Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Apathetically Yours,


Scanning through the NYT for noteworthy reads in the middle of last week, this Social Science article's entitled "Is ‘Do Unto Others’ Written Into Our Genes?" caught my eye. As far as the title goes, the precept 'Do Unto Others' seems straightforward enough to follow but upon close inspection, both the positive and negative connotations attached to it leave some questions, however incredulous, unanswered. The chief of which is why certain people choose a beneficent route to resolve a conflict while some enjoy a more despicable option to handling life's problems.

As a keen observer of societal norms and conventions, I am intrigued with the concept of morality and how it melds with various cultures and/or social groupings. In the article, a moral psychologist, Dr. Jonathan Haidt explores the origins and conditions that bring about the concept of morality.

His novel approach in dissecting the foundations of morality can be traced to the following two 'drivers' or mental systems, namely moral intuition and moral judgment, for which "the mind is scarcely aware of the difference" between the two. In fact, the dichotomy lies in the evolution of the two systems before and after the development of language respectively.

The emotional responses of moral intuition occur instantaneously — they are primitive gut reactions that evolved to generate split-second decisions and enhance survival in a dangerous world. Moral judgment, on the other hand, comes later, as the conscious mind develops a plausible rationalization for the decision already arrived at through moral intuition.


To further his understanding on the 'subterannean' or unconscious part of morality, Dr. Haidt visited India and subsequently discovered "a much wider moral domain" when compared to the Western concept of morality. As a result, he arrived at the following conclusion:

...He identified five components of morality that were common to most cultures. Some concerned the protection of individuals, others the ties that bind a group together.

Of the moral systems that protect individuals, one is concerned with preventing harm to the person and the other with reciprocity and fairness. Less familiar are the three systems that promote behaviors developed for strengthening the group. These are loyalty to the in-group, respect for authority and hierarchy, and a sense of purity or sanctity.


In other words, morality in its broadest sense acts as a restraint for any selfish behaviours. As expected, the individual-centric take on morality - dealing with justice, rights and the welfare of the individual - is high in Western countries, whereas the emphasis on group cohesion is prevalent in other societies around the world.

Eastern cultures are also where religion plays an important role in buttressing the innate moral systems, by way of providing religious-minded persons the means to cohere and bond within a harmonic setting. Thus, the concept of sanctity and purity, that encapsulates the teachings of major religions, forms an important moral foundation by ensuring that its people toe the line.

Following another study with a fellow graduate student, Dr. Haidt further theorised that a person's political leaning is influenced by his or her moral standing and/or beliefs.

They found that people who identified themselves as liberals attached great weight to the two moral systems protective of individuals — those of not harming others and of doing as you would be done by. But liberals assigned much less importance to the three moral systems that protect the group, those of loyalty, respect for authority and purity.


In other words, our position on the liberal-conservative spectrum depends largely on our attitudes with respect to these five moral components.

While Dr. Haidt's classification of moral virtues is debatable and therefore inconclusive, I believe in the essence of his research results - stressing on morality in societal living is the only self-respecting way to curb selfishness.

Alas, in today's frightening day and age, such moral components have been slowly eroded and de-emphasised in place of loftier goals of fast recognition, dog-eat-dog competition and material wealth. Moreover, by putting religious affiliations and practices on the back burner, we run the risk of accelerating the moral decay of our local communities.

I wonder if this phenomenon is partly the reason why some developing countries gradually morph into less orderly societies as they painfully align themselves to the difficult benchmarks set out by the developed nations. Granted, the individualistic moral imprints - fair treatment and justice - that define most Western societies shouldn't be underestimated for they, in my opinion, brought forth the civic-minded dimension in such individuals.

Irrespective of religious or political ideologies, unconditionally helping people in train station, opening doors for others, and other seemingly small yet selfless acts are common daily occurences in these societies. Unfortunately, on the other extreme, poor identification with group solidarity in some Western countries leads to the worst kind of behaviour - apathy. People tend to become callous and choose not to get involved in the plight of another man (or woman) on the street. This bystander effect - the term which was derived from the Kitty Genovese case - is widespread today because people's priorities, and likewise moralities, have shifted tremendously in the last 50 years.

