Sumber ilhamku

The size and design for New Malaysian Essays 1 are very much inspired by a Singapore journal called Focas. You've never heard of Focas, of course, so let me introduce it.

Focus stands for Forum on Contemporary Art & Society and if you think that sounds dead serious, wait till you read the stuff in there!

You can read about all the six issues (and maybe even buy a few of them) starting here. After that, just type Focas into the search box and more delights will unfold.

Focas is no more because the Singapore government pulled the plug on its funding! Is it because the journal was too critical of government policy, especially in relation to censorship? Focas was always written in such a rarefied manner that it's hard to imagine any bureaucrat taking offence – but then again, Singaporean bureaucrats probably know fancier words than ours.

RIP Focas! I shall make sure the editorial board gets a free copy of NME1 in return for not suing us for ripping off their look.

Tokyo Magic Hour

A movie of mine that I don't show all that often is Tokyo Magic Hour, because it freaks people out! But the music-man Hardesh Singh and I like it quite a bit.

It's a love story told through 60 pantun, narrated by a series of young men. It's the most obscure but jiwang gay love story imaginable; an American critic even wondered if it should be called "a distant Muslim cousin to Brokeback Mountain."

I've been looking at the text again because Italian subtitles (!) will be made. Since quite a few of the pantun are not online, I thought of putting them all down here. Who knows, they might be useful for ngorat or emo purposes :-)

The soundtrack is available on Hardesh's CD and represents his most trippy work.

***

All love affairs take place in foreign cities.
– Jalal Toufic.

1: MEETING

jika tidak kerana bulan,
masakan air pasang pagi?
jika tidak kerana tuan,
masakan saya datang ke mari?

anak angsa terenang-renang,
itik jati dalam perahu;
duduk jauh terasa bimbang,
duduk dekat terasa malu.

gelang emas di atas peti,
ambil lampu padam pelita;
barulah puas rasanya hati,
jika dapat bertentang mata.

dari mana punai melayang?
dari paya turun ke padi;
dari mana datangnya sayang?
dari mata turun ke hati

apa guna pasang pelita
kalau tidak dengan sumbunya?
apa guna bermain mata
kalau tidak dengan sungguhnya?

apa tanda hari nak petang?
anak merbah terciap-ciap;
apa tanda cinta nak datang?
darah di dada gerap-gemirap.

tinggi-tinggi si matahari,
anak kerbau mati tertambat;
sudah lama saya mencari,
baru sekarang saya mendapat.

layang-layang sambar kenari,
madu kelapa dalam tampiran;
hancur luluh rasanya hati,
jika tidak memandang tuan.

burung merpati meniti batang,
terbang kumbang meniti udara;
wajah tuan bila ku pandang,
bagai melihat pintunya syurga.

kuda kelabu menyeberang,
terendam hati pelananya;
hati gila mabuk seorang,
tuanlah sebab kerananya.

bunga rampai di dalam puan,
bunga selasih di dalam peti;
sebelum jumpa dengan tuan,
sungguh hidup serasa mati.

nyur semantan bukan;
nyur dimakan bulan.


2: LOVING

ikan belanak hilir berenang,
burung dara membuat sarang;
makan tak enak tidur tak senang,
hanya teringat abang seorang.

nasi basi atas para,
nasi masak dalam perahu;
pucat kasih badan sengsara,
hidup segan mati tak mahu.

limau purut lebat di pangkal;
sayang selasih condong uratnya;
angin ribut dapat ditangkal,
hati kasih apa ubatnya?

laksana buah kepayang:
dimakan mabuk, dibuang sayang.

akar keramat akar bertuah,
akar bertampak di gua batu;
nabi muhammad cintakan allah,
di manalah tuan masa itu?

buluh perindu berdahan tidak,
ke tepi perigi rumputnya senget;
hatiku rindu bertahan tidak,
seperti bumi menanggung langit.

