I have been having disturbingly vivid dreams the past few days.
Last night's was the last straw, and I am contemplating tackling the dream fairies on my own.

You see, I saw a cat got knocked over by a motorcyclist who sped away.
Next thing I knew, I was holding the cat and getting it to the vet's.
For some reason, the vet took me to some place, he could not tend to the cat then.
We got into the lift, but the cat was not in my hands anymore.
That did not seem like a problem to me, for some reason.

Now here's a thing about the vet.
I remember him being Chinese, fat, slightly shorter than me. With glasses.
That fucker was not pretty at all.
And the worst part was, there we were in the lift, right?
He then took a few steps closer to me, and gave me a sly smile.
And next thing I knew, he put his pudgy paw on my butt and attempted a squeeze.
And he then asked if I wanted some "happy time".
The lift doors opened and I ran out, to find myself in an abondoned construction site, somewhere in the middle of a forest of some sort.

For a fat person, that horny vet sure can run.
I decided to stop running away and face him.
He got nearer and nearer.
As he approached, I smashed my elbow into his face.
He fell over.
I started kicking him in his gut and nuts.
He somehow got to his feet, and I started punching his face as hard as I can.
Next thing I knew, he was on the floor, and I had a knife in my hand.
I went on to cut off an ear, and smashed the butt of the knife into one of his eyeballs.
The poor fucker was still trying to grab my butt.
I stomped and stomped on his leg until it was but pulp.
And then I went on a craze punching his face in.

When I finally grew conscious of the surroundings, I was by some railway tracks, near the city now.
I had a sudden urge to hunt down a priest, whom I somehow knew was a paedophile.

I awoke shortly, needing to take a piss.

Shit. That was horrible.
Horrible!!

I swear tonite, I am going to fart so bad till the messed up dream fairies will think twice about fucking my dreams up again.

Come on!! I have not seen Liv Tyler in ages!!!

Cold autumn morning.
The duvet just barely there.
The alarm buzzed, I turned to switch it off.
Message from mum: "Uncle Ray died this am."

So simple, so sterile.
Reminds me of hospital corridors.
Where the doctors will shake their heads.
Stare gravely into your eyes.
And say: We did all we can.
Which translates into "he's fucking in hell now".
And off they go to bang nurses in the closet.

Death's sweet, sweet scent.
It hangs at every turn of our heads.
In our limbs, in our eyes, on our tongue.
Decay's beautiful legacy.
So why fear the gorgeous?
Because it kills.

A sparrow came to me the other day.
She kissed me on my cheek.
Landed on my shoulder.
And whispered.
"You're dying.
That's what makes you so beautiful."

We are dying.
Every minute that we are not living.
It will work out into an even equilibrium one day.
Whence the heart no longer knows how to beat.
The lungs know not how to speak.
And then the brain.
It'll die of loneliness for the departure of its beating love.

Where will we go when we're dead?
Why bother really?
When we don't even know why we're living.
So breathe.
So Love.

Come with me.
I see the sparrow.
She's just there, waiting for me.
In the far horizon where the Sun lives.

You cannot imagine the relief I had felt when I had finally parked my car in front of No. 6. He has been in my mind the entire day. I could not concentrate proof-reading the submission, I did not have the appetite for lunch. All I wanted to do was to return to him.

 

I dumped my laptop bag onto the chair and got changed. I showered her first, as usual, then finally him. They did not get their weekend bath, you see. When he circled her as I shampooed her, I could already smell him. That stench that I have been fearing since 3 weeks ago. That stench that came back to haunt the both of us while I was away for the four days.

 

I could see that he was trying his best not to bite me as I attempted to finally clean the ear. He was nipping at my hands, pulling at the towel. He was agitated, he could not stay still. He seemed like he just wanted to sink his big teeth into something.

 

I dried him off and tied him while we wait for my mum to come pick us. In a sudden fit, he bit the ropes that held him captive and pulled so hard that two of his teeth fell out. They plunked onto the floor just like that, two massive canines staring jaggedly at me. Blaming me for their premature death.

 

My mum could sense that the both of us were angry with her for being late. I was going bonkers looking at the clock and wishing that she would arrive faster. My baby was in pain. My baby is going crazy. Mummy, hurry up. My baby wants me to stop this thing that is without my powers.

