Violence A-stray!

There is an expression in Tamil, or should I say, a way of saying someone was shot mercilessly: “nadu road-la nayee sudura mathiri suttAngga” roughly translates to “was shot like a stray dog in the middle of the road.”.

The community of animal lovers and animal rights activists were up in arms recently with the news of the shooting of Kopi the stray dog in that exact manner. Okay, I am not a dog person, but how can I hate those guys? I see them every morning when I leave to work; they are about as harmless as butterflies. 

Also, the endearing thing about Kopi that got him popular was that clip of him playing with my people, little kittens. That “aww” factor. Cat and dog folks unite over that clip. 

Sure, stray dogs do get shot now and then, but they mostly don’t make it to the news. The authorities “slipped” when this time they picked the wrong creature to mess with. This time, it’s personal.

Issues of animal rights, abuse, and wrongful killing aside, what really worries me is the use of firearms. This is Malaysia. Gun law is such that owning one can get you in prison. If the authority can wave their weapons about and start shooting in the street, what would stop him from being dumb and start shooting at folks? Or if the bullet ricochets and hits some guy on the street right between the ass cheeks? What justification will these so-called authorities have for having produced a second arse hole? Because they are one?

So, I see two issues here. The freewheeling attitude behind the attempt to rid strays with costly and collateral damage-causing firearms, and the issue of animal rights itself. The stray animals are living, breathing creatures, just like human beggars and the infirm living by the street. 

Yes, there have been issues where strays have attacked little children, but I am coming back to the same issue: there shouldn’t be any strays in the first place. Men domesticated wolves and bred them into shapes and sizes according to their whims and fancy. They have the responsibility to take care of these creatures. 

Cats are quite independent; don’t give two hoots about human beings. But not dogs... their attachment to humans is legendary for centuries, and there are so many great tales out there about their loyalty and sacrifice. Plus, their usefulness extends to the authorities, and we should be grateful for their services—whether the cops, the customs department, or even the military. Their less than useful relatives do not deserve to be shot in the streets like that. Where’s the gratitude, human? 

Of course, when I said people were up in arms about, I meant all the outcry occurred mostly only online. When a bunch of folks decided to hold a rally protesting the incident, only two turned up, the organisers. So much for all the noise online.

Soon, the whole thing will die off until another stray gets shot. There are a handful of true animal lovers and organisation which will continue to monitor and make noise at the slightest sign of another act of abuse or handing out of street justice like this.

Anyway, fret not, the noise has gone to the parliament, and I do hope that they come up with something. Not that the current bunch of parliamentarians are the brightest and the best; there’s a whole bunch of red-nosed circus inhabitants in there, but let’s keep our fingers crossed. Something should come out of this. 

Come on, Nabi Muhammad S.A.W., despite Islam’s certain cautiousness over some animals, including dogs, did say: ““If someone kills a sparrow for fun, the sparrow will cry out on the Day of Judgement, ‘O Lord! That person killed me in vain! He did not kill me for any useful purpose.'” There are a whole bunch of quotes in that link where the Prophet talks about cruelty against animals. 

Judgement awaits these perpetrators.

Through The Teeth.

How was yours today?

I thought I should write this because this is an important moment in my life and a certain issue has to be addressed.

It was triggered from the poem I posted in my What’s App status sometimes back that I was going through today:

Lying Arse

Voice out

your frustrations.

But not to the

already exasperated.

Lie your way

out of your ass

But not to liars who’re

much too fast.

But everything is about

Situation, time and Place.

For every move is a

A hot board game of chess.

In any event, just

Don’t step on the mess.

That was left behind

When you were a pest

- RKP 24/04/2024

An acquaintance who saw the status chatted me up and asked, “What have you done?”. She meant, of course, why this, and, well, what have I done to pen that? I responded as follows (the parenthesis is for Tamil word):

“The point being the last four lines. The lies we told in the past will be the shit we step on in the future. Consequences (are always there). Law of nature (they’d say), (likewise) karma, Newton's law of motion, etc. But your past lies will be your present regret and future foil. Charles Dickens Christmas ghosts (like)”.

I would say over the last couple of decades, I have lied as little as possible, in real life and online—the latter of course depends on the content. As those who have read my blog posts and online articles may have noticed, my reviews are honest, while satiric pieces have b.s. all over them—but that is the whole point of satiric writing - telling deadly truth with light hearted b.s. 

