WE DON’T CARE ABOUT REHMAN RASHID PRIVATE LIVE, WE ARE NOT LINING UP TO SHARE HIS PRIVATE LIVE. EVERY OF US HAVE OUR OWN STORY. WE ARE INTERESTED IN HIS BOOK. FOR US HE IS A GOOD WRITTER, A MALAYSIAN JOURNEY IS A WONDERFUL BOOK, A GREAT BOOK WRITTEN IN THE BEST LITERARY OF JOURNALISM.

REHMAN RASHID KEEP ON WRITING, LEFT BEHIND YOUR BITTER EXPERIENCE, MAYBE YOU FAILED IN YOUR LOVE LIFE BUT NOT IN YOUR WRITING WORLD.IN THE WORST OF TIMES IS THE BEST OF TIMES. AS EAST ASIAN WE ARE PROUD OF YOU. THAT EAST ASIA HAVE SUCH A GREAT WRITTER LIKE YOU. WE PROUD OF YOU. THANKS FOR WRITING TO THE WORLD.
BRAVO REHMAN RASHID. WE WILL WALK WITH YOU.
OUR PRAYER FOR YOU THAT SOMEDAY YOU’LL FIND SOME ONE WHO WILL GIVE YOU MORAL SUPPORT SO YOU CAN ALWAYS WRITE A WONDERFUL BOOK.

And that’s his rage, and his shame.
His pain.
Sitting on his hands, biting his lips.

It did not need the likes of you and Quiet Storm churning the waters for an ongoing shark fest determined on overkill. Over what? Put downs. You see the man as a walking, talking glob of superiority and you shred him for soup.

I have heard that it’s professional courtesy not to eat shark. It is a pity that journalist Ahirudin Attan did not chomp down hard on the congregation when he could have, to provide space for a marriage in its infancy with still-schooling children to breathe and bond. Rocky has learnt nothing from his wife from her time with the Human Resource Department of the New Straits Times Press.

Grrr. Having your steamed heads on a platter is wishful thinking but no answer. There is no victory in that. I am not here for the parents. I am here for the children who seem stuck in the loop that life kicks them in the teeth and when they wake up, their dentist’s office has burnt down. I do not have issues 24-7, but I am tired of preaching.

Now, please, let us all pick up our healed selves and move on. No more mirrors. You want a butterfly, start here. El Oso did not realise it but this space was meant to be a safe haven for mauled women, and men, to heal. Merci, David. Bonne nuit.

Your question, “siapa awak exactly”, left me wondering how much to say. This will have to suffice. [I was one of those who knew how to spell ba-na-na... but did not know where to stop. ]

I am a second generation Malaysian of Ceylon Tamil descent who was born in the Bangsar Hospital in Kuala Lumpur at a time when today’s Lrg Ma’arof did not exist; modern Jln Ma’arof was the Lrg Ma’arof of the day, a dusty ribbon of red earth; and much of Bangsar, where I now work, was secondary jungle. By birth alone I am a native of both the state of Selangor and the Federal Territory of Kuala Lumpur and not a pendatang as officials both sides of the border would see it.

My parents were Malayan-born and both sets of grandparents were Jaffna-mari. All left their mark. Office mutts who use me as a receptacle for their ***t learn that they have a tiger by the tail.

My widowed mother sent me abroad when I was in my teens, in part because she felt I needed the discipline that she could not give me: I loved being answerable to no one; studies were a chore; and the life of a latch-key child spelt freedom to be.

In part. She had Stage II breast cancer which had reached her lymphatic system and she did not want me to be made a ward of state.

I do not fear God. Hate is something I cannot relate to. And, I plan to serve this earth another 100 years.

My favourite dentist died on the operating table a year ago. A heart attack. It pained me that he stressed himself out into an early grave.

Yes, Rehman Rashid is my colleague. He sits 40 strides away from me. I function as his mirror.

He once said to me: “You and I, we are sooo different. Me, I am so open. You, you are so closed.”

