THE ORIGINAL- ASAM PEDAS

Papa called Squire Bobby, he answered in a hurried voice, papa asked whether he wanted to go for breakfast at Parit Jawa, The Squire said, he, will call back as he had to attend to an emergency. An elderly neighbor had fallen down at her home and he had to be sure the ambulance had arrived and she was already on her way to the hospital before he can go anywhere, he promised to call back in about twenty minutes time. Papa resumed his search for the elusive multi point socket at ten past eight in the morning. Upon turning to the left and crossing a main street, further up, he found a small shop sharing half a lot with the other half still not opened yet. To his amazement, the shop was an electrical store and the multi socket- was neatly, arranged, inside a glass shelf with the shopkeeper: an elderly Chinese man standing beside it. Papa tried to insert the slanted albeit flattened metal road protruding from the plug that in turn was attached to the re charger cable of his two little boys’ ‘Game boy’ thingies, to the multi socket. Lo and behold- it fits.
Papa could see Squire Bobby’s, chunky Toyota Hilux, about one hundred meters ahead, making a turning into Jalan Sisi. He, waved at the Squire, Bobby stopped his truck right beside papa, of whom, was waiting near the intersection between Jalan Sisi and Jalan Ali. Having climbed into the front passenger seat, the two, sawit men proceeded to Parit Jawa Via Jalan Suleiman- straight on, through the archaically exclaimed, Jalan Darat.
The drive to Parit Jawa was quiet and rather uneventful, there were not that many cars on the road and only a few trucks, driving past, Compared to K.L, the, traffic here, was, literally, heaven sent. Added to the balmy morning, the circumstances, was, in a peculiar way, truly ‘serene’, if only a better word be appropriate. Papa, verily loved, this part of Johore, his late father’s birthplace and dominion, whence the oldman, was in his ‘impressionable’ years. There was, whenever papa’s in Muar, that certain ambience, an ‘atmosphere’ that verily tugged at the heartstrings, but not a ‘foreboding’ presentiment, yet ‘snug and homely’, as if, knowing that one is veritably ‘safe’ here, compared to any other ‘locales’. Papa would really like to ‘settle’ here, perhaps, in the not too distant future, Insyaallah, however, for the time being, K.L is still his home, having stayed there for more than 30 years.
Bobby parked his pick-up in front of an ‘up market’ kopitiam, an appropriately named, The Q1, establishment, apparently the ‘White Coffee’ trend had even caught up in little, Parit Jawa town. The elusive ‘Asam Pedas stall was only a few meters away, situated inside an authentic, old style, kopitiam- The Real McCoy. The tables were all full except for one, papa and Bobby, rushed to it with papa immediately sitting on a chair beside it, there was a customer at the table but he was just about to leave- having paid the bill. Bobby set about ordering what was best, papa left it entirely to him as this was his first time there. Bobby really liked to ‘breakfast’ here, driving down every two or three days, a ten or so minutes drive, from his house, in Muar. All, the more, so, whence, the stall operator called him ‘Abang’ the moment, he saw ‘The Squire’.
Bobby scooped four cuts of ‘Ikan Pari’ or skate, two, fried Ikan Cencaru- a Trevalli like fish and ordered two plates of ‘egg ommelettes’. There really were not that many dishes available, for the ‘Asam Pedas’ was good enough on its own, thenceforth to order that additional ‘plate of rice’ would not be recommended. Just, eat more of, the fish, they are fresh, most of the times, recently caught and ‘obtained’ straight from the fishing boats, ‘docked’ at the jetty nearby. That, was the thing, that make these asam pedas fishes, succulent, much tasty and sweet, they were ‘genuinely fresh’, coupled also, with, the extra thick ‘asam gravy and the quintessential albeit a bit more than required ‘pedas’ or ‘Spicy ness’ – integral component. Papa ordered two cuts of the ‘skate’ asam pedas for ‘tapau’or takeaway, with, Bobby, joining immediately after, ordering the same, also.

