Karma Police

Karma.

Most of us have a hazy idea of what it is. And when pressed to provide an explanation for the concept, invariably talk of being reborn as a cockroach if you have been a bad person.

Well, I suppose Karma is a state of Being which is defined by our deeds and actions. Build up sufficiently good Karma and be released from the cycle of Re-birth (Samsara to the more religiously-inclined). Do evil and the bad Karma will see you entrenched in the pain of being born and eventually dying over and over again.

I suppose if the Karma Police ever existed, they would enforce the rules that would determine our next step based on our Karma quotient at the point of death. If you've been a Karma Chameleon ( ok a big dig at Boy George and Culture Club), switching in between deeds of good and evil depending on life's circumstances, has done you no favors. The Karma Police would have a say in whether you have sufficient Merit to be reborn as a someone and not a something.

In this sense, the Karma Police could also be the Bodhisattvas or Monks, sent to patrol our world. Nudging its denizens into a path of righteousness in thought, word and deed. In which case I think a Squad car needs to respond pronto to my cries for help.

Before I really become a Cockcroach.

I Dare Not Say

She was an old friend.

And after a good 11 years, it was heartwarming to be able to touch base again. To pick up where we left off. So naturally.

So we talked about just how crazy we got after exams. Our days working at the pub on Boat Quay during the Hols. How Daphne hilariously gave Derrick lovebites on his face in a drunken stupor on the dancefloor at Chaplin's. How Val got pregnant during our last year in the Hall (she was married!) and still came to class in a micro-mini. Talking through the night and continuing the discourse at lectures the next morning like we never stopped. Telling my mum, when she picked up the phone, that her name was Zoe because otherwise, the malay would scare the living daylights out of the pious Christian woman. How we cycled from Toa Payoh to Adam Road Hawker Centre in the middle of the night.

Ahh memories.

She's done alot for herself these past 11 years. And I feel a tinge of regret that my life was never so fulfilling. A Master's Degree in European Journalism completed in Cardiff, Oslo and Amsterdam. 3 years working in Berlin. Travelling all over India. A handsome pilot for a brother. And now she's married to a lovely Aussie bloke with a cool couple's pad down on the East Coast.

Carpe diem at its most tangible.

And what exciting account do I have to give of myself all this time we were not in touch?

Oh dear. I dare not say.

On The Temasek Trail - The Little Indian Enigma

I've been thinking alot about India and Indians lately.

Don't ask me why. Maybe its because I've been reading books by several Indian authors these past 2 months. The most recent being Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Palace (which I think is absolutely fabulous and will review it someday). So perhaps their thoughts have permeated my own subconscious, causing me to dwell on the subject of India in several aspects.

I find myself pondering about colonial British India, in particular the role of Sepoys and Indian Army Officers in the ruthless expansion of the Queen's Empire. I ask myself why a country so rich in history, culture and religion, remains largely agricultural and for most parts, intellectually impoverish. At least China can blame Communism. I wonder why many South East Asians, even in such close proximity, scoff at the idea of exploring both the overt and inner beauty of this much misunderstood Sub-continent.



Because I had some time on my hands yesterday evening, I braved the usual, massive Sunday throng at Little India, hoping to use the time to reflect on these questions in the midst of the country's countrymen. Trying, foolishly, to capture some of the spirit and splendour of Jaipur or Agra, or the sights and smells of markets in Kochi and Mumbai, with my camera.

And so it was only natural, whilst sipping some sweetened milk-tea at a crummy but colorful old tea-shop, watching the animated community go by, I pretended I was in the middle of a busy alpine bazaar in Darjeeling. Waiting for the train that would take me on a trip upon the Himalayan Railway.

To unravel this enigma that is India.

Without a source of inspiration, writers are just miserable typists

They say writers are only as good as the inspiration that drives them to write. I have been wondering if that is true. I have had countless false starts over the last few months trying to get back into a writing routine. My head, computer and notebook are peppered with various jottings and ideas about stories or issues or thoughts I want to write about, but I just can't sit down quietly for the required period of time to write something decent. I always manage to find something unimportant to distract myself with.

