Back again Blogging

I was wondering, how interesting blogging is. I would appreciate your comments.

I am back….. AGAIN

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After a long hiatus and the Christmas month I begin my blog writing. I left off with my grandmother in Triang, my cooking utensils all packed of in a box, my first and last attempt to cook, yeah I never picked up the cooking magic and till today never can I claim I make a cup of coffee by myself. One reason perhaps my bachelor days only lasted 6 years and got married at the age of 23 with my wife aged 17. Married for almost 60 years. I thank God for the longevity of my marriage. More about my grandmother now.

In Triang only 3 Tamil families were there, my grandmother knew the trolley driver family well enough. My granny cooked simple dishes, and the Tamil family supplied the vegetables and other sorts of paraphernalia required for our meals. I don’t remember taking her shopping for provisions etc. I knew the trolley driver Ragunathan for many years even when I was in Gemas the first time and later when posted as an Officer some years later – left Gemas to get married in 1960 and served again from 1980. I served in Gemas for 13 years until my retirement in 1993.

I worked in Triang as a trainee Clerk. Next to Triang was a smaller station Chikus which railway guys called a “halt” meaning a station manned by a Clerk in charge and not a Station Master. A halt is not a station. At a station you have more than a single track on line to accommodate more than one train. In a halt only the main track runs, no goods traffic is dealt with, but only passenger tickets are issued by the Clerk in charge. I was a trainee and not therefore could not be a Station Master until I completed a period of training of 3 years. But I knew booking tickets and I was send to Chikus for a month to cover the duties of the Clerk in Charge going for training.

Chikus station was a wooden building, an office and 2 other rooms for the permanent Clerk. The 2 rooms were locked up and I had to stay in the main office, use the floor to sleep and the office becomes office cum house. More than that the building is isolated and the only building in the middle of the jungle and the nearest house or people 3 miles away in an estate. No water, there was a well and no electricity. Light was provided by the single table room at the station. Any movement at night entails the carrying of the lamp in one hand. It is dark everywhere and the glow from the table lamp causes an eric reality rightfully the back ground to a ghost movie.

My granny sends food from Triang, some 3 miles away. The food is bought by the trolley driver in the afternoon and you share this food for dinner unheated. Two passenger trains stop at the station halt one in the morning and once in the evening. The main mail train does not stop here. The drinking water comes by the passenger train in the morning. Every day you anticipate the arrival of the trains which bring in passengers and people and you realising you are not the only one person in the world. The permanent Clerk was married and had company. Sleeping at night was an ordeal, dark everywhere, jungle noises, screeches everywhere, and there I with a Bible near my pillow. My bible reading was regular. Many years later, while speaking about Chikus to an elderly man who had served there, was petrified when he related elephants frequented the halt or station and it was common for the animals to scratch their backs against the building. None happened the time I was there for a month. I was about 17 or 18 years old then and wonder how I passed the one month.

My Station Master at Triang was a Malay man Amin, a kind hearted chap. I had even been invited to his house for lunch and I went. Skin colour was not important then and we were all humans striving to eke out our life.

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My last posting was on the 16th – 13 days have gone by and though every one says times fly, I feel it now as though I had written my last blog a couple of days back but surprisingly nearly 2 weeks have lapsed and so can we say time thunders on. Not just thunder but it whizzes you by.

It is my patti or granny I wish to write about in this block. Good old patti or grandma was a big heavy lady, tall, brown complexioned and Ratnamma, those days meaning the 50s, was well recognised in the railway quarters Ipoh – together with her profession as a lady money-lender, a cow owner, and tough. I see a lot of ladies in their 60s and above these days but, the first look of my patti gives the impression of toughness which sad to say I cannot attribute the same feeling to the ladies I see today. My wife shares the feeling she was a lady of the old days or “antha kalathu lady”. If she was not a strict and tough lady, I can’t imagine her coming to Malaya leaving the husband behind in India, travelling with 2 small children, living with my grandfather in Batu Gajah and so forth. Uncertainty begets resilience and my patti was no exception. Whilst a small boy at Batu Gajah, her house, she used to give me brown sugar and this without the knowledge of my grandpa Mr Sellakannu Nadar, who must have been a stickler for saving money. Another good reason was, it was the Japanese occupation and we had very little or rationed sugar and rice. Coffee drinking was, swallow a wee bit of brown sugar and then drink the full cup or mug of coffee unsweetened. Try doing it and comment.