But we cannot live without lying. Let’s say you have had massive diarrhea and made major deposits in the lavatory, and as you walk into the office, one of the colleagues whom you are not too close with asks you, “How are you?”. Are you going to regale him with the tragic tale of your overworked sore ass? Of course not; you will lie through your teeth and say, “I’m fine; how are you?”. Though he may have hit and run a cyclist that morning, naturally he’d say, "Fine.”

Then there are the professions. The first ones that come to mind would be politicians, lawyers, or a combination of both, because that one brilliant ability which is to pull stuff out of the ass is inherent in those two vocations. 

In asking the question as to why we lie to the ChatGPT, it gave a general answer. I followed it up, and this is what I got:

Sometimes ChatGPT really carries your balls, ain't it. Hope it's telling the truth. 

The word "fibs" in the last sentence means “lies” of course. On google search, this turned up at the top:

Synonyms for "to lie" include:

• Fib (informal)

• Tell a lie

• Be untruthful

• Stretch the truth

• Bear false witness

• Not tell the truth

• Fabricate

• Prevaricate

• Be economical with the truth (UK, humorous)

• Not tell the whole truth

• Tell a white lie

Why have I shared the above? Well, lying is such an important activity that it has sired so many synonyms and similar words, expressions, and slangs. 

Coming to what lying would mean to any individual, I like this explanation from this article: 

“Lies may be divided into two distinct motivational categories: prosocial lies that are constructed to benefit others; and antisocial lies that are selfish.”

To even expand it further, there are lies to hide some bitter truth, there are lies to self-elevate, there are lies because you gotta sell something that does not really measure up, there are lies because you don’t want to pursue certain subjects and move on, and there are lies because the one you are about to deceive does not need additional info—need to know basis only. You want to avoid them like plague. Except, usually, plague comes to you.

There used to be some sort of patron saint of non-lying (as opposed to The Truth, because who the hell knows what that thing is), called Harischandra. A king known for telling the truth and holder of values like honesty, integrity, and selflessness, the poor bloke had to face a shitload of challenges, issues, and stuff.

Aside: Raja Harischandra was the first Indian silent film... which is technically a lie, because India was not India till it was 1947, right? End of aside 

And of course, speaking of lying through the teeth, how about nose? Everyone knows Pinocchio’s story. Though I suspect it is an allegory about male sexuality insecurity, the more he lies to a woman he is attracted to, the better chance the hard-on will be put to good use. The nose hard on. Like Pinocchio. Arr... you know what I mean.

Which is why to live a life without telling a single lie is like taking a roller coaster ride on an ordinary railway track. The worst lies are the ones you tell yourself. But what the hell? The business of motivating others has been minting moolahs based on this premise. To feel better about yourself is to continue lying and believing in it.

What is long, hard and full of mucus?

Not to mention, lying is a direct proffession that folks believe and swear by. You see, the most sincere, hard-working, selfless astrologists make a living by dispensing personal prophecies to their clients. These prophecies are nothing but lies, of course, but believers usually bend the truth to the shape of those prophecies and convince others that those were accurate predictions. That is self-deception at its best.  

There are lies that evolve into conspiracy theories because it suits agendas. There are lies that gather more and more lies, solidify themselves, and become the truth, as those who set aside time daily for prayers will tell you. They then share those lies with others, and all of them coagulate into a dangerous group of people that is responsible for this:

If every religion is not lying, this would never have happened. But you just got...to...lie, ain’t you?

Which is why truth can only remain a pursuit and a journey only. Just like life, because the ending is where the real truth is, nothing is permanent—everything—wealth, family, love life, relationship, power, pets, memories, and that large block of chocolate you thought you could save up for days to come. Nothing lasts forever. This truth is so shatteringly terrifying, we might as well live a life full of lies, perform in front of others, and bow out of life's stage gracelessly and never to appear again.

Seriously, remember the first sentence I wrote above? I lied. To save your scrolling, I wrote: “I thought I should write this because this is an important moment in my life, and this has to be addressed.” To refer to the pix up there, it's absolutely bullshit!

I wrote this post because I was fucking bored and wanted to post something, anything, in my blog. Thanks for being deceived, suckers. Hahaha

Vettaiyan (2024)

When Eastwood’s Dirty Harry came out in 1971, the critics were appalled by the fascist approach celebrated in the film. Is he a hero a cop or freewheeling vigilante dishing out justice in his own terms? The film was a huge hit, but the debate remained in the politics of the film. Why the violence by cop is celebrated? Ain’t that hypocritical when cops should be defenders of peace in the first place, not the other side of the violent criminal coin?

