Hobbies are what give your life that extra edge

I HAVE had hobbies since the time I learnt to walk. When I was in junior school, I used to rear Siamese fighting fish in bottles and stashed them under my bed. Why under the bed?

The reason was that darkness helped add colours to the fighting fish's scales. This I found out from friends who also reared Siamese fighting fish as a hobby. We used to keep these fish in individual bottles because they would set upon each other if two of them were to find themselves in the same bottle.

The only time when fighting fish were put together in the same bottle was when a wager was on. Since we were mere kids who had practically no money in our pockets, we dispensed with that thought.

Later on in life, I reared fighting spiders. My friends and I used to trudged along little explored paths in secondary forest, scrounging for certain vegetation where spiders flourished.

One or two of us would have razor blades in our pockets. When we sighted a spider, the species which we would recognised, we would immediately cupped that particular section where the spider was and a friend would help slice the leaves. Then we took the "trapped" section out in the open and gently nudged the spider into the boxes which we had in our pockets.

The idea was to bring them out in the open and challenge our friend's "fighter king" to a match. This hobby went on for years, until I practically grew out of it. We used to feed the spiders with dead houseflies. But little did we know that when a spider had eatern, it would take days for it to recover because it would become too bloated and sluggish to engage another spider in a battle.

Next was catching birds. Not so much catching them but shooting them with a catapult. We used to take long walks in other people's back lanes and perked our ears keenly to hear the chirp of a distant bird on a tree.

My interest in this particular bloody sport when I actually shot and killed a sparrow. The sight of the dead bird and the wanton killing caused so much distress in me that I gave up shooting with catapults almost immediately.

One of the longest hobbies, I ever had and have is collecting First Day Covers. I started that hobby when I was about 17 years old. Today almost 30 years later, I am still at it. It is a great hobby of great learning proportions.

Every growing child should have a hobby of some kind. Be it reading, walking, or collecting theme cards, the hobby should be sustained for a number of years. Hobbies are great introductions to the world of knowledge and friendship.

It is through collecting First Day Covers that I established friendships with people I have not met overseas. It is through them that I managed to expand my collection of First Day Covers from other countries.

I also collect books. In my early years, I didn't have the financial means to acquire and sustain such a hobby, but today, decades later when the subject of money is no longer an issue, I have been able to expand on the hobby.

Reading, writing and collecting antiquarian books have given me some of the most pleasure times in my life. Its value cannot be gauged. It is the silent satisfaction. The knowledge that I have benefited in such a pervading way that gives me a great sense of worth.

Life should not be just about walking a think straight line but creating paths for others to walk as well. It is when we meet strangers, that we can become friends and after we have become friends, we will enrich each other's lives.

Hobby is a marvellous vehicle for making great journeys in this life of ours. We need travel on this well trodden path constantly and with great diligence. It is only when we do so that we can become teachers and students at the same time.

Hobbies do not need great investment. The most precious investment that we can make on a hobby is our time and a mental commitment to develop that hobby. A man without hobby is a dull man. A man who has hobbies brings that extra spark to his life and that extra lift to his walk.

Little children are reminders of heaven's innocence

I guess for most of us childhood has receded so far back into our memory banks that it will be an almost impossible task to remember all that we should remember.

That is why there are always children criss-crossing our paths. They are there to remind us that only with a child-like temperament can we hope to regain some of our precious bearings which we have abandoned as soon as we entered adulthood.

Some people are lucky. They almost never lose their innocent traits. They may be 80 and look their age but when they talk to you, they have the zest and wide-eyed innocence of a six-year-old. No, they have not entered the domain of senility.

Nowadays whenever, I look into a child's eyes, I remember myself. I recall vividly all the fun and laughter that are part and parcel of growing up. Nothing is difficult when you are young. Problems were just "happenings". It's only when we "grow up", we begin to conform to the rules laid down by our senior peers.

Why should that be so? Why can't we treat life like it was when we were young. We can stare at so-called woes and laugh.

Notice how children will cry woefully and then be laughing the very next minute. That's the wonderful thing about being a chld. First you cry because you think your world has ended, then you laught before you know everything will be all right.

I like children, most of them anyway. They tend to give you that shy, sneaking smile and tend to peek at you from behind the sofa or behind their mother's legs. Every child thinks the whole world evolves around him, and he's right, too, in a way.

That early innocence can later mutate and transformed into a not-so-innocent attitude like "the whole world owes me a living".

When you are a child, a lot of people will forgive you for your misdemeaners. But don't try that again when you are a young adult.

I once told an expectant mother-to-be that children are our second chance at regaining the innocence of our childhood. Children tells us that it's all right to cry, to laugh and to love all over again even if we are rejected and spurned. There's no place in a child's heart for grudges.

If we can forgive and love like a child, then there's salvation for us yet. In the meantime, take time out to be a child. Observe how a child sleeps, and toss around in his cot. The baby does it most charmingly and innocently. He bawls when he wants to, and laughs aloud infectiously without any forethought or motive.

That's why he's such a child. That's how we must be too if we want to re-enter the kingdom of heaven.

What's the best time of the day for you?

THE first thing I do early in the morning, around 7.30, when I wake up is to walk reluctantly down from upstairs to the living room below. First, have to wake up the body.

My mind is already up and running. It's just by body that is slow in responding to the dictates of the almighty brain. The sun is on the ascent. Its rays peep through the slightly opened curtains.

I can't really sleep too late because the brightness that comes with the awakening sky lights up my entire room. As it is with us homo sapiens, our biology cannot be denied. Once light filters through closed eyelids, the whole living form begins to move even though the body is still.

It is as if somebody has switched on all the lights in the house. How does one sleep after that?!

For the next 35 minutes, I go into a series of body movements. It is what the ancient ones called qigong.

It has been created and innovated through the centuries to harness the cosmic energy that is prevalent in the air, the world and the galaxy. If I have gone too far in my description, someone stop me, please.

Anyway, within two hours, I am in the office, trying to smoothen all the spurts and starts in the office machinery. It is not that difficult. After so many years, it has become one huge routine. I can almost do it on automation.

Lunch follows rather quickly. A quick chat session with some office colleagues and mental sparring on innocuous subjects that will certainly not change our lives in any significant way.

The problem with an Asian lunch is the sleepiness that follows about an hour later. Doctors explain this biological reaction in our body as blood rushing to the stomach to digest the food, thus drawing away vital supply of oxygen from our brain. A half-oxygenated brain equals drowsiness. Thus, walking is recommended because it forces your blood to circulate more evenly.

Ever saw a movie where the guy tells his friend to keep walking and not fall asleep in the snow? Well, it's about the same except if you do fall asleep at your workplace in the office, you won't die.

By 6pm, it's time to call it a working day in the office and rush home, or rather join the thousands of others TRYING to get home amid heavily clogged streets.

Now the best part of my day begins. I take a bath, relax and literally put up my feet and let the hidden accumulated stresses of the day slip away from my body and mind.

What do I do? Switch on the TV, of course. If there are any jokes which I think would interest my family, I share them. Nothing like a good laugh to pump some much needed endorphin into the system. Scientists have discovered that a sense of humour is much more valuable than a cabinet full of medicine.

From the time, my feet touched the floor of my house till my head hits the pillow on my bed, those are the best houses for me. The time allows me to re-align my bearings, reflect upon personal projects that need my attention and dream about things that will make me and others happy.

It is a time that is my own and I treasure that immensely.

Something's going on in my life!

