I began learning how to ride a bicycle when I was seven years old, considered quite late compared to some other kids in the neighbourhood. My three ‘sisters’ were already riding the bicycle and it was time for me to ride one. We had two types, one with a steel bar attached between the seat and the handle and we called this bicycle “basikal jantan” (male bicycle) while the other one without the steel bar and we called this one “basikal betina” (female bicycle). To learn riding the bicycle at an early stage it was advisable to use the ‘basikal betina’ because you can balance your body more easily. Once you have the grip of holding the two handles and able to balance your body while peddling, then you can start riding the ‘basikal jantan’. However, some others preferred learning how to ride using the ‘basikal jantan’ because one can hold the steel bar and the other hand holding one handle of the bicycle. As for me I preferred using the ‘basikal betina’ first.

Being able to ride in Muar town was most imperative as that was about the only mode of transportation for an individual. Of course we had buses and the trishaws at our service but it wasn’t for free and furthermore buses were not in operation in some housing areas and if there was one, these buses would only come every hourly. Trishaws too were not always available. Thus, if you were unable to ride a bicycle in Muar town, you would surely be considered as ‘koman’, literally it means ‘useless’ and you can forget about having a steady boyfriend or girlfriend.

I had three coaches at my disposal…my three ‘sisters’.

Almost everyday grandma would ask me to buy something at ‘kedai Kadir’ the mamak sundry shop and Kak Fuzi would normally accompany me. Our problem was only that naughty looking dog belonged to our Chinese neighbour. Every time when we reached the house, our eyes would focus on the dog and if that dog was at the front pretending to be sleeping, we would walk quietly until we reached quite a distance. So every time we walked to ‘kedai Kadir’, we always had two problems; going to the shop and returning home. It was now time for me to learn how to ride a bicycle and if the dog noticed, I could peddled as fast as I could.

Kak Shidah began the coaching while Kak Arah and Kak Fuzi were her assistants. I was the student, a very stubborn student in fact.

The bicycle belonged to Mak Chu our auntie. Of course it was a ‘basikal betina’ with a carrier at the rear. Some bicycles would have a small bag instead of the carrier.

“Now get yourself in between the bicycle”, began Kak Shidah and then she told Kak Arah to be on guard at my front besides the handle while Kak Fuzi was to push the bicycle from behind. As I got myself standing in between the bicycle, I had my right leg on the peddle while my left leg resting on the ground. At seven years old I was still short in height and holding the handles with both my hands was quite difficult.

The first attempt was not only miserable, it was also horrible and terrible. When I began the peddling, I could not balance the bicycle with my body and I could not get the peddle going even for one round. It took me almost ten times to get both feet at both peddles and to be able to move the bicycle for a short distance. Kak Arah kept on holding the handle of the bicycle while Kak Fuzi kept herself always on guard at the rear. I was already giving up the idea and felt very frustrated.

Kak Shidah lectured me that if I refused to keep on trying, then I would not be able to ride a bicycle for as long as I lived and that would be not only disastrous but more of shame. It was unthinkable for a boy not being able to ride especially when you lived in Muar town. This made me more adamant to be able to ride. Towards the end of the first day’s training, I managed to ride the bicycle from one lamppost to another with both Kak Arah and Kak Fuzi running alongside while I rode.

On my second day of training, I managed to ride from one lamppost to another without both Kak Arah and Kak Fuzi running alongside me and finally I managed to cycle up to the junction of Jalan Omri and Jalan Ibrahim all on my own. As I cycled further and further my grin became wider and wider. Now it was time to show off.

I must make sure everyone in the neighbourhood knew that I could now ride a bicycle. We had three bicycles at home; two belonging to Mak Chu and Wak Yem which were ‘basikal betina’ and one belonged to grandpa the ‘basikal jantan’. The one belonged to Wak Yem was once owned by auntie Mak Ru and when she got married, the bicycle was given to Wak Yem and Wak Jis the youngest in the family had to wait for Wak Yem to leave home.

Much as I can remember, there was only one brand name and that was the ‘Raleigh’. We had to pay a yearly road tax of two dollars. Most bicycles were black in colour, fitted with a battery either at the front or rear wheel. The battery was small, made of metal and quite heavy for a small size. It was placed at the steel bar of the tyre with its head towards the rim and the head could spin. During the night, the battery’s head would be placed onto the wheel and as the wheel moved, the head would spin providing the energy to light the bicycle’s little lamp at the center of the handle. At the rear of the bicycle was a small luminous plate that could provide a flicker when shone by the car lights.

