The Past time, the now moment.

I stand by myself under the car park watching as the children in white shirts and green slacks running around the compound. I stand here with my arms crossed. I turn behind, I look at the canteen, I imagine those days of sitting at the long tables, lining up at the counter shouting;

"Mak cik, nasi seringgit, tambah ayam!"

It has been over so many years since I last set foot in this place. The last time I set foot here, was the day that I attained my final official government exam, Malaysia's O-level-cum-SPM. Since then I never returned here. When I entered the school grounds this morning, I was instantly shot aback, hardly anything changed. The old school 'terminal' was still the same. The broken mock cannon still aiming at the neighbouring school, the now painted gold 12-feet keris and the orange door that leads to the prefect's port.

I walk towards the canteen. As I enter, I feel hundred of pairs of eyes looking at me. Have they never seen a man before? I walked casually and took a seat at the last table. I sit there, I stare at the "Siti Faridah" signboard. The school canteen hardly changed; the sink is new, there are fans now, but the rest is still the same. I look at a group of boys, walking from class, in their hand holding tightly STPM Organic Chemistry, another was holding Mathematics T. Ah, Form 6, so brave of them to take it up.

I look at my watch. I lean back into the chair, I see a group of blue dressed students walking in my direction. The forward one's face was full of spirit and determination, he was tall and he looked like a leader, my eyes meet his eyes, I instantly give a nod. "Prefects", I whisper to myself. This brings back memories.

I here a voice from the back, "Dad!", she hugged me so tightly. I kiss her on her cheek.

"You are early, dad. Where's mom?"

"She went to see Cikgu Hanifah" I say as I brush her hair.

"Oh, well Dad suppose you have met, Jennifer, Nia Hui, Mariamanthi and of course Eugene".

"How can I forgot your friends?", I thrust my right forward towards Eugene, he held it tight and firm. I shook it, if you are going to date my daughter you sure must be a man, I said to myself.

I tell my daughter that I am early because her mom and I had some errands to do, so we came early. She went back with her friends.

I then walked towards the teachers room, I cross the principal's office, I remember the days when I forbid other students from walking here. I entered the staff room. It was the same. Only the teachers were different, none that taught me are here now. My eyes started to warm up.

It is now 12.30pm. The school hall was now open, I stand outside the hall with other men, all fathers, some are teachers. I see my beautiful wife in the hall, waiting anxiously to get this over with. As I stare at her, I remember that in this very school that I had met her, fell in love with her, and finally marry her. In this very school, that I had my first crush and my first heartbreak. My first political ambition and my first sovereign power. I had numerous enemies and had a handful of trustful friends.

I continue to talk with the other men, when suddenly I saw a brown file in front of my face.

"She got 5A+ and 3As, two B's!" my wife said.

"That was my results too, only thing I got an A+ for English only" I say it, followed with a smile.

I shake hands with the other four men I am with, and wave goodbye. We walked towards our car and get in it. "Where's is she? Isn't she coming with us?"

A soft strike hit my head, "Oh come on, didn't you know that she has this so called 'motivation' after this?"

I nod.

We drive towards the gate, I wave goodbye to the guard, as we pass the keris, the cannons, and the 'terminal'. We drove out passing the glorious words of "Sentiasa Maju".

SPM BK:Bible Knowledge

One of the rarest subject out there, it is on the brink of being demolished. Yet this is a beautiful subject. One of the very few subjects that touches the field of religion. No other religion except Islam's (and its sister subjects) have a SPM paper to be sited for.
One of the rarest subject out there, it is on the brink of being demolished. Yet this is a beautiful subject. One of the very few subjects that touches the field of religion. No other religion except Islam's (and its sister subjects) have a SPM paper to be sited for.

This Bible Knowledge has a syllabus like any ordinary SPM subject out there. It cover two books of the Bible's New Testament. Namely

• The Gospel according to St. Luke
• The Acts of the Apostles

The primary aim of this subject is to promote the fundamental knowledge of the Christian Church. This subject is not confined only to Christians but open to everyone. Sadly though, no other than Christians have taken it. Every year the number of candidates seem to be dropping! This is a catastrophe. Yes, this subject is rather hard, but it is easy if you understand and remember it well. Similar to Sejarah.

Talking about Sejarah, the paper is very similar to Sejarah Kertas II. Yup, very similar. Section A has 8 questions, context; and Section B essays, choose 4 out of 8. That's all!

(top) This is the Acts of The Apostles, the Catholic Version

(below) This version is the Christian's version, it is very highly detailed

Both have the same content. Yes, the Bible is such a thick book, so why only Luke's Gospel and The Acts?

Well, because these books provide the early ministry of Lord Jesus. It shows His teachings and his journey until his crucifixion. The Acts shows the expansion of the Early Church, from the journey of Peter and Paul. Both books resemble the infant days of the church, and the significance it has now on the world.

