People and memories

A few weekends ago, I had the pleasure of meeting up with a bunch of old friends from my days of living at the 8th Residential College (better know as Kolej Kinabalu), during my student days at the University of Malaya. I first met this group, consisting of young energetic boys and charismatic girls during an interesting week in May, almost 19 years ago. This was the Orientation Week in campus where all the first year students got our first taste of life in campus.

It was indeed an interesting mix of people who stepped into campus that week. There were those from the cities and towns all around the country. Then there were those from the outskirts, villages and rural parts of the country. There were those who looked very much their age as a teenager crossing into young adulthood. Then there were those who looked very matured and experienced. There were those who looked confident and sure about where they were and what they were going to do. Then there were those who looked a little concerned about what the next couple of weeks held for them and what they were going to do about it.

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Regardless of those differences, we slowly but surely got together, an odd group of mismatched people. We started off together, as we would be staying at the 8th Residential College, at least for the first year of our life on campus. Staying together, we slowly became each other’s family in abscence, in campus. As the week progressed we begun to be each other’s source of support and that is how it stayed throughout life in campus.

In the first week, we faced a number of questions as we settled into life in campus. There were questions that were considered as  very complex at that time, such as details on getting registered for courses and classes at the various faculties, getting the student matrix cards, obtaining study loans and scholarships, navigating carefully through the myriad of forms and processes, and so much more. Then there were the silliest of questions, such as where and which public phones worked efficiently, how and where to get good food, fastest way to move between different places, which toilets worked well and other silly stuff. The fact was, we were each other’s immediate support group. Someone had information that someone else required. Someone always knew someone else from somewhere who may have the answer to the question that someone had. Someone was always around or a call away in the event help was needed.

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During our time in campus, some of us would eat together during meal times at the Residential College or during supper. Some of us would end up queueing together, waiting for the public telephone to become available. Some of us would walk together to our various faculties. Considering where our Residential College was located, most us had long walks to our faculties and back. Some of us would work together during projects or activities organised by the various student bodies. Some of us would study together. All this helped us bond with each other even further.

As the weeks wore on, turning into months and then years, some moved closer to each other while others edged away slowly. Some moved on, as they associated themselves with different groups of people throughout life in campus. Some moved out of the Residential College to live at the various apartments nearby campus. Some spent more time at the faculty or library to work on their assignments or research and to study with their coursemates. Then there were some who spent more time working hard on wooing that special someone. Through it all, we would still get together for some common occasions like key activities that were held at the Residential College or for birthdays.

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Due to the differences in the duration of study for the various courses in campus, some of us ended up graduating earlier than the others. Upon graduation, each of us started off with our respective careers and then worked hard building it. Some stayed on in Klang Valley. Some returned to their hometowns. Some moved to other parts of Malaysia. Some even migrated out of Malaysia. Some continued to further their education before looking for a job.

Through it all, some of us would get together during weddings as people started to get married. As the years rolled on though, we begun to lose touch with each other, keeping in touch with only those that we were very close with throughout life in campus. Of course, technology, especially Facebook, allowed some of us to keep track of each other but only by that much.

Then, someone decided to further the use of technology by creating a Watsapp group. The group grew slowly but surely, as each person added someone else. Eventually almost everybody that could be located were in the group and it seemed like we were back in campus, virtually.

There were days when the group chat would be flooded with so many messages that it took quite a while to read them all. I even recall asking for a summary as there were just so many messages to catch up with, which by the way I did get immediately. Then there were days in a stretch where the group would be silent. Birthdays and special occasions were celebrated within the Watsapp group. Seeing how we were enjoying each others’ companionship via the Watsapp group, someone finally suggested for a simple get together.

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That was how, after almost 19 years, a small motley group of us found ourselves together in a quaint clubhouse-cum-restaurant nestled in a quiet part of Petaling Jaya, just outside University of Malaya. As we trickled into the clubhouse-cum-restaurant one at a time, we greeted and embraced each other. There was indeed a little bit of awkwardness for some of us in the beginning as we reintroduced and acquainted ourselves with one another. As the latecomers walked in, they were warmly welcomed into the fold.

Then, as the conversations warmed up, as the murmurs and laughters became louder, as we regaled each other with the funny, quirky, odd, scary or sad experiences, tales that only some knew but others had no knowledge about, we grew comfortable as a group, just as it was almost 19 years ago. Ahh…. how the young energetic boys and charismatic girls from almost 19 years ago, have morphed into awesome men and amazing women.

P.S.: The featured image was sourced from Pexels.

Work

As a child growing up in Sentul, I recall vividly the shrill of the whistle from the nearby Sentul railways workshop. The shrill, indicated different times of the day, beginning from start of work, start and end of lunch break as well as the end of the work day, at the workshop. To me, the first shrill of the day meant that it was time for my father to leave for work. Although he did not work for the railways, he left home for work and back around the same time as those who worked at the Sentul railways workshop. I looked forward to the shrill of the whistle in the afternoon, as it meant that my father would be back soon for lunch. I looked forward most, to the last shrill of the day. It meant that my father would be back home and more importantly, to take me out to play in the evening.

At that age, I used to wonder what people did when they say they went to work or to the office like the uncles and aunties who lived in the neighbourhood. For some reason, I had this vision of people working around huge steaming metal cauldrons on top of red-hot fiery pits brimming with charcoal, when thinking of work. In my vision, they would stir whatever it was, that was inside the cauldrons, with long rods that looked like oars and add black coals into the fiery pits as necessary.