 

We got to the vets finally. He tut-tutted. At me, most probably. I’m such a horrible owner. His right ear was infected again. I have been taking utmost care of that ear. When I wake up each morning after that last medical procedure some 3 weeks back, I brushed my teeth and went downstairs to apply the creams and drops into his ears, and wrestled him down to spray the repellent that he hates so much. I repeated the ritual when I return from work. Shoving the pill down his throat twice a day proved much easier, surprisingly.

 

But here he was. In a worse state than before. Just because I had left him for four days, for four rainy days. The maggots in his ear this time round is apparently larger. They irritated him so much that he scratched his ear till it bled, continuously. Coupled with the bacteria, they were eating his ear slowly. I am now just praying that they have not gotten to his ear-drums.

 

As the doctor prodded his ear, he was whining like a sick puppy, shoving his head between my armpits like he always does when afraid. He wants his eyes closed, he wants that familiar feel or something warm around his muzzle. So he whined as I whispered empty promises to him that this ordeal would be the last, wriggling as he was.

 

It was gut-wrenching to see my beautiful baby crippled in such a manner. His eyes were forlorn, allowing only glimpses of a glimmer. I left him there only hours ago, at the vet’s. The procedure to remove the maggots is scheduled for tomorrow, and he will be there for a couple more days.

 

I returned home to see his blood all over the house. His usual sleeping spot. The floor of the porch. The walls by the shoe rack. The pots. My slippers. The rug. God.

 

You know, dogs really are not just mere play things. You cannot buy them and keep them just because they look cute, and then neglect them and leave them to die when they have outgrown your fancy. Dogs are not just mere animals. They are friends. They are partners. They are companions. That bond  a master shares with a dog is something so very precious and unbreakable.

 

If you know of anybody thinking of buying a dog like a German Shepherd, a Rockweiller, a Dane or other similar big dogs, please tell them to think thoroughly. they are some of the most amazing living creatures in the world. They are intelligent, they are loyal. But they take a great load of TLC and patience.

 

I did not consider my leaving to be a big problem when we bought my baby. I mean, how hard can a dog be, right? When I had left for Manchester, he longer got his regular walks, he no longer got the proper scrubs and rubs he needs for his skin, he no longer got his regular brushing, he no longer got his teeth brushed. He no longer got the regular and proper cleaning those massive ears need. Nobody plays tug of war with him anymore. When I returned, his skin was dry and flaky: fungal. His ears were not pink. He was abound with energy, energy he could only release onto the tiny Terrier at home.

 

I guess in retrospect, the family cannot be blamed for this. It was probably not them that decided on my baby. I have been thinking that this home is probably no longer adequate for him. I wish I could bring him with me. I wish I could have him cuddled by me during those cold winter nights.

 

Dogs are not simple creatures. They are not toys. They are like babies. To be loved, to be cared for. To be understood, to be given friendship.

 

Now I just hope that that silly thing would come back to me with that big goofy ears of his all pricked up.

We are now only arguably emerging, albeit barely, from the final throes of one of the worst global economic crisis the modern world has experienced. It is now the time for rebuilding, to pick ourselves up from the mud, rinse through and be reborn. The land now is fertile, like the bush having been eaten up by a blaze so strong only Mother could create. It is a time when the ashes of our past is to be used to allow for a rapid growth of a new, stronger generation. It is a time when the greens born of hope sapplings begin to dot the scarred land as the smoke slowly disappears. It is supposed to be a time of slow unveiling of the butterfly that has long been encased in its silk.

The sudden jolt to the position of the world's economic superpowers have left some in disarray, and most unable to substantiate their current placings in the world rankings. Many are left with empty influences that are based on matters of the past, based on finances that are long gone, and based on promises that can surely never be realised. This is a time when the bold, the agressive, the dreamers, can reach out from the bottom rungs and climb up the very real new world order. This is the perfect moment for worms to become dragons. In a time when new alliances are made, new forts being build, new lands being claimed, new viable alternatives being forged, the underdogs will finally have their day to make their stamp.

In relation to many of our more developed neighbours and that of the western world, Malaysia is in a surprisingly good position amidst this economic scare. Our reserves are typical, our commerce have not been as badly hit due to our Asean and Asian fallbacks/links. Our strategic locations and cheap natural resources can be worked to our advantage: trade-routes, cheap tourism, cheaper labour, cheaper manufacturing.

