Once in Ulu Kelang my grandffather story took shape forcing innocent bystanders to turn left into the new highway bypass. I only tell you this because the man in question was the bastard half son of none other than Mustapha Kamal. Who he is is irrelevant.

 We move on covering sawahs and bendangs, two of a kind really. I am my fathers son, aren’t we all. Well my mother said if you grow up eating your rice and curry, the newspaper will always be there when you need it. I have trouble seeing her point of view. Why? Well did I leave my bag in school once or twice, does it matter really? In school you will have to raise your hand to show the teacher that you came from a good home, but are you staying there now? Did you live in a world where your friends were always running in the 'merentas desa' event at school. On a more important note, my canteen sold nice curry puffs!

 Once my Uncle Pratap said, if you think a manggo will please your taste buds, think what a woman will do for you. That man is an idiot but we all make mistakes, it’s just that he made more sense then, why? because he was older so we had to respect him. My father’s foot.

 Aishah was the girl who lived behind my house by the old tunnel that was being built to cater to the increasimg number of cars going by. She was nine when she received her first vision. It came to her on the fifth day of her voyage through the many dreary cycles of life, also near the highway. She was raped you know. It happened when she was not horny. I felt pity for her but my mother said you can't always have the best and don’t always complain. Life goes on..

 
Anyway last week we went to Sandakan to meet my Uncle Pratap (of the manggo fame-see above) who is my last uncle left on earth to tell him that he is an Indian. This was due to his internal conflicts about women, mangoes and how it affects culture. I noticed many birds were flying beside our plane as we approached the airport. I wondered how many times these birds travel by these parts. Enough, the time has come to elevate my problem above the world’s. I took a cab to his place, the bastard needed family only when he was confused. Well being the samaritan of varying degrees of hate I took that journey. To cut a long story short, Uncle Pratap became an Indian again and I found out you must wear a ‘little bit thick’ sweater when you’re on Gunung Kinabalu.

 Coming back to Aishah, after her unforseen deflowering by Suppiah the arch felon, now convicted and soon to be whipped individual, she eloped with him. The reason is because he was gentle DURING. I struggle to understand these chain of events, like a many spiked porcuppine crossing a road at dusk. Did you know me at twelve. A child cannot change once he ripens into a full blown manggo (Visions of Uncle Pratap again). I close with this piece of advice he gave me when he wasn’t sure of his race:

and I quote: "Boy don’t try to bend to people’s whims and fancies,

rather try to be a cobbler and just concentrate on the shoe at hand."