Of Ayam and Kites

The best part of being a kid, I believe, is that you see what you see.

And you say what you see as you see it.

Most importantly, you can get away with it.

 For example, I would not dare to make fun of someone’s big belly out loud at 30 as compared to say, Safra’s  honest opinion upon seeing a guy with a big belly; she would cheered, make a face and say loudly “heeeeee…..gumuk!”. She would, in such circumstance, be considered cute or in the worst case scenario, me, the mom, would get the rap plus the “anak sapa ni?” cynical question. Me?  I would definitely get the look.  

So, indeed my little gremlin is in her mischief glory. Her level of curiosity hit the ceiling all the time and her passion for mess, mud, the abstract collection of soggy veggies in the bin, breadcrumbs for adding the homely feel to our sofa plus hiding her left over biscuits in my personal drawer is the rule of the day. Most importantly apart from the stuff mentioned above, Safra is also learning the names of objects and animals around her. She could perfectly tell the difference between a chair and a table or me and the neighbor’s wife but there is one kind of animal that to her represent the whole community of feathered, beaked, wide-eyed, colorful noisy lot and that is AYAM. I bought her a t-shirt with the motif of a bejeweled owl at the front and she kept pointing at the motif declaring it was an AYAM. I countered saying, “it’s an O-W-L…..OWLLLLL,” She looked puzzled for a split second before declaring, “Oooooo…Ayam,” Case closed.

Since AYAM is a breathing animal, any object that is moving plus possessing some qualities deemed ayam-isque to her may also to Safra, possibly be an ayam.  Thank god, there is no feathered car with huge headlights  driving around. Yesterday, she made an important breakthrough in her study of what is actually ayam by recognizing two more de facto chickens.

At the field yesterday, we were indulging ourselves in the art of flying a kite. The little gremlin was all sprawled on the balding field, pointing her finger at the other kites flying high up in the sky while shouting gleefully, ‘Ayam, Ayam!”. I looked at the flying kites, trying to locate some crazy chickens that may suffer split personality[1], but no, there wasn’t any flying ayams around. I explained to her that those are kites, nothing but kites. But this was Safra we are talking about. She gave me those “do-i-look-like-i-care” look, and proceeded to stay adamant, “AYAM”, she said rather firmly. I mouthed OK to her and we walked home, slightly far apart. This ayam affair is affecting our mother-daughter recreating time, obviously. I dragged our beaten damaged “ayam” home as Safra named the things around her at the top of her voice.

That night, I was in the room, folding my cloths while Safra and my aunt were watching some comedy show on tv. Anyah, my aunt is famous for her loud peculiar kind of laugh, despite the fact how it annoys the household most of the time. She was having a blast, laughing at the show while Safra sat beside her. When I walked out of my room and headed towards the kitchen, I smiled at the little gremlin before continued walking. “Bibu, bibu,”[2] She called me. I answered her call and looked back at her. She pointed at my aunt in a rather annoying way.

“Ni…ni… AYAM,”

I smiled widely. This is one AYAM I would approve.

 

---

[1] Chickens that think they are kites and vice versa.

[2] Safra cannot pronounce Ibu properly and opt for a more cuter nickname for me, “Bibu”.

Al-FATIHAH, TOK UMI

I pictured my numb self , overwhelmed with sudden grief over the death of  Tok Umi at Pak Tam’s home today. It was like a Dali’s painting, all the dream images are uniquely surreal and randomly bizarre but felt rightly where it should be. I was in a crowd of people  who had blood ties with me and yet total strangers to myself. I was in a crowd of people who came together this afternoon to pay Tok Umi our final respect and love. It would be my third time in my whole 30 years of existence, seeing Tok Umi in the flesh. The sad part was… I did not make it in time. As soon as I received the sad SMS from Papa, I ran as fast as I could to the nearest taxi stand. “Abang, bawak saya ke Kampung Selayang Lama,” He said he was not sure where that was. I told him, zombie-like, to drive on and I will ask Papa of the direction via my mobile phone. Then, I took out my phone with my shaking hands and began to cry helplessly. ”Adik ok?” the taxi driver appeared to be slightly baffled witnessing my sudden cry. ”Nenek saya meninggal,” I told him curtly and almost continued by saying ” and I don’t really get to know her while she was alive”.