In 1956 I joined the Railways, at Chemor and after a few months got transferred to Kuala Lipis in Pahang. I stayed in Kuala Lipis for a day or two and was re-assigned to Triang in the same state. I was 16 plus. I was given a big house with 2 rooms and on comparing my small one roomed house at Fryer Road Ipoh was a palatial bungalow. But I was alone. Triang was a Chinese town. There were no Indian food shop. I only knew 3 other Indian families, another Railway employee Ragunathan, a trolley driver and family, another Tamil old man running the railway statiron stall and a Hamid a Tamil Muslim working as a Telecoms man. This Hamid sees me everyday as he has to maintain the telecoms in the railways. My food was daily Chinese mee, I never knew nor able to order other Chinese dishes as I knew not what dish to order. At home at Ipoh all outside dishes comprised of “koey teow” (30 cents a plate), “roti chanai” (15 cents a piece) and nothing more. These types of food were take aways meaning eating at home. Rarely went to a restaurant and had food. I communicated this difficulty by letter to my parents in Ipoh in a letter. No phones as such today. My letter would have taken 2 days or more. My parents not knowing what to do, decided to send my grandmother to Triang to look after me. In normal circumstances, my patti who never travelled far, had to take 3 trains before reaching Triang. But by taking the local passenger train from Ipoh to Gemas, where you spend the whole day in the train and reached Gemas after 12 hours, you used 2 trains. One more train,left Gemas at 2.50 a.m. and arrived Triang around 6 in the morning. Before I go on, another episode.

I had a friend in Hamid the Telecoms man. He was married and was in his 30s. He knew I was eating mee daily and volunteered to help. Bought one pot and a few things you cook with. Hamid wanted me to learn sardine curry cooking. It was supposed to be the easiest. He cooked the curry and I had lunch over-joyed I overcame my food problem. I had dinner too, very happy. Two things must be known of Triang water and electric supply. Electricity was supplied by a local motor and water required electric supply. The electric motor works between 7 pm to 6 am. Water followed the same. So, after eating dinner, having had not stored water, I could not wash the plate and pot etc and so I left it and slept. Left over sardine curry smells and in the morning I got the smell. But I had to work and left for the station. I returned in the afternoon and the smell was overwhelming. Next, got a wooden box and packed the pot, the plate and all other accessories like spoon, and nailed it. This box, was with me when I was transferred to Gemas, when I left Gemas to get married in Ipoh and only here I think the box was opened – an interval of some 3 years, I think, and the contents, my guess is good as yours. That is Hamid’s sardine curry. Meanwhile my patti arrived in Triang.

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Grandma and I in Triang

In my last entry I did mention that I was transferred to work in Kuala Lipis, and this was just 5 months into my service with Malayan Railways. I traveled to work between Ipoh and Chemor, a distance of 10 miles, by bus and the fare was just .40 cents one way. There were two other Clerks with me at Chemor railway station viz: Letchumi Kandan and Thanapal. The former is no more around, and the latter left Railways and I have no more contact.