kalau roboh kota melaka,
papan di jawa saya dirikan;
kalau sungguh bagai dikata,
badan nyawa saya serahkan.

terang bulan cahaya berseri,
nampak dilihat jauh saujana;
seksanya tuan cinta berahi,
semua dibuat serba tak kena.

anak undan meniti batang,
berasa dahan terlampai;
melihat bulan dipagar bintang,
bagaikan rasa hendak dicapai.

kalau tuan pergi ke laut,
pesan saya ketam jantan;
kalau tuan menjadi pulut,
saya menjadi kelapa santan.

lancang pilan dari selatan,
angin bertiup dari utara;
sudah ada dalam genggaman,
bilakah dapat hidup bersama?

kayu jati pelampung pukat,
buluh perindu tidak berdahan;
buah hati marilah dekat,
hati rindu tidak tertahan.


3. LUSTING

kerengga dalam buluh,
serahi berisi air mawar;
datang hasrat dalam tubuh,
abang seorang jadi penawar.

merak emas, merak dewata,
hendak makan cendana muda;
mari intan marilah nyawa,
marilah kita bersukaria.

di mana tempat murai berbunyi?
pokok kekabu di tepi kolam;
di mana tempat kita berjanji?
di dalam kelambu di atas tilam.

hilang dadu pada dadih,
dadih bercampur minyak bila;
hilang malu kerana kasih,
kasih bercampur hati gila.

guruh berbunyi di dalam awan,
merbuk terbang dari seberang;
lucut baju pada badan,
terurai kain pada pinggang.

sedap sungguh belayar kapal,
kapal masuk sekali setahun;
sedap sungguh tidur sebantal,
tangan memeluk kaki memanggung.

jikalau pasang air di laut,
mahukah tuan bersama mandi;
jikalau datang ajal dan maut,
mahukan tuan bersama mati?

gajah langgar kuda beraksa,
mayang di mana dihempaskan;
sama lebur sama binasa,
tuan tiada saya lepaskan.

sampan pukat sampan serani,
boleh belayar tanah seberang;
tuan umpama bintang nurani,
makin ditentang bertambah terang.

orang aceh pulang ke aceh,
mengail kurau dapat senangin;
bukan mudah kita berkasih,
laksana wau melawan angin.

orang aceh pulang ke aceh,
manisan lebah dalam perahu;
tidur sebantal menunjukkan kasih,
hati berubah siapa tahu?

bukan cempedak kami katakan,
buah delima dalam pasu;
bukan telah kami katakan,
pandang pertama cinta palsu.


4: PARTING

kusangka nenas di tengah padang,
kiranya pandan yang berduri;
kusangka panas sampai ke petang,
kiranya hujan di tengah hari.

anak cina menebang keranji,
habis buah bertabur-taburan;
tuan umpama panji-panji,
ditiup angin berkibar-kibaran.

api-api unggunan kandis,
tumpah damar di kulit tengar;
laki-laki mulutnya manis,
jika bersumpah jangan didengar.

buah jering di atas para,
diambil budak sambil berlari;
hingga kering selat melaka,
barulah tuan tepati janji.

limau manis condong ke paya,
boleh buat ampaian kain;
mulut manis kepada saya,
hati kasih kepada yang lain.

orang membajak dengan kerbau,
kerana hendak menanam padi;
di dalam tidur hatiku risau,
kerana janji sudah dimungkiri.

anak punai anak merbah,
sambil terbang membawa sarang;
anak sungai lagi berubah,
inikan pula hati orang.

rakit buluh dari seberang,
dulang terletak atas geta;
sakit sungguh kasih seorang,
orang tidak kasihkan kita.

kerbau menguak di tengah padang,
turun mandi di dalam paya;
cantik manis di mata orang,
hodoh buruk di mata saya.

dahulu parang, sekarang besi;
dahulu sayang,sekarang benci.

apa lauk nasi rendam?
sayur petola dinihari;
apalah ubat hati yang dendam,
air ditelan serasa duri.

tinggi melampai pokok beringin,
beringin ada di hadapan kota;
hendak berpesan kepada angin,
angin tidak pandai berkata.


