Milking profits and conning the cows

Sometimes I stand at the Bangsar LRT station, gazing at the housing area across the rail tracks and am dragged to the 1950s. In the place of the shabby ill-kept blocks of flats wearing an air of neglect and other high-rise building there were groves of fruit trees like guava and rambutan.

The Muslim cemetery there had more frangipani trees than the present sorry looking few. Every now and then we spotted barn owls spending their afternoons asleep on the branches. There was also a broad field from where the big boys flew kites and little ones like myself had proud control over the ball of twine.

The road that runs past them - Jalan Ang Seng - used to be laterite and not metalled as it is now. Needless to say that the whole area was much greener then. Farther south at the Port Kelang railway-switching station, a narrow but sparkling stream flowed its meandering way to add its modest weight of water to that of big brother Sungai Kelang.

Believe it or not, that stream boasted a variety of life forms, the one I remember most vividly were the peacock fish. You hardly see or hear of these beauties flashing their rainbow colours in sun dappled waters. During school holidays, my brother and I used to slide down the bank and wade in the waters attempting to catch them.

For why should I now reminiscence on what was long gone never to return. I was once admonished not to yearn for the past. But then what are we without our own individual histories to build on and compare with the events of prevailing times to prepare somewhat for the uncertain future that awaits all.

Anyway those days buses and taxis did not boast of air-conditioning. There was no need, hardly any noxious fumes to bother us, and the temperature did not reach the unbearable level that often.

That little stream I talked about earlier is a case in point. It's now nothing more than a poor excuse of a filthy drain. Its ultimate destination - Sungai Kelang - has been reduced to a larger version of its tributary.

Those blocks of flats clothed in drab sad neglect, they are replicated in urban concentrations across KL and Selangor and most probably elsewhere too. And then we have successive KL mayors whose oath of office appears to include the vow to turn the capital into a ‘world class city.'

And so they build and build and build gleaming skyscrapers and high rise luxurious condominiums with frightening passion, apparently with no concern for the extra burden they'll add to the already horrendous traffic on city roads.

There's one going on in the Brickfields side of KL Sentral which has completely screwed up my mind's geography of that area. I've learnt that the construction going on is for the NU Sentral which is aimed at providing seamless connectivity for those dependent on public transport.

Memories of yesteryear

Seamless is just fine. However, there was no mention whatsoever about passenger comfort during peak hours. That particular ground where construction is going on was previously shared by a wide car park and a covered broad walkway with both sides lined up with shops stocked with a variety of goods. Right across was a branch of the bank where I've my account.

Now with the building going on, I've to take a circuitous route breathing in exhaust fumes from a variety of vehicles including lorries, to the branch of another bank as mine is too far away and would take too long to get there.

As I was walking along, memories of my school days floated through my mind. The first English school I attended was known as Batu Road English School (now renamed SK Jalan Batu). Batu Road long ago turned into Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman.

Sometimes the bus chartered for ferrying schoolchildren would play ponteng because of some festival or other. There would be no announcement or anything like that. After waiting awhile I would start walking.

The bus fare would get me an ice-ball with red beans at the core. The lord help me for I cannot remember how long it took to get home. But I did get there safely. You might be wondering about the point of this story. Justifiably so. The point is this, these days which seven-year-old do you think would be able repeat what I did then, these days of much progress and development?

The sad fact of modern life in this country is that the pedestrian is a forgotten animal. In the early 1970s, I interviewed a town and country planner named Goh Hock Guan. It was he who designed Subang Jaya. His design was a dream which treated pedestrians as human beings.

His words on the subject at that time still ring within me. "The pedestrian in KL is an hunted animal". I'm afraid that that the hunting ground has expanded to embrace other locations outside the Klang Valley.

Last I heard Goh is no longer in the country. He's taken his practice elsewhere. I don't blame him. In the end, look at what his dream turned out to be. There's growing evidence for those with eyes to see that a vital ingredient in the make-up of a human has gone missing in our society.

And that's a sense of belonging to something greater than ourselves that drives us to give the best of ourselves in whatever endeavour we undertake. We've become statistics. And the actions flowing from that notion is now wracking the country as the puppet masters struggle to maintain the status quo.

Brutal reality of politics

Permit me now to switch tracks as I return to this point a little later. The other day when I was at KL Sentral after I had swiped my touch 'n go card at the barrier, I walked a short distance to turn around and watch.

The mind flickered and the people around me morphed into cows. Quite appropriate. Since they had just disembarked from cattle trains. Every swipe of the card or the insertion of the ticket is milking time. And we are being milked everywhere.

That would've been all right if quality accompanied the process. Always a knot tightens in my stomach when I hear the expression 'we'll try not to burden the public.' Because that's a sure indication that one's about to be hit again.

About statistics, they came alive in March last year and cut the puppet masters' strings. They've yet to come to grips with the why of the matter; for that way lies the path to the abyss. The naked truth is too fearsome to behold.

The brutal reality about politics is this: to win power and hold it at all costs, that's why institutions like the judiciary are constantly under threat in a democracy. The masters are giving fine display of this dictum as seen by their being intensely engaged in hanging on to power as can be seen by their actions which give the lie to their words.

Let the truth jump up and bite them on the nose, even then they'd fail to recognise it. They're that ill-equipped to cope with the information revolution that's shaking up the world . For their past control of information packed their ears tightly with wax and blinded their eyes with selective cataract.

Like geckos stuck in flypaper, they're so glued to the to the political template of past behaviour that they find it near impossible to break away. What Hitler said in the last century sums up their situation succintly. "Leaders are fortunate in that the people cannot think."

So sorry, those days are over. Never to return. So our masters thrash about talking about talking in coffee-shops and the like, as if that's the ultimate solution to their problems.

The fact of the matter is that the citizenry no longer heeds authority's words, the leaders' actions are coming under scrutiny like never before and the findings and conclusions are broadcast to all and sundry through cyber space.

When the revolution peaks, it will leave behind the wreckage of those unable to adapt to changes as it has done throughout history - a neglected subject in our schools.

In the meantime we will continue to be milked here, there and everywhere for the masters to squander, just check the next issue of the Auditor-General's annual report. What rich irony - the paymaster turned into a cow.