Which brings me to the matters close to home. Following her burial last Friday, the sad, tragic murder case of Nurin Jazlin is still fresh in the minds of fellow Malaysians. Her abduction from the pasar malam (night street market) that fateful day of August 20th reinforces my unswerving belief in the bystander effect, where a person is less likely to help another when other people are present than when he or she is alone. Most importantly, the general feeling of apathy towards another human being is the overriding factor for inaction in situations such as the one that had gruesomely befallen this hapless eight-year-old.

Some people might cite that they are minding their own business and wouldn't want to be perceived as unnecessarily fussing over others. And yet, when it comes to their personal sphere, they wouldn't mind being a nosey-parker or a gossip-mongerer in dealing with affairs that are significant to them, or to their net worth. Evidently, when moral virtues disintegrate, selfishness and avarice take centre stage.

During the school days, I often wonder as the reason why we have to endure Pendidikan Moral (Moral Education) when such a thing, to me, is quite basic and practically uses our commonsense knowledge. In light of current bone-chilling events, I think the emphasis on moral education couldn't have been more urgent and apropos.

Image taken from here.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Of Autos, Jobs and Urut Batin


Believe me, one of the abovementioned topics is by no means a way to desecrate the sanctity of Ramadan. On the contrary, it only goes to show how surreal life in KL can be. But now that I've got your attention.....

Before I delve further into my ramblings, permit me to share with you my undue felicity upon our MacBook's return to cyberspace. Since our arrival in Ampang, I'd to resort to using my hubby's PC-interface laptop due to connectivity problems via the Mac. I'm so accustomed to write on the Mac that I felt out of sync typing away on 'Toshi.' Even posting of photos took a lot of painstaking effort and tweaking. Hence, one of the OTHER reasons for my procrastination in updating this site.

Two nights ago, following a brief troubleshooting by hubby, Mac is back alive and kicking! Hurray! I feel like I've got my groove back. Step aside Stella! Hah!

I miss the dropdown bookmarks of Mac where I could easily find a host of favourite blogsites at one click. And don't get me started on the big LCD screen! Hehe.....

Let the spiel begins!
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My car nightmare resurfaced at the beginning of last week. This convoluted mess can be traced back to April 2006 when I sold my Kenari to a car dealer upon knowing that hubby would start his course in June. The dealership is the same one which handled my hubby's purchase of car of similar make.

It was raining cats and dogs when the two reps came over to Kota Damansara to get my signature since the car was parked there. It was quick and painless. I was upstairs in my old bedroom attending to my nursling while hubby handled the rest.

And I thought it was the last time I'd hear of my Canary baby.

As fate would have it, at the very last minute my hubby's Masters programme was postponed to September.

I didn't really mind being carless for the following two-and-half months since I'd be ensconced mostly at home. But I didn't count on the ensuing bad news that soon reached my ears.

Before we left for The Netherlands, a lawyer's letter arrived at my parents' house informing me of MY failure to pay the monthly installment of said Kenari. I was flummoxed and angered by this piece of news.

Little did we know that my car was sold to another dealer in Putrajaya but he had failed to make payments to the bank! How we'd been screwed! We demanded backpayments to be settled and warned that we would bring the matter up to the police. After much hassling with these incompetent parties, we prayed hard that it'd be the last time we heard about my sold Kenari.

However, the issue cropped again and again in Delft as and when we checked about the car payment status. Following a year of car sale, we confidently assumed that the car had finally secured a home with a rightful owner. As such, we didn't track any more matters pertaining to the car.

Yet, last Monday, the bank called my mobile to tell me the same news again. Three months of backpayment. My name might be blacklisted. That sincerely put a damper on our laidback Monday morning.

We instantly made calls to the original dealership to track the new car owner's particulars. Apparently, my car is now somewhere in Kota Bharu, without a proper roadtax! And the owner had changed hands once again. Both the second and third 'owners' are from Kelantan. The second one is a Guru Besar (Headmaster) in Putrajaya somewhere.....

Imagine what would happen if the car was pulled over by the police for traffic violations, or God forbid, got into an accident. The new 'owner' however assured us that the car is sitting idle in Kota Bharu somewhere. I guess for the time being, we have to take his words for it. Undoubtedly, we are devastated by this protracted runaround in settling my carloan. If the car is not properly handed over to a new owner, we threatened to have the car back.