Recalling 2005, I could remember  Tok Umi’s teary eyes greeting me at Jejawi, when I decided instinctively to pay my grandparents a visit while travelling North. She recognized me immediately. “Mata tu, mata Awi,” She exclaimed happily in between her soft sobs. And for the first time ever, as far as I could remember, I let her hugged me and let her tears dampened my shoulder. We had pucuk janggus for lunch and like an official ritual for any visiting grand daughters, I was supposed to collect on my own the pucuk janggus in the backyard. I remembered the hot rice on the table, I remembered the pucuk janggus. I remembered Tok Umi filling my plate with rice, helpings after helpings. I remembered sitting closely to her side, while updating her with my life that she never knew.

I push myself to remember and solidify these small short memories with Tok Umi in my mind and heart so that I would have something to rely on when I miss her.

I have to, because those were the only memories I would be able to recollect in the future when she is no longer around. I don’t have anything else to remember because I never had the chance to know her well. My parents’ bitter and ugly divorce claimed most of the opportunity for me to reconcile with my father’s side of the family and more likely than not, make  rooms to sow hatred and nurture suspicion.

So, that was why I rushed to Selayang. I need to see her before they brought her back to Jejawi for her burial. But I did not make it. I stopped dead in front of the door and saw her being carefully wrapped in layers of kain batik. This is a year of unspeakable grief and infinite loss. I told myself.  A big lady in t-shirt and black scarf approached me. ” Gee? Anak Awi?” She asked slowly. I nodded my head. She smiled and hugged me tightly. “Muka tu iras Tok Umi ngn Mak Lang, dari jauh dah cam,” I gave away a pained smile. How ironic can it be?

Then the session after session of introduction ensued. Everybody wanted to know who is this unknown lady who “looked like us and yet, we did not know who she is.” Cousins I never knew I had, came forward, grabbed my hands and shook them hard. Some went overboard and hugged me spontaneously. In a short while, I was no longer the stranger I thought I was.

I waited until the car that carried the body of Tok Umi sped away from the compound of Pak Tam’s house. It was a short and hurried farewell from me but at the same time, it was also a new beginning for me to reconcile with my father’s side of the family. “ I would not have the guts like yours and came today despite what had happened between our family,” My eldest cousin admitted to me when we were alone. ” I respect you for doing so,” She said with a teary smile.

So that’s how I conclude a short but important chapter in my life on how I get to know my grandparents. They went to see me at the kindergarten when I was six, they saw me again when I was married and Tok Umi get to see Safra in her mischief glory, once, during the 2008 raya, before she finally  rest in peace.

 Later, I went back to the office, unable to brush away the deep feeling of grief and misery that were building up in my soul. I made some phone calls to people in the office who I think would care to be by my side during this trying time but halfway through, I disconnected the calls. I decided to console myself on my own. At the end of the day, I told myself, let there be thousands of people attending to my sadness, it is I who is left with the sadness so I told myself to deal with it.

I sat on the public stool facing the main road in front of my office, inhaled deeply and start playing “Joke Sport Severed” on my Ipod. As I let myself go and  wept  to exhaustion , I began recalling my limited memory of Tok Umi on my mind until late in the evening.

I recalled…

The toothy grin.

The slight hunchback.

The pucuk janggus at the backyard.

The little but precious time we had with each other.

 Al-fatihah, Tok Umi.

SUHAKAM Press Statement on the Death of TBH.

PRESS STATEMENT

SUHAKAM: HUMAN RIGHTS STANDARDS MUST BE MAINTAINED AND PRACTISED DURING INVESTIGATIONS AND INTERROGATIONS BY THE MACC AND ALL OTHER ENFORCEMENT AGENCIES

The Human Rights Commission of Malaysia (SUHAKAM) is concerned and deeply disturbed by the unfortunate death of Teoh Beng Hock, the aide to a Selangor state executive council member, who was assisting the Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission (MACC)’s investigation into the allegations of misuse of constituency development funds by several State Assemblymen. 

