeover, I wonder why no one has commented on the one thing that had caught my attention on that episode of Britain’s Got Talent.
Susan Boyle had no hang-ups about telling the world that she’s 47.
Didn’t that strike anyone else? I have a friend (who shall remain nameless, for I do value my life & she knows where I live), who has been 39+ for the past XXXXXX years.
Though, I’ve got to hand it to her; she’s done a good job of looking young, without the help of plastic surgery and layers of western make-up plastered on her face. Yet, some of us know that we (to be honest, that’s more me than anyone else) can make her life a living hell but just threatening to hand out a few obscure clues about her age.
She’s not the only one. There are women who would rather be shot than even give a clue to their age. Oh, sure, they will spew forth statements like, “I’ve been working in this industry for 10 years,” but God only knows if they started working in other industries during World War II.
Then you have American movies which really makes you think on the subject of age. The stories normally go something like this.
Gorgeous mature woman meets cash rich man. Woman claims to be 30. Asinine man is over the moon, marries her.
Ten years passes. She’s supposed to be 40. Then, surprise, surprise, he finds out she’s actually 60 (hmmm … what gave it away?). Oh, oh!
You’ll just have to imagine the man staggering with shock at this point and me left wondering how the hell anyone could pull that off. After all, over here, even the bank teller whom you’ve never laid eyes on before knows your age from your MyKad (Identification Card) number.
Why is it so difficult for people to accept their age? Of course there are times when my age bothers me. As an Indian female in Malaysia, some people may use different terms to address me in informal settings. This could be, “younger sister”, “sister”, “elder sister”, “mother”, “auntie” and for the really old – “grandma”.
That transition that I had to make from “younger sister” to “elder sister” was a little unsettling. From unsettling, it turned into a feeling somewhat like a mild electric shock when ten years later, I was addressed as “auntie”. Sigh!
Sigh, sigh, sigh!
On that first occasion, I just froze. My mind screamed, ““HUH? Who you calling aunite? Moron!”
Then as I stared with narrowed eyes at the person who had addressed me, it made sense. These young working adults were the same age as my college going nieces who called me Aunty non-stop. Time to wake up and smell the old roses!
So, Susan Boyle, you have my utmost respect. For going where no woman would venture. For standing in front of caustic Simon Cowell, whilst the world watched (and later more than 85 million views on the Internet) and declaring your age without apologizing or being even a tiny bit embarrassed about it.
I only hope Susan Boyle, that you’re for real and not some publicity stunt that was pulled to boost ratings.
Monday, March 30, 2009
I didn’t turn my lights off during Earth Hour
& about plastic bags at Klang Valley bakeries
I didn’t take part in Earth Hour. That’s not really a cool thing to say, is it? Especially since I hang out with some greenies (aka those environmentally conscious people). Well, the thing is
this ….
I live alone. So when Earth Hour was first announced this year, it was like, yeah, right! No way am I going to do that. Whgo is this mad person who thinks I’m going to sit in the dark in a city where desperados think nothing of chopping off your fingers to steal your RM250 ring?
Then came the explanation that we should just turn off the non-essentials. Hellooo …. I already do that! I have also switched to using energy saving bulbs.
One e-mail had suggested that we get together with young relatives, proving to them how it is possible to have a good time without consuming electricity. In retrospect that was a good idea. Admittedly, I should have done something along those lines for my friends who don’t seem to give two hoots about the environment. Undeniably, Earth Hour is a good start for those who don’t bother or know the consequences of our bad habits.
But I digress. What had triggered off this piece was my trip to the bakery last night. I bought four buns. Of the same type. The cashier started to put them into four clear individual plastic bags, after which she would put the whole lot into a bigger bag. Is that really necessary?
All the Klang Valley bakeries do it now. You buy ten items, the young helpers put them into ten different clear plastic bags. I wish I knew which idiot started this trend.
If people can sit in the dark for an hour, can’t they just open their mouths to say, “No, I don’t need so many bags.”
Mind you, at this point, I’m not even asking anyone to take their own plastic bags to the bakery. Just explain that you don’t need so many bags.
