Crappy Crappy!

1) NOW I have a bone to pick with the restaurant that gave my family and I such a lousy service the other day. This is one fight I did not pick; it was shoved under my nose.

As you know, I don't suffer fools gladly; so Anon, thanks for the opportunity to pull you folks down a notch or two from your perch. All I can say is that you have brought this unto yourself.

Always remember, in the restaurant business, you are as good as your food AND your service. Good food count for nuts if your service isn't up to par.

Staff who pull a long muncung (snout) at customers are absolute no-nos. We don't pay good money to be served by an irritable pout (we can get that at home for free).

I don't know who this Anon responding sourly to my negative comments is, but my best bet is that Anon is someone associated either with the shop (owner/friend/staff/whoever) or with the food critic site (which did an excellent write-up of the place, by the way). Anon sounds like a her; not that I care for the gender.

Instead of picking a fight with me, they should concentrate their efforts in improving their service. Unfortunately, they lacked the grace to admit their service wasn't so chummy.

Wake up lah, please. I am not your competitor; I don't own a makan joint neither do I know anyone who does. I'm just someone who, once upon a time, had wanted to become your regular patron/customer and spread the word around that you had a good thing going. It was you who deprived me of the privilege.

The one thing that I can be certain of is this; d'Cengkih of Taman Tun Dr Ismail has earned a black mark in my list of restaurants of disrepute and I shall avoid it at all cost, no matter how good they proclaim their menu to be.

You may ask why am I so harsh in my judgement. I have a ready answer for this. It is neatly packaged under the words "Attitude" and "Humility".

A restaurant that simply cannot bear criticisms (even if they are true) and comes out with guns blazing at anyone criticising it (even if the criticisms are constructive), is not worth the hassle. This is one restaurant with a massive attitude problem.

Worse, they lack the humility to admit their own shortcomings. Instead they keep hitting back at the critique (and that's me). Let it be known that my family wasn't the only dissatisfied patrons the other day. A few others also walked out.

I have nothing to fear as I spoke the truth and as can be seen, truth hurts. I had the grace of not naming the shop in my article then. Now I'm throwing caution to the winds; I don't really care anymore.

Neither do I care if their spread is the best in this whole wide world (anyway, I can't vouch for it for I didn't get my order), because their attitude still stinks.

You would have earned merit points in my book had you responded with: "Yes we were shorthanded the other day, but we shall buck up. We are sorry to have let you and your family down, but we welcome you to visit us again."

And you know what? I would have given the restaurant both a second chance and a second mention, which may even be highly favourable to you. It's a bit too late now.

2) Years ago, there was a Chinese-Muslim lady selling one of the best chicken rice (if not the best) I had ever tasted in Subang Jaya. In fact, if you mentioned Subang Jaya and Nasi Ayam in the same breath, it was her name that came to mind. Unfortunately enough, whilst her chicken rice was superb, her mouth wasn't. You winced at her choice of words for her workers.

Her off-putting, public maki hamun and carut marut for her hapless staff were so commonplace and well-known to Subang Jaya residents that many patrons simply stopped going, my family included. We would rather buy 'run-of-the-mill' chicken rice from other traders, who treated their workers with dignity.

I heard she has since passed away. May Allah swt be kind to her soul.

Let's Play

Konda kondi (flip), getah (rubber band), teng-teng (hopscotch), bottle-cap shooting, batu seremban, congkak (pix left); these are but some of the many traditional games I grew up with, back in the boondocks called Bukit Besi in (then) backwaters Terengganu.

Nothing beats being out in the garden or on the pangkin* in the front yard with family and friends, all high-spirited and determined to outdo each other for the glory of gloating. (Pangkin = a raised wooden platform usually placed in front of the house, for the purpose of resting one's weary feet).

Rainy days, however, would be a real damper, for it would keep us confined indoors, thus limiting our play options; never mind the fact that sometimes we blatantly ignored parental orders to happily drench ourselves in Bukit Besi's notorious downpour, the kind that could swell the hill station's placid river fivefold in mere minutes.

Today, technology is able to keep children occupied even when it's all wet and gloomy outside. Yet, I still feel sorry for them, for these kids are deprived of the thrill of playing ingenious games under the hot sun, games that do not require anything more than flipping and balancing tiny bags of seeds, or skipping on a 'rope' made of entwined rubber bands.

These days, 'fun' comes in the form of a hand-held contraption with a screen and tiny buttons on it (what's it called, PSP?), or the "mother of all funs", PlayStation. Of course, not all kids are blessed with such luxuries. Having said that, there is one luxury which has since become a basic household necessity and is currently available to 16 million of us in Malaysia - the Internet.

Now folks, check this out; yesterday I Googled "online games" and the result shook my knees. There are 264 million related searches! This is downright scary!

Let's do some maths here. Even if as little as 1% of the results are links to game sites, that's 2.6 million game sites on the Internet! If a child spends his life visiting just one site per day, he would have reached out to only 29,200 sites by the time he returns to his childhood once again at the ripe old age of 80!

I asked my own kids, nieces and nephews which sites they frequent. Names that popped up with clockword regularity were Miniclip.com, Onlinegames.net, and Dailygames.com. In fact, they know these web addresses like the back of their hands!

Out of curiosity, I paid a visit to Miniclip.com just to see what the fuss was all about. Goodness gracious... there were so many games to choose from! Bearing in mind this old lady isn't exactly a fan, I did try my hand at a couple of games, and before I knew it, two hours had passed.