 It was reported that Teoh was brought to the MACC office in Shah Alam at around 6.00 pm in the evening and was released at around 3.45 am the next morning to assist the agency’s investigation. SUHAKAM is of the view that such long continuous process of investigation could amount to mental torture.

According to the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, torture involves any act inflicted on a person for obtaining from him or a third person information or confession with the consent or acquiescence of a public official or other person acting in an official capacity.  SUHAKAM has, since 2003, continuously recommended to the Government to sign or accede to the said Convention.  SUHAKAM strongly believes that by doing so, the Government will have an effective framework and show of commitment to address problems related to torture, cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment or punishment in the country.  SUHAKAM urges the Government to seriously consider signing or acceding to the Convention.

Additionally, this is not the first complaint SUHAKAM received against the MACC.  In the year 2008, SUHAKAM recorded two complaints against the MACC’s officers in conducting investigations where they have been allegedly using force.  The matter has been referred to the Police for investigation and SUHAKAM has yet to receive the development on the two cases from the Police.

SUHAKAM will carry out an independent investigation into this incident and if deemed appropriate after further investigations will decide at the next monthly meeting whether a Public Inquiry should be carried out.

Meanwhile SUHAKAM urges the MACC and other enforcement agencies  to ensure that Human Rights standards are maintained and practised at all times, including in the course of interrogating witnesses and suspects.

- end  -

 “HUMAN RIGHTS FOR ALL”

Of Islam & Human Rights : A Brief Reflection on the Talk by Mashood Baderin

As anticipated, Prof. Mashood Badarin hit the right notes in his talk on HUMAN RIGHTS & ISLAM. I must say that most of the points elaborated was not new but these knowledge are great reminders of my own work in trying to bridge the gap between our own perspective on human rights and our cultural and religious background. I t is definitely far from easy what with manipulation of religion as a tool of propaganda, legal identity and political exploits. It means these layers of roles and approaches to religion would somehow affect efforts to harmonize the interaction between religion and human rights. This was not dealt with in his talk.

Anyway, I am happy to note that he made some important points on the issue of human rights and Islam. Excerpts from his talk:

1. Since there is a certain level of distrust and hostility among the Muslim Community on the origin and what HUMAN RIGHTS represents, a harmonistic approach towards reconciling both Islam and Human Rights values is a more appropriate approach rather than the adversarial approach.  It is in fact a better step to take in a country with Muslim population or having Syariah system as both systems will dynamically influence the  socio-political landscape of that country and a harmony interaction between both is necessary.
2. In all efforts to advocate for human rights as being compatible with Islam should start off by emphasizing on the commonness of both sphere rather than identifying the differences. Further study on concepts of equality, social justice, non-discrimination and even rights in Islam should be undertaken not with the desperate attempt to “Islamize” everything under the sun but a progressive action to address “difficult areas” in human rights and Islam that are socially relevant such as freedom of religion.
3. The establishment of  regional instruments such as the Cairo Declaration, African Charter etc should be seen as a way to harmonize the interaction between Islam and Human Rights rather than an attempt to either water down the values of human rights or to further divide both areas.  It is also importan to recognize and promote the fact that these instruments for example, the Cairo Declaration reaffirms and recognizes the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR).
4. The notion that Human Rights is a Western concept should be deemed as outdated and out of touch with the development of human rights in history. Muslim countries involvement in developing human rights standards should be recognized as contributing to the dynamic interaction with other countries in the process. In fact, the codification of human rights standards in 1948 via UDHR marks international commitment to human rights but not the start of creation of human rights values. It is this very reason that leads to human rights as being defined as “inherent in everyone”, capturing the essential point that human rights tradition or values had existed way before 1948.
5. To harmonize the interaction between human rights and Islam, openness, honesty and political will is required. Simple point and yet difficult to realise, I guess.

