Some days, I’m just glad to find myself having gotten through the day, still holding my head up high.
On Interregnum
One of my favourite novel series of all time is Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series.
Anyone who has ever read any of these books will know that Isaac Asimov isn’t exactly Faulkner or Proust. His writing style can be a bit wooden, his characters often very thin vessels who help to carry his plots forward. But that plot! The imagination! The twists and turns of human drama!
In the Foundation novels, Asimov invents his own science of “psychohistory” to imagine a way for human civilisation to rebuild after the decline and fall of the Galactic Empire. Directly inspired by Gibbon, Asimov imagined an outpost, exiled in the farthest reaches of space, where the best and brightest of humanity could seek refuge as galactic civilisation shatters into pieces over the course of several centuries – much like the fall of Gibbon’s Roman Empire.
I have been thinking about the Foundation series a lot lately, whenever I think about the current state of Malaysian politics.
After unbending domination of many decades, the Barisan Nasional has lost its grip over Malaysian politics, reduced to a pale shadow of its former self. A succession of governments and Prime Ministers have come and gone – the narrative of Mahathir as saviour eventually gave way to a parade of expected and unexpected faces, and now, Anwar Ibrahim is at the helm.
The very manner of the cobbling of this Kerajaan Perpaduan, and the recent ensuing developments, suggests to me that Malaysian politics is now deep in the Second Empire phase of the Interregnum, and that we are now waiting for our Mule: that enigmatic, unexpected, random element that refuses to bow to the inexorable forces of psychohistoric prediction. The wild card. The red herring.
For now, the questions remain: How are we retooling the Malaysian economy for the challenges of a decoupled global economy? As multinational companies look to “friendshoring” and rejigging their supply chains, how is Malaysia charting its way forward? How do we set up our geopolitical stance amidst the rising risk of conflict in East Asia? Can we finally come to a reconciliation over the religious and ethnic fault lines that continue to divide our polity? How do we rebuild a consensus around development and civilisational advancement? What does it mean to be Malaysian in the 21st century?
All these questions will remain largely unanswered over these coming few years, it seems.
For now, we merely have to resign ourselves to our political class continuing to work through their neuroses, and hope that they will eventually discover, probably the hard way, that they will continue to be rejected by the voting public who only wants them to (finally) put the public interest ahead of their own petty squabbles and thievery.
For the rest of us, we must simply suffer what we must, until that bright Aurora finally comes.
On Things I Wish I Had Known When I Was 25
For some years after I had just turned 25, I would joke with my friends that my “internal mental clock” was stuck at 25. This lasted for some time, until of course the fiction could no longer be maintained as the body increasingly refused to play ball with my gentle conceit.
This year, I will be turning 45. It won’t be as harrowing as when I was turning 40, I think. By now I’ve come to some amount of reconciliation with who I am and what Life means. I recognise that in many many ways, I have been stupidly fortunate, and remarkably undeserving of many things that have graced my existence of these few decades.
I also recognise that to the extent that I still hold feelings of Envy for others, and Self-Pity for myself, for the many missed opportunities and desired achievements that have eluded my ham-fisted grasp, there is still work to be done in learning on how to become a better human being.
Maybe the lesson will never be fully learnt until my time on this Earth is up.
I am now old enough to know that time travel is a fanciful idea, nothing more – but if I could go back in time and talk to that blithely-hopeful young man of 25, I would be telling him a few things, like these:
- It’s ok to make mistakes. All your life, you will fear making them, and you may well have missed out on any number of wonderful things that could have been part of your life, if only you had that little extra ounce of Courage to try and risk failing. You will find, ironically, that some of the best things in your life will come out from what you may have thought, from the outset, was a regrettable and irredeemable error. Be prepared to be wrong, often.
- There is no such thing as “The One” person for you – this is mere hogwash invented by movies and Hallmark cards to make money off your naivety. When you truly Love someone, your concept of Love and Self will grow to encompass the larger person that you should and will become as a result of loving that someone.
- Family will hurt you and disappoint you. Because they, too, are human, and will commit the mistakes and mishaps that humans do. Some of them might never deserve your forgiveness, but at the very least, you can learn to live with the hurts and the disappointments, and save room in your life and in your heart for the ones who truly love you and care for you.
- Ambition is important to your personal growth and livelihood, but never forget that these are all means to a far more important end: to learn what it means to be who you are, and what you are meant to do on this Earth.