THE MARK OF Z

Forgive the pun, but the mentioning by papa, of, some, celluloid typecasts that typically albeit very much clichéd, portrayed the ‘chauvinistic’ propensities of peoples’, much ignorant, do not, in any wise, insinuated, any of, his close compatriots. However so, papa’s contention, was, only, to highlight the littlest ‘aberrations that might, still, be inherent in certain groupings, even though, their numbers may be, much, dwindling, each and every day- the ‘rednecks’ in a certain continent – for, example. The fact that Hollywood, most of times, played up, along with, their ‘sentiments’ is quite ‘academic’. It, can be, said, that, even in their own realm or their confederation, they are not taken that seriously although their ‘spending power’ is much coveted.
Hollywood is mostly about business and money, so, whatever that sells, must be paramount, what do they care about, being, politically correct. Howsoever, there, are the ‘messaged’ films that are fast getting acceptance. All, in all, people are, much, more aware- now, together with, the reality that, the global village is getting more accessible, as time passes on.
Kindly forgive papa, Honorable Senor, should papa’s last post, offended your much, elevated person, in whatsoever way, for it, was never, intended, nor pre meditated, it was just papa’s inconsequential ‘rambling’, on and on, to no end. Somehow or rather, tact and diplomacy, do escaped him, most of times, perhaps, due to ‘being cooped under a sawit tree for too long in Bukit Tengkorak and too ‘engrossed’, in trying to be what he is not- a Dangdut King. At the end of which, after all, he is just a ‘stammering village idiot’-from, Skull Hill.
If papa could remember, Errol Flynn did play Zorro, a character that far from being a Hollywood stereotype, was, verily a Popular Hero, alongside the fact that Errol Flynn was a ‘Legend’ in his own time and, until, present day, veritably!

MUCH OBLIGED

Papa did not anticipate such instantaneous response from The Honorable Senor Zorro, along with, the fact that he had to rush to his neighbor’s hacienda just to get the ‘commentary’ translated. Papa, is truly indebted to these, veritably, ‘Illustrious Gentlemen’. Personages, of, whom are, verily endowed with such remarkable abilities. Papa is truly humbled, for, he, without doubt and unquestionably, admire people who are able to communicate in multifarious languages, for to speak a language is to understand its culture.
Customs and savoir-faire that magnificently defines civility and fine breeding as regards an archetypal ‘group of people’, rather than, the ubiquitous ‘mimicking’ of Hollywood stereotypes- a very much, degrading, exercitation, notwithstanding the notion that, the said actions, could be construed as ‘malicious’ and ‘racialist’ in the very least.
Papa abhors any postulations that run in line with the, above, mentioned abstractions. Inadvertently he had digressed, yet, again, papa must reiterate his deep most gratitude to The Honorable Senor Zorro and his equally ‘Esteemed’ adjoining property owner for the ‘magnanimous’ enterprise that they partook, in getting the, comments; translated.
Even though, mere words could not describe his innermost gratitude, reiteratively papa has to say ‘Thank You Very Much’ to The Two Honorable Senores. Papa will follow your advice, in highlighting this ‘incidence’.

AN EARNEST REQUEST

Salutations to all of papa’s friends, especially, The Honorable Senor Zorro, HRH The Prince Guy and The insuppressible JinAir for taking their time putting together their cordial comments into the latest post on the ramblings blog. The title of which was the loosely termed, cerita-cerita, or ‘small talk’, only, if, a more appropriate phraseology be applicable. Papa, was truly elated, he seemed to, be getting a increasing number of rapports, as regards his inconsequential postings in, the equally- irrelevant ‘digressive’ blog.
Having anticipated comments from his regular, yet ‘accustomed’ commentators, he was quite surprised upon receiving ‘annotations’ from a ‘cresceNet, or proverdorcrescenet. All, the more bewildering whence the entire text except the few words at the end being, written in Spanish or was it Portuguese, papa, just could not be sure.
As papa, jinair and Putera Guy are not at all familiar with Spanish, we would earnestly, beseech, The Honorable Senor Zorro to translate, the reason being, he had, in a previous posting, commentated, in the ‘irrepressibly romantic’ Latin derived language. If only, The, Honorable, Sir, could kindly view, the comment format in the ‘cerita-cerita’ post, once more.
Last, but not least, papa would like to extend his humble gratitude to Senor Zorro and awaits with unabated anticipation his ‘transliteration’ of the said ‘crescenet’ commentaries. Cheers! Senor Zorro..