I hope these important points made by Prof. Mashood Baderin will serve as a reminder to us human rights advocate who are also Muslims or dealing with Muslim community to always try to reconcile any form of hostility between human rights and Islam. In doing such, I think we have to be clear, open and receptive to the idea that Islam and human rights are always evolving and our readiness to understand  and address society’s realities is also a must in confronting both evolving areas.

NOTE : Picture was grabbed from http://www.flickr.com/photos/23035666@N02/2214329861/.

Of Night Jamming with a Stranger :)

Did we realize how the small unexpected events in our life brought to us by some unknown strangers could also be God’s way of cheering us up when our days are gloomy or when we are drowned in our own mundane life? Just at the point where we almost give in to our sucked life while anticipating the next heart break, something or someone just popped from nowhere offering us sweet temporary solace motivating enough to get us through another day in our lives. I had a taste of this great surprise last night and it lasted till early in the morning.

 There I was, still numb from work experience and all the personal chaos that either happened due to my own mistake or the acts of others from the past few weeks. These two days was the worst because I was battling against my own demons yesterday and finally buried the carcass of my own guilt and unrequited love under piles of bitter remorse.  Oookay, the former sentence is corny like some medieval love letter. Actually, what I was trying to say is I feel shitty and the urge to slap a certain face with a smelly carcass. See? I can be less dramatic.

Back to my story, I was tired from the whole affair that I could not go to sleep that night and killed my time by browsing the net. Then I saw a familiar name appeared on my chat list and greeted half-heartedly.

“Do you have a speaker? Can I call you? I want you to listen to something”.

I had met stranger souls during my short 30 years stint as a regualr chick, so being asked to listen to something at 3 am by a person who only utter a few syllables during our encounters was no biggie. I let him call me and then I heard the strumming of a guitar.

 “What song do you want me to play?” He asked. This is definitely a first. Receiving red roses at 2 am in the morning-checked. Mediating a fight between a friend-cum-mistress with the wife of her lover-checked. Pulled by a stranger on the sreet  to  show him where  is the zoo or tell her the closest public toilet-…duh, that’s the most celebrated routine in my daily pursuit for happiness!  Having a man sing while playing the guitar at 3 am through the YM Phone Chat-now, this was a first. Within a few minutes, a string of Metallica and Nirvana songs sang passionately by an unknown man accompanied by skillful but slightly awkward rendition of the guitar filled my empty hotel room that morning. I lay on the floor, eagle spread, listening to this man displaying his raw emotions without any barriers .

“I don’t know what to say”. Of which I wasn’t exactly lying. Seriously I did not expect him to disclose his personal side. What prompt him to do so? Later, I got the answer, he lost his love. Oh sure, dude, jump into my boat.  I was happy he played  the guitar and sang for me. His metal screaming songs were….err…soothing in the most bizarre way. So, thanks God, because I never had a friend who was a former member of a Metal Band and you send him just right on time.

We continued our chat through the YM, getting connected not through cyber conversation but only by the music that he put on for me on the other side ranging from the Weird Al Yankovic up to King Diamond. Not my type of music but his eagerness to share overrode my regular music preference. Then after a while did we communicate about our losses and gains in life. We shared personal stories like two old friends when in fact we were only properly introduced to each other that morning. “I am sorry I talk a lot,” I apologized after sharing what I felt about life at the moment. “Its fine, you listen when I talk and now I will listen to you,” As we continued to enjoy each other’s companies, we let go off our futile hopes and nightmares and let it float and vanish in the universe above us. I stood up, said good bye though after those momentous cyber jamming session and talking, saying goodbye seemed to be very hard.

A ego boosting  feel good note to the Midnight  Musician : A guy that play awesome music, can scream his head off singing songs with weird  titles, can cook and love to do laundry  and despite his exotic looks, said: “I want a nice average girl that loves me and and I love” is a rare catch so don’t lose hope, dude!

That could be the only time, we got up, close  and personal but hey, it was fun and uplifiting. After logging off , I smiled broadly, peeped out and  saw that it was already light.

