Getting Used to being Used

Come to think of it, I think that we (mere mortals) are just assets. We are just tools for the higher beings. Playing infinitesimal roles in a much bigger settings and for a very much grandeur purposes.

My personal experiences amply testify to the above. Here are but just glimpses of the many anecdotes throughout my simple life.

As a mere driver:

It has been weeks that I haven’t got in touch with my elder sister (now in Makkah, performing Hajj) a divorcee, who is not only lovely but had many trials and tribulations in her life. Suddenly out of nothing I had this urge to call her. Called her I did, and then went straight to where she was, to find out that she was in trouble as she had no transport to bring her home. She was surprised to see me. She told me that she wished that the Almighty could help her as she was clearly in distress. And walla, her little brother came to her rescue.

Ringgit in thy wallet:

It was a Friday noon. I was at the mosque nearby to my office. Before taking the wudhu, I normally eat a banana from the bunch given as sedekah. Then I saw a man. He was an elderly man. He wore a ragged baju Melayu, albeit a clean one. There were some patches on the baju. But then I remembered, our dear Prophet s.a.w. also had those. Anyway, then there was this urge, came to me at that instant, as if telling me to give fifty ringgit to him. Checking my wallet, I realised that I have only sixty bucks, and I haven’t had my lunch yet. Not to mention that there will be toll to pay on my way back home after office. Ahh, I think maybe this feeling, whatever it was, will soon be over after taking the wudhu. Served me right, leaving the ablution room, I saw again this man. Then suddenly there’s the first azan. The urge was getting stronger, and I had to submit to it. Just after the azan and before the solat sunat, I quickly took the fifty ringgit note and went to him and put in his palm, and quickly went away and joined the rest as the jamaah readied for the sunat prayer. I thought I saw him raising his hand praising the Almighty for whatever need that has been fulfilled.

After the Jumaat prayer, a friend of mine offered to treat me for lunch.

Famous Amos for the anonymous:

Every week or so, without fail, I will buy Famous Amos cookies for my kids. All of them, especially Ayra loved the ‘no nut’ cookies. Normally, I bought about 200 or 300 grams after my meetings at KLCC or the nearby KL Sentral and then took the Putra LRT and stopped at Taman Jaya where I normally parked my car. That day, not only I bought the ‘no nut’ cookies for the kids, but two deliciously-looking big soft cookies for their mom (my dearest Jay).

From KLCC the train was quite full as it was about 5 pm. Being typical me, I don’t give a damn about the people on the train, as you could find many sorts of people riding the train. But then, there was one particular man. Short but stocky. Looked tired. And I don’t really care. He looked foreign. Maybe he was from the Philippines. Again I don’t care. But, as if I was forced to listen to a conversation between him and another person. From the bits and pieces, I knew that this guy is a Sabahan from Bajau ethnic and came to KL looking for job last week, which until now hadn’t had the luck yet. He was on his way to Kelana Jaya, where there was an opportunity for work. Then my mobile started to ring and there was a call from one of my customers now in Turkmenistan. I was in deep conversation together with the noise in the train and that Taman Jaya station was the next stop. Then this urge came again. The urge to give the Famous Amos cookies to this fella. What the ...?

Then again, I thought, my kids can do without cookies this time, and maybe tomorrow I’ll buy for them. But this man who travelled from his faraway home in this concrete jungle would definitely deserve the cookies more than my kids (and my wifey). Without second thought, when the train stopped at Taman Jaya, after the doors were opened for alight, I passed him the cookies. It really caught him by surprise, but he smiled and thanked me.

I would have replied, “Hey, it wasn’t me.”

A handsome guy with a sport hybrid:

The other day, I was on my way back from my office which almost 70 km away from my house. It's been a kind of mundane ritual that everyday I would stop over either in Tesco or Aeon in Puchong to purchase 'something' (pizza, McD, KFC etc.) for my kids  or buying some groceries when I received 'orders' from either the wife or kids via WhatApps.

Anyway, one fine day I think I was a wee bit stylish in my attire. I was wearing a Zara navy blue blazer along with my Levi's button-fly 501, complete with brown leather Clarks Chelsea boots. I remember buying this nice pair of boots in Bicester Village near Oxford last summer. I then parked my car at the sideway parking in front of Tesco and ready to alight from the car. Not before looking at the rear-view mirror to make sure that I looked great, and glancing the time at my Omega Seamaster Professional (the one that James Bond wore in Goldeneye), slightly adjusting the Tiffany & Co. sterling silver ring on my finger, while taking a grip at my iPhone ...