For a long time (about 30 years or so), I thought my life was dull, dull, dull. Then about 10 years ago, it suddenly hit me: you don't wait for things to happen, you actually have to go out and meet your destiny.
When people mention the word "destiny", they think it's something inevitable. It's some event or happening that cannot be avoided and there's nothing you can do about it.
Well, that has changed since I "met" destiny. I realised that destiny is when I go out without really planning and have a time of my life. Once, I was stuck in the house for months, doing nothing spectacular except waking up, eating, working and sleeping. All these were routine.
Then one day, I decided why not do something different, to break the monotony. So I got the whole family together and we shot off in the car to a coastal town. It wasn't a world class vacation resort but it certainly was different from my permanent neighbourhood.
It was actually the journey that turned out to be an eye-opener. Along the way to our destination, we bore witness to structures, ancient and modern and lifeforms, livestock and human, who live in habitats not common to us.
It was then, it dawned on me that all these years since the day I was born, I have been trudging along the path of other people had paved for me. If I am to become part of destiny, I have to chart my own path.
In other words, I have to hack my way through undergrowth (figuratively), and clear the bushes that stand in my way. In doing so, I leave a trail for others who are too timid to create their own destinies.
Why are they so many of us who are too ignorant to create control their own fates, thus make their own destiny and in doing so creating a future that fit their dreams and plans.
In the final analysis, it was so simple. If you really want, as I did and still do, I have to do something that I desire without fear or favour. Do I have to wait till the planets are in alignment before I act. No. A thousand times no. Everyman is his own chronicler. He writes his own history. He pens his own life lines. He walks down the avenue which he builds with his own hands and with his own effort and sweat.
Actually, it is not a daunting task. It is merely an assignment which is done freely, happily and with great determination.
That is what I mean by "something is going on in my life". I now know that nothing is beyond me. Nothing can be impossible, if only I desire it so. Life is full of infiite possibilities. It is like an exciting and unending chess game. One move determines the future of a thousand other future moves.
A change of heart will only open other possibilities. It is an exciting life. It is everybody's choice to make his or her life meaningful and filled with satisfactions and joy.
Do you want it now, or do you just want to think about it? Do it now because heaven is HERE, there is no other place. Heaven is is NOW, there is no other time.

How to win a girl's heart and not be labelled as a jerk!

Rule No. 1 - a girl is another person with feelings. Memorise that and recite it to yourself everyday!
Girls are the feminine gender, in case you have forgotten, like to meet a gentleman in every aspect. In other words, when she's about to leave the car, please open the door for her.
It's old fashioned, I know, but girls just love it. When she comes over to your table, please stand up. That's the old protocol. Another silly old-fashioned habit but it works. It also means you stand up every time, a woman comes over to your table. She doesn't have to stand up for you, though.
Remember her birthday, and don't buy something meaningless. Get her a rare stalk of flower, maybe black tulip. If you can't find that, 24 of those velvet red coloured roses will do just fine.
Also, don't forget Valentine's Day. If she doesn't reciprocate, please don't kill yourself. Otherwise, if she changes her mind about you, you won't be at the receiving end.
Show some manners if and when you meet her family. That means try to be a real gentleman about everything, even if it kills you. Once you have made all the good habits part of your persona, any girl would be proud to take you home to meet her mummy.
Please, don't go dutch when sharing meals. Sure, you are broke but you are not a tight-wad, are you? Even if all you could afford is one meal, make sure it's hers. Tell her you have just had a hearty meal. Lie, my friend, lie. Of course, she will find out sooner or later. That's why she may just fall in love with you.
Be kind to children and be sincere about it. Girls will grow up to be women one day and later on in life be mothers as well. They admire men who display affection for the little ones. Remember, one day, you too will have children of your own. If you can't love other people's children, how much more will you love your own.
Every girl who is normal in every way will notice that great quality in you.
By all means be religious. Go to church. It won't kill you to sit in God's house once a while. Prayer enriches your life and lightens all burdens. Girls prefer boys who are spiritually inclined than those guys who are inclined to drink the spirits!
Dress decently. That is not compulsory but it helps. As you know, every little thing helps. No girl wants to be with a cruffy guy for long. He may just attract fleas, or worse, lice.
Whatever you do, give her the first preference. That means, you reserve the best seat in the house for her. Give her the best portion of the sirloin steak and save the last dance for her.
Always have a sense of humour. If she can laugh with you, she can live with you later on. A girl is wary of any guy who is remorse, taciturn and constantly moody. If he's like that during a relationship, think how dangerous or boring he would be when the wedding bells have died down.
There are only so many years in a person's life. Don't wait too long to tell her your true feelings for her. To waste time not saying all the right things means letting the heavenly feelings get away from both of you.
After you tell her, you love her, or are falling in love with her, there can only be two results. One, she said she doesn't share the same feelings as you. Fine, at least you know the truth. Two, you may just get lucky and hear from her that she also loves you like mad.
Of course, there's a third possibility. She may just laugh. If that happens, again, don't drown your sorrows in a crate of Guinness.

The Carefree Days of Youthful Exuberance

IT seemed like only yesterday but I still remember quite vividly sleeping on the beach on an island together with two friends around the time we had finished our high school.
The days seemed constantly everlasting. We were on the threshold of adulthood. Still no responsibilities, no jobs, no girlfriends and hardly any worries. It was a wonderful time on earth.
A group of us, mainly school mates decided we would make a trip to this island called Pangkor. It is about 80 miles from our hometown. Pangkor island was an idyllic place. It is still a holiday resort after so many years.
I haven't been back to that island for more than 30 years. I heard from friends that it has developed beyond my recognition.
But on that day and night while I was there, it was like another planet. We dozed off on the sun-kissed, golden sands of Pangkor. At around midnight, we heard this awful noise. We opened our eyes and the waves of the high tide were lapping at our feet.
Needless to say, we headed for higher ground. Then at 4am when total darkness enveloped the place, the torrential rain began. The winds were howling and those of us who had earlier bragged that we wanted to be close to nature, sought shelter in the roofed canteen that was without walls. It had only long narrow benches and tables.
By then, I was very sleepy and tried to catch 40 winks on a narrow bench. For a fleeting moment, I dreamt of that soft, comfy mattress back home. But that was just for a moment. I was too young and reckless to care or to plan for the future, or even to think of the physical discomfort that came from living wild and free.
That was only one episode in my youthful days. I was also slightly addicted to that hobby called hitch-hiking. We who have little spare change in our pockets have resorted to using our thumbs to get free rides on the highway.
Yes, those were also the days when highway robberies were almost unheard of, like these more dangerous days. My father wasn't really worried about me. He too had his "living wild and free" days, so he understood my situation quite well.
Sometimes, I got lucky and didn't have to wait too long before a generous motorist stopped and took me to my destination. However, there were times when I stood for hours without a single soul casting a glance in my direction.
One thing I found out from those hiking days, the people who were most likely to stop and give me a lift were the truckers. For a long time, I wondered why only this particular type of individuals had any sympathy for us lonely hitch hikers. Then, one day I figured they were the ones who understood very well what it was like to be a lonely traveller on a very long highway. That was why they felt a kindred relationship with us young hikers.
From my numerous road trips, I learnt to understand the trucker's life and the kind of people who had made driving vehicles on the road for a living.
Youth also meant doing things on impulse like the time when I rode on my bicycle about 10 miles to a celebrated waterfall. The leader of the pack was a seminarian by the name of Charles. He was the one who told me: "Look, you are still young. Don't be afraid to try the unknown. If you don't know where a bus leads to, just hop on to it, ride it all the way to the end. The furthest it will go is the terminal. Then you can turn around and come back. Along the way, you have the pleasure of looking at the sights and listening to the sounds that the journey provides."
How right he was, too. The only drawback I experienced from my 10-mile bicycle trip was a severely cramped leg when I leapt into the water. Fortunately for me, the water wasn't tha deep so I still had one good leg to hop back to safety. But it was a lesson well learnt.
When you are at the overdrive of your life, you think nothing of sitting at the front row of a cinema. Your eyes are almost touching the screen. It was the cheapest seat I could afford and I couldn't afford much. There I was, trying to adjust my normal vision with the gigantic screen. After a while, it didn't really matter because I was too engrossed in the tale that was screened.
As one touches the veil of adulthood, one always think the world can wait for us. I had that experience. It was exhilarating. It was exciting and girls seemed so far away. We didn't have time for them. I didn't anyway.
Now as I glanced back over my shoulder to envision those wonderful, carefree days, a smile washes over my face. Yes, it was a great time. Then, I realise "hey, it's not over yet. As long as I have breath in my body, everyday can be another stupedously thrilling day."
And so my adventure begins again. This time on a different level..........