Alternatively, bakery owners could train their staff to ask customers if they want their stuff packed individually or not. I bet that most customers have no problem with putting together, for instance all the buns into one, those yellow egg tarts into another, etc. It’s such a small step but it would ultimately mean a lot.
That’s not too much to ask of customers or bakery owners, is it?
& about plastic bags at Klang Valley bakeries
I didn’t take part in Earth Hour. That’s not really a cool thing to say, is it? Especially since I hang out with some greenies (aka those environmentally conscious people). Well, the thing is
this ….
I live alone. So when Earth Hour was first announced this year, it was like, yeah, right! No way am I going to do that. Whgo is this mad person who thinks I’m going to sit in the dark in a city where desperados think nothing of chopping off your fingers to steal your RM250 ring?
Then came the explanation that we should just turn off the non-essentials. Hellooo …. I already do that! I have also switched to using energy saving bulbs.
One e-mail had suggested that we get together with young relatives, proving to them how it is possible to have a good time without consuming electricity. In retrospect that was a good idea. Admittedly, I should have done something along those lines for my friends who don’t seem to give two hoots about the environment. Undeniably, Earth Hour is a good start for those who don’t bother or know the consequences of our bad habits.
But I digress. What had triggered off this piece was my trip to the bakery last night. I bought four buns. Of the same type. The cashier started to put them into four clear individual plastic bags, after which she would put the whole lot into a bigger bag. Is that really necessary?
All the Klang Valley bakeries do it now. You buy ten items, the young helpers put them into ten different clear plastic bags. I wish I knew which idiot started this trend.
If people can sit in the dark for an hour, can’t they just open their mouths to say, “No, I don’t need so many bags.”
Mind you, at this point, I’m not even asking anyone to take their own plastic bags to the bakery. Just explain that you don’t need so many bags.
Alternatively, bakery owners could train their staff to ask customers if they want their stuff packed individually or not. I bet that most customers have no problem with putting together, for instance all the buns into one, those yellow egg tarts into another, etc. It’s such a small step but it would ultimately mean a lot.
That’s not too much to ask of customers or bakery owners, is it?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
A chick flick …. for young chicks
I thot that Confessions of a Shopaholic would be an ideal way to chase away the blues.
So, I marched into theatre no. 5 at the Pyramid at 2.45 pm sharp on 26th March to catch the trailers (I can just see Mr Ramamurthy’s daughter rolling her eyes at this – she has no respect for trailer obsession).
What took me by surprise was that the place was fairly packed for a matinee on a weekday. Within five minutes the seats were taken up by many obviously young chicks eager to catch the show on Day 1.
However, that’s not the reason why I say this movie is for young chicks.
Though it is a fairly fast paced movie, I did keep waiting for something more to happen. You know, something unexpected in the storyline, a surprise, something you haven't seen in a million other movies. Like the stuff Spongebob does. Sorry, can’t think of anything more profound right now. Besides, the yellow fellow makes me and my nephew James crack up.
“Should I watch it?” you ask impatiently.
The answer is yes, if you just want some lighthearted entertainment. More reasons include: it will make you laugh, most women will be able to really relate to the needs to shop, cringing in the dark as the credit card bits come on, the hero is yummy, young women will just wish they were the Cinderella in this piece, the hero is kinda good looking, it gives you hope for the future, the hero is every girl’s idea of prince charming, and … did I mention the hero is visually appealing? It would have been nice if he were a bit older as he looks like a pup out of school, way too young to hold the high ranking position of a financial magazine. Or anything else. another reason why this movie is surely for young chicks.
By the way, this movie didn’t have the same effect as Slumdog Millionare did on me. You see when the credits rolled on for this chick flick, I didn’t want to dash out to buy the book. Or maybe if I were a younger chick I would. I should have asked the girls seated next to me.
Anything else you want to know?
By the way, this is a special message for Mr Ramamurthy’s daughter. If you’ve made it to the end of this piece – I’m sorry this is all words, and that there are no pix yet. Yeah, right!
I thot that Confessions of a Shopaholic would be an ideal way to chase away the blues.
So, I marched into theatre no. 5 at the Pyramid at 2.45 pm sharp on 26th March to catch the trailers (I can just see Mr Ramamurthy’s daughter rolling her eyes at this – she has no respect for trailer obsession).
