Remembering 'Shauqina'

It used to hurt whenever i think of my 'shauqina'. i did not understand why i must be feeling that way, to be pining that way, because it was wrong. very wrong. it is wrong to be feeling that way. and i promised that i will never go down that path again - enough for this once, i was caught unaware and when i realised what was happening, i was too deep in the quagmire to pull out. painful and shameful. that was all i can say here.

but enough.

Alhamdulillah, 'Remembering Shauqina' was finally 'published' at $3 per book. i had money for only 20 copies. The first copy I gave to Shifak, the little S4 girl with big eyes, who actually gave me the confidence to go ahead and publish and heck care with what others felt. She was always so encouraging, so sweetly supportive. The first book goes to her. I am keeping one for Lino - for she is among the S509 who have inspired me and kept me going to complete the book. Not forgetting she was the first to cry and asked me to change the ending. I might give one to Ishak, for he inspired me to write one incident based on his experience. But the irony is that, I will not give Shauqina to the person who inspired me to write on Zak. In fact, now that I ponder on it, Zak is a conglomeration of a few pple, existing in one. Confusing, huh?

but enough.

My S511 girls have been my staunchest supporters - they actually circulated the original compilation until the cover was in in tatters - they even had a list of names of those who have read the story and many more were on the waiting list but the exams was near.

I have put up the story on wattpad and the result has been alhamdulillah. :)
This has encouraged me to write more - am toying with the idea of writing a more adult tone book, you know - maybe focusing on Zak's family's dysfunctionality and writing in the third voice, to give more room to analyse the characters. :) InsyaAllah.

I also plan, insyaAllah, to put Arya on paper too, just for memory sake.

Ya Allah! Above all, may the pen you gave me be used to spread glad tidings and rememberance of you, my Creator, my Most Merciful Sustainer. And may the dream of forming a pool of English Muslim writers who inspire come true. Ameen.

Giving up

I seriously wanted to let go of everything. I could not stand the hurt of the silence treatment - what did I do so wrong that people refused to talk to me and look at me with 'that look?' I was hungry, had to eat, went up late, and then got the silent treatment. I was slow in my work - deliberating on the punishment, wanting to know the background of the offender, the logic to the offence - and I received the silent treatment. I did not understand the order of things, was blur and was dense - and still got the silent treatment.

So much for sisterly ukhwah.

So much for isolation.

Can't imagine to be in the same room and coming into the room - Bang! Cold blast of silence eating away at the flesh, the heart, the soul ... cruel.Very cruel.

My solace has always been with the students. When a troubled boy, who had just had his tie taken away smiled at me the next minute, i know i have touched him more than if i had just asked him to clean the toilet and stayed back for detentions. When students who were not there could come home and said 'Mdm was so sad she cried -', well, maybe the tears were not shed in vain. When i trudged wearily back to the staffroom and found my S1 mentees with a huge home-cooked brownie just for me, their Mentor, that speaks more volume than all the bonuses the school can give. Or would ever give. =)

Life is never easy, but if we could still smile above everything else, still feel Allah's presence in everythingelse, then the tears and the pain would have been worth it.

So, almost gave up. Almost.

Alhamdulillah, the students, the hope, the smiles and the tawakal finally won.

Pabila DIA berbicara

Dengarkanlah ketika DIA berbicara -
Dalam redup renungan senyuman suami yang memanjang
Dalam keberkahan ilmu ibadah anak-anak kesampaian
Dalam luas ketenangan akal, fikiran dan perasaan
Pada gugusan guguran butiran jernih iman keinsafan -

Disitulah DIA berbicara : 'Bersyukurlah'

Dengarkanlah ketika DIA berbicara -
Dalam jelingan sinis muncung bibir suami kedengusan
Dalam kebiadapan budi pekerti akhlak anak-anak keciciran
Dalam kekusutan minda, kegelapan jalan terang tiada di hadapan
Pada hati yang keras membatu - degil segagah gunung tinggi mengganang -

Disitulah DIA berbicara : 'Bertaubatlah'

Kata pujangga

 Untuk renungan bersama......

Kata pujangga
perempuan bagaikan angin
lembutnya melenakan
ributnya menggusarkan.

Adakalanya mereka seperti ibu
menyaji kasih, menghidang sayang
adakalanya mereka seperti anak
ingin dibelai, minta dimanjakan
adakalanya mereka seperti nenek
berleter seadanya, merungut semahuannya.

Namun,
merekalah insan yang terhampir
teman kembara dalam kehidupan yang sementara ini.
bahagia dan derita kita sangat berkait dengan mereka.

( i )

Psst....
Tiba-tiba isteri merajuk
pandai-pandailah memujuk
buka telinga, tajamkan pendengaran,amati suaranya
teliti dengan hati yang terseni
rasional atau emosi ?
andainya emosi, belailah emosi itu
jangan cuba dihadapkan secara rasional
kerana sidia tak akan terdaya
mengunyah hujah,berilah walau seribu sebab
lengkap dengan perangkaan statistik
atau dokumen saintifik
berserta dengan beberapa affidavit
dia tetap melulu kerana fikiran sudah berjerebu.

Dalam situasi ini
fikiran telah ditawan perasaan
sebaiknya, perhaluskan kata, perindahkan bahasa
jinakkan perasaan, hadiahkan senyuman.

Masih gagal ?
cuba gunakan sentuhan
semarakkan belaian.

Masih gagal juga ?
Tunggu saja rajuknya reda
emosi isteri
bagai riak-riak air dalam cawan
jangan digoncang...... buat selamba
lambat laun, gelombang akan tenang
air dicawan akan kita minum jua.

