The day that changed the world

Time has really flown. It's hard to believe that it's already 25 years since the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York City on 11 September 2001. What was I doing that day? Well, I was still working, although by then I was no longer in the banking industry but with JobStreet.com, based in the Hotel Equatorial building in Bukit Jambul, Penang.

Because of the 12-hour time difference, the attacks happened in New York during our evening on 11 September 2001. By the time I went to the office the following morning, the 12th of September, the full horror of what had happened was already becoming clearer. Word had come in that there had been a terrorist attack on US soil, and as more details emerged, we slowly realised that this was something on a scale none of us had known before. For the rest of the day, very little work was getting done in our office. My colleagues and I were glued to our computer terminals, reading the news, looking at the images and trying to figure out what was happening thousands of kilometres away in New York. We had no idea then that we were watching an event that would change the world, or that among the nearly 3,000 people who died would be three Malaysians who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was one of those days when the news seemed almost too unbelievable. Although we had become accustomed to seeing disasters and wars on television, this was different. The images coming out of New York were being shown again and again, and each time they looked unbelievable. First came the report of a plane crashing into the World Trade Centre, then another plane hitting the second tower. Before long, we knew that this was a coordinated terrorist attack.

There were four hijacked aircraft that morning. Two were flown into the Twin Towers, another crashed into the Pentagon and United Airlines Flight 93 came down in Pennsylvania after passengers attempted to take control of the aircraft. Nearly 3,000 people were killed, not counting the 19 hijackers. The Twin Towers collapsed within hours, taking with them office workers, visitors, firefighters, police officers and other first responders who had rushed towards the buildings when everyone else was trying to get away.

For those of us sitting in an office in Penang, we continued watching the events on our computers. Although the Internet was nowhere near what it is today, JobStreet.com by our very nature was very much connected through it to the outside world despite there being no smartphones delivering videos and notifications into our hands. So we sat at our computers, refreshing news websites and talking among ourselves as more details emerged.

I remember the feeling in the office. We were physically so far away from New York, yet somehow the events felt very close. Work continued, technically, but nobody was really concentrating on it. Every new piece of information seemed more shocking than the previous one. By the time we had spent hours following the unfolding events, we were not only distracted from work but mentally tired. And when the Twin Towers eventually collapsed, it was difficult to comprehend that the New York skyline had changed forever.

Twenty-five years later, the world has moved on in ways that would have been difficult to imagine that day. Airport security became much tighter, governments introduced new counter-terrorism measures and the United States went to war in Afghanistan. Osama bin Laden, the leader of al-Qaida, was eventually killed by US forces in Pakistan in 2011. But the consequences of 9/11 went far beyond the immediate response to the attacks and continue to influence the world today.

A whole generation has grown up since 9/11. In 2001, I was sitting in the office at Hotel Equatorial Bukit Jambul with my colleagues, staring at computer screens. This blog didn't even exist then, so there was no post for me to look back on and remind myself what I was thinking that day. Today, there are young people who were not even born when it happened. For them, 9/11 is not something they personally remember. It is something they learn about from history books, documentaries, photographs and the stories told by their parents and grandparents. So perhaps this is my belated 9/11 blog story, coming 25 years late.

No title attached, thank you

I'm not one to chase state honours because I've never been a businessman or corporate leader, nor have I ever felt the need for the weight of a state or federal title behind my name. But if an award comes my way in recognition of my contributions to society, I certainly wouldn't turn it down. One thing is for sure, though: I would think twice before accepting any award that comes with a title. I still prefer to stay low-key and out of the limelight.

Last Monday, I attended an investiture ceremony at Dewan Sri Pinang to receive the Darjah Johan Negeri (DJN) from the Penang Governor, Ramli Ngah Talib, on the occasion of his official 85th birthday.

It wasn't my first state award. The last time I stepped into Dewan Sri Pinang for this purpose was in 2021, when I received the Pingat Kelakuan Terpuji (PKT) for 2020, the ceremony having been postponed because of the Covid-19 pandemic. And because of the pandemic, I never got to receive the award personally from the then Penang Governor, Haji Abdul Rahman bin Haji Abbas. But still, I had to dress up to the nines just to collect the medal. Before that, I have to turn the clock back to 1995, when I was awarded the Pingat Jasa Kebaktian (PJK).

Three medals under my belt. I think that's enough, lah. I'm happy, I'm contented, and I'm certainly not looking for any more.

There was another reason why receiving the award from Ramli made the occasion a little more special. Many people probably don't realise that he was the President of the Malaysian Chess Federation from 2007 to 2016. As I stepped forward to receive the medal, there was only time for a brief congratulatory handshake. I quickly told him, "This award is for Penang chess."

Whether those few words registered with him amid the hundreds of recipients that day, I really don't know.

Later that evening, however, there was an unexpected sequel. At the state dinner, as Ramli made his way along the red carpet greeting the guests, he shook my hand once again. This time, I simply reminded him with a single word: "Chess."