Truth is, neither one of us can be pigeonholed.

What I learnt in passing (Sunday, Dec 21, 2008) is that the soul speaks of worth, and seeks it with fly open. The spirit does not.

Spirit places a premium on value, and that’s the gold standard and saving grace.

So, if you are lost and wanting 2B found, heed heart. Begin with fresh ginger tea in a large coffee mug 3 times a week and clear those lungs. Wacky but true.

Use no more than 1-inch of fresh ginger each time. Scrape off the skin and slice. Don’t you dare roast/grill the slices like the Indonesians do. Place the ginger in mug — without sugar, preferably — pour in hot water and steep to liking. After drinking, EAT THE GINGER and listen to music. My choice: ELO’s Fire on High

2009 is the Year of the 9-volt battery. Remember its shape. Time to batten down the hatches in the sq root of 16 of the Emerald Light City. Double Dutch to some, Greek to all. Hola!

My New Year’s resolution is to be better prepared. What’s yours?

Shame on you, well u don’t need to seek the truth as long as your England is not fractured you can fabricate , no editing… anything under the sun. Me, yes.. yes, fractured grammar n in need of labotomy may be in English… but how about my Mandarin, Malay n Spanish… can u judge that s well….

Furthermore lu sapa??? Just an angry over develope boy!!!

I know why he divorced you darling….it’s because your English is left to be desired! He fractured your skull due to your very broken and fractured language (examples above) You do need a lobotomy, ma’am….and some badly needed intensive English grammar lessons…

I have full respect for Rehman despite whatever had happened between the two of us. It is painful to read malicious allegations against him. Probably to the writer isa triump to continously hating Rehman just because.

Dan McGinnis
Austin, Texas USA

Also, what makes you think Rehman Rashid is as keen as you to read other people’s opinion of him?

Then again, he just might be.

A perfect stranger to me, but not to Rehman — the chap had been leaving messages on Rehman’s cellphone, after all — spent time and energy to write a paragraph on me in which he called me a bitch. It was a comment posted on Sharizal Shaarani’s blog.

Rehman, who was supposed to be w-o-r-k-i-n-g, as I was, was keen for me to read it. “Ruth, come here and read what other people are saying about you,” he commanded from his spot over at the NST news desk.

I ignored him. But, I heard him.
From across the room I heard him that Sunday, reading it all aloud to my junior colleague, Azilea Badri.
If I heard him, then those within the same radius heard him: editors, reporters, artists, subs.
I heard him on his cell phone, too.

Some half-hour or more earlier, he had been screaming at me on the steps of Balai Berita NST that he hoped I would leave the company.

It was all in relation to a comment I had posted on Sharizal Shaarani’s website in October 2005 under the name “Smashed Angel”, in response to Sharizal Sharaani’s posting entitled “Calling All Angels”. All postings deemed offensive have since been deleted, but interestingly enough, when sent in under moderation, were accepted. What motivates a site moderator to accept a comment, and more, then take them all off a week or two later?

(Why I used the name “Smashed Angel” are Rehman Rashid’s stories to tell.

I’ll give you a hint. See his comment piece of 12th May, 2007 titled “The lady’s not for returning”. I’ll give you another hint, and you’ll see where he gets some of his ideas from (apart from Margaret Thatcher and the former journalist and first lady, Lady Bird Johnson, who died on 11th July 2007). Rehman used to call me ma’am, until one day I told him over the phone to stop. “Don’t call me that; I’m no lady.”

The next time he saw me, he burst out “Baby!” and grinned widely. Please don’t take this personally, Dr Kamsiah. He’s called many women that. It’s the theatrical side of him, not to be taken seriously — unless you think he’s serious. “Dear”, “Lovey”, “Love you, love you” and the classic arms thrown wide open gesture: “Darling!” The list goes on )

Back to Rehman’s screaming fit that Sunday… he remarked to someone that I had apologised “for telling the whole world she slept with me” — something I allegedly did out of jealousy.

