Death at the door

Death knocks on one door

And leaves none other untouched.

One door bangs shuts with great determination

One quivers and shakes  even when closed

Yet another stands undecided.

 

When an old schoolmate passed away, it created a ripple effect amongst all of us. The world seemed to stand still for a minute.  Those who were close to her wept for the loss. Those who knew her  30-od years ago were totally taken aback.  We each wept in our own way.  

Can  you cry for someone whom you had only known in another part of your life? The tears I brushed away speak  for themselves.

 Thoughts  flit across minds when death has done his evil deed.  

• “Who’s next?”
• “How would I have handled the endless rounds of chemotherapy?”
•  “Life is a game. Ultimately, we have no control over it.”
• “It’s time to count my blessings.”
•  “How will her young son cope?”
• “Dear Lord, please save me from the woes of cancer.”
• “I should be more grateful to  God letting me recover from my illness.”
• “Why did she have to suffer so much?”
•  “I am ready for death. As long as I don’t have to suffer.”
• “How will my family cope?”

 I’ve said a prayer for her soul, hoping  that she is now totally at peace.

The lessons death teach us stay fresh in our mind – sadly, only for a short time. The further he is, the more we mock his powers. Until he visits our corner of the world again.

A Green New Year Resolution

Don’t buy something unless you really need it.

Come on, your mother told you that tons of times, didn’t she? But did you ever listen? Noooooo.

Mother Nature would have yelled out the same thing. She didn’t. Now she’s just punishing us in different ways. Think about it the next time you are fiddling the air conditioning switches in your car, wondering why it can’t combat the heat outside. The problem is not with the car, but with you and me.

“I will not buy it if I really, really don’t need it.” Add it on to your resolutions /  goals or whatever it is you want to call that list. Write it down on slips of paper, on that electronic device you’re attached to, or stamp in on your mind.

Making a difference in the world is that simple. The article Let’s change the business paradigm – and save theplanet, mentions it.

“Now the company asks customers tosign a pledge that they won't buy something unless they really need it.”

That’s what we should do. Get together with a couple of friends and sign a pledge not to buy unnecessarily. At least, you’ll be able to nudge one another on towards keeping it. 

Christmas Smells Swell, a short story

Christmas Stories. I wrote a couple of  'em but was told they were too sad. Bah humbug! 

Read 'em for yourself and tell me if you tear up. 

By the way, if you're going to reproduce any part of it, please do acknowledge author - Sheela Prabhakaran. 

Christmas Smells Swell 

I sat sullenly in the corner, facing the wall. Dad’s idea of punishment was never fun.

It had started out innocently enough with a stink bomb. Isn’t that what brothers do? Play tricks on one another?

Unfortunately, mum and dad didn’t think so. Mum was in a right rotten mood. “Just before Christmas too! Will we ever get this smell out?” she grumbled loudly enough for the entire town to hear.

I hung my head in shame. I didn't want to be on Santa’s naughty list. I needed to do something, and do it quick too.

Once Dad was done with me, I rushed out into the forest. A squirrel tilted her head at me as she sat with her bushy tail moving languidly behind her. “What should I do?” I asked her.

Talking to a squirrel – what would my friends say? But there was no one else to turn to. Mum certainly didn't want to talk to me just then. Anyway, that’s when the most amazing thing happened.

The squirrel chattered loudly, attracting her mate. I watched fascinated as they gathered pine-cones  flowers and other fragrant herbs from the forest. They dragged it all close to me and gave me one long look before scooting off.

Why of course! Forest fragrance will drown the stink in our log cabin. “Thank you!” I yelled after the chattering chums. Christmas was starting to look merry once again.  

Secret Worlds

A mask for the world to watch

Another for a few to glimpse

A third kept secreted away.

 
Our inner worlds are many

Like a river’s murky depths

Yet, apart like day and night.

Familiar eyes widen

Puzzled over newfound trails

Uncertain where to trod.

Wishing fervently black was black

Whilst white remained white

Detesting confusing depths of grey.

A world for each moment in time

We are but constantly changing

Never still, always elusive.   