CERITA-CERITA

Asalamualaikum bros dan selamat sejahtera, papa merasa terlalu seronok hari ini sebab post terbaru di ramblings blog menerima banyak komen. Kemeriahan yang menjurus kepada perasaan yang amat teruja sekali. Pertama sekali, papa ingin mengucapkan terima kasih kepada anonymous yang memberi komen yang ada menyebut sedikit perihal makam. Sebenarnya tak ada makam tinggi mana pun. Makam, nafs al amarah saja.
Cerita- nya, masa menulis blog tu, bila ada perkataan yang tiba tiba terfikir, terus saja refer ke Thesaurus, cari perkataan yang bunyi nya pelik sikit tapi mempunyai makna sama. Lepas tu cuma, sambung- sambung saja, konon nya nak cerita pasal ‘siasah’, itu lah banyak gunakan bahasa bunga-bunga sikit, supaya bunyi dan makna nya samar- samar saja…he..he..he
Salutations to Senor Zorro, of whom, maybe riding into the sunset, against the desert wind, the aftermath of a day of adventuresome exploits, helping the littlest ‘rakyat’ any which way, he could. To his sprawling hacienda he rode, an able, Horseman of wholesome repute, a gallant knight, ever slaying the evil dragons of, the three C’s, whilst a petite senorita awaits somewhere, truly beautiful in every aspect, veritably, a loyal and virtuous girl, who is very much in love with the masked hero.
Peace, be, upon you, HRH, The Prince Guy, truly a Prince among men, an amicable personage- having innermost- a gregarious personality, sincere in intent and honorable in purpose. All, the comentators, of whom, are papa’s sahabahs, even though, there- maybe a few he, may- not ever meet. However so, do keep on blogging!

NOTHING IN MIND

At times there are instances when absolute nothing enters the mind, ideas just did not come, likened to a block inside one’s brain, compressing every single thought that could, like, most of times, prior- initiate a volley of impressions. Sparking, a narrative that depicts a situational happening, an eventful happenstance, a, serendipity, that only papa found portentous. A salient, after thought, that does not illuminate anything. Verily, an insignificant consideration, a something, that is wholly irrelevant, particularly so, in a situation that requires passive reactions. A, perpetual ‘myopia’- that is encouraged, incessantly, lest the irksome, albeit universally sanctioned criterions be unleashed into mindsets, that were shackled all along.
Papa is at it again, he is venturing into something that is beyond his comprehension. Plunging in, tune with, an expedient although judicious realm that has the propensity to rummage, into the esoterically disposed proposition of ‘polity’: a, demagoguery that does not, harbor any dissent, nor brook any restraint. A, ‘statecraft’ that has been ‘mercenary’ for too long, a, reprobate, quiddity that quid pro quo, was disquieted, by a saffron hued insurrection, comprising of a citizenry that, simply put, was, satiated with ‘disgust’.
Papa should stop now, he has digressed much, he has been too far from his comfort zone, dangdut and its ‘wretchedness’ somehow, evaded him that while back. By, and large, he is as seedy as the ‘infernal dangdut’ he so loved, he should not really be ‘dabbling’ into things, he did not really ‘quite’ understand. He would not want to upset his ‘conservative’ friends, for the truth being, he is much localized and a bit ‘rustic’, to all intents and purposes, thenceforth, any ‘internationalist’ proclivities, on his part, would only effused an incongruity that will inevitably, lead to a ludicrous ‘state of affairs’. F….k you, papa, what were you, thinking of ?

WHAT IS WITH DANGDUT?

Having blogged, much about dangdut , mostly skewed to what his worldview encompassed, with respect to this, infernal musical genre, papa, as must be told, is not a champion for it. He is just a storyteller, one who weaved platitudes about things that invoked his littlest mindset. Inconsequential elements, that do not really- shoulder any weightiness. Circumstances, that, does not move the earth, neither provide avenues that could supplant the impending world’s energy crisis whence forth, fossil fuel, depletes.
Dangdut to all intents and purposes is just a type of popular music however so intertwined into the collective psyche of the inhabitants of a said locale, as a domicile for all that is undesirable for a situational consociation. In other words, it is a place, where most of the bad elements, in society- meet, particularly so, in Kay El. The fact that the notion is not far from the truth is indisputable. Dangdut, is seedy, it is a place where people gets drunk, got into fistfights and frequent destinations for the local authorities to come check, continuously monitoring its’ activities, lest, the less than desirable aspects, go- out of control. Intoxicants are parts and parcels of its’ notoriety, people come to exult, make merry and to become light headed. Dancing, should arrive, natural, after all that. Much spirited: about anything can happen during those archetypal, jubilations.
Without doubt, the logical consequence of which, the ubiquitous, yet, much powerful presence; of club ‘bouncers’- prominent in any dangdut club ‘worth its’ salt. Come, to think of it, the above, mentioned scenarios pretty much depict popular music club backdrops around the world. Infamous, sites that equally, invite- ignominious happenstances.
Not, so for the Dangdut Kings, in turn, they prefer these, kind of settings. To them, they are truly exclusive, mainly, due to, the fact that not everyone wants to patronize the dance halls, forasmuch their ‘wretched’ connotations. They do not need alcohol to strut their stuff, nor do they want to chase after the girls. They only want to make manifest their ‘seni’ or ‘art’, to practice their craft in front of the few and dispersed, albeit ‘appreciative audiences’. They abhor glamour, preferring the ‘quiet yet elegant’ and much, subdued, appreciation of the enthusiastic although esoterically inclined dangdut exponents. They prefer dangdut to be at the fringes, basking, behind its’ infamy, for their ‘seni’ is too controversial and too unconventional to ever receive any formal recognition. The Majesties only want to continue ‘twirling’ and ‘swirling’ to their hearts’ content.

