Of Rich & Poor in KL city (photos by lola)

On the way home after a shop run last Saturday night, I saw a guy cruising out of the city in a drop top Carrera with a hot chick by his side. Enviably, they appeared to be having the time of their lives. Now if I were a betting man, I would wager that the beautiful, bright lights of Kuala Lumpur fading in their rear-view mirror must surely have set the scene for a dream evening in the case of this particular couple.


Not five minutes prior to this chance passing, I had driven through what must have been someone else’s nightmare. And all of this, ironically illuminated by the same beautiful, bright lights of the city skyline.


That’s the funny thing about big cities I guess. Look closely and you will notice the have and the have-nots obliviously living out polar existences not two feet apart from each other. One man’s trash thrown by the side of the road instantly becomes the lucky meal of the day for another.


Driving through Chow Kit in a light drizzle that night, a foul stench bade welcome to the city’s seedy underbelly. And it wasn’t just the air that was pregnant with a nefarious presence. You wouldn’t need to be clairvoyant to sense that some pretty ugly shit was going down behind the tinted windows of the hourly-rate hotels that lined the shadowy sidewalks.


While some look at it as the oldest profession in the world, I would also wager that its one of the worse. Turning tricks must be a nightmare, particularly if it is against your own will. And from the hardened look in the eyes of one young girl I saw that night, it must be one that leaves vicious scars.


I’d bet the characters you find roaming these mean streets every night have some interesting stories to tell. Stories of how they would want to live their lives if only someone gave them half a chance. Of where they would rather be. Where they’ve been. What they’ve seen. What they’ve done. Of their regrets. Of broken dreams and promises. If it weren’t for the stench, it would be enough to make you gag.


All I know is that at the very least, their stories and experiences would be just as interesting and just as valuable, if not more, than what some Porsche-driving bimbo-fucking yuppie could ever spew. But here I digress.


What I really mean is, if you ever find yourself engrossed in self-pity, questioning your self-value, or even loathing the bountiful gains seemingly bestowed upon others, it won’t hurt to pause, step back, and look at the big picture.

True, some have it better than most, while others suffer their own existence. But wherever it is that you may find yourself one day, you will have to own up to the fact that it was never down to the hand you were dealt with, but how you played your cards.