What took me by surprise was that the place was fairly packed for a matinee on a weekday. Within five minutes the seats were taken up by many obviously young chicks eager to catch the show on Day 1.
However, that’s not the reason why I say this movie is for young chicks.
Though it is a fairly fast paced movie, I did keep waiting for something more to happen. You know, something unexpected in the storyline, a surprise, something you haven't seen in a million other movies. Like the stuff Spongebob does. Sorry, can’t think of anything more profound right now. Besides, the yellow fellow makes me and my nephew James crack up.
“Should I watch it?” you ask impatiently.
The answer is yes, if you just want some lighthearted entertainment. More reasons include: it will make you laugh, most women will be able to really relate to the needs to shop, cringing in the dark as the credit card bits come on, the hero is yummy, young women will just wish they were the Cinderella in this piece, the hero is kinda good looking, it gives you hope for the future, the hero is every girl’s idea of prince charming, and … did I mention the hero is visually appealing? It would have been nice if he were a bit older as he looks like a pup out of school, way too young to hold the high ranking position of a financial magazine. Or anything else. another reason why this movie is surely for young chicks.
By the way, this movie didn’t have the same effect as Slumdog Millionare did on me. You see when the credits rolled on for this chick flick, I didn’t want to dash out to buy the book. Or maybe if I were a younger chick I would. I should have asked the girls seated next to me.
Anything else you want to know?
By the way, this is a special message for Mr Ramamurthy’s daughter. If you’ve made it to the end of this piece – I’m sorry this is all words, and that there are no pix yet. Yeah, right!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Do you dare?
Are you one of those gung-ho individuals ready to take on the world? The kind of individual that says, “Damn the economy. Nothing’s going to stop me, I’m surging ahead with my plans!”
The sort that would be eager to take on a challenge of being disciplined enough to consistently doing one particular task each and ever day. In this case the challenge thrown out by one writer on the net was for others to write a story, a day, ever single day for an entire year.
The story goes that the person who initially sparked this off had challenged himself to write a poem a day, for an entire year. He succeeded though some of the poems turned out to be relatively short. But the important point was that at the end of the year he had enough to publish a book! Wow!
Impressed and inspired, in 2008 I was determined to follow suit with my own set of short stories for children.
I started out in January, slacked off somewhere in April, recommenced in June, slacked off …. See a pattern there? Obviously, I wasn’t as tenacious as that guy.
BUT, the point is that when I flipped through the stories last night (March 2009), I liked some of the stuff I had produced. Maybe there is something in that idea after all. It did produce results, encouraging me to take it up again.
Hmm …. This definitely goes into the “something to ponder on” list. Why not throw yourself a similar challenge? Fill the blanks below and, ……. I won’t say “Good Luck”. Cos with or without it, I know you’ll succeed!
For the coming 12 months, I will spend at least 15 minutes a day ___________ . This will help in my efforts to ___________.
Are you one of those gung-ho individuals ready to take on the world? The kind of individual that says, “Damn the economy. Nothing’s going to stop me, I’m surging ahead with my plans!”
The sort that would be eager to take on a challenge of being disciplined enough to consistently doing one particular task each and ever day. In this case the challenge thrown out by one writer on the net was for others to write a story, a day, ever single day for an entire year.
The story goes that the person who initially sparked this off had challenged himself to write a poem a day, for an entire year. He succeeded though some of the poems turned out to be relatively short. But the important point was that at the end of the year he had enough to publish a book! Wow!
Impressed and inspired, in 2008 I was determined to follow suit with my own set of short stories for children.
I started out in January, slacked off somewhere in April, recommenced in June, slacked off …. See a pattern there? Obviously, I wasn’t as tenacious as that guy.
BUT, the point is that when I flipped through the stories last night (March 2009), I liked some of the stuff I had produced. Maybe there is something in that idea after all. It did produce results, encouraging me to take it up again.
Hmm …. This definitely goes into the “something to ponder on” list. Why not throw yourself a similar challenge? Fill the blanks below and, ……. I won’t say “Good Luck”. Cos with or without it, I know you’ll succeed!