AN APOLOGY

Papa would like to extend his apologies for deleting the DANGDUT KINGS post and reinstalling it moments later. The reason being- there was a problem accessing the ramblings blog earlier on, this evening. The problem could somehow, be linked to Jinair’s blog, since the two blogs are linking blogs, the point of issue was somewhat related to the comment format. Having tried numerous times, papa found out that the only way to enter his blog was via Jinair,s, quite an impossible task for viewers who are not familiar with the ‘linking’ configuration. As, a consequence, papa had to execute the ‘rebooting’ process, the outcome of which was the initial- much valued comments as regards the post were deleted- as well. A thousand apologies- once more, it just had, to, be done, however do emplace your kind comments anew, particularly for- Senor Zorro, Prince Guy and JinAir. Happy Blogging!

THE DANGDUT KINGS

Having positioned Nita immediately in front of him, his left fingers clasping her right digits and his right hand behind her shoulders, papa initiated the first few steps- slow cha-cha style as he had tried with Puteri the last time he was at Mutiara, of which was a couple of months ago. Somehow, Nita did not respond, as Puteri did, she, appeared perplexed, she did not move her feet, she, dragged them instead. The fluid movements that rightly should ensued was somewhat stunted, Nita was waiting for the rest of the cue from papa, she wanted him to lead, at least till the completion of whatever steps that papa wanted to show or coached her.
She was the attentive dancer, one who would comply with whatever the customer wanted performed- on the dance floor- that is. Unlike Puteri, of whom, would experiment without inhibitions; as she, was the ‘eager student’ too willing too try anything as long as the steps would not appear too cumbersome and a bit silly. The very words she uttered whence papa booked her, the last time he was there. However, Puteri was not in attendance for the evening, it was her day or rather ‘night’ off. That was the reason he booked Nita instead, recommended by Shima- of course. Compared to Puteri, Nita was a bigger and taller girl and much more mature. With that in mind, she was the more experienced dancer that rightly should be the one ‘leading’ papa instead of waiting for him to show his ‘stuff’.
Papa was verily the ‘mediocre’ dangduteer, he knew only the few basic steps, just enough to ‘bluff’ his way across the dance floor. Novice GRO’s would of course be ‘a bit or rather- minutely impressed’ but not so- for ‘veteran dancers’ the likes of Nita. Feeling a bit for dejected for having his ‘bluff’ called, albeit ‘unplanned’ or more so- ‘inevitably the logical consequence’, papa asked for a ‘take five’.
Having seated, and inhaling- the aphoristic ‘breath of air’, papa and Nita just sat down and ‘enjoyed’ the rest of the songs the band was enthusiastically- performing. It was, at this juncture, duly entered- Abdul Ghafoor- along with a sexily attired dancer. A longtime ‘acquaintance of papa, A.G. for short, is a dangdut ‘veteran’, even though a bit ‘youngish’ to be called one. The reason for the much ‘decorous’ epithet was none other than the fact that he is adept at his ‘art’, being ‘dangdut dancing’ of course.
All, the more, justifiable, whence he gently although gracefully ‘yanked’ his partner towards him, slowly tugging at the wrists, whilst softly made her execute a 360 degree turn without letting go of the ‘arms’. She was also the ‘old hand’ not unlike Nita, for she perfectly ‘understood’ his every cue, reciprocating instantly his sudden ‘charge like’ movements. All, this headiness, the moment the two ‘frolickers’ treaded upon the middle of the dance floor. It just continued and continued, the dancing that is, ever so fluid and ‘uninterrupted’, a continuous and perennial twirling and swirling albeit eminently ‘delightful’ to behold and truly ‘mesmerizing’ in its entirety.
Papa was, without doubt-‘dumbfounded’ if taken, in its, ‘literal sense’. He had witnessed that archetypal, ‘prancing’ numerous times, howsoever, he was still ‘bewildered’. He could not ‘move’ that way, his legs were too ‘heavy’, he had problems making the ‘trademark’ repetitive ‘turns’, he was too awkward. He must acquire the ‘being flexible’ part, foremost, before he can synthesize the ‘boogie’. Resignedly he fixed his gaze towards Nita, knowingly and smilingly she said, “its’ all about the ‘bunga’ or the intricate bits”. Manipulating; at, all times- the intricacies, after the fact, of which, having had, the ‘fundamentals, being wholesomely academic. In other words, one must really ‘master’ the shuffling of one’s feet prior to making any ‘adventurous’ attempts into that peculiarly ‘advanced’ dangdut configuration. Aficionados, having this aptitude are rightly the ennobled personages of dangdut. Veritably, they are, what dangdut’s all about, they were, with dangdut, ever since the seventy’s all the way, until the present day. Pundits would even vouched that they were the ones’ who ‘inherently partake’ in the evolution of dangdut in Malaysia. Whereupon, dangdut must, be taken in its generic conformation, denoting, markedly- the ‘Malay club scene’, as a whole. The veterans, however, could subtly, differentiate the multifarious ‘dance genres’- namely, the cha-cha, zapin, rumba and of course dangdut, emphasizing the delicate maneuvers dexterously, as all the above mentioned ‘dances’ could be executed ‘holding hands’ or utilizing the clasping of all ‘four hands’ whilst dancing. Papa, as of present could not do it, he must learn and diligently practice the ‘steps’ first before attempting something that mimicked A.G’s tricky ‘movements. He is not a ‘dangdut King’, A.G is, along with The Two Cikgus- Cikgu A. Hamad and Zakuan, the few Abang Rajas’ or presumably Pak Engkus’ now and the more than a few much talented younger guys, A.G being one. BEHOLD THE DANGDUT KINGS!