The producers followed up with a sequel, Magnum Force, where this time Harry himself faces off with the a bunch of rookie cops who does the very thing, idolising Harry, and performing vigilantism as they find fit.

And when they explained that to him, Harry says, “I’m afraid you misjudged me”.

That is basically what Vettaiyan set out to do, to penetrate both side of the debate. The title character, played by Rajini, is an “encounter” specialist, a cop freely killing thugs as he finds fit. These encounter specialists are basically ones with unofficial “licence to kill”.

Yet the film does not seek to glorify it as the climax proves. Vettaiyan’s approach and the wrong consequence forms the first half of the film.

Unlike Eastwood’s Harry who continued with his way in the next three sequels, Rajini’s character is struck by his conscience when that one “encounter” was realised to be a mistake.

He then vowed to the family of the guy he killed to find the actual culprit and works his way to a somewhat satisfying ending. That is the second half.

First and foremost, director Gnanavel did a splendid job of balancing this “message” platform with Rajini’s stardom, and laudable especially by not going overboard on the latter.

Speaking of the balancing act, he deals with the “encounter’ culture and the money minting education coaching business (here we say tuition, I suppose), which burdens poor families where some students even resorted to suicides.

Tough subjects but Gnanavel tackled them with equal fervour ensuring that there’s both justification and error on the police violence part and pointing out the capitalism poison that pervades the education business.

My joy was the performances. Everyone was on track. The gals, especially Rithika Singh whom I adored in Iruthi Sutru, a real life Mix Martial Arts queen, who gets her share of ass kicking and the supporting roles by Rohini, Abhirami.... and Manju Warier who plays Rajini’s wife and whom you ain’t gonna mess with. And of course, Sudha Vijayan who's character the entire film is centred on. It wonderful to see strong performances from the gals in an industry that usually treats actress like a showcase item. 

Then there was Amitabh Bachcan whose role could have been done by any other character actors but he was the moral gravity of the film and let’s not forget, he is our Superstar’s superstar. After Nadigar Thilagam Sivaji Ganesan nobody can make Rajini’s character shrink in admiration, respect and devoted like he does here, and both of their scenes together lend to the seriousness the conflict discussed in the film.

Then, there’s Fahad Fasil…what a scene stealer…and he is indeed a thief in this movie. A hacker. And made into an ethical hacker by being Robin to Rajini’s Batman. Their relationship forms the best part of the film, if I may add which will tear our heart out when the inevitable happens towards the end.

I want to come back to the use of Eastwood comparison. Now, his earlier films celebrated vigilantism through the coo movies and random violence in the westerns. He atones for it in the excellent Oscar awards winning Unforgiven (1992).  He kept at it in film like Gran Torino (2008).

I find that similar attempt in this flick. Rajini started out as a hero doing vengeance flick from the late 70s right through the 80s.

Here his character has to grapple with conscience on that approach. And I loved it that the Rajini I admire, Rajini the actor is made full use when his character is beset by emotion, reacting terribly to the earlier vigilante attitude and repenting by setting the wrongs right. Fantastic performance there, the subtlety in his approach always confirms me this: when he is not doing stylish shit, the self glorifying characters, the man can pull off brilliantly in playing conflicted characters.

That what makes this film work and kudos to Gnanavel for bringing that outta Rajini.

I love this film. I really do.

Old Grouch Fable Collection pt3

 

This bugger's story is the best, right at the end. Yes, there's violence.

The Bear and the Two Travelers

Two men—let’s call them Jim and John—were travelling together, walking through a forest despite the fact that taking a bus would be cheaper and safer. By the way, their real names are Reginald and Thanggaswamy, but it saves me time if I call them Jim and John. Shit, now I wasted time typing all that. Damn

Upon reaching the thickest part of the forest, suddenly a bear appeared in front of them.

"Boo,” said the bear.

Terrified, Jim quickly climbed the tree, while John remembered that bears do not attack or eat dead creatures. Quickly, he fell flat on the ground and held his breath. He tried to recall the faces he saw in the coffin and put up the appearance of a serene corpse. He did keep his mouth gaping open so that he could breathe through that. Clever feller, right?