Chemor station was a small station and I wonder if the income that came in was enough for a Station Master and 3 learning clerks. The only incoming traffic was brought by loaded in one wagon containing of beer supply to the military camp and this happened once every 2 weeks or so. There was no other incoming traffic. Passengers do not count much. The mail trains don’t stop at the station and there were two local passenger trains, one in the morning and one in the evening. You would be surprised if I tell you that the total sales is less than a dollar per day and the passengers stranded ones who did not catch the last bus to Tanjung Rambutan, which left Chemor at around 6 pm, for the local train which left around 6.30 pm. There were days when just a single passenger joined the train to Tanjung Rambutan and the income a pittance of .25 cents for a ticket. Three clerks were there to learn about booking tickets, sending and receiving goods of all kinds, passing trains consisting of Express, Normal passenger trains and of course goods train for imports and exports but unfortunately Chemor being what it was never did anything of the above but cater for 1 wagon for beer and stranded passegers who failed to catch the last bus. Tanjung Rambutan is one station after Chemor towards Ipoh.

Passing of trains called operating work was the priority of the Station Master, a Punjabi gentleman Mr Sohan Singh. I suppose he wanted to impress the 3 clerks how important he was in running the station and we could not take part in passing trains as in his terms we were “lux soap boys” and not competent enough. Hence, we, the 3 of us sat fiddling our thumbs, buy tea for the Station Master every evening and wait to dispense the one or slightly more than one ticket. How useful was our training!

Mr Sohan, then about to retire within a few months, was a senior Station Master earning a princely amount of $478/=. I was, in my first year, paid a basic pay of $137.50 plus another $7.50 as allowance. No economic wizard then and even now, I guess the $145 was equivalent to about $1000/- dollars now.

I set out wanting to write about my grandmother and our experiences in Triang, but veered off to something different. Please bear with me until my next blog.

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Nine days have gone by since my last blog was written, and everyday I want to write but then comes the doubts whether what I write is interesting to read or otherwise, and today I decided no family story is always exciting, but is only a record of past occurrences which my readers don’t know and a record worth remembering.

My father worked very hard, ptactically seven days a week. Six days doing his railway work and on Sunday his work with any Chinese contractor for extra income. His children, of nine, are grateful to him. His income was not enough to live a luxurious life, but there was food on the table, the boys went to English schools and the girls Tamil school (Sangeetha Sabha), at least my eldest sister Mary, Packiam, Jeya, Rani went to Tamil schools and the last Stella went direct to an English school. In fact Packiam completed 6th standard, the highest and was ready to go for teacher’s training, but my parents never allowed because the trend then was girls were home makers I suppose.

My father was tough and showed very little emotion. After obtaining my Senior Cambridge (Form V) in 1955, I was a temporary teacher at Methodist Afternoon School, extension of ACS or Anglo Chinese School Ipoh, where afternoon classes were held. I was teaching Form III. My basic salary was $165/=, and I handed over the full sum to my mother and when I wanted money my mother would give me most a dollar at a time. Surprised, a cup of coffee was .25 cents, bread was .25 cents a loaf, a plate of mee .30 cents, iced kachang was .15 cents, and a movie show was .40 cents at a theater non-air conditioned and .65 cents for air-conditioned. Oh yes transport was by a bicycle or rarely by bus with a fare of .5 cents and above. So, a dollar was big.

At the time of teaching which was terrifying for me because only over-aged boys were my students, because they had failed their exams at A.C.S. and were pushed to M.A.S. I was 16 years old, and my students older at 18 or above. I had butterflies in my stomach everyday as afternoon was coming. They call me “Davy Crockett” as there was a film of that name. The voice would come from somewhere and as I looked back there was no trace of the caller. They punctured my bicycle tire. At one time I slapped a student who was sitting at the front bench as he was not allowing me to teach by creating a ruckus, I lost my temper and slapped him. Next, this student runs and brings a big stone to hit me. I leave the class and reported this matter to the Supervisor and the student was caned. This did not end there. Next day the Headmaster calls me. Mr David I am told, this boy’s father has contributed a lot of financial help to this school and you as a teacher must have tact in dealing with this type of boy. Please be careful and I get back to my class. Apparently the boy had complained to the father who had communicated with my HM. My fellow teachers were seniors and they were tactful by telling stories while teaching whereas I coming from a school where teachers taught was not welcomed. How could I fit into this.