Remembering those who have passed on

In my decades of wandering on planet Earth, I have had my fair share of losing friends. Not because we quarrelled but due to the fact that their time on earth had expired.
At the age of 21, I received news one day that a good friend Png Soo Keat had died in a tragic accident the previous day. At that age, one never thought a person can die at that age. Soo Keat was the same age as me.
We were almost as thick as thieves. We exchanged thoughts about the kind of girlfriends we would like to have and other nonsensical issues that occupied our less-than-adult minds.
Then one day, he was gone. Most of us attended Soo Keat's funeral. We carried his coffin and reminded ourselves that life in general as its shelf-life. The years went by and we forgot about the frailty of life, until the next time Death comes a-calling.
Those who I remember right now and are no longer with us are Raymond Nathan, Goh Keng Lee, Subintheran, Mah Swee Aun, Johnny Yap, Veera, John Pillai. Low Chee Wah, Barney, Long John, Jambo, Khairi, Ambrose, Mike Cannon, John Bagley, Peter Sullivan, Francis Chong, Jeffrey Ramayah, Laksana, David Thamyah, Noordin Soopiee, S.H.Tan and Maarop Noh.
I am sure there are others but I have forgotten them. Sometimes when we take our jobs too seriously, we should remember all those who have left us. Perhaps, according to our own perception, they left too soon. Death is a constant reminder that in everything we do, the good deeds are the things that linger on after we have quietly or noisily passed on.
Most of us would like to live long, have lots of money, buy anything we want, eat everything we want and wake up at anytime we want. The obituaries are signposts that tell us that in everything we do, we have to do them to the best of our abilities. That way, even if we should depart hastily, we won't have left a job half-done.
Nobody would like to enterain the thought of his actual day of passing. We all think we "can handle it" when the time comes.
In a way, Death is good for us all. It means we have shed all of our earthly burdens. The journey on the other side is one devoid of physical labour. Not that kind we see on earth.
I have read numerous books and articles about those who have had experienced Near Death Experiences (NDE). Not a single one complained that he has to do hard labour when he was on the other side.
Sometimes when I catch myself pondering over these ties I have had with the friends who have gone over to the other side, I realised how fleeting most relationships were.
We don't value time with friends as much as we should. We don't really think of them when they are not with us but some of these memories are very pleasant. Thus, it is prudent to value the time we spend with friends.
For example, about an hour ago, I had lunch with my former boss. He comes around and strenghten old ties with friends on a regular basis. Sometimes, I do wonder when he passes on, too that will I remember him with some fondness.
Most of us don't put a price on anything until we have lost it.And that includes humans. Have you ever heard of people saying "I was talking with him yesterday". Obviously, they are referring to someone whom they met and now is no longer with the among the living.
This friend with whom I had lunch said: "Nothing in life happens by accident. The fact that we are meeting now is a date kept by Destiny." I too subscribe to this kind of philosophy. Every encourter, whether with a friend or a stranger is a lesson, either for me or for the other party.
If we only realise how precious life is, and how wonderful it can be, we will waste no time in living from moment to moment. And if we are given the opportunity of creating excellence or doing the best we can, as long as we can, and as much as we can, we should do it.
Isn't that is our destiny? Our destiny is to be the greatest version of the grandest vision of ourselves. We can achieve such a phenomenon.
Life is a journey. The lessons are the people we met. Lessons are also found in failures. If we can inspire others and motivate the disheartened then our jobs on earth are half-done.

When colleagues leave for greener pastures

Recently, a whole bunch of old friends and office colleagues took up a company offer to opt for early retirement. The whole thing came as a result of a downsizing exercise by the organisation.
A number of them received some hefty payouts, much to the envy of those who thought they too could use that kind of money. Anyway, several of them have already been head-hunted and have begun work elsewhere. So that sudden windfall by our generous benefactors was most welcome.
A close colleague of about 30 years couldn't believe his luck. He's only 51 and had been praying for a grand "retirement gift" for years. Well, this time he struck gold. He was so beside himself with joy that he threw two parties for all of us. It was his way of saying, let's help celebrate my fantastic luck.
Life is such that most of us are accustomed to our old colleagues and after a while, we are like members of the same family. I know I am going to miss a large number of these people.
I have experienced this part of ways before. Decades later when I bumped into them again, I am surprised that physically some of them have changed so much. I always think that I am the one who hasn't changed, but we do change in more ways than one.
Discomfort descends like an unexpected downpour when I forget the names of some of these dear, old colleagues. It's a bit embarrassing that we were once good friends and somehow at that moment in time, his or her name escapes me. Oh my God, I am sorry, I say quietly to myself.
Once, I actually had the fit of forgetfulness, and it was a good friend. It just turned out that her appearance had altered a bit. In fact, she looked better than before. Woman's intuition is always stronger than man's. She sensed that I had forgotten her name and asked, "do you remember my name".
Without missing a beat, I replied "YES!" Her name was at the tip of my tongue but I was too cowardly to say it, lest it was the wrong name. So I took the safe route. I asked: "Give me your latest calling card." Yes, it was her all right. What a relief.
That's what separation of years can do to a person's memories. Now, there's a technique of remembering names, even decades later. My personal memory technique is to pray for all my good friends and name them every day in my prayers.
Decades later, when I encounter them, their names pop up like the rays of the beautiful sunrise in the morning. They will of course express great surprise at my uncanny memory retention but not me because I know better. Wink. Wink.
Sometimes, I think every life is like a book. When we make friends, it's just like reading a book. If we like that book, we keep it and reread the chapters but the book is always with us. Either we carry it with us most of the time, or we leave it in the book shelf but it's there when we want it.
Friendship is a little like that. When we lose that book, we may forget it but years later, when we come across a book with the same title, the memories come rushing back.
Some people are of the opinion that sentimentality is reserved for the soft and weeny. I don't know what they actually mean by that but I love being sentimental. It is a comforting reminder that I have not forgotten those friends who mean a lot to me. It means that our friendship or relationship has not been a journey devoid of meaning.
Every encounter is a lesson benefiting both parties. I always benefit from an encounter, be it a strong friendship or a fleeting acquaintance. Even now, when I think back of my childhood days, I wonder about those friends who came into my life, as I had entered theirs, decades ago.
I try to visualise what they look like now; what they are doing, how do they look now. I can only conclude I won't be able to recognise them even if I come face to face with them. But if fate so decreed that we should meet again, somehow we will meet and we will remember. Such is life.
These days, I cherish all the good times I can muster. Moments like this when I reminisce about the writings in my dad's journal. There was one that I like so much that I had it committed to memory.
Here it is, fresh as the day when it was written. It is an evergreen like the leaves of a tropical forest.