Tapi awas.....
kalau ternyata, rajuknya berfakta
masamnya berdata, geramnya berilmiah
marahnya ada prima facie
ini rajuk taraf tinggi namanya
perlu ditangani berhati-hati
kalau ternyata benar,apa salahnya kita terima
mengaku lalu berjanji serta berikrar
" Sayang abang tak ulang lagi "
katakan " Sayang....abang alpa "
bisikkan " Darling.. I lupa.."
hulurkan tangan, pinta kemaafan
pendekatan kasanova, tapi hati suci

Rajuk isteri seperti mangga muda
perisanya masam
tetapi...
kalau kena cicahnya
enaknya akan terasa.
ingat, api yang panas, padam oleh salji yang dingin.

( ii )

Arghh...
tiba-tiba isteri merungut
malah kadangkala agak mengugut
minta aksesori serta perabut
minta Villa yang tersergam indah
atau mahligai di lereng bukit
sedangkan kita bukan Shah Jehan
yang mampu membina Taj Mahal buat isterinya
tetapi isteri pula, persis Nur Jehan
yang meminta petanda keagungan cintanya
Katanya " Seabadi permata....
segermelapan intan " ...
sedangkan ditangan kita
cuma cincin tembaga.

Aduh...
peritnya mengukur cinta
dalam ukuran mayam atau menimbang setia
menerusi Bursa Saham papan utama
kasih isteri, turun naik
mengikut kadar tukaran wang asing.

Tiada guna menyesali diri
diakan dulu pilihan kita ?
semasa mekarnya
dia dihargai, dipuja-puji
dia kini sudah menjadi ibu
pada anak-anak kita
sudah takdir...
permata yang dipilih
perlu digilap semula.

Namun
putus asa jangan sekali
terimalah dia, dengan redha.
justeru isteri
pada hakikatnya
adalah bayang-bayang suami
wanita adalah tulang rusuk yang bengkok
luruskan dengan berhati-hati bertegas tapi jangan berkeras
lembut tapi jangan reput.

Katakan $ bukan segala-galanya
lalu pada saat yang kudus
setelah bersolat bersama
bisikkanlah " Duhai isteriku...
marilah kita bina perkahwinan ini
dengan cinta yang sejati
marilah kita kutip rezeki
dengan keringat tersuci
kita cari harta, tetapi itu bukan segala-galanya
padamu isteri,istanamu, di hati ini
padamu sayang
kalung cintamu, di jiwa ini."

( iii )

Puuuh...
Akan tiba masanya bila 'isteri' di hati tapi kurang di mata
usia meningkat kecantikan tergugat
dulu yang kita lihat mulus kini beransur pupus
betis, tidak lagi bunting padi
pipi, bukan lagi pauh dilayang
apakah dengan itu akan berkurang cinta kita ?
jika berkurang, nyatalah cinta kita
selama ini cinta di mata bertapak di body
tapi jika cinta tetap kekal malah semakin bertambah
ertinya cinta kita di hati, berpasak di budi.
itulah cinta sejati.

Namun tidak salah
di samping menyanjung budi,
kita merampingkan 'body'
kalau ada kesempatan
ajaklah dia bersenam, amalkan puasa sunat
tapi ingat niat kerana Tuhan
bukan kerana ingin kuruskan badan
tapi Tuhan Maha Penyayang
Dia pasti membantu isteri yang memburu keredhaan suami
tak salah kalau mohon kesihatan, kecantikan dan kecergasan
sama-samalah merampinkan badan
yang terlebih dikurangkan
jangan sesekali mencemuh apalagi menjauh
apa gunanya membandingkan isteri dengan perawan.

Bukan masanya lagi merenung dara
tapi kini saat menghitung dosa
lalu ajaklah isteri sama-sama menambah bakti
moga-moga cinta kita kekal ke hujung usia
di dunia ini dan di akhirat nanti
itulah yang dikatakan
hidup berdua, 'selepas' mati pun bersama.

( iv )

Uhhh....
Kekadang isteri mengamuk
dengan ombak prasangka dan taufan cemburu

Apa bukti setiamu suami ?
Apakah tandanya hanya aku di hatimu ?
kekadang disergahnya kita
ketika keringat masih membasah
baru menjengah pintu rumah.

Ketika itu nilailah diri
mungkin kita berdosa dengan Tuhan
atau bersalah dengan insan
mungkin banyak kezaliman dan penganiayaan
yang telah kita lakukan

Lalu datang teguran, amaran dan peringatan
secara 'indirect' dari Tuhan
hadapkanlah diri ke cermin hati
kaji diri satu persatu
kalau liar, berhentilah
kalau berdosa, bertaubatlah

Sebaliknya jika ternyata isteri yang melulu
nasihatkanlah baik-baik
bukan senang nak senang
ingatlah mustika kata dalam kitab-kitab tua
suami yang bersabar dengan isteri yang jahat
akan mendapat pahala Nabi Ayub
atau ingatlah pesan Sayidina Umar al-Khattab
ketika didatangi seorang suami yang dileteri isteri :

"Bersabarlah, kerana sesungguhnya isteri telah banyak
membantu kita. Dia yang menyelamatkan kita daripada
amukan nafsu.
Dia yang membantu menjaga makan minum kita.
Dia yang mencuci kain baju kita
Dia yang membantu membersihkan rumah kita...
lalu apa salahnya kita bersabar dengan sedikit kerenahnya ? "

( v )

Marilah sama-sama kita tabur secubit salji pada segenggam api.
Telah banyak kita dengar cerita keruntuhan, kisah perpisahan.
Marilah kita suburkan kembali pohon perkahwinan ini
walaupun sudah berdekad-dekad usianya.

