This school or what is left of it was once my alma mater for 7 lousy years. There was nothing original about the school. The school was a fraud. It did not nurture or develop home grown talents. Rather it stole the best from other schools and then shamelessly claimed them as its own. The only thing original about it was the unliving, unbreathing stone structure that symbolizes the school as a product of a proud colonial era now long since defunct. As far as its teachers were concerned they were notoriously famous for the rapid one-two slaps executed on the faces of pupils who would dare stand up to them. The teachers were perverts and obviously they were from the lower strata of society or not they would not have become teachers. Among the perverts stood an outstanding individvidual by the name of Peet @ Peethamparam, I suspect a cross-breed or what locals call pariah who perfected what the Japanese kempetai left in 1945. He is now I believe in Melbourne. This is due to the fact that many of his victims are now looking for his blood just like what the Israeli Mossad are now hunting the Nazis responsible for the genocide.
Before I move on to the story proper. This expose would not be complete without telling the story of a late teacher a Mr.Rajasingham or Rajalingam, I am not sure which is his real name but one thing I am sure of is the "Raja". This Raja was a tried true and tested hireling of the Japanese Kempeitai. He brought the levels of torture to new heights. Not satisfied with the quick one-two, his right leg would often follow after the one-two and land on the butt of the victim. But Nature in her good sense saw what was happening and the imbecile's leg was amputated for cancer. But the one-two on the faces of pupils never stopped and one fine day when the birds were chirping in the sky and dear papa it was hard to die, well Mr.Raja expired his last and went on a final journey to receive his well deserved one-two from his Creator.
I am not a bigot or racialist but without exceptions, all the self-appointed torturers of pupils were without an exception from the Tamil class. If one knows his history, the Tamils were all from southern Indian state of Tamil Naidu where the one-two culture was steeped in their folklore. Well before I turn xenophobic, I think I better steer clear of this sensitive subject lest I be accused of executing the rapid one-two on the local Tamils.
I entered form one north in January 1966 after sitting the trials for entry into VI. I knew no one in form one north and made it a point early in my school life not to know anyone. However complete avoidance of any form of human or social contact was impossible. I remember the first classmate who stepped up to me and introduced himself as Cheah Peng Keong. Peng Keong was fair and had small shifty eyes. He said he stayed in a place called Cochrane road and came from the primary school called Pasar Road English School. I replied I came from Sekolah Dasar Banyuwangi Negeri Satu in East Jawa. He kept quiet. Well that was certainly a very short conversation. I have forgotten the Form master but I believe it was an Indian. In fact VI bore close resemblance to the Indian sub-continent. In my first day at class I remember I studied about a French king called Charlemagne. Recess was at 10 am and I sat in class. Simply because I had no money to buy any food or drink. Nobody asked and nobody cared. I learned later that the majority of my classmates came from well to do families and money was no issue with them.
I cannot remember much of my first day at class and classes ended at 1pm after which I walked the short distance to the school's junior hostel. The hostel is more a ramshackle barn than anything else but as the stupid but true saying goes, "Beggars you are entitled to the lowest class". Meals were 3 times a day and bland. Obviously these guys haven't heard about seasoning.
The next day, was science lesson taken by a tall thin Tamil gentleman by the name of Mr. Renggasamy. Rengga was a nice guy unlike most of his peers. And his lessons well delivered and interesting. Biology was the first subject matter touched on and I liked biology. As usual recess meant sitting in the classroom and I truly envied my classmates who could stuff their stomachs with food. Throughout form one, nothing unusual happened or anything worth talking about. I remember there were two cousin brothers in my class, a Mac Kean Boon and a Mac Yin Tee. One was tall and fat, the other short and undernourished. During assembly on Monday mornings the whole school sang the Negara ku while I hummed and sang softly the Sang Merah Putih. As far as I was concerned I did not owe any allegiance to Malaysia and it was to be like this throughout my seven years there.
Mr.Murugesu the headmaster presided over all the assemblies and I have never seen him seconding it to anyone else. The school captain stood on the right side of the HM while the vice-captain on his left. The teachers were seated on the dais of the school hall. The assembly was never long and always within a reasonable time frame.
