Monday, February 26, 2007

Di Kedai Buah-Buahan.

Pada satu hari saya berjalan-jalan tanpa tujuan di kawasan Taipan di USJ. Saya ke situ kerana berjumpa dengan seorang rakan yang mungkin akan menjadi kongsi dalam satu usahasama perniagaan yang boleh akan menjadikan saja lebih miskin dengan beban hutang, atau kaya raya sampai tak terkira duit saya dalam bank sehingga kerajaan pun datang jumpa saya nak pinjam wang dengan saya tapi saya kata tak payah pinjamlah ambik saja berapa yang nak supaya kita sama-sama boleh benteras gejala rasuah di negara kita yang akan menyambut kemerdekaan ke 50 pada bulan Ogos ini tapi sekarang kita sudah sibuk merayakan hari ini macamlah kita tak sabar-sabar nak berarak ramai-ramai sambil sorak-sorak dengan bendera jalur gemilang.
Selepas rakan saya belanja nasi kandar lauk kambing dan berbagai-bagai kari yang boleh menambahkan jumlah bil, saya berjalan tanpa tujuan menghala ke sebuah kedai D-I-Y. Tiba-tiba saya terserempak dengan kedai Just Fruits. Saya berfikir dalam hati dan dalam otak, wah! ini kedai bagus. Lalu saya masuk look see look see dan beli beberapa jenis buah-buahan boleh menjadikan saya lebih sihat. Harga sangat berpatutan, terutama honey dew dan dragon fruit yang cukup manis dan enak dimakan sambil tengok TV cerita Tamil Chandramukri yang sungguh kelakar dan penuh dengan nilai-nilai murni yang saya tidak boleh tulis disini kerana saya sendiri tak faham maksud saya itu.
Minggu ini bermulalah kehidupan baru bagi saya sebagai seorang usahawan. Semoga kerjaya ini akan memberi kepuasan kepada saya untuk terus berusaha mencari rezeki sesuap nasi, atau beberapa keping tosey, capati dan sebagainya. Oleh itu kalau saya macam senyap jer minggu ni, tak tulis entry fahamlah yang saya sedang sibuk kesana kemari menguruskan hal-hal bisnes.
Ada kemungkinan saya akan berpindah ke USJ kerana saya lihat kawasan ini sangat teratur. Tengoklah macammana.

Friday, February 23, 2007

How To Get Your Girl.

Thank goodness life isn't like a movie where you need to do a lot to get your girl; like defuse a time-bomb, or jump on a runaway train to hit the brake so you can stop it in time for dinner, or hop on a full-load passenger plane to land the aircraft because the captain has decided to lock himself in the toilet. I reckon in real life a girl you've set your heart on doesn't want you to do all that because she knows you are not trained to defuse a bomb, and she knows too that you are not the train-jumping kinda guy, or the sort of gentleman who can fly Airbus A380 since she knows too well that you are only licensed to drive a family sedan. She knows you are not the type who can ride a horse while shooting a rifle at full gallop, or the kinda guy who can fight 300 bandits all by yourself.
Thank goodness life isn't a movie. But this doesn't mean you can have it easier. In fact sometimes I wish life is a movie where I get to kiss a girl and the girl puts up a show as if she doesn't want to be kissed by any other guy in the world except me, and I don't want to kiss any girl in the world except her and so I say to myself, why don't I kiss this girl like I really mean it and so I do just that and more. And the kissing scene is good enough for an Oscar before the director say 'Cut!' and you go, aww, man.
In real life you don't know for sure if the girl you've set your heart on is interested in you and so you play guessing game. You take up psychology to learn a thing or two about body language, or study the finer art of smiles to interpret things she does to know for sure whether the smile she's just given you was a smile to acknowledge your presence, or was it a smile that has hidden meaning like, why don't you pay for my groceries, or could it be a smile to mean something more romantic like, why don't you propose and I'd say 'Yes' right away for the heck of it. Oh, could you do the laundry for me? Of course it could also mean something more practical, like she just smiled at a friend who was standing behind you and you thought the smile was meant for you. In real life you have to live with perasaan perasan. It's not a bad thing but it could get pretty embarrassing if you are not careful about responding to a smile, or a wave by a girl you've set your heart on.
That's why it is a good idea to put on a pair of cool, Oakley shades. The kind people in 100m sprint put on when they need to break world record. It hides your eyes, and your personality just in case you made a mistake of perasan for no reason since your romantic judgement has gotten over you and you thought the girl you've set your heart on is crazy about you that all she ever wants in the world is to marry you and make love to you so she can have your baby, one after another, year after year that in the end you say to her, you are such a fertile person, and she says to you, hey, you are not so bad yourself. And she got pregnant again.
No, I don't have the tips how to get a girl. In real life, that is. Of course you can rely on technology to get the job done, like SMS or something but you need to find out her number first before you can start sending text messages longer than the Greek poems. Of course you need to make sure she's the poetry kind. It's a chance you've gotta take, it's a choice you've gotta make because the choice of language you use in a SMS will position you either as a country squire, or a metropolitan kinda guy. Or a funny guy with no future, or a plain guy with a future but with no sense of humor, or a SMS freak who takes advantage of all the pre-paid packages offered by the telco companies.
Excuse me, folks. It's the week-end. I need to go defuse a bomb, stop a runaway train, and hop on a plane to land it safely on the tarmac because the captain is in the toilet with a serious indigestion.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

