Thursday, August 6, 2009

Going kaboom and kablooey!

I had an awesome time with my cousin last night watching GI Joe. Movie preview, whoo! And the movie was everything a summer popcorn flick should be.

1. Violence? Check.
2. Buff, good looking characters? Check.
3. Lots of things being blown up? Check.
4. Insane storyline about world domination? Check.
5. Villain with evil, raspy voices? Check.
6. Side plot of love interest? Check.
7. Awesome special EFX that make you go, "Oooh!" Check.
8. Explosive climax with sequel potential? Check.

Just disengage the logical part of your brain while you watch.

ETA: Thank you, Sophie!

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Belasungkawa: Yasmin Ahmad

Yasmin Ahmad was an extraordinary story teller. She became famous for her exquisite, subtle and sensitive holiday advertisement for the GLC giant Petronas. Her trademark quirky tales of ordinary citizens in everyday situation became a benchmark for advertisments and films. Bet that there will be a course on Yasmin Ahmad's film in cinema-making courses soon, if not already. The clip below was the last interview she made with StarOnline, detailing her thoughts and hopes for the country and her raison d'etre.



There was an uproar that Yasmin Ahmad did not start life as Yasmin. I don't think that is relevant at all unless you are prone to small-mindedness and titillating, self-righteous gossip. Dr Mohd Asri Zainul Abidin responded to this issue eloquently in his blog, giving us hope that not all religious scholars have a mindset stuck in mediaeval times (ILU Dr Asri!).

I think people forget that her legacy went beyond such pettiness. She left behind films and writings that made people think and look at the world differently. She lifted the veil that obscured us from seeing what made us the same and helped obliterate the differences between us as Malaysians, what ethnic group you may be. And that is a legacy that will continue to touch lives of people even years from now.

Goodbye, Yasmin. We will miss you and pray that God keep you always by His Side.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Women from Venus ... definitely

The most common perception is that men are raving sex animals while women are just cold fishes (unless they are the alluring Jezebels out there to ruin good men for their nefarious purposes). But if both men and women are willing to be honest about it, the truth is a lot more complex. If you are in the habit of reading advice columns, the Sexual Agony Aunts will make you believe that a woman can get fulfillment simply by reaching out for what she wants and that she is no different to men in terms of sex drive.

To a certain degree, this is true. But why is it with sexual liberation, women are cheated into moving further away from their hearts? Because as cliche as it is, women wants the emotional connectivity before they surrender into intimacy.

And this is something new. Right.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Weavers and hunters

People's reaction to spiders are commonly primal: scream and run or scream and kill. Thankfully, I have never encountered (and God please may I never) spiders of such an awesome specimen as this (read the comments, it is worth your time). I would probably just stare at it and just ... stare. However, if I were this guy, I may adopt a different approach.

Perhaps along the lines buying an airline ticket and getting the hell out of Dodge. Or Japan as it seems.

*shudder*

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes ...

Life and death is a cycle. One day we will all be dust, fertilising the soil with the shell that used to house our personality and returning our chemical elements to the carbon and nitrogen cycle.

I am fascinated by funerary rites. Every culture and religion has their own way of dealing with the dead. Some are elaborate, verging on hedonistic (check out the Sulawesi Tana Toraja funeral). These would take months in preparation as the family of the dead would accumulate funds to finance the best and most amazing send off for their loved one. The more fantastical funeral is reserved for the family elders while the younger ones have a less elaborate funeral. For them, death is a celebration of the long and wonderful life of the deceased.It is an expensive endeavour, hence the large gap between the time of death till the laying to rest.

Nearly all would have a funeral procession of some note. For the Malay Muslim, it is a sombre one with those attending reciting prayers for the dead under their breath or in a low voice. The Hindus and Taoists have an elaborate procession, with music and attendants on foot and in cars. The Christians are quite varied, depending on geographical location, with most having a solemn procession. In New Orleans, however, the black community celebrate the funeral procession with rousing music (the famous Jazz funeral) and dancing attendants.

Malay Muslim funeral rites are quite inclusive of the family members. They are encouraged to pray and to recite passages of the Quran to be "gifted" to the deceased. I was privileged to be allowed to help wash my grandmother during her funeral; her frail, stiff body cradled by her daughters and granddaughters. We gently washed her pale, cold flesh with scented water, pat her dry with care before she was wrapped in white, clean funeral shroud.

Commonly, there is a "director" of the event, usually called tukang mandi mayat, who will help obtain the supplies needed and to give the directions for the preparation of the deceased. Such individuals are highly respected and are usually given a token of appreciation by the family of the dearly departed at the end of the funeral. They are usually volunteers trained by the religious authorities. Although many uses the professional services provided by bodies like Lembaga Tabung Haji and the khairat kematian people of the mosque in the neighbourhood, but many still use the volunteer tukang mandi mayat.

The family members are expected to report the death and make arrangements for the burial. Usually, the nearest cemetary is used but for those who passed away far from home, they may be transported back to be buried. The closest male relatives are often the ones to shoulder the dead to the cemetary and help to lower the body into the grave. The imam will lead the prayer before leaving for the cemetary and to give the funeral rites.

