Stories from the past and its reflection today

Visalatchi was my paternal grandmother. She's one of the first iron lady i knew. We always had story time with her.

Her story revolved around her arrival from India through the kangany system. The pain and payoffs during that time.

It was quite enthralling listening to something which was like a Tamil movie.

Govindammal was my maternal grandmother. Every time she came for a visit, we would pester her for more stories.

Her stories were more melancholic. She often talks about war. About her people whom she left behind. About some of them who died.

She often cried while telling these stories that at a point i told her we don't want those stories anymore.

During her stay, I used to follow her walking, early in the morning. She would walk to the back of the open gardens and start feeding the birds.

We had small swallows. I used to feed them too. With rice and corn bits.

She often mumbled something while throwing the grains.

"Are you talking to the birds, Awwah?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Yes, I'm telling them to eat these offering i make and hope that my dead relatives from war get enough food wherever they are now!" She answered, tears streaming down her face.

She said that she was lucky she missed the Sri Lankan war just in time. But sometimes looking at all her losses she said that she didn't feel lucky at all.

Later, meeting refugees in Malaysia and helping them improve their lives with education seemed to give me some peace Perhaps it made my late grandparents a little happier.

Somehow the tradition stuck on me. I started feeding birds wherever i went.

I donate food on the new moon day.

Every offering, i pray, those war victims are blessed someway, somewhere, somehow and have better lives now than before.

I believe it too. 

Wheels disoriented

Looking at the Ford Ranger, fear gripped me. No way, I'm going to drive this big thing. I dare not use the word monster. Somehow i always felt cars had ears.

I had no choice. Got into the driver's seat and started the engine. I remember driving big cars before. The Hyundai sonata was my first big car, then the Honda accord, the Mercedes, the Honda city and finally the Toyota Camry. Soon perhaps the Toyota Vios.

It had been many months since i drove the big vehicles. I preferred the Myvi.

But here i was about to drive a very big four wheel drive. It was a necessity. There was no one else to do the job.

As i maneuvered it down the parking lot, I was sweating away. It was freaking scary.

In entering the bigger roads i heaved a sigh of relief. I just made it. It wasn't that difficult.

Depositing the big baby to its master at a tiles shop, I grabbed a cab and went home.

When he asked me how my experience driving it was. I answered casually,

"Oh! it was a piece of cake.

I guess i underestimate myself due to my past breakdowns.

I used to perform very well on stage. That was about 30 years ago. A few months ago, I went on stage just to feel that adrenaline rush.

I couldn't move my lips. All the lyrics disappeared from my mind.

Luckily a co- signer came to my rescue. We sang together. I sang the fourth song on my own.

Recently, I've been singing more and more thanks to Kempton Music band.

Fear is slowly taking a backstage leap.

It is all a piece of cake after all. ;)

Wings To Paradise

Dedicated to that one person.

I had clipped wings

I could not fly so,

I stayed put


For long i wondered

As i looked, mesmerized

At the others

Who could soar

So high,

Higher than the clouds


Slowly,

I tried expanding my feathered arms,

Soon,

I discovered

I too could fly

The clip was actually

Only in my mind


As i flapped around

Realization came

I had sat still for too long

In my imaginary stilled wings

That i could no longer

Go too far


The wings were weak

The mind without destiny


The heart though

Had its own plans


To try a trip

To paradise itself


So the heart

Convinced the mind

To build the wings

Into strong oars


The new wings

Had a name

The wings to paradise


As the wings to paradise

Started to flap, flip, flop


I, the bird

Was not even sure


Where and what paradise was


Did it even exists

Or is everything imaginary

Just like all there is


So i decided

To sit back

As i was before


Fixed in my mind

That my wings

Were clipped after all


Stop dreaming little bird

Good things

Were never meant for you


Paradise is where you are

Nowhere else


Paradise is null

And void


Vacuum

Tit, tat and otherwise

A car reversed, screeching tyres, abruptly turned and moved forward with even more aggression.