Some owners would decorate their bicycles with all sorts of gadgets, some with the Johor and Muar flags flying as their bicycles moved. Others would add some smaller bulbs at the front and rear parts of their bicycles and during the night these lighted bulbs would produce lights of different colours.

“Mak, tak ada apa apa ke nak beli kat kedai Kadir”, (Mum, is there anything you would like to buy at kedai Kadir?), I asked grandma whom I called ‘Mak’. Now being able to ride a bicycle, I wouldn’t mind riding the bicycle to the sundry shop even ten times a day. When I was on the bicycle, I would ring the bell whenever someone I knew was along the same path. I would grin widely every time I rang the bicycle bell. Mind you, I was still small and I rode the bicycle on a standing position.

Once I decided to take one round of riding and that was from my house to kedai Kadir, then after having bought the necessary items, I cycled along Jalan Abdul Rahman where stood the house of Dato’ Suleiman Ninam Shah (Tun) and took a turn along Jalan Ibrahim and turning back to Jalan Omri where my house was. Every time I did this I would brag to Kak Shidah and her two sisters and Kak Fuzi would just stare at me with her eyeballs looking up.

Sometime when you brag too much you’d be slapped with a price that equates the degree of your bragging. One afternoon after buying the stuff needed by grandma, I took another round of the same route.  As I reached the front of Dato’ Suleiman’s house and turning towards Jalan Ibrahim, I saw a huge Alsatian on the loose. I knew this could be trouble and so I stopped my bicycle and looked straight at the big dog. Then the dog stared at me and was seen to take position to chase me. I took no time to turn back and to do that was not easy as the bicycle was bigger than me but out of great fright I managed to do it. When the big dog began chasing me I began peddling as fast as I could on a standing position. I was already sweating and the dog was nearer and nearer. I thought my knee was about to break into pieces but I kept on peddling. Out of good luck, the Alsatian stopped and just stood staring at me. When I reached kedai Kadir I turned to Jalan Omri towards my house still peddling as fast as I could. The big dog wasn’t chasing me any longer but my two legs kept peddling like as though the dog was about to bite me. When I reached our Chinese neighbour’s house, their dog was on the road licking something at its body. Then it noticed me coming towards its spot and it began to stand and take position to chase me. The speed of my cycling forbade me to stop immediately and so I had to keep on peddling and this time faster. When I reached the spot where the dog was, it was already in a position to attack my leg. I guess when we are pushed to a corner we become braver as the only tool for survival. When the dog barked at me, I shouted as loud as I could at the dog showing my teeth. Luckily my two front teeth once missing were almost grown to its full length, otherwise the dog would be laughing at me of trying to scare it with my two front teeth missing.

When I reached the tembok of my house, I was panting like hell and my two legs were still shivering. I even had the urge to urinate but I could still control it. When I got myself composed, I parked the bicycle at the front stairs and walked slowly towards the house. Then Kak Fuzi noticed me and she asked, “kenapa ni, pucat aje?” (What happened, you looked pale). I did not want her to know that I was chased by two dogs and so I answered her in style, “Aku practice bawak laju lah” (I was practicing riding as fast as I could). Since then, I stopped riding around the neighbourhood.

Few months later when I was more braver, I began cycling slightly further from the neighbourhood. I cycled to my grandmother’s house near Tanjung and sometime to my cousins’ house in Jalan Khalidi. I still did not cycle to school as my primary school was about  two and a half miles away and that was very far for a young kid like me. It was only in Standard Five when I began cycling to school.

While in Standard Six I began cycling in few different styles. I could ride without holding the handles and sometime I would stand on the bicycle seat while the bicycle was moving. But the most amazing style was placing my whole body lying horizontally with my two hands straight towards the front and my two legs straight behind while the bicycle kept moving and I thought I was like Superman.

All these styles of riding could only be achieved with some price to be paid and most dearly and that was to keep on falling. I could not recall how many times I had fallen from my bicycles and most of the time it was my knee that had to be torn. Sometime, while waiting for the knee to heal, I would fall again worsening the same knee. Grandma could not say anything but grandpa did. Whenever I passed by him limping, he would just say, “No common sense”.

