A Remedy of Dramedies

Bon Voyage and So Long!

2012-01-29T18:58:00.001+08:00

I’m not surprised that many didn’t get the riddle in the previous post. The answer’s there, staring at you, but none get it because they always misunderstand whatever I’m trying to interpret.

Out of 10 friends who read the post before me, only 2 got it.

It was a little test and also a hidden message. Many misunderstood the whole poetic riddle and had their own answers. Some of the answers were really amusing and cute.

To those who’ve never found the answer, let it remain that way

And to those who have, I say, well done. You guys understand me best.

Anyways, I’m shutting off this blog’s fan page. I wish to go low profile now. So for those who’ve been keeping track of this blog via it’s fan page, bookmark it because in approximately 14 days time, the page will be deleted automatically by Facebook (don’t ask me why Facebook gave me 14 days time period. I actually wanted to delete it right away).

Back to the poem. It’s a little example of how many can really understand what I’m really trying to say. Many judge, many misinterpret, many assume. But the answer’s there, crisp clear before you. Something's shouldn’t be critically and intellectually analyzed, rather felt and read from the heart and seen with the mind’s eye.

Observe.

That’s right. Observe me.

This post is also going to be the last post for a very long time. I’ll be leaving to India on the 10th of February and will be back by the 21st of February.

I pray to come back spiritually stronger, mentally stronger and physically stronger. I also wish to bury and forgive every ghost of my past this time and come back reborn, renewed, refreshed and positive.

Not that I’ve been negative, but I’ve been working on myself (a lot!) and I must say, I’ve made lots of improvements and headways.

My mind’s more clearer and my heart’s more lighter. I’ve experienced many things physically, and spiritually that if I write them here many would think I’m a lunatic.

Which brings me to the reason I’m deleting the fan page.

I WILL be writing about my experiences. Blogging is my form of therapy, my spiritual, mental and creative exercise. I enjoy writing. So I’ll write. But I only want people who really want to read it, to read this blog.

Otherwise, please don’t. You’ll just assume and judge me like how you all did to the poor poem in the previous post (no offence but you guys were really cute trying to solve it).

By deleting the fan page, and keeping it low profile, only people who I matter to most, would read this post. And people who really enjoy reading. Not unnecessary gossip mongers.

Pray that I come back strong. I want to overcome my dad’s death (actually I have, but sometimes the shadows come back) because his death has really been overshadowing a lot of events in my life. I want a few spiritual questions to be answered and I wish to experience more out of the body experiences.

Especially work on my Chakras.

So, I guess, that’s it. This is it. I’ve got nothing else to say.

I love every each one of you the same because each one of you is the very same spark of Divine that is in me.

With that, bon voyage and we’ll meet here soon.

Be patient

Love, love and light.

Sukhbir Cheema

P/S: If you guys have the time, read up on Lemuria and Atlantis. Read about whales and dolphins. I will tell you all the reason in time

The Resurrection of a Makar

2012-01-26T03:53:00.001+08:00

Living is easy with eyes closed,
Our dreams are of an actual reality,
Van for a roadtrip's nice,
India's beautiful to go soulsearching,
Nigerians are very humble people,
Green's my lucky color.

Yesterday was today,
Or is it tomorrow?
Untruth will eventually lead to Truth.

What am I writing?
Am I writing a hidden message?
Solve it if you can.

Answer is top to bottom.

Many won't be able to solve it,
I made this in such a way,
See if you can solve it,
Takes more than just reading,
And understanding,
Kerosene or Diesel? Sorry for straying,
Elephant's my favorite animal.

Intelligent people are few,
Truth hurts more but heals faster.

Whales held the Light for us,
And so did the Dolphins,
See everything out of the box.

Nothing can hurt me anymore,
Only myself,
That too has been put to a stop.

Me and you,
You and I are one and the same.

Fault was never mine,
And it wasn't yours either,
Understanding turned to misunderstanding,
Love turned to hate,
Truth perished.

I was never really affected,
My Ego was.

Now I'm a changed man,
Once again I'm on my feet,
Time and time again I've done it.

Sukhbir's the name,
Or you can call me Sonu,
Running away was the best solution,
Run away I did,
Yesterday's gone, today beckons.

The Divine Play

2012-01-22T03:31:00.001+08:00

I stood behind the curtain, my hands holding tight at the green cloth, my ears pricked to hear the signal to open the curtains, my eyes closed.

As I slowly open my eyes, my eyes chance upon the most beautiful creation I've ever set my eyes upon. The sight of a beautiful damsel clad in white outfit. She had a veil to cover her head and from the veil I could make out her beautiful eyes.

Our eyes met. We both stared at each other for a good moment or two.

And then, like as though it was meant to be, she looked away, her eyes focused on the stage curtains. The very same I was holding on to.

She readied herself. Took a few deep breaths. Although she was nervous, I could tell she was confident. She clasped the Tambura she held in her hand lightly.

And then the signal came. I opened the stage curtains and this beautiful being, came to life. I brought her to life.

Lights were turned on. And this angel started dancing. She had this amazing grace about her. And what a voice...

She danced and sang. Her steps were firm but soft. She swirled this way and that with the Tambura of her's.

What divine beauty..

I had never seen any woman as beautiful, as humble nor as graceful as her. I even questioned myself if she was human or a divine being?

The world might had enjoyed her graceful divine dance steps, but this heavenly being mesmerised me in every single way.

What beauty! What grace!

The performance ended, the audience clapped their hands, I stood mesmerised. My eyes still on her.

She smiles at the audience, looks at me, signals with a smile. I end her life by closing the curtain with much hesitation.

With the curtain closed, she slowly makes her way off stage. Before stepping off, she turns to look at me, for one final time. Our eyes meet yet again. We communicated with our eyes. And when she had told me everything she wanted to tell, she slowly walks away gracefully, with humility.

Her soft steps touching the floor. What beautiful feet. It amazes me an angel with such beauty can have the humility to touch the floor using her feet when she has the choice of hovering over it.

I stood there, watching her go. My heart bursting with delight. With bliss. I've never felt such bliss from anyone before.

And then, as the actors and actresses congratulated each other off stage, I then realised all these was just a play. A divine play.

Life's a beautiful play. I'm just a witness.

Love, love, love you all very very very much!
Sukhbir Cheema

Resolution

2012-01-19T02:48:00.001+08:00

Continuation from the previous post.

“So, have you found the solution O’ Wanderer?” Both the Guardians of the Gates ask me in unison.

I reply, “No. Please give me more time.”

“Very well.” They reply.

I soon sat on the brick path, I close my eyes and focused on this problem. I focused deep and hard for a solution. And then, as I’m lost in meditation, I don’t focus on my problems nor the solution at all. I let go. Infact, even the word “Let go” ceased to exist.

And that’s when I realised. I started to know. I started to understand. I started to become aware. I’ve become a witness. An observer. I am That.

I slowly open my eyes to the dimly lit environment. The Guardians of the Gates are still standing, patiently observing me. I’m still seated and like a Shishya, I ask them permission to ask them a question.

“I have found a solution.”

“Very well. Tell us.” They say in unison.

“Assuming you were the other Guardian, which gate would you point, to direct me towards Heaven?”

The Guardian of Untruth points to the door which was guarded by the Guardian of Truth. The Guardian of Truth points me towards the door that he was guarding.

I stood up walked towards both the Guardians and I said, “Then I’ll choose the door that was not pointed.”

The Guardians stood static for a while and then, slowly they moved their mouths to speak, “Very well.” And then the both of them turned and pushed the big red door on the right to open.

There was sound of thunder as the door droned to open. And when it was finally open, the Guardians motioned me to step in.

I could see nothing from the outside as everything was pitched black. But as soon as I stepped in, as though there was an automatic switch, everything came to light and I saw magnificent mountains surrounded by a beautiful lake. The sight was wondrous and was indeed heavenly. I embrace the sight by closing my eyes and spreading my hands.

“This is Heaven. You’ve earned your place here.” The Guardians said.

I thanked them.

“We hope you find yourself here.” They said in unison.

“I will.” I say.

They slowly turned and closed the door behind me, leaving Heaven all for me.

***

(This was an original story derived from one of the Buddha Sutras. There are a thousand more of such “riddles” that were created by Buddha himself to ease mankind in self enlightenment. Apparently this is the easiest of them all and the one who can answer this riddle, has the chances of attaining enlightenment faster and easier. His or her perspective about the world and life would become different if this question were to be solved by his or her own effort.)

Purgatory

2012-01-16T23:48:00.001+08:00

Everything was in silence. Time and space made no sense as I slowly made my way on the pathway that lay ahead. The pathway was made out of bricks, and on each sides there were torches to light my way.

I walked as long as I can remember. I knew no fatigue. There was no such thing as the feeling of being tired.

And as I approach the end of the pathway, I see, beyond me, two gigantic red doors made out of steel. The doors stretched all the way to the dark cloudy skies as far as the eyes can see. They were so magnificent and yet extremely fearsome looking. The doors brought awe to my eyes.

And as I observed these two doors which were infront of me, my eyes slowly focused on the two figures standing alert on each door.

Each one was in an armour of some sort and I could not make out their faces in the dimly lit environment. However, as I came closer to them, they spoke words of wisdom, true and with conviction.

They said in unison;

“We are the Guardians of the Gates of Heaven & Hell. One of this door leads you to Heaven, the other leads you to Hell. One of us speaks the Truth and the other the Untruth. You cannot peep, you cannot pry open the doors and you cannot turn back. You have to make a choice between these two doors. You may choose at your risk to enter whichever door which suits you. But bear in mind, once the choice is taken, there is no turning back. However, to ease your journey, we are obliged to answer to only one question posed by you, and only one. And that too, you have a choice of asking or not. But this question, if you choose to ask, will determine the right door for you. Think carefully O’ Wanderer. Now go, ponder on what question you should ask us or if you’re a courageous risk taker, choose whichever one of the door to enter and who knows, luck might just be on your side.”

I thought for a while. I observed the two doors, they both had no signs on them to indicate Heaven or Hell. As I pondered upon the words said by the Guardians, I realised, if I pose a question to both of them, no matter what the question would be, they both would point me to two different doors.

If I chose to pose, “Which is the door to Heaven?” The Guardian of Truth might point to the correct door. The Guardian of Untruth would point to the wrong door. Which is which?

“Fine. I’ll pose a question.”

“Very well.” They said in unison.

“But please give me time to think of a question.”

“Fair enough.” And they stood alert, ever watchful, ever mindful of my every action.

My mind raced for a solution. I stood there for as long as I can, pondering, thinking of a question which would be the key for me to unlock the door to the Heavens.

I have many questions in my head. But which is the right question? Each question, as I asked myself, would bring me to the same outcome. How am I to know which of the Guardian is telling the truth? How am I to know which one is telling a lie? Which is the correct door Heaven? And which Guardian is guarding which door?

I stood pondering and I’m still there pondering till now.

Something Awesome!

2012-01-12T23:07:00.001+08:00

Yesterday, the Performing Arts Guild of UCSI (which I’m part of) did something really awesome to promote the club during the Club’s Day at UCSI. A Clubs Day is an event where all the clubs from UCSI, open booths so that the newbies in the Uni can join and enroll in the respective clubs.

A few clubs staged stuff to promote their clubs. The Cheerleading club did some pom pom stuff, the dance club, some dance, the music club did music while we, we acted

And we staged something outrageous. Something no one thought of. Something out of the box. Kudos to the members.

Initially we wanted to do a flash mob, but because we lacked manpower, the whole team decided to do a “flash skit”. I don’t know if such a word exists, but a flash skit is a skit performed out of the blues infront of a random crowd.

Here’s the videos of it below (by the way, the President of Unisia is a fictional character from one of our older plays called, Unisia. He’s played by our good friend, Adrian Thomas):

The lunging scene is a little brutal. But Lawal did an excellent job and I really wanted him to lunge like that to make it appear realistic.

I’m looking forward to more exciting awesome stuff for Performing Arts Guild this semester, since it’s going to be my last

Love you all!

Sukhu

Cassius Is Dead

2012-01-10T02:20:00.001+08:00

˙sǝʌıl ʎuoɥʇuɐ ʞɹɐɯ ˙pɐǝp sı snıssɐɔ

˙ǝsɹǝʌıun ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ ǝuo sǝɯoɔǝq puɐ ˙ɹıɐ puɐ ɥʇɹɐǝ ɟo sǝƃɐpuoq ǝɥʇ ɯoɹɟ ǝǝɹɟ s’ǝɥ ˙ʇɐoɹɥʇ sıɥ sʇıls snıssɐɔ 'ʇɐɥʇ ɥʇıʍ

”˙˙uooɯ lnɟıʇnɐǝq 'ƃuol os ˙ǝɟıl ɹnoʎ uı ǝsodɹnd ʎuɐ ǝʌɹǝs ɹǝƃuol ou ı ˙ǝsılɐǝɹ noʎ ǝpɐɯ ʇı ǝɹoɟǝq ƃuol ɥʇnɹʇ sıɥʇ ʍǝuʞ ı 'ǝɹnʇɹɐdǝp ʎɯ ɹoɟ ǝɯ ǝʌıƃɹoɟ ˙ʎddɐɥ noʎ sǝʞɐɯ ʇı sɐ ƃuol sɐ ˙ʎnƃ pɐq ǝɥʇ 'uıɐllıʌ ǝɥʇ 'ʇɐoƃǝdɐɔs ǝɥʇ ǝq oʇ ƃuıllıʍ ɯ’ı

˙ʎddɐɥ ǝɹ’noʎ ǝsnɐɔǝq 'ʎddɐɥ ɯ’ı ˙ʇnoqɐ ʇsoɯ ǝɹɐɔ ʎllɐǝɹ noʎ oɥʍ pǝsılɐǝɹ ʎllɐuıɟ noʎ ʇɐɥʇ ʎddɐɥ puɐ 'ƃuoɹʍ ɹǝʌǝu sɐʍ uoıʇınʇuı ʎɯ ʇɐɥʇ ʎddɐɥ ˙ʞǝǝs noʎ ʇɐɥʍ punoɟ ʎllɐuıɟ ǝʌ’noʎ ʇɐɥʇ ʎddɐɥ ɯ’ı ˙lnɟıʇnɐǝq puɐ lınbuɐɹʇ sı ƃuıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ ˙ʞɹɐp ɹǝƃuol ou s’ʇı ˙uıɐƃɐ sʇǝǝɯ uns puɐ uooɯ ǝɥʇ 'sǝɥɔɐoɹddɐ uʍɐp ǝɥʇ sɐ ʇnq ˙uns ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇɥƃıs ǝɥʇ ʇsol ʇı ǝsnɐɔǝq ǝuıɥs s’ʇı ʇsol uooɯ ǝɥʇ

˙lnɟıʇnɐǝq ʇı punoɟ ı puɐ 'ʇı ƃuıʇʇıɯɯoɔ pǝʎoɾuǝ ı ǝsnɐɔǝq ˙ʇǝɹƃǝɹ ɹǝʌǝu llıʍ ı ǝʞɐʇsıɯ ǝuo sı ʇɐɥʇ puɐ ˙noʎ ƃuıʌol sɐʍ pǝʇʇıɯɯoɔ ɹǝʌǝ ı ǝʞɐʇsıɯ ʇsǝƃƃıq ǝɥʇ 'pǝsılɐǝɹ ı 'pıp ı sǝʞɐʇsıɯ ʇɐɥʍ uo ƃuıɹǝpuod ʇɐs ı sɐ

˙xuıɾ ʎɯ ˙ǝsɹnɔ ʎɯ sɐʍ sıɥʇ ˙ʇɹɐǝɥ uǝdo uɐ ɥʇıʍ pǝʌol ı sɐʍ ɹǝʌǝu ʇnq '(ʇɐɥʇ ʇɐǝq uɐɔ ǝuou) pɐɥ ɹǝʌǝ noʎ ʇsǝq ǝɥʇ uǝǝq pɐɥ ʇɥƃıɯ ı ˙ʇɹɐǝɥ uǝdo uɐ ɥʇıʍ pǝʌol ı ˙ʍɐlɟ ʎɯ sɐʍ ʇɐɥʇ puɐ ˙llǝʍ ɯɹoɟ ʇ’uplnoɔ spɹoʍ ʎɯ ˙pooʇsɹǝpunsıɯ ʇnq 'llǝʍ ʇuɐǝɯ ı ˙ʎnƃ pɐq ǝɥʇ ˙uıɐllıʌ ǝɥʇ ˙ʇɐoƃǝdɐɔs ǝɥʇ ɯ’ı“

Coffee Friend

2012-01-09T20:26:00.001+08:00

"So what are you going to do?" She asks.

I thought for a bit. I observed the customers in the old cafe. Many were busy talking to each other, others were too busy indulging in their respective food. I observed, took in everything and after a good minute of silence and pondering, I looked into her eyes. They were glistening with curiosity and care.

"So?" She asks again.

I take a deep breath in and I reply "Probably write a book."

She sips on her coffee which was still warm as I could see vapor oozing out of it. She sips it slowly, taking her time. Indulging in the taste, taking in what I just replied. And then she nods, "That's a good start. But what are you going to write about?"

I observed her. The cup of coffee she was still holding in her hands, her thin fingers grasping both sides of the warm mug.

"I don't really know" I sighed finally. "Probably write something different."

"So you're writing to be different or writing to tell a story?"

I didnt't get her, so I obliged her to explain.

"See, if you want to write something different, you're defeating the purpose of writing by itself. Write from the heart and write whatever you want regardless of what it is."

She had a good point.

"In the end of the day, regardless of what you write, regardless of who read it, only you know that whatever you wrote, was written from the heart" As she finished saying it, she takes a sip of her warm coffee again. Slowly, but surely, she sips it and lets the coffee mingle with her tongue in her mouth, allowing her tiny taste buds to bath in the glory and everlasting delight of a fresh cup of warm good coffee.

I sipped on mine. But I gulped it down in one go, not allowing it to be in my mouth for long. I'm not much of a coffee person as she is. But I took in whatever she just said, letting that thought to mingle with my brain cells.

"If given a choice to write, what would you want to write about?" This time it was my turn to ask.

"Good question" She played with her cup of coffee, observing it's content, slowly rotating the cup in her hands. Then she puts it down, looks at me and says, "Good question." She smiles.

I smile back.

"Fine." She says. She takes a deep breath in. "Let's start with a story."

"Alright" I say as I adjust myself in my seat, moving forward so that I could hear her better.

"There's this girl" She says as she thinks hard.

"And there's this boy" I continue.

"Right! A girl and a boy and they meet each other in a coffee shop."

"They meet each other in a coffee shop after 4 long years of absence"

"Nice. I like the sound of that. They were once lovers." She continues.

"But wait stop." I stopped her.

She looks up at me.

"Why does it have to do with love?" I ask.

She thinks hard and then replies, "There are many books written about love but probably your's can be a little different."

I thought for a bit and then shook my head. "Nahh not love. It just gets too depressing in the end."

She continues staring at me, "But no one views it as differently as you do Sukhbir. Your view on it is very.... how do i put it?" She pouts her her mouth to think real hard.

"Different?" I ask.

"No. Not different." She raises her finger. "Your view on it is very.. honest and innocent."

I laugh. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"You're very naive but it's a good quality. It's your strength" (A week later, I meet another person who says the exact thing. "You're innocent. Like a child. But that's your strongest point and not your weakness")

I pondered on what she said.

A month later, I scraped the idea of writing altogether but I finally found what I really want to do with life.

I want to be a journalist. Brush up on my writing skills. Write and learn as much as I can and then one day write a book. I have so many ideas for a book in my head, I just don't know how to put them into words.

There's this famous song by AR Rahman that goes something like this, "Everything I want to say, my words always fail me." To me it applies in such a way where when I want to express something or explain something, I can never seem to find the right words to say them. And many people always always misunderstand what I'm really trying to say.

I'm looking forward to working on this flaw of mine.

Anyways, if the book's well received and turns into a best seller, probably wins a few awards, I'll turn it into a movie. An award winning one.

Then I'll be really satisfied.

I'll retire and live in a small cottage by the hills filled with green meadows. Probably own a farm.

Yeah the dream is a little farfetched but hey it's worth the try.

Funny how the Universe works. As for my coffee friend, thank you :)

Being a Kid

2012-01-08T01:09:00.002+08:00

I think every kid has this problem. The lack of attention span. It was a huge problem for me when I was a kid (and still is).

For instance, I used to frequently accompany my mum to whatever errands she used to do when I was a kid. So there was this once she took me to the bank.

Me being a kid, I was extremely mischeavous and hyper back then (still am at times) I was running around the whole bank, jumping and having a good time of my life.

My mum calls me over. I run to her, still jumping and laughing like an idiot.

She slaps me hard on the head.

"What did I tell you?" She would ask.

I would remain silent. She would slap me again on the head.

"What did I tell you??"

I mumble the answer with tears rolling from my eyes.

"What?? Louder!"

"Sit down.." I try fighting a sniffle.

"Only sit down?" She would ask and her eyes narrows on me even further.

"Shut up and sit down.."

"And what were you doing?"

"Running.."

"So what are you supposed to do?"

"Shut up and sit down.."

"Good! Now do that. If I catch you running again like that, I promise you, you won't be conscious enough to know what will happen to you."

Taking that as a firm warning, I sit on the chair made out of cushion next to her in the bank while she waits for her turn.

For a good one minute I would remain motionless. I would not move a muscle or even blink an eye lest my mum thinks I'm up to no good. I remain motionless, try to quitten my mind.

And that's when boredom kicks in. It starts with me relaxing my neck muscles. I start looking around the bank for something interesting or weird or just eye catching. And that's when you always spot someone to stare at for a good three minutes.

Ever experienced this moment, where you're in a bank or some public place and a kid stares at you for no reason at all? What the heck does the kid want? You look at your shirt, maybe there's some coffee stain on your shirt. But no, there's no coffee stain!

You then adjust your hair, the kid's still staring at you. Probably it's the hair. Maybe you're just having a bad hair day. You adjust your hair this way and that and keep an eye on the kid. The kid's still watching your every move. It starts to get extremely annoying. I mean, what's the kid's problem man??

And then after everything, you try to look for a mirror, just to find out what caught the kid's eye. Maybe you had a huge pimple. So you check yourself in the mirror.

No! There's no pimple! There's absolutely nothing wrong with you! What on earth was the kid staring at then??

Here's the truth. The kid was just plain bored and it so happened you were sitting across that kid. You've become his source of entertainment. His or her muse.

As a kid I enjoyed doing this. I would stare at my victim for a good three minutes and he goes through the whole process of checking himself to see if there's anything wrong with himself. When he's done that, that's when I show him my tongue.

Bluekkk!

Now, some of them would be offended but there are a few of them who would do the same to you back.

And it annoys me because that's not what the other person's supposed to do. He should be annoyed at me and not showing his tongue at me!

Ever experienced walking somewhere, minding your own business when a school bus passes you by? And in that school bus there are a bunch of kids and when you look up to see them, those little buggers show you the finger, it just ruins your whole day. Ever experienced that? That's how I would feel.

Not wanting to lose, we would start making faces at each other. I have to win! So i try every face I can muster and do. From the pig face, to a retard, everything in the book. It suddenly becomes an impromptu face making competition and that too in a bank.

Eventually, after some five minutes or so, I would lose interest and I would allow him to make faces at me while i just stare. He continues making faces at me until he realises people are watching him. Feeling extremely stupid, he would stop and won't bother me for the whole day.

With that, I would divert my attention from that person and look for some other source of entertainment nearby.

I would look everywhere, i'll look up, look down, look left and right and that's when something on the cushion chair I'm sitting on catches my eye. A small piece of thread, potruding out from the chair. It's part of the chair, but probably since the chair's old, that thread's potruding out.

And that's when I realise my life's mission. It's like a sign from God!

Eureka!

Without hesitation I start pulling at the thread. Slowly at first but gaining momentum as the bloody thread's not coming off.

I try pulling and pulling and it's getting longer and longer. I know if I continue pulling, eventually it'll come off. So I keep pulling.

Pop! The thread comes off!

I feel extremely satisfied. But it doesn't last for long because I start searching for more threads potruding out from that cushion chair.

I search up and down and eventually I find one. I start tugging at it.

I pull so diligently, so efficiently that you might think the bank's paying me for my "services" in pulling threads off cushion chairs.

I pull and pull and in the process of pulling, I don't take notice of myself standing. I'm no longer sitting. I'm too busy pulling that I don't realise my mum observing me.

