The Telepathic Brinjalees

We went to the gyne last week to check on Baby #2. He's doing well, about the same size as Zayed (elongated like Pops) but doesn't move around much like Z did. Calmer dude?

So it's that time of the 9-months that we have to choose a name. And away we go on a search. It'll probably be along the lines of someone dear to the Prophet (s.a.w.), one of the sahabah, nice-sounding. Erm.

It's going to be an exciting time for Baby when he pops (different from "Pops' mentioned above). We'll all be in a much more happier state of mind, and he'll have a older brudder to look up to for guidance in whining, disobeying his parents, scratching Pops' face causing blood, and giving a cute smile to forgive all the afore-mentioned misdemeanors and get a kiss on top of that.

I'm aching all over now. We met for some physical activity yesterday evening at Queenstown Stadium at sunset, where we did some jogging and static exercises. We were instructed to some stomach crunches, leg raises, push-ups and lunges for about an hour. Torture!

A note about the instructor: Mr Jalsa. He's a trained physical trainer. We appreciated his taking time off in the evening to hang with us, even after completing a 10km Stanchart run in the morning. But we felt like strangling him during the lunges/push-ups where he decided to make long conversation at the "hold it there" parts...

Great to have a free fitness coach!

The ridiculous referendum in Switzerland to ban minarets re-emphasises the dire need to communicate with our non-Muslim counterparts at every level. It seems to be much worse in Europe, where globalisation (leading to an influx of a variety of ethnic groups, including Muslims) is causing xenophobic reactions, reductionist populist views and a whole lot of misinformation.

"... I have been repeating for years to Muslim people that they have to be positively visible, active and proactive within their respective western societies. In Switzerland, over the past few months, Muslims have striven to remain hidden in order to avoid a clash..."

My bag was soaked. My sparkling new Lenovo Thinkpad was spoilt. I was drenched from neck to toe. I was $10 poorer, by choice. And I didn't even get a proper "thanks".


It was raining like crap, at about 11am. I boarded the bus from Bukit Merah Central to go home, which was about 3 bus stops away. I was carrying my bag, with my little, lovely Lenovo inside. I was also carrying lunch which I just bought.

The bus ride was perfectly normal for the first 32 seconds. At the 33rd second, I saw a middle-aged Indian woman (MIAW) having a heated conversation with the bus driver (BD). The conversation follows:

MIAW: Does this bus go to Tiong Bahru MRT?
BD: No... no, that one you must take bus number 5. Then stop after two stops.

MIAW: This doesn't go to Tiong Bahru MRT? I need to go there now! Where is this bus going? I want to -
BD: This bus no go to Tiong Bahru. You-

MIAW: I want a refund! I want a refund now. Does this bus go to Tiong Bahru? (exasperated and clearly panicking)
BD: I tell you oredi. This bus go to Bukit Merah. This no go to Tiong Bahru. You see outside?
You must get down and walk -

MIAW: I can't walk! I need to go there now! I need to go to WORK! Do you understand? I need to GO! How long does it take to go to Tiong Bahru?
BD: (pissed off) 24 hours.

MIAW: (very, very pissed off) Why aren't you helping! You're talking to me like this because you think I'm not a bloody Singaporean right? You think I'm a foreigner right? You Singaporeans are all like this. I'm a SINGAPOREAN TOO!
BD: Huh? I'm MALAYSIAN.

MIAW: What? OK. (cools down). Where is Tiong Bahru mrt?
BD: I tell you already: IT'S THAT SIDE ONE LAH! You take taxi and go. Can reach there.

MIAW: I don't have that kind of money.
BD: I give you the money.

MIAW: (Breaks down and cries)

At this point, my stop had arrived. I also couldn't bear to not guide the woman to Tiong Bahru mrt, which was near my home. As she cried, I asked her to come with me so that I could show her the way to the station.

It was pouring. You have no idea. I asked her to share the umbrella with me, but it was pointless. We were both drenched. This woman was from India (presumably a professional , looking at her contemporary dress-sense), and this was here 2nd day at her job. She'd taken time off from work to meet an agent for a rental flat, but she was lost and wanted to head back to work. But she got lost even more and was scared pissed that she'd lose her job for being late. So she took it out on the driver. And she started to take it out on me.

She asked angrily where I was taking her in the rain, and she whined that she wanted to go back to work, and that she wanted to find Tiong Bahru mrt. After speaking to her as one would with a lost 4-year-old, I found out that she really wanted to go to LAVENDER where her workplace was. To do so, she wanted to take the train from Tiong Bahru. Genius. I thought that if this continued, (1) I'd be soaked silly, (2) she'd be scolding me silly and commit suicide after that, and (3) I'd go crazy.

I told her to take a taxi and just go. She said she didn't have money. Fine - I gave her $10 and asked to find the next available taxi and just GO. She whined that she was all wet. I half expected her to ask me for a towel and fresh change of clothes. She asked for my handphone number to return me the $10 - I told her to forget it. I left her there and went home to a shocked wifey.


My bag was soaked. My sparkling new Lenovo Thinkpad was spoilt. I was drenched from neck to toe. I was $10 poorer, by choice. And I didn't even get a proper "thanks".

Moral of the story - SBS employs a fair number of Malaysians.

"This Is It" is a 2-hour insight into the workings of what was to be Michael Jackson's final set of concerts.

I enjoyed every second of it. By the end of the two hours of dance rehearsals, sound checks, prop preparations, special effects preparations and so on, I had a somewhat clearer picture of MJ - a perfectionist, very eccentric, prone to possible tantrums, a genius in presenting entertainment, an idol to all the supporting cast and crew, a developer of talent, and quite simply, a very feeling person. I swear I would have cried if they had shown his memorial right after the movie.

For everyone in my generation who grew up listening and watching him, there can be no one else like MJ.