An Evening In Dinty's

Seated from L to R: Meena, Thilaga, Agnes and Shyla (office staff)enjoying the songs after their lunch.


Rajini impersonator from India (perfect match if not for his size).

One day in the year 2002, I decided to organize a lunch function for my office staff who until then never had the pleasure of attending one as the Company didn’t believe in having annual dinners. Annual dinners create an avenue not only to be able to show our appreciation to the employees for a job well done, it also provides a platform for them to mix and mingle with the management staff in an informal backdrop. It is envisaged that such interaction will help foster relationship and comradeship. It helps build a positive work environment that would in turn improve productivity levels in the long run. This is something that most large conglomerates practice. But not this Company that I work in. My numerous attempts to enlighten them on the intangible rewards of having this kind of functions fell into deaf ears. It was then that I thought I will organize a small do for at least the office staff.
I used to patronize the Dinty’s Pub in Brickfields then that only opens at 6.00 in the evening. As the Manager was a good friend of mine, I proposed the idea of having a lunch function on one of the Saturdays. She was receptive to the idea and allowed me exclusive usage of the premises from 1.00pm onwards to 6.00pm. Food was catered from a nearby restaurant and beer was free flowing for the guys who paid RM50.00 each while the ladies paid just RM15.00. There was also a band in attendance to entertain us during the 3 hours or so of merry-making. To add to the festivity, the Pub owner had also negotiated with some impersonators from India to do a Rajini, Kamal & Chandrababu acts. We had some staffs rendering a number or two while I was the MC for the evening and also sang a couple of songs. Towards the tail end of the show, the crowd became so immersed and ecstatic that they took to the floor. It was revelry at its finest!
On the whole, it turned out to be a grand success with each staff thanking me for a really enjoyable evening. It was a fantastic event, well received by all of them.

Cheng & I

It was the year 1973 and I was doing my Form 5. My Dad had arranged for me to take tuition for Mathematics as I was kind of weak in the subject. For a while, I was attending and all was ok. Then I got bored and on certain days, I played truant.

It was during one of those days when I had skipped tuition that I met Cheng at the Butterworth beach at about 7.30 in the evening. This was the beginning of my smoking days and I had gone by the beach area where it was dark and lonely with only courting couples in their cars for company. Cheng was there too. His father runs a sundry shop near my house and I had seen him quite often whenever I went over to buy something but we never got to strike a conversation as he was always busy in the shop. So when I met him tonight, he greeted me as I formally introduced myself. He was doing his Form 5 too but in Penang Island while I was on the mainland. I got to know him a fair bit more but what sealed the relationship was when I noticed that he smoked too. That made 2 of us. While I was just learning the ropes, so to speak, I noticed that he was seasoned. From then on, we met up often and went on to become close buddies. Every time he had some errands to run, he would always pick me up as my house was situated in his “drive path”. In fact during my sister’s wedding that year, he volunteered to drive and came with his family car and spent the entire time with us. The difference in ethnicity didn’t divide us. Far from it, in fact it was not a factor at all in the 70s. Together we joined the Bahai centre and used to attend prayer sessions. And those days, I would always claim that I was a Christian. I don’t know why but I never said that I was a Hindu. It was probably because I had so many Christian friends then…Raymond…. Andrew….. Victor ….. Ruban…..and many more. In fact, I had a Christian name too. I used to call myself John. That was until my sister pointed out one day that we had had a dog named ‘John’ in the house when I was a kid. Then I dropped it and changed my name to Steven for a while.

In this Bahai group, we would sometimes visit fellow Bahais in neighbouring towns. I remember those days when I mentioned that I was a Christian to anyone, their first reaction would be “ Ohhh…….so which church do you go to? And my standard answer had always been “There’s one near my school”. It was only much later that I learnt that the answer should have been either “Roman Catholic” or “Protestant” or one of those! Until today when I think of it, I feel stupid! Wonder what would have run through their minds!

Cheng featured prominently in my life then. He loved Hindi movies and Hindi songs. There had been many occasions when we went for movies together. In fact, I went for Bombay to Goa, my first Amitabh movie with him. His performance was impressive to say the least. Throughout the movie I was wondering who this new hero was as until then it had been Rajesh Khanna who was creating the waves. We now know how all that changed after Amitabh entered the movie scene.