I tug hard at the thread.

Pop! It comes off!

Slap! Something hard hits my head!

I turn to face my mum, one hand clutching the thread and the other holding my head.

My mum, she enjoys asking me questions.

"What were you supposed to be doing?"

I ponder for a bit, my head's still hazy thanks to the slap I received on the head. After a few seconds I get the answer.

"Shut up and sit down.." I reply.

"Good. And what were you doing?"

I look around me and then I reply, "Standing.."

"Good. What are you supposed to do?"

"Shut up and sit down."

She nods at me and glares.

I slump back into my seat, succumbing to silence, my muscles not moving and eyes not blinking.

A minute later I'm back to pulling threads again.

Once I've done pulling the threads off my chair, I start seeking for threads on the chair next to mine. I don't care if someone's seated already on it because at that time, all I care about is the satisfaction in pulling threads off cushion chairs.

Slap! Something hard hits my head again.

And this time, I know it was my mum who slapped me on my head and I immediately resort to sitting back on my chair again, not twitching a muscle. I sit back on my chair as though nothing had happened.

I sit silent for a good full minute.

I look at the floor out of boredom and my eyes goes to my feet. I then start moving my feet. Swaying it front and back. The swaying starts slowly at first, then it gains speed.

And the next thing I know, I imagine I'm on the swings, swinging my day off. I sing or hum a little tune. The singing starts slow at first and then it becomes louder and louder.

When it finally reaches an unbearable peak, another hard slap lands on my head.

"What did I tell you??" Mum would hiss.

"Shut up and sit down... But ma, I'm already sitting down."

"Stay quiet!"

I nod my head in resignation.

I look at my hands. I start making animal figures using my hands. I make a wolf, a bull dog, a cobra (the hardest to do) and I pretend they can talk.

I make the cobra, turn to my mum and start talking to her using a cartoonised voice I learnt from the morning cartoons.

"Hello grumpy old lady! How are you?"

My mum stares at me. "Stop it.."

"Stop it.." I immitate my mum.

"Shuuuu!"

"SHUUUU!!!"

"One more time and your hands will be in your mouth.." My mum hisses.

Taking that as a stern warning, I stop annoying my mum and i turn my attention to the young lady next to me. My hands still morphed together to form a cobra, I say "Hello!" in a cartoonised voice.

She smiles but says nothing.

"How are you?"

She smiles but ignores me by saying nothing again.

I realise the conversation's not going anywhere and I slump back deeper into my chair.

And at that moment, at that precise moment my eyes meet the eyes of another bored kid.

And kids, unlike adults, we've got excellent communication skills. Adults need to go up to someone and say things like, "Hi I'm George! Let's go for a cup of tea!" to break the ice.

But kids, all they need to do is smile at each other and they're best friends forever!

So I turn to look at my mum, she's too busy looking at some documents. I look at the kid. He looks at me.

And the next thing you know, both of us are running around the bank chasing each other for fun.

I went back home with a bad headache that day.

Mi Gusta!

I’m Only Human

2012-01-07T03:18:00.001+08:00

For some reason today, I felt like hearing a song before going to bed. So I whipped out my phone and went on Youtube and decided to play a song performed by a good friend of our’s, Stephanie who also happens to do healing through music and sound. She’s extremely talented in terms of music and is an extremely down to earth, humble soul.

As I closed my eyes hearing this song, I had a sudden rush of emotions running through my heart and the moment Steph sang, “Jesus.. Krishna.. Gabriel..” I started tearing and before I know it, I started sobbing profusely.

Vivid images of my dad’s funeral and his body and him being alive kept flashing before my eyes and I sobbed for a good 20 minutes. Just kept on crying and crying. Every tear this time was because I missed him. I’m only human.

Once this body was satisfied, relived off it’s pain and I could feel the heart more lighter and the colors were coming back to it, the body slowly stopped crying. And then I was at peace and remained silence with myself for a few minutes, just taking in the whole healing process.

I realised the song sort of triggered the wave of emotions I had kept buried deep within me (I did feel my heart being heavy for the past two days) and the negativity and sadness channeled their way through the crying session.

I recommend this song to those who need to heal their heart, soul and mind. It’s a healing song and it’s beautiful.

Thank you Steph from the bottom of my heart (if you are reading this)

Rotan

2012-01-06T05:17:00.001+08:00

Almost every kid in Malaysia would dread and start peeing in their pants when they hear the very mention of this word (probably many wouldn’t as many parents don’t cane their children these days unlike our/my parents did).

The very mention of this word would bring shivers down my spine. My hands would get all clammy, my feet all jellyish like and I would start having this feverish sensation. I know I’m doomed.

The situation would always start when you least expect it to happen. You would be happily minding your own business in your room, happily playing with your toy soldiers when you hear your mum yell your name out loud from the kitchen.

“SONUUUUUUUUU!!” She would scream.

And she would scream in “that” tone because it’s a natural motherly instinct to yell your name in that specific way when she’s really pissed at you. It’s like a sign or signal of impending doom to tell you that you’re dead and no matter what you do, she’s going to make sure that you’re going to go through hell and even God won’t be able to save you from her clutches.

So you throw your toy soldiers on the floor, hurriedly run to the kitchen wondering to yourself what you did this time.

You approach her, observing her stance; her hands are on her hips, she’s breathing heavily and her eyes are narrowed on to you. It’s an obvious body language that says she’s extremely pissed at you. So you, being a kid, go up to her and put on this innocent face and you try your level best to put off her anger by asking her, very innocently, very sweetly, “Yes ma?” and praying deep down that she melts and says, “Awww nothing! Now go back to your toys and have a nice day son!”.

But no. It doesn’t work that way.

And it always starts with a question. And these series of questions, are the simplest of all questions. As a kid, I used to wonder why my mother asked me such questions. The answers were directly at her face. They were so straightforward and the answers were straightforward too.

“What is this?” She would point to a toothbrush.

“It’s a toothbrush ma.” I would reply.

And for a second there, I used to feel like a champion of the world because I outsmarted my mother by answering such an easy question which she didn’t even know.

“I know it’s a toothbrush! But what is it doing here??” She would ask.

This is where I get extremely confused. If she knows it’s a toothbrush, why did she have to take all the trouble to ask me? Why couldn’t she just go straight to the point and tell me what the whole problem is? Why keep me waiting, impatiently, dreading what I did this time? I hate surprises..

I used to picture my mum as a savage lioness. A lioness that enjoys playing with it’s prey before devouring it. Those series of questions that she asks before telling me what I did, were akin to the act of the lioness playing with it’s prey before eating it up.

Anyways, back to the toothbrush..

My answer would be the same as every child in any part of the world would answer. “I don’t know.”

And that’s where she blows up! That simple “I don’t know.” pisses her off even more. And she asks you even more crazy questions that really mind rapes you.

“How can you not know?? The toothbrush was in the sink when I saw it. Don’t tell me the toothbrush walked all the way from where it’s supposed to be and decided to be in the sink! Do you think the toothbrush grew a pair of legs to walk, Sonu?”

Naturally, I would look at the toothbrush to double check if it indeed had grown a pair of legs.

Unfortunately, no. It has not. I feel even more shittier. I turned back to my mum and resort to my fate. I keep silent. Because I know whatever I say, would only make her even more angry. So I keep silent. But this makes her even more angry. So she prods further.

“Tell me! Do you think the toothbrush grew legs, decided to take a stroll and end up in the sink??”

I wouldn’t reply. Instead I would shake my head, no.

“Then how can the toothbrush end up in the sink??”

Honestly, this is when my mother would come in handy if ever the CIA and F.B.I. need my mum’s help in interrogating terrorists for valuable top secret information.

“Tell me who planted the bomb?? Don’t tell me the bomb grew legs and decided to take a stroll and ended up under that building! Tell me!”

Back to the toothbrush story..

I would keep silent. Just to be safe and mum would repetitively question me about the toothbrush. And when she’s frustrated that I can’t seem to find an answer and that I’m just being silent, she tries a different tactic.

“Why are you silent?? Why are you looking at my face like that? Did I just grow flowers on my head?”

Instinctively I would actually look up at her head to see if she indeed grew flowers just to be safe.

Again, no.

I succumb to my ever impending doom even further.

“Do you see flowers??” She would ask.

I would squeak out a “No.”

“What?? I can’t hear you!”

“No.” I would say a little louder.

“No what??”

“No flowers.” I would say softly.

From flowers on her head, she would divert the whole topic back to the legless toothbrush.

“So tell me, how did the toothbrush end up in the sink then? Did it grow a pair of legs and walked to the sink?”

“No.”

“Then HOW did it go there?”

There would be a moment of silence because:

a) It’s either I’m really thinking as to how the toothbrush ended up in the sink

b) I’m pretending to think just to buy some time.

There would be a silence for a good 30 seconds and then she would ask again, this time even more forceful.

“HOW??”

I would squeak out, “I don’t know..”. Almost on the verge of tears because I know it’s coming.

“You don’t know??”

I would shake my head.

“Maybe this will help.” And she scurries to find the thing I dread the most.

The deadly rattan cane. The Rotan!

This is where everything happens really fast. It takes her a good few seconds to find the cane from her hiding spot (she hides it like as though it’s some kind of an exotic pet of her’s) and she comes charging at you, beating you this way and that.

The whole situation lasts a good 20 minutes. Sometimes even more. But she plays it safe and she enjoys it. In between the beatings she would mind rape you with questions that are obvious and that you can’t answer. Regardless of the answers, you’ll still be caned.

So there was this one time right, I had enough. I had enough of caning and enough of questions that mind raped me.

I searched the whole house for the rotan’s hiding spot and one fine day, I found it hidden in my mum’s cupboard.

Finding the rotan was like finding gold!

I took it, and threw it away.

So the next time she screams my name, I know I’m safe this time.

I go and meet her in the kitchen. She starts off by mind raping me again with her usual questions. Apparently this time it’s something to do with a jar of cookies going empty.

“Where are all the cookies?? The cookies were specially kept for guests! Where are they?”

“I don’t know.” I answer confidently.

She mind rapes me by asking, “Don’t tell me they grew wings and decided to fly away?”

I honestly don’t have a clue where she comes up with such thought provoking metaphorical questions.

But I know I don’t have to worry. Mother has lost her weapon. I wouldn’t mind a few slaps on the face and my ears getting pulled. Just as long as I don’t get caned, I’m happy with anything.

So the whole questionnaire session goes on until she loses it.

She says her magic words, “Maybe this will help!”.

I used to think they were summoning curses to summon the cane because she enjoys saying it right before she brings out the cane every single damn time.

“Maybe this will help!”. And she goes running to get her cane.

It’s like her way of saying, “I’ve got a surprise for you but I know you’re not gonna enjoy it but I’m going to give it to you anyway!”

So she runs to find her trustee cane but only to come back empty handed.

Her facial expression has changed. And I know it’s a sign of a defeated person. I’ve turned the tables on her! I smile out of freedom! I’ve outsmarted my own mother! Bravo Sukhbir you cunning sly fox!

She walks slowly to me, approaches me and softly says, in a very demented tone, “Smart. Very smart. You hid the cane. Very smart.”

And there’s a moment of silence as she sizes you up. I stare at her, I’m reeling with joy. Yes! No cane for today! I take in the moment of pure awesomeness. Every second of it.

And that’s when she drops a bomb shell on me.

“You think that’s the only cane I’ve got?” She grins. “I know you would find that one, so I got another prepared, ready for a time like this.”

“Infact, what makes you think I only have ONE cane? I might be having two, maybe three, or maybe four.. No. Make it five.” She grins even more.

I pee in my pants.

And that was the day I had the worst caning in my life.

But you know, had it not been for my mum’s caning, I wouldn’t have had the experience which gave birth to the inspiration to write an awesome post such as this.

“You hear that sound? It’s the sound of impending doom.”

The Trigger

2012-01-04T13:10:00.001+08:00

The Universe works in very mysterious ways. To understand this Truth one just have to close the eyes and still the Mind. And once the Mind has been silenced, one can understand everything. Including the mysterious ways of the Universe.

The first two days of the year taught me many things and one of it was the mysterious ways this Universe works. I knew roughly how it worked but I actually experienced it and now I understand.

The coming of me in the life of everyone I know, and the coming of people in my life, brings about something. Some people call it "teaching". As in, I came to your life to teach you a thing or two consciously and subconciously and vice versa. And once my job is done, I either take leave or depart from this world (death).

These teachings then send a sense of realisation into people. I call it, "The Trigger". The things I've done be it positive or negative triggers an event in people's life. And this Trigger then sets a path or the way for the people that I've triggered. Some refer to this path as Destiny. Some call it Fate.

But this is exactly how the Universe works. The Universe is us and we're small particles that make a whole bigger picture.

I'm truly glad and happy that I was part of people's lives (and still am). The things I did or said brought about a sense of realisation, triggering them to think and act on what they really wanted all these while. Some might not yet understand or see this trigger. But with time, everything is understood.

And when I feel that they have understood it, and that I have no other part to play in their lives, I take leave. This applies to others too. Again, it's not me who makes the decision. The very same Force that tells you to stop eating when your stomach is full and tells you to sleep when you're tired is the very same Force that tells you your time is up in a person's life. Again, we have a choice to continue eating and not sleeping. But that will only make us unhealthy. Again, it's the Universe working it's way. By being unhealthy one then strives to be healthy. If one looks at life in this way, accepts that every single thing that happens is for the higher purposed good, then life indeed becomes truly beautiful.

The Universe is beautiful and I love each one of you :)

Love, Love, Love..
Sukhu

2012

2012-01-03T14:56:00.001+08:00

We sat in a circle, taking in the small compact room, the presence of everyone, the humidity of the air that was surrounding and pervading us.

Each one of us closed our eyes and made ourselves relaxed. Every muscle in the body is relaxed, relieved off it's stress. We kept silent, took in the silence and enjoyed it.

The darkness that surrounded us because our eyes were closed made us feel each other in a different dimension. We felt the presence of each other in a different form. A form of Supreme Higher Self. The very form or energy or vibration that makes us think, talk and move freely. It is this same energy that is in all of us.

After a long moment of silence, that's when someone amongst us spoke. The words were clear, true, untainted and without the blemishes of "but" and "if". And when that someone stopped, another spoke words of truth and wisdom. This was followed by another. And as each and everyone of us spoke and shared, we stopped feeling individualised. Rather, we felt that we were a unit. We were one. We felt the energy and it turned into a form of synergy.

We sang songs together. Learnt together. Ascended and transcended together. And once everything was said and done, we sat in silence in that small compact room and opened our eyes to let in the bright afternoon sun light to grace and welcome us back into the embracing arms of nature.

What we had just experienced was a form of a Mayan Satsangh (spiritual discussion). The Mayans disappeared from the face of this earth because they practiced this form of spiritual art. They used to sit by the bonfire in the nights, eyes closed, feeling the presence of the Universe in each other and they shared heartful spiritual discussions or conversations.

The difference between normal intellectual spiritual conversation and this Mayan spiritual discussion is that the normal one uses the mind. But the Mayan one uses the heart.

And as they conversed and discussed, they slowly became realised souls and then slowly, one by one, they ascended and became one with the Universe and disappeared from the face of this earth forever.

Hogmanay

2011-12-31T03:28:00.001+08:00

As a kid I used to imagine my life as a form of a story book. Months would be chapters and days would be pages of the book. Years would be the sequels. I still do imagine it. So calculatively, I've got 25 books about my life in a chronological order. Beats Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings any day.

Who's the author, you may ask?

Honestly, I think it's me. But there are times when I think it's God as well when my hands gets too weak to write it :)

So this latest "book" of my life which is titled 2011, if I'm a reviewer as well as a book critique, I would summarise it in a phrase: "A roller coaster ride of emotions and lunacy of extreme proportion!"

Would it sell? I doubt so but the plots in 2011 are pretty good so it is quite a good read (I hope). I recommend reading it in the train, before bed with a cup of nice Milo, in between classes, before work and during lunch breaks. Reading in the toilet while doing your respective businesses is highly recommended!

You know, many of us would be asked the same question: "Was 2011 a good year for you?" It's a question which many would have various different replies to. Some would say it was terrible. Some would say it was great. Some would say it was a mix of both things.

So, was 2011 a good year for me?

Honestly, what is really good? And what is really bad? To someone, the sun can be of nuisance because of the heat. To another rain can be a blessing in disguise.

2011 was a very educative year. Also an eye opening one in terms of alot of things. I've learnt so much and I've grown so much from it. I can only summarise whatever I've learnt in point forms:

1. Death is inevitable
2. Time is the only thing constant and change happens every second (and change is a MUST)
3. Good times come and go. And so does bad times.
4. Every single thing/ incident / object has a purpose or a reason for happening and being in place
5. Blame leads you nowhere
6. Love is beautiful (very beautiful) and is extremely powerful (never doubt it <- this one's to you Sukhbir you idiot..)
7. Ego eats people inside out. Humility brings about justice eventhough some people don't respond to it well (here is where I give in to Gandhi. He was right after all..)
8. Sometimes sacrifice is needed and is necessary for the greater good.
9. Having hope is good. But having Faith is even better.

And lastly:

10. Life in the end, is what we perceive. If it's beautiful, it'll be beautiful. If it's bad, it'll be bad.

I hope you all had an educative year. And I pray that 2012 will yet be another educative year for all of us. In the end, despite all the mishaps that has happened to us, the mistakes we committed, the happiness we found, we're still alive and still learning. That is what counts :)

Have a good year ahead folks. Love you all very very very much :)

Love,
Sukhu

P/S: What's Hogmanay? Ahh that's Scottish for you :)

Experiencing

2011-12-22T10:13:00.001+08:00

It's been a week now since I've been smoking only one stick a day. I'm very happy and proud of my resilience and patience. It has also been almost 2 weeks since I've been meditating at the same time diligently :)

The other day Bala came along with me and we meditated together. Both of us were really at bliss.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel my Father and Swami. And I now know they both have merged and are One and at Peace. I'm too at Peace.

I always knew that everything that happens to us happens for a good higher purpose driven reason. But I now believe in it :)

I also understand that we can never really get back or find our old good selves but the drive and will and the process of finding our old self will ultimately lead us to find our real true self which is far greater, far superior than the old self in terms of understanding the workings of the Universe, Love and Peace.

Yesterday a friend of mine posted a video. The 10 Signs of a Spritual Awakening. Apparently these are the most common 10 signs and there are more than a 100 signs. I've experienced atleast 3 of them.

The Universe is us in actual fact. If we listen closely and observe attentively we can understand and feel that we are one with it.

I'm also starting to see a little bit of "colors" when I meditate. Mostly green and sometimes pink and very rarely yellow or white glares. I don't know what they represent but I think it's a good sign.

I'm also no longer afraid of going deeper into meditation and yesterday I felt asthough i was on top of a tower, observing my body from above, and my body was extremely tiny and insignificant. I felt deeply humbled. But that is only as far as I can go for now.

I understand that there are many levels to meditation and what I'm experiencing are just the low levels. There's still a lot of work to do. However, I'm very much at peace at myself and the world and I feel this immense energy of love and bliss from time to time.

I love you all very very very much :)

Love,
Sukhbir

Hoping

2011-12-19T20:58:00.001+08:00

My flu hasn't really recovered and with the constant dry coughs my sinus is back. But this time, my right side feels tight and puffy. 3 days back, I had tightness on my eyebrow area and when I looked closely, the pleghm was actually slowly coming out from my left eye. It was yellow in color.

I think the pleghm is inside the sinus gland thingy. I had the same experience 5 years ago and that led me to be diagnosed with Bell's Palsy. I pray it's not another attack.

I did take some precaution by bathing with hot water and I covered myself with a cloth and inhaled hot water mixed with Minyak Cap Kapak today.

But even if it is Bell's Palsy, I hope it happens soon. But again, who am I to decide? :)

Betterment

2011-12-19T05:54:00.001+08:00

Today I looked at myself carefully in the mirror. My lips no longer parched, dark and burnt due to the excessive smoking. My face, radiant and oil free. Only my hair was a little messy and shaggy but I welcomed the look.

My eyes, they had this glint of joy and bliss. They were wide with anticipation and excitement. No longer are they dull and dark due to the sorrows and anger I had in me.

I had this aura/feel of innocence around me. The very same aura/feel I used to have back in 2006. I am back to my old real self. I assume more drastic positive changes will come about me in these couple of months to come.

I've been only smoking one stick a day, practicing vegetarianism, reading and studying the Srimad Bhagavatham diligently and meditating atleast twice in a day now (once in the morning and once before bed).

At nights when I sleep, I imagine that I'm not the body, rather the Soul that pervades this Universe. I try to practice seeing myself in everyone and everything around me. Like a snake trying to shed it's skin, I'm trying my level best to shed attachment to this body (in some degree ofcourse).

I enjoy the mornings immensely because I wake up at 7 and drive to the Subramaniam temple in Seremban, pay my respects to the Gods and Goddeses there, I then find a quiet spot to meditate. I don't know how long it lasts but I'm assuming I meditate for about 15 to 20 minutes or so. After that I usually spoil myself by having a good South Indian breakfast from the restaurants nearby. Most of the time consisting of Thosais and Vadais and a cup of hot tea.

There are days when I succumb to the illusion of the world. I worry and feel sad about the passing of my dad. But most of the time I remind myself that Life and Death is an illusion and everything I see, hear, touch and feel is but a dream.

I really want to better myself. Not for anyone else or the world, but for my own inner peace.

Love you all very very much,

Sukhu :)

Realisation

2011-12-17T04:40:00.001+08:00

You know what's funny? I used to find the thought of losing my dad to death as something scary. But after I've gone through this experience, albeit a painful one, I've realised, it was not as bad as I thought it would have been. Stupid me :)

Stupid me, would always wake up in the middle of the night to check on him to see if he was still breathing. I used to place my palms at his nostril just to detect his breath. If I did, i used to go back to sleep satisfied. And if I did not, i used to wake him up. And when he wakes up, annoyed, he would ask me "What happen? Why aren't you sleeping?"

I would cook up an excuse. "Have you seen my blanket?"

I used to live in this constant fear of losing him for nearly 12 years (since 1999). And when I did lose him in the end, I felt extremely lonely and funnily enough, satisfied and relieved.

Some might consider the relieved part as something negative and immoral. But it's like this; when one has the urge to go to the toilet but doesn't go and then when one does go, despite the pain of the constipation, the person would still be relieved.

Don't get me wrong. I did feel extremely sad. Very sad when he passed on. But not as bad as I thought I would have been. I thought i'll go crazy. Might turn into a lunatic because I had great love for my dad. He was the closest I ever had and he was also my first best friend and teacher.

But I realised, the pain and anguish that would be brought unto me via his death is also a blessing in disguise.

Pain and suffering are like the scorching heat from the sun. It drives you insane. It drives a person mad with thirst. And that's when men starts looking for water. In my case, my water was, discovering my true self. I thirst to get to know myself. My real true self.

I can safely say, after months and days, I have overcome my father's death and the death of Swami. I no longer fear death as much as I used to.

Ofcourse there are days when I miss him, but it's only human. Most of the time I let these thoughts play around for a bit because the thoughts I had about my dad are good memories. I've learnt alot from them and from him.

I don't let these thoughts trouble me anymore. I know what I'll be if ever I have children. I would want to be a good father just like he was. I'm glad I had him in my 25 years of life, albeit short, but still impactful. That man was full of humility and love. What a great soul.

Anyways, I'm now on one stick a day. Please pray that I would quit smoking.

Love you all very much :)

Sukhu

The Light

2011-12-15T07:29:00.001+08:00

I realised I’ve never really told you guys fully about the Puttaparthi Trip. See, the trip’s on the 10th of February 2012 and ends on the 21st of February 2012 (if I’m not mistaken) and there are about 15 of us who’re going.

I went for the monthly discussion about two weeks ago and it was good meeting back the old familiar faces

I met Shaamini Akka who was surprised to see me and I met Sister Roshini, Bro Vimal, Bro Anand, Sister Melissa and Cheng and we had an interesting discussion on spirituality. From the discussion we decided that since we’re embarking on a spiritual journey, we should start meditating.

But meditation is not easy and many of us are too lazy to do it (I’m one of the culprits too). So Shaamini Akka came up with an amazing plan. She said we should implement the “Buddy System”. Meaning, each of us pairs up with another person (that person becomes our buddy) and we check in on each other to see if the other person has done their meditation or not.

