Ada apa dengan Janggut? (or trying to go full Gandalf)

Ever since I can grow one, I’ve always maintained a beard or some variant of it whenever I could. Whenever I could because back in my uni days I was in a uniformed body (it was a handy bargain, in return for roll calls on Wednesday mornings in full uniform and activities during semester break I get to have free accommodation at the university hostels).

While I was part of the uniformed body, the only prescribed mode of facial hair in the regulations were mustaches. So go ahead, grow a soup strainer or a handlebar but absolutely no hairs on your chin and I do not really know why beards are frowned upon. Perhaps it is a relic from the Brits just like Sam Browne belts and tea.

I tried but despite my best efforts to grow a mustache the result remains disappointing. They look like two warring camps of hair with a no man’s land in between them. Hopefully one day they will find a common ground for peace and coexistence. My beard however, is an entirely different matter. It is a feral thing. It needs no coaxing or grape seed oil to grow. It just does what it wants and grows in any direction it wants. If left alone I daresay It will eventually demand for self government. So for 5 years until I finally graduated I had to be smooth cheeked. That was during my uni days. During the MCOs I was on my way towards going full Gandalf until the day my long suffering Missus had a shiny new hair clipper placed right in front of me (damn you Shopee) so I got the message. Now, every three months or so I’d have the barber trim it as to make it look decent. Fairly decent.

Still, that does not fully explain the beard. I gave different answers to different people who asked. Different but all true. Once during my first day of pupillage one of the named Partner called me to his office for a get-to-know-each other chat. Having run out of pleasantries he motioned to my nascent beard (as it was then) and asked: kenapa awak bela janggut? Taking note of the Islamic vibe of the firm during my earlier interview I simply said: Sebab Sunnah (Two days ago i discovered that some in the Shafi'e school considered it Wajib). He nodded approvingly and that was the end of our conversation. Later that day he would assign me a particularly difficult legal opinion due to be delivered on the same evening and told me I was to follow him for a meeting the next day for a client whom the same legal opinion is for. I was his chauffeur that day despite only having obtained my driving license two months prior. Then another assignment led to other assignments on top my other equally challenging duties for other partners and court attendances.

In hindsight I should have given a different answer. But, shave my beard? Never!

Another time I was mistaken for a Kelantanese or a PAS supporter by a mesmerized Indian auctioneer in Klang. I was early to the auction. The auction house was on top of a motorcycle workshop. While waiting in the small stuffy room for the auction to start at the appointed time, I noticed that the auctioneer kept on looking at me. When it was clear there were no interested bidder to the property on auction together we did the admin work of signing and rubber stamping the POS and such. While we were doing that he asked me: Bang, abang orang Kelantan ke?. I find this amusing because the auctioneer is his 40’s or 50’s, definitely way older than me and somehow he thought I was older of the two of us. But to answer him I said no, I am not from Kelantan.

Dissatisfied, he went on: Orang Pas ke? I was sorry to disappoint him but I told him I had no party affiliation of whatsoever. I saw another question forming in his face but I beat him to it. Kenapa Encik tanya? Looking sheepish he replied: Tadaa la, Itu Janggut. Saya ingat Abang orang Kelantan ke, orang Pas ke apa. So I told him I grew one out of my own choice. My work done, I thank him and left before any further questions could come. The PAS supporter bit I understand but Kelantanese? I got a few Kelantanese guys as batchmates and none of them sported a full on beard.

I thought apart from making me look older, sporting a beard would also make me look more distinguished and wise thereby allowing me to escape the junior experience with clients or in the courts. But nope. None such luck. Somehow I think most judges have the ability to smell a junior from a mile away, beard or no beard. Even today in some hearings or trials I still feel like a captive mice being toyed with before the final devouring and that some clients insisted that I consult an older and more seasoned colleague (which I did anyway out of habit but it rankles me to be told to do so). So much for being wise. 

The thing about having a beard is that you can scratch them to show irritation, stroke it while thinking on something or twirl it a bit while being deeply engaged in an even deeper thoughts or while formulating an argument. It gives you something to do with your hands while you contemplate. Most importantly, more hair for you to style: sport an Imperial or a French Fork or good old goatee. If all else fails you can always plait your beard long and hail Odin or whatever pagan/ Nordic deity of your choice. 

Having a beard also has its price. I’ve had my beard yanked hard by my eldest when he was 3 or 4 months old. That vise like grip of a baby's hand and that quick involuntary tug. Brought tears to my eyes, it did. So Alexander the Great was right to insist on a clean shaven army. Yanking on a beard can be immobilizing to an opponent. A beard is also super smell absorbent. So a lot of shampooing and care is necessary to keep it nice and sweet smelling. But having said all that would I consider shaving off my beard especially in this heat? No sir, I will not. Come Hell or highwater, this beard is here to stay. It has become a part of my identity that I simply could not imagine myself without it. Without it I would be like a cowboy without his ten gallon hat or a pendekar without his keris, a litigator without his bands.

Besides, it is a useful Macguffin in my ongoing cases of mistaken identity which I find very amusing. The total tally so far is:

a)being mistaken for a Kelantanese: 1

b)being mistaken for a Pas supporter: 1

c)being mistaken for a Dato’: 2 (Once in POJ, another at Shah Alam Court. But could be unrelated to the beard)

e)being mistaken for a JAIS officer/agent: 1

Maybe if I live long enough the list could expand to being mistaken for Fidel Castro (El Commandante!), a philosopher, a tanned Gandalf, a castaway, an honorary Tolkein-esque dwarf or even a mountaintop sage in town for groceries.

Whatever it is, I pray for a long, fruitful life and even longer beard.