It is a wonderful subject, yes many tertiary education centers do not recognize this subject, and that is very sad. This is a wonderful subject and it should not be omitted from the list of SPM electives.

Say what? Gibberish.

Ok yeah, you didn't come, so?

It was clear that you stood me up.

How many dictionaries had you read?

Oh come on! You relax by studying more!

Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?

I hate you because, well I just hate you! You think you're smart, no you're pulun

Ok now that hurts

My parents are the BEST! Love them so!

Lord thanks!

Hey, you're fat!

Yeah I know.

Live on people!

This is My Malaysia

"What race are you?"

"Malaysian"

A blank face on their face.

What is wrong? Can't I say that I'm a Malaysian rather to say "I'm a Eurasian"? Well, it is better to say that I am a Malaysian. Yes, I believe in Malaysian Malaysia, Muhibbah, Malaysia for Peace and yes even the 1Malaysia concept. Nothing wrong, no animosity, no harm, right?

The harm only comes when we want it to happen.

Where do we live? In a plural society.

Who do we live with? With peoples of course; people of diversity.

What do we eat? Food...

Breath? Air...

I am proud to be a Malaysian, I am proud that we have a multitude of races. But I am not proud at all, and yes honestly speaking- if you can't take it, turn away; of the tension between us. The damn hard friction between the various races. The boiling hatred when we see others of different skin colours. Is this what we want? This hardened situation for many years to come?

We had the past wars, repeating it would be really stupid. Yeah, I'm frank. We cannot and should not afford to be fighting against each other, having such anger or fear against each other. No, I'm not naive, I just see a Malaysia where tension between races is only a minor problem. I don't persist that there would be a rough road but why not make the path as smooth as possible?

Is this what we want for our land?

Or I am just being to patriotic?

This is My Malaysia. I believe in unity, I believe in love, I believe that there will be tough times but I also believe that there will be solutions. I have nothing against anyone, it is just that the times now, the 'controlled' situation and the common mentality that makes that hard tension between all of us.

This is my country, and I see it as a world..a world like no other worlds out there.

Go ahead call me naive.

The Final word.

He sat there on the brown armchair, staring outside the 7-feet window. He stared at the towering skyscrapers, watching the blazing afternoonsun. He slowly stretched his right arm towards the coffee table on his right, he took his mug, sipped the coffee out of it, he put it back. As he lost his consciousness to the setting sun, his eyes slowly teared, he wiped it away. He gave a soft sigh, his eyelids were getting heavier, he mumbled something; it sounded like "Thank you". He closed his eyes.

***********************

"How was it?" asked Malim. "It was great, I can't believe they actually had it there" replied Robert. Both of them walked out of the bookstore. The mall was awfully crowded this weekend, it’s a long weekend, because Merdeka was on Tuesday, and Monday was being replaced. The floors of the mall, were crowded by teenagers clutching their iPods, lovers clinging to each other, families sticking to together and some elderly carefully counting every step as they walked.

Malim smiled broadly, he is just excited because he had attained his long awaited book about Hitler's hobbies. You see, Malim had a rare passion of war, especially WWII and the French revolutionary war. He walked with best mate, Robert, Robert then walked with Denise. The three of them scurried through the jam-packed lanes.

Parwin tapped his fingers on the table impatiently, he eyes scanned over the immense of people. His eyes caught Robert's, he instantly waved it high. "Where were you guys!?" cried Parwin, "I was sitting here for half-an hour already". "We were held up, sorry, anyway thanks for holding our sit, you said, you didn't want to join us." replied Malim.

Lady Antebellum's Need you now, played suddenly, Robert took out his phone and answered it. His face grew pale.

******************************************************************

Marie was hurrying through the hallways, she stumbled her way through nurse's office, dashed through the blood bank and now was walking with pace to Lab 12, the double-door lab stared at her face, she was getting closer to it, she banged it open.

"Ah, yes, Miss Taylor, I mean Mrs. Sherrod, finally you're here, now we can begin" said Dr. Burhannudin calmly. He told the students to take their sits, he walked over to Marie, whispered to her "They are all yours."

Marie Taylor-Sherrod was a microbiologist, the words Malayan University of Health and Science lingered largely over her head. "All right class, I see Dr. Din have already given you a short briefing on this med school and I suppose, about me too?". The class of 18 stared at her attentively, their faces all full of determination, all future doctors.

Marie continued her speech, she gave a basic introduction on microorganism, their relative discovery and their effect on humankind. She continues talking, while walking up and down the lab-cum-classroom, occasionally asking each students to introduced themselves.

As she was withdrawing out her Pilot Wyteboard Marker, she felt her Nokia vibrating in her pocket. "Excuse me, I've got to take this" she said to her class.

