OLD MEN AND YOUNG MEN

                          

            It needs two things when conflict occurs:

 

Old men with power and young men with hatred, very tough to convince because the only thing that young men want is the power of old men, and the only thing that powers old men is the hatred of the youth of which time has passed them by. 

 

Ancient history evolution?  yet we cover it up by injecting ideology of democracy, everyone has a voice, equal rights and opportunities, la-di-la-de-dah…. We applaud ourselves from developing cave dwellings into sky-high buildings, from factory produced vehicles to rockets to the moon, doubling human life with medical knowledge, now attempting to reproduce human intelligence for AI to become a better humanoid devoid of emotions  to obviate human failings, while we gloat over wins, feed our souls for more.

 

How is this justified when we haven’t even mastered simple human failings and then rely on various religious beliefs, or in reality propaganda to teach us better ways, yet this learned ways erupts into wars, kills, maims and then fails miserably. Then some intellectuals rationalize our behavior by explaining with authority that it is nature’s way of solving overpopulation.  We even fight on these beliefs, century after century, learning nothing more than division, racism, and tribal segregation.

 

At the beginning of life we start with zero and then taught to achieve our dreams, only in truth we are born to struggle and pretend we are achieving greats.  Yet we produce shooters at malls, defend land by killing, stemming from religious teachings and beliefs to the point of eradicating enemies than sharing peacefully.

 

At this point I don’t expect convenient fairytale endings; but I do expect that in the quietness of the night, (between bombings, or hatred, or just family squabbles,) for a moment of clarity, a moment of soul searching, fix ourselves by ourselves, not on perceived God-like teachings. Instead of trying to reach Jupiter, learn the art of sharing the oil, land, and train ourselves to overcome these failings.

Questioning it all while flipping channels, watching the preferred leader making a speech at his esteemed alma mater in Cambridge Massachusetts, after the night before, in New York, alongside Taipei’s youngest mayor Chiang Wan-an accepting an award as Times’ 100 influential of 2023. While the unvoted ageing tycoon using his snatched position as leader, to attend the 78th UN General Assembly also in NY rubbed shoulders with global investment CEO of Blackrock to unveil that Thailand is now open to investments and visiting tourists.   As an influential businessman in his other life; rubbing shoulders with top global financiers would empower his already powerful job, unlike previous tanked and gunned military leadership.  But without guns, if push comes to shove, the preferred leader’s height of 5ft 7" is no match to the leader’s 6ft 3" effortlessly cradling the small man’s ego to the nursery.

 

The old vs the young.  

This has been the order of humanity.  Perhaps we should try to change. I did say try.

MUSICAL CHAIR PARODY

 

The Prize  -  The Crown 

 

“The Journey to Jerusalem” is a children’s ancient party game going as far back to the Crusades, circa 10^th – 12^th AD.  This game originated from several heavy losses incurred before they made it to the holy land.

 

The original Welsh version: boys sat on chairs, girls danced until music stops, girl left standing leaves the game; last girl wins, gets to kiss the boy. On the face of it, a fun game. Dig a few layers deeper holds a parody of what is rightfully your chair, and it becomes a story of pulling and snatching the ownership of the chair from ancient times, still relevant today.

Let’s continue to call it the Welsh version of the Big Chair, befitting to the Kymric title where the music is one long waiting period over 70 years.  She made her appointed heir danced around for 73 years and  was only just able to sit and rest his weary feet and ceremonially occupy the Chair in May 2023, and until his playlist loops “When will I see you again” comes to the ending of his favorite The Three Degrees, the beginning of  Operation Menai Bridge, his secret funeral code is called, comes into focus.  

 

Succession can be problematic. Since Henry VIII’s reign producing male heirs needed many marriages, or concubines to rectify miscarriages and infant mortality.   The Royal Constitutional Act of Settlement took two centuries later, from 1701 that cemented the foundation of succession with Parliament rule.

 

Royalty is a position preferably inherited by birth through blood line. Continuation of Royal blood was solved in some cases by incest among half-brothers and half- sisters practiced in preserving their undisputed right.

 

Modern 20^th century resulted in the entrance of commoners, for incest was unacceptable by way of morality or genetic defects. Mixing commoners in one case, from origins of slavery, has spilled over such pent-up inner discomfort pointedly suffocating empathy, love and understanding from both sides.