Frankly, it was so easy to get hooked. In fact I was thinking I could get used to this...... it was kind of fun. All I need now is a grandchild to play these games with!

I may not be so enamoured with online games but I must admit there are many positive aspects in favour of this digital phenomenon, one of which is physical safety. The world outside is becoming more dangerous to children - rising crime rates et al - that even letting the kids out to a playground hardly 500 feet away from one's doorsteps seem unwise.

I am all for keeping them indoors under proper supervision if their safety out in the big bad world cannot be assured. Playing online games is a small price to pay for their physical safety and their parents' mental well-being.

Secondly, letting kids loose outside is exposing them to undue influence, more often of the undesirable kind. To my eternal regret, one of my sons, now 32, picked up smoking at 15, the price of too much lepak freedom. Lepaking exposed him to peer pressure and without Mom within sight or sound to counter temptations, the inevitable happened.

In today's scheme of things, it's convenience over nostalgia when it comes to certain aspects of parenting. From a nostalgic prospective, I was fortunate enough to have had my children at a time when the Internet was not available commercially.

Hence they too had had the opportunity of experiencing the sheer joy of playing in the sun as much as I did, albeit in a concrete jungle as opposed to my kampung childhood.

One thing I didn't do enough, however, was to spend time with them in playing these games. I was too busy eking out a living and managing the household. Of couse, with the benefit of hindsight, I should have made time for them. After all, memories are made of such moments.

Wouldn't it be great if there was a specific website that facilitates playtime between parent and child? I may never have the opportunity to relate to this oncept nor apply it to bond with my own kids since they are already in their 20 and 30s (although I do play online Scrabble with one son and beat him most times!).

I am calling upon all young moms out there to try this 'new age' bonding; play games with your young ones when time permits. If it's online games they fancy, pick it up and join in; who knows you may just find genuine enjoyment in the games even more than they do!

And while you are at it, teach them a thing or two about the traditional games that you know. Let the child long buried in you emerge again and indulge in playing with the pure joy of carefree yesteryears. How's that for a plan?

I'm all for family bonding and instilling moments of togetherness between parents and their children by whatever means necessary. The keyword here is 'togetherness', so it doesn't really matter whether you are indulging in online games or on-ground fun, as long as both parties derive pleasure from them.

In the meantime, my son had just slapped me with a triple-word-score in Facebook's Lexulous. The nerve he has...! Please excuse me for I have to go now, to show him never to trifle with Da Boss....

Lethal Embrace & Lunchtime Special

Folks, I honestly don't know whether to laugh or to cry after reading about a 78 year-old man who died (in ecstasy, I presume) while indulging in foreplay with a 31 year-old transvestite, in Kuantan a few days ago.

This bit of news, widely reported in the local media, reminded me of another similarly disconcerting report a few years ago where a man and his mistress, deep in the throes of sex, died when tsunami hit them.

It happened in Acheh; the man was a local bigwig and businessman (a Haji too it was reported) while the woman was a divorcee.

A true case of coitus interruptus this, with disastrous result unfortunately, for not only did they drown in passion but in the onrushing waters as well.

Their bodies, found locked together 'down there' by rescue workers, could not be parted despite several attempts and had to be carted off in that undignified position to the mortuary. [What a sorry spectacle it must have been...].

I am highlighting these two stories not to embarrass anyone, or to make light of these events, but as a reminder of God's absolute will.

I think we need to be constantly reminded of the need to stay true i.e. on the right path, because the Devil will never slacken his efforts to lead us astray, Pak Haji/Mak Haji notwithstanding.

Human beings are so weak, and so easily influenced and induced. For men, the temptation of all things sexual is the hardest to deal with. Not many men can overcome sexual seduction with ease; that's where Satan is at his creative best and man at his defensive worst.

For the 78 year-old Malay man who perished "dalam dakapan mak nyah' in Kuantan three days ago, I feel for his family. Imagine their discomfort and embarrassment, having to face kith and kin, and society at large.

He is dead and gone now; he has to deal with it wherever he is, may Allah swt have mercy on him. But what in heaven's name was he thinking, frolicking, at 78, with a bapok? Words fail me completely.

Just yesterday Pak Abu and I gloomily mulled over the social ills plaguing our society today, especially the influx of prostitutes and hookers of every colour and creed, who seem to think Malaysia is their proverbial Land of Milk and Honey.

I am inclined to think they are the Honeys doing the milking and for a few hard-earned bucks, the men gladly allow themselves to be milked (in more ways than one).

I had recently read about the reported abundance of whorehouses, including a new phenomenon called "rumah syahwat" (literally, House of Lust), now sprouting like taugeh in Kuala Lumpur.

These 'rumahs' operate only at lunchtime and cater to a select clientele. Membership is by word-of-mouth; you need to be referred by a regular. And there is only one dish on the menu - sex.

Servings come in the form of scantily-dressed young women, bearing condoms. A poke, lasting a few brief minutes, costs in the region of RM120 - RM150, so I read.

Apparently, these sessions are not even conducted in private, away from prying eyes. In Rumah Syahwat, the 'all in the family' atmosphere prevails; sofas are strategically placed in darkened corners in a big room.

Just pick a girl and a spot, drop your pants and get going. When "lunch" is over, the patrons presumably wash their "hands", belt up and adjourn to a nearby mamak for teh tarik.

