Badminton Tournament

There was a courtyard flanked by the four houses where I grew up as a kid. It is still there but not utlilised now. It was a perfect place to spend our free time. There would be games like badminton, football, hop scotch and traditional games like ‘galah panjang’, marbles, two-stick game and of course hide and seek.

The Thomas Cup and the Uber Cup Competitions ignited the interest and spirit in all of us. During the season, we would also play badminton from morning till evening in the courtyard. We also held mini competitions; both singles and doubles. The live matches on TV and the discussions managed to teach us all the rules and regulations regarding the game. We also learned many tactics and even the names of the famous players like Tan Aik Huang, Eddy Choong, Rudy Hartono, and many others.

We played with cheap wooden racquets, poor quality shuttlecocks, and bare footed on the so called courtyard cum badminton court. The court was measured according to the standard dimension but it was perfect for us. We drew lines with sticks and to keep them visible we poured water to keep them wet. After every game we took turns to pour water onto the lines by using a kettle.

As for a net, we used a fishing net strung across the centre of the court and the ends were tied to the walls of the two houses. The height of the net was according to the standard height.

Our racquets were heavy but we enjoyed the games with all our wits and were quite good at the game too. I remember getting three wooden racquets that came with bottles of Chinese wine as gifts. My father had bought them during the Chinese New Year; and the racquets came in very handy.

Our teams made up of boys and girls and we even had mixed doubles. Points were awarded according to the rules and regulations of the game.

The best and most memorable incidences of the game were the instances when I smashed the shuttlecock onto the forehead or chest of the opponents. I had this uncanny ability to send the shuttlecocks at these two points. Of course the opponents could not return these shots. I was rather quick and even feared by the opponents when I smashed.

A shuttle cock cost 40 cents then. It was considered expensive but we chipped in during each session. Each contributed 5 cents and we bought three or four of them. They lasted the whole session. Nobody opposed and we contributed with eagerness. If the shuttlecocks could be used again, we kept them for the next day.

I am glad to have such neighbours and we practically enjoyed our childhood.

Fun Rainy Days Part 1

When there is a shortage of rain, people especially farmers worry and complain because water is essential for the growth of crops. But if there is a lot of rain, farmers worry because of the possibility of floods that may destroy all their crops.

To children rain brings joy and laughter because there are numerous things to do. To me rainy days are wonderful days especially at night. The sound of rain dropping onto the zinc roof provided a calm and soothing effect. It helped me sleep soundly. It was a special symphony to my ears. I practically enjoyed the pitter-patter of rain drops on the zinc roof and on puddles on the floor.

My mind was immediately relaxed and all I wanted was to doze off and hope for beautiful dreams. Rainy days also provided relief from the heat generated by the roof during the daytime. The old house had a zinc roof and the heat created during the day was unbearable. If it rained for a couple of days, it was quite cold though.

Anyway, as I said earlier, rainy days were fun days. While waiting for the rain to stop, my siblings and I folded paper boats out of pages of the old exercise books. We tore the used pages and folded all sorts of paper boats; long sampans, sail boats and tiny yachts. The process provided a chance for us to chat and compete. It also fostered our relationship.

After the rain had subsided, we ran out to the drain beside the house. The water in the drain flowed swiftly and we had the greatest time of our life. We place our boats one by one and watched them sailed with the current. When they sank we were sad but when they sailed upright until they were out of sight we felt proud and happy.

We even had a competition to see if our boats would win the race. A mark was set and we placed our boats together. It was fun to see them race together. Of course some sank due to the uneven current. We jumped with joy if we won the race.

Curiosity and its Effect

Curiosity is an inborn or innate attitude. We are curious about things we do not have or see. We want to know about others, their belongings, actions, happenings or a simple secret.

One such incident still lingers in my mind and the name still rings in my head. The name is Hew Mun Seong. This incident involving this name happened in Standard 2.

We were in the afternoon session with the standard 3 and 4. only the Standard 1, 5 and 6 were in the morning. At midday, we had to line up along the wooden corridor to wait for the morning classes to vacate. Only then we entered the class with the permission of the class teacher.

As were lining up I saw at a glimpse, the above mentioned boy acting suspiciously in front of his school bag. He was in the process of placing or concealing something. Curiosity got the better of me. It was an act of impulse or a sudden miscalculated action. I wanted to know what the mysterious object was.

I remembered asking him to allow me to have a look at the item. He refused and tried to push me away. Another friend called him and he walked away.

Instantly I went through the contents of his bag and retrieved a bottle. It was just a bottle. This boy was what I was doing and grabbed the bottle and he was rather furious. In the struggle he snatched it and hit me on the head with it. I was stunned and shocked.