I think the main underlying issue is the loss (temporary, I hope) of a key source of inspiration. I realize now how much reliance I have had on that inspirational fountain, from which I have drawn my strength from for the last few years. I feel lost without that someone to turn to with my fears and ideas and thoughts and uncertainties. On paper, life is good right now. A new job, a new home. Change is always a good thing, they say. But one missing element can wipe out all the joy and happiness of all the other elements - what does that imply about my future?

She once told me that God, if he exists, gives each one of us different people for different things. She was my gift - her purpose was to inspire and motivate my soul.

Without her, I am miserable inside.

False Tooth

When Mum used to tell me to take care of my teeth, I would scoff and tell her not to treat me like one of her pupils in school at a Dental Hygiene lesson.

And so as I lay on my dentist's chair just 3 hours ago, with a severely fractured Molar requiring surgical extraction and immediate implant placement, I was thankful Mum wasn't here to see my petrified face.

It helped that it was an old classmate who was doing my teeth. So I could be totally candid with him. Like telling the good doctor that if he touched a raw nerve I would punch him! In jest of course. I have never had more needles poked into my gums, more evil looking blades, forceps and mean drills wandering the inner recesses of my mouth and more suction tubes trailing from under my tongue, in any trip to a Dentist ever. Not that I visit one very often. Which probably explains why I was in Dr Sng's office, scared shitless, in the first place.



Anyway the deed is done. Stage 1 actually. And I'm really happy to have survived the experience without so much as a yelp. Lets see what the internet can throw up with regards to Dental Implants, which cost an arm and a leg by the way.

Stage 1
A small portion of the gum around the area of operation is raised from the underlying bone. The implants are then screwed into the holes which are gradually enlarged by a series of drills. Once the implants are in place, the gums are stitched back over the implanted fixtures. With the implants safely buried under the gums, a temporary denture can be worn over the area.

Stage 2
About 3 months later, the titanium in the implants would have integrated with the surrounding bone, This is when the buried implant is exposed. The dentist does this by cutting into the gum and removing the portion covering the implant. Once the implant is exposed, the dentist can attach a healing cap to it. This will prevent the gums from growing back to cover up the implant.

Crowning
A few weeks later, when the gums surrounding the healing cap has healed, the dentist will take an impression of the area to be restored. A few more weeks later, the crowns will be ready. The dentist will first tighten an abutment into the screw well of the implant. The crown is then cemented over the abutment. The restoration is complete.



After today's episode, I feel I can take on Everest. Evil Chuckle. Who am I kidding? Its just one step closer to being an Unker with false teeth!

Thoughts On Vesak

After lunch today, we spent some time at the Sri Lankaramaya temple off St Michael's Road, the pride and joy of Theravada Buddhism on our little island.

Just soaking in the festivities and getting into the spirit of things. Boy, what a crowd!



And then when I finally got home just now and read today's papers, there was an article in it that described the increasing attraction of Buddhism to young, white-collared professionals. But I was not interested in the statistics or demographics. What struck me was a quote from a certain Mr Hsieh Foo Hua which I thought sort of represents the type of mental models we should inculcate in our young.

By making itself accessible and inclusive, the religion has reached out even to those of other religions. Singapore Exchange chief Hsieh Foo Hua, 57, for example, is a staunch Christian who attends Buddhist talks, especially those by high monks. He said: 'Buddhism is a very embracing and non- exclusive religion...I am fundamentally rooted as a Christian but I am impressed and influenced by Buddhist thinking, which has helped me in the uplifting of the mind and spirit.'

It is my hope, this Vesak Day, that we open our hearts and minds to more learning.

Unkers@TheTheatre - How The Other Half Loves

We found ourselves in the middle of Hwa Chong Institution's Bukit Timah campus last night, inside a Drama Centre filled with the cream of Singapore's adolescent intelligentsia, watching a play put up by the school's drama group, that would perhaps make our country's doyen of theatre, Ivan Heng, proud.



