THE MANY FACETS OF KARAOKE

Papa eased the bit more on the accelerator upon seeing the yellow lights about to change to red. As he had to make a U Turn at the traffic lights ahead, papa kept, to the right, of the road. It was, at the twenty five to thirty odd meters, until reaching the junction, that the Prince, gestured at papa, his finger pointing to the right, at where The Club Extravaganza, was located. Since he was still on the phone talking to a friend recently acquainted through the internet, Prince could not interject words, along with, his quite ‘vigorous’ gesticulation. Papa too could not really took eyes his away from staring into the windscreen, as the car ahead, could stopped, anytime soon. Beside, his, eyes, were not like, what they were before.
Having executed, the U Turn, and the left turning, ten or twenty seconds after, that papa, understood, what, The Prince, was trying to convey. The club was dark, with none, of any, visible lightings, in front of it. It was quite strange, as it was a Saturday night and only eleven something in the evening. To say that, it was unexpectedly closed, could not be, that bit true, as there, were the, significant number, of people, outside, together with the visible few, going in and out of the dance hall. A sudden dread hit papa, there could be the authorities making a surprise visit upon the establishment and unkel and lanchapap were already inside or that was, what unkel said, he was going to be, the last they spoke over the phone of which was about half an hour ago. The thought of the good unkel having to squat on the floor together with the other patrons whilst having their urines tested for illicit drugs by police lab technicians somehow struck the rather comical note, deep within papa’s inconsequential being. He felt like laughing.
However, papa did call unkel, to inquire, about what, had really transpired. It turned out, that he and lanchapap, did not, even venture, near the club, as it was, in the quite same ‘state of affairs’, when they appeared, about half hour past. They did harbor, quite the similar foreboding, not unlike papa, when they saw the ‘out of the ordinary’ occurrence, outside the night- spot, the furtherance of which lead them to sit it out, nearby, at one, of the few eating stalls, until papa and the prince arrived.
It was, a much animated, Lanchapap, expounding the likely scenario should one be caught in the ‘dancing or singing away without a care in the world’ whence the authorities come a checking situation. “First they will consign you, a plastic container, of which, could, be safely fastened- for you- to deposit, your: urine” said Lan. “Having; passed the container, back to them, the technicians will insert something into it and the result would come out, the immediate after”, continued a nonchalant albeit smug Lanchapap. “Been through it a couple of times, no big deal” he further remarked. But not for the unkel Nyel, he would, not want, even though, not at all, a drug addict, to be caught dead, in such, a ‘precarious, cum discomforting- situation’. The reason, he quite earnestly suggested the club Santana to be their next destination, discounting altogether, Seri Mutiara, as, in all likelihood, could, very well be, the Authorities, next stopping place, for the night. Considering, that the rest of the grouping may not have the budget for Santana, unkel must be, the most likely, one, willing, to underwrite everything, for that particular nocturnal ramble.
Mummy Mimi was on her coffee break when the four compatriots stood in front of the counter of The Karaoke Lounge Santana, eyes ogling at the attractive albeit a bit mature receptionist sitting behind it. The, foursome did not, really, mention anything, having received, the reply from, the quite appealing Lady, when papa asked for Mimi, earlier on. Upon noticing, the rather befuddled, look on their faces, the unhesitating hostess, immediately suggested the Three Has Been and the one, bit younger fellow, go sit in the karaoke room until Mimi returns from her break.
It was at this particular point in time, whilst making their way to the room ushered by none other than the pretty hostess that unkel noticed Natasha, seductively sitting, on a sofa, on the left, of the front hall. He did smile at her but she just stared emptily back. Papa also, saw her. Howsoever thinking that a tall good- looking fashion model look alike not unlike Natasha must already have been booked and in all probability was sitting out waiting for her regular guest. He gave no further thought to that notion.
A different Mummy entered the room, vociferating that Mimi was still not back yet and she will attend to any requests with respect to any GRO s that the group would want to book for the night. Papa inquired about the particularly sultry one sitting outside just the moment ago but she said to, pick and choose from the four or five she had arranged outside the room and waiting all set and pretty along the corridor. One by one they paraded in, with the Mummy citing their names after each one has committed the sort of mandatory comely smile together with subtle ‘wiggling’ of the hips in the midst of the model like stride. Papa tried as he may, just could not recall any of the girls’ names but he distinctly remembered the first one to venture into the room- she was Natasha. Taking heed of unkel’s eyes lighting up a little more than usual when Natasha entered, he immediately exclaimed “the first girl or number one” to the Mummy, after, all the parading Hostesses, have shown themselves.
