SHE CALLS ME...  

Posted by Chon On Blog





“THE SEA that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark.

For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.

Fain would I take with me that is here. But how shall I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that gave it wings. Alone it must seek the ether.

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun…”


That is what I have to do now. A tough decision indeed but it is something I must come to myself. Alone, I shall have to choose the path through which I shall take my dependents to a new beginning in an unknown world.

QOTH (my better half) and I have thought about it, visualized it in our minds, dreamed of it and talked about it ever so often. Perhaps, the time has come for us to put our plan into action..to walk the talk, if you will.

That long walk will have to begin with this first step. I alone must put my best foot forward and clear the trail leading to the new world. The first step is to quit my job of 27 years, during which I climbed the ladder of success and reached a position thought unattainable, considering my academic background.

And, considering that I’m not getting any younger – knocking on 48, if you must know - and while the strength is still willing, I must execute our plan, and not to idle even for just a wink for I believe that it’ll remain just that, a plan, when I cross the big 50.

Now that the sea is calling, I must embark. I must take the first step, to leave this comfort zone and explore the unknown, which I earnestly pray promises a better life for us…where the grass is greener, the sun is brighter and the night sky sprinkled with stars.

I guess once the first step is taken, I would leave the secured fortress I am in now and upon reaching the foot of the hill, I should find my ship already in the harbour.



“How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward, and then I shall stand among them, a seafarer among seafarers.

And you, vast sea, who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,
Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade,
And then I shall come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean…"



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OUR CHILDREN ARE NOT OUR CHILDREN  

Posted by Chon On Blog




I'm in the mood to share this morning....


“ OUR CHILDREN are not our children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself…
They come through us but not from us.
And though they are with us yet they belong not to us.

We may give them our love but not our thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.

We may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which we cannot visit, not even in our dreams.

We may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like us.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

We are the bows from which our children as living arrows are sent forth.
The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends us with His might that the arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrows that fly, so He loves also the bows that are stable…..”

…The Poet



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BRAIN DRAIN = BRAIN DEAD  

Posted by Chon On Blog




Please help me understand…

Why is it that when GLCs' top officials get hefty pay raise - one today received a huge sum - they deserved it? Their salaries must be adjusted upwards or else…brain drain, or something, so said a wise man. Those foreign companies would gleefully employ them and offer fatter salaries. These bigshots would take up the offers, wouldn’t they?

Okay… but I still don’t get it. Am I right to say that these “terrer merrer” bigwigs at GLCs, which in turn are owned by Khazanah, which in turn is owned by the government, whose members are put there by the rakyat, whom the government is asking to be thrifty in their spendings because of soaring costs in everything, which would soon include higher energy tariff imposed by one GLC which is headed by the CEO who had gotten the handsome raise, are to be spared the hardship which we, the 98 percent other Malaysians, are suffering from?

Didn't we put them there to solve our problems, to look after our wellbeing and not the other way round? Isn't that how it is supposed to work or is it me not comprehending the concept of the government by the people, for the people?

Why is that when the lowly paid employees ask for an upward revision of their salaries or some forms of allowances to tide them over this difficult period, they are instead told to adjust to the situation, change their lifestyles …. save, save, save, cut, cut,cut, save, save, save somemore ….. ?

What to save, what else to cut? With the salary I’m earning now, and the kind of lifestyle this family is leading, to change means to move out from this house to squat somewhere, one meal a day, six of us riding a motorcycle all at once to school and work … like that one ah!!? Our belts are already tightened to the maximum. Another notch, we would be no better than those displaced souls in Dafur.

Hey..on the bright side, I can now take my kids somewhere expensive. The petrol station. Yeah!!

Seriously, know of a shop still selling sundries at pre-fuel-hike prices, anyone? Let me know quickly before my brain goes dead…




4 comments

MISSING PAK ON FATHER'S DAY  

Posted by Chon On Blog






I woke up this morning to hugs and kisses from my youngest son, Alif, wishing me a “Happy Father’s Day”. He snuggled up to me for a while longer and upon realizing that the girls were already up and about, left me to remind them of this special day.


One by one, my two daughters came to the bedroom door with their greetings. Patpat was under the weather... hasn’t been for the past couple of days, down with cold and mild asthma attack.


