Wedding Dilemma

A 'Datin' friend called yesterday - in her usual frenzied manner - to tell me that she was making preparations for her son's wedding in June. I could sense her excitement; after all, this is going to be her maiden effort and she wants everything to go silky smooth. In earlier conversations (the wedding was fast becoming a preoccupation), she mentioned about wanting it to be a "nice" and "simple" affair. This time around, in one breadth, she blurted out the series of discussions she had with her husband while going through the whole gamut of the Where, Who, When and How and was quite exasperated ( and tired, no doubt) by the time she got me on the phone. (See what husbands can do to us poor wives?? ).

Deciding on the venue was a piece of cake - having it at the house was out of the question; it just isn't done these days. Even if it means changing the date several times to get the desired venue. You may have a palatial bungalow, but an offspring's wedding has to be at a hotel (4star at least). The reason? You'll see. So the choice of venue had been decided quite easily without fraying any tempers.

As to the 'How' bit - that too resolved itself along with the venue. Surely in your wildest dreams, you didn't think for a minute that the Datin would be doing the cooking, did you?

So, the bone of contention? You've guessed it - the guest-list, of course. First, the number. Her husband, the Dato', wanted 1,000 invitees because he couldn't possibly omit any one from his varied circle of business and political contacts, he said. The latter would definitely swell the number. The wife contends that these 'contacts' are mere acquaintances of his (and strangers to her) and therefore should give way to more friends and relatives. She was mindful of his relatives from the kampong who would come with their daughters/sons-in-law and grandchildren in tow although the card would imply quite the opposite. No way, he said. His 'friends' have to be invited if he expects to retain whatever political clout he has ( no matter that it is only an imagined one). Or it would amount to a suicide for his fledgling political career and the death of his lofty ambitions. Never mind that half might not even turn up, given that he is no Ketua Bahagian or Cawangan or even a ketua bureau for that matter! Then comes the crunch - you can't invite the underlings and not invite the top brass of the party! So who makes an appearance on the guest-list? The no.# and no.# of the party bigwigs! Not to mention the entourage of bodyguards, personal assistants, chronies, and ubiquitous political sychophants (who sometimes begged to be invited).

So now you know how wedding guest-lists get drawn up (the Datin's, anyway). But my friend the Datin raved, ranted and rowed. She didn't want to feed 1,000 guests (although it would be the husband's money) and play host to total strangers. She would rather give the extra money to her son as he would need it to set up home. In the end, she won - the list would contain no more than 700. The Dato promised to dwell on it and do the elimination on his part of the 'guests'. And who would make up the 700? The wedding won't be till June - a good 3 months away. If I blog about the wedding in June, you'll know that I made it on the list. Otherwise, it would mean that I had suffered the axe for being 'persona non grata' to him. Being a friend of the wife's just won't cut it!

If it were my son getting married, I would have my share of the "important" people to invite too; only they would be the "imam", the surau's committee and sub-committee members, the Kumpulan Wanita of the area and the neighbours. Then again, hell knows no fury should I dare leave any of these people out!

Food for thought

The year started off well for me; no, not with fireworks, or dancing on the streets or any form of revelry for that matter. As far as I can remember, I have never had a new year herald in that way anyway (and I have had a lot of new years, believe me!). It was enough that my loved ones were all in good health, alive and kicking, and I was still able to wield the vacuum-cleaner without hearing a bone creak. Alas, I spoke too soon.

Two weeks ago, about elevenish, I got an sms from my other half on the golf course, that said a relative died in a car accident in Brisbane. He was the son of a cousin - a young man, not quite 25, the same age as my eldest son. I hardly knew him as an adult as he had studied abroad and was out of the country a lot. Still, I remember him as a rather laid-back teenager with a sweet nature. And then there was Matheus Mersing August from Bintulu - barely 16 - but robbed of his life in school which should have been his playground, not his deathbed. The news of death is always baffling, to say the least. And somehow it becomes more difficult to reconcile when it is the passing away of a young life. Is it any consolation that "the good die young"?