Yesterday, a teleconference, arranged by my hubby, with both the bank and the potential owner hopefully set in motion a formal change in ownership. We have to follow up again I'm afraid lest the guy sits on this matter yet again. I am horrified to know that someone would merely continue paying for the car, under my loan, just because he or she couldn't afford - financially, criminal records or what-have-you - to get a bank loan, or worse too lazy to get his or her butt off to the bank and apply for a loan.

It's almost one-and-half year since I last said goodbye to my car. And its fate is still unresolved. Let's see how things unfold in the next month.....
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The first day of fasting saw me driving alone mid-morning on the elevated highway towards KL with tears brimming in my eyes.

I blame it on the onset of hormones and separation anxiety. And no, it's none of the marital strife variety.

Rather, I was on my way to a job interview whilst my hubby and baby stayed at home. Thanks love for holding the fort.

Aside from the lengthy form-filling and essay-writing process, I breezed through the interview with two gentleman and a female rep from HR. After experiencing that initial butterflies in my stomach, I calmly seated myself inside a tiny meeting room and answered their questions matter-of-factly.

I wouldn't say I was too persuasive, nor was I too diffident. I just wanted it to be over and done with.

You see, I'm at a crossroads mulling over whether I should go back to the corporate world or stay home taking care of my child. While it'd be nice to have an income at my own disposal and convenience, I simply feel guilty leaving Sadia behind after more than a year of 'home-parenting'. It's one thing that hubby had gone back to the daily grind, but it'd be another major adjustment, not to mention a setback, for Sadia if I were to go back to work.

Despite my misgivings, hubby had assured me that the decision is entirely up to me. God willing, we would still have enough money, as long as we live within our means. That should be loosely read as no more mindless, spur-of-the-moment shopping! Haha!

And there is of course, an alternative to going back to work. I could go back to school and take my Masters fulltime. That way, I can find a suitable schedule that are in consonant with my maternal undertakings. Hehe.

Work or otherwise, I still am on the lookout a great nursery to send Sadia so that I'd get a breather for a few hours in a day. Any suggestions for the Ampang area? Thanks in advance, I'm much obliged.

At current standing, I still haven't made up my mind about working. I know, I know - I can be so irritatingly wishy-washy. Nonetheless, I am more than happy if you could slip into my shoes and empathise with my situation wholeheartedly.

I will jot down more thoughts once a decision is made.
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Last Saturday, before we ventured to my grandma's in Kampung Bharu for Iftar, we brought Sadia to the KLCC park to let off some steam. After purchasing some presents for a birthday Do (scheduled after Iftar), we ambled along the serpentine fountains of KLCC towards the playground area.

Considering it was a weekend, the park was relatively sparse with a manageable number of children roughhousing and running around the soft spongey ground. Perhaps the Ramadan month discourages some folks from bringing their children outdoors.

Some of the recreational rides and contraptions were however still wet from the afternoon shower, causing us to be extra vigilant with Sadia's brisk movements. As we made our way to a drier and quieter section of the playground, we chanced upon a suspicious-looking behaviour taking place in one of the covered nooks meant for children. This shelter sat underneath an elaborate playground structure of slides, walkways, monkey bars, climbers, and playhouses.

Functioning like a makeshift tent for covert operations, kids could regroup in there for their make-believe combat strategy. Likewise, adults and teenagers alike covertly converged on this 'hallowed', uncorrupted ground and tarnished its image with scandalous activities.

This was actually the second time around we bumped into a couple. And each time at the same combination playground structure. Ironically, the habitually whistle-blowing parkguards often overlook this side of the playground in their overzealous enforcement of the park's rules.

The previous couple consisted of a Caucasian teenagegirl and her Chinese boyfriend, looking all mussed up after emerging from the shelter. This time we were stunned beyond words.

They were a couple of guys, one of whom lying inside the tent as the other guy massaged his temple in a suggestive manner. The one assuming the supine position looked, well how shall I put it, very turned on, while the other became uneasy upon our 'intrusion'. We could only imagine what else had transpired before we came to the vicinity. And they are Malays!

A group of young Malay males walked past shortly thereafter and hollered some words "Oi, buat apa tu?" (Oi, what are you doing?) and the like. We also chose to gradually move away from the playsite at this time since the sky turned a shade grey. Later on, we saw them coming out from the playhouse. One of them effeminate and the other quite straight-looking.

Well, I'll be darned!