 

So what is a royal?  

 

In ancient Egypt, the king was the representative of the deity on earth. It is very important, therefore, to determine the nature of this association in order to sustain belief among commoners. 

 

Through the ages, the musical chair rule had to adjust with the evolution of time from deep faith to questioning its validity.   Sustaining its position required succession only through bloodline.  With the introduction of monogamy  the discrepancy of  the rightful heir is never questioned.  Prior to sophisticated modern society, children from mistresses and concubines were the only assurance of the continuation of the majestic blood-line that encouraged incest. From such unions, protection of  the institution becomes the backbone of the country to subvert any political party that wins an election, fixed or not.  

 

Distinct difference between ruler and commoner must be spotted easily.  An authoritative figure, the myth had to be Godlike.  Military competency, special achievements, educational prowess attained real or manufactured was used as propaganda. Credited with medals, war-like heros', paraded after winning battles, examples are of either Falklands or Afghanistan. Uniforms become distinctive and places them apart from the commoner.

 

Observed by a conniving pedophile blackmailer to secure his own wealth, by offering fantasy without consequences, the naive royal falls prey to human needs exposing their ungodlike longing for wild lust. A secret kept in preserving the untouchable monarchial status had a price.

 

In some monarchial ruling, ancient Roman laws from the 3rd Century are still practised in protecting any defamation against the Royal family.  Precise protocol  is used and becomes a strict rule, to be observed by commoners, when addressing Royals.  Specially constructed royal language, taught in schools, is enforced when addressing them. The royals reply normally.   Official news reports, whether verbal or in writing requires usage of the special words describing various actions. Terminology sets them apart;   houses are palaces, churches are abbeys, and the period between the reign of two monarchs is called an “interregnum”  much like overlapping US presidents exchanging power, the term “inauguration” is precise, weighted yet with dignified protocol.

 

While the music has not stopped  and the decisive heir yet to be appointed, in my fairytale myth, the dance goes on in a loop playlist from K-pop to Swift-pop. 

 

 

DIONYSUS

The Greek God of wine and revelry

The very essence of democracy 

is that a creative artist is given the liberty 

to project the picture of society in a manner he perceives.

One of the prime forms of exposing the ills of society is by 

portraying a satirical picture of the same.

Stand-up comedians perform that very purpose. 

In their portrayal they use satire and exggerate the ills 

to an extent that it becomes a ridicule.  

In the humorous portrayal of the ills of the society 

the stand-up comedians use satire.

Delhi High Court

Court jesters, in Elizabethian times, offer entertainment during gastronomic celebrations. Usually comically featured dwarf-like stature was enough to induce a chuckle, and when the deep voice belie their age, every gesture turns the chuckle into a belly laugh.  Going back further to find its beginnings, comedy originated in 5th century, BC in classical Athens.  It was quirky, sarcastic, and mocked both political and philosophical ideas.

As in any joke telling, now or then, whether elbowing at the local pub, one hand with a pint, the other gesticulating the pun, the mastery is in the timing. Many serious moments in the world, relief comes from mocking political injustice, and philosophical ideas, that in certain countries can land you in jail, yet in others, the freedom to belly laugh, helps any injustice dumped on you.

Much like  Vir Das's"Two India's" delivered to a full house at the Kennedy Centre in Washington DC in 2021, caused such division in his homeland prior to his return.  An angered lawyer wanted him to face legal action by requesting the Mumbai Police Commissioner to file an  FIR  (First Information Report).  His poetic delivery rested on realities of India's society, the results were venomous and inflammatory, yet highly amusing and ended on a note of never to forget the greatness of India.

Vir Das explains to India Times   "The satirical duality of two very separate India's that do different things.  Like any nation has a light and dark, good and evil within it..."

Before judging others, let us look at the gentle Siamese tradition. The genetic profile,  cleverly depicted, in the Hollywood film of Anna and the King of Siam, is of a subservient nature, high value in obedience, soft-spoken in gentle musical tones,  an inherent nature of pleasing others.  The language itself illustrates the positioning between individuals, observing the hierarchical status, age, even birth order. It is present, even in today's technological world of instant results, the soft nature in competition with a harsh outside world.