In form two we had a new math master, an Tamil by the name of Ramalingam. He also was an adherent of the quick one-two and he was indeed very generous with it. Same a form one, form two was equally dull and boring. In form two I knew a little more English and thus became a little more daring. On Saturday evenings, when we were allowed out of the hostel, I walked all the way to Sultan Street, Petaling Street and even up to Batu Road. KL was a food paradise and foods of all kinds especially Chinese food could be easily found. I usually ordered my food in English as I wanted to show off my new found prowess. The Chinese in Malaysia could converse in English with no problems and I had many a pleasant time trying out new dishes.
During my second year I also befriended Koan Po Wo. Koan was a tall burly fellow with a ready smile. He was in the school's cadet corps and was being trained to play drums. He told me he stayed in Imbi Road. I do not know where Imbi Road is but I am told it is quite near our school. Of course by now I know Imbi road very well, and it is part of the Golden Triangle which is a very busy district of downtown KL. Koan loved spicy mee curry with plenty of cockles. Sometimes he would consume two bowls of the stuff before he feels satiated. Last year I heard of his tragic demise on Christmas eve from colorectal cancer at Subang Jaya Medical Center. Apparently he had been fighting the disease for 4 years. Koan was also a brilliant student and would always remain within the top 5 students in the class. At the end of the year after the school tests I surprised myself by bagging the prize for mathematics.
Form 3 1968 was a very memorable year. Many exciting events were happening in the world. The flower people were growing in strength in America and the famous rock concert at Woodstock was about to be held themed Jesus Christ Superstar. Many great rock and roll songs also appeared on the scene by American and British groups. On top of that a Christian revival was sweeping the world with its origins in America's famous evangelist Billy Graham. I was in Malaysia and even in this conservative Muslim majority country, the reverberations of the revival could be felt strongly and churches were doing a roaring trade. Pastors were in great demand and were asked to speak on all matters from politics to religion and even the end days. I went to many such meetings following my Malaysian classmates who seemed particularly affected by the new wave of emotions surrounding Christianity. Almost every Ah Beng adopted a Christian name. The Malay community was quite tolerant towards the winds of change and this encouraged the local movement to gain more followers and further strength. The schools were the hotbeds of these movements and many students converted to Christianity. It was an exciting period to live in and I enjoyed every moment of this period.
The Lower Certificate Examinations came and went. It was just a mere formality, it was so easy, the school secured 100% passes and multiple students with strings of straight A's to show for their efforts. But I am wiser today to know that a basketful of A's mean nothing if it is not complemented with human decency, humility, kindness, empathy and compassion. An intelligent man is only half a man when the other half is missing...the one called love. Love not for the ones who love you for your status, stature or wealth or fame, but love for the ones who are unloved in this world, the ones whom the world despises because they were born with nothing in this world.
The school compared with other schools in the country could be deemed to be spacious, palatial and foreboding at the same time. There was nothing chirpy or bright about its surroundings, everything single item or structure was conservative or old fashioned. It was not a place that bred good-naturedness or empathy. It was narcissistic, self-centered and egotistical. Everything was based on ranking and scoring the most points. The more you scored, the more you were loved and looked up to. Be it academically or in the field of sports, coming out tops was the focus and priority. Failure was not looked upon as a learning process but as a weakness that had to be overcomed.
I never did like VI and what it stood for. It was hypocrisy practiced to the extreme. Good students were fawned upon, mediocre students were frowned upon. The teachers were active participants in this culture of nurturing the plants that bore good fruit and cutting down like reeds the ones that did not produce good fruit. One fella I knew was a holder of 4 scholarships. Then there was a boy who came from Sekincan. His dad was some kind of big time Chinese contractor. He joined VI in Form 4. Apparently his grades were below average. But daddy's money got him in. While in school, this enterprising fello got himself involved in everything. He was into all the sports but he never really shone in any one of them. But this fello knew the importance of visibility. He barely scarped through his Malaysia Certificate of Education and entered form 6 double math. There he upped his ante and became the president of every imaginable school society. This and daddy's yearly contributions to the school's coffers did not go unnoticed and he was chosen to be the school captain. To enforce his claim, he became a Christian. Again he barely scraped through his Higher School Certificate examinations and could not get entry into any local university. But no problem, daddy's money got him into an obscure polytechnic in the UK known as Kingston Polytechnic where he enrolled in the civil engineering degree program. When he came back to Malaysia, he eventually became a big man and today he is well known as a corporate big wig in Malaysia as well as internationally. That goes to show you what money can do.