I was already wide awake long before Alif threw his arms around me in bed. I was lying on my side, gazing out the bedroom window. I was reflecting upon myself as a father, dad, ayah, papa………to my four lovely children. Wondering what kind of father I have been to my children, and whether I am living up to their expectations, my own expectations, and everyone else’s expectations of a father.


I was also thinking about my father and how much I miss him since he passed away 34 years ago. I remember him as a firm but fair person. A strict disciplinarian yet a kind father. Accommodating yet a no-nonsense kind of father. Most of all, I remember him as a man who put his family first before anything else.


I remember how difficult it was growing up in a family of eleven siblings, 4 girls, 7 boys, each one two years different in age. Different in character and personality. It must have been hard for Pak to raise us on his meager income as a meter reader at the Waterworks Department in Alor Setar.


There are so many things to remember about Pak but I choose to keep with me many lessons of life that I have learnt from him. About being humble, taking pride in oneself, the importance of education and the bond of kinship. I remember his love showered in his silent way, unheard but felt. Like when I was sick while on holiday at my grandfather’s home in Sungai Tiang. I had gone there with my younger brother to help grandfather tend to his vegetable plot. We toiled the soil and picked ripe watermelons under the blazing sun.


At dawn I would follow my uncle, a rubber tapper, to his plantation. That was my routine over a few days until one morning I woke up with a high fever… my body burning, head throbbing. It was terrible for an eight year old.


Someone must have informed my father for in the afternoon he came in an office Land Rover. I was lying near the door of grandfather’s house… just a hut with wooden planks for floor, bamboo for walls and palm leaves for roof… when I saw the vehicle pulled up across the stream at the fringe of the vegetable plot. Pak had come to take me home. After he and the driver had had coffee with my grandfather and grandmother, Pak bundled me in a blanket, carried me in his arms and took me to the Land Rover. The driver carried our bags, walking behind my father with my younger brother in tow.


I sat in front with Pak all the way home and throughout that journey, he didn’t talk much. He just wrapped his right arm around me to keep me warm and occasionally, wiped the sweat on my face. How I wish that moment could last forever….

Then there was this time when I didn’t want to go to school one day. I was in Standard Two and in the afternoon session. For some reasons I did not feel like going to school that Thursday but got ready and wore my school uniform all the same. After lunch, I waited for Pak to come pick me up.


I had schemed a plan. I knew it would work. I was wearing the last pair of school uniform. The other set was already dirty and now soaked for washing. Then he came, riding his Vespa, at the junction near “Rumah Cina Taugeh”. Time to act… I jumped into a puddle, rolled over and over, and over again. I was a sight to behold. Mud all over me, dirty as a buffalo in a mudhole.


Pak reached home, shocked to see me in that condition, I guess. He asked what had happened. “I slipped,” I replied. “Are you hurt?” Pak asked. “No but I don’ t think I can go to school today,” I answered. “Why not?, he asked. “No clean uniform,” I said, thinking that should satisfy him and I could change into my “play clothes” and roam the kampung, barefooted and a catapult slung on my neck, to my heart’s content for the rest of the afternoon.


But, Pak was not letting me go easily. “Go wash up and change your clothes. I’ll explain to your teacher why you are not in uniform,” he said. That was it, my plan was not working as planned. “Pak, I don’t want to go school. Please, let me stay home,” I begged but to no avail. I must have overstretched his patience when I heard him roared his disapproval. I saw him reaching for his belt and whoosh…. I was gone. I ran as fast as I could into a thick undergrowth adjacent to the house and took refuge on a tree on the riverbank, keeping still on a branch that extended over the water.


Pak came after me, found me on the tree. He ordered me to get down but I refused. He disappeared only to return with an axe. He chopped off the branch and yours truly took a plunge into the river below. I caught hold of a nipah stem that happened to be floating by and paddled across the river. So afraid to go home, I stayed across river, playing on my own in the paddy field there. Just before dusk, I retrieved the nipah stem and paddled back to my house across the river, hoping that Pak had cooled down and was not angry with me anymore.


Quiet as a mouse I tiptoed into the bathroom. As I was stepping out of the bathroom, I felt a sharp pain across my back. Pak was waiting for me to come out and he struck me with a belt. I was beaten many times that night, I bled but I didn’t cry. He ordered me up and told me to go to bed without dinner.


I went to bed feeling so angry at my father that night. My back hurt so bad. Lying face down on the mattress, I sobbed quietly… It was past midnight when I felt someone came to me. It was Pak. I felt him touched my back and applied ointment on the wound. I guess he knew I was awake because I arched my back when he touched the cut.