But just only look at the limited stand-up comedians available, the conclusion is of an oppressed country, unable to have the liberty to project their thoughts. Of course Note Udom, Thailand's celebrated stand-up comedian, pokes and stabs at soft imperfections and gets the audience laughing or giggling, much like a teenager sneaking out from under the closeted structure in which they reside. The limitation allows Note Udom a few jabs, but intellectual sarcasm, and the duality of humor would not serve well in the land of gentleness, for in the vocabulary of Monopoly board game, Note Udom would have got the "Go to Jail" card if he half tried.

However daunting a situation may be, we need comedy to help us go through such difficult times.  The releasing of dopamine brings happiness, enabling a good chuckle from a horrendous week of a deranged, 14 yr old schizophrenic shooter in a busy mall killing two and injuring many. The event de-stablized the tourist industry, that is barely recovering from the pandemic.  Realistic fears harbour those aware of the increasing generational divide. The divisional marker of those  born before and after the evolution of IT and AI widens as ever.

For those condo living city-dwellers, who need laughter to take away the heavy burdens, do go to Netflix or YouTube, and get your belly laughs from the likes of Fluffy, Trevor Noah, Sindhu Vee or Vir Das. A smile will gather on your cheeks, the mood will change to a happier place, without the need for Ambian, Tibetan sound healing, or even meditative chants.

 

 

        

 

 

 

RE-BIRTH CEREMONY

 SAI-SIN. The Thread of Life

Bangsakun Bhen

 

Born in any culture, from any country, rejoicing of a new life is an event to celebrate, congratulate, and applaud for joining the world of civilization.  And every year, on each anniversary we celebrate birthdays by blowing candles on a cake, giving gifts, and wishing the celebrant many more anniversaries to enjoy.  It reflects our appreciation of life, yet absent is not facing life’s finality.  Ideologies make us repent, to lead a redemptory life either by confessions every Sunday to abate our sins or improve ourselves in softening our karmic principle of cause and effect. 

In this transitionary period of my life, my country is going through a slow process of evolution, juggled with set-backs and fast-forward leaps; disturbing the forces and forever trying to equalize with the rest of the world’s progress.  Catching its breath as each sanction of bribery unfolds, going through the cleansing ritual for the next generation’s headache.  Karmic principles of balancing have been lopsided for some time, now awaiting self-equilibrium.

 

A Buddhist rebirth ceremony sanctioned by prayers, conducted by monks, lustral water infused with magical powers of blessings, splashing droplets over the head, the most sacred part of the body by dipping in the long flapping bamboo sticks, symbolizes the cleansing of sins may have the answers. The circle of thread looped over heads, like a crown known as ‘sai-sin’ links to the monks, as prayers are chanted, the thread circling Buddha images and beyond, the circle  a symbol of continuation as it is in re-incarnation.

 

This ceremony was a little rushed by temple staff, lots of jostling, giving instructions that were confusing.  I initially felt the disappointment of the temple’s commercialism over spiritualism. This feeling quickly dismissed as chanting started, and my initial training of capturing small detail of exits, numbers of people within immediate space, ceiling to floor strength, was replaced by slowly slipping into a hypnotic meditative state where anxiety disappeared.

 

The renewing of life, by washing away previous mistakes, begins after long prayers, chanted by monks, with required repeats. We struggled, as Sanskrit or Pali was not part of my nor my friends’ linguistic skills. After what seemed like 45 minutes, in a  meditative state, I followed as directed and stepped into the open coffin.  Adjusting my small body in a very narrow space, a small ineffectual pillow, indicating the importance of where the head should be, stretching out holding onto unlit joss sticks with a bunch of flowers facing outward; while my tall Aryan, Indo-Persian physique friend crushed his body to fit, his knees visible in anguish. Lying in a coffin as more chants audible in the distance, while the symbol of purplish cloth covers (death) and then quickly swiped over with a clear white cloth (re-birth).   The ritual over in only a few minutes.

 

Allow me to extract a fraction of a moment in the coffin, in slow motion, and describe the fleeting sensation. As my head hit the empty unstuffed pillow, the hard wood sensation was surprisingly comforting; my soft, top-of-the-line, expensive mattress at home is instinctively against the well-being of the spine.  The bright blue sheath covering inside the coffin reflected from the temple’s neon lighting above casted a glow of unreality.  Instead of instilling calm, the on-edge excitement of my wild imagination but real echoing energy that the coffin walls were draped to hide stains of previous use. The whiff of wooden polish among one’s own breath mingled with  other’s last exhale was intriguing.  Trying to let go of any tension, I automatically went for ‘life’ by replicating Wim Hoff’s breathing techniques I perfect on a daily early morning ritual, inhaled, and exhaled with force, capturing humidified oxygen and expelling carbon dioxide, initially to calm the nerves.    

