In appreciation of friends and teachers

I guess it is now time for me to get off this break and start writing something again. The hiatus is not doing any good to the creative juices yearning to escape from my idle mind. Perhaps I shall resume with an event that happened during this Hari Raya month.

Two Saturdays ago, I helped organize a reunion of my old schoolmates in conjunction with the Aidilfitri celebrations. Previous reunions have been held before but on a smaller scale. What made this one a bit special than previous gatherings was the presence of some of our former teachers. In fact, this particular event was made in special dedication for a particular teacher named Mohd Zin Abu.

It all started off with an exchange of comments during the fasting month between Cikgu Zin and some of my friends on Facebook, on how he would love to meet some of his former students from MRSM Kuantan. Cikgu Zin is presently posted in Cairo, Egypt but would be back in Malaysia for the Hari Raya holidays. This prompted a few of us to get together and decide to hold a reunion. And so it was, on Saturday 18 September 2010, a lovely and cheerful meeting between old friends and teachers was held at Shah Alam. For some of us, it was the first re-connection after a lapse of 31 years.

Thirty-one students of the MCE/SPM batch of 1979 turned up plus seven of our former teachers. Some came from as far Kuantan, Johor Bahru and even Kangar, Perlis.

Cikgu Zin used to teach us Science... but apart from the academic subjects, he was like a father and advisor to most of us. It was a role that he carried out extremely well and even after retiring from teaching, he is asked to perform the same tasks today. Cikgu Zin is presently in Cairo on the payroll of the Negeri Sembilan state government, to act as guardian to all NS-sponsored students pursuing their tertiary studies in Egypt. The students there call him `Ayah' and his wife `Ibu'... what more endearing term can there be.

We took the opportunity to invite some other teachers to come to the reunion as well. Our thanks to Mr Peter Ng, Cikgu Kandan, Cikgu Rahmah, Ustaz Yusof Othman, Cikgu Hasmah and Puan Faizah for graciously making the event a truly memorable one. My thanks to all my old friends too... for making it an everlasting friendship.

Footnote : This post is also in dedication to blogger-friend Dr Hasmawati of BrainDrain, in Manchester, England. 

 Cikgu Zin sharing with us his adventures to date

Three wise educators - Cikgu Kandan, Ustaz Yusof and Cikgu Zin

Group photo of those who attended

Friends are forever...

Since early this year, I have been fortunate enough to re-discover by way of Facebook, many old friends whom I knew during my boarding school days in Kuantan. Although I only spent two years there, the bond of kinship that was forged with my schoolmates are very strong... strong enough to span a duration of 31 years and for some, a distance across continents.

The re-connection in FB led to reunions or mini-gatherings so that we could meet again in real-life. For the past three months including this one, I manage to attend three such events, starting with a dinner in KL in March where 8 guys from the '79 batch turned up. This was followed with an afternoon tea session in JB in April where 9 persons (including 2 ladies) were present. The third mini-gathering was done early this month, and it had the largest turnout so far. The event was held at Beriyani Selatan House, a restaurant at Section 19 Shah Alam owned by fellow K79 friend Syed Idrus. Twenty-three of my MRSM Kuantan batchmates were there and it was certainly a fun and memorable evening.

The three occasions prompted me to write a note or article in FB as a way to record snippets of information about all the friends whom I have re-discovered. I do not wish to repeat the note in this post but re-reading it again just now reminded me of another Kuantan schoolmate whom I've written about in this blog, not once but twice. I re-connected with this friend in FB in early February, or rather she re-discovered me. Her name is Norhayati Shaharuddin.

The two earlier posts in which I mentioned about Yati were published in October 2008 and August 2009. The stories can be read here -> A rose by any other name and We've got talent.

In each of those stories, there were unanswered questions which I had hope to ask my friend should I ever get the chance to meet her again. By the grace of the Almighty, on 11th February an add-friend request came in my FB inbox, from who else but the girl from Gopeng herself. I have since invited Yati to read the two blog posts, primarily to know if she has any objections to my writing about her, and secondly to seek the answers to my queries. She has gracefully replied and I now reproduce both the questions and the relevant answers for the benefit of readers.

In the first post about nicknames, I mentioned that Yati was also known as Hai Hong (the name of the Vietnamese refugee ship that landed on our east coast shore in 1978), but I didn't know how she got it. She told me that the name was teasingly given by one of our Maths teachers, in reference to her fair skin and oriental looks. Apparently the teacher had mentioned that Yati's relatives had just landed on the beach.

In the second post, I wrote about our stage performance in a musical drama where Yati and I played the lead roles. I sang an old Malay 60's song which was then reciprocated by her... but I could not remember the song she sang. She told me that she sang `Mustika Hatiku'.

