Same School, Two Generations -- STAR (2), JB

My late parents were meticulous document keepers. They never threw important papers away. Birth certificates, vaccination cards, letters, forms -- everything carefully folded into old envelopes and tucked safely into files.

Today, those files feel less like paperwork and more like a time capsule.

Inside are both of their original birth certificates from 1940, my father’s vaccination certificate from the same era, and my mother’s conversion certificate -- fragile, yellowed, edges soft with age. Whenever I share them online, people are always surprised that documents this old still exist. But to me, they’re more than records. They’re proof of lives lived long before I came along.

And then there’s this one -- my father’s School Leaving Certificate from 1955.

Typed out on a typewriter. Slightly crooked lines. Faded ink. The paper creased from being folded and refolded for decades. His name, Abdul Jalil b. Suleiman, neatly stamped into history. Attendance: 190 out of 193 days. Games: Football and Basketball. Conduct: Good. And a remark from the headmaster that stopped me in my tracks: “Reliable, honest boy, will do well in life.”

Reading that, I don’t just see my father. I see a skinny 15-year-old schoolboy in shorts and canvas shoes, probably running across the padang with his friends, not knowing what the future would hold. Not knowing he would one day become my dad.

He left Temenggong Abdul Rahman School in 1955. Twenty-three years later, I walked through the very same gates as a Darjah 1 student. Same school. Same grounds. Two generations, connected by one old piece of paper.

Funny how something so simple can carry so much love.

Hampstead, Keats, and Good Donuts

A couple of years ago today, after a long walk across Hampstead Heath, I stumbled upon a quiet literary gem -- Keats House.

It was one of those perfect London days: clear skies, crisp air, and the kind of slow wandering that leads to unexpected discoveries. I peeked inside the house and even picked up a book, but decided to skip the entrance fee and simply enjoy the moment from the outside.

For those who may not know, Keats House was once home to John Keats, one of England’s great Romantic poets. He lived there in the early 1800s and wrote some of his most famous works during that time, including parts of Ode to a Nightingale. Standing there, it’s easy to imagine the young poet walking the nearby heath, drawing inspiration from the same landscape.

The day ended on a perfect note — delectable donuts at a vegan café nearby, followed by a browse through the always-wonderful Daunt Books.

Sometimes the best travel memories aren’t the big attractions, but the little discoveries in between.

The Shah Alam Stadium: Goals, Glory & Bon Jovi

This pic popped up on my Facebook Memories -- March 2019. JDT had just beaten Selangor 4–2. It was probably the last time I watched a match at Shah Alam Stadium.

Fun fact: when the 80,000-capacity stadium officially opened in 1994, I was there with my uni mates -- among the first to sit on those shiny new seats. We didn’t quite realise then that we were witnessing the start of an era.

Marking that grand opening on 16.7.1994, fans were treated to a series of high-profile matches: Selangor vs Dundee United F.C., Leeds United F.C. vs Australia national under-23 team, and Selangor vs FC Bayern München. Among the stars on display was French striker Jean-Pierre Papin. At the time, it was the largest stadium in the region -- a true source of pride.

After that, I became a regular. Malaysia League matches, cup finals, international friendlies -- Shah Alam Stadium was the place to be. And of course, one of the best concerts I’ve ever attended: Bon Jovi live in 1995. Electric.

As we all know, in 2024, demolition works began to make way for the Shah Alam Sports Complex (KSSA) redevelopment project, which is expected to be fully completed by 2029.

End of an era. But what memories it gave us.

Peninsula: A Story That Hurts

 

I finally finished reading Peninsula by Rehman Rashid recently, and by sheer coincidence, a rather melancholic music score was playing in the background just as I closed the book. I’m not going to lie -- it was an enjoyable, thought-provoking read that quietly tore at me.

But before that, what took me so long to finally read this 2016 sequel by one of Malaysia’s finest writers?

