Malaysian writers

1.DRAMA

Yasmin Ahmad

She was born on January 7, 1958 in Bukit Treh, Muar, Johor, Malaysia. She was a director and writer. She died on July 25, 2009 in Petaling Jaya, Malaysia.

works:

-Sepet ( 2004 )

 Sepet is a 2004 Malaysian romantic comedy drama film set in ipoh , Malaysia. It tells a tale of a love that blooms between a Chinese boy and a Malay girl. Sepet is a Malay word which, in this context, refers to the 'slit eyes' of the Chinese.

19-year old Ah Loong (who also called himself "Jason") is in charge of a stall selling pirated VCDs. Contrary to the stereotype of his social standing, Ah Loong is an incurable romantic with an unlikely hobby: He loves to read and write poetry. Quite content with being the Romeo of the slums, Ah Loong's life takes a sudden turn one day when a Malay schoolgirl, Orked, arrives at his stall while looking for films starring her favorite actor Takeshi Kaneshiro.Love blossoms between Orked and Ah Loong, although there are social and racial pressures that stand in their way.

In the end, Ah Loong is involved in a motor vehicle accident while Orked is going to England to pursue her studies. It is not clear if he lived or died until the sequel,Gubra which shows that Jason really didn't die. After the credits finish rolling however, Orked is shown wearing a wedding ring sleeping beside Jason, who also has a wedding ring. In Mukhsin ,Jason and the adult Orked are shown to be living together. However, the adult Orked is not called by her name in this scene as the young Orked is.

-Mukhsin (2006)

The story takes place in Sekinchan, Sabak Bernam in 1993, revolving around the first love of a 10-year-old Orked when a 12-year-old boy, Mukhsin, comes with his elder brother and aunt to spend the school holidays in her village.

Around this relatively simple plotline of a blossoming young romance between the film's two young protagonists, are interweaved scenes of Malaysian village life and the dynamics of different types of families. Most of the family scenes revolve around Orked and her mother (Mak Inom), father (Pak Atan), and the family's close maid who is almost like a family member (Kak Yam).

The other families which are given attention in the movie are Mukhsin's family (with his elder brother who has lost his way in life and is trying desperately to find their mother who abandoned them at a young age, and their Aunty who is trying to take care of the two boys as though they were her own), and Orked's neighbours (with the young daughter and pregnant mother who are critical of the western ways of Orked's family, while they themselves are hurt by the father who wants to abandon them to take on a second wife).

2.POEM AND SHORT STORY

Uthaya Sankar

He was born in Perak before moving to Klang, Selangor and later settling in Shah Alam.He writes non-conventional short stories as well as poetry, novels and articles. Some of his writings have been translated to Tamil, Mandarin and English.



Poems:
 -Sitayana (2010)

 

emotion calculates time

eyes counting days

the expected has not arrived

further suffers the soul

words too hard to orchestrate

to express the heart’s bitterness

could simply words represent

unspoken suffering

full moon

appears without words

wanes without news

what remains – suffering

speechless sita

awaits rama

* ayana – “path” or “journey” in Sanskrit

- Fear not to live in Our Own Hut  (2010 )

How to capture a dream

With our hands still chained

Faded are memories

Of the green land

Of the blood and sweat

Building this hut in the jungle

How to have a sense of self

If our children lack self-respect

As if the earth we stand on isn't ours

But just on loan

While waiting to be driven out

Don’t talk and talk and talk and talk

Of the fight to defend the nation

When our heart and soul are stained by darkness

Of how we fought, and gave, and stood

This is not about sheltering in a grubby little hut

While waiting for the rain to stop

And then to continue back to the glass palace

Not at all

But of the little hut we built together

The hut which belongs to all of us

Oh! Not just now but since way back

Since the foundation of this hut

To its present different form

Yes, this palace we built together

Not yours, yours, yours or yours or yours alone

But belongs by right to every citizen

Look at the walls – our blood

Touch the pillars – our bones

Smell it – our sweat

Listen – our tired heartbeats

Fear not to live in our own hut

And create generations

Short stories:

- Nayagi , Mistress of Destiny (2009)

MADHAVI strode on. She was delighted. She raised her pavade to the level of her calf. She jumped again. Reaching the final step, she stopped; she let go of the bright blue pavade embroidered with silk flowers. Madhavi smiled joyfully. Looking down, she pretended to be giddy. Then, quickly, she pulled back the end of her pavade to her calf and ran down the stairs as fast as possible.

