Life is... something that should be seen through the eyes of a child ( Part III )

Having posted to a secondary school tucked away somewhere in the remote area of Negeri Sembilan soon after completing my undergraduate studies might be one of the best experience that I ever had. Apart from the fact that I did my teaching practical training at an urban all-girls school ( where the girls sent me off with a huge chocolate cake and lots and lots of presents on my last day there ), I guess that it taught me a lot about life other than the one gained from various text books, reference materials and endless lectures meant to help us prepare for this particular moment – the posting.

Throughout the short stint here, I came to meet two special characters – Mazlan Pokok Kelapa and Isa, simply Isa, two special children in an otherwise all-As class. Being the first of the four classes in Form 3, the rest of the classmates wore dark blue uniforms ( translated: school prefects ) where else the duo wore white ( or what used to be white ). Ask any of the classmates, chances are they aspired to further their studies at a neighbouring MARA Junior College or Technical School when they proceed to the next form. As for the duo, I’m lucky enough if they could master the simple grammar rules.

Ask them to take out their Grammar 1 exercise book, you could guarantee that it would be the same book utilized for Bahasa Malaysia, Sejarah, Pendidikan Islam, Sains and even Matematik subjects! They could not read, especially where English is concerned. While others always competed to answer my questions or participated in class discussions, both would be seen ( and heard ) snoring! Often I found myself screaming my lungs off, drilling those two with simple tenses, leaving all of us feeling tense and tired. In the beginning, I could not comprehend the reason for their existence in Form 3 S. After being with them for a few weeks, I saw the rationale. You could not send the two to the last class – they were not slow, they were simply different, special.

Mazlan got his ‘pokok kelapa’ title ( doesn’t this remind you of Marsha’s pokok klapak? ) from his infamous Bahasa Malaysia essay. I could not really blame him, actually. When he was in Form 2, he was asked to write on “ Jiran-jiran Saya ” ( My Neighbours ). When he asked his teacher of the definition of ‘neighbours’, he was given ‘ yang duduk berhampiran dengan kita, contohnya di sebelah rumah awak ’. The explanation certainly had helped shed some light into this pour soul, who confidently came up with an essay that tickled the BM teacher ( and the rest who occupied the staff room ) when he read the piece.

This is what Mazlan had written: Saya ada ramai jiran. Jiran-jiran saya adalah pokok kelapa, pokok mangga, pokok betik … Thus, Mazlan got his title.

The PMR examination was around the corner. As a move to motivate and encourage ( and making sure! ) the PMR candidates to study, the Principal had called for daily morning assemblies especially for the third formers. During the assemblies, he would ask one or two students to share with the others what they had read the day before. Without knowing the duo’s background, the fierce-looking Principal asked a question that saw one hand raised up in the air – Isa’s hand. ( All the teachers stood still – we were holding our breaths for what was about to happen. )

Principal : Siapa buat kerja rumah malam tadi?

( Isa’s hand came up. Others kept silent. )

Principal : Bagus. Apa awak buat?

Isa : Saya tolong mak saya racik bawang, cikgu.

We tried hard to suppress our laughter.

Isa’s antics certainly did not stop there. Once, as we were on our way to a sports meet in Kuala Pilah, we saw him standing at a nearby bus stop – obviously waiting for the bus that plied Kuala Klawang – Seremban route – on an obviously school day. Upon seeing us, he put his finger on his lips, making the “Shh” signal.

A friend of mine remarked, “I wonder whether he knew that we ARE actually his teachers!”

I responded, “ Look at it this way. He actually treats us as his friends, instead of his teachers!!! ”

Why did I come up with that remark? Simple. A few days before, my housemate and I actually caught him coming out of a snooker center after a few days of not seeing him in school. When asked, he answered, “ Aku kena tangkap dengan polis lah… Dorang serbu tempat snooker minggu lepas….Tu aku tak datang sekolah tu.. Polis tu pun gelak je bila tengok aku lagi… ” ( I was arrested by the police who raided the snooker center last week. That explains my absence. Even the police laughed upon seeing me. ) It was the first time ever I heard someone using the pronoun ‘aku’ when speaking to his teachers! Had it been other students, the usage of ‘aku’ would send us into fit – but with Isa, you know that he is just different. Don’t waste your precious time lecturing him on the different types of appropriate pronouns – after all, he only has one exercise book. Who needs more when going to school is not a priority?

I left the school a year later. Every time I encounter incidents that are likely to drive me up the wall, I would take a deep breath and think of those two duo – Mazlan Pokok Kelapa and Isa – and wondering what might have happened to them now. Has Mazlan settled down and surrounded by real people as his neighours, and has Isa learnt to use different pronouns especially when dealing with the elders and authorities?

Life is... something that should be seen through the eyes of a child ( Part II )

“ … kesian kta tengok sek budak2 tu. Dahla buruk x mcm sek.Kawasn pun cam dirty.

Ish I thnk if u tgk tmpt tu u pun akn membebel. Dah la bau busuk sbb dkt dgn loji.

Bgnn skolah buruk mcm bgnn tinggal. Skolah pondok kut ni. Sblh kubur lg.”

A friend laments over the condition of the school ( sekolah pondok ) in which her two step children are being deployed to by their own mother. The fact that both of them are still young and very much in need of their parents’ love and affection ( instead of strangers’ ) moves her more. She even volunteers to look after them, but her hands are tied – now that she is back to work, she has to juggle between her new task and the existing one of looking after her own three-year old son, and … her eldest stepson, as well.

The SMS that I received last Sunday morning reminded me of a similar story narrated several years back. Sending one’s kid to a particularly remote religious school somewhere up north or down south in the name of ‘enhancing one’s akidah’ ( as claimed by some people ) is not a new phenomenon. Personally, I have nothing against the whole thing – after all, even our prophet Muhammad once said, “ tuntutlah ilmu walaupun sehingga ke negeri Cina ” but the fact is – how could those parents bear the idea of being separated from their young kids who, at their age, should be at home - playing konda-kondi or Play Station with their siblings and friends instead of being packed off somewhere and deprived of their childhood? Poverty is definitely not an issue here as most affected students come from well to do families, with parents who serve as civil servants, lawyers, doctors… the list goes on. In other words, these are the parents who can afford to send their children to any respected establishment that offer similar programmes – but who only accept those aged 12 and above ( this could be the set back! ).