Thank you Yati for the explanations. The two stories are now complete.

And now, if only I can get to meet you and a few of the other girls for tea... that would surely be wonderful. Tapi kita fahamlah, wanita yang dah berkeluarga ni memang rumit sikit nak dapat kebenaran berjumpa dengan kawan lama.

Anyway, it's lovely to be in touch again... and thanks too, for the memories.

Group photo of the K79 mini-gathering early this month. We are already planning for another one next month.

All that's left are the memories

I am a bit unsure on how to start this post. Perhaps I should first apologise for the brief absence from blogosphere. It has taken me a while to get things organized with the shift to a new working environment. Something happened today that has caused me to think about things and put my thoughts in a blog post. But I'll get back to that shortly...

Early this year in January, I posted a story about Two Birthdays. The second birthday in that story is about a close friend of mine named Badique whom I re-connected via Facebook, after losing touch for more than 24 years. We had talked for nearly two hours, mostly re-living the stories of our past when we were studying in the UK... the wild and adventurous years. The visit to my friend's house that day was on the eve of his 48th birthday.

I ended that story with a wish for my friend to recover from his illness and the hope that I would be able to meet up with him again for his next birthday.

That hope is now no longer a possibility... my friend succumbed to his illness and passed away at around 11.15pm last night. This morning, I headed out to Shah Alam to attend the burial. The large number of friends and well-wishers who turned up to pay their last respects is clear evidence that Badique was well-liked as a person. Those who came range from old school-mates, university friends and ex-colleagues.

Throughout the early part of today, my mind is mostly in recall mode... remembering the times we went through together. I revisited Badique's FB profile just now and lifted a photograph from one of his albums to be included in this post.

Four young men in London circa 1980. Badique is the guy on the right with yours truly on the left.

Farewell my friend. I have fond memories of you. May The Almighty place you among the soliheen. Amin.

The 8th photo tag

I've actually been mulling about posting my 4th makan-makan story in a row. The day after I had that beriani peha kambing, friends took me for lunch at Din Ikan Bakar in Kepala Batas... and for those of you who've been to the place, you'd know that it is something worth writing about.

But rather than upset blog readers with unending posts about food, I've decided to do this tag by blogger Wan Lili of Suddenly, Heta! So here goes...

The tag calls for me to browse through my photo files, select the 8th folder and pick the 8th photo in that folder to post in a blog entry together with the story behind it. Then tag eight other persons. Whoever thought of this meme must have made many assumptions... that the tagged person has photo files in at least eight folders and that each folder has at least eight pics.

Well... I actually cheated a bit in doing this task. I have plenty of photo folders for sure, but the 8th folder in the My Pictures directory was originally the download folder for my Canon digicam shots. The 8th sub-folder contained photos taken of my project site, and selecting the 8th pic would not have revealed anything interesting at all. I deleted an empty folder above the Canon download folder, causing another folder to move up to eighth place. This folder is also something related to work but contains only six files... so what to do? I decided to select the last one.

From L to R : Dr. Marwan, Oldstock, Ir. Noor Suzinee

The above is a photo taken in May last year during an engineering seminar held in Kuala Lumpur. The seminar was presented by a close associate of ours, Dr. Marwan Jabakhanji from Dubai. Yours truly chaired one of the sessions.

Dr. Marwan is a specialist in structural engineering. He is a very kind and soft-spoken person who is not selfish in sharing his knowledge and experience with other engineers. I remember him well because he was gracious enough to invite me share iftar (the breaking of fast) with his family during one Ramadhan evening when I was in Dubai a few years ago. I'm sure lucky to have met his acquaintance.

Tiger buddies

Let's have a cheerful story for a change...

Regular readers of this blog would've noticed some stories about my working life while stationed outside my hometown. Many years back, I worked on a construction project in Terengganu, together with an ex-colleague named Steve Wong. We became very close friends even after we went separate ways upon completion of the project.

We kept in touch by way of emails, Yahoo Messenger and the occasional phone call. After Terengganu, Steve returned to his hometown in Ipoh and worked with a few companies before finally (I hope) settled in on a steady job with his brother's company in Singapore. Steve gave me a call when he first transferred to Singapore almost three years ago and I promised to look him up whenever I have the chance. Despite that promise, I never found the time to meet up with him although I travel to Singapore quite often to visit my parents.

One evening last month, I was still at the office when a buzz from my old friend came in on YM. We chatted for a bit before he asked me when I think we can meet up. I told him that my visits to Singapore are usually weekend trips and don't have that much free time.

He replied back, `Haiya brader... excuses only!'

It hit me instantly that my friend was right. If we want something to be done, we will try our best to make it happen. The Malay phrase is, `Hendak seribu daya...'