Years ago, I had read its “prequel”, the magnum opus A Malaysian Journey, not long after it was published, and I was completely blown away by the vividness of his storytelling. Then, a couple of years ago, as part of my personal quest to revisit Malaysian books from years past, I hunted high and low for A Malaysian Journey, finally managed to secure a copy online, and read it again. Once more, I was floored.

Naturally, the next step was to read Peninsula. But being out of print for so long, it proved elusive — even in second-hand online markets. I finally stumbled upon a copy at Pustaka Raja Tun Uda in Shah Alam, quickly borrowed it, and read it slowly from cover to cover, savouring every story, every flourish of language, every emotion he managed to evoke.

For those unfamiliar, Peninsula: A Story of Malaysia is Rehman's deeply personal and political memoir about returning home and trying to make sense of the country he loved. Blending autobiography with history, he retraces his childhood, his career in journalism, and his marriage, while reflecting on pivotal national moments -- Independence, May 13, the New Economic Policy, and the rise of racial and religious politics. Through his eyes, Malaysia’s early promise gradually gives way to bureaucracy, cronyism, and widening divisions.

What eventually broke me was learning that he had written the book partly as a tribute to his ex-wife, Rosemarie. After her passing, Rehman shared a note on Facebook -- and the response, he said, was a strange mix of deep empathy and condemnation.

Curious, I went looking for that piece of writing. Here is part of it:

“Of course, I should have gone back to her as soon as the book was published. But then it took off so successfully, and she and I both knew me well enough to know that, wherever else we were in the world, I would only feel all the more that I belonged in Malaysia and nowhere else. So I feel now that our separation would have been inevitable, if for reasons very different from those for which marriages ordinarily end. And so Rosemarie went on, up & out into the world, while I…

…I, the biggest, saddest fool, gave up my angel for this country. Which is as much to say, for this hatred and contempt; this mediocrity and ignorance; this incompetence, cynicism and corruption. This religious arrogance and racial chauvinism; this vile mediaevalist barbarism.

I paid for my loyalty to Malaysia with everything good and decent that I had, only to be mocked and despised; to watch my profession usurped by “the right kind of Malay” regardless of literacy; to have my name smeared and reputation destroyed; and in the end to be hounded back to the very redoubt in the hills where I had written that book 23 years ago now, never again to write. Rosemarie never saw this place where I may now languish forgotten and ignored for the rest of my own days, and now she never will. I chose my love for my country over my love for her. Bad choice. Big mistake. My punishment has been a life of regret and insuperable loneliness.”

Rehman himself passed away just a year after Peninsula was published.

So if you haven’t yet, do read Peninsula.

Heartbreaking soundtrack optional.

Salam Cik Ah Liang, Lama Tak Jumpa!

Masya-Allah, this Facebook post by Dr Maszlee really stopped me in my tracks. He’s pictured with Pak Ah Liang, a school bus driver and operator many of us remember fondly from way back in the 1980s in JB.

Yes, Cik Ah Liang -- as we used to call him -- was our trusted school bus driver for years. In my case, for my entire sekolah rendah period at STAR (2). Rain or shine, he was always there, faithfully ferrying us to and from school.  

A Chinese Muslim revert, Cik Ah Liang was incredibly kind and endlessly patient with us kids. And mind you, we were often loud, rowdy, and anything but well-behaved! Yet he rarely, if ever, lost his cool. Haha.

Here’s a little nugget from the archives: I used to supply Cik Ah Liang with cassette tapes to play on our daily journeys. Yes, I was already a tastemaker back then -- introducing fellow busmates to Duran Duran, Wham!, Prince, and, of course, Search and Lefthanded.

It’s truly heart-warming to see Cik Ah Liang still looking so good and healthy in his 80s. Alhamdulillah. And thank you, Dr Maszlee, for unexpectedly unlocking such a beautiful walk down memory lane.

The Demolition of The Puteri Pacific, JB -- It's Finally Happening

Pic from FB

 

I didn’t expect it to feel like a stab in the heart -- but it did. Seeing the news of a Johor Bahru institution, The Puteri Pacific Hotel, being demolished made me pause and stare into space for a while. This wasn’t just any hotel. A four-star property with over 500 rooms, connected to the Persada Johor International Convention Centre and standing proudly on Jalan Abdullah Ibrahim, it was part of the city’s skyline and soul for decades.

Yes, I know the hotel had ceased operations some five years ago during the pandemic. That part was already a quiet goodbye. But watching it being physically dismantled hit very differently. The Puteri Pacific began life as the Pan Pacific in 1991, and back then it was one of those landmarks we were genuinely proud of -- a sign that JB was going places, standing tall and confident just across the Causeway.

After both my parents passed on, the hotel became my “home” each time I balik kampung to JB. The moment you stepped into the lobby, that unmistakable Johor hospitality wrapped itself around you. People were always warm and welcoming, whether you turned up in a suit or in a simple T-shirt and jeans. From the room window, you could take in that familiar view of JB with Singapore in the distance -- steady, reassuring, quietly comforting. 

And of course, everything was within walking distance: KOMTAR, Kotaraya, Salahuddin Bakery, Hua Mui. So thank you, Puteri Pacific, for the memories. You were never just a hotel.

When We Accidentally Did The Whole "The Fault In Our Stars" Tour In Amsterdam

 

Pretty sure everyone has seen Amsterdam in the headlines these past few days, as the city experiences heavy snowfall like it’s never seen before. That instantly took me back to our first trip there in 2012 -- when we accidentally did the whole 'The Fault in Our Stars' tour.

The funny part? We did it two years before the film (based on John Green’s best-selling book) was even released. Total coincidence. Haha. So what did we see and do? Read on.

The Hotel De Filosoof featured in the film does exist in Amsterdam, but it wasn’t used as the actual filming location. In the movie, it’s portrayed by the American Hotel -- the gorgeous, graceful Art Deco landmark sitting right in the middle of bustling Leidseplein. And whaddaya know? We actually stayed at the American Hotel during our trip. Here’s a photo of us in front of the fountain.

In the film, Hazel and Augustus stroll through the tunnel at the Rijksmuseum while street musicians fill the air with music. That grand entrance is actually a tunnel that cuts through the museum, allowing pedestrians -- and more importantly, cyclists -- to pass through this gilded building. Yes, we visited the Rijksmuseum too, and it was easily one of the highlights of our trip.

Known as the city of canals, you can’t visit Amsterdam without hopping on a canal cruise. Hazel and Gus do this on their first day, and it really is the best way to soak in the city’s scenery, bridges, and iconic buildings. And yes -- here’s us, happily cruising along.

The duo also visit Peter Van Houten at his house, the whole reason they travelled to Amsterdam in the first place. His home is located right next to Vondelpark, the city’s most famous -- and prettiest -- park.

They also walk across canals and sit on that bench between Leidsegracht and Herengracht. Not sure if we sat on the exact same bench, but we definitely walked many kilometres along the canals and rested on more than a few benches. Close enough, right?

New Kubah For Masjid Kg Melayu, JB After 55 Years!

I was scrolling through social media the other day when a video popped up and instantly put a big smile on my face.

The mosque of my childhood — Masjid Kampung Melayu in Johor Bahru — is finally getting a new kubah after 55 years. Alhamdulillah, such wonderful news!

For those who may not know, I was born in my late grandmother’s house in Kampung Melayu, though we moved away just before I started school. Still, this masjid played a huge part in my early years. I used to perform Solat Jumaat and Solat Hari Raya here, especially during school holidays, and the memories remain vivid.

I even managed to dig up an old photo of the masjid taken from our family home at Jalan Merdeka — and that really added to the wave of nostalgia. 

Over the past few days, I’ve been grinning from ear to ear watching videos of the new dome being installed, step by step, posted by the same account.

Can’t wait to drop by and see it in person the next time I’m back in JB, Insya-Allah.

Watch the video here:

Why Don't I Remember This Stuff?

Just for fun, I spent the past weekend hunting down old Malaysia Hari Ini videos that I once co-hosted and compiling them into a playlist. I must have hosted a couple of hundred episodes of Malaysia’s No. 1 morning show, but the funny thing is -- I don’t actually have any proper archive of them. No hard drive. No personal collection. Nothing “for kenangan sake”.

It was a different time back in the 2010s. Not everything was easily recordable, and although Media Prima had an internal system where we could watch all programmes on demand, I never made it a habit to save even the “big” episodes. And tonton -- the portal I co-launched -- didn’t keep full episodes of MHI back then either.

So here I am today, scrolling through videos uploaded by random people on YouTube. Nostalgic? Definitely. Fun? Absolutely. But also a bit shocking because the videos made me go, “Eh, I interviewed THAT person?” or “I actually did THAT on the show??”

I’ve always credited myself with having a pretty good memory. While I may not be able to list every single person I interviewed throughout my media career (and trust me, it was A LOT), I usually remember the moment when I come across an article or video. But I guess age is catching up (haha), because quite a few memories have slipped through the cracks.

Case in point: I have absolutely no recollection of interviewing our current Deputy Prime Minister II, YAB Datuk Amar Fadillah Yusof, back when he was a deputy minister.

I mean, I clearly remember interviewing most of the politicians who came on MHI -- including the other DPM, Zahid Hamidi, as well as KJ, Ahmad Maslan, Mukhriz Mahathir etc -- but this particular interview? Zero memory.

But that’s the beauty of being on MHI. We got to meet and talk to people from all walks of life: politicians, celebrities, trend-setters, business icons, cute kids with big stories, and ordinary Malaysians with extraordinary experiences. It kept us on our toes -- we had to stay updated, stay sharp, and constantly refine our interviewing game because every day brought someone new.

So go ahead and check out some of these interesting interviews that I can hardly remember doing! There are dancers, martial artists, lawyers, bands -- the works!

Sami Yusuf -- Still Inspiring, Still Impacting the World

In November 2012 I interviewed Sami Yusuf, who was striking in his eloquence and clarity about making a genuine impact in the world. Since then, he has gone on to become one of the most prominent figures in global spiritual/world music. 

He’s sold over 45 million albums worldwide and amassed more than one billion downloads/streams. His music spans multiple languages (English, Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Urdu, Malay, Azerbaijani) and styles — from Sufi and Persian classical to Western orchestral and folk traditions. 

Beyond music, Sami has deeply committed to humanitarian work: he was appointed a World Food Programme Global Ambassador against hunger in 2014. He’s also used his craft to bring people together, promote peace, culture, and spiritual unity across continents. Mabruk, brother!

My Late Father And His Magic Hands

I recently ordered a second-hand book online and was pleasantly surprised when it arrived -- neatly wrapped in plastic, as if someone had taken the time to care for it.

That simple touch immediately reminded me of my late father. He wasn’t highly educated, but he had magic in his hands. For a time, he worked at the state library in Johor Bahru, where he learned the art of book binding and wrapping like no other. Because of that, all my school books -- even though they were buku pinjaman -- were always perfectly covered in plastic. Needless to say, I became the envy of many classmates.

My late father wasn’t alone in his creative streak. There was a period when he and my late mother were both into macramé, and together they created the most wonderful pieces. They were always busy with projects -- knotting, weaving, perfecting. And I remember so clearly: whenever someone came by and admired one of their creations, they would simply smile and gift it away without hesitation.

Here’s a picture I’ve shared before -- you can spot one of their macramé pieces in it.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of projects my parents would be working on for my own home if they were still around today. I’m sure they’d still be creating -- with love, as always. 😔

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UIA Matricution Centre, Subang Jaya: A Forgotten History

This Inti Campus in SS15 Subang was where the UIA Matric Centre used to be in the 80s. So it was rather surreal when I visited it some years ago. I still remember my taaruf week here (in 1989) and the culture shock I experienced going to qiamulail and listening to the rules and regulations (no dating, no shorts and NO going to the Subang Cinema which was right across the road). We stayed at the shophouses which were also across the road. But that lasted only one semester for me.

