Now I can see my future

After a lifetime of having  a perfect vision and almost a supernatural power of x-ray capability scrutinizing the unseen and beyond the obscure, I was informed recently by a very young and petite optometrist  that my eyes need some serious overhauling.  What I mean to say is that, I need to replace my old single focal lens with a multifocal which allows me to read, watching ASTRO and monitoring my kids doing their homework at the same time. A multifocal lens enables me to do multiple jobs which is brilliant and cool. I can recommend this to my colleagues especially in the Public service  to have one. In fact I should recommend it to my maid as well.

The problem started when I realized that I need to put my book a mile away in order to make out what the introductory part was all about.  That explains why I just could not finish every single book that I bought from Kinokuniya, Borders, MPH and Amazon.com in the past ten years. The only book that I've so far managed to finish in a single sitting is on "How to Manage your Menopause Boss". That was while waiting for my connecting flight to Rio de Janeiro after a 5 hours delay.  

This is clearly a syndrome. Our friends in the optical department single handedly coined this  syndrome  as presbyopia.  A simple example of this awkward condition is when you start to have a feeling that your arms aren't long enough to hold a newspapers or a love letter from your sweetheart at a position where you can read it clearly. Simply putting it - I am getting old and almost every part in my body is deteriorating.

Having a multifocal lens is supposed to be fun, but it is not. It makes you look like a handicap person.  Apparently, having a defect eyesight with a pair of specialized glasses don't put me in the same league as a mutant or X-men.  At first I felt like walking on the cloud drifting and floating along with the wind. After a while, I can moonwalking like the late Michael Jackson, the skill I've never known I had before.  Using and trying to comprehend this artificial eyes accessory though doesn't require one to be a genius or having an elephant brain. It needs a special skill which is patience. Initially I have to train my eyes to perfectly align with the designated regions in order to focus. They did and they behaved very well.

"up" and the eyes go up when I want to focus on the TV screen. 

"down" and the eyes struggling to focus all the objects down and beneath my belly. But something is not right as I am having difficulty to focus around this region as somehow my expanded waistline seems to obscure the most beautiful sight every man should have.

This starts to sound a bit weird, but actually given that all middle-aged people are bound to start going wrong in every department, a defect eyesight is not that bad either. First and foremost, I am constantly reminding myself that something is being taken away from me in the most fashionable way - by the Maker. Secondly, it knocks the socks off having some dreaded terminal illnesses such as the 'Malay PHD' which translates as a person who cannot see others better than thou or the 'mata keranjang' syndrome. Both  diseases   so far have no known cure.

Finally I am quite contented. With this newly acquired skills of multitasking, successfully training my eyes to see the unthinkable and having a double vision, now I can see my future bright and clear.

Don't trust your GPS, a buffalo is a better bet

When the brainy guys out there invented something new or come out with  brilliant technological gizmo, they do it with good intention or at least for the betterment of all humankind including the aliens and  the whole inhabitants that roam the galaxy. But of course along the way they would have expected their bank account will be filled to the brink from the promised royalties of which in many cases seldom materialized, at least in the Bolehland. There are of course many who had made millions or billions of moolah from their invention or innovative mind but the number of success stories in our own backyard  is still a far cry from that of the Far land or even our neighbors that are becoming more prominent these days - the Africans with their innovative black money scam.  

Not so long ago, my hand felt a bit itchy to give a try using a very important travel companion called GPS, an acronym for a Gadget that occasionally Piss the S*#@ out of me. This gizmo similar to any other technologies out there is supposed to make our good-self smile behind the wheel and maintain my jolly good mood throughout the journey.  This GPS however, on many occasions had caused me moonlighting to the Atlantis and on one instance had almost caused the whole family the  worst gastronomic catastrophe  ever. This gadget is either point you to the right direction or send you head on with the Taliban in Afghanistan. 

It was our first ever trip to KB, or for the uninitiated this place is simply known as  Kota Bharu via the East-West Highway (Grik-Jeli). It was also a perfect opportunity to test my newly acquired gadget I just bought from an underground dealer at Low Yat Plaza, Kay El. After we picked up my eldest son from his College and a sumptuous lunch of ikan sungai at K. Kangsar, we continued our journey Eastward through the scenic kampungs, beautiful lakes and across the Crocker  Range. I was told the trip should take approximately 3 hours from Grik to KB and not more. To cut the long story short, we took 5 hours to reach the hotel in KB through flood laden kampungs, small winding canals, inching through smugglers trail near Sg. Golok  and almost reroute into our neighboring country, Siam via Rantau Panjang. All because I trusted my GPS. 