Of C4 Puaka and ISA7

 The arrest and detention of two university students charged for vandalism a week ago seemed to receive lukewarm attention from our quiet public. The charge was a result of their act of spraying the wall of a certain faculty in their campus, a brief unoriginal message deemed controversial and political: C4 Puaka. I was informed that they were slapped with three different charges, one funnily accusing them of obstructing traffic and were later bailed by their family at the killer rate of RM5, 500 after almost a week in the lock-up.

What a sweet coincidence that on the 18^th, a week before this incident, the seven students who were put on trial for involving in a peaceful assembly were found guilty and were imposed with a fine of RM3, 900 or imprisonment for 3 months. I was at the trial and listening to the magistrate and Deputy Public Prosecutor championing public interest with no regard for the people’s human rights makes me wonder if our judicial officers were ever exposed to the ideas of fundamental liberties. My best bet was that perhaps during their Constitutional Law class, Chapter II of the Constitution was conveniently skipped to give more time for issues such as public order and national interest.

Both incidents are pitiful reminders of the consequences our university students have to endure for expressing themselves. One case is through peaceful assembly, with or without permit. The other is through graffiti, an act normally associated with vandalism rather than a medium of expression. Whatever the method is, what is more pathetic is how the role of educating or in this case “disciplining” was left to the police rather than the university itself. Criminalizing acts of dissent such as the ones above are successful approach to deter the rest of the students from standing up for what they believe in. I was even told, way before the seven unlucky heroes were convicted, their names are notorious in the campus because a certain university for example, used them as examples of ungrateful students while their pictures are officially displayed during these “explanation sessions”. Not only the seven were fined for RM3, 900.00, they were also denied education for eight years and a better livelihood, as a direct impact of that, what was even worse, they have to endure character assassination and were labeled as criminals and an ungrateful lot even before the Court issued its verdict.As a student once, I understand the frustration of being suppressed very well. I need not look very far to identify the source of suppression. We have AUKU to thank for that matter. It does not help either that Universities in Malaysia do not really embrace the concept of campus autonomy or academic freedom. University administrators played an aggressive role in dictating the direction of democracy in campuses. Campus elections are set up events where the regulations meant for the so called democratic processes are actually technical strategy to defeat anti-government candidates. With such unhealthy environment, wouldn’t one in every ten students (at least) realized the great intellectual sham they are dedicating themselves to, and pulled out from the herd and daring enough to call for reform?

I believe Universities should be humble enough to reflect on these two contemporary incidents and try to understand the reason behind the so called unruliness. State, as the guardians of our public universities must give up the futile attempts at battling the rise of culture of dissent in the universities. As the centre of knowledge and I would say, clearinghouse for young souls seeking for truth, culture of dissent will always exist in the universities. The priority now is to think on how to nurture these new ideas and views towards our nation building. We need these intellectual rebels to channel their passion towards strengthening social justice and democracy in the country. Why waste our time, living in denial?

 Abolish  AUKU! Long live Student Power!

Once Beaten, How many more coming?

I learned an important lesson about relationship over the weekend. That sometimes, once beaten doesn’t mean you are free from the second beating. Sometimes, you need to get knocked twice or ran over a few times before you actually understand how dangerous it is to make a dash across the road while the light is green.  it is not because you could not get enough of  bone fractures or disentagled limbs in your life.  Or, in my case- you wanted to test your immunity to heartbreaks. Sometimes, you just have to. So that you see things clearer.

When a man close to me reminded me of our early agreement that we are to stay friends no matter what and I questioned the sincerity of his words because his actions went beyond the “friends-tagline”, all hells broke loose. He defended his affectionate attitude, display of jealousy or overly gentleman demeanour as his way to mend our rough relation before we reconciled. “I did the best I could to make up for the rough time I gave you before”, He said.

When we rewind back to those “rough times” he mentioned, the bad experience he gave me was his rejection of my love. I question the integrity of his decision in reconciling and treating me more “romantic” than before. Obviously, he thought a casual one month cooling off period would make me get over him and then we could start all over again and he could cozy up to me again because his verbal assurance was enough to validate his intimate actions that most men would spare for their couples as “friendly”.

