Category: Daily Whatevers

Yup…Sukhumvit. One of the places in Thailand that I miss so much. In fact, I miss Thailand..period. My first brush with Thailand was back in 1989, on job trip…but to the southeastern province of Narathiwat. So I never learnt how to speak the lingo as I am conversant in the Kelantanese/Pattani dialect.

My second brush was my longest, from 1993-1995. That was when I had the opprtunity to learn the lingo and customs, and fell in love with its culture and music. After that it was off and on, until 2002 when I had the third brush right through 2005.

So what do I miss about Sukhumvit? Yeah, the traffic sucks for sure. But I enjoyed going to Benjasiri (Queen’s) Park, watch schoolchildren performing traditional music; the standing at attention when they play the National Anthem at 6pm Thai time; the King’s Anthem at night. I miss the sanuk way of life. Everything was just sanuk for everyone, myself included.

Sukhumvit’s where I got my friend, Muaazam, to fall in love with Thai music too. He’s been taking his girlfriend to various parts of Thailand since then.

I need to go back there.

I just miss it.

This is a candid shot of me (on the right) having a private discussion with the Prime Minister’s Political Secretary, Dato’ Othman Desa.

It was a private discussion..

I found this man who happens to be mentally-retarded, suffering from bad case of diabetes, had his left leg amputated below the knee, abandoned by his family at their former family house.

You can find him at Kampung Gombak Batu 19, Kuang, Selangor.

One f*cked up family.

THIS BE THE VERSE – PHILIP LARKIN

They f*ck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

With the signboard down, efforts are being taken to bring new funds pumped in by new investors (read: suckers) to another country where ideas originated.

For you guys who have wrong-coloured skin, read the company’s actual policy:

We don’t necessarily discriminate. We simply exclude certain types of people.

I had my haircut today (or rather cutting what’s left of it). The radio at the barber’s blared this very familiar but long unheard of song: Anjali, Anjali, sung by Illayaraja.

I first saw this film on TV on Deepavali day of 1995. At that time I was with my investigation team at the Penang Station Staff Headquarters at Batu Ferringhi in the midst of an criminal investigation for the Air Force.

The film is about a dying autistic child, Anjali. She was born into a family that has two elder siblings. When the hospital alerted the father about her condition, so the father colluded with the hospital staff to inform his wife that she had stillbirth. The father however continued to care for this child secretly.

Eventually the truth leaked out, the child is brought back to the household. The film explores why the husband did what he did, how the family, including the two other children come to accept the child into their lives, how she is cared for, and whether they finally are ready to let her go.

This film is a true tearjerker, and tests your feelings if you are a parent.

Watch it if you are a parent.

Can you weather the storm?

I wish that I can turn back the clock…