In 1956 jobs were easy to come by especially after the 2nd world war, 1941 to 1945. I applied for two positions, one a teacher, and as a clerk in the Malayan Railways. I went for interviews for the two and waited. I was surprised when I received the results in both places I had been selected.

I did not know what to choose – a teacher or a Clerk. My father consulted one of his superiors in the Railways and they told him that my preference should be as a Clerk, and since I had a Senior Cambridge Certificate, would advance far. At this time most of the Clerks, Station Masters and others were from Ceylon and called Jaffnas. Most of them were Form II or III students, and some of them spoke “broken English” as it was known. About 90% of the clerical positions were held by Jaffnas. And so, I joined Malayan Railways as a clerk and posted to learn work at the Railway station Chemor some 10 miles away from Ipoh and at that time since I traveled by bus, to and fro the cost was .40 cents one way. I was learning work for a few months and then transferred to Kuala Lipis, Pahang, to continue my training.

My father was sending me off, at the Ipoh railway station and as I sat in one of the seats of the coach, he wanted to say good bye and used the “poitu vaa-ayah” Tamil expression. That was the first and last time I ever saw my father with tears flowing from the eyes. I never saw this again although he lived for 100 years. Did I say he was tough. Yes, but he must have loved his children, as I was leaving the house the first time and be away in a new place and I had never done before. He was a loving father inspite of his tough character. I loved him.

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In my last blog posting, I posted something about rearing cows, now onto goats, rabbits and doves. Yes, we had goats and the others and there is much to be said. The goats were always females, one the most – the mother and of course the kids. She goats have sometimes more than 1 kid and it is a bonus. The goats are reared for their meat, not from females, who are there for reproduction and only male goats are slaughtered for the “eraichi curry”. Every Christmas, Easter and other important holidays call for mutton curry and I don’t remember buying mutton from shops although possibly there would have been when there were no goats to slaughter in the house. Goats are fast breeders and through out the year there are male goats. Herding of this species is another part of my job every day. Goats are very fast moving – I will be watching them eating grass, but as usual after some time I have other things to interest me and tend to overlook what the goats do – and when you look the goat and its children are no more there and they have meandered away quite some distance away from my view. Now comes trouble. I suppose humans have to follow some time weathered path to move elsewhere, but goats can move over hills, mountains, springs of water and anything close to 360 degrees whichever way you look at. They have gone into obvilian or missing entirely. Now you panic, you search and cannot find, run hither and elsewhere and more often than not completely missing. You have to face my parents, with that guilty look I have failed them, but invariably these goats have an uncanny wisdom to return home to pen them at night. This drama unfolds over a couple of hours and the anxiety that ensues is dramatic. In retrospect never lost any goat while herding but this occasion does occur. Surprisingly this does not happen with cow-herding, and perhaps they are more disciplined than goats. As a result I never fell in love with goats and never became a pet. To say I fell in love with cows is far unnecessary as when you are a herd-boy, your feelings are frozen.

We had rabbits too. “Muyal curry” was another way to take care of

the protein requirements of the family. This species requires far less care. You feed them vegetables and their reproduce at an astronomical rate with many children. Rabbits are housed in card boxes and kept inside the house. One night, my father heard an uncanny noise from the vicinity of the boxes and decided to investigate. He heard hissing and luckily switched on the light. To his surprise he found a snake quite close to the card box. I think my father killed the snake. Only now I realise snakes have a fantastic sense of smell.

Apparently my father also reared doves but this happened when I was a child and I know very little of this.

With all these proximity to animals, I should have been an animal lover, at least a dog lover, but no it is the reverse I am not. I can assure you I am frightened of dogs and personally believe dogs are vindictive (for what) and they don’t like me. My male children love dogs.

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My early years, 50s, and so on.

