Travelogue: Malaysia & Singapore Circa 2000

Maybe it was the airport that dampened my spirits.It was my first trip to foreign shores in thirty years.I always thought of airports as large,clean,bright places where ordinary folks fear to tread.The Chennai international airport was dusty and ill planned. The plane arrived one hour late from Delhi which delayed our departure from Chennai.No announcements at the airport.Everyone sort of drifted towards a queue which was automatically forming at one of the departure gates.I had to fend off anxious questions on whether the queue was for the Singapore flight or not.Maybe I had the look of an authentic frequent flier in this route.It was only after boarding the aircraft that the Captain helpfully attributed the delay to the excessive VIP traffic in Delhi.The contrast couldn’t have been more stark as one landed in the sprawling Changi airport in Singapore.Clean and efficient-The entire process of clearing immigration,baggage etc was over in 25 minutes flat.Instructions and guidelines were displayed in prominent places.Even the long walk is aided by conveyors.My sister in law,Anita Nayar,Indian diplomat in Singapore was there to receive us.
Being small helps.The island- all 625 sq.kms of it –is so compact and well planned.The long arm of the State in Singapore is all pervasive.Planning meticulously as to the extent of tree coverage to the number of cars permitted on roads.ERP or electronic road pricing is the automated toll collecting mechanism on roads. The state decides which buildings to demolish and where to resettle the displaced tenants.The state doesn’t subsidise electricity,water and roads.But health,education and housing are subsidised.Sounded a bit warbled in the Indian context.Talking of City States,one comes away wondering whether any democracy grants such powers to its rulers.
The Singapore Press Holdings,a huge government owned media conglomerate publishes The Straits Times.It lands on your doorstep with a huge thunk-hundreds of pages of it.Prominent news of the day are gory descriptions of death from heights.Maids ,children and suicidally inclined citizens hurl headlong to death from various floors of high rise apartments .Drying clothes in the balconies and the danger posed by hanging pots in high rises are other issues in the realm of intellectual debates. Numerous pages of classifieds,advertisements add to the bulk. I took a particular fancy to court proceedings in the Straits Times.The judge often laments about the fall in morals and thunders at the accused whether he or she realises the gravity of the crime.Petty burglaries,shoplifting,vandalism etc are disposed off, in a grim and solemn manner with admonitions and heavy sentences. The Evidence Act as we all know of it is not much in evidence.Often the arresting cops deposition is taken as iron clad evidence.In recent times the SPH has launched the rather unimaginatively named New Paper which caters to the Singaporean’s need for sleaze,sex and violence in mild doses and other youth interests. The Singapore society has reached a point of affluence where the state calibrates and encourages a certain dose of humour and self deprecation. Somehow the emergence of Singapore as a modern financial capital has necessitated it to stir out of its’ longstanding image of a state which discourages long haired men and bans chewing gum.

You could litter the floor with empty peanut shells at the Long Bar of the Raffles hotel in Singapore.The famous Singapore Sling,a heady cocktail is to be had there.The hotel is all colonial charm.Huge white arches and tall ceilings.Indian food has its’ enthusiasts there and the Indian buffet has many takers.
Another interesting feature is the public transport system.The thick book on bus routes and fares can be an engrossing piece for literature for the masochist.A multipurpose value embedded card could pay your fares in the MRTS Rail system as well as the Bus routes.The precise amount of rail fare will be debited as you swipe your card at the alighting station.In the buses if one doesn’t carry the card it is better to carry hordes of change,count carefully and drop the precise fare to collect your ticket.The guy standing behind you could get quite impatient.There is no fall back option for technophobes to deal with a live human being who would collect the change and issue a ticket.Any attempt to do so at any of the counters would be met with detailed instructions on how to use the coin issuing machine and the ticket issuing machine.Could be quite frustrating .
I spent my days reading and ruminating.A break from my job seemed so welcome.Anita’s flat is located close to Orchard road.We could always drop in at the Great Wall shopping Mall.I read all works of Peter Mayle,George Mikes and some Rumpole books.The diplomat’s book collection on Kashmir is quite formidable and I read a whole lot of stuff on that.It was Shishir Gupta’s book which seemed most informative and objective.
We went to Malaysia by car.The Six lane expressway is a testimony to the young country’s ambitions.Stayed the night at the residence of Kuldeep Bhardwaj of the Indian Foreign Service.They are great hosts.After several drinks,at around midnight ,we decided to check out the Petronas Towers the tallest building on earth..I am not quite sure if two long prominent spears on top of the twin towers are counted for adjudging the height. It was quite a sight-so were we.Variously attired in ready –to- sleep garments.
Malaysia is the haven of seafood buffs.We had prawns ,lobsters,crabs,scallops and squids in all shapes and sizes that at the end of it all, the stomach felt like a mini refuge of sea life.The prawn cooked in rice wine at a mini eatery in Kuantan,a port town was the highlight of the gastronomic yatra.I was desperately looking for the fried Mee Hoon which is a pleasant memory from childhood.Turns out that it is only sold in Indian Muslim joints.The Roti Pisang and the Chana Roti is a big hit with the local populace,often branded as authentic Indian food.Basically layers of Paratha stuffed with Chana or bananas.A metamorphosis from the land of its’ supposed origin.Then there are food courts.Near apartments,shopping malls,parks and just about every place you can think of.There are hordes people at all times of the day chomping away as if there is no tomorrow.