I could hear him speaking softly, choking with emotion, saying he regretted whacking me but he was angry and disappointed with me. In a whisper, he told me the importance of education and that he did not want his children to miss out the opportunities to better our lives through education. Pak simply did not want us to grow up being like him, barely educated and not financially endowed to provide us with everything we needed. In the stillness of that night, I understood why Pak was very angry with me for skipping school that day.


I was fishing by the river behind the house the next morning…Pak came to sit next to me. We didn’t talk. I just sat there holding the fishing pole. Pak sat on the ground, on my right. He didn’t say a word. He was just there… I knew he wanted to make amends with me, in his own way. Pak placed his left arm on my shoulder and left it there for a long, long while…..


There are many memories about Pak… Some are beautiful, some are painful but all are lovely as one son would want to remember his father by.


Pak breathed his last in the wee hours of August 28, 1974, succumbing to a heart attack at the young age of 53. I didn’t shed a tear when Pak died… not even when the doctor at the hospital told us they were not able to revive him. Maybe, I was angry that he left us so soon. But I was missing him a lot. Unknowingly to my family, I would cycle to Yan, some 30 miles away from Alor Setar, to visit his grave on weekends. I think about two months after his death, on one of my visits to the grave, I eventually cried…


And, this morning… I miss Pak again, and silently, I shed tears for him ….. Happy Father’s Day, Pak.




12 comments

GOD TOOK NOTICE OF ME.....  

Posted by Chon On Blog



The time… 4pm. The day…Tuesday, June 1oth. The place …the mezzanine floor of my office building.

Some 50 of us, men and women, abandoned our workstations to huddle in a corner of the mezzanine floor, looking down on the lobby area where colleagues, twice our number, stood facing our bosses seated in a row next to a “koi” fish pond.

No speeches, no motivational talks…nothing. All of us waited restlessly, some paced the floor, some stood almost statue-like. We waited for a good 15 minutes before one by one the bosses moved to the centre of the lobby floor and picked 10 names each, making a total of 120.

A gentleman in a dark suit called out the names and one by one, those called marched to the centre of the floor, each picked a piece of folded paper with a set of numbers printed on it before bolting to the 12th floor of the office tower.

There I was, flanked by two women on a sofa at the mezzanine floor, while others stood, cramped like sardines in a can. It was getting noisy… someone booed when a name was called, another jeered, a few clapped their hands.

Sweats were beading on my forehead. Nervous, excited, worried … I can’t really say how I was feeling at that moment.

Then it happened. I heard my name being called loud and clear, resonating in the confined area. The gentleman called out my name like one would when announcing names of boxers in a ring….in the red corner, weighing 160lbs, from …..like so.

I jumped to my feet, not knowing exactly what to do. Should I run, should I stay, or should I just go down to the centre of the lobby like those who had been called up earlier. I felt like crying…

In that fleeting moment, I could hear my colleagues prodding me to go down, to obey, to face the bosses! One even told the others to make way for me, opened the door and warned the gentleman in the dark suit that I was on my way down.

It was just a blur, noises muffled. Guess it was already too late to hide. I let out a yell. It sounded more like a shriek….I spiked a clenched fist in the air , hurried down the staircase and before I knew it, there I was already standing in the centre of the lobby floor. I could feel hundreds pairs of eyes on me, stabbing me with their stares, I swear.

I could hear jeers, hoots and laughs, claps and all…. Frightening!? No-lah, I was on the top of the world!!!!

BECAUSE…….I had just won a lucky draw! I won a lucky dip! I won!…..A first in my entire life, a first since I joined this organization almost three decades ago. Never once I won anything from a lucky dip. Never once, I swear. Many times at dinners, all those seated at the same table with me won something but not yours truly. I either missed a prize by a digit or by a mile……….

But yesterday God took notice of me and rewarded me handsomely. Thank you, God Almigthy! At that moment, I just didn’t care what I would be taking home. It didn’t matter even if it was only a pair of disposable underwear. Even that would be like winning a million dollar! My name was picked in a lucky dip and that was all that matters to me. At last, the jinx has been broken!

Like the others whose names were called, I took the lift to the 12th floor and collected my prize in the draw organised by the corporate communication department in conjunction with my organisation’s 40th anniversary. Hurray!! It was my turn to be taking something home.

By the way, it was a vase…crystal one some more.