A White Treasure

Sometimes, beauty lies hiding in your backyard. It is just a matter of looking for it.

There she was waiting on the ground. My treasured white find which had me practically squealing with delight. Barringtonia Asiatica, the flower that is otherwise known as Sea Poison Tree and commonly referred to in Melay as “putat”.

It was lying there on the grounds out at FRIM  (Forest Research Institute malaysia), a place that I had once frequented for weekly walks.

Thing is,  when you’re out with frens  that time walks too earnestly and have a gazillion things to accomplish on a Sunday, there’s no time to stand and stare.

Totally different from when photographers venture out.

Which is why that Sunday morning, we took our own sweet time. The fitness freaks would have breezed through the main road in five minutes. We only took about two hours.

A friend gleefully tested out  her micro lens on mushrooms that tried to hide away between leaves. Tall trees with leaves that hardly touched loomed over us,  barks with interesting patterns stared at us and dragonflies that rested fleetingly teased us. That and much more had us snapping away.   

This particular forest still leaves me spellbound no matter how many times I visit. Which brings me back to my point about beauty being in our backyard.

Often, we don’t seem to look hard enough with what we have and what is so close by. There’s no need to seek beauty and joy afar; it’s most probably staring you right in the face. 

Ever met old-time birders who are still mesmerized by  common birds?

They painstakingly focus their binoculars on them, letting their beauty fill their lives with awe all over again. Perhaps we should be like them. Appreciate the beauty in all that surrounds us, no matter how many times we’ve seen it. 

 

A quick word about FRIM

FRIM is a green haven that locals flock to, to walk off food indulgences, soak in  green vibes, cycle on treks, picnic out to the sound of cascading water, and more. There are lots of trails, a canopy walk, a waterfall, etc. Try logging on to the official website  at www.frim.gov.my/, though it is a tad slow.

Translators. Totally Unappreciated.

Translators aren’t given the recognition they deserve. It’s a thought that strikes home repeatedly whilst I am glued to beautifully translated books. 

There are times that I read a book just to know what happens next. Ken Follet’s “Ten Pillars of the Earth” is one such book. Reminds me of when I used to watch Desperate Housewives. Yeah,  we all know there was no deep thought-provoking plot to that TV show.

Yet, each time the writers ended with a cliffhanger, I was hooked. That was it.  Not knowing what happened next was sheer torture, no matter how idiotic it eventually turned out to be.

Anyway, when it came to “The Garlic Ballads” and “My Name is Red” of which I’ve been reading on-and-off, I stay glue to them for different reasons.

That garlic book is pungent! (Sorry, couldn’t resist it.) Am not a great fan of anything that makes me tear up, but “The Garlic Ballad” is so beautifully written that it gives poetry to a simple farmer’s dreadful troubles. On the other hand, I wonder what someone who read Mo Yan’s book in Chinese would have to say about both versions. How much did Howard Goldblatt, the translator add to (or to be fair, subtract from) its beauty?

“My Name is Red” is another page-turner. The words are sheer magic, the narration superb. Yet, my restless mind darts around, wondering what the Turkish version is like. I doubt it’s possible to have an exact mirror image no matter how hard translator Erdaq M. Guknar would have tried.

I’m sure this is a topic that has been debated to death somewhere in the virtual world. Am not going to look it up just yet or else my mischievous mind will be focused on how it was done rather than enjoy the book itself. Future translated books would be just ruined for me.

Now, after having declared that I won’t pick up any more books till I’ve read all that’s scattered over my space, I’m pondering on which translated gem I should feast on next.

Sudoku & the Real World

Lessons learnt from sudoku addiction

*shudder*  - my initial reaction to a plain box filled with straight lines and augmented with a few numbers. The first time I tried to pencil in a few numbers, it was frustrating. Out of the window, went my first pathetic attempt at Sudoku.

Just numbers. That can drive you up the wall.

Fast forward to a couple of years later (yeah, it took me that long), I am beginning to get addicted to getting the right numbers into those tiny cells.

