Love is Blind

November 17

They say it is blind. Perhaps it is to some, and not to the rest. One Friday evening, somewhat mid last year, a close personal friend, Gabriel gave me a call. He popped over to the house and we had dinner. Way after dinner, he took out his mobile and turned it on. Puzzled, I asked him why his mobile was turned off. Since he was into personal financial services and real estate, it seemed queer as calls from clients or potential ones might come in. Battery was low and he did not have the charger with him. I did not pursue further.

A while later, his phone kept beeping. Incoming messages. Calls came but he refused to answer. With an inkling of what was going on, I asked if his girlfriend for a year-and-a-half, was the caller, and I hit it right home. Upon asking what was wrong, he shared his story. They have been in frequent arguments, on a weekly basis and things had gotten violent. At first, she threw things around. Then she began taking knives and blades slicing and cutting things that she could lay hands on, including personal computers, clothes and bed. He then showed me a picture taken on his mobile. A bad cut on his index finger with oozing blood, a result of him trying to grab the instrument from her. Earlier that evening, he was in an argument with her, and he needed to get away, so he spent a night over.

This year sometime in May, in one of her anger fits over some trivial matter, she threw his handheld on the floor, and the LCD screen cracked. The device kaputed. She started hitting him with a clothe hanger, and crumpled all his clean, well-ironed shirts, and wiped her tears and snots. Gabriel's siblings came to know, and like me, they advised him to walk out of the relationship, and make it clear with her and her family. Later, we discovered he did not, even though he had earlier agreed to do so.

Lately, I had MSN conversations with him and asked how things were with him. He volunteered the information that she was undergoing counselling sessions in St. Ignatius church. Asked if they got back together, and yes was the answer. I sighed with heaviness in my heart. Having met his girlfriend much earlier over few dinners, not only I was unable to see what he saw in her, she striked me as a spoilt scatterbrain, free loader with a ego that rocketed sky high who happened to think and treat her own boyfriend, my friend like a dog and belittled him in front of his own friends. It was disturbing and heartbreaking to see a friend treated as such.

I have lost count of the times that I advised him to let the relationship go based on facts gathered from him confiding in me. As a friend, I would believe I had done all within my means to help him through bad times, including monetary assistance. Over time, I am exhausted as my words fell on deaf ears, disappointed at his lack of courage, saddened by the erosion of self-dignity. In all these, perhaps no one is as gravely disappointed and heartbroken as his dad, had he knew.

Recently, Gabriel asked if I had a spare car that he could loan for the weekend. He was to go on a family trip with his dad and siblings to Cameron Highlands. His girlfriend's car was in a workshop, and she needed his car to drive down to Malacca to replace another trainer for a beauty workshop. The truth was she made that up. She was not invited for the family trip and she purportedly put him in a spot to choose; her or his family. I was speechless at the extent of her childishness. My call and text to him the night before the trip, asking if he still needed my car, went unanswered and unresponded.

A Buddhist believer might say that he perhaps had wronged her in his previous life, and in this, he is paying for his transgressions. That aside, is love really that blind? I find myself at lost wondering. By horoscope, I am a dreamer and an idealist. As much as I believe in true and unconditional love, I however, do not believe in loving blindly, moreso when it involves physical and psychological violence and abuse. Maybe I am not such an idealist after all, or I have yet to experience the transformational power of love. So tell me, is love also blind to a lifetime of emotional and mental slavery?

Rendang and Muhibbah

October 11

Our neighbour, Abang Ramlan and wife, Kak Latifah came over just as we were leaving the house for our brunch. "Come over for dinner tonight, we are having an open house for family and friends". Delightfully we agreed. We popped over at eight, just after Maghrib prayers with a hamper. No, we could not step into a party empty-handed. It was just outright rude. We bersalam with the hosts, and immediate family members including Kak Tifah's mum who personally prepared the beef rendang. I decided not to take any photographs although I brought my camera along.

We dugged into the simple spread on the table - beef rendang, nasi lemak with sambal kerang (cockles in chillie and oil) and sambal sotong (cuttlefish cooked in chillie and oil), nasi himpit (malay style of stuffed rice) with peanut sauce, cakes, fruits, teh O (plain tea) and orange cordial. Adrian had like four helpings to the rendang and nasi himpit, and I glared at him for being such a glutton, and sternly reminded him that there were other guests, mainly relatives and friends that had just arrived and had not had their share. Sigh, no brakes to that stomach of his.

It was such a long time since I attended an open house during Raya, and being there was a heartwarming reminder of the muhibbah spirit we all shared. There was no difference in skin colour, or religion, or culture. There were just friends having a good time and a hearty meal.

This localised scene was a starking contrast to the issue of racism that has been sweeping our nation way before the March 8 elections, and is still razing on, as well as the endless politicking and lobbying for posts and roles at the expense of justice and truth, was reflective of the immaturity of politicians. In all honesty, our ancestors were all immigrants. No race own this land. It was just a matter of which race came first. In our history books, we read of Parameswara, the Sumatran prince who fled Palembang and stumbled upon Malacca, which he named after the tree he napped under. That was the origin of the Malay Sultanate, that continued to be present in this land today.

