Birthday & fang seng

The day that was : 19 November 2010

Friday, I was home nursing a fever.
after some rest and deliberately avoiding medicine,
I drove to the Tamu in Penampang,
along with my sister,
to purchase fishes for fang seng .

It was my birthday,
and I would like to release lives to celebrate this day,
a spiritual activity that I embrace in the calendar of my life.

We bought about 19 small plastic bags of ikan karuk ,
and a bag of ikan keli,
it’s ironic that the Kadazan lady selling the fishes would later offer an additional plastic bag of ikan karuk,
saying ` tolong saya lepaskan’. Even though I did not mention that we were going for fang seng.
Guess she just knew.
If I had my will, I would ask her not to capture them again,
but who am I to ask a non-believer to stop their trade,
probably the very source to their livelihood?

We then drove to a nearby river,
in the stiffling afternoon ,
I felt realy sick and tired .
But it did not deter my resolve to carry bags of fishes down to the river bank,
where a little prayers were said,
before releasing them to the cool and soothing river,
then witnessing the small creatures slowly and graciously swim to the deeper part of the dark flowing water
back to where they belong.

Later my sister said `let’s go buy some cupcakes for your birthday ,I belanja .’
Then stopped by a kopitiam for teh-c , teh-c ping and some bread,
before heading home for a rest.

It’s been a quiet birthday, despite a little emotional turmoil etched inside my heart.

But time is always a reliable healer, this soon will pass.

I pray on this day for the renewal and rejuvenation of the mind, body and spirit, to enable me to bravely embrace yet another chapter in this life journey..


Some fang seng pictures:
Bags of ikan karuk
Reciting prayers

I like how the sun was shining down its glistening rays of light onto the water, and when it touched the river surface a mirage was formed its presence immediately brought forth a sense of peace and tranquility to its surroundings, while my sister stood unfazed by the blistering heat reciting verses of prayer to the tiny lives being released into the water.

It is to me a heart-warming and endearing sight.

Muddled stream of consciousness

The day that was : 10 November 2010 Wednesday

It’s just the second day of the week.
And I need a moment of quiet introspection.
For the past two days I have been under the weather,
having slight if not terrible mood swings.

Thing like this happens to us.
Some days we are feeling upbeat and all is fine and rosy,
While other days we let feeling of dejection and hopelessness silently crawl within us,
Just a little thing will provoke your irritation and anger
But you never allow yourself moments to reflect your emotional states.
You let it pass hoping thing will get better a while later
But most of the times it won’t.

So this morning, while my younger sister drove me to work and noticing my low-spiritedness, she calmly turned to me and asked `would you want to `kuan cha’ (examine) yourself and see what it is inside of you that made you become so impatient and easily irritated these two days?’

Her statement immediately brought me to my senses .

Yes there are things that irritated me, may be it was initially triggered by the bodily discomfort as a result of PMS, then compounded by some other very minor personal issues which could easily be fixed if only I have not dragged myself too far from reaching within the core of my inner self and called for a little composure and rationale.

Sometimes addressing the root causes of our problem is actually the first step towards acknowledging the fact that most of which that we are feeling or experiencing has nothing much to do with others, but rather the way we response and handle each arising situation. One small issue if left unattended would together with others snowball into a messy woven web you sometimes find yourself having difficulties to disentangle yourself from.

I then reflected how days earlier on my way driving back to KK from the village I have noticed a stray dog, standing forlornly at an deserted petrol station, its furs have all fallen out exposing off its crumbled skin badly afflicted by serious skin desease (kurap), its extremely emaciated frame suggested the animal’s severely malnourished and has been deprived of food for days, or even weeks. I was driving and the traffic was heavy and it was raining and there was no food in my car, not even shops and food stalls selling food in the vicinity which I could offer to the dog to relief its hunger. But the image of this dog has since embedded in my mind. I have helplessly let myself attached to this sight and it has somehow affected my emotional state. In retrospect, I think I was at some point feeling a sense of remorse for reason that I haven’t tried hard enough to provide help to the poor animal.

I feel slightly better after much reflection and analysis on my situation. All of the frustration and irritation are actually nothing but my own making.


If only I have been rationale enough.

It’s raining on my way back from work and while driving I notice a physically-impaired elderly walking along the side of the road with perhaps his wife, slowly and painstakingly taking one small step at a time with the aid of a crutch, again this scene is quickly embedded in my mind, and a tiny bubble of tear forms and floats on the edge of my eye lid.

I don’t know what the tear was for. Maybe I empathized with the predicament of this old man having to deal with one of life challenges which is his physical disabilities, but it could also perhaps due to my own sense of realization of the fact that, nothing impairs you much more than your own mind which would sometimes, more than the physical impairment itself, blight your sense of perspective in life.

And my stream of thoughts has indeed muddled my own perspective for the past two days, ironically it took a tear to finally bring it to closure...

But now, the stream of consciousness flows like the calm water in the tranquil river of hope…

A little spritual food for thought : Master Venerable Hsing Yun

Impermanence and an auspicious date

The day that was : 10.10.10

I snapped this photo of papa in his daily devotional practice of praying in front of the shrine of The Buddha and Boddhisatvas. He has never missed this daily rituals in the later part of his life, waking up in the early hours of the morning and with his prayer beads in hand chanting the mantras which kept his mind agile, his body and soul spiritually nourished.

When I see him sitting cross legged engaging in his daily prayers like this it always brings forth a sense of comfort and serenity within myself, knowing that in his old age my father has somehow found his pillar of strength and spiritual solace through religious devotion. Papa used to be a very healthy and strong man for his age before an accident years ago which almost claimed his life. In his younger days he earned a living as a rubber tapper and hunter, scouring the jungle to hunt for wild boars, tending the kebun of his bosses and paddling the sampan in rivers to catch fishes had been his strong suits. But now he is easily tired and a little fragile in his movement, sometimes needing a walking stick to steady himself. After the accident, I watched with pain as my father wrought with quite heart wrenching frustration coming to term with the gradual decline in his once robust energy and vitality. But I guess he has since learned to cope and accepted his condition.