5 comments

CUTI YANG PALING "BEST"  

Posted by Chon On Blog


"Pa, terima kasih. You are the greatest," kata anak bongsu ku yang berusia lapan tahun dalam perjalanan ke sekolah pagi tadi.

"Cuti sekolah kali ini yang paling best," tambah si kecil itu, sambil tangan kanannya memaut bahu kiri ku ketika aku memberhentikan kereta di belakang sebuah bas, berhampiran pintu sisi sekolah rendah di Taman Setiawangsa.

Seperti biasa, Alif akan menunggu giliran selepas abangnya yang berusia 11 tahun untuk mengucup tangan ku dan mengucapkan salam sebelum melangkah turun dari kereta dan memasuki perkarangan sekolah.

Namun tidak seperti kebiasaannya, pagi tadi aku tidak terus berlalu pergi. Pagi tadi, aku memerhatikan kedua-dua anak lelaki ku itu berjalan menuju ke pintu pagar, menyaksikan kemesraan dua beradik ... si abang, PatPat, menggenggam erat tangan kiri si adik yang terhuyung hayang menggalas beg yang sarat dengan buku.

Sampai di anak tangga pertama menuju ke pintu sisi itu, mereka serentak menoleh ke belakang, bibir menguntum senyum, lantas melambai tangan kepada ku sebelum berkejaran memanjat tangga dan hilang dari pandangan ku.

Aku masih tidak bergerak dari tepi jalan itu, fikiran ligat mencari maksud si kecil tadi .... "Cuti sekolah kali ini yang paling best." ? Mungkinkah dia hendak kenakan aku dengan cakap-cakap loyar buruknya, yang memang kelebihannya.

Apa yang "best" sangat cuti sekolah kali ini? Aku masih tertanya-tanya ketika memandu pulang. Pada ku biasa sahaja. Apa sangat yang kami sekeluarga laku, teroka, cari dan jumpa dalam tempoh dua minggu itu? Aku tidak nampak pun istimewanya.

Kami hanya ke Kota Baharu, itu pun untuk memenuhi jemputan kenduri kahwin adik sepupu. Kalau bukan kerana itu, aku malas memandu ke Kota Baharu, jauhnya seperti tak akan sampai! Apatah lagi isteri dan anak-anak sudah sepakat untuk mengikut jalan pantai ke sana. Aku menuruti kehendak mereka walaupun aku sedar tempoh perjalanan begitu lama, lebih sekali ganda jika aku ikut laluan Merapoh-Gua Musang.

Setelah merentasi Lebuhraya Pantai Timur, kami melalui Kemaman, singgah sebentar di Kerteh, menyeberangi jambatan yang baru siap di Kuala Dungun, berhenti lagi di Pantai Teluk Bidara di Kampung Pintasan, membuat lencongan entah ke mana kerana kerja-kerja pembinaan jalan di Marang, menyaksikan satu kemalangan jalan raya sebelum tiba di Kuala Terengganu untuk bermalam di rumah ayah saudara di Losong.

Esoknya kami menyambung perjalanan ke Kota Baharu, sesat dua kali di Seberang Takir kerana tersalah belok. Singgah di Penarik, Kuala Besut, Tok Bali yang pantainya begitu kotor dengan sampah sarap dan terus ke Kota Baharu. Menarikkah percutian itu jika kami tersesat lagi di Kota Baharu semasa mencari hotel penginapan di Jalan Pengkalan Chepa. Akhirnya jumpa juga hotel itu yang terletak tidak jauh dari KB Mall setelah kami tersasar sampai ke MRSM Pengkalan Chepa.

Apa “best”nya percutian itu jika semasa mencari rumah ayah saudara di Bunut Payung, kami terlepas simpang sehingga terpaksa mengharungi kesesakan lalulintas di jalan-jalan Kota Baharu. Hendak elak "traffic jam" KL, tersangkut pula di KB.

"Best"kah percutian itu jika kami terpaksa berpindah hotel esoknya kerana hotel semalam sudah penuh ditempah orang lebih awal. Cuaca yang panas terik dan perut berkeroncong kerana tekak tidak dapat terima makanan yang serba serbi manis pun tidak melegakan tekanan.

Kalau ada pun peristiwa yang menarik mungkin semasa majlis kenduri di rumah ayah saudara di Bunut Payung di mana aku merapatkan hubungan dengan saudara yang lama tidak bertemu. Mungkin juga persinggahan aku sekeluarga untuk bermalam -- rancangan secara spontan -- di chalet murah di Pantai Melawi, Bachok.