I was born in the Taiping general hospital over three decades ago, and I shared an incubator with an Indian girl for an entire month as I was born prematured. There were Malay infants in the same room. Were we then still immigrants, having born in the same hospital, almost within the same time and date? By heritage I am a chinese, my upbringing was Malaysian and was educated in Malaysian schools, graduated from the first university established in the country, working in a homegrown company and contributing the the economy of Malaysia, and paying taxes to the Malaysia IRB. I might not have brought glory to this country in academics, sports, beauty pageants, or other fields. Does that make me less a Malaysian? Is it not that citizenship is granted when you are born in Malaysia, to Malaysian (chinese) parents and family? My MyKad and passport state my nationality as a Malaysian. Doesn't all these make me a worthy Malaysian?

After half a century of gaining independence, our country seemed to be regressing instead of moving forward. It is indeed a sad state that our country had landed itself in. Over the years, I began to look outward for job opportunities, with hope that it'd gain me a better life in a country that would recognise me as its citizen. How long does it take dear Malaysia to realise that there are many that love this country, and all the constant insinuation would only drive away its very own people that would proudly call themselves, Bangsa Malaysia?

Friends Are Forever

August 22

Some of us hold on to precious thoughts and memories of friends, and often recall the good times together. For some of us, friends are our brothers and sisters whom we share laughters and tears, happiness and misery, joy and sorrow, truimphs and failures and who are there for us when we are high with successes and down in the darkest hours.

Some call it bonding. Others call it brotherhood or sisterhood. Friendship is the establishing of mutual knowledge, understanding, trust, respect, esteem, affection, honesty and loyalty between two sentient beings. Central of human experience and engendering a sentiment of camaraderie, frienships vary in degree of closeness and exclusivity.

Recently, I saw pictures of a group of high school friends, who I used to hang out so often and so much that when we were about to leave school, we made a forever-friends pact.

There was something missing though. I was not in the picture, and my heart sank. A deep sense of sadness swept over me as my heart was laced with disappointment, guilt and regret. I had fallen out from the group. Over the years I had not been in touch with them much, occasionally dropping one or two of them emails and messages. A few of them left the country for a better life overseas. The picture was taken at a gathering as two returned recently for holidays.

I was guilty and regretted for losing touch with them. I was guilty of the lack of behaviour expected of a friend. What I shared with them in those carefree high school days were lost and no amount of effort can restore the bonding we shared, or mend the broken relationships. Some friendships, unfortunately are unable to pick up where they were left off. Perhaps my consolation comes from the good memories I had with them; and though now I have lost the closeness with them, I hold each of them close to my heart, and dearly in my thoughts.

Some would say that it is pointless to fuss over spilled milk. I can't go back in time but if there was even half an opportunity to turn back the clock, I would keep the bond. As I grew older, I learned to cherish good friends; while acquiantances are aplenty and frienships are easily formed, good and true friends are hard to come by, and even harder to keep.

(Standing, from left) Wooi Ling, Karen, Lai Yee, Adriane & Poh Gaik

(Seated, from left) Lynnette, Swee Hoon & Seok Teng

BMR Over Dinner

August 18

(left, clockwise) stuffed mushrooms, Margherita pizza, chicken milanese, and Sicilian chicken salad

Reservation for six was made for dinner at 7.30pm. One by one, they trickled into the restaurant from various workplaces, from Port Klang to HP Tower in Damansara Heights. A finance manager, an analyst, a financial controller, a corporate communications manager, a financial planner, and a financial & tax consultant.

There were Senny, Li Lian, Bee Kwan, Wei Hong, Wei Chon and myself. We met in 1994 as coursemates in Tunku Abdul Rahman College, better known as TAR College (TARC). Remained in touch over the years, but last met three years ago, we decided it was time to catch up. Some others, unfortunately, were unable to join us.

While the five of them pursued their qualifications and remained in financial sector, I had long given up on that line of work. I was simply not cut out to do finance or accounting. I was in TARC for only one-and-a-half years, and i re-applied for a place in one of the local universities. I wanted to get into a university, and I also knew I would not had made it had I stayed on. Into University of Malaya I went and never looked back since, except for the good times shared with them whilst i was there.

Stories of work, spouses, kids, and food were exchanged across the tables and it took us quite a while to actualy look through the menu and ordered our food. So caught up we were in conversations that none of us wanted to think too much of our drinks. We ordered the same thing - ice lemon tea, haha.