Through my father I have a glimpse of the snarky little face of impermanence. It gets closer each day as I scurry past, occasionally stop in my tracks and experience the lives around me, and within me.

But I’ve also learned to get used to it. Even though at times it has not been easy.

Later that morning we made a trip to Beaufort town for Breakfast. In the car papa related to us about a son of his friend who has a day before been whisked to a jail for fatally shooting down an indigenous man for carelessly mistaken him as his targeted prey - a wild boar. Accidents like this happen pretty frequently in the village. The young and old retreat to the jungle in their spare times to hunt for wild boars and other animals, and sometimes in their excitement and haste in capturing their prey, releasing the bullets far too soon before their mind could thoroughly process of the supposedly desirable targets, hence gunning down their fellow villagers who happen to frequent the place with the same purpose. Being the hunters, they end up to become the ones being hunted by the authorities instead. The son had borrowed a senapang bekakuk from a friend and if found guilty, he would need to spend a good 25 years behind bar, while his young wife has to carry the responsibility of taking care of their young children during the impending long gap of separation.

Papa was sympathetic towards the situation faced by his friend’s son, but with this piece of news, his mind was clearly transported back to a period of his life where he almost committed the same erroneous observation on several occasions, and should fate not favour him, he would have met with the same consequence as well.

Sometimes, life has a tendency to strike a bitter blow just when we least expect it. Like how it struck the young man and his family.

After breakfast in town, we bought a few kilos of ikan keli and brought it back to the village for fang seng.

Later in the evening I switched on the TVs and there was a local news report and images of men and women tying the knots in a group ceremony in conjunction with the date 10.10.10. People like to take advantage of a date deemed unique and auspicious to finally seal their union in the form of a marriage. Because at the core of their being people like to associate themselves with something special and symbolic, even if its amount to nothing significant when compared to the grand scheme of things.

For true love and a pledge of lifelong devotion to each other come from two loving hearts determined to make their union last, in spite of a special number. But once the love is gone, that special date will only be another number slowly burn into inconsequence in the four-walled prisons of their memories..

Some fang seng photos:

Mid-autumn lone soul

My encounter with a middle-aged Indian man, on the day of moon-cake festival in September, while running errands in KK in a stifling Wednesday afternoon.

He looks at me , and I glance at him,
he’s with his blank expression,
and supposedly untamed heart,
mine, with the curiousity of a child,
hoping to undo all the fibres of his inner being,
to unravel his thought, and mode of thinking,
ragged clothes, frizzy hair,
he’s in his world of his own,
he looks through and beyond,
unmoved by what he’s seen.
because in his ignorance,
nothing is within his grasp,
nothing within his care.

A free-wheeling soul?
Maybe.

I may not walk a mile in his shoes,
yet at this instance as we cross paths,
I notice a sense of forlorn,
and he’s a lone soul in the impending darkness of night,
of wanting to love, be loved,
craving to belong..
yet these desires are too far-fetched,
for him to fulfill..

Tonight way up high in the sky,
a star sits silently besides a Mid- Autumn full moon,
whispering love-deprived loneliness,
to a lone soul spending a chilly night at a little corner of a five foot pavement,
of a dirty old building,
as sleep invites him to the netherworld of not knowing, not seeking,
into a dream of eternal carefree night…

Dead puppies

The day that was : 25 September 2010

My brother Liew koko’s dog Lembu has recently given birth to a group of tiny puppies underneath a discarded old car in front of my brother’s workshop. She guarded her offspring like it was the most priceless possession in the world.

But the next morning koko discovered that one of the puppies was dead hence retrieved the body from underneath the car while Lembu was away perhaps searching for food. My sister and I then buried the dead puppy in a shallow grave in front of my brother’s workshop, after saying a short prayers and a little communication to ask the puppy to let go of attachment to its body and rest in peace.

We could sense that Lembu was a little distressed over the death of her puppy.

We left for a trip back to village that day and when we returned to the workshop the following evening a heavy stinging stench hung in the air. Yet another puppy was found dead.

I asked my younger brother to bury the dead puppy however it was already late evening and drizzling outside and he needed to leave immediately for some official matters hence hurriedly said a prayer over the dead body, then got rid of it somewhere outside the house. I would have preferred a proper burial, but relented somehow , albeit hesitatingly.

Lembu this time was seen outside the gate, ignoring my calling out to her and looking obviously dejected, sitting on the side of the road as if nursing its own depression and grievances on yet another loss of a dear life she called her own.

When I got back home and called my sister I was told that Lembu had just a while ago dugged out the first dead puppy from the shallow grave and carried it around the house compound, emitting an unbearable stench due to the highly decomposing state of the carcass. She wouldn’t release her grip despite the incessant prodding, determined to hold on to the dead body with all her strength.

The following day we did not manage to find Lembu nor her offspring. I think she mistook our interception as a form of violation of privacy, and a threat to the wellbeing of her newborns, therefore decided to move the newborns away to a place where we were never able to locate its whereabout.

Few days later, Lembu was found dead on the roadside and her puppies were never to be found.

My mum had earlier related a story in her younger days of a family dog which after a puppy of hers died had refused to leave the place where its body was buried, not willing to accept the fact that her puppy was now gone, she was determined to protect the offspring with her entire presence, till she died beside the grave due to prolonged hunger and malnutrition..

It’s heart wrenching to see how a dog, just like humans, displays its emotional fragilities when the time comes to part with its loved ones.

Because letting go of our attachments, be it to people matter most to us or even a value possession we hold on to dearly, can never be easy.

Once in a while, we learn a valuable lesson from a little episode in our life, like this.

Dead puppies.

And a grieving mother unwilling to let go..


Burial for a tiny life gone too soon

Dandy weekend

The day that was : 19/09/2010

I spent my Sunday at my brother Liew koko’s place, together with Ah Chai and Chee Bee. Cooking red-rice porridge for lunch. We ate porridge, moon cakes, take-away roti canai and kon lo bee hun , and instant coffees while having a small talk in the kitchen about pokok gaharu, it’s commercial and profit-making potentials, about our neighbor from the village Pakcik Haji Bulat who has luckily escaped death in a road accident before the Hari Raya celebrations , and other worldly matters which fit into the mood of a relaxing and comforting Sunday afternoon.