Before he could respond, his wife, Raja Noora Ashikin Raja Abdullah, who was walking just behind him, immediately looked at me and said, "He was in Norway." She was referring to the 2014 Chess Olympiad in Tromsø, held during Ramli's tenure as President of the Malaysian Chess Federation.

I found it fascinating that, completely off the cuff, she could instantly make the connection and recall that particular event. It was a fleeting exchange lasting only a few seconds, but it left a lasting impression on me.

As a postscript, I want to mention some other people who received titles and medals during these four days of the investiture.

• Apart from me from the Wu Lien-Teh Society, there were also Clement Liang Chow Ming and Ong Siou Woon who received their PKT and PJK respectively. I thank the President, Anwar Fazal, for putting forth my application and the Secretary, Dr Hor Chee Peng, for the patience to prepare all the paperwork.
• Then from The Old Frees' Association, other than me, Albert Moh See Eng was conferred the DGPN, Kannan Srinivasaraghavan received the PKT and Lim Wee Seong the PJK.
• Finally from the Penang Chess Association, the recipient other than myself was Chong Kean Foong. There was also a Lee Ewe Ghee, but the one I know said that this wasn't him.

Healthcare and batik

Have I let the cat out of the bag? Apparently, I have. In my last posting about this year's durian glut, I casually mentioned that we had been in Kuala Lumpur. Well, the secret's out now. Yes, we spent a few days there last week, mainly to chill with our daughter and enjoy a short change of scenery.

One of our first stops was GHHS Healthcare, where we had booked ourselves in for
a Tuina massage. As it turned out, they surprised me with a complimentary session on their Yunohana Hokutolite stone bed. I had tried this before. You simply lie on a stone bed while letting a gentle warmth seep into the body. Whether it works wonders or not, I'll leave to those better qualified to judge, but I certainly came away feeling relaxed. Together with the massage, we spent a very pleasant couple of hours there before heading off in search of durian at Seri Kembangan. That, of course, turned into another successful expedition.

But if I'm being honest, the healthcare visit wasn't really the main reason we went to Kuala Lumpur. The real reason was batik. 

The men in batik, from left to right: myself, R Subramaniam, Abdul
Rahman Ahmad, Chan Swee Loon, Hu Yu Kwang, Tan Bian Huat
and Christi Hon

My first brush with batik actually goes all the way back to 1978. I had been selected to represent Malaysia on an official chess delegation to China, and before we left, the Malaysian Chess Federation had batik shirts specially made for the team. It was a thoughtful gesture, and naturally we wore them throughout the tour.

One or two years later, the Penang Chess Association also thought that batik was a pretty good idea when our team travelled to Hong Kong for the Asian Cities Team Chess Championship. I was issued with a batik shirt again but after returning home from that trip, I don't think I ever wore it again. To me, the colour was simply too loud and, dare I say it, rather hideous. At that stage of my life, batik just wasn't something I could imagine myself wearing all the time. 

And also from left to right, the Penang chess team in Hongkong: 
Lam Leong Yew, Goh Yoon Wah, Jimmy Liew, myself and
Eric Cheah

Over the next few decades, I owned one batik shirt for official functions whenever the dress code called for it, but the shirt rarely saw the light of day. Batik was something I wore because circumstances required it, not because I particularly wanted to.

That attitude began to change only two or three years ago when we became involved in the activities of SAMENTA, the Small and Medium Enterprises Association. Their functions often encouraged members to wear batik for uniformity, and before long we found ourselves acquiring a few shirts that were much more tasteful than those I remembered from years gone by. The designs were subtler, the colours more restrained, and I found myself wearing them with increasing frequency.

Then came our trip to Indonesia which changed everything. Seeing batik in Jogjakarta, where it is not merely clothing but part of the country's cultural heritage, gave me an entirely new appreciation of the craft. We visited batik shops, watched artisans at work and came home with several pieces. Suddenly I found myself noticing the patterns, the colours and the remarkable variety of designs. What had once seemed little more than formal attire had become something I genuinely admired. We came home with pieces that we thought would surely satisfy us for quite some time.

Well, we were wrong. The more we looked at them, the more we wanted to see what else was available. It's rather like discovering a new genre of music or a favourite author. One purchase somehow leads to another. So while we were in Kuala Lumpur, we decided to continue the hunt. 

Our search took us first to Central Market, where batik has long been one of the attractions. We wandered in and out of the boutiques, taking our time to admire the colours, motifs and different styles. From there we strolled around the Petaling Street area, popping into shops whenever something caught our eye. We even made our way to Publika in our search.

The SAMENTA people in batik

Not every shop yielded a treasure, of course. Some designs were lovely but beyond what we were prepared to spend. More often, others simply didn't appeal to us. But that's part of the fun. Half the enjoyment lies in the browsing, comparing and occasionally stumbling upon something that seems to speak to you. In the end, our efforts weren't in vain. We found something that pleased both our eyes and our wallets, which is always a satisfying combination.