I then decided I'll make a specific trip to Singapore just to meet up with my friend. We exchanged messages for a bit more before deciding on the last Saturday of January to have dinner together. On 30.01.10, I drove down to Singapore to meet my old buddy whom I've not met for more than 5 years.

Steve took me out for a seafood dinner near his house in Choa Chu Kang. We talked about old times and old friends. He told me that he's settling down with life in Singapore and hope to move his family from Ipoh soon. On the work front, things have much improved although initially he faced many problems. Things are definitely looking up for my friend.

Steve and I are both tiger guys... we are 48-years old this year. We may be endangered species but our fighting spirit never dies.

During the dinner, I mentioned to Steve that another of our ex-colleague, CP Toh may also be working in Singapore. Steve asked for Toh's local mobile number and immediately placed a call. As luck would have it, Toh was actually in Singapore that evening, still slugging it out at his office somewhere within the National University of Singapore campus. We decided to meet up and have teh tarik somewhere not too far from the NUS.

Three longtime pals : (L to R) CP Toh, Oldstock and Steve Wong

And so that evening, three close friends who've never met in years ended up at a mamak eating place having some drinks and chatting up late into the night. Good friends are like gold... they'll never lose value.

Happy Lunar New Year to all my Chinese friends and readers. Enjoy the long weekend everyone!

Previous posts about my friends can be read here ->
1. The turtle state
2. Iftar with a good friend

Pic of tigers borrowed from National Geographic.

Two birthdays. One, happy... the other, not so

There are times when someone would come up to you wanting to tell good news and bad news, and you're then asked which one you would like to hear first. This post is somewhat like that. I'll start with the good news...

1. Monday, 18 January 2010

On this date nineteen years ago, my second son was born. Harith or Angah as we affectionately call him, left the comfort of his mother's womb without too much complication. When I first set sight on him, I was a bit surprised that he didn't look much like his elder brother. His skin was very fair and his facial features were more Chinese than Malay. My wife even had to ask the maternity nurse if the baby really was her son.

At that time, I joked with my wife that if she had managed to delay the delivery by one day, our second son would have a lovely number as his birthday, 19.01.1991. She tersely replied, `Kalau dah nak terberanak tu, mana boleh tahan-tahan!'

Angah at 11 months, Taman Cempaka, Johor Bahru.

I happened to be at our Kuala Lumpur Head Office on Monday and so took the opportunity to treat my son for a birthday dinner later that night. Before leaving the office at around 6pm, I sent him a text message about the dinner plan and for him to invite his room-mates as well.

It was raining very heavily in Kuala Lumpur as I drove out of the city on the DUKE highway heading to Shah Alam. The rain however dried up as I reached PJ area.

Upon reaching UiTM, I was surprised that five of Angah's friends wanted to come along. As long as the five of them are willing to squeeze in the back seat of my car, I am more than happy to treat them all to dinner. We went to Restoran Tasik Indah, the seafood restaurant located by the lake in the middle of Shah Alam town.

It was quite a sumptious meal and delicious too. We had fish, squid, prawns, lala, tom yam and bean curd. You can see the delight in the faces of the young men as they heartily tucked in the food. The plates were all wiped clean... and that made me very happy indeed.

Angah (3rd from left) and his room-mates in the after-dinner pose

During the meal, some of Angah's friends asked me about career advice and I was glad to impart some. I can see that they are all good boys and I wish them all the success in their studies.


2. Wednesday, 20 January 2010

One of the real advantages to sign up on Facebook is the ability to re-connect with long-lost friends. In the middle of December last year, I received an add friend request from someone whom I knew from our A-level years in the UK.

I first met this friend in December 1979 at MRSM Seremban when we attended the orientation that Mara held for students selected to go overseas for further studies. He introduced himself by the nickname of Badik, or as I later found out, he likes to spell out in the stylised form of Badique. In Malay, badik is a small knife primarily used as a weapon. How he chose (or was bestowed) this nickname was not revealed.

Four close pals in Wrexham, North Wales, UK circa 1980.
L to R : Khairil, Shahrin, Oldstock and Badique.

Apparently Badique had read my blog and knew that I frequently come to Shah Alam to visit my son in college. He left a message on my FB profile, inviting me to drop by his place at Section 30 for teh tarik anytime I'm again in the area.

Yesterday, I took the opportunity to do just that but I did not inform him beforehand, preferring to make it a surprise visit. He has his house address written as Taman Aisya in Kg. Jalan Kebun at Section 30, Shah Alam. I searched Google Maps but Taman Aisya is nowhere to be found. Jalan Kebun itself stretches for a few kilometres and simply driving along without any pointers would be too time-consuming. I then recalled a reply that Badique made to one of his friend's comments on a photo of his house... something about the house being located at the end of Jalan Haji Abdul Aziz. Another refined search of the map revealed a possible location and I decided that it was good enough. I could have simply called up my friend to ask for directions but I'm always game for a bit of adventure.