My need to spend time around family members grows each day with the passage of time. Perhaps it is due to this realization that in their presence you find full acceptance and unconditioned love, and you are comfortable in your own skin to be simply who you are, away from perception and judgement which are so characteristic of us, as we analyse and we perceive from our narrowed point of view then form conclusion and pass damaging and sometimes lopsided judgments on others.

I think our very need to judge is derived from this innate desire to compensate for our own sense of insecurities which in turn drives us to pick and criticise the seemingly perceived weaknesses and shortfall of others, while invincibility and indestructibility egoistically and ostentatiously define us.

Later I engaged in a heart-warming conversation with my younger sister who enlightened me on matters of spirituality, of not holding too tight to your own beliefs but at the appropriate moments to learn to let go, to open up and embrace new ideals, if need be.

Indeed, these little moments of giving and sharing are what I cherish these days.

On my way home, I deliberately made a detour to a nearby mall for a take-away white coffee and doughnut. I like the idea of driving on an empty road in a quiet and serene day like this , listening to some easy-listening numbers over a Chinese radio station in the car. For it’s how I like to spend a Sunday afternoon.

A friend has earlier SMSed inviting me for a shopping spree but I politely declined, I was tired due to the baking heat as well as inadequate sleep the previous night, probably due to my caffeinated state or was it the thoughts of my sister and a small trouble she’s currently having, which kept me awake in the middle of the night?

I was wearing an over-sized old T-shirt and track suit pant with an equally oversized pair of slippers. I must have looked pretty unkempt after the cooking and cleaning and the washing, and in an effort to look a little presentable, I quickly changed into a pair of flats I deliberately kept in the car.

Sometimes, as much as I remind myself that I shall not be falling prey to vanity, my lack of attention in trying to look good means I am very possibly the odd one out amongst the many pretty ladies all dressed to the nines, especially in a place like a trendy shopping mall.

The place was jam-packed with shoppers and cars and with no parking lot in sight I had to double-parked in front of Papa Rich, the café where I intended to purchase my white-coffee, where I placed an order whilst at the same time observed people in the café, all packed with patrons either browsing the menus, eating, talking, or gesturing.

And some were observing me for observing them..

Weekends are the times where you can escape from the hustle and bustle of busy work and the more pressing issues in your personal lives, where you head to your favourite spots to blend with the crowds all with the same intention to forget, unwind and relax and be in an environment where all is well and dandy and worries will temporarily be forgotten, stress and tension will in no time evaporate into the fresh thin air of jolliness and unrestrained exuberance.

I reached home and settled myself on a pvc round stool and laid my purchases on a mini coffee table.

Now my alone time and a feel-good afternoon was made up of this cup of rich and aromatic white coffee and a hearty doughnut.

It just made my day -___-

White coffee & doughnut

A forwarded mail

A forwarded mail from a Venerable tzefu, and its a beautiful story:

洗手間裡的晚宴

女傭住在主人家附近一片破舊平房中的一間。
她是單親母親，獨自帶一個四歲的男孩。
每天她早早幫主人收拾完畢，然後返回自己的家。
主人也曾留她住下，卻總是被她拒絕。因為她是女傭，她非常自卑。
那天主人要請很多客人吃飯，客人們個個光彩照人。
主人對女傭說：「今天您能不能辛苦一點兒晚一些回家？」
「當然可以，不過我兒子見不到我會害怕的。」
「那您把他也帶過來吧。」
女傭急匆匆回家，拉了自己的兒子往主人家趕。
兒子問：「我們要去哪裡？」「帶你參加一個晚宴。」
四歲的兒子並不知道自己的母親是一位傭人。
女傭有些不安，到處都是客人，她的兒子無處可藏。
她不想讓兒子破壞聚會的快樂氣氛。
更不想讓年幼的兒子知道主人和傭人的區別，富有和貧窮的區別。
後來她把兒子關進了主人的洗手間。
主人的豪宅有兩個洗手間，一個主人用，一個客人用。
她看看兒子，指指洗手間裏的馬桶：「這是單獨給你準備的房間，這是一個凳子。」
然後她再指指大理石的洗漱台，「這是一張桌子。」
她從懷裏掏出兩根香腸，放進一個盤子裏：「這是屬於你的。」
母親說，「現在晚宴開始了。」
盤子是從主人的廚房裏拿來的。
香腸是她在回家的路上買的，她已經很久沒有給自己的兒子買過香腸了。
女傭說這些時，努力抑制著淚水。
男孩在貧困中長大，他從沒見過這麼豪華的房子，更沒有見過洗手間。
他不認識抽水馬桶，不認識漂亮的大理石洗漱台。
他聞著洗滌液和香皂的淡淡香氣，幸福得不能自拔。
他坐在地上，將盤子放在馬桶蓋上。
他盯著盤子裏的香腸和麵包，為自己唱起快樂的歌。

晚宴開始的時候，主人突然想起女傭的兒子。
他去廚房問女傭，女傭說她也不知道，也許是跑出去玩了吧。
主人看女傭躲閃著的目光，就在房子裏靜靜地尋找。
終於，他順著歌聲找到了洗手間裏的男孩。
那時男孩正將一塊香腸放進嘴裏。
他楞住了。他問：「你躲在這裏幹什麼？」
男孩說：「我是來這裏參加晚宴的，現在我正在吃晚餐。」
「你知道你是在什麼地方嗎？」
「我當然知道，這是晚宴的主人單獨為我準備的房間。」
「是你媽媽這樣告訴你的吧？」
「是的，其實不用媽媽說，我也知道，晚宴的主人一定會為我準備最好的房間。」
「不過，」男孩指了指盤子裏的香腸，「我希望能有個人陪我吃這些東西。」
主人的鼻子有些發酸，用不著再問，他已經明白了眼前的一切。
他默默走回餐桌前，對所有的客人說：
「對不起，今天我不能陪你們共進晚餐了，我得陪一位特殊的客人。」
然後，他從餐桌上端走兩個盤子。
他來到洗手間的門口，禮貌地敲門。
得到男孩的允許後，他推開門，把兩個盤子放到馬桶蓋上。
他說：「這麼好的房間，當然不能讓你一個人獨享，我們將一起共進晚餐。」
那天他和男孩聊了很多。
他讓男孩堅信，洗手間是整棟房子裏最好的房間。
他們在洗手間裏吃了很多東西，唱了很多歌。
不斷有客人敲門進來，他們向主人和男孩問好，他們遞給男孩美味的蘋果汁和烤成金黃的雞翅。 他們露出誇張和羡慕的表情，後來他們乾脆一起擠到小小的洗手間裏，給男孩唱起了歌。
每個人都很認真，沒有一個人認為這是一場鬧劇。

