Let them eat (Oat)cakes!

Where I was a few days ago they botch a bowl of oatmeal porridge like nobody’s business. What they serve out would be something that falls into oat glue category rather than oatmeal porridge and I don’t even know how they managed that. It is hard to ruin a good bowl of oatmeal porridge considering making one is easy. You don’t need fancy cooking skills. Just some oats (steel cut, rolled, who cares), water or milk in a pot, medium heat, a bit of time till it bubbles and there you are. Or if you have a microwave oven, 2-3 minutes will do the trick for a bowl of oatmeal porridge. Add a knob of butter or brown sugar or anything else that strikes your fancy. Maybe some Sambal Goreng Kak Nor for that extra crunch and spiciness. Maybe a hearty dollop of Tempoyak if you are feeling reckless. Hey, it’s your oatmeal. I don’t judge.

If you don’t feel up to a bowl of oatmeal porridge try this what I erroneously call, oatcakes.

In a big bowl, mix in a cup and a half of oats (does not matter whether it is instant, quick cook or what have you) with a dash of baking soda, some brown sugar (not too much). Then take the same cup and fill it half with hot water (less if you like your oatcakes to be of harder consistency). If you are lazy like me to wait for the butter to soften, just add some to a less than half cup of hot water and stir whilst looking out the kitchen window. Dump the hot water/butter mixture into the bowl and mix. Add more butter if you want to. You will end up with a sticky mound of oat. Add a bit of flour to the bowl and mix if you find it necessary. Dump the whole thing into a baking tray lined with a baking sheet. Some recipes called for more flour and modest application of rolling pin and cookie cutter prior to baking. I say to hell with all that. So long as it is sufficiently round and (somewhat) flat, bake it in the oven over temperatures of 180 for at least 35 minutes, 45 minutes max. You can bake the same in an air fryer. Same temperature and time.  

After 45 minutes and depending on the water to oats ratio, you will end up with a cookie-like crunchy exterior with slightly chewy interior. Play around with the oat to water ratio and the amount of butter for best results. You can go all fancy if you like with some grated cinnamon, raisins or nuts. It is your oatcake after all. I kept my simple. If the situation calls for it, the bare recipe calls for just oats, water and a pinch of salt and some baking. Best eaten hot for breakfast or tea. The remainder will keep for at least a week. More if frozen. Reheated remainder will go down nice dunked in milk or crumbled in a bowl of warm milk. French cookery this is not but 9 of 10 times I had this served out to my boys, they ate them all up. Clean plates all around.

Oats are food for horses, the Scots and me (and my boys). Humble food they call it. I've loved it ever since I first had it in my childhood years. Hardy crop, fairly cheap grain and like previously mentioned, easy to cook. If done badly it can taste like wet cardboard. When done right it is a comfort food that sticks to your bone. Boil it, toast it, leave in the fridge for a night with some nuts, raisins and yoghurt to soak in. Make porridge, cakes, bread, cookies out of it. Use it as filler for patties, meatballs and meat loafs, or as substitute for breadcrumbs when frying stuff and if you are trying to lose weight; a great substitute for rice. Your stomach will thank you (regularly), as will your heart and your blood pressure. On the practicalities, oats has long shelf life. 12 months to 2 years (if the package remained unopened) Perfect survival food for doomsday preppers and for quarantines alike. If I can grow a small field of it in my backyard I would have done so. Versatile stuff.

I wrote this because after that bowl of goop I felt an analogy stirring in me. Something about oats, versatility and legal practice.

Ah, never mind. I lost it.

Eat oats. Its good for you.

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Sonata For Good Men

There are simply days that I loath to be alone with my own thoughts where the dread and anxieties of tomorrow are all too overpowering that it saps away my focus to work. It would make my heart race and set my feet tapping impatiently. Those would be the days that I would leave the office early after doing all that I can at work before seeking company amongst my practitioner close friends. The vet small timers, the newbies, the yet-to get-there. They get me. We fight the same battles. The difference is in setting and scale. They feel the same allure of stability that is expected of them and yet they have the same love for independence that made them start on own, that punk-ish urge to do it themselves and give the finger to norms and expectations. They feel and battle through the feeling of anxiety, depression or downright being burnt out all the time, they have the same concerns about providing for their family and most importantly they know the need to make a difference in an indifferent world by what we do. We struggle to make sense of our place in this world. In a way we are jihadists, sans the AKs and balaclavas and suicide vests. We all struggle to live.

I would like to think that I emerged from the COVID Pandemic and the Lockdowns unscathed but the reality is I emerged from the lockdown to crave the reassurance that only human company can provide. These chaps would be it. They get it. Over chai, tea or other beverages and copious amounts of nicotine in many forms, we’d talk shit, whine about clients, judges, cases, come up with schemes (sometimes wacky) to make money by way of legal practice, exchange legal opinion or two over some case or other, sought and give advice and in between all those, talk about Life itself. I would not demean these sessions to call them as lepak-ing.  They are not. In fact these sessions are beyond it. Lepak-ing in my dictionary would mean a stretch of time spent on doing nothing worthwhile. These sessions are not it. These sessions are worth it. Despite the meandering conversations and dick jokes not once have I ever emerged at the end of it unenlightened over some matter or other. As the parlance goes; sentiasa ada pengisian. Both figuratively and physiologically as my chest would hurt from the smoking after such hours long session and sometimes my cheeks would hurt from all the grin and laughter but my head would be clear, my heart no longer raced. I would be at peace. In a way it is therapy but with naan or meggi goreng. All thanks to these close friends.

In the words of my guru, sometimes I pick them up, sometimes they pick me up. These handful of men. Good men. For sure they have their own flaws, as do I. Who doesn’t?  That does not negate their kindness, their willingness to help, their good conscience. And it is the flaws that made them approachable and identifiable to me at first. I wanted to be amongst fellow Men, not mythical beings. To be a man is to have flaws. ‘’You love despite the faults’’, William Faulkner once wrote or said, I can’t be sure which, and I love these handful of good men to bits. They are my brothers from my other mother and wish them all the best in the world.

May they land that whale of a client, may they find success in everything that they do,

May they have peace and contemplation in their household,

May they have stillness in their hearts and may God grant them their earnest wishes.

May we live a long and fruitful life so that I can taunt them for being a bunch of old geezers for I will be forever young (in my head).

May they remain good men. 

 

   

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Do you feel lucky Punk?

Bila cerita tentang punk imej pertama yang selalunya akan terbit adalah gaya rambut mohawk atau berceracak tegak dan denim rabak dan busuk dengan patches, dumpster diving. Aku tak mahu bercakap tentang pemakaian atau ideologi yang dipegang oleh golongan Punk ini ataupun musik Punk itu sendiri. Itu boleh di Google.

 

Tak kira apa tanggapan kau tentang golongan Punk, satu sisi yang aku kira perlu diambil contoh adalah semangat DIY atau Do-It-Yourself yang diamalkan mereka ini. Dari rekod dan terbitkan album sendiri tanpa terikat dengan mana-mana label besar, buat zine sendiri guna kertas A4 lipat dua, buat button sendiri dan segala maknenek lagi. Pendek kata selagi boleh buat sendiri mereka memang akan buat sendiri, semuanya demi memberi jari tengah pada Lelaki itu, iaitu personafikasi otoriti, kerajaan, bos.

 

Iyalah, zaman sekarang ini zaman mudah. Semua benda boleh dibeli asal ada wang. Cuma bila semua terjual akan ada minda-minda licik yang akan cuba mengambil kesempatan untuk membuat keuntungan lagi selepas jualan dibuat (looking at you HP) terutamanya dengan servis selepas jualan dan barang ganti. Rosak? Kami boleh baiki. Atau, buat apa baiki, beli sahaja model kami paling baru. That kind of thing. Semuanya bertitik tolak pada anggapan: Pelanggan menjalani kehidupan yang sibuk. Buat apa pening kepala, serahkan pada kami. Cuma bayar lebih sikit. Consumerism at its best.

 

Jadi bila aku yang dah lama tak buat binding bundle sendiri tiba-tiba sibuk grek-grek-grek di sudut ofis, datang kakak staff dengan muka concerned.

-Encik Amir buat apa ni?

-Buat binding kak

-Kenapa tak bagi kami je buat? 

-Sebab saya punk jawab aku angkuh, dalam hati.

 

Jauh dibelakang minda aku, ada benda yang patut aku ingat pasal binding tapi tak terlintas. Ah, lantaklah. Bila dah lama sangat tenung skrin, buat benda dengan dua tangan sendiri selain daripada menaip pun jadi syok.

