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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Stock Taking

I was doing some calculations when it unintentionally led to the calculation my years of practice. I was surprised to know that this year would be my tenth year of practice. A whole damn decade. Yet I still feel like it was not too long ago I was called to the Bar. I ought to make myself a cup of tea in celebration.

But really, was there anything to celebrate?

I still dare not associate myself with the title lawyer. I do not think that i have earned that distinction yet. I have a practicing certificate and i am a competent brawler in court. That much is true. But i am not yet a master swordsman. No rapier thrust to the heart kind of argument from me. Perhaps some jaw breaking blow would connect occasionally. But that was it. There is a long way to go before I attain the level of finesse worthy of the title Lawyer. I still feel that impostor syndrome in everything that I do. So much that whenever i see pieces about the intricacies of the Law written by people younger than me, i am amazed with their confidence in themselves and in their writing. Maybe one day I’ll pluck up the courage to actually write about the Law. For now, I am content to write about my observations about Life and some other matter and let the Impostor Syndrome to remind me of the need to leave no stone unturned and to give my very best in everything that I do in service of the Law though she be a jealous bitch.

After a decade i am now back where I once started out. Doing the same things I once did years earlier. I had my share of fun out there on the streets on my own. Learned things. Explored new areas of practice. I do not regret those days when I would wander from one friend’s office to another, helping out with their trials and whatnot. I was a mendicant practitioner, but for a good cause. Besides, it was fun, educational and most importantly I was free. Though that freedom comes with the freedom to starve if things turn south. However, from where I am right now I am learning to pepper the routine with the exciting. Balancing the need for gold and the need to enrich my soul. Always, I am eager to recapture that Thumos that I once had, not wanting to remain boxed in the four corners of my office, tethered to my desk. I am meant to be roaming about. Always on the move like the nomads of the Chang Tang Plateau.

Gold? I have no gold to show. No expensive cars to drive around. No blings, No material wealth to be throw around and to show off on social media. Accumulation of gold and fun rarely intersected. At least for me. But then again what is money but a medium of exchange. I chose to look at it as having exchanged whatever gold I may have for experiences and fun. What I lack in gold, I make up in few trusted friends. The kind of friend who would laugh the loudest and longest and yet extend a helping hand should i fall face down on a busy street for whatever reason. The kind of people whose conversation would enrich you and would range from the mundane to the esoteric, from talking smack to serious consideration of life, history and philosophy. The kind who you know you could depend on.

Responsibilities sure I have them. Heavy and big now. Sometimes it feels as if I am propping one corner of the roof in a thunderstorm with my two hands and all the while Fate is repeatedly socking me in the nether regions just for the heck of it. Yet I still stand. A tad bruised maybe in the said regions. There are moments of weakness, sure. Moments when hanging up my robe and bands for good seemed like a great idea and that stability and security seems paramount for my family. That I am but a ship trying to shelter from a storm-tossed seas in a safe harbour. But that is not what ships are built for. Security and growth are never meant to be in the same bed. I hope to have the courage and resilience to stay the course until I reach where ever it is I am meant to be, storms and shipwrecks be damned.

As for area of specialization, I have none. I hold the words of Robert A. Heinlein to be the guiding compass of mine: Specialization is for insects. I do all and sundry so long as there is a fight to be had, No matter the cause of action and subject, no matter the court or tribunal. It is the thrill of dissecting a problem for a possible solution, the rush of adrenaline you get from a trial no matter how trivial the subject matter may seem and the relief of resolution that I am after. The fees are welcome too but that is secondary. Okay, fees are important but not as important as the aforementioned rush.

What have I gained or realized after a decade in practice?

I would say the humility to admit that I need help from time to time and that no one can sail the unpredictable waters of the Law alone. That good friends like good opponents are hard to find. That the Law is as fallible and flawed as the people who made them and it is the job practitioners to point out the flaws. That while it can be hard, it is possible to remain honourable and to have integrity in a profession that is viewed sorely lacking in both. That gold while important is not the end all and be all. That i derive a certain kind of rush for trials. The kind petrolheads get from testing out a particularly sweet ride, or the kind thrill junkies get from jumping off buildings. I think lah. 