Everyone stopped and stared at me not because of the struggle but at something on my head. Some shouted and others kept silent probably due to the shocking scene.

I felt something warm and it was trickling down my head. I touched my ears and noticed that my finger was red. Only then I knew that I was bleeding. I did not feel any pain but a slight sensation. Furthermore I did not panic and neither did I scream. I was speechless.

By then the class teacher had arrived. He took me into the class and asked me to sit on a chair. In those days there was a first aid kit in every class. Mr. Perumal, my class teacher took a piece of cotton bud and pressed in on the spot or wound. He took it away and said that it was only a scar or slight cut and it was serious. If it had been serious, I would have to go to the hospital and there would be stitches.

Anyway the bleeding stopped and he applied some yellow solution onto the cut and then a little plaster finished the job.

After inquiring from me and my friend, he understood the cause of the incident. Bothe of us got warning so that a similar incident would not resurface. I was lectured on the importance of privacy and the need to ask for permission if I wanted to see or borrow something. If the owner refused I would have to stop pursuing the matter.

On the other hand, Hew Mun Seong was reminded not to use physical violence or action on friends but to report to the teacher to solve the misunderstanding.

My History Teacher – Mr. Manjit Singh in Form 2

History had been an enjoyable subject since primary school. It was fun listening to the tales, stories, narrations of victories, downfalls and the changes through the centuries. The teachers made the subject so interesting. We listened with awe to the wonderful tales around the world. In addition they added their opinions. That was what made History so interesting.

We knew the story of Emperor Shi Huang Ti, Hitler, Napoleon, Rasputin the mad monk and many great people.

It was only in form 2 that my love for History faded. It was not because of the subject but rather the teacher.

We were in the afternoon session; Form 1 and 2 were in the afternoon due to the congestion; even now. The other forms were and are in the morning. You can imagine the heat and tiredness in the afternoon. Most of us hated the afternoons and especially History class. It was more because of the boring method then.

Mr. Manjit Singh had the usual method of teaching; very predictable. He would enter the class and we would be ready with the textbooks and the exercise books on the desks. If we forgot or slow in doing so, we would be scolded.

When everything was ready, he would then ask us to turn to a certain page. His instructions were: underline what he read and copy those important facts into the notebooks or exercise book. After that we had to read the copied facts quietly. We would be punished otherwise; if we talked or made any nose.

I remembered the eventful afternoon; it was warm and humid, I mean terribly weather. The two rickety fans rattled and turned slowly. As usual we tried to keep awake and we managed to underline the facts, copied them and read the notes quietly.
The sound of the two rickety fans emitted somehow hynotised us and slowly we felt drowsy. Our eyes slowly closed and we started to sway and our heads nodded and we found it hard to concentrate. We wanted to keep our eyes opened but it was terribly difficult.

Suddenly a voise boomed. “Mah Heng Wah, Leong Choy Foong, Visvanathan, Chen Yoon Heng (Me) Balbir Singh, Zainuddin…”

The list went on and we were suddenly wide awake. Mr. Manjit Singh had called out most of our names.

He commanded us; “Come to the front of the class!”
We came out; one by one; from our seats, shocked and not knowing what to expect.
“Line up,” he ordered. “I told you to read but you chose to sleep. So I have to punish you.”
We did not see him come into the class with a cane or any long ruler. We did not know how he was going to punish us. We were guessing and wondering.
“Come here,” he said.

Mah Heng Wah was the first. He stepped in front of him. Heng Wah looked at him nervously. Our teacher help up his knuckle and brought it down on his forehead.

‘Crack’ It was loud, as if he had knocked a lamp post. Heng Wah let out a scream and cried. I bet it was painful. I did not know how he felt as I was lost in fear.

One by one we stepped forward and each of us received a blow on the forehead. I saw some of them supporting themselves by holding onto the desks near them.

My turn came and I was almost in tears before he whack his knuckle on me. The blow came and I reeled and cried out. I was like being hit by a stone. It was a painful one and I let out a scream.
The others got theirs and all of us wept; some openly and some quietly.

“Now sit down and continue your reading. The next time I shall double the punishment.”

We sat down and tried to concentrate. Some of our friends who had escaped smiled and sniggered.

“Don’t laugh. Your turn may come. I’m paying special attention on you,” he warned.

Everyone stopped and the class was silent, as silent as the grave. I bet we could hear the pin drop except for the hypnotizing fans; curse you. The fans must have been laughing at us.

Hunt or Hunted Part 3

In every horror or mystery, the tale never ends until somebody or something is killed. The same is going to happen here. Try to guess who or what will be the victim.