 

Aku tak ingat dekat mana aku dengar atau baca tentang kenapa terdapat subjek Kemahiran Hidup disertakan dalam silibus sekolah rendah dan menengah oleh Madey. Ikut ceritanya Madey perhatikan bahawa di negara barat Handyman dibayar sedap untuk buat benda remeh seperti tukar mentol lampu, baiki paip dan lain-lain benda yang boleh je dibuat sendiri (Do-It Yourself). Madey being Madey dia pun tergerak hati nak suruh generasi baru rakyat Malaysia boleh buat sendiri baik pulih segala benda ini dan lebih lagi iatu dari bercucuk tanam, tukar tangki jamban flush, pateri papan elektronik, kerja kayu, masak nasik goreng, jahit baju dan banyak lagi lalu lahirlah subjek Kemahiran Hidup.

 

Punk jugak Madey ni.

 

Cerita pasal semangat DIY, aku ada terbaca di Amerika Syarikat berkenaan petani-petani yang bising dengan John Deere, iaitu pengeluar traktor dan peralatan pertanian yang meletakkan ‘software lock’ pada traktor dan peralatan pertanian yang mempunyai sistem perkomputeran supaya hanya jurubaiki dari pengedar yang sah sahaja boleh membuat sebarang baikpulih. Serupa juga macam ahem.. pencetak HP yang menyorokkan kod dalam security update bagi driver yang akan menolak sebarang dakwat pihak ketiga daripada digunakan.

 

Eh sukahati lah nak guna produk consumables OEM atau pihak ketiga atau nak baiki sendir ke apa. Sebagaimana perlu ada pilihan untuk beli produk kau, mesti juga ada pilihan untuk guna consumables pihak ketiga atau nak baiki sendiri. Apesal tak boleh pulak? Kalau warranty period tak habis lagi lain la cerita.

 

Setakat kali terakhir aku check hak untuk ‘right to repair’ di kalangan pengguna traktor John Deere masih belum lagi diputuskan dalam mana-mana Mahkamah di Amerika. Menarik juga bila difikirkan pasal ianya adalah pertembungan antara dua idea yang selalu dikaitkan dengan Amerika Syarikat itu sendiri iaitu freedom (termasuklah right to repair itu tadi) dan juga sistem hypercapitalism menjadi-jadi yang menjadi pedoman mereka setelah sekian lama. Yang mana akan prevail? Entah. Aku nak dok tepi kunyah popcorn.

 

Oh ya, bila menaip ini aku dah ingat kenapa aku dah lama tak buat binding dan minta tolong pupil atau kakak staff. Semuanya pasal tulang belakang aku yang mengingatkan. Sakit kemain. Nak urut sendiri tak boleh pulak.

 

Anyway,

 

Niat itu penting. Mula dengan benda mudah. Gosok baju sendiri, buat burger patty sendiri, sental jamban sendiri, basuh pinggan sendiri. Kita terlalu lentok dan lena di dodoi jingle konsumerism dan janji-janji kapitalis yang kata asal ada wang semua jalan. Selagi boleh buat sendiri kita cuba buat sendiri. Ada rasa bangga lain macam bila kau buat sesuatu dengan sendiri walaupun sedikit bengkok-bengkok sebab itu hasil kerja kau sendiri. Peluh, masa dan kesabaran kau sendiri yang digunapakai/keluar. Lain macam perasaan dia.

 

Simbahan air yang mengejut dari lena adalah PKP sewaktu COVID19 mengganas dahulu.  Bila dipaksa terperuk dalam rumah kita tak ada pilihan tapi untuk menilai semula apa kemahuan dan apa keperluan, skillset apa yang sangat perlu sampai ada mini revival DIY spirit itu dari suami yang belajar masak tak jadi pastu share di FB, carta sayur dan ikan yang disediakan untuk para suami pegi beli di pasar dan bermacam lagi. Sekarang? Entah. Aku tak tau sama ada kita sudah kembali kepada tabiat pra-PKP dahulu. Cukuplah jadi pengguna semata-mata hidup bertatang, makan berhidang.

 

Aku tulis pasal benda ini pun untuk ingatkan diri aku sendiri juga supaya bukak tali leher, selinsing lengan baju dan sental jamban pejabat dengan bersungguh-sungguh. Tak pun sesekali buat binding sendiri.

 

Baru la Punk.

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Sekejap

Again, I was lucky to be upright and functioning this morning at Shah Alam court. Two nights prior a friend invited me to second chair for a case involving a restoration of a vintage piece of equipment by an expert. So last night I went to take a quick look at the cause papers and the documents to form a first impression of the matter. The owner claimed there was a guarantee given by the expert on time it would take, the expert said it was an estimate subject to payments and availability of replacement parts requested by the owner. The owner took his sweet time to make payments and yet expected fast results. When the restoration took longer than first estimated the owner cried, Fraud! and proceeded to file a legal suit against the expert. Mind you this is no mass produced junk being restored and yet the owner dared to expect a beautiful result in a short span of time and at minimal costs. As for me, in between catching up with the said friend, throwing around possible ideas for trial, that quick look lasted until the wee hours. Oh well, I got time.

Time.

Then on my drive back from Shah Alam Court, there was a discussion on the radio about Henry David Thoreau’s piece about walking. Being an unrepentant walker forced to work at the pace of fossil fuel driven madness this piqued my interest. It was said that walking is the most democratic activity one can indulge in. Everyone walks to certain extent be you a commoner as I am or some other hoity-toity titled entity. Sure walking takes time but that is the whole point. To take the time. I can confirm that most of my problems can be solved and have been solved by walking. It was that time between crossing streets and dodging puddles that allows my brain to make connections from two seemingly separate things or ideas. Solvitur Ambulando indeed. I ought to walk more. I used to walk a lot.

Speaking of walking and time, two days before, I went for a long walk at the local park with my youngest to get him some away time from screens (damned screens) and to look at greeneries and things. Something I noticed about public parks is that the people of working age are always either jogging or running with the look of ticking off an item from their mental to-do list in their eyes as if already thinking of things to do next after the jog while the old if they move at all, moved at a deliberate pace (early morning tai chi), slow walk on the pebbly strewn reflexology path. Unhurried, not pressed for time. Enjoying themselves. Whereas the very young switches between sudden bursts of energy at the playground to slow observation of all the wonders a park can offer. Why does taking time have to be the province of the retired and the very young? Why can’t us the working adults do the same? What’s the rush?

George Mac Donald, a friend of Lewis Carroll and one of the earliest pioneers of fantasy fiction once wrote:

"Certainly work is not always required of a man. There is such a thing as a sacred idleness, the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected" 

When I first read that quote I was thumping the table in agreement and exclaiming By God, the man speaks the truth! (It is). Mind you this quote dates to 1870 where steam engines are an indispensable assets to all manner of industries which in turn spawned a frenzy of productivity and expansion (stim dowh). At that time Marx was working on the 2nd volume of Das Kapital, Scramble for Africa is but 10 years away and mechanization already had people working, working and working like mad. Perhaps, George Mac Donald was reminiscing on the days before steam, before the madness for capital and productivity. So, it is not really a modern problem after all, this rushing about here and there.

For me idleness is that it is that time between things where you just switch off for a bit. That bit where you live your life and feel alive, between trying to make a living and staying alive. That small bit (should be bigger anyways). That sunny, peaceful valley in between the mountains of madness of our daily life. It is there, we just have to find it. We just have to take the time for it.

I am trying to not make this a rail about the dangers of modern life but it seems that taking time has been taken for granted. Considered to be an old-fashioned thing, unproductive, even. To rush is productive, to run like hell is good, to be busy is to be looked upon favourably but where are we rushing off to, really?

During lunchtime, I came across an article from The Atlantic about procrastination being a productive state of being in terms of creative works. The said article was entitled The Antidote to the Cult of Self Discipline. Despite of its title it was more on the need to take time in order to create something beautiful rather than a rail against self discipline. Ok-lah, a rail it was but against productivity rather than against self-discipline. Of course there were references made to works done in defiance of the office hours and what constitutes as productive use of time but this line in particular caught my eye:

‘’ … it’s the strange mental collisions between the thinking mind and the wandering mind that yield the most interesting results. These are the moments when artistry sneaks in unbidden; Annabel understands that if art is created out of life, the latter has to have space to happen.’’

To this I wholeheartedly agree and say that it extends beyond creation of arts or artistry. It is not procrastination either. Rather, it is the time for ideas and thoughts to gel together. Besides, who or where was it said that we human beings do not learn from absorbing information. We learn from reflecting on things. Making connection from what we have absorbed with what we have experienced. Just like walking, that too, takes time.

If time is one of the natural order of things, then to take time is surely in accordance with nature.

Doughs need time for the yeast to do its magic, a chili plant even with fertilizers would need time to bear fruit. We still need time to rest and sleep to perform optimally for despite all the energy drinks and stimulants in the world nothing can ever compare to a good nights sleep and to be sure, there is a world of difference between an instant maggi asam laksa and lovingly crafted actual asam laksa. One is survival food, the other, soul food. And we ate far too many maggi asam laksa. We feed our body but forget to nourish our soul, thinking that accumulation of more and the quicker in the doing is better. Is it, really?