I must admit that I didn't know what to expect when Alex called to ask if I was interested to support her sister who was involved in the production. My childish notion of teenage theatre harks back to the old days when the idea of a staged presentation was a couple of awkward, arty outcasts doing an equally amateurish interpretation of anything cliched-Shakespearean.

But I confess now, that I was suitably impressed with last night's show by the kids. Even if I have never heard of How The Other Half Loves, much less the Playwright, Sir Alan Ayckbourne. Here's a brief sypnopsis I lifted off from somewhere in Cyberspace.

How The Other Half Loves concerns three couples: Frank and Fiona Foster; Bob and Teresa Phillips; William and Mary Featherstone. Frank employs both Bob and William and is considering promoting the latter. Bob is having an affair with Frank’s wife Fiona and is in constant conflict with his own wife, Teresa. She feels Bob is neglecting her while she raises their baby and is suspicious of his actions and phantom phone-calls made to the house. When he returns late, she confronts him about his actions and he lies that he has been comforting work associate William, who believes his wife Mary is having an affair.
Frank and Fiona’s relationship is in stark contrast to the torrid emotions of Bob and Teresa’s. They share a polite, distant and evasive relationship and when Frank asks Fiona where she has also been, she says she has been comforting Mary - who she barely knows - who apparently believes William is having an affair. Of course, William and Mary are innocent parties and neither of the adulterers realise they have both implicated the Featherstones in their alibis. Both parties swear their partners to secrecy - particularly as both couples are entertaining the Featherstones on successive nights.

It was not an easy plot to juggle. Adult themes with lots of sexual innuendo and a single set representing overlapping living rooms, with parallel action in the different households acted simultaneously. But the teenage cast handled it with much aplomb. My only grouse was that not everyone could carry off the heavy British accent properly. Kudos for the effort though. Because having the play in Singlish would have been even more disturbing.

And of course we felt like a couple of old farts inside the drama centre. I had a Nanyang girl, who could not have been older than 15, next to me, giggling throughout at any hint of naughty banter.

We came out of the play thinking to ourselves, indeed, intellectually, we've been surpassed by the younger generation because, like hell we could have come up with something like that back in the good old days! LOL.

The Ring that was not there..

I woke up in the middle of the night and felt the ring's hefty presence on left ring finger.
It sits there, reminding me of who I engaged to. All time after wearing it for 8 years plus.

Only that it is not there anymore, I have lost it 2 months ago while cleaning my car.
I was pretty sad. I love the assuring feeling it gave me.
This pure silver ring was the first gift P bought for me, and naively engraved " P**** loves Dave 1999". We were barely into our first month! IIRC..
I should have been more careful with it. Alas! What is lost, I just hope no one will ever find it too.

But looking from another point of view, I am glad that this ring has gone.
It is a throwback from a time where we don't really know what we are doing and just living our lives and relationship from day to day, year to year.

I feel that now we are very ready to move on to another stage of our relationship.
Perils and misunderstanding still lurks in every corner, but I am sure our love will see us through any adversity.
I believe a new ring should be forthcoming to represent the new phase.
I am looking forward to it. Embrace the trepidation of marriage and life after it.

As time rolls on, I still get to see P as much as I want and need.
I still fill my life with idle pursue in the name of sports and socialising.
In the end, what matters to me the most is being with P, pursuing our idle pursues together.
Well, almost. We need our own time and space too.

In the end, always looks forward, if not, we might just trip on the rocks in front of us.

Unkers@TheMovies - Ironman

Move over Clarke Kent and Peter Parker.

Badboy Tony is in town. And he's here to kick some ass.



Ironman worked for me. Equal parts gizmo SFX, brains, action and a tinge of romance. In other words, something to please everybody, even if you've never touched the Marvel Comic and thought the show was about an Urban Blacksmith.

Robert Downey Junior's Ironman is heartfelt and beneath the hot-rod red and yellow alloy armour, believable as a multi-billionaire on course for Nirvana after a stint in an Afghan cave-prison.