My spiritual buddy’s Sister Roshini. And I must say she has extremely high patience and tolerance for me because in the first one week, I didn’t actually do proper meditation per-say. I was deeply humbled that she constantly messaged me to check on me. However, after that one week I’ve started to getting around meditating and etc.

Ofcourse I did play truant here and there (I didn’t meditate yesterday as I was too sick).

She did say that I can meditate as long as I want and however way I want. The freedom of choice is on me.

So usually, I sit in the lotus position on the orange cushion (apparently it’s good to have soft materials under your bum so that the energy flows properly. Personally, I think it’s more comfy sitting on a cushion than on the cold marble floor) at the front of Swami’s photo, I close my eyes.

The first few days were difficult because I used to think a lot. I had lots of thoughts swirling in my head. But then, I learnt to be a witness. I read a few stuff over the net as well as I asked around some people, and they say that when you meditate, whatever thoughts that comes into your head, imagine it like watching a movie. Just let the thoughts come, play for a little bit and then go.

I usually focus on my breathing. And sometimes, there are times when I just think nothing (ofcourse you can’t think nothing). Everything’s dark and that’s when you talk/hear yourself. And sometimes, I think things such as “I’m am That. That is I” to myself and that’s when it starts getting freaky.

I’ve experienced this twice. I see this white bright light. I wouldn’t say it’s light. It’s like, when you close your eyes, and you look directly at the sun. The glare. That’s what I “see”. And I can feel myself feeling light. More like floating. Bodyless.

I don’t know if it’s an out of body experience or not.. But I get freaked out so I usually open my eyes then. And that’s when I conclude my meditation.

Meditating, I believe, is a very personal experience. Different people experience different things. But meditating, is also like riding a bicycle. It takes a few tries (infact many) to make it right and enjoy the breeze as you’re riding the “meditation” bike.

One does feel a lot calmer after meditating. Especially if you do it before sleeping. It helps to give you a good sleep. I realised meditating after studying also helps you to remember things more.

Anyways, I’m off to the hospital. This sore throat’s getting worst.

Love you all

Sukhu

Darshan Days

2011-12-14T00:29:00.001+08:00

Dark mornings,

The sun’s still asleep,

I wake up to the smell of fresh air,

I walk on, with cymbals in my hand,

I tell you it’s a sight to behold.

Across the dusty streets,

I see people in white,

Walking hand in hand,

With tambourines in their palms,

Making music, realising, beliving..

Darshan Days ain’t over yet, till I say it’s done

You can say the story’s ended, but the picture just begun,

So sit back, enjoy the show, it’s free, no charge, no money

Darshan Days to light up my life, I say Darshan Days to light up your life

And then, taking my turn,

I slip inside a field of white,

Waiting and watching,

For the hue in gold,

To come and greet us,

And when He comes, it’s a sight to behold,

For the birds sing, and people cry

Some repent, some realise,

Some sing in joy, some stay quiet

It’s amazing what the power of love can do

Darshan Days ain’t over yet, till I say it’s done

You can call me a lunatic, but I tell you we all are,

In some ways or another, everyone’s crazy in one way or another

Darshan Days to light up my life, I say Darshan Days to light up your life

(Bridge – Guitar Riffs, David goes crazy on Keyboard)

Colorful rainbows or the shining sun,

Wet rain or you prefer sunshine,

No matter what you’ll still come,

To light up my day,

To make it a special one

Darshan Days not over yet, till I say it’s done,

Take what path you want, the world’s round,

You might appear to be lost, but you’ll be home before noon

Darshan Days to light up my life, I say Darshan Days to light up your life

Cold times or the heat,

Wet streets and cold feet,

No matter what you still come,

To light up my life,

To make it worthwhile.

Darshan Days not over yet, till I say it’s done,

Across stormy seas under the hot sun,

You might appear to be in pain, but there’s a doctor so come,

Darshan Days to light up my life, I say Darshan Days to light up your life

Na Na Naaaaa Na Na Naaa Na Na Na X 3

Darshan Days ain’t over yet..

I Can Do It!

2011-12-12T02:41:00.001+08:00

I’m extremely proud of myself! I’ve now cut down my cigarette intakes to only 4 sticks a day from what used to be a box a day. My goal for next week is 3. Followed by 2 and 1 in the following coming weeks.

I’m looking to be completely ciggie free by January 2012. Because I realised, I’ll be in India for almost two weeks and there won’t be any ciggies there (actually they do sell it outside the ashram in the coffee shops but it’s a spiritual journey. Don’t want any nicotine influences to disrupt the good vibes I’ll be getting).

I got to give it up to Sangkaran and Bala who’ve constantly made sure I attend any good will projects such as Bhajans and spiritual activities. These stuff have sort of kept me busy and going so that I don’t have the thought to smoke in my head much. I also realised that it’s all in the mind. The body is actually not addicted to ciggies. It’s the mind.

Pray for me so that I can stop smoking. I really want to better myself.

Love you all

Sukhu

A Prayer

2011-12-09T05:01:00.001+08:00

“Okay world. I surrender. I give in to your amazing powers.

Now, when I stare at something inanimate, I find beauty in it. I give in because I always wanted something perfect. I forgot, that there’s beauty in flaw and flaw in beauty. All I ever did was chase after perfection after perfection. Forgetting that nothing is ever perfect.

Now, when it rains, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nor does it matter when it shines. I just want to be a witness to both spectacles. Both are equally beautiful. Both are equally mesmerizing.

Death? I always viewed death as something incredible and fearful. It still is. However, my stupid mind always exaggerates death. In the end, I realised, it was not death that I feared, I feared being alone. I feared the darkness that is death. Not knowing what is beyond death. Like staring at the open sea in the middle of the night on a rainy day. That feeling of fear, helplessness when I stare at the sea, hoping to find it’s end but only to find miles of darkness ahead of me, and the sound of the roaring waves, it used to strike fear in my heart.

Death *laughs* You’re a good friend. So is Life.

World, I’m affected no more. Death or life. They’re two sides of a coin. Just like grief and happiness. I just got to accept both as they are and yet not be affected by them.

I surrender. Forgive me for being egoistic. I give in to you, World. Embrace me. I’ve come home. I’m not a bad person. Just… a little misunderstood.”

And as I said that, I dipped myself into the sea and came out afresh. And as I waded out of the water, I turned and observed at the far horizon beyond. I realised it was dark no more and dawn was fast approaching. For at the end of the horizon, I caught the glimpse of the morning rising sun.

I sat by the sea observing the waves. Slowly, as the sun rose, darkness was driven off. I had won. I had won by conquering and defeating nothing, but mySelf.

Creatio de Genesis

2011-12-07T03:41:00.001+08:00

“Everything you see, hear, touch, taste and feel, was created through the fragment of your very own imagination.”

Once again, everything was dark and silent. Nothing lived nor nothing died. It was just me. Alone, myself. I felt contented. I felt at bliss. But that was it. I had immense love. Just love. Time stopped existing. So did space. Nothing existed. Nothing was something.

And then, one day, I decided to experience the love for myself. To experience the joy of love. The joy a mother bird feels when it feeds her younglings. Like a little child who plays with his toys, absorbed in his own world of imagination, I too, like a child, was absorbed in my own imagination. The imagination called creation.

With that one thought, I then created the universe. The planets. The stars and the moon. Time started to exist once again. Space came into play. There were comets and asteroids and suns and moons. Galaxies after galaxies. Everything out of love. I thirst that love. I want to experience it.

I created the earth, the plants, the mighty sea, the ocean creatures, the misty mountains, the rivers, the animals, the birds, the fishes, and men. I created men.

I soon started experiencing the love that I had kept within myself, through myself. Through the form of all these wondrous creation that was I. Everything that could feel, see, hear, touch, taste and even think, was I. It was me in the end.

I felt the joy of the mother goose feeding her younglings. I felt the bliss of the mother elephant caressing her baby. I felt the love of a man felt for a woman. Love.

And as time progressed, I started forgetting my purpose. I, in the form of men started forgetting my purpose. I started forgetting my purpose. I started to question. I started to think. I started to talk. I started to discuss. I started to argue. I started to fight. And, in the end, I started to learn to kill.

I started killing myself. I started hating. I started betraying. I stopped loving.

I started dividing and I started conquering. I created religions and countries and continents. I created vast armies and battalions. I created gas chambers and powerful nuclear bombs. I created the very facet that I was afraid of creating. Hatred.

I started hating myself instead of loving..

And then, one day, just like that, I could not take it anymore because I’ve had enough, I decided to call it off. Like a child tossing his toys away once he’s done, I too tossed everything.

Earthquakes shattered the planets to pieces. Comets hit the moon. The sun explodes, it’s fire and heat engulfing everything else in it’s way. Men died. Plants withered. The ocean dried up.

And then… and then everything stopped existing. Time stopped. Space served no purpose. Everything was dark and silent again.

Dark and silent for a very long time… I was at bliss.

However, in that long silence, in the absence of time and space, I then, one day, started having the craving to feel the love for myself once again. And then with that one thought, I created the world, the planets, the stars, the moon, the sun…..

India Trip

2011-12-06T02:12:00.001+08:00

I’m very excited for my India trip so much so I was on Youtube almost the whole day watching clips of India. The video above is by a Russian devotee who took a video of the sights and sounds outside of the Puttaparthi ashram.

The thing is, inside the ashram, it’s really beautiful, but to really experience life in India, one has to step outside the boundaries of the ashram. And if you’ve watched the video above, that is EXACTLY how Puttaparthi looks like (outside the ashram). The various characters you meet and encounter and… man I’m speechless. India’s amazing

The place he goes to is called the German Bakery. I’ve never been there but I’m looking forward to going there. Good news is they also have internet access over there (judging by the computers) and that means I’ll be blogging (if possible daily) on my India trip

I’m extremely excited! Really looking forward to this trip.

Which reminds me, I need to find this book “Conversation Between God and Men” by G. Venkataraman. It’s a summarised and simplified interpretation of the Geeta. It’s part of the Sadhana as well.

The things that I’m planning to do when I reach Parthi is:

a) Take a rickshaw ride and an auto ride <—MUST

b) Plant my dad’s funeral coin under the meditation tree <—DOUBLE MUST

c) Bath or wade in the waters of river Chitravathi (if there is water.. the last time we went, the river was dry)

d) Taste India’s famous Kulfi brand ice cream!

I think that’s it. I’ve no desires as of yet. Looking forward

Love,

Sukhu

New Beginnings :)

2011-11-29T12:00:00.001+08:00

I’ve been sleeping early and waking up early these days and today after so long, I drove to Port Dickson by myself. Well not really by myself, it was more of a roadtrip for Rvind and me because I drove down to leave him at the Marine Station (he’s starting his internship there).

Had a good jolly drive. A slow one with ciggies (yes, yes I’m cutting down on it haha) and lots of jokes and stories of good times.

I sat by the beach just nearby the Marine Station while waiting for Rvind to get registered. I closed my eyes and adjusted my breath following the rhythm of the waves. As the waves touched my feet, I inhaled and as they left, I exhaled.

Sudha told me something beautiful the other day. She said those soft little tiny waves that come, is Juliet and the rough loud ones that come crashing is Romeo. Something beautiful.

I remembered the story of Rama as the waves touched my feet. He stood there, staring at Lanka across the sea where Sita was held, kidnapped by Ravana. As he stared at the sea, a huge wave came and it looked like it was about to crash onto Rama. But as it approached Rama, the wave became tinier and tinier in size until only the ripples touched his feet not wetting him anywhere else.

And in those waves, there was a beautiful garland made out of pearls. It was a gift served as an offering to Rama, as a mark of respect and love by the Sea God.

I made sure Rvind settled down and then I drove back home.

Coming home, was a huge change. I was greeted by loud Hindi music emanating from my house. I called out to my mum amid the loud song in the background and mum greeted me smiling. The first thing she said as she let me in was, “Don’t mind the loud music. I think it’s time we put the music loud like we did once before.”

That was a relief. I’m glad she’s moving on as well

I’ve been reading the Srimad Bhagavatham. It’s the life stories of all the Avathars of Vishnu.

The story starts off with the grandson of Arjuna (one of the protagonist of the Mahabharata), Emperor Parikshit, who’s been bitten by a poisonous snake and he’s only left with a week to live. So in a moment of urgency, he calls upon his fellow sages (the kings back then used the sages and holy men as advisors).

So the Sage Suka (the son of Sage Vyasa, who’s the original author of the Srimad Bhagavatham and is also the author of the well known Indian epics, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana) narrates to Parikshit the stories of the avathars of Vishnu.

Sage Suka narrating the Srimad Bhagavatham to Emperor Parikshit

I have not read till the end, however I do know the ending as I did my research. In the end, Parikshit, who no longer fears death nor life, realises that he’s neither living nor dead. Infact, death and life no longer has anything to do with him (or with his soul rather). He embraces both death and life and attains Nirvana/Moksha/Self Realisation. That’s how this beautiful book ends. The key word here is: Acceptance.

Anyways, tonight mum and me are going to venture on something new. Since I'm confirmed going for my India trip (touch wood if I don’t fall ill or end in the hospital, I’m positively sure I’m going. I got that same feeling I got back in 2006 and 2009), we’ll both be doing Likita Japam to prepare me for the trip.

What’s Likita Japam you may ask? It’s a form of spiritual practice (Hindus call it Sadhana and the Muslims call it Zikr), whereby you write the name of your favorite deity 108 times on a piece of paper (preferably a note book) every day at the same time. It helps with self discipline and makes one positively charged.

Sorry if I’m freaking you guys out with all the “mambo jumbo” up there. But I think it’s time I come clean and honest about myself. I’ve got a spiritual side on me. I’ve ignored and left it aside for a long time. Time to pick it up once again.

Life’s beautiful. Believe it.

Love,

Sukhu

Back for Good :)

2011-11-27T10:32:00.001+08:00

You know, I was walking past a bunch of cars today, just observing my reflection in them window shields. And I realised, I needed a shave and a haircut. My eyes were swollen even after proper sleep.

I stood there, infront of that white car for a good two minutes, just taking in my reflection, observing myself. Just wondering..

And that’s when it struck me. What the fuck on earth am I doing??

Why am I feeling shitty for something that’s totally not my problem? I mean.. I’ve tried everything possible, in the end, it was not me who needed a psychiatrist in the first place. So why am I torturing myself like this.

I did nothing wrong. I didn’t lose a thing either. I took the risk, gave chances.. so why am I feeling like shit?

That’s when it dawned on me. It was never meant to be. Never was. This was exactly how it was scripted. I tried changing the script, but life just stuck through the original script. So why am I blaming myself? I didn’t write the script. I just played along in the play called “Life”.

And as I observed myself, just taking in my reflection, I felt this gush of wind blowing at me. It ruffled my hair, I adjusted it. I took a deep breath in and I remembered mum’s words, “Family problems? But everyone goes through that.”

I laughed at what she said and then at myself, at my reflection. Laughed for a good one minute. It felt good.

I looked at it in a funny humorous way. Because, honestly, I found this funny and hilarious.

The way she said it. It was hilarious. It was a serious conversation and she gave this funny look and said it. That look was funny.

I laughed at my stupidity. At my vulnerability. At my idiocracy. I laughed at the fact that I dared not move on.

And that’s when I realised, I had my heart broken so many times before. I have bounced back time and time again. So this is just another phase. Another chapter. I’ll surely bounce back. Only this time, I’m glad I saved myself by pulling the plug first.

And I was just so sad early on that I was the one who pulled it, but friends have been telling me that what I did was right. Why waste time and energy on something or someone who doesn’t want to waste their time and energy? Why bother? It’s not my lost. I had given enough chances. I did my part, and I did it right. Never cheated nothing. So why the shittyness? Lol

So I adjusted my t-shirt, adjusted my hair, looked at my smiling self in the reflection, smiled and said, “Hello Sukhbir. Welcome back.”

Dream 6.45/7am

2011-11-27T09:47:00.001+08:00

I was in a cave like environment. It had the feeling and urgency of a Buddhist monastery. I could see a bunch of Buddhist kids wearing these bright maroon robes and I was one of them.

I can’t recall if they were kids but my feeling told me they were. And I was one of the kids. However, I didn’t had the same features I had now. I was more.. Chinese or probably Tibetan like.

The head of the monks, the chief or whoever you call it, strips me down my robe and tells me that I’m no longer a monk and I’m banished from the monastery forever. I could see everyone around me giving me these looks of hate. Like as though I had done something terrible in the monastery for me to be banished like that.

I felt this sudden tinge of guilt and regret and longing.

And then I woke up.

Dream was at 6. 45 am or 7 am. I think I just revisited my past life

Living is Easy with Eyes Closed

2011-11-24T00:25:00.001+08:00

“Hey you.”

“Yes you.” I said.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m good too.”

Silence.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Just. Came to see you.”

I smile. She smiles too.

“What have you been doing?”

“Just. Living.” I smile. “You?”

“Just. Living too.” She smiles.

Silence.

“Do you hate me?” She asks.

“No I don’t. Hate’s a strong word. I was a little angry. Mostly at myself but I’m fine now.”

“I’m sorry..”

“It’s alright. Wasn’t your fault.”

Silence.

“If there is one place you wish you can take me now, where would it be?” She asks.

“Strawberry Fields. Have a nice little dinner. I’ll have Spaghetti Bolognaise and you can have anything you want because it’ll be on me. But ofcourse you being you would refuse and I’ll insist and still pay. We’ll talk and I’ll smoke and we’ll watch Across the Universe and listen to Strawberry Fields Forever on my iPod together.”

She smiles.

“Do you miss me?”

“Every time. Sometimes when I’m driving, when I got nothing to think about, you drop in.”

“What’s the one thing you miss about me?”

“Everything.”

“No you can only choose one.”

I thought for a bit and then I replied, “I miss waking up next to you and watching you sleep in the wee hours of the morning when everyone else in the world’s still sleeping and the sun’s still coming up. You look really peaceful and contented. I enjoy the look on your face whenever I bring you your morning coffee. That.. satisfaction. Miss it.”

“What else?”

“I miss looking into your eyes. They’re beautiful. They’re sad. They’re deep and I wish I can just jump in and submerge myself in them. I know for a fact I can never drown myself in them even if I tried to.”

“Do you find me beautiful?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“What’s so beautiful about me? I’m just an ordinary girl.”

“You’re annoying, a little egoistic, immature, confused and loud. And yet you’re true, honest, caring, loving and deep.”

Silence.

“If you get to tell me something now, what would it be?” She asks.

“I would say I’m sorry that I couldn’t do much to take your pain away and I only ended up making things worst. I wish I wasn’t too much of a burden. I wish I could have controlled my temper. That’s why I left. Because I realised I wasn’t ready. And you weren’t ready either. And also because I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“No you didn’t.”

“You’re just being nice.” I smile.

Silence.

“If you have a song to sing to me at this very moment, now, what would it be?” She asks.

“Jimi Hendrix’s Angel. I can’t sing like him and neither can I play the guitar but I’ll try.”

She smiles.

“What do you regret?” She asks.

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because it was worth it.”

“Would you give love a chance again?” She asks.

“I hate the word ‘chance’. Sounds like a game show. But yes, love deserves a chance. Hate doesn’t.”

“I think I’m too weak for love.”

“Love makes you strong. Never weak. You didn’t lose love. You just lost faith in love. You built all these barriers by yourself. This imaginary prison. Love played no part in it. You just chose to ignore it and become the very thing you feared of becoming.”

“Do you still have faith in love?”

“Yes. Always have and always do.”

Silence.

“If you could do one thing to me now, what would it be?”

“I wish I could do something to take away your sorrow and pain. Perhaps invent a powerful umbrella made out of solid steel that prevents the world from falling onto your head.”

“I wish those kind of things exist. But what would you make do with things that already exist, that you can do for me?”

“A hug. I’ll hug you. Tight.”

Silence again.

“Do you still love me?”

“I would be lying if I said no.” I smile.

“Why do you love me?”

“I can still never answer this question. I guess, love has no reason. It just… happens. If love had a reason, then that’s not love anymore.”

“How come?”

“Love. It feels right. Everything fits like a right key on the right lock.”

“Do you hate love?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Love is love. I can never blame nor hate it. It’s.. beautiful.”

“Then what do you blame?”

“Nothing.” I smile.

“If there is one thing you want from me, what would it be?” She asks.

“I want you to be happy.”

Silence.

“I hope you didn’t mind me keeping my distance. You wanted to be left alone in the first place..” I say.

“It’s alright.”

“I just had to do it but it was painful seeing you suffering alone.”

“Do you think I’m strong?” She asks.

“Yes.”

“How come?”

“If you’ve managed to survive for this long with all the thing’s that has been going on, you’re definitely stronger than you can imagine despite the fact that you’re broken inside. An iron is placed in an hot oven and hit repeatedly in order for it to become a strong and powerful sword. Once all these hitting has stopped, so would you become stronger than you can ever imagine. Pain and suffering are just passing fleeting moments. The world doesn’t hurt us. We hurt ourselves. This is the truth.”

“I doubt this suffering would ever go away..”

“You stumped me again” I smile. “I wish I can come up with a good philosophical quote that sums everything up and make you feel better and confident. Unfortunately, I’m out of words and I’m no Rumi.. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Silence.

“I keep having these bad dreams.” She says.

“What dreams?”

“Dreams. Sometimes when I’m alone, I cry to myself. I toss and turn in bed. I try to sleep but I can’t because thoughts and memories just haunt me..”

“I know..”

“How do you know?”

“Intuition, clairvoyance, you can call it anything you want.” I smile.

She smiles.

“Want a hug? That’s the least I can do.” I ask.

“Yeah.”

And we hugged. And there was a beautiful silence. We hugged for a good minute which seemed like eternity. Just letting in and taking in each other’s warmth. That pleasantness, the scent of each other. I could feel her hair on my right cheek. I sighed slowly, letting out every ounce of love I had, every ounce of care I had accumulated without her presence and I’m sure she did the same too.

“Why were you so cold to me? I didn’t cheat on you or lied. I was just a little immature. It was my way of showing you that I cared.” I whispered into her right ear.

Silence.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay? I would have stayed if you said yes. It wouldn't have stopped all the problems, but you would have had an extra shoulder to cry on.” I asked.

Silence again.

“Do you still love me?” I ask.

Silence forever.

And that’s when I opened my eyes and I realised she was gone. She was just a mirage my mind conjured up time and time again. I stared at the empty space between me. I stared at my hands. I could still feel her warmth. Her scent.

“Living is easy with eyes closed..” Now I fully understood what it meant.

I smile, stood up, lighted a ciggie, paid at the counter for my dinner, popped in my earphones and played The Beatles. Slowly, I walked out alone from Strawberry Fields and into the arms of reality. But deep within my heart, I thank her for dropping in for a visit.

On this day, November 24th 1966, 45 years ago, The Beatles recorded one of their most famous song, Strawberry Fields Forever. This song stayed on in the imagination of many Beatles' fans and is still celebrated as one of the greatest song ever written. The song inspired novels, movies, bands, theatre groups, people from all walks of life because this song, despite being sad and beautiful, gives hope and freedom. If one Google's for a Strawberry Fields restaurant, one can find it in Petaling Jaya. It’s a recommended place to take a loved one out. I recommend it to you. Take her out

Lyrics: http://www.metrolyrics.com/strawberry-fields-forever-lyrics-beatles.html

Power

2011-11-22T07:45:00.001+08:00

You know at one point in life, you always tend to do something stupid (we still do). It’s not because we’re daft or anything, we’re just naïve at that age.

When I was 19 or 20 I started having these fascinations about Hitler and the Nazis. Don’t ask me how I started having these fascinations. I don’t even know myself. I blame it on the war videogames I used to play as well as I used to read up on history. My favorite part of history was the history of the World War 2. For some reason, I had this weird fascination about that war. Maybe it was because of my dad who had so much to tell. I used to read up about the history of how the war began, how Japan came to power and how the invaded Malaya. I loved reading up about all that.

And that’s when I got to know about the Nazis.

I admired their sense of discipline. I admired the level of fear that they brought to people around them. The level of power. I thought that was power. A power fueled by hate and anger. I believed that was power. A power that brought fear and gave a person.. respect.

I was angry with a lot of things then. Even hated a lot of things then. But, I wanted respect. And power.

So I started doing what stupid naïve teens would do.