I headed out of KL using KESAS highway and easily located the Jalan Kebun exit. From there, it was just simply trial and error. I found my friend's house soon enough, based on the photo he had posted in his FB profile.

Apart from wanting to meet a friend I last saw in 1986, there is another reason why I really need to see him.

Badique is suffering from bone cancer. As I stepped into my friend's house yesterday afternoon, he was really surprised to see me but even after lapse of 24 years, he instantly recognised me. On my part however, seeing my friend in a frail condition immediately saddens my heart. Badique could not stand or walk properly without the aid of crutches. But he hides his suffering bravely and he remained in high spirits throughout our conversation.

For nearly two hours we chat about old times, about old friends we have lost touch, about re-discovering each other in Facebook, about our jobs both previous and present, and about our kids. We talked a bit about the cancer, but not much.

The cancer started at his pelvic bone but how far it has spread, he didn't say. And I didn't have the heart to ask. Badique has declined the conventional treatment of chemotherapy. He believes in alternative medication and is trying out remedies on a few fronts.

Today, the 20th of January, my friend Bahruzzaman Abdul Kadir a.k.a. Badique is 48-years old. Happy birthday, my brother. I pray to Allah swt for the success in your treatment and recovery. I hope to be meeting you again at your next birthday with you hale and hearty, insyaAllah.

Meeting old friends in the new year

Another obvious sign that you are reaching the veteran phase of your life is when close friends of your age-group start to marry off their kids. You get invited to their wedding receptions and then start to ponder on when you would be holding such receptions for your own children.

We were in Kuala Lumpur on the 1st of January, to attend the wedding reception of the daughter of a close friend. The reception was held at the newly-built Dewan Serbaguna Taman Tasik Ampang Hilir, just off Jalan Ampang. Tasik Ampang Hilir used to be an anomaly of sorts some time ago. The lake, which I presume to be an old mining pool like many others in and around the Klang Valley, is located in an area bordering Ampang/KL. On one side of the lake, you find upmarket dwellings that include expensive bungalows and residence of foreign ambassadors. On another side, there used to be crammed squatter houses that were visible to traffic plying the MRR2.

The squatters have since been relocated and the lake surroundings were developed into a scenic public recreational park by Dewan Bandaraya Kuala Lumpur. The park is now becoming popular venue among Ampang and Pandan residents as place to jog, picnic and in this case, hold wedding receptions.

Groom and Bride

The beauty of attending such receptions is the opportunity to meet old friends that we have not met for years. This time was no different. There was a sort of small gathering of ex-colleagues who all used to work in an organisation in Johor. All of us left the organisation many years ago to pursue separate career paths. But the close friendship still remain.

Old comrades... literally. L to R : Khushairi Hashim, Fadzullah Hassan (father of the bride), Fadhil Isma a.k.a. Oldstock, Hj. Azman Kassim.

Two old couples smiling for the camera. These friends of ours are parents to the young lady who underwent surgery to correct the scoliosis condition that I wrote about here -> Mending a deformed backbone.

The zipper club

We were up at KL and Shah Alam last weekend to send our second son back for his second semester at UiTM. After sending my son back to his hostel, I took the opportunity to visit a friend who stays at nearby Section 7.

My friend Yos, had just undergone bypass surgery on his heart 3 weeks ago. On Sunday, he held a kenduri doa selamat (thanksgiving lunch reception) at his house and invited close friends to come over.

I have known Yos since we first met at boarding school in Kuantan. He went on to study in Australia while I went to the UK. We met again when both of us started our engineering careers at the same organization in Johor Bahru.

I first received news of his ailment through our email group in Yahoo just before the operation was to take place. I couldn't make it to KL at the time so I just sent him a text message praying for his successful surgery. So when it was time to be sending my son back to college, it became convenient for me to drop by for a visit.

Yos was in cheerful mood, as he has always been. He told me that he went to see a cardiologist at Damansara Specialist Hospital after feeling some chest pains. The cardiologist, Dr. Daud, who happens to be our junior at boarding school, arranged for a full check-up. As my friend commenced the first steps on the treadmill stress test, Dr. Daud immediately stopped the test and called for a senior cardiologist to review the results. Further tests confirmed that Yos had blockages at 4 locations and that bypass surgery is required.

The surgery was successfully carried out three weeks ago and hopefully my friend is on the road to a quick recovery. Yos is the second close friend of mine who has undergone open heart surgery (the story of the other friend can be read here -> The heart of the matter). He is now a member of the exclusive zipper club, whose members carry the distinctive Y-shaped surgical scars on their chest.