Institusi ini adalah kubu terakhir kita.
Marilah kita pertahankan bersama si dia.
si diaku, si diamu
cinta kita jangan mati dalam arus dunia siber,
biar setia kita makin waja.
Biarlah skrin-skrin internet atau intranet memaparkan
yang indah-indah pantulan seri rumah tangga kita.

Bicara ini diakhiri dengan satu coretan
yang mungkin boleh diguriskan pada kad hari lahir isteri
atau kad ulang tahun perkahwinan
atau surat biru yang ingin kau utuskan padanya...

Atau kau pahatkan saja di halaman hatimu
pada malam nanti :

Aku hanya seorang suami
yang menerima setulus hati
seorang isteri.
Janji yang termeterai
di akad nikah kita musim yang lalu.
Salam kuhulur
buat menyapa hatimu nan luhur.
Bersamalah kita harungi
derita yang datang.
Bersatulah kita tempuhi
nikmat yang bertandang.
Denai perkahwinan
pasti dihujani air mata.
Biar kita rasa: rupanya syurga itu
sangat tinggi maharnya.

Isteri...
tidak kutagih setia, sesetia Hawa.
Atau kerinduan menggila Laila
yang sangat dalam.
Terimalah kehadiranku
di sudut tersuci di dalam hatimu.....
seorang isteri.







 

Tears

Much tears shed
Much tears shared
If the shed and the shared
Are kaffarah for my sins -
Ya Rabb!
Grant me the softness of heart
For tears shed
Grant me the strength and wisdom
For tears shared
And let not me be among those who are deaf, dumb and blind.
Aameeen.

Hiatus

Not that i have stopped writing-
What i don't care to write about are mundane, meaningless happenings,
What i do care to write on are oft times - too complicated, too close to the heart, too close to TRUTH
I rather let be seen whats supposed to be seen -
And leave the unseen, unspoken - to the One who Sees everything...
Allahu Hafeez...

Before you marry, son

You have all most probably heard the touching advice the mother gave to her daughter just before her wedding day. But have you heard of the advice of the mother given to her son? Happened to come across this - so here goes:

My son,
Choose a wife, if you must, for her beauty
For that beauty will make you always want to see her
Will make you proud as you parade her before others
Marry her for her beauty, if that's what you want

My son,
Choose a wife, if you must, for her status
For that status will make you strong in the eyes of others
Will open up doors to earthly pleasures and powers
Marry her for her status, if that's what you want

My son,
Choose a wife, if you must, for the Faith that is in her,
For her fear in Allah will fill your house
with rememberance of the Almighty
For her patience because of Allah
will make her a tireless servant in the house
For her acceptance in Allah's Will
will make her have you in her mind and soul
will make her puts you above all the rest
always

an oasis of peace-
a well of wisdom for your progeny-
She might not be a Beauty
nor a Somebody
but her face will calm you in times of anger
her Iman will elevate you in times of distress
her sense of responsibility will make her try
to be the best mother possible
For your wife might not go to heaven because of you
But YOU will not go there too because of your children

So, should all beauty, status and even love be gone -
at least there's that face that will calm you
at least the laughter will soothe your jittery nerves
at least the smile will make all things seem right and bright
at least her brains will help you see things clearer and better
at least her Iman will lead your children and you to happiness
in this life and the next

Choose a wife such as her, then
if that's what you want

Meander

Not Asiyah

Not Zulaikha

Nor Yusuf

Certainly not Firaun

Just two rivers

meandering

Gloriously going

two separate ways

two separate paths

under the same skies

under the same sun

La' sekufu

Emotional Roller Coaster

Last Friday, 8th April was an emotional roller coaster for me. It had been a most gruelling 'emotional' two weeks before that - what with a major offence on top priority - meeting parents, meeting siblings - trying not to be too affected by it, when in all seriousness and sincerity, I just wished I wasn't one of them to handle such cases. Worst, I teach this child and it was not easy to stay cool in class and went on with lessons. It wasn't. But, alhamdulillah, the isolation week for him went on fine and I think that it was the most impactful isolation period we ever had. But that Friday was like the finale of it all. In the morning, caught a S5 girl in the lift still listening to her phone. It wasn't like I was purposely looking for anything amiss - but hey, her earphones were sticking out visibly from her tudung. Very disappointed as the students were just reminded of this rule the day before. Contact time for students were filled with a briefing on minor and major offences by LCs in the Auditorium. Before that, in class, we had our usual public speaking for the pupils in preparation for their MYE Oral Exams. One of the girls, stood up and said calmly that she wanted to help her parents financially when she graduated. Then, she did the unthinkable - she covered her face and cried. Just like that. She was a jovial girl, always the smiley one and the responsive one in class. Her reaction took me completely by surprise and I felt so guilty. Because I knew her father. I knew how hard he tried to make it for the family. I just felt guilty and that is between me and Allah. I was touched- deeply touched. Then the auditorium briefing, which went okay, I think, but then again, those who know me would know how much I feel uncomfortable talking to a huge crowd like that. I could feel my face going red at times. After solat Jumaat, I had to hurry up to the eighth floor to talk to a S4 class regarding class punishment. Along the staircase, at Level 7, as Allah would will it, I found a note written by a girl to a boy. Hmmm..not good. Not good at all. At the S4 class, Ustazah Rabiah was with me. I started okay, I guess, but as I spoke, I don't know, guess things overwhelmed me and yah..I almost lose it in the class and managed a quick salam before I moved out and yah...it was bad. Luckily, I was alone in the lift and went straight to the toilet to wash my face and to calm down. It's not easy being someone in the discipline field. It is an amanah that must be fulfilled to the best, and may Allah forgive me for all my miscalculations and misreading of the cases. Alhamdulillah, we practised syurah and that really make decision making easier and less influenced by personal agendas. There are of course most fulfilling times when you see a flicker of understanding in the eyes of the pupils that you speak to, their sense of regret and desire to be a better person after you talk to them. These are small/meagre compensations for the sleepless nights and endless worries, but these are the things that I guess keep us going, knowing and hoping that what we do and say today, has help at least one soul out there to have a brighter future. InsyaAllah and Ameen! :)