Once he showed me a book titled ‘Hindi in 30 days’ that he was reading. I’m not sure if he made any gains by reading it but later in life after I had started working in KL, he went to Rajasthan in India to pursue a course in Agriculture.

I last met him in 1985 when he returned to Butterworth for a short break. He was working as a Planter in some plantation in Sabah then. We spent quite some time together to the extent that once when I went to visit him, I heard his mum telling him in Hokkien not to follow me out if I asked him to, while in the next breath, greeting me in Malay. I marveled at the level of hypocrisy that some people have but in retrospect, it was perhaps the family had wanted to spend more time with him and I happen to be depriving them of it. It was during this time that technology gradually advanced many fold……unnoticed (to me at least)! I realized one day a few months ago that the world has actually shrunk and distance was not a barrier anymore in communication. With that in mind, my wife and I made a trip to the old sundry shop in Butterworth where Cheng’s parents lived with the hope that I can revive the channels of communications with him. I was pleasantly surprised when his brother, mum and his dad could still recognize me as they welcomed me by my home name (Ravi). They were extremely delighted to see me. After a short tete-a-tete, I got Cheng’s phone number in Sabah and left, assuring them that I will drop in again.

I spoke to Cheng last night and he was indeed surprised to hear my voice. We spoke a lot of our present as well as our old times. I realize that a lot of water has flowed under the bridge since we last met but it is never too late to revive the relationship. He had been a part of my life at a certain point in time and it had been impactful. I could very nearly “sniff” his love and sincerity when he started enquiring of my family. He has promised to visit his parents during the next Chinese New Year. I am looking forward to catching up with this dear friend of mine whom I have not seen for 24 years!

(the above was written a month ago........now back to the present!)

And so it was on the 2nd day of CNY that I took a slow drive to his house in the kampong in Butterworth to meet up with him. I had learnt from his wife that morning that Cheng was indeed back home. He was pleasantly surprised to meet me and my wife. We spoke at length of events past and present. A strange sense of nostalgia crept by as we recalled some friends but had difficulty putting a face to those names. Time had taken a toll on our memory. He hadn’t changed a bit….being his usual congenial self and ever so courteous, factors that had played a crucial part in bringing us close during those early years. His parents were also pleased to see me and were in fact surprised that I had taken the trouble to keep in touch.

He said that he had turned down a promotion as it meant that he was to have been transferred to the interiors of Sabah. He has thus retired from the estates and was now running a food-stall in Sandakan where he has made base. His 3 bright kids are all government sponsored and 2 of them are pursuing medicine. His anxiety showed through when he spoke of Egypt where one of his daughters were and was due to be evacuated anytime even as we spoke. This time around, he had come alone, leaving his wife and kids back in Sabah but he assured however that we will meet again the next time when he comes sometime in June this year with his whole family.

