A page from a woman's diary (3)

Dearest Diary,

It’s time again to share with you my personal thoughts that aren't about women’s rights or the great scourge AIDS, both of which I am expected by the public to dwell exclusively upon.

But neither am I not going to indulge on culinary fantasies such as how to improve my style of Penang laksa by varying the ulam that goes with it – the slightly astringent pucuk janggus would be a novel introduction – or kueh lapis miraculously and lavishly having alternative layers of rich kaya, an idea that I am currently entertaining – well, how about that for wicked indulgence but then, didn't we just say we aren’t writing all that tonight.

Tonight I want to discuss with you, dearest confidante, the immortal words of William Shakespeare, in particular Act 3, Scene 2 of his play Julius Caesar, and I want to examine the speech of Caesar’s ally and friend, Marc Anthony.

Why, you may ask? Because it’s rather relevant when Dad’s Brutus, his once-son and heir, had made much ado about Shakespeare while continuing to perpetrate verbal Ides of March, that Marc Anthony should come to Dad’s rescue. Shakespeare had portrayed Marc Anthony saying:

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him;
The evil that men do lives after them,
The good is oft interréd with their bones,

With his clever snake oil salesman’s talk, Brutus has lambasted Dad’s evil as if those were not collectively made or at least supported too by Brutus himself. But I ask myself, should people allow Dad’s good deeds to be interred with his bones? Si monumentum requiris, circumspice - if you seek his monument, look around (in our nation)

So let it be with Caesar … The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Caesar answered it ...

So what did my ‘ambitious’ Dad do? He retired, yes, voluntarily retired with clear handing over of the reins of power. He didn’t make himself perpetual dictator or for that matter, senior state minister like someone in a neighbouring nation. And in retiring, he witnessed how those who once fawned on him now ignore him as someone no longer useful, a political dead, yet continuing to accuse him of being an ‘ambitious Caesar’.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all; all honourable men)
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral …
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:

Yes, dearest diary, I speak for Dad, my friend, always faithful and just to me. As for Brutus the honourable man, once The Honourable So-and-So, a former Malaysian Yang Berhormat, well ... what can I say, but then don’t we have Yg Berhormats like Cyclops, Tebuans and Gatal.

But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man …
He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

So when they were both serving the people, recall what positive things had Dad achieved for the people, and compare those with what positive things the honourable Brutus had.

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.

People laughed at Dad when he wept in public because he felt he failed to transform some people. They called him a hypocrite, but did that make him ‘ambitious’? I related his motive for feting one who swam across the English Channel while another wasn’t. It should explain why Dad had cried for his sense of failure.

You all did see that on the Lupercal
I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.

If he was ambitious, would he have resigned? And hand the reins to a man who once was against him, like Cassius and Brutus were against Caesar, yet forgiven?

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?

Oh, the fickle-mindedness of the Romans, but most certainly a characteristic not unique to them.

O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason … Bear with me;
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
And I must pause till it come back to me.

O men! Aren't they such paradoxical creatures, emotional yet cold-bloodedly practical, swayed principally by their personal interests, thus allowing their balanced judgements to flee from their conscience.

Good night, dearest diary.
M

Related:
(1) A page from a woman's diary
(2) A page from a woman's diary (2)

A page from a woman's diary

Dearest Diary,

Tonight I don’t intend to write about myself. ‘Myself”? Have I truly ever? Being his daughter, somehow I have always felt obligated to write about highbrow stuff like women’s rights, the state of AIDs and the endless fight against ignorant prejudice about a disease that could have been inflicted through innocent blood transfusion. How I wish I could just pen my thoughts on dresses, shoes, that cute handbag I saw at the mall, or ….. but what’s the use.

It’s about Dad. People are so against him that we, his children, aren’t exempt from their hatred and vitriol. The ‘sins’ of a dad have been visited on his children. If I write about cosmetics or jewellery, people would comment that it’s typical of his daughter to be just a callous air head, but if I go for issues like AIDS and women's rights, they would claim I am acting above my intellectual level or getting too big for my boots.

My brother is a graduate of Wharton, but being his son, as far as some are concerned, he ought to be just a goreng pisang seller. Even if he is, people would accuse him of using rancid oil and lousy rotten pisang.

But that comes with the territory. Dad has been a one-man bulldozer in his drive to raise the standards and more importantly, the self esteem of the Malays. Many criticised his support for the award of a Datukship to an English Channel swimmer while he didn’t for the Chinese Malaysian who did better. But many don’t realise it’s not the feat itself but the urgent Malay need for self esteem that saw the young boy knighted. The Chinese teenager doesn't need to have his self esteem nurtured.

Oh, Dad might have gotten it wrong but that was what he lamented about at home.

Recently he feels depressed when he saw the treachery of those he had supported, sponsored and uplifted. He admitted to be a poor judge of men. Those whom he had supported and pushed upstairs would eventually turn against him.

Today his arch foe is a man whom he once loved like a son, and nurtured to be his political successor. When that fell through, the next successor on succession has rubbished his record, accusing Dad of squandering everything, while he himself has lined up a few choice mega-projects of his own. But the unkindest cut of all has been the lack of support, or even at the very least, silence of support from Uncle Zig Zag.

Dad has gone into reactive overdrive by nature of his combative self. When he feels people are ganging up on him, his adrenalin flows, and he would react in an uncompromising straight line.

He’s a bit of a Jebat, the fearless rebellious one yet the loyal friend. That’s his second weakness, his enduring loyalty to his people, most of whom didn’t or don’t deserve his total support. In the end, his Tuah will entice Taming Sari away from him to use it against him.

Now, why am I talking Malay legends in reference to his present dilemma? It’s just a Malay Dilemma.

Goodnight, dearest diary.
M