To be good, to produce good things is to take your time. Yet, we push ourselves pedal to the metal almost everyday in the name of productivity that taking your time is almost a dirty word. Is it any wonder that we are a society rife with anxieties, depression and all sorts of other mental and emotional issues. Nowadays, we know the value of time, we calculate it obsessively and bemoan its lack in terms of productivity but not of its meaning in relation to Life as a whole. Waiting, is for losers, Patience is a long-lost word. We have forgotten its meaning and somewhere along the way we drank the sirap (or Koolaid if you prefer it) of modernity and have joined the cult of speed.

Slow down.

Give a hug, a kiss, dance a slow dance with no music on. Invest in a full-on tickling contest with your kids. Build that Lego set with your kid. Walk or even run in the rain deliberately. A long walk in the morning or in the evening. Enjoy the sunrise or sunset. Sit on a park bench and observe people going by, observe from the smallest to the biggest of insects flying and crawling around. Be still. Take a deep breath. Take a break. Take a moment to distance yourself from the matter at hand. From your problem. From work. Let the world spin on while we just sit there, alive and yet not an active participant. Merely absorbing the world around us from our senses. Savouring the fact that we are alive, one of millions on this planet with our own dreams and expectations.

Surely, we have the time for that, while we are still alive.

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Mak

 

Where do I even begin.

Mak pernah cakap dengan aku dulu, Hidup ni umpama tayar. Kadang-kadang di atas. Kadang-kadang di bawah. Bila dah tua bangka ni baru faham maksudnya apa. Menang bukan selalu, kalah bukan selamanya. Hidup ada cara untuk buat kau rasa humbled bila perlu dan memberi motivasi untuk terus berjalan tatkala kau rasa kena hempuk bertalu-talu dengan nasib tak baik. 

Macam itulah kut kehidupan Mak. Dia bukan datang dari keluarga senang. Susah sangat pun tak jugak. Middle class la kut. Arwah Atuk dulu kerja dengan British Army, jadi Chief Clerk katanya sampai disiplin ketat tu dibawak balik ke rumah. Memang patut pun. Adik beradik mak ramai. Dia antara paling muda. Belajar pun bukan jurusan professional. Tapi pelajaran Mak paling besar bukan dari universiti. Ayat klisenya mak belajar dari kehidupan, lebih tepat lagi kehidupan lepas universiti. Dan kehidupan Mak  banyak mengajar aku.

Mak banyak kali disalahanggap sebagai seorang peguam. Satu, from time to time dia akan pakai hitam putih bila pegi kerja dan lagi satu dan paling penting, dia tak takut dengan sesiapa. Dia nampak ada yang tak kena pada tempatnya, benda tak betul, memang dia akan tegur, memang dia akan bebel. Dia akan gaduh(mulut) kalau perlu. Berdarah la telinga, tersiat-siatlah ego kau kalau kena. Itu satu skill tak turun sepenuhnya pada aku. Aku man of peace. Most of the time-lah. 

Masa muda, baru berkahwin, Mak dengan Abah rajin mengumpul majalah National Geographic. Majalah berkulit kuning inilah yang menjadi tingkap pertama aku pada dunia. Bila Mak meningkat usia dia mula baca buku-buku Stephen Covey. Malcom Gladwell. Jenis-jenis buku macam tu. Buku self-help. Cerita pasal manusia, pasal cemana nak lengkapkan diri, baiki diri untuk menghadapi perangai manusia, nak menghadapi dunia. Agaknya dari situ aku pun mula minat menelaah pasal falsafah. Iyalah, falsafah ini pun berkisar tentang manusia, perangai manusia dan kehidupan. Sekarang bila dah tua Mak rajin menyelak buku agama, fikir pasal di Sana nanti pula. 

Mak memang sayangkan kami adik-beradik. Makan pakai semua cukup, tak kiralah waktu dia suri rumah sepenuh masa atau bila dia mula bekerja semula. Makan semua dia masak from scratch. The kind of food that sticks to your bones. Takde maknanya benda-benda instant ni. Aku cuma aktif makan megi bila dah masuk universiti. Kalau Mak masak, memang bertambah-tambah nasik. Bila di Kedah, aku rindu sambal tempe ikan bilis dia. Kadang-kadang sampai call tanya harini masak apa. Pastu kena bebel: tanya masak apa bukan boleh makan pun dia cakap. Aku balik dari Kedah kurus (ini bukan mitos) sampai ada sepupu tanya aku isap dadah ke. 

Itu, satu lagi skill dia yang tak turun pada aku. Memasak. Padahal itu survival skill penting tiap lelaki kena ada selepas menjahit. Takat goreng telur, nasik goreng cincai boleh lah. Tapi nak memasak sampai ramuan tu main agak-agak je campak tapi sedap menjadi, itu memang bukan kepakaran aku. Aku bukan Mak. 

Dia pernah kata dahulu, my children are my life. Dengan siapa sahaja dia tak bergaduh demi kami adik-beradik. Apa saja mak tak buat untuk besar kan kami. Sampaikan aku rasa dia betul-betul mula menikmati hidup ini bila kami dah besar panjang pasal dia sentiasa ada dengan kami. Sentiasa. Tapi iyalah, bila meningkat remaja, membesar mula lah nak melawan, little shits that we were. Konon nak melebar sayap. 

Dari masa ke semasa ada juga aku jenguk, bawak cucu-cucu dia buat teman kasi senyum tengok gelagat dua hero. Tapi tak selalu. Aku pun tak pasti kenapa. Sebenarnya tak ada alasan untuk aku tak luangkan masa dia sebagaimana dia banyak habiskan masa dengan kami waktu kecik dulu. Aku bukan kerja 9 to 5 pun. Aku bukan answerable pada sesiapa kecuali pada client. Entahlah. Mungkin kerana banyak titi-titi yang roboh tak boleh diseberangi kembali, simpang diambil yang tak boleh berpatah balik. 

Boleh jadi juga itu hanya alasan. Aku harap esok hari aku tak kena menjawab kenapa aku tak luangkan masa dengan dia masa dia masih ada. 

Baru baru ini hari lahir Mak. Dia hantar WhatsApp pada anak menantu pesan tentang akhirat. Pesan tentang rapuhnya kebergantungan pada manusia itu. People will fail you. Sometimes inadvertently. Sometimes deliberately. Kat situ aku tau Mak memang cakap dari pengalaman sendiri. A number of people failed Mak. If I am honest with myself, I might even count myself as one of them, inadvertently. Aku manusia, tak sempurna. Mak pun sama walaupun bagi aku dia the only superwoman in the world sebab lalui apa yang dia lalui untuk besarkan kami. Alhamdulillah jadi la juga orang kami adik beradik ni. 

Mak adalah produk generasi dia jadi sememangnya ada benda yang Mak dan aku tak sependapat. Tapi tak sependapat macam mana pun dia Mak aku. One and only. 

Kehidupan Mak ajar aku bahawa hidup tak adil tapi itu bukan alasan untuk kau tak berlaku adil pada orang lain. Mak ajar aku untuk take no shit from no one, untuk terus melawan dan terus melawan. Mak juga ajar bahawa a good pair of shoes are the best investment one can make. Dari Mak juga aku belajar untuk jangan harapkan orang untuk tolong kau kalau kau sendiri tak cuba tolong diri kau sendiri, bahawa sesungguhnya tak ada alasan untuk tak belajar. That everything and everyone is a lesson for you.

Aku tak tahu macam mana kehidupan bila Mak tak ada nanti. Kerana Mak sentiasa ada. That one constant in my life bila semua benda kejap-kejap berubah. 

Mungkin itu pelajaran terakhir dari Mak. Final lesson on growing up. That one day she will no longer be around to guide me (and nag me). My first and greatest teacher. My north star.

My mother. 

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The Paratrooper's Prayer

Aku tak berapa pandai untuk menilai dan menikmati puisi. Ada cuba tapi mungkin aku belum cukup cultured lagi. Mungkin perlu mendalami lagi kerja-kerja pemuisi dahulu kala. 

Dalam Call Sign Chaos, Jim Mattis ada merujuk kepada The Paratrooper's Prayer. Ini yang seronok baca buku bukan fiksyen, bibiliografi yang memberikan kau lagi banyak buku dan bahan lain untuk kau baca. The Paratrooper's Prayer ini ditulis oleh Andre Zirnheld iaitu seorang profesor falsafah dan kemudiannya anggota pasukan payung terjun bersama Free French Air Force sewaktu Perang Dunia Kedua. Beliau meninggal dunia selepas menyertai serangan SAS (Special Air Service) ke atas lapangan terbang tentera Jerman di Sidi Haneish di mana SAS dengan menggunapakai 18 buah jip bermesingan menjahanamkan 37 pesawat tentera Jerman pada waktu itu.