THE SAWIT RUN-AND QUITE A WET ONE AT THAT!

It had already started to rain when papa drove out of the parking lot at Seremban R and R. Having taken a hearty nasi lemak breakfast, papa was a bit too satiated to- really give an extra thought to the rain that was pouring when he reached the southbound side of the Plus highway. Until, he remembered the massive floods that struck Johor last fourth quarter, for it was about the same time a year ago that the unexpected deluge devastated a good part of the southern most state.
A foreboding thought hit him, could it be the same thing happening again. Somehow, his fears did not allay, whence his eyes caught the awesome vista into the horizon ahead. The black hued albeit rolling overcast sky, casting a sullen shadow over the drenched early morning landscape.
As the truck did not seem to experience any problem gaining speed in the rain, coupled with its peculiar, ‘higher than a car’ seating arrangement, papa had an unusually clear view of the road ahead. Speeding on, papa’s uneasy feeling that he harbored, earlier on, somewhat abated, as if a divine like voice inside, kept him reassured, that everything is going to turn out o.k. A gut feeling that he consistently relied on- each, and every time, there is an uncertain outcome, looming around the corner. An unmentionable portend, most would not prefer discussing but will have to face, regardless, should the ‘adversity’ arrived. All, in all, to The Almighty, we supplicate.
The rain did not seem to run its course, it poured with the same intensity all the way to the Tangkak Toll Complex. The grayish sky stretched across the horizon, with, nay a hint of sunlight behind it. The forecast could not be optimistic, however so, one attempted to placate, one’s forebodings. The rivers, distending underneath the paved Federal Tarmacs, appeared to- ever burst their banks, each time papa took cursory glances whilst navigating amidst the outpourings.
Strangely, the ubiquitous ditches alongside the roads did not altogether, seemed to be overflowing together with the swampy, peat-like soil they were, supposed to, gradually dehydrate; ne’er inundated. Suddenly a ray of sunlight along with light blue clouds were vividly, visible- leftmost into the yonder, it was smack above where Bukit Tengkorak should be. Alhamdullillah (Praise Be: To God), whispered papa!