Once I challenge someone for a race. He was one of the fastest cyclist in town. His name is Usop Lanun (Yusof Dahalan) sometimes known as Usop Teksi, that’s because his bicycle looked exactly like the bicycle used by the trishaw. In Muar town we called trishaw as ‘teksi’. Every time when he cycled in front of my house he would show off like as though he was in a cycling race. One day I approached him and told him that I could beat him in race. He laughed at me and gladly accepted my challenge.

We both suggested the race starting from my house and to turn to Jalan Ibrahim and then to Jalan Abdul Rahman towards the south and back to Jalan Omri where my house was. There wasn’t any one else except the two of us. We planned the race the next morning at around 9.30am because by then traffic would have eased. Those days traffic was never heavy anyway. The next day before the race, I did some exercise and massaged my legs. I was still in Standard Six, the year I did not do well in my examination.

Usop Lanun arrived wearing sunglasses and gloves and he really looked like a real cyclist in a competition. I was just normal wearing my shirt and short but I had my rubber shoes on. Then I tied my handkerchief around my forehead so that I would look like a cyclist in a cycling race as well.

When the race began, Usop Lanun peddled fast and he was ahead of me. I wasn’t perturbed and peddled as fast as I could until I managed to overtake him. When I reached the corner, Usop Lanun overtook me with his ‘koner baring’ and he did it superbly. I chased him with all my might but he was ahead of me but only for a few feet. Jalan Ibrahim was a straight road and I took the opportunity of overtaking him and he was quite steady and followed me closely behind. When we reached the junction of Jalan Abdul Rahman, again Usop Lanun did his ‘koner baring’ and it was here he overtook me again. Jalan Abdul Rahman was also another straight road but longer and so again I took the opportunity of overtaking him. I managed to overtake him and this time I tried to loose him further but he was still steady and followed me closely behind. It was at the junction of Jalan Omri that Usop Lanun overtook me with his fantastic ‘koner baring’ and when he was ahead of me, I could not challenge him any longer. He was first but I came very close behind him.

Both of us were panting heavily after the race. In spite of winning the race, Usop Lanun commended on my courage and told me to improve on my ‘korner baring’. What is ‘koner baring?’

‘Koner baring’ is an art of lowering your bicycle while it was moving very fast but you must not peddle. If you did than the peddle could touch the ground and that could be fatal. At the same time your body must be in tandem with the position of the bicycle. But make sure the spot where you ‘koner baring’ do not have plenty of sands because it could very slippery and you will surely fall.

That was why he could overtake me every time when he reached a corner because in my case I normally applied the brakes and could always make my speed slower.

I asked Usop Lanun to teach me how to ‘koner baring’ the way he did. He obliged and I began my lesson that evening. He demonstrated how he did it and later told me to do the way he did. It was in no time that I managed to ‘koner baring’ just like Usop Lanun. In months to come we became very close friends and would cycle together all over town, at Tanjung and we would even race together along the long stretch of Jalan Joned.

Usop Lanun later formed his own band known as ‘The Hell’s Angels’ together with one Indian lad named Guna and Koko (Lt. Col. Abdul Razak). In later years he played the keyboard at the Genting Highlands and eventually became the Resident Band. If you happened to go to Genting Highlands and managed to meet with Mr. Yusof Dahalan, tell him that his old friend from Muar town named Din Kolah sends his regards and tell him that you know the story how he taught Din Kolah how to ‘koner baring’.

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21 Responses to RIDING A BICYCLE

  1. Harith says:

    Assalamualaikum Abg Din,
    It is also my fervent hope that one day to see your writings (book/s) be selected by the Ministry of Education as compulsory reading material for English literature for Form IV or Form 5. Your publisher can do this job of proposing it to the Bahagian Buku Teks of the ‘Kementerian’. I am dreaming this on your behalf! Salam and good day to you!

  2. Abd Halim Mohd Noah says:

    Din, that was hilarious. Another reason why you lost to Usop Lanun was that he had a more powerful bicycle. The bicycles used for teksi were normally bigger, had wider tyres and longer wheel base. The handle bar resembled that of the buffalo horns, which sleekly slant backwards. We sometimes called this bicycle ‘basikal jaguar’.