While I was completely and almost totally immersed by my ownself, I heard a knock on the car window. An elderly petite Indian lady keep on knocking and started mumbling in an incomprehensible words and she was very animated and using a lot of hand gestures. I then switch off the BFM radio station and turn off the ignition key and got out from the car.

I went straight to the lady and wanted to find out what was that all about.

"Ada apa ni aci?" I said to her calmly. Then I put my arm onto her shoulders, patting her very gently.

"Boleh cerita semula tak?"

She then narrated that, her scooter was broken down and had to get it fixed and it costs her some RM32, and she's now kinda late for an interview as a nurse in the nearby Columbia Asia Hospital and bla bla bla .... maybe if I could assist her by lending her that amount of money.

"Ohhh ...." I just smiled.

"Itu small problem aci," I keep on putting my smile and gave her RM50, and nodded to say goodbye.

"Terima kasih Encik."

I turned around and wanting to say this to her, "It's not a problem, it's my pleasure to assist a fellow human being ... and I know I'm currently being used again. Of which I don't mind at all."


An Aerospace Engineer Aspirant

It has been almost six months, I was in my new role as the Industry Expert in a big GLC. I'm very grateful to be doing what I think I'm good at, i.e. back to the Oil & Gas industry. Whereas, in the last three years, I was in the Aviation Industry, dealing with aircrafts and what not, which are my interests and hobby.

Ok, aircrafts, aerospace and aviation are my extreme passions, well, since I watched Top Gun, starring Tom Cruise. Which sane 18 year old boy wouldn't want to fly the supersonic fighter aircraft, donning leather jackets, riding superbike, wearing Ray Ban sunglasses, with gorgeous girlfriend, and what not, while thinking that he's also a not bad looking guy ?

Since my eyesight was poor, so the nearest to Top Gun was doing Aeronautical Engineering at Glasgow University. With some struggles (with my puppy-love life tragedy, the Scottish harsh weather and the difficult engineering courses, though not necessary in that order), I managed to graduate in the Summer of 1991.

The other day, while getting ready to go the office, my wife said that her auntie just passed away.

"Innalillahiwainnalillahirajiun. We should ziarah and go to her funeral", I said.

"You can pick me up later at the office."

At noon, my wife dropped by at my office and we drove to Tanjong Karang. When we arrived, the funeral was already over, but we spend some time with the families and cousins of my wife. One cousin sister of hers together with her two children then accompanied us to visit the graveyard.

The sun was at its peak, and the day was very hot. So I put on my Texas cap, which I bought recently on my way to the NASA Johnson Space Centre in Houston, which  I kept in my car.

After some doas and supplications to the roh of the arwah at the graveyard, we made our way back to our cars. I fondly hugged my wife's cousin's son and chatted with him. The thirteen year old boy said that he has the ambition to become an Aerospace Engineer.

"Really son ?"

"Uncle ni sebenarnya seorang Aerospace Engineer," and told him to study hard, and be good in Maths and Science, and one fine day, God Willing, your dream will be come true.

And I gave him my Texas cap.

2011: Year in Review

Travelling:
I think I had enough of travelling. I have been to the fashionable Paris, the exotic Istanbul and the really modern Dubai, all of them twice in 2011. Not to mention to the red-dotted Singapore for the umpteen times. Within Malaysia, going to destinations like Kota Kinabalu, Miri, Bintulu, Kertih, JB and Penang were like my monthly routines. I think, I had easily clocked almost 100,000 km of air mileage, for this year alone.

Career:
How could I move up, across the corporate ladder if there are still people who are more senior than me, but seems oddly immovable? Darn. On top of that, I felt that the compensations, do not really commensurate with what I had contributed. It has been almost six years, I’m working in the current company, which seems to be longer than any of my previous jobs. Tak mengapalah, rezeki saya masih di sini. Syukur Alhamdulillah.

Family:
As always, I try to be accommodative to my loved ones. Provide the necessaries and necessities. Pampered them with the little extras that I had.