For the coming 12 months, I will spend at least 15 minutes a day ___________ . This will help in my efforts to ___________.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Wishing for Creative Powers
I failed art in Form 3. I had begged to be allowed to drop this paper for the SRP (now referred to as PMR). I remember another girl in the form – Harry an ex-Assuntarian who is no longer with us, wasn’t going to sit for the art paper. I so desperately wanted to follow suit.
As usual my mother totally turned the decision over to my eldest sister who decreed that I had to sit for the dreaded paper. What she never bothered to find out was exactly how good (of course, in this case it was how bad) my art skills were. No one who resembled an adult ever took my views and thots seriously ( and the answer is – yes, I’m still in therapy for being a contributing member of a dysfunctional family.)
Today, I chanced upon an interesting website, where a guy replicates the Mona Lisa using the grease from burgers. It's a good lesson on what goes into your body when you munch on one of those babies plus how you can make use of anything to be creative. Catch it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orjALWsyaR4. I was just so impressed by how creative people can get. I wish I had some of his skills.
His website had more gems. See http://www.philinthecircle.com/amoment.html. A picture of Mother Theresa is constructed using 24 different shots of dandelions. Bruce Lee is painted by hitting the canvas with paint covered hands (how appropriate) and get this- Lance Armstrong was formed as the ingenious artist rode a tricycle around the portrait.
As I sit here trying hard to think up of an interesting concept for a new project I’m working on, I can only admire his ingenuity.
I failed art in Form 3. I had begged to be allowed to drop this paper for the SRP (now referred to as PMR). I remember another girl in the form – Harry an ex-Assuntarian who is no longer with us, wasn’t going to sit for the art paper. I so desperately wanted to follow suit.
As usual my mother totally turned the decision over to my eldest sister who decreed that I had to sit for the dreaded paper. What she never bothered to find out was exactly how good (of course, in this case it was how bad) my art skills were. No one who resembled an adult ever took my views and thots seriously ( and the answer is – yes, I’m still in therapy for being a contributing member of a dysfunctional family.)
Today, I chanced upon an interesting website, where a guy replicates the Mona Lisa using the grease from burgers. It's a good lesson on what goes into your body when you munch on one of those babies plus how you can make use of anything to be creative. Catch it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orjALWsyaR4. I was just so impressed by how creative people can get. I wish I had some of his skills.
His website had more gems. See http://www.philinthecircle.com/amoment.html. A picture of Mother Theresa is constructed using 24 different shots of dandelions. Bruce Lee is painted by hitting the canvas with paint covered hands (how appropriate) and get this- Lance Armstrong was formed as the ingenious artist rode a tricycle around the portrait.
As I sit here trying hard to think up of an interesting concept for a new project I’m working on, I can only admire his ingenuity.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Not another slum love story!
I kept putting off watching Slumdog Millionaire. You see, I’m an Indian who grew up on a staple diet of prancing heroes and heroines on the screen. The thot of yet another love, story even though this was mainly in English, put me off.
What about the awards, you see? Geez, I stopped trusting their judgment eons ago. There have been many a time I’ve wanted to bill those guys for my pricey cinema ticket, parking, petrol for cruising around looking for a parking lot, time wasted snoring through another crappy movie, etc. all thanks to their seal of approval.
When my sixteen year old nephew from JB said he wanted to watch Slumdog Millionaire, I was quite taken aback. He wanted to watch a “love movie”? Plus he’s at that stage when he tries to portray a cross between being cool and macho. Surprise, surprise. When you only see your nephew once in a very blue moon, you tend to be very agreeable to whatever he wants to do (at least most things).
Quite frankly, the movie took me aback. Perhaps it’s my age showing. After a while (or a long while in my case) you pay scant attention to reviews and don’t really bother to read up the usual battery of promo pieces that appears in the local papers. So, I didn’t know what the movie was really about.
I admit that I was captivated by the storyline. Weaving it in and out of a famous game show was pretty remarkable. The two little rascals who played the lead for half the movie were simply captivating. They were spot on portraying young lads who snatch as much pleasure out of life as possible. I could imagine many a boy in their situation making the same sharp, observant comments that reveals their acceptance of their current station in life, yet there is that spark that says they are not willing to stay down for good.