I have a feeling this won't be the end of our batik adventure. Once you've begun to appreciate the artistry behind the patterns and the craftsmanship that goes into making them, it's difficult not to look a little more closely whenever you pass a batik shop. Who knows? We may well be wandering into yet another boutique, telling ourselves we're "just looking". I've learnt by now that those are probably the two most dangerous words a batik enthusiast can utter.

P.S. I should also mention that the SAMENTA batik shirts we wear for official functions were specially tailored at the Penang Batik Factory in Teluk Bahang. It's well worth a visit. Besides the showroom, visitors can watch the craftsmen at work and even try their hand at making their own batik prints in a hands-on demonstration section. It gives visitors a much better appreciation of the skill and patience that go into every piece. I also like the fact that Penang Batik Factory continues to use traditional cotton rather than silk or synthetic fabrics. Somehow, cotton just feels more authentic in our tropical climate. Maybe my appreciation of batik didn't begin in Jogjakarta after all. Indonesia deepened it, but Penang has been keeping the tradition alive all these years, right on our own doorstep.

Fast delivery

I continue to be impressed by iHerb’s delivery service. Perhaps it is because customers are obliged to pay a slightly higher fee to use their recommended courier companies for international deliveries, but whatever the reason, the system seems to work remarkably well.

When I made my latest purchase on the 20th of May, I became a little uneasy after not receiving any shipment notification until the 23rd. Three days for iHerb to pack the items and prepare them for dispatch! In the past, I had noticed that orders were usually processed by the next business day, so this delay caught my attention. Since I was due to go out of town on Friday, I started wondering whether the package would arrive in time.

But the moment the parcel was picked up by the courier company, everything moved at great speed. Tracking updates began appearing smoothly as the package travelled from one transit point to another, and yesterday the delivery truck finally arrived at my doorstep. From courier pick-up to final delivery, the whole journey took only five days.

That, more than anything else, probably explains why I continue to regard iHerb’s delivery system rather highly.

Open distrust

There was something almost surreal about the recent reports coming out of Beijing during Donald Trump’s visit to China. According to multiple accounts, members of the American delegation were openly seen throwing away everything given to them by their Chinese hosts before boarding Air Force One to go back to the United States. Gifts, badges, souvenir pins, invitation cards and even temporary burner phones were reportedly dumped into bins near the aircraft stairs in full public view.

It sounded less like diplomacy and more like a scene from a Cold War spy thriller. Apparently the instruction was that absolutely nothing originating from China was to be brought onto the aircraft because of cybersecurity and surveillance fears. American intelligence agencies have long suspected that electronic devices, souvenirs or even ordinary-looking items could potentially be used for tracking or data collection. So the delegation travelled with temporary phones, avoided personal electronics and discarded everything afterwards.

I suppose none of this is surprising. Great powers have always spied on one another. Trump himself more or less admitted it when he casually remarked that America spies on China too. That was probably the most honest thing said during the whole visit.

Still, there was something symbolic about the public nature of the disposal. Diplomatic visits are normally wrapped in smiles, handshakes and carefully staged photographs. Mistrust may exist behind the scenes, but both sides usually try to keep appearances intact. This time, however, the distrust became visible for everyone to see. One moment there were banquets and ceremonial greetings. The next moment, gifts were being tossed into bins before boarding the plane home.

I wonder how the Chinese hosts must have felt watching that happen. Publicly, they remained polite and restrained, calling the visit historic and avoiding any official protest. But I suspect the message was fully understood. At the same time, China itself would probably do the same too, but perhaps with more discretion. The modern world has become deeply suspicious beneath all its diplomatic language. Nations trade with one another, smile for cameras and speak of cooperation, yet quietly assume they are also being watched, monitored and hacked.

Maybe that is the real story here. The world’s two biggest powers can sit across the same table smiling warmly while trusting each other so little. In another era, such behaviour might have caused outrage. Today, many people simply shrugged and said: of course they did. A reflection, perhaps, of the times we live in.

Second coming

During those 10 days away from the blog, I also noticed something else at home. The Tacoma tree outside the house had flowered again, and this time it seemed even more enthusiastic than before. 

I had already thought that this year’s earlier peak in early March was unusually generous, but there appears to have been a second coming.

Earlier this month, I saw the tree covered in flowers, almost like a canopy overhead. Then after a heavy downpour on the night of the sixth of May, I woke up to find the drain outlet completely choked with fallen blossoms. No doubt it was a colourful sight, but it was not very practical for drainage.

Still, as I have mentioned more than once, I do not really mind the sweeping. When I look at the bigger picture, the tree gives me something far more valuable in the afternoons: cool shade and a quiet patch of comfort. A little extra sweeping seems a fair exchange.