Daripada banyak-banyak pantai di sebelah sana semenanjung, Pantai Melawi menambat hati ku. Pantainya agak bersih, pasir putih halus, laut yang tenang dan pantai mendatar, selamat untuk anak-anak bermain air. Ayah dan ibu tidak terkecuali.

Kami bermain layang-layang di Pantai Melawi, berenang di lautnya, mengutip kulit cengkerang dan apa-apa sahaja yang keluarga lakukan di tepi pantai.

Tidak dapat aku teka apa menarik tentang percutian kali ini sehingga anak bongsu ku itu begitu berterima kasih kepada aku. Mungkinkah kerana dia dan abangnya berkesempatan menerbangkan layang-layang mereka di sejalur pantai di Penarik sebelum layang-layang si abang tersangkut di pucuk pokok rhu dan yang seekor lagi milik adik putus talinya dan melayang dibawa angin. Dua orang kakak mereka, YahYah dan Kak Cik, lebih selesa berteduh di dalam kereta dengan "aircon" dipasang kuat. Ibu pula berlindung di bawah bayang pokok, mata sepet menahan silau cahaya matahari.

Mungkin si kecil gembira dengan percutian kali ini kerana dalam perjalanan pulang ke KL, kami singgah di Kerteh untuk melahap burger, apple pies dan french fries di McD******. Adakah semuanya rasa lebih lazat di sana berbanding dengan yang selalu mereka makan di KL?

Aku tidak dapat meneka maksud si bongsu Alif itu sehinggalah ketika dalam perjalanan menghantar isteri ke pejabatnya tadi, dia menyatakan: "Cuba you fikir apa yang you tidak lakukan langsung cuti kali ini."

Sepantas kilat aku faham maksud si manja Alif tadi. Sesungguhnya kali ini, aku benar-benar bercuti.... bersama keluarga selama 14 hari genap, menghabiskan sepenuh masa bersama mereka. Kami mengembara, menerokai tempat baru, memahat kenangan bersama-sama.

Kali ini aku bercuti bersama mereka. Melakukan apa-apa sahaja dan di mana-mana sahaja tanpa membabitkan kerja dan pejabat. Baru aku sedar betapa sudah lama sekali aku tidak bercuti begini tanpa dipanggil ke pejabat, memikirkan urusan kerja, melakukan kerja pejabat di waktu aku bercuti. Malahan aku tidak kisah langsung perkembangan di pejabat dan tentang kerjaya yang ku ceburi lebih 27 tahun lalu. Tidak peduli sama ada aku masih punya meja dan kerusi apabila aku kembali bertugas esok!

Sebelum ini aku jarang bercuti serentak dengan tempoh cuti sekolah. Makanya, perjalanan kami tidak jauh dan tempoh bersama tidak lama kerana selalunya dirancangkan untuk hujung minggu. Kerapkali juga aku berurusan dengan pejabat ketika itu dan kadangkala terpaksa memendekkan cuti kerana rasa terpanggil untuk "berkhidmat".

Nah, kali ini aku benar-benar bercuti. Memang benar kata si kecil aku, "Ini cuti yang paling best". Seorang abang aku pernah berkata, "Pada anak-anak kita, bukannya tempat, pemandangan atau barang yang dibeli yang bermakna tetapi adanya ibu dan ayah di sini mereka ketika sampai di tempat itu, menikmati pemandangan itu dan membeli barangan itu menjadikan semuanya lebih bermakna."

Nampaknya, si kecil yang loyar buruk itu dapat kenakan juga ayahnya, membuat si tua ini belajar dan sedar bahawa ada kehidupan yang lebih penting di luar pejabat ……..”Terima kasih Alif. Papa setuju, cuti kali ini memang yang paling best.”


4 comments

IS BLOGGING FUN?  

Posted by Chon On Blog



I had to do it. Not wanting to be left behind in the blogging tidal wave, I had to jump on the bandwagon.

God knows what I will be talking about .... I will just blast off whenever with whatever to wherever. I'll let you in on something ..... don't expect book reviews, political analysis, economic assessments or any of those heavy stuff.

Maybe something about life experiences, memories and dreams. Mostly in pictures. Like the saying goes, a picture paints a thousand words.

As for now, gotta go.

There's always a first.




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