These 'rumah syahwat' will make it even easier for an erring husband to cheat on his wife. No need to be creative with excuses about going out at night anymore.

Just skip the real lunch and go for this 'makanan segera' instead; our local version of fast food, no less ...... Malaysia Boleh!

Lupa

I knew it had to happen sooner or later; I just didn't anticipate it happening sooner than expected. Had it happened to the 'old' me, that is to say the kepala angin (temperamental) 'me' of 20 years ago, Pak Abu would probably have to endure biting morsels for the next 12 months.

But two decades on and I am one surprisingly mellowed 'auntie' on the treshhold of her 55th birthday, who has come to terms with her greying hair and her compact middle, and who no longer worries about missing birthdays and anniversaries. At this age, if one MUST worry, it should be about missing teeth!

June 23 has always been an important date in our personal calendar, it being our wedding anniversary. So you can judge the state of our marriage from what had happened this year - we both forgot! This year, Tuesday June 23rd sailed past without as much as a squeak.

Pak Abu only realised it the day after. As for me, I well and truly forgot until he mentioned it during lunch the following day. That too after wildly guessing why we were where we were. So much for romance!

That Wednesday, Pak Abu came home around noon and asked me to get ready for lunch. Nothing unusual in that; he always came home lunchtime and we would go makan at any of the shops around Taman Tun.

I put on a nondescript, everyday blouse, clipped a plain tudung on my head and off we went.. presumably to 'Restoran Puteri' or 'Salero Nogori' or 'Penang Village' just round the corner. Instead he drove to Medan Damansara and parked in front of my favourite Italian restaurant, La Risata.

La Risata? At noon? That's waayyy too much, I thought. Without a doubt, La Risata serves good fare; its seafood soup is a must every time. We usually have Italian food for dinner, after which I would end up like a beached whale.

It was while waiting for the food to arrive that Pak Abu stated the obvious. I couldn't help but laugh (it was a nervous titter, actually) at my creeping nyanyokness. Pak Abu said he remembered the anniversary the day before and had planned to get a card and stuffs.

Naturally he forgot on the day itself, and recalled it again the day after, by which time the card (and whatever that was to come with it) was history.

We laughed as we reminisced the first anniversary; how he went the distance - an expensive dinner for two, flowers, presents, a bottle of wine too - and a spot of music, in a hotel somewhere.

Anyway, it was a good noon outing. Happy anniversary Pak Abu and please don't lupa next year, ok? And I will try not to forget as well....

PS: Confucius says "Prolonged forgetfulness of one's wedding anniversary can cause cold spots in the house due to the presence of a restless brooding entity called wife."

Aaah, such wise words from good old Confucius (I think he must have forgotten an anniversary or two himself to have come up with this gem.. hehehe....)

Oopsie Boobsie

It's been a while since I had my boobsies squeezed, squashed and kneaded by 'foreign' hands (perish the dirty thoughts, it was my first mammograph!), but it happened again Saturday last, in the name of health and well-being.

Every woman should, at all times, keep abreast with this rather weighty issue, or to be more precise, two prominent points in the life of every woman. Pun aside, breast cancer is definitely not something to trifle with. Never for a second assume that you are safe from this scourge.

Breast cancer is the most common cancer among Malaysian women from all ethnicities and it is also the most common cause of cancer death among women in Malaysia. The disease accounts for 30.4 percent of newly-diagnosed cancer cases in Malaysian women. [Read here for more details].

I had my first brush with this bane years ago. In 1974 when breast cancer awareness was still in its infancy, I did a self-examination upon the advice of a colleague, and found a lumpy mass in my left breast. It was a terrifying week, one filled with uncertainties. Surgery followed; thankfully the mass proved benign.

I could understand my own fear. We have a chequered family history, cancerwise. Two generations of women paid the ultimate price; Opah (grandma) died of cervical cancer; Wan Su (an aunt), of brain tumour; Mak (mom) had her cancer-ridden ovary removed (she eventually died of kidney failure).

Ten years ago I had both a mammograph (breast cancer screening) and a pap smear (screening for cervical cancer) done. Over the years, I had been meaning to have another go but there were too much dilly-dallying in between. Even getting to know blogger Dalilah and her fight against breast cancer had not heightened the pressure.

But a recent blast from the past had prompted me to take action. An e-mail from one Noriah Omar reached me last week. She introduced herself as my junior in Sekolah Tun Fatimah (STF), in the same batch as my sister Zahana (Class of '74).

Noriah, who owns the Rajawali Travel & Tours travel agency in Taman Tun Dr Ismail, was taking the lead in organising a screening session (at a nominal fee to the operator) for her old STF gang at her premises. Knowing that I live in Taman Tun, she had extended an invitation for me to participate.

It was good to meet up with some of those 'kids' again. They were only 15 when I saw them last! I felt embarrassed that I could not identify any of them save for one or two. Sorry sweeties!

I could only recognise Noraini Bahari (apart from a couple of dress-size bigger, she looked just the same) whose sister Normah (one year my senior in STF) was my brother's gal for a while.

Unlike the old days when mammograph was done by literally compressing one's boobs between two cold steel plates, this new method uses a convenient hand-held detection device (pix above) that is gently pressed onto the breast to be examined. Best of all, it is absolutely pain-free.

This device, consisting of a compact array of 256 electrodes, is connected to a medical-grade PC port during the procedure and data is constructed by proprietary software onto direct-to-digital tomography conductivity images of the breast.