    If i recall, the dog belonging to the Chinese neighbour was a bull dog. It was always lying prostrate at the front gate, pretending to be asleep, and looked very intimidating indeed to the Kids.

  3. Pingback: Comment on RIDING A BICYCLE by Harith | ChristianBookBarn.com

  4. Lolong G Mali says:

    Dear Din, if I may I would like to chip in briefly a story about bicycle by association.

    Bicycle was our mode of transportation in the 60s. No doubt it had provided mass mobility to us all. Bicycles have contributed greatly to our technological, social and cultural development. Without realizing it, bicycles had contributed to our health, social and environmental challenges. It did keep us fit, opportunity to know many friends and bicycle riders were not the contributors to pollution of that era, and still is.

    My father bought me a Raleigh bicycle when I was in form one. Like anybody else the feeling of ownership instilled with responsibility. It was a brand new bike and promised myself to keep it looked new at all time. Not a dirt dare to stay on my bike. It was spotless clean. I got it cleaned to shine everyday and polished it especially the chromed spokes, Rims, partly chromed head light and partly chromed handlebars.

    Raleigh bike was lighter than any other bikes. It gave speed and could carry our weights. Above all, it was manufactured in Great Britain in which the bike was named after the street, Raleigh. And the name bear of the prestigious brand. It did give the status feeling, I would think so during that time.

    I need my bike to look outstanding in celebrating the brand. It was imperfect to have a carrier fixed on to my bike, fixed no carrier. The bike was meant for me alone. No one was allowed to ride on it. I solicited some money from my mother to buy cycle accessories. I had two reflected mirrors fixed on my handlebars. The fixtures certainly looked comprehensive. A long sound of bicycle bell fixed close to my right hand break. The bell gave a unique sound signaling my identity. I fixed up extra lights with two spot lights on the extension made front bars and wired them to the dynamo. When I cycled at night my bike was brightly lighted. It was visible in illumination and looked great in the dark. My bike was known, ‘basikal tujuh likur’ by my noted friends.

    The distinguished sound from the ringing bell got the attention of a pretty girl whose house was at the conner of Jalan Daud off Jalan Sulaiman. The first girl that I wanted to get to know. Every time I passed by her house I would ring my bicycle bell twice, just twice. Hopping she knew it was me. Then I would hang around with friends at Shah Dunt Bun’s house which stood across the road of her house. If I was lucky she would be looking out the window long enough for me to get her attention. This was a tedious time for me to consume. After many months, in the end, I managed to cycle parallel with her and got to treat her for ice cream floats at Kim Leng. It was all because, the wonder of bicycle that made us friends to this day.

    Unfortunately, bicycle production of late 60s was decimated and replaced by the modern mechanical devices like automobiles. Besides more modern electrical, electronic and digital counterpart were replaced. Such as fountain pens were replaced by ballpoint pens and mechanical pencils, cash registers were replaced by electronic calculators and many more. The pronouncement of of bicycle technology and industry erected many technological innovations, such as tires for auto vehicles and airplanes. The invention of wheels which are the fundamental components of new inventions developed to sophisticated mechanization. What ever it is, bicycle gave me the privilege to know the most beautiful girl in Muar.

    • Care to share who is that most beautiful girl in town?

      • Lolong G Mali says:

        Very well indeed Din, her name is Norbiha Isa. She completed her secondary education at Convent Girl School. A very studious girl who scored high grades in her form five examination. Her gratifying accomplishment was highly praised by her family and loved one.

        Like every teenagers I was also gamed for enjoyment and interest. Practicing my interest in my leisure time had became my hobby. I spent ample time accumulating postage stamps as recalled for an immature collector. I began gathering stamps since I was five year old. Couple of the stamps which as early dated in the midst of the nineteen century were additional to my collection.

        As a token of my appreciation, I gave her a full booklet of my precious valuable, postage stamps before I left for Johore Baharu. A heartily gift of which I have no regret to a girl whom I admired so much. 

        I heard she got married while I was struggling with my form six education in Johore Baharu, a double gloomy feelings of dolefulness. In addition to that I failed my examination miserably because I did not study, distorted by my new interest, music. The shocking news later, her husband fast away in a fatal accident in front of her house just after a month of their marriage. I was somewhere in a remote part of India then and on my way donating to my long journey of no destination but of destiny.