 

It was a brief moment of grasping the beauty of death. 

 

I felt the calm of an ending. Much like a door closing. Even if the ending was caused by uncontrolled forces; a crash, or an ending from a bullet, the silence or even the pain of happiness is complete stillness.

 

It was a compelling force to emerge from a bizarre ritual for a better me. The truth lies in acknowledging that my previous life existed by a remembrance of my last meal, not found in this country.  I held the key to happiness in this life because of the precious one I left behind; I had kept my promise. Karma tends to explain it all but how to explain this in my limited knowledge, to myself, is an impossibility.   My friend flew in to join in the rituals had little knowledge of the many obstacles in conducting this excursion.   It was not meant to happen and yet every barrier in my pathway was cleared by mysterious reasons.

 

How does an atheist who counters every existence of the Almighty, explain this knowledge. To anyone I casually mentioned my eminent voyage; there were gasps of disbelief, curiosity and questions to what my purpose was in trying to replicate what everybody leaves untouched.  Even questioning my mental state of recent widowhood or if I had succumbed to a cult. Questioning even my invitation to a stranger I just recently met to join in a very personal quest.  I always remained quiet and smiled at every countenance but offered no explanation.  I just didn’t have one.  

 

 Would I recommend this to everyone?  My unequivocal answer would be ‘only when you are spiritually ready’. How would you know at what point spirituality will be in your life - only you would know that. Maybe you will never be ready. No one, absolutely no one, should have the gumption to tell you that you need it. And being ‘spiritually ready’ does not mean that you are backed up by a religious faith, or encouraged for a medical remedy, or even your close loved one says so. 

It just means your stark-naked soul requires it.

 

This is not a one-sided gift. No priest or God has the ability to bestow rebirth without your commitment in conceding to instill a new habit or losing a bad one, performed until the day of  your last heartbeat. This should be practiced sixty days before the ceremony. It is to honor and prepare your rebirth so that human failings are kept accountable.   Throughout the course of your life, if you happen to fail on the promise to yourself, the rebirth goes back to square one, much like it never happened.  No one should know of what you've committed to giving up, in doing so, the failure or success is only on you, no one else.  You and only you carry that sack of burden.

 

Holy water, with jasmine and rose petals floating, mixed with candle wax droplets filled the plastic 300ml water bottle, to take home, sprinkling for continued blessing, supposedly to last out until the next annual temple visit.    A character trait of going against the grain surfaces whenever rules or instructions are placed in front of me.  Morning shower the following day, in style, cap opened, and in one flick of the wrist, my naked body received the full bottle of holiness from head to toe, underlying an unconscious need of a repeat ceremony. 

See you there my friend.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KARMA'S A BITCH

                               

                                               Britain's Karma.    India's Karma                                                  

 

Karma

 is the key concept in 

Hinduism and Buddhism 

where it is linked to the cycle of rebirth

 and the ethical dimension of our actions

 

 

 

The Law of Karma explains that for every action taken determines the consequence, reflecting the cycle of past deeds until the goal of rebirth is achieved.  The implication is usually attached to a negative impact caused by an equally destructive behavior. The teaching of karma is to improve humanity, and with good behavior, increases better karmic balance. 

 

The possibility of the karmic cycle of white supremacy, over several centuries in suffocating and oppressing people of color, from slave trading, tyrannizing to colonizing, believing in their superiority solely to benefit trade; the God of balance will turn around and point its scepter right back at the perpetrator.  The Age of Aquarius recycles the Law of karma and prepares the world for the consequence of past deeds.  

 

So, let’s pick the British Empire and it’s colonization. To compact history down to just three pages, with the intent of not boring the reader, it will begin with  controversy.  The Royal Charter granting monopoly to run trade by the East India Company on British Indian opium, seized an offshore base in Hongkong to safeguard its profitable monopoly in narcotics to ferry opium into China.

