Mother: What’s wrong with our driver? Where did he go?!
Daughter: You complain too much, Ma. This happened with Pa, too, remember? And I don’t think either one of them is coming back…
(Photograph courtesy of Muhsein Sofian)
It was the Hari Raya holidays and I was half asleep on my recliner – busily digesting about a ton of lemang – when my five year old son come up to me and asked, “Ayah, cuba ayah jawab teka-teki ni!” Frankly, I was in no mood for riddles. But the enthusiasm in his eyes was simply too much to throw a wet blanket over. So I turned to him and said, “OK, sayang. Mari Ayah jawab.”
Not being a very cerebral kind of guy, riddles just stump me even on the best of days. But I was not about to disappoint a very excited 5-year old – especially when he was my son. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t (normally) eat babies for breakfast. So I cranked-up my brain, heard the sputtering as it struggled to come to life and put my feeble mental faculties into gear. I was ready. Or so I thought!
Over the years, I have more or less surmised that the problem with man-woman relationships is that the woman component (when it suits her) expects the man component to think and behave as if he were a woman. Any deviation from this paradigm brings about accusations of gross insensitivity, brute-force male-chauvinism and–the worse of the lot–cries of “You don’t love me anymore!”
I don’t usually plonk a YouTube video in my posting and consider that a valid entry–makes me feel more like the lazy bugger that I am. But sometimes there are exceptions. This video had me laughing like someone who had just smoked a couple of good joints (or so they tell me).
Yesterday I flushed, cleaned and polished my fountain pens (all 24 of them) and was stumped as to what to do next. There wasn’t a book in the house that I hadn’t read, and a game of chess (with myself, again) would only go down the all-too-familiar Sicilan Defence (Sozin variation) path.
So, I decided to fiddle around with my WordPress dashboard.
I arrived at Heathrow Airport on the 12th of September 1981, resolute on undertaking the mission that had been mandated to me by MARA. I was to read the law, came back to Malaysia, and do my part in improving the economic lot of the Malays. Not too long after that, though, life intervened.
I shall not go into the lurid details, but within three days of arriving, I found myself in a position where I had to go out and get myself a packet of condoms. Since I was still an innocent babe-in the-woods at the time, I hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about doing this (Hey, I was still barely 18 then, OK?).