Yesterdays headlines read ‘MyKad Error’ where over a million holders have reported the chip to be faulty. Oh for goodness sake! Do you mean to say the chip which had our personal data is of cheap quality!?? Apparently the manufacturers didn’t realize that we would use our identification card for trivial matters such as bank accounts and saving schemes.

            Recently, the building in which I work in had a mishap where a section of the lobby crumbled and fell. Fortunately, none was injured. Or should I say unfortunately, because that’s what we do. We wait for someone poor ole soul to be tragically killed or injured before we leap into action like some kind of lame hero. But I digress.

            This same building has had problems with leaky ceilings all over its corridors and classrooms and more money is being spent on patching and ‘camouflaging’. But I haven’t gone to the good part yet. The building is hardly four years old! Now as far as I know, no earthquake took place anywhere near the vicinity. Is it not a little ludicrous to cut corners while building and then spent the same money that you saved from those corners on unnecessary repairs? Even a 5-year-old can tell that’s terrible financial management. How stupid can you be?? By you, I mean corporate morons who oversee the process of the building and squeeze the contractors dry.

            By now, I am sure readers can guess where the root of my frustrations comes from. Frankly, I’m a little fed up of hearing my grandparents ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’ over the greatness of the things they use to have back in the days. Then, a whole loaf of bread could feed my grandfather’s entire family of seven! When now, that same loaf could barely satisfy the dog. I would like to enjoy a nice big fat juicy sausage every now and then instead of the pale limp ones we find at the grocers. Or I would like to sit comfortably in my chair without worrying whether one of its legs would give way. I do understand the need for profits as the cost of living rises every single day. But, manufactures transfer that shortage to reducing the value of products. At the end of the day the never-ending cycle comes back to us. It is we who suffer because of poor quality products. Why not take pride in producing high-quality products. Some may argue saying that the underprivileged are unable to afford high-quality. This may be true but then what of construction and basic staples?

              Exactly a year back, there was a news report where several house buyers here had a rude shock when they checked the houses – the outer frames of their windows were made from polystyrene! According to a rep from the architect, the sills were not meant to be stepped on as they were purely for decoration. What utter @*&?!! What next? Cardboard walls as nobody is suppose to lean on them!?? How can someone get away with this? Doesn’t quality mean something to anybody anymore?

            I shudder to think of what our children would have to put up in the future. I know it quite impossible for manufactures and corporateurs to show even the slightest of integrity in producing high-quality products so I’m assuming that my frustrations will not meet its end anytime soon. All I do now is just pray that the ceiling of the room in which I am sitting right now doesn’t right smack on top of my head! Oh and there goes my pen…

By Rachel Punitha

                    Being sucked in, you would be drawn to their philosophical views; even though some views may be…ahem… totally off base. Enamored by their ability to control and lead. Struck by how they handle everything thrown at them with ease. Chances are some of these traits would rub off of you and you would be began imitating their behavior and habits subconsciously; I’ve seen this happen to many unsuspecting victims right before my very eyes. The poor things didn’t know what hit them. This is actually a good thing. They provide inspiration to those who don’t have it. They subconsciously push others to work harder and be better people. Failures would be no strangers.

                    Failures, disguised themselves in many forms; people, friends, projects, approvals, and so on. The determined do not get fazed by them. They greet them with aloofness, biding their time like a lion bides its time to catch a prey. The ones that hit hardest are the ones that disguise themselves in the form of friends or family. The two big Fs usually are the least expected and are hurtful in more ways than one. They would have had their share of people that stood toe-to-toe and mocked them. Laughed at them and even taking swipes at their failures; mind you there were many. Failures are often remembered long after success has come and gone. Success is brief and short-lived. Failures, on the other hand, leave their imprints behinds, pinching us every time we need a lesson. Usually, successes that come perforated with failures are often bittersweet. Over time, those who are driven, develop a wall towards emoting how they feel and react to failures. Some, however, carry this wall in many other aspects in life. I find myself reminding my better half to use the wall only when it is needed and not in personal matters. This proves to be a challenge to the ambitious for the wall keeps them secure and intact. At times, I did wonder if they were capable of emoting any sort of emotions. Not that they are incapable of emotions, which is often the misunderstanding. Just that, emoting becomes somewhat of a hassle and not preferred. Harnessing those emotions and controlling then becomes the preferred. Visualization is a tool used by the driven to fuel their engines.