The bit that I wasn’t too crazy about in the movie was the whole beggar part . I had shut my eyes and cringed when they used the spoon to ….. If you don’t know go find out.
The whole portrayal may be true to some extent but I felt this “beggar syndicate” theme was suddenly being overused. Reason being I had recently just watched another movie (Tamil – Nan Kadavil) that used way too much of violence to depict how the totally heartless beggar syndicates work in India. But then, there are certain people who enjoy these scenes.
What about the love story, you ask. Well, that was, in my opinion, just humdrum. I’m willing to forgive them for making me watch that bit as the rest of the movie was good.
The love aspect just proves what an obsessive individual the hero is. It was pure infatuation all the way. As for the heroine, in retrospect, her lines weren’t that terrific. With or without her, the movie would have been great. On another note, the directors would have had my respect if they had had the guts to use a woman who was not half as attractive. I’ll just continue to dream on.
There is a short dance number that comes on just as the credits are rolling. My knowledgeable 12 year old nephew says it was highly rated by Mat Salleh standards. But he didn’t think so. By my Indian standards, it was a real yawn. Thot both hero and heroine were stiff and the moves were so terribly common. Did they get someone off the streets of Bollywood to teach them that one?
Am now wondering if I should read the book on which this movie was based. Has anyone got any recommendations?
I kept putting off watching Slumdog Millionaire. You see, I’m an Indian who grew up on a staple diet of prancing heroes and heroines on the screen. The thot of yet another love, story even though this was mainly in English, put me off.
What about the awards, you see? Geez, I stopped trusting their judgment eons ago. There have been many a time I’ve wanted to bill those guys for my pricey cinema ticket, parking, petrol for cruising around looking for a parking lot, time wasted snoring through another crappy movie, etc. all thanks to their seal of approval.
When my sixteen year old nephew from JB said he wanted to watch Slumdog Millionaire, I was quite taken aback. He wanted to watch a “love movie”? Plus he’s at that stage when he tries to portray a cross between being cool and macho. Surprise, surprise. When you only see your nephew once in a very blue moon, you tend to be very agreeable to whatever he wants to do (at least most things).
Quite frankly, the movie took me aback. Perhaps it’s my age showing. After a while (or a long while in my case) you pay scant attention to reviews and don’t really bother to read up the usual battery of promo pieces that appears in the local papers. So, I didn’t know what the movie was really about.
I admit that I was captivated by the storyline. Weaving it in and out of a famous game show was pretty remarkable. The two little rascals who played the lead for half the movie were simply captivating. They were spot on portraying young lads who snatch as much pleasure out of life as possible. I could imagine many a boy in their situation making the same sharp, observant comments that reveals their acceptance of their current station in life, yet there is that spark that says they are not willing to stay down for good.
The bit that I wasn’t too crazy about in the movie was the whole beggar part . I had shut my eyes and cringed when they used the spoon to ….. If you don’t know go find out.
The whole portrayal may be true to some extent but I felt this “beggar syndicate” theme was suddenly being overused. Reason being I had recently just watched another movie (Tamil – Nan Kadavil) that used way too much of violence to depict how the totally heartless beggar syndicates work in India. But then, there are certain people who enjoy these scenes.
What about the love story, you ask. Well, that was, in my opinion, just humdrum. I’m willing to forgive them for making me watch that bit as the rest of the movie was good.
The love aspect just proves what an obsessive individual the hero is. It was pure infatuation all the way. As for the heroine, in retrospect, her lines weren’t that terrific. With or without her, the movie would have been great. On another note, the directors would have had my respect if they had had the guts to use a woman who was not half as attractive. I’ll just continue to dream on.
There is a short dance number that comes on just as the credits are rolling. My knowledgeable 12 year old nephew says it was highly rated by Mat Salleh standards. But he didn’t think so. By my Indian standards, it was a real yawn. Thot both hero and heroine were stiff and the moves were so terribly common. Did they get someone off the streets of Bollywood to teach them that one?
Am now wondering if I should read the book on which this movie was based. Has anyone got any recommendations?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
A warning about "bodoh" maids
Helloooooo! If she was all that smart, she’d be your boss. You’d be working your butt off for her, not vice versa.