That Sunday afternoon, a few other batch-mates from MRSM Kuantan were also there. One of them asked Yos how healthy he felt at the moment... 60%? 70%?. Before Yos could answer, another friend jokingly asked if he has already resumed the husband/wife activity. Yos sportingly replied that this is in fact, one of the FAQs in the post-surgery info the hospital provided to its heart surgery patients. According to doctor's advice, if the patient can walk 1 kilometre with ease, then he should be able to proceed with lovemaking activity.

Yos then pointed to the children's playground opposite his house. `The footpath around that playground is about 300m', he says. `And I have been completing five laps of it everyday...'

`Yeah?', one of us chipped in. `But have you been doing it with ease?' Hehehehe.....

To my friend Yos, I pray for your continued recovery. Be careful of what you eat. Continue with the therapy and exercises. Pretty soon, you'll be walking that 1km with relative ease :-)

Iftar with a good friend

The nature of my work has taken me to many places in Malaysia and also overseas. Most of the time, such postings were of a temporary nature and hence my family would be left behind in Johor Bahru. I was, in essence, a part-time bachelor (or looking at it the other way, a part-time husband).

I have gotten used to such situations but nothing brings about the real feeling of loneliness like having iftar (the breaking of fast) on your own.

Many years ago, I was working in a small family-owned construction firm in Kuala Lumpur. Most of my co-workers are Chinese and Indians. I was particular close to a Chinese colleague by the name of CP Toh, who is an engineer a few years my junior. During the non-fasting months, Toh and I would normally take our lunch together at a mamak stall nearby our office. It was only during fasting month that I see Toh have his lunch at the Chinese restaurants.

One afternoon, Toh asked me where I would be breaking my fast. At that time, I was a part-time bachelor staying at the company's apartment in Cheras. Sometimes I would just buy some food and break my fast at home but more often than not (to avoid going through heavy evening traffic), I would work late at the office and then break my fast at the same mamak stall.

"At the mamak stall," I replied.

"Let's go to a Ramadhan buffet at one of the hotels," Toh said. "Never mind... I belanja."

I remember Toh taking me to The Legend Hotel near PWTC for iftar that day. The meal costs RM60 per head, one of the most expensive buffet at that time. I told Toh that it costs too much but he simply replied, "Don't worry lah. Once in a while maa..."

A few days later, I thought I would return the favour and asked Toh if he'd join me for buka puasa.

"Sure," he replied. "Where shall we go today?"

I told him that I read about a few good restaurants at KLCC and thought of trying there. He agreed and so we headed for the city centre in my car. We were a bit late in leaving the office and were caught in the terrible traffic. By the time we reached KLCC, it was already a half-past six. We surveyed all the restaurants but they were all fully booked. Even the food court and fast-food joints were packed. Not a single seat available.

I was regretting my choice of place to buka puasa, when Toh suggested, "Why don't we buy something light for you to buka puasa first... we have the light meal outside at the park and try the restaurants again later when most of the people have finished."

What a wonderful idea... trust my Chinese friend to come up with a solution to problem that actually affects me more than him. And so we ended up buying some pretzels from the Auntie Anne kiosk and pack drinks from the newstand store. We then sat on the steps facing the fountain at KLCC park and chatted away while waiting for the sun to set. Although my friend could have munched into his pretzel anytime, he respectfully waited for the appropriate time.

After what we thought was ample time for the crowds to finish their meal, we went again to the restaurants to try our luck. There were seats available at Kelantan Delights, a restaurant serving Malay east-coast delicacies. Although the buffet spread was quite extensive, I didn't think it was that tasty and value-for-money. I can get more delicious Kelantanese food at cheaper prices at many other simple restaurants around KL.

Toh and I parted ways when both he and I left the company at around the same time. It has been quite a while since I last spoke to him. I am thinking that perhaps I should give him a call tomorrow, setakat untuk bertanya khabar...

Wrestling with a problem

On my regular road trips from Kuala Lumpur back to Johor Bahru, I would normally stop for a break at the Pagoh Rest & Service Area of the North-South Expressway because this spot is located about halfway. Last Thursday night however, I deviated slightly from the usual when I stopped at the Air Keroh RSA instead. I decided to take an earlier break because I was already feeling hungry.

As I walked from my car to the food stalls, I noticed a group of a dozen or so men, lorry drivers from the look of it, intently watching the overhead television. I couldn't yet see what was on the screen but from the wide-eyed excited looks on their faces, I could easily guess the programme they were watching. It was wrestling.

I have never been a fan of wrestling, at least not the American WWF version anyway. I consider it more of an entertainment show rather than a sport. I do have a friend however, who is a die-hard fan. As I watched the wrestling on TV, I am reminded of this friend who was also a housemate during my early bachelor days.