"Yeah, what's up?". These words left her mouth, then suddenly she gasped in shock.

Michael James Taylor, slowly walked his way down the stairs. It was 6.15, he was still in his pyjamas. He walked slowly, hunching a little, towards the kitchen, open the cabinet and took out the bottle of Necafe gold. He poured some of the powder in to his mug: World’s Greatest Grand Dad!. He simmered the coffee for awhile. He took it and laid it on the coffee table and his brown armchair facing the outside world.

The two-storey penthouse was occupied by 5 people. Three generations of the Taylors stayed in this modern 13-million dollar penthouse. Michael, opened the front door, and took the elevator down. The doors slide open, he stepped out it in his black rubber slippers, “Morning, uncle!” shouted Rajvish, the door man. Michael waved at him and walked over to him, resting his arm on the marble counter-top, Rajvish handed to Michael, the daily paper of the Times. Michael, and Rajvish started a conversation, and on this morning it was about last night’s riot in Bangkok over the news.

Marie came down from stairs, “Can’t this old man, ever use a coaster?” She walked into the kitchen, her eyes widened, her dad left the sugar bottle out from the rack. She grumbled to herself, she looked at her watch, 6.57. She was all ready dressed to meet her new batch of students at her med school. She made herself a cup of Nesvita, she walked over to the dining table, she switched on her MacBook, and put on her reading glasses. Tip, tap, tip, tap, her fingers went over the keyboard.

It is now 7, Robert came down, all dressed in a polo t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and a yellow-brown knapsack. Tucked out, he went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a readymade sandwiched from the fridge. He walked over to the living room, threw his bag on the couch and slumped in the opposite couch.

The front door opened, Michael came in, “Morning son. How are you today?” “I’m ok grandpa, you know right, I’m out today, I’ll go to the park with you next week, ok?”. Michael, sighed and softly said to Robert, that he understood.

He went, to the dining room, “Good morning princess”. “Dad, how many times, do I have to tell you to keep the sugar back in the rack? And what were you thinking last night, throwing away, those papers? I needed them, now I have to re-print them, and arrange them all over again with this file!”shouted Marie. Michael knew, that he annoyed his daughter, who asked her to put her papers on that pile of old newspapers?

The phone rang, the clock on the wall showed 7.35. Michael picked it up.

“Hey, dad! Please tell Marie that I won’t be coming home tomorrow, I’ll only come back on Wednesday, it seems the deal can’t be made because of the holidays. Hey, sorry that means I can’t take you out this Tuesday for the Merdeka show, huh, maybe next year?” said the voice on the other end.

Michael understood. His son-in-law was a good man, almost too good, he thought, always finding ways to fill their needs. Never home, always its work, oh well, the life of a chartered accountant. Michael then grabbed the copy of Discovery and his Times and went to his brown armchair.

Patricia opened the front door of the penthouse, she walked in. She looked at the clock on the wall, it was 1.26 pm. She was tired, she looked drained, she creeped in the house. She walked slowly in, “Patricia, is that you?” A voice of an elderly man said. “Yes grandpa, what do you want?” asked Patricia to Michael, she walked over to him. He looked wearily at her, and forced a smile. “You know what I’m tired, and I need to rest, I know what you said last night and I don’t need a lecture from you!” She stomped off to her room.

An hour later, she came out of the room, realizing what she said to her granddad was wrong, she walked over to him. She touched his hand, it was warm but the warmth was gone. She looked at him, his chest wasn’t moving, he was still. “Grandpa?” She taped his arm, gave it a little more jerk, no response. Tears rolled down her eyes, she jumped up from the footstool she was on, took out her phone, dialed her mom Marie, she almost broke down as she was speaking.

“Mom….mom, I th…thi….think grandpa is gone”

Robert stood there looking at the brown arm chair, it was now empty. Then something caught his eye, there was this hand written letter under the Times. He took it, he read it in his heart;

“I know, I haven’t been the best man I could in your lives. I am sorry for the things I have done, I know I am old-fashioned, but I want what is best for this family. I love you all. You all gave me the love I needed. I am sorry if I couldn’t return it. I thank you all.

To my lovely princess, to her knight and to my grandchildren”

Robert sat down on the floor, he started crying. Marie came to his side along with Patricia, the three of them sat together. Gregory Sherrod, too sat with them. This is a moment where the family was together.

Remember, always live for the moment and love everyone, because we will never know when the ones we love will be taken away from us. Appreciate our time, love each other, respect the ones who hate us, care for the ones who abandon us and always show gratitude to the ones who make our day.

20 August 2010

You celebrated your 60th Birthday with your form 5 classmates.

Here is another class essay.