多年後男孩長大了。
他有了自己的公司，有了兩個洗手間的房子。
他步入上流社會，成為富人。
每年他都要拿出很大一筆錢救助一些窮人，可是他從不舉行捐贈儀式，
更不讓那些窮人知道他的名字。
有朋友問及理由，他說：「我始終記得許多年前，有一天，有一位富人、有很多人，小心地維繫了一個四歲男孩的自尊。」



『稻穗結得越飽滿，越會往下垂，

一個人越有成就，就要越有謙虛的胸襟。』

Reunion and warm embraces

The day that was : 11 September 2010

My parents with twin cousins Apak koko and Ah Lian koko posing in front of the old house in the village, where they come to pay visit on the second day of Raya. Papa especially is happy to see them. Apak koko had spent part of his childhood with us (I was too young to recall his presence) hence memories still hold close to his heart of time spent in his younger days. He reminisces about a road trip where he was thrown off an old jeep and only upon realizing that he was not in the car that our uncle hurriedly turned back to find him sitting unscathed on the roadside, and other near-death experiences; my father on the other hand has recounted vividly stories of his life, of learning `ilmu kebatinan’ from an elderly guru in his youth, and of how, once, after abstaining from killing in his old age (he used to be a hunter), he asked permission to recite a little Buddhist prayer for a dead cow before villagers would start cutting up and dividing its body parts, only to see blood oozing out from all directions of its body, leaving his village friends in stunned amazement unable to digest of what transpired before them. The conversation drags on till late afternoon, where my father, brother Ah Chai and Ah Lian kokos then leave to visit Pakcik Haji Bulat’s Raya open house, while Ah Pak koko continues on with a question-and-answer session on Buddhist teachings and its philosophy with my sister Chee Bee. I, on the other hand find some quiet little moments by myself picking red chillies at the small vegetable plot located outside the house.

Later that evening kokos offer to bring us to Beaufort town to have dinner but my mother insists on cooking for us. A quick and simple meal is served, thereafter the conversation ensues till time to bid farewell, heartwarming embraces are exchanged between my twin kokos and papa, before they depart to their place in KK, a more than two hours’ drive away from the village…

I can detect a sense of contentment on my father’s face later that night, he is happy to have this little reunion with his nephews who are close to him, to rebond and to reminisce old times through which he had accumulated lessons on life, learned and unlearned each with a little trepidation perhaps, to become who he is today.

Earlier on the day he has visited the grave of his grandmother in the Muslim graveyard and was reunited with his younger sister and nieces and their children from Ranau, and nephew from Bongawan. Again warm embraces were lovingly exchanged.

Tonight he goes to sleep knowing deep inside that what he has wholeheartedly and unselfishly given through out this life, is now being generously and amply rewarded..


Cousin's spinkling scented water over my great grandma's grave, while Ah Tong koko looks on.

Papa and 2nd aunt fr.Ranau with her children and grandchildren
Papa and 2nd aunt fr.Ranau
The lady with white scarf is my cousin who is a Muslim convert

Ah Lian koko with Pakcik Bulat and Papa

Brother,Pakcik Bulat and Papa

Raya Open House

The day that was: 10 September 2010

First day of Raya.

People walking about on the road sides, all draped in colourful attires accentuanating the identity of being uniquely and simply Malay : baju kurung, kebaya and baju Melayu in variant colours- pink, red, maroon, blue, light and dark green, yellow, orange and other strikingly happiness-induced colours, making journeys to their respective destinations all in the joyous mood of celebrating the festive occasion. A sense of conviviality is filling the calm and clear morning air as I drive pass the mingling crowds on both road sides to join a cousin for an open house invitation by a Muslim relative.

I do not quite fancy the idea of sitting through a big crowd and making idle talks but once in a while you have to adapt and accommodate. Mengikat tali silatulrahim, they say. The host has been so kind for preparing vegetarian meals for me. New members are added in the household, the daughter Su is remarried to a quite well-to-do man from Brunei and is five months pregnant now.

Uncle Mohammad Nin as how I address him, is a retired government servant from MUIS, who suffered from stroke two years ago, is thankfully recovering well now, however still a bit weak and easily tired.

Things change and people evolve with the passage of time.

But life goes on..

At night I catch a glimpse of news on TV in the living room reporting the `burning of Al-Quran’ issue to commemorate the 9/11 tragedy in the United States. Why? As if the world needs another provocation of this scale to stir further discord among humanity. There’s another disturbing news of a local self made millionaire businesswoman who with three others have been brutally murdered, their bodies burnt to ashes then scattered in a river in the vicinity.

Sometimes, the mind can only process and absorb this much of information of a violence and cruel nature. You don’t know if you can quite decipher the next similar content of event about to be unfolded, without your mind quickly retreat to a shut-down mode. Yes you feel sad and anger at the tragedy of others but you know after a good night sleep, your thought would quickly focus on something new and all the negative emotions somehow manage to crawl to the back of your mind, and because you have to attend to matters of your own, as well as those around you.

But tonight, still fresh from all the get-together and merrymaking where you participated earlier in the day, you feel that the celebratory moods of the festive season seem to have formed a veil over the gloomy and somber ambience due to what have been transpired via the TV screen in the living room, and outside the sense of joy and gratitude brought about by the festivity are in copious supply, and it demonstrates a contagious spread such that it is now influencing your current state of mind.

And it will tomorrow too.