(above) Wei Chon (left) and Wei Hong

Senny (left) and Li Lian

All four ladies turned and gave Wei Chon a questioning look when he first declined to take a piece of the Margherita pizza that just came. Earlier he took a scoop of the Sicilian chicken salad. Claimed that he was cutting down on his food intake to reduce some weight. But he was not fat at all, so we figured that he must have had dinner date with his other half. Well, he did finish the pizza after much coaxing.

raisin bread pudding

Sad bunch we were when we thought the whole dinner was rather sinful by the time we hit the fourth dish. We had not even had our dessert of raisin bread pudding! The topic of BMR (basal metabolic rate) came into discussion. The higher the score, the better of course. That means we can eat more. http://www.internetfitness.com/calculators/bmr.htm

My last medical checkup was done in the early part of 2007. Three quarters of this year are almost over. My next check should be done come 2009. I am not too worried about my bad cholesterol as I have been abstaining from popular culprits - roti canai and nasi lemak - the former for eight years now and I last had the latter almost six months ago. No fan of fast food, my last visit to a fast-food chain was almost two years ago. The last deep-fried chicken i had was almost two weeks ago, which i prepared for the dinner with Connie, Fai & Mary Anne. That is just a small part. There are other stuffs to check. Protein, glucose, uric acid, creatinine, enzymes, minerals & electrolytes. There are also the various scans, and ECG, yada yada ....oh well... :)

Something About Mary

August 11

There was definitely something about Mary - so much weight loss that we stood staring at her, lost for words. My good friend, Mary Anne returned for a short two-week break from Melbourne and instead of having dinner at some fancy restaurants, I decided a cosy dinner at our place would be a better idea.

Sunday afternoon, I was in my kitchen preparing away, cutting, slicing and chopping. Capsicums, tomatoes, cucumber, carrots, baby corns, turnip, onions, cloves of garlic. The night before I marinated some pork and chicken and had them in the fridge. Peanut soup with chicken feet and dried sole was boiling in the pot on one side of my two-burner stove. By six in the evening, I managed to whip up sweet and sour chicken with tomatoes, cucumber, baby corns and onions, black pepper pork with capsicums, stir-fried shredded turnip & carrot with dried shrimps, siew pak choy with garlic & oyster sauce, and soup.

Five of us - Fai, Connie, Mary, Adrian and I - adjourned to our humble looking junglelike garden after dinner for more catching up and dessert of ice cream. Mary shared about her life in Melbourne, occasionally about good old days when we were all working together.

Like Fai, Mary and I were colleagues in the same department when we were working for The Star. She joined four months after I did. Early one morning, she came up to me (more like she crept up on me, haha) and said "I heard that you do ciggies. You want to go down together?". From her coffee-coloured skin tone and facial features, it was obvious that Mary was of mixed parentage. "Are you Cindian?" I asked. "No, Cibai" came the reply. My face must have had the look 'why such vulgarity'. Mary laughed and explained that she was of Chinese-Punjabi parentage. From then on, we waited for one another to get into the department on the 10th floor, and did breakfast, lunch, and dinner or teh tarik sessions together. Fai joined us mainly for lunch and teh tarik sessions. Times when we weren't seen together were times when either one of us was on leave.

We are six years apart from each other, Mary, six years my junior and Fai, six years my senior. Together the three of us had lots of crazy chats, silly jokes and hilarious exchanges. Mary and Fai kept me company when Adrian was away for lengthy overseas projects. I am ever grateful and thankful for their unconditional friendships and all the wonderful precious memories we shared. Mary and Fai, thank you. Here's to a lifetime of love and friendship...CHEERS!

Mary, Fai and me

Sense & Scent

July 30

Late evening, over yahoo messenger, my hubby wrote and asked if I would be okay if he was to be put in Bangladesh for a project and he'd be away for three to four months. My instant reply to him was I needed to call Connie and Fai to tell them that we would not be able to make the trip to Bangkok. Connie had earlier buzzed me to ask if early November was a good time for us.

This was our second attempt to spend a eating-and-shopping holiday in the capital of Thailand. Our first was last September, which was forfeited because Adrian was on project deployment in Jakarta, that lasted almost five months. It would seemed that the densely populated city, best known for shopping and food, was determined not to have us treading on its ground.

Breaking the news to the couple was easy since booking had not been made. But, I felt lousy. Fai and Connie, who knew how much I would love to see the place, were there last May. They were thoughtful and generous to want to make my maiden trip worthwhile. It would have been a swell time as we enjoy each other's company, and we love Thai cuisine.

Fai and I met when I was under employment with The Star back in 2003. He was my colleague in the same department, on different teams. I was introduced to my new colleagues on my first day of work. "Hi, I am Cheryl". "I am Leong (Kong Fai)," he replied and we shook hands. "Is that Bulgari Pour Homme Extreme that you are using?" I heard myself asking. He smiled and nodded. Despite six years difference in age, we became fast friends. Fai and I are great fans of Bulgari fragrances, and we could have lengthy exchanges on our love affairs with them. Pour Homme Extreme and Aqua Pour Homme are our favourites; and Pour Homme Soir had been added to my list.

Aqua Pour Homme

His wife, Connie is a lady with a big warm heart. Friendly, charming and wears a constant smile, she and Fai make a lovely couple. While he is a graphic visualiser and designer, she is an interior furnishing freelancer, catering to the well-to-do and elite society. Four of us, each from different background, of different upbringing, and with different work interests, bonded together by our unconditional acceptance of and love for one another. Like fragrance that stood the test of time, ours a friendship that surpasses time infinite.Pour Homme Extreme