Where was I? Oh, yes… It was the year 2000. One of the Advanced Diploma students intrigued me. He sat for his SPM examination after he got back from Russia. Even without going through a formal education like the rest of his peers, he excelled and I remember him being voted as the institute’s Students Council President. Studying his profile, I came to a conclusion that he could be a Diplomat’s son. “ No, ” he denied. “ I went there on my own. We were sent by a certain organization. ”

Being tired and weary of a major project that was being held at that time, a few of us decided to spend the afternoon lounging at the then-famous ABAB auditorium. We were glued, listening to his story – and for the tenth time, I thanked my parents for giving me the most wonderful childhood – falling off the bicycle, poked by a rusty nail while attempting to bring down some jambu air and spent the night wondering whether I would die the next day, etc etc.

Coming from a well-to-do family but nevertheless a broken marriage, his father decided to send him off to stay with a long-distance uncle somewhere in Perak when he was just 8. So off they went to a remote district with a bag which he described as “ Masa tu saya rasa beg tuh besar sangat… Lagi besar dari saya…”. Upon arriving at a kampong which is located far away from the rest, his father entrusted him to an elderly man dressed all in white and promised to return the following week.

He soon discovered that it was a one-way trip. Spending his first night at a surau , with the huge bag as his mere companion, he cried his heart out. Surely his father would return to take him home, he thought. Nevertheless, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, and all he had was the elderly men ( and the other similarly dressed in white ) as his ‘fathers’ and those more or less his age as his ‘siblings’. “ I never heard from my father, ” he said.

Survival is the name of the game. He soon discovered that life wasn’t that bad if one learnt to accept what is being offered. With the other siblings, they went through life as if it was a normal one. They cooked for the whole establishment – surviving on broth garnished with fried onion and soy sauce ( for the youngsters) and a more luxurious meal for the elders. Simplicity should be one’s way of life. In return, they were given religious education, focusing on the importance of being independent and looking after one self. As they grew up, some of them were given a taste of what outside life was all about, and a chance to earn their own money. Their task was to sell the establishment’s weeklies and for every copy sold, each would earn 5 sen. It wasn’t the meager amount of money that they looked for; it was a taste of freedom – of venturing into other places, instead of being stuck in a remote existence.

“ A person called ‘Abang’ would drive us to the neighbouring villages and towns in an old van that had been converted to accommodate 10, sometimes 15 of us. To do so, the seats were all taken out and we had to squat and hold on to each other, especially every time the driver went through pot holes and corners. We had to dress up in our best attires and often, the van would dirty our clothes! There was a time when the driver went through a sharp bend. The next thing we knew, the door flung open and we were all thrown out into the open, landing on the road. The lucky ones landed on the grass…. ” He was laughing as he narrated the incident – as for the others, we tried so hard to hold back the tears for his missing childhood. His laugh was met with an uncomfortable silence.

“ Since you would only obtain 5 sen from each newspaper, where would the remainder go to? ” Somebody asked.

“ To the organization, to the top people. ”

From a naïve 8-year-old who believed that he was taken to live with his distance uncle, he grew up to be a leader and sent to Russia to spread the organisation’s belief, all when he was just 16. Imagine, at the age when the others would go through what they call as their honeymoon years, this teenager had been entrusted with a serious task and he never complaint. Throughout the conversation on a rainy afternoon, never once he put the blame on his father. “ His upbringing moulds him to be what he is now, no wonder he can still smile when the rest complain about their assignments, tests, quizzes…” a friend mentioned.

Years pass by. I would have forgotten all about him if it wasn’t for my friend’s SMS. I don’t know what would be the outcome of her two stepsons – whether they would last in the so-called sekolah pondok and turn out to be potential Students Council Presidents and the likes – or to just give in - two grown ups who miss their childhood and teenage years, lost and weary, beaten by the system.

Only time would tell.

Life is... being precise.

Mom makes her kuih and other delicacies often the lebih kurang way. A pinch, or is it two, of salt; a spoonful of soy sauce, a cup of water, just enough baking powder, a bit of vanilla essence…. Ask her to come up with the exact specific measurement and she’ll be looking at you as if you are an alien instead of her own flesh and blood. Nevertheless, I always end up asking for a third or fourth pieces of the kuih all at one sitting. When it comes to her ayam masak kicap or kuah sate, her whole grandchildren would actually go for their second or third helpings. My specialty is merely my chocolate cake or any other modern-day cookies, and I would rely on the recipe book as if it’s the Holy Quran itself. My patience and dedication, however, is sometimes rewarded with screams of frustration when the end product does not turn out to be like it was supposed to. ( Often, poor mom would come to the rescue… )

Whenever we decide to meet our colleagues, we are prone to say lebih-kurang pukul…. , leaving people with no chance of being angry should we fail to turn up on time. After all, we only said “more or less”… and being famous for our Janji Melayu ( thus, Janji Diana and other titles are born ), it is acceptable not to be punctual or precise where time is concerned. It’s okay to be fashionably late – only arrive 30 minutes after the scheduled time, even better, 1 hour later!!! A friend of mine falls for a guy who would only arrive the NEXT day and reject the one who is punctual ( strange, but true… “I don’t go for predictable guy!” She explains. ) I have students who turn up for classes one hour after it starts; I don’t blame them. Their minds are crowded with tons and tons of assignments, quizzes, tests, final papers - being precise or punctual would be the last thing they’ll consider!