Third aunt, with her mischievous pose, aunt fr.Bongawan, her friend and SiewYang Ko.
A very affable SiewYang Ko (aunt), the host of Raya Open House

A group photo in front of Siew Yang Ko's house

Lau Fu

This old man died a lonely death in an old folk home, in August 2007.

Days ago, I slipped out from the office during working hours and made a trip to the funeral parlour to pay my last respect to a 98-years old man, his name was Lau Fu, who died the previous night in Sri Prichard Home, Kinarut. The charity body which I am in is helping to pay the funeral expenses for his body to be cremated.

More than three years ago, a kind-hearted businessman discovered this old man living alone in a dilapidated small hut near a drain in front of a shop in Lido township. Our charity organization then helped him to apply for admission to the old folk home. He was eventually accepted to the home and I still remember days before Chinese New Year in 2006, we paid a visit to the home to deliver some food items and distributed `Ang Pows’ to the elderly people residing in the home. He was very happy to see our presence and immediately started a conversation with the group of us surrounding him, reminiscing vividly stories of his younger days. I just kept nodding and smiling while he talked even though I did not quite understand his words for he spoke only Cantonese, his speech blurred with heavy Hongkongese accent. But I just wanted to let him know that he got the attention he desired. He came from Hong Kong during his youth and settled down in Sabah, working menial jobs to earn a living until old age rendering him jobless, depending then on hand-outs from the public to sustain his life. I heard that during his younger days he had wasted his savings on gambling, alcohol as well as women however remained single throughout his life. Even though you might think that he deserved this consequence but one would feel too sympathetic with his present condition to want to remember his past misdeeds.

There was a somber mood and gloomy air hanging over the funeral parlour when I entered a small room where his body was being laid. His mouth slightly agape. I thought his complexion was much darker than when he was alive, may be the workers at the parlour did not bother to apply make-up on him. I just stood beside his coffin to offer a prayer, verses from a Heart Sutra, wishing that he would soon find peace, wherever it may be. Compared to the bigger funeral room next door where there were a huge crowd of people of family and friends saying good-bye to their departed one, with hanging lanterns properly lit up and an enlarged photo of the deceased sitting nicely on a table, couple with ceremonial banners bearing eulogy messages and words of praise for the departed and elaborate display of wreaths of all colours forming a long line in the room, this tiny room in contrast, which was a temporary resting place for this old man, was devoid of any decorations befitting the funeral ceremony for the dead, no portrait nor banner with words of eulogy, but only small plateful of food items on display on a small table with few joss sticks sticking out from the incense pot…..

It’s a heart-rending scene, in his late life as in death, loneliness seemed to frequent this elderly man much more often than other men of his age, now I wish that the presence of the few of us from the organization would somehow comfort his departed soul, that he was not left to feel lonely, to think that he had been accorded a proper good-bye for his departure to the next life.

My heartfelt good-bye to you elderly `Lau Fu’. You had lived a ripe old age at 98, but I think this was not the way you had intended your life to be. And if you’d think you had passed through this life alone, let’s me pray that in your next life, you’ll be a better person, you’ll find the love of your life and surrounded by people close to you. Most of all, you’ll discard those old habits of gambling, alcohol and womanizing but instead focusing your attention on your spiritual life, spreading the message of love and peace to the people around you, and when you have come to the end of your journey, you are satisfied to think that you have not wasted a single moment of your life, but lived a fulfilled and meaningful existence compared to your past life. So you bid this earth good-bye, not again in this pathetic state, but with pride and glory you depart this world to enter into another cycle of a more noble rebirth perhaps…

Your death indeed serves as a mirror upon which I must contemplate and reflect the rest of my life’s journey on.. ..

Blind man

Years ago, on a bus trip home, he caught my attention…

In a bus on a cold day,
observing passengers getting on and off,
at every stop,
while outside it’s pouring.

I notice a blind man,
a walking stick in his hands
calmly and melodiously humming along,
to a disturbingly loud Hindu song played in the bus.
He’s lost his vision
but not his joyous spirit for life.

At an undesignated stop,
a school boy gets on,
taking a seat beside him,
his uniform’s completely drenched,
and he’s shivering in cold.

The blind man enquires, gently,
why is he getting soaked to the skin?
with a fatherly concern he says
please get yourself changed,
once you’re home.

From a man who’s been deprived of the faculty of sight,
there is still a little room within him,
to shower kindness and compassion upon others,
for in blindness,
he sees with his heart…




photo by : dmgifford

“A blind man knows he cannot see, and is glad to be led, though it be by a dog; but he that is blind in his understanding, which is the worst blindness of all, believes he sees as the best, and scorns a guide”
-Samuel Butler-

Dana offering

The day that was : 29 August 2010

We were in Tuaran town, participating in Dana offering ceremony to a group of bhikkhus and bhikkhunis, 26 of them, along the five foot ways of Tuaran shophouses on a Sunday morning. Together with brothers Liew koko, Ah Chai and sister. The simple act of kneeling down and respectfully making an offering to this spiritual community of Sangha lining up the pavement to receive your offerings induces such feeling of serenity and gratitude within myself. As I extended my palms, I tried to visualize the tranquil countenance of the Great Buddha sitting in a meditating posture on a lotus seat above, accompanied by Boddhisatvas on both sides while radiating pure white light to His sacred community of ordained as well as lay disciples on the ground, many of whom are eagerly seeking his spiritual guidance and continued blessings to try to lead a pure and enlightened existence in their respective life paths. As I finished giving away the small packets of rice , I joined my palms to whisper prayer for sharing of merits and felt little droplets of tears begin to fill my eyes. It must be tears of gratitude, I think, knowing that at the moment of extending alms I have been truly blessed..

A while later we had our breakfast of mee tuaran and porridge at a nearby kopitiam and as we were contentedly and hurriedly feeding the growling stomachs, an elderly man donning a songkok was seen making his round, begging for a little goodwill from patrons crowding the premises to part with their money but his undignified presence was entirely ignored. He might not possess the glowing light and spiritual attainment as displayed by the community of Sangha, but I could afford him a small amount of dana to enable him to sustain his life, in dignity. Besides, having understood the virtue of giving via Dana offering how could we have the heart to turn down a needy elderly? With a sense of humility, I thus gave him a few ringgits, with the belief that his plight was indeed what he has portrayed himself to be, and that I was helping to lessen the suffering of another human being.