Friendship cheers the faint and weary
Makes the timid spirit brave
Warns the erring, lights the dreary
Smooths the passage to the grave.

Hobbling along awkwardly with a barking dog on your tail

SOME people swear by the vehicle they are driving. Usually it's either a MPV, SUV or EVO-8. Mine is just a plain, old 110CC Suzuki equipped with two wheels of suspect quality.
So one night, at about 2.30pm I was scootering home along some very dark and lonely roads, I suddenly experienced his sinking feeling. It was the air that escaped with a rush in my rear tyre.
"Great!" I told myself. "It's your lucky night!" I had actually meant that sarcastically as I entered the threshold of my neighbourhood. Near the guardhouse, there are usually five or six stray dogs parading in the vicinity. The animals normally couldn't give two barks about me but on that night, they were a little feisty.
Around the time when I discovered to my great horror that I was having a punctured tyre, the stray dogs decided to have some fun with me. They pranced out of the compound where they were prowling and headed towards me - post haste.
Being a man of limited courage, I stared Death in its face. Perhaps I exaggerate but at that moment in time, it seemed quite real. If you have not experienced or "enjoyed" the sight of about four or five dogs charging at you, you really don't know what you are missing.
There I was, gutless and riding on a crippled bike, thinking of my next life-altering decision. I gunned the throttle and prayed very hard. The punctured rear tyre is no fun to play with. It gained a little speed but it wasn't travelling at Formula One speed.
With seconds, the dogs with yelping at my legs. I kept on shoo-ing them. Not that it helped to any significant degree but it was a self-comforting act. My heart raced as fast as the dogs' legs. I prayed my bike wouldn't topple over all of a sudden. That would have been disastrous for me.
A fallen victim is supper for hungry dogs. Then by the grace of my guardian angel after about 25 yards, the dogs got tired of chasing me. My bike was bouncing up and down with great reluctance.
Have you ever tried to outrun dogs on a punctured tyre? Well, don't try. It's really not that exhilarating.
If I had any doubts about the divine protection and existence of guardian angels, they all vanished that night, very much like the mist in the morning. You just can't imagine how religious a person can get when the terrible twins, Death and Fear, jump on to your shoulders. Luckily for me, I am a praying man. There's no doubt about it after that night, I believe the Big Man Upstairs is looking out for me all the time.
I also learnt another very important lesson. Never neglect to service your mode of transportation, no matter how small it is. If the vehicle is in tip-top condition, it will have fewer chances of letting you down. Hallelujah!

My heroes in the Comics World

At the top of my head, I can think of a few notables. They are Robert E.Howard (Conan), Frank Miller (Daredevil, Elektra), Alan Moore (Swamp Thing, Watchmen, Vendetta), Stan Lee (Superman, Hulk, Spiderman) and Jack Kirby (Fantastic Four, etc).
When I was growing up, I had almost no spare change in both my pockets. The only entertainment that is free for me were comics. I had to swallow my pride and sneaked a long peek inside the covers of my favourite comic titles at the various newsstands.
So I had to learn to read fast and absorb visually as quickly as possible all the juiciest bits in between the covers. Yes, those were days. My imagination was my playground and admission was free. In fact, it is still free.
As I entered my teenage years, I modelled my life after characters like Conan, Daredevil, Spiderman, King Kull and to a lesser extent, Silver Surfer. Back in those days when Ernie Chan and Buscema ruled Aquilonia (the land over which Conan would govern one day), comic heroes don't indulge in the petty sins like smoking and drinking. Well, Conan was an exception. As a result, I also didn't drink or smoke in keeping with the credos of my comic heroes.
Coincidentally, today I still don't smoke or drink. I guess after a while, when I became an adult, I realised the folly of being on the wrong side of cigarettes and alcohol. And so it came to pass that I adopted some of the finer virtues as propagated by writers like Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and some of the older guys.
Compared with today's comic writers and artists, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby could be said to be a "bit unpolished". However, when you are young, a comic book is a passageway to the world of wonders. In those worlds, every child is a hero himself. His mind is his universe and he makes all the rules.
If not for those comics which arrived on a regular basis to the neighbourhood newsstand, I would be a much duller boy. I had posters of Conan or some other muscular superhero pasted on my walls as a reminder that the only right physique was their kind of physique.
So for a while, I threw myself into a strict regime of strenuous exercises, building stamina and developing muscles. Happily, till today, I am still at it. Exercising regularly has become a way of life for me.
Frank Miller added a touch of adulthood in my growing years. He took Daredevil and fleshed him out as a character who had his fair share of relationship problems and personal battles. Miller gave a majority of his readers hope and inspiration. He taught readers like me that life's challenges are constant and irregular in magnitude. Fortunately, he also light the torch of hope brightly, so as to tell us that for every problem that exists, there is always a solution somewhere if we look hard enough.
Facing up to our own challenges is a way of growing up and maturing. I suppose that in a way, I have internalised all the good principles of leading a courageous life.
I am pretty happy to note that in recent years, Hollywood has given comics some special attention in their releases. So far, we have Superman, Daredevil, Elektra, Fantastic Four, Batman, Spiderman, The Hulk, V for Vendetta and somewhere in the pipeline is Ghost Rider and Ironman.
Why it took Hollywood so long to make movies out of comic characters is one phenomenon which I have been unable to fathom. But I am glad it did when it did. Now I know for sure that I have been on the right track all along.
From Alan Moore, I learnt that there dwell galaxies in our imagination. That everything can be seen in its own microcasm of life. Take for example, the original series of the Swamp Thing where its entire body holds possibilities that boggle the human imagination.
From Dr Strange, I found out that the realm of magic has no borders. Dr Strange, the Master of Magic introduced me to the concepts of eternity, chaos and interdimensional planes of existence.
Of course, they are all workings of an overactive mind of the writer but then, when you think about it, what we imagine may yet exist. Or, what we can conjure in our minds can be created, as evident in the structures and inventions that proliferate the world over.
In a big way, I am thankful that comics entered my world when it did. It filled my lonely hours with many great moments of infinite pleasure. I made some of those philosophies practised by the superheroes my own. It showed me the way to fulfil my own destiny.
Comics should be a part of a youngster's life. If not for comics, I probably would not have found childhood such a wonderful time in my life. It has helped me walk the journey of life with some sudden bursts of enthusiasm and also helped me to show others that we are the captains of our own souls and masters of our own fates.
Children must be taught and reminded that in the world of make-believe, there can be found nuggets of wisdom that they can pick up and make their own lives interesting.