 

Karma revisits:  Heroin now retraces its steps to seaside towns from Blackpool all the way south to Bournemouth.    Boscombe, a suburb of Bournemouth labelled the “heroin capital of England” in recent years, despite being only a stone’s throw away from one of the most expensive stretches of coastal real estate in the world.

 

“The Mountbatten Plan” drawn between Lord Mountbatten, the last Viceroy of British India and Mohamed Ali Jinnah in 1947, divided the subcontinent of India, we know now as Pakistan.  Mountbatten was King Charles III favorite uncle and mentor, whose own Karma got him bomb-blasted on the Irish sea in 1979 by the IRA.

 

Half a century and a couple of generations later, the incompetence of Liz Truss’s brief time in 10 Downing Street got her economic policy wrong largely down to a fundamental misunderstanding about how markets work, and how fragile Britain’s economy was at that time.  It gave way to the rising power of Karma from colonial times, making it abundantly clear the cycle of re-birth has just begun.

 

Karmic reflects to past deeds for Rishi Sunak to rise, to restructure and bring back economic stabilization. In the United Kingdom we now have the first British Asian Prime Minister Mr. Rishi Sunak, 43 a Punjabi Hindu descent, his parents immigrated from East Africa to Britain in the 1960’s.  He studied PPE from Oxford, earned an MBA from Stanford University in California as a Fulbright Scholar.  Started his business career with Goldman Sachs having joined the Conservative Party earlier on. 

 

Prime Minister Rishi Sunak has insisted that he is the right person for the UK’s top job, especially at a time of rapid technological change and tough economic challengers in an interview with ‘The Times’.  He noted: “You can start to see now that there is a prospect of wage growing faster than inflation going forward. I’m really proud of our country and what makes us special.  I’m really optimistic about the future.”   The general election expected around mid-2024, the Conservative Party government under his leadership is now pitching its tent to start wooing the electorate.

It's a long road between the two nations, Pakistan to Scotland, but the distance was shortened by Scottish nationalist that picked Humza Yousaf , a 37-year- old Punjabi descent, born in Scotland  of Pakistani immigrants as  Scotland’s  Nationalist Party's First Minister. Studied Politics from the University of Glasgow and joined as parliament  assistant to Bashir Ahmad, the first Muslim elected to the Scottish Parliament.  His function as the First Minister includes promoting and representing Scotland in an official capacity at home and abroad.

 In the city of Big Ben, there’s the Mayor of London, Sadiq Aman Khan, 53 yrs, a Sunai Muslim, the eldest of the three mentioned, was born in Tooting from Pakistan immigrant parents. From humble  beginnings, his gratitude at having the chance to live in the UK,  continues to send money back to relatives in Pakistan. Tooting, a district in South London in 1970, prevalent with racism  he and his brothers learnt to protect themselves, and took up boxing at a nearby Boxing Club. Khan joined the Labour Party, a balance to Sunak’s Conservativism, and is considered a social democrat, earned his law degree at the University of North London.  A solicitor on Human Rights issues, Khan also became a Councilor for the London Borough of Wandsworth.

 

Over the pond, heading towards the symbol of Freedom of the Statue of Liberty, preparation is underway for a new and difficult election challenge. Trump’s selection of sexual offences, against contender Nikki  Haley, the youngest Governor of South Carolina.  Of Indian descent. Nimarata Nikki Randawa'a parents are from Punjab, her father received a scholarship to the University of British Columbia in Canada and subsequently immigrated to South Carolina. 

America’s population is experiencing demographics of economic and social changes called the Historical Reversal, where the ageing 65 yrs old and above outnumber children under the age of 15.

 

And if by a twist of luck, fate, or karmic leveler, as a cushion to Haley's loss, the world’s most powerful leader could be Vivek Ramaswamy, the young and capable 38 yrs old Republican Party candidate for the upcoming 2024 US Presidential election.  A Hindu, born in Cincinnati Ohio, his parents immigrated from Kerala, Southern India.  His credentials outshine many previous Presidents. A Harvard College graduate Summa Cum Laude, and a fellow member of the Phi Beta Kappa.  His entrepreneurship in biotech is phenomenally successful and rumored to have a net worth of US$500 million.  He made it into Forbes list of America’s richest entrepreneurs under 40.

 

With Congress back-up of three ethnic Indian descent Hindus; Shri Thanadar (D) Bobby Jiwal and (R) Pramila Jayapal (D): this could revolutionize humanity to a better existence or fail abysmally to ruin.

