"I'M more than just my past!" he blurts out suddenly. The man seated in front of me looks a little forlorn after telling me that. His reaction is understandable, of course. There seems to be quite a fixation on Genkeswaran Munian's past in recent times.
Gen (as he's fondly known) had been in the news lately for his role in the award-winning documentary Wanted: Shades of Life. The documentary, which won a slew of awards including the LA Film Award for Best Inspirational Film, Filmcon Award for Best Documentary Feature, Festigious International Film Festival Awards for Best Indie Feature and Best Documentary Film Feature, highlighted his trajectory from convict to chess master. A moving tale indeed and one that has been receiving a lot of attention in the press lately.
Who doesn't love happy endings? The kind of "against-the odds" tale that depicts a man wrestling with his own personal demons and finally victoriously conquering them; the "tragedy to triumph" story that gets people cheering for the underdog. The trope isn't new, but the mixture of inspiration and schadenfreude almost always gathers an intrigued audience.
Yet, the stoic 45-year-old seems a little uncomfortable with the limelight. "You have an inspirational story," I say, trying to convince him. He shakes his head wistfully and gazes silently at the chessboard between us.
It's mid-morning and I'm seated in the sparsely furnished flat in Bandar Botanik, Klang, where Gen conducts his physical chess classes. "This is my centre," he begins by way of introduction, waving a hand around the brightly-lit hall.
Chessboards with their pieces neatly arranged are placed on tables arranged in clusters. The air-conditioner hums noisily as we sit in companionable silence for a while.
"I don't know how to play chess," I confess to him again, breaking the silence. His face brightens as he breaks into an easy smile. Chess is always a subject he loves talking about. "It's an easy game actually," he replies simply while his hand moves over the pieces absentmindedly across the board.
"Do you know…" he continues as he finally lifts a rook to another space on the board, "…that chess teaches us a lot about life?" As I shake my head, he answers his own question.
"Chess is all about sacrificing for the greater good. You sacrifice something in order to achieve a greater good. It's also about patience, and about understanding that it is the little pawns that are the soul of the game," he explains, adding that they (the pawns) determine the attack and the defence.
Continuing, he adds: "You'd think that the pawns are expendable when in fact, they affect the mobility of the bigger pieces!"
It's a lot to take from a mere chess game, I quip, and he smiles.
Putting the chess piece down on the board, he looks at me intently. "I used to simply treat chess as a mere game. But I've learnt a lot of life lessons from it."
Adding, he says: "For one, don't take the weak for granted. Second, children are important. So important that it is they who give us the distinction of being their parents. Treat the young well and they'll be your greatest blessing!"
HARD BEGINNINGS
His own childhood had been difficult, he reveals candidly. Born in Carey Island, Gen is the eldest of five siblings. His father was an assistant in the police force while his mother, a general worker, worked hard in both oil palm and cocoa plantations. Life at home was volatile. Gen grew up witnessing his mother often bearing the brunt of his father's alcoholic benders.
"He wasn't always like that. Unfortunately, his alcoholism was a burden that the entire family bore, especially my mother," he says quietly. His smile wavers a little.
Pausing a beat, he continues ruefully: "It wasn't an altogether terrible existence. There were wonderful moments, but they were few and far between."
Gen remembers helping his mother pluck cocoa pods, remove the seeds and bag them after school. "We had to work hard for everything," he recalls dryly, lamenting: "Children these days have it easy. Now they can eat chicken almost every day. Back then, we could only afford it once a month. Most times, we ate vegetables that we grew ourselves!"
Poverty and troubles at home drove Gen to seek out distractions that would soon put the young impressionable boy on the pathway of self-destruction. "I was influenced by friends, but I can't blame them for 'influencing' me. When you live a hard life, you tend to look for things to make it easier."
Looking for what, precisely? I prod. He looks uncomfortable, but elaborates anyway. "Alcohol, cigarettes, food… The things we couldn't afford to buy on our own. Mixing with local gangsters… our 'big brothers', gave us the opportunity to obtain those things. They'd buy us alcohol, cigarettes, even food at restaurants. We were obviously taken in by their 'generosity'."