5: FORGETTING

banyak orang mengetam pulut,
saya seorang mengetam padi;
banyak orang karam di laut,
saya seorang karam di hati.

hujan panas siang hari,
berteduh badan bawah bayang;
hilang emas boleh dicari,
hilang kasih nyawa melayang.

ubur-ubur sepinggan dua,
pakai cincin di hujung jari;
satu kubur kita berdua,
kanda di kanan saya di kiri.

kalau ada duit sekupang,
boleh beli cuka menaun;
habis padi burung terbang,
ulat tidak kenangkan daun.

bawa permata sampai ke lukut,
jatuh ke tanah gilang-gemilang;
kasih umpama embun di rumput,
datang mentari nescaya hilang.

cincin biru permata selan,
dibawa orang pergi meramu;
jika tidur pandanglah bulan,
dalam bulan kita bertemu.

buah berangan masaknya merah,
terbang kelekati dalam perahu;
luka di tangan nampak berdarah,
luka di hati tuhan yang tahu.

kapal berlabuh di lautan sisi,
patah puteri naga-naganya;
bantal dipeluk saya tangisi,
hendak mati rasa-rasanya.

padi dituai antara masak,
esok jangan layu-layuan;
hendak menangis bukannya budak,
tidak berguna padamu tuan.

pagi-pagi awan berlari,
bintang sebiji membelah bukit,
bukit tinggi menjulang awan,
bukit bernama gunung ledang;
kalau dapat gambar di hati,
dunia dipandang tinggal sedikit,
ditutup oleh wajahmu tuan,
hingga aku buta memandang.

lubuk paik lubuknya dalam,
anak seluang jatuh ke riba;
mimpi baik saya semalam,
mimpi bulan jatuh ke riba.

kalau tuan mudik ke hulu,
kirimkan saya sebiji nangka;
kalau tuan pergi dahulu,
nantikan saya di pintu neraka.

Jury duty in France

At the end of this month I will fly to France to serve on the International Jury for the 30th Clermont-Ferrand International Short Film Festival. I have to watch 73 short films! But since this festival is supposed to be the best one of its kind in Europe, it's bound to be fun.

(Check out some of the brilliant posters it has had over the years, too).

I will also represent the Malaysian shorts in that festival's South-East Asia focus this year. (I didn't do the selection, so don't blame me if some of my own stuff is there). The section is punningly called Tropical Melody,a reference to a brilliant Thai feature film. (But wouldn't Tropical Medley have made more sense?) So for the festival catalogue I wrote a short overview of Malaysian shorts, with this as the opening paragraph:

Because Malaysia is so very bourgeois compared to the rest of South-East Asia (with the noble exception of Singapore), shorts used to be a waste of time. We have no tradition of independent artists or filmmakers making shorts, such as Indonesia’s Gotot Prakosa.

Since I refuse to be outdone in the pun stakes, the essay is called Waiting For Gotot.

Laugh la...

My intro to 'Glimpses'

Good Neighbours: The Art of Adibah Amin

If you are a Malaysian who is picking up this book, chances are you will be familiar with Adibah Amin’s recently reissued, two-volume As I Was Passing, first published as newspaper columns in the 1970s. If so, you will certainly need no further encouragement – from me or anyone else – to get your grubby mitts on Glimpses.

The articles here were written more than a decade after As I Was Passing, and although Adibah’s inimitable wit and warmth continue to shine through, there are greater hints that things are not going so well with the Malaysian project.

The multicultural ease of Malaysians as recorded in As I Was Passing seems to be under threat, due to increasingly entrenched communal sentiments. Racial jokes that used to be taken in good fun by one and all now have a darker undertow. (It has been said that Malaysians are becoming more sensitive, but the opposite is true: We are becoming more insensitive).

