An Urgent Plea to the Young Voters

 "Hope" is the thing with feathers - 
That perches in the soul - 
And sings the tune without the words - 
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard
And sore must be the storm - 
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm - 

I've heard it in the chillest land - 
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

- Emily Dickinson

My very first formal encounter with English Literature took place in a Form Four classroom decades ago. Mrs. Harbans, the tall and stately English Lit icon in our school, strode into the classroom and wrote the poem above on the blackboard in her neat, typically teacher's handwriting. She added a twist to the poem, though, for she had omitted some words and left them to our 16-year-old's active imagination.

As my classmates and I cracked our heads to think of the most accurate words to fill in the blanks that day (mind you, it was way harder then because we did not have phones or the Internet to refer to), little did I know that English Literature would eventually take up a big part of my life, and more importantly, my mindset. I still try to squeeze this poem in whenever there is an opportunity to do so but today, I am going to seek the assistance of Emily Dickinson's masterpiece to make a gentle plea to the youngsters who will be going to the polling station (perhaps even for the first time) this Saturday. 

I suspect that many youths today do not quite know whom/which party to vote for. I don't blame them at all. As an adult, I am having a hard time myself, too. It is not only a case of choosing between "both sides of a rotten apple". From what I have seen of the fruit thus far, both sides of the apple have become more rotten than before. The even more disturbing news, however, is this: if we choose wrongly or do not choose at all, it can escalate to a point where things become as rotten as they can ever get. 

There were two topics that I extremely abhorred as a child: technology and politics. I am sure I am not alone in saying this. I could never understand any news related to politics. After all, news on robberies, murders, and natural disasters are often more sensational and strangely more 'palatable' (despite its gruesome nature), so I could not comprehend why our Standard 5 teacher forced us to memorise the names of the ministers in the cabinet back then. Why was it important for us to know who was in charge of which ministry? How would it impact a bunch of 11-year-olds? Strangely though, those names are still stuck somewhere at the back of my mind today even though I cannot seem to recognise the names of our current ministers. Hmm ... perhaps that was why. 

Lately, though, I have come to realise that it is important to roughly know what is going on in our country. Not because we want to see what kind of 'bantuan' is being doled out and to whom, or what other empty promises are strewn about as baits to unsuspecting citizens, but more so because ... it is OUR country. It is our responsibility, therefore, to be in the know. Do we remain in our family simply because we hope we get some benefits out of our family members? Is that why we were born into that family? Really?

As an adult, I have heard too many discouraging news about the state of our nation. Many friends and relatives have left the country for 'greener pastures' elsewhere. Those who are still here are encouraging and even forcing their next generation to leave Malaysia. "There is no hope left for you over here," they say. "Leave now and build a brighter future elsewhere. Why do you want to stay in a place where you are not appreciated?" In most instances, the tone is one that is already jaded.   

Perhaps I am guilty of being too idealistic. Perhaps it is out of sheer ignorance. But what is there to life if there is not even the tiniest sliver of hope? How do we ever move on from here? Is our country so forsaken that there is nothing to be done at all? I don't think so. In fact, I seriously hope not. 

I always remember my colleague's advice: The land has done no wrong. Every time I hear some nonsensical piece of news that is spewed forth from the orifice of some irrational politicians, I recall the innocence of the land that I have been living in. Look at the awesome landscape surrounding us: the waterfalls, the mountains and hills, the blue skies, the sunsets, the beautiful beaches, the paddy fields, and even the hustle and bustle of the city centre. They have done nothing wrong to deserve our insult and hatred. 

Look at the harmony we enjoy in this country. Harmony of food, that is, if nothing else. We get extremely defensive when anyone condemns our Nasi Lemak, or claims that Bak Kut Teh originates from our neighbouring country, or say that the Roti Canai we have here is not the 'original' roti. I have yet to come across any travel vloggers who can vouch that they have not gained weight ever since visiting Malaysia. Nothing beats Malaysian food. Every time someone returns from overseas, the first thing they look for will be Malaysian food. You name it, we have it. Maybe it is time for us to see things from their perspective instead. 

And as much as we complain about the people, I believe most Malaysians are generally kindhearted and somewhat united. We take pride in anyone with any Malaysian ties who has made it big outside the country. I mean, if Bill Gates had as little as 0.000000001% Malaysian blood flowing through his veins or had stayed in Malaysia for a quick 2-day stopover, we would have been hearing nonstop about his 'Malaysian' touch all over the local tabloids. And we get extremely gung-ho when it comes to sports, too. Whether it be the Olympics, or Commonwealth Games, or Thomas Cup, or even World Cup, we rally behind our athletes and scream till our throats are sore ... albeit right in front of the TV. 

The bottom line is this, Malaysia is OUR country. Let us never ever forget that. 

Please don't get me wrong. I am not telling you whom to vote for. I believe the choice is very personal and private. And hey, I am the one who thinks that both sides have become rotten apples, anyway. What I am pleading to the youths today is to go and cast your vote if you are eligible. 

Don't give up on Malaysia. She has not given up on you. If there is anyone who can actually make a difference to our country, it will certainly be the youths. You have much more energy, more drive, and a much longer lifetime to live on this land... to make a difference, and to make it better. 