Fun, she thought, out of breath.

“You look delighted!”

Madhavi was startled for a moment. Her eyes glanced to her left and right.

Then, very politely, she rearranged the black mundani which covered her chest.

“It’s nothing, Ravi Mama. Just for fun.”

Ravi Kumar who had a thick moustache, smiled. He approached Madhavi and caressed her loosened hair. Madhavi bowed shyly. Her soft cheeks reddened.

“Paapa, you like running up the stairs?”

Madhavi nodded faintly. It was true that she enjoyed going up the stairs. That was the main reason for her visits to Ravi Kumar’s house every day. Or a secondary factor.

“Do you want to stay permanently in this house?”

Madhavi looked up at Ravi Kumar. He was thirty-two years old: twice her age. Ravi Kumar took the opportunity to gaze at her face for a long time. Then, at her body. Madhavi smiled shyly. Then she ran towards the front door.

“Hey, wait! What’s the reason for your visit, paapa?”

Madhavi stopped; she remembered the actual reason for coming.

“Haren’s pacifier was left behind just now,” she said while walking up the stairs. Yet, this time, she did not run like before; even though she really wanted to do so. “In Viji Mama’s room.”

In Vijay Kumar’s room, Madhavi looked at the books scattered on the floor.

“Untirutable,” she grumbled as she collected the books one by one and put them on the rack.

“Unthirutable,” she repeated.

Madhavi was not sure what language that was. According to Vijay Kumar, it was a colloquialism which could be translated as “unchangeable behaviour”.

Vijay Kumar was a year older than Madhavi. But he was really bright. Maybe he had a lot of blessings from Kalaimahal. He could speak English. He spoke fluently in Malay. He knew about Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination two years ago. He knew that Indonesia was in the midst of gaining her independence. Also, he knew stories of India’s independence.

Madhavi was grateful to be able to listen to those stories. Then, she prayed that her homeland would also obtain independence quickly.

For Madhavi, ever since her grandfather, Kumara Kurunadhar, had arrived here from Kerala as a kangani in the past and been involved alongside others in the economic development of Malaya, this land had become her motherland. Also, on that same basis, Vijay Kumar actively participated with other citizens to free this country from the shackles of the colonisers.

Vijay Kumar’s dream was for the ethnic parties of MCA, MIC and UMNO to unite, cooperate and work together towards independence.

“If not us, who else?” Vijay Kumar had once asked such a question. “If in Indonesia, there is General Sudirman, here too in this country, a Sudirman will be born!”

Madhavi normally giggled every time she heard such words. But it was not to make fun of him. And it was far from wanting to insult him. Madhavi greatly admired Vijay Kumar’s dream.

Educated people like Viji Mama needed to be in the forefront preventing the spread of colonial power, her heart whispered. And Madhavi would always be behind them with support and assistance.

Madhavi smiled to herself. When they were married later on, Madhavi wanted to actively join Vijay Kumar’s struggle for independence.

At that time, surely Viji Mama would teach me to speak English fluently. Surely Viji Mama would be a loving and caring husband, and ready to guide me, her thoughts ran on.

Madhavi covered her face with both hands. Bashfully and shyly, she imagined her future.

“What are you doing here?” She was greeted by a lad in a striped shirt of black, red and blue, with a big collar and purple pants. The hint of a moustache added to the glow on his face.

Madhavi immediately stood up from the chair facing the green metal window frame; she pretended to look for the pacifier which she knew for sure was on top of the piles of books of Subramaniam Barathi’s poems and Rabindranath Tagore’s collection of short stories.