Elevated to Federal Court

Our heartiest congratulations to Justice Ravinthran a/l Paramaguru on his appointment to the Federal Court yesterday. Many people don't realise this but he was born in Bukit Mertajam in 1962 and had his education at the Bukit Mertajam High School. After graduating from Law School, he was posted as a Magistrate to Sabah. In 2009, he was appointed as a Judicial Commissioner and then elevated as a High Court judge in 2013. He was appointed to the Court of Appeal in 2019. His long judicial service to the nation speaks for itself and we hope that Penang, his home state, will give him due recognition soon. 

- Quah Seng Sun & Lee Saw See -

 

Penang's light rail transit

I’ve just realised that I’ve never written anything at all about the forthcoming Light Rail Transit plans in Penang. Construction is already underway for the Mutiara Line that will connect KOMTAR with the new artificial island in the south of Penang Island. And very soon, possibly by the end of this year, construction will commence on the additional LRT link between the Macallum Street station on the island and Penang Sentral on the mainland. Needless to say, I am terribly excited, and happy, about the project. It’s supposed to be completed by 2030, and I hope this timeline will include all the trial runs and testing, so that the public can use the Light Rail Transit as soon as possible. By then, I shall be 76 years old. Will I be healthy enough to enjoy a ride across the Penang Channel? Time will tell.

Still, for once, this is not just wishful thinking or another plan on paper. The thing is actually moving. Piers have begun appearing along parts of the alignment and that makes a difference. One can argue about policies and projections, but once concrete starts going up, the project feels real in a way that press statements never quite manage.

The Mutiara Line will run close to 30 kilometres, with around 20 stations, stretching from the southern end of the island right up to the heart of George Town, and now across the channel to the mainland. That cross-sea section, about six kilometres in length, is the part that really captures the imagination. A train gliding over the water from Macallum to Butterworth in under ten minutes. For anyone who has spent an hour or more crawling across the bridge in peak traffic, that almost sounds too good to be true.

The response on the ground has been overwhelmingly positive. When the public inspection opened, thousands turned up. Feedback was strong, even enthusiastic. There is a sense that Penang, after talking about rail for so many years, is finally getting something done. But as always, once the excitement settles, the practical questions begin to surface.

One of the first concerns is surprisingly basic: distance. At Penang Sentral, the LRT station will be about 500 metres from the existing KTM station and ferry terminal. On paper, that doesn’t sound like much. In reality, especially with luggage, in the heat, or for older people, it is not insignificant. Anyone who has made that walk will know there is a slight incline as well. It is manageable, but not exactly effortless. While a covered walkway will help, a travelator would help even more. I would even deem an air-conditioned link as essential. These are small things, but they determine whether a journey feels smooth or cumbersome. Public transport is not just about the train itself; it is about everything that happens before and after you board it.

Then there is the question of capacity. Penang Sentral is meant to be a major interchange for rail, bus, ferry, and now LRT all converging in one place. But how much can it actually handle? The current plans mention around 1,000 parking bays. That sounds reasonable until one considers the number of cars crossing the bridge every morning. Even a small shift in commuter habits could overwhelm those facilities.

It raises a larger issue of the supporting infrastructure such as feeder buses and last-mile connections. If not properly thought through, people may simply continue driving. The success of the system will depend not just on the trains running on time, but on whether it is genuinely convenient to use. And yet, despite these concerns, it is difficult not to feel a sense of anticipation.

The cross-sea link, in particular, has a certain symbolic weight. For decades, Penang Island and the mainland have been connected by ferries and bridges, each with its own limitations. The idea of a rail link cutting cleanly across the channel feels like a step into a different phase altogether. The journey time, said to be as little as eight minutes, will change the way people think about distance between the two sides.

I think back to all the earlier proposals - monorails, trams, buses - and this time, something is actually taking shape. The federal government has stepped in, MRT Corp is now running the project, and there seems to be a stronger sense of direction. And there is also the public support. When nearly everyone is in favour of the project, it creates a kind of momentum of its own. People want this to work. They are prepared to overlook imperfections, at least for now, in the hope that the bigger picture will hold.

As for me, I find myself thinking less about policy and more about that first ride. To sit in a train at Macallum, experiencing it pulling away, gathering speed and then moving out over the water past the ships and under the open sky, heading towards Butterworth. Or vice versa from Butterworth to Macallum. It is a small thing in the larger scheme of infrastructure and development. But it is also something entirely new in the Penang experience.

If all goes well, I will be 76 when it opens. That is not so old, I tell myself. But old enough to have seen how long these things can take. But I hope not too old to enjoy the result. And if I do make that journey from mainland to island in a matter of minutes, I suspect I will remember not just the ride itself, but all the years when it seemed it might never happen at all.

Home of world champions

I’ve always liked that phrase the Penang State Sports Council uses: Home of the World Champions. It sounds a bit grand at first, maybe there is even a touch of marketing flourish, but when one thinks about it, there’s actually quite a lot of truth behind those words.