- In work, try your best to gain the right Skills that will make you useful as you grow older. Since you weren’t born with Wealth, you must sell your Labour like most others on this earth – gain the right skills that can make your Labour useful and worthwhile, to yourself and to others.
- What you might think is desperately and shatteringly important to you today, will likely end up being something rather “meh” as you grow older, and your priorities change and grow to encompass the bigger and better and more mature person that you become.
- Friendships – you need to pay attention. Too often, in the past and in the years to come, you will let friendships lapse and wither out of lack of tender care and attention. Don’t do this. Spend the time to reach out. At least drop a text from time to time – better yet, make the time to meet over coffee. The friends you have are the most precious gift you will have in this life – we are all ships passing by silently in the night, but it is no small consolation to know that we can sail alongside each other for a while and make that loneliness a little easier to bear.
- Reading will save your Life. Not merely the influx of information, as mundanely important as that might be. Rather, reading offers you a window to constantly reflect on Life and the big questions that will increasingly haunt you as you get older and closer to your own mortality. Some of the best highlights of your life will come from the epic, beautiful and haunting reads that lie in wait for you.
- On the point of mortality: Death is the ever-present phantom, the one thing that makes you truly human, that bittersweet pill that each one of us will need to take one day. Raging against Death will serve you no purpose: running away will only lead you astray, and cause you to twist and turn in the most unnatural and transmogrified ways. The only truly human way to live life is to constantly think of Death, and look Death in the eye – and embrace what it means to live well so that you can die well.
- Love yourself. You will find that you are one of the lucky ones on this earth, who can count on a good number of people in your formative years as well as in your later years, who have loved you truly and unconditionally and unreservedly. More than anything, and despite everything, this has been the best gift of your life, because it has taught you that you can love yourself. In the end, all you will have ever have is yourself, to live within and to live with.
Tentang Pengancil dan Penganjing
Satu dua tiga lekuk Pak syeikh, pak lebai aku ketuk. Empat lima enam lompat Abah muda, abah tua aku sebat. Tujuh lapan sembilan loncat Satu Malaysia kena hanat!
On Mangosteens
When we came back from the US, I was still just three years old. We moved into my grandmother’s house in Kuang, a wooden home set off several paces from the main kampung road, right across from the local masjid. One of my greatest sadnesses is that when I try to envision that kampung house in my mind, all I can see now is that wide expanse where the wooden house used to be, and the stone-hewed bungalow which now stands where, many years ago, my late grandmother used to tend to her mangosteen orchard at the back of her kampung home.
Her husband had passed on when I was very young, and so many of my childhood memories was really filled with memories on Nenek. She was the third wife, and she gave her husband three sons; my father was the middle child. My mother tells me that my father was his mother’s favourite son, and so when fate had destined that I was born first of all his mother’s grandchildren, I quickly became my grandmother’s favourite. I am not sure if this is indeed true, but when I do think of my paternal Nenek, a warm glow of overwhelming and enveloping love is what always comes to mind.
My memories of Nenek, I suppose like most Malaysian memories, would revolve around food. Even after my parents had divorced, my mother would insist that we visit Nenek from time to time, and everytime we made the trek to Kuang via Old Klang Road, I remember Nenek would be there to greet us with a bowl full of bahulu and hot piping Nescafe susu. And when they were in season, there would be buckets of mangosteens waiting for us when we arrived.
I am a fussy eater – always have been, but I was especially difficult as a child. I had some inexplicable aversion to most local fruits – my friends used to say that my refusal to eat the durian should be a basis for withdrawing my Malaysian citizenship!
The fact of the matter was that I was not very fond of fruits at all – and the only fruits I would eat, after much cajoling, would be oranges or apples or watermelons. Until today, I have very little time for papayas or jackfruit or even duku or langsat. On a good day, maybe rambutans.
But mangosteens? They’ll always have a special place in my heart. They will always remind me of Kuang, of that kampung house, my Nenek and my childhood.
On Deliverance (A Prayer)
Ya Allah deliver this Nation from the grasping hands of these thieves who engorge themselves at the trough of the public trust.
Ya Allah bring Your Justice to bear on these arrogant ingrates who treat the public trust as if it is their own private sport – to play games with the livelihoods of millions of innocent souls.