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Now, I can’t figure out where this vision came from. I can only guess that it must have originated from some scene in a cartoon or a movie. Nevertheless, it stayed stuck in my mind until a few years later when I begun to attend school. On top of the vision, thanks to the shrill of the whistle and the work pattern of my father, I believed that people worked within set hours, six days a week with Saturdays being a short day.

It was in school that I had the “Aha” moment, that doctors, nurses, teachers, shopkeepers, taxi drivers, bus drivers, bus conductors and more, were also other types of work. I can’t recall exactly when this moment hit me. I do think, that the task of filling up one of the many forms in school, which provided three empty spaces to list down the three jobs that I wanted to do when I grew up, contributed to the “Aha” moment.

Of course, this meant that my childhood vision of what work was, took a drastic change. Work did not only mean those that constituted of working around metal cauldrons on fiery pits. Similarly, my understanding of working hours also changed. Work hours and duration of work, were not fixed. The number of work days varied.

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As I grew up, I realised that there were many jobs which were then categorised in a number of ways. There were the office and factory jobs. There were the skilled, semi-skilled and unskilled jobs. There were the regular-hour and shift-based jobs. There were the exciting and mundane jobs. There were the permanent and contract jobs. There were those who were employed and those who were self-employed. There were jobs that were considered safe and those that were considered risky. Similarly, there were all types of working hours and work durations.

Irrespective of what we work as or the hours that goes with it, we all work for a reason or a variety of reasons. Most, if not all, we work to put food on the table, be it for ourselves or our family. We work to put money aside for the future of our children and our retirement. Some may work in order to keep themselves busy, occupied and sane.

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The way we work may also differ. We may work hard or work smart. We may pull in long hours or work efficiently. We may work individually or as part of a team. We may do all the work on our own or share tasks accordingly with others. We may bring work home to be completed at night or during the holidays, or just leave work at the office. We may stress ourselves and everyone else around us or be the calming presence, at work.

Regardless of how we work, we value work that brings value to ourselves and the organisation that we work for. We appreciate working in environments that are open, friendly, flexible, fair, warm and rewarding. We treasure working with wonderful bosses and leaders, who challenge us to go further, motivate us to be better and tells us when we did well or can do better. We enjoy working at organisations that value us, giving us the resources needed to grow and get the job done, indirectly allowing us to contribute positively to the organisations’ health.

So, take a break from the labour that is work and enjoy the holiday that is the Labour Day. Happy Labour Day to all those of you who labour at work. Allow yourself the rest that you need before going back to work.

P.S.: The featured image of this article was sourced from Pexels.

God and I – Part 2

Note: This is part 2 of an earlier post titled “God and I – Part 1“.

Throughout my childhood and then adolescence, my faith and how I prayed to God started off as ritualistic routines. At home, I would diligently pray when I woke up in the morning and then again in the evening. I went to the temples regularly and prayed there, just as I was taught as a child. I sang the songs that I had learned, silently. I tried to learn new songs when I could. I  would try to meditate at home and at the temple. Without fail, each time I went to the temples, I would wish for any number of things ranging from wanting to ace my exams to being able to live a very comfortable life.

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As I continued with these practices throughout my teenage years and later as an adult, I begun to realise and learned some important facts about my faith. I gained some understanding on what I was doing faithfully. I, started to speak with God. Between the turbulent days of navigating life as a teenager and then beginning a new chapter in life as an adult, I found myself turning to God for help and support, sincerely. In battling with all the conflicting opinions of self, parents, friends and well-wishers, I found myself asking God for guidance. Whenever there was a doubt or confusion in my mind of which there were many, I found myself wanting to go to the temple, to speak with God.

So I would, go to the temple when I could and as often as I could manage. I would sit down and talk to God. Talk as I would speak with another person, silently. I would still ask for any number of things but more importantly, I actually spoke to God. Depending on what I spoke about, God played different roles, from that of a father, a Guru (a teacher), a friend, a mother and more.

At times, I spoke for what seemed like mere minutes but at times i spoke for what felt like hours. I poured out my feelings, emotions, problems and conflicts that were jostling in my mind. I spoke about the challenges that I was facing. I told God about how difficult life was, not realising that my life wasn’t really that difficult in comparison to what others were going through. The granite stone idol sitting in the temple was not just an idol or a mere representation of God to me. God’s presence was real. I felt as if I was speaking with someone who was physically sitting there.

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God spoke back. At least, that is what I felt. After speaking with God, I begun to feel a sense of warmth and calmness settling on me. My mind and body seems to be awash in a beautiful white light. My worries did not disappear, immediately. My problems were not obliterated into oblivion, at once. My burdens were not reduced, instantly. My conflicts were not resolved, straightaway.

Yet, the feelings of helplessness, confusion and dismay were no longer shrouding my mind. The worries, problems, burdens and conflicts, slowly but surely dissipated. They did not go away entirely but they did evaporate slowly, just as surely as how dew forms daily, early in the morning only to evaporate later under the bright and glorious morning sun. Sense of hope, confidence and believe returned and took roots in my mind. I knew that I, was in control of my life, with guidance from God.

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I now understood that all the rituals learned during my childhood and then practised diligently, were a just a beginning. The rituals alone would not be sufficient to carry me throughout my journey in life and inch closer to God. They were a way to help me calm and tune myself, condition my body and mind, allowing me to understand my faith better.

I know very well that there is much for me to learn about my faith as I continue in my journey through life but one fact is simply clear. God was, is and will always be there, guiding me in life, as long as I allow God to do so. This fact has carried me thus far in life and I faithfully believe, will carry me on further in life until I find my way back to God. So, continues the journey of life with God and I.

P.S.: The featured image of this post is sourced from Pexels.