And the whirlwind of emotion started all over again. I was confused with his words and treatments. Let’s not forget his killer stare. and before I could swim back to the last spot I stood on my firm ground of reality, I was drowned again in his bona fide plan to “make up to me”. And when he was finally pushed to a corner that night, when I finally have the guts to demand him to take responsible for causing me this pain again for the second time, he invoked the “you are my best friend and I left my comfort zone for you” argument. By the way, I used the comfort zone argument against him 5 minutes before him. How unoriginal.

Is he naive? Nope. I dropped that justification because he dated before and I believe he understands the significance of body language in relationship.

The painful truth is-

I WAS BLIND. FOR THE SECOND TIME.

It was good that I got my wake up call the second time or else, I would struggle with my own dilemmas on what is actually wrong with our relationship. To men out there that think they are doing a great favour by offering better treatment to women after you reject them, hold your horses. Better does not means more intimacy. Better means drawing the boundaries firmly. I am sorry for losing an acquaintance but I felt more pathetic for thinking that he is turning into a new leaf all this while. Well, I am slightly revengeful but to reduce my stress for plotting evil plans, I let fate take its own course. Amin.

Of Being on the Left Side

Divided by ideology is like CROCS. Let me deliberate more on this bizarre observation. A diabetic fashionista would be torn to two in deciding whether she is brave enough to confront the cruel critics of how outdated Crocs are or drop the whole fashion worshipping and put on the crocs because those are medically endorsed footwear for diabetic patients. Make sense?

What I am trying to say is how having two ideological roads do not necessarily make sense in our multicultural world. Cold War was yesterday’s news. And what is more significant during this troubling contemporary time of ours is the fact that taking sides restrict our ability to reflect on our own weakness. We are privileged by the existence of “the others” in the sense that we have a perfect target for our moral blameworthiness. It’s like “yeah, I sucked at the peace talk but just because the other side did not stop yakking about the legitimacy of war”.

My two cents this time around has a lot to do with the revivalism of anti-communism propaganda in the country. It started off with the public furore over Chin Peng’s unwelcome homecoming, ironically with Malaysia-China’s diplomatic relation’s anniversary as the backdrop, the official raid of a poor fella’s hip stall in the Central Market that sells Mickey Mao tees, the attempt to filter and ban materials that are leaning to the left and finally…take a deep breath, the idea to erect memorials as reminder of the Communist guerilla insurgency in the country at strategic historical locations. I contemplate that the next move will be banning any items or objects (re: pencil colors included) that are red in color since it is a color associated to communism, but perhaps I overestimated our State’s mediocre attempt at distorting history, they stopped committing hilarious blunder just at the point where they claimed Chin Peng is a Brit. I suspect if he is, he would be a regular at those bars in Camden, planning guerilla wars in between indie gigs.

But, let us not be too excited about our lefty side. We felt in a way, a lot more better-conscience and moral-wise than say our corrupted nepotistic despotic right wingers. We are the subtle worshippers of the Superiority of the Victimhood Complex Syndrome indeed. However, that does not make us any more noble that our right winger when we fall short at condemning our comrades that in history, has been responsible for the death of thousands of civilians and the downfall of socialism credibility- Stalin, Mao,  and of course Saddam Hussein. Nick Cohen in his argumentative recent work entitled “What’s left?” has passionately  argued that in choosing sides during the first and second gulf war, the rule of thumb for the leftist movement during that time was “make sure we are not taking the west imperialist side”. Cohen argued how the failure of the Left to attack both the invasion by America on Iraq AND Saddam Hussein’s tyranny was not only a case of misplaced focus on the overall factors that led to the conflict but also a major blunder to the left intellectual culture. Priority might be offered as the underlying reason for allying with Saddam rather than the Empire, but try explaining about the priority of our socialist struggle to the hundred thousands of Kurds slain by the Baathists or millions of ordinary folks tortured under the Franco regime. Don’t expect thank you cards, will you?