After all, this is the same Penang that produced names like Lee Chong Wei and Nicol Ann David. One carried the nation’s hopes in badminton for over a decade, the other dominated the squash world for 108 straight months as World Number One. That’s not just excellence. That’s sustained greatness.

And they weren’t alone. There were earlier badminton greats. Eddy Choong, Teh Kew San, Tan Aik Huang. Names that my generation still speak of with a certain pride. In snooker, players like Lim Kok Leong went on to win world amateur titles. Even in more recent years, Penang athletes popped up in different sports, from bowling to silambam, even chess. So yes, maybe that tagline isn’t so exaggerated after all.

But when we talk about champions, we tend to remember only the medals, the titles and the big moments. What we don’t see are the sacrifices and all the unseen struggles that come before that, such as the training, the injuries, the financial strain, the balancing act between sport and studies, and sometimes the simple question of whether they can afford to keep going. That part rarely makes the headlines.

I came across an invitation recently from the Penang State Sports Council for their inaugural gala dinner and art auction, to be held on 09 May 2026 at the Eastern & Oriental Hotel.  It’s meant to be a fund-raising effort, but more than that, it is an attempt to address those less visible gaps I raised above.

Reading through it, I begin to realise that supporting athletes isn’t about only sending them to competitions. There are all sorts of needs. Education, for one. Not every athlete makes it big, and even for those who do, a sporting career doesn’t last forever. Then there are the medical issues of injuries and rehabilitation, and sometimes there are even life-changing setbacks. 

Beyond that, there are the ancillary things which are no longer optional in modern sport. Physiotherapy, sports psychology, proper nutrition and decent equipment are the things that separate those who merely participate from those who can actually compete at the highest level. It’s easy to assume all this is taken care of but in reality, it often isn’t.

What struck me as well is how the event is trying to bring different parts of the community together. Not just sports people, but also the arts crowd, corporate sponsors and ordinary supporters. There will be paintings for auction, some donated by artists, others from private collections. Even Nicol David has contributed a couple of signed pieces. And so, this gala dinner will be an interesting mix of sport and art under one roof.

Then there’s the more practical side of the dinner. The tables don’t come cheap and are priced at RM10,000, RM30,000 and RM50,000 depending on how deep the pockets are. But that’s the reality of fund-raising at this level. To be fair, contributions are tax-exempt, and the funds are meant to go directly into supporting athletes. 

Still, not everyone can buy a table or bid for a painting. But I'm certain that this will be fine with the organisers. At the very least, an awareness is created. Because if we really believe in this idea of Penang as a “home of champions,” then it can’t just be about celebrating success after it happens. It has to include some willingness to support the journey before that success arrives. And even many journeys don’t quite end in glory.

I think back to the last Sukma Games. Penang did reasonably well by achieving fourth place overall, with a decent haul of medals. But there shouldn't be any resting on our laurels. There is still room to grow, especially if the aim is to produce the next Lee Chong Wei or Nicol David, and that doesn’t happen by accident. It happens when enough people care not just when someone wins, but while they are still training, still struggling, still wondering whether it is all worth it.

So yes, this dinner on the ninth of May is just one single event of speeches, food, polite applause, but behind it is something a little more important. An acknowledgement that if we want champions, we have to build the environment that allows them to emerge. Otherwise, that nice tagline remains just a tagline. And it would be a shame if that were the case.

#badminton #squash #snooker

Pursuit of jade

I didn’t plan this at all, but somehow I ended up spending the past few weeks glued to a 40-episode Chinese series on Netflix. Watching Pursuit of Jade wasn’t preplanned. I was just scrolling, saw the artwork, clicked play… and about 15 minutes later, that was it, hooked already.

The story started simply enough: a butcher girl saved an injured stranger. Turned out he’s a marquis hiding in plain sight in the middle of a war. They married out of convenience, she thought him as just some drifter, and he keeping quiet about who he really was. Naturally, that didn’t last long. He got dragged back to his army, she went after him and before long she was right in the thick of battles and palace scheming. Along the way she even took down a couple of major villains, which I didn’t quite expect at the start. Eventually the truth came out about her husband, and after some lovers' quarrels and make-ups, the two of them ended up fighting side by side to clear their families’ names. The ending tied things up a bit too neatly, but getting there was anything but tidy.

I’ll admit that there were stretches where I hadn’t the faintest idea what was going on. Too many twists, too many court politics, too many side characters popping in and out. But I stuck with it partly because it was a period costume drama and partly because there was enough wuxia-style action to keep things moving. The visuals helped a lot....lush costumes, sweeping scenery, nicely choreographed sword fights and a male lead who looked prettier than his female counterpart. Even when the plot started to wander, the overall mood carried it through.

After finishing, I had a look at what others were saying and it more or less lined up. People liked the early episodes, especially when the romance was still front and centre. The cinematography got plenty of praise. The snowy backdrops and elaborate sets were all very polished. The female lead was a big plus point too, not the usual helpless type but someone who can hold her own. The main gripe was the pacing. Once the palace intrigue took over, things slow down and got a bit confusing. The villains looked impressive enough, but some of them didn’t quite land as characters. So overall, mixed feelings. Some loved it for the romance and performances, others felt the story got tangled and rushed in parts.