Love:
In married life, and love in general, obviously there’re ups and downs. 2011 was mostly ups :)

My regrets:
By right, I shouldn’t have any regrets as kesemuanya sudah menjadi ketentuan Allah. Having said that, I was upset with the seemingly deteriorating condition of my mother’s dementia as well as my son’s failure to get all A’s in his PMR. I will do my best to assist my dear mother, and gave some serious ultimatum to my son for his own good.

My achievements:
Not really achievements, but more like something I do almost every day for living. Firstly, I successfully organized an event in KK, with minimum effort but maximum results. Secondly, with the grace of Almighty Allah, I was able to get two Russians and one Tatarstanian and had a good meeting with them in Istanbul on business matters with regard to Turkmenistan. As I said, I do these things everyday, those are but examples.

On cricket:
My batting sucks. My bowling quite reasonable. My Pakistan cricket team was doing well, and that matters.

The conditions of my iman:
How I wish that I could constantly be in remembrance of Almighty Allah. Many a times, I have committed sins, and I seek forgiveness from Him.

For 2012:
Maybe less travelling, more devotion in ibadah to Almighty Allah, less sins, more charity, more menimba ilmu, less doing the unworthy, more on the good things, less on the good-for-nothing.

Glamour dari Sudut Pandangan Berbeza

Menurut kamus Oxford perkataan glamour merujuk kepada sesuatu yang menarik dan mempunyai kualiti yang mengujakan. Di samping itu glamour ada kaitan dengan apa jua yang mengasyikkan dan apa-apa yang memberi semacam kesan magis dan inspirasi dalam kehidupan kita seharian.

Berkisah tentang glamour dan kemasyhuran, kata Charlie Cox bintang kacak yang baru diperkenal dalam filem Stardust, “Fame terrifies me, when people know the real you, they won’t like you.” Kalau benar begitu, name and fame bukanlah sesuatu yang menyeronokkan sangat. Cuma perasaan terasa melonjak bila sudah menjadi celebrity sambil mata-mata yang tak berkedip memandang flash kamera paparazzi. Perasaan glamour juga akan terasa kalau kita sering mendampingi the who’s who in fashion, atau kita sendiri yang menjadi fashionista.

Apapun, kali ini dalam kita bercerita tentang glamorous people, saya berjanji pada my aunt Wirda, yang saya tak akan berkisah tentang glamour para celebrities dan artis kita yang selalunya, minta maaf cakap, over-rated. Saya cuba mengupas secara ringkas cerita di sebalik kehidupan personaliti lain yang terkenal dan amat glamour di era mereka. Saya cuba menulis dari sudut pandangan yang berbeza.

Want to lead 

a glamorous life 

but without love 

it ain’t much 

- Sheila E

Baru dua minggu lepas saya berkunjung ke kota Singa atas urusan pejabat. Sempat juga di sebelah malamnya saya singgah ke sekitar daerah penempatan Khatib dan Kampung Glam (memang betul ejaannya begitu). Sebenarnya Glam berasal dari perkataan gelam, sejenis tumbuhan eucalyptus yang boleh menjadi penawar kesakitan otot dan masalah pernafasan. Untuk pengetahuan anda minyak kayu putih yang serbaguna itu mempunyai ekstrak dari pokok gelam.

Di stesen MRT Khatib, saya singgah sebentar sambil memikirkan siapakah gerangan orang yang bernama Khatib yang namanya diberi penghormatan. Menurut lagenda dia ialah seorang lelaki yang alim tetapi telah dizalimi oleh Sultan ketika itu. Tetapi sebelum mati beliau sempat melafazkan sumpah buat Singapura. Kaum lelaki seperti yang anda semua kenal, amat literal. Men are literal, they mean what they say and say what they mean.

Nak dijadikan cerita akibat sumpahan itu beribu-ribu ekor ikan todak menyerang Singapura. Nasib baik ada seorang budak genius bernama Hang Nadim yang mencadangkan idea untuk menggunakan batang pisang bagi menangkis tujahan muncung ikan todak yang tajam lagi berbisa. Sebelum itu, akal para penduduk yang agak pendik dan hanya mampu memikir untuk menggunakan kedua betis mereka. Singapura kembali tenang dan aman. Cuma yang menyedihkan pemerintah masih tidak belajar dari kesilapan dahulu, masih mendengar nasihat yang kurang bijak. Hang Nadim pula dihukum bunuh.