She casually strolled into the room and as if by instinct sat beside Lanchapap. It would not be that bit surprising for everybody except for the fact that she, sort of, snuggled up to the chapap’s namesake immediately upon placing herself beside him. It could have been that Lan was visibly the youngest in the group therefore psychologically perhaps she was able to identify better with him. The rest would be the father or even the grandfather figure to her. She was truly the novice in the business. Howsoever papa would not give a rat ass, he yanked her from Lan whence Unkel and Prince sang a catchy slow latin like number and his legs would not take it anymore, he had to dance the characteristic slow cha-cha. Surprising Natasha was able to reciprocate the difficult maneuver, making papa- that much elated. It was, at this, juncture, that, he, being, not three inches from her that he noticed the real face beneath the makeup.
He had to ask albeit the much more subtle and velvety- her age. She instantly responded by confidently citing the numbers twenty- one, papa would have believed her if not for the prominent ‘puppy fat’ festooned upon her teenaged features. Twenty- one is the legal age limit but she must only be eighteen or nineteen the most.
Papa could not, dance anymore, it was like cavorting with a grandniece. He immediately excused himself, citing his bladder was full and had to go to the toilet. Ah! The Men’s room, papa just had to go see, and, how strange it was. What was with the ubiquitous bowl but this time the appropriate size and properly installed height wise albeit for man’s small business only. There was not available, the W C, but a tiled platform for showering but no curtains or even a shower head present. Things do get curiouser and curiouser as regards the facilities in Santana.
Having relieved- himself, papa sat beside unkel mail, as if sensing the tenacity of the situation with respect to Natasha only attending to Lan and not anyone else, unkel asked papa to inquire about booking yet one more GRO but this time the more mature one. Since Mimi was already in the room, papa only had to whisper it to her and she completely understood.
In walked Ziera: thirty something but the quite early or middle part, she instantaneously greeted everybody, imparting repartees at the same time. Unkel and The Prince were truly delighted, Papa too- obviously. Lan and Natasha did not even notice, they were engrossed with their mushy- mushy conversation. The Prince was, all this time left to himself cowering right at the end of the semi sphere like seating arrangement, bewildered at Lan’s complete disregard of any etiquettes, should there be any, even if, in an informal situation. What was he to say anyway since unkel, the obvious one underwriting everything was not even the slight perturbed, on the outset that is, but the Prince being of exceptional pedigree did not at all mind. He was happy to sing and to make merry regardless of any tenuous circumstances. As for Lan, could not blame him really, he was the younger fellow and the girl did come to him. He was not unlike the macho chap, of whom, would like to show off, his prowess amongst, the fairer- sex. He did have a reputation, mostly with, wide- eyed lassies recently arrived from villages or small towns all over Malaysia, but not, papa dare say, the street- smart ones, no matter their ages.
Ah! Again, what can papa say about the affable Ziera except that, she was truly wonderful and absolutely- fabulous. She, danced with, everybody, armed at all times with her infectious smile and sang heartily any songs chosen by unkel and The Prince. Except that she sort of stick strictly to the conventions not really wanting to experiment with the four step formula resulting in her cha-cha steps seemed rigid and much less fluid. Howsoever there was that something about Ziera that papa could not really reconcile with the accepted norms as regards GRO s be it dangdut or karaoke. Papa’s World view- if one will. She was that little bit extra happy or contented- should the word be appropriate. There was that peculiar serenity about her that somehow, seemed to be anachronistic, if compared to the rest of the girls, holding Hostesses positions- ever more so. Of whom, are mostly divorcees not discounting the few widows should, there be any. She was not unlike a happily married woman and a beamish Housewife. There were not, the lines nor the tensions in her face. Well if the spouse is agreeable and one knows one’s limit along with the quintessential excess ‘bucks’ earned, papa could not really comment could he. F…..k you papa, just keep your comments to yourself and you know where to shove them. Up, your, stinking a…e. All, in all, it was just papa’s unique disposition as an old hand particularly so in K L’s dangdut and karaoke sphere. He has been around for too long.
Well it was, closing time, already, the bills, have been, paid and time to go home but instead of four patrons making their way to the car park there were the two extra persons, two pretty girls. Lanchapap offered to send Tasha home, she said yes but conditional upon her inviting her room mate- Melissa- along. So it, were, the six of them sitting around a table at Rasa Sayang Nasi Kandar Restaurant for late supper the while later, upon Unkel’s unrelenting ‘insistence’ quite of course. The girls were strangely quiet talking albeit intermittently with Lan only, they could not really join the seniors conversation as they mostly touched upon Angioplasty, open heart and by passes, instigated mostly by the good unkel. Kind of a bit macabre do you, not think?