I sincerely hope the guards would tighten security in the deceptively quiet corners of the playground so as to prevent anything untoward from occuring.
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Now, I'm off looking for that perfect, succulent sardine karipap for Iftar (or Buka Puasa)!


Note:
Urut Batin is a recently-coined phrase in Malay referring to massage service inclusive of sexual favours.
Buka Puasa is Malay for Breaking of Fast.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

So Many Blogs, So Little Time!

There are many things that have taken place which I want to write about. However, being a SAHM ('Stay-At-Home-Mother') with an absence of any domestic help, not to mention a clingy toddler, I find my time quite limited.

And it has only been the second week! I mean, the second week hubby has gone back to work. It takes some time getting used to the idea that hubby won't be around to lend a hand, whenever I need a break. On the flip side, it is also an adjustment period for hubby after a one-year off as a student!

Ramadan has finally arrived and it is an exhilarated feeling having able to spend this holy month in Malaysia.

Not only are the food choices much better, but experiencing Ramadan amongst my people is something that I wouldn't trade for the world.

Speaking of food, last Saturday we hosted a group of family members and close friends for makan-makan or dinner - sort of a mini-'housewarming' after almost a year being in a state of neglect.

Save for the drinks, the food are either catered or brought by relatives and friends. That's another nice thing about living in Malaysia. You can just cater from a reputable food court proprietor at fraction of the overseas price.

Thanks Nenek (or grandma) for bringing the sambal ikan and the Adzuki agar-agar, Kak Long for the Daging Dinding, Mama for the translucent pink agar-agar and Aunty Sam for the grapes.

The Do started with a Maghrib prayer congregation led by my brother as an imam and a short doa thereafter as thanksgiving to God and seeking His protection. I couldn't join in the jemaah prayer since I was on toddler duty. :)

Dinner proceeded as usual, and if I might add, with gusto as guests chowed down the nasi minyak and ayam masak merah amid muffled chats and squealing children.

The friends portion of the dinner party only arrived after most of my relatives had left. They must have either known each other in their previous lives (haha!) and therefore in cahoots with one another. A more logical explanation is that they shared the same mentality that late arrivals mean an easy flow of conversations, albeit at the risk of having less food to eat!

But catching up with one another is more on the agenda than scarfing down the food. Food just serves as a great complement to and a 'medium' for lively interactions.

My twin sister and her small entourage were the last persons from the family to leave, as Numi and Nuzz turned irascible and groggy respectively. Nuzz is such a cooperative and quiet baby...for now. ;-)

Kak Zakiah delighted us with funny, off-the-cuff stories about her TV interview as well as anecdotes from work while Peon updated us on some developments - people and management - of his (and hubby) company.

After Rizby (thanks for the dates!) left at midnight, we put Sadia to sleep and, out of norm, she fell into deep slumber without much protest or hesitation. Even though it was a full, tiring day, we were glad everything turned out relatively well considering it was our first Do after coming back home.

Today is the third day of Ramadan and the usual Iftar potluck and Terawikh prayer at grandma's takes place every Saturday during this Muslim month. Have a blessed Ramadan to all Muslim bloggers and readers! And may we reap the bountiful rewards to be had!















Thursday, September 13, 2007

Doog Amsterdam!


Lest I forget as the Netherlands slowly but surely evaporates into the distant memory, I promise myself that I'd write this particular post recounting our last Amsterdam trip.

It took place on the 14th of August as we set out again on the northbound train to Amsterdam Centraal. As wont, we configured our jaunt after breakfast and happily trotted off to the train platform that balmy Tuesday morning.

The weather had improved from the previous week with scattered thunderstorms lulled us into a state of stupor, hiding indoors in our sweatpants and t-shirts.

Our main agenda was to go on a canal cruise around the city, which are being offered by several cruise companies dotting the piers in the vicinity of Centraal station. With their own individual docks, these canal cruises cover a slew of tourist attractions along the extensive waterways of Amsterdam.

Before we hopped onto our cruise of choice, we ambled over to our favourite casual diner, Bakkerswinkel to relish their delicacies for the very last time. And the time had never been more opportune with Sadia napping as soon as we're about to arrive in Amsterdam. However, we risked disturbing her peaceful slumber by entering the cafe at lunch hour.

Despite our initial hesitation, we sat at the quiet corner further into the cafe, albeit a smoking section of the place. Since noone was smoking at that moment, we selected the long repast table, not unlike the one you might see at a mess hall, for its outwardly serene setting.