And Jane said, "Enough."

The other day, we were doing work in class when a student came up to me to ask some questions, which was normal enough. What was abnormal was that her eyes were red, and she punctuated every sentence with tears. Hmm..very abnormal. Indeed. We came to a point where I was like 'Okay, that's it...need to get to the bottom of this.' So I pulled her out of the class and thought about my questions - tears like those to a girl her age can mean many things - a broken heart (but she looked the down to earth sort of girl who would not dabble in BGR), school stress (but she is an intelligent girl), friendship stress (but she is well-liked by her peers)...so I decided to go for the jugular vein - "Are your parents quarelling?" BINGO. The tears flowed and she was sobbing then...

It never amazes me everytime I heard this from my students. My parents are quarelling. My parents are separating. My parents hate each other. My parents are divorcing - blah, blah, blah... Dear parents, please stop asking your poor children to take sides - they are also humans with feelings, and worst still, if they are older, they are at the age where they feel the pain more. They do. They'll feel betrayed that at the age where they should be feeling the first sweet pangs of crushes and puppy love, you had to bring them down to earth and make them see the ugly side of marital life. Not fair. Not fair indeed. And very selfish. Dear parents, get this - your life, as you have known it - is 'over'. Give your kids a break and let them LIVE. They deserve all the hopes of a better life. You have got yours. It's payback time - help, guide your child to look upon the world with eyes of compassion, with hearts full of hopes to better this world and live theirs to the fullest. You owe that much to them. You're their parents. They see this world because Allah has chosen you to bring them forth. LIVE for them. And if really life is unbearable to be with the significant other - that you'll rather have the physical abuse, the bruises and broken bones, rather than suffer the mental abuse of feeling you're the lousiest of the lousiest, the most idiotic of all idiots -then have the courtesy, rational mind and unselfishness to leave the kids alone - settle your differences like real adults and don't make them choose or feel guilty or worst, feel like they are responsible for the mess you have created. Please. Let them live...really live.

And child, - IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT! It never was. How could it be your fault? So don't bear it too hard on yourselves, alright? Stay focused on your business at hand - which should be to study and get the best results - for that is your future. You deserve it - that bright future. Go for it. And if your parents are not there beside you, then I pray that Allah will give you good friends who will guide you towards goodness, towards being closer to HIM. And dear students, you have the most powerful weapon ever - doa. Prayers. Sholat. If your parents have failed you, if your friends desert you at the most direst times - then please believe that Allah never will. EVER. He is always there by your side - even closer than your jugular vein.

So hold your head high and persevere to do good and be good. And may Allah be with you all the way - which HE will - if you let HIM to... Ameen.

And if anybody should ask me what do i know about marital problems, mental abuse and broken dreams, then I will look them in the eye and give them a classic Patrick Jane's answer:

"Enough."

Life

When I was in secondary school, I thought I would never reach 21 years old. Being that old was beyond my imaginings. Life then was full of concerns for friendship, parents' nagging, homework, nasty teachers, crushes (yes, even in a girls' school) and of course - hockey. That was my world then and it was REAL, very real to me, the teenager. Nobody else had problems like I had - or so I thought. Nobody understands my angst - or so I thought. My friends and I went 'happily' about our living - believing that life, the world, the universe, revolved around us. And so we thought. :)

And as I reflect, I was pretty much a day to day person - which was good, and bad, at the same time. It was good because I basically did not have expectations of life, as it is. Life was to be lived as happily as I could, as piously as I could, as goodly as I could and as sinlessly as I could, especially in relation with others. :) I had no expectations of who or what kind of person I would want as my husband, as an example. Not like my friends whose list of what they look for in a life partner was pretty long, I can assure you. :) Which was good. On hindsight. :) A day to day person means you don't exactly plan for your future - which I think is bad. Alhamdulillah, financially I am alright, but I do have friends who have PLANNED well ahead and alhamdulillah, they are stable, really stable financially now. :) Which is good. Very good.

And so it is, with every major phase of my life. Never thought I would live this far. But, Alhamdulillah.

