THE POWER OF TV DRAMAS

It was one of those days when I had done what needed to be done and decided to check out Netflix for a good movie to watch especially European movies or period dramas because the award winning ones are rather tastefully done and such a pleasure to watch.

I’m more of a movie at-one-sitting sort of person . Even if it is a series like Poldark aired over BBC1 on Sunday nights, (which incidentally aired its fourth season, last month), I would record it and watch one episode per week, because Sunday nights are meant for better things.

So I could never quite understand how others could spend hours watching soaps at one stretch spanning seven hours or more - until I watched Gran Hotel which is set in Spain in the early nineteenth century.

When I saw the trailer I thought it was a winner – the passion, period costumes, scenic landscape, murders and clever twists - so I sat down to watch, only to realize that it ended with a cliff-hanger! I had thought it was a movie on its own, not realizing that it was in fact only Episode One of Season One!  

Too late - I was unashamedly hooked like a prize fish to a delicious morsel of a worm. The drama in all its time period gorgeousness is insanely binge-worthy. I had to discipline myself to stop watching to go to bed only to find myself watching the next episode when I woke up again.

What makes these serials so engaging?

One underlying theme is about relationships. What is portrayed on screen mirrors life. Some watch the plot and can identify with certain parts are it. Others watch to escape into another world altogether. With intense relationships being played out on screen, moment by moment, viewers can actually feel alongside the actors. Many even take to reviewing and commenting on the shows on virtual threads of discussion.

The content itself can be mesmerizing. Sometimes it is not what we are used to especially cross cultural dramas. It is not surprising that Korean drama appeals to Western audiences as well. According to Suk Park, Co-founder of Drama Fever, an online video streaming service specializing in TV series and films from Asia, "Entertainment is a gateway to culture." 

There is also an attraction towards medical drama.

From Casualty and ER to Embarrassing Bodies and One Born Every Minute, we can almost be forgiven for imagining that life as a doctor or patient is exactly what is portrayed on television. Even in the 1970s, we watched on a black and white screen, Dr Joe Gannon (Chad Everett) of the drama ‘Medical Centre’. Above all the dashing doctor mended broken hearts and fixed broken bodies with such precision.  He was my mother’s heart throb. When she first saw a specialist, Dr McCoy at Pantai Medical Centre in Kuala Lumpur, she accidentally called him Dr Gannon instead.

Law drama is no exception either. I’ve heard of the famous defense attorney Perry Mason who brought justice to many falsely accused people by drawing out the real criminal on the witness stand. And who can forget the eccentric and dramatic Calista Flockhart in Ally McBeal?

Because of such engaging drama serials, it wasn’t surprising that many youngsters of my time wanted to become doctors and lawyers.

Detective drama produced icons like Miss Marple and the persistent Inspector Columbo whose cheap cigars hid a brilliant mind. With regards to the Miss Marple series, The Times said, "once hooked, you won't be able to turn off", and The Sun said it was a series "with pulling power and real class".

Watching one episode per week is probably harmless. But to engage in a session of marathon watching day after day is a different thing altogether. Like any form of entertainment, once it becomes an addiction, good sense gets compromised. Responsibilities are sidelined as adults become too engrossed. The sun may be shining and the land needs to be tilled so to speak. There is very little time left to form meaningful relationships with the people around you.

Such is the power of addiction.

The next time I sit down to watch a movie, I must make doubly sure that the story line – plot and all- would be completed in at most, two hours.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA ON 15 JULY 2018.https://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnists/2018/07/391280/power-tv-dramas

WHATEVER CAN GO WRONG, WILL GO WRONG

WHEN I was in school, one of the common essay topics was “Describe a day when everything went wrong”. So the whiner in me would spin the tale of a very bad day, a horrendous one indeed where it was all doom and gloom. Then when I moved on to lecturing, I occasionally used this theme during the ice breaker sessions. It worked! Everyone was most happy to lament over the most upsetting day ever.

With that, I became acquainted with a number of axioms. Murphy’s law, Sod’s law, Yhprum’s law and Sally’s law — the most commonly used would be Murphy’s law.

Murphy’s law states that “things will go wrong in any given situation, if you give them a chance”, or more commonly, “whatever can go wrong, will go wrong”. Sod’s law goes one step further, “and usually at the worst time”.

Murphy's law started at Edwards Air Force Base in 1949 at North Base. It was named after Capt Edward A. Murphy, an engineer working on Air Force Project MX981, which was created to see how much sudden deceleration a person can stand in a crash. Sod’s law is known to have been derived, at least in part, from the colloquialism, an “unlucky sod”; a term for someone whom we feel sorry for because he had undergone some bad experiences.

Then we have Yhprum’s Law which is the opposite of Murphy's law (Yhprum = Murphy backwards). The simple formula of Yhprum’s law is: “Everything, that can work, will work.” Sally’s law on the other hand, is that particular moment when everything falls into place.