My father Mr.Ratnam, came from Thengulam, Tirunelvely District, South India. I remember him strict, hard-working, bringing up a family of 9 children – with a small salary Ringgit averaging 150/- and a bit more if there is overtime and night allowance if you stay away from Ipoh at an outstation viz Taiping, otherwise you return home-station to Ipoh the same day and do not get night allowance. Sometimes, if you are lucky you get to stay for a week from Monday to Saturday. With a small salary he had to rear cows, and goats for extra income and invariably work with contractors doing a mason’s job during the week-end on Sundays. Work was for 6 days. We, are so grateful working 5 days a week, but in father’s 7 days a week was normal. I wonder whether the work, extra outside work gave the long lives, in my fathers case till 100. He was seldom sick, not any cough, phlegm, fever and I only remember he was hospitalized twice, with a short stay of 2 or 3 days because of accidents caused during his work – once he fell from the roof, and another I am not sure myself. Even after retirement, i.e. after 55 years old he was quite normal.

He spend quite a lot time on week-days working with a Chinese man, a contractor named Lai Wah. He was paid $10/- a day, a big sum those days and and you work a day from morning till 5 pm. I still remember getting a watch and a bicycle used by Lai Wah when he sold them. I think my father paid him off using his pay in installments. My bike was a Royal Enfield, British made. Life must have been tough.

My family had 3 female cows. Two of them ready to be retired, and another young, but with a bit of a problem. I suppose my father bought the old cows as they were cheap, something like $150/- to $200/-. The young problematic black young fella cost us something like $300/-. We were still in our Class XI houses and you can’t have cow-pens near the railway quarters. I cannot remember how, but my father had bought a house in Kampung Tai Lee, a notorious private housing area of gangsters and immoral women- a well known fact. Tai Lee whoever it was rich to have at least about 50 houses close to town and till today remains vacant being private land with a lot of legal problems. This house, a ramshackle entity, had 3 rooms facing the front, a small kitchen at the front, with a well for water and a garden. My uncle occupied a room, the second was rented out to a worker at a tobacco shop in “Sethu Kampung” (muddy kampung). The third room contained the cow-pen for the cow (always one at a time). So, I know what cow-herding is. When my father is working at Ipoh, no problem, he takes care of milking, feeding, cleaning the pen. When he is out-station working the responsibilities are undertaken by my mother who, as I guess now, must have experience with cows as her step father Mr Sellakannu in Batu Gajah had 60 cows. Read my earlier blog. Poor mother, 9 children, cutting grass, milking, feeding and finally distributing milk to various customers, luckily within the railway area. Getting grass is not easy, getting the place first especially one where grass is found in slopes and sometimes in the mosque area. Putting the cut grass into gunny sacks and carrying it on the head and walking sometimes 2 miles. I cut grass once, cut my finger though and the scar is still there. Pity my mother.

My part in this game. Herding. Looking after a cow grazing. One oddity I hated it. I was a student at A.C.S Anglo-Chinese-School Ipoh, any my fellow students, were very much a “higher class” comprising of sons of Clerks, Over-seers, the educated. Here was I walking behind a cow coercing it to go from the place it chewed the grass, to the Kampung Tai Lee pen or house and everyday you are passing the houses of the higher class. Every day was a torture.

A bit of explanation. Two new names have been put forward. Kampung Tai Lee, I can write about 2 blogs on this. It was situated about a mile from my Class XI house and whether I liked it or not pass the Clerks and other higher (meaning my father’s grade in work) officers daily behind a cow. Secondly, Sethu Kampung. Sethu is Tamil. Cheru is mud in Tamil. Kampung is rural. Perhaps in the earlier centuries this was a muddy place and got its name sethu and also it must have a cluster of small shops catering for provisions, mainly, dry-goods and so forth. It is in Connoly Road. I will try to get some pictures.

