A history of migrations across the ages has made these nations bubble and spit with a deep-rooted diversity, a cradle for mankind that refuses to sleep. It’s not a melting pot, cultures aren’t like butter, they resist the heat, like cuts of meat they sear in the equatorial pan, infusing the other.
And despite the heat there is an endless hustle and bustle, an industrious heart beating a rhythm no-one can keep up with, or quite resist, begetting contrast and anomaly. Under the stormy skies, the street are ablaze with colour. Strip waxed malls and rat-littered markets, pristine mosques and ramshackle, roadside shrines; a candle burns in all.
Stephen, an Indian-Christian taxi driver, bamboozled our 50 minute ride to the airport with his vision of Malaysia, with his pride and love. One of the vignettes that stayed with me was blaming the laziness of the Malays on their coconut diet. But in nature, if the cats get too fat, then so do the rats. Here it seems the cat’s cradle is woven in the fabric of the law, so those without the right God stay lean. It appears Ganesha is needed to even up the obstacles.