For Malay Muslims, lamenting of the dead is forbidden. It is said that breast-beating and excessive displays of sorrow will hurt the deceases soul. I think the same goes for Christians, no matter the denomination (I have only ever been to a Catholic funeral mass and an Anglican wake). But for many cultures, demonstrations of grief is a must. The Taoists funeral rite even involve people who cry for the deceased, wailing and lamenting loudly how the dead will be missed. I had a first-hand taste of this at the funeral of a dear teacher of mine, the late Mrs SS Tan, who taught me English and Literature. She was also my form mistress (class teacher) in Form One. I went just before they prepared to leave for the memorial park to give my last respects.

When I arrived and saw her photograph, tears welled and fell unbidden. It had been so long since I had seen her and she did not remember me when I greeted her on Sports Day a few years after I had left her class. In the picture, she looked just as a I remembered: the kind eyes, her fine fair skin with a dusting of blush, the rose of her lipstick and the luxuriant wavy hair framing her face. It only struck me then that she really is no more. A strange thought since I was never a favourite student or anything of that sort. But the remembrance of her kind and firm ways, how she taught to me the difference between 'despite' and 'in spite of' and her enthusiasm in showing us how to analyse the literary works assigned to us opened the floodgates and I cried. It was terrible since I did not anticipate tears and had no tissue paper or handkerchief on me. There I was trying to cry in a discreet manner and wiping my tears surreptitiously in one corner as the Tao priest conducted the funeral rites, and came a member of the family, handing me a packet of ang pow.

"A gift from the family," he said.

I was bewildered and tried to give it back. For the Malays, it is customary to give a small token to the bereaved family, not the other way round. He had quickly walked away and left me clutching the little red packet. It was later that my friend told me that I was given the ang pow because I had cried at the funeral and that it was an honouring to the deceased.

No matter how a funeral is conducted, lavish or no, I realise that the funeral is for the living. The dead doesn't care what happens to the shell that once housed their souls, but the ones left behind do. Honouring the deceased and participating in the rites help to garner a kind of closure for the family and friends. Then comes the reminiscence and telling of happy stories about the deceased, past misdeeds erased like they never were. Don't believe me? Look at how Michael Jackson was lauded after he passed away. I think it is better to concentrate on the good times rather than the bad when one thinks about a deceased; after all, the dead cannot defend him/herself and digging up past resentments and anger surely cannot be a healthy endeavour. Which is why I admire the idea of an Irish wake, where the grieving family and friends sit and drink and eat while exchanging reminiscence of the deceased.

My father often reminded us that it is more important to attend a funeral than it is to attend a wedding. He said that showing support and to help when a person is in bereavement is more crucial because that is the time when you are needed the most.

I can fully get behind this philosophy cheekily; you don't need to bother about a date when attending a funeral.

Monday, June 22, 2009

The many forms of beauty

You are only limited by the limitations you place upon yourself. I learn this from my friend who has spina bifida and went on to obtain a PhD in neuroscience and is now teaching and raising hell. With the advent of technology, the barriers that kept disabled people from moving on and up are disappearing. You have computers that can talk to aid the blind, better hearing aids and intervention to help the deaf and a slew of other innovations that can improve their quality of life and enjoyment.

In view of the can-do spirit, the China Disabled People’s Performing Art Troupe presented a magnificent performance of the Thousand Hand Guan Yin at the last Spring Festival. What amazing coordination and team work!

Enjoy.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Wallowing in auditory bliss ...

Mary Kay and I went to Hujan's Rainger's Gathering at the Itudio Studio at Kelana Mall today. Lyn joined us there. Gotta say it was a lovely surprise to have a jam session begin with prayers of thanksgiving. Apparently it was the band's tribute to their loyal fans for their support for the past three years; allowing them to grow and go places.

I first heard of them while watching the television series Kami on 8TV; stumbled across the show by accident while I was ironing. It was intriguing with a gritty realism that is largely absent in most Malay dramas; the story was reflective of the realities facing urban and suburban teenagers (i.e. drugs, truancy, isolation, angst, family trouble, friends, love, music etc).

Gotta say that their energy and verve is really something. They sound better live than on radio, unlike a number of the Akademi Fantasia product. Their songs are catchy, lyrical and poetic, capturing the their thoughts on issues ranging from heartbreak, loss, social musings and political headlines. I was bopping my feet and head along; the crowd was very restrained, doing anything more would be inappropriate.

I was humbled by the fantastic opportunity for me to experience Malaysian indie music at its finest. It is also delightful to know that their fame hadn't blinded them to other struggling bands and fellow artistes who are working to make their name and work known. Stormbay (?), one of the guest acts, acknowledged that Noh helped them gain exposure by telling the producer of Remaja, a show on TV3 to give them a chance. Near all of the guest acts have a story to tell regarding how the Hujan members have helped them out one way or another.

Have a listen. Enjoy.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Miserly emotions not required

We would all love to be the first and only love of someone's life. And hopefully, we feel the same way about our partner.

This woman, however, had the courage to be the second love of her husband's life. Her generosity of spirit and love is humbling. She's no saint and I'm sure many a wife would identify with her exasperation at her husband's inability to score his clothes in the laundry hamper. Her wry acknowledgment that she may fare poorly in comparison to his first wife resonates with honesty and an expansiveness of spirit.

Ah, vive l'amour ...