There were many like this fello in VI where daddy's money got them entry into this elite school. Texas tea aka black gold is drunk all over the world. Just based on merits alone, this fellos would most probably have qualified for San Peng Road Secondary School in Jalan San Peng of course which is loacted just next to VI, and ended their days working as coffee shop assistants where else but in San Peng Road of course!
I do bear a grudge against my alma mater. My alma mater stood for qualities such as excellence in academia and sports and nothing else below it matter. What happened I believed is they succeeded in created a huge pool of neurotic misfits after they graduated from school. These pool of neurotics believed wholeheartedly they were they were the be all and end all of human life as known in the world. Many believed they were the penultimate polyglots of society and behaved as such. But they were wrong, sorely wrong. Life is more than excellence in any particular human endeavor. Life is about respect for all regardless of one's standing or stature in life. Life is about compassion and humanity for the other person. Life is about humility taking pride in the simple things of life. Life is more than just acquiring a man-made trophy that will soon lose its shine and collect dust in one's cabinet. Life is more than about standing on the rostrum acknowledging the accolades and cheers of a frantic nation. Life is about knowing your Creator and the purpose you were created for. Champions come, go and they die. Do you know you can derive more peace of mind and pleasure in washing dishes and doing ordinary household chores than having the whole world's treasury in your grasp.
What happens after you die? People will say nice things during your wake, some tears will be shed, people will look solemn for a while and then what......you will just be another memory etched in the minds of the few who really cared for you. After a decade, what then, nobody will remember who the hell you were anyway. Will you remember your headmaster after he is gone....really nobody gives two hoots after he is gone. Will a politician or even a statesman be remembered for the great things he has done. I will tell you no one cares except for historians who will pen thick tomes about the person and the tomes will be left on the library shelves to collect dust.
Do the schools or colleges prepare you for the day when you will be forgotten? People are so obsessed with paper qualifications so much so that the measure of a man's character or ability is based on the quantity of such papers he possesses. They feel so proud when they are called Dr. this.....and Dr. that.
Victoria Institution may have produced some of the best students in terms of GPA but that is all it ever did. After that the supposedly brilliant fellow goes into college and scores another first as a summa cum laude and then nothing is ever heard of him/or her anymore. Let us be sure of one thing, Victoria Institution during the good old colonial era and during the fifties, sixties and early seventies were not Eton or Harrow, though they did everything they could to try and pain this facade. They were never able to emulate this two noble institutions simply because they did not have the quality to do so. Unlike schools and colleges in Singapore today are close to closing the gap on the top schools and universities in the world. So, shame on you VI, you are just like imitation Japanese goods produced during the era after the second world war.. I know what I am talking about because I was there living and breathing the air and stench of VI for seven long years. Although now it is 5 decades too late to regret, but I should have continued my studies in Indonesia where I would have derived a well-rounded education without being always pressured to be the best in everything, including pooping.
The custodians in VI failed to understanding one basic human element of human nature. Not everyone of us are geared for excellence or want the very best of everything. Many of us are quite contented to be second best or even third best. WE just want to lead a normal life with 3 meals a day and work at an ordinary honest job fulfilling our duties as a good citizen. Being the best does not necessarily mean a good citizen and often avariciousness will set in and a good apple turns bad. Just look at the many pillars of society who have fallen thinking they can go one step further in their careers.