“The pacifier.” Her voice was soft. Her cheeks were red.

Her eyes sparkled. Her heart beat fast. Her lips curved into a smile. The glass bangles on her wrists clinked.

Vijay Kumar picked up the pacifier and handed it to Madhavi. Madhavi took it and ran out of the room. She descended the stairs. Vijay Kumar grinned sweetly.

“Paapa!”

Madhavi stopped at the front door. Ravi Kumar walked towards her, smiling broadly.

“You cannot behave like this anymore. Walk; don’t run. You are sixteen now!”

Madhavi did not understand the reason for her uncle’s advice. Didn’t she always run away when her eyes met Vijay Kumar’s? Ravi Kumar surely didn’t know because Madhavi had never told anyone about it.

Maybe only she and Vijay Kumar were aware of the presence of those delicate feelings in her soul. Or maybe Vijay Kumar himself did not realise it. Maybe Vijay Kumar had yet to succeed in interpreting the meanings of the smiles, the bowing of the head and Madhavi’s feeling of shyness every time their eyes met.

“Tomorrow evening, I’ll be going to your house to ask for your hand. Hasn’t your mum informed you yet?”

Madhavi’s face was glowing. She looked at her uncle’s face. Then she turned towards Vijay Kumar who was standing outside his room, upstairs.

“Viji Mama?”

Ravi Kumar laughed softly. Madhavi’s head was bowing lower and lower out of sheer embarrassment. Shyly and bashfully, but happily.

“Isn’t he a patriotic soul? He is always busy. This evening, he wants to attend a speech on the freedom of women at the Siru Kambam Main Hall.”

adhavi looked at Vijay Kumar. He smiled indifferently. Then he went into his room as Madhavi stole another glance at him.

“It’s fine if he’s not present,” said Ravi Kumar, pouting his lips.

Madhavi ran out in delight.

“Hey! Don’t run ...”

Madhavi ran straight home without caring about his advice.

-  The Painted Cat  (2010)

Dad came home one night and woke us from our sleep. We rushed out of the house. Then, we took out a match and burnt down the house. The whole family stood staring as the flames brought down the house to ashes.

Since then, we have been moving from place to place without a house to stay. This situation is better, said Dad. We don’t have to crack our heads to think about what colour to paint the walls, what brand of paint to use, hire someone to paint or paint it ourselves, how many cans of paint would be needed and so forth.

That is only about the paint. Dad listed tens – hundreds and thousands, indeed – of problems that we would be able to avoid all together since we do not own a house.

“But, Dad,” said one of us while we were seated inside a peanut shell. “Which address shall we use for official purposes? What about school registration; which address to use? What if someone wants to send us a letter; a fan perhaps.”

“Just give the Parliament address or our Prime Minister’s,” Dad answered spontaneously. “At least we won’t be receiving all those junk mail.”

“And we do not have fans,” someone among us added; but not the one who raised the initial question. “We are nobody.”

The others among us agreed while shaking our heads. By then, we had already left the peanut shell where we took shelter while waiting for the rain to stop.

“What about school registration; which address to use?” Someone asked; could have been the same person or someone else.

“Why worry? Have you forgotten that all of you have never been to school,” Dad assured while walking.

“Oh, yeah!” We responded in unison.

* * *

We don’t know why we named him Cat. Perhaps since – to the best of our knowledge – there has never been a cat called “Kucing”, we spontaneously named him Cat.

Others do not have the right to question why we named the cat as Cat. If we were to name a cat as Dog or Snake, people can start questioning the rational behind such a decision. But, aren’t there people out there who name their dogs as Tiger? So, what is wrong with a cat being named Cat?

Cat is bright. Not very long ago, a government department advertised an opening for the Head of Department. Words are that all the previous heads were too old and retired merely a week after being promoted to the post. So, the Government decided to hire a younger Head of Department who would last longer.

Cat applied for the job. He was called for an interview. The interviewer had no reason to deny Cat’s right to apply for the advertised position. Cat seems to fulfil each and every requirement and qualification to be the head of a government department. Indeed that was the reason why, says Cat, the Public Services Commission called him for an interview.