It was sometime in 1985. I was still in my first year of holding a job after graduating. I was sharing a house with three other friends in the Larkin area of Johor Bahru. When I first moved into the house, there were hardly any furnishings or appliances. We had no television or refridgerator. There wasn't even a gas stove.

Life without a TV was dead boring. As soon as I received my salary the following month, I bought a small 16" television set. The evenings became a bit bearable then. The programmes we watched would be decided on consensus. When there was a tie, I would cast the deciding vote, since I was the owner of the TV set.

The housemate who was a wrestling fan is named Saini. The other two housemates and myself do not like to watch wrestling, hence Saini is always outnumbered. We had fun arguing with him that all the actions in the wrestling match are bluffs or play-acting. He would defend the game in all seriousness. It's real, he would say. Not acting.

Sometimes, on nights that wrestling is on, Saini would rush to finish eating dinner so that he could park himself in front of the TV early, hoping that he would have control of the channels. No such luck. Once the three of us have seated ourselves in front of the telly, the channel would change to our liking. Saini would end up disappointed and frustrated. Although not serious, having an unhappy friend in the house was becoming a problem.

One night, before we took control of the TV channel, Saini pleaded to us to let him watch the wrestling show. He said that his only request was to watch wrestling once a week. For the other nights of the week, he would gladly agree to watch whatever we decide to watch. Hearing him appeal so passionately, we decided to give in. And so from then on, one hour of Tuesday evenings would be reserved for a friend who wants to watch burly men grappling with themselves in a square ring. If that's what it takes to keep my friend happy for the rest of the week, then so be it.

I learned a valuable lesson from that episode. Sometimes, enforcing majority rule or exercising veto power is not necessarily a good decision to make. Making a small concession could sometimes yield long term gain.

Footnote : In this year's Oscars, Mickey Rourke is a Best Actor nominee for his role in The Wrestler.

The heart of the matter

The human heart is an amazing yet mysterious organ. It is about the size of a clenched fist and weighs less than half a kilogram. Yet it beats continuously without rest and can create enough pressure to squirt blood to a distance of up to 10 metres. In one year it beats about 35 million times. But what makes it start ticking at the embryonic stage is still a mystery.

On Sunday, the nation was informed of the news that the father of singer Siti Nurhaliza has passed away after undergoing heart surgery. Tarudin Ismail had collapsed at his home in Kuala Lipis and was brought to Ampang Puteri Specialist Hospital where bypass surgery was performed. My condolonces to Siti Nurhaliza and her family on this tragic loss.

I first caught hold of the news on TV that night. The images of Siti and her family at the hospital reminded me of another traumatic event I experienced at that very same hospital four years ago. It involved a very close friend who also suffered a heart attack.

When I was based in KL a few years ago, I was part of our company's Tender & Contracts Department. Our task was to prepare tender and bid proposals for various projects. It was quite a tough job and working late into the night was a norm. We were a small team, only three of us : myself and two colleagues named Hasnul and Shaifudin. Although the job was tedious, we enjoyed what we do because each of us specializes in a certain area and we complement each other very well. Hasnul is the longest serving employee, having been there when the boss first started the firm. His dedication to his work is second to none and that is why I enjoy working with him.

We often work late together, going home well after midnight. On days before tender submission, it is not unusual for us to spend the night at the office.

On one particular evening we were having our dinner at the mamak restaurant at the ground floor of our office. I told Hasnul that I was tired and would be going home a bit earlier than usual. Hasnul told me that he would be staying back for a while longer to work on a tender proposal for a land reclamation project. After dinner, we returned back to our office. I went to my room to tidy up my desk and before leaving, I popped over to Hasnul's room to say goodnight. He was already concentrating hard in front of his laptop and probably smoking his third or fourth cigarette since the dinner break. Hasnul is the heaviest smoker among all my friends. Two packs of Dunhill a day is standard. I asked him how much longer will he be. Another couple of hours, he said.

As I wished him goodnight, it was already past 10pm.

Although I was very tired, I didn't sleep very well that night. When I woke up at daybreak, there was already a message on my mobile. It was from another colleague named Wan Lutfi. The message was brief but serious : Hasnul di ICU Ampang Puteri. Heart attack.

I quickly got dressed and sped off to Ampang Puteri. I reached the hospital in 15 minutes to find Lutfi standing just outside the hospital compound, enjoying a morning puff. He told me that Hasnul called him at home at around 2.30 am, complaining of chest pains. Lutfi, who stays at Gombak, rushed to the office at Setiawangsa and found our friend still conscious. He drove Hasnul to Ampang Puteri's emergency ward at breakneck speed.