And So: it was, the end to a memorable evening, according to papa’s line of thinking that is, but not really, for there were the other elements, that did not really fit in during the evening but the day later. Papa called unkel just to say hello and to talk a bit about the evening before. It was at this juncture that unkel mentioned about Lanchapap passing him Natasha’s number and his meaning unkel’s intention of asking her out on a date later on. He also related the events after supper when the four of them were in the car on the way to the girls’ place of stay. Melissa, being the more cheerful girl, was chirping away, like a bird, surprisingly, even, teasing, the two compatriots albeit naughtily. It was, in the midst, of the lighthearted banter, that she cited her and Tasha’s willingness to ‘follow’ unkel and lanchapap just about anywhere they would want to go.
That particular statement seemed to have jolted Unkel. It gave him ideas. The girls were that amiable plus quite willing to accompany should they be invited, leading to the question as to what they really want in return. Unkel surmised money to be the proverbial oil to grease the unremitting gears and cogwheels. Perhaps, a little of negotiations or runding, to arrive at, the most, favorable- amount. Well, it was all up to unkel really, he has the aphoristic fat wallet and pretty much the lone ranger, being the ever most bachelor boy with none whatsoever of ‘familial commitments’. Lan on the other hand was actually the sort of ‘procurer’ for unkel. His duty was to chat up the girls and to strategize together the further actions to, be, taken having been successful in the ‘initial’ mission. A bit of a military precision in that but at most times did not work out as planned, knowing unkel’s infamous staying power that could only last the good part of a week and lan being too scared of the little woman. The story was Lan and Unkel did not even go up to the girls’ flat upon sending them home as Lan needed to be back before the missus wakes up around about five in the morning and unkel was as ever in no ‘proverbial’ hurry. If that was, the game, they like to play, so be it, it was their money anyway. The, Wily- Unkel: Even the, uncalled for, dangdut sage was fooled. Then again it would have been better this way would not it, as papa, would, from time to time - reiteratively- highlight, to, HRH The Prince fellow, i.e, to only look albeit innocently at just the ‘human face’ behind dangdut and karaoke, avoiding at all times its dreadful components. We would all be better to stomach things then. Better this way. Better this way! Wallahualam. God knows.

ROCK SAMPAI MATI ( ROCK TILL DEATH )

HRH, The Prince Fellow, called papa, not three minutes away, before reaching, the petrol station, where they are supposed to meet. He mentioned, albeit, the slightly uneasy tone, that he was feeling, the bit uncomfortable, and really had to visit the bathroom, before going out that night, so he asked for the odd five minutes in addition to the eleven thirty pm agreed time. Papa said OK, since there was not actually the ‘all important’ hurry anyway. Come, to think, of it, The Prince, does at times, suffer from, this spasmodic, holiday tummy syndrome. Must have been the one too many goreng pisangs (banana fritters) he had earlier on.
Whilst waiting for the good prince, papa had a good listen to the non- stop cha- cha cassette tape he bought in Muar the week back. It was, in a clearance stock, or rather the clearing for ever sale, put up by a music shop, situated on the first floor of Wetex Parade, the famous shopping complex there. Considering, cassettes are quite the obsolete thingy nowadays, the sale could be the last of any- likely to be found- anywhere. It was then, that a catchy number, came up, sung in what, could be, construed as, Spanish- that veritably, took papa away, from his ‘gaze out of the window’ state. It, was the, song ‘Sway’ sung, in its original, Latin derived configuration, ala Mexico speak and the title must only be Quien Sera, as it was uttered the more than a few times in the song. Wonder if the Good Don Diego could translate the meaning for papa, can it be somewhat similar to Que Sera- Sera, whatever, will be, will be?
Papa’s early 2001, stock Proton Iswara, seems to, shudder a bit, having been, stationery, with the engine running- for a good seven to ten minutes, when papa, noticed from, his rear view mirror, the recognizable, silhouette, of The Prince emerging from, the side, of a, dimly lit building, fronting, the ubiquitous, four storey apartments, located, albeit, partly visible, behind it.
It was hardly the two minutes that they had, driven into, the direction of Jalan Ipoh and The Club Extravaganza that The Prince related a beguiling incidence just the afternoon ago. There was, at his, apartment, just before noon, his neighbor’s daughter- wedding reception, The Prince, who, had just, got back, from his niece’s solemnizing ceremony, or the exchanging of marriage vows, earlier in the morning, put off, till, the bit later, in the afternoon, he and the missus, quite mandatory, attendance of his fellow dweller’s formalities. It was, during his short rest, in the house, that he heard, the noticeably, lively singing, emanating from, the ground floor, of the, apartment building. Immediately, he took, a peep from the topmost floor, where, his unit, is situated, and, saw, for that fortuitous moment, a wheelchair bound- older person, anomalously adorning, a peculiar like, shoulder length hair, plus, slipping on, howbeit unconcernedly, the trademark, even though, fashionable, tattered jeans, topping with, a chalky white, round neck T- shirt. He could be in the late fifties if not going sixty of age- presumably. The prince could not be that sure, as he was quite that high up, on the fourth floor, but for, the fact, that the, old chap’s flowing hair was all silver, his estimate, could not be, that far off.