        She is happily remarried after long being single. She is blessed with a wonderful husband and children. An extended family whom we were longing for as of kinship. I was told she stays in Jalan Abd. Rahman. I always wish to bump into her when ever I am in Muar, so far in vain.

  5. Harith says:

    The 2nd last para really touched me – relationships cut short – and what a tragedy…and as usual life has to go on!
    Just curiosity – what were you doing in some remote part of India? with some Hare Rama Hare Krishna cult group?

    • Lolong G Mali says:

      Yes Harith, you are absolutely right, life has to go on and Allah SWT is always there to guide us.

      Briefly, I was one of those guys who voted out with our feet to Europe. I believe I was the first Muarian in the late 60s who did so. 

      Indian continent was my first landed landmass. Land, ho! I cried in announcing the sight of land. Madras the southern city, I embarked after a long voyage by ship. SS Rajula was the name of the ship that ferried me from Singapore to Madras. Episodes of many happenings in the ship are worth to share with.

      I was in India more than a month. I traveled in zigzagging  pattern by train heading north toward New Delhi before I headed to Pakistan. My first encountered with the Hare Krishna street sect was in Goa and later in Katmandu Napal.

      As you were curious of me being in the remote part of India, I was also curious about this street Hare Krishna Sect. By no mean I was shocked and engaged in association with this sect. It was interesting though because the scene of Hare Krihna was nothing to compare with the ‘Cheng Geh’  Hindu festival in Muar. 

      They were in group of five or six, sing along their hymns of Hare Krishna Mantra. They were mostly westerners. Hardly ethnic Indians participated in their devotional musical demonstration, a pair of Indian hand drums with the ringing sound of bells and tambourines. They wore orange robes and their hairs shaved as a description of their sect. 

      As far as I know, the Hare Krishna was ideally quite different with the hippie subculture. Nevertheless, The Beatles, Hare Krishna mantra appeared in some lyrics of their songs. “My Sweet Lord” lyrics by George Harrison reached the top of British chart perhaps a tribute to the Hare Krishna Sect.

      • Hikers to Switzerland. There were many Muarians mostly my friends who took the courage to hike in the late sixties and most of them reached Switzerland and Germany. Sahak Doktor, Ajis Mak Enggor, Dollah Satay, Ghaffar Uban, Mene Lamdin, MatShah Dato Suleiman, Ten (Abu Bakar Sarajuddin..baru arwah), Amiah, and few others. Some came home and few others stayed until today. Are you one of them?

        In 1971, I wrote to my cousin Ajis Mak Enggor that I would be arriving in Switzerland in a week’s time to try my luck in a new land. I had my passport ready and some cash except I would not be hiking. One day while playing with my guitar, Ajis Mak Enggor returned home and told me he was caught by the Swiss authorities and was asked to return home. There gone my dream and so I took a job at Pernas.

        Lollong GMali, I think your brief gave me some light of your identity. I think I know who you are. Bro, the next time we meet at Uncle Don’s, let have a glass of teh tarik and talk about the good old days, about Norbiha and some other interesting adventures we had during our growing days in good old Muar town.

      • Harith says:

        The closest I got to Hare Rama Hare Krishna was only of Dev Anand’s film of the same title and the song Dum Maro Dum…shown here in the early 70s…but was banned after one week showing…

  6. Muarian says:

    I was completely engrossed by your bicycle race……anxiously waiting for the outcome, whether you have won as they say… “The champion triumphed, though it was a hard fight”!! It was a good fight and the korner baring was interesting but the dog chased was indeed hilarious!! I read Lolong G Mali”s with interest of his passion for his new bicycle ……as I was jokingly about to admit it was me whom he rang his bicycle bell twice every time he passed my house, alas….he revealed the most beutiful girl in town was Norbiha Isa …sadly, I was not the one!!!!! I wonder who is this Lolong G Mali? ha ha ha! Anyway, I too want to share an incident with my old bicycle. Everyday, in the afternoon my friend and I will cycle from Parit Tiram to school (Convent Muar). We always travelled at the same route but one day at a corner of Jalan Bakariah while we were engrossed in a conversation, I accidentally knocked into a bus which had stopped to pick up a passenger!!! I fell down and badly bruised both my knees….the driver & all the passengers came down to query my conditioned….everybody was soooo sweet and concerned. I bet some of the passengers must have wondered how silly I was….anyway, thank you for sharing your story.