Oh yes, the primary reason we didn't seat at one of the non-smoking tables was due to the presence of a group of inebriated and rowdy men on the table opposite to the proposed vacant seats.

We ordered the usual set of fluffy, savoury scone with cream cheese and a tomato quiche with a side salad. With our expectations high on the farewell trip to Bakkerswinkel, we were disappointed to find that this time the service was below par. Probably, it was attributed to the lunch crowd or that it was the first day of the week it was opened (it closes on Mondays), but we had hoped with a number of successful years under its belt, the cafe would be efficient at all levels.

Sadly, it was presumptuous of us to make such a sweeping statement. The cream cheese was out of stock and was replaced with a big slice of cheese that came a little bit too late for my ravenous appetite. Also, the wilting and stale greens on the side added insult to our gastronomic injury.

In the middle of eating lunch however, Sadia stirred from her kip as three persons with smoking agenda settled across the table from us. I nimbly moved Sadia from the area and up the stairs to the cosy, living den that houses the cafe's knick-knacks and other memorabilia. Sadia jolted out of her groggy state by a large cat which scampered off and disappeared behind the rooftop adjacent to the sitting parlour.

While hubby settled the bill, Sadia and I waited for hubby outside where a strong scent of hash hit my nostrils. Bakkerswinkel was after all situated in one of Amsterdam's prominent, infamous pedestrian streets filled with marijuana joints. Later, hubby informed me that the cafe proprietor apologised profusely for the yellowish vegetables and proffered a new salad instead, to which my husband declined due to time constraints.

After getting our bearing from a helpful canal information booth, we hiked to the dock at which we were to climb aboard a canal boat. Unfortunately, the cruise company we selected didn't live up to its boastful credentials on the internet. For one, its pinnen or debit card service was out of order (which looks like it has been status quo for a protracted period of time) and the dilapidated state of the dock and the boat left little to the imagination. Furthermore, we were the last few people to enter the packed vessel and luckily obtained a seating room at the farthest end of the boat, albeit next to the public toilet.

As soon as the vessel got underway, I understood fully the very purpose of the toilet. The one-hour, laborious ride through Amsterdam's waterways might be disagreeable to some people's strong desire to relieve themselves. The sound of water moving and swishing about must have compounded to the fervent wish to pass water, so to speak.

Coupled with the sound of the roaring engine, the poor audio quality of the captain's off-the-cuff remarks on selected attractions saw us becoming increasingly restless, most of all Sadia. She only ate a few pieces of the plain scone that we had doggy-bagged from the cafe and thereafter wanted to roam around the boat. (There were also recorded commentaries in different languages - one after the other - being played in correspond to certain tourist spots on our route. This multilingual set-up was not only headache-inducing but also grating!)




















The interesting historical and modern sites along the route however managed to somewhat offset our anxiety, encompassing namely, OudeKerk, Westerkerk, Zuidekerk, Anna Frank House, the narrowest house on Singel canal, the docked cruise ship at Passenger Terminal Amsterdam (PTA), the replica of Dutch East India Company ship, 'De Amsterdam' and the famous skinny 'Magere Brug' wooden Bridge.

We were more than glad to hop out of the boat as soon as it parked at the exit Pier close to Centraal Station. We later scurried to find a tram for our next destination: the Albert Cuyp Market, located in the neighbourhood of the The Pijp. Opens everyday save for Sundays, this street market is arguably the largest daytime market in Europe. In line with the Netherlands' erratic weather, its hours may vary according to both seasonal and climactic changes.

Having lived in Delft for almost a year with its customary Thursday and Saturday markets as well as the weekend antique street market, we found Albert Cuyp rather bland and ordinary in comparison. After purchasing Sadia's soft-serve at the start of the market, we zipped through the stalls without stumbling onto anything that struck our fancy. Perhaps, it was late in the summer or that most vendors either were on vacation or had moved to other more lucrative spots, but that day the market definitely lacked any buzz!

What a day! We decided to walk it off to the nearest tram station that we'd find. And what a long stroll it was! Even Sadia got antsy in the process. Things turned for the worse in the sardine-packed tram, with Sadia crying for some nursing action. As a result, we came down at Spui and subsequently sat down at an eatery to have some coffee with a scrumptious plate of Belgian waffle and also to nurse Sadia. Sadia was however distracted by the late afternoon crowd grabbing a bite at the bistro.