 

After all we are all made of the same cloth, greediness mixed with benevolence, killers mixed with healers.  All worshipping the same Almighty but designing them to fit each of their needs.

 

Picture the White House lawn

with two of the most powerful leaders on the podium

US President Vivek Ramswamy and UK Prime Minister, Rishi Sunak

addressing the issues of the world.

 

 

All at once the shudder of anxiety, undeniable goosebumps kept hidden for the ethical dimensions of previous generation’s conduct is about to surface.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EBONY AND IVORY - Live together in perfect harmony

Racism. –  A Personal truth that cannot be unspoken anymore.

There is guilt, social injustice, fear, anger, stress, and broken relationships, whenever we enter into conversations based on ethnicity.   Shining example of supposed conversations of “what color would Archie be when he’s born.”

 

I am no expert on racism, I am neither black nor white; but of the yellowish spectrum; somewhere between golden yellow to canary yellow.  I do have Caucasian blood swimming through my Asian veins.  Highly controversial in 1880’s, when my great grandfather on my mother's side, was the color of Hitler’s preferred fellow German, fell in love with a Burmese Mon beauty, while commissioned to dredge the river-beds of Siam. 

 

They produced my Grandmama Lek, one of the first bio-racial beauty of that era.  A devout Catholic, Grandmama Lek spread her beauty to a total of nine children, four daughters and five sons.  My mother being the eldest, grabbed the dominant DNA.  Her melanin composition leant towards the Canary bird color.   Caucasian cranial and nasal bone structure with precise jaw line that held exceptional teeth framework which placed her smile to perfection. Her Asian genes went to her small frame, beautiful hands, and feet.   

 

The dominant conversation as I was growing up was my mother’s beautiful skin color. Left unsaid was how to protect us from the sun,  against different shades of our household staff particularly the gardener, whose daily work alongside ultraviolet rays signified cultural class differences.   All the while forgetting that Grandmama had a green thumb.   If not in the house, Grandmama was always discovered in the garden planting or talking to her plants. She would praise her abundant lime tree, then turned around loudly admonishing her slow-growing chilies; chatting to them as if they were human. She had a great sense of humor.  I always found her amusing. Her days out in the sun far exceeded our gardener, yet she remained white. 

 

The human logic is a fascinating element of behavior.  It stems from early childhood that surfaces to deeper levels of judgement in adulthood.  How unconsciously we view black (as negative) vs white (as positive). How discrimination weaves its way around color association. 

I took to bed with me, for comfort, a teddy bear, named Teddy and a Golliwog named Sammy. Even the names represented the era - Teddy represented something loving and cuddly and safe, while Sammy was the funny gatekeeper, his black shadow to scare off night-time predators.  

 

Growing up in London I was fed the typical British breakfast of pork sausages, bacon, black-pudding, eggs, and beans.  For those unaware, black-pudding is a type of blood-sausage, the outer skin being black.  It was always left untouched, too scary, and uninviting to swallow. Reintroduced again at a later stage in life, it was the most delicious part of the breakfast combo.

 

Taking piano lessons as a child, I disliked the Ebony keys because it was a stretch for my little fingers in music beats, in time to return to the Ivory keys.  Admonished by the music teacher, that all keys must be played to make melody, the young mind was left with the typical association of what was preferred. 

 

Only sixteen, a handsome Sri Lankan male contender harboring a flirtatious adventure with me….his dark tone was purple-black.  The first close-up unveiling the dark creases of his neck unfolded, small beads of perspiration on tight black skin were unlike the globs of sweaty English boys to which I was accustomed. And I'm ashamed to say that I recoiled because of the color.  

 

Muhamed Ali, the world’s greatest boxer on one of his BBC TV interviews with Michael Parkinson in 1974 expressed the way we have been forced fed, from nursery rhymes to representations of beauty. What is bitingly true are these words that represent how we are taught to think.

           

 

Tarzan was the King of  the jungle in Africa – but he was white

            Angel food cake was the white cake.                                       

Devil’s food cake was the chocolate cake.

If I threaten you, it’s blackmail.

The black cat was the bad luck.