And after the bone chilling (feel free to further qualify that with “horrifying”, “gruesome”, “Stephen King like”) incident of the maid trying to kill her boss up in Penang, I say, better to have a bodoh (stupid) maid, than a psycho gleefully plotting to finish you off with whatever sharp instruments she can lay her evil hands on.
Here’s another thot. Should you be the sort who has absolutely no sharp instruments around, GOOD LUCK! You can bet your last sen she’s going to bludgeon you with something blunt until her mission has been accomplished. Ugh!
But that’s not the reason why I started on this piece. I wanted to write on “bodoh maids”.
What exactly do employers expect when they hire a scrawny maid from Indonesia / Cambodia / Vietnam / India / Sri Lanka?
Don’t these temperamental employers know that some (I said some, not all) of these hapless maids come from terribly isolated villages? You know, places that require you to get onto a boat, go to the nearest village, wait for half a day for an ancient van to fill up with passengers before heading out to a bigger town. I kid you not.
So, when one of these maids hand washes filthy floor mats in the same pail as your stylo office clothes, don’t scream bloody murder. “Maidless” me can only imagine your frustration.
During that first incident, how about trying to keep in mind that the “bodoh maid” comes from a place where they probably cannot even afford to use well-worn clothes as floor mats. Every item she sees may be a luxury, making her treat them all alike. Plus, don’t you think that in her home, the focus would have been on survival with nary a thot on hygiene?
In cases when a foreign maid diligently shoves three day old food back into the fridge instead of chucking it into the dustbin (aka the Malaysian way), try to look at it from her perspective. Your homesick maid may be crying on the inside as her mind turns to her family going without food. Scarcity in one’s life makes one treat things taken for granted by others with much respect.
I could go on with more stories of maids doing unexpected / idiotic / bodoh things in Malaysian homes. I just wish that the next time these over demanding employers would take a minute to view it from the uneducated maid’s perspective. It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?
“Why do I always get the lousy maids?” one pampered friend had moaned in the past. “She can’t do anything. I’ve got to
teach her every single thing. So bodoh one!”
Helloooooo! If she was all that smart, she’d be your boss. You’d be working your butt off for her, not vice versa.
And after the bone chilling (feel free to further qualify that with “horrifying”, “gruesome”, “Stephen King like”) incident of the maid trying to kill her boss up in Penang, I say, better to have a bodoh (stupid) maid, than a psycho gleefully plotting to finish you off with whatever sharp instruments she can lay her evil hands on.
Here’s another thot. Should you be the sort who has absolutely no sharp instruments around, GOOD LUCK! You can bet your last sen she’s going to bludgeon you with something blunt until her mission has been accomplished. Ugh!
But that’s not the reason why I started on this piece. I wanted to write on “bodoh maids”.
What exactly do employers expect when they hire a scrawny maid from Indonesia / Cambodia / Vietnam / India / Sri Lanka?
Don’t these temperamental employers know that some (I said some, not all) of these hapless maids come from terribly isolated villages? You know, places that require you to get onto a boat, go to the nearest village, wait for half a day for an ancient van to fill up with passengers before heading out to a bigger town. I kid you not.
So, when one of these maids hand washes filthy floor mats in the same pail as your stylo office clothes, don’t scream bloody murder. “Maidless” me can only imagine your frustration.
During that first incident, how about trying to keep in mind that the “bodoh maid” comes from a place where they probably cannot even afford to use well-worn clothes as floor mats. Every item she sees may be a luxury, making her treat them all alike. Plus, don’t you think that in her home, the focus would have been on survival with nary a thot on hygiene?
In cases when a foreign maid diligently shoves three day old food back into the fridge instead of chucking it into the dustbin (aka the Malaysian way), try to look at it from her perspective. Your homesick maid may be crying on the inside as her mind turns to her family going without food. Scarcity in one’s life makes one treat things taken for granted by others with much respect.
I could go on with more stories of maids doing unexpected / idiotic / bodoh things in Malaysian homes. I just wish that the next time these over demanding employers would take a minute to view it from the uneducated maid’s perspective. It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Please pay for my Masters .....