It is radiation-free and has high accuracy rate. And because it is portable and mobile, the operator is willing to set up screening sessions provided one can gather a minimum of 30 persons at any one time. Any less than 30 and the exercise will not be economically viable to the operator.

Those of you who are keen to organise a screening session, at your office or home or any suitable venue, with your colleagues, women's groups, old girls (ex-classmates), or any particular group at all, please give Fazilah Othman of Mobecomm a tinkle at 012-3045148. Mobecomm is Canadian-based; their local representative is an authorised partner of HeiTech Padu Bhd. Don't forget to surf their website at http://www.stayhealthy2u.com/.

For some peace of mind, do it. Early detection saves lives. I am happy to report that I am a-okay for now, thank be to God. Syukur Alhamdulillah!

Yang Di Tunggu Tak Tiba

How long is considered a decent wait in a restaurant for your food to arrive following your order? Fifteen minutes? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? Maybe the answer lies in the type of food one asks for and the number of patrons at the time of the order.

I guess if you request for meat dishes like steaks and cuts, you may have a slightly longer wait compared to an a la carte order of local dishes like asam laksa which doesn't require cooking per se, or fried koayteow which doesn't need baking or grilling.

But what if one orders rice and all its accompaniments (lauk)? I do know that certain lauks are pre-cooked or pre-prepared; all the kitchen has to do is heat them up.

So I reckon if we order plain white rice with four types of lauk, for example sambal tumis udang with petai, kerabu sotong, daging masak merah and somtam (kerabu betik), the food should arrive within 20 minutes.

Two days ago the family decided to try out this new restaurant in Taman Tun Dr Ismail, located alongside Domino's Pizza. It will not be fair for me to name the restaurant; suffice to say we are not likely to step foot inside it again.

The place which opened its doors some months back serves Thai food. Seems to me like everyone is on the 'tomyam' gravy train these days, with Thai restaurants sprouting like mushrooms after the rains.

Anyway, one look at the menu of this restaurant, and you can see it's a wee bit on the high side. Then again, if the food is good and the service commendable, price usually ceases to be an issue. The most important thing is you get your money's worth, and that you are satisfied.

Unfortunately enough (for both the Abus and the shop), we got neither, simply because we didn't even get the food in the first place! However, we did learn, to our detriment of course, that the service was one massive thumb down and the operator's attitude stank to high heaven.

If I were to put my 'not-so-disciplined' mouth into good use that day, I would have suggested the management place a more pleasant face behind the counter for starters, since the face also doubled up as one of those who took down orders.

It is not enough to have a pretty face and a willowy body (clad in tight t-shirt and equally tight jeans) pacing the restaurant floor with a most unpleasant scrunched up look and a petulant pout brimming with "I'm busy, so screw you!" attitude.

I would also recommend the pot-bellied, middle-aged Malay guy (who was either the owner/ operator/ manager) exercise a bit of PR when one's orders ran late, by coming over to one's table to apologise for the delay, instead of casting guilty glances at the fidgeting customers and scurrying back and forth to the kitchen with a constipated look on his face.

It was noontime on a working day, so naturally there were quite a number of office workers among the patrons when we walked in at one o'clock. It took ten minutes and a couple of vigorous hand waves for the staff to notice us, and one finally scurried over to take our order.

Thirty minutes later, we were still waiting. I was being kind, honestly. I gave them a lot of leeway considering the place was packed. At 1.50 pm my patience wore out, especially after I noticed those arriving much later than us being served their respective orders.

Then it dawned on me that those patrons had ordered a la carte dishes i.e. fried rice, fried noodles and the like, as opposed to ours, a complete set of nasi and lauk. The kitchen had been clearing those single-dish orders first, apparently.

I beckoned Miss Willowy and asked about our order. Without a word she stomped off to the kitchen, presumably to check. And then she walked out again and instead of coming to our table to inform us of the status, she went to hide behind the counter. As for the pot-bellied fellow, he slunked back and wasn't seen again.

I stood up, walked to the counter and asked in an annoyed voice: "Mana order kami? Dah buat ker belum? Kalau belum buat tak payahlah. Dah sejam lebih!"

She shot back: "Ha, tak payah pun takpalah!" It was 2.05 pm. We had been there for one hour and five minutes, waiting for food that never came. So we left and went to KFC instead.....


PS: Patrons from two other tables also left, just before us, when their respective orders too did not materialise.

Lousy Week

It has been a lousy week minggu lepas sehingga saya kebuntuan fikiran untuk menghasilkan sebarang tulisan.. perasaan ini berbaur marah dan sedih melihat gelagat kaum sendiri...

1) Lee Kuan Yew came a-visit, bukan setakat melawat sebenarnya, tetapi meninjau riak-riak politik Malaysia at ground level to strategise Singapore's own. "Melayu Mudah Lupa" di Malaysia pun menyambut kedatangan rakan karib Zionis ini dengan senyuman lebar, ditambah memberi 'thumb's up' for good measure.

Saya amat dukacita; bersatu sesama Islam ditolak dengan begitu lantang atas dasar ketidak-sefahaman politik, tetapi bersekongkol dengan jalang politik al-kafirun yang mendokong perkauman sehingga memecah-belahkan negara disatu ketika dulu diaminkan. Sesungguhnya.. MELAYU MUDAH LUPA!