The bear came to him and started sniffing him. God knows what Jim ate, but the moment the bear smelt the mouth area, it gagged and vomited heavily.

“Deyy, what did you eatlah, lah? That’s some stinky piece of shit breath you got there,” cried the bear.

“Oh,” said Thanggaswamy, his voice emerging from the leafy branches, “he had nasi campur with tempoyak, sambal belacan, ikan masin, and durian for dessert.”

Hearing that, the bear rushed to the tree, actually climbed it (it did a quick Tree Climbing 101 course during the summer break), and ate Thanggaswamy.

Moral: You know…there’s a racial stereotype right there if you noticed.

 -----

 

The Milkmaid and Her Pail

Patty the Milkmaid was going to market carrying her milk in a pail on her head. In Tamil, Patty is Granny. But still, in English, patty is that meaty thingy between buns. But did that bother Patty the Milkmaid? Nope.

Despite the fact that she has yet to get royalty from the condensed milk company, Patty had dreams. While carrying the pail, she started calculating as to what she would do with the money from selling the milk.

“I'll buy some fowl from Farmer Brown," said she. Actually, Farmer Brown offered to give the fowls for free, for which he said, “I can show you something even more brown; you get it, huh? Huh?”. The horny bastard.

Nah, Patty ain’t falling for it; besides, she already made deals with Farmer Abrahamovic, who sells geese. A geese in exchange for pus... Anyway, let's get on with the story.

And so she continued with her fantasy. The chickens, she imagines, "will lay eggs. each morning, which I will sell to the parson's wife.” Wait. Who?

“Parson,” she told me.

You mean, person?

“Parson. A priest, dum-dum. What kinda narrator are you?”

Well, that’s embarrassing. Anyway, she continued, “With the money that I get from the sale of these eggs, I'll buy myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat." Yes, dear readers, I too have no idea what the hell they are.

She went on, “And when I go to market, won't all the young men come up and speak to me! Polly Shaw will be that jealous, but I don't care.“

Wait, Patty. Who is Polly Shaw, a character? Out of nowhere. Patty ignored me and continued, That arrogant wench:

“I shall just look at her and toss my head like this.”

And as she spoke, she tossed her head back, the pail fell off it, and all the milk was spilt. So she had to go home and tell her mother what had occurred.

"Ah, my child," said the mother, "do not count your chickens before they are hatched."

Moral: Wait, the mother explained already; why do you want it from me? Though I don’t know about chicken thingy, Patty deserves it for calling me dum-dum.

 

-----

The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Once upon a time, blah, blah, blah… the usual opening, there was a wolf that was hungry like an err. Wolf (Yes, I stole that from Duran Duran). As it trudged along by the side of a field, it spotted a fleck of shops.

Oh wait. Hang on.

I meant a flock of sheep. It licked its lips, teeth, roof of the mouth, and that little droplet thingy at the back of it.

“This will be what they say, sap-sap-suey...easy peasy.”.

But the wolf was wrong, because taking care of the flick of shape...err...the flock of sheep was a shepherd and a couple of dogs. The dogs look like they had eaten the entire buffalo for breakfast and are still hungry.

“That would be a bad move,” thought Wolf, who does his thinking in English though its mother tongue is Romanian.

As it wandered around hungrily, later, it encountered the skin of a sheep that had been flayed and thrown aside. I know this sudden twist in the story is so convenient, like in old Tamil films, but bear with me.

So, it put the sheep skin on and strolled down back to the fluke of shape—aww, come on—I meant, flock of sheep. But guess what... remember the skin was flayed... yeah, the owner lamb was there and identified.

“Motherf_ is wearing my goddamned fur, the cheek,” it thought in one of the Slavic languages that I hadda google translate.

The lamb then began to follow the Wolf in the sheep's clothing, but dammit, the wolf caught her and made a meal of her. Soon, the wolf was serially killing the others. Reports appeared in the New Sheeps Times with headlines like:

Lamb Killing Own: Police Baffled, Surprised, Shaken But Not Stirred.

Actually, the story ends here. With the message being about not getting deceived. But I did see another version that has apa nama tu, an alternate ending.

That version had the shepherd thinking about having lamb varuval or something for dinner and decided to slaughter one of them in the flex, I mean, flock.

