My friend Mr. Muthu passed away- May he R.I.P.

Mr, Muthu left the estates somewhere in the Bukit Mertajam area and decided to seek his fortune in the Georgetown, Penang area. He stumbled into the notorious Sungai Pinang, Kampung Selut area where i grew up as a kid. He worked at a construction site where they were building a Waste management Facility which was the first of its kind back when and off course it had to place right smack on the main street and next to the Local club house, the BAFC (Baharol Alam Football Club), our childhood pride and joy where we hung out as we grew older and more wild.Both these buildings still stand there today a testimony to cultural and racial, not to mention religious insensitivity on the part of the MPPP or whoever went about building this 'shit house' in my neighborhood and where Mr. Muthu found his life's calling. He was your average Indian surviver who made it through mud and redicule to live in the area till yesterday.
He was the little Indian gentleman who never failed to have a cheroot (curut) hanging from the corner of his mouth and walks around in his white skirt (dhoti?) and would refuse to wear a shirt in the evenings. His forehead is never without Lord Shiva's cigar ashes, ( I always teased him this and that). I would yell out at him for ringing the bell at the wrong time of the evening when the Malays all around are doing their Maghrid solat., and the sweet smell of Indian incense floating all over the neighborhood what did he think it was, we live in a perfume garden/ But i loved him for it, for every evening when Mr.Muthu tends to his small shrine temple within his courtyard I felt like a piece of history is slowly but surely fading into oblivion; who notices these little episodes anymore when we are too busy making decisions about who is more of a crook the Government or the Opposition.
As I looked down into his casket for my final farewell sharing of consciousness on this plain pf existence i noticed that he had the most restful look on his face, I almost felt like he would crack up the cheeky toothless smile of his wink at me then fall back to sleep. Vanakam! Mr. Muthu, Via con Dios, Go with God and find more stuff to recycle up there, teach them there that they can survive life by recycling alone, the cans and bottles , the card board boxes and the scrap metals you collected kept your family alive and I for one bow to your and am honored to have known you. I know there many who would miss you too around this village.