                    Visualists, (there isn’t such a word by the way, I coined it!) look further beyond anybody can see. Their trajectory is high and their horizons, vast. They visualize their success long before it is set in motion. This helps them to understand what needs to be done now and what paths to take at the beginning. I was miffed when I was told blatantly that the way I carried myself and my articulacy suited his political and business goals as he needed someone to stand beside him as he calculatingly planned for world domination. Well, I’m glad that my posture and proficiency has been finally put into good use! This brings us back to the earlier point. Is everything done completely in tune with their ambition? How have they managed to strap up all their natural instincts, emotions and passions to be so in line with their aims? However, sometimes, they’re so busy looking forward, that they fail to see what’s standing beside them (helloooooo! *wave wave wave**). They might not stop to smell the roses. (Roses, they will argue, have no smell at all so what is there to smell?!!). Overall, ambitiousness is what success thrives on. We would be privileged to witness it first hand, but of course, not without some battle scars to proudly show off. The trait that I admire the most in such people is the animalistic survival skills that they have. They say, after all, it’s a jungle out there!

-By Rachel Punitha-

(To S, V, C, A, E, D and R, all the best! You are what leaders are made of)

Hmmm… Mother’s Day. Well I’ve always dreaded this day. Mother’s Day has always evoked poignant memories that I would rather not think about. Ever since I can remember, this day has either begun badly or ended badly. Hence I’ve always tried to shy away from any reminders or activities that usually come up during this season. This year was no different. I found myself once again, switching channels when any Mother’s Day-related commercials are being aired. The sight of a mother from whichever commercial or sitcom, hugging their child or kissing them on their forehead sickened me all the way right down to my gut. I just couldn’t watch, yet at the same time, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I would even switch radio channels if they were playing a song about mums or airing a commercial that promotes Mother’s Day. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for celebrating the miracle of motherhood but I have never really had anything to celebrate. I’m always reminded of the things I had to go through or the painful events that led to Mother’s Day, things that I would rather not mention here. So while I had good friends that leaped for joy at buying things for their mums or painstakingly plan something special for the mums, I, on the other hand wished the earth would swallow me up a week before the day and spit me out the day after. I always wished I could have the same joy that all my friends had. The joy at buying a card that says ‘You did everything for me’, getting a gift that your mum has always wanted, or buying beautiful roses that says ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I love you.’ It was always forced upon me to do all this. While I watched all my friends from work, school and church get hugs and kisses from mums that I would sell my soul to get, I had to do all those things to someone I literally loathed then. As I grew older, nobody could force me to do anything but I would do it for the sake of doing it because it was the right thing to do and not because I really wanted to. My loath has dulled with age but I still feel it there. My hate has turned into pity. Pity, because I know that whatever happened is nobody’s fault and things happen for a reason. My mission now is to become a good mother. I would never have my children feel the same way about Mother’s Day like I had. I pray that my dear God wipes away clean my loath and gives me fresh joy for the celebration motherhood because it is indeed a miracle.

Let me begin the article by telling you how we came to meet him. He met us at the Denpasar International airport with garlands and a smile. He then took us to our hotel. The five-minute journey was pleasant enough with him introducing himself and answering all our questions. When he left us at our hotel, he promised to pick us up for dinner at six. At first we were wondering why in the world we had to eat dinner at six. We were not accustomed to eating dinner so early in the evening but he assured us that all Balinese people eat their dinner at six and if it were any later, the dinner spread would be gone. I can’t be absolutely sure about the chronological order of the events that unfolded during the next few days. He turned out to be quite dense most of the time. When my father-in-law asked him if he was a Hindu as most of the Balinese people were Hindu, he started telling us about the history of Bali and how it became to be so influenced by Hinduism. Little did we know that was actually the very first alarm. He answered our questions quite stupidly. For instance, at a temple we visited, we asked “Must we take off our shoes?” This was his answer. “Yes! (after a brief pause) You are allowed to keep your shoes.”

