It was by chance that I
watched yet another re-run of Disney’s ‘The Lion King’ the other night. Having
memorised most, if not all, scenes from the moment Rafiki introduced Simba to a
savannah of animals against the awe-inspiring Circle of Life, I do believe
another confession is necessary here. It’s not the fact that I would sing along
with Timon and Pumbaa as they taught Simba to believe in Hakuna Matata. Neither is it the fact that Mufasa’s advice to Simba
underneath a starry skyline constantly reminds me of my late dad and the brief
time we had shared.
It is something infinitely bigger,
obviously more shameful.
For me, the actual stars were
never Mufasa or Simba. They are just plain boring, characters drawn to
illustrate an unbreakable bond between father and child. Heck, even Zazu leaves
me tickled. My constant source of fascination lies with that other lion - Scar,
and his pack of hyenas. Unlike the regal Mufasa, the younger lion was a
misunderstood creature. Having to lurk around in dark corners, he was never
meant to rule. And yet, fate and possibly huge doses of self-convincing, left
him disillusioned that Pride Rock was indeed his to strut upon.
The hyenas were his friends,
often united in shrilly laughter and stupidity as they became Scar’s
lieutenants to secure Pride Rock. Under their watch, Pride Rock changed from a
resource-filled land that connected everyone in the great circle of life to
barren desperation. Living animals became carcasses. Hunters had to work harder
to find preys. And still, Scar and his hyenas believed that all is well from
the stony comfort of their throne. As long as their elite group is fed and
Scar’s words remain a matter of pride, what happens to Pride Rock is beyond the
hyenas’ powers of retention. As Scar puts it, theirs are as wet as a warthog’s
backside.
Oh dear, I do find a strange
unexplainable feeling overwhelming me as I write this. Why is it that Pride
Rock seems to be so painfully familiar? Could it be a case of art imitating
life? After all, I am not a wild animal trying to survive a savannah divided by
claims of succession. But perhaps, just perhaps, I am right. Coverage from
local television channels and printed news that would find its way to my work
desk are daily reminders. Pride Rock is no longer somewhere in Africa. It is
here.
I read a headline this morning.
It screamed ‘Be loyal and obedient!’. Praying fervently that my mind is still
functioning well, I continued reading. The more I read, the more I actually
hoped my brains would fail instantaneously. For that’s the only way I can understand how
certain quarters of the society could actually (still) swallow all these
nonsense, scandals and what-nots with sober minds. Mind you, I purposely
refrained from using the term ‘thinking’.
It was also by chance that a
friend reminded me of an article I had written over a year ago (accessible at this
link: http://www.themalaymailonline.com/what-you-think/article/prime-minister-its-time-to-walk-the-talk-for-once-raja-syarafina-rs).
While no crystal balls were utilised to write that piece, it certainly begged a
follow-up question. Was there progress during the year that was? I think not.
Sadly, my earlier piece remains relevant in these worsening times. The normal
man on the street, and not the ones cheering wildly in some large convention
halls for a show of loyalty, is suffering. In times of rising costs of living,
reduction of subsidies and citizens waiting with bated breath for more bad news
(the formation of the mind-beguiling National Security Council comes to mind.
Whose interest is being protected as our fundamental rights gets eroded?), the
pain is apparently non-existent for some. Otherwise, no one (or a
right-thinking person to be precise, a dwindling commodity here) would readily
accept a declaration that RM2.6 Billion is strictly the President’s affair.
What’s transparency anyway, right?
And so, I don’t think I’ll
celebrate the arrival of 2016 with much pomp. I’ve to save for rainy days, God
knows my car needs fuel just as much as I eat. I have even stopped listing out
my new year’s resolutions. You can call me lazy, it doesn’t matter. I’m simply
being a realist and resolutions are not meant to be followed. Just like the
nicely packaged pre-election promises which would remind me of some useless
Christmas presents I received (or bought) over the years. Glittery dazzles from
the outside but comes to naught when the wrapping paper is torn apart.
There’s only one thing left to
do for all the lows that will come our way. Watch ‘The Lion King’ if you have
not done so. Forget Mufasa, forget Simba. Pay closer attention to Scar instead.
Once he leaves you enthralled, you’ll find yourself singing along with Scar and
the hyenas. Be prepared and enjoy the ride!