And because in giving, there’s a little part in ourselves that we learn to let go, and that empty part is now being filled with a little richness in spirituality…


Some photos:

A favourite quote

When you are content to be simply yourself and don't compare and compete, everybody will respect you.

-Lao Tzu-

My old trusted Proton Wira

Here she is, my old trusted friend. My first and only car.

My younger sister purchased this way back in 1997, after the accident which tragically claimed the life of my aunt and totally reduced her white Proton Iswara to a pathetic irreparable wreck. She left for Taiwan in 2001 leaving the car hence the responsibility to service the loan repayments to me, where at that time I had just managed to obtain a driving licence (after sitting for the test a second time) and was still experiencing many bitingly nerve wracking moments every time driving on the road.

Nine years on and after an approx. RM25K repayments later, she is still this reliable mode of transport driving me to and from works, grocery shoppings and running errands and the innumerable more- than- two- hours balik kampung trips.
Over the years, I have seen one my close friends changing from one car to another and the very recent being an expensive model, whereas I am still driving around in my aged old grey colour Proton Wira.

Sigh. T___T

To be frank, the sight of her very chic looking metallic black Honda City does increase my materialistic desire to want to get a new car of my own. Yes my very own car (the Wira is still rightfully belong to my sister as it was registered under her name). But having to pay my housing loan is already a big commitment and a new car would definitely be an added burden which I reckon will in no time weigh down heavily on me.

So I try to re-assess the condition of my car:

: Yes the colour has began to show wear and tear especially on certain parts of the rooftop the skin has already peeled off due to the prolonged exposure to the relentless sun at open parking areas.

: Many ugly scratch marks as a result of EITHER those naughty kids who like to loiter around the car park areas at my apartment building during night times, whom having nothing to do might have decided to derive a little `sadomasochistic’ pleasure by creating some scratch marks using God-know-what sharp objects, OR a result of my terrible parking skills (accidentally brushing against the sides of some stationary cars when attempting to park my car)

: time flies and tides ebb, sentient beings grow old and become frail and fragile so does the condition of a car even more so after a good 13 years on the road, loyally rendering its service without fail or interruptions, except on perhaps one or two occasions, even these were due to faults of my own. It has gone through many repair and maintenance works, hurting my pockets by the many thousand ringgits. But still she is resilient and low maintenance (well I guess) for so far not a major service is required.

The boss (aka my brother) at the workshop where I often send my car for service kindly told me that the car does require a major overhaul to replace its engine as it is no longer fuel efficient, besides producing thick black smokes when being driven up a very steep and winding road for a long distance, on her maiden trip to National Park, that is .

I think after all these years, it is high time my trusted Wira be given the much deserved brand new engine, facelift and all.

But amidst all these, she is still my very trusted grey colour old Proton Wira, faithfully rendering her service and making my journey a worry-free and comfortable one.

My safe bubble.

Also for the time being, she’s all that I can afford, the reason I would not settle for more. -___-

And so I have managed to eradicate another craving for worldly possessions. Good for my spiritual well being, I guess. 0__0

A Bodhi plant

A small Bodhi plant sprouting from the corner of my balcony of my apartment. I did notice its presence for quite some time but never knew it was a Bodhi plant until a Venerable tze fu who came to my apartment pointed to me that it looked like a Bodhi tree but she wasn’t too sure then. Another friend later confirmed that it was.

There’s perhaps no significance of any sort to have such a plant in your house. But its mere existence is suffice to bring a little joy for me as a Bodhi tree is a sacred symbol in Buddhism as it was under such a tree that the Buddha became enlightened, and whose great teachings we have seeked and continued to follow to guide us through this life path.

I do cherish the presence of this perceived life-giving Bodhi plant as my sole company during the many solitary moments sitting by myself from inside the metal-grilled balcony looking outside at the very limited expanse of greenery, with the daily characteristic chirpings of birds and crickets as though belting out melodious tunes, to welcome the breaks of dawn and the setting of dusk in this great circle of life…


Bodhi plant outside the balcony



Another outside my bedroom's window

Karma & the sanctity of life

My 81 years old father’s at work picking rambutans, mangosteens & cempedak fruits in the small orchard located a stone’s throw away from my parents’ house in the village. On a Sunday in July’10, I woke up from a mid-day nap and drove to the orchard, chipping in to help with picking and packing the mangosteens and rambutan into plastic bags. This small orchard which once belonged to my elder brother was sold off to a businessman (an Ah Long) from KL who had asked my father to tend the orchard on his behalf, he does not give any pay but instead compensates my father by asking him to sell off the fruits during the fruit season and keep the earnings to himself. This season my father was however cheated by some unscrupulous men who after taking a van-load of mangosteens, paid only a very tiny fraction of what was supposed to be the worth of the fruits in a whole-sale situation; whilst another did not even show up after taking the fruits for sales in tamu ground, promising to pay later. It’s frustrating to think that they have the hearts to cheat an elderly man like that, it must have upset him to see his hard work being paid off with the sheer dishonesty and unhonourable promises of young men, who with their abled bodies and strong physique could well earn money and returns many folds compared to the meager income my father receives, if they labored with a willing heart and sincere efforts. Yet they chose to deceive.

But with karma, hopefully they would one day come to realize that what goes around will surely come around…







Bought four fishes (ikan galak and badus ) from a village friend, one of which has glaringly deep red wound on its head, the other with a little bleeding around its mouth on Sunday’s market in Beaufort town. My sister and I thereafter immediately rushed home in our kancil, with my sister driving whilst I was at the back seat with the plastic bag containing the fishes held loosely, lest a tight hold would suffocate their tiny lives as well as fearing the deep wound so caused on one the fishes would render them unable to make it to the creek located at the back of my parents’ home where we had intended to release them to. The fishes, once freed, immediately swam to oblivion leaving trails of tiny bubbles on top of the water surface, to deep water safe from prying eyes of other predators besides humans, all with vested interest to partake in its fragile lives.

