Chinese kung fu fans

It is a common trait that most people tend to take things for granted. If you were to observe some people around us, they seem to waste so much of what they possess in life.

The old Chinese adage that says “No child is too ugly and no parent is too poor,” has the equivalent value to that of the English proverb, “blood is thicker than water.”

In my country Malaysia, very often we see the despicable act of babies being abandoned, which has soiled the human value. Such social malady is unfathomable and the saddest of all, they are linked to mostly teenagers.

I came into this world with my two other siblings. In the fifties, mothers were all housewives and fathers were tasked to put bread on the table. Nurturing was on the mother’s shoulder and we were fed with old wives’ tales and the fear of superstitions as the tools for discipline.

We had just enough to survive daily and we had no complaints because we were too young. As we grew in our teen-age years, I became the black sheep in the family because I would keep asking my father what I wanted.

On occasions, he would keep quiet when I could not accept his explanation. He would not raise his voice either and I guessed it would be better for him to leave me alone.

Whenever he wanted to go anywhere, he would ask me to tag along. I obliged not because I was obedient but I could enjoy some refreshments and meals. I did not mind having to sit for hours listening to him and his friends talked about anything under the sun.

Coming from a poor family himself and fatherless at nine, he grew up to be streetwise. The stories about how suffering was like during the Japanese occupation in Malaya were entertaining indeed. Despite being an illiterate, he knew how to mould me to what he had expected of me – to be a better person.

The most beautiful quality my father had was to allow me to grow with his guidance and patience. He felt responsible for all his children because we did not ask to be born into the family where luxury was an alienated word.

The day when I came to my senses was when I heard his friend asking him about his health. He could not give up his indulgence in tobacco despite the warning from the doctor. He was inflicted with chronic diseases and the kind doctor asked his friend to convey the message. The message was simple: If my father had no concern about his own health it would be his own funeral. However, who would look after his children who were still dependents.

He gave up tobacco!

Years passed by and we grew up and got married. He was proud of us and proud to be a grandfather to all his grandchildren.

When the hospital became his second home and seeing his degenerated self, I made a secret promise to myself that I wanted to be like my father to my children.

Today, my siblings and I are all well-educated and enjoy the little luxury we had missed in our younger days. My children have the comfort in life, tertiary education and independence. What can I ask for more?

I remembered the day of my father’s demise. I was composed and put up a brave front except for tears that welled up in my eyes occasionally. I kept reminding myself that I should be happy for his passing because he had suffered no more.

That night after his cremation, I cried badly to myself because of the “missing you” feeling that was overwhelming. It was a good cry indeed!

What has made me proud of my father is all about his principle and sacrifices. How I wished to be able to turn back the pages of time to know him more.

Whenever I have the opportunity to dwell on the topic of the love of a father, I will always elaborate it with the correlation to Kung-fu.

Let me share with you with what I mean with the following short story.

During the era of the Chinese dynasty, people used Kung-fu abusively to proclaim their mastery and supremacy. Young males, often fatherless, sought refuge in Shaolin temple then. They were taught Kung-fu before returning to their villages to protect their village folks from marauding kung-fu rogues or to avenge the brutal slaughter of their families in the name of kung-fu supremacy.

At early dawn, they had to go down the hill to carry water from the stream back to the temple. Each night when exhaustion set in, the monk would secretly slice a thin layer off the bamboo sticks that were used as leverage to carry the two buckets of water.

Imagine the development of power in their arms to compensate for the bamboo sticks that were deliberately weakened.

This is what I correlate to my father’s intention by having me to tag along with him. The availability of drinks and meals to keep me away from my antics was the subtle intention. The silent motivation developed with time and the adaptability became vivid to qualify for the next level.

The Shaolin monks were vegetarians and the disciples were expected to follow suit. The enticement for meat to satisfy the craving led them to the river. They were allowed to eat fish if they could catch them with the bare hands. It was all about incredulity!

This was what the disciples learnt through patience and unending practices. By having to beat the odds triumphantly, they had earned the impeccable speed and accuracy to grip a fish in the hand.

The relationship to my development in my younger days had the similar quintessence. They were all about learning to be patient, to focus in what I had in mind and the most important was to scrutinize what was possible and surreal.

When the time was right for the disciples to return to their villages, the parting was emotional. The confidence they had was immense and to face any foes was to keep a low profile. Knowing too well it was not easy to absorb their punches the disciples chose to remain humble as well.

The critical reminder was just one word to use as yardstick even under intimidation.

PATIENCE!

I find it difficult to practice patience because the “waiting” itself is killing. I failed badly and the only consolation to myself is that in any endeavours, the present world does not wait for anyone.

Perhaps I have to learn to be a good angler first to cultivate patience and harness it with discipline before walking away from the modern day Shaolin Temple.

I am still so far from my father’s kungfu skills of life. And in my world, I believe in wrestling, literally speaking, because that will be the first thing to what I will do.