What happened in the meantime? Perhaps the capitalist short-cuts of the 1980s put too much emphasis on physical monuments, brushing aside intangible but arguably more important things. But once we have bolted out the door, is it still possible to go back and retrieve what we forgot?

It is a measure of Adibah’s moral strength that she neither sweeps these problems under the carpet nor seeks escape into an unreconstructed nostalgia based on an idyllic past. Although she notes that Malaysians seem to be getting further apart (and drawn together mainly on food-laden occasions such as festive holidays) she is well aware of the structural inequalities that have given rise to this. These inequalities ¬– and attendant insensitivities – are at the root cause of the polarisation that she laments.

Adibah is able to put herself into the footwear – be it the leather sandals, terompah or humble selipar Jepun – of others. This is not as easy an accomplishment as it sounds, especially in a society where you can get very far by playing your racial or religious card. A demagogue would see the rights and even basic existence of the Other as a threat. Adibah is the opposite of a demagogue.

The level of empathy she displays could only have come about through a keen intelligence, instinctive curiosity and a firm sense of fair play. Her pride in our imagined community isn’t of the obnoxious bragging variety; we all know that bragging is a sign of insecurity, anyway. She continues to have hope because she has met some very good people, and knows that there are many more out there. And goodness has certainly never been the monopoly of any particular group of people.

To pick just one seemingly innocuous example: Her essay on some neighbours she has known sneaks in the word ‘temples’, the sole indication that the family she’s speaking of must be from a different faith. Nowadays, when temples (or mosques, or churches) became part of public discussion, they would just as likely become signifiers in the contested terrain of ‘our rights’ versus ‘their rights.’ And how many of us now would fail to foreground a person’s creed the moment we refer to him or her? But Adibah concentrates, with sly wit, on the more important qualities – such as the simple ability to return borrowed items! – that a good neighbour should possess.

A particularly striking essay, one of the longest here, is on the implications of Merdeka. Read in the context of our national orgy of self-congratulation (which often became the exclusive channel for the political elite to promote and perpetuate its hegemonic legacy), it shines like a star in a fog-filled sky. How many writers could point out that there are many other political fighters, particularly of the leftist variety, that have been forgotten? Or to mention the perception (perhaps silenced now) that our Independence was a relatively painless and contingent one compared to what our neighbours can boast of? Or, perhaps more importantly, to listen to what the young, seemingly apolitical, voices have to say without hectoring them into submission? That she can accomplish all this and more, while never seeming to have an axe to grind, is testament enough to her artistry.

Part of this artistry is the ability to render ideas in concrete, personal terms. In recognizing the integrity of the whistle-blowing schoolgirl in the case of the leaked exam papers, she invites us to ponder the bigger implications of living in a time when we often ‘close one eye’ to corruption. And her unusually intimate account of the breakdown of a relationship due to the man’s surprising (to the woman) reliance on patriarchal power tropes strikes you in the heart. Self-deprecating but no pushover, she knows when something’s amiss.

Fifty years after our much-vaunted Merdeka, there are precious few writers who have managed to achieve the pan-national appeal of Lat, P. Ramlee or Sudirman. Adibah would seem to be the fittest candidate: her unassuming demeanour, transparent prose and disarming humour are for keeps.

Humour, oh yes! Although this Introduction is sadly free of them, the book itself is full of jokes, trust me. I laughed many times – and so will you, unless you are a really uptight type, in which case you are better off reading one of those ‘How to be a millionaire or die trying’ things that will be abundant in the bookshop where you picked this up.

Her humour is often pointed but never cynical. If a cynic is one who knows “the price of everything and the value of nothing” (who said this? what do I look like, the Google page?) then Adibah is empathically not a cynic. She ain’t too impressed by price-tags, but she knows what truly matters – and even if you were broke, her “love don’t cost a thing” (to quote a slightly different Western icon).

If we had more neighbours like Adibah, none of us will ever think of moving away.