I started listening to metal music. Real heavy metal stuff. Metallica, Slipknot, Marylyn Manson, Black Sabbath to name a few. These songs screamed stuff about hate and anger.

See, the thing about these kind of music, especially the ones that depict songs about anti Christ and Satan and stuff, sure they make us feel good because by listening to them you release anger, but they fuel you. You become anger. You become hate.

I didn’t realise it at first. I used to constantly blast these music all day in my room.

I started growing angry and hateful. And this is when I went all wrong. I started worshipping Hitler like he was some kind of prophet. Had his photos on my Friendster page. Even bought these earings which had the Nazi insignia on them. Bought few t-shirts with the Nazi emblem.

Worst of all, I started hating the Jews. For no reason.

Bala used to ask me the reason for it. I couldn’t find it. I didn’t know myself. But I hated them.

Weird.

And then one day, in 2007, Bala introduced me to this movie. Schindler’s List. Apparently it had won an Academy Award for the best picture in 1993. He told me to watch it.

I watched it and this is not your typical Steven Spielberg movie. Infact, it didn’t feel like he directed it. The feeling of the movie was so.. intense and realistic.

It’s a story about Oskar Schindler, a German businessman who saved the lives of nearly eleven thousand Jews during the World War 2. He used various methods to save their lives, mostly through bribery because he was rich but also through his humility and love. And that brought him a sense of respect and power not only amongst the Jews he saved, but also amongst the Nazi officers.

I’ll always remember this quote from the movie by Oskar Schindler when he explains to a Nazi officer on the true definition of power;

“Power is when we have every justification to kill, and we don't.”

Anger and hate doesn’t help. We all know that. Even I do. But yet sometimes, due to circumstances we fall victim to these two evil qualities. We can’t help it.

But it’s okay to fall victim to them. Time and time again, we got to remind ourselves that we’re not perfect and so, yes, it’s okay to feel angry and be hateful.

But don’t let these two qualities eat you up. If ever you fall in them for too long, you’ll never be able to escape ever again.

You become hate and anger. You become the very thing you had been hating and fearing.

You may wonder if I hate the Jews now. No I don’t. Nor do I respect the Nazis or Hitler. However, as a historian and a military buff, I do have this level of admiration for the Nazis. Their level of discipline. The strategies used earlier on during the war.

But I don’t like the reason for the war itself nor the fact that they killed millions of innocent Jews.

I still think Love is a better weapon than hate, anger and ignorance. Only with love, can you develop respect and ultimately gain power. You become humble and egoless. And that is when you do gain power, and that’s the moment you most deserve it.

The moment you’ve stopped all your craving for power and not care about it, that is the moment you’ve gained it.

I recommend you to watch this movie. You’ll understand what I’m trying to say. It’s worth it.

Oh Dear..

2011-11-20T19:08:00.001+08:00

I woke up today feeling worst than anything. And I remembered all those drunk statuses I posted. Deeply sorry guys if some of you found them offensive and annoying. I just had to keep myself company with Facebook because I knew if I didn’t I would have done something way more stupid such as dirty dance with some chic and got myself into a fight or something.

So I only did what I could only do, go online and keep myself busy

Shouldn’t have drank that much. I started feeling fucked up when I got drunk.

This was also the first time I’ve experienced the role of a “Sitter”. As in the person who takes care of all the bags and stuff while his/her friends go and dance. Pretty interesting, but it was boring. I was so paranoid someone would steal Sam and Sudha’s bags so I kept them close to me.

At one point I was out of sticks, so I decided to walk out a few blocks away from the club to get them sticks. I got the sticks, but ended up losing my way. I couldn’t find my way to the club. I sat by the roadside, pissed drunk trying to call Vashi and Sudha. Thankfully Sudha answered and a friend of her’s managed to locate me.

Not going to drink alco for a long long time now. It doesn’t help at all. Just makes things worst.

I also read the two blog posts posted last night. Not very fond of them as well..

God I’m such a clown..

Why do we always make things worst when it’s already shitty as it is? Why do we punish ourselves like this thinking that probably it might make us feel better? Why are we so… ignorant?

*shakes head* I just find all these so… funny and sad at the same time.

Anyways, I found a quote via email: "Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."-Rumi

Unfair

2011-11-20T06:48:00.001+08:00

Alright back home. A little tipsy but this post is a must because these thoughts have been running through my head.

I remember those car rides in the nights and in the early mornings, past mangosteen fields and palm oil trees. Rubber estate and plantations. Nearly 2/3 of my childhood was spent on these fucking car rides (it started when I was 5).

Rides after rides, destinations after destinations, disappointment after disappointments. Finding a cure for my brother. We journeyed through mosques, temples, chinese temples, shrinks, doctors, hospitals, clinics, psychiatrists, etc etc.. But none could find a cure for his disability. This is also one of the reasons why I believe in many religions (and to you Pro-Sikh cunts, fuck you all. We didn’t jump religion. We just had to believe in certain things. So fuck you all Pro Extremist Sikhs. Fuck you cousins too for being such ego maniacs and thinking we jumped religion. Fuck you all for consistently avoiding this family of mine. For giving us all those cold weird stares. Bunch of cowardly morons).

I used to get fed up riding in those car rides but mum kept having this hope that some day Upi would walk again.

We met this shrink in a temple once, and he said Upi would walk when he becomes 12 years old. I was 9 then. I had hope. I had faith. I knew he would walk when he’s 12.

Come September 19th 1998, he was 12 years old, Upi still didn’t walk. And yet, I had this hope that he would walk somewhere in between that age. But no he didn’t and now he’s 25 years of age and he still doesn’t walk nor talk.

So there. That’s faith and hope for you.

What do I remember most about all those incidents above? I remember them shrinks tying these red threads around my brother’s and my hands for good luck purposes. I remember cutting chicken heads and cutting goats for the supposedly demi Gods as a form of forgiveness for my brother’s karma. I remember smearing myself with lime and bathing in cold water on my brother’s behalf in the cold mornings as a form of offering for the Gods.

Did it work? No.

The relatives thought we were a bunch of lunatics. Sure. My dad was a bus conductor, mum was a factory worker. While you, dear relatives of mine, rotten snakes, worked in your fucking clinics and air conditioned offices, mum and dad slogged to find the cash to meet more such funny shrinks.

Ofcourse we’re weird. This is my family. Fuck you cousins. Really. Fuck you all.

We stopped seeing all those shrinks and shit after that and just left it to God.

Reason why we don’t go to the Gurdwaras? Well if we do bring Upi along, everyone screams, shouts and yells at him like as though he’s a circus monkey. Never seen a disabled kid before? Fuck Gurdwaras and temples. Prefer praying at home. Infact, fuck religion. Fuck God even.

I get annoyed when I see siblings fighting to be honest. I mean, what the fuck are you guys fighting for? Running from home? Family/house pressure? Sibling rivalry? Fuck that shit. Imagine living the entire life with a disabled brother who can’t talk nor walk. That’s definitely fun isn’t it? He can’t run, nor can he talk back. He can’t even walk for fuck sake. Absolute joy to just see him lie down there like a vegetable and listen to the radio all fucken day.

Fuck you all for running away from home. Fuck you all for feeling jealous over a sibling just because he/she gets more attention. Fuck you all for being able to walk and talk and communicate with your siblings. Even worst, fuck you all for being egoistic and not putting down the foot to talk to a sibling. I would give everything just to hear him say my name clearly without any speech impediment. Bunch of dick wads..

All of you all are a bunch of cowards. I’ve never seen anyone as worst as you all. Fuck you all. Seriously.

My brother’s not going to live long (approx. life expectancy is just 30 years max for a cerebral palsy patient. Go look it up). So yeah, it’s party for me.

While you idiots run away from home, fight and injure your loved ones, quarrel amongst your siblings, I just sit, put his favorite radio channel and listen along.

Awesome awesome life. What have you been through? Nothing. Idiots..

Don’t come and give me this bullshit that you’ve been through everything in life. Fuck you. You’ve been through nothing. My shit’s worst than your shit asshole.

Wanna swap lives? I’ll gladly do so. Fuck you all for being useless, selfish, cowardly bastards.

Shame on you. Burn yourselves alive. Morons..

Sorrt

2011-11-20T03:40:00.001+08:00

There you go you win. Happy? I dunno wtf is wrong with me anywjere i look is just you. All i did ws just love u with all my heart. I didnt cheat nothing. Not even flirt. U win. Now im
So drunk that anywhere i turn and see is just u and happy faces. Its so fuceked up. Happy? Bet ur happy. Get well soon. Go see a doc if ur sore throat worsens. I've got a sore throat too. Not tjat u care ofcourse. WAt do u care most? Just urself ofcourse. Just you and ur problems. Shit i cant even spell.

The Social Rejects

2011-11-19T03:06:00.001+08:00

Finally! After a delay of two days (my apologies) the short film/mockumentary is up! Here’s the link for your viewing pleasure.

However I need to caution you guys because this short film contains explicit stuff and some bad language. So for those who’re queasy, pure at heart, divine, angelic souls, I refrain and advise you to not watch this video.

There. I’ve warned you so don’t complain!

Anyways, it’s a 28 minute long “short” film so if you guys have trouble loading it, load it at 240p. That should ease the loading time. Hope you guys love it and I would love to take the opportunity to thank the cast, Navin Raj, Balamurugan and my friends for being supportive in the making of this “short” film cum mockumentary.

Sometimes, it’s good to poke fun at ourselves

Love,

Sukhu

The Green Field

2011-11-15T04:26:00.001+08:00

***NOTE: One of the most powerful poems by Mavlena Rumi. I think it encapsulates the idea of enlightenment extremely beautifully and profoundly. Above is a soundtrack by Ar Rahman from the movie Rockstar. The soundtrack and the way Ranbir Kapoor recites the poem (although just a fragment of it) is hauntingly beautiful.

“Beyond our ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing,

there is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,

the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase 'each other'

doesn't make sense any more.”

-Mevlana Rumi

I’m half awake, half asleep and I can feel my legs carrying me, running past the green field of yellow daffodils as far as the eye can see. The blue sky hovers above me like a rooftop on a rainy day as I dash through the field, the daffodils slowly parting way for me, showing me a hidden path.

I run as long as I can. As long as my leg can carry me. I don’t feel tired. I don’t recollect breathing. I don’t recollect… living nor dying.

I run. Rather.. I’m searching for something. Anxiously. Impatiently.

I run and never stop.

And at the end of the path I see an old tree. The only tree that’s in the centre of the field and I’m welcomed by the sound of flute which is played so softly and soothingly.

I search for the source of the sound and I see an old man sitting below the tree.

As I approach nearer, he stops playing and turns to me. He smiles.

“You’re back. I’ve been waiting for you.” My father tells me.

He stands up. He smiles and walks to me perfectly well.

We take in each other. I felt relieved. I felt… at home.

As we hug, I realise that he was never distant. He never really passed on. I understood everything.

I start to realise.

Father never existed. So did mother. So did the world and the universe. It was all an illusion. A dream. Everything was from me. I created and I destroyed. I… just I.

Time and space. It was me.

Life and death. It was me.

It was all in my mind. I was asleep.

But I’ve awaken now.

We laid on the green grass, taking in the scent of the green meadow, the magnificence of the blue sky for one last time. I turn and smile to father. He smiles back.

I understand everything now.

I close my eyes and became one with the green field.

Oh Ye Ye

2011-11-13T01:32:00.001+08:00

Today was a beautiful day. I still could feel the positive vibes in me after yesterday’s healing session and I was looking forward to attending the 24 hours of World Peace Bhajans at Nilai. I just wanted to accumulate more of this blissful energy inside me.

But before that, something totally unexpected and awesome happened!

I told my mum about what happened yesterday, about how Sherwin stumped me with his answers and his clairvoyance. My mum was shocked too (in a good way).

And that’s when I popped in the question, “Can I go India? It’ll do me good. I’ll get an Aunty to check on you from time to time. It’s just 11 days.”

She looks at me. Lost for words.

“Plus I have already paid for the plane tickets and they don’t allow refunds.” I added.

She sighs and then says, “Well, since you need to work on yourself, and since you’ve already paid for the plane tickets, I guess you have to go.”

I was overjoyed!

Mum of course being mum was still a little adamant, and she was still trying to brainwash me a little to not go for the trip, but I can safely say she has allowed me to go for the India trip.

***

You know, fear’s such a funny thing. When you fear something or someone, it actually becomes true.

Back in 2006, I was afraid of forgetting my lines infront of Swami. And I did forget my lines in the end. Fear, if you keep entertaining it, it comes true.

Fear, is when you’re afraid of becoming someone you don’t want to be, as you entertain that thought, you in the end become that person who you don’t want to be.

What’s there to fear? Life’s beautiful.

I can feel the same enthusiasm and inspiration within me, the exact same feeling I had back in 2006. I just got to keep working on it, do more Sadhanas (spiritual practices) as I did back in 2006 and I will be fine.

Just got back from an extremely highly energized bhajans.

I even took some time to sit at the back to meditate. Although this time I didn’t meditate as indepth as yesterday, I just closed my eyes and listened to the bhajans for an hour and I felt great.

I imagined myself as a dirty cup, filled with muck and the bhajans slowly washing me clean, thoroughly until I became a sparkly clean cup again.

Anyways, the short movie would be released next week Wednesday 16th of November 2011 on Facebook (but it’ll be uploaded to Youtube as HD first and then shared). Looking forward to everyone’s feedback and reaction.

Jah Bless!

Love,

Sukhu

Clairvoyance

2011-11-12T14:25:00.001+08:00

The photo above is a photo of the Goddess Isis, an Egyptian Goddess who’s almost equivalent to the Chinese Goddess Guan Yin and the Hindu Goddess Lakshmi.

She’s known as the Goddess of motherhood (and thus worshipped as a loving mother), Goddess of the downtrodden, the poor and the rich. She’s sometimes depicted with wings and sometimes she’s depicted with a staff in her hand. You can google her up and read about her if you want to, it’s pretty interesting stuff.

Why am I talking about the Goddess Isis all of a sudden?

See, Stephanie invited Bala and me to go for an Isis healing circle session at a shoplot in Subang, called House of Kite which is run by a guy called Sherwin Ng on the 11th of November 2011 (she invited us during our performance at Chayos about a few weeks back).

Bala has been to the House of Kite before and recommended me to go for it. He said it’ll be helpful. And me being me, was curious and wanted to know what this mumbo jumbo was all about decided to take the chance.

So yesterday, both of us drove up to Subang to check the Isis Healing Circle Session out. On the way Bala kept telling me to go with an open mind and be ready to see or feel any weird exocentric stuff.

We were already 30 minutes late (the healing’s suppose to start at 8 pm) and by the time we reached the area (we got stuck in a jam and we couldn’t find the shoplot), the grill at the entrance was locked.

Bala tried calling Sherwin but it was of no use.

I looked at Bala and said, “Well bro, I guess we’re late. The healing has started and we best not disturb them anymore. Lets just go.” and the moment I said that, I turned and looked at the lock for one last time. And that’s when I noticed it was not locked. It appeared to have been locked because it had been placed in such a way.

So I opened the lock, in the background Bala’s laughing like a mad cow and we got into the place.

The place, well.. it felt very peaceful. And the shoplot had a very positive energy about it. Almost everywhere I looked were things made out of blue colors and there were crystals and stones at almost every corner.

A lady came by to let us in and she said we were lucky as we arrived on time.

We walked into the healing room and realised we were the only Indians in it as everyone else in it were Chinese. But it was alright as everyone welcomed us.

The chairs were positioned in such a way whereby everyone’s sitting in a circle.

And that’s when I meet Sherwin Ng. A young, energetic, positive Chinese youth. He walks up to Bala and me and brandishes these bunch of cards infront of us.

“Pick one” he smiles.

Oh no. Not again..

So I picked one and Sherwin says, “Contemplate the meaning of the card during the meditation circle. You may not find the answer, but it’ll guide you.”

So I looked at my card. It had the photo of the Archangel Uriel on it holding a lamp, with the words, “You Know What To Do” written in bold. At the bottom were the words, “Archangel Uriel: Trust your inner knowledge, and act upon it without delay.”

Weird.

The problem with the card was, what am I supposed to do?

But by the time I could start pondering on the question, Sherwin was going person by person, pouring a semi aromatic ointment (it was slightly oily and had a very nice scent on it) on our palms.

He told us to rub the ointment on our palms and just take in the scent. Apparently the ointment helps to relax us.

Then he tells us to sit up straight in our chair (he was seated in his too) and tells us to inhale and exhale deeply but slowly. He looks around to make sure everyone’s okay and that’s when he looks at me.

I ask him, “Umm bro.. do we turn off our handphones? Because.. I think the the vibration might interfere with the energy flow.”

“Yes. Turning off would be a good idea. And please remove your spectacles.”

So I followed his orders. Bala sat next to me on my left. I closed my eyes as Sherwin closes the lights. The room wasn’t left in darkness, rather it was left in dark slightly and there was light coming from one of the crystal stones nearby. He turns on slow music. Whispers. Chants.

Ancient Egyptian chants with lots of droning and nasally effects of men and women. It sounded freaky at first. Bells could be heard in the music. Slow, timed and well played bells.

Sherwin then slowly guides us through this guided meditation. Where he tells us to picture ourselves as trees and the roots growing from our feet into the earth and that we’re one with the world. The roots slowly journey it’s way down to the central core of the earth and a lotus flower opens up in our head. We’re now conduits for the heavens.

To be honest, I hate meditation. Why? It’s because I know I have the ability to get lost in it. I immerse myself in it. And I just have this fear if I immerse myself too much into it, I might lose myself and I won’t be able to resurface ever again.

And that was the fear I had. I had to force myself to close my eyes, to relax my body and there was a point where I had immense fear as I heard the droning and the chants. One point I just felt like getting up and walking away because I was that afraid of losing myself. I could feel myself slowly slipping, falling into darkness. But I can still hear Sherwin’s soft soothing voice and I use it as a guide. Like a torchlight in a dark cave.

Sherwin guided us to feel our guardian angel standing on our left next to us and the only “energy” I felt was Swami. I felt Him standing not next to me, but infront of me, with His right hand raised (Abhaya Hasta position), His smiling face, serene and happy and joyful. I felt secured. I felt safe.

And then Sherwin instructed us to picture our Animal Spirit on our right. And I felt this energy of a dog sitting right next to my right leg. A little dog. White in color with a slight brown patches. Lessy.

And that’s when I suddenly felt lighter. I felt… free. I felt happy and at bliss. I suddenly had this confidence and this feeling of fear being eliminated from me.

I felt this immense powerful feeling of love and I was feeling emotional (happy kind of emotional). I just felt like hugging everything and anything.(I used to get this surge of feeling when I got drunk and smoke weed but never as intense as this one). This one reminded me of the feeling I got when I saw Swami for the first time in Puttaparthi. That powerful surge of energy, just waiting to burst in your heart. I felt immense love and joy. Bliss.

I felt relaxed and although half of the time I was just enjoying the “high” of the meditation, I didn’t really follow Sherwin’s instructions after that because his voice became muffled and I just enjoyed the feeling that I was getting. At one point, I could feel a huge shadow darting across the room infront of me. It was huge, as tall as the room. But I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t bother. I was too… into mySelf.

The meditation was very much similar to the ones I was taught during Balvikas (Sai Baba’s classes), where they ask you to imagine light and the light journeys to your eyes and tongue and hands. This one was more intense and indepth and longer. It’s a form of healing meditation where you, heal yourself using your own mind and will power.

At one point, eventhough the room was slight airy and cold, I felt heat generating from my body and I could feel heat from the people around me. Warm fuzzy heat. The heat you feel when you bath with hot water in the cold mornings. Extremely relaxing.

The meditation ended in an hour and as I opened my eyes, I felt extremely tired and drowsy. I felt like I had woken up from sleep.

Sherwin asked us all how we felt and when it came to my turn, I told him exactly how I felt. But this is where it all got freaky for me. Because Sherwin smiles and asks me, “Is that all? Can you share with us what you experienced when I told everyone to imagine their own respective Guardian Angel?”

I was stumped. Because I was initially not planning to share this because I was afraid many would mock me on my belief in Sai Baba. So I told Sherwin the truth, “When you told us to imagine our Guardian Angel, the only “person” or being that came into my mind was Sai Baba.”

Sherwin smiles and says, “He is an ascended Master. He’s much more easier to access now.”

And then I proceeded to ask him, “I also saw a huge shadow darting across the room. I know it was something big, but I don’t know what it was because my eyes were closed but you can still see shadows.”

He looks at me and says, “That’s Anubis.”

I stare back at him. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. And a part of me felt he was kidding. Probably he’s a fraud I thought to myself.

Sherwin then proceeds to end the circle with an ending meditation circle. Apparently, according to the people who go for the healing sessions, he has never done an ending meditation circle.

Bala told me the reason why he did it was because the presence of Anubis could be felt. Even Bala felt it. So probably for precaution the ending meditative circle was done.

Towards the end, I decided to ask Sherwin questions about my card that I got. So I walked to him and ask him, “Sherwin I got this card. “You know what to do”. The problem is, I don’t really know what to do.”

He looks at my card and sits on his chair. “What don’t you know what to do?” he asks me.

I sit next to him and ponder and then I reply, “I don’t really know what to do with my life to be honest. I don’t know what to be.”

He closes his eyes, it felt as though he was reading through pages of the book of my life in his head and he replies, “Your sole purpose in life is to bring light to everyone around you.”

I stare at him in disbelief. Gee that was helpful.

His eyes were still closed and then, that’s when the fun started. He started saying stuff that I know, deep within myself. That I’ve kept hidden.

“I can hear bhajans…. mantras. Chants. You’re spiritual. I also know you have a disappointed heart. A broken one. But the reason people come to your life is because they are meant to teach you a thing or two or it’s because of your Karmic past. Forgive, forget and live. These matters serve no importance to your higher purpose in life. And logically you know that such things are of no importance, and that they don’t really matter when you look at it spiritually, but you just lack belief and faith in it. You also have this clash of this doubt between being selfless or selfishness. You believe that praying for yourself is selfish where else praying for someone else is selfless. You’re wrong. Both are good.”

“You should take a break and go to the mountains. Do lots of Vedic chants. Chant more mantras on Ganesha. Work on yourself.”

I was stumped. The dude’s extremely clairvoyant! And then I proceed to test him again, “So what do you think I should be in future?”

He closes his eyes. He smiles and replies, “Probably a teacher. A lecturer. Something to do with teaching.”

In my mind, I kept saying, “What about writing? Writing.. writing… writing… writing… Say writing… writing…”

He continues, “You can sing songs and teach, you can just teach and you can write. Write and teach people.”

I almost peed.

“Okay one last question. See, you told me that I should take a break and go to the mountains. In other words, a journey of self discovery and contemplation. The thing is, in February I’m supposed to go for a trip to Sai Baba’s ashram. I can’t go because I just lost my dad and my mum would be afraid of being at home alone. What should I do?”

He says, “This one’s a tough one” and he closes his eyes.

After a few moments he asks me, “Is the trip for 11 days?”

I almost shat.

“Yes” I reply.

“There’s an aunty who may be able to keep your mum company during that time. If you think the trip will help you work on yourself, then you must go. Ofcourse you would feel guilty going by leaving your mother like that, but if you don’t work and help yourself, how are you going to help those around you?”

Point noted.

After everything, both Bala and me, watched Ra. One and were almost on the verge of sleep by the time we reached home. The meditation healing circle had taken a toll on us. We were so exhausted.

I went back home and slept like a baby and I woke up feeling extremely refreshed. And confident. I feel like a new born baby

Trailer for The Social Rejects

2011-11-10T08:24:00.001+08:00

Here’s a trailer for “The Social Rejects”. Enjoy!

Sorry haven’t been really blogging. Been really busy with the short film. Looking forward to uploading (releasing) it on Facebook on the 16th of November 2011. Till then party on!

Love,

Sukhu

Preview of The Social Rejects

2011-11-09T02:58:00.001+08:00

As promised, a short interview with the cast

In the editing stages now. The short film should be out hopefully by next week!

Can’t wait!

Love,

Sukhu

The Social Rejects (Coming Soon)

2011-11-07T18:42:00.001+08:00

Phew! I got so much to tell and I’m extremely excited!

Our short movie/docu-drama, The Social Rejects (initially it was called “The L Word” but due to copyright issues, we changed it) is 80% done. All I need to do is film Suman and Rvind’s scene and a small scene of mine and we’re all set for post production.