Lebih kurang is also the principle that students apply in their studies or academic purposes. Getting a C or at times, B would be an achievement. D is okay but an A, it can send most of our students off to the mental hospital! Even they find it’s hard to swallow! An average student’s target is to obtain a 2.5 or 3.0 CGPA, a 3.5 or 4.0 triggers the alarm in their heads. So, they end up studying lebih kurang, completing their assignments in a lebih kurang mode or even turning up for classes lebih kurang as well. Even when they talk to each other – they will converse in a lebih kurang manner that will make us wonder whether they are lalok at that time…

I, on the contrary, am the opposite. Call me a perfectionist, a completer-finisher, “cerewet” ( as accused by Syed Ahmad Daniel ) but I could not live by the lebih kurang principle. Blame it on my high level of anxiety. My students groan whenever I hand back their assignments, merely because they spell my name ( or sometimes, their own names ) wrongly, or they have accidentally typed an IT code for an otherwise is an English working paper. A colleague once asked the student how would he feel if she were to change the first alphabet of his name into another alphabet, albeit, changing his whole name altogether! They change her name into Norhayati ( who happens to be another lecturer ); another colleague’s name is changed into something that sounds very much like a country, and mine – at time I end up with beautiful names like Jannah ( heaven for Arabic ), at times, I don’t even want to mention it here….

Every time before I travel, I prepare myself as if I am going for a war – which shoes, which tops, which toothbrush! Often I find myself staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning just because I need to pack and unpack my bags! I don’t want to turn up for the meetings or what ever functions in a lebih kurang manner. A friend laughed when he found out I actually followed the flight check-in instruction to the letter – two hours before, it says – even though mine was just a domestic flight. Thankfully, during the return journey, another friend with enough sense managed to persuade me to only go to the airport 20 – 30 minutes before departure. Little did he realize that my stomach was churning at the thought of missing my flight and taking the next bus home…

My obsession with precision can sometimes drive the others up the wall. ( Remember the students just now? ) Thankfully, I’m surrounded by others who more or less share the same cuckooness… Our drives for perfection ( making sure the printed document is both left and right justified, and that students only use certain readable fonts or certain spacing, and if you are using coloured paper as your assignment covers – make sure you choose a corporate colour, and of course, please pronounce the word ‘sheet’ correctly or else you’ll be awarded with one of our infamous stares ) can sometimes irritate the students and other colleagues – thus explains our Schindler’s List status. At home, even the living room curtains are not spared – I would not be happy if the curtain ropes are merely lebih kurang and my military-trained eyes would straight away notice that both of my stuffed monkeys reigning on top of the television set have been moved.

I understand my partner-in-crime’s scenario in Life is… a beautiful smile. Being precise is important here. We need to check the exact size, colour, price, length, width of that particular gorgeous top that we intend to buy – especially when we have to part with hundreds of ringgits for it! After all, we are the ones who will end up being scrutinized just because we go home with an uglier-than-ugly dark purple polka dot top just because we do not want to offend the sales girls / men! We don’t want to be seen pulling what we thought was an ELLE bag, when broad daylight indicates that it was BELLE and it was made in Golok. Therefore, dear sales girls / men, please have mercy on us. Please wait patiently for us – I understand your predicament. I once worked in a souvenir shop and had to entertain the likes like… my own self and my partner-in-crime!!!

Back to the issue for today… Is being precise important?

It is, as confirmed by my marketing trip last weekend. Kedah, a state blessed with its untouched beauty, serviced by highways and well-maintained roads. There is no traffic jam… so unlike KL, I thought! I was admiring the whole scenario on my way back from Bukit Kayu Hitam Duty Free Complex when suddenly the traffic came to a stand still. On the opposite road, a huge trailer stood solitarily. Crowd started forming and for a while, I thought that it broke down. The trailer status made it worse – it would take at least 20 ample-bodied persons to move it aside. Just as I was about to exhale a relief breathe, it was then when I spotted the object that everyone had been inspecting.

There, lying motionlessly underneath the giant truck, was something that resembled a human figure. A closer look indicates that it was a female body, twisted and tangled among what used to be a motorbike. A few minutes before, she might be someone’s daughter, wife, mother – and now, she is merely a corpse. A mistiming or imprecise movement of her cost her, her life. Had she waited a few seconds later – or had she crossed the road a few seconds earlier, she might not turn into another statistic. As for the driver, had he waited for a few seconds before or after the right went red, or had he driven slower, he might have managed to avoid the whole incident.

And as for the bystanders, had they warned the driver, or the rider, a minute earlier, they would have saved a life. Remember the broken ketchup in the road safety campaign? Buckle your seat belt, or helmet. After all, life is… being precise, to the letter.

Life is... a beautiful smile

Hum. Pernah masuk kedai besar-besar dan tak dipandang langsung oleh sales girl/man hatta sebelah mata sekalipun? Pernah menerima layanan paling menggigil bila masuk ke kedai yang menjual baju berharga ratusan dan ke atas? Pernah menerima pandangan sinis dari tokeh kedai (yang kemungkinan besar sales girl jugak) bila kita memilih, dan memegang barangan derang yang harga mencecah ribuan ringgit? Jangan risau. Anda tidak keseorangan. Ramai lagi insan-insan lain di luar sana mengalaminyer, termasuklah aku. Heh.

Perkara di atas selalu terjadi pada aku apabila:

1. berpakaian macam budak sekolah aka seluar jeans, tshirt, selipar jepun, sling bag.
2. tidak mempunyai saiz badan sesuai untuk kedai berkenaan
3. tidak mempunyai muka yang meyakinkan aka muka ada duit aka muka kaya-raya

Sejauh mana pentingnya imej orang kaya pada anda? Kita memanglah disuruh berpakaian cantik dan kemas supaya sedap mata memandang dan tidak membawa imej ala-ala langsuyor masuk pekan, TAPI perlu ke bergaya macam orang tak pernah masuk shopping complex dengan memakai spek hitam di kala malam atau mekap tebal satu inci walaupun nak masuk Jusco? Alahai… aku rasa masalah sebenar untuk perkara di atas ialah… BIAS. Suka pandang rendah kat orang. MEMILIH. No offense yer tapi aku tengok kalo uncle/auntie chinese tu masuk kedai pakai baju tido pon dapat layanan hebat. Tau la depa banyak duit… tapi ingat kami ni tadak duit ka? Amboi-amboi… tuh la, sales girl/man ni pun dah pandai memilih customer; tanak orang melayu macam kami ni (sori yek, tapi bukan la suma sales girl/man atau yang lebih suka dipanggil promoter ni bersikap pilih rupa macam tu… sikit jer… tapi, yang sikit tuh la perosak imej dan nama baik suma sales girl/man nih).