Sekali aku baca The Paratrooper's Prayer terus aku minat. The Paratrooper's Prayer ini bagi aku menarik kerana ianya satu bentuk doa atau juga boleh jadi satu puisi yang menyuntik semangat. Ikut kau nak pilih yang mana. Yang penting, ianya bagi aku satu doa/puisi yang lain daripada lain kerana nadanya yang sangat merendah diri dan berserah tapi pada masa yang sama, defiant. Itu membuatkannya ianya relatable, terutamanya kepada pengamal undang-undang yang mengamal di dalam firma sendiri yang bagi aku, berani dan cekal. Semoga kalian kekal berani dan cekal. Semoga kalian dapat mendaratkan kes sebesar paus lagenda dalam hayat kalian.

Semoga kalian kekal defiant. 

 

La Prière du Para

Je m'adresse à vous, mon Dieu, car vous donnez

Ce qu'on ne peut obtenir que de soi

Donnez-moi, mon Dieu, ce qui vous reste

Donnez-moi ce qu'on ne vous demande jamais.

 

Je ne vous demande pas le repos

Ni la tranquillité

Ni celle de l'âme, ni celle du corps.

Je ne vous demande pas la richesse

Ni le succès, ni même la santé.

 

Tout ça, mon Dieu, on vous le demande tellement

Que vous ne devez plus en avoir.

Donnez-moi, mon Dieu, ce qui vous reste

Donnez-moi ce que l'on vous refuse.

 

Je veux l'insécurité et l'inquiétude.

Je veux la tourmente et la bagarre

Et que vous me les donniez, mon Dieu, définitivement.

Que je sois sûr de les avoir toujours

Car je n'aurai pas toujours le courage

De vous les demander.

 

Donnez-moi, mon Dieu, ce qui vous reste.

Donnez-moi ce dont les autres ne veulent pas.

Mais donnez-moi aussi le courage

Et la force et la foi.

Car vous seul donnez, mon Dieu,

Ce que l'on ne peut attendre que de soi.

 

 

Prayer of the Paratrooper

Give me, O Lord, what remains Thine;

What no one ever asks of Thee.

I do not ask Thee for rest

Nor tranquility,

Neither of the soul nor of the body.

I do not ask Thee for riches,

Nor success,

Nor even health.

So many ask you for these, O Lord,

Thou shouldst no longer have anything left to give.

Give me Lord, what remains Thine.

Give me that which all of us refuse.

I want insecurity and restlessness,

I want struggle and trouble.

And grant them to me, My Lord, forever.

Make sure that I will always take them

Because I will not always have the courage

To ask of Thee for them.

Give me, O Lord, what remains Thine,

Give me what others do not want;

But give me also the Courage,

And the Strength,

And the Faith.

Amen.

 

 

 

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On Freedom

 

‘’Aye, Fight and you may die. Run and you may live. At least for a while..and lying in your bed many years from now , would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take... OUR FREEDOM’’

Lebih kurang macam itu lah ucapan William Wallace (dilakonkan oleh Mel Gibson) memberi semangat kepada Highlanders sebelum beliau dan geng-geng nya dikatakan menyelak belted plaid masing-masing dan menayang punggung dan lain bahagian badan bagi menganjing angkatan Inggeris sewaktu pertempuran di Stirling Bridge (dalam salinan VHS selepas tapisan LPF cuma ada suggestion, bukan perbuatan itu sendiri). Banyak ketidak tepatan sejarah dalam Braveheart. Perihal tayang punggung dan bahagian lain itu paling tidak tepat kerana pemakaian belted plaid itu hanya bermula sekitar kurun ke 15 sebegitu. Tapi bagi budak yang baru berjinak-jinak dengan pemakaian kain pelikat yang kebetulan ada iras sikit dengan belted plaid ataupun kilt ianya adalah satu bentuk acknowledgment yang manhood is not confined to wearing pants dan paling penting;

kain pelikat = freedom.

Macam belted plaid/great kilt, kain pelikat adalah satu pakaian yang versatile bagi lelaki. Berangin pun ya, bila keadaan sejuk ianya boleh memastikan bahagian yang perlu kekal warm and toasty kekal sedemikian. Sebagai satu alat, macam macam boleh dibuat dengan kain pelikat. Selimut, menahan bahang matahari, dibuat jadi bindle atau buntil untuk simpan barang kalau tak ada beg, kain bedung bayi, kain samping kalau malas nak pakai samping songket. Pendek kata macam-macam lah boleh dibuat dengan kain pelikat. Sehelai kain pelikat ada bermacam kegunaan praktikal selagi ada imaginasi. Sebab itu aku kaitkan kain pelikat dengan kebebasan.

Salah satu pencapaian aku yang paling membanggakan setakat awal tahun ini adalah berjaya membuatkan anak-anak aku berminat untuk memakai kain pelikat. Sebenarnya diorang biasa melihat aku berkain pelikat dalam rumah. Bukan benda baharu pun. Entah macam mana tergerak hati nak cadangkan pada yang paling muda untuk cuba pakai. Dia suka. Yang tua pula bila nampak si adik berkain pelikat pun nak join sama. Bila dua-dua berkain pelikat dalam rumah aku senyum bangga. Dalam hati aku; they are boys and soon they will be men. Aku terfikir sebegitu kerana aku hanya betul-betul memahami kebebasan berkain pelikat selepas berkhatan. Kiranya satu rite of passage. Kerana untuk sebab yang nyata bila betul-betul lepas berkhatan itu nak berseluar memang siksa. Perit tau perit. Ada bahagian yang perlu bebas bergerak lepas berkhatan maka kain pelikat itu pakaian yang paling ideal. Mula-mula mencuba. Lama-lama makin biasa berkain pelikat.  

Waktu aku mula memakai kain pelikat juga adalah waktu aku mula membaca novel-novel patriotik terbitan Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka yang mana figura-figura pra Kemerdekaan gigih melawan pihak British dan anasir-anasir imperialis lain (Pahlawan Parang Panjang!). Kebanyakkannya hanya bersenjatakan keris, senjata tajam lain atau sumpit (Libau Rentap!) dan keinginan membuak-buak untuk bebas. Macam William Wallace et al.

Aku budak pada masa itu, jadi segala mesej-mesej nasionalistik itu aku telan bulat-bulat. Nampak seperti figura-figura dari lipatan sejarah itu suci bersih tak ada cela. Bila dah besar panjang dan lagi membaca barulah faham yang ada yang menentang British kerana hak mengutip cukai dan lain-lain hak tradisional (institusi perhambaan) diganggu gugat. Manusia kan kata orang putih: nuanced. Bukan semua yang ada purity of purpose sebagaimana bukan semua guru agama yang berserban, ada juga yang memakai cepiau Bintang Tiga (Re: Mat Indera). William Wallace pun ada yang kata bahawa beliau berjuang untuk hak Scotland ada raja sendiri dan untuk menjaga harta dan tanah kepunyaan beliau, bukan untuk hak rakyat jelata Scotland macam dalam Braveheart. Seperti aku cakap tadi, nuanced.

Dari pembacaan/tontonan aku dan makin umur aku meningkat makin aku percaya bahawa tak kira la apa takdir yang dicampak itu, untung nasib seseorang, atau sesebuah kaum atau sekelompok manusia itu adalah bertitiktolak dari pilihan mereka sendiri dan pilihan hanya boleh dibuat oleh mereka yang bebas. Bebas itu perlu. Jadi apabila kebebasan itu dimansuhkan, dirampas, diambilalih oleh mereka yang tak berkenaan maka naluri semulajadi manusia adalah untuk melawan. Dari bumi Palestin yang melawan sejak 75 tahun dahulu sehingga kini, Tibet, Turkistan Timur, Catalunya, Ukraine, Chiapas, First Nations di Amerika Utara dan banyak lagi. Semuanya melawan dengan pelbagai cara demi mendapat kebebasan untuk memilih itu. Untuk kebebasan menentukan nasib sendiri.

Buya Hamka pernah berkata, “Kalau hidup sekadar hidup, babi di hutan juga hidup. Kalau bekerja sekadar bekerja, kera juga bekerja.’’ Bekerja in the sense kau makan gaji, kerja dengan orang. Bekerja untuk apa dan hidup untuk apa kalau bukan untuk bebas? Bebas dari hutang. Bebas dari kebuluran. Bebas berbelanja. Bebas kemana-mana, tapi hujung minggu dan waktu cutilah. Hari lain bukan milik kau. Itupun kalau nasib kau baik. Bebas ke hidup sebegitu? Mungkin ada yang boleh terima sedemikian. Ikut kau lah. Hamba di zaman ini berpasung bukan dikaki atau tangan, tapi di hati. Hidup memang hidup tapi jiwanya mati. Hidup ke sebegitu?