And if you youngsters do not believe that there is still any hope left in the country, what is there left for the rest of us then? Keep the same hope in Emily Dickinson's poem going strong and let it continue to warm all of us. If my 7-decade old mom can wait for 2 hours in line for her turn to vote in 2018, and my dad can waddle there with his 'tongkat', why can't you? 

See you at the polling station! 

Selamat Mengundi! 

Breaking Up is Hard To Do

It is not easy to end a 7-year relationship, let alone one that is twice as long. 

Even so, it takes a while for the emotions to settle, before being able to pen any thoughts on the experience...

In October last year, I had to make a drastic decision to pull the plug on a very special bond that had lasted for the past 14 years. Truth be told, it was not easy to finally say goodbye to a friend who has seen me through thick and thin (and for most of my adult life, mind you). 

SS has always been strong, sturdy, and dependable -- exactly what you would look for in a partner. We have journeyed through many different milestones together. Whether it was work or home related, I have found a very good confidante in this faithful companion.

For one thing, SS was there to comfort and assure me when I resigned from my very first full-time job. One of my dearest colleagues watched and cried as I loaded the boxes filled with 5 years' worth of toil and sweat into the car. Even though I had laughed at that poor colleague, no one but SS alone knew that I had actually burst into tears myself as I drove away from that scene. 

SS was also there to give me courage when I made a daring decision to accept a new job and relocate to Klang, a town I had hardly ever visited. Because of the distance from home, I decided to rent a room to stay on weekdays. On those days, SS and I got lost together and travelled the unfamiliar streets of the town in peaceful silence. On Friday evenings, we looked forward to going home together, despite having to battle through the heavy traffic. 

I left Klang for good when the college eventually moved to KL. I cleared the room that had become my home for almost a year, and once again, I witnessed the landlady watching and crying as I moved my worldly possessions into the car. I tried to comfort the sweet old lady by thanking her for all she has done, and jokingly said, "Auntie, don't cry. I am not dying. I am just moving back to KL." She did not know that I too had cried as I drove that last 31 km back home. But SS knew... 

When I decided to become a freelancer, SS became even more of my confidante and sanctuary. Most workplaces did not provide exclusive seats for part-timers, so I spent quite a bit of my time resting peacefully in the arms of SS instead. Whenever I arrived early at my workplace, I would put on the sunshades and doze for a while. Sometimes during lunch, I would eat in the car. With all that commuting in the Klang Valley traffic, SS and I inadvertently got to know each other better. 

I am also truly grateful for all the times when SS had gone above and beyond the call of duty. A case in point, I would not have been able to play the role as my dad's personal Food Panda when he was hospitalised, if not for SS's sturdy, dependable nature. Together, we made two trips each day to the hospital, delivering warm food lovingly prepared by my mom. No doubt it was tiring, but at least we were able to ease my dad's discomfort, albeit a little. 

By now, you should be able to guess who this SS is. Yup, it's none other than my old and faithful Myvi. Or rather, the Myvi that once belonged to me. Because the Kancil before this was named Donatello (from the Ninja Turtles), I was compelled to give this car a nickname too. The closest I could think of for the silver Myvi at that point was just Silver Surfer (from Fantastic Four), hence SS. 

After years of ferrying friends and relatives, providing a safe space for gossips and endless memories while we sit in the car and let the engine run, and even taking students to theatres and events; the guy at the service centre finally served me the ultimatum -- a list of car parts that were gradually breaking down. For one thing, SS had started to become lukewarm (yes, in its literal sense, because the air conditioning had started to break down, among many other things). I don't think it was because of my carelessness or negligence, but more so due to the inevitable wear and tear throughout the years. Degeneration, of the car, that is. I had no choice but to finally resign to fate and say goodbye. 

With a heavy heart, I let SS go. After 14 years of accompanying each other, one would surely be able to recognise every part and idiosyncrasy that the car has. There may be tonnes of other silver Myvis on the road, but I can always distinguish my dear Silver Surfer from the others. Don't ask me how. I can walk aimlessly in the crowded carpark and still be able to stop right in front of my car. It just has a very special aura and attitude that draws me to it like a magnet, very much like a mother who can sense the presence of her child without even looking around.

If it wasn't because of the fact that I have to travel 42km to work and another 42 km back, I would have loved to prolong my relationship with SS and see what else develops. For a long time, I had thought that SS will be my last love and that I will never ever change cars. I was left with two choices: keep driving the old car and risk having it break down along the way, or say goodbye to the old car, start paying instalments for the new one but at least be able to drive with peace of mind.

I am relieved. however, to know that I am not the only person who is so unhealthily obsessive about her car. Not long after 'breaking up' with SS, two of my cousins who had much longer relationships with their cars (more than 2 decades!) had to sell their beloved cars, too. Again, the parting was not easy and they tried coming up with all kinds of excuses to keep the old car. In the end, the old still had to make way for the new. The only silver lining was that during the transition, we were able to console each other because we understood how much it hurt to say goodbye. 

Today marks the precise day I let SS go. After exactly a year, do I still miss it? Of course I do! One does not erase 14 years of one's life just like that. I will still take a double turn whenever I spot a car that resembles SS. Old habits do die hard. What about my new 'love' then? Well, that is a story for another day. Today, I just want to thank God for the car that has served me faithfully for the past 14 years. 

Let me know if you have a crazy attachment to your car, too. Haha!