After hearing the sound of retreating footsteps, he gave a sigh of relief. His heart was thumping away like an out of control locomotive. He was breathing heavily and he was actually huffing and puffing. After a short while, he managed to calm himself. He took a cup of coffee from the flask and sipped it slowly. His hands were still shivering as he tried to hold the cup to his mouth.

Before he could finish his much deserved cup of coffee, he heard a loud bang on the wooden wall. The sound was thunderous and nearly made him drop his cup. Of course, the coffee spilled onto his hand and dripped onto the floor. His heart nearly stopped beating. But he regained his composure.

Then it was silent again. It was probably the branched that had hit the wall. That was what he thought.

He had probably dozed off after all that excitement. The rain had stopped pouring and the thunder and lightning had ceased. The sky was clear again and the stars above were having a gala time winking at one another.
All of a sudden Mr. Hong woke up and sat upright. He heard the familiar footsteps again at first softly sloshing but it got louder and louder. From experience, he knew that someone or some thing was approaching the hut.

He called out again for his colleagues by their names. There was no reply. That made him more nervous. He knew that the sound of footsteps belonged to the same creature he saw earlier in the doorway of the hut.

With his shaking hands he lifted his shotgun and checked the ammunition by using his fingers to feel them. He did not want to use his torchlight or matches or his presence would be known. He was shaking all over because he was waiting for the impossible.

The sound of heavy breathing added to his already pounding heart. The sound was inhumane and definitely of a beast. It was eerie and made his blood chilled. His shirt was wet not because of the warmth but because of the fear; the sweat was cold and he shivered. His throat was dry and his mouth was ajar. He could even hear his own breathing and his heart beats were faster than a train.

From the little light that seeped through the broken ceiling he saw that the wooden door was ajar and swaying to and fro slowly.

All of a sudden the door tore open and a huge shape stood at the doorway. It was totally dark and all he could see were two red eyes at the top of the doorway. From estimation he knew that the creature or beast was tall and its head reached the top of the doorway making it at least 6 feet tall.

The breathing from the beast was louder and he also growled at the same time.

Without wasting any time he took aim of his shotgun with his shaking hands. It was impossible to do so as at this terrifying moment. Anyway he pulled the trigger immediately before the beast could pound on him. The sound of the shot thundered in the wooden hut like a cannon shot. He heard a loud scream and a terrible growl. As the impact of the shotgun was so powerful and that he was nervous, he lost control and was catapulted to the back of the wall. Then everything was dark and blank.

When he finally opened his eyes, he thought that he was dreaming. His eyes opened slowly and he saw daylight streaming through the door and the broken roof. Then he saw people, in vague shapes, but slowly he recognized his other buddies all looking down at him with worried faces.

Then he felt the pain, an excruciating pain that tore through his whole torso. He tried to sit up but the pain made it impossible. With the help of his friends, he sat leaning against the flimsy wall.

His buddies hurled questions at him but they were too fast for him to digest and find the answers. He slowly looked around the hut. His shirt and pants were torn in many places and there was blood all over his body. His shotgun was on the floor a few feet away. A short distance near the doorway was a strange looking animal; white fur, long tail, pointed ears and two long white fangs all covered with blood. The other striking thing about it was the eyes. They were red like rubies. The odd thing was its size. It was not huge but the size of a cat; a normal house cat.

He slowly related the strange incident to his colleagues after sipping some water. They shook their head in disbelief. After a short rest, they carried him out of the hut and went home; leaving the strange creature in the hut.

Mr. Hong was lucky to escape the creature. It was probably his courage and experience that had saved him.

After he had finished his exciting tale, he showed us his scars on his hands and his abdomen. We were shocked and looked with eyes wide opened. Now that is the end of the strange tale.