Thereafter, we moved to the Kalvertoren shopping center in search of a quiet nook to do Sadia's bidding. But Sadia had other ideas and literally jumped out of her babyseat to chase a couple of stray pigeons lolloping about inside Hema's cafe. We took the cue and briskly walked to Damrak so she could play with a gaggle of pigeons, or as the cynics would say, rats with wings! Here, two young girls occupied themselves with feeding the pigeons, some of which perched and pecked on the seeds laid in the palms of their hands. Even their mom offered some birdseeds to Sadia, but she shyly ran away instead. She preferred to enjoy the pigeons congregating on the grounds of Damrak.

And that concludes our final excursion into the colourful capital of the Netherlands. We boarded the full train back to Delft, and immersed ourselves in the sight of the countryside for the last time - polders, cows, sheep, horses and ponies, windmills, and Sadia's favourite - wind farms.

Hope to see these familiar sights again when we balik kampung in the next 5-10 years or so. :)

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

An Earth Mother

Sunday was my mother's birthday.

It was high-tea time at my twin's place, a stone-throw away from my parents' humble abode, where siblings and relatives alike gathered for the occasion.

The get-together was also to commemorate another birthday - of Sadia's cousin, Alya, who turns one on the 4th.

Since I have alloted Mama's life story in a previous post, this one will revolve mainly on my parents' love story.

I may not have their written permission to divulge this personal tale for public consumption. Nonetheless, this is the version as narrated to me by my mother over the years. Thus, any discrepancies or exaggerations are by no means my doing.

Let's just hope noone would turn their story into an engaging screenplay because I dare say theirs is a stuff of movies!

Mama studied in the now defunct St. Mary's Girl School which once situated next to The Weld on a small hill off Jalan Raja Chulan, KL. Every schoolday, she would walk to school from Kampung Bharu and mind you, at that time, KL didn't feel as close in as it is at present.

Being in a girl school which was under the tutelage of some dour-looking Caucasian nuns, these adolescents sought entertainment by way of numerous outlets, one of which was through letter correspondence with males from boy schools.

Back then, the normal practice was to pin introductory getting-to-know-you letters - with biodata and sometime photos to boot - procured from boy schools on the corkboard at the back on the classroom. That is, whenever the stuffy nuns were out of sight! This surreptitious method enabled the young ladies to pick and choose with whom they would want to become pen-pals with.

Since tall, dark and handsome were the uppermost in the (shallow) minds of most girls, my dad (or Didi) was unfairly excluded from the primary selection process and remained the lone letter stuck on the board. My father is by no means unattractive, with a fair complexion and an almost aristocractic nose. However, his 'stature' might not be as commanding as some bulky men.

Somehow or rather, my mother's instinct compeled her to contact my dad which began an interstate friendship that gradually blossomed into romance. Academic-wise, he helmed from that infamous boy school in Kuala Kangsar, and was offered to board there after performing exceedingly well in his hometown of Jerteh, Terengganu.

The differences in upbringing and environment where they had grown up - mom in KL and dad in an East Coast village - had initially caused some teething problems in their budding friendship. Mama even quipped about the time she duly sent back his photos (or were they letters?) as a result of a petty squabble - eventhough they were yet an 'item' - when he adamantly requested for them! However, months later, he wrote back and their correspondence resumed as before.

After years of writing to each other as well as calling when he was transiting in KL enroute to Terengganu for the school holidays, they finally met when he was about to fly to New Zealand for further studies.

If I was not mistaken, my dad proposed to my mom at this time which in turn called for a long engagement - 2 or 3 years - since he had to first complete his BSc.

You know what they usually say about long engagement - they are wrought with barbwires, flaming hoops and other form of tortures. Well at least, that's my first-hand observation of such lovestruck arrangements.

Alhamdulillah, they managed to muddle through this series of tribulations and were married on the 7th of April 1973 in Kampung Bharu.

Blessed with five children in the span of 8 years, my parents' friends-turn-lovers saga taught me a great deal about forbearance and perseverance. Particularly, in the affairs of the heart, I draw my strength from such tenacity in character.

For her birthday, I wish Mama continued health and bliss in every conceivable venture that she takes on.

Here's a Love Is comic, reminiscent of the times of your courtship: