Once upon a time in Malaysia

Once upon a time there was a prince named Hubris.

He was the scion of old nobility, from a tribe of fierce warriors, not one of the mob of newly-minted lower lords infesting the country.

Prince Hubris saw what a previous king did to a couple of potential successors to the throne who had incurred the ruler’s displeasure.

He wasn’t going to test his mettle this way. He wasn’t that stupid. He would bide his time and display harmless, smiling subservience.

When that king with the iron fist retired, he was next in line to the throne.

When that king needed to sleep, Prince Hubris became king, the rise to the top smooth as international bank transfers, no need for conflict, no need to dirty the hands, just have dirty hands.

He started brightly. Call him Ah Goh (brother), as he expertly wielded a pair of long chopsticks tossing yee sang high into the air during Chinese New Year.

He was so strong he could bear kilos of garlands till his wispy white whiskers were almost submerged in yellow chrysanthemums during Hindu festivals.

He was so well-loved, foreigners were lending him billions of dollars to influence the people’s opinion of him, and he returned all of it because he didn’t need to buy the love of his people.

He had a Chinese sifu who taught him the Way of the Tao – life is fluid, water (in Chinese a synonym for wealth/money) must flow – and the king became rich consulting the master’s secret feng shui map of water channels in the world.

In the meantime, he promised the people he would deliver change.

He did – small change, $500, and the poor people were supposed to be brimful with gratitude for such a generous king.

The people were promised beef to improve their diets and all they got were a few luxurious cow-pens and one cow. Give up meat. Eat healthy grain.

The people complained that the dacings in the markets were all fixed to give wrong weight, but the enforcement officers cleared all the dacings, perfectly balanced.

The queen set up schools to polish rough stone into fine gems, and all the people saw were the resplendent jewels that adorned her.

He said he wanted more Chinese courtiers, but the Chinese knew that the only Chinese the king liked were foreign Chinese who had lots of money to lend and no say in the ruling of the land.

Everything was rosy, said the king, going out to meet the people, scattering $500 here, $500 there.

To show how fair he was, the king introduced a new Give Sapu Tax – fair and square, everybody pays, the rich spend more, pay more, the poor no money to spend, no tax to pay. His loyal fawners and sycophants went out across the land telling the people this was a good thing.

A couple of courtiers warned him the people were unhappy. They were banished from the court. Critics were put on trial.

When people started mocking him, the king made it an offence to laugh at him.

Along came an old man

Then an old man appeared and started gathering crowds when he spoke because he prophesied a great wave that would rise from heated depths and swamp much of the land, sweeping into the Palace of Putrid Success and flushing out the king.

King Hubris laughed in derision, dismissed the old man as demented after the failure of his bakery. His people loved him.

On May 9, 2018, as the old man, who turned out to be the former king, predicted, a great wave did rise from heated depths and flush King Hubris out of his Palace of Putrid Success.

When he abdicated, he still swore the people were wrong, they perceived him wrongly.

The people were not vengeful. They granted ex-king Hubris’ wish that, in abdicating, he would spend more time with his family. They ensured that he will have many days with his family at home, in between accounting for nine years of sloppy book-keeping, and handing over his ex-king’s pension to his overworked lawyers.

Ex-king Hubris can comfort himself with the thought that the crowning achievement of his nine-year reign came on his last day as ruler, when he made much of the country delirious with joy, waving flags, honking horns, screaming hoarse, crying in unbelievable relief.

Author’s note: Some fairy tales have frogs in them, and this one has dozens. Herpetologists may love them, but they are slimy creatures, particularly the political ones.

It’s a shame that Pakatan has accepted so many that have jumped out of the palace moat, considering that previously they were shouting abuse of the voters when frogs jumped in Perak.

There’s one in Sabah who should be in the Book of Records – seven times, I could be wrong, I stopped paying attention to this flighty amphibian after this third hop or so, obviously a frog after his own heart and nobody else’s.

So on moral grounds, I left out frogs in the story because the only good partners for frogs are slivers of ginger and rice wine simmering over low heat.

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THOR KAH HOONG is a veteran journalist. -Mkini