Di Kampung Glam pula ada tersergam sebuah istana peninggalan Sultan Hussein yang kini dijadikan muzium. Akibat pengaruh Inggeris yang begitu kuat ketika itu, serta kesan penghijrahan besar-besaran kaum imigran dari Tanah Besar China, penduduk asal keturunan Melayu dan Arab terpaksa meninggalkan daerah Kampung Glam dan berhijrah dan menetap di sekitar Geylang Serai dan Eunos. Pokok gelam yang banyak di sinipun tak mampu menyelamat keadaan.

Apapun, di Kampung Glam saya begitu seronok menghirup secangkir teh bercampur daun pudina sambil menghembus shisha berperisa strawberi dan membayangkan keadaan di sini dua ratus tahun dahulu tentu berbeza. Paduka Sultan tentu hidup glamour bersama kemewahan dan kekuasaan yang ada sebelum Raffles tiba. Tapi bila kita hidup mewah dengan kekuasaan, pengaruh dan glamour, perlu sentiasa diingat ungkapan cerita Spiderman “With great power comes great responsibility.”

Tidak adakah mereka yang berkuasa, glamour dan bertanggungjawab?

Lalu teringat saya pada Cik Siti Wan Kembang. Permaisuri lagenda dari Kelantan di kurun ke-14. Baginda amat terkenal dengan kecantikan dan kebijaksaan. Yes, beauty and brain. Saya amat sukakan kombinasi itu. Patutlah kebanyakan perempuan dari Kelantan cantik-cantik belaka (no offense to the rest, you are beautiful too)!

Lupakan tentang cerita-cerita magis tentang Cik Siti Wan Kembang. Bagi penganalisa seperti saya, fakta tentang Cik Siti yang lebih menyebabkan saya teruja ialah catatan sejarah pertemuan pengembara terkenal Ibnu Batuta yang singgah di Kelantan dan sempat bertemu Baginda. Lambang rusa di bendera negeri Kelantan adalah sempena rusa yang menjadi pet peliharaan kesukaan Baginda.

Dua kurun selepas Cik Siti, ada pula celebrity lain di Melaka. Siapa lagi kalau bukan srikandi terkenal Tun Fatimah. Tun Fatimah adalah anak Bendahara Melaka. Ceritanya, habis semua adik beradik lelakinya dibunuh orang suruhan Sultan. Tapi cik Tun yang bukan sahaja anggun dan bijak serta penuh karisma sanggup bertahan dan berkahwin dengan Sultan Melaka. Demi negara, bangsa dan tanahair.

Di atas singgahsana, cik Tun yang sebenarnyalah bersama-sama Bendahara Tun Perak yang bertanggungjawab meluaskan empayar Melaka sampai ke Johor dan Riau. Dikatakan pihak Portugis lebih takutkan Tun Fatimah dari Sultan Melaka sendiri. Kalau bukan disebabkan pengkhianatan dari musuh dalam selimut oleh Si Kitul dan Raja Mendeliar (dan petualang lain dari Benua Keling) yang memberi rahsia kepada Portugis, belum tentu Melaka jatuh ke tangan penjajah.

Di kurun ke-20 yang lepas saya terpanggil untuk mengingatkan kita pada seorang wanita yang begitu glamour dalam kehidupan beliau. Srikandi zaman pra-kemerdekaan yang saya maksudkan ialah Ibu Zain. Menurut anak perempuannya, Ibu Zain ialah seorang wanita anggun dan sering bergaya dengan baju kurung putih dan berkain batik, berkasut tumit tinggi dan sentiasa berjalan dengan pantas dari rumah ke pejabat. Ibu Zain ialah perintis kaum wanita Melayu di dalam bidang pelajaran, seorang nasionalis kental dan aktivis politik yang berwibawa. Saya amat mengkagumi beliau.

Personaliti-personaliti glamour yang di atas mampu merubah keadaan dan nasib diri sendiri, anak bangsa dan juga negara tercinta. Kata Remy si tikus comel, chef glamour dan hero filem animasi Ratatouille, “Change is nature, the part that we can influence and it starts when we decide.”

Bagi saya inilah glamour yang memuncak. Mereka yang glamour ialah mereka yang menjadi sumber inspirasi dan kita semua patut mengambil iktibar dengan sejarah dan pencapaian mereka. Pepatah Latin ada menyebutkan “Historia est vitae magistra.” Sejarah adalah guru kehidupan. Kita harus membuat keputusan supaya ada perubahan dan pembaharuan dalam diri kita dan persekitaran kita.

