THE SCHOOLDAYS

Daman’s reply to papa’s latest post brought back memories long since repressed at the back of papa’s mind, hidden amidst the high school ‘angst’ that papa kept suppressed and restrained all these years. Recalling the ‘nascent times, papa couldn’t help smiling but far from ‘wryly’- neither sardonic nor contemptuous, rather ‘benign like’ if the term be fitting. Papa, all his life has this little handicap that used to get the better of him most of times. He has a speech impediment- he stutters or ‘stammers’- being the more often used synonym.
It must be said that stammering would not go away no matter how long one ‘suffers’ from it. The word ‘suffer’ may not be a teeny weeny politically correct, as people tend to be a bit more ‘patient’ with this ‘sub-grouping’ particularly so whence conversing with them.
They do have the advantage of not being overly pressured or hounded for little or no reasons, quite frequently as the cases were. Verily, a much benefiting precondition-the proverbial trump card to deploy- especially so, in a frenetic cum high-strung working environment. The stuttering person perennial problem is- he or she couldn’t be hurried, being overly excited would exacerbate the problem. Public speaking is a near impossibility, they would shun from it, if not avoid it altogether. It’s not incorrect then to presume that people having this impediment would brook a bit of an ‘incomplete’ presentiment, thus the much hackneyed ‘inferiority complex’. Exactly the situation papa was predisposed to. Making his ought to be ‘gleeful’ times at school a ‘chore’ he would like to disremember.
Papa must only, enounce his inmost apologies for recounting such macabre and odious narratives relating to his ‘inadequate’ secondary school episode. Such BULLSHIT really- considering it was thirty odd years ago. The inexorable yet all the more evolving exigencies but need not imperiled anyone. He was only thinking of himself, as Zul Gagap, not as a Johannian, the imploringly loftier existence, rather than as- an ex Jantan Kabaret albeit still occasionally patronizing kalabul dangdut!
Sorry for the ‘outburst’. Papa losing himself for a while there. But of course Man, I do remember Dear Indy, not only in name but also in entire physical makeup though he could be a bit weather beaten now. Regards to him should you happen to ring or meet him. Is he still overseas? I do have this affliction not remembering names but recognizing faces, more so- old school chums.
What papa would never forget was- all Johannians were gallant young boys then, upholding the school’s good name for always, most at present are the Chevalier Gentlemen as should be, with some, even bestowed with honorific appellatives. A few had transgressed, there must; inevitably, be the imperfections, however slight and one is a Dangdut aficionado! He3!...CHEERS MATE!

Coincidentaly, Indra or Indy for short also needed further mentioning, he was, as only recently revealed by Daman one of two authors responsible for coining papa's infamous nickname-'papalados', the other being Daman himself. Reason being papa schoolboy's affinity for 'smokes'- of the tobacco kind only-never imbued with any other stuff. He used to boastingly exclaimed to everybody back then that he had tried most of the newer brands-the 'lieautenant browns, the 'dukes, and the 'chesterfields',
among the few cigarette brand names papa still remembers. That must have been been how 'papalados' arrived, as 'lados' was another term for cigarette, the source of which papa's not quite sure of. Anyway, papa should stop: smoking that is, its expensive-8.20rm now compared to 1.10 during papa's schooldays time. They were also available in small packs of fives or sixes then. An unhealthy habit, must stop- buying- really, rather than smoking-ambik member punya!...HA3!

