guardians of driving license photos...

I thought nothing would shock me anymore when it came to ingenuity of the Malaysian race and their ability to adapt just about anything into almost any situation. But pleasantly shocked I was at a polished display of resourcefulness yesterday, made necessary by the opportunity to make a few ringgit of course.

I had suffered the major inconvenience of losing my wallet out of my own carelessness. One of the things I had to replace was my driver's license. Now, I know that you need to bring photos with you to have a replacement done but I also did remember seeing an elderly Chinese chap operating a Polaroid camera in a makeshift studio at the JPJ, where you could get photos done on the spot. So I chanced it and went with almost no identity and almost no money , armed with nothing but a police report.

After taking a queue number from the information counter, a security guard taps me on the shoulder and whispers softly if I needed photos. I said yes and he takes my arm and leads me towards the outside of the building and points skywards (but toward the general direction of the car park) and whispers instructions to go to the guard house at the main gate.

I almost felt a necessity to tip-toe my way to my rendezvous point with the James Bond who would give me a sealed, self-destructing envelope with further instructions. At the guard house, I peep in through the window and who do I see? Not James. I saw a tiny man in a blue security uniform who didn't seem like he was a fan of speech or speaking. When I asked him where I should go to have photos taken, he smiles and signals for me to come into his guard house.

By now, I am highly amused by the whole cloak and dagger mystery. I enter the guard house (but not before I had to take off my shoes...) and in a corner is a swivel chair and a piece of blue cardboard stuck to the wall, as a backdrop for photos to be taken. I was trying to stifle my incredulous laughter by now.

He invites me to take a seat and proceeds to punch some keys on his mobile phone. I had assumed that he was calling for James with-the-camera Bond but again I was wrong. He swivels around on his chair to face me, points his mobile phone about 3 feet from my face and pulls the trigger. He pauses and then shows me the shot he's taken. Unsurprisingly, I looked like a bemused deer caught in headlights.

I'm not happy with the photo and ask for the picture to be taken again. In true Malaysian spirit, he simply says, "boleh" and proceeds to shoot again. This time, I looked a little more composed and said, "Ok. Now what?"

He asks me to go back to the information counter and wait for him there. He'd come to me in five minutes. So I do as I am told. Exactly 4.5 minutes later, he shows up with 8 photographs in exchange for RM10. That's it. Transaction complete.

This was one of the most bizarre encounters I have had in a long time but it was also the fastest photos I ever made, in the most number of copies and for a bargain; photo studios give you 4 copies of a Polaroid shot and charge you RM10 (some places RM12) and make you wait longer than 4.5 minutes for them to develop and crop the photos.

So the next time you're in the neighbourhood and decide that you need some photos taken, please do look up the guard house at PJ JPJ branch... no need to ask for James.