Behind the bars of solitude

It seems like Malaysia is currently the world theatre for the ultimate political drama of this generation. We have Blue Team versus the Red Team each fighting tooth and nail for the prized seat of government of the day.

In a way, David versus Goliath has never been illustrated more graphically and emotionally as compared to what we as Malaysians are experiencing today. Truth to be told, I am not exactly the perfect example of patriotism. Then again, how many of us can truly say that we are patriotic? Morale in that department has fallen to almost rock bottom with our government an inch away from forcing us to fly the Jalur Gemilang (National Flag) during Independence Day.

Today, we see, experience and feel a government that transcends all the basic and civilized understanding of a progressive society. We SEE a government operating in a style closer to dictatorship than democracy. We EXPERIENCE the lack in freedom of speech. We KNOW that ideas are not welcome.

We NEED a change.

It doesn’t really matter who the government of the day is. What matters is how our country can move forward. I watch in dismay as our opposition fall into the traps of dirty politics. The current government reigning in the police to force a dismount of Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim’s bid for a formidable 2-party system in this country in which we all call home.

I dread to think what my kids or my kids’ kids will go through when their time comes. Hopefully by then, they can enjoy a little more freedom than you and I did. Hopefully by then, some change would have taken place in the right direction.

I hope that we, as citizens of Malaysia, as potential shapers of a better tomorrow, we can throw our weight forward and let our voices be heard and our actions be acknowledged that no one within all of us walks alone. Isn’t that how we set ourselves free to begin with 51 years ago? Isn’t that how we grew ourselves into what we are today?

I remember the days when I was a child growing up on a little island off the west coast of Malaysia called Penang. Those were the days whereby I would drop by the local kampung and ordered mee goreng from an Indian who speaks fluent Hokkien while the Malay “Ah Pek” would make me my favorite ice-ball and was always generous by adding extra syrup and corn free of charge. I still remember his name – Pak Din. Still thirsty, I would order a small packet of coconut juice from the Chinese uncle who happens to live next to Pak Din.Those were the days where kids of all races, colours and backgrounds would play in the fields in a kampung area called Tajung Tokong.

I don’t remember politicians using us as sticks to divide wealth, rights and privileges. With youthful foolishness, it seems clear to me that this country was beautiful at that time and I wish that it will return to being the land of many promises again – hopefully not empty ones.

Just a little change.

Maybe not for you or me but for all of us, for our kids, our friends, our loved ones. I am but one voice but with you we have 2. There could be more so let’s not give up, especially now when we’re so close and especially when others have fought for us – even behind the bars of solitude.