Column - All in a week for wealthy Malaysia family

SINCE it is a Monday, I have decided I would take the day off writing about current issues. This week's piece is a satire with fictional characters.

Tan Sri and Puan Sri are sitting in their teak wood themed living room, enjoying their morning coffee. Tan Sri is in a glum mood and he has been like that for the past two weeks. His coffee grows cold, while he stares out at his fake grass garden which doubles as a putting green.

His foul mood started when he was barred from flying to London to celebrate his birthday, all because he didn't pay his income tax. And thus, the couple had to downgrade his celebration to the Kuala Lumpur Ritz Carlton – like mere common people.

Instead of asking his accountant what was wrong, Tan Sri had instead decided to ask for guidance from a higher power – God.

Thus, he had hired a valet to say a prayer for him in the Holy City, in hopes that God would be able to alleviate his problem. Yet, after two weeks, there has been no word from the valet, nor have his prayers been answered.

Now, he was considering if he should ask for a refund.

Puan Sri was also getting worried. After a week of her husband not getting any word from his "prayer valet", she had hired another valet to say a prayer at the Holy City as well – asking for guidance on how to assist Tan Sri and shake him out from his glum mood.

And she has yet to hear any word about her prayers either.

Puan Sri shakes off the distraction and looks at her phone, noticing an alert had gone off – they are due at the airport in two hours for a lesson on reading scriptures.

She reminds Tan Sri of the appointment, and he downs his coffee before heading up to get ready.

He hopes that guidance will appear soon enough during the RM33,000 per hour per pax scripture reading session on a private jet. The use of the jet was to remove all distractions in an effort to get closer to God.

Puan Sri is excited at the prospect of such an innovative idea on learning to read scripture away from the masses and up in the sky.

She would have to ask her friend Nancy if this is what she meant by joining the "Mile High Club" in her 20s as an air stewardess – albeit a religious compliant certified one.

Meanwhile, their son has just finished working out at the gym and returns to see them off, while also browsing Facebook.

He notices a video by the religious department which throws more light on the internal struggle of an aspirant, and recommends sublimating his desires by taking up a pastime like horse riding.

And what a coincidence, he had always wanted to be an equestrian.

He decides to try it out, heeding the department's advice to get married, but where could he get to know compatible women quickly?

He finds a service called "Certified Speed Dating" hosting a session at a cafe in Setapak.

Taking a shower and dressing up, he decides to hire a ride sharing service to the cafe. What a stroke of luck, a luxury car turns up.

The prodigal son sits in the comfortable car, while the driver lectures him on the need to pass a religious bill regardless of corruption in the government.

Upon reaching the location, and registering to take part in what comes next, he notices the cafe seems to be having issues serving the needs of its clients.

He reads some online reviews from users claiming "the cafe doesn't live up to its name" and one manager apologising for the "staff shortages" due to immigration rules and enforcement.

However, this does not stop him from taking part in the speed dating session, and finding a woman he is interested in – one who wears a shawl and dreams of marrying a pilot.

All in a week for a wealthy Malaysian family.

Hafidz Baharom is a public relations practitioner. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com