Speedy Gonzalez

Here I was, stucked in a rush-hour traffic, in a taxi with the driver who did not understand, or pretend not to, that I had a bus to catch in less than an hour. Just when I expected him to beat through all the red lights and mercilessly run down every stray cats on the road to get me to the station, he leisurely drove on a slow lane and properly applied signals at all the right time and places. Ok fine. He just busted a myth that bothered me ever since I was legally a road user, that taxi signals actually work.

I kept glancing at my watch, hoping he would notice that I desperately needed him to speed up, beat the traffic and behave like any other typical swearing, raging KL taxi driver. It was useless. Well sorry mister cab driver, if I miss my bus, I won’t pay - I told myself. Then again, I imagined the moment this old man snapped his fingers, I’d be surrounded by blood-thirsty taxi drivers, ready to pounce and chop me up into 18-pieces. Or they could whack and threw me into Klang River, where my body will float alongside corpses of drug addicts. It's between the devil and the deep blue sea.

After those scary thoughts, I gave in to his couldnt-care-less attitude. Maybe, it was my mistake that I had chosen the wrong taxi. Or was this a punishment, for paying drivers to turn into speeding reckless devils on the road for my own selfish needs? Perhaps, I was thinking too much.

Don’t blame me for expecting the best out of our public transport neither should we blame the taxi drivers. After all, I was just being Malaysian. They surely earn their reputation as kings of the road in KL, and we pay them to do what they do best, getting us from point A to point B, with super-sonic speed, applying brakes and gear shifts to a minimum and at same time, joke around during the dull journey. Not too much to ask, I guess. They can tease about Samy Vellu’s hair and brag about how they could become the next Malaysia national football coach. I can handle that, so long I didn’t miss my bus.

The squeaking brakes of the taxi woke me up from my daydream. Surprised indeed, that I’ve arrived at the bus station 15 minutes early, What was more surprising, he got me there without breaking any traffic rule. And I was expecting he would. Shame on me.

p/s: Photo by Zaini Abdullah

Looking Back in Mystery

Some say it is the scariest Malay hantu movie, some say the hantu looked like a badly burnt corn on strings and some say so-so lorrr. Last month, I took the time out, albeit reluctantly, to watch the widely acclaimed Jangan Pandang Belakang ("JPB"), expecting only to be mentally insulted by the sheer idiocy of Malaysian made movies. For the lack of better comparison, I had to compare with the likes of the black-and-white Pontianak, Jerangkung and P. Ramlee's Orang Minyak. Except for the dreary storyline, JPB is equally scary as the others. And this is done without today's sci-fi effect that could even choreograph a flying pontianak with laser beams in movies to look flawlessly possible. (Maya Karin, take note.) The director displayed his only resolute intention - to scare the heck out of the audience, hence, storyline is just a mere prerequisite.

Summary: A man found his fiancee died of drug overdose. Suspicious of her demise, he probed into her death only to find out that she had been disturbed by this evil spirit. Unfortunately, the evil spirit has now begin to haunt him.

All in all, good attempt unless you are fussy about script, plot and cinematography. This is a hantu story at its raw state, nothing complicated, neither too impishly narrated nor too nauseating. Admittedly, it did give me few shocking moments. I'm not a fan of horror movie with clear depiction of the hantu. Not that I will pee in my pants if I see one, but I would prefer the hantu to be a mere silhouette or shadow play. Lucid images are such a turn off. It confines imagination and only rouse viewers to revile the hantu for its Casper-not-so-creepy look. Then we’ll get comments like - the nose should have been more crooked, the red eyes looks scarier than the white; and even the Einstein's hair-do could have looked much more menacing. Or some would just shamelessly admit that even their grandma looked creepier.