Memang betul, aku pun paham kepenatan melayan pelanggan, especially kalo pelanggan tu tanak beli ape-ape. ‘Nak tengok jek’ ß kata aku la, selalunya. Tapi ‘nak tengok jek’ tu bagi aku membawa maksud aku tengah survey barang, dari segi rupa, harga, kualiti, kesesuaian… takkan masuk kedai terus nak beli? Pengguna yang bijak biasanya dah survey barang yang sama kat beberapa kedai sebelum membeli. Manalah tau tersalah beli ke, kan? Nanti pegi kedai lain tengok barang yang sama dengan harga lebih murah, mau tak meraung… (pernah jadik kat aku nih). Especially bila nak beli barang yang regenye dah cecah ratusan atau ribuan ringgit. Mestilah aku jadi seorang yang sangat cerewet di kala itu. Yela, pakai duit sendiri. Aku tadek sugar daddy yang bleh hulur duit macam tu je kat aku. Paham-paham sendiri laa…

Anyway, aku ucap terima kasih la pada sales girl/man yang berjaya melayan kecerewetan customer dengan senyuman. Tak salah kita buat baik pada orang, tak luak pon. Ingat satu je, kalau nak marah, cuba senyum. Mesti sedikit sebanyak rasa marah kita tu berkurangan. Ini bukan ditujukan pada sales girl/man je, tapi buat semua umat manusia yang tak sukakan pertelingkahan. Terima kasih. J

Life is... Tiramissyou (part 1)

Korang percaya tak dengan jatuh cinta pandang pertama? Korang pernah jatuh cinta pandang pertama? Apakah yang dikategorikan dengan cinta pandang pertama tu? Hum. Aku pun tak tau. Pengalaman cinta aku tak banyak. Boleh dibilang dengan jari. Boleh juga dikatakan tipikal. Zaman sekolah, zaman belajar, dan zaman sudah bekerja. Semuanyer bagi perasaan yang berlainan.

Zaman sekolah. Masing-masing muda lagi. Dulu aku ni boleh jugak dikategorikan sebagai tomboy. Bestfren aku budak lelaki. Aku tak susah nak buat kawan. Cuma aku tak suka dengan perangai pelik budak-budak pompuan time tu. Zaman sekolah aku boleh dibahagi pada dua zon; sekolah biasa dan sekolah asrama. Masa sekolah biasa, masa sekolah rendah dulu-dulu kat Melaka, aku memang biasa habiskan masa dengan bermain. Budak mana la yang tak suka main oiii… budak zaman sekarang je mainan derang pelik. Dulu kitorang main basikal, kayuh laju-laju turun bukit, lumba sapa panjat bukit dengan cepat (kalau jumpa anjing liar lagi laju kitorang lari), main soft ball, main baling selipar / baling tin dengan bola tenis (lepas tu bijik mata lebam pasal sorang anak jiran target baaaik punya kat depan mata aku). Semuanya aktiviti yang tak keluarkan duit, cuma keluarkan peluh jek (dan keluarkan tenaga lebih bila kena kejar ngan mak pasal baju kotor macam belacan). Budak zaman sekarang ni lembik sket. Pengaruh jahat pun banyak. Eh aku bukan nak cerita pasal tu la. Aku nak cerita pasal cinta zaman sekolah.

Cinta pertama aku masa di sekolah tadika. Itupun kalau boleh dikatakan cinta la. Ala dulu budak-budak apa tauuuu… tau main, main je… alkisahnya aku nih memang kuat main sejak kecik lagi. Dan kawan-kawan aku biasanya mestilah budak lelaki. Mungkin sebab aku suka main lasak-lasak kot. Peh tuh ada la satu hari tuh aku main kejar-kejar ngan sorang budak laki tu, syok punya main tiba-tiba ada la sorang budak pompuan nih yang berambut panjang dan bertocang (seriyes, rambut dier panjang giler walaupun dah bertocang) masuk campur dan nak main sekali. Yang aku herannyer dia nak main kejar-kejar ngan budak laki nih jek. Panas hati aku. Terus aku marah dan tarik rambut dia. Haha. Cam kelaka. Jeles. Itupun kalau kau boleh panggil cinta la. Tapi aku tetap berkawan baik dengan budak lelaki tu sampai la darjah 3. dia pindah lepas tu. Pindah Johor. Kesian aku kena tinggal.

Cinta seterusnya. Bila kita dah belajar mengenali batas-batas persahabatan antara lelaki dan perempuan. Bila kita dah belajar halal haram dalam hubungan (masa ni aku dah start sekolah agama pada waktu petang, budak zaman sekarang ada sekolah agama lagi keh?) aku berkawan baik dengan seorang ‘bintang’ sekolah. Dia pandai, berkulit cerah, tinggi berbanding kawan-kwan lelaki yang lain (masa tu kan budak pompuan membesar awal), dan digilai ramai. Heran gak aku, kecik-kecik lagi dah pandai suka kat orang itu ini. Masa dulu mana ada henpon. Dulu main surat-surat je. Tulis surat pastuh selit bawah meja. Bukan. Bukan aku. Orang lain. Aku ni kawan baik dia. Sampai kalau kitorang gaduh pun cikgu dapat detect. Memang takleh lari. Kalau citer hindustan tu macam Kuch Kuch Hota Hai la… memang rapat gila. Tapi walaupun dia popular, ketua pengawas, banyak dapat surat cinta, aku masih tak jeles ngan dia. Lah, kawan baik katakan. Sampai la satu ketika masa kawan sekolah agama kitorang yang boleh la dikategorikan cantik dan pandai jugak bagitau kat aku yang dia pun minat dekat kawan baik aku ni. Masa tu sentap seketika, pasalnyer, aku tak pernah terfikir aku akan tersepit dalam situasi tu (haiceh, kecik-kecik lagi dah pandai berperasaan camtuh). Nak dijadikan cerita, aku pun buat la satu sajak khas pasal kawan baik aku nih untuk kawan perempuan aku ni ha… (dulu aku nih buleh kata hebat la dalam permainan bahasa ni… skang ni buleh jadik loyar buruk je la…). DAN KAWAN LELAKI AKU NGAN GATALNYER TERBACA SAJAK YANG AKU TULIS TU. Wah, masa tu aku rasa biasa lagi. Tapi rupa-rupanya kawan lelaki aku tu ingat aku ada perasaan kat dia! (memang betul pun tapi aku takde la sampai gila bayang kat dia). Sajak tu dengan jayanya merosakkan hubungan persahabatan kitorang. Dia dah tak mahu lagi duduk sebelah meja aku dalam kelas. Dia dah tak mau lagi main badminton sambil memperlecehkan raket cap ayam aku lepas sekolah agama. Dia dah tak nak bercakap dengan aku. Sampaikan cikgu panggil kitorang, tanya apa masalah, dia akan kata ‘kami ok je cikgu… tak gaduh pun…’ hakikatnye, kalau tak gaduh, takkan la dari meja kat depan, diusung ke belakang? Semua orang tau. Tapi semua cuma mampu diamkan jer. Dan… persahabatan kami berakhir bila bapak aku ajak pindah ke Terengganu. Masa hari terakhir aku kat sekolah, dia cuba jumpa aku, dia cuba bercakap dengan aku, tapi bila bertentang mata, dia cuma mampu tersenyum kelat sambil mengangguk dan merelakan aku pergi. Sedih weiii… bestfren tuh!