He picked up the knife, and so happened he got hold of the wolf in the sheep’s clothing and killed the goddamned wolf. The rest of the sheep were shocked and ashamed. Shocked because of the killing and ashamed because, well, they have been taken for a ride by the wolf, haven’t they? And so they all fled and lived on their own, the fur growing so thick and round that they no longer walked but rolled and rolled and rolled...

Moral of the story. I don’t know. Go to the barber regularly, I suppose.

Old Grouch Fable Collection Pt 1

Old Grouch Fable Collection Pt 2

Old Groucho Fable Collection Pt4

Old Grouch Fable Collection pt2

The beginning of 1485 Italian edition of Aesopus Moralisatus (From wiki)

Note: Hopefully I can do more of this. The first part was written in 2011....a sequel 13 years in the making. You can find the first one here.   

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Tortoise and Hare 2: The Hare-y Vengeance.

Ever since he lost to a tortoise in a race, the hare was a broken...hare He vowed that he would have another race, correct the whole damn thing, and win this time like he should have in the first place.

Therefore, one day he went looking for the tortoise and found the later chewing on some garbage.

“Hey, tortoise,” he greeted the tortoise, who at this point had given up on swallowing a crumpled mineral water bottle.

Tortoise spat the crumpled plastic out and said, “I have a name, you son of a bitch. It’s Murray.”

At this point, this narrator is ashamed for not even checking up on those names. What’s yours, Hare, I asked.

“Harry,” said the Hare before adding the “duh!” and rolling its eyes.

Harry then confronted Murray and said, “Hey, how about another race?”.

Murray snickered and said, “You think you're gonna win this time?”

“Hell yeah,” said Harry. “I ain’t gonna do no sleeping no more.”

“That’s a shitload of double negatives,” said Murray. “Alright, let’s try it out.”

“Cool,” said Harry, looking at me. “Hey baldy, you wanna be the official; start the race off.”.

“Sure,” I said, producing a.44 magnum (the most powerful handgun in the world). Once they were in the starting line, I shot the monster of a revolver upwards, making the blast sound that deforested a few acres. Immediately, Murray, shocked by the explosive sound, jumped and turned over to his back. Harry, seeing that, laughed uncontrollably.

And it happened. The bullet I shot in the air returned, and the kinetic energy knocked the shit outta Harry, who didn’t die, but has enough brain damage that he thinks he is a gay dolphin.

As for me, I was arrested ala Alec Baldwin for the "accident.”

Moral: Always check the revolver chambers for live rounds.

 

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The Butt Ugly Duckling

Once upon a time, about 3 in the afternoon, a farmer had a duck. He had the same duck at 2.45 pm too, but what the hell?

The duck laid ten eggs; it was the quota at that time, apparently because the decimal system was just invented and implemented alongside the metric system; there was a strict regulation of laying eggs in tens. Any number lower or higher would result in well... crips braised duck legs with aromatic vegetables.

Soon all the eggs hatched; one by one the ducklings popped out and immediately started quacking incessantly till the mother smacked them with her wing. But wait a minute.

The tenth egg cracked, and out came one ugly mother of ducklings. It’s so ugly that the mother felt guilty about the secret rendezvous she had with the neighbour’s drake.

The other ducklings started laughing at this ugly duckling. So, did the farmer. They even had a sit-com laugh track to enhance the scene.

Unable to take it, the ugly duckling ran away and ended up in the city. It was adopted by a dude who turned out to be a plastic surgeon. He performed surgery on the ugly duckling, and voila! It still looked ugly. The surgeon, realising he had failed, became an alcoholic and sent the uglier duckling packing, and the duckling travelled, gathered experience and wisdom, and grew up to become an adult—still an ugly duck—with all that knowledge and world-wise insights, he became a highly sought-after guru, calling himself Swami Vaatthanandha, though he was later implicated in a sex scandal, but that’s a story for another day.

Moral: Don’t overcompensate and stay away from gals if you are a Swamiji.

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The Fisherman and the Fish.

There was once a fisherman whose whole livelihood currently depended on the investments in several companies's. All the companies folded because they were scams. So, the fisherman was back fishing anywhere he could—the sea, the river, the pond, the neighbour's  kitchen, anywhere.

One day, he caught a small fish. The fish….fearing for its life, yelled, “Please leave me, kind sir. I am, but too tiny; you can’t even make fish and chips outta me, let alone steamed Chinese style. Drop me back in the river. We can become Facebook friends. In fact, let me grow; I will become big and fat, and then you have something for the entire family. You can drop by this spot, say, in a year’s time. Let me go!”