Serupa macam berseluar. Ada bermacam fesyen dan material kain yang digunakan tapi hampir semua seluar menurut acuan yang sama, ada sifat universal. Ada dua lubang kaki, ada cawat, ada tali cerut atau lubang untuk tali pinggang, ada zip, ada cangkuk dan penyangkut supaya seluar tak terlucut. Ada security. Tetapi yang pastinya kau memang akan dibatasi dengan saiz pinggang. Kalau berat badan naik, kena beli seluar baru.

Lain pula dengan kain pelikat. Pattern lebih kurang sama sahaja, warna corak dan jenis kain mungkin membezakan tapi melainkan kau gemuk gedempol kain pelikat akan muat dipakai tak kira apa saiz pinggang atau perut kau. Pergerakkan pun memang bebas, yang membataskan kau cuma sopan atau tidak cara duduk/baring kau tu. Tapi bila panas, berangin. Bila sejuk, yang patut suam kekal suam. Cuma kalau tak diikat kemas dan terlucut boleh terserlah segala benda yang patut ditutup. Tak selalu berlaku tapi risiko tetap ada.

Sebagai pengamal undang-undang ini pilihan selalunya ada dua, iaitu di antara hidup yang hambar, selamat tapi dirantai atau untuk hidup bebas, penuh dengan pengembaraan tapi terumbang-ambing. Apa pilihan kau? Tak ada sesiapa yang paksa kau sekarang ini. Tak ada pistol diacu di dahi. Semuanya atas pilihan sendiri.  

Bila cakap tentang kebebasan itu pula perlu diingat bahawa ianya bukan dihidang atas pinggan, bukan percuma. Kebebasan itu sendiri punya harga perlu dibayar. Susah, sengsara, darah dan air mata. Persoalannya sanggup atau tidak kau bayar harga itu demi untuk mempunyai kebebasan? Ianya tidak memberi kepastian yang bil-bil kau boleh dibayar tepat pada masanya. Ianya juga tidak memastikan anak beranak kau hidup kalau tak senang pun tak hidup melarat. Tapi bebas.

Satu benda pasal kebebasan tak ada jaminan yang hidup akan sentiasa senang. Yang memang confirm ada adalah ujian demi ujian.

Hidup senang?

Tuhan tak pernah janjikan hidup yang senang atas dunia ini. Yang dijanjikan adalah ada ganjarannya di sana nanti. Hidup mana pernah senang. Masing-masing ada masalah tak kira miskin mahupun kaya. Yang kaya mempunyai masalah untuk kekal kaya, yang miskin masalah untuk lari dari kemiskinan, untuk terus hidup.

Makin umur meningkat makin mudah untuk kita lari sebalik kekelabuan sesebuah perkara itu. Benda yang dahulunya hitam-putih kini jadi kelabu asap. Ada sahaja alasan diberi. Iyalah, kita manusia, bukan android. Ada lebih dari reason yang digunapakai, ada juga emosi yang perlu diambil kira. Aku fikir itu kenapa darjat kita manusia diangkat kerana reason sentiasa berperang dengan emosi. Aku rasa mungkin itu juga sebab kenapa Iblis enggan tunduk pada manusia, kerana Iblis adalah makhluk yang penuh emosi.

Tak senang jadi manusia, tak senang jadi lelaki. Dalam banyak perkara ego perlu ditundukkan. Banyak benda yang perlu diambilkira. Banyak hati nak dijaga, ada peranan perlu dimain, tanggungjawab untuk dijaga. Berat pilihan yang perlu dibuat. Sangat-sangat berat. Tapi jangan dikata tak ada pilihan.    

Tak kira lah kau percaya apa sekalipun Tuhan/ Alam Semesta/ Prime Mover sentiasa bagi pilihan. Kita sahaja yang kata tak ada pilihan. Kadang-kadang banyak pilihan hinggakan pening untuk memilih. Kadang-kadang hanya ada dua:

Nak berkain pelikat atau nak berseluar macam orang lain?

Sekarang pilih satu.

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Giving (up) ghosts

Bila waktu kecil dulu pasti ada satu ketika bila kau pergi ke satu tempat yang kau yang mana kau sangat suka hingga tak mahu balik ke rumah. Tak kisah lah Disneyland ke, tempat percutian ke, kampung halaman kau ke. Yang penting kau menangis, meraung, buat perangai, pahut pada tiang atau bibir pintu sebab kau tahu pada ketika itu, di dalam minda kecil kau, kau tahu yang tempat kau berada itu lah tempat yang kau nak duduk buat selamanya.

Kebiasaannya bila umur kau meningkat kau lupa tentang tempat tersebut hinggalah bila mak atau bapak atau ahli keluarga yang lain teringat kembali memori kau buat perangai tak nak balik itu. Selalunya bila selak gambar-gambar lama.

Aku rasa sebenarnya bukan tempat tu yang kau nak sangat pun. Yang kau kejar sebenarnya state of being, perasaan kau bila kau berada di situ. Itu yang kau nak kekalkan. Sebagai contoh, bila balik kampung waktu hari raya kau seronok kerana segala sedara mara ada bersama. Kait rambutan, manggis dan lain-lain buah (kalau sampai musim), Tidur bergelimpangan diruang tamu, main mercun ramai-ramai malam sebelum raya, bangun pagi Raya melantak juadah raya. Tapi bila saudara mara mula balik, rumah kampung mula rasa kosong. Pastu kau pun rasa nak balik rumah.

Sama macam kau pegi bercuti di hotel tepi pantai. Ada pantai, ada pasir. Angin menderu-deru bertiup, pokok kelapa melambai-lambai pada kau. Lagi best kalau ada kolam renang. Nak mandi laut bahaya. Lagipun mana ada budak yang tak suka tempat yang boleh direnang, diranduk, boleh berendam. Bila letih ada katil empuk yang bukan kau yang kena kemas tiap pagi. Ada bath tub, boleh sambung berendam. Memang kalau boleh tak nak balik. Tapi balik juga kau akhirnya. Selalunya sebab makbapak yang suruh.

Mungkin ada penjelasan psikologi yang lagi mantap tapi teori memandai-mandai aku adalah seperti berikut:

 

Trigger> Feeling> Memory

Trigger ini boleh jadi kau ada meeting di hotel (jumpa di café, bukan bilik hotel. Jangan salah faham.) ternampak kolam renang lepas tu entah macam mana kau rasa sepertimana kau rasa masa kau berenang-renang di kolam renang waktu kecik dahulu kemudian kau mengimbau kembali memori yang dulu kau pegi bercuti dengan keluarga ke satu tempat yang ada kolam renang dan betapa seronoknya kau berenang-renang sampai naik kecut jari jemari.

Sama macam kau dengar lagu yang kau selalu dengar waktu belajar di universiti dulu tengah malam waktu basuh kain di dobi 24 jam. Lagu itu trigger kepada perasaan yang sama kau rasa waktu kau dengar lagu itu masa belajar di university dahulu; gembira kerana dapat kenal dunia yang kemudiannya membawa kau kembali kepada memori pada waktu itu dahulu sebelum kau kena ikat.. Eh, silap. Maksud aku, kau teringat pada gadis yang kau nak pikat dahulu waktu kau belajar dahulu.

 

Kalau mid life crisis pulak teori memandai-mandai aku adalah seperti berikut:

 

Memory>Feeling> Action

 

Kau teringat waktu muda-muda dahulu kau kemana sahaja naik motor Honda Ex5 kau, kau rasa perasaan dia bila naik bawak motor tu. Deru angin dari celah visor helmet kau, makan asap bila kau duduk dekat dengan lori, perasaan kebebasan kemana-mana tu. Tapi kau dah tua dan dah berharta jadi takkan kau nak pakai Ex5 pulak, lalu kau pun beli Harley Night Rod sebijik pastu kene bebel tak sudah dengan bini kau. Padan muka. Beli mahal tapi kesudahannya jadi tukun dekat rumah pasal kau tak larat nak bawak.

 

Atau kau teringat pada waktu muda-muda dulu kau romeo di fakulti. Habis semua gadis tewas dengan kau. Kau bercinta macam tukar baju. Kau ingat perasaannya macam mana bila satu demi satu hati kau tawan dan kau kemudiannya kau remukkan. Tapi sekarang kau dah tua, dah beranak isteri tapi kau nak rasa balik perasaan jadi jejaka pilihan gadis lalu kau pun pasang scandal. Bini orang, tunang orang, mak cik cleaner, single, complicated, semua kau sapu sampai satu hari kau balik rumah dan isteri kau tengah asah parang kat meja makan pasal dia dah dapat tau. Menjawab la kau. Sendiri cari penyakit.