What goes on at Chinese Wedding Dinners

LAST night, I was sitting at one of the 32 tables at a neighbour's youngest daughter's wedding. Since I have known her since she was 18 (now 30), I felt it was almost obligatory to grace the occasion with my eminent presence.
As with all Chinese wedding dinners, on the invitation card, it says 7pm sharp. So I was there at that appointed time. Nothing happened for the next one and a half hours. I was just sitting there chatting with another neighbour who was actually quite relieved I had showed up because he doesn't know anybody there, including the bridegroom who earlier accosted him at the entrance because both did not know each other.
The matter was resolved when my friend said he's a friend of the bride's family. As with most modern Chinese wedding dinners, the normal run of things involves about eight to nine dishes. The last one is usually dessert.
The "four seasons" signaled the beginning of the wedding banquet, so to speak. It didn't stir anything in me. It was supposed to be a "cold dish" and it left my senses cold. Terribly unexciting, I thought.
Chinese folk are a demanding lot. When they show up for a wedding dinner, they have already harboured a preconceived notion of how the dishes would be like. So anything less than their expectations, the host and hostess will get a thumbs down verdict.
At this time immediately after the first course, our thumbs were pointing downwards. Apparently, the restaurant supervisor or captain did not synchronise the delivery of the dishes, thus the second dish almost didn't make it to our table.
I was thinking for a country golf club restaurant, the planning is pretty slipshod and the catering was substandard. Apparently, it didn't strike us that we were primarily there to celebrate the happy occasion with the newly-weds.
Most of us were there mainly for the food and if we can, have some fun with friend. That is if they are not sitting too far from our table.
Then, there is the mandatory "cheers" sessions. The wedded couple would go from table to table to greet the guests. Last night, in order to save everybody some trouble, the families, the newly-weds and their immediate relatives were on stage to bid everyone a big "yam seng". That's the Chinese style of saying "cheers", except that the Yam Seng toast involves a lot of loud shouting and prolonged train of voices from everybody until it ended in a gigantic climatic SENGGGGG!!!
One middle-aged guy at my table obviously had one too many and started to become quite boisterous. His sister came over to offer him some timely advice, in case he made a fool of himself. I know this chap. He's rather pleasant on most days when he's not drinking. In fact, he a quiet chap. Well, not last night. He started to lose his inhibitions after the three drink and began uncharacteristically friendly.
Most Chinese men can't hold their drink. Three glasses of liquor down the road, their faces looked as if they have been in the hot sun for about five hours. At Chinese wedding dinners, the prized drink is the brandy, of which the supply is plentiful - normally.
All of us know it's not good to consume too much of this potent drink on a single night but Chinese wedding guests are usually suicidal on grand occasions like last night. Their livers take a fantastic beating but they don't really care. What a strange community.
The music was a little too loud. My friend who was seated next to me, told the waiter to have the music toned down. He must have made his request at least three times to no avail. Later on, the choice of music slipped into the 80s tunes, much to our relief. We are no longer spring chickens anymore. Some of us can actually develop migraine in the face of relentlessly loud music.
As the night wore on, the dishes began to slip from table to our mouths. I found the dishes on a so-so level. Nothing much to write about to the folks back home and bragged about.
Women I know who normally don't wear dresses showed up in them. So I treated that phenomenon with great respect and delight. These days, working women like to wear their pants too much. Dresses are becoming passe.
The speeches by best friends from both parties, bride and groom, regaled the large crowd with unheard-of stories about their married colleagues in their younger days. It was nice to see these people were having the time of their lives.
However, the female MC was giggling endlessly like a little girl. I concluded after a while that she had one brandy too many because she was wandering all over the place verbally. Anyway, she was having a great time with the mike and her laughter was rather infectious. Most of us knew she was slightly tipsy.
I surprised the other guests at my table by confessing that I am a teetotaller. How strange, they thought. They had me figured out to be a world class boozer! And I was sipping Chinese tea the entire evening.
The dinner promptly came to an end around 11pm. Afterwards, the bridegroom promised everybody that the evening would proceed with a party, but we didn't want to proceed anymore. Our bellies were full, our ears were still ringing from the overly loud decibels from the mighty speakers and it was close to bedtime.
Thank God, my wedding is now just a distant memory and I don't remember creating half as much noise as the modern couple. As I walked out of the door to thank the hosts, I silently wish the newly-weds all the luck in the world. I recall about five years ago, I was at another wedding, enjoying the evening's programme.
That marriage didn't even last three years. Modern couples - they are good at organising interesting wedding dinners but some of them have apparently forgotten that they have to put in the same amount of effort, if not more, into their marriages to make them successful.

Listening to my father's songs

When I was growing up, one of our family's prized possessions was a huge gramophone which incorporated a turntable on one side and a radio on the other. In between, there are shelves to keep the LPs and EPs.
My dad kept all his collection of his favourites in the shelves. Every other night after work, after dinner and while he was having his usual evening cigarette and lazing on his easy chair, he would put on Nat King Cole's Golden Hits or Chet Atkins Guitar Specials.
As children, there were five of us, it was a steady diet of the old evergreens. While we were upstairs doing our homework or just sitting around twiddling our thumbs, the strains of the songs like Rambling Rose, Autumn Leaves or even Johnny Horton's North To Alaska would be filtering through the rooms of the house.
This would go on for years. My dad has got a ear for good music. He liked them slow at times and jitter-bugging when he's in a dancing mood. After he left school at the age of 17, he was bumming around cabarets and pool rooms. He found friends in these places. One of them taught him tango and other classy moves of those days.
If I remember correctly, my dad was one of those of his generation who was greatly influenced by Gene Kelly, Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire, Cyd Charisse and other great dancers of Hollywood.
My dad loved the night life and his zest for life was reflected in his taste for music. My sisters, brother and I absorbed a lot of Jim Reeves, Peggy Lee, Doris Day, Slim Whitman, The Pretenders, The Four Tops, The Drifters and some others whom I have forgotten.
Decades later whenever songs of those days reached my ears, I suddenly found myself standing in the hallway of my old house. I was that little kid again, looking out of the window, watching the rain fall in the distance and wishing that I was all grown up and earning money so that I won't have to ask for some spare change to buy ice-cream.
These days I find myself rather surprised that sometimes some Hollywood movies used those old songs as theme music for their films. I guess my dad got it right. Those were the good songs that never die.
Even my sisters like those songs. We hear them all over again and somehow those old, forgotten, familiar feelings keeping seeping back into our lives. Evergreens, they call them. Now I understand the true meaning of that phrase.
My dad has gone to God's little acre years ago. So has my mum. But the memories of those songs linger on in my mind, and roam the prairie of my heart. And I am glad all over again.

The Underdog coming in from behind

I JUST read the results of an important school examination. Hundreds of students scored a lot of A's that would make their parents very proud. Asian parents, I believe, are like their counterparts in other parts of the world.
They are always worried about their children's scholastic achievements. So children are given every educational aid money can buy. Consequently, the number of top scorers is rising every year.
This year, the results look good. Of course, the newspapers published the pictures and the names of the superachievers. So far, there are only two known Top Guns. Both scored 15 A1s. That is the full and maximum score for all those have chosen 15 subjects for the exam.
During my time, my friends and I pondered deeply how many strong credits we will each have. That is, about a week before the results are released. These days, the emphasis is not passing but how many A1s, each student can score.
Looking and reading the remarkable results of my country's high school students, I feel as if my natural intelligence has suddenly been called into question. I told myself silently, "I must been a blinking idiot" compared to the present generation's super achievers.
Back in those days, we were aptly described as the "underdogs". We were the ones who usually have had a better time than all the others who achieved unnaturally superlative results. The Underdogs that we were gave us the freedom to make the world experience the unshackled joy in our hearts and limbs.
Often, after an important exam, we would organise parties or a trip to a resort beach or a holiday island. Life was for the taking for most of us. While the top scorers prepare for the next phase of their glittering academic life, the Underdogs (me included) just couldn't wait to take out our fishing rods and head for the nearest river.
Even if we catch no fish, we are not bothered. The point was to get out, get there and be there. Who cares what happens afterwards.
When I somehow made it to the university, I stayed with some science boys. The first thing I noticed about my overwhelmingly bespectacled colleagues was that they were almost never tired of studying. In fact, they studied more than they slept.
Morning, they squeezed in at least an hour and a half of book-learning. I had to fight my way out of my unmade bed and walked in half-daze to campus.
So it went on like that for several months until I got to know my science friends better. Eventually, I gathered enough courage to ask them: "How come you guys study so much?" They normally replied "casualty rate among science students is high".
Their remark is painfully true. Science is such an exact subject that if you can't get it right the first time, there's no second chance. Arts students keep writing and coming up with the most ridiculous arguments that sometimes the professors are confused and deliver a passing grade.
Once, I had the audacity to proclaim to my much aggrieved science friends that "arts graduates are generalists who end up becoming general managers who hire science graduates for their laboratories". How true. Of course, they are not amused by this revelation.
In the world of harsh realities, the Underdogs do get a break now and then. While it is not true that science graduates will end up working for arts grads all the time, the Underdogs tend to try harder and as a result score big when they hit the bull's eye.
The phrase that accompanies all Underdogs is "when you have nothing to lose, you tend to take bigger risks and consequently achieve bigger dreams than those who are secure in their own comfort zone of 15 A1s. Sounds like sour grapes? No, not really.
There's much to be said about being an Underdog and I have merely scratched the surface. If you read some of the biggest success stories ever told, you will discover that some of the greatest characters in human history are those who began life as an Underdog and then went on to conquer all their weaknesses.
Eventually, they mastered both the arts of Failure and Success, thus putting them on a level higher than those who are only familiar with either Success or just Failure.
So I say to you, fail if you must but learn from it. Success has its own reward but the lesson is incomplete.