Wife :  Why  did you blindly follow the GPS darling? I thought your sense of direction is spot on. 

Me :   The night was dark and my tummy was grumbling. I could not see properly as my head was full with nasi  kerabu and budu.

Perhaps this guys who invented GPS should take some lessons  from the sperm. The successful one who has such precision to reach the target (egg) and later grow to become the inventor himself. Perhaps next time I travel, I should hook my head with an antennae that has a direct link with the North Korean Spy Satellite to direct me to the nearest public toilet at Kedai Payang. 

Migratory birds, the white egret have a very good sense of direction. Each year they migrate to the same spot right in the sawah padi of my blissful Kampung.   They have been coming to visit that particular area.   My younger brother told me that  the kampung folks, who I supposedly have  never heard of H1N1, adding this beautiful bird into their exotic menu regularly. The unlucky birds left their tags and serial ring numbers as the grim souvenir.

The post traumatic Raya reminder. This iconic photograph becomes a testimony to the lack acquaintance (ignorance) of the available technologies in photography - a wireless remote shutter release. I inadvertently set the camera to a 2 second timer and the camera managed to capture my own unique zapin style -  and  my backside with all its glory. Classic!

The end of the beginning

Perhaps after zillion years of this world allowing us to roam freely in her beautiful domain and giving the chance for us to seek the purpose of life, the mortals have to accept one thing.  Just like we have to accept that time never moves backward or the nasi-lemak-eating nation can never  behave well in front of the wheel, we also have to accept the fact that  nothing lasts forever. Even the fondest memories will fade in time. It is a very harsh reality this universe loves to offer. Those reality in a way is constantly reminding us to cherish whatever God gives us in life. But even in another million years to come, the mortals with all their arrogance will never learn. Ignorance and greed...yes the greed will always haunt humankind until the end of time.

For a while, I have been disillusioned and blinded by the past glory of a place that has been my playing ground for almost two decades. What made the place so lively and buzzing with activities for the good sake of all humankind is now becoming a relic of a distant past. The signs are so clear. There is not much thing that  can lift my spirit and make my day. I've been surrounded by zombies who have sold their soul, perhaps to the devil. My good old friends are all gone. They had served well and should earned their peers' respect.   Even monkeys and their entire family who once roamed and controlled the rubber kingdom of Sg. Buloh will laugh at me if I share with them my  sad story and the pathetic state of the kingdom they once cherish. 

Now I may sound like a conservative, old-nostalgic-rotten maggot. For me history is very important and it does matter. Sadly, we are  now living in a modern society who has turn its back on the past. Our view of the past shapes the way we view the present, therefore it dictates what answers we offer for existing problems. History should be preserved well and make known to our future generations. What we do today will undoubtedly have unpredictable impact to the future.

After the recent visit to the site that will be developed into another modern infrastructure that will benefit the masses and the privilege few, I am not sure if my heart will ever stop to bleed. I have to do something to sooth my soul.  Even though the new year is quite far away I would like to make a personal resolution. I am going to share whatever resource that I have with all the mortals who are lucky enough to reach this virtual domain. I hope stories from Kebun Getah Sekangkang Kera will resurface and reach future generations. All being well, untold stories like this will enrich the history that I am also part of it.

I hope no Ebola-infested monkeys of Sg. Buloh will belittle my promise and fully support my personal commitment. My limited experience however says it is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. In fact it is the end of the beginning.

 An excerpt from a colonial archival document. The chemistry laboratory situated at 260, Jalan Ampang still survives until this modern day with indistinguishable make-over. There is however not much organic, physical or analytical chemistry churned out from the lab nowadays as bucket-chemistry is becoming more prominent.

An undated aerial photo of Rubber Research Institute Experimental Station (RRIES) when it was first opened in the 30s. The peripheral areas were still covered with pristine vegetation and juvenile rubber trees. That was history in the making.

A recent googling over a cyberspace revealed an eerie looking reality. In the next 3-4 years, you won't see that big green path anymore.  Red dots on the left were the places where the recent felling of the rubber trees took place  (Field 45 - 52).

August 2011 - The first visit.  It looked like as if a big, fat meteorite with crazy appetite to wallop the entire Bolehland had crash-landed into the back yard of our office. The first visit to the field really saddened me. Padang jarak padang tekukur.  200 hectares of vast and barren land waiting to be filled by lifeless concrete jungle.

Against the backdrop of the past glory, greedy ghosts of modern warfare are actively assaulting all the civilization built by our past co-workers. Only time will tell if there is any left for the future to admire.