Please pay for my Masters ……
At a time when the we’ve been warned that the economy can only get worse, the RM60 billion stimulus package provides “aid for 10,000 students to pursue their Masters and 500 others to do their PhD” (see theSun, page 2).
Makes you think, doesn’t it?
There will be people who will get up in the mornings, worried to death about their jobs, about the shrinking value of their RM, about how they are going to feed their children, much less ensure they get a proper basic education.
It looks like it’s just more important for others to get a Masters degree. Whatever happened to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs? Is it time to revisit what Abraham Maslow had to say?
Sigh! I just don’t get it.
Years ago, it must have been in the early 1990’s, there were some fresh graduates who appealed to the public via national newspapers to sponsor their studies. It made my skin crawl. They had basic degrees which should have procured them a decent job. Surely they could pursue graduate studies at a later date? They could have emulated the million other working adults who scrimp, save and take out student loans to do so.
If the basic degree wasn’t good enough to even get you a job, something is terribly wrong. What guarantee is there that a Masters (local or foreign) is going to help you? I did my Masters locally at UPM. Did it guarantee that I could perform my job better? In all honesty – NO.
I gained a whole lot of interesting information. Plus there was a certain amount of emphasis on research – something that is more suited for the academic world than the dog eat dog business world. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy it. Then and again, I’m one of those persons who enjoy reading, conducting research and picking up new knowledge.
Now, did it really contribute to my working output? At that point of time (2001) - no.
So, should this be one of our priorities at this point of time? Perhaps we should change gears to focus on providing financial aid for primary schoolchildren or secondary schoolchildren.
Doesn’t your heart ache when you read of kids who have had to drop out of school due to lack of money? Think about it.
At a time when the we’ve been warned that the economy can only get worse, the RM60 billion stimulus package provides “aid for 10,000 students to pursue their Masters and 500 others to do their PhD” (see theSun, page 2).
Makes you think, doesn’t it?
There will be people who will get up in the mornings, worried to death about their jobs, about the shrinking value of their RM, about how they are going to feed their children, much less ensure they get a proper basic education.
It looks like it’s just more important for others to get a Masters degree. Whatever happened to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs? Is it time to revisit what Abraham Maslow had to say?
Sigh! I just don’t get it.
Years ago, it must have been in the early 1990’s, there were some fresh graduates who appealed to the public via national newspapers to sponsor their studies. It made my skin crawl. They had basic degrees which should have procured them a decent job. Surely they could pursue graduate studies at a later date? They could have emulated the million other working adults who scrimp, save and take out student loans to do so.
If the basic degree wasn’t good enough to even get you a job, something is terribly wrong. What guarantee is there that a Masters (local or foreign) is going to help you? I did my Masters locally at UPM. Did it guarantee that I could perform my job better? In all honesty – NO.
I gained a whole lot of interesting information. Plus there was a certain amount of emphasis on research – something that is more suited for the academic world than the dog eat dog business world. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy it. Then and again, I’m one of those persons who enjoy reading, conducting research and picking up new knowledge.
Now, did it really contribute to my working output? At that point of time (2001) - no.
So, should this be one of our priorities at this point of time? Perhaps we should change gears to focus on providing financial aid for primary schoolchildren or secondary schoolchildren.
Doesn’t your heart ache when you read of kids who have had to drop out of school due to lack of money? Think about it.
Know what you do?
Short effective answers to
“What do you do?”
So, what do you do? I’m sure you’re asked that all the time. You know, when people seize you up at gatherings, wondering if they should spend their precious time chatting to you or just give it a miss.
Now, initially, when I first started out on my own, I was a wee bit flummoxed by it. “Ah, ummm, I write and I ……”
Strange, isn’t it? You’d think that being in my line, I would do a better job of it. My brains really should not have behaved like a scrambled egg. Or did it just split like a banana?
Bad jokes aside, what I read one day had a profound effect on me. One woman’s organization had taken it upon themselves to train budding women entrepreneurs on how to tackle this. Imagine that. Something that seemed trivial required training.
To put it in a nutshell, when you are casually posed this ever so important question, you should be able to respond (eloquently, mind you) in a few short sentences that cleverly encapsulates your daily activities that bring in the mullah. Cos that’s more or less how much of time someone that you meet is going to give you. Try to remember that you are having a natural conversation, not in the midst of a one hour presentation on your outstanding skills.