He, was making, his way, to the Karaoke machine, after being, called, by the D J, due to, the current singer, about to, finish his turn. The fact, that the fellow, was pushed to, the rostrum, by a pre- school aged, little boy, somehow adds, the much poignancy, exacerbated, all the more, by the, quaint possibility, that the child, could be, his grandson.
He chose the song ‘Kamelia’, popularized, in Malaysia, by the country’s own, Papa Rock or Ramli Sarip, being, the senior crooner's, much recognisable, appellation. Complete by even imitating the good Papa Rock’s signature coarsely voice, the 'ageing rocker' heartily belted out the number until the enormously, penultimate portion when he hollered ‘ROCK SAMPAI MATI OR ROCK TILL DEATH’, much to the amusement, of the audience. The deafening catcalls and heavy clapping, afterwards, belies the fact that the appreciative crowd, consists mostly, of wedding guests. It, must be, said, that the chap could be at the zenith of his existence then, but to repeat it again, anywhere else, is quite contentious, considering his quite 'poorly' state: HA- HA- HA! He might not be around for very long. God Forbid.

THE LOGICAL CONSEQUENCE

It has finally happened, just as what was predicted or rather the veritable as, yet, logical consequence, to things, even though, tried, as, he may, by papa, that is, to ignore the natural progression of events. The, quaint sentimentality, of, an old fool, thinking, albeit fantastically, that, there is, the little, bit of, sacredness, still left, in the world, notwithstanding, the abysmal, state, of denial, that, he was, luxuriating in.
After, the few, 'genial', phone conversations, they had-Yvette, altogether, stopped, answering, his call, nor his sms, it had, caught up, with her, the realization, that papa, is not going to see her in Santana, neither, so soon, nor, that often, The, truth being, papa, did not, possess that aphoristic fat wallet, as she had hoped. He is just, the next, to nobody, ordinary bloke, trying, to make ends meet, quite like the many expressionless faces she sees each and everyday traversing up and down any main street around K.L.
Not to, blame, her, really, as, it is really the name of the game, quite so, amongst the karaoke workers. To ensnare the big fish, the one, who would not mind, booking you, for, any, length, of time, and at, any, which day, be it, happy hours or otherwise, one: who, could, even make, an, honest woman, out of you- meaning; the GRO, of course.
Provided the car, the apartment and the ample bank account are, already displayed, and, duly, handed over, whence, the, body and soul, have been, surrendered to, the one, having, the big cash. Well, if she is happy, being party to that peculiarly, ‘less, than ideal, situation’- why, in, heavens- not? Come to think of it, things, could not, really be that bit, too perfect- could it. Different strokes for different folks- if you will.
If that’s the case, then papa must only be elated for Petite Yvette, all, in all, for being, that much focused and perfectly sure of what she wants and the word, is quite, as eternally, the very much relevant, along with, the exceedingly albeit quintessentially, what, every woman, would pretty much desire: security.
On, the other, hand, papa can only, offer friendship and his astronomically ‘hopeless’ golfing. Yvette has already, too, many friends, of, whom most, did not, really share, her ‘dispassionate’ zeal for golf. She, only, plays it, as her, boss asked her to, and strictly, as a marketing tool for her day job. But then again, what could be the fuss really. Papa, has only, met her once, all, the more, leading to the 'sensible conclusion' that there, verily, could be, no issue here. If not for the odd hour and a half if not two plus quarter, he sings with her at Santana Karaoke Lounge- papa could, very well, be, the ‘perfect stranger’ to her. Must, have been, the proverbial, ‘predicament’, of a writer, embellishing things, to make, his story, the bit, more- interesting.

NOT LIKE THE GOOD OLD TIMES

Papa, seem to have the littlest inkling that he must call Yvette that late morning Friday last. As it was nearing noon and prayers should be just after, he feels he still has time for a quick coffee and a bit of a chit- chat with Yvette but things really did not quite coincide with papa’s plans. The reason being: Yvette’s office is near ten kilometers away, papa had his info wrong, he had this notion even though from where, he could, not recall, that Yvette works quite near the golden mile zone. The strange thing was, he did not ask where Yvette’s place of work was, the last time they met which in reality was their first and only with none of the follow up afterwards. How did he arrive at the golden mile section, he, just did not, know.
