IT was on New Year’s Eve a few years ago. Just like many others, I dressed to the nines and went out to paint the town red to herald the start of another spanking new year. I was out celebrating with my friends at one of the trendy clubs at the Asian Heritage Row along Jalan Doraisamy in Kuala Lumpur.
At about two in the morning, I left the club to go home. When I went to my car, which was parked a few roads away from the club, I saw a lanky old man tottering nearby. He smiled at me and wished me: “Happy New Year”. Thinking that he was one of those pesky jaga kereta (illegal car park attendants) or hobos asking for money, I looked at him with contempt and ignored his greeting.
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