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