Upholding the principle on the sanctity of life would require us to nurture a sense of utmost respect and sincere appreciation for all life forms, for life is precious and no attempts should be made to endanger nor shorten the lives of our own nor of others, and this includes tiny living things like fish.

Timorese couple and a funeral

The day that was : 5/9/2010

It’s a Sunday in the village. I am just going about some daily chores in the house. A young Timorese woman, her hand pressed tightly on her abdomen, is writhing in pain on the road side, in front of my parents’ house, with her husband holding her to ensure she won’t collapse to the ground. The pair is making their journey back home, with their little son walking ahead of them with a plastic bag containing clothes, every now and then he keeps turning back to check the progress of his parents stumbling on very slowly and painstakingly behind him. For the young woman, even making a small step like this requires monumental effort due to the pain she’s suffering.

My sister and I quickly rush out to the road and upon enquiring, invite the couple to take a rest at the small pondok in front of the house, I provide the woman with a glass of plain water to which she quickly downs in a few gulps. She must be very thirsty. I symphatise with the family’s plight: the woman’s very sick and her face’s grimacing with pain, with her emaciated and extremely fragile frame suggests she needs to seek immediate medical care. There’s moisture in her eyes but I can’t tell as to whether its tears of pain; her Timorese husband looks worried and helpless, their son’s half shaved head revealed some presumably healed marks which I figure he must have suffered from some kind of ailment too. I then ask the husband whether he would like to bring his wife to the hospital but he declines saying they prefer to go back home.

We later learn that the couple are immigrants without proper travel documents hence the reason for them to shun treatments in hospital. We offer to send the family home, a more than five minute’s ride away, in our kancil. At their destination, the parents and the boy alight from our car, the adults with a word of appreciation; the young boy, oblivious to the predicament of his parents, flashes an innocent smile and gleefully waves us goodbye, perhaps happy at the thought of the canned drinks,cakes and a packet of sweets in the plastic bag he carries, which we earlier gave him.

As we drive back, I can’t help thinking about the grim prospect for the young woman, and the uncertain future lying ahead for the immigrant family. But the young kid is being temporarily sheltered from the harsh reality of life. He can burrow under the cover basking in blissful moments of having a slice of cake, a drink and some sweets which for a child is what moments of happiness are made of…. Life resumes to normalcy in our household after that, but in another place just minutes’ drive away, a husband is in agony contemplating his partner’s possible life-threatening illness, the persistent fear of being caught by the authority and a dire need to bring enough money home to make life a more palatable existence than what it really is now…

In the evening, while following my brother back to KK, I set myself in a contemplative mood pondering about other people’s worldly problems, about the young Timorese couple and their son, and my own destiny. At some point and under the drizzling rain, I see many cars parked along the roadside as well as in an open area; a small group of people congregating on top of a hill accommodating a Muslim cemetery, taking shelter under a makeshift tent. A funeral ceremony is taking place for someone who has just breathed his/her last breath on earth. As if seeking confirmation, I mention to my brother that when a muslim dies, his/her remains must be buried on the same day, to which he replies in the affirmative, adding that for relatives staying abroad they might not be able to say their last good-bye to their loved ones due to the urgency of the funeral, which is quite unfortunate.

I wonder if the person was old and grey hence his/her passing was inevitable, or he/she had suffered miserably before death, or met a terrible accident hence gone before his/her time? I wonder if his/her passing would be deeply mourned by loved ones, and if his/her dependants would lose directions in life now that the breadwinner is gone, or if there were members in the congregation who’d think that his/her passing in the holy month of Ramadan was a blessing for the departed? And that his/her soul would surely be placed `di tempat orang-orang yang beriman dan soleh/solehah’ ?

If the Messenger of Death had been merciful and resolved to wait a little longer, the deceased would have been able to celebrate Hari Raya Puasa which is merely days away, hence be able to indulge in a little merrymaking with his/her loved ones, as a way to cherish his/her final moments on earth before leaving…

Earlier in the day, my elderly father has related to us about a young Bruneian couple who had just been engaged, who were killed in a road accident in front of a kedai borong, a place where we always frequent, near Beaurfort. The woman perished on the spot while the man died on the way to hospital.

`kesian’ my father said. I know my father. He is a strong man and has seen and gone through so much in his life. Sometimes he speaks with hard won wisdom in his eyes. Yet there’s a certain emotional vulnerability about him which makes him easily affected by what has transpired in and around him. And I wonder if my father was also comtemplating his time on earth when commiserating the tragedy befalling the young couple, gone way before their time..

It’s still drizzling as we near KK. I like to think of the drizzles as a blessing from heaven, for the living as well as the departed..

As I finish writing, I silently make a wish that may the young Timorese woman be fully recovered from her pain, and she is able to cook a decent meal for the family tonight, that there’s laughter as they partake in the food being laid on the table, knowing that however hard life is for them, there are times when worry can be temporarily laid aside, and to simply indulge in little moments of well-being and togetherness like this…

Random photos

14/07/07 :Venerable Liao Kung tze fu reciting some prayers for my brothers during the taking of refuge ceremony in Poh Toh Tze temple.


14/07/2007 :Venerable Liao Kung tze fu from Taiwan giving a talk after presiding over a simple `taking of refuge’ ceremony to a small group of devotees, including my brothers. A very wise and respectable tze fu who has attained a high level of spirituality in Buddhism. I really admire and have high regard for him. I remember going to see him by myself many years ago in Poh Toh Tze temple after so requested by my sister and also to send some packages to her via one of his disciples. I was timid in appearance (he must have noticed) and a little apprehensive for it was the first time I personally approached a venerable tze fu of his stature. He smiled warmly after I introduced myself, in a bid to ease my anxiety perhaps. Not knowing what else to say I asked what kind of Sutras should I recite as a daily practice. `Heart Sutra’ was his light-hearted yet reassuringly reply.