March 2012 - A second  visit to the landing site. No alien or any alien workers were in sight but seeing this had made me lost my appetite for the day.  

The freshly opened road leading to the  newly developed site. The Sg. Buloh series (a type of soil) won't benefit any  rubber plant no more. It will soon be molested by giant claw of urban technology.

August 2012 - the most recent visit revealed many covert activities by foreign subjects that alienated the green lung of the area. The trees that once provided life essential have now becoming  silent witness to  human gluttony.

How could I look at this and go back to live in my present world? How could one continue life as before?

It is 84 years after the felling of the jungle started and now the life cycle started one more time.  This time however, the cycle is more vicious and full of unpredictable. 

Too many interesting stories were untold and don't trickle down to our  ipad and Starbuck generations. Too little history has ever made out into the brain domain of our pampered kids. These untold stories are still perfectly kept in the dark domain of the  unknown waiting to be discovered  . I have been wondering, will  our rich history, someday, ever bring our degraded society back into the reality? Will it break  the barrier and  close the gap between generations?  

Another chance to heal our soul

Alhamdulillah. The blissful month of Ramadhan has finally come again. We are among the selected one to embrace this special visitor in another splendid life cycle, therefore we should be very thankful to Allah S.W.T for His endless mercy.  He is giving us, the mortal believer another chance to replenish our iman and strengthen our taqwa. Lets us start this special journey with istiqomah and continuous religious devotion. Lets us make this journey with the hope that this will be our best journey ever with this special visitor.

I am taking this rare opportunity in the first day of the Holy month seeking forgiveness. May Divine pour His endless blessing upon us, like rain throughout this month of few.  

Marhaban ya Shahru Ramadhan.

 

Soul rejuvenating journey with Madyan, Soddom and Gomorrah

An eight hours journey by The Royal Jordanian from KLIA was very smooth. The flight touched down in the wee hour of the morning at Queen Alia International Airport. Upon touching the ground, my heart was also deeply touched.  Unlike the other trip or journey that I took before, this one was very special.  It was my first experience in the land of the anbia'. The unfamiliar feeling was deeply rooted and mixed with other emotions - the feeling that no word can describe. That was only the beginning. It was the beginning of a journey to discover one's iman and the believe of whatever happen (good or bad), Allah knows the best. He always gives the best to us.

At the start of the journey, Allah S.W.T had already tested the iman  of the whole Jemaahs. One hundred and five of us. The flight was scheduled at 2200 hrs and by 1900 hrs when the check-in counter opened we were still looking for the travel agents with no ticket and passport at hand. Many had already thought of the inevitable. I just pressed myself hard and prayed that everything will be fine. 2100 hrs - with everybody panicking and things became very chaotic suddenly the agent appeared with the documents and we started to check in in the most haru-biru manner. With half an hour left for departure, we had to virtually run to   embark the plane from the main terminal to the satellite building through the immigration, security point, aerotrain and toilet in between. Our big group mostly consisted of special people, people with special illnesses modern medicine will normally dismiss as nothing wrong. The trip was partly for that special reason. Treating the special people.

In the nick of time, I jokingly said to my wife :

"macam explorace kita ni"

With 15 minutes to spare, we finally sat ourselves comfortably but anxiously in our seats.  Suddenly it was dawned to us things could turn from bad to worse. There was no Ustaz Malek (group leader) or any travel agent among us. One of the jemaahs in front of me then revealed an sms  saying that fourty five Jemaahs could not make the trip as there was not ticket for them. As cool as I am, panic started to creep into me. My wife had broken into tears. As we had only a one way ticket to Jordan, we could be stranded in the far and barren land of Jordan...

But all those things had made this journey very sweet, colorful and memorable.

Deep into the Jordanian valley, 55 km from Amman is the Dead sea.  A grim reminder to us from the inhabitants of Soddom and Gomorrah of whom were destroyed by Allah S.W.T for their disobedience to the preaching of Prophet Lut. It was their abominable sin of homosexuality that lead to their extinction. "When morning came, God turned the cities upside down, and rained down on them stones hard as baked clay, putting an end to the lives of the people of Sodom and Gomorrah once and for all" (Al-Hijr : 73-76). On the other side of the water, bordered by the hills is Israel.  

Being the deepest hypersaline lake in the world with 33.7% salinity, no aquatic life can flourish in this harsh environment.   A tourist demonstrates the unusual buoyancy caused by high salinity. Nobody will drown in this lake I suppose.

