Malay mother, Indian father—almost certainly. The young girl, thirteen at most, mouthing
a little prayer before bending to her plate; both hands spread and brought to
either cheek at the end in a kind of bathing motion. Across the aisle three
young grandkids greeting the old man one after the other, taking his hand and
bringing it to their foreheads. A young girl following afterward, perhaps
seven, shows no immediate sign of any problem. Brought to the old man, however,
it is apparent she cannot complete the required greeting, whether it is the
same as for the boys or no. Something she babbles with some energy to her
mother. Quietly the woman responds. The old man has turned aside now,
distracted by someone else. When the son-in-law comes up - he could be none
other - it is the touch to the heart he makes after taking the old man's hand;
not bringing the hand to his forehead. The woman who takes up the seat beside
the old man shows herself daughter. These old familial categories like sci-fi
to behold; counterparts of the games in the Net places.
....That was yesterday. Today is the prophet Muhammed's birthday. The reason for a larger turn-out in this Muslim quarter. Families again; a tour bus perhaps from Malaysia, many young girls of eleven or twelve among the group in the scarves and flowing wraps (make-up and lipstick more often than not even at that young age). Around beside the market a particularly large gathering, with guests and a feast. The speakers in fact almost all women: Professor so-and-so and Government functionary such-and-such. Numerous invitations from people to join them at table.
Earlier over a late breakfast at Mr. Teh Tarik again, the extended Malay family displaying something new in the greetings. More than half a dozen times the elder woman—filling the middle position in her early/mid thirties of aunt and sister-in-law—pulls her hand away abruptly once the hand clasp has been effected, just as the tug is given from the younger female toward her forehead. For the grandparents, the elders, this does not happen; only for these middle-ranking, letting off the marginal juniors lightly. They have not had their hands successfully brought up to the other's forehead once; not even close. Their jerks more forceful than the other's tugs. All nicely arranged.
....That was yesterday. Today is the prophet Muhammed's birthday. The reason for a larger turn-out in this Muslim quarter. Families again; a tour bus perhaps from Malaysia, many young girls of eleven or twelve among the group in the scarves and flowing wraps (make-up and lipstick more often than not even at that young age). Around beside the market a particularly large gathering, with guests and a feast. The speakers in fact almost all women: Professor so-and-so and Government functionary such-and-such. Numerous invitations from people to join them at table.
Earlier over a late breakfast at Mr. Teh Tarik again, the extended Malay family displaying something new in the greetings. More than half a dozen times the elder woman—filling the middle position in her early/mid thirties of aunt and sister-in-law—pulls her hand away abruptly once the hand clasp has been effected, just as the tug is given from the younger female toward her forehead. For the grandparents, the elders, this does not happen; only for these middle-ranking, letting off the marginal juniors lightly. They have not had their hands successfully brought up to the other's forehead once; not even close. Their jerks more forceful than the other's tugs. All nicely arranged.
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