Malaysians in snow

The 18th edition of the Tromsø International Film Festival in Norway has a Malaysian Focus! This is on the heels of Tokyo, Pusan, San Francisco, Brisbane and all those other film festivals that have chosen to Focus on our country in the past three years or so.

The festival runs 15-20 January and will show work by me, Yasmin Ahmad, Tan Chui Mui and James Lee. I would have liked to attend (I've never been so far north) but I had to turn down the invite since I have to concentrate on New Malaysian Essays 1.

Anyways, this is the Festival Director's introduction to the Malaysian section:


Even though I will not be shooting any new movies for at least a few years, it does my heart good (it sure does) that our work manages to travel somehow. But home is where it's at.

Malaysian box-office 2007

1. Jangan Pandang Belakang (director: Ahmad Idham, company: Metrowealth): RM6.3 mil
2. Otai (Razak Mohaideen, Line Clear/Grand Brilliance): RM3.5 mil
3. Nana Tanjung 2 (Razak Mohaideen, Line Clear/Grand Brilliance): RM2.5 mil
4. Zombi Kampung Pisang (Mamat Khalid, Tayangan Unggul): RM2.4 mil
5. Impak Maksima (Ahmad Idham, Metrowealth): RM2.1 mil
6. Mukhsin (Yasmin Ahmad, Grand Brilliance): RM2 mil
7. Waris Jari Hantu (Shuhaimi Baba, Pesona): RM1.7 mil
8. Qabil Qhushri Qabil Igam (Zaili Sulan, Sonata): RM1.6 mil
9. Anak Halal (Osman Ali, Tayangan Unggul): RM1.5 mil [*completed screening Jan 2008]
10 = Sumolah (Afdlin Shauki, Vision Works): RM1.2 mil
10 = 9 September (Pierre Andre, Metrowealth): RM1.2 mil
12. Puaka Tebing Biru (Osman Ali, Tayangan Unggul): RM1.03 mil
13. Chermin (Zarina Abdullah, Starry Eye): RM0.8 mil
14. Orang Minyak (Jamal Maarif & C.K. Karan, Infohibur): RM0.6 mil
15. Syaitan (Bade Azmi, Tayangan Unggul): RM0.5 mil
16. Haru Biru (Shadan Hashim, JAS): RM0.4 mil
17 = Diva (Sharad Sharan, Astro Shaw): RM0.3 mil
17 = Kayangan (Raja Ahmad Alauddin, Raden Pictures): RM0.3 mil
17 = 1957: Hati Malaya (Shuhaimi Baba, Pesona): RM0.3 mil
20. Budak Lapok (Anwardi Jamil, Matahari): RM 0.2 mil
21. Cinta Yang Satu (Zulkiflie M Osman, Wan's): RM0.1 mil

a) There were only 21 films released widely last year, a drop from 26 of the previous year. This despite the fact that more films are being made than ever. What gives?
b) There are five first-time directors: Zarina, Zaili, Pierre, Osman, and the team of Jamal & C.K.
c) Sharad is the only expat; he has made a previous Bollywood movie.
d) Two of the films explicitly invoke old movies (Budak Lapok riffs on the Bujang Lapok series; and Orang Minyak does the same to the three films (one lost) with the words Orang Minyak in them.
e) Contrary to the thesis advanced by smart-alecks of the past, people stayed away most from the only film that had 'cinta' in the title!
f) The most prolific director is Razak Mohaideen who's made 21 films.
g) Two films have the directors also acting in the lead role: Sumolah and 9 September
h) In contrast to the last 2 years, there are no widely-released local feature films in languages other than Malay.
i) For some much-needed perspective: Transformers made over RM18 million in Malaysia. And Sivaji made over RM8 million. If we were to compile a Malaysian Top 10 of 2007 regardless of film origin, only one local flick would be on it.

Love in the time of Emergency

(The January issue of TELL magazine kicks off my year-long column on old Malay movies. Here is the first one. You should still get the magazine because of a 6-page Scary Datin Fashion Parade that has already provided much joy around here. TELL doesn't have a decent website but a Nigerian magazine of the same name does).