The sight of half-clad bodies covered with black mud is a norm around the Dead Sea. This place is the lowest (elevation) health spa in the world. The Dead sea contains high concentration of salt and minerals which gives its waters the renowned curative and therapeutic qualities to many ailments. 

The Bolehland Jemaah didn't want to miss the opportunity to experience and get a closer encounter with the Dead sea. On the far right of this spot, part of the section was reserved to the Westerners or perhaps Israelis.  

That was not 'orang minyak' who terrorizes Malay virgins in kampungs (the recent sighting was in Kampung Laksamana, Gombak). But a  so-called  friendly brother from Libya who persistently insisted me to take his photograph for no obvious reason. I purposely add this rear picture of him into this blog as the frontal profile was a bit...errr..to put it mildly, undulating!

Salt crystal deposited on the rock along the coastal or the Dead sea. They are in abundance. Some Jemaah collected the salt deposits in many kilos and surprisingly the airport customs (in Jordan, Jeddah and Bangkok) didn't even ask or flip their eyes on the x-ray scanner. 

"They say they were three, the dog being the fourth among them; and they say they were five, the dog being the sixth, guessing at the unseen; and they say they were seven, and the dog being the eighth. Say: My Lord knows best their number; none knows them but a few". So debate not except with the clear proof. And consult not any of them (about the people of the Cave)". (Al- Kahf : 22)
  

There are many opinions on the exact location of the Cave. Some say the Cave situated in Jordan, Syria, Yemen, Turkey, Afghanistan and even in Spain. But we went to Jordan to see the Jordan version of the Cave. At the entrance of the cave, the group leader  Ustaz Abdul Malek briefed the Jemaah on the significance of the Cave. With him is his youngest daughter - also the youngest member in the group.  

Qitmir, the sleepers' loyal dog was buried in the cave together with the sleepers. The lady-in-black is obviously not Qitmir but my significant half, standing beside the grave of the dog. Two holes were drilled (it was reported done during the Ottoman empire) so that we can have a peek inside the grave.

Bone remnants of the dog - Qitmir, inside the grave. They slept for 309 years.  The Ashabul-kahfi lived to teach the world many lessons. One is the possibility of resurrection by Almighty Allah S.W.T.

A new mosque - Al-Kahfi mosque was built very recently beside (left site on the hill above) the Cave. The site of the ancient mosque was at the front the Cave. The mosque was very quiet during our visit but buzzing with housekeeping activities by the mosque workers.

Propher Shuaeb mosque. Prophet Shuaeb were sent to the Madyan. The Madyan was greedy people, gave short in measurement, lied to the customers and most of all did not believe the existence of Allah S.W.T. Just like the other non-believers, the Madyan perished. 

A cat posing for my camera in front of the Prophet Shuaeb mosque. The cat knows, even long after the Madyan gone, the spirit of the Madyan still lives and besieges the very heart of current business dwelling. I can see the Madyan linger freely and happily in the Bolehland.

Gone, but not with the wind

That was not the first time. I hope it will be the last. The great lost was very hard for me to comprehend at first. It was not because all of a sudden my koi's pond became very quiet and lifeless, but because the trust has been broken. Unlike promises, a trust is by no mean to be broken. When I trust someone  (politician  is obviously not in this equation) or some immortal being (like my external HDD which mysteriously disappeared with all my important data and secret recipe) -  I surrender my entire life with it, literally.  

The usual suspect in this case was none other than an unsuspecting and innocent-looking Bangla, whose face slightly resembles the famous Bangladeshi actor Shakib Khan.  He resides in the neighboring kampung Boyan, but most of the time find solace in my neighbor's house, a few block away from mine. He is actually  a no stranger to my peaceful neighborhood - quite a handy guy. He is very friendly and ever willing to help. 

On that fateful day, we left the house for a long holiday break. The man I trusted to look after my kebun and the wellfare of the  fishes in my pond was none other than our friendly Bangla from the neighboring Kampung Boyan. We left for a balik kampung holiday thinking that everything was in a good hand. Until a  few days later, another neighbor called me and conveyed the shocking news. The whole population of kois and carps were annihilated (except the mean-looking algae sucking fish, Hypostomus plecostomus  a.k.a ikan DBKL). Following tips from fictional character Inspector Sigh and looking at the symptoms, I suspected the fishes' demise  was due to over fed and suffocated to their last breath.