As for the reason to this sudden fascination – ‘tis only because many claim it helps the old grey cells work better. All my solitary bouts of writing and researching with the occasional human contact thrown in seems to be slowing down the thinking process. Or is  it just age rearing its ugly side?

Interesting how Sudoku has some similarities to life.

·         Being systematic helps save lots of time. Real world scenario – it pays to be organised.

·         There are lots of how to Sudoku tips online. Real world scenario – someone’s been there, & done that. Don’t bother to reinvent the wheel, unless you have a point to prove.

·         It’s addictive. Like all good things. Real world scenario – alcoholism, gambling, food binges, etc. Is there a Sudoku Anonymous ?

·         Never give up too soon. Real world scenario – never give up on a challenge as the answer may be right there facing you.

Next step. Trying to figure out how to play it on my HP that’s still cunningly outsmarting me.

Starting Over

Does the thought of walking into a roomful of strangers put you off?


And when you did finally do it, was there much awkwardness with little beads of perspiration dotting your forehead? Along with a nervous little laugh that came out of nowhere, punctuating short terse sentences? I’d hazard a guess that at least eight out of ten persons would react in this manner.


If that’s the case, would you even consider moving to a country full of strangers?


No warm safe circle of friends to hang out with. No family, much less extended family, to bicker with or go running to. No comfortable familiar places of worship to fall back on. No safe predictable job or clients to keep your financial worries at bay.


When an old schoolmate decide to pack it up and migrate to Australia, the rest of the gang just watched her with awe.


We admired her guts and determination. When the signal for an overhaul in her life went on, she took baby steps to make things better. There was no cringing and wasting away her life whining incessantly like a spoilt child.


There were mixed reactions to her move. Yearning to follow in her footsteps, a couple of the gals wanted to more details. Others muttered that such a drastic move was not their cup of tea.


Which made me wonder why those of us in the latter group were so reluctant to follow suit?


Especially when we come from a lineage (Malaysian Indians and Malaysian Chinese) that upped and left their homeland for a better life.


My own father had willingly got onto a ship sailing out to British Malaya, as Malaysia was known then, to make his fortune. Later, he returned to Kerala, bringing back a young bride to settle down for good here.


That was more than half a century ago.


Days when life was sans Internet at your fingertips, the tool that lets you practically experience life in a new land. Yet, the older I get, the more I flinch at the thought of having to take a one way ticket out of my comfort zone.


Would you do it?


To my old school pal Anne - I admire how you’ve built a new life for yourself. Here’s wishing you the very best in life.

Ignoring ill health to vote

Illness was an old companion of his. Given his age, that was no surprise. At 89, there were days that body parts refused to cooperate or chose to protest way too loudly. And it didn’t matter to the body whether it was voting day or not.


When I got there at the agreed time to take him out, he was lying in bed, feeling quite ill and I’m sure, sorry for himself.

“Why bother to vote at this old age?” asked his wife.


True to form, he sat up straight in bed, stubbornly declaring, “I MUST vote!”


Which was how my niece and I took him to the nearest polling station in 2008. Back home, he flung his cane away and went straight back to bed.


The story came to mind today when I saw yet another FB posting urging young adults to register to vote.


My father who could have dropped dead at any moment (he did pass away a couple of months down the road), had found the inner strength to fight his ailing body and do his duty. There were many other elderly people in wheelchairs and with walking sticks at the polls . Coming out to vote was not exactly a walk in the park for them, but that seemed to be a small matter. They were determined to do their part.


Yet, many from younger generations still take the right to vote for granted.


When will they ever learn that voting is a privilege, not to be taken lightly. And the fact that ultimately, their one vote can make a world of difference.

My lucky shot

Sometimes a little effort goes a long way.


The photographs that I think are so common brings about rather unexpected positive reactions.

Two weeks ago, I spotted a chicak (that’s Malay for gecko ) on the banana tree.

The excited photographer in yelled, “That’s a great shot.”

The lazy part in me was alarmed. It said, “Yeah, BUT the camera’s all the way upstairs. In the bag. In the cupboard.”
Fortunately, the short tussle that followed had the photographer winning hands down.