 

 

America known for its racism through its history of black slaves brought over from Africa, unwilling and unrewarded, played a major role in laying the economic foundations of the United States. It took many a brave souls like Martin Luther King Jr, Malcolm X and many more activists to restructure the civil rights movements to eventually elect a Black President for two terms in 2009 to 2017 living in The White House.  

 

Thailand has its own peculiar racism:  The term Farang in Thai means a Western foreigner from a white ethnicity, exempt from any disparaging intent,.The term ‘Khaek’, means a guest, or more often as a derogatory description for an Indian or Arab.  In 1950’s Indians from humble beginnings were selling fabric, bicycling from house to house  As Thais, the second and third generation of ‘Khaek’s” reached their pinnacles of success through acquiring land, building skyscrapers for rent and now own many businesses from famous restaurants to shipping. Not integrated into Thai society, the Indian sector’s choice of a civil-servant career was never an option   The term ‘I-mude’, an insulting moniker  of  “you dark”

 

We thought we had arrived with sophistication and thoughtfulness until the Markle effect – “the unconscious bias.”  Etiquette demands politically correct usage, to show our education and mindfulness and thoughtfulness to our fellow humans

 

If you want color specifics, here is my version:

 

The canary-yellow woman, married a white-man, produced Mediterranean olive children. 

My question is what happens in the next 20 years when applying for the required  passport of whichever nationality, how many boxes are required to have  on the form in order to tick the correct ethnicity in today's mixed world?   

 

My grandchildren, have a unique ethnic combination of White Australian, Canary Chinese Singaporean, White Yorkshireman and Siamese yellow;  which box would they have to tick?

 

 

 

                CMYK

 

 

 

 

 

THE OLD VS THE NEW

 

Balance your views, evaluate your principles, elevate your standards to match the times. Be mindful in choosing what is agreeable.  The uncomfortable line that cuts through and divides you in one camp or another; seek to bridge the gap because you can’t live in the past and the future encompasses re-learning.

 

Be a voyeur to my wobbly balancing act and have a chuckle at my attempt to be current.

 

Adept at making any awkward silence disappear, I'm of the old school variety of meeting new people through physical contact; face to face, handshakes, (how strong or weak your grasp) or namaste (how low does your head bow to your hands) will give me a quick assessment of my new acquaintance. Now half way up the ladder, I have developed new skills of decoding text, of humor or anger, solving abbreviations, detecting curt undertones, precision instructions or just the simple ‘I love you’ as an ending of conversation, or a continuation of bedroom love.

 

In ancient times, (only 20 years ago), letters took 14 days to receive and reply, 10 years on, email etiquette is a 24hr turnaround, and today, texting requires immediate response.  Just two decades ago, life was slower, therefore fewer mistakes, and solid friendships formed through collected moments of time, allowed less flawed judgements.  

 

Things have changed drastically in the world of NOW.   With social media where you can connect with people you have never met yet begin to know them in the space of a week, as if you knew them from childhood.  Sarcasm is most challenging text to convey; forcefulness of words is silenced. Kindness reflected in soft tones of empathy requires poetic skills; and a mere “Hello” must be mis-spelt to convey “Helloooooo anyone home?”  and sadly a deep sexy “hello”, only audible in the imagination of the receiver.   

 

Change for anyone – young or old is only reflected in how effortlessly it is achieved. Before any judgement, I must investigate my own behavior.   Up until a couple of years, I had every social media available; Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, Podcasts, Linked-In, YouTube, and Twitter.  I followed local and global influencers, minor stars, major celebs, even US Presidents whose every thought process went on Twitter.  I commented harshly when I saw injustice, gushed at perceived selfless act of kindness. Opened myself to friends and strangers that I was on top of the game; knew every potential latest idea, discussed avidly, and won my point because I was ahead of those that did not have their face stuck to their phone every second of everyday.

 

Until one day I was struck by a tragic event, a jolt thunderstruck lightening flashed and realized how exposed my daily life was to the world of social media. It could have been judged incorrectly by the well-crafted pictures and comments.  Putting myself in a realm of ‘the perfect life’ that a possible psychopathic killer, or a Talibhan terrorist, or the rapist next door, or more likely a hacker who knew my every movement, was poised ready to steal my life.  Immediate reaction left me with just Facebook, my only media outlet as I deleted all others so that I could follow local and world accounts uncensored, as I live under dictatorial rule, masking as democracy.  Push came to shove; VPN would be my saving grace, even that has its limitations.