Sekarang ni, apa yang aku dapat simpulkan dari kisah cinta zaman sekolah (rendah) aku adalah, cinta pada sahabat / teman; maksudnya tak semestinya kita bercinta dengan dia, tapi kita sayang dia, kita appreciate dia sebagai sahabat kita masa susah dan senang, kita berkongsi, kita cuba bersaing untuk menjadi yang terbaik dalam kelas, kita bersaing untuk menjadi ternama di bidang sukan, kita bersaing untuk mendapat tempat teratas untuk setiap kali peperiksaan dan kita bersaing untuk menjadi yang terhebat di setiap pertandingan di peringkat daerah. Istilah cinta zaman sekolah rendah aku bukanlah cinta pada kekasih, tapi cinta pada seorang yang berstatus SAHABAT.

*amaran : ini bukan orang yang sama.

Life is... a cup of bitter-sweet coffee.

Ever wondered why people are addicted to coffee?

Most people claim that coffee gives them the perk needed especially to start their days. A good cup of coffee could forecast the kind of day that lies ahead – slow, hectic, chaotic! Anyway, experience taught me that if a cup of coffee failed to give you the perk, don’t expect the remaining nine to do you any good!! When I was studying, I would make myself pots and pots of coffee in order to stay awake and complete those literature assignments which were due on the next day. Nevertheless, I always found myself dozing off in the middle of the process or writing about Hamlet when I was supposed to write on Orlando as in Shakepeare’s As You Like It.

Some people drink coffee simply because it gives them that social status or what ever you call it. You could actually tell the personalities / characteristics of a person just by his drinks. This might come in handy especially if you are looking for a potential life partner.

Espresso: Someone who tries so hard to impress the others, in particular people of the opposite sex. He could also be an extremist and a non-conformist, and trying so hard to prove it! Orange is his colour; just as pink is to Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde. Age: He doesn’t tell and don’t try to guess. The only response you would get from him would either be a shrug or simply a stare. Mr Espresso is full of mysteries. If you’re thinking of spending the rest of your life ala Sherlock Holmes, or with a “ till death do us part ” partner, then, Mr Espresso is the man for you. A cup of Espresso will last him 1 to 2 hours – and the relationship, longer. He’s deep, truly deep. However, if you can’t fathom him, just raise your hand and ask for the cheque – fast!

Mocha / Latte / White Coffee: Simply for beginners or those who were brought up drinking Nescafe! His choice of drinks is often based on his mood for that particular day. Unlike Espresso lover, he gulps his drinks in less than 10 minutes, sometimes even faster. Ladies, be warned if you’re dating someone who orders these drinks: you might be dating a player, Mr Romeo himself. Just like his choice of coffee, the relationship usually will not stand the test of time. The good news about going out with Mr Mocha / Latte / White Coffee ( what ever name you decide to call him ) is he is not as complicated as Mr Espresso. Don’t worry – this type of coffee lover wouldn’t make you spend your first date ( and the followings, if any ) answering quiz questions or pondering as to why the third world countries are being deprived of their what so ever by who ever… ( Hint: Mr Espresso ) He also comes with a complete resume. Ask him about his age, and he’ll tell you the nicknames of all his siblings – including their hobbies. By the time you leave the restaurant or café, you would feel as if you have met the entire clan.

Ice-blended / frappuchino / what-ever-is-the-name-of-the-latest-drinks etc: You are dating the most up-to-date, well-informed, information-at-his-fingertips kind of guy here. Chances are he also knows how many branches of Moonbucks or Tea Beans are available in Klang Valley alone – and that he has gone to each and every one of them. He also knows whether a particular drinks should be taken stirred, not shaken. ( His last name is Bond, by the way. ) Don’t worry if you are unfamiliar with the new drinks that just hit the market; he is your walking encyclopedia. Let him order, after all, you might mispronounce the words. Just get your wallet ready! This kind of guy loves to talk – so, you need to be a good listener ( with the occasional aha or mmm ) in order for the relationship to last. Chances are you guys would be wandering to the latest, trendiest recently-opened boutique-for-men or salon after having your cuppa. Get yourself ready for the new hairdo or that fashionable fishnet shirt – on him, not on you!