He hung up telling Yvette that he would be calling, the soonest again, but, not really promising to go see her at Santana, she said ok and papa went about doing what he was planning to do that morning. It, was, very cordial, more like, two, Old Buddies calling, each other up, to say hello, and to meet up, should they, be the few minutes driving time from a mutual meeting point. It is, quite nice, to have, a, lady- friend in the strict sense of the word and a Golf- Buddy too. As to when would they be ‘swinging’ on, the course, only Yvette could determine the exact date considering, her overly tight, night and day work schedule. The probability of them not meeting so soon is the most likely should the trend prevalent among K.L ites nowadays has her following suit without knowing how it came to be in the first place. Exactly the question, how does it arrived, this obnoxious habitude of not answering calls or messages let alone attending tea tarik gatherings. At times most do not even bother to call or sms back should they not be able to join the informal get together albeit the earnest confirmations they gave earlier on. Perhaps the obvious fact that there are no rewards in whatsoever forms that can be gotten from meeting up ever so often, beside, the fact, that it was the near impossible to arrange for a fortnightly assembly- even. Maybe, everyone is just too busy with work or too ensconced, in, his or her, niche in life, to, even care- less. To, reciprocate tit, for tat, to papa is, a, little bit infantile or the quite childish considering we are all old enough to be grandfathers- in our own rights.
How different things are in far away Bukit Tengkorak, where everybody is kinsfolk even though not at all related by marriage or otherwise. To say that everyone there quite swore upon the quaint as, yet quintessential neighborly spirit is an understatement whence that notion goes much beyond the ‘accepted’ criterion. True to the Prophet’s PBUH teaching of one’s neighbor being closer to one’s sibling the littlest cum rustic kampong or village folk is never without the ubiquitous infectious smile whenever we care to make their acquaintance even though anywhere for they truly have that much sincerity and caring feeling: living and breathing, inwardly within their beings. No wonder most of our ‘simple’ clan members only last the odd three days staying in K.L before desperately needing to go home due to the nauseating disgust they felt at the veritably revolting apathy and the quite, really, unpalatable, selfishness of their city brethren.
But then again, what are we to expect, when, everybody, nowadays, is, adjudicated by what car they are driving, where about they are staying and what, watch, they are wearing. Notwithstanding that the abhorrent, albeit, degenerate, yet, inconsequential, papalados must only, be the, here, there and everywhere, Nickel and Dime Man, Ne’er Titles how high nor Money how Big can change the modest, in perspective and in fad, person he is.
Ya mari kita dangdut SAMPAI PAGI!

CERITA- CERITA 3

There, is no denial, that the, tender feelings, invoked, quite, the one more time, brought about, the peculiarly quaint presentiments of a time long past, and an, exhilaration long expired. It is, not, unlike, a, someone’s, relentless pining, for his lost youth, at the end of which, unexpectedly finding it but nearing the withering tethers of dear life itself. A cheesy oddity should someone forgives the pun. Papa, could only, squirm, at, the, very thought, a veritably, nauseating notion, should he be, the one, envisaged, to be that, pitiful someone but this time, hopelessly enamored with a pretty young thing old enough to be his daughter.
Exactly what happened, the near three quarters of a year ago, should visitors to the ramblings blog, care, to view, the much earlier posts. Her name was W.T. and papa even included the sobriquet Jelitawan, denoting her bombshell status because in his ‘losing touch with reality’ condition back then she was the most beautiful girl he had ever met. However, when things had cooled off and papa got his sanity back, she was not that tantalizingly beautiful but just ordinarily pretty due mostly to her being young and impressionable, nothing more. Why was papa such an old fool? Perhaps, it has to do with a biological thing, male- menopause: maybe? Must have been that for it was very embarrassing, upon papa, reflecting back on the peculiarly, pitiful episode, in the, equally woeful and inconsequential chapter, embellishing his, rather- irrelevant ‘the ills that flesh is heir to’ narrative. (Life- Story)
W. T. was a salesperson and a horrible monster at that, she only wanted to exceed her sales quota and that was all she lived for. Utilizing, nearly all means, to ‘close the deal’, W.T would, dressed to the hilt, smiled, the most charming smile and emitted the sweetest of words, just to make the kill’- much to, the literal sense of the word. Upon signing the ubiquitous, ‘agreement’, she would, cut all ties, with the purchaser. Should there be the niggling bits like the National Registration Identification Card, photocopies that still has not been included, at the, outset; she would ask the bewildered old fool to fax or even courier the document to her office, and, she would not, be calling, just messaging. F…..k the girl, she was that evil, must have had Vlad Dracula’s genes in her blood. Then again, papa could be, sour grape, for he did ask her to marry him but, she flatly, albeit, justifiably refused his offer, for he was too old and too broke for her. Ha, Ha, Ha: Kudos to W.T. for having enough sense to spurn a mindless old bastard’s advances. How presumptuous can one get? Only sick old papa, he was that ‘cocksure’.