Laws aside, it is our response to situations that determines the mood for the day.

Take for example the day I had to do the laundry. I put all the soiled clothes into the laundry basket to put them into the washing machine downstairs. To avoid having to run upstairs again to collect the other necessary things, I decided to put the book, pen, reading glasses and mobile phone into the basket and carried the basket down with everything in it.

As I started the front loading warm wash, I heard a crunching sound but ignored it. The inevitable had happened.

I had thrown in the android together with the laundry into the wash. The Samsung was gurgling for help, very much like the scene where Stuart Little was screaming to his mother (portrayed by Geena Davis) when he was trapped in the washing machine.

“Put it in a tub of rice after removing as much water as possible from it,” my son advised. Apparently, rice absorbs the last few drops of residual moisture. It seems couscous, oatmeal and silica gel would work too, but I didn’t have those.

I found the rice but it felt damp. So I thought I’d warm it up in the oven. I must have overdone it because quite a number of rice grains turned brown at the bottom of the roasting pan.

So after the phone had been carefully submerged in the cool dry rice, I looked at whatever remainder rice I had and decided to separate the burnt rice grains from the unburnt ones.

I don’t know if anyone has ever done that, but it is a task that requires the patience of a saint. As a practising mother and wife, patience is something that I have learnt over the years.

Most people would have no qualms about throwing the rice out but visions of poor suffering famine-blighted chidren with swollen bellies in another part of the world prevented me from doing that. It took me three hours to separate the burnt rice grains from the unburnt ones. By then I had discovered an easy method to do that. The next obvious step would be to patent that technique.

In the past when I had a mishap, I would beat my chest and retreat in anger into a corner for days. So I was surprised at myself that there was no dark cloud over my head. For a moment I felt upset but recovered almost immediately. The phrase “Nobody died” puts everything into perspective and is most helpful when dealing with mishaps. Then I started to see the funny side of it and laughed instead — at the phone and at myself.

Many of those who have tried the rice trick swore by it on the Internet. But to actually think mine would work after such an ordeal is like witnessing the separating of the Red Sea. But I live in hope. Even if it does not survive the ordeal, I would love to think that it would probably win “The Cleanest Samsung Phone Award” of the year.

So now the only thing left for me to do is to write about it and wait.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA ON 1 JULY 2018 https://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnists/2018/07/386014/whatever-can-go-wrong-will-go-wrong

LOOKING IN, LOOKING OUT

I ENJOY looking at sculptures, especially those that stand out from the rest and become symbols of their locations. Every time I go to Derry in Northern Ireland, I would root towards the “Sculpture for Derry Walls”.

This is a three-part sculpture by Antony Gormley placed in three spots along the city’s 17th century fortified walls: on the east overlooking the Foyle River, over the Bogside by the remains of the Walker Monument and on the Bastion overlooking the Fountain Estate.

Each sculpture consists of two identical cast-iron figures joined back-to-back and are placed in such a way that one faces the walled city, while the other looks out. This is aptly described as “looking in, looking out”.

Symbolically, it represents Derry’s two main communities, separated by their differences yet joined as one body. The open eye holes allow the viewer to reconcile different views from within and without the city walls. Just like two sides of the same coin or two sides of the same story.

Sometime ago, I heard a story about two travelling angels who stopped to spend the night in a wealthy family’s home. The family was selfish and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion’s guest room.

Instead, they were given a small space in the cold basement. As they slept on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it.

The next night, the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor but hospitable farmer and his wife. They shared the little food that they had and let the angels sleep on their bed. However, in the morning, the farmer and his wife were in great distress to find that their only cow had died in the night.

The younger angel was upset and asked the older angel why he repaired the wall for the rich family and yet refrained from preventing the death of the cow.

The older angel replied: “When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. I sealed it so the greedy man wouldn’t find it.

“Then last night as we slept in the farmer’s bed, the angel of death came for his wife, and I pleaded with him to take the cow instead.”

Like the events in the story, one is the apparent side that we see and the other is usually hidden.

I had the privilege of attending a counselling course conducted by the late Selwyn Hughes in Singapore. He was an excellent teacher with crystal clear articulatory skills.

‘Sculpture for Derry Walls’ by Antony Gormley

One of the important things that I learnt is to always endeavour to understand both sides. I learnt how not to jump to conclusions or act prematurely on the basis of hearing one side only. Listening to just one side of the story is akin to listening to a plot that has some missing key points. These key points often change the entire drama.

The arbitrator or the marriage counsellor, for example, usually listens to both sides of the story. In a marriage breakdown especially, there is this stark reality of two hurting sides in one union, just like the “looking in, looking out” sculpture on Derry Walls.

But for most of us who is neither arbitrator nor professional counsellor, we form our opinions quite quickly based on what we hear or see, usually from only one source.

