I have been called many things in my life, but Gandhi? Do I even look like him? Come on? Sure, I usually cut my hair very short and all, but Gandhi? Don’t get me wrong. I totally respect him. He is the very definition of nonviolent resistance. But why call me Gandhi? How did this happen? Let me explain.
Not so long ago (About 20 minutes to me exact), in a land far far away (Mongolia is very far from Malaysia okay!), A group of young Malaysian Men decided to have dinner in a Chinese restaurant. So there we were enjoying our meal, when a young lad, came and pressed his face to the glass door of the restaurant begging for some money. We tried to pay him no attention, for though I know there are many needy people in the world, its almost impossible to help them from giving hand-outs. Allot of them are actually forced labor by gangs and some big gangster actually makes them roam the streets for money and then collects earnings from them. I try and help make poverty history by donating money to properly documented organizations and by volunteering where and when I can. Anyways, it was not long before the shopkeeper shooed him away from the glass door. We continued our meal, and then I looked out to the glass door and there he was again. He kept staring straight at me. Again the shopkeeper came and spoke a few words, and the young lad disappeared. We ate our meal in peace for a few more minutes, then the door opened, I looked up and the beggar was there. I took a closer look at him, and noticed he was wearing warm clothes. He had a jacket on, a scarf, a winter cap, proper shoes, the works except gloves. His hands were very badly soiled, fingernails totally black. The owner and him spoke for a while and she gave him a broom. The boy went out to the front, no doubt exchanging his service for a meal, and returned back about ten minutes later. The lady then took back her broom and passed the young lad a packet of rice, which he ate outside, eyes still looking in at me.
We finished our meal and it was time to go. Payed our bill and out the door we went, where the young boy was waiting for us. He totally ignored Tan and Jon, and went straight for me (Like I knew he would). He kept tagging at my elbow following me shouting “Gandhi, Gandhi, Gandhi”. I wiggled my arm and got loose of him and he kept following us for about 10 minutes till he finally stopped. I didn’t look back to see what happen to him , for I know to do anything would just invite further harassment.
Why did I know he would go for me and not the rest? Experience. Being half Indian has many advantages and benefits. I love everything about being Chindian, but the one thing I could love without is the harrastment and looks. It’s not just in Mongolia, though over here I feel it more than I have felt it in other countries like Vietnam and Indonesia. They hardly ever see people of my skin colour and they either stare like crazy or even come and try and physically disturb me. Only few days ago as I was walking back form dinner, 2 Mongolian men pushed me to a wall trying to pin me down in broad daylight. I quickly pushed him away and joined my 3 friends, who didn’t even notice what had just happen. Not the first time this has happen to me in Mongolia. Why me? I look different and perhaps they know I am a foreigner. Oh well, life goes on.

On this day in History..

• Come Fly With Me - 2003
• Big Buffollo - 2003
• 29,000 hits.... - 2005
• God turned on the winter button... - 2005
• I have a dream... - 2006
• The Tropics becons me to come to them... - 2006
• Of Mum's Place with Loretta - 2007
• Seoul Searching :- The Traditional Parade Video - 2007
• Seoul Searching :- The Traditional Parade - 2007
• Join us for our Jogathon tomorrow! - 2007
• "Keris a refuge for all", he says - 2007
• JJCM :- Cobaco, Seoul, Korea - 2007
• London Calling :- Chinatown with my Baby - 2008

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