PAPA REPLIES

It must be said that papa was verily overjoyed when he received such delightful comments from people who cared to view his inconsequential blog. The much trivial writings of a mid-aged ‘has been’, to where exactly-papa could never say, as he had been stuck mostly in K L. Perhaps to the local dangdut clubs of which the last visit was nearly three months ago. With this in mind, papa would like to explicate a bit further on the remarks of a certain anonymous about papa’s unique circumstances so as to allow him frequent patronage to dangdut establishments. Papa beg to differ, dangdut, should one take the extra precautions wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg afterwards. Be diligent at all times, request for GROs who don’t drink, booked for only an hour or two and not ordering the little extras-the buah-buah, kacang and scented paper towels. Be sure to ask the Mummy first-about whatsoever that need be inquired. The last time papa was there, he expended about seventy RM only. Not really ruinous to his budget as papa only goes dangduting about once in one or two months. Papa should one care to know- as much has been written, is middle aged. Added to that, he also has this little niggly thing frequently associated with people his age, he’s a diabetic .So to father a child having this condition wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Should that reciprocate another anonymous- ‘magnanimous’ remarks, papa convey his trillion apologies if his answer be construed as abrupt and blunt, he was, granting truth be disclosed, very honoured having read, the said anonymous’s remarks. If only he was 25 years younger. On being the diabetic as revealed earlier, papa is positive about it, never fails to take his pills and persistently monitors his blood sugar levels, verily, a modern fact of life, especially for people his age. Daman oh Daman, a longtime pal, the very person who coined the ‘Papalados’ sobriquet. Kudos to you, Bro, for taking the time viewing my little blog. Hope you’ll keep on hitting - my blog, that is.. STAY HEALTHY! The Yang Berbahagia Dato’ part also need be rectified, papa’s not one and quite far from being a candidate for one. Veritably it was just a joke played by friends, one being Dinno- the actual person who started this blog. The story was, papa, until recently used to send his short stories, sms style to close friends. Dinno, upon receiving papa’s sms kept them all in his Dopod, being one the most advanced handphone available, it does not succumb to the ‘used up space’ phenomena unlike papa’s most basic Motorola. Until one fine day that is, whence Dinno- ever the sentient soul suggested papa set up a blog. Papa who was really I.T. myopic then, didn’t even know what the thing was. Dinno who was used to jokingly exclaimed ‘Dato’ whenever papa’s around, just happened to playfully albeit innocuously- include the lofty appellative when initially setting up the ramblings block Well, as the story goes, papa’s is of now actively handling the blog with Dinno, from time to time, looking on. To be the language advisor remarked yet another ‘anonymous’, papa just had to decline. His English may sound bombastic and conventional: upon scrutiny, however, its full of holes and at most times totally out of context. So dear friends, hope this littlest reply from papa is commensurate to the exalted comments your goodselves rendered. Should there be any shortcomings, howsoever, do forgive him. Last but not least, please don’t stop- blogging- verily so!…cheers…Wasallam…

THE SAWIT IMPERATIVES.

Papa waved at Squire Bobby the Planter, he was across the road from where bobby stood, having alighted from his vintage Honda motorbike, the preferred mode of transport in this quaint riverine cum coastal town north of Johore. Young or old, modest or ample, the townfolks seemed to be getting around very comfortably in their cubs or scooters consisting mostly of contemporary makes
Beckoning papa to proceed to Ah Luck ‘Kopitiam’ situated via a short backlane in between the shop buildings, Bobby made his way there whilst papa carefully crossed the visibly busy main thoroughfare. Having seated, Bobby ordered his favourite local blended Kopi O kosong. Papa, from his frequent sawit runs throughout the years has since acquired an implacable liking for the local brew preferring it wholesomely black without sugar, not unlike the Squire’s favorite cuppa.
Sipping his caffeine imbued beverage, Bobby asked papa what was the harvest like? Papa said it was quite O K, concurrent with the family’s smallholdings sawit cycle having run out its bottom line yield, thenceforth, pretty much on the way up. The only setback being the ever escalating operating costs with monthly operational debts owed to the Towkay Baja and Towkay Buah not seeing any substantial reductions forecasted or otherwise. Nevertheless the liabilities are still within the accepted limits, altogether serviceable and healthily conducive to a near upwardly geared sawit management style or in simple talk-“cukup-cukup cari makan lah”.- Papa’s unrelenting flair for the dramatics! Let’s just hope, sawit prices do not drastically plummet downwards to a fraction of what the prices were, not unlike the early 2000 bitter experience. If that happened, papa will sure “MAMPUS” one!
Bobby, sounding a slight disheartened apprised papa on the less than favourable production figures obtained from his plantation down south. Understandable, considering the at times, near temperamental nature of sawit, due to its strictly biological composition
There are occurrences whence no matter how much the amount of care and undue diligence rendered, would still not give the expected results. However the said condition will only be for a short duration and things will eventually and unavoidably go back to normal.
Meanwhile, emerging as if from nowhere, sauntered in a jelitawan- tall, well endowed though a bit lanky yet nicely proportioned, making her a much attractive lass. Of oriental persuasion, she couldn’t be a Muarian or even a Malaysian, for that matter. Papa seemed to notice whenever, he and Bobby had their coffee at Ah Luck, these girls happened to appear, sometimes a bevy of them- at one go. An explanation could be, them making Ah Luck their short cuts as the Kopitiam cuts through two main streets. If ever there be other reasons, papa and Bobby just do not want to speculate. In all likelihood, there would also be the not so savoury explications, one being, the girls belonging to a syndicate. As to what constitute the syndicate, papa and Bobby could not really elucidate further, for it’s beyond their sphere of activities or their understanding-matter of fact speaking, that is.
Returning to the sawit part of the story after much digressing, it must be said that in order to grow sawit successfully, wherefore, acquiring sizeable returns-size do play an important part. Unlike papa’s family holdings of which is quite marginal compared to Bobby’s total acreage, earnings, on papa’s part will to a great extent, be dictated by the vagaries of the commodity’s market. Bobby, on the other hand will be much shielded, due to his total holdings, buoyant liquidity and considerable resources.
Looking at his watch, Bobby had to excuse himself, for it was time to collect his son from tuition class. TA mate, see you in two weeks time…God Willing…