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Slate and Dip Pens

Whilst at school in my first year of school – yes Tamil school Perak Sangeetha Saba, we were given slates with a framed background, a solid substance that you write on with another stylus of the same material. You write with the stylus and rub it off with your hands or piece of cloth. Most of the time you use your hand this being more easy. This slate is a foot length and about 5 inches in breath with a frame like we use for exhibiting photographs in our house. Another unique method was the use of sand to write the alphabets – you spread sand over a small area and then write. I was in the Tamil class for about a year or so, and, don’t know when or what class they allow pencils and exercise books. Googling will show images of the slate.

In my English school, it is pencil first, dip pen and finally fountain pens. What is a dip pen. It is a handle either wood or plastic with a nib and you dip the nib to an ink-bottle. I still remember teachers telling students your nib writing will make you a expert in writing with fountain pens. True? I don’t know. Ball pens came it when I was in Form 2 or 3, sometime early fifties. However careful you are, you will have ink in your uniform when using the dip pen and I suppose you are more studious if your uniform has more ink. Pity the mothers cleaning uniforms.

In my earlier blog I mentioned my father on arriving in Malaya worked in a quarry breaking stones or ballast for the railway tracks. He was not getting enough money and therefore switched over to work in the railways. He started working in the District Engineers workshop and was made a Mason’s assistant, (assistant brick-layer) mason later and in 1961 retired as the chief mason at KTM. During his lifetime as a bachelor, before 1936, he shared a house in my old area Class XI quarters with other members of his clan from India. Three or four shared a house, sharing the expenses and there was communal cooking. One was a cook, one the leader and others to do cleaning and what not. My father was the leader, and if anyone came to Malaya from India – particularly Tirunelvelli, in South India, and was not employed he could share their house and eat as well without paying until such times work was available. My father send money to India, but could not return to India as promised after a short stint in Malaya. Hence in 1936 married my mother from Batu Gajah and I was born in 1938. According to my mother she was married at the age of 12 and bore me when she was 14. Now on ages of my father and mother.

My father was born in India on 1909, and was 17 years old when he arrived in Malaya. He got married in 1936 when he was 27 years old, and died at the ripe old age of 100 years in 2009. His date of birth was obtained from the baptism records of the church in Thengulam South India. He was married 73 years.

No birth certificate, neither any records are available of my mother’s birth. She was born in Thiruvannamalai in South India and arrived in Malaya somewhere in the early 1920s. She died in 2016 when she was 92 years old. Some of these dates don’t match but in remembering or reminiscing one makes mistakes. And, dates on identity cards are not correct when there are no birth-certificates and are dates made verbally basing on the informants memory

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To continue, I thought of reminiscing of my days from birth. Born in 1938 at the General Hospital, Batu Gajah and brought up in Ipoh – 12 miles apart. My first home was H block, No.1 at the class eleven quarters at Fryer Road, Ipoh. I was the only one born at a hospital. My siblinigs, 8 of them were born at the one room house No. 1 Fryer Road. To my knowledge the mid-wife was a lady named Gnamma, who worked as an ayammah or female attendant at the General Hospital Ipoh. She was a specialist of a sort for all the pregnant ladies at the Railway quarters Ipoh. Her fees for the delivery of the child, plus pre-natal care before delivery was, at present day fees a pittance. After delivery she would be given a saree and about $10/- for expenses.

During the time my mother was recuperating after child-birth, guess who was doing the cooking of special curries for a mother after child-birth. Special curry with herbal medicine was done by my father. No electric grinders those days but hand based grinding-stones which we don’t see nowadays. I am sure my grandmother helped but most of the time my father was on leave to help. At my advanced age, boiling water is a no no, but those days fathers and husbands were at it. My father’s breakfast was left-over rice from the previous day and he would prepare it by himself as he leaves the house early. The children got their usual breakfast of coffee thosai or bread.

Diverting a bit – the question of the birth certificate and Tamil names. The birth of a baby had to be reported to the Police station immediately. The person receiving the report is invariably a Malay policemen basically educated in a Malay school. His knowledge of the spelling of Tamil names was nil. Mary became mail. Many more atrocities with names and some difficulties at the time when citizenship was made law in Malaya.