It knocked a white pigeon. The driver peeked out. Eyes bulged. Reversed his car and left.

The bird bled an ounce, breathed its last.

People around him were furious. He was cursed. How he felt at that moment was non predictable. He could be either nonchalant or regretful.

No one knows.

In another junction, a car rushes into an interjection. Squeezing into traffic. His invasion annoys several drivers.

Some honked. Some wound down the window, screamed and showed the third finger.

Below an apartment, a woman is ushering her children into her car. The youngest, a four year old, walks slowly, dilly dallying, towards her and the car.

She starts screaming. Yanks his ear and almost lifts him up into the car. The little one sits, crying at the back. Holding his ear in pain.

"Who kept these plates in the sink? " a loud scream. Followed by sound of plates breaking and thrown into the dustbin.

Why do these things happen around us? Why do humans become irrationally angry. Can we say it is mainly impatience that is the culprit behind these unruly behaviours.

If so, what triggers impatience. Are people simply in a rush all the time that they become impatient with everything?

Or is there anger hiding within unhappy people which erupts in these little forms of drama?

From experience, I know no amount of counseling or advise will change certain characteristics in troubled souls.

Often it is best that we stay away from people during their moments of woes. We only mingle when it is in a peaceful mode. We should flee the minute difficult moments arrive.

Nobody can change anybody. Those who recognise the symptoms should try detonating the bombs within themselves.

Change must come from one's inner self. Nothing from the outside can create that transition.

dear aanantha thr raaga

Dear Aanantha,

Hope this letter finds you well. I always thought that you are a fast forward, fair and justified human. This is not merely an assumption. I have listened to you on air for quite a while. Your aura is quite vibrant and positive.

On top of all that, there is an incident which I would always remember whenever I listen to you whether live or in recorded events.

It was in year 2014 and you were the judge in a Carnatic singing competition. Two of my children took part in the event. It was organized by Sugam Carnatics.

My daughter won first prize. My son, Siddarth, was targeted to get second. After he sang many thought he was going to win the competition out casting the elder sister. For a ten year old, he sang with confidence and without flaw. I did perceive that too.

Unfortunately, when the results were read out we were all disappointed on the unfairness of it. Some who sang from paper won and Siddarth was obviously disappointed.

What/who saved the situation was you, Aanantha. You decided to right the wrong. You announced that you were impressed with this young boy and gave him a special prize. You didn’t have to but you did.

Although Siddarth was disappointed, your gesture made his day. Two years later, he still speaks of you with respect and love.

I wish there were more people like you, integrity seems to be vanishing slowly.

The reason I am writing this letter is firstly to thank you for your kindness. There is another request that I hope you can look into.

In recent months, I have come across our indian youngsters who are turning into nocturnal creatures. They seem to be out the whole night and return home in the early hours of the morning. If this was done occasionally, perhaps we can tolerate and accept it as taking a break. Unfortunately, it is a daily affair.

Many of these youngsters, as young as 14 to guys in their 20’s, abuse themselves with cigarettes,  alcohol, snooker, casinos and other pleasure orientated activities.

Stalls are crowded early in the morning, not getting ready for work but ending the night after indulging in nonprofit activities.

The sad outcome is, they miss school and classes in college. Those working take leave. Soon students drop out. Some lose their jobs. These habits are going to create a bigger dent in our socioeconomic status.

Parents who struggle to pay for their children’s education are at a loss as they are not able to control these people.

How is their future going to be? How are the Indians going to fare in the next 50 years? As it is we are hearing of many health issues among Indian men.  Many men die young, leaving widows to cope alone with the children.

Opportunities are many, but mostly not utilized. We are feeling contented with some minority’s success and keeping blind to our other mistakes and hedonistic lifestyle.

Young people are in a hurry to live in pleasure. They forget too much play and less work during youth is going to cause a hefty penance later.