2) Anwar Ibrahim raised the ante untuk political survivalnya dengan endorsing kepulangan seorang petualang negara; a traitor and a murderer. Saya tidak akan lupa walau sedetik pun bahawa "Bapak Komunis" Chin Peng adalah pendokong komunisme yang tidak pernah menyesali maupun meninggalkan fahamannya, tidak seperti Rashid Maidin dan Shamsiah Fakeh yang dibenar pulang kerana sudah berbalik hati (mungkin kerana sedar hayat sudah tiba dipenghujungnya).

My late father-in-law was murdered by communists in the heart of Kuala Lumpur on his way to work, his body riddled with 11 bullet holes.... 35 tahun telah berlalu sejak peristiwa hitam itu, tetapi saya tidak pernah lupa jasad kaku berlumuran darah disorong masuk ke dalam Hospital Kuala Lumpur.... itu "sumbangan" Chin Peng dan kuncu-kuncunya kepada keluarga kami..

3) Seorang majikan sialan menyeksa pembantu rumahnya dengan begitu zalim selama tiga tahun... di simbah air panas, dipukul kepala dan telinga dengan penukul apabila membuat sedikit kesalahan, diberi makan nasi kosong sehari sekali, disogok potongan daging babi kalau mahu lauk...

Mujurlah wanita malang itu dapat memboloskan diri minggu lepas dan lari ke Kedutaan Indonesia untuk mendapatkan perlindungan .. membuak kemarahanku terhadap si majikan syaitan ini. Make her pay, make her pay; bukan setakat RM17,000 gaji yang tidak dibayarnya selama ini, tetapi seksakan hidupnya..

4) Seorang datuk dari neraka jahanam merogol cucunya sendiri...si kecil masih dalam sekolah rendah. Tidak cukup setakat itu, si datuk celaka bergilir dengan beberapa lelaki lain, ahli keluarga sendiri, mempergunakan simalang .. tidak mampu saya berkata-kata lagi.... terurai air mata membacanya.. begitu hiba hati ini melihat manusia yang telah hilang perhitungan ....

The School Reunion

Backdrop : To Sir With Love - Jasa Mu Tetap Di Kenang

for comparison's sake; gadis kampung age 17 (1971)

37 years on, with one-time maths teacher Mr Magan Lal

Class of 1972; wow, everybody montel-montel!


Class of 72 - On extreme right (in batik) is the teacher who taught us French (can't remember his name)



Jaafar, my senior who was also a neighbour. We used to lepak at his house.

The Grey-Haired Brigade

I am not out of place in this wargamas crowd...

Pretty ladies in a row (ahakk..!) like those perempuan joget in BB Plaza of old!

He must have been in his mid-twenties in the early 1970s, probably a fresh graduate too, when he landed himself in provincial Dungun, in DESS (Dungun English Secondary School) to teach Mathematics to the likes of statistical morons like me.

At well over six feet, Mr Magan Lal was literally head and shoulders above everyone else in the entire school, especially us, a motley bunch of acne-ridden, gangly and giggly teenagers whose main preoccupation was lording it over apprehensive juniors while at the same time kowtowing to the bullying seniors.

That I disliked Maths with every fibre of my being was no big surprise to my largely Chinese classmates, to whom Maths was kacang putih (peanuts). I still remember one of the boys shaking his head at the thickness of my skull, saying: "What is there not to understand? Numbers only maaa..!"

Given half the chance, I would rather be lost among alphabets, not numbers. Eighteenth-century English countryside would be as good a place to start, dancing amongst Wordsworth's daffodils or enjoying the warblings of Keats' nightingale.

But the LCE (Lower Certificate of Education) exam was fast approaching and Maths was a necessary evil. It was a 'must-take' subject, no two ways about it. Unfortunately enough, my mathematical genius did not go beyond arithmatic's standard multiplication table (it ended at 12 x 12 = 144).

Although I was clueless, Mr Magan Lal never flinched. My Credit 6 in LCE's Mathematics was as lame as could be, compared to the string of As that eventually booked me a place in a boarding school down south in JB, but I was on cloud nine just to get that miserable C. It was testament to Mr Magan Lal's patience and perseverance.

I remember those bony fingers well; ceaselessly drumming on my desk, occasionally folding his arms across his chest as he stood there, patiently watching me sweat trying to figure out the geometrical puzzles and trigonometrical maze (and mess) staring back at me.

Thirty-seven years down the road, and the good old 'Sir' and I met again. After all these years, he was still slim and trim. And he still had his own hair. Comparatively, yours truly had piled on the pounds and looked like a barrel. If at all there were similarities, we both had lots of grey hair.

I couldn't hide my excitement, exclaiming "Mr Magan Lal, SIR!", silly giggles and all, very much like a bashful 15 year-old all over again. He remembered me too; the best thing was he even recalled that I was the class monitor, when I myself had forgotten I ever was!

Some 300 former students and teachers from classes in the early '60s to the '80s packed the school hall of DESS in Sura Gate, Dungun, last Saturday (06/06/09) in celebration of the school's 50th anniversary.

The organisers had earlier indicated that the event would be an informal affair; no long-winded speeches and no performances of any kind, just a get-together of long-lost school friends, presentation of tokens of appreciation to teachers and lots and lots of photo-taking.

The spread was simply marvelous; nasi dagang and nasi minyak with all their respective accompaniments, satay, kropok lekor, ketupat, lemang and rendang, roti canai, rojak mamak and rojak buah, numerous types of kuih and sweetmeats including local delicacies like akok and the like.