And of course, at 45, age is catching up on me now. Fast. :) Which is good. And bad too. Of course. :) The fact that I am reminiscing now is a sure sign of old age. :) I remember easily my students' father's name, rather than theirs. Which is bad. I sounded just like my Cikgu used to... I'll remember Ngaliman, rather than the poor boy's name. Sorry. Hadi is now serving NS. A policeman. Halim will be 21 years this March, insyaAllah. A legal adult. :) I looked at the happenings around me and go like - "hmmm..this seems familiar - dejavu" or I would looked upon events and people, almost cynically, knowing, and I mean, REALLY knowing, that some people won't change, ever, and that some things you really cannot change. Ever. Fatalistic? :) Hmm...I would like rather to think of it as acceptance. Acceptance of a Will higher, stronger, most powerful, yet most Compassionate than anything or anyone else. Alhamdulillah. I rather leave everything to HIM now, than to bank on anything on anyone else. It is simpler that way. And more peaceful too. Alhamdulillah. :)

However, youth is all around me. When I look on my students, I remembered how I used to be and kind of understand if they think of themselves as invincible to death, to diseases, to all things bad, because the young do look upon the world with rose-tinted glasses. Yes, you all do. Really. I have sons who keep me up to date with the latest music, the latest fad, the latest gossips, the latest of the latest. I think. :) They introduced me to fb and I experienced its usefulness and saw and fall prey too, to fb's darker side. I have a four year old daughter who always brings out the child in me and we will be having loads of rubbish fun fooling around. Well, I did, anway. Did you too Nina? :) To reach to her, to them - my sons, my students - I have to try and understand their life, this age they live in and sometimes speak their lingo too. As it is.

So at times, youth and age collide. :)

Ergo, how do one grow old gracefully and beautifully? I think growing old is not about feeling young, or looking young forever. That would be so awful and so superficial. Nobody would find it 'cute' or 'cool' to see a 45 year old who dressed and looked like someone half her age. That is twilight zone, for sure. :) I think the trick is to be able to look on things and people with the wisdom of age - knowing, understanding, yet not 'living' that youth. But I think it is also wrong for age to make you jaded, or cynical, or stop 'growing'. (Which I am in danger of becoming...) One must still be able to look upon Allah's world with awe and curiosity, for only then will we appreciate this life that we have been given, this 'choice' HE has made in choosing US to live, to be born. I am reminded of The Mentalist - who reads people accurately, who looks on things with understanding, knowing there are layers to what meets the eye - the wisdom of age. Yet, you would see him the next moment grinning like a six year old as he sat on the harvester for the first time.

Afterall, our dear Prohet s.a.w enjoined seeking knowledge from the cradle to the grave. Our Prophet s.a.w also said Allah blessed the young man who acts wisely and elderly. Of benefit is the servant who reminds himself always of the certainty of death. White hair is like light. Blessed are those who use the walking stick even though he does not need too. :)

May our age be blessed and may we all grow old gracefully and meaningfully. Ameen.

Hajj Contemplations 4: Death comes easily - As HE wish

There were many sudden deaths up there. On our way to Muzdalifah, the traffic jam indicated an accident and sure enough, I saw an African brother lying on the road, in full ihram - and in his own pool of blood. Syahid. InsyaAllah. For our Prophet Muhammad s.a.w once said that the person who died in ihram, bury him in his ihram, for on the Day of Judgement, that ihram will be his witness. MasyaAllah... what touched me were his friends - there were about three of them - and all of them, skin dark, ihram white, looked either forlornly at their slain brother or had a lost look about them. You see, me and my fellow Malaysians had a coach to ferry us from Arafah to Muzdalifah. However, these pilgrims, as many, many others, WALKED from Arafah to Muzdalifah. Those brothers must have tried to cross the road when the accident happened. And Muzdalifah was just across that road, a few steps away...


In Mina, an old Chinese pilgrim sat by the fence, apparently tired. He was alone. On my friend's way back to our tent, he was already covered with newspapers. Our own jemaah, an old man, went for umrah with his nephew and got separated somehow from the young man. The cleaners found him sitting down quietly at the Saie. He was sitting for a long time and of course everyone thought he was tired, being old and such. The cleaners got suspicious - went up to him. And yes - Innalillah. Another jemaah came to Mecca with her mother. She was just in her early 40s. They just reached the hotel, when the mother found her pretty sick, went down to get the doctor - and found her already lifeless. Apparently, her diabetes level went up so high, she must have entered into coma. Innalillah. She was supposed to protect her mother, but Allah called her to HIM first.


It rained twice in Mecca - which was quite an extraordinary thing to happen, for the locals said Mecca normally experiences rain only once a year. On both occasions, alhamdulillah, I was in Mecca. The first time it rained, there were thunder and lightning and it was pretty scary, to be in Masjidil Haram and to see the lightning flashing outside the walls and windows. When we went out after Isya' prayers - there was flood! Right at the courtyard. Flashflood. A person went syahid they said. The second time it rained, I was in my room - alone, because all of my roommates were at the Haram, performing their tawaf haji. As soon as it rained (I remember the strong winds), I could hear very loud takbirs all the way to my room - it was surreal. Then I heard the ambulance sirens - many, many sirens. When my roommates came back, they told of how while they were doing the tawaf at the Mataaf, pilgrims from inside the Haram ran out INTO the Mataaf (they believed that those doing the tawaf during a rain will get their sins washed out by rain) - and of course, being slippery, many fell in front of my roommates' eyes. And some were stepped on. Innalillah.

My husband sat beside an Indonesian who recounted how he and his group were pushing their way across the flow of tawaf, to get to the Hajar Aswad, when one of them fell, and the rest fell like dominoes. He saw his friend's face crushed by the pilgrims and he freaked out - he pushed back out of the flow. Innalillah. Six Indonesians went syahid that moment.

