Sayang oh sayang

It came full circle.

It is hard to write about this. Very hard. But I’m finding the strength to write this not for the sake of exposing anyone, but to highlight an issue that affects all creative writers and writer-directors, especially. 

Siapa makan cili, dia rasa pedas “feel the pinch”!

I’ve shared this story with some friends. A couple brushed the situation aside with a casual "Ala, tidak apa lah...". But I am not that “tidak apa” Melayu.

Cut to the present; at the special sharing session by, let’s call this person, *Labu. Labu in previous life decides the “content” you watch on your goggle box. Labu shared his indispensable experience and insights earnestly, I have to add.

But throughout the session, I couldn’t shake the memory of my first meeting with Labu back in 2010 or 2011 at the majestic twin towers in muddy plains. It was a pivotal meeting for me. I was struggling to get the film completed. We met up at his invitation. I was eager. I needed to complete my first indie feature film, possibly the first Malay feature in Temasek since local politics made P Ramlee and gang abandoned the lion city in the 1960s. I brought my treatment along and hoped that Labu’s experience might help me bring my vision to life.

The papers were shared, Labu gave his input, and we caught up a little. It was remarkable, really - Labu, who had served national service in Temasek, had risen astronomically in the industry across the man-made landbridge. That same week, I was also meeting with my lead actor, trying to kill two birds with one stone.

It is an open industry secret that Labu allegedly got some *祖父 to be where he was - this industry, after all, is all about who you know, right?

Labu was straight up non-committal at that meeting.

Fast forward to end of 2013. I completed my debut feature film. The film went on to be gilded in the annals of Temasek Cinema.

Sometime in October 2016, a handful of concerned friends on FB reached out to confirm if it was indeed my indie film that was screening on television as a Chinese New Year holiday telemovie special on the Malay channel. I hadn’t sold any rights to my film for television, so I was taken aback.

I looked up the said telemovie. The premise - something about a daughter who tries to honour the memory of her mother by duplicating her mother’s recipe for the father. The actor who played the father was the same (!!) actor in my film. I learnt that Labu and another person, let’s call him Sardine who used to work extensively in Temasek island, were allegedly credited in the telemovie.

Back to the present; the sharing session. I was listening to Labu talk about the importance of collaboration in content creation, about reaching cross-border audiences and the complexities of international markets. Finally, I saw my moment and asked the question I had been waiting to ask for years. With the help of ChatGPT, I translated this into Malay:

“You mentioned the creation of content through collaboration and the importance of targeting content for cross-border audiences in different markets. So, how can intellectual property violations be enforced across borders?”

It’s not what was said, but how it was being said as our eyes locked.

I left the moment the session ended. That was all I could take. I got my payback in a face off after years of watching my original ideas stolen right under my nose. Everyday is a learning process.

A handful of friends suggested the obvious action I should have taken. The creative industry is one of a tight rope, cut throat industry. There are allegedly hundreds of Labus out there in the industry preying on the next naive creatives (musicians, writers, artists etc). This cycle never ends.

If you ask me, though, coming from the perspective of an independent creative, I’d much rather invest the little I have into writing better stories, or into funding the next project.

I hope the next Labu out there learns the hard way that they don’t get to play with the hearts and minds of others without consequences. May the next Labu not end up on someone else’s Halloween dinner table.

I hope Labu and Sardine sleep well.

*Labu = Pumpkinhead

*祖父 = Grandfather

Simplicity

The past couple of months have been intense. The work has been been challenging. Funny that I call it “work” at this point. They say when you do what you love, it doesn’t feel like work. or something like that, anyway. But hey, this is Facebook.

Lately, though, I’ve felt like I’ve lost some footing. When the work you love turns into managing egos 80% of the time, it can really shift your perspective. I needed some grounding.

This evening, I walked past my first cousin’s flat. It struck me how odd it was that we’ve lived in the same block ever since our parents were alive. It was the first time in ages that I actually glanced up at his unit to see if his lights were on.

Growing up, our families were constantly in and out of each other’s homes. We’d knock on each other’s doors without hesitation - no advance texts or calls asking, “Are you home? Is it okay if I stop by?” There was an effortless simplicity to it.

It being rather late so I just texted him - I wasn’t even sure if the number was current. 

(Back then, none of us would have cared about the hour - it was a Saturday night, after all.) It had been two years since we last spoke. No, none of those family drama - life just took over. When he replied, cautiously asking who I was, it hit me how much had changed. We chatted briefly.

The strain of my professional life has me longing for something real - connections that don’t require small talk or reintroductions. I miss the comfort of the people who’ve known me since before all the facades, before the curated social media versions of myself.

There’s something grounding about reconnecting with the people who know you by your childhood nickname, the ones who remind you who you really are. These are the connections that whisper it’s ok to lose a step sometimes because that’s what life is all about.