“We are looking for a candidate who is fluent in more than two foreign languages,” said the interviewer while using a pen to circle the requirement which was indeed clearly stated in the newspaper advertisement.

Hence, Cat began to deliver a speech in Italian, German, French, Japanese and Hindi.

Strangely enough, the interview result – which was received three months later – says Cat was unsuccessful. It seems that when Cat spoke Italian, German, French, Japanese and Hindi, it sounded the same: miew-miew-miew.

What a stupid interviewer! Doesn’t he know that cats in Italy say miew-miew-miew, cats in Germany say miew-miew-miew, cats in France say miew-miew-miew, cats in Japan say miew-miew-miew and cats in India say miew-miew-miew?

* * *

Mum would lose her temper if she finds the males among us pretending to cook. Or if the males among us wanted to play house with the females among us.

“The traits of a real man are as follows,” Mum would quote two Western feminists – Jane Bardwick and Elizabeth Douvan – who have done studies about the expected behaviour of boys among the American parents: “Aggressive, strict, brave, active, rational, not influenced by sentiment, and not showing emotion.”

And if the males among us are disheartened – and confused – with what Mum says, and gave Dad a hug or started crying, he would say: “Boys are not supposed to and are not allowed to show emotion, not supposed to and are not allowed to hug, not supposed to and are not allowed to have fear; not supposed to and are not allowed to cry.”

A female among us tried to quote Dr James Prescott, a neuropsychologist: “The aggressiveness and violent behaviour among adult males are among others caused by the lack of hugging and the lack of physical touch during the early years in a boy’s life.”

Without paying any attention to what was being expressed, Dad would continue while leaning on the lazy chair: “A real macho male knows neither fear nor sadness. Even if he knows it, a real male should know how to conceal any form of emotion. Emotion only belongs to the weaker gender.”

Mum would proudly add: “A son must be strong, should not be soft and feminine, must choose aggressive games, should be able – indeed must be able – to command the girls to follow all his orders, and must have the desire to become the nation’s leader.”

Unable to bear such long lectures, the males among us would start making guns and knives out of sticks. The males among us would play war. The males among us would combat each other and hit each other and hurt each other.

The males among us would tear down the “homes” built by the females among us. The males among us would bully the females among us until the females among us start crying. Upon seeing that, the males among us would laugh arrogantly.

Mum and Dad would smile proudly upon witnessing the males among us bullying the females among us. They would say: “We are very proud because all the males among you will become real men.”

Afterwards, Dad would continue lying on his lazy chair. Mum would continue to cook, wash, clean and look after the children while grumbling: “Men are useless. Why must women do all the housework! Why don’t fathers try to be closer with their children? Would they be losing their manliness if they helped to clean the house and cared for the children?”

* * *

One day, we caught Cat and dumped him inside a glass container. Then, we baught a can of paint. We are not sure of the colour. We don’t even recall the brand. But words are that the paint which we bought has a five-year guarantee. If used somewhat after a general election, the paint is assured to last until the next general election, five years later.

We poured the paint into the glass container containing Cat. We let Cat soak in the paint for a few hours. Later we took him out. Of course Cat has changed colour according to the colour of the paint.

Cat told us that he was actually dead. But he was still alive, he said, because cats have nine lives.

“Miew-miew-miew,” said Cat. Translation: Take me to the government department which rejected my application to become the Head of Department.

“What for?” asked someone among us.

“Miew-miew-miew,” said Cat. Meaning: Do not ask!

We took Cat – who has changed colour after being soaked in the paint – to the government department which had previously rejected his application.

Cat demanded for a second interview. The highest authority from the Public Services Commission was summoned to come and interview Cat. Throughout the interview, Cat said absolutely nothing. Not even miew-miew-miew. Ten questions asked, zero answered. Hundred questions, none answered.

“Great! This is the sort of Head of Department we want. Mister Cat, you still have eight lives, right? So, the Government hereby appoints you, Mister Cat, as the Head of Department until you, Mister Cat, die for the eighth time,” the interviewer used his authority to decide.