I wandered around looking for those from my batch of Form Five 1972. There weren't many this time around, perhaps because we have had our own three times in the past four years (twice in Kuala Lumpur and once in Dungun). The last was two years ago, culminating in a round of golf, followed by lunch, at the Dungun Golf Club.

Still, it was a memorable outing for me, for I met many seniors who were classmates and buddies of my elder brother Yusof (who was unable to make it since he was tied up with the preparations for his son's forthcoming nuptials). One of them got me momentarily flustered by saying "We were interested in you la then, but nobody wanted to admit openly!" Walauwehhh....!

I also met the headboy whom I used to date until he went to Sixth Form. He came with his wife; we exchanged pleasantries. It was good to see him, in his late '50s now, doing well. In fact, we had a chance meeting in London in 1975; he was then a student there while I was working in a publishing house somewhere in Hatton Garden.

After stopping by the cemetery to say some prayers for my mother who died last year, Pak Abu and I left Dungun for a leisurely drive back to Kuala Lumpur.... but not before doing a bit of shopping (for textiles) in Dungun town. They were beautiful and darn cheap! Along the way, we also 'singgah' Cherating to buy satar (grilled fish cake, an East Coast delicacy). We got home safe and sound, just before Maghrib...

Dungun sans Mak

The morning air was cool to the touch as I made my way to the beach; one lonely soul clad in a simple blouse and a sarong, with headscarf all askew at a careless angle. I could feel the gritty sand enveloping my naked feet in a warm embrace as I sauntered down the sloping shoreline.

The sounds and sight of the gentle waves rising and ebbing in the near distance were hypnotising, and in the far horizon, an orange ball emerged from the foot of the sky, its glow suffusing over the calmness of the morning.

It was the dawn of innocence all over again. I was back home in good old Dungun, to all things good and familiar. How wonderful it was to inhale the breezy, slightly salty 'udara' Dungun once again, how refreshingly crisp the air.

Nothing much had changed since 13 months ago when I was in Dungun last. Nothing, except that Mak is gone. Two simple tombstones in a serene graveyard facing the sea were all I had of her now. I could feel the tears welling as I quickened my pace to the edge of the water.

It was ironic that I had come home to nothingness on the homefront. Even Mak's single-storey bungalow is currently unliveable, for lack of attention. My sister Idah who lives in Kuala Lumpur and holds the keys to the house had confided that the once spick & span dwelling was in disarray.

I had expected to lodge overnight at my other sister's house next door to Mak's. Unfortunately, she had taken the opportunity of the mid-term school break to visit her working children in Kuala Lumpur. As it were, we were like two ships that passed in the night.

An annoyed thought temporarily crossed my mind; someone should take responsibility about Mak's house. Pay somebody to look after it, or turn it into a family retreat, or rent it out, or even sell it and divide the proceeds, whatever. Just don't let it rot. Don't let the memory of Mak die with that house.

The trip to Dungun was to be a speedy one, just an overnight stay. I was back in town to attend the 50th anniversary of my alma mater, Sekolah Menengah Inggeris Dungun (now renamed Sekolah Menengah Sultan Omar) and to once again regroup with classmates, schoolmates and teachers I had not met for 35 years.

Accomodation in Dungun and the vicinity was booked solid during this period, for the anniversary clashed with the school term break. But we managed to find a place to stay for the night - Ulek Beach Resort - a beautiful albeit slightly pricey resort fronting the Dungun beach.

It is located in Sura Hujung, just next door to the Dungun Golf Club and a few metres away from UiTM, Dungun campus. In Dungunspeak, that's prime location and as far as amenities go, it's worth the money.

Built in the standard style of an East Coast lodging house i.e. individual chalets inter-connected by a series of cobbled pathways, its traditional architecture blends well with the kampung surroundings and it has (almost) all the facilities of a town hotel. A standard unit (called Teratak) is priced at RM288/nett per night; breakfast for two included.

Traditional touches include tempayan (earthernware jar) and gayung tempurung (water dipper) placed at the foot of the stairs leading up to each chalet, a wakaf (open-sided resting area) and a perigi (well) by the side of the swimming pool, and water-filled takar (clay pitcher) on each table in the dining area.

One outstanding feature is that each chalet has a jacuzzi although Pak Abu and I didn't even have time to indulge ourselves in it. We arrived past 10pm Friday and checked out at noon the following day, immediately after attending the Reunion at the school hall.

If at all I have a teeny-weeny grouse against the resort, it is that our request for a late checkout (to 1.30pm i.e. after Zohor) was denied. The excuse given was that they were expecting a large group that afternoon and didn't want housekeeping to be held up (by ONE late check-out??)

[Because I am a graduate of a hotel and catering school, had offered hotel development and management as my thesis, and had worked in a hotel before (Subang Merlin, in the mid-1980s), I'm not easily 'kelentong'-ed about hotel management vis-a-vis housekeeping.... *smile*]

We told them that since we checked in at 10pm, and that was eight long hours later than the standard check-in time of 12 noon, at least honour our simple request of wanting to perform solat Zohor first before leaving.

Sorry, said the guy-girl combo at the front office counter adamantly, with a stiff smile. In the end, we did the necessary (and had lunch as well) at The Kelab Desa Rantau Petronas in Kerteh which has reciprocal arrangements with our home club, the Royal Lake Club of Kuala Lumpur. Oh, well....