It was a very sad affair. It was even hurting when the man you trust didn't admit to his crime and started blaming somebody else. Does this sounds all too familiar? At one point in our life, we have to accept the fact that everybody makes mistake. I do make mistakes and I am sure will make many more. Mistake is our best educator if we are willing to learn from it. Anyhow, it was already considered a gone case. The wise man always says, lets bygones be bygone. Even though it won't be the same, the karps and the kois can always be replaced (the demise fishes will eagerly come to the surface whenever they heard my footsteps near the pond, expecting their food).  

Along the way we can always ponder and learn some new things to enrich and put new meaning to our life.  First - never trust a Bangla with a face that resembles any popular movie star (not that I am jealous). Second - Admit our mistake; it will make our life less complicated. Last but not least - never overfed ourselves as the consequences are quite predictable.

   

These lifeless fishes were now a distance memory.  They have been my source of 'ilham' for the past 12 years. Whether the new generation can emulate the aura of their ancestors - time will tell.

 

Those fishes, even until the end of their life refused to leave this mortal world wasted.   They enriched the soil and  provided other form of  life with organic nutrients. The Heliconias seems to flourish exceptionally well after that. One loss is another's gain. That is one of the balances in this world.

This ponds and its wonderful living creatures within have been given me so much pleasure, day in day out. With the absence of the stimulating kois and  carps,  perhaps I have to stop finding excuses or rely on other thing to become inspired. Perhaps I have to shift and realign my thinking a bit. To live is to inspire.  

Six month gestation period - thank you John Jenin

When I am inspired, my mind switches into its voyeuristic mode.  The mind becomes very volatile and tend to explore some unthinkable domain full of crappy thing and rubbish. Sometimes into the unknown. More often than not the mind is fully occupied with something of everything. I become very focus and consumed by nameless ideas. That was exactly what happened in the last few months. I stayed focus and entirely forgot this blog. Again!

It is not easy to achieve that particular state of mind though. I have to admit that air ketum or any psychedelic source has no part in this affair.  It took me many trips to  nondescript stalls under pokok ketapang,  impromptu night meetings with my colleagues, numerous trailblazing trips to the entire Bolehland of which I'd lost count of how many and tonnes of teh tarik kurang manis in kedai mamak - I forget that the world is still spinning and the sun is still shining. I was in my own world. But all those sacrifices come with a price and in my case a pleasant prize as well.  I owe that glorious achievement to one particular person. Unbeknown to this guy, he was actually the sole mortal being that inspired me. He is known or used to be known in the Bloggosphere as John Jenin. Another mysterious persona - a nom de plume who has never materialized himself into this mortal world. At least for the time being. In fact I've never met him in person or got a chance to have a cup of teh tarik kurang manis with him under pokok ketapang.  

This inaugural blog entry after a long gestation period  is a tribute to this special persona, John Jenin. Perhaps he is another genius hiding in the underworld somewhere in Putrajaya, or a retired teacher who just wanted to share his  wisdom with the free world or even  one of my closest neighbors who are too shy to admit it was actually his dog that actually came up with this brilliant idea.  I feel very oblige. I am very sure if he read or somehow stumble upon this entry perhaps in another  millennium,  he will surely feel very proud. Thank you John Jenin. If I were to win a Nobel prize for this syok-sendiri innovation - someday, I will find you and fly you to the moon!

Even though this is not the first time I receive that piece of paper and a gold-plated medallion to add into my celebrated coffer, this one has a special place in my heart. i-klon is not merely an innovation or another name for a dubious gadget that will soon crowded the virtual market.  It encompasses my dream and my promise. (Ironically, it is also a timely farewell present to my fellow scientists)

As I am not a celebrity and most likely won't achieve that status by the year 2020, I felt a little bit awkward being into the spotlight with dignitaries on the center stage.  Luckily my two happy-go-lucky  sidekicks came to the rescue and made myself at ease receiving a priceless memento that night.

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Before the judgement day. All set for the big show and my obliging team  members aka the inventors (minus one)  posed an overconfident smile prior to the winning announcement.  Yours truly pretended to be cool and composed.

No amount of practice, script rehearsal, and cold sweat could  have prepared Mr OCW to face the most impeccable and unassuming visitors. Sometimes thing will go wrong and it will go wrong at the wrong and the most unimaginable moment. But at the end - Job well done. Good work guys!

This was neither the enthusiastic crowd curious  for our invention nor the place where the historical moment took place. It has no significant value in my life too. But I spent an evening with my colleagues here searching for the next idea that will revolutionize our life. In fact we bought two replica (read fake) designer ties hoping that  the elusive ideas will descend from the celestial world. But the way, the place is Petaling street.