* * *

Cat is bright. He seems to have paid close attention to what Mum and Dad have always been saying about the traits of a real male. Cat has also mastered the art of reading. It didn’t take long before Cat came to be known as a respected leader in the society.

Cat, whom was once soaked in paint – the colour which we don’t seem to remember – now has in himself all the criteria of a real male as mentioned by Mum and Dad: strong, not soft and feminine, chooses aggressive games, able to command the women to follow all his orders, unemotional, does not like to hug and be hugged, and has a stronger desire than ever to become the nation’s leader.

Cat has also made it possible for us to buy a residence by means of his salary as the head of a government department. Cat is often refered to as the most potential candidate to become the nation’s prominent leader.

But the fact still remains that Cat is a cat which was once dumped into a glass container and soaked in paint – God knows what colour – that is guaranteed to last five years only.

That was when Dad came home one night and “Wake up from your sleep” he said. We rushed out of the house. Then, we took out a match and burnt down the house. The whole family stood, staring as the flames brought down Cat to ashes.

4.NOVEL

Tan Twan Eng

Tan Twan Eng  was born in Penang in 1972. Tan studied law at the University of London  and later worked as an advocate and solicitor in one of Kuala Lumpur's law firms before becoming a full-time writer.

Works:

- The Gift of the Rain (2007 )

It is set in Penang in the years leading up to and during the Japanese occupation of Malaya in World War II. It concerns Philip Hutton, of mixed Chinese-English heritage, and his relationship with Endo-San, a Japanese diplomat who teaches him aikido. As war looms and the Japanese invade, both Endo-San and Philip find themselves torn between their loyalty to each other and to their country and family respectively. Philip decides to assist the Japanese and Endo-San in administering the country in an attempt to keep his family safe, but wherever possible passes intelligence to the guerilla fighters of Force 136 which include his best friend Kon.



-The Garden of Evening Mists (2012)

Newly retired Supreme Court Judge Yun Ling Teoh returns to the Cameron Highlands of Malaya, where she spent a few months several years earlier. Oncoming aphasia is forcing her to deal with unsettled business from her youth while she is still able to remember. She starts writing her memoires, and agrees to meet with Japanese preofessor Yoshikawa Tatsuji. Tatsuji is interested in the life and works of artist Nakamura Aritomo, who used to be the gardener of the Japanese Emperor, but moved to this area to build his own garden.

During the Japanese occupation of Malaya, Yun Ling was in a Japanese civilian internment camp with her sister, Yun Hong. Yun Hong did not make it out alive, and after the war was over, Yun Ling decided to fulfil a promise made to her sister: to build a Japanese garden in their home in Kuala Lumpur. She travelled to the highlands to visit family friend Magnus Pretorius, an ex-patriate South African tea farmer who knew Aritomo. Aritomo refused to work for Yun Ling, but agreed to take her on as an apprentice, so she could later build her own garden. In spite of her resentment against the Japanese, she agreed to work for Aritomo, and later became his lover.

During the conversations with Tatsuji, it comes out that Aritomo was involved in a covert Japanese program during the war, to hide looted treasures from occupied territories. The rumours of this so-called "Golden Lily" program were widespread, and Magnus was killed trying to save his family from the Communist guerilla, who came looking for the gold. Aritomo never talked about the treasure to Yun Ling, but gradually it becomes clear that he might have left a clue to its location. Before he disappeared into the jungle, he made a horimono tattoo on her back. It now appears this tattoo might contain a map to the location of the treasure. Yun Ling decides that, before she dies, she must make sure that no-one will be able to get their hand on her body, and the map. In the meantime, she sets out to restore Aritomo's dilapidated garden

5.AUTOBIOGRAPHY

Mahathir Mohamad

Tun Dr. Mahathir Mohamad   was born in July 1925. He was the fourth Prime Minister of Malaysia and the longest serving prime minister as he held the post for 22years from 1981 until 2003.