How To Fix A Broken Heart.

My heart needs no fixing since I make sure it doesn't break in the first place come what may. You can do it too. It's pretty easy once you've learnt how to numb your heart against what people may do, or say to you that might get you all sensitive and feeling all soft on the inside that you start to feel as if all the air in the world isn't enough for you to breath proper. In some extreme cases this has been known to well up tears in your eyes making them all watery and salty that they start to go red as a traffic light to scare the deads in their peaceful slumber. Maybe you know better of a term for this physiological condition if you have gone to a university to study something like psychology, biology or something like that. Of course you've gotta be a smart person to go to the university in the first place to pursue a degree reserved only for those with extra brain to do all those hard thinking about cells and more cells and how each cell is connected to a neuron that can spark great ideas to invent bigger weapons that can annihilate every living thing on the planet. But this entry isn't about the brain. It's about the heart that can quit on you all of a sudden. When it comes to the affairs of the heart there's no place like Institut Jantung Negara where you can meet long lost friends all at the same time without having to call up their secretary to make an appointment so you can write in your notebook or a PDA or scribble something in the palm of your hand the time and place to meet up.
A friend got his heart all messed up inside that he needed to undergo some kind of surgery to remove the blockage so it can start to work proper again. I've been to a lot of hospitals whenever there's a body to claim from the morgue, mostly friends who had died in a petroleum fire, or the bodies of people I didn't know who had gotten all burnt and mangled from the wreckage of an equipment failure on an offshore platform. But I have never been to a hospital like this one where the person I gotta see is still breathing and eating a hearty meal that very nearly got me to forget about common courtesy to ask if he could leave some food for me since the last time I ate was a few hours ago and that was only four pieces of tosay with dhal, fish curry, coconut chutney and a bit of sambal. I reckon this IJN thing is a good place to get sick going by the food they serve; nice clear tofu soup, vegetable, fish, a bit of jelly for dessert and a good portion of nice fluffy first quality rice. The nurses are pretty too, going about their business carrying a clipboard saying Assalamu'alaikum to everyone that I was beginning to feel special.
There were a few friends I had not seen for a long time but we only exchanged a brief hello since this being a hospital I didn't think it was proper for us to start talking about old times because this kind of talk usually finish off with a laugh so loud that could stop a broken heart connected to some kind of machine and I don't think I know how to fix that one if it went off. A heart like that requires a guy in a white coat to fix it good again so it can pump proper again.
I left the place pretty late to stay with my friend when the rest were gone on their separate ways. He looked pretty pale and weak that I got a feeling that would be the last time I was ever going to see him alive. We gotta go when the time comes. And when it comes, there's nothing we can do about it. It could be the heart that can snap on you, or a car accident, or a plane going down before bursting into a ball of flame.
I wonder what would it be like for me.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Salmon, Sweet Potato & Broccoli Chowder.