A long severed connection was restored in Port Klang.My father worked there for many years as chief clerk in The Golden Hope Estate there.It was an emotional journey.The memory of childhood was a huge patch of greenery where two houses stood on wooden stilts near a lotus pond.The estate with its’ Palm and rubber trees loomed gloomily beyond.
I was restless with anticipation as we drove down.Luxury cars gliding past,I wondered if this is the land I left 30 years back. The landscape was not striking any chord within the deep recesses of memory.I remember my father’s peon Periyaswamy driving me down to kindergarden in his bicycle.The surroundings used to be lonely and wooded.Stretches of dark trees planted in rows with nothing to break the silence but the the occasional chirping of birds.I was trying to place where my kindergarden school was located.I remember being fascinated by the Chinese Miss who taught me.I would be constantly worried if Periasamy would desert me and run away.A mirror placed in the classroom offered me a view on his activities while classes were going on.The moment he vanishes from sight,I would start weeping.Periasamy was a notorious drunkard who would get sozzled beyond control on Kavadi festival of Thai poosam.I recall devotees on a spiritual high ,piercing their bodies with the steel strips which hold the Kavadi dancing to the tune and parading the streets.I never saw these seemingly painful acts replicated in India ,the land of its’ birth.
When we finally got to the place where our home stood,it turned out to be a sandy desolation being developed for a housing and commercial complex.Metres away a huge flyover whizzes past. A journey thirty years into the past is not easy on your emotions. I made a fool of myself crying in front of everyone. I have read of homecomings.Mentally I had conjured the event and replayed it in my mind several times before leaving India.Should I kiss the earth like the Pope does when His Holiness visits strange lands?Spend a few hours in quiet reflection? Nothing prepared me for what I saw finally. Somehow I came away so disappointed.
On our way back,we stopped in front of La Salle school where I studied in Class I.The summer of ’69 is a favourite song of my 5 year old son’s.Bryan Adams’ famous number has that rollicking feel to it.It was in the summer of ’69 that my life changed so interminably.In May ’69,there there were widespread riots in Malaysia.At the end of it Malaysia adopted the policy of affirmative action in favour of the Bumiputras or sons of the soil.The immigrant communities of Indians and Chinese were relegated in Education,Business and Employment.It was then that my father decided to send my mother and children back to India.I came to India with a smattering of Malaysian accented English.Growing in a village in Kerala at an impressionable age,Malaysia remained a distant memory.
Malaysia has grown beyond the Estate culture.What remained of the estates are now getting rapidly urbanised.I also met an old friend Murali who lived in the same Estate when we were toddlers.He is now a successful Malaysian citizen of Indian origin. Our paths have crossed intermittently and unexpectedly during the last thirty five years (Sounds suspiciously like a Yash Chopra Movie-our host Kuldeep swears when I described our chance meetings in life)The Indian diaspora is now a marginalised entity with a few flashes of brilliance. The Bhumiputra Policy of affirmative action and encouraging Malay participation has succeeded in reducing the clout of Chinese business interests.But it has also marginalised Indians who are predominantly plantation labour based .Opportunities for higher education are restricted for racial minorities.It hasn’t advanced native Malays educationally much yet.The old generation Indians are caught in a time warp.Although success stories abound I could sense a quiet unease among them.The success stories of Indians in the West have not had their effect in South East Asia.Wealthy Indians have sent their children to Australia and the West for education.Many have been sent to India for Professional education.Migration has frozen decades ago.
I spent the night with family friends.There was a time when we were kids raising a ruckus around the household.It was nostalgic to see our kids running around the very same ground.It was really an emotional reunion with Punchi and her family.Punchi’s daughter Suja whom I last saw 17 years back leaving India and an unhappy marriage behind is now married again and a mother of two lovely children.All sorts of people landed there trying hard to place me as Nair's youngest son.There were embarassing questions.Aren't you the boy who would play the record player without power just rotating it with your fingers?Aren't you the boy who would have tears in his eyes everytime your mom would go shopping and then claim that it is only water and tears that are flowing from your eyes?……It was sweetly nostalgic.
After the emotional homecoming at Port Klang we drove down to Kuantan and spent a week with Punchi’s brother and my old friend Narendran and his family.The long drive to Kuantan reminded of Jean Paget and displaced families in one of my all time favourite novels,”A Town Like Alice”.The countryside has been described beautifully in Nevil Shute’s novel.Kuantan is a beautiful coastal town-Shades of Kerala.We crawled pubs .A pair of middle aged baldies spending night after night hopping pubs.Narendran is a succesful Insurance executive.He has come a long way from the student life in India.He always had tremendous zest for life.
Airfares are cheap in Malysia. I flew back to Johore and took the bus back to Singapore.