Works:

- A Doctor in the house ( 2012 )

 In his twenty-two years as Prime Minister of Malaysia Dr Mahathir Mohamad transformed his country from an agricultural backwater into an industrial powerhouse that would become the seventeenth-largest trading nation in the world.

This remarkable achievement was not without controversy, and Dr Mahathir’s extraordinary vision and iron grip earned him both enemies as well as ardent admirers within and outside of Malaysia. He has been described—typically and paradoxically—as a tyrannical dictator, a bête noir, as well as inspiring, courageous and an outspoken defender of the downtrodden, the Third World, and moderate Islam.

At almost every turn Dr Mahathir rewrote the rules. This book reveals hitherto unknown aspects of this intensely private, but publicly bold, statesman. It provides a clear and compelling narrative of modern Malaysian political history as seen through the eyes of one its greatest shapers. It is neither apology nor defence, but a forceful, compelling and often exciting account of how Dr Mahathir achieved what he did in so short a time, and why.

-The Malay Dilemma (1970)

In The Malay Dilemma , former prime minister , Mahathir Mohamad examines and analyses the make - up of the Malay and the problem of racial harmony in Malaysia. First published in 1970, the book sees to explain the causes for the 13 May 1969 riots in Malaysia.Dr Mahathir sets out his view as to why the Malay economically backwards and why they feel they must insists upon immigrants becoming real Malaysian speaking in due course nothing but Malay , as do immigrant to America or Australia speak nothing but the language of what the author calls "the definitive people" . He argues that the Malays are the rightful owners of Malaya. He also argues that immigrants are guests until properly absorbed, and they are not properly absorbed until they have abandoned the language and the culture of their past.

The Malay Dilemma, former prime minister Mahathir Mohamad examines and analyses the make-up of the Malays and the problem of racial harmony in Malaysia. First published in 1970, the book seeks to explain the causes for the 13 May 1969 riots in Kuala Lumpur. Dr Mahathir sets out his view as to why the Malays are economically backward and why they feel they must insist upon immigrants becoming real Malaysians speaking in due course nothing but Malay, as do immigrants to America or Australia speak nothing but the language of what the author calls “the definitive people”. He argues that the Malays are the rightful owners of Malaya. He also argues that immigrants are guests until properly absorbed, and that they are not properly absorbed until they have abandoned the language and culture of their past. - See more at: https://www.e-sentral.com/search/byid/550/the-malay-dilemma#sthash.bVC50kLX.dpuf

The Malay Dilemma, former prime minister Mahathir Mohamad examines and analyses the make-up of the Malays and the problem of racial harmony in Malaysia. First published in 1970, the book seeks to explain the causes for the 13 May 1969 riots in Kuala Lumpur. Dr Mahathir sets out his view as to why the Malays are economically backward and why they feel they must insist upon immigrants becoming real Malaysians speaking in due course nothing but Malay, as do immigrants to America or Australia speak nothing but the language of what the author calls “the definitive people”. He argues that the Malays are the rightful owners of Malaya. He also argues that immigrants are guests until properly absorbed, and that they are not properly absorbed until they have abandoned the language and culture of their past. - See more at: https://www.e-sentral.com/search/byid/550/the-malay-dilemma#sthash.bVC50kLX.dpuf

The Malay Dilemma, former prime minister Mahathir Mohamad examines and analyses the make-up of the Malays and the problem of racial harmony in Malaysia. First published in 1970, the book seeks to explain the causes for the 13 May 1969 riots in Kuala Lumpur. Dr Mahathir sets out his view as to why the Malays are economically backward and why they feel they must insist upon immigrants becoming real Malaysians speaking in due course nothing but Malay, as do immigrants to America or Australia speak nothing but the language of what the author calls “the definitive people”. He argues that the Malays are the rightful owners of Malaya. He also argues that immigrants are guests until properly absorbed, and that they are not properly absorbed until they have abandoned the language and culture of their past. - See more at: https://www.e-sentral.com/search/byid/550/the-malay-dilemma#sthash.bVC50kLX.dpuf