Traditional Kopi Jantan / Kopi Ginseng / Tongkat Ali / Kacip Fatimah: It is believed that this combination would help boost an individual’s energy and that many people have sworn by it! Just browse through today’s dailies or stay put in front of the television set for an hour: you’ll be surprised to see how many Pak Abus, Pak Abases, Pak Ahmats and the likes appear in the coffee adverts! Now, who are you dating now? “ A real man ” ( claim the coffee drinkers ), where in real life, they might be over-the-hill guys who try so hard to keep up with their yester years!!! These people might be the typical MCP – and women should wait upon them. A typical home scenario would be the husband reading the daily newspapers, five kids in the background, a pair of cats lying on the couch, the decorative bonsai tree next to the door, piles and piles of unopened mails on the top left of the drawer… Wait a minute – where is the lady of the house? She might be scrubbing the kitchen floor or taking out the garbage right now. ( And men need ginseng and tongkat ali? )

Enough of reading too much in between the lines, or in this case, in between the cups of coffee…. After all, we can’t go around asking our potential partners on what types of drinks they consume!!! My advice: Just take life as it is… sweet and bitter, all at the same time – just like a cuppa.

Life is... NOT being on the centre stage all the time.

( A special dedication to all my busy friends out there… )

So, how important is recognition to you? How important is it to be on the centre stage and in the lamp light? Ask any of my colleagues today, and chances are that they would rather be at the side line. So we are not ambitious ( that explains why we are not involved in Putera UMNO’s North PoleJump project – other than the fact that we are not Mat Rempits ), we prefer to remain obscure, overshadowed by the rest… Let us be. Leave us all alone. Call us anti-social, pessimist etc….

Why is this negativity? Simple…. We are tired of running around and looking after other people’s welfare, interests, well being but are THEY doing the same thing to us? ( Minus the lip-services… ) It’s time to be selfish, to focus on me, myself and I. Less on you, yourself.

Being academicians, our main responsibilities would be: Being involved in the teaching-learning process ( before, during and after ); producing and preparing the syllabus, updating our notes, students’ attendance etc etc etc., conducting research, all the stuff that an academician is supposed to handle. Right? Wrong. You are lucky if you could spend a few minutes going through your previous lecture notes for the purpose of updating, but most often than not, you would be so tied up with other nitty-gritty details such as being involved in this and that event that would be attended by Datuk So-and-So ( or better, His Royal Highness himself ), which would be held at the prestigious Putra World Trade Centre or any 5-star hotels, in which there would be a live TV coverage, just because a famous celebrity is going to perform and the list goes on and on.

Of course – you would be highly responsible for that. The event would be attended by certain VIPs but you would be the Super VVIP. It’s true that you might not be occupying the centre stage or the VIP seat ( which of course, would not bear your name ), but the responsibility in making the whole event a success is literally on your shoulders. Should you decide NOT to help in the event, the whole thing might be scrapped off and fingers would point at you! In order to restore peace and solidarity in this whole universe, you decide to join in the project. Oh well, just once – it won’t hurt, or so you thought. You’re wrong. That one particular time will lead to the next and the next and the next times. The institution might change its name for the tenth time, but chances are you are still around and still running around whenever there are events, activities, projects!!!

Yes, everybody knows your name by now. But is that what you really want? Is staying back long after work with only your Windows Media Player as your mere companion your idea of happiness? Is neglecting your loved ones ( or being neglected in return ) your life-long objective? All those sleepless nights thinking whether your ISO procedures would be audited by the ever famous Mr. M or finalizing the event agenda for Datuk So-and-So’s approval – are they worth it?

Chances are – they are not. There’s more to life than just being on a stage, at the centre stage in particular. Sometimes, being a spectator would give you the happiness that you deserve – much more than being the main key organizer. Stop and smell the roses.

Life is… something that should be seen through the eyes of a child.

How time flies. My used-to-be-very-small nephews and niece have all outgrown me. As my younger brother would lament, “If they were to ask us to form a line, both you and I would be the shortest ones! ” ( A consolation though, we would also be the slimmest! ) Not only they out do us in sizes, but they are all so grown up now.

Along, the eldest, is currently pursuing his Dentistry programme at my Alma Matter. Dek Wan has just completed his SPM and wowed everyone with his perfect As accomplishment, making everyone’s previous SPM results seem mediocre. My used-to-be partner-in-crime, Lala, has gone to a boarding school far, far away in Gopeng, leaving her Barbie Dolls collection at home. Now, the only one left at home would be Ami – and he’s only three, too young to form any alliance with his weary but good looking auntie ;o) or run after chickens during a Hari Raya celebration like Along used to do!

It’s amazing how much we could learn from our younger generation, actually. Though older and wiser, I learnt a lot from both Badin and Kak Long’s kids, in particular, Along. Pursuing my degree programme at the oldest university in Malaysia gave me an opportunity to spend my time with my brother’s family – not to mention it helped my economic status as both lodging and food were FOC!

When Along was born, everyone couldn’t help but to pamper him. He was after all, the first grandchild with both of his parents being the oldest children in their respective families. As young as the age of four or five, his love for reading enabled him to use Malay idioms in daily conversations that caused our jaws to drop! Imagine listening to a young boy saying, “ Along ni seperti Belanda mendapat tanah pulak…” When we asked him what made him uttered the line, he justified himself by saying, “ Ye lah. Mak Lang dah bagi mainan, Along nak mintak yang lain pulak! ” My salute went for him. I was ( and still am ) impressed with my own nephew! Sometimes, when he was bored with reading, he would challenge his mom for berpantun which among the lines that would send us bursting into laughters would be “ Kalau cik adik orang yang pandai… ” Anyway, this was not really surprising since Kak Long is a strict Bahasa Melayu teacher! Along’s love for readings encouraged the others to read too – well, after all, we had to tell him bed-time stories back then!!!

Along has also shown his diplomatic and ‘ world peace’ traits ever since he was young. I remember searching high and low for him during a Hari Raya, only to find him at the back of our kampong house, apologizing to a mother hen, over and over again. When asked for such behaviour, he claimed that he was fairly responsible in causing the death of one of the chickens. ( Being a city boy, he was amazed by the small chickens and ran after them. In doing so, a chick must have tripped and died. ) Animals, deserve to be treated like humans too. When you do them wrong, the least that you can do is apologize and admit your mistake.

There was a time when my brother and his family paid me a visit. ( I was staying in the campus at that time ). As his daily exposure and encounter with people would be with his parents as well as his nanny, Along was definitely amazed with the idea of being surrounded by so many people from different races, too. As we were walking to my brother’s car, he couldn’t help but to notice a group of Indian students walking behind us. Trying to strike a conversation with them, he said “ Eh, Keling ”. I quickly turned and corrected him, “ Not Keling but India. ” He was quick to make amend and straight away apologized to them by saying, “ India ye, India” . Even they couldn’t help laughing over the antics shown by this boy.