    • Salam Muarian…so you were schooling at the Convent Muar.

      Once I was crazy over one Convent girl whom I met at a party. (Read my article on “Comics, magazines and books” in the April archive). Unfortunately she moved to other district following her parents and since then never heard about her.

      You want to know who is Lollong G Mali? I think he must be the most handsome boy in Muar town in the 60s.

  7. Lolong G Mali says:

    Thank you Din, I was effortlessly elated by your handsome complimentary remark appraising of my good-looking applicable to the 60s, not beyond that…hey..hey. I do not think I was but Mat Tajjuddin, he was the handsome fellow. Anyway, I am obliged, the teh tarik session (to blow my cover) will be on me and Muarian can join in too.

    To Muarian, it could be me because whenever I cycled along Parit Tiram I rang my bicycle bell only once not twice. Practically, to avoid Laham of getting suspicious…ha…ha. You know, he might have taken the ownership to protect all the girls of Parit Tiram, the only ‘Parit’ among all the ‘jalan’ in Muar town.

    However, the wonder of bicycle, “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”  Albert Einstein.

    • Halida De Ste Croix says:

      En. Kamaruddin and Lolong G Mali. Thumbs up!. Both of you are funny. If both of you would like to visit UK again with your family, you are very welcome to my house. I’m going to make lempeng and sambal tulis ikan bilis plus coffee 434( got loads in stock – cant live without! ).

      • My dear Halida,

        That’s the beauty about being Muarians, we can tease each other to the bone and instead of harbouring despondency, we laugh even being teased. Orang Muar memang champion pasal kutuk mengutuk.

        Hello Lollong G Mali, any clue who Halida De Ste Croix is? She’s a Muarian once living at Jalan Daud, now staying in London. Jalan Daud is your territory, you must have some clue otherwise orang Muar kata “koman lah awak”.

  8. lau pei pei says:

    Din , i hav been reading yr stories this couple of weeks, i think there are some friends of yours who are not sincere in revealing their identity especially the one called lolong mali and all that jazz, it does not give u any milage i think it not necessary for u to fish around their identity – its a waste of time. we are here to share those beautifull live of muar. i look forward to your upcoming book on muar.

  9. Harith says:

    As an ardent follower of Abg Din’s blog, I am fine with anyone using any other names as long as the content of the responses is decent and harmless. Take for example my name, it’s my real name and I really exist but Abg Din doesn’t know who I am and we have not met in real life – I am just his newly found friend in cyberspace. I think it will be much more fun corresponding with those that we don’t know than those that we already know.
    As for Lolong G Mali’s identity (a very unique name and with no meaning to me and that I cannot decode) – I also don’t know him and it does not matter as long as all of us are comfortable with his responses – and he even responded to my curiosity with a story full of adventure of his past and meaningful to him and I feel happy to have found a new friend in cyberspace in this specific blog.
    It is only a matter of time before he reveal himself to Abg Din at some Uncle Don’s Cafe somewhere for a cup of coffee! And this Uncle Don’s Cafe – I don’t know where it is as could be anywhere – maybe in Muar or Kuantan or even Timbuktu! That time you can also join them – and only if you are invited. Good day to all

  10. Using a nom de plum is very common in cyberspace. Most blog owners accept this as part of the system and therefore must be willing to receive criticism and accept them with an open heart. I have no problem with that, not at all.
    Most of my commentators are complete strangers to me except for two or three cousins of mine. As for Lolong G Mali, I like all his comments but what made it more interesting, he knows all my friends and the names that I mentioned. Therefore, he must be one of my close friends during our younger days and that makes it even more interesting except that we have not met for quite sometime, maybe years. I read all his comments ‘in between the lines’ and along the way he gave me one clue at a time. Very naught fellow, typical Muarian. Any more clues bro Lolong G Mali?

    More stories are coming, keep watch. Have a good day everyone.

  11. Muarian says:

    Goodevening & assalammualaikum Din,

    I read through your article on “Comics, magazines and books” but noticed that you did not approach the girl in the library and no name was mentioned. Since Lollong G Mali has offered to belanja us teh tarik in uncle Don, why not take up his offer and may be…. just may be, we have met somewhere…..it would be awesome to meet and laugh out at our daily comments and recalling our memorable days in our beloved town Muar…. 🙂

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