Of The Holy Grail & Knights Templar, or, Templer Park & The Last Biskut Lutut

Zaim Al-Amin
0228 hours, Thursday
25th May, 2006
Ampang - Petaling Jaya
http://zacknina.blogspot.com
http://transcendentia.blogspot.com
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Salam & salutations,

Re: Article for Transcendentia Column, Rentakini (Lifestyles Section), Malaysiakini

Title: Of The Holy Grail & Knights Templar, or, Templer Park & The Last Biskut Lutut

I recently met a long lost friend of mine. Before long, we found ourselves sipping expensive mocha and occasionally munching RM1 per piece cookies in one of the more trendy boutique cafes in downtown KL. The last time we met was some twenty-five years ago, and life seems to have been kind to him since. He now co-owns a company supplying diesel nationwide, is married with four kids, stays in a posh residential area in Ampang and drives an Alpina B10. To many, he seems to be living the ultimate Malaysian Dream, if ever there is one. And that too considering the fact that the last time we met, we were sharing some humble `Biskut Lutut’ (Knee Biscuits, because of its shape) dipped in home brewed coffee in a sleepy hollow that was Teluk Anson. He must be one very happy guy now. I casually threw that remark at him, and he quickly shook his head.

“There are things which you still can’t get, no matter how successful you could be”, he said, his face a picture of calmness which belied the gravity behind his statement.

“You are not looking for the Holy Grail, are you?” I quipped. His earlier remark sounded a tad too philosophical to me and, fresh from watching the Da Vinci Code, I couldn’t refrain from `Robert Langdon’ing him.

Not that I couldn’t relate to his statement per se. Maybe his dilemma is the inevitable by-product in some of Malaysia’s new breed of the so-called yuppies (young urban professionals). There were things which we were not quite ready for, or even, afraid of. Things which could confuse any a young man about to enter the doors to the vicious gray walls of the corporate world. Before long, you’d gain the success and whatever that comes with it. But before long, too, you’d realize that you are in danger of losing a part of yourself.

It’s a paradox of sorts. You get your financial freedom, but you lose your freedom to do other things that you’d really like. You used to have the time but not the money. Now you have the money but simply don’t have the time. Unless, of course, if you are into insurance. Or direct selling.

There could be times when you feel that you have lost your sense of belonging. When you begin to feel that you are just a part of a huge mechanical society that runs like clockwork: precise but predictable. You are nothing but a very dispensable part, moving faithfully, just waiting to break and be hastily replaced to keep the clock running. You do the same thing; day in, day out. After a while, your whole world seems to be nothing but a calendar. Or diary, if you like.

If money or financial freedom were an end to itself, then a lot of supposedly rich people would be happy just as they are. But then again, as this friend of mine struggles to explain, he’s looking for something else. Something which he himself is not sure of. Call it a sense of belonging or purpose of life. Or your raison d’etre. Or whatever. It’s as elusive (and abstract) as the Holy Grail.

Maybe it’s just about how far one would go to establish his place in this world. Sometimes in his desperation, he falls into the wonderful abyss of fantasy. As in the case of the (at best) proverbial Holy Grail, which people have throughout the centuries conveniently confused from being a cup to a plate to a kinship’s skull to Mary Magdalene’s Royal Blood (Sang Real). Notwithstanding that, the most probable answer is that it represents a distant, unobtainable goal for a person (or a group of people) to achieve. It’s about basking in the realm of probabilities and celebrating in the world of might-have-been or could-be fantasies. In a way, it’s some people’s religious answer to science’s anti gravity and time travel.

Trying to be special or different (or both) can be an obsession. Hence the fashionable craze to trace one’s genealogy up to a few generations, in the hope of finding an ancestor worthy of mention during some corporate dinner functions. Of course, it’s interesting to stumble upon glorious Great Grandfathers in your Family Tree. I recently heard somebody say that Leonardo DiCaprio (of Titanic fame) is somehow related to Leonardo Da Vinci. As to how, I fail to comprehend since according to trite knowledge his then pregnant mother gave him that name because he kicked in her womb whilst she was staring at one of Da Vinci’s painting. Whatever, I believe it’s not a statement that the younger Leonardo would want to sue after.

I myself have tried this Family Tree thing, but apart from the amusement of finding ancestors with interesting names, there was nothing to shout about. Perhaps one or two earned the distinction of opening villages here and there, pioneering this or that or were highly respected religious personas, but none of them appeared in any history books. And I think that about sums up the rest of us. And perhaps most of us, too, wouldn’t mind to also blend in that way. People come and go, and not always remembered.

Having said that, there are times when we yearn for the familiar comfort of family ties. Like most people, our parents represented a strong symbol, an undeniable sense of belonging, a supposedly omnipresent protector. I too sought solace likewise, until the untimely passing of my beloved mother. Her unexpected death violently shook the very foundation of my well being. It seemed like an eternity before I could come to terms with the reality of losing her.

It’s strange how your mind works sometimes, but my mind saved the day (and probably, my sanity as well) by conjuring vivid images from the past. Of childhood and adolescence spent with my late mother. Of trips from Teluk Anson (now Teluk Intan) to Kuala Lumpur in my father’s shining blue vinyl roofed Opel Kadett, when we would without fail stop to rest at Templer’s Park. Of the ubiquitous `Biskut Lutut’ which never fails to accompany us during such trips.

Perhaps it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. Or then again perhaps that `Biskut Lutut’ has risen in significance to be the symbol of my love for her. Which, to that, I have no qualms. If ever there is any lesson from all these, it’s that in this short, passing life, there’s nothing more important than what you already have. Whatever it is, that’s your `Holy Grail’. Treasure it, and be thankful for it.

Even if it’s just distant memories of Biskut Lutut…

P/s: For the uninitiated, `Biskut Lutut’ is a type of homemade mushroom-shaped (the top of which looks like a knee, hence its name) cookies which looks like compressed dried bread crumbs. Best taken when dipped into hot tea or Milo. And no; it has no magical healing powers, so my references to it as the Holy Grail forever remains a metaphor.

P/s 2: All references to the Holy Grail is in its metaphoric capacity and is not meant to undermine any belief by any person or group, religious or otherwise.

P/s 3: Biskut Lutut still enjoys mass production to date and can be found in all self-respecting sundry shops nationwide at around RM1.50 per packet of tens.

~ This article is dedicated to my wife Nina Norfaizah and my kids Daniellia Zainisya (11), Hilmi Firdaus (9), Daniellia Zetrisya (7) and Iqmal Firdaus (7) ~

Cheers & best regards,

Zaim Al-Amin
E 28, Fellowship of Kingtho (MCKK Class of 84)
Founder/Chairman, Bargreaves Ballerz (MCOBA Theatre Group)
Editorial Board Member, Berita MCOBA (MCOBA Bulletin)

Zaim Al-Amin, Esq.
Group Legal Advisor
Legal, Secretarial & Contracts Department
PROTANK GROUP OF COMPANIES
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Selangor, MALAYSIA.
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