He had the ‘spurious’ inkling that he had the wisdom of age, thus, the upper hand during the entire ‘woebegone’ episode, until he realized albeit late in the play that he was actually the one being made the fool of. The accidental joker, or, rather, the, ‘joke’, really: the proverbial old fool- that was, humbled, by a street smart, young girl!
Enough: about, papa: now. The Good, Don Diego, did ask, about the two, ageing bachelor boys, being indifferent, to love, as a result of, having not gone through, the entirely smitten by a pretty little thing ( although the word little could be a little less politically correct as they could prefer the heavier ones to be the women in their lives ) circumstances- ever. Papa’s contention must only be that they did have the experience of relationships that did not end as they had hoped or the ones that turned sour the few times they had met, to the extent that they had lost all hope and resigned to the possibility that they could be bachelors for life. Howsoever as of late, papa did come to the knowledge that they are back to seriously dating girls albeit the a bit more mature ones (in their thirties- mostly) introduced by friends or relatives. The fact that they have met the ones they like and who are comfortable in their company together with the actuality that they had met the more than few times and will still be meeting or rather dating during times ahead brought much wonderful pointers to papa. He could only hope that unkel and Pak Mie would at last be getting their companions or quite so their ‘friends’ for life..Insyaallah-Insyaallah.

AN IMPERTINENT WHIMSICALITY

It is with much reverence that papa embraced His Excellency, The Don Diego De La Vega’s deeply felt intimation of not luxuriating in, self- consolation, particularly so for papa- in his concurrent despair for whatever circumstances, that are veritably beyond his control. There is absolutely no reward to be made, whatsoever, considering his predicament as an ordinary citizen and a ‘dissolute’- dangdut, aficionado. Should he, be in a position, to effect changes, by virtue of, his ‘elevated’ position, in the consociation, his lamentations, then, could be, accepted as critical, and momentously substantive, for remediable, albeit, positive endeavors, to be inducted. However, papa’s: nondescript emplacement, as an, average component, of, the populace, together with, his quite regular ranking, as the ubiquitous, ‘man on the street,’ does not, at all, qualify him, as someone, to be heeded, let alone, be taken, seriously. The one thing, that papa, should, give enough thought, is to, shut up, and live life, as, it is, but not, withdrawing altogether, from vociferating, what is, on his, mind, from time to time. Exactly, what, he has, been doing, all, this time, in between, posts, in his, blog, describing, his, inconsequential ramblings, amidst, the multifarious, singing, and, dancing halls, in, and around, Kuala Lumpur.
However, so, the instances, whence, he ‘punches’ himself, at most times, the reason of which, could only be, to ‘bring to the fore’ his ‘impertinent’ world view, may sound, a bit, too drastic, especially, for readers, who are, not familiar, with his, style of writing. Although, not for, The Good Don, but papa, could only be very pleased, for, the uncomplicated reason, that, His Excellency, imparted, such heartfelt concerns, by, reminding papa, not to, dwell in woefulness. How kind of the Don. Even so, being sad, is actually, very remote, from, what, he was, actually experiencing- sentiments wise- that is, until quite recently.
Expecting the, ubiquitous, albeit archetypal, American accented, female voice, emanating from, the mobile company provided, answering service, when, papa called, Petite Yvette, he was, veritably astounded, when she, becomingly, answered, papa’s call. He was, the, microseconds after, truly, dumbfounded: to, the extent of, his characteristic, as, yet, innate stammering, began to emerge. Papa, relaxed, eased off, his ‘mystified’, state of mind, and, thus uttered, the much dated: “ Is that Yvette on the line? “ to which she quite tenderly declared, “yes, it is she”. She remembered him, the instance she heard his peculiarly ‘gruffly’ voice by mentioning, albeit, the bit, excitedly, “Is that Abang Zul?” Mind you, it, was not, Dato’ but Abang, notwithstanding, The Good Prince Fellow’s, unrelenting efforts, to make, known to, Yvette, the ‘spurious’, fact that, papa was, a Titled Personage, the first, time the, three, of them, were acquainted, the few, nights back.