After being briefed with a few more details I requested Lutfi to go home, shower up and then arrange to bring Hasnul's family to the hospital. Hasnul was already in intensive care and unconscious. I proceeded to the hospital's admissions office to take care of the administrative details. Around 11 am, I managed to speak to Dr. Ahmad, the consultant cardiologist. He told me that Hasnul's heart had stopped just as Lutfi managed to bring him into the emergency ward. They had to use the defibrillator to zap his heart a few times and get it pumping again. If Lutfi had been a few minutes late, my goodnight wish to Hasnul the previous night would have been the last words I spoke to him.

Dr. Ahmad informed me that he has put Hasnul on medication and hope that my friend's condition would stabilize before advising on the next step. I then returned to our office to update management on the situation and planned to come back later in the evening. At around 5pm, I received news that Hasnul's condition had taken a turn for the worse and the doctor advised for bypass surgery.

I rushed back to Ampang Puteri just in time to see my friend being wheeled into the operation theatre. Hasnul's wife, although visibly sad, kept her emotions in check but her children can be seen sobbing quitely. There was nothing much I could do except to console them of their anxiety.

The operation was carried out to bypass four blocked coronary arteries. The replacement blood vessels were taken from the patient's lower leg.

The next day, I visited my friend again but he was still under heavy sedation. It was only on the following day that he has recovered sufficiently for me to sit at his bedside. The sight of all those tubes and wires attached to him was a bit depressing. He was conscious of me sitting by his bed and made the effort to say a few words. I told him to take it easy and not to speak if it was causing him pain. I then relayed back to him the story that he had joked with me a few weeks earlier.

Actually, I had been a bit unwell myself a few weeks before. I was absent from the office for a number of days and only left a message with my secretary that I was resting at home. I did not return any phone calls or messages and this gave the impression that my illness was quite serious. I was away for an unusually long time, causing some colleagues to speculate that I was hospitalised. When I finally turned back up for work, my friends were relieved to see me. At that point, Hasnul mentioned that he had wanted to visit me but didn't know which hospital I was in. He was afraid that he might be too late and joked that the visit he would be making was to my house to recite the Surah Yassin (verses from the Holy Quran), meaning at my funeral. We all had a good laugh at that time, not knowing that the remark made in jest can turn out to be dead serious.

As I related the event back to Hasnul, I couldn't hold back my tears. I held his left hand firmly with both of mine as I cried. If Hasnul had collapsed all alone that night at the office or if he had failed to make that phone call to Lutfi or if Lutfi had delayed in rushing him to the hospital, then my friend would have been gone forever. And it would have been me who would be at his house to recite the Surah Yassin.

Interlude

When I was based in the UAE early last year, I had a Filipina colleague by the name of Christyl Aracan. Chris studied pharmacy in school but decided to do administrative work for us at our Fujairah office.

On my recent visit to UAE, I did not meet Chris because she had returned to Cebu, Philippines to deliver her first baby. She is now a proud mother to baby girl Meeka.

I still keep close touch with Chris through emails and Facebook.

For a light-hearted interlude this long weekend, here's an email she sent me some time ago :

Generic name for Viagra

In Pharmacology, all drugs have two names, a trade name and generic name. For example, the trade name of Tylenol also has a generic name of Acetaminophen. Aleve is also called Naproxen. Amoxil is also called Amoxicillin and Advil is also called Ibuprofen.

The FDA has been looking for a generic name for Viagra. After careful consideration by a team of government experts, it recently announced that it has settled on the generic name of Mycoxafloppin. Also considered were Mycoxafailin, Mydixadrupin, Mydixarizin, Dixafix, and of course, Ibepokin.

Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of "cocktails", "highballs" and just a good old-fashioned "stiff drink". Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of: MOUNT & DO.

Thought for the day : There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

If you don't send this to five old friends right away there will be five fewer people laughing in the world.

Free hole with the dough

Last week, I dropped by the opening of the latest Big Apple Donuts & Coffee outlet at the new Aeon Jusco Shopping Mall at AU2 Setiawangsa. This outlet is owned by a group of friends who are former colleagues. They have pooled their resources, convinced the bankers and managed to secure the deal to open the 27th Malaysian outlet.

Truth be told, I've never heard of this franchise before... probably because I'm not really a donut fanatic. I have only heard of Dunkin' but have never bought any from them because I think the donuts are overpriced. But this does stop other people from queueing up to buy them.

Big Apple outlets are bright and visible. Their kitchen can be clearly seen by the customers... you can see the dough being mixed, the donut being moulded, baked and then being arranged in rows, ready for the dipping and topping process in an uncountable number of flavours. Well, actually I'm exaggerating here... of course it's not uncountable, but if you see the whole donut range on display, you'll have a hard time choosing. And they come in an array of creative names... Alien, Duren-duren, Rolling Stone and Pink Panther, among others. No prizes for guessing which one is a favourite pick of the girls.