Okay what is the short movie about?

It’s a short film, depicting the lives of 3 losers. The movie’s shot in a point of view concept and also has the elements of a docudrama in it because the characters are depicted in the form of interviews as well as depicting them going through their daily lives.

There is no real objective in the movie and no, the movie doesn’t really have any values or message to show, but it’s just done purely for entertainment sake.

However, I must warn, the movie does have some very explicit and disgusting content.

Here’s a run down of the characters:

JOE

A 25 year old, extremely confident, cocky, hyperactive and an extremely horny individual. He’s the very epitome of a guy you would hate because he claims he’s the best looking of them all and apparently, according to him, chicks dig him..

BLACK

A 21 year old gamer and an accounting student who’s favorite past time is taking a dump, masturbating and taking long hours of piss (in his own true words). He thinks he’s good in games and loves bragging about it.

JOHN PULICOR

A 31 year old Internet Specialist. He hates everything and everyone in life including himself and his life. He has anger issues and his idea of a healthy lifestyle is a game of badminton with his only friends at 12 in the morning.

All three above are losers (although they beg to differ) because they fit every criteria of a loser.

The movie ofcourse pokes fun mostly at ourselves, but it’s just done for the sake of fun and some scenes and characters were made to exaggerate at some point.

I’ll be uploading the interviews with the cast real soon.

Looking forward to watching all of yous reactions!

Love,

Sukhu

Twitter Dilemma

2011-11-04T06:28:00.001+08:00

See this is where I don’t understand. I’ve observed Twitter and I’ve also observed a lot of celebrities and as well as people I follow and I’ve realised they’re all lying to themselves and to the people who’re following them.

Confused?

Here’s an example: “I’m playing Playstation with my daughter “

Now THAT statement or tweet or update or whatever you call it is a lie because:

a) If you were playing Playstation with your daughter, you wouldn't have had the time to go on Twitter to update about it

b) If you say you’re playing with your daughter, you got to drop everything down and do it. It’s weird to see you stop abruptly and awkwardly in between Street Fighter IV to update your Twitter. I hate pausing during games! Don’t do that. And don’t make me do that.

c) You’re lying to all of us and you deserved to be sued under the Penal Code of 69.

d) I need to have a word with your wife and tell her that she’s not doing her duty as a wife to remind you of your duties as a dutiful father. And then probably take her out for a date and shag her when you’re not home.

I can go on and on.

Okay fine. Let’s not dwell on negativity so much.

Probably the person mentioned above posted the tweet before he plays Playstation with his daughter.

Or probably during one of the game’s loading screen, to kill time he goes on Twitter and updates his status. By the time he does that, the game starts. That way he would have made full use of his time by playing with his daughter and updating Twitter at the same time. Two birds killed in one stone. Everyone’s happy. His Twitter follower’s are happy. He’s happy. Daughter’s happy.

Right?

Wrong!

What if, after posting the tweet, he doesn’t play Playstation with his daughter at all because he loses interest in it right after posting that tweet? “Hmmm maybe I should continue tweetering”

What if after posting it, he goes out golfing with his co-workers leaving the poor daughter playing Silent Hill all by herself?

Or worst, what if he goes to a brothel and sleeps with one of the cheap whores there while his daughter plays Silent Hill all by herself?

Or what if he sells his daughter to a Thai gangster who runs a syndicate of trafficking little kids for sex so that he can get himself a new Android phone to update and use Twitter frequently (all this done secretly while the daughter’s busy playing Silent Hill all by herself)?

Orrrr what if he’s trying to show the world that he’s a good father? (She’s still playing Silent Hill all by herself)

Maybe a few of his daughter’s friends are following him and since he’s been a bad father, the daughter had been bitching about him to her girlfriends. Dad finds out his daughter’s friends are on Twitter and learns from them that his daughter had been bitching about him to them.

As a form of retaliation, he decides to post this tweet as a way to mask and conceal the fact that he’s a useless cunt of a father. He wants to show the world that he’s a good man. Just like a politician, he plays his game well.

The girlfriends believe every word the father posts and realise that their friend had been “lying” to them. They confront her.

“You lied! You told us your dad’s an asshole! But we saw his Twitter update and he claims to have been playing Playstation with you!”

“Noooo don’t believe every word he says! He’s lying! All men lie! They all do including my father!”

“Liar! You’re a lying whore and a lying slut and you deserved to be spanked!”

“I’m a lying whore? And a lying slut? Which one am I? Make up your minds!”

“Both! Come here you!”

A catfight issues.

Two girls against one. They fight, pull each other’s hair out. Call each other painful names that you hear in hardcore porn movies such as “You whore!” “You slut!” “You bitch!”.

Somehow, a bunch of crowd gathers around to watch the unfolding scene. And not surprisingly enough 80% of the crowd are highly stimulated curious men with nearly 60% of them having boners under their pants.

0.5% of them who have problems with their pee pee have already ejaculated prematurely in their underpants (0.1% of them ejaculated prematurely going commando).

Anyways, back to the unfolding stimulating action.

With their shirts ripped apart and both boobs hanging out from their shirts, bleeding and coughing and slowly limping, the battle is over. Daddy’s daughter has lost and her friends ditch her.

She lies there, in a cloud of evaporating dust and smoke thanks to the ensuing struggle and fight, with both boobs hanging out, her shirt torn, her hair ripped apart, bleeding, as the crowd of men still have disturbing and violent imaginations of fornicating her as they stare at her. But no one steps out to help. She has lost her dignity. Her self respect. She has lost her friends. She’s a mess. And she seems to have lost her left bra strap too..

She gets up, cleans herself, gathers her stuff and slowly limps away. Tries to tuck in both her boobs but since her shirt’s torn, gives up and covers them instead.

She’s defeated.

The crowd looks on while they still have violent and imaginative illusions of fornicating her.

***

Now, all alone in her room and nobody to talk to, daddy’s girl takes her own life and dies killing herself with rat poison. But not before updating her Facebook status, deactivating it and blogging about how shitty her life is.

She dies in a pool of rat poison mixed with vomit all by herself alone..

Alone or was she?

For deep within the shadows something lurks. From the shadow a figure emerges triumph!

Dad. Yes the very same one who Tweets frequently.

He had been watching everything unfolding in the shadows, laughing secretly to himself. His plan had paid off. Everything that he had been planning for such a long time has come true. All thanks to lying on Twitter! And now he moves on to take over the world. Via Twitter!

***

I just scrolled above and read the whole thing. Damn, I’ve got a good sense of imagination. Extremely over thinking and over reacting thoughts, but they seem to make a good plot for a good dark movie about a man taking over the world via Twitter but not before taking his own daughter’s life. With a few added lesbian nude scenes at the beginning parts of the movie this movie would sell!

Anyways, as I was coming to the point of topic: Yes! That man’s lying.

He shouldn’t tweet and should instead spend 101% of his dedicated time like a dutiful father by playing Playstation with his daughter (AND enjoying the whole experience at the same time).

***

Anyways, I was just feeling bored and thought of a person who would actually over react over such small situations such as the one above. I pictured myself being in that person’s shoes (which was easy because I do over react and over think a lot. But not that you care ofcourse) and decided to write it and wallah!

A masterpiece was ejaculated out.

But for those smart ones out there, after reading everything above, if given the opportunity, you would have asked me, “Okay fine. The guy probably didn’t play Playstation with his daughter and we don’t really care. The question is, what were YOU doing while on Twitter?”

My reply would be: “I was driving.”

Do Do Di Di

2011-11-04T03:37:00.001+08:00

“I’m going crazy bro..” there was silence in the car. The only thing that could be heard was music coming from the speakers of the car softly. The rain slowly pelted at the window. As each drop hit the window, the rain water explodes and slowly slithers down like a cowardly snake.

“I’m losing my mind.” Bala continued. “I feel like.. I’m working in a prison. Like a kennel. A dog’s kennel.”

I really felt bad for him. I stared silently at him and tried thinking of something to cheer him up. Something to make him feel better.

“Bro, don’t worry. Things will be fine. Life’s like this. We all go through –” And then I stopped. I had an epiphany.

“What the fuck am I saying? Why do people always say lies about things like ‘things are going to be okay’ or ‘Owh don’t worry you’ll be fine’. Those are fake hopes. Bro, I don’t want to give you fake hopes. I’m tired of giving people who’re going through shit fake hopes because I myself don’t believe in some of the stuff that I say. Tell you what, let’s just go out and grab a nice lunch. I feel like having a nice Banana Leaf meal. What say you?”

“Yeah! Let’s go. Fuck this shit.”

So we got out from the car, had an extremely tasty lunch and we lived happily ever after.

The end.

No we didn’t really lived happily ever after but we had a good time. Went to Jusco and we watched 7aum Arivu. It’s a tamil movie about Bodhidharma and Bodhidharma’s descendent.

See, Bodhidharma was an Indian prince who also happens to be the founder of Kungfu and Chinese traditional medicines back in the time when magic, myth and sex with witches were rampant.

No I’m not shitting you: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bodhidharma

Sex with witches: http://www.erosblog.com/sex-blog-pictures/witches-riding.jpg

So yeah the first 15 minutes were awesome because it depicted Bodhidharma’s life and the cinematography (for those of you shit heads who don’t know cinematography and are extremely ignorant about it, click here.) was mind blowing.

Infact even some of the fight scenes were good and there were none of the usual flying around unnecessarily and falling into pots of rice and cars..

Owh wait, there were a few (infact lots) of scenes of people falling onto cars. I guess it’s a trademark for all Tamil movies. It’s not a Tamil action movie if they did not include scenes of people falling on to cars.

Nope I’m not being racist. I’m just observant.

However the rest of the movie was a little crappy and extremely draggy. They fused science and history together and came up with a theory of the Chinese trying to fuck up India using bio warfare. I mean come on! Chinese fucking up Indians? Using bio warfare?? I thought the Japanese were the Chinese’s sworn enemies? Indians and Chinese are like brothers! That kinda shit will never happen!

NOTE: 2 months later, I change my mind as I walk into my class late and a couple of Chinese students look at me and make snide remarks about me in Chinese because I don’t understand a word they’re saying. They make fun of my sneakers and hair and they proceed to score better marks in quizzes than me.

Okay maybe most of them are. Aight?

Anyways, so yeah we watched that movie and then we made out in the cinema and he had a baby boy and we named him Randy.

Nah I’m just creative writing here. I’m so bored.

Okay okay, I’ll continue. The movie did have some catchy songs and Shruti Hassan’s a beauty (did I mention she plays guitar and sings awesomely well?). She has a tattoo on her left hip. But her nose is kinda long. And sharp. She can kill someone with it.

After the movie we had a nice cup of coffee at Starbucks and had a nice chat. I then proceeded to propose to him and he agreed. We’re getting married next week.

No! I was just joking. I’m creative writing again. I’m bored as hell.

I enjoy mindfucking people like this. You give them this hope by sounding all serious and shit and then you drop a bomb.

I realised I’m so unpredictable.

Ever had that moment where you wake up, brush your teeth and after a nice shower you look at yourself at the mirror and you go, “Damn, I should marry myself.” <—~~I’m such an egoistic cunt.~~

Okay I’m going off topic.

Anyways the outing was fun. I told Bala to try the automated massage chairs at the arcade. He loved it!

We tried it twice because it was that good.

I’m glad I was able to cheer Bala up. I can’t come up with inspirational, thought provoking, uplifting and powerful words to make people go, “You know what? You’re right! THIS – IS – SPARTA!!” But I’m willing to spend my time and energy just to hear someone out and make sure the person’s okay and even go to the extent of making a fool of myself to cheer someone up.

No this is not a sign that you should message me on Facebook in order for me to hear your problems out because:

a) I don’t have the cash to take you out for a movie or for a massage chair trip

b) I’m just saying nice things and complimenting myself because I deserve it and because it makes me feel good

Haha just kidding. I’ll hear you guys out I’m not that mean.

But I charge by the hour.

Love,

Sukhu

Can You Feel the Love?

2011-11-01T14:05:00.001+08:00

I was having my haircut when Elton John’s Can You Feel the Love Tonight started playing on the radio and I burst out laughing.

The barber was taken aback. “Boss you okay?”

“Owhh sorry. Ini lagu bikin saya ketawa (this song makes me laugh)”

And through the mirror infront of me, I can see his face, looking at me weirdly. I stopped laughing and closed my eye to indicate to him to go on cutting my hair.

See, the thing is, the song reminds me of a very funny memory of myself when I was a kid. When I was around 13 years old.

There was a singing competition in school back in 1999 and I was munching on the burger I had bought from the canteen when I saw a poster of it. It was organised by the Music Club of the school.

Now, coming from an all boy’s school, the Music Club was known for two things:

a) Faggots (lots of them)

and

b) Snobbish bunch of students who think they’re Beethoven or some shit.

Ask anyone from St.Paul’s Institution and they’ll tell you that whatever I write here about the club is true.

Anyways back to my story. I went to the Music Club room and I was immediately welcomed by loud voices of very annoying individuals who were training their vocal chords.

They start at a low pitch, “O la la la la laaaaaa” And the pitch continues rising to a crescendo until everyone starts squeaking and that’s when you know they’ve reached their limits.

And the leader of the pack was the most, how do I put it.. faggotest of the faggot of them all (no offense to faggots).

Anyways I walked in and everyone stops singing. All eyes were on me. The head of the Music Club, walks to me hurriedly and says, “Yes?”

“I’m here to join the Music Competition.”

“Owhh….” he scrutinizes me up and down like I was an alien from the Planet Zaptar. “Okay. Sign this form.” And he hands me a white sheet of paper.

I filled it up and I asked him when was the competition and he said it’s exactly a week from now. All I got to do was bring a tape of the song I was going to sing and they would play it in the background.

“Easy peasy” I thought to myself. All I had to do was follow Elton John’s voice as a guide and I might just make it.

***

The day finally arrived and I walked in confidently with the cassette of the Lion King Soundtrack. I go to the head of the Music Club and told him that I was going to sing Can You Feel the Love Tonight.

He takes my tape and then asks me, “How come you’re not in your costume?”

I stare at him blankly, “I thought this was a singing competition”

“No. You should come with a costume to match the theme of the song.”

Fuck. I was doomed. I looked around and true enough, I saw a bunch of idiots in costumes. Some were wearing suits and ties and some form six girls were wearing ballet outfits and cheerleader costumes.

“You have approximately 30 minutes to find your costume or else you’re disqualified.” And he walks away in a huff leaving me standing there, the only one in my school uniform.

I went out of the room and sat by the drain wondering what to do as I watch the afternoon breeze play with the leaves of the plants nearby.

And that’s when it struck me!

Leaves! I’ll use leaves and twigs and make it my costume. They can’t disqualify me because Elton John specifically sang it for the Lion King movie and The Lion King movie is set in Africa. And in Africa there are wild animals and?? You guessed it. Leaves! Lots of them.

So I plucked a few leaves…

Okay actually a lot.

A few twigs here and there, rolled my school pants up to my knees and placed a few twigs on my head and shirt and used cellophane tape I borrowed from the library (I was a librarian back then so I had access to the equipment there) and glued some leaves on my face.

By the end of the day I looked like this:

I was like.. some kind of jungle boy or some shit. But who cares! It fit the theme and I was dying to perform.

I even went to the extent of putting a little bit of mud on my face and hands to give the African feel to it.

I snuck back into the room and no one took notice of me because everyone were busy practicing by themselves. Some were closing their ears so that only they can hear their voices but the forget that others can hear it too.

My turn came. My name was announced.

“Please welcome, the next singer who’s going to perform Elton John’s Can You Feel the Love Tonight, Sukhbir Singh from 1 Felix!”

I took a deep breath as I heard applause welcoming me to the stage. I slowly walked to the stage and I realised I was carrying twigs on both my hands and I didn’t had an extra hand to hold the mike. Resentfully I had to put down the extra twig to hold the mike.

I took the mike from the assistant who was staring at me with bewilderment.

I turned around and I came face to face with a very silent audience. Everyone stared at me dumbfounded. Not a muscle moved. Everyone were staring at me with their mouths wide open.

And that’s when I realised I had overdone my “costume”.

I took hold of the mike and I nervously spoke into it, “H..hi everyone. I’m S..Sukhbir. And I’m gonna sing Elton John’s Can You Feel the Love Tonight.”

The song began (you should hit the play button and listen to the song while reading for added “affects/effects”).

And I nervously sang into the mike. Missing a few tempos and rhythms here and there. I even went off tune during the high pitched part.

But I kept singing, swaying left to right, with a broken twig on my left hand, I waved it like as though I waved a flag. I imagined myself singing those patriotic songs you see on RTM 1 in the mornings sung by a bunch of people who swayed left to right waving the Malaysian flag.

I swore reading someone’s lips uttering the words, “What the f…?”

The audience was still frozen and many were still staring at me with their mouths wide open. And when the song ended, there was silence for a while and as I handed the mike back to the assistant, I could hear one or two awkward claps from the back.

The Music Club Leader took the mike and spoke into it, “P..please put your hands t..together for Sukhbir from 1 Felix.” He was still shell shocked.

I walked past the still shell shocked audience. Everyone stared at me with their open mouths.

I slumped back to my chair. Relieved. I finally did it!

I didn’t win anything that day apart from a few stares and some remarks. But I didn’t care. I wanted to sing. I didn’t want to sing because I wanted to win something. I just… wanted to sing. That’s it. Don’t ask me why. I always do stupid impulsive things like these because at that moment, at that time, at that second, I think and I feel it’s right.

I might regret the decision later on. But come to the think of it, it was worth it. Had it not been for that funny incident in my life, I would have lacked one funny story to tell you about my child hood.

Do I regret making a fool of myself infront of 50 faggots who wanted to be wannabe singers? Nope. Not one bit.

I had good fun singing.

As for the plants though, the gardener was furious the next morning when he found out his favorite Bougainvillea's and Hibiscus trees partially destroyed.

Nope, he never found out the culprit till this day.

But I can bet you one thing though: Every single one of them faggots felt the love that night *evil laugh*.

A Trip to the Hospital

2011-11-01T10:05:00.001+08:00

It all started last night, after I had a smoke with Rvind and Black that both of them advised me to get my knee checked because I was limping like a Thai whore with a bad Hemorrhoid infection.

No I’ve got no Hemorrhoid infection but I busted my knee while playing futsal.

Being the ever diligent and wonderful friend (pfft yeah right) I decided to get my knee checked. But by having a hearty breakfast with ciggies at Salmah Bheevi’s first ofcourse.

So off I went, had a hearty nutritious breakfast in the form of oily mee goreng with a sunny side up and just for a change, just for a change, I decided to get my self a Lucky Strike.

Don’t ask me why. I suppose I was feeling lucky.

Or probably because I watched Forrest Gump last night and I remember seeing the US soldiers in Vietnam smoking them.

The funny thing about these ciggies is that there’s no filter at the end. Because when I opened the box, the ciggies had two “fronts”. There was no filter. And it felt weird. I felt… cheated. How am I supposed to smoke this??

I decided to give it a go and lighted one up. And that’s when I realised why they call these the “Luckies”. You feel extremely confident. I don’t know maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s the sun (I have been a vampire lately) or probably driving in the Datsun on such a beautiful and sunny weather, I felt great. It felt like smoking weed because the sticks looked like a joint. But not as puffy or “carrot top” looking.

The kick was there ofcourse albeit the constant spitting out sessions because the tobacco gets into your mouth (no filters remember?)

I ate my breakfast, paid up, got to my Datsun, lighted another one up and I was singing Here Comes the Sun all the way to the hospital.

Waited for an hour for the doctor though…

And when I got to the doctor, I had a funny little memory. When I was a kid, my mum used to take me to the doctor (I mean.. I was a kid.. she HAS to take me to the doctor. I can’t drive there can I?) and before I entered the appointment room (I don’t know what you call it), she used to advised me to knock and then say “Good morning doctor” if it was morning or “Good evening doctor” if it was evening.

My number flashed on the screen, and I knocked the door and went in.

I walked in and I saw this smoking hot doctor, with a ponytail, amazing beautiful eyes, she’s wearing this white doctor coat with her cleavage revealed slightly, ever so teasingly.

I sat and I said, “Hi”

She looks at my name card and says, “Hi Sukhbir, how are you?” She had the sexiest voice ever.

“I’m good.”

“Really?”

I thought for a bit and then I remembered, “Owh I injured myself playing futsal and busted my knee.”

“Wow you play sports huh?”

“Yes I do”

“I always like men who play sports. They’re so…” She purses her lips and thinks for a bit and then her eye meets mine and she says, “sexy.”

I couldn’t say a word. And I didn’t. I mean.. I had a boner, how can I say something when two parts of my body are functioning at the same time? I mean I can but they wouldn’t be in full sentences. For example, “Yeah… I’m…. kay… uhhuh… ummm… aite… cool… that’s it… go ….. no…. yes… please..”

She then proceeds to massage my leg and go to my knee and she doesn’t stop there and she goes to my thighs and then she looks at me and says, “Well, would a blowjob help?”

STOP!

I’m sorry but the above conversation or scenario didn’t happen or take place. I’m just doing some creative writing. But this is how it ACTUALLY took place:

I was waiting for the doctor’s appointment and my number flashed on the screen.

I walked in and I realised I had not knocked on the door before entering, I proceeded to step out, knock the door and walk in.

“Good morning doctor.”

“Morning.” The doctor was a Malay woman, probably in her late 40’s and she was wearing a tudung and I couldn’t see her face because she had a mask on (the ones doctor’s wear for surgeries).

“How are you?”

“I feel terrible.”

“Good for you. What’s your problem?”

“I busted my knee during futsal and I –” she doesn’t listen to what I say and instead she checks my knee, wriggles it about and then says, “Painkillers, a bandage, an ointment and no futsal for a week.” and she scribbles something on my card.

I stare at her. “That’s it?”

“Yepp that’s it.”

“I don’t need to get an X-ray or scan my leg?”

“What? For a knee? You’re not Steven Gerard.”

“How about a blowjob?”

STOP!

Nahh I was just kidding about the blowjob part. And neither did she mention Steven Gerard. Let’s rewind back the conversation.

“I don’t need to get an X-ray or scan my leg?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

I stare at my knee and then I asked her, “What if the swelling persists?”

“Then you come back and we shall see what we can do.” Something told me she smiled. Because her eyes became all tiny and squinty. Or probably she was getting annoyed at me so she gave that “squinty look”.

“Alright.” I stand up. “Do I get to hold the hospital card?”

“No. Let the hospital hold it.”

There was a moment of pause. “What if they lose it?”

She looks at me, “Mr Sukhbir, I’ve got many other patients waiting outside. You’re wasting my time.”

***

So I walk to the other counter to collect my medications. I limped to be exact. I felt annoyed that people were looking at me weirdly. But then it’s probably two things:

a) The way I limp is funny

b) I made these annoying sounds with my sandals while walking. They had the sound of a duck with a bad case of diarrhea. Sloppy slop plop sloppy slop plop. That’s the sound my sandals make when I limp.

But I didn’t care. It’s good to be in a limelight once in a while even if it means being in a hospital surrounded by sick depressed people. Atleast they get to laugh and get entertained while looking at me limp. Hey, laughter’s the best medicine ay!

I collected my medication and the Chinese dude at the counter spelt my name wrongly on the medicine packet. “Mr Skhhu”

It happens.

I check the ointment and he spelt my name wrongly again “Mr Skhir sihfngjdnd” I don’t blame him. They don’t call it the “doctor’s handwriting” for a reason.

“Take them when necessary.” He passed me the painkillers.

I got confused. “Necessary as in when I’m in pain right?”

“Yepp.”

“I’m in pain constantly. Do I take it often?”

“No. There’s a daily dosage. See.” He points to the number written on the medicine packet.

“Great.”

“Have fun and break a leg.” and he winks at me.

I limped out of the hospital with three words on my mind, “What the fuck??”

So yeah, I’m back home. I’m gonna apply the ointment they gave and take some painkillers and bandage my leg. What a waste of my time..

Hospitals pfft..

P/S: Shit those Luckies making me really hyper

Nothing

2011-10-31T06:36:00.001+08:00

Nothing is something,

And something is nothing,

Lose the sight of clouds,

As you stare at the sun,

Or lose the count of stars,

As you’re mesmerized by the moon.

Believing a lie,

Does that make one a liar too?

Believing the truth,

Does that make one an honest man?

Pushing shoving,

Does that ever help?