So what do I do? “I write non-fiction. That includes copywriting and writing for the school market. I also conduct training and carry out public relations work, focusing mainly on media work.” Is that clear enough? Well, I can’t put everything in, can I?
Much later, as I was perusing a heavy tome on presentation skills, something struck home. The book insisted that each time we open our mouths to speak, we are in the act of persuading the listener to do something.
Hmm … that made sense. So each time I introduce myself, I want them to use my services. Think of guys who are constantly climbing the slippery corporate ladder. You know, the sort that picks up the phone to say, “I am sorry I didn’t call you back sooner. It’s just that I was so tied up with this RM1 million deal. I’m glad it’s finally all done.”
He could have stopped at the first sentence, couldn’t he?
But no, he drove home the point that he had been busy with a colossal deal that’s going to make the big guns grin from ear to ear and add even more glitter to his dazzling CV.
So, the next time I’m asked, “What do you do?”, I’ll be saying, “I write copy that compels people to buy products, that makes viewers sit up to watch videos attentively. I write books for schools that enthralls students and short stories that leave kids clamouring for more. My training sessions arm participants with work skills that change their lives. As for the media work that I do, well, let me just say that I did increase media coverage by as much as 80% for a local college.”
Hmmm… is that jazzed up enough? I’m sticking to new cardinal rules here: forget about being humble, forget about not boasting and forget about letting my work speak for itself. I’m going to do all the shouting I need in these challenging times. I’ll keep you updated on the reactions to my new intro.
By Sheela Prabhakaran
Write Thot Solutions
March 10, 2009
“What do you do?”
So, what do you do? I’m sure you’re asked that all the time. You know, when people seize you up at gatherings, wondering if they should spend their precious time chatting to you or just give it a miss.
Now, initially, when I first started out on my own, I was a wee bit flummoxed by it. “Ah, ummm, I write and I ……”
Strange, isn’t it? You’d think that being in my line, I would do a better job of it. My brains really should not have behaved like a scrambled egg. Or did it just split like a banana?
Bad jokes aside, what I read one day had a profound effect on me. One woman’s organization had taken it upon themselves to train budding women entrepreneurs on how to tackle this. Imagine that. Something that seemed trivial required training.
To put it in a nutshell, when you are casually posed this ever so important question, you should be able to respond (eloquently, mind you) in a few short sentences that cleverly encapsulates your daily activities that bring in the mullah. Cos that’s more or less how much of time someone that you meet is going to give you. Try to remember that you are having a natural conversation, not in the midst of a one hour presentation on your outstanding skills.
So what do I do? “I write non-fiction. That includes copywriting and writing for the school market. I also conduct training and carry out public relations work, focusing mainly on media work.” Is that clear enough? Well, I can’t put everything in, can I?
Much later, as I was perusing a heavy tome on presentation skills, something struck home. The book insisted that each time we open our mouths to speak, we are in the act of persuading the listener to do something.
Hmm … that made sense. So each time I introduce myself, I want them to use my services. Think of guys who are constantly climbing the slippery corporate ladder. You know, the sort that picks up the phone to say, “I am sorry I didn’t call you back sooner. It’s just that I was so tied up with this RM1 million deal. I’m glad it’s finally all done.”
He could have stopped at the first sentence, couldn’t he?
But no, he drove home the point that he had been busy with a colossal deal that’s going to make the big guns grin from ear to ear and add even more glitter to his dazzling CV.
So, the next time I’m asked, “What do you do?”, I’ll be saying, “I write copy that compels people to buy products, that makes viewers sit up to watch videos attentively. I write books for schools that enthralls students and short stories that leave kids clamouring for more. My training sessions arm participants with work skills that change their lives. As for the media work that I do, well, let me just say that I did increase media coverage by as much as 80% for a local college.”
Hmmm… is that jazzed up enough? I’m sticking to new cardinal rules here: forget about being humble, forget about not boasting and forget about letting my work speak for itself. I’m going to do all the shouting I need in these challenging times. I’ll keep you updated on the reactions to my new intro.
By Sheela Prabhakaran
Write Thot Solutions
March 10, 2009
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