The A-List

Some palpable, superstitious dread penning the record of attendance at such a place: W____ Boulangerie Cafe. Sweat dripping after the slog from Chow Kit the aircon had beckoned... There really was no adequate justification. Polished concrete floor, render one side and the other wall exposed brick (though being new, unvaried product lacked the character). Wood slat table-tops and yellow steel chairs. A Rohingya pianist kept as a sex slave in back through the days listlessly tinkled old favourites. “Hot chamomile” looked to have surprised the Nepalese or Burma lad who had responded blankly to Tamil. (Unlikely a Bangla.) The mezzanine that held another dozen unoccupied tables along the railing remained unnoticed five minutes after entering. You  found yrself within such walls sometimes; sour taste bitten down. RM5.90, service charge likely sprung on top. (Lesser places cost RM10, granted.) Oh! Again unnoticed initially, the galvanised metal sheeting along a portion of the mezzanine wall toward the rear was painted a canary yellow that triggered phosphate islands formed by avian migration. On the chairs the sheen was pale and more muted. (The drink order had complemented.) IF YOUR HAPPY CLAP YOUR HANDS framed on the wall the other side of the roofing iron and London/Amsterdam/Paris &etc. columned in another frame. No doubt the owner was one of the UMNO scions who while the going was good had visited all the iconic cities across the globe, staying at the best hotels; a night or two in Trump Tower and pics to prove it. A few days before mention of a manslaughter charge that hadn’t stuck on one young UMNO scion a couple of years back had appeared in Malaysiakini.  Brief googling had shown the young lad’s escapades financed by his gangster politico dad who had lorded it with his cronies the last decade and more in this country of humble people living quiet, modest lives. (Foreign Thai staff at the bar/nightclub in question had been loaded with the rap.) Luxury sports cars, lip-stick girls on the lad’s online file, watches & wine. Uncaged young brute was a chip off the old block making the father proud, (party trumpeting Muslim credentials and defence of the downtrodden race). The last decade or two kept buried secrets that were highly unlikely ever to be uncovered. The dastardly corruption and shameless excess, manipulation and fixing, the political murders could not all be prosecuted. It was impossible and beyond the means of the country. Best hope was some of the chief offenders being exposed, incarcerated and the moral bearings of the community restored as far as practicable. Post-electoral upset, it was taking time to begin proceedings.