Pulling tugging,

Does that even help?

I close my eyes,

I travel to the past,

I use my fingers to create silhouettes,

Silhouette of memories,

I talk to myself,

In my head,

Does that mean I’m mad or dead?

What is the present?

A tinge of the future?

Or a trace of the past?

What is now is the present,

What you’re reading next is the future,

What you read above was the past,

My friend, nothing ever lasts.

So do I live in the present?

Or the past?

Or the future?

No I say!

I live in them all,

You can scorn,

You can laugh,

But dear friend,

Nothing is something,

And something is Nothing.

What prompted me two write the above poem?

I was reading through some of my old posts and it was kind of freaky that I wrote about Death a month before my dad passed away: http://dramedyremedy.blogspot.com/2011/03/listening-witness.html

I realised three things:

a) When one keeps entertaining stupid thoughts (such as Death), they come true

b) I realised I’m a fucking awesome writer

~~c) I think I have supernatural abilities.~~

I should be a shaman.

Hardships of a Sikh Family: Chapter 4

2011-10-31T06:06:00.001+08:00

To read the previous chapters, click here.

***NOTE: I realised I can never overcome my dad’s death. Nobody can. Death is not like any other event in life where one can simply move on. Death is something different. The memories of the dead linger on, and as you see illusions and hear whispers of the past, the memories slowly eat you inside out leaving you empty.

I’ve woken up many times half asleep imagining that my father’s awake in the hall. Probably reading the paper or sitting outside the porch twiddling his thumbs and observing the surrounding. And that’s when reality sets in and I realise he’s long gone. People say talking to people who you know about your dad might help you in some extent. I beg to differ. It doesn’t work that way. It only makes me miss him more. And when I start missing him, it makes me feel very sad.

However, we can only come to terms with death. It will always be painful to lose the ones you love. No one knows this pain except you and no matter how hard you try to describe it, in the end, only you know how painful it really is. People can only sympathise and be all melodramatic about it. But if there was a choice of accepting the pain of death, I doubt anyone’s really brave enough to accept it on behalf of me.

And I think that’s where I’ve excelled. Accepting the fact that people come and go in my life.

-Chapter 4

After 1 and a half year my second brother was born. Jagar Singh. That is on 28/7/43. When we were staying in Lobak there was another family staying as our neighbors. He was a police sergeant major named Havaldar for sergeant major in Punjabi, Late Chanchal Singh.

His wife was then Late Gulab Kaur. Since they too had many children, my father decided to shift house to Port Dickson’s Sikh Temple, where he rented a room in the temple. This room was not a big room.

Then again my father decided to shift to Kampung Gopal Raju in Port Dickson. There was a long house. Kind of a house. The roof was of atap and it was a plank house with mud flooring. There were holes on the floor. My mother used to take clay mud from the drain, by the side of the house, add cut shot lalang grass, add the clay mud, add some water, make it like a dough and paste the ruts and holes in the house. Poor people could not afford cement that time.

We did not have electricity then in this house. So we used to light kerosene light. I and my brother used to study under the kerosene light.

As my father used to drink alcohol, he used to come home drunk. As he was also hot tempered, he used to shout at my mother and beat her sometimes. This was because my mother lit the lamp too early and for wasting kerosene.

Eventhough my father was drinking yet he was very hardworking. For drinking we collected water from a ground pipe and we only had to pay $5 a month. For bathing we used well water, for washing clothes my mother used to carry clothes in a tin tub. She used to walk with the tub on her head for almost 3/4 mile. Then, and after washing the clothes, she used to walk back with the tub and clothes on her head.

There was a well near our house but the water was muddy and was not suitable for bathing or washing clothes.

Swollen

2011-10-29T19:44:00.001+08:00

Good God I injured myself during futsal today evening. The ball deflected from Snow and I tried kicking it with my left leg. I ended up pulling my knee muscle (dunno the scientific name for it) and now it’s hurting like a bitch and a half.

I can’t even stand straight and can’t walk a few feet without any pain.

I used to have this knee injury and Bala used to advised me to go and get it checked. But I got better and I thought it wasn’t a big deal. Now it’s swollen as hell.

I’ll get it checked tomorrow. Get it scanned and shit. I hope it’s nothing serious

Anyways, looking forward to Sudha’s house party. I’m the official camera man

Love,

Sukhu

Chayo’s

2011-10-27T03:47:00.001+08:00

The performance at Chayo’s was awesomemagnistasticterrific!!! Everyone loved us and the best part was Bala’s three extremely talented friends came to grace and perform with us. David Spencer was on his keyboard and he spruced up our songs with his jazzy piano and flute tunes while Stephanie and Shoba showed up to sing two numbers each and both their voices were beautiful!

I truly enjoyed the performance today and the dinner was awesome as well (did I mention it was free?). We sang around 12 numbers. I sang the usual, Hey Jude, Something About the Way You Smile and Jaya Maa. Jaya Maa was awesome (thanks to David and gang) and the owner of Chayo’s (who’s crazy about making videos. It’s his hobby) said he would love to record this song and use it as a background music for one of his videos.

Met many interesting people today.

David was on the keyboard when he looked at me and asked me to look at his fingers (which were on the piano). All his fingers were touching the keys except for the middle finger. “This is my favorite chord” he said aloud as Bala sang in the background. Crazy dude..

After the performance, Stephanie (she’s from Holland and I forgot her full name. She’s gorgeous and sings amazingly as well and does Reiki healing) walked up to us and held a bunch of cards in her hands.

“Pick one!” she said.

I looked at her and then at the cards and said, “Sorry I don’t believe in tarot cards.”

“No! These are not tarot cards but they’re called Destiny Cards. Just pick one and that card would reflect on what you should do with your life.”

Wow some bogus shit. I wasn’t buying it at first so I pretended to close my eyes and wave my fingers around her cards to choose one. And when I opened my eyes after choosing the one I got, at the front of the card it read:

“There is no blame”

And when I turned it to the back, it read:

“I release the need to blame anyone, including myself. We are all doing the best we can with the understanding, knowledge, and awareness we have.”

I read it out aloud to the rest and Bala laughed.

“Owh boy… that hit the nail.”

Steph looked at me, smiled and said, “That card reflects what you need to do. Follow it, read it everyday and let it be a form of guidance. Slowly, your mind will mentally program it into your head. You’ll be a better person”

Those words on the cards stuck to my head like glue but I brushed them off aside.

I looked at Bala and asked, “What you got?”

“Something to do with health, body and shit.”

“Owh! That hit the nail!” It was my turn. Although it was funny, but freakishly enough, that card did hit the nail.

I forgot to ask what Snow got though..

It was a fun night. Truly enjoyed myself and I think this was the best performance ever. Can’t wait to perform there during Christmas

Keep rocking!

Love,

Sukhu

Happy Diwali

2011-10-26T00:20:00.001+08:00

Hey, Happy Diwali. Hope you all have a good one.

Pocket Dynamites will be performing at Chayyo’s Kelana Jaya tonight (Diwali Night) at 7pm. Will be great if you guys can make it.

Have a good one.

Love,

Sukhu

Thank You

2011-10-20T03:36:00.001+08:00

Sorry God im a little drunk but I got her message. I thank you for beringing her home and thank you for keeping her safe. I leave it to you. Guide gher home and keep her safe.

I kow you work in your own ways but im really gratefyul./ Thank you sir

See I told you prayrs woukd work. Told you that if you focis and pray.. God helps in His mysterious ways. I dunno about you but I pray for you and your family every night (being toing that since the past week).

I just dun give up easily on ppl. I know I dun as much as I sound like I do.

Im just so happy that my lil sister’s back Very happy and I gope you be happy too.

I feel like singing Coldplay’s Starwverry Swng hahahaha Owhh god Im sloshed. But im happy Very very happy

This one’s dedicaetd toboth of yous

Chit Chat

2011-10-18T16:47:00.001+08:00

Had a chat with mum and I revealed to her that I’ve booked the tickets to Puttaparthi, India next year. She was furious at first but then she calmed down and said she doesn’t want me to go because:

a) She’ll be alone

b) No one here to talk to

c) She’s afraid of being alone

d) She said wait for the right time to come

So I guess that’s that. No India trip..

Listening

2011-10-18T00:44:00.001+08:00

Was listening to Sai Bhajans when I remember listening to a Bhajan remix way long time ago. It’s an amazing Krishna hymn sung by Sai Baba during his discourse but an Italian devotee remixed the recording and added drum beats to it, thus making it even more amazing.

The name of the song is called Murali Gana Lola. It’s an amazing song and the beat’s amazing (not your usual classical Indian music thing). The song’s calming and really peaceful. Felt much relaxed after hearing it with my eyes closed (and head slowly following the beat)

Just turn the bass on

I’m Sorry

2011-10-17T20:24:00.001+08:00

Just had a good crying session (the first after so many years). I was watching 127 hours and when the part where James Franco cuts his arm off and finds help in the form of three people, I started tearing.

And once the movie ended, I had the soundtrack of 127 hours. I played, “If I Rise” and I started tearing and sobbing. I had the longest crying session in my life (15 minutes). I cried for 4 people I’ve lost in my life. As I cried, I felt every single ounce of sadness being flushed out from my eyes in the form of tears.

I feel much better now. Just wanna say I’m sorry. I really am… If only I could go back in time, I would have made things different.

Sorry Pa for taking you for granted.

Sorry Lessy.. never used to spend much time with you in the later parts of your life.

I’m sorry for not following your guidance and not living your life as a message.

I’m sorry for mentally abusing you..

God, the urge to smoke is kicking in real hard now. But I’m fighting it. Because I wanna change. It’s been 3 days now. I can make it a week.

Paura

2011-10-17T02:37:00.001+08:00

Today, I felt a a lot less shittier as compared to yesterday. Yesterday was terrible. Had to emcee a wedding reception and I had to put on a happy mask to show everyone that I’m okay. But deep down I was just dying.. a slow painful death.

I had to take multiple toilet breaks to compose and wash my face. It was terrible. And the slow love songs didn’t help either. Bala felt bad playing them (he was the DJ for the wedding reception) but he had no choice because these were the songs that our friend requested to be played.

It was terrible. But Bala did lift my spirits up when he played one or two songs by Daft Punk and Peter, Bjorn & John.

But I got to say, I was pretty amazed at myself for the amount of composure and stress I was going through that period. Partly, I was mostly thankful to Bala and Snow as well. Those guys really made sure I was sane enough.

Had a good chat with Snow in the car later on the way home as Bala dozed off behind. He had a good point. He said, “Depression is a state of the mind. If you allow and give it attention, it screws with your mind. Every problem has a solution. We shouldn’t harp on a problem. Instead, we should find a way around the problem.”

It opened my eyes. I mean, I have read and heard such stuff but coming from him, it means something. Because I’ve never once seen him depressed or fucked up. Never! He does go through shit but his level of composure is amazing!

I realised, it’s pointless to be sad over something when you don’t even know the outcome of “that something”. To be honest, I don’t care what’s the outcome. I just want to make sure people around me are happy. That’s all. I’ll go to great lengths to see them happy (although I do fuck it up sometimes… well okay most of the time.)

Snow’s right. I need to stop letting depression get to me and work on myself. I have started my first baby steps. I have not touched cigarettes for the past 3 days and I don’t have the urge yet. I hope it stays on like this for long.

In the beginning I was blaming myself for it to happen. But then I thought about it, if I keep blaming this and that and just wallowing in my sadness, I can’t get through this.

I don’t care what’s the outcome now. I just want to be a better and positive person.

My ex once told me, “You were fine before we met. You will be fine after this too.” You know what? For once, I think she has a point. We can’t really control everything in life. There are just somethings that you can never get control of. And for those things, I just got to leave life to sort it out for itself (started on it today infact and I feel way lighter now than constantly worrying).

I’m stronger than this. I just lost my way, I just need to find it. That’s all. I’ve learnt, that if people do love you, they will give you a chance to be a part of their life (and I’m deeply thankful for that) but I’ve also realised, that if they do love you, they would go to great lengths to stay in your’s too (and I’m very thankful for that too).

Fear is a funny thing. It messes with us. It was described beautifully in Yann Martell’s novel, Life of Pi. I think that’s the best description of Fear ever.

I only have two problems which stems from one problem. Fear. That’s all. Fear of death, fear of heights, fear of this and fear of that. Fear, fear, fear. What is fear? Just a feeling. Why fear?

I just got to learn to overcome it by letting go. I got to accept things as they are. I got to accept events in my life, the way people are and their past. I have a positive feeling that this little phase in my life will bring a positive outcome for me in the future. I know it because I’ve not lost hope in life, because I still do believe in myself. Always did.

I’m sorry too.

Djobi Djoba

2011-10-16T02:34:00.001+08:00

Good lord! What a song!

And an indiepretation of P. Ramlee’s Maafkan Kami. Love it.

Enter a post title

2011-10-15T13:49:00.001+08:00

Woke up today missing you. Hope you’re doing okay.

I’ll Be Back

2011-10-15T01:29:00.001+08:00

Hey you. If you’re reading this, it means that I’ve deactivated my account (Lol sounds like I just died). But it’s for the good for both of us.

You’re right. I need to overcome my dad’s death and two people who’re weak can’t make this relationship work. One of us has to be stronger.

Don’t worry, I’ll come back in February 2012 once I’m back from India (as a much stronger and better person). I finished my last box and I’m not gonna touch the ciggies again. I even threw away all the lighters I had.

I have always loved you and will always love you. Remember that. You’re my rockstar (the one and only).

I won’t bug you for these 4 months. Take care.

Anyways, allow me to take leave. I will leave you with two songs which Bala, Snow and myself wanted to sing at the front of your porch (but we didn’t cuz we thought it’ll be too loud and the neighbors might be offended). Here it is:

Sorry for being a moron. Don’t worry, I’ve told Snow, Bala and Black about this and they’re totally supportive of my decision and of course they still love you. You’re a gem babe. Keep in touch with them kay? I’ll come back stronger. I promise. Love you boo (always will. You’re a gem).

P/S: Do call once in a while if you’re in need of someone to talk to. I’ll hear you out. Always have. Always will. Love you more.

Things to do now

2011-10-14T18:12:00.001+08:00

List of things I MUST do.. for now atleast:

1. Quit smoking (or reducing nicotine intake)

2. Learn to write with my left hand

3. Work out like crazy

4. Probably get my second tattoo

5. Learn how to swim

6. Motivate myself again (need to quit being lazy)

7. Back to being more spiritual

8. Overcoming my dad’s death (or accepting it) by having a good cry. (Never really cried properly when he passed away).

9. Taking out my bro for walks

10. Get a dog (preferably a Beagle)

Funny. I feel like I lost a part of myself.. all over again.. But again, if it’s meant to be then it’s meant to be, if it’s not then it’s not. I’m not used to these (break thing). Quite traditional minded.

Anyways, back to being awesome.

Fly

2011-10-14T01:34:00.001+08:00

Close your eyes. Imagine you're a bird hovering high above the Himalayan mountains. Below you is nothing but dense snow and rocky mountains and above you is just the bright sun. You’re just hovering, gliding, enjoying the cold breeze as it ruffles your feathers.

Below you, you know there’s life in the form of deers and rabbits and you feel at one with them. You can feel the flowers blooming. You’re one with nature.

And then you suddenly remember the things you’ve missed. The people you loved. The people you lost. For a second there you blame life.

But what can you do? You’re just a bird. All you can do is fly. And fly you do. But you enjoy the scenery around you. The beauty of the rocky Himalayan mountains. Nothing matters to you except flying.

Sometimes I wish I were a bird. I just want to fly.

FCP

2011-10-07T21:21:00.001+08:00

Hey Bapa,

Work was great today. I think. Okay no, actually it was alright. It was a little boring but I found it a good learning experience. I learnt to edit using this software called Final Cut Pro (it only works on Mac) but nevertheless, compared to Movie Maker, this one’s wayyy better.

I didn’t find it that challenging to learn the basic. But there’s still lots to learn. My “boss” is Chelian (I know, it’s a funny name but apparently it’s a classic typical Tamil name). He’s quite a down to earth person and there’s a language barrier to communicate (he’s english is bad and my malay’s bad so… yeah). However each of us both try to communicate using sign language, a mixture of rojak English and Malay and we eventually get the message across.

Funny thing is, for these past few days I’ve been wanting to get a dog (I know you won’t be too happy about that but the house been quiet lately and is in dire need of some loud noise). I walked out to get myself lunch (only had enough cash for a loaf of bread but that was great) when I spotted this pet shop a few blocks away from my “office”.

I went inside and met this wonderful person named Sukie (I know a Japanese sounding name for a Chinese girl) and apparently she’s selling male Beagles (with Certificate and Champion breed) for RM 1150. That’s quite a bargain don’t you think?

So I told her to update me regarding the status of the dog (which is around 3 months old aprox.) and she said she’ll get back to me. She took down my number and gave me her card.

I need a friend Pa. It’s been quite lonely here..

Anyways, the office is very welcoming and cosy. Chelian has a bunch of computers and he said I can use the iMac to edit videos. So today, after observing him, he asked me to try out Final Cut Pro by passing me some old wedding videos of his clients (don’t worry, he has the final copy with him). I did some experiments with the videos here and there and came up with a funny video (inserted some reverse effects and all). I think I’m getting a hang of it.

Give me a week. I’ll master it. And then maybe I’ll start helping Chelian to edit his videos.

Miss you standing by the entrance of the door and welcoming me by saying, “So? How was it?”.

Miss you old man..

Hardships of a Sikh Family: Chapter 3

2011-10-06T22:22:00.001+08:00

To read the previous chapters, click here.

***Note: I have a bad habit. I have a problem with remembering things. However, I can only remember bits and pieces of things which hold dear to my heart, which inspire me, which probably I feel might do me good. Otherwise, I don’t really remember incidences that well or even dates for that matter (I’m terrible with numbers). I do not know why I’m like that and try as I might, I try recalling them but I keep mixing them up. I’m glad my dad wrote these stuff down. Just incase I ever forget, I can always read them again.

There is however an incident I remember my dad telling me. It was his first vivid memory of being an infant, when the Japanese bomber planes were above the clouds dropping bombs onto villages, he remembered his mother holding him tight and running for shelter through the palm oil trees.

What’s my first memory as a child? It was during my first birthday party (the only birthday party infact), I remember my mother carrying me and I was crying because I wanted her to dance. That’s all I remember..

Back in school, the school kids had this one bad habit where they teased you about your dad’s name. It became quite rampant and infact, people started calling you by your dad’s name instead of yours. I didn’t like it. And I used to be quite ashamed of my dad for having such a funny name. But now that he’s gone, I miss that name..

-Chapter 3

After working for some years, my father decided to make a trip to Punjab. His father, Arjan Singh was still alive then. He got him married to a girl who was from the village of Barnala. This was my beloved mother, Late Pagwan Kaur s/o Late Mohan Singh also of village of Barnala.

Soon after a few months my father came back to Malay with my mother. Myself, my brothers and 3 sisters of whom one is deceased were all born in Malaya. Myself Kaka Singh am the eldest. I was born in the District Hospital (2/5/1941) Port Dickson.

You may wonder how I got this funny kind of name. Well it was like this, the nurse asked what name should she give for the child. Neither my father or mother could decide. Then it was dawn. My father saw a crow flying and it was cawing “Ka-Ka-Ka!”. So my father told the nurse “Tharo nama Kaka Singh (put the name as Kaka Singh)”.

We were very poor then. My father worked as a bus conductor. Slowly he made friend with his driver who taught him to drive the bus. Then he became a conductor and driver after being able to drive the bus. At that time we were staying in Lobak in Seremban.

(Again, dad being dad, ended the chapter this way.)

Rise and Shine

2011-09-28T07:15:00.001+08:00

I realised cutting down on sticks really does make a person cranky. It’s a side effect thing. I’ve been on 2 sticks for 2 days now. Just had one today and probably I’ll have another one in the evening after dinner. Been sleeping early and waking up early as well. Rise and shine. My body’s getting used to it. I do feel fresh and less depressed. Probably a little bit of sun did help.

I also made sure that I did all the required stuff such as filling up my dad’s National Land Finance forms and PERKESO and also filling in the forms for mum because she wants to transfer the house ownership to her’s (dad and her shared for the house). Lots of paperwork and I hate the fact that to get something done, you have teeny weeny procedures to complete it. Such as in order to ensure Paperwork A is done, you got to ensure that Paperwork B is done and Paperwork C is done (and below Paperwork C you got to fill in Paperwork C1 and C2). Crazy mind boggling stuff.

But I guess it’s the only proper procedure despite it being crazily complicated.

I realised, despite the fact that you have to cope and overcome a death of loved one, you also got to cope with all these complicating paperwork as well.

Sorry for being cranky..

Bring Me

2011-09-22T12:39:00.001+08:00

Bring me to a time when I used to see the birds fly,

It never used pain me to see them up so high,

And I never had to think and cry,

As memories pass me by.

Bring me to a time when I used to see them smile,

Never had the urge to live or die,

And I never had to breathe a sigh,

For I never ever walked a mile.

Bring me to a time when I never had to wonder why,

Thoughts just never came across my mind,

And I never had to be so sly,

Never ever felt this shy.

Bring me to a time when I used to see the birds fly,

Never had the urge to live or die,

And I never had to think and cry,

As memories pass me by.

Bring me…

1999 – 2010 1941 – 2011 1925 – 2011

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine..

Happy Birthday To Me

2011-09-19T09:40:00.001+08:00

There was a time when I was so young that to make me sound and appear older, I used to tell people that I was a year older than I was back then whenever they asked me the question “How old are you?”

If I were 18, I would say, “I’m 19.”

But that is a thing of the past. Now, when they ask of my age I would tell them the truth.

I’m 25 years old.

There will come a time when I will have to lie and slash the numbers off my age and that time is not far off now.

However, as I was driving to get breakfast for myself, it suddenly dawned upon me. I’m 25 years old. I’m a man. A full grown man. In 5 years time I’ll be married and would have kids and family. It’s a scary thought. I’m looking forward to it..

I also reveled in the fact that if ever I’m mentioned in papers or in the news, they would refer to me as a man instead of a boy.

“A 25 year old man was caught trying to shop lift a comic book store last night. There is no sense of understanding as to why a 25 year old attempted to break into a comic book store to steal a bunch of Dragon Ball mangas. The police has identified the full grown man, who wears spectacles and has messy short hair. Here is his photo. As you can see based on the photo, he appears to be of 25 years of age, and is a full grown man. He appears to have not shaven for days and is in need of a good haircut and probably a trim or shave. Now let’s take a look at his features. He’s got dark eyes, a thick nose, with dark lips. Yepp, he’s a 25 year old man alright. No mistake there.”

I’m a quarter century old. Looking forward to the other quarter century of my life to come.

Anyways, thank you for the lovely birthday wishes. Appreciate them

Love,

Sukhu

Dream 4.30 PM

2011-09-18T17:27:00.001+08:00

I dreamt I was in a Gurdwara and we were ordering Ladoos. The priest was a little weird because in order to get the Ladoos we had to order the amount and then sit with the crowd (who’re also awaiting their orders) and join the Kirtans.

The Kirtans were going on and I was day dreaming as usual when I could feel someone patting my right shoulder. I turned around and looked up, and there my father was, part of the queue (there’s a queue to collect the Ladoos) and he gestures at me to join him as well. I smiled and was surprised to see him there.

I held his right hand to balance myself, as well as to use it as a tool to stand up. And as I did that, I kissed his right hand and stood.

That’s when it dawned upon me that my dad was already dead and that this was just a dream and I started crying. I cried because my dad passed away and the fact that I lost Swami (Sai Baba) too. In the dream I referred to Sai Baba as my Master.

I can’t really remember what happened in the dream when I cried but I do know I cried a lot because I was already on the verge of breaking down. That’s when I remembered reading somewhere that when you’re on the verge of breaking down, and when you’re about to surrender everything to God, that’s when he truly shows His ways.

I cried extremely hard and I blamed God for not keeping to His word. For failing to come to me when I’m in trouble. The moment I thought of that, I suddenly could see a bright blinding light flashing before me and in between the blinding white light was the figure of Shirdi Sai (fully clothed in white) and he was sort of balancing his left arm on a bolster like thingy and his right hand was raised as blessing. His legs however were kept straight and not folded like in the photo below. The rest of the posture was exactly same except like bandana was white not orange.