I SAY MAN- UNCLE!

Although the lighting permeating throughout the club can only be a bit dimming and overly slightly dark, the ever telling ‘goings on’ amidst the shadows were starkly visible, should one care to gaze longer.
Whilst dancing with Puteri, the first time he booked her, Papa couldn’t help noticing a group of patrons bunching up near one of the unusually long sofa like seating arrangements, flanking to the left of the dance floor. They were discernibly joyful though much inebriated. A certain individual from the obviously much joyous assemblage seemed to rake in a bit more interest from papa as compared the rest. He did steal a few fleeting glances at the fellow but veered away from directly staring as that would constitute a big no-no in dangdut club protocols if not any club for that matter. It could attract uncalled for situations- may lead to fist fights if not worst. Papa was more than aware of the conventions, being the seasoned player he was.
The said patron that caught his eyes numerous times was a septuagenarian among the thirty to mid forties entourage. He could be seventy plus if not
nearing eighty years of age.
Doing a sort of peculiar like geriartric shuffle- one or two minute movements to the front, to the back and to the sides regardless of any musical genres playing, be it in slow or fast configurations, he appeared quite oblivious to all that was happening around him. Somehow a couldn’t care less disposition emanated from his countenance. He did appear to be a bit light headed considering the more than few tipples he had from the sinister looking bottles cluttering the group’s table.
The GROs they hired were very relaxed and seemingly not at all inhibited intermingling amongst them, despite the group’s, at times, near boisterous antics. Must have been their ‘regulars’. The old chap, mostly than most did not appear to have any problems requesting the girls accompany him dance, albeit almost all adopting the infamous nonchalant ‘stare emptily in front’ deportment whilst ‘shuffling with him. They had no other choice but to emulate his uniquely ‘much subdued footworks’.
I SAY MAN UNCLE! ARE YOU ENJOY? I ALSO ENJOY LAH! FOR SURE WE ALL ENJOY ONE! COME HERE TO ENJOY- WHAT! IT’S A FREE COUNTRY ISNT IT? TO EACH HIS OWN LAH UNCLE YA! LIVE AND LET LIVE UNCLE! TOMMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY! SAMPAI PAGI!