Nevertheless, it, could be, said that, there was also the possibility that Petite Yvette saw through the whole ‘scam’. A, penetrating glance, that, veritably, ‘stripped’ papa, of any, trappings, that were, ‘attached’ onto, his person. His fake Rolex, his Kedai Kasut Yee Beng’s, Black pvc shoes, his Kamdar’s short sleeve shirt and his China imported, purchased at a General Store, in Ampang Park, Lei Deng’s, branded- dark trousers. The, fact that, most of, the items, were priced, at, the quintessential-29.99 Ringgit, threshold, excepting the, fake Rolex, of which, costs only 68 ringgit, makes- in essence- the person, papa, really, is- the aphoristic Nickel and Dime Man. But it, could not, be that, papa can sense things, Yvette was, not that, ‘diabolically’ materialistic, for he, too, can see, through her, and, from what, emanated from, deep inside, papa, was that, little Yvette, must only, be, sincere and honest. Nothing, of the, ‘dubious’ sort, Yvette, can only, be- genuine.
There, is also, the, niggling doubt, within papa, that Yvette, displayed, such ‘amiable’, representations, as a, result of, her being, deprived, of a, father figure, right, from childhood. A, much, pertinent form that, correctly should, mould, any persons, psyche, ever since, the tender years. Denied, only, by death, or, matrimonial- disputes. Papa without doubt is the ‘perfect embodiment’ of the rather elusive ‘father’ figure. What, was with, his streaks, of, silver hair, his slightly, bent back, the not so protruding paunch, weather beaten face and the characteristic, but teeny- weeny, little, bit of, a kind, of a, bowl- legged, walk.
Even so, there is, actually, no issue, here, considering, papa, as the, proverbial coward, wholesomely, near never, venturing beyond, the bedroom door, and, too old, to participate, in the, dating game, but, for golf, it is quite ok, for golf is too sublimed, in the, strict sense, of, the word, above and over, ‘love’ or even, ‘sex’, for, that matter. Tsk , tsk.
Taking, into account, that Yvette, agreed, to, a spot, of golf, when things, are not, so hectic- her exact words, papa, quite, looked forward, to, a game, with a, long lost, niece or a daughter, even, of whom, had just, recently; surfaced.

PETITE YVETTE

The ringing was, a bit muffled, indicating that the phone must have dropped under the driver’s seat but having searched numerous times under it together with pawing through the front passenger side, the hunt was futile. Papa has lost count as to how many times HRH, The Prince Fellow tried to locate the elusive handset by dialing papa’s number, each time registering the suppressed signature. Until papa decided to- think ‘out of the box’ and peeped under the car. Lo and behold it was lying there all along, about a foot inside, must have dropped out from the side of the driver’s seat when papa opened his section of the vehicle.
The club ‘Bisik’ was a bit- darkly lit, resulting in papa finding it a bit of a task to make out Kemmi from the four voluptuous girls prancing on stage. Upon, careful scrutiny, she turned out to be the one singing the upbeat number, the moment papa and The Prince Fellow entered the singing hall. She acknowledged papa and The Prince by waving at them but papa doubted if she had really recognized, him, as the illumination was quite subdued. However, when she came up close and shake hands with the two compatriots, papa could discern albeit slightly the word Dato’ or was it ‘Abang’, papa just could not be sure. It; was at, this juncture that Zan set foot into the lounge, sensing that he must have noticed papa and company sitting, not ten feet away, papa, expressively gesticulated, at Zan. He immediately recognized papa, and, moments after, sauntered to his table, He gestured at Kemmi to come join papa and gang. She complied and soon they were trying to make each other heard amidst the loud music, alongside, the, much spirited- singing.
The girls were good but the scene was not quite papa’s cup of tea, it was much too youngish and cha- cha and dangdut would seem to be out of place if they were to be included in the troupe’s repertoire, the reason, the genres, were not heard- being played at all. It was an entirely different: club atmosphere. Nearing twelve, the whole show was over, and papa, along with, The, HRH Prince had only been there much less than the good part of an hour. As the girls were tired, having played there from seven thirty in the evening, together with, the club, about, to close- only half an hour onwards, papa and Prince Fellow decided to jam somewhere else. Where exactly, could only be decided after the two of them had a drive around the seedier side of the city, being papa’s unquestionable- contention.
It was a veritably ‘amazed’ Prince Fellow, when fixing a gaze, at papa and Mummy Mimi whilst they were literally ‘nitpicking’ over the expected ‘cost’ for a ‘memorable’, evening-singing wise, that is- at Santana Karaoke Lounge. Knowing her ever since the early nineties when Mimi was only fresh out of school and heartily belting dance numbers in dangdut halls across the city, papa and her were literally quite ‘buddy- buddy’. Somewhat like papa being the, all knowing, elder from dangdut lore, Mimi could not really bluff him around. Anyway, papa, had, just to be sure that he, would not be fleeced indeterminately considering his miserly three hundred odd ringgit entertainment budget he, managed to scrounged from his overly tight- for the month’s- allotment. Without a whimper, the intense haggling ended, when Mimi, of, whom; only moments before, was furiously fingering, her incongruously large, hand held calculator, nonchalantly exclaimed “three hundred or three fifty- tops”! Ha- ha- ha: what fun it was!