At another incident, Along was the one who showed me that human beings – regardless of what you do and how much do you earn – deserve respect. After a long shopping day at Jalan TAR and as our car was waiting for the light to turn green, he spotted ( we all did, actually ) a DBKL sweeper standing by the road side, holding his broomstick. It was Along who started a conversation ( from inside the car ), “ Pakcik, Pakcik tengah buat apa tu? ” to which the sweeper answered, “ Tengah sapu jalan, nak. Macam ni lah kalau orang tak sekolah! ” At that time, I was so ashamed with my own self for thinking and acting that I’m better than the others, but I couldn’t help but to feel proud of him.

Sometimes, injustices happen to us. When they do happen, sometimes, we react accordingly. Sometimes, we just keep quiet… and hope that the whole thing will soon pass. Along proved otherwise. There was a time when Along was punished for getting into fight with Dek Wan. ( Normally, it would be Along who started the fights ) After being punished, only then his mother demanded what had actually happened. In between sobs, Along accused his mother of being unfair; asking for the explanation only AFTER giving him the sentence! He compared his case to one very famous murder case of a politician who was cut into 18 pieces by the murderer, citing “ Is it possible to ask the dead on what had actually happen? ” Kids, you just can’t beat them.

Of course there were instances where Along was merely Along – a small boy who acted his age, like the time when he wanted us to buy him ice cream and claimed ( in a voice loud enough to be heard by the other shoppers and they, in return, gave us angry stares ), “ Along tak pernah makan ice cream…” ( In reality, he had eaten enough ice cream to fit an army ). During his first cinema trip with the rest of us, we couldn’t help but grinned when suddenly a loud question traveled across the isle “ Mak Lang, mana Mak Lang? ” just as the lights were turned off. Of course, we thanked our lucky stars that he was soon engrossed in the movie instead of crying for his auntie and the rest of us.

( Along – this entry goes out to you. From Mak Lang with love. )

Life is… a brief encounter with Pizza Boy.

He does not work in a pizza parlor and I am not sure whether he has a penchant for pizza. He is not poor, either. He comes from a good economic background and currently, he manages two companies. However, he would always remain a Pizza Boy to me.

I remember narrating the Pizza Boy story to the whole class back in 1998. It was a fasting month and the incident that took place in a shopping complex touched my heart – and I decided to share it with the students, he included.

We were waiting for the breaking of fast. Fasting month normally brings out the best in everybody – and sharing a table with unknown strangers could now be tolerated. There we were at one end of the table, and a family of three that comprised a father, a mother and a small boy at the other end. While waiting for Azan, suddenly there was a loud crash. Everybody turned – only to notice that small boy lying on the floor, with a plate of what used to be pizza scattered all around him.

He tried to clean up the mess. Seeing that, his father straight away went to him and dragged him back to his place. It was time to break fast. While everyone heartily tucked into their food, the young boy was left staring into his parents’ dishes. And all the while, both of his parents acted as if nothing had happened!!! They did not communicate with each other, let alone talk to the boy! My heart ( I think everyone else’s too… ) went out to the poor soul – surely there are other ways to discipline one’s kid?

Something happened. ( We were not the only witnesses to this drama. ) A staff from the Pizza shop came to our table, with a plate of freshly-baked pizza. He went to the family and offered the dish to them – to be turned down by the father as they did not order it. The staff responded, “ I know, but I saw what happened. It’s on the house. Poor kid. ” His answer not only moved us – but it caused the poor kid to finally cry! Kindness – which should come from our own family – was extended by a total stranger.

I was moved by the whole incident – but I did not expect the class of 1998 to feel the same. I was wrong. As I was preparing for the next day’s lesson, he came to me. At that time, I hardly knew him. Why? He was always absent from my class – but I admit that he stood out from the rest. He was sharp and quick Nevertheless, I made a point of tolerating no-nonsense from potential trouble makers. Therefore, his visit was unexpected.

When I asked him for the purpose of his visit, his remark took me by surprise; “ I was that Pizza boy ”.

I soon learnt that everyone had their own story to tell.

Coming from a well-to-do family could sometimes be a curse. Being the eldest, it was obvious that his presence was not really welcome by both career-minded parents. As a result, he was sent to live with his grandparents and came back as a total stranger in the family after completing his SPM. He was determined to be the good older brother that everyone would look up upon – however, his mission was not accomplished. His failure to perform in an otherwise prestigious legal college added to his misery. He set up an example indeed – don’t turn out to be like your brother! So that he would learn his lesson, his parents decided not to support his studies in the institution he currently enrolled to , or to pay for his lodging or support him in any way!!!

Kindness came from other people – strangers, fellow friends, classmates, “ You ”, he claimed. I was sure I had not done anything nor helped him in any way. “ Yes, you did. Once you asked me whether I was down with fever. Then you asked me whether I was on drugs… You paid me attention, something which I seldom heard of in my own family. ”

Have you ever been in a situation that sometimes, you feel responsible for another being but you just cannot explain why? That was exactly what I felt for him at that time. No, nothing special was going on between us, we did not fall in love or what, he was merely a Pizza Boy. He did not accept nor request for any special privilege from me either - I remember barring him from taking my paper due to his lack of attendance. He sat for his external exam, nevertheless, with a running nose and a high fever, with only his sleeve as a substitute for handkerchief! Wonder how did the invigilators feel upon such a sight!!!

Time flew. The last thing I heard was that he went abroad to further his studies. We lost touch until one day, coming back from a class – I found a note signed with The Pizza Boy lying innocently on my table. Memories flashed. He was back. We met and though both of us have moved on, the link is still there.

The Pizza Boy incident taught me that the simplest deed could sometimes mean a mountain to the recipient. I am sure the little boy that we met during that fasting month has completely forgotten all about the incident, but the other Pizza Boy clearly hasn’t. Neither have I.

So, have you done any good deed today?

Life is... an LRT ride.