Chaudhary & I

Chaudhary & I go a long way back. I had just been transferred to Seremban then while working for Rothmans in 1979. Didn’t know anyone there except for my classmate Raymond with whom I stayed for the first 3 months or so. I later moved in with my working colleagues who were renting a house in Jalan Templer.
I used to patronize The Pearls, an up-market restaurant along Birch Street that was run by one Mr. Arjunan. My then new love interest was also working upstairs next door so it was sort of a convenient meeting place for us after work. I would spend hours on end chatting away, downing my favourite beer till its time to call it a day, usually in one of the private rooms in the restaurant that Mr. Arjunan had.
It was on one of those days that I met Chaudhary otherwise known as Roton to his family. (I especially liked the name Chaudhary as it reminded me of the Sivaji starrer of the 70’s where the hero excels in his role as a policeman). He worked in the estates in nearby Pedas town and was a football referee, often refereeing the game for the Indian Association team players in the town padang just opposite Pearls Restaurant. I was having my usual pint when we struck up a conversation. Upon learning that I was an out-of-towner, he was more than nice towards me. We soon developed a close friendship………. and I got to know his family too when he invited me to his parent’s house in Bahau one day. I have spent so much time with him in his estate bungalow that it was more like my second home. His sister (Lolo) also stayed with him so sometimes when I am rushing back to work the next morning, I would drop her off at her work-place in Senawang that was along the way. He even gave me a spare key which meant that I could access his house during the times when he and his sister weren’t there.
After I left Seremban in the early 80’s, we still kept in touch. I would visit him once or twice and learnt that he had grown career-wise, having left his Pedas job to take up a posting in another estate in Labu, closer to town. He was married by then to someone from India with whom he was communicating back in the 70’s while I was still in Seremban.
We lost touch for a while after that until about 25 years later when I somehow managed to get his phone number through another one of our common friends. Made contact with him and visited him a couple of years back. He had bought a beautiful house in Seremban 2 with a large garden and had a gardener to tender to his plants when I dropped in……reminding me of his estate life back then.
We spoke for quite a while catching up on old stories. He mentioned that he was retired and was looking forward to taking up an offer from Sabah or Sarawak (can’t quite remember). After having lunch, I left promising that we’d meet again. I later invited him for my daughter’s wedding but it was unfortunate that he couldn’t attend. From then on, I would always tell myself that I should visit him when I get a chance to drop by at Seremban but somehow never got down to fulfilling that wish. Spoke to him over the phone though……the last being about 6 months back.
As such it was a real shocker to see his photograph in the obituary section of the papers on 22nd November 2010! I called up his sister and was told that he had had a massive heart attack the previous evening and had passed away.
It is so sad that unlike in a race, life does not offer a finish-line. It just ends…..and so abruptly at that……! Thus ends another chapter in my life leaving behind only fond memories.
Rest in peace Roton. God bless you.

My Early Years - part 2

Although there were 3 of us from the same school living together in the house (in different classes), somehow I felt alienated when it came to matters of the school. And it was not the studies that I’m talking about. It was about what to do and what not to do. There were many occasions when I had gone to school with a bag-load of books only to discover that I needn’t have to as it was ‘prize giving day’…. Or it was ‘exhibition day’ or ‘school concert’. Until today I still wonder how the information didn’t flow to me or was it because I was a dreamer. I remember going to year 2 in 1965 in the morning only to be told that I had to come back in the afternoon as they had placed me in ‘express class’. I didn’t have any inkling on what it was all about but went along anyway. Unlike other kids my age, I didn’t have anyone to chaperone me to school or seek clarification from the teachers. My folks were far, far away in a God forsaken estate, working hard to put food on the table for 6 kids. With my Dad’s meager income as Hospital Attendant cum Dispenser and my Mum as a Ward Maid cum midwife, it must have been financially tight to cater to my needs too since I was living away from home and I am sure they had to pay something for my board and lodging. But they never once complained. My orthodox parents always gave priority to education at any cost.
I went on to spend another 3 years in Butterworth with my uncle’s family before finally being transferred back to a school in Kulim after my Standard 5 in 1967 having gone through Standard 3 and 4 in the same year in 1966. Doing 2 standards in one year might have been a novel idea catering for bright kids but it didn’t quite work out for me as I struggled through Standard 5 as the express class syllabus of year 3 and 4 didn’t quite cover many of the subjects leaving me sort of lost and confused the following year. But after Standard 6, I was ok though. In later years, I would return to this place where I spent my early school years namely to my Uncle’s house at No. 88 Kampung Bengali many a time to relive fond memories of my childhood.
Back in the estates after that, I was enrolled at St. Patrick’s primary during the last quarter of my Standard 5. It was a missionary school and I found it strange having to address the Principal as ‘Brother’. Once again I didn’t expect this as my brothers who had studied in the same school hadn’t mentioned about it before……or maybe they had but it hadn’t quite register in my mind since as a kid, I was always preoccupied and drowned in my own thoughts (we know it as ‘day dreaming’ now). And there were a lot of Christian boys in my class too. There were Raymond, Ruban James, Andrew, Victor, Peter S, Albons and a few more who I cannot recall. From this list, only Raymond and I went on to foster a close relationship…… (He has been mentioned in many of my other stories). Although he has since settled down in Norway, we still keep in touch.
After the December holidays, I prepared to start my Standard 6 and as usual found a seat beside Raymond until an hour or so later when the Principal appeared in the class, said something to the class teacher (Mr. Chinniah) and soon led me away to his office where he informed me that he had not received the green light as yet from the Ministry on whether I could go to Standard 6 as being younger by a year, I was under-aged to be in Standard 6. Disheartened and disappointed, I was sent back to Standard 5 again where I remained for another month until I was cleared by the Ministry to continue in year 6. Wow! What a relief that was!