At the end of the other block was the hostel for PPP students, and it so happened that I had school friends who were there. So I squatted in their room instead. And oh man, those guys were, um, shall I say, so nakal? You know who you are, dudes! 

But living in Subang was pretty cool. You had to take the Sri Jaya bus to get to KL. But most of the time we lepaked at the stalls near the pasar or Subang Parade. Ah, the good ol days... (The Matric Centre was then moved to Lembah Pantai in 1990.)

Anyway, I titled this post “A Forgotten History” because when I shared this piece of anecdote on Threads, a few UIA alumni replied saying they never even knew the uni once had a campus here. Like, seriously lah? 

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English College JB And Its "Sister Schools"

 

Here’s a fact I didn’t know. I was watching some history videos on YouTube when Kuala Pilah English School popped up. Out of curiosity, I did some googling and to my surprise, it turns out that the school is actually a "sister school" to my own alma mater, English College Johor Bahru. And not just that, we’re also connected to Batu Pahat High School! Suddenly, this old Johor boy felt part of a much bigger family tree.

Kuala Pilah English School

Kuala Pilah English School, founded in 1914, carried the weight of bringing modern English-medium education to Negeri Sembilan. In 1970, it was renamed Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan Tuanku Muhammad (SMK Tuanku Muhammad), in honour of the state’s royal lineage. The spirit of the old school lives on in its traditions: discipline, community, and producing generations of leaders.

Batu Pahat High School

Batu Pahat High School, or Sekolah Tinggi Batu Pahat, began in 1914 and is one of Johor’s oldest schools. Through the years, it evolved but kept its iconic name, a reminder of its stature in the town. For its alumni, STBP has always been more than just classrooms: it was where future athletes, prefects, and community figures were shaped. The name “High School Batu Pahat” still carries serious weight whenever old boys gather.

English College Johor Bahru

And of course, there’s English College Johor Bahru, established in 1914 -- my alma mater. Known far and wide simply as “EC,” it was renamed in the 60s as Maktab Sultan Abu Bakar (MSAB) to reflect its royal ties. But ask any old boy and they’ll still tell you: once EC, always EC. For me, it was the place of friendships, lessons, and memories that shaped who I am today. The badge, the colours, the pride; they stay with you for life.

Sometimes, you discover these connections later in life, and they make you smile. Three schools born in the same year. Different towns, different students, but the same mission: to prepare young Malaysians for the future. The names may have changed over the years, but the heritage and spirit remain. A shared history that quietly links us across places and generations. And that, to me, is pretty cool.

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Video Game Fans, You Gotta See This! Aka: What I Got For My 10th Birthday

It was my 10th birthday, and among the gifts on that table was something truly out of this world…

Any guesses? No?

That year, I received what was arguably the coolest, most futuristic thing I had ever laid my hands on: the Space Chaser electromechanical tabletop game, made by Toy Town.

To anyone born after 1995, it probably looks like a clunky plastic relic from the Stone Age of gaming. But to me, back then? It was nothing short of a NASA-grade space simulator.

Pic: YouTube

The game had a bright, colourful galactic battlefield printed right on its surface, complete with space fighters, laser blasts, and planet Earth looking dangerously vulnerable in the background. There was a big red dial in the middle, which I was convinced was some kind of highly classified navigation system. You twisted it to move your crosshairs, lined it up with the blinking enemy, and then BOOM! -- if you timed it right, you'd hear that glorious “peeeeeet” sound that meant you just saved humanity again.

The graphics? Non-existent by today’s standards -- it was just blinking lights pretending to be spaceships. But back then, with a bit of imagination, it felt like you were dogfighting in deep space, dodging alien lasers, and outsmarting evil empires. George Lucas would've been proud.

I played it until the batteries ran out (which, sadly, was often), and I learned that D-size batteries cost a fortune and always mysteriously disappeared into the back of the family radio. 

Eventually, as all childhood toys do, it disappeared into the abyss, maybe forgotten at the bottom of a gerobok, or maybe it just flew off on its final mission to save another galaxy. But the memories stuck.