When that source is our close friend or our sibling, we are then no longer value free in our judgment as we are clouded by trust and loyalty.

I was having coffee with a friend that I’ve known for many years and our conversation drifted from the weather to the people we knew. Suddenly I found that she was giving labels to certain people because of the way they dressed or behaved.

Everything was black and white. You had to have certain characteristics to be considered the preferred black or white. There were little neat boxes where categories were given and conclusions drawn.

I was aghast that the thought processes were rather rigid, and then shamefully realised that I used to think that way too because we shared the same culture and upbringing. But now I know there are many shades of grey in between and most times, nothing is absolutely black or white, and it is so wrong to put people in little boxes according to our own values and beliefs.

As I walked from Derry Walls towards Peace Bridge, the same image resonated. The “handshake” of the two structural arms in opposite directions symbolises the unification gesture of the 400-year-old physical and political gap between the two sides of a once bitterly divided community.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA June 24 2018

http//www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnists/2018/06/383411/looking-looking-out

EMOTIONAL JOURNEY OF WRITING

Every so often I toy with the idea of writing a memoir. Good friends have promised that they would be the first to purchase a copy.

What holds me back is how many details I am comfortable with sharing with all and sundry. Then there is always the risk of someone being offended by what I write because perception can be a very tricky thing and no two people can see an event quite the same way.

I signed up for a one day memoir writing workshop with Michael Harding at the Belltable in Limerick last month. Harding is the author of several books and 4 best selling memoirs - Staring at Lakes, Talking with Strangers, Hanging with the Elephant and On Tuesdays I am a Buddhist. I enjoy reading his books but the way he weaves his stories may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

A memoir is an emotional journey that we go through. It is the act of remembering put in print. The art is in trying to engage the reader in the emotions involved. It is a process that shouldn’t be rushed. The key is to keep writing bits and pieces and putting them aside till they can be held together with common threads. When you write a memoir, you are writing your version of what you think happened from your own perspective.

Through copious cups of coffee, I learnt that techniques are useful but ultimately personal style is a different thing altogether. There were 14 of us from different walks of life and writers in the making. Anyone can tell a story but not everyone can tell a story that captivates. Each part of the tale is like a bead ready to be strung into a beautiful necklace.

One of the exercises that we had during the workshop was how to trigger a memory from an image. For me the image was the rain. The rain brought me back to the memory of how I was driving home from the office with the rain lashing on my windscreen. The sound of the droplets drowning out my tears when I found out how after my 7th attempt at the interview - that I did not get that scholarship again - to do my doctorate.

Music could also be a trigger.

Remembering the lyrics of Simon and Garfunkel’s I am a Rock transports me to the time when I was in my twenties. Coming to terms with the loss of friendship and betrayal I was totally in sync with these lines…’ I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty that none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship, friendship causes pain, it's laughter and it's loving I disdain. I am a rock …I am an island.’

So, why do we want to tell our story?

All of us carry memories - both pleasant and cathartic. Writing these memories down is a way of release. It is said that as we become more open with our inner hurts, we begin to heal. It is organising the past along lines of story and time. It is about purpose and passion.

Writing a memoir is akin to the long suffering fisherman waiting for the pike. He can sit there on the bank of the river for hours, just waiting for the pike to bite the bait. The key point is to sit there and wait. Writing is a discipline that takes time. We also need an actual place to write.

There are some people who have a brilliant memory. They remember everything, right down to the minute detail and they can tell you about that trip that happened 20 years ago as if it happened yesterday. Of course the downside is they could remember that grievance that happened 20 years ago as well and still harbour the grudge.

I am not one who can remember vividly what happened yesterday, much less  months or years ago. I attribute it to living to the fullest for the moment and being terribly excited about what tomorrow will bring. There is only that much space in my short term memory and if it is continually being filled with up-to-date moments, it hardly has much room for past events. I might have gone for a wonderful holiday early in the year but now it seems so long ago.

Journalling is therapeutic.

I find it most helpful to journal significant moments in pictures and in writing. Before I share my photos on social media, I make it a habit to read up and document the history and location of the place out of interest. It is for myself and for others like me who want to know more beyond that photograph.

Writing down how I feel about things becomes a learning curve. When I read back what I have documented and how I feel about those events now, it never fails to surprise me that most times things that aggravated me in the past, no longer hold their sting. Writing  helps dissolve the hard knots of  hurt and pain. It helps to map out the sequence of actions taken and consequences faced.  I have my little notions of what life is but it may not be so. I may get in life what I want but I never get it the way I perceived I would. ‘ If I knew then what I know now….’ is a phrase I am far too familiar with as I recollect my life events and the course taken.

I have a folder full of bits and pieces of writing. 

Will I write a memoir?

Maybe. Some day.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA 3 JUNE 2018

https://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnists/2018/06/376037/emotional-journey-writing