It was a bright light that surrounded his “image” and the image kept coming closer and closer and I heard a deep soothing voice telling me something. Something about not to worry. Unfortunately I forgot what the voice said.

As the image came closer, I stopped crying, I stopped feeling sad and angry and I started feeling calmer and peaceful. It’s like someone putting you to sleep (or sedatives). You slowly start to realise the fact that you have to be at peace with yourself and you start accepting it.

The figure came close to me and the image of Shirdi Sai was smiling and it was bright and as it came close it sort of like engulfed me like how one covers himself with a blanket, that’s how I felt. The image engulfed me and I felt lighter and at one with Him.

And suddenly we’re travelling places and we’re travelling through the skies and I can see the world below me. Everything I see is from the first person perspective. I can hear Him talking to me as we passed these places.

We came to a war torn country like Iraq and the place was smoky and fiery. It looked like war just took place and I can hear Him telling me in Malay, “Dari luar, dunia ini binasa. Tapi dari dalam, dunia ini cantik.”

I think it’s something to do with looking inwardly rather than looking outward.

And I woke up.

Miss Moon

2011-09-16T21:26:00.001+08:00

"If you think you're fat and large despite me constantly telling you that you're not, I just want to thank you for being "fat and large" because you're very cuddly."

I don't know where to start. Because there's so much to write about you. I always believe that in a man's life, there's always this one woman who leaves an everlasting impact on a man's life. I told you that you're one of them but that wouldn't be fair to you because there's always this one woman. Just one.

I gave it much thought and as I observed people at the train station, I realised I've missed alot of people in my life and that's when it dawned upon me that one of them was you. I missed you very much in that span of two months. I kept wondering how you were doing, what were you up to. If ever you were really happy or sad.

And then i guess, fate (or God as you love putting it) works in funny and yet mysterious ways. And suddenly, just as sudden as my dad passed away, in you came.

My mum says life is so unpredictable.

I gave it much thought, and I realised, that in my life, the woman who actually really left an impact on me was, in the end, you.

Why you?

Good question. I don't have the answer to it but I might have a clue. And here are a few of them:

1. I like the fact that you don't mind making a fool of yourself. Infact you don't really care if you do (probably because you don't realise it) But i think that's a good trait.

2. You're not pretentious. You didn't appear fake or trying to hard to impress when we first met.

3. You're so honest that you're gullible (which makes me annoyed. The gullible part i mean.) But you're honest about things and your feelings. I love that.

4. I love the way sometimes when you laugh too hard your nose flares. It sort of like twitches like a pig does but it's cute.

5. You're loud! And chirpy. And a little clumsy at times. Very loud. Did i mention loud? Loud. But i like it because i've got bad hearing problems.

6. I love your hair. It's easy to find you in crowded places. In other words you'll never get lost. I also love the way it smells. Don't ask me how it taste like. I have never tried tasting it. I also love the way you tie them into a bun. It makes you look old but i like it. I love the way it naturally falls in strategic places on your face.

7. I love your cheeks. They're soft like a baby's bottom. It looks even better when you smile.

8. I love your lips too. Although you talk alot, but i enjoy hearing you. Makes me realise that i'm still alive.

9. I love your fashion sense. It's... how do i put it.. exquisite. And weird. But exquisite.

10. You know, you always ask me why I find you special? Honestly I don't know but like I mentioned to you earlier, I just have this feeling, that this time, it's going to happen. That this time it'll work out. I don't know what you call it but I call it intuition. And it never fails me.

I can go on and on writing because you're like a work of art and literature and if i ever do write I can go on writing pages and pages but i'm going to stop. I'm blogging using the iPhone and everyone's staring at me weird.

But hey, I love you. Just want to let you know .

P/S: Idiot :)

Hardships of a Sikh Family: Chapter 2

2011-09-12T10:06:00.001+08:00

To read the previous chapters, click here.

***Note: Honestly, I first started writing when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I remember that day clearly because dad took me out for a Kung Fu flick at the now Rex theatre which has been turned into a shopping mall. We watched a Chinese Kung Fu movie (dad enjoys watching Kung Fu movies) and I was so intrigued by the movie that I came back home, took my old coloring book (the ones that have cats and dogs and you color them), I tore out all the pages except the front and back cover (so that it appears like a card) and took a magic color pen and wrote a short story about Bruce Lee fighting bad guys. I even drew him at the space available nearby.

I then showed it to my dad and he was impressed. He said to me, “You not only draw well, but you write well too.”

Good ol` Bapa.

-Chapter 2

Late Gurubak Singh was then only 15 years old. Once in Malaya (which is now West Malaysia) he came to know of Seremban, he also came to know of some job vacancies in a bus company. This company was known as Utam Singh Co. He went to the company and asked for a job. The boss of this company, Late Utam Singh was also a very kind understanding boss. This boss Utam Singh had another brother who was Late Chet Singh.

Late Chet Singh was running a fleet of lorries and a few taxies. Both those 2 bosses were very kind and advising bosses. They had a cook to supply the workers with food daily. Morning tea and bread, afternoon bread and rice, same at night daily so the workers did not have to eat out. Monthly the workers were also paid, but for the workers good, their pay was safely kept. So that when the workers wanted to go to Punjab, they had some money. Most of these workers were bachelors and they went to Punjab to get married.

Also some workers have left their elders and families back in their villages in Punjab.

(Curiously, again, dad ended the chapter like this)

Hey Big Fella

2011-09-07T09:47:00.001+08:00

Owh God, these four months are going to be extremely tough. I wish I was in Uni instead of being at home, sleeping late, waking up late. It’s tiring seeing your mum wheeling your disabled brother in and out of father’s room, into the hall, she makes a turn and then back again into the room. It’s like she’s hoping that by each turn she makes, each time she returns to the room, she wishes to see my father alive and breathing. And brother’s being quiet most of the time. I think it has set into him that dad’s dead. It’s tiring seeing what used to be a family of 5 has now turned to 3 people. In the end, there were three and then the number would go down again and slowly it would be me.

It’s tiring to sleep late, and then when mum goes to work, all you do is get out of the house, perch yourself at the porch or sometimes sit on the old rattan chair that dad used to sit, and smoke your lungs out, hoping.. waiting for something to happen but nothing really happens.

I hate waiting…

I’m tired of life really. No, I’m not having any suicidal thoughts but have you ever felt tired of life? You know.. when you don’t really know what to do with it. The thing is, people say “Make it happen.” But what is it that I need to make happen? I don’t even know what I want or do. How can I possibly make things happen when I do not know what I want or to do with life?

If ever I get to see God, these would be a few of the questions that I would ask:

1. Why and how did my brother actually become disabled?

2. What do you really want me to be in life?

3. What’s the purpose of me being here? Don’t give me that crap where I have to seek enlightenment. That’s a long shot. What do you want me to do and be in this life? A doctor, or lawyer or a garbage collector? Tell me.

These three questions would suffice.

It would have been easier if God made himself visible or atleast we can hear him when we seek these questions. He tells you directly himself instead of giving you hints and tips through books or things you see. Wouldn’t that be much easier and faster?

“Hey God, so do you think I should be a writer?”

“Ummm no. I don’t think so. You should be a pharmacists instead.”

“Ahh alright. Gotcha.”

And then you do pharmacy and then become a pharmacists and everything goes well.

And he should give you warnings. Instead of showing signs from objects (such as when something bad happens, a mirror or a photo frame breaks). That confuses the shit out of people. Why can’t he just come and tell us, “Hey Sukh! Guess what??”

“Is that you God? What?”

“Some shit’s gonna happen, I want you to stay indoors today.”

“Alright.” And I’ll bolt my front door, lock myself up in the room and I wouldn’t get mugged.

Wouldn’t life be easy that way?

Speaking of mugging, why can’t he make himself visible and heard to those thieves out there.

“Hey man!”

“What? Who?”

“It’s me, God.”

“Owh shit.. God! You scared the crap out of me. I was about to crack open this safe lock.”

“Don’t do it man. Stealing and robbing is bad.”

“Damn man.. but I need the cash.”

“Don’t worry about it. Believe in me. Quit stealing and I’ll find a way for you to get cash. Alright? Now gently put the apparatus down before you hurt someone.”

“Alright.. alright.. alright.. Safe.”

See. Wouldn’t that be easier? Things would be so much peaceful. Everyone would be happy. No one would be sad. None of the September 11 shit or what not would have had happened.

God yells, “Everyone! Get the fuck out of the building! There are two jets heading your way!”

Everyone runs out and no one gets hurt. Well, except for the terrorists and the passengers in the plane but if I were God, I would have warned everyone not to board that plane.

“No way man! Don’t get on that damn plane! It’s heading to the twin towers in New York.”

“You fucken shitting me God?”

“Do I look like I am?”

“Alright.. alright I won’t board it. I’ll go home to my wife and two kids and lead a happy normal life. That way, my wife doesn’t need to mourn over my death and never need to overcome it. Right God?”

“You betcha son!”

If I were God, that’s what I’ll do. God, if you’re reading this, I know this post is a little sarcastic. But you know me, I’m an asshole. So yeah, come on. Hear me out.

Call me sometime. We can go out bowling or something. Or a movie. Just the two of us.

Okay?

Hello?

God?? Hellooooo… ??

Awh crap there you go missing again. Damn it!

Hardships of a Sikh Family: Chapter 1

2011-09-05T06:30:00.001+08:00

***NOTE: Last year, I asked my dad (which was weird of me) to actually write stories of himself when he was a kid. I had a writer’s block back then and I wished to write something (into a form of novel) so I thought of the only thing I could write, my dad’s autobiography. Surprisingly, he agreed and said he would and the next day itself he bought himself an exercise book and started writing stories of himself when he was young. He wrote diligently for 2 months whenever he felt like writing. Being a humble person he was, he said “Excuse me for the grammatical mistakes that I’ll make in the stories. I leave the correcting to you.” I told him not to worry and write from the heart.

A year later, today, as I was rummaging through his drawer, I found the exercise book hidden under two photo albums. The book (or stories) were never complete and were written in short in the form of 18 chapters in total. However, I think it’s unfair if I left it as it is (in the exercise book). And here I am, writing these stories on his behalf. This, is his story with his own unique style (I’m not going to change the way he wrote them as I want people to read it as he wrote). He titled it, “Hardships of a Sikh Family”. I’m going to keep that as the title as a mark of respect for him. There are 18 chapters in total and I’ll post chapter by chapter. I guess, I got the inspiration to write from him.

This, is chapter 1.

-Chapter 1

I, Kaka Singh son of the late Gurubak Singh Cheema (5/06/1991), am writing this true life history for all to read with interest.

My beloved father was born in the village and district of Cheemae. His late father who was Arjan Singh brought him up with full love and care.

Now, you will want to know if he first came to Malaya then, with his own interest, or if he was forced to come here. Infact there was a very serious reason of his coming to Malaya then.

This person, Gurubak Singh, was a very hot tempered, brave boy then when he was being with his father then in Punjab (Chemae district and village). I will tell you how he first came to be here.

When he was in Punjab then, he was involved in a wrestling match with another boy of his village. There were other boys too involved in these matches.

As I told you before, due to his anger, he killed the boy who was wrestling with him. While wrestling he choked the boy to death.

Some of the boys who were watching the match ran back to his house and informed his father of what he, my father, had done.

The father, the late Arjan Singh, knew that now the police will surely come after his son. Once after the son is caught, he would be tortured in prison and may even be hanged. So he gave Gurubak Singh some money, a pillow, a blanket and a book. He took him to Calcutta Port, as there was a ship going to Malaya. At that time there was no plane service to Malaya.

(Curiously, dad ended the chapter like this.)

Miss Mind Miss Mind

2011-08-29T08:33:00.001+08:00

There’s a wise quote. It goes something like this; “Of all the things I’ve missed, I miss my mind the most.” I don’t exactly know what it means but I think it has something to do with losing your mind, i.e.; you’re going crazy.

Come back soon. Miss you..

You’re Right

2011-08-26T00:34:00.001+08:00

Four months ago, I had a chat with a friend a week after my dad passed away. She said the hardest part would be three months after the death. Because that’s when you think you’ve moved on but that feeling you get is actually deceiving you. You think after three months, after life is back to motion, you think everything’s okay. But it’s not.

I wish my dad didn’t had to pass away yet. I feel so lost and lonely. I don’t even know where to start and to be honest, I’ve lost all sense of motivation. Been skipping classes and doing my assignments last minute. There are days when I go to classes an hour late. I just don’t feel the inspiration or the urge to go on.

Four months down the road, I think she’s right.

Taxi! Taxi! Chapter 2

2011-08-25T05:20:00.001+08:00

***NOTE: Read the previous chapter here.

25th July 2011, 11.30 PM. Somewhere on the North South Highway.

It started drizzling a little as I found my senses. I was still a little relaxed, and I could hear Amir going on about a monkey riding a horse (don’t ask me why he was telling me about it) and suddenly, that’s when it kicked in. Suddenly I started feeling paranoid.

“So you know, the monkey sits on the horse and… dude you okay?” Amir stops half way as he sees my face turning pale.

“No.. no.. I’m f..fine.” I said and I tightened my grip on my steering wheel.

“Owh shit..” he says as he observes me. “You’re feeling paranoid.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not man! Okay! I’m not paranoid. I.. I just wanna drive and get away from this place.”

He lights a ciggi and says, “See. Paranoia. But it’s totally normal. Just don’t fight it. Let it flow bro. Life’s transient man.” and he lets out a puff.

I started shuddering. I felt… fearful. Scared. I was afraid that the cops might stop us any time soon and brisk us for weed.

“What if they find out?”

“Who?”

“The cops. What if they find out?”

“They can’t man. The road’s dark and besides the smell’s gone.”

I sniffed the air. “You sure?”

“Hell yeah brah!”

“Here.” I motioned him to come closer. “Sniff my jacket.”

He comes closer and takes a sniff. “Jesus man! You need a bath bro!”

“Do I smell like weed??”

“No! But you need to take a shower! Some good scrubbing under the arm pits would do you good.” I was still feeling a little paranoid and Amir sensed it.

“Here, maybe this might help.” he said as he took a few puffs and filled the whole car with his cigarette smoke. I didn’t mind it this time. I realised what he was doing. He was trying to substitute the smell of weed with the smell of cigarettes.

I breathed a sigh of relief and I was back relaxed. The rain started to get heavier as I slowly drove on.

“Why Penang?” I asked him.

There was silence. I thought he fell asleep so I turned to him and he was wide awake, his eyes wide open and I knew he was pondering for an answer. From the shadows created by the street lights that zoomed past us like fireflies in the distant night, I knew this boy was not an ordinary boy. He has reasons and goals. It’s just that he chose to mask them so well that it takes a magician to slowly peel it bit by bit to reveal the secret hidden in the black top hat.

“I have to go there.” He finally said.

“Why?”

He turned to me and smiled, “Because it’s destiny.” And that’s when I realised he had changed his accent back to a Malaysian one.

I hit on the breaks and turned the car to the emergency lane and got out of my taxi.

“Okay man!” I said as I got out. I could hear cars zooming past us.

“Wow! What the fuck’s going on man??” He got out of the car as well.

“Now tell me” I walked and held him by the neck and pinned him to the car booth. “Where are you from and what’s your real name!” The rain pelted us.

“Wow man! Chill! Relax! Weed’s supposed to make you at peace man.. not shoving people like that man!”

“I don’t care!” I tightened my grip on his neck. “Tell me who the fuck are you! You’re not Iranian, that is for sure!”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you! Loosen the grip bro! It’s hurting me.”

I loosened my grip on him.

“I’m a Malaysian. The name’s Shyam.”

“Shyam?”

“Yeah Shyam. Shyam Sunder. I’m 17. Now would you let me go?”

I let him go and he brushed himself. “Damn…” he muttered as he looked at me.

“But why lie about your name?”

“Because I ran away from home.”

There was silence between us as the rain slowly pelted onto our face and head.

“Get in.” I said. He hesitated. I looked at him and screamed, “Get IN!”

He got in and I followed suit.

“You’re not gonna drive me to a police station.” he said as he got in.

“Why not?”

“Because I paid you.”

“I’ll give you back your money.”

He was getting desperate. “Look, there’s no police station here.”

“We’ll drive to one then.” I said slowly as I started the engine.

“Well you can’t.” and he grinned.

And it was my turn to ask. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll tell them you smoked weed” and with that, he gave me a wink.

I’m No Rap Star Man

2011-08-10T10:21:00.001+08:00

Worked on a song for a friend of mine who composes sick music, Dhevein (who also goes by the music moniker, DJ Diskbreakerz). Here’s a draft of the rap/lyrics of the song I made. It’s still in it’s infancy stages though but feedbacks are welcomed:

Like a mafia walking thru the district,
With my shotgun, making them kill streak
In my trench coat, and you shiver like a freak,
I pop my gun in your face and the gun goes "click"
You thought it was over but no I'm way too slick,
As slick as a butter sandwich made in greek,
Scared ya, fooled ya but I hope ya get the hint
Probably ya thinking to get me jinxed

I'm no menace to the society, but society's a menace to me baby,
Dennis the menace, a phantom's menace, what a menace. Drum roll.

So yeah. That’s all I could write till now. Brain’s still jammed up but let me know what you guys think!

About “Shoes”

2011-08-09T03:12:00.001+08:00

I really wish scientists could invent a machine whereby if one wears it, a person can know how a person on the other end feels. They should probably invent a shoe where by wearing that shoe, one can find out how the owner of the “shoe” feels.

“Hey Joe, I know we were good friends before, but shit happened and we’re not friends anymore. Tell you what, why don’t I be in your shoes for a while?”

So Joe passes his shoes so that his friend tries it. And after a few minutes of trying, Joe’s friend realises stuff.

“Damn Joe! I didn’t know you felt this way! No wonder you said and reacted like that! I’m so sorry Joe, I really am. Here, try mine on.”

Joe tries his friend’s shoes. And after a few minutes of being quiet and contemplative, after Joe takes in everything the “shoe” has to say, he replies. “Shit brah! I didn’t know you felt that way! Damn… I’m sorry as well. Friends?”

“Yeah man friends.”

“Wanna go kill some zombies in the cyber café?”

“Sure lets!”

And Joe and his friend are friends again.

Infact, scientists should stop wasting their time, money and energy on space shuttles to Mars. They should invent shoes that people can wear and feel what the owner of the shoe really feels. Maybe build a microchip that records and plays everything the owner feels. You know, introduce those holographic shit perhaps. The world would be a better place. Probably introduce the shoes to the people in Israel and Palestine and the Taliban and Al Qaeda. The world would be much at peace.

Don’t you think so?

Sidetrack

2011-08-04T11:54:00.001+08:00

Let’s side track for a bit shall we? A little bit of commercial break won’t do any harm.

It’s finally coming out! Tin Tin the movie! Well… it’s made out of graphics but it looks realistic enough. I don’t care. I'm happy for two reasons:

a) Spielberg’s directing it

b) Tin Tin was one of the best known comic ever. Ask anyone now who’s Tin Tin and they’ll give you a weird look.

I remembering reading all of the comics (all 24 of them) in the old school library back in school. I was a librarian, so to pass time during my library duties (not many students borrowed books back then) I used to read the comics. I got introduced to it thanks to me dad who was a fan as well

Just incase you’re wondering who’s Tin Tin, let me give you a brief explanation. The Adventures of Tin Tin were a series of comics created by a Belgian artist, Georges Remi, or more affectionately known as Herge back in the late 20’s. Imagine a 15 year old Indiana Jones with a pet dog, with the intelligence of Einstein running around and crossing deserts and continents and shit and solving puzzles and clues about missing treasures. Even Indiana Jones would be pissing in his pants.

You guys should take the time to read the comics for:

a) The amazing art work.

b) Simple, easy to understand language with lots of clever and sarcastic humour.

c) The effort the artist puts in for the comic (in terms of research, drawing etc)

If you have heard about Tin Tin but never read the comics, go read it. If you’ve heard about Tin Tin and read the comics, well, go read them again!

Love,

Sukhu.

Taxi! Taxi! Chapter 1

2011-07-25T21:12:00.001+08:00

25th July 2012, 10.45 PM. KL Central

I sat sipping on a carton of chocolate milk while munching on a loaf of bread which I had bought from the 7 Eleven nearby at KL Central, quietly minding my own business in my 21 year old Proton Saga which is the source of my livelihood when a weird looking kid emerges out of nowhere, knocks on the window and beckons me to wind down the window.

Hastily I placed the loaf of bread in a corner and gulped down my carton of chocolate milk and threw the carton away in a wastebin nearby my feet and I quickly wound down the window.

He was a curious looking kid, about the age of 18 or 19, spiky hair, two piercings on his left ear with a tight blue body hugging t-shirt, black jeans and sneakers and he carried with him a backpack. Surely doesn’t look like a backpacker to me.

The moment I wound down my window he asks me, “Boss, one ride to Penang. Okay?”

I thought for a while and named my price, “RM 400.”

“RM 400??” He had an accent. And judging from it he sounded Iranian.

“Yes RM 400, Penang’s far my friend.”

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

“You no cheat me?”

“If I cheat you I’ll tell.” That was the dumbest reply I’ve ever given. But this dude seems rich, and he’s going to a far place. And he’s Iranian. So they’re dumb. It might be worth the drive.

“Owh come on. RM 350. Please.”

“I’m sorry, only RM 400.”

“Okay, RM 360. How? Can?”

I thought for a moment. “Alright, RM 390.”

“RM 390…” he calculated with his fingers and then beamed at me, “Okay good. RM 390. Deal!”

What a moron.

I helped him place his bag into the back bonnet but it was too huge so we decided to leave it at the backseat. He got into the car and I started the engine. I sighed as I changed the gear from Neutral to Gear One. It’s going to be a long night.

We were silent on the road and as I made a turning onto the highway, that’s when he broke his silence.

“Hi my name is Amir.” He tried shaking hands with me, but my two hands were on the wheel, and since I’m a paranoid person, I’m extremely careful with my driving, I did not shake hands with him. Instead I nod my head and said, “I’m Sam.”

“Nice to meet you Sam. Is it okay if I smoke?”

I turned and looked at him, thought for a bit and then realised, what the hell, it’s going to be a 4 hour journey. Might as well let him smoke. So I wound down the window and as the breeze from the outside gushed in, he lighted a cigarette.

“Naise beathre.” he said. I couldn’t hear him because the air that was rushing in drowned his voice.

“What??” I asked him.

“Naise beathree.” I still couldn’t hear him. So I wound up the window and then I asked, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“I said nice weather” and he let out a puff of smoke.

“Jesus!” I wound the window back down.

We were quiet for most of the time he smoke. He finished smoking and then wound the window back up and then asked me, “Do you smoke Sam?”

“No I quit a long time ago.”

“Why? How come?” There was something strangely funny and annoying about his accent.

“It’s bad for the health. You know, the lungs.”

“Lungs. But if you need to die, then you have to die.”

“That’s correct. But I don’t want to die with a bunch of wires stuck up my ass and peehole for something as trivial as lung cancer.”

He thought for a bit and then said, “They don’t stick wires up your arse and your pee pee if you have lung cancer.”

“Yes they do.” I was starting to get annoyed. It had been a long night. I was thinking of going home when he came along. I agree sometimes waiting for a bait is good. Especially if the fish is big. But if you’re the only one who’s going to carry this big heavy prize fish home, I should have just let it back into the sea. Ah well, lesson learnt.

“No they don’t.”

“Look. You have lung cancer right? You can’t move much. How are you going to shit and pee with all those mechanical stuff stuck to you?”

“I’ll remove them and go take a shit.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

I was getting tired. “Okay fine. I quit because it’s a personal choice. You’re happy smoking. I’m not.”

I turned on the beam lights. The road was getting darker.

“You seem like a very unhappy man Sam.”

I thought for a bit and then replied, “What makes you think that?”

“From the way you speak. I can sense it. I’m a spiritual person.”

“Uhhuh..”

“You’re unhappy with life. Come on man, tell me what are you unhappy about? We’ve got how long more to go before we reach Penang?”

“4 hours plus.” I replied.

“Yes 4 hours. So tell me. Let your words wash over me.” As he said that, he made a motion with his hands, as though he was imagining that he was pouring a bucket of water on himself.

“No thanks.”

“Ahh come on friend. Tell me. I’m not going to meet you anyway next time. We’re strangers. So feel free to talk.”

“The world’s a small place. I don’t talk to strangers.”