For me, it wasn’t about keeping track of every little subplot. More about the feel of it. The look, the action, the emotional pull between two people caught up in something bigger than themselves. It was one of those shows that worked better if I don’t overthink it.

Would I recommend it? If one likes period dramas with a fair bit of wuxia thrown in, then yes, why not. Just don’t expect everything to make perfect sense. Better to sit back, go with the flow, and let it play out.

Grab, why?

How I would drive to get home

Had to take Grab yesterday from an Icon City food court to get home. Car came fast, like 5 minutes, no issue there. Fare was RM11, time was around 1.30pm. Now normally if I drive myself, I’d just go straight into Chian Heng Kai Road, turn right into Song Ban Kheng, then keluar to Kulim Road. Simple, direct, done. But yesterday, it was a completely different story.

Driver went some weird, roundabout way. Even getting onto Kebun Nenas Road also not direct. He looped around inside Icon City first, which honestly I’d never do. Then from Kebun Nenas, instead of keeping it simple, he turned onto the old north-south trunk road, only then into Kota Permai.

How Grab drove me home

I thought okay, maybe that’s it. Nope, there was more nonsense after that. Grab map suddenly send him into Alma instead of just going straight like a normal person would. Then instead of turning into Taman Desa Palma, he masuk one small narrow kampung-style road where two cars also need to slow down and squeeze past each other, and came into my area from the back. Ended up travelling extra like 2km for nothing.

So now I’m thinking… why did Grab route like that? Why not just take the obvious, shorter way? Feels a bit suspicious. Like purposely make the trip longer so can justify the RM11 fare when it could’ve been cheaper if just went direct?

#Grab

The "maha" word

Over the past week, social media has been filled with posts about attempts to contact this person of interest. Opinions have tended to be very one-sided and why shouldn’t they be, when the authorities have deployed such heavy resources to trace the whereabouts of someone who could be as insignificant as a gnat?

I don’t normally like to add more noise to what is already a very noisy space, but in this instance, a commentary piece from the Facebook account of The Coverage Media, one paragraph caught my eye:

"In this country, opportunities seem reserved not for the 'Maha Miskin' (extremely poor) or 'Maha Genius' (exceptional talents), but for the 'Maha Entitle' (entitled elite) and 'Maha Tongkat' (those relying on the crutches of affirmative policies)."

Maha Miskin. Maha Genius. Maha Entitle. Maha Tongkat. Four “maha” categories to describe the polarisation in this country. No prizes for guessing who belongs in the latter two categories.

My disclaimer is that The Coverage Media is one of Malaysia’s fast-growing social news websites where one can find some of the most widely discussed news and issues regardless of whether they ultimately prove to be authentic or not. So don’t accept everything you read there at face value, okay? Disclaimer aside, this is the original piece. Go find the "maha" word there:

Anwar's Malaysia: Failing the Maha Genius, Rewarding the Maha Entitle - Malaysia Doesn't Deserve Patriots Like James Chai

Malaysia, under Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim, does not deserve dedicated patriots like James Chai.

As a Malaysian Chinese student who achieved 12A1s in his SPM exams, James was denied a scholarship despite his exceptional academic record.

This is a story that repeats itself every year for thousands of talented, underprivileged students from non-Bumiputera communities.

In this country, opportunities seem reserved not for the "Maha Miskin" (extremely poor) or "Maha Genius" (exceptional talents), but for the "Maha Entitle" (entitled elite) and "Maha Tongkat" (those relying on crutches of affirmative policies).

Two years ago, an Indian student bravely asked Anwar about implementing meritocracy in university admissions during a dialogue session.

Instead of a thoughtful response, she was met with a harsh rebuke that left her visibly traumatized.

Everyone in Malaysia pays taxes, yet the funds collected to build public universities make it disproportionately difficult for individuals like James to access higher education.

If Anwar redirected resources from high-profile international engagements—such as the criticized RM200 million aid pledge to Palestine amid local economic pressures—these could fund scholarships for all deserving poor and brilliant Malaysian youths.

Such investments would empower them to contribute to nation-building, rather than fueling brain drain.

Despite the system's failures, James Chai excelled abroad.

He graduated as a top law student with first-class honors from Queen Mary University of London and earned an MSc in Criminology and Criminal Justice from the University of Oxford. He also topped Malaysia's Certificate of Legal Practice exam.

Thousands of similar cases occur annually: bright minds overlooked at home, thriving overseas.

With his qualifications and expertise in policy, AI governance, and economics, James could easily command a minimum salary of £7,000 per month in the UK—equivalent to about RM37,000 at current exchange rates.

Yet, defying expectations, James returned to serve Malaysia.