Fights would break out between gangs at school and the young boy found himself in the thick of the action. Gen and his friends were no strangers to cooling off in the police lock-up for hours after getting involved in skirmishes and dust-ups. The distractions soon upended his studies. Gen dropped out of school when he was 17.
"I liked studying, but it didn't work out. I was distracted and not focused," he confesses, adding: "Coming from an estate life, I wanted to enjoy life to the fullest. I was tired of struggling and seeing my parents struggle to give us a decent life. Here was the opportunity to earn easy money and become 'somebody' by joining a gang."
It was a heady life. "We'd join our 'big brothers' and fight whenever there were turf wars and disagreements. We'd hang with them at nightclubs and would only return home the following morning," he recalls shamefacedly.
It was a "brotherhood" of sorts and for Gen, they were his surrogate family who offered him company, support and perks. Pushing back his spectacles, Gen grows quiet. He gazes at the chessboard in front of him thoughtfully.
"I was foolish and reckless but I didn't care. I thought being part of a gang and having people fear me would gain me respect," he muses.
DAY OF RECKONING
Gen worked at a factory in Teluk Panglima Garang after dropping out of school. He continued to be heavily involved in gangsterism and soon found himself holding sway over part of Carey Island.
"I was ambitious," he says wryly. "I wanted everyone on the island to know my name. If there was a fight, I'd be the first to show up. Before anyone can say anything, I'd be the first to throw a punch and start a fight. I desperately wanted to be somebody."
A fight broke out at the factory one day which involved police intervention. Gen and his friends were arrested. "For the first time in my life, I realised I was in serious trouble!"
Charged at court, he sought help from his "big brothers" to pay the stiff fines he was slapped with. "I asked them to front the money first and promised I'd settle as soon as I got out. I did have money, but couldn't access it from jail."
To his disappointment, they claimed they didn't have the money for the fines. "It was then that I realised I was being used," he continues, adding: "They obviously didn't care about my predicament. They only needed me and my friends to 'make the numbers' and fight their battles. I knew I had to find my own way."
His mother found him a lawyer, a former policeman, who helped the young man with his legal issues and advised him to change his ways and start contributing to society. Thankfully, he managed to evade a longer prison sentence and got out after spending a week in prison.
NEW CHALLENGES
After being released, Gen found work at another factory. "They didn't know about my criminal past, of course. I didn't disclose it. I desperately needed the job and a second chance," he recounts, adding: "Even though I was an SPM dropout, I was willing to change my ways and work hard."
One day, he was asked to attend a training session in place of his manager who couldn't make it. "I was reluctant at first, but they told me that there'd be good food and I could claim overtime. That was all the motivation I needed to say yes!" he recalls with a laugh.
The decision to attend the training changed his life. "I wasn't good in English so all I could get out of the training was just one tenet: 'Always speak the truth!' Being an ex-convict, speaking the truth was an alien concept. I vowed to always speak the truth once I returned from the training," shares Gen.
The decision to speak the truth earned Gen new friends. "I found I was no longer mixing with the friends I had. Somehow, I attracted a new circle of friends and that really helped me get out of that unhealthy lifestyle I was so deeply entrenched in the past," he shares.
The course deeply impacted the young man so much that he decided to pursue personal coaching from the trainer, who soon became Gen's mentor. "My girlfriend (now wife) paid for the coaching sessions. She believed in me even when I didn't have faith in myself," he confesses.
It was his mentor, who suggested that Gen should start teaching chess. "I was asked about my abilities and what I could do with them. All I could think then was the fact that I could play chess, badminton and football!"
Gen first learnt to play chess from his primary school teacher and had represented the district in chess tournaments. "Back then, we didn't have books on chess or coaches; we just learnt to understand the game and play!" he recalls dryly.
When he agreed to coach children, an anonymous donor donated 20 chessboards. "My coach told me that when I set my intentions, life has a way of affirming those intentions. Hence, the donated chessboards. I was cautiously enthusiastic at first. My first few classes didn't earn me much money. In fact, I lost money because I had to travel far to teach students," continues Gen. But his mentor kept telling him to press on.