There was once when we asked him to drop us at the city centre instead of our hotel after dinner; the bus service ends after dinner. He immediately replied that we would then have to take a taxi back to our hotel. We told him we were quite aware of the fact that we had to take a taxi back to the hotel. We repeatedly asked him drop us at the city centre after dinner and he repeatedly replied yes and that we had to take a taxi back. By the end of the whole conversation, we were upset at being told repeatedly that he would not take us back after shopping at the city centre. My father-in-law actually felt like slapping him in the face!

The event that really made us extremely furious at him happened on the day before our departure. Looking at the agenda, he was to take us to national court and then to a primitive village before going to a bat cave. All ten of us wanted to skip the trip to the court and go instead to a waterfall. We asked him nicely if it were possible to take us to the waterfall and he replied no. We then tried negotiating with him the time and distance that it would take to go to the nearest waterfall, after all the questions, with a wave of his hand he said he did not want to hear about the waterfall from us anymore! Now my father-in-law is a very patient man. Very seldom do you see him fly off the handle. When he does, it is always for a good reason. When the prick actually had the guts to reply like that, my father-in-law flew off the handle and started shouting at him. My mother-in-law joined in the furor and scolded him for being very inflexible. There were only ten of us and all wanted to go to a waterfall but he flatly refused, saying that it was highly important for us to visit those places. The entire day turned to be the most boring day ever possible on a vacation. It was blazing hot and we traveled two hours to see the court for half and hour and then traveled another hour to see the primitive village that did not have anything for tourists at all. We spent all but twenty minutes in the village. Then another two hours to spend fifteen minutes in the bat cave which by the way he did not inform us that nobody was allowed to go in. We only could stand outside and watch the bats from afar. Opposite the bat cave was a beach which he said was holy so we could not go in! In short, we traveled for five hours to spend a measly hour in those places.

That’s not the whole nightmare. Every morning we promised him that we would be ready and waiting at eight. He actually made the hotel give us a wake up call at six forty-five am every day! We did not realize we were getting up so early until the very last day. On Christmas Eve, he took us to a beautiful place called Tanah Lot. We were supposed to have dinner there at six. There were many shops there to buy souvenirs and printed clothing and we all excitedly started to look through the shops and buy whatever we wanted. He got very upset saying that we would be late for dinner when we actually reached Tanah Lot at four thirty! Halfway through the streets full of shops, he announced this would be the last stop and we could not shop anymore. My uncle got angry. We really couldn’t understand his rush. He wanted to rush us off to dinner and drop us off at the hotel as quick as possible. He got upset when my uncle told him off and stalked off. After being satisfied with our shopping, we actually managed to have dinner at six fifteen and took off at seven. There were many other things he did that if I were to write it down it would take up so much of space. As a result, the older generation did not enjoy themselves very much in Bali and did not wish to return to Bali. We, however, did enjoy ourselves, but that was because we mostly went off on our own and we could see that if we were to come back to Bali without a guide, we would actually have a great time. Funny, all that the younger ones could remember about the family trip to Chiang Mai two years ago was the brotherly-like guide named Benny that became so close to them that he cried when they left. Same goes the trip to India three years ago. They still fondly remember the guide that slept in the same room with the boys throughout the two weeks that they were in India.

My worst attack came last year in the month September/October of 08. This was one of my defining moments when I realize the actual cause of my attacks. During that 2 weeks, I lost sleep and the even the will to perform daily tasks like shower and brush my teeth. Even my close girl friend from work, constantly commented that I look like a wilted vegetable despite my efforts to conceal what was going on with me. This attack squeezed my very core. At night, when I couldn’t sleep, I screamed to God for relief. To undo the reason for my anxiety. To change the inevitable that I knew was coming. But, relief only came two weeks later when my mind and body resigned to accept the situation. Those two weeks were my darkest. There was a constant black cloud hanging over me. I literally could feel the weight of it on shoulder. Even after that one day when the same girl friend caught me in a weak moment and I wept out everything to her, I still felt the remnants of the blackness that surrounded me.

My only way of dealing with this liability is to push all my strength in controlling the thoughts in my head. And keep praying of course. My entire strength bank is used up to attempt to control my mind as it loses control over my body. At times, it works. At other times, it is all in vain. I pray so much that it almost sounds like chanting, hoping God will help me battle this Eve, inside of me.

http://www.anxietycentre.com/