So, if there is a good fight going on, doesn’t matter in which court from the highest to the lowest, tribunals and what not and you need someone by your side or in your corner, find me.

I am always game for a good, civilized fight in court. I live for it.

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Remembering Mr Rajesh

On Monday i received a WhatsApp informing that Mr Rajeshwaran or Mr Rajesh as he is commonly known amongst his students had passed away. He was my Civil Trial and Advocacy (CTA) lecturer back during my LLB days. He was 87 years of age.

Even then he was a gentleman of advanced age. Slight of build and soft in his speech. He’d have all the classes at the Moot Court on the account that the Moot Court was at the ground floor of the shared Business and Law Faculty Building. Less stairs to climb you see. The Civil Trials video he would have us watch as I recall dates back from the 1970’s, replete with the statics and lines from the VHS conversion. Before joining the academia he was with one of the old established firms in KL. He told us no old war stories though I think he’s had his fair share of it. He taught us the correct and the stylish way to put on one’s suit and how to hold a folded one in arm.

I remembered that during our mock trials he was no docile judge dozing on the bench. Comments and questions came in steady barrages for both Plaintiff and Defendant counsels. That is, until the day a classmate brought a digital camera to document the sessions for his own edification and to our surprise Mr Rajesh clammed up and sat there on the bench looking very dignified. Comments are reserved for after the end of each session. From then on, we struck a deal with the camera guy to be present, camera in hand and pictures every 10 seconds for all sessions. And Mr Rajesh sat there, the very face of Justice, calm and dignified leaving us, little shits that we were then, rejoicing for the uninterrupted sessions.

Once while calling out attendance he caught me sitting behind one of the mock Grecian pillars they had in the Moot Court. Well, to be fair, the silly pillars were blocking the view from some of the long comfy benches they had for the public gallery. I just happened to be seating behind one of the pillars typing up some assignment or other like crazy on my laptop. Ok fine, I chose to sit there to do my work. I did not want to be seen not paying attention in his class. When he called up my name only an arm and my voice shot out from behind the pillar. So he asked me in his gentle voice: Why are you sitting behind that pillar? I thought of some witty reply but decided against it so I grinned sheepishly as i slid away from the pillar, slightly and still typing like crazy.

One little nugget of wisdom he shared with us was that no sane lawyer ever worked without a precedent and he is right. Drafting from scratch is an exercise in insanity. Sane people crack open their copy of Bullen & Leake or begged for precedents from friends or colleagues. There is bound to be one or something similar, which just serves to show that nothing is really new under the sun. Just like our lot in life; to live and to die. Leaving only memories both good and bad until that too is swallowed by passage of time.

Goodbye now Sir. It has been a privilege.

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Schrodinger’s Car

I’m sure it happens on the regular basis. Your are late for court. It can be any court, KL or Shah Alam or even Kuala Kubu Bahru Court. Because you are late, you had to park quite a distance away from the court. So you parked your car, put on your nice court shoes, tied a simple knot for your necktie, grabbed your stuff and walk in tearing hurry towards the court entrance. Then as you put one foot on the step of the main lobby stairs it occurred to you; Did i lock my car?

The moment is pregnant with potential. At precisely this moment you car is both locked and unlocked. You are both with car and without car (if you are unlucky). You are torn between wanting to check just to be sure and to leave it all to Fate. So there you stood in that very second trying to remember whether or not the car is locked, all the while one thing clear is that you are late for court.

Nate Kucey!

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Abah

Salah satu perkara yang selalu diulang Abah adalah anak-anaknya tak ada seorang pun yang buat technical line macam dia. Bukan apa, tiga-tiga tak ada bakat dengan nombor dan pengiraan. Ada lah cuba jugak. Seorang sekolah sains, sorang lagi ambik aliran sains masa sekolah menengah dulu. Dia pernah cuba tolong aku dengan kerja rumah kimia. Tak ubah macam itik mengajar ayam terbang. Dia belajar Applied Chemistry, aku belajar Kimia. Dia kira molarity, aku kira-kira bila siksa pengiraan durjana ni akan berakhir sebab nak sambung main game pasal aku masa tu tengah main balik kesemua francais Half-Life.