The Joy of Collecting Postcards

This hobby began about 25 years ago. One fine day, I found myself in Europe. Since I was a virgin visitor there, everything looked beautiful to me. From buildings to little children, they all projected a sense of wonder.
I had my trusty camera with me and I took pictures. But back in those days when digital camera was not even a phrase yet, the ordinary point-and-shoot roll-of-film camera was THE thing.
Among our tour group was a couple who were always buying postcards. Once a while, I told myself why did this couple waste their money on postcards when they had a camera.
It was only when I returned home that I found out that there were a lot of places or objects of interest that I had either forgotten to photograph or I just ran out of film at that time, or worse, my camera exposures were very much less than desirable.
That was when it hit me - postcards! Yes, postcards was a quick remedy for an afterthought, or a post-bad picture situation. Then, I discovered the wisdom of buying and collecting postcards on holidays.
The next time I went on vacation overseas I did not make the same mistake again. That was then. Now two decades later, I have a very nice collection of postcards. Yes, I still lug my camera around but postcards cover another aspect of my vacation that could not be filled by my camera.
I have since acquired a postcard album which was bought at a post office in London. It seems my own country does not sell postcard albums. Anyway, I got mine at last, and it came in handy for all those nice postcards which I bought brand new or acquired from flea markets overseas.
Some of my best postcards are the old ones. Those that have been sent from my country Malaysia to good old England. Some of them are more than 100 years old. It was another era and the writing on the postcards stirred memories of a time long past but had a charm of its own.
I love postcards like that. They conjured images of people from the Victorian time when their forebears came to colonised countries like Malaya, now Malaysia, to earn a living. These Brits from the days of the Raj, so to speak, built mansions reminiscent of those found in those own country in different parts of Malaya.
In Penang, Malacca, Kuala Lumpur (cities in my country), there are still standing those old colonial buildings left behind by the English gentlemen who used to call Malaya their home back about 100 years ago.
This is one of the reasons why I love and collect postcards. Postcards are like history lessons. They contain images of charming incidents that only our grandparents knew about.
Sometimes, when I am bored or have nothing better to do, I will extract my postcard album and look at all the pictures that hold special memories for me. The exercise is like a slideshow to me. Every image will kickstart a certain block in my memory blank and produce a chain of visual imagery that delights me no end.
Postcards, I love them. Still do.

Goodness gracious, am I that old?

TIME seems to have a will of its own these days. I can almost swear I can hear the sound of laughter coming from my Fifth Form classroom where friends and colleagues were up to their latest antics.
I was studying in a La Salle Brothers school then. Now and then, the brother director would walk past and if we had been alerted about his arrival, there will be dead silence for about five minutes, then the ruckus began all over again.
Suddenly, I realise it has been 36 years ago. Some of my classmates must be grandfathers now. A number of us must be half-bald by now, and a lot of others are sporting grey hair.
Another indication that life has hopped on to the fasttrack is when we see school friends' children. The kids who used to be toddlers are adults now. Before you run to the nearest mirror to check out that familiar face, you indulge in some simple arithmetics and come to the quick conclusion that you are almost on the last leg of the retirement circuit.
Mentally, most of us are ageless. We never really grow old in our minds. We just become more experienced. Physically, our conditions depend on discipline and that zest of life. If you have been keeping fit, your body which is also your personal engine will be fine. It will have its occasional spurts and starts, otherwise, it still runs the course.
When you say someone is "old", what do you mean? Do you mean that person is now four score and something years, or do you mean he just looks haggard? Some people prefer to be called senior citizens. Others like be be described as being mature.
All that simply translates to you having spend more years on earth than a lot of other people who think they know more than you.
Personally, I like being where I am right now, and that is being on the half-century mark. I feel like I did 30 years ago. I have not lost that spark of life. I am keen on doing the unexpected and expecting the unanticipated. Life to me is like a long and winding road filled with little lessons and major experiences. All that take place so that my life will get better with time.
I think we should not be too concerned about being called "old." Being old is a great way of telling the world that you have been around and then some. But that does not mean that you are immune from being feeling pain, frustration, happiness and joy, just like that other six billion people on earth.
We are one big family and yet at the same time, different, unique individuals. As we advance in years, we tell ourselves we have had enough; that we are tired, we must now leave the "heavy" stuff to the younger chaps; that we can't do that anymore at our age; that we shouldn't enjoy life to the fullest because it may be bad for our hearts. To all that I say; HOGWASH!
Life is never meant to be slowed down. We just go on. Jumping, skipping, running, strolling, jogging, walking, resting, etc. It is a journey filled with different paces. So what if we stop for a while to look at the scenery. We need not convince ourselves that life is passing us by and we have to act our age.
Rubbish, I say again. I have friends who are in their 80s and they have so much vitality in their human forms that they put to shame three-quarters of those one-third their age.
You know you are old when you believe you should go slow and retire. Life belongs to those who want it, anyway they want it, how they want it and how much they demand of it.
As I add on the years, I get smarter, stronger, faster and tougher. Sounds like superman? Yes, in a way. I just couldn't resist yanking other people's chains whenever they come up to me with their long faces laden with forlorn hopes of something that they think is unattainable.
These are the people who have passed such heavy sentences on themselves. It is a living tragedy. What is the difference between those who have given up hope and those who are dead. Not much! Those who are dead can not do anything else anymore. Those who have given up hope, might as well be dead because there's not much hope for them anymore.
Next time, you feel the urge to be put to pasture, just tell yourself what you are going to do with the rest of the time, if you think you have 48 hours more to live. Of course, you would want to try anything, anywhere anytime because for you the last 48 hours are your last.
When you are in that state, you probably won't worry at all about cholesterol, being fat, being stingy with money (you won't be going anywhere with that extra cash), and worry about people who dislike you.
You will become slightly selfish because you won't want to such on the nectar of life. You want to soak in everything that brings a big smile to your face. YOu would want to tell everybody you love them because you don't relish the thought of anyone dancing on your coffin.
When you truly believe you are living out your last hours, everything that you thought were important suddenly become meaningless trivia.
Being so-called old gives you an added advantage. You realise that you don't need to prove anything anymore. You won't feel shy like before because it doesn't really matter anymore. You become more confident because a lot of people are now junior to you. You will feel as if you have a right to give them some advice. And also that the world sounds like it's ready to serve you.