While waiting for my husband to finish his prayers, I was outside the Saie area, at the courtyard. It happened to be the pathway where the bodies of those who died were carried into the Haram for their last prayers rite. And so I saw, almost ten bodies, one after another, passed in front of me. You can tell their nationalities by the clothes worn by their bearers - they were Indonesians, Chinese, and Pakistanis, I think. Only one jenazah had his face exposed - an old Indian/Pakistani man. Was I scared? Not at the moment. Death, then, was as real as Life. After every prayers, we would surely solat sunat jenazah too. It became routine, part of solat at the Haram and Masjidil Nabi.

I felt the transience of life - that this life inside of me was truly not mine to hold and control. It is HIS. Awesome. So, what do I do with this life? This amanah? Truly and simply, to be good and do good with HIS help, HIS taufik and hidayah. For it is also HIM who choose whom HE wants to be good and do good. THAT, is a scary thought. Very scary. What if HE does not choose me - Naauzubillah. Ya Allah! Have mercy on me and my family - please keep us always on YOUR straight path and not let us leave this world except with your name on our lips and minds. Ameen.

Our ustaz said those who passed away there were the chosen ones - called back by Allah while at HIS HOUSE, in HIS blessed. InsyaAllah, Jannah is awaiting all of them - MasyaAllah.

Question is - do you want to be among the chosen ones? Did I want to be among the chosen ones?
Your answer is as good as mine.

A 16-year old's wisdom

".......And we fight, through the hurt
And we cry and cry and cry and cry
And we live and we learn
And we try and try and try and try

And its up to you
And its up to me
That we meet in the middle
on our way back down to earth

"....when there's no road
to get to your heart -
......let's start over again...


And so sang a 16 year old boy. -JB-

Have you?

Have you ever seen a father pulls a switchblade, opens it, and puts the blade on a table in a restaurant, in full view of the public? One of his son teared and the other was fuming mad.

Well, I have.

And it could only happen in JB.

Hajj Contemplations 3: Brothers and sisters in Islam

Imagine the Irsyad field. Imagine that on every inch of the field stands an Irsyadian. There is hardly any space which separates them. Packed? Crowded? Unimaginable? That is about the closest I can try to describe the scene we went through daily as we walked on Masjidil Haram's courtyard. Only that the Masjidil Haram's courtyard is at least TWICE the size of IRsyad's field and that our brothers and sisters came in every shape, sizes and colour you can imagine. If you came late for a prayer, you might just have to literally stepped over legs and prayer mats, albeit trying to be apologetic at the same time. Feet fascinated me. The Nigerian ladies hardly put on shoes, nor do the Pakistani men. HOwever, these ladies are most creative - they had their feet smeared with henna and by covering their soles and half of their upper feet with this medicinal adornment, their feet actually looked like they were wearing darkish orange footwear. Since they go about bare-footed, henna seemed like an excellent, natural foot protector. Ingenious...



To say I was overwhelmed by the ukhuwah is still such an understatement. There is always magic when a Turkish or South African or Chinese sister smiled at you. I once peered into a prayer book of a Chinese sister and was fascinated by the Chinese characters/translation right underneath the Arabic text. Yes. I was. I had never seen the Arabic language translated in Chinese characters. Where we could not communicate, a smile would suffice to break all boundaries of languages, all cultures, all customs. We were one. To know that the about 3 million pilgrims there with me was but just a slice of Allah's believers on this Earth was humbling - most humbling. Yes. All pretensions and arrogance and distinctions of nationalities disappeared. We were all Allah's servants, after only one thing - His redha.



The Indonesians are the most well-organized, most visible. Each group coming from different districts wore their own distinctive 'uniform' - they drapped themselves in colourful scarves or wore different coloured batik outfits. They are also most systematic and organized - they would always move in their own groups, complete with matching flags and banners. Imagine a whole flock of pink-scarved or glitzy yellow scarved pilgims circling the Kaabah and you could guess how awesome they looked. There is definitely strength in numbers and togetherness. They are also the most congenial and most generous with their smiles and food. This, when you take into account that most of them are not well-off and came from remote Indonesian villages, who could barely afford the flight fees. However, they also had the most visible number of young pilgrims for apparently the younger ones could get bank loans easily and could repay at their own ease when they get back from hajj.



The Pakistani and Turkish men are the most caring to their womenfolk. They would walk their women into the women's area in Masjidil Haram, sternly warned their women not to move from that particular place and then walked off to the men's section. They'll be the first to pop their heads over the dividers, looking for their womenfolk again. Towards the end of my stay, Masjidil Haram started looking like a family picnic ground - the Turkish and Pakistani pilgrims would be having meals in the Haram itself. Also, men and women pilgrims could be seen side by side praying, something which I never got used to. It even irked me to have the presence of men just behind me or in front or anywhere where I could sense them.

There were also times when I am reminded of those who are back home. It became something I looked forward to. I 'saw' Mdm Suhaidah in a Japanese pilgrim, 'saw' Yati in the sparkling eyes of an Indonesian sister - was that 'Cikgu Zul' on the escalator? Yes, there was 'Ms Amnah' and 'Dyja' too. Was that 'Harith' cave at Uhud, where the Prophet s.a.w took refuge when he was injured? Or were my ears playing tricks? I used to 'see' Ariff Tan in the faces of almost all the Chinese brothers - there was old, wrinkled 'Ariff Tan' as he talked to his wife, there was 'Ariff Tan' in the sprightly young Chinese guy as he breezed past the marbled floors. There was a time too when I would be seeing 'Abu' almost everywhere... You'll have to guess in whose pilgrim's face mirrored his... :) And Ayse, dear Ayse..I saw 'her' in the faces of the lovely Arabic and Turkish ladies.

And thus, it goes without saying that Islam unite people of all races, creed and colour under the umbrella of Allah's Oneness.