“The world’s a small place. I don’t talk to strangers.” he mimicked me, half mockingly. “We’ve got 4 hours of awesome pure quality time to get to know each other. You don’t need to be afraid of me. I’m just talking to you so that you don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m used to this. I can never fall asleep.”

“Really? How come?”

“I have my ways.” with that, I shoved my hands into my shirt pocket, pulled out a mint bottle and took two mint gums from the bottle and popped them into my mouth. I motioned him to take some, but he rejected it.

“I hate mint. However, I got something that might keep me awake as well.” He turned to the backseat and took a good 5 minutes finding for the “thing” that he was looking for. Each time he kept muttering to himself, “Fuck, fuck, fuck where is it?”

“Ahh found it!” and he brought out a box of Marlboro Black Menthol.

“Cigarettes...” I shook my head.

“Owh no. Not your normal cigarettes.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes out a cigarette, which didn’t really look like a cigarette at all. Infact it looked like it was rolled by someone and not the factory. It didn’t look proper and that’s when it struck me.

“Mother fucker you’re not gonna smoke weed in my car!”

“Who said this is weed? This is Marlboro Menthol!”

“Marlboro my ass and menthol my foot! Put that shit back in or I’m kicking you of my car!”

“Owh come on man! It’s just a 4 hour journey. Plus the highway’s dark and yes we can share.”

“I don’t do weed!”

“You should try it.” As he said that, with a quick succession he lighted a joint for himself. I tried stopping the car but there were cars behind me and we were going on 100 K/MPH.

“Fuck you man! If I get caught, I’m pulling you into jail with me.”

“Chill out man. Life’s…” he takes a puff and then blows the smoke out. “…transient.”

There was an awkward moment of silence as I smelt the stench of weed in my car.

“It smells like shit.” I said.

“Ofcourse it does! This here is good shit.”

“Whatever man…”

I kept the speed at 80 K/MPH because I started feeling relaxed.

“I’m sorry for being mean, Amir. Just been having a tough week” I said.

“Nahh chill out brah.” And that’s when I realised his accent changed. It was back to a Malaysian accent.

“Did you… aren’t you Iranian?”

He changed his accent back to Iranian. “Yes I am!”

“But I heard you saying something in a Malaysian accent.”

“You didn’t.” he said. “You’re high man.” He added.

“You think so?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m positive.”

“Life’s transient eh?”

“Eh?”

“I said, life’s trans….. what’s that word… I forgot. Ahh screw it. Where we going again?”

“Penang man.” He said it again in the Malaysian accent.

The Man With No Face

2011-07-24T11:15:00.001+08:00

A bird flew down from the clouds and gently landed on a branch of a tree nearby a bench where a man was sitting munching his bread. The bird sat and observed this man for the bird was hungry. The man went on munching on his bread quite oblivious of the bird’s presence at the nearby branch.

The bird found the man a little curious and so it hopped to the lowest branch possible to take a better look at the man. After much careful observation she realised the man had no face. Save only for a tiny mouth (in this case it looked like a hole) for the man to eat.

The bird hopped closer to the man and then hopped on to the bench. Realising the bird next to him, the man stopped munching and turned to the bird. He couldn’t say anything, even if he did, it came out as a muffled moan.

The bird felt sorry for the man and hopped on to his lap and gave him a warm nibble on his left thigh. The man acknowledged it by stroking the bird’s feathers.

The bird then spoke the language of the Heart, “What’s wrong with your face?”

The man paused for a while. He observed the bird for a long period and then replied, “Is that you talking bird?”

“Yes it is I. What’s wrong with your face?”

The man sighed and then replied, “I’ve got Treacher Collins Syndrome. Mine’s serious. I went through a few surgeries but the best the doctors could do was give me a hole for my mouth and two holes for my ear. And see that tiny slit right below my forehead? That’s my eye. Don’t ask me whether it’s the left one or right.”

“Interesting. Infact fascinating..”

There was a short pause as both of them stared at the empty park. The man broke the silence. “How come you’re able to talk to me? Or rather, we’re both able to communicate with each other?”

The bird replied, “It’s because I want you to.”

The man paused for a moment and then continued, “You want to?”

“Yes I want to.”

“So you can talk to anyone only unless if you want to talk to them, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“Do you want to switch bodies then?”

The bird paused and thought for a bit. “Why not?”

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. Let’s switch bodies.”

“Alright. Let me put my loaf of bread down.” The man places the loaf of bread next to him and then looks at the bird and says, “Alright, I’m ready.”

“I’m ready too. Close your eyes.”

The man closed his eyes. He felt himself much lighter, much speedier and faster. He could sense the environment around him growing and him shrinking.

“Open your eyes.”

The bird opens it’s eyes, to discover himself face to face with a man with no face. The man says, “You’re free. Now fly.”

And the bird flew.

A Break/Patience

2011-06-14T14:51:00.001+08:00

There’s this little prayer I usually say unconsciously while driving my car on the way to Uni. I usually pray, “Swami, let me, my mother, my father, my dog Lessy and my friends go and come back safely from work, town, college and school.” And then I recite the Gayathri Manthra which I try to recite three times but most of the time I end up reciting more than that.

And today I realised that I have to make changes to that little prayer. And when I realised that, I felt this sudden pain in my heart. I had to exclude the “my father and my dog Lessy part”. It hurt me to not mention them anymore.

Every single day I wake up is a challenge to me. The first thought that comes into my mind is the thought of my father. Usually I would be able to hear him coughing in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for himself.

And every single night I sleep is a hurdle. I try to sleep but thoughts of my father keep coming back to me. Him living, breathing, walking and visions of him as a dead body in the house.

I tried writing but as much as I could, there came a point where I could think nothing else but him. I apologise for not writing for a long time. It’s difficult being distracted especially with thoughts like these. Honestly, I stopped writing about two weeks ago.

I try not to show that I’m depressed and I suppose I’m making head way with these. I hate people sympathising. I feel weak and vulnerable when people do that.

If ever I get a chance to meet my father again, I’ll tell him what a great man he is. How through his simplicity and humility, despite him lacking an educational background, he made me understand what it means loving someone. His wisdom was so profound and he was extremely wise and patient.

And I also realised, ever since his demise, I feel at times, the things I do such as the way I walk or talk, reminds me of him. I feel… more like my father at times. Especially the way he walks. And the way I explain things through my gestures. I guess, a part of him still lives with me, within me.

And there are also times when I imagine that he’s a greater being now. One that knows everything that’s happening, ever alert, ever observant, guiding me somehow in his own way. It’s as though he’s part of the Universe now.

And I try talking to him. The more I talk, the more I realise that I’m actually speaking to my Heart. MySelf. But there are times I get confused, which one am I really speaking to, the Heart or the Mind? How do i differentiate these two?

Give me some time. Please be patient. I’ll get back to writing daily.

Love you all,

Sukhbir

Day 14: Not So Average Joe

2011-05-22T22:42:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

In a Mamak restaurant (a typical Malaysian restaurant), there sat two people at a table, one smoked a cigarette as the other sipped on his hot tea. It was a warm and sunny evening as the one sipping the tea started off the conversation.

“Bro, I’m going to quit my job tomorrow” Joe said.

The one who smoked on his cigarette quickly shifted in his seat and the cigarette fell from his hands as he sat straight, erect and asked his friend opposite him, “Are you nuts Joe? You’ve got a good job with good pay man!”

“I know. But I’m just not happy with it.”

His friend sighed. “Stick around and everything will be fine. Quitting a job doesn’t solve everything bro. It just makes things worst.”

“But doing something you don’t enjoy, doesn’t that make things worst man?”

“It does bro but think of the salary you’re getting! It’s good money man!”

“Money isn’t the answer to life’s problems bro. Life is not all about making money. Life is about living life to the fullest.”

His friend sighed. “Okay. Tell me what are you going to do then?”

“I’m good in painting. And I’ve always wanted to be an artist. Paint the things I love. Write a novel. Start my own band. I’m talented bro, I just don’t want all these to go to waste while I’m working 9 to 5 from Mondays to Fridays in a tiny cubicle.”

“But you can do all these during your free times bro.”

“How free do you think I am? I come back home at 7, I’m dead tired. I don’t feel inspired at all. I sleep, wake up and go to work again. By the time weekend comes, all I feel like doing is just chilling at home. Not my cup of tea.”

His friend smiled placed his hands on his friend’s shoulder and said, “Fine Joe. Do what you like. I’ll back you up every step of the way.”

Ten years down the road, Joe became a well known artist and an award winning novelist. While his friend still sat at his little cubicle from 9 to 5 from Mondays to Fridays. Life’s not all about chasing money. Life is about living, learning, sharing, expressing, giving, inspiring. Hats off Joe!

Day 13: Meard Ytilaer

2011-05-21T03:41:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

Hearing the crisp clear sound of the recipient's voice over on the other side on a phone. The voice booming and it feels like as though he’s talking next to you.

The fan is on number three and yet you feel like you’re in ice land. You feel your heart beating and soon the impulse transfers from your arm, slowly pulsating as it travels over your shoulder and then to your neck and back to your left arm and then back into your heart. It shuts the door and throws the key away.

The sound of the chain rattling as the pet dog scratches itself sounds like the majestic sounds of a thousand elephants marching onto the battlefield. Marching at top speed and non stop.

Hearing someone telling you something and you wonder to yourself how come the topic has changed? You start feeling paranoid and shut the door behind you as you stare through the window hoping no one sees you.

The memories of yesterday and today seem like distant space. And the future however holds many Dejavus. You ask yourself, “Hey I remember seeing this.” And you keep asking yourself the same question over and over again.

And at times you wonder to yourself if you’re sane or insane. And if life’s a dream or reality.

And one day you will wake up to realise you’ve only been having a bad dream. That all these were just part of your dreams. You become yourSelf once more.

Day 12: Two

2011-05-21T03:01:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

“Hey! how you doing?” he said as he met the other.

“I’m doing great! How about you?”

“I’m doing good too. How’s things on your side?”

“Things are good. It’s just that the weather’s hot lately. How’s everything on your side?”

“Tell me about it. Been having sleepless nights thanks to it. Things are good. I’m now looking for food.”

“Same here. But i’m going that way. What about you?”

“I’m going the opposite.”

“Alright. Best we get going.”

“Yes. You take care alright?”

“Sure and you too! See you when I see you ol’ buddy!”

“Adios amigo!”

The two ants locked their antennas and gave each other a hug and parted ways.

Day 11: Selva and the Cat

2011-05-20T02:23:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

Selva was a well respected priest who knew the scriptures and prayers for the deities by hard. Every morning, he rose at 3, did his prayers and went to the temple to offer his services. He was a temple priest and many villagers would come to him for advice.

He believed in one thing though and he believed it with all his might. The law of Karma. He believed in not hurting others, lest someone hurts you back. He feared in sinning. The problem was, he took it too seriously. So much so, that one day he found a stray cat at the doorstep of his house one morning, shivering and crying out for food.

He gave the cat a few crumbs of bread but never took it inside. He believed that if something dies in your house, it would be sinful. And Karma would soon haunt you. So, he took a warm blanket, placed it on the weak cat, left it that way and went to temple.

In the temple, he did offer his prayers for the cat. However, when he got back home, he found the cat dead. A stray dog had bit it and it had died.

The next morning however, Selva didn’t wake up. He had died in his sleep.

As he made his way in the white light, he heard a booming voice deep within him.

“Selva! What have you done?”

Sensing it was God, Selva knelt and said, “What did I do My Lord?”

“Why didn’t you bring the cat into the house?”

“My Lord, the cat was sick and it was on the verge of dying. So I thought, had I brought it in, it would have died in the house and Karma would fall upon me. I would have committed a sin.”

At this, God laughed and said, “Selva, Selva. What a fool you are. Had you not left the cat outside, the cat would have been alive. Fearing the cat dying in the house and accumulating more sin, you ended up dying in your own house and you still accumulated the Karma/sin of not keeping the cat safe. What a fool you are Selva. Instead of believing in Karma and sin, believe in Me. I’m beyond all that.”

At this Selva hung his head low in shame and continued walking in the endless white light.

Day 10: A Love Story

2011-05-19T03:23:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

***I suggest, before reading, play this and then proceed read. You’ll appreciate this story more. Because this time, the story’s not mine

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b33vOZKcS0

One thing I would always remember would be the initial days when we first met. It was something… magical. Something extra ordinary. Here I was, just widowed and I was dating a man who lost his wife and has 8 daughters to take care of. I was tall and thin. He was short and fat. I could ride a motorbike and he couldn’t even drive the car. But we just.. clicked.

I don’t know. I guess you can call it fate. Call it luck, but we met by chance. All thanks to an acquaintance who suggested us to meet up.

I met him in his office at Seremban. He was working for the Foh Hup Bus Service as a conductor and usually he used to sleep in his office rather than in his house in Port Dickson as his shift started early (at 5 am) and ends at 11 pm. So by the time he finished work, there would not be any busses going back to Port Dickson. So he used to bath and sleep in his office and go to work from there.

When I used to go in the nights to pass him his dinner, he used to be the only one in the office, sleeping on the bench with the fan turned on at full speed in the cold night. No blankets nothing. And at times he used to go hungry without food.

Honestly, there was nothing fascinating about him. He was just like any other man. But he was amazing. He was honest, humble.

Our first “date” was a little awkward. I came to his office on a motorbike and we decided to go for dinner as he had finished work early that day.

“Where do you want to eat?” I asked.

“Anywhere that you want. I don’t mind.”

We had Laksa at a Chinese stall just behind his office.

From dinner, I soon started packing food for him. Used to ride my motorbike to his office at 5 in the morning to pass him his breakfast and at 11 to pass him his dinner. I personally used to cook and sometimes if mother was fine, she used to cook.

It was funny really. Funny in the sense that, I used to be the one driving him on a bike instead of him. But it was extraordinary. Something different. Something… out of the box.

We had our first date by this hill where it overlooked this cycle’s park. People used to cycle and we used to sit by the stairs on the hill and talk. We talked a lot of things. He told me about himself, about his deceased wife, about his kids. I told him about my deceased husband, about myself, my family. We talked.

“Do you recall the first time holding his hands?”

Yes I do. By the hill. We held hands.

“Did you guys kiss?”

He did give a peck on the cheek, just one or two.

“On the lips?”

I can’t remember.

“Owh! Come on! Tell! This is the interesting part!”

Eh chi! Why you want to know?

“What else you guys do?”

We used to go for movies. We had lots of food together. Lunch, dinner. And then, I decided that I did have feelings for him and he was a good man. And he too had feelings for me. So I told my mother and mother wanted to see him. They met and mother was happy with him. I met his father. We did have slight problems but what can you do? Love happens. He was lonely and lost. I was lonely and lost. I guess, only a blind man can appreciate another blind person. Love happens.

“What do you remember most during those initial stages?”

The motorbike rides. He used to sit behind me and we used to ride around Seremban. Sometimes we had dinner and lunch. Sometimes a movie at the old Rex Cinema. Sometimes we went to the hill.

Soon, he started living with us in my house.

“Even before marriage?”

Yes. Mother consented it. Mother liked him. He was a good man.

“Yes he was..”

He stayed, bath, ate and used to go to work from there.

“Do you remember the first time he said those words?”

What words?

“Those. I love you.”

Yes. After both sides agreed. He looked at me and said, “I love you. Let’s get married.”

There was a pause as we both sat in silence. I looked at my mum and asked her a final question.

“Do you think it was worth it?”

Without hesitation she replied, “Yes and I don’t regret it one bit.”

I smiled. In my mind, I could picture my mum riding the bike, with my dad being the pillion rider, riding in Seremban and dad saying something to mum in her ears and mum blushing.

Bless them.

Day 9: The Story of Jo

2011-05-18T03:25:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

Once, in the soundless darkness that could not be seen or felt, Jo felt so much in love with himself that he decided to do the only thing he could do; expand.

And expand he did. He created himself and from himself the stars, the sun, the planets, and in those planets, there came the vast ocean and then rivers streamed and from there vegetation started to sprout and hills and mountains came. And from the hills and mountains and rivers and vegetation, animals came into being and finally men.

Now, everything was Jo. And all these vegetation, these oceans, these rivers, hills and mountains and animals and men knew they were Jo and part of Jo and they loved Jo and themself.

Jo felt at bliss and at peace to see himself loving himself. It was beautiful for everything he had “created” were in love with themselves.

And then as time went by, love became superficial and everything except the intellectuals who were men started to doubt love and soon as time went by, they started to doubt Jo.

There came a point when men even doubted the existence of Jo. And then men started loving themselves selfishly. They only cared for themselves and nothing else. Love became something materialistic.

Men started searching for love. They started chopping off trees and killing animals. And soon, they started killing themselves. Wars were waged. People forgot about Jo.

And Jo was upset. He said to himself, it’s time to become One again. And then he called upon a great calamity. Volcanoes erupted, earthquakes broke earth apart, storms brewed and meteors fell on earth like pebbles falling on broken floors.

And then everything was destroyed and in that destruction everything fused and Jo was back with himself again in the soundless darkness that could not be seen or felt. And yet again, Jo being Jo, felt at peace and at bliss. And he felt love. Jo was love.

And then one day, Jo felt so much of love that he expanded again.

Day 8: Food Fight

2011-05-17T04:57:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

“Sir.” the young soldier’s voice sounded clear to the General over the radio. “They’ve agreed to it.”

The General, a stern man in his fifties nodded and replied a firm, “Good. We shall see them at the battlefield tomorrow, first thing when the sun rises.”

As dawn broke through the sleepy morning clouds, the two factions stood facing each other in the battlefield. With their guns slung on their shoulders, a representative from each of the faction slowly walked to the “No Man’s Land” and sat opposite each other on a stool.

Next to them were buckets made out of steel. What contained inside of them, only the Generals of both the factions knew.

Both the Generals eyed each other and sized each other up as the representatives from both the factions did the same.

The faction representatives removed their shirt and warmed up. They stretched their necks and hands and even the legs. It seemed like they were geared up for an Olympic race.

A whistle was blown, and the lid of the bucket was removed to reveal freshly made sandwiches.

Each of the representative took deep breaths, awaiting the final signal to start the war. The whistle was blown again and the representatives dug into their respective buckets and tried to out do each other in terms of who could eat more than the other.

An hour later, it was a draw and as both sides heaved a sigh of relief, both the Generals from both the factions met. As they both shook hands, one of them said, “The hell with wars over lands and religion. I’m enjoying our little food fight here. See you in the battlefield first thing tomorrow brother!” With that, the both of them smiled and made their ways to their respective camps.

Day 7: CP

2011-05-16T02:00:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

Waking up at 11 and staring at the white ceiling and fan until mother comes and gives me a cup of milk and cleans me up (as I had pissed on myself), changed me and propped me onto the sofa to watch the morning cartoons can be quite a drag. Especially the long wait for mother to change me. However, the morning cartoons, that’s the only thing I enjoy about my routine life.

Once the cartoon’s are over, I end up watching boring shows and silly soapy soap operas on television while mum sits next to me, ensuring that I don’t fall off the chair.

And once that’s done, it’s time for lunch and again mum puts me onto her lap, feeds me porridge, cleans me up and puts me back onto the sofa again. This time, she turns on the radio as well. I like things to be organised. She also places an alarm clock nearby as I enjoy hearing the bell go and taking the effort to shut the alarm clock down. And in my hand, she gives me a noisy toy as I enjoy hearing the funny sounds it makes as I shake it.

This goes on until dinner. Mum baths me, changes me, puts me on her lap, feeds me dinner and then I’m back on the sofa to watch the news. I don’t understand what’s going on but I enjoy seeing the various things happening on the television.

And then it’s time to go to bed. Mum sleeps next to me and I soon fall asleep too after hearing the National Anthem being played on the radio at sharp 12. For me, it’s a must to hear the National Anthem before going to bed. Once I hear it and mum turns off the radio, slowly, dreams take over reality and I’m soon in deep sleep.

Morning comes and I wake up at 11 and the whole routine continues again.

I’m Upi, 25 years of age and I’m an Autistic as well as a Cerebral Palsy patient. This is my life. This is exactly what I did today. I hope you have a great day.

Day 6: The Divine Dreamer

2011-05-14T17:18:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

“My Guru, awake in God, knew this world to be nothing but an objectivized dream of the Creator.”

-An Autobiography of a Yogi

Through pain and tears I was born into this world into a poor family with hardly enough food to eat for one meal a day.

I grew thin and unhealthy and yet, as a dutiful son, I tended the fields, helped my parents, search and scoured for money as though I was a grown healthy man at the age of 8. The rich were richer, the poor were poorer.

Soon, by the age of 18, I got married to my wife and she bore me 6 children. Life became a routine. I searched and scoured for money even harder to feed my 6 children. My wife, being a dutiful wife stayed at home and managed the home. I searched for bread to eat. At times, I felt, there was no difference between being an animal and being me. The mother fox goes out in search of food leaving her cubs in the hideout. Similarly, I leave my home in search of food, leaving my 6 starving children in our damp, dirty, dusty tent like house.

And then, there came a day when I met an accident and lost both my legs. My wife now became the soul bread winner of the family, searching and scouring for money to feed and educate my 6 children.

Soon, 10 years passed and my eldest son became a doctor and he started looking after my family. From a tent, we moved into an apartment. And by the time my third son became a lawyer, we moved into a bungalow.

Life blossomed. Life was good. All my 6 children were educated and both my wife and me were very happy.

And then she passed away, leaving me tending myself with the help of a nurse. My 6 children were too busy to look after me as they said, “Since we’re well off, our job is much tougher. We got to work hard to keep the money trickling in.” They have a point there and I did not say anything.

And then one day I fell sick. And a month later I passed away.

Slowly as I got accustomed to the new familiar surrounding, I woke up to a bright light, I realised that I had been dreaming all along. And I felt at peace and at bliss at mySelf. I’m Awake now and fully aware of mySelf. Oh! What a divine dreamer I am.

Day 5: Chong and the Group of Misfits

2011-05-14T02:32:00.001+08:00

*** If you’ve missed the short stories of the previous days, click here.

It was a lazy Wednesday night as Chong walked out of his coffee shop, stood at the entrance of it and lit a cigarette. The day had been slow and the shop did not receive much visits from many customers today. He sighed, took a puff and observed his surrounding.

Just across the street, where his shop is located, he chanced upon a group of Indian men, around their late 20’s setting up a table to drink. They were loud and foul mouthed and they were giggling and cracking jokes in Tamil as they set up the table, took their seats and opened their bottles of beer.

“Pests..” Chong muttered under his breath.

He took another puff of his cigarette and observed a couple of young Chinese girls passing by close to the Indian men. Seeing the Chinese girls, the Indian men started behaving like wild animals. They whistled, shouted insults in Tamil, laughed and cracked jokes about the Chinese girls. It was such a disturbing scene to see. The Chinese girls doubled up their steps. Chong cursed under his breath.

It’s people like these who shame their respective communities. Chong wished they legalise guns. He wouldn’t mind shooting each one of them down dead. Every single night is the same thing. They would hog that particular area, set up their table, start drinking and making fool of themselves. Chong shook his head. There is no longer good in the society, as he said that in his heart, he took another puff of his cigarette.

The Indian men sat there drinking, making noise and laughing when a young Malay boy walks out of the clinic nearby, pushing his old father on a wheelchair. As the both of them got closer to the group of Indian men, the right wheel of the wheel chair gave way, and the poor old man fell out of the wheelchair as it had became imbalanced.

The group of Indian men quickly rushed to the aid of the Malay boy, leaving their table of beer, to help the boy pick up his father.

“Where’s your car bro?” one of the Indian man asked as he helped carry the old man.

The Malay boy showed them the car which was parked just a few feet away.

Surprisingly, they worked in a team. One guy carried the broken wheelchair along with the broken right wheel. One helped carry the old man. The rest followed together to make sure everything was safe.

Chong observed this scene with great intensity. He realised the group of Indian men, who were a bunch of misfits moments earlier, were now helping this Malay boy carry his old father to his car. It was an amazing sight.

The Indian man gently placed the boy’s father in the passenger seat while the other one placed the wheel chair in the back booth of the car. The Malay boy was truly happy and thanked each one of them profusely.

As the Malay boy drove off, the group of Indian men were back at their table, drinking and making a fool of themselves again.

Chong took a last puff of his cigarette, smiled and said to himself, “There’s still good in the society.” As the Indian men carried on drinking, Chong slowly walked into his shop, glad.