The inevitable drawback of these would definitely be the difficulty to depart ourselves, the so-called left from fascism. The powers that be; mostly whom are right wingers find it easier to clamp down leftist ideals since now, they could just generalize all left ideals as causing public chaos and destruction as evident in history. The consistent propagandas on the evil of the left ideology won the hearts of many people because people, are exposed to the limited information of what leftist ideology is all about. Socialism, Marxism, Communism seemed like close siblings when in reality, they have issues about each other all the time. Lotsa issues.

Perhaps it is the fate of the left to stay marginalized. After all, victimhood provides the left the edge it needs to sustain its support from the oppressed. However, let us not romanticizes the left so much that it leaves us blind to our own wrongdoings. The State in all its attempts to cleanse Malaysia from the Attack of the Red Guards is actually relying on our lack of grasp of the whole issue to further its own national agenda.

 Reference of such: Nick Cohen, New Left Review, Franco, Republic of Fear

FACE TO FACE WITH THE MADCHESTER ROYALTY.

 

 

OASIS is not exactly a band that I thought I would see in action twice, but that was what happened. In 2004, I backpacked with Union Guy to Bangkok to watch the 100 Rock Festival and Oasis headlined the 1^st day, along side Ian Brown and Franz Ferdinand. I went back after they sang “What’s the Story, Morning Glory”, much to the disappointment of Union Guy especially since my reason for making that quick exit was “to beat the traffic”. In 2007, I was in Glasgow and paid King Tut’s Wah Wah a short visit, The Amphetamines were playing. I recalled making that cold dreary trip to the club because I read somewhere; this was the place where Oasis got their big break. I remembered trying to touch as many walls and tables as possible in the club, making a mental note, that this was where it all started for those Madchester boys.  My loyalty to the band was a combination of half-baked admiration because I think they are so full of themselves and down right fascination because the sound they churned was one of the most original ones I heard in mid-90s.

 

But despite the “love-hate relationship” I had with the band since 1995, I chose to make that trip to Singapore for the second time in April to watch the Gallaghers in concert.

 

It was ironic that when OASIS came down to Singapore last week, it rained rather heavily at about few hours before the concert started. Just in case we did not have the time to grasp trivial information about this band or maybe we are not really diligent Wiki researchers, the band’s original name was “The Rain” before Liam or Noel came into the picture. My bet was Liam had perhaps dismissed “The Rain” as not catchy enough, hence suggested a name that might reflect generous amount of rain but in a more exotic way i.e. OASIS.

 

Trivia aside, the real deal was when they performed that night at the Singapore Indoor Stadium. Well, if I were to compare my previous experience at Coldplay’s show with the Madchester boys that will be like trying to equate Pakatan Rakyat’s chances of taking over Batang Ai with defending Bukit Gantang. True, Coldplay exploited their atmospheric stadium-friendly songs by bringing in props and technology to enhance their concert’s ambience but Liam, I could imagine, would sneer at those huge bouncing yellow balloons and shiny confetti and prefer to throw complimentary packets of crystal meth to their fans during Champagne Supernova.

 

But of course they didn’t do that last Sunday because it was not a rave party. It was pure rock and roll madness. No opening acts, no props except for a minimalistic use of a tambourine thrown in with some rock star frown, Liam surprisingly made his grand entrance right on time. In addition to surprisingly dumping his rock star bravado of being fashionably late, Liam need not sing that night if he wanted to. He could just stand cockily near the microphone, throwing that well known intense stare of his at us and let us, fans do the singing, because we sang almost all the songs with him throughout the concert.  In short, OASIS is a master of raw rock and roll energy when they performed live.

 

To sum up the concert: Brilliantly euphoric in the rawest sense of rock and roll. Hats off to you, mates.

 

Favourite song of the night: I wanted to go for Lyla or Morning Glory but seriously, it was OASIS’s delicious cliché – Wonderwall.