For the record, I have never slept/had sex with Rehman Rashid.

From his mouth have come the identities of whom he has slept with. His indiscretions.

It was his choice as a Muslim to commit khalwat. His choice as a Muslim to court the risks of being caught for breaking the Syariah. His choice as a Muslim to chance being charged, fined up to RM3,000 and/or jailed for up to two years for every offence under Section 27 of the Syariah Criminal Provisions Act (Federal Territories. His choice as a bodoh to pull up a chair in the office and bring up pillow talk. His choice to be an arrogant, inconsiderate Muslim sod, unreasonably presuming protection and cover from the law from family, friends and collegues unwittingly made accomplices because of his need to share.

In my opinion, sympathy is wasted on En Abdul Rehman Abdul Rashid.

That said, I now find that this is turning out to be a far longer post than I had intended.

Again, for the record, I posted a belated comment on Aizuddin Danian’s blog in response to Rehman’s comment of March 2005 (which David Sasaki refers to above). Aizuddin Danian chose not to publish the comment. I wish to repost that comment here. Here’s why:

Rehman once asked me what brought me to the NST. “Destiny,” I replied, and told him the story of how someone had kept insisting to my mum that I should be “in communications”. In a letter, I’d mentioned the path less travelled. A couple of days after he was suspended by the NSTP, the subject of destinies arose and he acknowledged that he felt a strong sense of destiny. The conversation over the phone meandered and at one point he said “in the fullness of time” and I responded “No, in the shortness of time.”

Rehman was right — up to a point. In the impatience to make things happen out of fear of missed opportunites and lost chances, I had forgotten that the path less travelled has a turnpike. But here’s the kicker: eventually something comes down the turnpike.

So, now, I repeat what I wrote in May last year:

“Stubborn, cussed olde men should realise this: ambrosia can taste both bitter and/or sweet.
If you time and again keep heading down dense alleyways, taking the bait into false nature and remaining in that reoccurring trap you call your mind, then that is the intention you came in with, all wounds self-inflicted.
This is how Alzheimer’s disease begins, 10 to 20 years before it manifests.
Get back on track into balance and restructure, and I think Rehman that you attempted to but found the processes for connection and realignment into harmony too harsh; during times of duress and split-aparts you became irritated and cut off communication.
It is never appropriate to lay blame when deep inside a flame burns with olde remembrances holding onto anger. Was it far or unfair upon those doing fulfilling double duty? It does not matter, it simply was.
The beast was shorn so that the lamb could lay with the lion in rolling pastures green and the limbo rock soften the bite of the granite tiger mean.
Sweetie, take that leap of faith into maturity and work out any vestiges of old patterns you hang on to, keeping you quagmired for reasons that lack higher communications.
6.6.6 this date your time of dignity and court-anointed freedom. So put on your magic shoes and in the way of the warrior begin your carefree dance upon trinitised californian fields.
Vision on earth is stunted by a consciousness of acceptance of mores and fear of breaking the mould. Hope, refinement, forward movement, inspiration, trust and faith are the unseen facilities that finish the project to its highest end when a keen ear is lent to that still voice within.
Inhale intuitive behaviour untainted by smoke smog so that you never again take that path down dead-end stairs. Study your behaviour when intuition speaks loud and pay attention inside — loving loyalties reside in the heart. Trust love and intelligence to balance out.

Wise Council say: You were called to answer an assignment you were suited to complete for you have one defining gift that will prevail over all others. We would like you to take on the greatest exercise of your universal life. Please find it within your heart of hearts to seek that which is rich on the kingdom of earth. It is your reason for being here today and it will be your reason for being in eternity. Find true love here on land for something and hold to that as if earth carries the greatest facet of that component in this universe. It will change your life and give you reason for being at this time and space. Know this and you know what lies ahead in the cellular tracking system within fountains of youth.

Go panther, go.”

To this I add, eat pure vegan.