The shot with the lizard needs a lot of tweaking. BUT …

I got a great shot (by my standards-lah!) of an olive backed sunbird. Though it’s not perfect, I liked it cos it’s a first for me.

When I posted it on Facebook, I really wasn’t expecting anyone to comment on it. Hadn’t many professional bird photographers with humongous satellite-like equipment done fantastic jobs on bird photography?

A few clicks of the LIKE button made my day.

More importantly, it drove home the point that a little bit of effort can go a loooong way. Just because something’s been done before, it sure doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t do it too in your own way.

Now, if only that gecko would model for me again.

Oh Crap! It's the Crapping Cat

“Shoo!” yelled I.

Glare – went the cat.

“Go away!” commanded I.

Dirty look – gave the cat.

“Stay away!” ordered I.

Hrrruuumph – said the arrogant cretin.

“No crapping here,” warned I.

A mangy white butt – showed the tomcat.

“I’ll track you down!” growled I.

Don’t give a damn – yelled its rude retreating back.

“I’ll be watching you!” threatened I.

Snigger – went a haughty swaying tail.

“Pleaaasseeee …” whispered I.

Inspired by the gangster tomcat who crapped on my balcony. The day after I chased him away from that very same spot. I swear he had turned and given me the deadliest, most malicious look ever. Now, I think twice about pissing him off!

Smug vegetarian ends up in pain

Vitamin deficiency. Never imagined myself having this problem.


The first signs of it was pain in my right cheek. Desperate to track down the source, I resorted to playing dentist. Gingerly, I tapped all my teeth. Nada. Nothing. Depression hovered close by.

Googling the symptoms (hey! can you blame me?) only conjured up darker visions of bleeding gums, plunging me into a hellhole of depression. Which was how I came to be sitting in the dentist’s chair on a Friday afternoon. Nada. Again.

“Does the pain keep you up at night?” asked the patient dentist. Me – shake head vigoriously.

“Nothing wrong with your teeth,” declared my friendly dentist after a spell under the glaring spotlight. Which was good and bad.

So what was wrong with me. Turn to Google againlah!


Fortunately, something propelled me to use new search words. “tingling pain” and “cheek”. By the way, did you know that people with “tingling pain” in “cheek buttocks” like to talk about it online? *Shudder*


Back to my story. Seems I had overlooked other symptoms. A tongue that itched occasionally, pain that went right up to the bone beneath my eye (which I had thought was odd), depression (thot I was menopausal for a minute – which brought on more depression), jolts of pain/tingling in hand, fatigue, pronounced breathing problems, etc.

Silly me had also totally ignored the fact that I had turned vegetarian just three weeks beforehand. And not bothered to increase intake of dairy products. Plus no eggs for a week as I had toyed the idea of giving that up to.


Which all lead to a deficiency in Vitamin B12.

Yes, yes, it’s dangerous to turn to Dr. Google. However, in this case, it helped.

I learnt how vegetarians suffer from lack of B12 and what happens when you don’t top up on it. The hard way.


Ironically enough, I had been feeling pretty smug, assuming I had covered all my nutrient needs. Made sure my diet has a variety of different coloured fruits and vegetables, soya, grains, etc. Darn it!

Converting from being a four day per week vegetarian to a 24/7 vegetarian was supposed to be a cinch. Didn’t recall other vegetarian friends having this problem so naturally wasn’t prepared for it.

Now, I’m going to have to do some serious reading up on being a vegetarian. Let me know if you have some good leads, well u?

A invisible weight has been lifted

It is true. I had this strong feeling that an invisible weight has been lifted off me just after one week of opting to turn into a full-time vegetarian (on 9th April).


Even stranger - several negative feelings had just dissipated into thin air.


At the top of the list was the mysterious disappearance of that gnawing need of wanting to murder irritants that cross my path (this includes the unidentified balcony-crapping-cat). There there was the lack of anxiety about upcoming events.

