The Boxer (feat. Mumford & Sons & Paul Simon) by Mumford & Sons on Grooveshark‘,’hspace’:null,’vspace’:null,’align’:null,’bgcolor’:null}” alt=”" />

 

I love this interpretation of Simon 

and Garfunkel’s classic by Mumford

& Sons. The folkier, the better.

 

This is one of the few songs where

I actually pay attention to what the

lyrics say, or what I think it does.

 

As is typical of folk music, while the

music may be absolutely beautiful

to listen to, the intent behind it

is often sad (and not hopeful,

as one would tend to think). 

 

The thing about The Boxer is that

while it may seem like it is about

acquiescing, and accepting man’s

powerlessness, it is also comforting.

 

Almost like a reminder.

 

We all feel battle weary

at certain points in our lives.

_____________________

The Boxer

I am just a poor boy

Though my story seldom told

I squandered my resistance

For a pocketful of mumbles

Such are promises

 

All lies and jests

Still a man hears

What he wants to hear

And disregards the rest

 

When I left my home & my family

I was no more than a boy

In the company of strangers

In the quiet of the railway

stations running scared

 

Laying low seeking out 

The poor quarters

Where the ragged people go

Looking for the places

Only they would know

 

Lie-la-lie, lie-la-lie lie-la-lie lie

Lie-la-lie, lie-la-lie lie-la-lie lie

Lie-la-lie lie lie

 

Asking only workman’s wages

I come looking for a job

But I get no offers

Just a “Come on!”

From the whores of 7th Avenue

I do declare there were times

When I was so lonesome

I took some comfort there

 

I’m laying down my winter clothes

And wishing I was home, going home

Where the New York City winters

Are bleeding me, bleeding me

Going home

 

Lie lie lie-la-lie 

Lie-la-lie lie lie

Lie lie lie-la-lie

Lie lie-la-lie

 

In the clearing stands a boxer

And a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminder of

Every glove that laid him down

And cut him til he cried out

In his anger and his shame

 

I am leaving, I am leaving

But the fighter still remains

 

Lie-la-lie, lie-la-lie lie-la-lie lie

Lie-la-lie, lie-la-lie lie-la-lie lie

Lie-la-lie lie lie

_____________________

 

On a side note, sometimes I also

completely disregard the meaning

of the song, singing it just because

I love the chorus (which is so apt for

all intents and purposes: “Lie-la-lie”)

 

On another side note, I also realised

while singing in the office one day,

that this is the only tune I know of

which uses the term “whores” but

but manages not to offend me

when I say it out loud.

 

Whoops. 

 

 

Gotta love Malaysian drivers sometimes.

 

On my way to the office this morning while

speeding down the DUKE (minimal traffic 

wahooey!), I realised that the cars in the

incoming lane to my right kept flashing

their headlights at us. Immediately the

cars in our lane slowed down. 

 

Five minutes later, we drove right

past a traffic police flag-down.

(Note to self: Careful on Sundays)

 

Saved! 

 

Road solidarity, my brothers and sisters. 

xx

 

Sent this ^ to Opu:

“You’re already missing your Sunday

dates with the Bank, aren’t you?”

 

I almost had a heart attack when 

Encik Azhar waltzed in to a dangdut

tune on his walkman (his walkman,

guys – no one else I know has them 

anymore – he’s such a classic dude).

 

We said our hellos and that was it.

Encik Azhar doesn’t talk that much,

even more so to us ladies in the

Negotiations Section. I think we

give him a headache sometimes.

 

The office is never really a fun 

place to work on the weekends,

especially since the central a/c

doesn’t run. This accounts for a

kind of stuffiness that is most

extreme on those days with

hot afternoons. Like this one.

 

Suddenly I hear this noise from

behind my island. I looked up to 

see what Encik Azhar was doing.

It turns out that he was dragging

a humongous standing fan from

the back of the department to

a spot right next to me. 

 

Click. He turned it on.

 

“This should make you feel better.”

Then he strolled back to his desk. 

 

I stared at him for a moment,

surprised at this unprecedented

gesture, before finally remembering

to croak out a grateful “Thank you!”  

xx

 

People have been unnecessarily kind today.

Strangers on the road; an elder colleague.

It should signal the start of a good week.

At least, let’s hope so.

 

Are you doing okay out there too?

 

 

Up and running starting Monday.

 

Everything’s worked out well with

Tumble Tots and our house. Ee and

Lisa and the parents worked so hard

to make it happen – pretty surreal to

see our former home transform into

an Institute of Play. So bersyukur tho

that they went with their guts on this.

I love knowing that 45 G2 is still ours.

 

Over a spot of drilling and hoovering

this afternoon Ee was telling me how

his friends reacted to the house’s

status as a Preschool now: “I was

just reminiscing about the amount

of parties that went down at your

house, it’s so weird that I’m going

to be sending my kids there!”

 

Same reaction from the

Melawati gang on my end 

 

To new beginnings for G2, insyaAllah.

xx

 

Jimi’s been banished to Riverview 51,

joining the ranks of Vegas and the cats

of No. 46. Poor thing is completely terrified

of car rides. The Niece was of absolutely no

help during that two minute ride, preferring

to make the most out of Jimi’s frightened

state - with her head buried in my arm - 

instead of getting the cat off my lap. 