 

Setlist:

Fuckin’ In The Bushes
Rock ‘N’ Roll Star
Lyla
The Shock Of The Lightning
Cigarettes & Alcohol
The Meaning Of Soul
To Be Where There’s Life
Waiting For The Rapture
The Masterplan
Songbird
Slide Away
Morning Glory
Ain’t Got Nothin
The Importance Of Being Idle
I’m Outta Time
Wonderwall
Supersonic
Don’t Look Back in Anger
Falling Down
Champagne Supernova
I Am The Walrus

 

Coldplay Viva La Vida Tour!

Coldplay kinda sealed the Attack of the Indies or rather Attack of Former Indies on the Grammies by notching 3 major awards. I hated them for that without prior self reflection (to those who know me damn well, me? Self reflection? You gotta be kidding!) But yes, with Coldplay, I need to have some sort of in-depth reflection because “we” both went a long way together. When I was a fresh wide eyed intern with the only Islamic party in the country, my long endless nights of vetting and keying amendments for the electoral rolls were made bearable by “A Rush of Blood to the Head “cassette played with utmost caution and almost inaudible volume because I was still a poor student with no money to buy a walkman plus I was at the political party’s markas, for crying out loud.  But even before that, Coldplay triggered my curiosity when TIMES wrote a feature on their Parachutes album. Some of the stuff mentioned in the feature was how Coldplay is a bunch of clean cut boys singing raw poignant songs and Chris Martin’s favourite read was “Men from Mars, Women from Venus”. I bet that was way before he realized he will one day produced Apple and Paris with the so-called Hollywood royalty-Gwyneth Paltrow.

 

Coming back to Coldplay going mainstream, now, I took a step backward and asked this question: “So what? Let them be as big as they want it so long as they still produced good music”.

 

This purposeful ranting about Coldplay has a lot to do with the fact that I got to watch the band performed in Singapore last Monday. This time around, I was joined by the Kajang Motley Crew-Altaf and Irma. This was Coldplay third time performing in Singapore, making it a wicked hatrick of sold out concerts for the region. The band performed a solid combination of songs taken from all their albums-Parachutes, A Rush of Blood to the Head, X & Y and the latest Grammy winning album, Viva La Vida.  I was silly to ignore and not giving the new album any chance that as Chris played the opening song of the night from the new album, I was dumbstruck to say the least. “Which one is this?” I asked myself. Oh, never mind, it was damn brilliant, anyway. But later on, when he played the infamous intro of “Clocks” on the piano, I screamed my heads off. I know this one, I told myself and started singing together. From that point onwards, there was no turning back for me and also those two crazy Chinese girls seated in front of me. We embraced the atmospheric music of Coldplay as they performed those songs that I remembered so well from the Parachutes era up to Viva La Vida. This time around, Coldplay allowed the beautiful masterpieces of Brian Eno to be displayed on the large screens together with six huge globe-shaped slides installed to the middle part of the stadium’s ceiling to accompany some of their songs for that night. This added more to the grand ambience that would only suit Coldplay’s orchestral ambitious sounds especially their new songs such as Viva La Vida, Lost and Lovers in Japan. Not forgetting, huge yellow balloons, laser shoots and swirling confetti were some of the wonderful surprises that the audience experienced throughout the concert.

 

I loved the part when they did “Speed of Sound” in unplugged version. Later, Chris narrated on how he was not the better singer in the group. Jerry, their lead guitar would make a better lead, he alleged. Hints of breaking up and announcing his new successor subtly to his fans?  I hope not! Although rumors of Coldplay breaking up because Chris Martin wants to pursue a solo career was heard way before their Viva La Vida Tour.

 

Songs performed that night (not in proper order) were: Don’t Panic, Clocks, In My Place, Fix You, Scientist, Politik, Speed of Sound, Yellow, God Put a Smile on Your Face, Lovers in Japan, Viva La Vida, Trouble, Square One, What If, The Hardest Part, Lost and 42. I think I left a few other tracks but you know what? I am not a professional music critic or reviewer. Hehehe.

 

Kudos to Coldplay for such a great concert. At least, the concert experience instill enough confidence in me to go and buy Viva La Vida and gave it a chance it deserves. J