I have to say, there is no better time than now to make a move and finally get a freaking slice of the world. While the rest of the developed world is slowly cutting their losses, rebranding and regrouping to reestablish their lost emminence, we should mound a thorough offense with our current upperhand. Sure, we won't be the new superpower, but we can finally set a strong and viable groundwork for it!

But of course, we are not doing so. Instead, we are still squabbling amongst ourselves, within ourselves. We are still arguing about the same things since before the British left our shores as colonials. We are still arguing who can be called Malaysians. We are still arguing about languages. We are still arguing about which race is superior. We are still arguing about sensitivity. We are still arguing about boundaries. We are still arguing about unfairness. We are still arguing about who the rightful minister is.

Really now. What we should be arguing is about how to take advantage of the Americans and make them strike a deal with us that is very much in our favour! We should be arguing about how to promote Malaysian tourism to the Brits! We should be arguing about how much we should be charging the Singaporeans for our services in light of their sudden vulnerability! We should be arguing about how we can now make the Ringgit:USD ratio somewhat closer to 2:1!!! Make international policies favourable to Malaysians for Malaysians. Sow the seeds now when the land has been tilled for us!

But we are not. Why is this so?

I think it has to do with what I term the Triple Revolutions. The recipe to a great nation is simple: politically, economically, socially. Every great nation has these three components freed of oppression. All these three components are separate, and each must reach its own independence in order for a nation to realise its dreams of greatness.

Malaysia (the then Malaya) went through a political revolution of sorts when it sought independence from the British. It was a radical change. Dear God, the Malays, Chinese and Indians were united to free the nation from the 'evil' clutches of the whites!! They, for a moment, are no longer at each other's necks! But this truce is merely a political one, and one that will subsist as long as there is a political need for it. Its goals are political, and nothing else. Nevertheless, this political revolution ensured our independence as a nation, it gave us our sovereignty. Hence the first of the triple revolution, the political revolution, given us our political independence.

We were then merely a land putting out ores tilled from our lands and raw materials planted and tapped. We were merely agricultural in the economic sense. It took us several decades and some major risk taken far beyond our comfort zone as small minded peasants to make our little mark on the world industrial map. Ridiculous (for that time) policies were made and stuck to, and a nation unknowingly held its breath for a frutiion that will only be realised many years later. History shows that these gambles taken were taken well. This risky economic revolution have transformed Malaysia from a mere agricultural nation to one that now produces its own car (albeit from 'stolen' technology), produces electronics, manufactures clothes, exports petroleum and so on. The second element of the Triple Revolution, the economical revolution, has gave Malaysia its economical independence.

This double revolution has got us to where we are now. We are now a nation that is sovereign, we make our own rules, we decide how we live and die. We are now a nation that is independant of other industrial nations around the world for manufactured products, we are no longer at the absolute mercy of the 'developed countries' in the economic sense. We no longer need to beg the British to buy our rubber, nor the Americans to buy our oil. They don't want it, their lost.

We are now a sovereign, and fairly rich.

But we are far from even being a dot in the world, let alone a superpower. Singapore, no larger than our Federal Territory, is often the name we use when describing to foreigners where we come from. They often remember Malaysia as that place they flew over from Singapore to Thailand. Even though we have greater ports than in Singapore with top-class facilities, the world would still rather go to the island. We have amazing natural resources, but we have no idea where they go.

We are a sovereign, economically independant nation with a pre-historic mentality. We are, in the literal sense, fuckwits. We are still not the presence our potential allows us to be because we let people fuck with our brains and are happy because they did not rob our decency by buggering us instead. We let our politicans tell us as a society what is allowed and what is not. We let the world tell us that we are inconsequential. We let our subconscious tell us that the Singaporeans are better than us just because of their kiasu nature.

As a society, we are not independant. We cannot think for ourselves. We have to let others do the thinking for us. We let others decide what is best for us. But hey, do you go to the doctors and ask them if your hand hurts?

It is high time that we embrace the third revolution, the social revolution. It is never too late. It is about time that we start thinking for ourselves, and to start telling the politicians who work for us what we want, what we need. To tell them straight to their asses (where most of their brains are) that we are taking jackshit from them. It is high time that we do not listen to people who tell us that we are racists, that we should hate our neighbours who are a darker or lighter shade to us. It is hightime that we speak our mind, voice our opinions, and fight for our rights as a free society. It is when a nation that is socially free from the grasps of selfish powers with vested interest that we can begin to flourish, where the goal of the political and economical independence garnered to be focus for the betterment of the nation, the society as a whole, across the freaking board.