(Next: DESSian Reunion)


Footnote: The hotel we stayed in, in Coleman Street, Singapore, apart from offering first-rate service, also provided late checkouts (ours was to 5pm) to their guests to accomodate those catching a flight out, so they didn't have to while their time unnecessarily at the airport lounge. I think that's as good a selling point as any. We know we would be repeat customers there.

Sugar & Spice & Everything Nice

Pom Pom Organic Sugar Scrub

Enterprising and creative Marge Yu with galpal Awwa

Maggie stealing the limelight in her oh-so-yesteryear outfit a la Audrey Hepburn

Canapes and scones, quiches and pies, with tantalising mini cupcakes topped with sinfully creamy icing ...

Guests discussing the merits of Pom Pom Scrub

"Here, let me give your hand a good Pom Pom scrub.."

The crowd in Mont Kiara, in the neighbourhood of Sri Hartamas, was just building up when my daughter Nawwar and I arrived at Marmalade Cafe at 3.00 pm today to attend the soft launch of an organic beauty product formulated by an entrepreneur friend of Nawwar's.

It's Thursday after all, the "Flea Market Day" in Plaza Mont Kiara, although the 'fleas' being hawked here are definitely pricier than the 'mites' that could be found along Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman or Chow Kit Road. One is just paying extra for the Kiara 'kutu' ambiance, I guess.

Despite having an office in Sri Hartamas for a couple of years, I had never really embraced Mont Kiara. Not only it's too posh and yuppie for me, this place is also very much the territory of expatriates and 'beautiful people', in whose company I would stick out like a sore thumb. But one thing for sure; like Bangsar, people-watching is a good pastime to indulge in, in Mont Kiara.

But today was special; Awwa's galpal Majorie (Marge) Yu, who owns a pretty little outfit called "Lifestyle Series" in Plaza Mont Kiara, selling knick-knacks and bric-a-bracs (including imported handbags and purses, soft toys, cigars..) was introducing a beauty product that marked her foray into the personal grooming business.

For the past one year, Marge had been formulating this body scrub she had given a fun name to - Pom Pom. What started as just a hobby has now become a business venture and Awwa is one of those roped in to test the product's effectiveness.

For someone like me, who does not subscribe to any beauty regime at all, not even the basic cleanse-tone-moisturise routine, I was surprised to witness the effectiveness of the product on Awwa's skin.

The exfoliation is gentle yet so thorough that dead cells flake off easily; the skin actually feels smooth to the touch, and glows after each application. Prolonged use also has the effect of lightening the skin tone.

Pom Pom Organic Sugar Scrub is made of organic raw sugar, specially blended olive oil enriched with ginseng and Vitamins A and C, French lavender essential oil, crushed lavender flowers and organic enzyme.

All you have to do is scoop out a spoonful of Pom Pom and coat your body evenly with it after showering. Then scrub gently until the sugar dissolves. Massage for one minute, rinse off with lukewarm water and pat dry.

The glycolic acid from sugar, the organic enzyme and the crushed lavender work to exfoliate your skin while the olive oil replenishes it. The French lavender essential oil refreshes your senses as well as helps improve your blood circulation.

I think I have found an ideal gift for any occasion. It smells great too! If you have the time, do drop by at Marge's place on the ground floor of Plaza Mont Kiara, just next door to Marmalade Cafe. She is only too pleased to show you around and give you a feel of her tantalising Pom Pom...

Mano(huru)hara

Some people can be so bangang, bodoh, bongok, bahlol. Beruk Mek Yeh betul! (Oh, satu lagi 'B'.. bingai. Ni belajar dari 'Cikgu' Sakmongkol).

A Kelantan prince allegedly whacked his Indonesian wife (who successfully cabut lari balik negara asal dia with the help of Singapore cops), and tak pasal-pasal Muhyiddin gets blamed for saying (jawab soalan reporter lah ni): "Itu personal issue, kerajaan tak boleh campur tangan." Apa ka jadah nak suruh Gomen get involved?

Apa kena mengena Manohara kena tibai dengan anak Sultan tu, dengan BN? Anak raja perangai macam setan pun tak kan nak blame BN jugak kot. Awat tak pi semboq mak pak dia kalau hang dah hero sangat? Ni setakat dok cemuih orang dalam blog, buat apa!

Next time kalau mak hang bagi pelempang kat hang sebijik for merempit, nak blame BN jugak ka? Kalau bini hang tak beranak on due date pun nak blame BN jugak ka?? Hisssyyyyy....!!

[I'm just echoing my uncle Megat Najmuddin who chided a family member, affiliated with the Opposition, with: "Kamu ni.. kalau kamben kamu bunten kamu nak blame BN jugak ka?"]

(Mak Aji Kama - tengah hot after baca komen-komen blog, sampai bersemboq ayaq lioq kluaq pelat Kedah. Terbang pahala subuh aiih!!)

Disclaimer: Kambing yang tertera di sini tiada kena mengena dengan kisah huru-hara di atas. Kambing ni bukan kepunyaan keluarga Megat dan ia juga tidak bunting sebab ia kambing jantan. Sekian.

The Tiffin Carrier Award

There are tags and there are tags. Some are straight forward tags requiring mundane information. No need to think doubly hard about what you want to say. This is the easy tag.

Some masquerade as awards. Pi Bani says it's like multi-level marketing (MLM) for the cascading effect it has. I call this bestowal Hadiah Mangkuk Tingkat because just like the sia (tiffin carrier), it is multi-tiered and you have to stack and stock up all the tiers to get the best effect.

