I've always wanted to be able to tell stories, you know, stories that came from my soul. I'd like to sit within the confine of my comfort and tell people stories - make them see pictures, make them cry and laugh, take them anywhere emotionally with something as deceptively simple as words. I'd like to tell tales to move their souls and transform them. I've always wanted to be able to do that. Imagine how the great writers must have felt, knowing they have that power. Imagine what its like to be Mark Twain, Shakespeare, Stephen King or Me for that matter. I sometimes feel I could do it. It's something I'd like to develop. In a way, blogging uses the same skills, creates the emotional highs and lows, but the story is a sketch. I'd like to grip my listeners, get a group of people together and amuse them. No costumes, no makeup, no nothing, just you and your voice, and your powerful ability to take them anywhere, to transform their lives, if only for minutes.

So what can one say about this person? To many people I seem an elusive personality, but to those who know me, only they know that I am not. Well I may not be the world's most acclaimed entertainer, but I am very blessed with the ability to defy gravity as far as making opinions and statements count.

My public is perhaps unaware of the extent of my dedication to my craft. Restless, seldom satisfied, I am constantly challenging myself. Of course I spare myself the rod - but who wouldn't? Unless there is a demand for me to provide a startling glimpse of this artist at work and the artist in reflection, do not put yourself on my collision course. There is a gulf of difference between challenging myself to the limit against those with basic uncivilized problem whose attitudes have become quite unjustifiably negative. Whilst I spare myself the rod, you only have your wounds to lick.

As I begin to tell my story, I want to repeat what I usually say to people who remember the boy I was then. "I was so little and I really don't remember much about it." But here's what I remember. I remember my childhood as mostly "all play and no work." I wasn't forced into this misspent youth by tyrannical parenting. I did it because I enjoyed it. I did it because I was such a natural. I did it because I was "Born Free" - I think?? I was who I was because I was compelled by my own inner life in my own world of mischief.

A part of my earliest memory, there were times, when I'd come home from school and I'd only have time to put my books down and get ready for my daily routine. It's all about hard work, energy, commitment, conviction, determination… I had to earn it you know. It wasn't that easy, but at twelve years of age, I was already acknowledged as the most menacing son of a gun in the valley.

There was an enclave about two miles away from the family bungalow, and I can remember looking at those "kampong kids" playing hide and seek. I did not feel particularly brave with their kind of adventure. Because when these boys hide, BOY - they can really hide... matter of fact, some are still missing till now. I'd just stare at them in wonder - I couldn’t imagine such freedom, such carefree life - and wish more than anything that I had that kind of freedom, that I could walk away from the torture of education and be like them.

Our family's house was a post-colonial bungalow. It wasn't that big, but at the time it seemed much larger to me. When you're that young, the whole world seems so huge that a little room can seem four times its size. When I went back years later, I was surprised at how small the house was. I had remembered it as being large, but you could take probably fifteen steps from the front door and you'd be out at the back. It was really not that big, but when we lived there it seemed fine to us kids. We see things from such a different perspective when we're young.

My parents were a great provider. If they found out that one of the children had an interest in something, they would encourage it with every possible means. If I developed an interest in writing, for instance, my mum would come home with a nice fountain pen. I once developed an interest in cars, and I got myself a whole range of matchbox collectables. And then I developed an interest in soccer, and my mum bought me a top of the counter soccer boots. It was only when I developed an interest in guns, my parents realized enough was enough.

Even with six children they treated each of us like an only child. There isn't one of us today who's ever forgotten what a great mother my mum was. We may have lost her, but her children never lost that feeling. Because of her gentleness, warmth, and attention, I can't imagine what it must be like to grow up without a mother's love. We never had to look for anyone else with my mother around. The lessons she taught us were invaluable.

And then at twenty-two, I was to become a successful executive in a multi-national oil trading company. Success definitely brings on loneliness. It's true. People think you're lucky. Like you're born with your bread and butter serves in a silver spoon. They think I can go anywhere with my money and do anyone with my look, but that's not the point. One hungers for basic stuff. I was hungry beyond basic actually. I've learned to negotiate that curve better now and I don't get half as depressed as I used to.

Green was not so much my favorite color then. But when I got my first "American Express" at barely twenty years of age, green became better than good. It got so good that spending became fun. Signing was indeed fun; it was almost like leaving my autograph at every major shopping outlet in the city. The fun had to stop somewhere - normally it's at the end of the month. Till now, I've never trusted an advertisement that reminds me "DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT IT." With this in mind, I'd reckon that if there is anything that you should not leave home without, your damage would be lesser with a condom in your pocket than a credit card in your wallet.