The oldest surviving Malay movie is called Cinta (or, to use the spelling of the time, Chinta). It was released on 31 October 1948 even though it is not a Halloween-themed movie. So this year marks its 60th anniversary. It is also the 75th anniversary of the first (now lost) Malay film, Laila Majnun (1933).

To celebrate this double anniversary, I will talk about selected old Malay movies, chronologically. My definition of “old” is a shamelessly subjective one: “before I was born.” So we will travel from 1948 to 1972.

Watching Cinta for the first time, what struck me most is how erotic it is! Most of it is set on a fishing island, where the pace of life is idyllic. There are plenty of bare shoulders and thighs on display, and lots of time to cavort while singing and partying. In fact, there’s a conspicuous lack of actual fishing going on.

Siput Serawak plays a damsel who is very forthright indeed. When two strangers wash ashore after a shipwreck, she immediately takes a fancy to the younger and handsomer one; he is played by S Roomai Noor. She literally takes him by the hand to go swimming and they sing about the birds and the bees. This is intercut with actual footage of insects landing on flowers. The sea is always available to them, since no one seems to be fishing.


Surprisingly, her father never retorts with “You’re not going out dressed like that, Missy!” Although not explicitly referenced except for two mentions of ‘dewa’ (and an actual Balinese-style idol statue) the setting is somewhat pagan, so there is no danger of khalwat squads busting them.

Unknown to Siput, Roomai is actually the King of the neighbouring Indrapura. He just doesn’t want to reveal his identity. This is OK; her love don’t cost a thing. The two have such great sexual chemistry that it continued into real life, for the couple then wed to give the world a diva named Anita Sarawak.

The only person unhappy with this liaison is a poor fisherman, (played by P. Ramlee in his first role) who has the hots for Siput.


When Cinta was released, the Federation of Malaya had just entered a state of Emergency. A few months earlier, rogue communists had killed European plantation managers, and this marked the state of curfews and a clampdown on freedom of association. Left-wing parties were banned. These parties had just a year before organized a very successful nationwide strike that threatened to cripple the economy. So 1948 marked the decline of leftist influence. These parties were the first to call for Merdeka. As of 1948, the slogan for the 2-year old UMNO was still ‘Hidup Melayu” rather than a call for independence.

This backdrop of political agitation is mirrored in only an oblique way in Cinta. The second half of the film contains a flashback that reveals Siput’s true identity: She’s actually a princess who was smuggled out of her kingdom (Indrapura!) to escape a murderous coup. The guard who smuggled her out had been raising her as his own daughter. (Perhaps his awareness of her royal status is what prevented him from lecturing her on the impropriety of cavorting with a male stranger. Either that, or he’s a liberal).

Since we now know that both of them are from the Indrapura royal family, I was kinda worried that I had been watching a film about incest. But it’s not that: Roomai is actually the son of the successful, now deceased, coup leader. But then again, since many royal tussles take place between siblings, perhaps the two are cousins after all?

So her step-father tells Siput that she must avenge the death of her parents. How? By killing the current King. She doesn’t know how he looks like, but she agrees to go on a regicide mission. (There were no photographs at that time. Otherwise, she would have noticed her lover’s portrait hanging on the wall of every government department and most mamak restaurants she passes).

She and her step-father sneak into the palace and almost kill the King in his sleep. But this will not be a tragedy. There is a ‘recognition scene’ and she also recognises the futility of revenge – just in time for a happy ending. Even P. Ramlee, instead of vowing his own revenge for losing the girl, is left singing the blues with his mates.

The fact that a bloody coup could be resolved through the love of the next generation is a sweet one. The history of Malaya did not prove to be so forgiving. The Emergency, which was just starting, is among the longest and bloodiest undeclared wars in the history of the Commonwealth, with thousands of casualties on each side. All you need is love, eh?