HUNT OR HUNTED PART 2

He was totally confused and he had never been in such a situation. The drizzle had turned into a rain but he could still see where he was.
He checked his shotgun and pointed it into the air. He fired a shot and waited. The sound of the shot was loud. He ears hummed and he listened for a reply. There was none. He shouted to his friends and called for help. There was no reply.
The rain was getting heavier and he could barely see twenty metres ahead. He tried to look for some shelter; a tall tree or something better. His hopes were high but a tall tree would attract lightning. He did not want to be struck by the thousand volts from the sky. He was right as lightning flashed and thunder followed. It would be foolish to stay under a tree.
He trudged on and on and hoped to find a shelter of some sort. But in the middle of the jungle who would build a hut or a shed.
He was indeed a lucky man. The jungle was already in darkness but as the lightning flashed, he saw a hut. He could not believe what he saw. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Was it due to his paranoid feeling?
For a second time, the lightning flashed and for a split second he saw the hut again. His heart pounded with excitement as he was sure of what he saw. Was it a trick or an illusion? He was actually running straight towards the hut regardless of who or what built it; regardless of who or what was inside. It would be better than being soaked in the rain and the fear of being struck by lightning.
At the door of the hut he stopped and breathe heavily. It would be impolite to barge in without being invited. Whoever was inside would be offended if someone rushed in unannounced.
He rapped on the flimsy door and waited. There was no reply. He called out aloud because the thunder had muffled the knock on the door; he assumed. He waited again. As he was feeling cold and wet, he could wait any longer. He opened the door slowly and expecting to find the inhabitants shocked but he was relieved as the hut was bare and totally uninhabited. The light emitted from the lightning shot through the cracks on the walls and the roof. He was now sure that the hut was indeed empty.
He felt a sense of relief as he could get some shelter away from the rain. He would explain to the owner later when he returned later; he thought to himself.
He switched on his torch light and surveyed the empty hut. It was indeed vacant except for the floor that was littered with dried leaves and branches. Not a single piece of furniture was seen. The only sign of use was a small blackened patch of branches that had been used for a fire. That gave him an idea. He gathered the leaves and the branches and twigs that were in the hut.
Then he took out his box of matches; luckily they were wrapped in a container so it was still dry. He struck a match and made a small fire. Next he removed his jacket and shirt and dried them near the fire. It was warm and he gave out a sigh of relief.
But, sad to say, that sigh of relief was a short one. Read on.

HUNT OR HUNTED PART 1

My Standard 4 class teacher, Mr. Hong Eng Kooi, was a great story teller and he had the knack of making the class attentive and interested even when it was dark and rainy. When the evening was dark and windy, we knew that Mr. Hong would have a tale for us. It was because teaching and learning was impossible with the rain splashing in through the open windows and the lightning and thunder making us lose concentration.
One evening, the sky was threatening and the clouds were building up in the horizon. Mr. Hong, asked us to keep our stuff into our bags and move the desks and chairs to the middle of the classroom. From experience, we knew that the rain water would splash into the classroom through the open windows. Our windows were bare except for the iron mesh across it.
We were excited because we knew that there would be a tale; short or long, it would not matter as long as we could listen to some eerie or frightening tale. Mr. Hong seemed to have a handful of such tales.
When everybody was gathered in the centre of the classroom, he told us a strange but true tale. After the tale, I leave it to you to decide of its legitimacy.
He came from Sitiawan, a town you would pass through on your way to Lumut. If you want to buy preserved cuttlefish or dried prawns, you can find them here. And if you want to savour fresh seafood, you are in luck here.
At time he was an avid hunter just like many folks in Sitiawan. Many of them had licences to go hunting in the jungles nearby. As planned, Mr. Hong agreed to meet the usual friends at the edge of the jungle one Saturday evening. He had packed an array of light snack of coffee, biscuits and some tidbits. Of course he had his shotgun, a hunting knife, a box of matches and a torchlight.
At the usual meeting place, he met the other three buddies. After the usual greetings and exchange of the latest happenings, they started their walk into the jungle. The weather was fine with a clear sunny sky. It was around 3 o’clock so they had a few hours before sunset. That was what they wanted; to be able to see the animals in the jungle.
They moved quietly and only whispering occasionally. They had a strange feeling; the jungle was as quiet as a graveyard. Normally, they could hear chirping of birds and the call of some animals. But that evening was abnormal indeed. Everything seemed odd and even the breeze was not felt. The leaves were still and the only sound was the footsteps on dried leaves and occasionally the breaking of twigs.
Their hopes were not dampened and they expected a change of luck later in the deeper part of the jungle. After about half an hour it was still the same. So they decided to break up and go separate ways. Maybe this would be better as they could move silently without disturbing the inhabitants in the jungle. Each took one direction and promised to meet the next morning at the foot of the tallest tree.
Mr. Hong moved quietly and stealthily among the bushes and listened with all ears for any sounds to indicate the presence of animals. He was disappointed but nevertheless he trudged on. By then the sky had turned dark suddenly and thick dark clouds gathered above indicating the great possibility of a thunderstorm.
After a few minutes, a light drizzle had started and Mr. Hong felt that he was lost and he could not see the tall tree they had indicated. He panicked and started going around in circles. This was because after walking for a few minutes, he was back at the same spot. He was totally out of his wits.
As an experienced hunter, the only way to get help was climb up a tree and look around. He did that but that was of no help. The next thing was to yell and call for help. He tried that but there was no reply. The jungle seemed to have enveloped him and his call seemed to echo off.
If you are in such a situation, what would your next course of action be.