As time progresses, LRT becomes a significant part of my life. Other than being a convenient mode of transportation, LRT rides help me to develop my social aptitude – or vice versa. I have met ( though not necessarily lost ) some very interesting characters, as well as observed several antics or probably demonstrate my own frolics which can be a source of amusement to the others!

LRT helps nurture ( or vice versa ) our social skills. This is particularly true when you’re riding the train with your loved ones ( your other half, your close friends, your family members ) or when you are standing / sitting next to somebody that you need to form an impression on! Isn’t it amazing how much can you discover about your potential partner just by being in the rides? Some people also secure career-related opportunities just by being on a train.

Being on an LRT is also the best time for you to practise your acquired Double O Seven license; either checking out the cute guy who is standing at the end of the train (it would be even better if he noticed you too! or criticizing the fragrant, outfit, hairdo, accessories adorned by the gorgeous lady ( NOT ) that everyone is checking on right now – including your very own partner! This kind of rides often ends with you sulking all through out the journey or end up at a god-knows-what station just because you want to prove a point! It also helps some of us to practise on our pinching or boxing skills with of course, our other half as the target. Hey, it’s their fault of course! We were checking on the guys too but we were very discreet – unlike them!!! ( For once, don’t you just wish that you are going out with someone with an imperfect sight? )

LRT also develops our kiasuness. Admit it: how many times have you pretended to be sound asleep ( or that you’re the one with that imperfect sight ) just so that you don’t have to give up your seats to the elderly couple or the pregnant lady? Very bad of us, right! Okay, so probably you have given up your seats or chose not to sit ( so you won’t be caught in this predicament ) but have you REALLY talked to the ones seated / standing next to you? Really, really talked? ( Definition: NOT asking for time / station or asking the person to move! )

We let people intruded into our personal space by letting them sit / stand so close to us, but it always amazes me on how we remain very cordial strangers! We try so hard not to look into other people’s eyes as if each has a secret to guard. But most often that not, our eyes would wander around especially when we thought that people are not looking! ( Guilty! ) Talking about this, I know of a friend who brags of the fact that he is often surrounded by beautiful flight attendants!!! Ya, right… (Anyway, I won’t be talking much of this individual as he has been kind enough to accompany me on several rides home – though half-way - especially when it is very late. Thank you and therefore, my lips are sealed. )

My LRT ride last Thursday evening gave me my first encounter with a ‘special’ character after all through the years. A 20-something chap came into our coach and before we could say anything, he started doing a scene from the Coyote Ugly! He started rotating his body to left and right while holding on to the post in a provoking manner! Trust me, it wasn’t a sexy sight! The next thing I knew, he was doing some push ups on the floor while speaking to himself! Words of encouragement, maybe? What surprised me was… his perfect English!!! Anyway, the whole exercise must have tired him as I saw him taking a sip of drinks from what used-to-be a Coke bottle. Of course, his announcements from time to time simply amused me. Being a very polite young man who decided not to bother the rest of the commuters, he bowed and thanked the door before getting down at the next station. His exit was accompanied by sighs of relief from the others.

Certain stations evoke special memories which of course, relate to certain noteworthy individuals in my life.

Cempaka: The safest LRT station in the world ;o), probably because Cempaka happens to be the station where my daily LRT rides start / end. Regardless of the time of days, I would actually feel safe and secure. The only disadvantage of the station is that – being the third last / the first three station ( depending on where you start your journey: KL or Ampang ), I often found myself lulled to sleep and sometimes missed this stop!

Pandan Jaya: Used to be my premier destination – Everyday, both my partner and I would stop at this station before heading for dinners together. Sometimes, when either one of us had to stay back after work, or being on medical leave ( that would obviously be me ), we would meet each other here. Over the years, I have familiarized myself with Pandan Jaya night markets and all the neighbouring food stalls – Kedai Abang whose owner would be wondering what has happened to the couple who loves his nasi goreng kampong and sambal belacan , or the Roti John stall that serves the best Papa John and Mama John with a good return for money, or even the RM8 stall! Why RM8 stall? Simply because whenever we had our dinner there, the amount would always be RM8.

Hang Tuah: A historical station indeed. It was during our ride from the office after work one day that we discovered that somebody ( that would NOT be me, of course! ) had actually driven to office that morning! He had forgotten all about it. As a result, I became the punching target for I couldn’t stop laughing as we disembarked from the train and took the next one back to KL. ( Surely we couldn’t expect the car to make his own way back home, could we? ) On another occasion, I couldn’t help laughing when the train driver forgot to make his stop at the station even after announcing “ Stesyen seterusnya, Hang Tuah ” much to the horror of those who wanted to get down. As a result, the train had to stop in the middle of the track before pulling back into its actual destination. I don’t know what was going on in the driver’s mind that day as I also caught him announcing “Stesyen seterusnya, Sultan Ismail ” even though everyone was aware that the coming stop would be Masjid Jamek. Oh well, it must be his had-hair day.

Bandaraya ( aka Sogo ): Everyone’s favourite! A station that is famously associated with shopping, shopping and more shopping! The fact that this used to be my daily destination ( the good old days of Mara Old Building and Pertama Complex offices ) is another factor why this stop should be declared The Station of the Year. It should be listed in Malaysia’s Guinness Book of Record as the only LRT station that has ever been threatened with a bomb scare somewhere early this year. ( I hope I get my facts right regarding this. )

Titiwangsa: My current destination, before hopping into the awaiting Monorail in order to proceed to Vision City – my office. Actually, a nearer alternative ( LRT- Monorail interchange ) would be Hang Tuah but sometimes, I get people phobic! The idea of being surrounded by too many strangers suffocates me. ( Could this explain the reason why sometimes I just don’t feel going to class? Just kidding! ) I prefer going at my own pace and taking my own sweet time to work. It gives me the serenity that I need – to either mentally prepare myself for class or what ever meetings that lie ahead!!!

LRT would always play a significant role in our country’s development. Now, this is beginning to sound like an introduction to a Form 3 essay …

Anyway, life is… an LRT ride.

There would be many characters that you’ll meet – and lose - along the way. There would be many stops – and every stop has its own story to tell.