My early years - part 1

The year 1964 was the only year when all 6 of us (siblings) were still in school, with me starting in Standard 1 and my eldest sister completing her Form 5. There were no English schools at the estate where my parents lived; the nearest one was about 20 miles away through laterite roads in Kulim, so my Dad had put us all up at my Aunty’s place in Butterworth to get through our education. Like all orthodox families, Dad was steadfast in his belief that a good education was the only key to success.
After my sister finished her Form 5, it was felt that we should all return to live in the estate as we were big enough to endure the 35 km travel to school. The estate provided 2 school buses leaving each morning catering to the needs of the more than70 students studying in the town. It meant that we had to wake up by 5 each morning to catch the 6 o’clock for the journey that would usually take about an hour. There were not many vehicles on the roads then to compete for space, so the travel was hassle-free except that the white uniforms turned beige by the time we reached school. But I didn’t have to go through all these then……not for the next 3 years at least. The reason was that my folks felt that waking up early to make the arduous journey to school would be too much for me to bear at that age. Moreover I was one of those selected to go through “express” class….meaning, I get to complete the next 4 years of classes in 3 years. And schools in Kulim didn’t practice the express class system then.
So in 1965 when the rest of my siblings moved back to study in Kulim, I had to stay back to continue my education in Butterworth. They put me up at one of my uncle’s place where there were a host of other school going kids too with whom I soon bonded and blended in to become one of their own, travelling back to the estates only during school holidays. Initially I felt lonely….. extremely lonely, especially each time I came back after the holidays. There had been moments when I’d just bury my face in the pillow and cry my heart out. Although I was surrounded by so many of my relatives here, it was never the same. I missed my mum especially.
So it was here in Butterworth where I grew up the next 3 years until I completed my Standard 5 in 1967. My uncle was a tailor. He starts early usually by 8 or 9am and I have only seen him working through the day without any real breaks in between, often rushing to complete his orders. I remember doing errands for him once or twice, running over to the shops nearby to get him his favourite ‘rough-rider’ cigarettes……..not much of a smoker though as he only smoked about 4 or 5 sticks a day. Such was his discipline. I remember him as a mild mannered person and had never ever seen him admonishing his kids in any way…not once! Disciplining was the forte of my aunt (his wife).
There were many of us in the same age group including the neighbourhood boys. Vidya, being the last son, was naturally the blue-eyed boy in the family. He seldom joined us in our activities preferring to stay back with the family. The other cousin Ravi (often referred to as Big Ravi as we both shared the same name) was the head of our pack. Together we engaged in all kinds of games….kite, tops, marbles, police & thief, rounders etc……games that have almost disappeared from this part of the world now. Many of the neighbours were muslim boys. But back then friendship was not built along racial or religious preference. We were just harmless young kids who happened to get along well with no such inhibitions whatsoever. There were the bad guys in the group too (Gabriel and his Donald) who fortunately, we avoided mixing with after being advised not to by the elders. Later in life, Gabriel & Donald went on to become wanted criminals in the country. I didn’t keep track of what happened to them after that but with no news of them in the tabloids these past 20 or 30 years, they must have met their Maker, like everyone else like them.
The girls in the house treated me well……Chandrika, Subathra, Sumathi and their cousins Thangam and Uma (or Parija as she was called). They had a large room upstairs for themselves while the boys slept in the other smaller room. The blue-eyed boy, of course, slept with his parents. I went on to spend the next 3 years here during which time I missed home dearly but seldom spoke of it to anyone. I missed being with my siblings who I got to see only during school breaks.
(….to be continued)

Hem Raj's graduation

Finally, Hem Raj has graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering. The challenges of life will begin from now on for him. But I'm sure he will be able to endure them all in his stride.

Congratulations Hem Raj!

The smile...to have it her way!

She is nearly a year and a half now and has learnt to walk and 'baby'talk. Her teeth makes her cute when she smiles....and she smiles most of the time.