He joined the Economy Ministry as a special officer to Rafizi Ramli on a two-year contract, earning no more than RM3,700 monthly—a staggering 10-fold pay cut.

In return, James was instrumental in organizing the KL20 Summit, a landmark event aimed at elevating Kuala Lumpur to a top-20 global startup hub by 2030.

The summit attracted billions in potential investments, including deals with 12 international venture capital firms and high-tech companies, projecting over RM500 billion in value for Malaysia's startup ecosystem by 2030.

Do we even deserve public servants like him?

James's humility shines through his lifestyle: he owns only an old Proton Persona 1.6 worth RM12,000, choosing poverty over personal gain for the sake of national service.

His only "mistake"? His father isn't Anwar Ibrahim.

If he were James Chai bin Anwar Ibrahim, the narrative might differ entirely.

This echoes Anwar's controversial move to sideline Rafizi Ramli as PKR deputy president, paving the way for his daughter, Nurul Izzah Anwar—a decision that raised questions about nepotism and led to both James and Rafizi resigning.

Post-resignation, James briefly assisted ARM Holdings—a UK-based semiconductor giant—in a two-month transitional role, with no shares, directorship, high position, kickbacks, or conflicts of interest.

Everything complied with rules, laws, and regulations.

Yet, the Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission (MACC) is now treating him like an international criminal, issuing a public search notice and probing a RM1.1 billion government deal with ARM that he helped coordinate.

This is not a country for people like James Chai.

It's why Malaysia faces a brain drain of nearly 2 million talented individuals—1.86 million according to recent estimates, or 5.5% of the working-age population, double the global average.

While the government claims a shift to "brain circulation" with returnee programs, the exodus continues as top brains flee a system that fails them.

Corporate mafias remain untouchable, while innocent, highly qualified Malaysians like James are targeted.

Tacoma in blossom season

The tacoma tree outside my house is in bloom again, and this year the flowering is unusually heavier than normal. Over the past two days I’ve swept up quite a pile of fallen blossoms and dried leaves from my compound and even from the stretch of road outside. There are lots more on the tree! Still, I’m not complaining. It’s all good exercise, actually!

This tree is one of the last tacomas left in the neighbourhood. When we first moved here about 25 years ago, they were everywhere. But one by one they were cut down as residents grew weary of sweeping up the constant fall of leaves and flowers. Along my street, I’m probably the only one still happily doing that yearly chore. The flowers are a delight to look at but the leaves, not so much. But what to do? You can’t have the best of everything. 🌼🍃

Sandiwara best news for Penang

This would probably be the best-ever advertisement for Penang in a very long while. Maybe even the best ever. I’m referring to the short, 11-minute independent film Sandiwara, featuring Malaysia’s Oscar-winning Michelle Yeoh playing five different characters in a story woven along the streets and food centres of Penang.

Maybe a month or two ago, there was a brief Facebook posting saying that Michelle Yeoh had been spotted filming at the Red Garden along Leith Street in George Town, Penang. She was all dressed up in various ways. But very little noise about it. No big announcements. No press excitement. Just a sighting. At that time, I don’t think many of us knew what exactly was going on.

Then last week, I read that Sandiwara would premiere at the Berlin International Film Festival on 13 February 2026. Berlin. That was when I realised this was not some small side project.

The film was directed by Sean Baker, the Oscar-winning director of Anora. The same Sean Baker who shot Tangerine on an iPhone years ago. The same one known for telling very human, street-level stories. And here he was, quietly coming to Penang and shooting a short film on an iPhone again. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

Apparently it was done in a guerilla style. Two days of shooting with a small crew. iPhone cameras used so they could blend in, which made sense. Imagine trying to move around Penang's heritage zone with an A-list global star like Michelle Yeoh. The project would have attracted half the island.

What surprised me most was that Michelle Yeoh agreed to do this. After winning her Oscar, she could choose any big Hollywood production. Big budgets. Big sets. Instead, she came home and played five characters -- a food critic (and I must admit, in that role she carried a hint of the same quiet authority she had in Crazy Rich Asians), a hawker, a waitress, a singer and even a modern-day vlogger -- all moving through the same Penang streets and food centres we know so well. An experimental short film set not in grand studios but amidst hawker stalls and heritage five-foot ways. Everything within Penang’s UNESCO World Heritage zone. These are streets we walk past every day and take for granted.

The title Sandiwara means drama or theatrical performance. So perhaps that is the idea. Five characters, five different roles. A food critic judging. A hawker cooking. A waitress serving. A singer performing. A vlogger documenting. In a place like Malaysia, identity is never just about one race. We consist of Chinese, Malay, Indian, Baba Nyonya, Eurasian and others. Both modern and traditional. Both local and global. Maybe that was what they were exploring. I’m guessing here, but it felt like this to me.