( One thing that impressed me was the fact that English - despite its aristocratic nobility and status related standing when well spoken - was pretty redundant and obsolete back in the Land of the Prophet s.a.w. and in Allah's House. The same could not be said of Bahasa Melayu/Indonesia - that was extensively used. You know that the shopowners took pains to learn a few useful phrases - proof of the economic pull of knowing that language. I felt proud to see even translation in Malay at the major signs in Masjid Nabawi! The Arabic language was supreme - and it was beautiful when I heard it being spoken with all expressiveness. And the words of Allah were mesmerising in the simple beauty with which they were recited in His House. Yessir. Arabic lessons would be my top priority back home, insyaAllah.)

Hajj Contemplations 2 : Madinah al-Munawwarah

Sallu ala Rasulillah, Habibil Mustapha

Peace be upon the Messenger, The Chosen One

Khairu-khalkiillah

Madinah is a peaceful place. The people are friendly, courteous and always smiling. The shop owners would greet us with ‘Malaysia baguuzzz!’ and 'Lihat dulu' in all the glory of their Arabic tongues and slangs. The weather was cool – wonderful, for Madinah was about to enter its cold season. Madinah wasn’t humid – the air was dry. It was however, pleasant to walk in the vicinity of Masjid Nabawi. There was hardly any cars during the day and the peace and splendor of Masjid Nabawi beckoned one always, enticing and drawing hujjaz to its blessed courtyard and even more blessed occupants, Prophet Muhammad s.a.w, Saidina Abu Bakar r.a. and Saidina Umar r.a. One goes about one's daily live always with the consciousness that one is within the presence of Allah’s Chosen One and his blessed, trusted Companions.


We would wake up at about two in the morning and walked to Masjid Nabawi, a mere five minutes’ walk and it was safe – for there were already throngs of other pilgrims making their way there too. We would be greeted as usual, by the lady guards – and they were fastidious in searching our bags, looking out for camera handphones. My Blackberry more than once was to be sent for ‘Titip amanah!’ (safekeeping), of which I promptly went out and went in through another gate. These lady guards were something – I always wondered who they were behind their black veils – they were very thorough in their work – so trustworthy were they that no ladies could go by them without our bags being searched. Some were task-oriented but some were very kind and apologetic. These ladies could speak a splattering of Malay phrases albeit in the Indonesian slang. They would address us with ‘Ibuk! Ibuk! Jalan Ibuk, jalan!’ or simply pushed us if we failed to understand them! Their voices were shrill and high-pitched and my room-mates remarked that if I were to put on the dark veils, I could pass as one of these guards easy enough!

When we visited Jabal Uhud, I fell in love with it all over again. Jabal Uhud never fails to fill me with awe and inspiration. Truly, the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w has spoken that Uhud loves us, and we love Uhud. How true! To be there, reliving the Uhud battle, internalizing the sacrifice of our early Muslim brothers is an indescribable experience. To look upon the graveyard of the martyrs, to feel the reality of their existence even in death, was a motivation for me not to be so consumed with the humdrum of trivial daily living. Allahu Akbar!

Above all, I could feel the presence of our beloved Prophet s.a.w in Madinah, as if he is gazing down upon us. Throughout the eight days there, I could visit him only thrice and later found out that I was lucky to visit Raudhah for that many times. To visit the Prophet s.a.w’s Maqam, you have to wait and wait and wait – obeying instructions from the lady guards and when you finally are allowed in the Raudah, it became a mad rush to be near the Prophet s.a.w and to do solat at the pillars. There were several deaths at the Raudah towards the end of my week in Madinah. A lady hujjaz was crushed as she lay prostrated at one of the pillars. I was able to perform solat during my first and second visit, but on the third visit, we were packed literally like sardines that I did my solat standing. The emotional euphoria was overwhelming there – the thought that the blessed jasad of our Prophet s.a.w was behind that iron grill would send any believer into a surreal existence, of going back into time and imagining our Prophet s.a.w there, at the Raudhah praying, walking, talking to his Companions, receiving guests, being with Aisyah r.a, imagining him smiling, radiant – a leader, a husband, a friend, and above all, Allah’s Chosen one, Habibil Mustapha. Ya Allah! Please accept us, our children, our family, our friends and relatives as the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w ummah who will receive his shafaat – Ameen Ya Rabb!

To visit Madinah is to know that what you read of Prophet Muhammad s.a.w, his family, his companions - his live, his sacrifices - are all REAL. May Allah let us visit you once again, Ya Rasulullah s.a.w. ! Ameen..

(Five days into our ziarah in Madinah, just five days of separation from our family back in Singapore, when I was still grappling with the emotional bliss of being in Madinah and the pining for those I left behind, one of my room-mates, Kak Mas, burst into the room crying, “Kenapa dia pergi dulu! Anak saya dah meninggal!” Shocked, I was by her side when she tearfully recounted that she had just received news that her youngest child, an 18-year old boy, had passed away suddenly on his first day of work in Singapore. He was breathless, fell unconscious, and passed away. Just like that. Innalillah… All four of us, her room-mates, were speechless. I felt numbed and could only sympathized with her – as any mother would -imagining how she felt, how it would be for her to go back only to be greeted with one family member less.How strong she and her husband were to continue with their hajj ibadah in all humility and acceptance and still believing in the goodness of Allah's Will - all for the redha of Allah s.w.t! I felt ashamed too, again, and thanked Allah no end, for at least, insyaAllah, my separation with my children was for 44 days, not for eternity until Qiamat. Ya Rabb! How You teach this silly servant of yours the Greatness of Your Will and the beauty of Your Mercy…)

Hajj Contemplations 1 : The Reluctant One

All Praises and gratitude be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds and prayers and blessings be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w., to his family, his companions and all those who follow him.