A PEARLY PRINCESS THAT IS NOT QUITE SO

Upon receiving Bro K’s sms, papa felt apprehensive, he would be alone at Mutiara. Much looking forward to his spontaneous yet amusing antics, papa did not really fancy going dangdut clubbing alone .
He ventured in, asking for mummy Shima- papa was a bit disheartened upon hearing she'd been down with the weather and was on leave for the night. Knowing her from Bunga Raya days, Shima is more than a friend to him, she was the long lost buddy from yore but recently found yet still plying the dangdut route. Shima’s replacement tottered up to him, smilingly inquired whether he wanted a GRO to accompany him for the evening. Since he’d got no other plans, papa gave the affirmative. Querying if ever an hours booking was appropriate and within the ambits of club policy, of which he got a ‘yes ‘ reply, papa requested for a girl that does not drink and can dance.
Her name was Puteri, not much a sight to look at but still pleasant- though.
It was her prancing on the dance floor that really mystified papa. He’d got that something that’s irking him all this while, in which, was a difficult slow dance maneuver he’d been trying to master all these years. Having Puteri in front ‘waltz’ style, papa initiated the few vague steps he knew. As if by magic, she’d just took off from there, bringing papa along, without a hitch. He truly felt like crying. He’d danced through all the demanding movements.
Alas, the slow dance part was over, it’s now dangdut’s turn, yet again she took papa along, only this time it was the upbeat tecno infused configuration. Papa, ne’er his woeful existence thought he would be able to render justice to this infernal, much fast paced cum fast thumping contemporaneous dangdut genre, but he did, albeit breathless and aching at the back
Unabashedly, Puteri took it all in stride whence papa heaped platitudes upon platitudes of compliments onto her- for being the ‘dance teacher’ he’d never expected. Probing, should ever she’d had a day off in a week lest papa would arrived unexpected, “she replied, not usually so”, papa promised to come soonest possible so as to again ‘swirled and twirled with the lithe but ‘plain’ Puteri Mutiara!.

DIALECTICAL DANGDUT

Papa once in a while forays into the dangdut realm necessitates a serious deep soul searching exercise on his part. Why must he champion such a derisory undertaking? An activity looked down upon by all and sundry. Little did they know that dangdut is actually a logical cum eclectic consequence of popular malay music descending through time and converging into present day acclamation albeit not quite agreeable by local music elites. There are negative type embellishments that are imbued into the contemporary dangdut experience.The not so savoury elements from the 50’s cabaret notoriety that inadvertently ensued popular malay club scenes untjl today. So called pundits do not far deviate from the truth when they could only be condescending if ever dangdut be conferred a cultural like appellative even though not officially. Somehow it couldn’t be categorized alongside the joget, inang and zapin.
It could be a little bit more politically counterbalanced should music-in all its multifarious temperaments persist together with its danceable features. In other words, what good will its much inspiring melody be if it couldn’t be danced to! Not unlike, the salsa and the samba-what elegance should they subscribe to if there weren’t the illustriously conjoined ‘shuffle and twirls’.
Music must have its dance elements.Thenceforth the dangdut or the cha-cha-cha for that matter, must one just listened with only spirits uplifted rather than joyously move to their synchronized frolicsome wiggles and footworks. Should the whole ‘experience be salubriously combined thereupon the gratification would only increase ten fold
Just go learn the dance: for sure you’ll loved it. But for now, dangdut can only be at the fringes, Its infamy surpassing itself. Do look for it,however, should one have the time, that is, its only played in seedy dangdut halls- amidst K.L’s rubbish strewn backalleys…

A BONE OF CONTENTION

Cumbersomely reinstalling the newly charged battery, papa couldn’t help thinking about his forthcoming mandatory sawit run this coming Friday. His 4WD pick up of which has been stationary for the good part of nearly six weeks had given the dead battery problem, that’s the reason for the extra ‘heavy work’ earlier on. The truck seems to start well so the trip wouldn’t be much of a problem, Insyaallah..
Somehow his thought diverted to the quite heated discussion old fempan had with jinair the thursday night last week. Papa was then wrought with pressing the appropriate keys on his just acquired laptop. Quite a level of skill needed to reasonably chronologised the entire enterprise.
Papa did not really hear what the topic that was berated upon but the ‘gist’ that he got was its something to do with the esoteric being the overlord off all things-as contended by fempam and the fantastical possibilities that can be derived should all people, transcending entire borders dividing the world, acted in concert for the just one and only time in order to achieve that epic water-shed like heavenly inspired outcomes- as lectured by jinair.
Meanwhile, outside, a congregation of much animated young people was shouting and hooting at each other. Must have been an informal group meeting of some ‘multi level ‘ business, excited at the unexpected profits generated through their unremittingly efficient thus all the more effective networking. Such exhilaration, if only papa was twenty five years younger!
Inside, a near demented fempam vehemently defended his position with the unusually somber but stoic jinair not at all relenting- even a bit. Mexican ‘stand off’ like, the whole woeful affair concluded itself whence fempam and delpam excused themselves midway, citing reasons of having to be early at office tomorrow due to increased workloads. Papa went home nearly three in the morning after maneuvering the indeterminate laptop thingy with jinair as his teacher and guide.