Pointnya di sini adalah yang berbeza-beza mungkin kedudukkan memori dan trigger atau perbuatan itu dalam aturan memandai-mandai aku tadi. Satu titik persamaan bagi midlife crisis dan kau yang tak nak balik rumah bila ada dihotel atau di kampung waktu kecil dahulu adalah perasaan itu sendiri. Ianys sentiasa berada ditengah-tengah kerana itu yang kau kejar sebenarnya. Ianya memang boleh dijangka. Kita akan cuba sedaya upaya untuk membina semula apa yang kita ada dahulu supaya kita boleh merasai semula apa yang kita pernah rasa dahulu yang sebenarnya absurd. Kita bukan orang yang sama dan keadaan takkan sama seperti dahulu. Kita cuma mengejar bayang-bayang apa yang kita rasa dahulu. Chasing ghosts.

Macam aku cakap tadi perasaan yang kita kejar tadi boleh jadi perasaan innocence dan positif waktu kau kecil dahulu sebelum kau faham bahawa hidup itu ada naik turun, ada masanya akan kecewa atau kau juga mungkin mengejar kembali perasaan sewaktu kau muda dan bertenaga dahulu bila dunia ini penuh dengan potensi dan kebarangkalian yang baik-baik belaka sebelum kau kena henyak dengan realiti.

Dari satu sisi yang lain juga mungkin mengejar perasaan yang dahulu kita lalui itu satu cubaan untuk melawan takdir, memberi jari tengah kepada realti.

Realiti yang pada satu masa nanti memori kau itu akan luput bila kau meningkat usia, there goes your trigger. Realiti bahawa action itu sendiri juga terbatas bila usia meningkat kerana kau ada benda yang jauh lebih penting untuk diambil kira. Ada anak bini, ada tanggungjawab lagi berat. Mungkin juga sebab kau dah tak larat. 

Akan tetapi perasaan tu, Perasaan itu sentiasa akan ada menghantui kau selama kau hidup dan hanya akan terpadam bila kau mati atau bila kau sendiri padamkan, if you can. The heart always remembers.

Aku tak tahu perkataan yang tepat untuk gambarkan perasaan tersebut dalam Bahasa Melayu tapi yang aku tahu dalam Bahasa Inggerisnya perkataan yang paling tepat adalah longing.  Aku guna perkataan longing kerana aku tak mahu guna perkataan nafsu ataupun desire yang mempunyai konotasi negative kerana bukan semua longing itu benda yang merepek (kecuali nak jadi romeo dikala umur tua ganyut. Itu memang merepek).

Mungkin bila ada masa, ada kudrat dan takdir membenarkan, longing itu akan dapat kau lalui dan penuhi semula.

Kalau tak dapat pun, well, kau dah pernah merasa dulu. Cukuplah. 

Kot. 

 

 

 

Post scriptum: Title post ini adalah juga satu judul lagu dari Ben Harper si pemain slide guitar yang boleh tahan power. Aku tak mahu letak... okay, aku tak tahu macam mana nak letak link kepada Youtube bagi lagu ini. Dahulu aku reti tapi sekarang aku dok cuba tak menjadi pula. Jemput cari sendiri di Spotify atau Youtube.

 

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On Power

 

During a constitutional law lecture by Prof Shad over a topic that I can no longer recall I remembered as a closing remark of the day’s lecture he repeated the oft referred to cautionary quote on power: Power is like wine. It goes to the head. Or something to that effect in that Indian twang of his.

The lecture was probably about powers and role of the YDPA (Yang DiPertuan Agong) in the government machinery. The quote seems fitting there. I think so. Far from being an absolute High (not that one) King of Malaysia he is bound by the Constitution to act upon advice, most of the time.  

I’ve never had and never will drink wine (I prefer sirap ais) for obvious reasons but I can surmise its meaning in relation to Power. Unlike sirap, once you have a taste of it, it is hard to let go. Calix meus inebrians indeed. You just want to keep on ‘’drinking’’.

The story of Power is as old as time and will continue so long as Man walks upon this Earth. Gilgamesh was a tyrant until Enkidu came out of the wilderness to knock some sense into him (The scribe who scratched the story on clay tablets thousands of years ago was probably shitting on his boss or his paramount ruler) just as much as Madey was until Bang Non came into the picture to do the same or rather until Bang Non turned on him.

History taught us countless of times the dangers of succumbing to the allure of Power that there is scarcely a need to name too many names. You know them. You have heard of them. Yet there are those who naturally gravitate towards Power and its accumulation despite all the warnings. These would be drunks. For them Power is about what you can do with it, not what you must not do with it. It is the sheer potentiality of Power that drives them. They are like a kid with a magnifying glass having discovered what concentrated sunlight can do to ants and anything flammable. You often see them as macais hanging around politicians before they too rose to the top of the dunghill to join the ranks of the smooth talkers, the wily and the bent (Re: Mat Jargon).

Then there are people like Stan Lee who preached the Tao of Peter Parker. That with great Power comes great Responsibility. How apt. It is because Power is a great responsibility that it should be split into pieces, not concentrated upon one person or body alone like the belief of the Romans of the early republican era. Ultimate Power should be broken up into pieces, into the two Consuls, the Senate and other public offices. Not only to avoid the emergence of tyranny, not out of jealousy but also so that each of us should know that we to certain extent, hold Power over our own fate. That there should be check and balance to Power. That having Power means the duty to be responsible to the fate those around and under us until that Power is passed on, or surrendered or Death takes us. The would be drunks often forget this fact. Most of us do. I don’t blame you. I don't blame them. Their cup makes them drunk. Just like it did to the Romans who exchanged their republic with an empire under Augustus Caesar (Princeps my ass!). Power. Ah, Power. Ever so alluring. Forever corrupting

Always we are of two minds. As much as we have the potential to be good, we have the same potential to be evil. Good and evil is in our choice every day but good is often the harder of the two choices. But Power makes the line between Good and Evil blurry. It makes Evil the convenient choice, the seemingly good choice. A teacher of mine once told me, doing good takes times. How true that is. Far easier to surrender to our tyrannical instincts of because-i-am-the-boss rather than to work at being a wise and just leader. Easier to keep silent and plod on mindlessly compared to stopping to admit that we are lost and to take bearings of our direction before trying again. 

That could be the cause. We do not want to wait. We think we have better things to do than wait in this day and age of instant things. We want it easy. We would rather post bullshit and phony pictures of our so called life on social media for the likes than to attend to the dangers of power and it attendant responsibilities as a practitioner. We want it easy. We fooled ourselves into thinking that it is easy. 

Maybe it is too much to expect one who has held power to return to his or her plow like Lucius Quinticus Cincinnatus, or even willingly share power in the name of farming out the responsibility like Marcus Aurelius did but a tall hope that would be. When Power had sunk its talons into you, there is no letting go or sharing willingly. Just look at Madey. Just look at Bang Non. Power is all consuming. 

Perhaps it is the way of the world. That for all good that we intended to do in the beginning, we all surrender to our baser desires and wants in the end because of Power. That we would rather be the hand that hold the whip rather than the hand that mends. That we would rather remain the fool wearing a paper crown than toil like the others because Power has inflated our ego to grotesque proportions.

Ah, Power. Never have I asked for you and now, I wash my hands of you. 

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On Memory and Forgetfulness

 

I cannot remember who or where I heard/read it but it was said that Man is the only being that thinks in three modes, the past, the future and the present. Ruminants only think in the present. When there is predator lurking in the shadows a ruminant would flee. When it is safe again, it would continue grazing. All thoughts of danger forgotten. Only chewing and more chewing of cud. On the other hand Man would see danger in the past, the present and the future. We are on the look out for danger constantly from past, present and the future. This is especially true when you are a practitioner. You can’t help it. It is what you are trained for. But, the line between vigilance and mere worry is a thin one and the price is anxiety and/or hypertension.

We rush for the future but often we look back in the past hoping to not repeat the same mistakes, to avoid the hole we fell in once but in doing so we are blind of what is in front of us right now. Our children wanting our attention, maybe a bedtime story or two, a walk in the park. Our wives wanting no more than to hold hands, a hug (I think. Who knows what a woman wants, really) Our aging parents needing nothing more than our company. Our beat-up body wanting rest. Our tired minds begging for some activity other than work. We are prisoners of thoughts and worries of the future.

Ah, to hell with the future. The future is yet to be written, all we have is the present to live in, in preparation for the future. We often forget that. I often forget that. I write now not about the present or the future but of the past. About memories both good and bad. About the irony of remembering (for me at least).