A pair of lovey-dovey white geese loitering on the house compound. They moved around in pair, almost inseparable, making this hissing n honking noise every time at the slightest sound or the sight of moving things, like the intrusion of snake at the house compound or visiting friends. You have to see to believe that they could interact with humans . At one time when my sister was reciting some prayers at a nearby vegetable plot, one of them just stood by her, silently and attentively for not a move made for about 15 mins or so until she finished with the verses. But both died under tragic circumstances, one due to a festered wound, the other a fatal bite by a snake. My father found its body and severed neck the next morning T__T

At a moment's notice

16 August 2010

On my way home from work.

A car, barely inches behind me abruptly screeches to a complete halt, and the driver seems to be muttering discontentedly and furiously honking his horn to vent out his frustration at me for indicating a signal before making a u-turn at a mere moment’s notice. I think he’d let out a curse. Guilt couple with heavy self-reprimand and a sigh of relief seeps through my being for managing to evade a possible mishap the fault and blame of which would be entirely mine to swallow.

Traffic is ironically easy on a Monday evening, I reach the apartment building, park my car at the garage, get out from the car and try to manually pull up a stuck power window at the front passenger seat at which point a security guard approaches and seeing my situation, immediately lends a helping hand.

Sometimes, just as we think we are hovering on the brink of moral decay of civilisation, blaming the perceived slow death of chivalry and we constantly tell ourselves to adapt our lives to this new changing condition, a little help come our way even at times when we least expect it, with this we have to quietly renew our faith and alter our point of view again…

The surroundings you are in now present a vast contrast to the four-wall partitioned workplace where a lone computer is your only loyal companion. But here it’s so actively buzzing with life – a neighbour is seen busily engaged in some painting work to give his place a new colour; kids playing games near the staircase, with birds characteristically and unfailingly churning out melodious sound together with the ever soothing and gentle evening breeze blowing a little awareness into your head, simultaneously adding doses of freshness and liveliness to the environment, you feel as if your spirit is being uplifted and a sense of belonging washes over you as you casually maneuver your steps to reach to the first floor of your apartment.

Despite the monotony and tediousness of a day spent at work, you think it’ s all worth it when at the end of the day, you get back home and in this instant being rejunevated and refreshed by all that is being laid before you.

At a moment’s notice, a little oasis of tranquility forms in your mind, permeating all over this temporarily disorganized space in your life, and the weariness is slowly and decisively fading away…

She’s lost in the hazy swirls of cigarette smoke, but she’s not slipping away

I called up my 70 years old aunt to enquire just how she was doing. Life’s not treating her good lately. With her father just passed away and her only daughter diagnosed with kidney ailment and needs to undergo operation, she’s been extremely busy travelling to and from her residence to her daughter’s place just to take care of her as well as the grand daughters while the son-in-law out working. It’s even more difficult when she herself, a survivor of stomach cancer years ago, needs to deal with her own ailing physical self.

But she has that strong fighting spirit to make things work. To maneuver around the many seemingly insurmountable obstacles , one by one, which I very much admire.

I told her to take good care of herself amidst all the chaos be it physical toils and emotional turmoil that she needs to deal with, that she really should not take things too hard on herself. In her tiring voice she said in Hokkien that she tried to loosen up but every now and then this nagging worry about the condition of her daughter keep coming back, however hard she tried to push it to the fringes of her mind. I am confused, she said.

There’s somehow a tinge of resignation in her voice. `Si ani quan liao, kang kor ma si ai ke, senang ma si ai ke’.

Literally means you need to go through this life with whatever conditions LIFE dictates it wants to allocate you with, be it happy events or traumatic episodes that will shear your mental state to shreds, like a sword driving through you heart creating a deep gash along the way, such agonizing pain yet you need to deal with it, such heart-breaking emotional trauma yet you need to learn to get over it.

For how else to win these battles BUT through sheer gut and steely determination?

My aunt will know how to get around and learn to deal and get over it, just like how she comes out strong every time with whatever condition LIFE has resolvedly wanted to throw a challenge upon her, and she would in no time go back to her normal self likes there’s not a single care in the world, sitting in her favourite corner of the house, nonchalantly puffing a cigarette after a hard work day, away from the noises and the pestering and hollering of her attention deficit hyperactivity disorder grandson who is such a handful for her and whose antics can become way too much to bear at times, where she slowly letting herself loose to immerse in her own make-believe world and all is just fine and quiet and soothing, and she finds herself the many a time elusive unadulterated peace, where she so ever craves and deserves..

And she is not slipping away…

Happy is

1. When after a hard day at work, I drive back home and make a detour to a nearby mall to tapau my favourite food and drink, like white coffee or teh-c or a piece of cake.

2. Someone gives me a nice massage to ease my sore back, a result of sitting and staring too long at the computer. Bean counting.

My sister once promised to give me a massage when she was back from Taiwan for 10 sessions if I helped her pay for the cost of her contact lenses. I did but she failed at upholding her promises. She was so caught up in meeting up with relatives and friends and ended up coming back home exhausted herself.

3. Going back to village to visit my parents and bring back some of their favourite food: dim-sum, kon lo mee , yu cha kwai etc etc, or simply engaging them in a little chit-chat. It makes me happy to see that they are doing well, and happy.

4. Once in a blue moon, good friends bring me out for yum cha. It’s been so much less frequent now as I am now entering this middle-age phase. The fact that my married friends are mostly occupied. Its only natural I know . And I shouldn’t be complaining. But still…

Sigh.

5. When I join my Tze-chi friends for some charitable activities and happy knowing I am contributing a little to help and thereafter a yum cha at some coffee shop where everyone is always in a jovial mood and happily relating their stories either about someone’s life or just theirs. Or a little entertaining juicy gossips here and there. I am just oh this faithful listener.

6. I am all by myself driving on a quiet road and the weather is fine with clear blue sky and rolling white clouds and I am listening to songs on the car radio and happily humming along to it. Self-consciousness is thrown to the wind despite my very obvious lack of talent because I am by my own and no one is listening 0__o



7. When surrounded by all the people I love and care about..

8. When someone sends me a card. Be it for birthdays, festive seasons, sisterly love or simply a `missing you’ card, an indication that there’s always someone out there who’s thinking of and care about me, and I am not alone after all.

Just these simple things in life , to once in a while get me out of the doldrums of daily mundane worldly tasks, like work, to lift up my spirit, and make me happy.
-__-