Christopher was awkwardly quiet this time. Usually he was always making conversations about his law firm or about his misbehaving 4-year old son. Even Lily was silent. These kids creeped me. Usually Lily was always singing aloud or maybe even talking about how new ol fields were being found. I sat in the back seat, thinking to myself, I lead a good life, I am 60 tomorrow and I am smiling to myself, a life well spent.

We approached the Veranda Complex a majestic mansion, built over a hundred years ago by the British imperialists. My children were taking me out for lunch, we were to meet their mother, Amanda there. Strangely the gardens of the mansion were quiet, usually it was filled with people, all dressed formally, talking, gossiping and drinking tea. All the snobs. Ironically I was becoming one.

We got out of the car. My son, handed to me my cane, I took it from his archery-saw hand. I looked into his eyes, I saw the eyes of endurance and determination of a young man. I slowly got out of the car; falling off the stairs would not give good results! My daughter led me to the entrance. We walked into the refurnished mansion, there I was, Amanda. Hair white with strands of grey hair, thick half-inch glasses and still elegant just like the 37 years ago. “Bernard, why so down?”, “Where is everyone?”

“Come”.

She led me through the lobby, then we entered the dining hall. It was quiet. The four of us sat at the long table. I at the head. Then suddenly a string quartet came out on the stage and suddenly started playing. Christopher and Lily stood up. Then out of the blue, a group of similar aged people as me was flooding the entire eating hall. My eyes widened, “By good grace! Sharves, Aziz, Jia Sek , and is that Ruth?”

I was dumbfounded, these people were my classmates. We spent our last year in school together. I looked at Amanda:

“Did you do this?”

“Yes, this is for you honey,” she gave a peck on my cheek.

Vasukumar, came up to me, and shook my hand. He smiled, that crooked teeth of his, just as it was 43 years ago. He took the stage and did a toast;

“Friends, here we are together, all once again united, probably for the last time. I thank everyone of you for pulling this off party off. Bernard, we all are here, to celebrate your 60^th birthday to my dear friend, my brother, Happy Birthday!”

There was a loud applause, I found myself speechless. My eyes teared, there were all my friends, it was 2010 when we were in class, all together. This class was superbly special we had all kinds of people in that class, from all walks of life and all kinds of ethnics.

Flashbacks raced through my mind, I remembered, I used to hate that class. Then over the months, we bonded together, I remembered the times when Khairi brought his acoustic guitar during Mr. Shek Kim’s calculus class and also Mrs. Thomas’s physics class and always received a long lecture thereafter.

Suddenly,I was at the other end of the room, laughing my heart out, with my old buddies. The string quartet, still playing in the background, I could see Lily and her friends whose parents were my mates. I saw Amanda, in her white gown talking to my high-school crush- Ruth. I excused myself and went to sit at an empty table. The 64-people filled hall was drowned with laughter, jokes, tears, hugs and sweet reminiscence.

I was sipping my unsweetened lemonade, then all of a sudden I felt a sharp stab in my chest. My hand was clenching my chest. The world spun round, my sight now saw legs, then funny rainbow colours. Then blackness.

“Clear the way!” The E.R. doctor pushed his way through the halls of the hospital. Amanda grabbed Bernard’s hand, walking with pace with the wheeled stretcher, they barged the E.R. room, they performed CPR on the lifeless body, connected wires to it, switched on the CRO, after minutes, that felt like forever, Amanda spotted a little beep on the machine. “He’s safe ma’am, he’ll live” said the doctor.

My eyes were heavy, I forced it open, all around me were balloons. The morning sun shone warmly through the window.

“He is awake!”, the voice sounded like Christopher’s

The room was now packed with people. The doctor came in, “Stay clear, he just had a cardiac arrest, Mr. McGrace you are lucky to survive,”. So I had a heart attack, whoa. There’s a real gift!

“I am 60! Nice, here I am 60 years old in bed right after my first cardiac arrest”. I laid there restless, but strangely talking again with my old 5 Science 2 class. The day went on, we enjoyed ourselves, by my side the entire time my family.

So this is my 60^th birthday.

Vanity in Men (and Women)

Men say Women are vain.

Women say Men are vain.

I say both are correct.

Men, look at them always combing their hair, so concerned about their goatee, frequently adjusting their pants.

Women, look at them always puffing her lips, so focused on her dress, the worst about their figure.

The question is why, are men and women so vain? People are, who isn't vain? Everyone wants to look good, it's animal instinct, the men wants to attract the women, the women wants to strut her beauty. It is nature's work.

The next time you comb yourself in public, go the restroom to 'freshen' up, and to arrange that tie or scarf, think of it, that vanity is part in everyone's life.

Reason I am writing this: the guys in my class always adjusting their shirt, from their pants, there is this one guy who sharpens his sideburns to be sharper then a needle head. Then, there is this girl, who spent almost 1\2 hour, in the bathroom; combing hair.