It is high time that we come together as Malaysians, let our cultures blend beautifully like the ice kacang that we love. It is about time that we tell people that it is alright to put your arm around your brothers and sisters of a different colour and religion. Put our differences away.

Many may gawk at this. It may even be weird to some. That is why it is called a revolution. Only when we are independent in a social sense, will we realise our true potential. A utopia will not be that farfetched anymore.

"Is it true that all your recollections of the event of 2001 is highly dependant on that official report?"

"Yes, it is true."

"So, do you agree that since it was not written in this very brief looking report that you did brief the suspects and the witnesses on the procedures and purposes of the Identification Parade, it is highly unlikely that the said briefing took place?"

"I disagree."

"But surely if you had done it, you would have written it, agree?"

"I disagree. I may not have reported it, but I definitely did it according to procedure."

"But how can you precisely remember an event that happened in 2001? You just said that all of your recollections of the said event is highly dependant on the official report that is in your hands right now."

"...I stand by my stance."

"So is it also true that since it was not reported here how the suspects were brought into the Identification Parade room, there is a possibility that the witnesses would already have seen the suspects prior to identification?"

"I disagree."

"The same could also be said of the clothing and tidiness of the suspects. Were they given proper attire and slippers and opportunity to shave (since they are Indians) since they are all in lock-up?"

"Yes, they were."

"But you can't be 100% sure, since it was not written in the report, and that you have identified earlier that your recollections are based on the report?"

"I...disagree."


This kind of incident in a court hearing would result in the credibility of the evidence to be highly compromised. The police officer's laziness casts a doubt over the integrity and quality of the Identification Parade, and hence one of the main evidence supporting the prosecution's case can safely be said to now be nugatory.

While this issue is small in this current case, defence lawyers have been known to win their cases on such technical terms. In essence, they win not because their clients are not-guilty (I am not implying otherwise), but because the wrong charges were filed, because the police officers had not performed their duties accordingly, because the investigating officers had not filed in a proper report to back their claims, because some evidence had not been stored properly and had been compromised, because the corporal had not jotted down the service tags of the confiscated chips hence have no way of linking them to the robbers and the list just goes on and on and on.

It is repulsive. In just a week and a half in the courts in Klang, Shah Alam, Kuala Selangor and even Kuala Lumpur, you have no idea how many of this technical loopholes defence lawyers have taken advantage of.

While of course I do not want my mentor to lose his case, but I highlighted to him that to win a case on technical grounds is just plain disturbing. We could be letting real murderers walk free just because a proper documentation was not filed!!

He looked at me with a grin and shrugged. "That's how the ball is played right now."

I thought aloud then, "Well, at least after that grilling you gave that sergeant just now, he will be more proactive and attentive in his future duties. I guess even if the prosecution lost this case based on that ground of technicality and the shortcomings of the judiciary were to release a real robber into the streets, at least in future this officer will not let a murderer go due to his lackadaisical efforts."

"You'd be surprised. This is the second time I am questioning this same officer on the very same matter. The first time was before 2001, before this case that is."

Speechless, don't you think? The current minimum qualification to enter into the police force is completing Secondary 3. To say that the police officers we are churning out now are plain stupid might be a little harsh, but it is beyond doubt that the collective quality is way below par.

We need smarter police officers. We need disciplined police officers. There was a time when the force was filled with respected individuals. They may not have been the brightest people, but they are honourable, they have integrity. Even some of the then 'licensed gangsters' were terrifyingly effective. Right now, the force can safely be said to be made up of high-school drop-outs in the complete sense. They are not academically sound enough to pursue upper secondary, they are not well-liked enough to get a job as an office-boy. Societal unwanteds who have nothing better to do. No wonder the PDRM are scorned and laughed at these days. No wonder the helm sways in the slightest breeze. I fear that this is now the common assumption of the force, and one that I cannot seem to disagree with.

Just when I thought the force cannot get any worse, I keep realising my own fears! First, you hardly see them catching any bad guys. Now I find out that when they actually do catch them, these bad guys can easily escape justice because some kapchai police mandek forgot how to spell.

Farcical. A total farce.