Sweat Story

Long ago, when the American sitcoms were the "in thing" (it was not so much propaganda) I remember watching one, growing pains, I think. But I can't remember correctly. Anyway it was about 4 girls who were staying together with the teacher at a private school.

In one of the episodes, the high society girl, Brittany (I think) came back from an aerobic session all wet and sweaty. Blair ( the girl from Bronx) said" You'd better go take a bath and change, you're all sweaty." Brittany replied glassily " I don't sweat, I glisten". Blair replied " Well, you are glistening like a pig."

Well, we all sweat and have the smell that follows. As a cyclist, I must admit, I have never sweated so much in my life. The smell of my sweat has stuck on my cycling clothes. So much so my wife has given up in trying to find new deodorizers.

Anyway, the following story is not about a sweaty cyclist but of an incident that happened to me on the Monorail. I think this story is quite a common occurrence, given the number of people who take the train. But for me, the uncommon thing was the attitude of the girl in this story.

I took the monorail one day from my office at Sultan Ismail to Maharajalela, where Eddy's office is situated. He had given me a lift to work in the morning and was supposed to pick me up after work. I decided to save him the trouble of the jam and decided to take the monorail to his office.

When I boarded the train at Sultan Ismail, it was relatively empty, a girl stood immediately in front of me, with headphones on, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. Nothing strange about that. The train went on and soon began filling up. At Bukit Bintang, it was quite full, I suddenly noticed a very strong smell of an undeodorized person wafting in the air. Air condition coaches keep the smells in. Looking round, I saw this big Indian guy, all sweaty, who had just come in. He came and stood behind me, hanging to the rails, adding his powerful fragrance into the train.

I was smiling at the thought, when suddenly, the girl, (who apparently just noticed the smell) turned around and glared at me. I smiled back at her. She looked very angrily at me. In my mind, I was thinking, "Here I am standing next to you for almost 10 minutes, and you don't notice me at all, and when the smell comes in you think it is me?"

As if an answer to my thoughts, the Indian man spun round, walked down and hung his hand, on the rail beside the girl, his armpit in her face. She had to turn away. I had to control myself from laughing out loud.

Jim Corbett in memory (1875 to 1955)

Jim Corbett was a hunter, you can say professional, but he was not actually paid for his work, but he loved hunting.

I did not know him( he died in 1955) but I've read one of his books, The Temple Tiger, (first published 1954 and reprinted 1988) in which he writes of several of his hunts.

What made him different was that he specially hunted man eating tigers and other big cats. He did not hunt the normal tigers who were not a danger to man. He was called to do this of course by the British Government in India.

What impressed me really was one of his stories when he went hunting the Talla Des man eater. He had a big abscess (bisul) in his head due to a gun powder wound in the ear, and he had shot the tiger, injuring but not killing her. He knew that the tiger would become full time man eater due to the injury, if he did not kill her that time. If anything were to happen to the villagers, he was convinced that it would be his fault, so he went into the jungle alone to hunt the tiger, convinced that either the tiger would die or he would.

What amazed me was the fact that he went in alone, his eyes were not working properly due to the pressure on the brain,he could not see properly, his neck was swollen, he was deaf in one ear and he was in tremendous pain. He was already convinced that he would die but he went on in the hope that he could shoot the tiger before he died.

Luck was with him as the abscess ruptured in his head not into his brain, but outwards into his ear and nasal cavity, the pressure relieved, he managed to hunt and kill the tiger.

How many people would do that? I am not glorifying him but the fact is, if you fulfill what you think is your responsibility, despite the odds, the chances are you will succeed and remain in history when others are nameless ( he has a national park named after him). The same is true with our heroes, Datuk Bahaman, Datuk Maharajalela, Mat Kilau, Tok Gajah and others etc(although they have only roads named after them).

James Corbett was not a hero to the British although he was a British, but he was a hero to the Indian people, because he risked his life to save theirs.

Can we also become heroes?