Foul!

As published in Malay Mail today HARESH SAYS By Haresh Deol WE sat at the corner of a rather dingy eatery near the former Rothman’s roundabout in Petaling Jaya. It was there that Kumar shared his taxi driving tales over some tomyam. “It’s not pretty … just like this place,” he said, slurping the spicy dish while stray cats stared at us, hoping for a morsel. In his mid-30s, Kumar is a frustrated man. He thought he could make an honest living as a taxi driver in Kuala Lumpur. “But I hardly make anything these days,” he sighed. Kumar bought a second-hand taxi — a 2010 Proton Saga BLM — from a taxi company in 2013. He paid a down payment of RM2,500 and his “loan” had him paying RM47 daily for two years and five months. The daily payment includes the car loan, driver’s permit fee, installation of a natural gas vehicle (NGV) tank and insurance. Once he finishes paying the loan, the car will be his. But if he plans to continue driving, Kumar will...

Being Frank by Frankie D'Cruz, as published in Malay Mail today. AIMING for goal, the Land Public Transport Commission has hit the crossbar. The sudden and sharp increase in public transport fares is so out of touch, it’s untrue about the impact of government austerity measures on consumers. In probably the most depressing story of the week, the commission (SPAD) unleashed a triple whammy on the same day by sanctioning steep increases in budget taxi, express bus and commuter train fares. One thing’s for sure: The people get overrun and this sort of price hike frenzy will help no one. In what other society would such wide scale failure be tolerated? Failure - because Malaysian policy makers seem to have lost touch with the man on the street. Consider the whole issue that is becoming increasingly radioactive: The fare increases come before and after the implementation of the poorly explained goods and services tax (GST) on April 1. It wasn’t sensible of SPAD to anno...

Haresh Says, as published in Malay Mail today.   HARESH SAYS by Haresh Deol THE subject of taxis always hits a soft spot.   I am after all a taxi driver’s son. Although dad, whom I fondly referred to as papa-ji, did some real estate in the past, I’ve always preferred introducing him as a well-read taxi man.   With either a Reader’s Digest, Time magazine or a Malay Mail on the dashboard, he read whenever he had the chance. And it is through his fascination with reading that he was able to interact with people from all walks of life — from students to businessmen — easily.    He was an individual permit holder and owned a black and yellow Nissan Sunny 130Y for more than a decade before changing to a red and white Ford Laser followed by his last taxi, a red and white Proton Iswara.   He would leave the house at 6.45am — the same time he sent me to school — and would often return just before midnight. He made sure he ate ...