My birth certificate was correct. My name was spelled correctly, but the name was written with a different colour of ink and I had to declare my position with the authorities legally before getting a citizenship certificate.

A bit of my schooling. During the Japanese occupation from 1941 to 1945, I was admitted to the Perak Sangeetha Sabah, a tamil school which still stands along side Silibin Road Ipoh. It was one year of Tamil schooling in 1945, and then in 1946 the British were back and I started my schooling in ACS – Anglo-Chinese-School Ipoh.

Sangeetha Sabha (music sabha) was established in the 30’s to cater for the music education of the children of railway men, those days mainly of the Jaffna clerks and others from Ceylon then. Their children all received English education. I don’t know when this sabha turned into a Tamil school. Possibly during the Jap occupation.

In 1945 the school had three classrooms. You graduate when you passed Standard Six. Then you become a Tamil school teacher. A temporary class room was set outside the school building. It was a raised platform on wood about 2 or 3 feet high, no roof, and classes were inside the school when it rained. As I was being taught at the raised platform one day, I saw a stream of water flowing through, and though at that moment it not strike any oddity, a child had peed but school went on. It was co-educational, there was a Headmaster Mr Karuppiah, and my teacher was one Mr Savarimuthu, who stayed opposite my house H1 in the Railway block in a house belonging to his father-in-law a railway worker. Even now I can imagine running away from him as soon as you saw him, something you can’t avoid because you stayed closed, about 20 yards, from his house.

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Still with my mother’s side patti, Madam Rethinamal. Old lady loved seeing Tamil movies. I used to accompany her to the first show of the day usually around 1 pm. Not being a lover of foot-ware, my patti wore one when going to the show and still I remember, it was a slipper with metal tags at the heels which click claked as you walked. I don’t know why this aspect of the slippers is etched in mind – but she tripped and fell one day as we were walking to the Sun cinema along Brewster Road, along the corridor of the shops we were passing. Luckily a small incident and no injury and in the mind of a small boy say aged in single digit probably 10 a thing to remember by. Can’t remember any of the films that I saw with her. Probably my movie going days had not started.

Yes I was a movie buff of Tamil films even during my school days which infuriated my parents alike present day parents worried sick about their children falling in love with smart phones and games. But this change over took place some years later or perhaps in my teen years complimented by my uncle Veeman, a bachelor, who had his life well organised. Work during day, show attendance at the toddy shop in the evening, and to end the day fruitfully the 8.30 or 9 pm Tamil show immaterial whether the first or the sixth time – Ipoh could only offer a single Tamil show running for about 6 days or so. To those who don’t know my Uncle Veeman was. He was my father’s mothers brother or sisters son, in India. He was a regular visitor to my house and in a week at least once. His communication expertise was nil and in my house when he visits there is no conversation perhaps my uncle was afraid he will fail the breathslayer test although my parents all knew what my mama did every evening. His attempt at conversation was “Mosay kelambu” – my house name was Moses or Mosay when spoken in Tamil and “kelambu” means get going or get going as I was being taken to a movie. On the other hand, there I was clued to a book but anticipating a movie. Most of the time, my mother ignores my mamas request, but those two words are repeated like about 10 times and finally my mother says “poda” or go.

Both walked to the movie houses, then called theatres – one was Rex cinema in Chamberlain Road, whereas Sun and Odeon were found in Brewster Road. My best time was, besides the pictures, a visit to the mamak restaurent before the pictures. It was for a class of tea and 1 big piece of fruit cake. The tea and case cost 25 cents each, and the admission to the cinema, 3rd class 40 cents, 2nd class was 65 cents, 1st class was $ 1.25 and Special class was $ 2.00 in dollars. Generally we picked 3rd and moved on to 2nd class, if tickets for 3rd class finish.

Every movie was the last show at 8.30 pm and usually ended up at 11.30 pm. Some Tamil films lasted 4 hours.