Immortalised by Kipling in 1901, at a time when Central Asia was seen by many strategists as the geopolitical centre of the world, now, in the early part of another century, 'The Great Game' is on again.

The first "Great Game" between Tsarist Russia and Britain was never cricket. It was a battle of wits and wills, and often a deadly one. For much of the 19^th century, these two powers fought a secret war across Central Asia, vying for the allegiance of powerful khans. Russia was expanding its empire and Britain was determined to protect the jewel in its colonial crown - India. Espionage came into its own at this time, and every imaginable disguise was put to use, whether that of a mendicant monk or camel trader.

The British writer, Rudyard Kipling, immortalised the term "Great Game" in his novel Kim in 1901, at a time when Central Asia was seen by many strategists as the geopolitical centre of the world.

Now, in the early part of another century, the battle's on again. But this time it's not so much for control of territory as it is for access to the region's rich reserves of oil and gas, as well as to its abundance of minerals. Also tantalising are its markets and huge reserves of petro-dollars, which more and more are being pumped into infrastructure projects as large numbers of people move into urban areas and demand electricity, water, transportation and telecommunications.

The axis that runs through the region extends from Shanghai to Istanbul, and for much of its length follows the route of the ancient Silk Road. Nowadays it is increasingly crisscrossed by pipelines and railways, for which reason some call it the "Iron Silk Road". The Stans - once part of the underbelly of the old Soviet Union - straddle this corridor, with a resurgent Russia across the top, China at one end and India below.

Symbolic of the new dialogue in the region is the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation (SCO) that was set up in 2001 by Russia and China, with Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan as members. India, Iran, Pakistan and Mongolia have observer status. Originally a loose security alliance, it now covers energy, nuclear power, the fight against organised crime and terrorism, plus health and education.

He used to be one of them, but now he says he isn’t. Should we trust the man with the goatee? Kimberley Lau ponders over Malaysian opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim and his claim to power.

“You should move overseas” is something relatives, friends and acquaintances advised when I shed my graduation robe and flung my mortar board.

“The pay is at least two times better, they appreciate you for your expertise and they have bacon at McDonalds!” persuaded a friend who was planning his move to Sydney.

For many young Malaysians, the country was a lost cause. A police road block immediately meant forking out money for an offence – imagined or otherwise, complaints fell on the deaf ears of the ruling coalition Barisan Nasional (BN) and racial disparity, a given. It was a put up or get out situation – and most chose the latter.

With the March 8 general elections results however, hope for change came for Malaysians like frosty beer after a long, hard day.

The opposition Pakatan Rakyat (PR) – made up of previously standalone opposition groups, captured five states and denied the ruling coalition its customary two-thirds majority in parliament.