1 large onion, chopped (2 cups)
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup flour
3 cups chicken broth
2 cups whole milk
1 large sweet potato, peeled and diced (1 1/2 cups)
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1 pound skinless salmon fillets; cut into 1/2 inch chunks.
1 small broccoli stalk, cut into pieces
salt and pepper to taste

In a large saucepan, over medium heat, sauté the onion in butter until soft and translucent. Approximately 5-10 minutes.
Add flour and stir.
Whisk in the broth and milk continuing to whisk for a couple of minutes and then add potatoes, bay leaf and thyme.
Bring to medium heat and simmer, stirring occasionally for 5-7 minutes.
Add salmon and broccoli.
Cook 5 more minutes.
Have it with someone who loves you. It tastes better. Otherwise have it all to yourself listening to Tina Charles and Abba.
Recipe & picture from

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

I Listen To The Radio.

They are playing love songs on the radio to get into the Valentine's mood and I'm on the couch eating Belgian chocolate and a few bars of Swiss chocolates and the good old American Hershey bars and I'm pretty worried that if I keep this binge going this way my weight will balloon up in no time turning me into a super duper fat dude all so lonely without someone to love on such a beautiful night as this when the wind is blowing so softly that the curtains are swaying as if inviting me to do a bit of Waltz, Foxtrots or Mambo No. 5 and such, but you can ask anyone that a guy like me won't dance with a curtain unless I want the neighbors to think I have gone insane in the head to swirl about like a dervish with a piece of cloth about a few metres long. I'm thinking about someone as pretty as Maya Karin on a night when lovers are spending good money on roses and chocolate but all I see is a picture of Maya Karin in a shampoo advertisement that it is making me all inadequate because everyone knows I go around bald as a baby's butt. This way I save a bit of money on shampoo and save even more on haircut that I don't have to pay good money to a barber from Kerala who is fond of twisting your neck that you worry a little if he's gonna snap it the way you break the neck of a fried fish.
One-hit-wonder, all-time-favorite and super hit, played back to back to set your romantic mood into over-drive, sending your mind to flash all the girls you've ever loved in your life and how they meant something to you that you were willing to give away your ears and your legs if only they could love you back but they ain't gonna do that for you because they needed to marry someone more responsible and more fatherly instead of a maverick like you who spend all the money on good time.
Belgian chocolates are good.
Hershey bars are good too.
Lindt chocolate is good.
Tobblerone is good.
I ain't got no roses but I've got enough chocolates to last me the whole night long.
Will you be my Valentine?

Tuesday, February 06, 2007


Why is the chicken still unslaughtered? Aunt doesn't sound all that angry and so I figure this is as good a time as my luck would have it to tell the truth. Bilal Rahim says he won't slaughter our chicken anymore. Call Grandma out back to slaughter it. And so I yell, Grandma! Grandma! Where are you? What's wrong with you shouting like a fishmonger can't you see I'm right here? And so I go to her with the chicken and say, Aunt says you want to slaughter this chicken. What about Bilal Rahim? He's not going to do it for us anymore. Go get a knife from Aunt. And so I run back to the house to go get the knife, holding the chicken tight . You'd better leave the chicken here with me, this poor fella looks half dead already. I got the knife and run back to where Grandma is. And so she says, hold the legs and the wings. And she goes, Bismillah Allahuakhbar and slices the chicken right about the throat. Let it go! I hold on to the chicken a while longer to feel it flaps for the last breath, fighting back for the right to suck in the last air it is ever gonna breathe. Will you let it go! And so I let it go to see it ambles, like a drunken sailor, walking in half circle.
I'm thinking, why do we need Bilal Rahim, or Encik Mat Noor, or Encik Rosek, or the men in the village to slaughter our chicken when Grandma can do as good as all the men in the village? Aunt used to say it's more berkat to have someone as pious as Bilal Rahim to slaughter our chicken, or even better if it is Imam Wan Long if you can catch him at the mosque to slaughter the chicken since he's a pretty busy man what with three wives living in different village and he being quite elderly can only cycle maybe a little faster than a pregnant goat can run. Does it make the chicken taste better, Mommy? Well, it doesn't but it's better that men do it. But Grandma can do it good and she doesn't even flinch. Did you flinch? No, way, Mommy. I'm strong and brave. I know you are, now run along and be sure to come home in time for lunch.