NO BED OF ROSES IN JB

It was 2003. I was verbally told to get ready to move down South. No letter, no black and white. Just a reminder from Lee Boon Siew, my then News Editor.
Ready or not, I must pack up and told to set up base In Johor Baru as soon as possible. My baby was only about two or three months old and my children needed me more than ever. The eldest was in Year Five and was preparing for her UPSR the following year.
My wife was not to keen on letting me go. My late mother was practically begging me not to go that far.
But then, I have made a promise to myself that I would never say NO to directives. Against all odds, I was adamant to go, convincing my family I would return every week or so.
One fine morning, I decided that was it. I had to go to start a new life. Reaching JB, I found myself all alone in Mutiara Hotel, which was to be my abode for two week.
I visited the JB office and the people were nice. The guard, Amar singh, especially, had a colourful character, thinking he was boss, preventing people from entering the office at certain hours.
On a few occasions, I had to be rough, bulldozing my way to finish reports. He became a friend.
My family came down to visit me after about a week and we had fun together. But when the day came for them to leave, I found myself thinking of something unthinkable. I felt it was not worth it and the only way to get out of the mess was to quit. After sending them off at the KTM station, I went back to the room and cried my heart out. Thinking of the children who were begging me to come home with them.
I was thinking it was a useless sacrifice and was actually contemplating of getting a new job.
But then, as time passed by, there were Press nights organised by hotels and companies and I was invited. No matter how I enjoyed it, I could not return to the hotel room and be alone again.
So, I sought refuge by the seaside of Danga Bay and on occasions, spent nights at MSuites, listening to music by Ayai and the Gang.
I became a regular face and everytime I was there, it would be songs specially dedicated to me, especially blues.
After about 10 days, I felt it was time for me to look for a more permanent abode. Azlan (Mr Fatman), said there was a vacant room in his bachelor's pad in Taman Perling and I took it.
But the feeling of loneliness kept creeping and since the house was a mess, considering the landlord kept most of his prizeless belongings in it, I decided to look for a new house.
Azlan and I went house hunting one day and found a creepy three-storey house which was left unattended for about a year.
Imagine crepers crawling IN the house and the walls turning black. But we decided, that was it.
We called the John the agent and told him it would be refurbished and repainted, if the landlady agreed to pay for the cost.
So, every day, after work, we went home repainting the whole house, cleaned it up and soon it became new again.
To top it all, the neighbour had two daughters and two houses away, a teacher had her sister living with her.
Not bad for a quite neighjbourhood. It was Sungai Perling behind the house and soon we moved in. But those nights when Azlan had to go outstation, I would be having sleepless nights, listening to dogs howling in front of the house, footsteps in the hall etc.
But when mornings arrived, the house turned normnal again.
Azlan bought settees, a dining table, refrigerator and all.
Except for a trying two months when a group of Nepalese and Bangladeshis were our neighbours next door, it was fun.
I would come home every two weeks or so and once, my family came down to the three-storey house. Mine was located on the first floor with bathroom attached while Mr Fatman (he needs bigger space and the exercise) stayed on the top floor.
Then Rocky told me, it was time for MM to make Johor Baru its new home and I would be the Bureau Chief, if I wanted to.
Of course, I gladly accepted it but convincing my family to come down to JB was a daunting task. My daughter was not too keen as she would have to leave her friends behind. I bribed my son with the prospect of having Perling Mall a walking distance away and that actually attracted my wife to it.
I was scouting for a bigger house. John the agent, said there was a semi D house next to his, also in Taman Perling and for RM750 a month, we took it.

JUST LOG ON TO www.nst.com.my FOR THE LATEST

I love what I am doing right now. But I miss the newsprint and always eagerly waiting for the papers to arrive or if I am not working, would drive to the friendly vendor for the sweet smell of newsprint as soon as I wake up to read the news while sipping coffee.
I used to sleep on newsprint and instead of serviettes would gladly wipe my hands off with newspapers after lunch or dinner in the office.
The Nanyang lorry was my mode of transport as I travelled back to my hometown once every two weeks or so when serving as a proof reader. The piles of Nanyang newspapers were the mattress and the smell was the lullaby.
But one has to change to keep up with the times. I periodically check my email through my trusted N95 (used to be a Nokia Communicator, until it contracted the Azheimer disease). I sometimes hook the N95 to the 29-inch television for bigger view.
My laptop is constantly online and my whole house (and compound) is WiFied. I am hooked to certain blogs and websites and get my doses of latest news from the Star SMS service.
Working for NSTOnline is a privilege. I am getting live feed from all over the world. The next time, you are online, don't forget to log on to www.nst.com.my.

MULTI TASKING DOES NOT MAKE YOU KING

I am a journalist and I am proud of it. But in the course of being a journalist for the oldest (and most popular in the Klang Valley, I must say) newspaper, I was also an actor, playing numerous roles in my quest to get the best stories.
I was a beggar (with Yushaimi) begging at the pedestrian bridge of Chow Kit, have been a dadah addict seeking shelter in a former private mortuary in Jalan Petaling, a kampung boy who stayed with a prostitute for a day, a City Hall officer, mistaken as a police officer when a known pimp stood up and called me Tuan etc.
This was part and parcel of being a reporter with MM. I seldom attend PCs like what others do, I snooped around for stories.
And unlike many, I don't like carrying the all too familiar Reporters Note Book, issued by the company. I carry a small a notebook which I bought from bookstores and use my own pen. My car does not have the NST car park sticker or the NUJ Media sticker. I would not want to be known as a journalist whenever I go for undercover assignments and because of this, I believe, I stayed clear of the dangers and confrontation.
However, I almost got myself in deep shit after my short stint as a City Hall officer was published. We managed to point out to KL residents not to believe and letting anyone inside the house. I managed to even enter the master bedroom of a house in Bangsar with a cute but frightened maid.
City Hall wanted to sue me but then Datuk Bandar Tan Sri Elyas Omar told off the officers.
I was also assaulted when the body of a rock climber was retrieved in Melawati in the early 80s. I stayed clear of the commotion knowing that relatives were emotional but a trainee photographer used a wide angle to take pictures of the body as it was borught down from a helicopter.
She was rudely pushed away. Being a gentleman, I approached the mob and told them not to assault the girl.
Someone came from behind and gave me a tight slap and the others were about to turn on me when several policemen came to my rescue. My glasses were broken.
I expected the whole office to laugh at me but I was touched by their concerns. The company offered to pay for a new pair of glasses but somehow I did not take it.
The case was taken up by the NUJ but two years later, I was told NUJ accepted the apologies from the guy who slapped me and dropped the case.
A warning from my News Editor, K. Bala through Pauline Almeida also saved me and Yus from getting rounded up by Welfare officers as we begged in the open. Yushaimi got a hard kick from a pedestrian who told him to seek employment elsewhere as he looked healthy. I was about to laugh when I heard this guy said "Itu budak tak apalah. Dia memang perlukan duit."
A gentle reminder to the young Turks out there. If you think you can't do it, back out. Don't try to be hero, or you might lose more than your wallet, as what had happened to a reporter-photographer team of a newspaper recently.