I’ve been working my way through The Liar’s Club, A memoir by Mary Karr, poet, essayist and memoirist. Like most books I read, I came upon it entirely by accident while trawling through old yellowing books at my local Books for Better World. Wasn’t really looking for it but I knew of Mary Karr previously when I picked up Lit (by accident), also by her at The Curve’s Borders bargain bin almost a year earlier. Lit was such a blast to read so when I saw The Liars Club sitting there with its cover coming off, I had to get it. While Lit was about Mary’s attempts to get herself published, her marriage and its dissolution, her single motherhood and her battle with the bottle and her final grudging acceptance of Catholicism. The Liar Clubs was about Mary as a little girl growing up in Texas witnessing her parent’s slow drift and eventual separation and her mother’s gradual descent into alcoholism. Reading that, it made perfect sense. There was a morbid symmetry on why Mary turned out the way she did in Lit.

Having been more than halfway through The Liar’s Club reinforces my suspicion that bad, traumatic memories can be as sharp as knives and cuts just as real. Sometimes there is no helping it. They keep on replaying in your head no matter what you do until time and space (and maybe some help) wash them away. All we can do is learn from it and try, try to remind ourselves that it is in the past and not let it be the chain holding us back. We try. Sometimes we succeed. Sometimes we do not.

There are those who say that the trauma and pain you had suffered can be harnessed to drive you. Mary Karr certainly did. For the rest of us? Maybe. They say the same thing about anger being a great driving force. I have my doubts. One sure thing I know about anger is that it is tiring. But that is just me. I could be wrong. Maybe it is all about perspective, on how we choose to frame things, memories included.

Memories too can be our soothing balm, a warming presence deep within us when all seems cold, when you are at the lowest. Thinking of them reminds us for a brief moment that it is not all bad. That things have been okay once and will be okay again. Things like the feeling when we took our first bicycle ride with the training wheels off, listening to our grandfather’s jokes or the memory of our grandmother in her kitchen realm serving up dishes that fed generations, our day at the beach, our first date with our significant other, the memory of a teacher encouraging you to keep on reading, going on the stage for that school award, our goofy pet cat being stuck and finally un-stuck from the drain two sizes too small for him or a simple family dinner where all family members are present and where life was simpler.

Maybe that is why when we listen to tunes from our days of youth, we can to certain extent remember how it feels during those days. Maybe the heart remembers what the head can forget.

Memories can make or break you as a person but as powerful we would like to think it to be, it is at the same time fragile. Liable to be forgotten. Maybe due to old age or just plain passage of time where those who were there and remember are long dead. Then comes the question: Is forgetfulness a gift or a curse upon the living? The lawyer in me whispers: it depends (diam lah) but the vanilla old me does not really believe that to be the truth. I’ve seen what dementia had done to my grandmother before she passed away. From asking for my name and when I am to have children despite having my wife and two boys in tow every time and to constantly ask my mother to prepare lunch or dinner for my long dead Grandfather and yet, not once she ever forgot to ask if I have had my meal. Even as old age take you, some things you remember. Heartbreaking? To me to those who was there, certainly but to her?

Likewise with my late Grandfather (on my father’s side) who was a former copper. My uncles and aunts told me once that during his service despite his modest rank he was the go to person for PO’s (Prosecuting Officers) when it comes to criminal law. Towards the end of his life he was bedridden with the attendant tubes and bags, barely lucid. No longer recognizing anyone. When I came to visit after a plea in mitigation at the nearby state court (some suitor fighting at a coffee shop for his lady love’s honour. Accused family begged to differ. The lady was a known two-timer. The only time I was asked by the family to pray for maximum fine from court). I thought my grandfather could use a bit of conversation with only my aunt to talk to and so I told him I had just attended a matter that falls under Section 159 of the Penal Code, talked to him about the case. ‘’Tuk ingat tak Seksyen 159?’’ I asked him remembering what my uncles and aunts told me before. ‘’Gaduh kecil (affray)’’ he slowly answered.

When your body is no longer as it was used to be and all that fire within is gone all that is left to you would be your thoughts and memories. To swim in both the currents of past and the present at the same time, is that really a bad thing? I don’t know.

Sometimes I have problem remembering things I want to remember without reminders in my calendar (anniversaries, birthdays and school holidays, that damn speech or line of arguments) and yet the scary, embarrassing, painful, dumb shit I really want to forget remains stubbornly lodged in my head and I don’t even know why. Is that a human thing or is it just me? From my reading and/or listening to interviews of prominent judges and practitioners, most of them have prodigious memories. If I ever have the opportunity to talk to some of them I’d ask, do they have the same problem like mine; Forgetting what I was meant to remember and to remember things I’d rather forget?

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So that I Will remember

 

I have misplaced my glasses many times ever since I needed one. I have misplaced them so many times in a week that my wife begged with me to get one of those neck strap thing for my glasses as to do way with my almost daily questions as to whether she had seen my glasses. But pride prevailed. Though my body ached all over in the morning and rare strands of white are slowly creeping into my black head of hair and I have to spend some time looking for my glasses everyday, I am adamant that I am not of that age bracket. Hell no. Until the day I am offered senior discounts, I will maintain the delusion of time having no mastery over me.

Like my glasses, same goes with things that I encounter. I have learned that what is not written down will be lost or forgotten. That saying of Madey about Malays came to mind. The practice of stories, traditions, laws and customs being passed down from orally from one generation to another is dying out. One might say that written records have somewhat robbed the magic out of oral story telling aspect of memory and records but such is the way of the world. One things perishes and another will take its place. Now, physical books are slowly being complemented with e-books and yet we are still not a society of readers, but that is a matter for another day. Anyhow, point is, write it down or you are liable to forget the damned thing you are supposed to remember. What you jot down, you can see. What you can see, you can retain better in your mind.

I thought that my love of typing things (and making things up) to be no more than a youthful indulgence, a passing fad for many blogs of my contemporary during university days have lain fallow after the late 2010s when most of us joined the working world but time showed otherwise. I am now required to treat writing as an occupational hazard though it be in terse legalese and of the truth and nothing but the truth. Maybe, when I can carve out the time I will be able to type/make things up again for fun (and for a bit of profit). Not in court of course and not here, in this blog.

Unlike its many predecessors lost in the Void, the purpose of this blog is for me to write down what I have discovered throughout my practice as long as I am in practice. More or less- lah. If I do write about family and the human things which I will from time to time it is because I wanted to remind myself the reason why I am in legal practice to begin with. So bear with me.

Another reason I started this blog also is because some time ago in the course of a conversation that began in a clear late afternoon and ended in the dim twilight where you can barely see each other’s face in the murk, a guru of mine suggested to me to get typing again as the means to let off the excess angst and steam of litigation practice in a healthy way. It works, to certain extent.

While I cuss and indulge in profanities (which is one way of looking at it) in my stuff here from time to time, I choose to look at it as putting extra emphasis to certain points I am making. I am after all letting some steam and trying to record things at the same time.

I write in both Malay and English because my Malay is mostly in bahasa pasar which could do with refinement and my English could do with an improvement in terms of clarity and quality. Maybe not King’s English material but something pleasant to the ears and eyes at the very least.

That got me thinking.

If King’s English is the yardstick of the correct and pure version of English then what is the Malay version of it? Agong’s Malay? If so which Agong? I mean we have words like Bajet which is the shameless phonetic copy of the word ‘’budget’’. The word Bajet was previously used by my schoolmates to refer to the act of being stingy with your lunch or goodies or what ever you have on hand.

Eg:

- Weh, sikit roti kau

-Tak boleh.

-Ek eleh, bajet betul kau ni

I’d like to think perhaps one of them have risen high in the world, into the Parliament itself even, to have made the word bajet on the lips of every politicians every year. That would be something.

Anyway, I hope this blog to be the online reference point for my future self as long as the servers are up and running. So that if my memory fails me earlier than expected, it would be a repository of my practicing life. Perhaps my sons would come across it one day, cackling and hooting in laughter at my discoveries and my many attempts to impose order to chaos that is my life as a practitioner.

If my conclusions are wrong, correct me. If you find it useful, good for you. Mine is about the basic stuff. Nothing fancy or in depth as I find most blogs or stuff written by older and more experienced lawyers. Mine is about the kind of things (not strictly about legal practice) you would be afraid to ask your boss or bosses for fear of being seen as less manly or not as bright as previously thought of. If you think what I write about is shit, then it is on you who are reading this to write something better and far more interesting.

In a way this blog is that neck strap thing, but for my practice (mainly). There are after all limits to my (many) delusions.

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On Hope. Its abundance or (perceived) lack thereof.