Alhamdulillah, my husband and myself are safely back in JB on Saturday, 27th November. The eight hours flight home was most uneventful and I could not sleep out of sheer anxiousness and excitement to meet my children and family. Thirty minutes to landing, after the pilot announced that the landing process was commencing, I thought the air suddenly became still - as though the engines have been switched off. The feeling then was that the plane was gliding - and I could feel pressure up my ears. At that moment, my husband who was asleep, woke up and true enough, he wondered aloud why it was quiet and the plane felt like not moving. When the pressure seemed unbeareable, the engines started again, and cool air flowed in. The landing was smooth, but the change in air pressure was too much for some - one old lady exclaimed she had a terrible headache, a few were cupping their ears and i was furiously chewing Strepsils. When i finally saw my father, then Nina, then Halim, Hadi, Hafiz and Haziq, my mother, sis and her husband, i broke down.Alhamdulillah! Allah has protected my family and has reunited us after 44 days.(Halim told me later that he had just learned what I experienced just now is a procedure followed by a pilot when he wanted to lose the plane's height quickly - ie. switched off all engines and truly let the plane 'glide' down...)



The whole hajj experience has been truly most inspiring and unforgettable. It is not easily describable either, but I want to try and share that experience for I want to give glad tidings for those who are despairing, that Allah's Will overcome everything else and nothing happens without that Will and since He is Most Merciful and Beneficient, then everything that happened to us is everything that we need.




You see, i was a reluctant hujjaz. I never took seriously my husband's announcement that we were going for hajj this year. I worried over who would look after the children, especially Nina. I worried on where to look for a temporary maid. I worried about my dear S5C girls and my Art students. I worried about my S4 and S2 papers. In short, I worried over my worldly affairs. I never really could concentrate 100% when we went for the hajj course at the mosque every Sunday - Nina would sit quietly for like ten minutes, then I have to cater to her tantrums for the next one hour or so. It was my husband who went out of his way - calling his contacts in JB and KL to ensure that I could go with him. When we finally surrendered my passport (on the fourth day of Hari Raya) it dawned on me that I was lacking and unsure of the rites of hajj. So i went on a self-study streak. Ustazah Muayanah was my point of reference and dear Cikgu Zul opened up a 'talian haji' - he was most helpful in giving me a crash course on hajj. EVen then, I was holding on to TH's letter that my flight would be the last one, on 10.11.2010. For one whole week, I couldn't enter JB because I had no passport. On Wednesday, 14th November, I was to get my temporary passport. The 'bomb' was dropped at about 11.00 a.m. - my husband called to say that our flight was Thursday, 15th November at 7.30 am. via SEnai Airport. Less than 24 hrs notice! It was madness - but true. Frantically passing to dear Mr Esmadi my papers, quick goodbyes and bewildered looks from my colleagues - Cikgu Zul again was most comforting.Ms Amnah and the rest of the Management team was most reassuring. I am deeply touched and forever indebted to them. Furious smses to my girls and Ammar. Allah help them all in their exams. I went straight to get my temporary passport - still calling up TH to try and delay my flight. No can do. If i missed the flight, I woud have to pay RM$4,000 as compensation. I am ashamed to say that I actually toyed with the idea of paying up...astargfirullah...

Back in JB, I had little time to think - just act. There were the clothes to pack, instructions for Halim who will be the leader in the family now - it was about 3.00 amthat I fell asleep and was up by 5.00 am. My feelings were numbed and I was going through the motion zombie-like. When I finally checked-in, waving at my family, I saw Nina smiling. I was relieved. A miracle she was not crying. I did not turn back. Point of no return.

When I collected my passport and my boarding pass, I found out my husband's passport was missing! TH officers frantically searched and apologetically declared that his passport was in KL! Believe it or not, we missed our flight to Jeddah. The only two would-be pilgrims left behind. Our plane took off and we were at Starbucks, SEnai Airport, awaiting our fate. I remembered my reluctance and I immediately felt deep remorse and begged for Allah to forgive me. HE was testing me, I know, testing my sincerity and the immediacy of HIS Will left me a sense of awe. I prayed fervently for HIS mercy, not anger. By noon, TH officers announced that they were going to send us to KL - on a flight fully paid by them. So we took a flight to KLIA, from there to Kelana Jaya (TH KL's HQ), then back to KLIA for a flight at 1.20 a.m.

I gave thanks to Allah fervently. We landed at Madinah! So, Cikgu Zul, we actually 'missed' the chaotic conditions in Jeddah (the long wait, the dirty toilets as told by my roommates, not to mention the 8 hr bus journey from Jeddah to Madinah) - Allahu Akbar! Allahu Hafiz! We are but HIS servants...

(When I did my first tawaf at the Mataaf, gazing at HIS HOUSE, i cried copiously, fully aware, feeling very, very small - that I was there because HE wanted me to be there - HE knew that if given more time, I would be looking for excuses to delay my flight - so HE PLUCKED me from my comfort zone - to be HIS guest...and I regretted my selfishness...Allah has blessed me 45 years of beautiful life - and I could not even sacrificed 44 days - a day out of every year that HE has given me - to be with HIM, to remember HIM, to be HIS true servant..Ya Allah! Ya Allah! Ya Allah! Labbaikallah humma labbaik! ....)