Sean Baker himself described the film as a “love letter to Penang.” But he also said that before he could deliver a love letter, he had to fall in love with Penang first. He spent about nine days here before shooting, just immersing himself in our culture. He talked about how inspiring the city was. How he could feel the love people have for the food. And that food culture became central to the film. That part made me smile because understanding Penang doesn’t start with brochures. It starts with the hawker stalls.

What struck me was that this wasn't a tourism commercial. It was not a state-produced promotional video. It was an Oscar-winning director choosing to tell a story here with an Oscar-winning Malaysian actress, and premiering it at one of the biggest film festivals in the world. We spend so much time talking about promoting Penang. Campaigns, slogans, branding exercises and then suddenly, boom! Something like this happens. And it may do more for Penang’s cultural standing than years of official marketing.

I don’t think we quite fathom what this means. How many Malaysian stories reach a global stage like Berlin? How often is Penang presented not as an exotic postcard but as a living, breathing place worthy of serious cinema?

And this was shot on an iPhone. That detail is important. Sean Baker has always said he values autonomy and creative control. He makes independent films because he doesn’t want stories dictated by agendas. So this choice fits him perfectly. After winning the highest honours in cinema, he goes back to a stripped-down method. Almost to say the story matters more than the equipment.

For Penang, this is not a small thing. Yet I have not read very much reaction from the Penang state government or the Exco in charge of tourism. Maybe I missed it. If I did, I stand corrected. But if not, perhaps we are too used to looking outward for validation that we sometimes miss it when it arrives. Because this, an 11-minute film called Sandiwara, shot quietly in our streets, starring Michelle Yeoh, directed by Sean Baker, premiering in Berlin, this feels significant. It feels like Penang being seen. And for that alone, I can only say thank you.

#sandiwara #michelleyeoh #seanbaker #penang #georgetown #heritage

Signals

True or false signals?

I saw this graphic shared a lot on social media - facebook and whatsapp - and wonder whether this collection of allegations, investigations, court cases and controversies are true or false? Sorry, ah, I've been living under a tempurong for quite a while, and need more enlightened souls to advise me.

 

Misleading!

I have to admit that I had been taken in by the bold claim at least a year ago, having even bought it myself, but this has to be one of the most misleading advertising statements I’ve seen in a long time. A loaf of sliced bread is promoted as containing “100% Australian Oat,” except that the Australian oat component makes up just 0.25 per cent of the ingredients. So what, exactly, are the supposed benefits of including such a minuscule amount of Australian rolled oats in the bread?

At that level, it’s hard to see how the oats contribute anything of substance, whether nutritionally or in terms of taste and texture. They’re present in quantities too small to offer the fibre or health benefits usually associated with oats, and too insignificant to alter the character of the bread in any noticeable way. Their inclusion appears to serve little purpose beyond enabling the prominent claim on the packaging. A triumph of marketing spin over meaningful content, and a reminder of how carefully worded labels can create impressions that the ingredients themselves simply don’t support.

P.S. To avoid any confusion, this is also where “oat fibre” quietly enters the picture. Oat fibre is often a highly processed derivative added for bulk or texture, and it is not the same thing as rolled oats. Even when it originates from oats, it doesn’t carry the full nutritional profile or natural qualities people usually associate with eating oats in their whole or rolled form. So any attempt to blur the distinction between a trace amount of rolled oats and the presence of oat fibre only reinforces the sense that the headline claim is doing far more work than the ingredients themselves.

P.P.S. Let's do the mathematics. This loaf of bread weighs 400 grams and with only 0.25 per cent of the ingredients made up of Australian rolled oat, that means there is only (400x0.25%) or one gram of Australian rolled oat in that one loaf. And assuming that a standard loaf of that weight yields 12 slices of bread, that means that each slice contains only 0.083 gram of Australian rolled oat.

Run-around

We had my influenza jab yesterday. It’s been more than a year since our last one, and with a flu epidemic sweeping through the country, we thought it best to get another this year. It’s free, by the way, for senior citizens with comorbidities, like us. Registration is done through the MySejahtera app, which conveniently shows where the jabs are available.

Unfortunately, none of the government hospitals or clinics on the mainland had any stock, and the nearest option for us was the Lunas government clinic. We duly made our appointments a week ago, and this morning we took a leisurely drive there ..... only to be told that they’d run out of the flu vaccine! How could that be, since the MySejahtera app had confirmed our appointments?

The nurse was very apologetic, maybe to get us out of her hair as quickly as possible. She suggested that if we hurried to the Padang Serai government clinic, they still had a few doses left. Padang Serai? We’d never been there before. How far was it from Lunas? “Not far,” she assured us with a smile. “Just a straight road to Padang Besar.”

“Not far” turned out to be a very creative description. It was a straight road all right, but ten kilometres of it! Still, we eventually found the clinic, which, to our relief, did have the vaccine. We were registered almost immediately, no questions asked about any comorbidity. After all that run-around in Lunas, no thanks to the MySejahtera app, we weren’t about to argue. Get the jab, and get it done with!