Ya Allah punish them for their insolence and their greed and their selfishness and their corruption. May their Birkins and Brioni suits and Bugattis bear witness to the evils that they have committed on this Earth! May their ill-gotten gains become the very shackles that tie them down as they rot in your Hellfire!
Tentang Kematian (atau, Sebuah Kehidupan Bangsawan)
Ya Tuhan,
Sungguh sungguh aku takut akan Mati
Aku takut bila jantungku t’lah terhenti
Dan jarum masa enggan berputar lagi
Tuhanku,
Aku tak sanggup menerima hakikat
Bahawa Kehidupan ini seolah sesaat
Dan aku sebenarnya t’lah lama tersasarsesat
Ya Tuhan,
Berikan aku masa lagi untuk berghairah
Masa untuk aku berbesarmegah
Bermandi dalam syurga duniawi mewah
Tuhanku,
Sungguh sungguh hidupku berdagangbeli
Kuasa, perempuan, hidup berpuji -
Berapa harga redhaMu, Ilahi?
On Khaled Abou El Fadl’s The Prophet’s Pulpit
Those who know me well enough would know that one of my (many?) pet peeves is the nature and quality of Friday sermons in Malaysian masjids. I don’t mind it, I suppose, that religious bureaucracies insist on standardisation of the texts for Friday sermons – but the sheer banality and superficiality of our weekly sermons make it a constant source of sorrow for me.
Reading this book made me nod in agreement – a lot. The writer’s contention is precisely that many masjids have elected to keep the Friday sermon as bland as possible. Is it fear of religion as a source of political mobilisation? Or a sincere effort to depoliticise the masjid? Perhaps our Muslim preachers are just too lazy to use the Friday prayers as an opportunity to educate and edify? Whatever the motive might be, much of what the writer had to say were resonant to me.
Perhaps my biggest issue with this book is that sometimes the author does appear to be carried away in his indignance at the abject state of the Friday khutbah. He certainly lays his political cards on the table, making rather angry, and to my mind, rather vicious, denunciations of Muslim leaders such as those currently in charge in Saudi Arabia and Egypt. Maybe it is unfair or unfeeling for me to feel such distate, but I do think that if one truly believes in the Majesty of His Justice, then one would not, cannot, get too worked up over the myriad injustices on this Earth. Sooner or later, His Justice will prevail.
We do not need to foam at the mouth too much – we do what we can, in the ways that we can, but we must also have faith that He will set things aright, if not in this world, then certainly in the Next.
Overall, I would give this a 4-star rating. Good read, but some parts were too angry for my liking.
On Days Like These
When I was about to turn 40, I went through a series of personal and professional crises that had stopped me in my tracks, and led me to question most of what I thought my self and my ambitions had been. I took stock of how far I had come, worked through much of my hurt, and even relived some of the foundational pain that I had kept well hidden, even from myself. Despite everything, I looked back at my life, up to then, and saw that it was good.
Not merely good, in fact, but blessed beyond measure.
I realised, after much reflection, and many miles travelled on a long train trip across Asia, that I could walk away from what I had been doing for years – just being marionetted by other people’s dreams for me, and being haunted and made angry by other people having hurt me. I could choose a different way of Being – more purposeful, more meaningful.
As naive as it may sound, I am choosing to live a good life, to try to be a good person, and to bring goodness to the lives of those around me. It sounds simple, maybe even banal. And certainly there are some days when this new “ambition” feels so small – as if I am throwing away all this “talent” to feed on the crumbs of daily fortunes. Some days, when I feel low, I would cast an eye on the good luck and successes of others, and that familiar wave of Envy and Self-pity comes over me. Some days it feels that I might drown in the inundation.
But some days, like today, when I feel like I’ve touched someone’s life, even if in a small, small way – when it feels like I have pierced through some fog of existential loneliness, to break through and begin to know another human being, and to dignify another’s existence, without guile or grief – on days like today, my heart is full.
On Dignity
This morning I woke up
And walked to the bathroom
I saw my face in the mirror
Those dead eyes, swimming in doom
God, please, I said
Give me a way out, any way out
Thirty years, all this time
Like a cornered rat, without redoubt
These choices I have made
Now I drown in a sea of regrets
My friends, their laughter echo loud
I sink beneath Life’s parapet
God help me now to find
A path out from my ragged mind.