These days, when I see kids with tablets and VR headsets, I smile and think, “You’ve never known the pure joy of chasing blinking dots across a plastic galaxy with a red dial and your imagination.”

And that, my peeps, was the day I became a space hero. At least in my head.

And here's a demo of how it's played!

Video: ArcadeUSA YT

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Ah, Holiday Plaza

 

Holiday Plaza in JB was the scene of many firsts for me -- all back in the glorious 80s.

It was where I had my very first taste of KFC. And yes, a friend had to teach me the “proper” way to eat it. Back then, KFC was quite the dining experience -- they served the chicken on proper plates, with metal forks and spoons! None of this paper box and plastic cutlery business. It felt posh, ok?

Apart from KFC, McDonald’s and Pizza Hut were also popular makan spots at Holiday Plaza. And if I’m not mistaken, White Castle even had a brief stint there.

And who could forget the smell of Chinese herbal eggs wafting through the air? It was distinctive, pungent… and totally unforgettable. You either loved it or held your breath walking past.

It was also where I bowled for the first time -- at Holiday Bowl (see pic above). My schoolmates and I became regulars, showing up almost every weekend. Some of the guys came decked out like Miami Vice characters: white blazers, pastel shirts, the whole vibe (and sockless, of course).

We’d spend hours at the video arcade too, even though we were technically underage!

Then there was Kimisawa -- the department store that had everything under one roof. I bought some of my Raya outfits there over the years. But the bulk of my wardrobe? That came from 2nd Chance. Their “diskang” fashion was the look back then. That said, a few of my more stylish (and loaded) friends swore by getting their (carrot cut) pants tailor-made at Ken Follet, which gave them that extra “custom fitted” swagger.

One semester break during uni, I even worked at Sate Ria -- making drinks, washing dishes, smelling like grilled meat by the end of every shift. Not glamorous, but unforgettable.

Our ritual usually started at KOMTAR. From there, we’d hop on the Alec or T. Hakkim bus to Holiday Plaza. That weekly trip felt like an adventure, every single time.

These days, while the building still stands, Holiday Plaza is more like a ghost mall. I haven’t been back in ages, but I’ve heard it’s a shadow of its former self.

Still, for us 80s kids, Holiday Plaza will always be the spot where friendships were forged, fashion experiments happened, and weekends were never boring.

Pics: FB

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Adidas Again

It’s happening, people! Liverpool and adidas are finally reuniting today, the 1st of August 2025. 

Naturally, I had to do the only logical thing: raid my wardrobe and dig up the last two adidas Liverpool kits I proudly wore.

📸 Exhibit A: The Torres Jersey!

Ah yes. The unmistakable Number 9. This was me, channelling El Niño (minus the speed, skills, and Spanish accent). I remember buying this (in London) and thought that I'd be wearing it for years and years. 

Of course, that 'love story' ended in tears. The day Torres left for Chelsea, it felt like someone had punched a hole through my footballing soul. No warning. No thank you. Just blue. The betrayal was real—and the entire Kop was stunned. Jerseys like mine suddenly became... complicated.

📸 Exhibit B: At Bukit Jalil, 2011!

This one was no less emotional. I wore this 2010/11 away kit to catch Liverpool vs Malaysia live at Bukit Jalil—the stadium packed, the roar deafening, and my "This Is Anfield" banner held proudly. That adidas kit, with its clean white base and blue accents, remains one of my all-time favourites (feel free to disagree). Simple, classy, and forever tied to that electric night.

Adidas kits always felt like Liverpool. Whether it was the design, the heritage, or just the way it hugged your heartbreak during a tough loss—there was something right about it. Sure, Nike had their moment (and the club made loads of money), but emotionally? It never truly fit the way adidas did.

Now, with the return happening in a matter of hours, I feel like these jerseys are no longer "vintage" — they’re relevant again. It’s like my wardrobe got updated without me spending a single sen (but let’s be honest, I’ll still buy the new one).

Welcome home, adidas. Let’s make more memories.

#YNWA

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