I am the hapless recipient of a Sia Award, doled out by Naz in faraway Norway. She may be nun jauh di sana but her tentacles reach far and wide, sparing no mercy despite the distance.

These are the three tiers:-

1. Five interesting facts about the person who gives you this award.
2. Ten interesting facts about yourself, on whose lap the award has now landed.
3. Choose the next victims.. eh.. recipients, and get your own back (it's payback time!)

Tier One - five interesting facts about the person who gives you this award.

1. She has a keen sense of humour and it reflects in her writing. Her accounts of her 'headwind' (kepala angin) younger days always have me in stitches. Imagine giving an 'up yours' finger to someone, only to find out later that he is the husband of your ustazah colleague!

2. She has not forgotten her roots and this is something I admire greatly. It is easy to drift away from home and hearth once you are living so far away. She has not been 'orang-putih'nised; her thick Kedah twang rings loud and clear uber the North Sea.

3. I have not met her personally, but judging from her writings, I have no doubt she is a loving wife and concerned mother. I am glad she ensures her children adapt well to their multi-culturality and that those kids can speak their mother's tongue (literally) with as much ease as their paternal mother tongue.

4. She knows her limit in blogsphere. There are things best untold, especially those concerning the private lives of others, and she seems to be very aware of this. I have yet to read an entry of hers that is overtly critical of anyone, in a malicious way that is. Even when she criticised, it was always done in a good-natured way, tempered with humour.

5. She and I are both Scorpios! I think we share many common traits, one of which is loyalty. Scorpios are deeply loyal, especially in love; that's why they can't stomach betrayal. Betray a Scorpio, and you are done for.

Tier Two - ten interesting facts about yourself

1. I have never liked, and thus don't use, make-up. The only cosmetic item I can't do without is lipstick. For powder, I have always used baby talc. The last time I was fully made-up was in 1974, at my wedding. Cosmetic companies will fold if they depend on my custom.

2. Foodwise, I prefer seafood (prawn, squid, mussel) to meat. I'm not into fish and have never been able to eat ikan terubuk and ikan parang for the bones. My favourite lauk is pajri nenas while dessert I like best is bubur kacang, something I have in common with Pak Abu. I prefer Thai food above everything else (must be my maternal side's Kelantan heritage).

3. I am not a fashionable person. From before, my standard dressing has aways been baju kurung. In the past few years, however, I have taken to wearing blouses and long skirts as well. I am not into jeans and trousers although I do own a few and wear them occasionally. My family and I also do not keep clothes we no longer wear. We spring-clean many times in a year and give away items of clothing to whoever need them, usually relatives, the cleaners and maids.

4. I don't accessorise because I'm not into jewellery, costume or otherwise. I wear a wedding ring and an anniversary ring on one finger, and a bracelet, and that's it. I prefer platinum to yellow gold and jade to diamonds.

5. Of all household chores, the one I dislike the most is cooking. But this statement I have to qualify; I don't mind cooking if all I do is cook. What I find tedious is the preparation and the washing up. Although I am not in love with the kitchen, I still cook - mostly weekends - when everyone is available. If there is one labour of love on my part, this definitely is it.

6. Bright colours put me off (I dislike red intensely, it looks so menacing). Pastel shades are my choice and my favourite remains lilac and sea blue. I am not into handbags and shoes. My favourite handbag is a roomy wicker basket (I simply love bakul rotan of any kind) and my most comfortable footwear is a pair of Scholls flat-heeled sandals. I do not own a single pair of stillettos (can't walk in them). I do keep a couple of stylo-mylo clutch bags (all glamour and glitter giteww...) for formal functions.

7. I suffer from mild claustrophobia and get dizzy in a crowd. Because of this, I don't go to concerts and sales. In fact, my biggest worry before going for the Hajj was this; could I cope with the millions of pilgrims? Allah is so great, I could. But upon returning home, I'm back to square one. I do my grocery shopping by going to the supermarket at opening time and escape before the crowd builds up.

8. Among my hobbies are singing, playing Scrabble and volunteering. I used to sing in a band eons ago (as a teenager); now it's just karaoke three times weekly at Lake Club. For some six years from 1996 I was a member of an NGO, Rotary Club of Kuala Lumpur North, and was involved in a lot of voluntary projects and activities. I left due to increasing workload when I joined the newly privatised Royal Mint of Malaysia in 2001 (it used to be known as Kilang Wang Bank Negara) to help set up its corporate affairs division. By then, my time was no longer my own.

9. I don't suffer fools gladly. I have been known to rebuke people publicly for jumping queues and such. I rarely hold my horses if I see injustice done, especially to animals. I can be opinionated, obstinate and as stubborn as a mule when the occasion calls for it. But I think I have mellowed a lot in my old age.

10. I am not afraid of heights but terrified of water. I am hydrophobic; I can't swim and am afraid of open waters. I was dragged by strong undercurrents a long time ago while splashing about in the sea in Dungun. Since then I have always steered clear of large expanses of water, so much so that I am afraid to even dangle my feet in the condo's swimming pool.


Tier Three - the next recipients..

1) Zendra
2) Mrs Nordin
3) Ida Hariati
4) Kay Leeda (walaupun dia di Tanah Suci)
5) Farina (Salt & Tumeric)
6) Edelweiss

(Aaaahh... Legaa!)