Turning vegetarian was a decision made with much trepidation. On top of the still-present dominant yearning for butter prawns, mouth-watering rojak and thick fish curry, I had assumed it would be a rocky road. It has proven to be otherwise.


It’s not like a miracle has occurred where I no longer have cravings for calamari rings done just right or spicy chicken peretal. Fortunately for mua, there are many vegetarian substitutes that keep my cravings under control. Like vegetarian rice served with hot pungent spicy petai & vegetarian pan mee that I can devour right here in Taipan.


Which brings to mind what the Bhagavad Gita says. What is bitter at the starts turns into nectar at the end, and vice versa.


Speaking of religion, my Vedanta Class teacher insists that vegetarians can knock off into the dreamland a whole lot faster.

A quick google revealed that some vegetarians had better sleep, i.e., they felt more rested. Others begged to differ on the matter. I still toss and turn as a million thots swirl in my agitated meat-deprived mind.

The well-read guruji had more to impart, sorta dashing my hopes of being way more satvic (i.e it’s like being more pure, unblemished, like a brand new unused whiteboard) as there is way more to being vegetarian than meets the eye.


None had warned me that by foregoing meat, I would be at the foothills of a brand new unexplored mountain. Instead of like a valiant conqueror at the peak.


Here are some of the things that I picked up during the Vedanta class and from my fav source – the Internet:


· Cooked food should be consumed within four hours.
If I do follow it, it means I’d have to rule out the popular pungent Indian pickles, Chinese pickled vegetables, pre-cooked food, fried tempeh, potato chips, etc. Groan!


· Spicy and sour vegetarian fare does quite not fall under the satvic category.
Double sigh!


· Onion and garlic, along with a host of other favs, ignites passion. Which gets in the way of meditation. Which is what leads to enlightenment. Which, as a Hindu, is what I need to break this cycle of life and birth. Triple darn!


To follow or not to follow the new rules?

It remains to be seen. It is a major  achievement for me to have given up meat. Doesn’t mean I’m going to give it all up be satvic immediately. Or should I?

What would you do?

Hardcore Meat Eater Turns Part-Time Vegetarian

“Never! Not in this lifetime!” My thots on being a vegetarian as a teenage me watched a docile couple nibble on a salad whilst a roomful of guests gorged on succulent meat.

The scene has taken a 360 degree turn as I now contemplate going vegetarian full-time. To date, I’ve only done, like a 180 degree turn. So no dizzy spells. Does anyone quit meat cold turkey? One of my sisters did.

I remember the day all too clearly as she voiced her intention during a meal. Followed by a nasty scolding cos my mother and I didn’t jump on the rather bland sounding green bandwagon.

My journey towards giving up eating dead animals started out for very specific reasons.

The first tentative toe tested the waters 20 years ago when I started the Saturday-evening-at-the-temple routine. These visits meant I had to go vegetarian. Why, you ask?

Was it for the clean aura, to be able to meditate better or an age old custom? Heck no! It’s cos God gave me a taste of what would happen if I ate meat on those days. Here’s what transpired.

Tis was a sunny morning after a short visit to the powerful Shivan temple atop Gasing Hill that my meat obsessed family descended on Lotus for breakfast.

As the waiter left the devil, I mean the fish curry on our table, my devious mind went into overdrive, rationalizing that since I had already paid God a visit, it would be okay to flood my roti chanai with the irresistible rich floating tempting mix of brown spices. Right?

It was not as if I was about to eat the actual fish. Horrors! Of course not! With that, any lingering guilt was washed away as I slurped down on the yummy fish curry.

A couple of hours later that tinge of guilt turned into agoanizing regret as waves of the most vicious acid on earth rolled about my sensitive tummy linings. As I gasped in unbelievable pain, I thot that death would have been more preferable. No, I am not being dramatic!

I had had terrible gastric pain before, and believe you me, this was a trillion times worse. God has this way of teaching me unforgettable lessons that leaves its mark indented upon my stubborn brains.

Not that it stopped me from chewing on meaty dishes the very next day. Why would God punish me then as I hadn’t made a pact to go vegetarian on Sundays nor was I planning a visit to the temple.