Easily one of 2008's best films. And coolest too.

8.5/10

After Bali

You can't help but feel that you're surrounded by the Unseen in Bali.

To say that the Balinese are spiritual is an understatement. Because religion is so deeply entrenched in their psyche and way of life that it is almost a physical extension of the island itself. Gods reside in the mountains, demons in the sea. A curious Shiva-Buddha-Animist type Hinduism pervades every nook and cranny of Bali's fertile earth and continues towards the powdery sands of its surf-lashed beaches.

Womenfolk spend their waking hours weaving small leaf baskets on which colorful offerings of flowers are placed to appease both Good and Evil. Every village, with uncanny likeness, has 3 separate temples dedicated to Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and Shiva the Destroyer. Big ceremonies held at the main coastal temples of Tanah Lot and Uluwatu typically attract the majority of the populace, serious devotees and camera-toting tourists alike.

Perhaps best of all, foreigners are not allowed access into the inner sanctum of these hallowed grounds. On one hand, we lose the experience of taking in the island's unique brand of Hinduism at its most intimate. But more importantly, the respect and privacy the Balinese accord to their gods adds to the almost romantic mysticism surrounding the religiosity of their lives. It is as if you are invited to partake of the meal, but Holy Communion is only reserved for the Believers.

After the Kuta and Jimbaran bombings of 2002 and 2005, its not hard to see that the Balinese are still fearfully tentative inside. The question of when the next explosion will occur is an unspoken yet very palpable, sinister proposition. The island now views transient local migrants from other parts of the archipelago as more of a security risk than the quintessential Aussie beachbum who's here to ride-out a couple of Rip Tides. Waging an inner war, as it were.

The Balinese are engaged in either of two broad professions, Tourism or Farming. And in both, the island is blessed with world-class surf beaches and fertile volcanic land. Cultural inheritance from the old Majapahit empire also adds to the allure, with the relatively recent emergence of an artistic Ubud-style capturing the imagination of arty-farty types the world over.

Golden sand, verdant rice terraces, cultural preservation and a unique Belief with colorful attendant ceremonies. Coupled with a People, who, behind a facade of genuine friendliness, are fiercely mindful of their identity.

Few other islands have got the mix right.

A Post Card From Bali 2

We got ourselves on an Eco Bike Tour yesterday.

Figured this was the best way to see the real Bali as well as get some exercise. And I must say the 5 hour ride through Padi fields, quaint villages with lots of 'Eco Stops' along the way, was a great experience.



The tour starts with breakfast at Penelokan, overlooking Gunung Batur, an active volcano in the Northwest of the island which last erupted about 18 years ago. A short Bemo ride down brings us to the start-point where we mounted our bikes, at the caldera of Batur which is actually a sort of crater formed when a land mass collapses after an eruption.



And then it was 30km worth of downhill pedaling through at least 10 villages, where cheery children lined the dusty roads to say Hello! or give you a high-five as you ride by. We made numerous stops. Among them a coffee plantation where I indulged in some really excellent java beans, a bamboo processing Kampung, a Woodcarver's shed and Padi fields where we had a crash course on rice cultivation.







Overall, something different from the usual arty-farty pursuits people usually immerse themselves in in Ubud. Because even that can get a tad commercialised sometimes.

A Post Card From Bali

Hello!

Just a splash and dash in here to say what a whale of a time I'm having. The weather's been fantastic, the hospitality great and most of all, we're really having a relaxing time with the Spas, picturesque coastal Temples and all.



Spent a splendid evening at Pura Luhur Uluwatu (temple) along the South-Western Balinese coast yesterday. Stupendous views, really naughty monkeys!

And after Tanah Lot today, we made the 2 hour drive to Tanggayuda, just outside Ubud. Its unbelievably luxurious here in the middle of the Ubud forest at the Komenaka Tanggayuda Boutique Resort. The pool is just next to the jungle. Pictures later yah.

But for now, its bedtime. Cos we're going trekking through the Padi fields tommorrow.

Love y'all!