Dia bukan bapa yang paling sempurna. Kadang-kala ada tersalah langkah. Ada kelemahan dan kekurangannya, macam aku, macam kau. Macam kita semua. Tapi tak kira apa cacat celanya tiada apa yang boleh mengubah fakta bahawa Abah adalah bapa aku. Banyak benda yang aku belajar dan ambil pengajaran. Apa yang patut dibuat dan apa yang aku tak patut ikut. Dia ajar aku apekebende molarity itu di luar kereta sambil berdiri dengan buku terletak di atas but kereta. Kami diluar rumah nenek. Pada waktu itu, rumah nenek sudah tertutup pada Abah.

Dia juga ajar aku dengar Pink Floyd, Deep Purple dan Queen. Dia memulakan perjalanan abang aku ke arah musik instrumental dengan Mike Oldfield dan loceng-loceng tiubnya. Ajar kami hargai bunyi berkualiti melalui sound system yang dia bina sendiri sikit demi sedikit dengan amplifier dan segala mak nenek speaker dalam bilik yang turut menjadi tempat kami sekeluarga solat berjemaah. Selesai menyembah Tuhan, musik sedap mula beralun. Nasib baik jiran tak panggil Polis.

Benda paling seronok tengok adalah bila dia bawak keluar tools dia dan mula memasang atau membuka benda di keliling rumah. Tapi bila dia bawak keluar Swiss Army Knife dia tu itu paling ultimate. Paling cool, Macgyver level of cool. Bila bawak keluar je memang aku automatik ada kat sebelah dia. Tengok dia buat apa. Kejap bukak/pasang skru, kejap potong wayar. Ada jelah benda dia buat dengan Swiss Army Knife dia tu. Bila dia takda, aku yang ganti dia jadi handyman keliling rumah.

Aku membaca sebab bermula dengan menyelak koleksi National Geographic Abah dan Mak langgan masa baru kahwin dulu. Aku mula membaca fiksyen Inggeris bila tergerak hati untuk ambik satu paperback Abah dari menara-menara paperback Abah yang ada di rumah pada waktu itu. Habis terkepak-kepak spine buku-buku dia. Tapi dia tak marah pun. Diam-diam memerhati agaknya. Bila dia tahu aku mula menulis, dia memberi dorongan dan kata semangat. Dia cakap: What other people think of you is not important, what you think of yourself is and if Law is not working out for you, you can always do creative writing. Bahagian pertama itu benda yang aku pegang sampai sekarang. Bahagian kedua tu, on hold. I really want lawyering to work out first before diving head first into creative..thing.

Aku membesar dengan dengar cerita dia panjat cerobong asap refinery pastu jumpa hantu tengah bertenggek (boleh jadi Jin tengah dinner) di puncak, teman dia buat kerja di pejabat lengang pada hari Sabtu, cuba pakai but Redwing lusuh dan hard hat dia yang ada di rumah pada waktu sambil berangan untuk jadi Oilman macam dia. To suck on the tits of Big Oil. Konon glamour lah. Tapi Hidup yang pegang remote control. Kita cuma boleh tengok apa saluran yang diberi. Paling dekat pun dulu hampir apply jadi eksekutif perundangan di Baker Hughes.

Hari aku long call dia berikan kepada aku sebagai hadiah satu koleksi cerpen John Grisham sebab dia tau aku pun gila buku dan juga hidup aku mungkin akan jadi dramatik macam cerita John Grisham. Ada lah drama tapi nothing worthy of a book. At least not yet. Mungkin satu hari nanti.

Bila anak sulung aku yang baru dapat kaki pada waktu itu terus berlari ke arah Abah dan mendongak minta didukung dan seronok diam didukung tak lepas aku boleh nampak mata Abah berkaca. Dari Abah dah naik pangkat ke Grand Abah. Aku pun pandang keliling, cari ninja mana yang potong bawang sebab mata aku pun pedih. Mungkin satu hari nanti aku akan rasa benda yang sama bila cucu datang berlari, mendongak minta didukung.

Kalau umur aku panjang lah.

Macam aku cakap, dia tak sempurna. A man with a man’s problems. Tapi dia Abah aku.

Thank you Abah, for everything.

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