The display counter that makes you become spoilt for choice

I picked out a box of 12 pieces but because it was an opening day promo, I paid only for six. The donuts were brought home for my kids and their cousins to consume. To enable all of us to share the flavours, each donut was cut into quarters. Except for yours truly who, being the boss, got to eat the whole Cheesy donut for himself.

My choice of 12 pieces. No Pink Panther because it was sold out.

And so now... to the all important question, how was the taste? Not bad, I would say. You don't have to ask the kids... the whole box was eaten up in a jiffy.

I am confident that this business venture of my friends will do well. I've known them to be dedicated, hardworking and honest. To Azah, Azlina and Azman of the Big Apple Donuts & Coffee 27th outlet, my wishes for your continued success.

I now have a place that I can hang out for donuts and coffee, in the company of good friends.

A rose by any other name

This morning, Capt. Yusof Ahmad posted an interesting story in his blog, The Ancient Mariner, about the Vietnamese refugee ship Hai Hong that arrived in Malaysia in 1978. I was in secondary school back then and remember this incident vaguely. I commented in the Captain's blog that his post reminded me of an old school friend because she had the nickname Hai Hong.

But before I reveal who actually Hai Hong was, I would just like to recap a reply that I made some time back to Jabishah, a regular commenter in this blog. Jabishah remarked that she feels uncomfortable calling me Oldstock. I replied that she need not worry about calling me by that name because it was coined by friends a long time ago when I was at boarding school in MRSM Kuantan.

For those of you who have spent time in boarding school, I'm sure you have come across friends who have weird, interesting and amusing nicknames. Perhaps, like me, you have one yourself. To an outsider, some of these nicknames may appear demeaning but if you do not take offence or feel slighted, then such names are just part of a growing-up phase. No doubt, some people get stuck with their nicknames right up till adulthood.

There were so many interesting nicknames when I was in school, and this was not limited to boys only. Even the girls have nicknames that are known throughout the school. The reason most nicknames are easily understood is that they usually refer to physical appearance. Rosli Mamak, for instance, has a dark complexion. Norazharuddin Jepun could pass off as a Japanese without much problem. Bakar Buta is not really blind but he has eyes that are open as very thin slits. Raihan Buncit was slightly rounded around the waistline.

There were, however, some guys whose nicknames really defy explanation. I have friends who are called Nyamuk, Konteng, Bull, Monggol, Batak and Mat Bunian. I had female schoolmates who were called Cone and Sergeant. There was this story about one of the Biology teachers who overheard the boys calling a friend by the name of Badang, a character in Malay folklore that gained superhuman strength after eating the vomit of a jinn. The teacher asked who the owner of this nickname was, and when Badang identified himself, she let out a gasp in disbelief. You see, Badang was actually a thin and spindly guy... not the tough chap that she first assumed. I was told the whole class had a good laugh and Badang did not feel the least offended.

Back then, one of the activities that the Freshie Week Committee conducted was a `know your seniors' game. The task involved all Form 1 newcomers to identify some seniors based on a list that had two columns of forty or so nicknames, one each for male and female. It's not enough for the freshies just to write the seniors real name, they had to get their signatures as well. Some seniors purposely made it difficult by not owning up or simply glaring back at the juniors when asked. Can you imagine a timid 13-year old boy braving himself to approach a senior student to ask, `Abang ni nama Buncit ye?'. Buncit could have glared back and the freshie would probably shed tears... luckily for them, Buncit is a kind-hearted soul. Once the owner of a nickname is identified, you could see a crowd of the freshies gathering around the senior asking for his or her signature, not unlike a superstar signing autographs for his/her fans.

And now back to the story of a former classmate who was called Hai Hong. I really don't know how she got that name and neither had I the opportunity to ask. I attach below, an extract of the note she wrote in my autograph book, the evening after we had sat for our Geography paper during the MCE exams of 1979. That was almost 30 years ago...

To the lovely Norhayati Shaharuddin from Gopeng Perak, may you and your family be in the best of health, wherever you are. Thanks, Hai Hong, for being a friend.

Update 01 Dec 2021 :

a) The links to the blogs belonging to Capt Yusof Ahmad and Jabishah have been removed. These two blogs still exist but are not updated. Capt Yusof has departed quite some years ago.

b) I have since reconnected with all my friends whose nicknames are mentioned here, with the exception of Rosli Mamak (whom I believe lives in Alor Setar) and Badang (who passed away in May 2007).

c) My friend Norhayati, who is subject of this post, has told me how she got the Hai Hong nickname.