  

 

The emergence of the economy and social values after WWII when I popped into the world mid 1950’s loosened the parental stress of giving birth in bunkers but tighten the belt of new rules when death was replaced by world peace. By the time I became a parent in the early 1980s, all those strict measures I suffered had no place in society. My life had gone through the hippie movement, the cloud of marijuana smoke that permeated my bedroom, and the sexual freedom gave way to female emancipation.   

 

The magnitude of social values changed yet again with the advent of the internet, and parental guidance shifted when I became a grandparent in 2020.    YouTube and its vast information of how to bring up children; became the yardstick for parents from toddler screams to teenage defiance.  Ipads used as a measure to keep children occupied with cartoons when attention span turn into ADHD

 

Sound satisfaction at flipping the pages while reading an exciting novel, is now replaced by e-book’s silent pressing forward.   Once everyone’s secret shameful habit of dog-earring a page has now become a bookmarker.  Now the revolution of Audible keeps your reading material up to date with the choice of an American twang or British delivery while you are at the gym or stuck in traffic without having to physically scroll the pages.

 

Eye flirtation, a woman’s secret weapon of seduction supposedly increases sexual tension, precursor to the act itself, converts to the sexless act of swiping left or right on Tinder - unlikely to set blood flow where it is most needed. Nothing more powerful than whiffs of scent, eye contact and slight touch to electrify the energy of a human body, the need for procreation.

 

Not wanting to be cast aside as irrelevant, snatches of conversations regarding Andrew Tate, described as world’s  influencer was intriguing enough to listen to TV presenter Piers Morgan rip him apart.  Deliberate fast talking, irate and angry, sporting an intentional gangster appeal; I liked some of his viewpoint and realized the rise of female emancipation (mommy issues as well) crushed him along the way. Accused of being a misogynist, he is putting his values clear and honest at how men should be the leader and not allow their sons to pursue the soft option.  His words:

 

“De-masculinization of men in the west is a genuine plague, we are suffering

the traditional role that men have the duty to protect.”

“If you take a man and give him a life, shield him from problems, that he never needed to face, I guarantee you, he is terrible at being a man.”

 

Released after 6 months jail in Romania August 2023 for alleged sex trafficking and pornography, Andrew Tate, followed by millions globally is today’s man wanting yesterday’s values.

 

The world at fast-track has engineered a multitask society. Just watch a skilled driver maneuver through traffic.  Normally changing lanes requires eye-flick-up at the rear-view mirror with side glances ensuring safety. Fast-track world emits a sexy GPS voice-navigation through the smart phone, precariously clipped onto a holder, strategically blocking the air-conditioning vent, indicating you are in the wrong lane to turn right; enter stress level one. The contactless ticket to take the expressway indicates empty wallet, enter stress level two.  Immediately your right feet change from fast pedal to brake pedal; your eyes move to catch your boss calling as his name loops on screen, stress level jumps and as your playlist No. 2 blasts out metal rock, stress level at its highest.  Add insult to injury, your Apple watch pings as your blood pressure hits the alarm mark.  

 

 

In my version of fast-track of multi-tasking, I have learnt to read an e-book while watching news on YouTube at the same time scrolling through Facebook, surprisingly retaining 90%   It is nothing to boast about, more of my own FOMO.  Although there was a time in my life that multitasking was an inborn trait.   Boasting now but going back 40 years ago, I was straddling my daughter sucking on my breast milk while flipping fried eggs in the pan for my husband at the same time playing boo to my 2-year-old son strapped in his high-chair patiently waiting for the porridge to cool down.  

 

And then catching hubby’s eyes peeking through the top of the morning paper (made from recycled matter and wood pulp - the real stuff that crackles when turning pages) with amusement, at the same time checking his watch if he would have enough time to gobble up those eggs and be on his way to work or, typical of the male species, squeezing 10 minutes that would put him on top of the world, win the business game of the day and perhaps another child in the making. More likely that captured moment in a growing loving family of the silent eye contact, could not convey ‘Shall we?’ in text format.  It would need masses of emoji’s and fail miserably in its attempt.

 

On that note, may the fast and the furious win the game.  Just every now and again look out for those loving eyes that peer through the top of a Kindle, masking as a newspaper; it’s worth a million light years.