 

Aku seorang yang pesimistik. Tapi itu tidak bermakna aku hanya nampak hari mendung kelabu sepanjang masa. Aku masih percaya lepas mendung, hujan atau ribut selagi ditakdirkan Matahari akan kembali keluar menyinari alam. Cuma aku kemana-mana dengan kebersediaan untuk menempuh hujan (baju cepat kering, beg dan sandal yang kalis air, payung.. Itu mengingatkan aku untuk beli payung baru. Payung lama dipinjam tak dipulang. Cilaka), kalau perlu. Aku adalah Bert bilamana sebahagian lain populasi dunia adalah Ernie yang girang tanpa risau dan aku perasan bahawa makin meningkat umur semakin grumpy aku dibuatnya. I mean is that even natural? To be expected?

Ok, aku mungkin conflatekan keadaan grumpy dengan pessimistic. Tapi pohon bertahan dengan aku.

Aku pernah terbaca satu temubual diantara penulis siri The Witcher, Andrzej Sapkowksi (sebut sekali dengan aku: Ann-jeyy Sap-kov-ski) dengan satu publikasi yang aku tidak ingat namanya. Bila ditanyakan apa yang beliau harapkan dari adaptasi Witcher di Netflix, Andrzej jawab: Life is, basically, fucking shit. Best to keep your expectations low. Maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Berdekah gelak aku baca jawapan Andrzej. It fits. Satu, Netflix memang dikenali dengan perangai menjahanamkan cerita bagus dengan agenda woke tak bertempatnya. Keduanya, dalam dunia The Witcher, watak utamanya Geralt of Rivia memang satu watak yang world weary, pesimis pun ya juga. Macam mana tak pesimis. Beliau adalah saki baki golongan mutan yang diberikan tugas murni untuk melawan raksasa-raksasa cerita rakyat Slavic tapi sayangnya, dicemuh dan dibenci golongan manusia yang dilindunginya itu. Magis pula dikuasai golongan tamak kuasa yang cuba mempengaruh raja dan permaisuri negeri-negeri yang selesa bergembira atas takhta masing-masing. Kaum bukan manusia penduduk asal tanah pula ditindas, dibunuh. Pada masa yang sama, nun di kejauhan di negeri Nilfgaard bibit-bibit perperangan sedang disemai (pada awal buku/game lah). Senang kata hidup rakyat kebanyakkan dalam dunia yang diperintah raja dan ahli magis tamak adalah poor, short and brutish. Kecuali Geralt dan rakan-rakan. Geralt dan rakan-rakan ada plot armour. Mungkin akan lunyai dibantai tapi takkan mati selagi belum tamat siri.  Tapi setebal mana pun plot armour Geralt, ianya tak tebal di bahagian hati. Disebalik gaya sinis dan tak berperasaan, Geralt ada sense of right and wrong. Ini jelas bila Geralt masih lagi mencari si Ciri walaupun Cintra dan istananya telah jatuh ke tangan tentera Nilfgard kalau ikutkan boleh sahaja dia lupakan segalanya atau beri alasan ; istana dah jatuh mesti Ciri dah mati dibunuh dan teruskan hidup memburu raksasa demi duit dan minuman dan perempuan. Tetapi tak. Geralt si rambut putih ini masih memasang harapan yang Ciri masih hidup.

Sama seperti watak John Stone yang dilakonkan oleh John Turturro dalam siri terhad HBO, The Night Of. Beliau adalah peguambela yang juga world weary, rutinnya adalah untuk singgah dari balai polis ke balai polis demi mendapat kes-kes tangkapan baru (touting). Pendek cerita, John adalah bottom feeder yang putus harapan dengan diri sendiri untuk buat kerja selain touting di balai-balai dan membuat kes-kes pengakuan bersalah hingga bila dituduh sebagai seorang red kerana percayakan penjenayah masih ada hak untuk diwakili peguam oleh polis yang sedang bertugas dia buat bodoh sahaja. Semangat beliau yang sebelum ini pudar dek selama ini bergelumang dengan penjenayah yang ingin dilepaskan atas sebab teknikaliti datang kembali bila berdepan dengan anak guam yang betul-betul tidak bersalah iaitu Naz, anak pemandu teksi yang dituduh membunuh seorang gadis di rumah gadis tersebut. John sudah keluar dari balai, bersedia untuk balik bila dia teringat pada Naz si pemuda nampak datang dari Timur Tengah sedang dalam tahanan system kehakiman jenayah Amerika pasca 9/11. Dia patah balik dan masuk semula ke balai kerana harapkan dia boleh make a difference untuk Naz.

Untuk kejelasan aku bukan world weary. Aku belum cukup lama mengenal dunia untuk ada perasaan sedemikian rupa. Just plain weary and grumpy.  Ini bukan satu aduan. Cuma satu kenyataan fakta. Boleh jadi juga kerana aku menaip ini dengan keadaan tak cukup tidur. Aku perasan yang kau lebih cekal, lebih positif bila kau cukup tidur.

Kembali kepada Andrzej Sapkowski dan tanggapan beliau mengenai Netflix dan kehidupan. Aku setuju dengan pendapat beliau. Harapan boleh jadi tingkap-tingkap kepada kekecewaan tapi kalau kau tak buka tingkap, tak dapat udara segar. 

Fakta Andrej ada beri kebenaran untuk Netflix membuat adaptasi hasil kerja beliau menunjukkan Andrzej ada memasang harapan untuk satu adaptasi yang tulus dan mengikut tulisannya akan dihasilkan oleh Netflix. Sama ada Netflix berjaya atau tak, aku tak pasti.

Pokoknya, perlu ada harapan tapi tak boleh banyak sangat. Kerana bila banyak sangat takut kau lupa untuk berpijak pada bumi yang nyata. Tak ada harapan pula akan buat kau murung, rasa nak buat benda merepek yang mempunyai kesan muktamad. Jadi aku kira satu imbangan perlu dicapai di antara terlalu berharap dengan terus berhenti berharap. Jadi tingkap-tingkap itu perlu dikuak buka tapi jangan besar sangat. Nanti nyamuk masuk, takpun tempias hujan.

Itu pada aku lah. Aku mungkin salah.

Si stoic-stoic lama ada memberi buah fikiran berguna berkenaan harapan. Ada seorang aku tak ingat siapa yang kata unexpected blows from Fortune lands heavier, yang aku kira adalah cara lain untuk mengatakan bahawa adalah, expect the worst. Jauh lebih baik untuk menerima kejutan yang menyedapkan hati, yang buat kau tergelak, senyum melebar daripada meletakkan harapan tinggi yang bila tak jadi, tak tercapai membuatkan kau rasa kecewa tak sudah.

 

Boleh jadi juga meletakkan harapan pada perkara yang berada diluar kawalan kau pun boleh membuatkan kau kecewa atau mudah kecewa. Iyalah, bukan semua benda kau ada kawalan. Sebagai contoh siapa Mak Bapak kau, kaum kau, jodoh kau, negeri mana kau di lahirkan, keputusan kes kau, dekat mana dan bagaimana kau mati. Benda-benda macam tu memang luar kawalan kau. Benda yang kau boleh kawal; siapa kawan-kawan kau, apa kau makan pagi ini, berapa batang rokok kau hisap hari ini, macam mana kau membuat persediaan untuk kes kau, macam mana kau pilih untuk hidup dan lain-lain perkara. Tak banyak tapi cukup untuk bagi kau sense of control. Cukup untuk buat kau rasa bertanggungjawab atas hidup kau sendiri.

Harapan ini memang terang-terangan jatuh bawah senarai perkara yang kau boleh kawal. Kau tak boleh kawal Tuah, Takdir tapi kau boleh kawal kebergantungan emosi kau pada Tuah, Takdir atau apa-apa terma yang kau nak pakai.  

Nak pasang harapan boleh tapi harapan itu perlu disemat selepas usaha sehabis baik dan juga dengan persediaan andaian apa yang tak diharap itu tak menjadi. Tak guna pasang harapan kalau tak ada usaha. Kalau kau percaya, berdoa selepas segala usaha. Itu usaha terakhir. Itu senjata kau. Terutamanya sewaktu hujan.   

Akan sentiasa ada harapan selagi ada ujian sebagaimana akan sentiasa ada hujan selagi ada matahari terik di Malaysia ini. Itu adalah hukum alam. Kadang-kadang kau tempuh hujan keseorangan, mencicit berlari ke kereta. Kadang-kadang kau jalan selamba dalam hujan lebat sebab pada waktu itu tak ada apa yang boleh sakiti kau apatah lagi hujan lebat. Kadang-kadang bila tak dijangka ada yang hulur payung bersaiz jumbo pada kau ajak jalan tempuh hujan sama-sama ke kereta. Kadang-kadang ada juga yang gila dan ajak kau berlari main hujan sama-sama.

 

Jangan dilupa juga, lepas hujan lebat jugalah tumbuh mekar segala jenis tumbuhan. Termasuklah cendawan busut. 

Cendawan busut sedap kalau buat kari. 

 

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