The Karaoke room that Mimi chose for papa and Prince was situated along a corridor somewhere, after the much twisting and turning around the hall. The, place, can be said to be, not unlike, a medieval ‘maze’ to the extent of, the, The Prince, even, getting hopelessly lost, trying to locate the men’s room. However so, upon seated on the comfortable sofa like seating arrangement, a brightly painted door was conspicuously visible towards the side of the room. It was the toilet, much to the relief of the, Good Prince, whose, perceptibly, off contoured, countenance could not, at all, belie his torturous ‘discomfort’. Strange but the toilet must only be given its proper nomenclature; being in the strict sense of the word the ‘men’s room’. The reservoir was much higher up with the bowl albeit smallish and discernibly designed for male ‘genitalia’ only, situated about three feet above the floor. The mind boggles as, to how a, lady or a vertically challenged male person would have utilized the facility, papa should only guessed, they could only spray it all out, onto the floor, should the bladder not resist it any more. The, strange things, one, encounter these days!
It was only a few minutes later when, in tottered, Mimi with two, heavy set, girls in tow, citing they, were the only ones left, as it was already a bit late when papa and gang arrived at the club. Papa was just about to choose, as, regards, to who, amongst the two to sing with when Mimi suddenly remembered quite one more who has not been called yet. She was Yvette: it’s only, papa, just, embellishing, things, but, this time, adding the bit of the ‘French’ twist. Without waiting for an affirmative ‘yes’ from papa and The Prince, Mimi instantaneously entreated the two girls, to skedaddle back to the lounge’s main hall, leaving, only, little Yvette, behind.
She is in reality a ‘ubiquitous’ salary person, partaking in the hostess vocation on a part time basis due to constraints, as she had acclaimed: in the financial realm- what was with, a mortgage to pay, the car loan and a school going child to support, further to that- she is a divorcee. What can papa and The Prince, say except that Kudos to her for facing her realities ‘head on’ and pushing aside, altogether, the phantoms, of her, past. The, veritably palpable, albeit, ‘invisible’- inner strengths- of a woman. Contrary, to, what is, believed to be, she dances the cha-cha and dangdut, very well, fluidly reciprocating the multifarious steps that papa, set in motion, to the extent of following through gracefully; the difficult- slow cha- cha maneuver. Undeniably also, there was the something in her eyes that emitted the latent yet irrefutable corporeality, truly so, inwardly, within her being. In other words, her eyes would not lie: they were sincere, with, ne’er, a, glint- that, ostensibly, portrayed the, charade or the pantomime, inside- she was not acting.
The, reality that, she has, the ability, to converse, in commendable, English, did not escape, papa’s and The Prince’s, mindfulness. As, papa found it quite a task to choose songs from the much seasoned book listing the titles of song together with inputting into the computer the songs associating numbers, the reason being, he had forgotten, to include, his reading glasses, on the way out, of the house, The Prince had quite a field day chatting up Petite Yvette. It was then that The Prince hollered to papa the fact that little Yvette plays golf.
In less than no time, he pulled her aside, jotted down her number into his phone’s keypad and promised to ring her, in a weekend or two, ahead, for a spot of golf or an hour or so ‘swinging’ at the driving range. The notion that she could be a single handicapper did not enter his mind at that particular moment. Should that be the case then she could be his quintessential Golf Pro, coaching him the finer points of the ‘elusive’ golf swing, thought papa- upon realizing the possibility of the circumstances- the while later. Beside the fact that he is the embodiment of the ubiquitous- ‘homeless’ cum ‘hopeless’- golfer
The screen stopped playing songs, the corridor lights brightened up and the waiter entered the room bringing warm towels for the patrons to freshen up. It’s, time, to, go home. Even, so papa did envisage himself, The Prince and Petite Yvette sipping tea at the ‘club’ next to KBU, after a round of 9 hole golfing at the public course, the fleeting moment, whence, Yvette, sent the two, of them off, at the club’s, main entrance.
So, what: if, she; is a karaoke worker, by night, because, by day, she is still, an, Executive. Besides, papa and The, Prince, are not into the, relationship part, just, the buddy-buddy aspect.
For it is not everyday that an old fart, like papa gets the opportunity to strike a friendship with a young lady executive who plays golf, regardless, if she is a hostess by night or the Secretary General of The U.N. by dawn!