Victoria Institution was conceived by a group of local rich men who wanted to show their appreciation to British for the wealth they had accumulated under the white man's benefaction. Much of the money came from illicit trade like prostitution, opium and gambling dens. Hence VI was the first version of the House of the Rising Sun. Many a famous man walked the corridors of VI when they were young. And now many are dead as doornails. It is said wine becomes better with age but not so with VI. In VI, it lost its lustre and fluster with age. Though it can be said the downgrading of VI was not entirely its fault but the policies of the government to level the playing field bt bringing down the standard of education across the board. It succeed magnificently in this endeavor and is now the talk of the world.
So down, down, down, it went under never to resurface again. Well proud mary keeps on rolling, rolling down the river....tang....tang.....tang.......
Today Sunday 1st. November 2020 is not much better. The stomach feels bloated and queasy. Maybe tomorrow will be better, I hope.
There is some cheer for me at least for today. As you know I was diagnosed with aortic dissections at the University Malaya Medical Center last Sunday. The cardio's prognosis was "quick death"....."at any time". Well my wife returned from Ipoh yesterday where her elder brother gave her some traditional Chinese medicines in the form of pills for me. Those pills don't come cheap, Chinese medicines to the contrary are always very, very expensive. According to my brother-in-law, a friend of his was cured of the same ailment as mine by taking those very same pills. I was never a fan of alternative medicine approach but now I am willing to try anything. Anyway one must keep in mind, Chinese civilization began much earlier than Western civilization. I had my first dose this morning.
It has been 5 days since I was diagnosed with the deadly disease. A good friend advised me to take it a day at a time. Why do I want to run, when I can only walk? Makes a lot of sense. The place where I stay known as Petaling Jaya is a busy thriving suburb and the most expensive place to live in Malaysia. Just in terms of density alone, it has the largest number of malls and specialist centers in the country.
Well it is half way into Saturday and a most boring day it has been. I am troubled with a stiff neck, wonder whether it has anything to do with my aortic dissections. Looking forward to nothing and expecting nothing. It is now late afternoon, zero, empty, nemo, nothing, cipher.
Sunday evening, November 8, 2020. My thoughts were of my impending demise. This was confirmed by 3 specialists at the University Malaya Medical Center last Sunday while I lay on the makeshift stretcher at the emergency room. They insisted I undergo immediate surgery but I signed the necessary papers absolving them of any blame and discharged myself. Did I make the biggest mistake of my life or am I about to witness the greatest miracle in my life by the Lord Jesus Christ. I wish I had the answers but I hadn't the slightest clue. I thought of my two young grandsons aged 10 months and 3 years. I will miss them. I have no more tears left not even for myself. The well dried up years ago. My life had been the story of one disaster after another, one grief after the other. Some are blessed with the quality of courage, I am cursed with the quality of cowardice. After all they are specialists, who am I? I am one very scared old Christian. I have no money to engage the best doctors or get into the best hospitals. I have no money even for a stick of ice cream. The worst is I have no one to share my fears with or talk to them about my ailments. It is like watching the sunset but the sun does not go down.
Today Monday was another quiet day. The morning was particularly bad. Emotions negative overwhelmed my whole psyche. Thanks be to God there was no pain. A good friend and Christian sister Sara Cornelius from Utah in America wrote me an email. She encouraged me to plug on and not to lose hope. She has always been there for me in my time of need though she herself faces many challenges in her daily life. Her prayers have been a great source of strength for me and I am grateful to her with all my heart. Such good and sincere friends are hard to find and just one in your life is more than sufficient. It is late evening now and soon it will be night. Time flies and we are not even aware of it. We take time for granted. I had a simple dinner of a slice of bread with margarine on it washed down with plain water. Spartan some may say, but simple meals are usually the healthy meals. I wanted to read the webpage of my alma mater but decided not to. I wonder how poor people face the trails and tribulations of everyday life.
Many things in the world are beyond our control. Though we claim through technology that we have control over many things, in reality we have control over nothing. Even our lives and destiny are beyond our control. I have always dreamt of visiting western europe but that dream still remains a dream. Maybe in another life, the afterlife where there are no more restrictions and constraints to block my path any longer. I do not wish to see the big cities but to take in the atmosphere of the lush rural countryside. Christmas is around the corner but it will not be much of a Christmas for many of us. The virus appears in no hurry to leave us. America has the most number of people infected by the virus.