Many are stuck with unplanned debts. They are trapped in money lending issues.

These matters cause lots of concern for me.

As a public related person I believe you have the power to bring change to our young people. Programs can be created to guide single parents and diverted children into the right path.

I hope you can do something about this.

Thank you.

Yours truly,

Ezhil

Malaysia, oh tanahairku!

After 8 days in London, we boarded the MH001, heading towards home. Up till 47 years of age, I don't remember traveling much accept to a few pilgrimage spots in India.

My very first 13 hours of flight two years ago was quite astounding for me. I did not sleep a wink. Got down in Paris with fever.

Now I'd say I'm like a pro.

Waited for dinner to be served. Then decided to fall asleep.

Once getting about 6 hours of sleep, I woke up feeling nostalgic for homeland.

The balance few hours would no doubt be filled with two to three movies.

I watched Ange et Gabrielle first. It was a flawless movie. It started and ended beautifully.

I switched to watch Maari. It dragged and really bored me with total ridicule.

I quit halfway and started to watch Langit Cinta, a movie by Osman Ali.

The movie starts in an aesthetic note in Pulau Tuba.

Story begins with Datuk Jalaludin Hassan/ Datuk Affendi, who plots to buy innocent islanders land in order to build sky scrapers in Pulau Tuba.

This plan is disturbed by the intervening of Khadejah who opposes to her ancestral land being misused for materialistic development. 

Matters worsen for the Datuk when his son Aliff falls in love with Khadejah.

Later the story revolves around how Aliff goes against the father and marries Khadejah. They live happily till Aliff gets a call that the father is ill.

The story goes well till here. Then the mess begins. On his way Aliff meets with an accident. He loses his memory.

Khadejah who is pregnant waits for Aliff for more than four months before deciding to go look for Aliff. This seems very impractical as this is the era with mobile phones.

She goes alone. A 6 months pregnant girl from a remote island will not do this!

When she visits Aliff, the mother does not give a clear picture of the situation to Khadejah. That scene is misty and camouflaged. It looked rather fake with many missing links.

The man who is directed to send Khadejah off after a thorough scolding from Datuk tries to behave badly to her. I thought men in our culture treat women well. I think it is even more ghastly to misbehave to those pregnant. The man, who is a Moslem, drinks alcohol.

Our movies should not highlight this.

Khadejah gets an opportunity to use a mobile phone of a passersby. One, she could have asked those people to call the police to save her or use the phone to call the police herself.

She calls her island friend instead. She doesn't give a proper address to him but he manages to appear there somehow. Finally, she is saved. Delivers her baby and life continues. She loses herself in sorrow when divorce letters come from Aliff.

Climax is somehow predicted with Khadejah sitting in the altar waiting to remarry her island mate.

Aliff meanwhile recovers his memory. Rushes to Pulau Tuba in the nick of time to stop the wedding.

As we're moving towards a high era of technology, movie makers should not hint too much on superstitions.

One would think that the heroine is highly jinxed. There's a limit too to tragedies to fall on one particular person. Khadijah the heroine seems to be full of it.

The flow in the story just got lost quarter way of the movie.  I liked this movie but I would have liked it better if it had been molded a little differently. The plot lacked smoothness in odd places.

Our movie makers have come a long way. But there's still room for improvement.

Pounds versus Malaysian Ringgit

All the English sounds around me sounded like chimes of church bells. It's homecoming time and again.

I've no idea why this amazing feeling took over me. Simply no explanation. Just plain excitement.

There's a lot of politeness here. Nobody is a stranger to anybody.

If you stand in the middle of the street looking lost, someone comes to you and asks if everything is ok.

 If we explained that we are lost and need to go somewhere, the smartphone immediately pops out and our destination is googled.

They even take the trouble to write it down for you.

This made me think that the pound's value truly highlights the nature of the Britons.

It made me think that there's room for lots of improvement for us Malaysians just like how RM needs drastic help.