My heart goes out to both sets of parents, strangers or otherwise. As a mother, I can only understand and share their grief, but can never begin to fathom the depth of their pain. I hope time will help them heal and they can find solace somehow.

But what saddens me more is what Matheus was subjected to at his school. Was it merely a 'ragging' incident among a group of immature schoolboys? Staggering thought, isn't it? There was ragging in my university days, but I have yet to hear of a beating case. What could possess such young minds to hurt one of their own in such a manner? If you had been reading the papers, you would recall that this is not the first of its kind. So don't tell me that this is a remote case, and then forget about it! Young people seemed to be easily provoked these days and their retaliation is nothing short of violence. Am I making a mountain out of a mole-hill? You decide; at least I know you are giving it some thought. If I still had children in school, no matter where, I would be careful, very careful...

So, does it still look like it's going to be a good year? I hope, I hope. After all, there is the education 'revamp'. Remember the Education Blueprint? It's only the 2nd month of the year, so don't blame me for being optimistic. The fact that the powers-that-be realised the need for changes in the national education system is already laudable.

Relief...!

I am a true novice at this blogging thing, although I must admit that I have been a frequent visitor to blogs of others, including yours, Lydia Teh, of the "Honk! If you're Malaysian" fame! How do I even begin my blog? What do I say or write about? Well, taking the cue from established writers, I should write about something I know well. Having been on this planet for more years than I care to count (aka old, by any standards), I do know quite a lot about quite a few things. So, where do I start? With something close to my heart. Until something 'better' comes along.

Today my second son starts his first day at work, at a bank in KL. I am relieved that he is finally settling down to a job (not yet a career) after weeks of lepaKING at home. He returned home after almost 4 years away with a "forget how to read, forget how to write - just wanna lepak" maxim. Yeah, oklah. For one month. Then, after 2 months, I started to panic- is this guy ever going to work or not? I have never seen him scan the job ads in the newspapers and when I broached the subject, I got this shrug of the shoulder and little else. What was I to think?And this from someone whose ambition is to own a BMW when he is 30. Get real, get a job first....I hear myself saying for the umteenth time. But my fears were actually baseless; he had attended a couple of interviews abroad before coming home and was quite optimistic about a couple of them. (Was this over-confidence, positive-thinking or what??). And, he had been applying for jobs - through the Internet - without my knowing it. All this while I thought he was merely chatting up his buddies (and girlfriend) when he was glued to the computer. So much for a mother's misgivings. You can't blame me really; after all, he had studied overseas on MAPA scholarship. That's right - not MARA, but Mama & Papa's hard-earned, blood-sweat-and-tears
savings and the last thing I wanted was to see him fritter that away as a couch-potato. Not that we couldn't feed him anymore; but I was afraid he might become self-indulgent and enjoy the lepaking too much for his own good.

So, you can imagine my relief when he was called for a second interview with the bank about three weeks back and got a job offer a couple of days later. Phew!! :) That was no means the end of my worry. Next question was - was he going to accept or not? My husband and I were beside ourselves trying to persuade him that it was a very good offer. He didn't have to stay with the bank if he wasn't happy with it, but even a short stint was worth it for the experience, we said. You see, he was harbouring (still is, I'm sure) thoughts of working overseas. He had said repeatedly that working overseas would be an invaluable experience and he was prepared to face the challenge of proving his mettle on foreign soil. Even if it was only for 2 or 3 years, he said. But I had 'missed' him for the last 4 years when he was away studying. The prospect of losing him for the next few years was a gloomy thought; more so now when my husband and I are nearing our twilight years. It was bad enough that he was not with us for the birthdays, the weddings, the kenduris, the Rayas, etc. over the last few years.

So now you know why I am relieved - he has accepted the job! At least for now, he is only 2hours away by car. He can come home to Mama's cooking when he craves for it and not have to fly home. I can call him on the phone without having to worry about the bill and the time of day. And I can drop in on him when next I go to KL. Till when? I'll cross the bridge when I get to it