Author: | Farouk Gulsara | ISBN: | 1230000969529 |
Publisher: | Asokan Shamuganathan | Publication: | February 29, 2016 |
Imprint: | Language: | English |
Author: | Farouk Gulsara |
ISBN: | 1230000969529 |
Publisher: | Asokan Shamuganathan |
Publication: | February 29, 2016 |
Imprint: | |
Language: | English |
I grew up in a family which believed that there is only one way to do things. It is either black or white, no two ways about it. When you were a child, you are expected to study, excel in your examinations and that is it - your life is made. And that is what we did. After growing up with blinkers accepting their guide as the gospel truth, with the benefit of tertiary education and age on your side, you begin to realise that many roads do indeed lead to Rome.
The idea of penning one’s thoughts has never been our culture. We, of the timid species, have been contented to be in the side lines, being followers and not wanting to rock the boat.
Now seated in comfort of not worrying too much of your next meal, you only naturally want to reappraise your thoughts. As you start analysing things that you were taught throughout life to be the only way, the more you realise that there are more than one way of doing it. As it has often been said, things in life are in shades of grey. The more you look at a certain event, the more you realise that there are more than one way of looking at it. The advent of information technology is shot in the arm for us to look at alternative views on myriad of subjects.
This collection of thoughts is taken my blog, Rifle Range Boy. At various instances at various life events, I put on my analytical and sometimes devils’ advocates horned-helmet to stimulate discussion with the followers of the blog.
The idea of creating the blog came about back in the 90s when I discovered the magic of Microsoft Words. As in many Malaysian families who started life in the tough days of early Malaya, my parents family too had many heart wrenching stories to tell. I saw this outlet as an opportunity for future generations to come to appreciate that we too, albeit a small one, a small role in the history of nation. Not as a legislator but as a small man in a small role. Only when I started inking my experiences in the pigeon hole in the sky called home in Rifle Range Flats in Penang did I realise that I actually had a memorable childhood. This is a stark contrast to how we, my sisters and I, actually felt when we were growing up. We dreaded being cooped in the confines of the four walls immersed in melancholia and financial misery.
I grew up in a family which believed that there is only one way to do things. It is either black or white, no two ways about it. When you were a child, you are expected to study, excel in your examinations and that is it - your life is made. And that is what we did. After growing up with blinkers accepting their guide as the gospel truth, with the benefit of tertiary education and age on your side, you begin to realise that many roads do indeed lead to Rome.
The idea of penning one’s thoughts has never been our culture. We, of the timid species, have been contented to be in the side lines, being followers and not wanting to rock the boat.
Now seated in comfort of not worrying too much of your next meal, you only naturally want to reappraise your thoughts. As you start analysing things that you were taught throughout life to be the only way, the more you realise that there are more than one way of doing it. As it has often been said, things in life are in shades of grey. The more you look at a certain event, the more you realise that there are more than one way of looking at it. The advent of information technology is shot in the arm for us to look at alternative views on myriad of subjects.
This collection of thoughts is taken my blog, Rifle Range Boy. At various instances at various life events, I put on my analytical and sometimes devils’ advocates horned-helmet to stimulate discussion with the followers of the blog.
The idea of creating the blog came about back in the 90s when I discovered the magic of Microsoft Words. As in many Malaysian families who started life in the tough days of early Malaya, my parents family too had many heart wrenching stories to tell. I saw this outlet as an opportunity for future generations to come to appreciate that we too, albeit a small one, a small role in the history of nation. Not as a legislator but as a small man in a small role. Only when I started inking my experiences in the pigeon hole in the sky called home in Rifle Range Flats in Penang did I realise that I actually had a memorable childhood. This is a stark contrast to how we, my sisters and I, actually felt when we were growing up. We dreaded being cooped in the confines of the four walls immersed in melancholia and financial misery.