Guardian Angels among Us

The first time I heard the words "guardian angels" was when I was little boy and was studying in a Catholic Brothers school. The La Salle Brothers have a way of introducing "angels" into our lives that somehow stuck in our minds until we reach "the other side".
As we grow older and seemingly wiser, we tend to lose touch with guardian angels and apt to call anyone who does us a favour as a "guardian angel." As you move towards middle age, you will try to believe that there are real guardian angels because your life is sometimes so uncertain that you wish that someone else will take over the job of looking after your future.
These days, I am inclined to believe that there are actually angels walking and working among us. I would like to say "I have it on good authority that real angels from heaven are walking us." Unfortunately, such an outburst will only lead to my confinement at the nearest rehabilitation centre.
Well I have good news for you Doubting Thomases. There are actually guardian angels walking and talking to us on earth. How I know? I just know. Do you need proof?
Remember those times when you are so desperate, you suddenly turn religious and start bargaining with God about how you will not be such a cad anymore to your wife and kids?
Then out of the blue, your problem is solved by an unexpected turn of events and it usually due to someone doing something that may or may not be intended for your advantage. Nevertheless, your woes ended and you began to nurture a new one.
Somewhere out there, without your knowledge, your prayers were answered. And you thought it was due to your own courage, fortitude and perseverance. You had forgotten about that urgent prayer you "sent upstairs". It was answered and you didn't realise it.
All prayers uttered in sincerity are answered. If need be, angels will be sent forth to come to your aid. Baloney! you say?! Look where you are today. You are not pushing daisies somewhere out in the open field, are you? The fact that you are reading this indicates that you are among the living.
Angels have been assigned to all of us so that we will always be reminded that we are spirits from on high. There are things not of this earth that do not require any explanation nor do they need the approval and investigation of our most accomplished citizens.
They are governed by laws not made for us. However, they are here because they are part of us and will help us if your life and mine will be for the better with some assistance from them.
Have you ever experienced making a supposedly a wrong turn on your way home and unexpected encountered someone and something that shifted your fortune or someone else's fortune?
Who do you think "inspired" you to take that detour or make that sudden turn?
Before you pronounce that the subject of guardian angels is a topic for the demented and the slightly deranged, keep in mind this suggestion. The next time, you are caught in a jam (not traffic) but something that is more serious or even life-threatening, say a prayer and ask sincerely for your guardian angel to extend a helping hand, and then wait and watch.

Getting high on Hai Peng

CHUKAI is a small town in Kemaman with seafood restaurants and the
highly-recommended Kedai Kopi Hai Peng which is famed for its coffee
creations.
AFTER a few hours of driving at a leisurely pace along the highway from
Kuala Lumpur, we spotted the signpost for Chukai. This little town is in
the Kemaman district of Terengganu.
I made a U-turn along the main road and curved into Chukai town. I
remembered the words of a colleague: "Don't forget to wind down your car
window and smell the coffee aroma coming from the Hai Peng Coffeeshop" or
"Kedai Kopi Hai Peng".
His remark was a bit of an exaggeration, of course. I did not detect
any such aroma; rather, I vaguely recalled the dust from the dry roads
and the exhaust fumes from cars and lorries.
It is worth noting that the first Customs department on the East Coast
was first set up in Chukai, which in Malay means "tax". It is an old town
with little to offer except for seafood. Naturally, there are several
seafood restaurants strategically located to entice visitors passing
through.
As I drove, I kept a sharp lookout for the famous Hai Peng Coffeeshop.
Just as I thought I had missed it, a three-storey building loomed into
sight with the name Hai Peng Coffeeshop proudly advertised on the front
of the building.
Located opposite a big car park at the end of Jalan Sulaimani, it was
an unmistakable landmark because the place was filled with customers who
even spilled out to the front and side of the shop. Rows of benches
revealed there were a lot of hungry people at high noon.
If I needed evidence of the popularity of the place, the large crowd
was solid proof. The car park was three-quarters full and there was nary
a table available for our party of four.
Being a nosey one, I took peeks at the occupied tables as I made my way
inside. Many customers had ordered iced coffee which, I believe, was
called "ice-blended Hai Peng coco lava". Anyway, it looked very inviting.
When we found a table, a waiter quickly produced the menu. I scanned
its contents and discovered that among the house specialties were hot
charcoal-toasted buns with kaya. For once, it was not slices of factory
produced bread. If it was, it would have spoilt the ambience. I had
expected better.
My son thought he saw some people eating nasi dagang bungkus, one of
Terengganu's favourite dishes. To our dismay, the waiter told us that
they were sold out on nasi dagang bungkus. It would have been a splendid
complement to our coffee, and it only cost RM1 a packet.
We decided to order the ice-blended Coco Lava. It sounded so exotic
that we couldn't resist it.
Other choices on the menu were Magnificent Fruit King, Coffee Breeze
and Pina Calada.
There were other home-made items like tuna sandwich, French toast,
Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwich and Apple Pie a la Mode.
Earlier, I had been briefed by my Terengganu friend that the owners of
Hai Peng actually grew their own coffee beans and made their own special
brand of coffee. Hai Peng coffee is not sold outside Chukai.
The coffee is said to leave no aftertaste. When I was told about its
marvellous attributes, I had my doubts. Frankly, I am not a coffee lover.
I am more of a Milo or cocoa person.
But the friendly urgings of a most loyal supporter of Hai Peng
compelled me to test the waters, so to speak.
The ice-blended Hai Peng coco lava soon arrived with the freshly
charcoal-toasted kaya buns. We sank our teeth into the buns and took a
huge gulp of the coffee. It was love at first bite. Words were inadequate
to describe the unique taste of the coffee.
At RM4.50 a glass (large), the coco lava is certainly a bargain. Hai
Peng would definitely give Starbucks, Dome and Coffee Bean a run for
their money.
It had a certain home-grown superiority that seemed to put other coffee
beans in their place. There was really no bitter aftertaste. The coffee
hit the right spot, as coffee lovers would put it. It gave my culinary
senses a gentle but pleasant jolt. Even if you are not a coffee drinker,
Hai Peng may just turn you into a new convert.
The charcoal-toasted buns had a unique flavour. Freshly toasted and
immediately eaten, the buns are guaranteed to send you into a tailspin
into gastronomical paradise.
The satisfied looks on the faces of customers are ample testimony of
the fine quality of items on the menu. I wasn't sure if it was the charm
of old town Chukai or the sea breeze that gently swept across the land
but I certainly felt very relaxed and yes, quite happy. My family shared
my feelings.
At the cashier's counter, there were stacks and stacks of Hai Peng
coffee powder on sale.
Coffee in sachets, white coffee and black coffee powder, all on offer
to meet the discerning tastes of different customers.
Obviously, the present owners have adopted modern marketing strategies
to put their unique selling proposition in the best light.
From their appearances, the Chinese proprietors appear to be either
from the second generation or even the third.
The prices of the Hai Peng coffee were actually very reasonable and its
exclusivity made it a great bargain. I was actually glad that Terengganu
had so much to offer, even if it was just Hai Peng coffee, for a start.
I learned later on that if passing motorists were feeling rather
famished, they could sample the numerous seafood restaurants scattered
all over town. The baked crabs were quite delightful, according to those
who had tried them.
I still have some Hai Peng coffee powder in my larder. I save that for
special occasions when I have my favourite TV shows on. Almost
inevitably, the first taste revives pleasant memories of that stopover at
Chukai. A cup of Hai Peng coffee is best taken with hot water, and of
course, cream and sugar according to taste.
I still don't drink coffee as a matter of habit but with Hai Peng, it
becomes an exception because the flavour never fails to bring a smile to
my face and rekindle visions of a dear remembered place on the other side
of the peninsula.