HE AINT HEAVY

Papa felt a bit of remorse, he did the most cowardly act- he participated in the enterprise of self- censorship. Having deleted his latest post, papa quite nearly, lost the impetus to write, the one subject that really fired him from inside, however could not become the basis for his ‘world views’. Veritably, his penmanship, was from the onset, only for narratives, everyday stories that don’t say much, mostly anecdotal in form and substance
He was truly contented writing about his irrelevant exploits amidst the karaoke and dangdut halls interspersed around K.L, until he realized there are loftier subjects he could dabble- upon. Politics- being one. An altruistic notion innermost of him, yet the realities outside could not be- in agreement, most of times, with the praxis of the field of study. It’s, not about the much elevated, commandments, as regards the ruler and the ruled or the fable like, ‘The Good King and Queen’ perpetually dispatching benevolence and glad tidings over their loyal subjects. It’s, about power, raw and blatant, not really, any other way about it. Undeniably also, the furtherance to the said proposition- the entailing ‘perks’ or rather, the much ‘moneyed’ situation. Altogether, beyond papa’s, realm of ‘being’, or should a more appropriate term be applied-‘existence’. Some how or rather, the very word ‘Politics’ too, is quite inadequate without- it’s conjunctive ‘Real Politik’. Much liked, a ‘what should be’ as opposed to, a ‘what really is’ predicament.
Perhaps, this altogether ‘conundrum’ requires a unique and peculiar set of people, of whom, are inborn with the aptitudes to, actively partake, into all its intricate inner workings, the so called- ‘politicians’. Thenceforth, the most recent: ‘development,’- one side, calling, for a complete overhaul of the ‘process’, and the other- not really wanting to change. There are, granting truth be told, the preconditions to the process that must be complied with for it to ‘wholesomely’ work, failing which, would only discredit the entire operation. Thus, the one party exclaiming for the whole procedure be ‘upped’ to a level nearing ‘first world’ justifications and the other completely satisfied with a perfectly workable, albeit ‘locally accustomed’ configuration.
Either way, the process should ‘evolved’ for the better given time, but that’s really the ‘politicians’ dominions’ and their ‘cups of tea’, papa could only be the near degenerate middle aged has-been who will keep on rambling to no end, too afraid to even harbor a bit of a ‘conscience’, lest the proverbial ‘boat be rocked’.

THE SWING

Lugging his slightly oversized golf bag, papa crossed the road fronting the renowned golf driving range situated right in the centre of K.L. Having placed his golf bag behind the slot he wanted to practice his swing, papa proceeded to the counter in order to purchase the compulsory one hundred balls. Taking his time, papa changed his pvc dark walking shoes into proper golf footwear.
MR Aru, the resident Pro, his back towards papa appeared a bit engrossed, correcting his student’s ‘swing’ posture. Upon turning, he saw papa, who was nearly fifteen feet or about three or four slots away. MR Aru waved to papa, amiably greeting him with his usual yet inimitable “Good Morning Abang!” Papa answered “Same to you, Sir, Good Morning- Good Morning”. Papa makes it a point to always call MR Aru: Sir, as he was papa’s golf teacher- the quintessential Golf Pro, and apparently still is, since papa still seek his advice from time to time, to the extent of taking refresher classes once in a while.
Golf to papa is not an easy sports what’s with some enthusiasts even calling it an acquired skill. The body has to attain a level of flexibility in order to execute the much mentioned ‘easy’ or ‘fluid’ swing. Young golfers having been trained since tender ages do not have the innate ‘stiff’ or the quite ‘hardened ‘muscles inherent in older players. To condition these indolent ‘sinews’, a ‘late starter’ not unlike papa may need to increase his or her ‘practice swings’ by shooting ever more balls at the driving range. It’s the upper body muscles that all in all needed the impetus to ‘grind’ ever more since the ‘back swing’ must be pushed back all the more so and the ‘down swing’ should be ‘released’ to the full- following through with a ‘complete’ and ‘robust’ shoulder turn. Without exception the legs must be ‘taught’ to be ‘sturdy’ and ‘steady’, failing which the body will ‘wobble’ along with the swing thus executing the much erroneous ‘left pull’ procedure.
That’s why, until today, papa would always hear Mr Aru’s soft and gentle words at the back of his mind whenever he’s about to take his ‘swing’ reiteratively “swing kasi lepas, jangan tahan”- release your swing, don’t hold back, “follow through mesti ada”- there must be the follow through, “grip jangan kasi longgar”- do not loosen your grip, and last but not least- “badan jangan kasi goyang”- don’t ever allow the body to wobble.
KEEP ON GOLFING!