Fast forward ten years later when I started to add on Tuesdays to my no meat list days. Then Thursday. Soon along came Friday to sit happily at the bottom of the list. All for one religious reason or another.

Whether I went to the temple or not I would forsake meat. Unless I travelled, which made things a bit challenging. Or so I thot. Certain photography outings with staunch vegetarians left me feeling truly shameful of my lackadaisical attitude. For these people proved that you can always manage no matter where you are with whatever food available.

Just a month ago, I felt I should give up chicken. I’ll save the why story for another day. It’s a done deal. All chickens need not worry for their lives around me. Now, their eggs, that’s a different matter … isn’t it?

A friend went “Jeez! What’s wrong with chicken?” when I told her about it. I had known from the start that meals with the staunch old meatarians were going to be interesting.


I expect them to dish out support, surprise, awe (even I’m still getting used to the non-chicken eating me) and I’m sure, a little irritation as I won’t be patronizing certain restaurants anymore.


Tomorrow, I am going to let some old pals know I will soon be a full-time vegetarian. The reactions should be interesting.

I have made this crucial decision yet I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a high cliff. If only there was an environment-friendly escalator that could speed forward past all niggling obstacles. The Bhagavad Gita says that all good things have a bitter start. That gives me faith.


Want to join my vegetarian journey with me?

Perhaps pretty faces can help READING

Snort, chuckle, roll eyes upwards. My first reaction when I read about Michelle Yeoh being picked to be a Malaysian reading ambassador.

So when Daphne Lee’s column yelled out that Pretty Faces Aren’t Enough for a reading ambassador, I could identify with her sentiments.

Though, in all fairness, well …. my initial reaction was not fair. For all I knew, the actress could be a voracious reader, lugging fat tomes around to devour between takes.


The article I first spotted on the subject stated that we already had one Malay reading ambassador (which I had been unaware of) and since the Chinese one had just been picked, someone was busy identifying an Indian one. Was this the way to reach out to our students?

The more I thought about it, the more, I had to reluctantly concede that it may result in some good.

Let’s be frank and examine what makes our schoolgoing children tick. We need to think of who they are, what influences them, what their mindsets are, who their role models are, etc.

By schoolgoing chidlren, I am referring to the 5.4 million schoolchildren enrolled under the Ministry of Education, not just kids from middle class onwards / urban areas / your community / your family.

Kids that come from homes that already practice a reading culture, would turn their cynical noses up at the whole idea. Given that they do not need help in this area, it is pointless to worry about them. It is the other lot, which would be the majority, that needs help.


When I think of the non-reading kids (from rural and urban areas) I had come in contact with in the past, I know that many of them will ape whatever a celebrity does, with nary a second thought. Same goes for some adults.



Which means that even if these ambassadors are able to only influence 10% of our 5.4 million schoolchildren, it is still an impressive figure.

A comment from an English Language teacher involved in a 3-month old reading programme in school flashes to mind. “Just getting them to hold a book in their hands is an achievement.”

Note how she has not even bothered about regular reading habits or understanding what is being read.

Which is why the amount of time Michelle Yeoh clocks in reading (for herself) is of no concern to me. But the amount of time she spends on this programme, moving from venue to venue to reach out to kids matters incredibly.


In that sense I do agree that she has to “be able to communicate ‘well and regularly’ with young people.” There has to be that pizzazz or “entertainment value” factor to stop a hall packed with schoolchildren from sleeping with their eyes wide open.

Sadly enough, knowing typical Malaysian students, they will always be far more impressed by a celebrity’s presence rather than a writer’s or illustrator’s.

Of course, it would be ideal if we could measure as to how effective our reading ambassadors are. Some sort of measurement tool should be utilized so that we can find out and improve on what works on our shores.

Now that we know the identity of two reading ambassadors, when will we be informed as to exactly what it is that they are going to do? Of course, I am also curious as to what the perks of being a reading ambassador in Malaysia is.

It is all tied in, isn’t it?

Being Poor In KL

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.

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

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

“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!

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?

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?