Learning to say goodbye

TODAY is one of those times when I have to say "goodbye" to a long list of friends. The company I am working in has decided to give 29 colleagues of mine a minor "golden handshake" in a downsizing exercise.
Some of these outgoing people have put in more than 30 years' service and I have known them for a better part of three decades. I wish there was an easier way to say "goodbye".
When you have known a person for more than one generation, there is a certain understanding that defies explanation or necessitates explanation. That outgoing person has become "family" a long time ago. Sometimes, they are even closer than family members.
I am one of those who is very slow in changing friends because I have always been slow in choosing one. But I like friends. I bear in mind that they are just like me with hopes, dreams, frustrations and ambitions born either of desperation or design.
These colleagues, some of them are nodding acquaintances, have been around for so long that all of us have taken one another for granted. Office relations are like that. We take each other for granted until we know we will lose sight of each other almost forever. We are not sure if we will see each other again and the moment of that realisation makes the friendship suddenly so precious.
Of course, I am sentimental. That what's makes me so human like the rest of the others. Sometimes, life is so fickle. One minute you see a person, the next day, you come upon an obituary of that person. In that one moment in time, you will have cross a gulf that separates this life and the afterlife.
I have had that kind of experience several times in my life. Each face is precious to me in its own perculiar way. I cherish the moments I share with my office colleagues, many of whom have become precious friends.
Occasionally, in hindsight, years later, I think of all the nice things I should have said to their face. Those were opportunities lost. How fragile is the thread of life. If only more of us know this, we will treat each encounter with our colleague as if it were our last, and one day it will.
Now, as I ponder the journey of life that stretches ever so long in front of me, I stare for long seconds at the people I know will leave the arena which has been our playing ground. It has been so long. The years of talking nonsense. The years of watching each other developed in our own unique ways.
Such is the ethereal nature of our existence. When all is faded and gone, we glance back and wonder if it had been all a dream. We think we exist merely for our own interests, and then we find out that it has been one big carousel. All of us interact as God intends it to be.
Each living friend a lesson to us, as it is we for them. It is an endless cycle.
The light that shines comes not from the distance in front of us but it comes from within us.

Internet - truly the Land of the Free

The best and biggest happening of the 20th century may well be the Internet. About 20 years old when a student wants to look up something that is rather obscure, he would have to search the encyclopedia.
Today, all he has to do is to surf the Internet. It is true that not all information in the Net is reliable but there ways of finding out the real truth. These days, the dictionaries which I bought the last 10 years are fast becoming obsolete.
On the Internet, I can search scores of dictionaries simultaneously. Anything and everything I want to know, I have them at my fingertips. The Internet is the most awesome invention known to teenagers and members of the academia.
You can communicate instantly with a friend, a colleague or a loved on the other side of the world. It is a tool, a weapon, a balm and an oracle of infinite information.
If you are savvy enough, you can actually earn a comfortable income every month right there in your bedroom. All you need is a computer and an Internet connection, preferably with broadband.
The Internet has unclamped all the shackles put there by governments on their citizens. These days, you can hide anything anymore. So it is even foolish to try. There is almost no way you can block information from reaching the IT-savvy person. It's because the Internet has too many lanes of information.
Children are using Internet to do their school assignments. Of course, they cheat too, through the Internet but if they do, they will be found out eventually. But the awful truth is, they cheat themselves so it is a lose-lose situation for the cheaters.
Internet today helps the "woman in the house" to do her shopping on line. It helps the busy husband pay the bills via the banking online. It is convenience personified. As a result of the ease of paying bills made easy by online payment, banks are slowly downsizing their staff strength. It doesn't augur well for those firms that have to reduce their staff strength. But it is a necessary exercise.
The Internet has spread its wings so wide and so far that almost anything that can be conceived by the mind of man can be carried out on the Internet.
The benefits of Internet have made it possible for many to become entrepreneurs. The electronic SOHO (small office home office) has penetrated into many homes. Internet also requires very little capital to start with and sometimes, depending on the person, you don't even need capital to kickstart your career at home.
The clock speed of the Internet is getting faster by the month. High speed modems and broadband service have enabled many to download important stuff in a matter of minutes.
The signs are all there. You can obtain an education through the Internet. You can find your "soul mate" on the Net, and you can also lose the shirt on your back twoards Internet.
If an earthquakes takes place in Venezuela two minutes ago, before the clock loses another five minutes, the mattter will be broadcast within 30 minutes. No typhoon, hurricane or tremor will be undetected and be left uninformed so long as the Internet continues to function somewhere in the world.
The most amazing invention of the 20th century that has affected the social and political developments of all nations can be attributed to the Internet.
Today, tomorrow and the future, the Internet will serve as a platform for the underprivileged, the suppressed and the champions of all-that's-good to voice their grievances, advances their causes and help resolve issues.
It is such a powerful tool that authoritarian governments are beginning to feel helpless trying to muzzle their own people. Perhaps for once in a very long time, the playing field has been levelled to the advantage of no one.
The issue here is whether we want to use the Internet for the good or for our own detriment. The forces of good and evil are still in the arena but knowing man and his record of existence over the past 10,000 years, man will eventualy realise that its advantage has always been to move over to the "good side", otherwise everybody loses.

Physical and moral courage

THERE comes a time or times in an individual's life when moral courage puts a person on at the crossroads. Bravery comes in several forms. There is the visually obvious physical courage like saving a person from drowning or rescuing a child from a burning building.
Then there is the "less obvious" phenomenon, much quieter form of courage called moral courage. Moral courage is drastically lacking in the modern world and I shout it from the rooftop.
A lack of moral courage is seen when a person refuses to stand up for his principles for fear of getting the sack, a dressing-down or possible ridicule from his peers.
Moral courage means standing up for something that you think is right. It demands a mental discipline of the first order. It does not call for a "stiff upper lip", just a mental resolve will do, thank you.
When you see your grandma standing up for you (when you were a child)against the neighbourhood bully and telling him or her off in her sternest voice, it's called moral courage. When your dad writes an angry letter to his state councillor, complaining about that gentleman's neglect of the neighbourhood and that matter will go up to the highest authority in the land, that is moral courage.
Moral courage is not seen the physical size of any person nor is it the monopoly of any gender. Moral courage can be displayed by a child of seven, just as it could easily be shown by a grandma of 80. It's what you have in your heart and soul.
There are lots of people with physical courage. It takes a bit of self-arrogance (maybe) and confidence in your own God-given abilities. Compared to moral courage, physical courage is in a different field.
Moral courage demands a higher price. It could meant incarceration. It could invite ostracisation. It could beg for a lifetime of isolation. Yes, the price for displaying moral courage can indeed be very high.
Who among us has not felt the weakness in our knees in instances when we had more to lose than to gain and all the situation calls for is a simple display of moral courage.
Today, the number of people who have moral courage is sadly lacking. If you want proof, just look read the newspapers. Wherever tyrants rule the roost, there's moral courage lacking in that land. Where's there's corruption, moral courage is absent in that nation or society.
The world cries out loud for moral courage among men everyday but where are these brave individuals when they are so sorely needed? Heaven helps us all. In the end, it begins with us. If one of us starts to show some signs of moral courage, it may help to strengthen the resolve of others who are standing on the sideline.
The time is now. The place is where you are. The occasion is everyday. We must do it for our future. Our very survival as human beings depends on our moral courage to live the way we want it, the best we can and the best we should be.