Dear anonymous

Dear anonymous, papa as of now is still studying the inner workings of the laptop, having mastered a bit of the rudiments- the transference from my documents to the blog and the editing part. However he will consult with Jinair and Dinno as regards your goodself’s request and will implement it soonest possible…CHEERS!
Rererring to the dress code appropriate for a dangdut night out, anything decent really, except for shorts and shoes are a must- no sandals or slippers..Happy dangduting!

BRO K RANG

Whilst singing at home, karaoke style, late in the afternoon, Bro K called, he mentioned about the group of which Bubbly Anne’s singing- going to perform their last gig that night being the last day of the month and the last night of a completed three months ‘performance ‘ contract. Papa was not really surprised since he had known about it sometime back, whilst parading as the indeterminate cum bogus ‘Dato Papa’ , until quite recently. Bro K did not say much beside his usual yet infectious introductory remarks, this time mimicking a pot bellied, batik attired, employment agency juragan from across the shores. He just added the terse but indelible “well are you going ?”. Somehow vivid images of Wati k, Aida, Mama, Kak Maton, Bubbly Anne, Jimmy; Lan and Marcel Lee came to papa’s mind. Having heard that short but a bit ‘questioningly’ like intonation emanating from Bro K lips inadvertently brought back rushes of memories markedly of K lounge, the dancing hall where it was all played out- the ‘Dato Papa theatrics, the Dato’ that never was.
Although friends may have had heard enough of this negligible ‘Dato’ escapades, for papa however, they were quite the ‘watershed’ type experiences that in a way affected papa deeply. The epiphanies that verily trundled his psyche, even when the underlying premise were completely false, the revelations of which made him ever more sagacious, in respect of the peculiar workings of society’s elites even though he might be imprecise on all counts. The ‘charade’ that essentially ‘elevated’ papa’s insignificant persona to a level never before imagined much like a stammering village idiot from Bukit Tengkorak suddenly upraised to become an honorary club committee member of a ‘by recommendations only’ super privileged establishment not unlike being invited to join an ultra arcane dwelling house together with all it’s queer yet fantastical rites and rituals. Being latently a ‘holey’- oops sorry ‘holy man, papa could not really reconcile his conscience with his new found ‘delightful circumstances’. Having juxtaposed K lounge alongside the bogus ‘Dato’ dramatics, papa just had to decline Bro K’s invitation. Upon remembering Pak Mi’s secret affection for bubbly Anne, papa suggested Bro K called him.
Ever the ‘stoic’ personality, Pak Mi does elicit charm whenever he’s around. Even though slightly larger than life, Pak Mi would not, in any wise, come rain or shine, compromise on- his near resplendent ‘dress code’. Ever the flamboyant dresser Pak Mi, in one way or another does make any attire he dons on- appears far from garish if not altogether ‘pleasing’ to look at. Having been with Bro K and papa along with the rest of the jvc from the beginning of the K lounge cum bogus ‘Dato’ tomfooleries, Pak Mi was well acquainted with all the protagonists within the inconsequential yet littlest ‘Pseudo Personnage’ saga. Thus, Bubbly Anne, of whom would rushed to Pak Mi whenever she’s on break from singing, snuggled up to him- amidst his enormous belly, and lovingly called him-her long lost pillow!
The insuppresible Pak Mi, one of papa’s three- closest bujang lapok friends- Orang Bujang kite!, The rest being unkel and old fempam. Should anybody knows pretty maidens the likes of NorFazura, Fasha Sanda or Adibah Noor and would like to introduce them to papa’s pok-pok-pok friends please contact papa’s longtime buddy-jinair at jinair.blogspot.com (old boy tu-pandai ngubat lagi), his handphone number is vividly etched topmost, right side of the blog.
It’s not that papa’s a bit higher than the rest so as not to reveal himself, The fact of the matter is verily- quite the opposite. He’s just too insignificant- a grey head of hair middle aged individual very much 'mediocre' and wholesomely non photogenic. Not your idea of someone to be acquainted with…Jantan cabaret pulak tu. Last but not least do take the time to view jinair’s blog- banyak gambar makwe- office mates dia lah…HA3!...Cheers…Wasallam…