The fisherman’s jaw dropped. A talking fish!

“Well, fish. You are talking about the future. I just lost shitloads of money on scam investments. You think I’m gonna listen to you giving me prospects, you son of a bitch?”

The stunned fish that really pleaded for its life, “Please, sir, let me go. I don’t even taste good; you can wiki my species.”

But the fisherman had an idea.

The next day, he set up a stall at a local market and brought the fish in a bowl and started yelling, “Come on over, come on over. A talking fish. For some measly sum, it will predict your future.”

The fish and the farmer lived happily ever after, prosperously…well, not actually. The fish, feeling miserable being used like that, one day jumped out of it’s bowl and into the toilet bowl to kill itself. Though the farmer who used the toilet, not noticing the small fish, had flushed and sent the fish straight to local sewage. The fish lived there henceforth and made friends with tubifex worms—or sludge worms, as they are popularly known.

Moral of the story: I just learnt there’s a creature called Tubifex worm...damn and eww….

Old Grouch Fable Part 1

Old Grouch Fable Part 3

Old Grouch Fable Part 4

 

 

PMX: Promises, Compromises And Ruffling Feathers.

A great promise. That's who Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim, the father of the Reformasi movement, was when he emerged with vows of change for the better for this nation. Finally achieving his ambition of becoming the premier of this country, reality smacked him like a wet towel. 

(This was written in August, so I missed out some updates)

The recent issue concerning Tesla has become a big eye-opener, especially for the supporters of Pakatan Harapan and the current (still is, I checked) prime minister, Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim, who is referred to by many adoringly as PMX. Not to be confused with the competitive bike.

You see, sometimes back, Anwar stated that after his discussion with Tesla’s founder, Elon Musk, that the latter’s investment in Malaysia will open the employment market for tens of thousands of skilled jobs. And it was not a face-to-face meeting, by the way; it was just a Zoom meeting. That should have been the indicator, but the media, hungry pack of newshounds they are, went straight for the jugular, and headlines splashed all over. Anwar was only past his first year, fresh, enthusiastic, excited, and still the media’s wet dream.

Then the truth reared its ugly face, as a Thai media outlet this time burst the bubble when it reported recently that Tesla ain’t makin ‘ it to the entire Southeast Asia, in fact. Malaysia got dumped even before the first date. 

No matter how finance minister Tengku Zafrul tried, explaining that Tesla never really had any such plan and not to believe in the media—the usual politicians favourite punching bag— after they use the fourth estate like a sex worker. Yet, let us not forget that it’s his own boss who bragged about “tens of thousands of skilled jobs” through the deal, which will bring forth the establishment of headquarters, service centres, and experience centres in Cyberjaya, Selangor, as well as collaborations in Petaling Jaya. 

Shuffle and Ruffle

If that is not enough to cause a dent in PMX’s intriguing reputation (yes, I know what you are thinking, you naughty readers), Anwar’s recent cabinet reshuffle was not received in well generally. First off, it caused uneasiness among many, as he who had himself championed a leaner-sized cabinet once, pulled the curtain this time, and voila! 31 ministers, supported by 29 deputy ministers, an increase from the previous 28 ministers and 27 deputy ministers.

This especially didn’t go down well with two parties:

1. Kedah Menteri Besar Datuk Seri Muhammad Sanusi Md Nor, who said the reshuffle is believed to have been driven by the demands of the coalition parties within the Unity Government,.

"This reshuffle seems more about appeasing coalition parties than boosting efficiency," Sanusi was quoted as saying in that report, suggesting that Anwar's position depended on party support, leading to the prioritisation of political considerations over competency.

2. The Malaysian Indians. Always in self-pity mode, crying victims (though it's not all untrue) Certainly, you can please everyone all of the time. Right? Wrong. The losers this time are the very group that, with the Bersih coalition, started the ball rolling, ending with the ousting of the Barisan government, the Malaysian Indians. Currently, there is one minister and three deputy ministers from that community. And despite the fact that the majority of the people of that denomination here are Tamils, the sole minister is from Punjabi background. Hare Anwar bhai!

Lessons for Indians and Hindus

So, the Malaysian Indians learnt a hard lesson, especially after dancing with Anwar for a Rajinikanth song. All that hip-shaking, then insulting the community with the K word, and bullying a student.