 

What a sight we must have been, driving

past the guards on a scorching hot day:

 

“All this fur!! Get the windows down!”

“Jimi, hold still I CAN’T DRIVE LIKE THIS!”

“Tell her to stop moving I NEED A PICTURE!”

“Neena, watch the leather! Her claws!!”

“There are leaves and dirt on her fur,

Maksu. Maybe she needs a bath?”

“Guys, a little busy here. Still driving.”

 

 

If you know of the 7-11 in Melawati 

across the Jabatan Pendaftaran Negara

branch, in the mornings an old man

occasionally sells nasi lemak from the

trunk of his car right outside the store.

 

This Friday morning I stopped to buy

one of his wares for the first time.

His lauk-pauk were modest in quantity,

but the portion of rice was generous.

 

“Pakcik, which would you recommend?”

 

“Paru sambal,” he replied immediately.

“My wife makes the best in town.”

 

I honestly wasn’t a fan of having paru

team up with my morning nasi lemak,

but his vote of confidence convinced me.

 

“Did you only recently start working?”

 

I laughed. “No, it’s been some years.

Don’t be fooled by an immature face.”

 

“A youthful face,” he countered kindly.

“I’ve never had you buy from me before.”

 

“Oh, yeah. I don’t really have breakfast

in the mornings. Just some tea and

then I’m good to go for the day.”

 

He tsk-tsked. “Well, that’s not right.”

Gesturing to the evidence of his wife’s

labour of love displayed in between us

he said, “One should always start the

day with a lot of love, shouldn’t they?”

 

Ain’t that the truth.

 

Check out his nasi lemak if you’re in

the area and happen to come across

this very pleasant man. To be honest,

my recommendation would be the

paru sambal too  Real good stuff!

 

Chat him up, ask about his wife.

He will later send you off with a 

beautiful smile while telling you,

“Gembiranya hati Pakcik!”

 

You will be able to tell that your

purchase means a lot to him. 

  

 

He would be so proud of you, Ayus.

As am I. And your friends, and the

multitude of people who keep you 

close to their hearts. You’re alright,

you strong, reckless, gutsy woman.

 

I haven’t seen Ayus in so long.

Woman’s UNHCR missions take

her away for quite some time.

 

In our last WhatsApp conversation

she shared with me a case of one

of her missing Burmese refugees,

a young boy who disappeared as

he was walking home one evening.

She fretted over him so much,

disappointed at being unable

able to do more.

 

She had already done so much -

distributing flyers, combing the

area surrounding the refugee

village he lived in, giving up

sleep to monitor her reports

and keeping in touch with her

contacts who, like her, were 

also frantically searching.

 

I don’t know if they ever found him.

 

And I really do miss her.

 

Your daughter is doing amazing things

down here, Uncle. I really wish you

could see her now. Al-Fatihah.

 

 

Our friendship is better than this

silent, shameful, fading away.

 

Where is your kindness, Mubeen,

in this hurtful, hurtful silence?

 

Sometimes I wonder if your actions reflect the

truth of the matter that it was easier for you

to do this, rather than sitting down to talk,

like friends do; coming to a decision together.

 

Did our friendship not mean that much to you.

 

Did I not mean that much.

 

I remember when I saw glimpses

of the best of your character, and I

hope that it’s still in you, somewhere.

 

That’s all I can ever really hope for.

 

 

I can’t imagine anyone else doing exactly

what my mother has done for me this

evening. No one would. Nobody.

 

Ya Allah you’ve blessed me with such

an amazing woman whose compassion

knows no boundaries. My mother’s love

is endless and with unconditional sacrifice.

 

Would I have an inch of my mother’s

kindness, I would be ten times the

woman that I am today.

 

She humbles me so.

 

And as I grow older each year I

find that the people we love, and

who love us, keep us that way.

 

Like guardian angels.

 

 

To those who wear your

hearts on your sleeves.

 

It’s all going to be okay.

Have courage. 

 

 

Elyas Muffriezal is a year old today.

 

So very grateful to have him with us.

Not only does his presence in the brood

add to the doses of laughter but the joy

he brings, to both his parents and to mine,

is priceless. Babies are indeed blessings, be

they our own flesh and blood or otherwise. 

 

Happy first year of life, Nephew. You are

a constant breath of fresh air to my days,

and your innocent ways touch me deeply.

I am always thankful for the simple joy 

you bring, sometimes, by just sharing

a smile and gurgly laughter with me.

 

Most of all, I am thankful that you

make my Abang and Salina, and my

own parents, so incredibly happy.

 

I will come to teach and do a lot of

things for you throughout your life,

for which you will be thankful for.

But if you ever get a chance to read

this when you are older, know that

I am forever indebted to you simply

because of how you make our parents

feel when they are around you.

 

There is a lot of love in you, Elyas.

Let it always be there.

 

We released Wishing Lanterns tonight

in celebration of his one year milestone.

 

Many more to come, IA.

Maksu loves you, big boy xx

  

 

First ever hug in our short years of friendship.

Had to be a goodbye one, eh.

 

Typical post-picture reaction:

“Eh I thought you said make sadface?”

“But why you give duckface?!?!”

  

(Why did I give that duckface? Ya Allah.)

 

Man, I’m going to miss Opu.

She’s flying over open seas now.

Please keep her in your thoughts.

May she have a safe, safe journey.