His persistence paid off. His mentor soon arranged enough classes at several clubhouses for Gen to earn a good income. "I found I spent less hours earning as much as my monthly paycheck! I used the money, thanks to my mentor's advice, to invest in myself and hone my skills in chess. I started to play in tournaments."
But life wasn't smooth sailing as he would have liked it to be.
In 2006, Gen was hit with a personal tragedy. His father's alcoholism had taken a turn for the worse. Suffering from paranoia, the old man set himself on fire at home. "I received a frantic phone call in the middle of the night and rushed back to Carey Island," he says quietly.
Gen and his friend found his father with almost 80 per cent burns. The distraught son carried his father's body into the car and rushed him to hospital.
"I remember how my father's skin started peeling off. He was still conscious and speaking when I put him in the back seat. Halfway to the hospital, my legs started shaking. I couldn't drive so I told my friend to take over," he recounts, his voice low with emotion.
Gen's father did not survive. He grows quiet again. "Despite his struggles and weaknesses, my father was a courageous man. That's why he was a police assistant. I'd like to think I inherited his courage," he says softly.
After that devastating loss, Gen continued to be mentored and eventually started coaching consistently. Two years after his father's death, Gen finally got married and started a family.
His efforts in self-improvement paid off. In 2013, he was selected to represent the country at the Southeast Asia Games (SEA Games) in Myanmar.
"I couldn't believe that I was representing the country. It was so surreal," he exclaims, smiling. "I was so nervous that I couldn't sleep all night! But it also struck me that for the first time, I was at the right place doing the right thing."
Gen won the bronze medal. "I always wanted the respect of people. In the past, I tried to get it the wrong way. But here I was with the medal and now everyone was talking about me!" he tells me.
His craggy face suddenly breaks into a wide grin.
After his euphoric performance at the SEA Games, he decided to teach chess on a full-time basis. "I believe that children can learn a lot about life from playing chess," he reiterates.
Continuing, he says: "After I teach how the pieces move, I get into a lot of soft skills. There's a whole slew of emotional things happening in a single chess lesson."
The game, he adds, is being used these days more than ever as a powerful educational tool. It helps develop skills ranging from critical thinking and time management to sportsmanship and self-esteem.
"Everything that happens on a chessboard happens in real life," insists Gen. "When you sit at a chessboard, that is your universe and you control it. You have total control over your own life and it feels good… There is no luck in chess. If you win, you did it. That's powerful!"
His performance at the SEA games led to more classes being organised as his reputation grew. Schools began inviting Gen to conduct classes for their students. The bronze medal opened more doors than he could even comprehend.
He has not looked back since.
"Does your family play chess also?" I ask curiously. He grins and nods. His wife and children picked up the game by observing his classes. "I never forced them to learn, but they somehow did that on their own!" he insists, shaking his head incredulously.
His son is now a master chess player, Gen tells me proudly. Continuing his father's legacy, Genivan Genkeswaran is making his own name in the chess leagues, triumphantly beating a Chess Grandmaster at just 13 years old.
Gen's life has been transformed so drastically that it feels like a lifetime had passed since his brush with the law. "Life is different now. I don't really like to dwell in the past. What's important is the present," he stresses.
Continuing, he says softly: "I'm making a difference in the lives of my students. They're going further than I could possibly have and I'm proud of that."
He confesses to getting frustrated at being reminded of his past. "People like to ask me about my days as a gangster and I keep telling them that the story belongs to the past. Why not focus on what I'm doing now? I'm no longer the same person I was when I was younger."
The bespectacled man sighs and smiles. It's hard to imagine Gen as anything but this gentle, kindly man who thoughtfully prepared coffee for me. "Please have a drink!" he urges me with a smile.
What are your hopes for the future? I ask.
Gen smiles and takes his time to answer.
Shrugging his shoulders, he rearranges the pieces on the chessboard again. "To be a good human," he finally replies. "That's all I ever hope to be. To be a good human being."