In addition to disappointing the Indian folks, resulting in a few of the politicians moving out of the parties in the PH coalition, he insulted the Indians with the dreaded K word sparking protests from many quarters. And also bullying an Indian student. And, oh, what about the time when he converted a Hindu student to Islam? The hardcore ultra Hindu actor Rajinikanth whose song he dance to, ain’t gonna to like that one for sure, let alone the Hindus here.

Speaking of which, he has recently returned after mollycoddling with the Indian prime minister, talking about cooperation and stuff. And the latter happened to belong to a Hindu based political party. Wow, just wow.

Stand on Palestine

While we are discussing overseas stuff, what about the flipping and flopping about his stand on the Israel/Hamas issue?

The Internet never forgets.

Remember back in 2012 when he told the Wall Street Journal that “I support all efforts to protect the security of the State of Israel,” ruffling many feathers here? Especially the Muslims.

So, there you have it. One moment saying that he is all for the efforts to protect the security of the State of Israel, and on another moment, now that is, he promoting himself as the number one fighter for Palestinians in Malaysian

This claim was fortified with his acceptance of injured Palestenians earlier this month, when a total of 127 Palestinians, including 41 who were injured, arrived in Malaysia in two Royal Malaysia Air Force (RMAF) A400 aircraft from Cairo, Egypt.

And what do you know? This again ruffled many feathers. The non-Muslims especially, most of whom I suspect, have since downgraded themselves from Anwaristas to just “former supporters” or “ready to jump ship” status.

One of the online users has this to say about this ordeal: “How much does it cost Malaysian taxpayers when the government uses military planes to fly these injured people more than 7,000 kilometres through dangerous territory? Who were these 127 people selected, and on what basis were they chosen to fly this distance? ...Are there Hamas operatives and families seeking to hide out here?”

Naturally, Anwar got defensive about it, because, why not? Humility hasn’t been the man’s major trait. He was especially disappointed that prominent human rights advocate Siti Kassim, in her rant, suggested he become the prime minister of Palestine. The comments in there are a sack filled with heftier ruffled feathers.

The fall

So, naturally, Anwar’s approval rating dropped to 50%, as opposed to 68% when he took on the premier’s job in December 2022. Ruffling feathers does that to you.

It’s also no secret that many are already frustrated with the other promises unfulfilled, like free education and a reduction in fuel prices. Slowly, the premise of Anwar banking on the traditional supporters may not be feasible for now. The grip is slipping.

Which is aligned with a comment by an analyst in this article: “Anwar’s decisions are not just purely driven by reality but also based on his calculation that his core supporters will stay with him and will tolerate whatever decision he makes. But this may not be true,” the analyst noted. “Even though they would not be able to turn around and support the opposition, they can always stay back at home and cause Anwar’s defeat in future elections.”

The world is observing what’s going on here, and even the international Human Rights Watch organisation, which once championed the former black-eyed prisoner who was ruffling the then prime minister’s feather, is now grumbling about his performance. “In his first year in office, Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim betrayed the reform pledges he made to Malaysian voters so he could hold his coalition together,” said Shayna Bauchner, Asia researcher of the organisation at that site. “The government should recommit to a rights-respecting agenda by turning its sidelined campaign promises into action.”

It looks like things are not looking nice and cosy ahead for Anwar. He is a reminder that not all great orators make great leaders. Not all survivors of brutal political regimes turn out to be guys in white hats. Not anyone who dances to Rajinikanth's song can be great, because Rajinikanth can't dance in the first place. Anwar only carried an ambition ever since he got off the prison. That’s it.

Many other countries made former prisoners as presidents and leaders, like Mandela who fought against apartheid. We all know why Mahathma Ghandhi was sent to gaol again and again. What was Anwar in for? We are such great voters, us Malaysians. We get our kain pelikat in knots when it comes to Singapore laksa being superior or when told that Thai durian is better. We wave our fists angrily when the Badminton team performs poorly again. We charge the atmosphere with electricity when Indonesian boats come cruising our waters intrusively. Every month of August we wave and stick our national flags everywhere except, perhaps, lavatory. But when it comes to choosing leaders...

Anyway, the analysts are watching. Anwar's opposition numbers are watching. The Indian community is watching. Indeed, the non-Muslim and non-Malay community overall is watching. Most importantly, the voters are watching, and there’s going to be a whole new generation of them for the next election, when the scenario may end up in such a manner that we may stop calling him PMX and refer to him as ex-PM instead.