Ia harus bermula sekarang.

Close your eyes 

and imagine this 

Eternal bliss 

your every wish 

at your finger tips 

and more … 

Perched on a throne 

near a stream 

So serene 

and exquisite a scene 

You've never seen 

Yet you still dream 

of more … 

Gone is grief, gone is fear 

Gone is pain, gone are tears 

- Ibn al Butaana

GLAM

Catatan Lelaki Tipikal di Hari Raya

Words, they don’t come that easy. Itu yang aku rasakan bila my dear aunt Wirda menyuruhku menulis sesuatu di dalam majalah glamournya. Sebelum aku pergi lebih jauh, ingin ku perkenalkan diriku. I’m just a typical Malaysian male. The man that you see on the street, atau yang sama bergayut di dalam LRT. Too typical. Sehinggakan anda semua tak perlu tahu lebih lanjut. Tapi, hey, lelaki tipikal juga punya citarasa. Kami juga punya banyak cerita. Kadang-kadang kalau diberi peluang (seperti ini), cerita kami juga mungkin menarik. Di sini aku catatkan secebis kisah yang ringkas. Seringkas skirt wanita, long enough to cover the essentials but short enough to keep it interesting.

OK. Topik semasa. Tentang Hari Raya. Di waktu begini sering kita terpandang di muka akhbar akan gambar-gambar ceria para pelajar kita di unversiti luar negara. Dari US, dari UK, dari Eropah, Down Under, Jepun, Jordan dan lain-lain. Kalau gambar itu berlatar belakangkan salji yang tebal, lagi tambah menarik. Bagi mereka yang pernah ke sana, aisyehman, menyampah. Tetapi, tentu juga ada yang rasa sedikit iri hati, atau mungkin terbayang ‘kalaulah aku di situ’. Gambar-gambar ini selalu diiringi caption ucapan rindu buat ayah bonda dan keluarga tercinta. Tapi percayalah, di sebalik wajah-wajah ceria itu sebenarnya tercatat seribu satu kisah suka duka di perantauan.

Di hari raya, terkenang daku kepada si dia 

Kampungku indah nun jauh di sana, ayah serta bondaku

Hati sekeras manapun pasti terusik bila mendengar lagu Dendang Perantau. Terutama kalau benar-benar anda di perantauan. Dan aku, biar macho mana sekalipun kurasakan diriku, air mata sebak pasti mengalir. Rinduku teramat dalam pada kampung halaman nun jauh puluh ribuan batu, pada ibu ayah tercinta dan sang kekasih (kini bekas) yang ditinggalkan. Tetapi hati ini harus cekal. Perjuangan ini harus diteruskan. Kupinjam kata Sudirman:

Rindu hati ini inginku kembali, pada ayah bonda dan saudara 

Tetapi aku harus mencari rezeki, membela nasib kita bersama

Jadi aku, seperti para pelajar lain yang menuntut di satu bandar dingin (dan beku) di sekitar pergunungan dan loch di Scotland, terus bertekad untuk mengharungi perasaan hiba ini di setiap Hari Raya dengan hati yang tabah. Kebanyakan dari kami tak punya cukup wang untuk balik ke Malaysia pada Hari Raya, yang selalunya jatuh bukan pada musim cuti semester. Jadi, kami harus terus bertahan. When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

Kami tak pedulikan keresahan dan kesedihan di perantauan. Kami berpakat dan bersatu hati untuk menyambut hari kebesaran ini. Hari Raya ialah Hari Raya, walaupun di Scotland. Pelajar lelaki akan mengenakan baju Melayu lengkap dengan kain samping songket penuh dan yang perempuan siap dengan baju kurung atau kebaya, tanpa menghirau dingin cuaca. Semuanya kelihatan sungguh anggun, sungguh menawan. Dan ya, sungguh GLAM. Agaknya, mat dan minah saleh tempatan berfikir “Apalah yang sedang berlaku, ada perayaan pakaian tradisional agaknya?”

Dan apalah Hari Raya kalau tak ada juadah Hari Raya. Segala macam masakan dan juadah enak kami sediakan. Ada juga yang kami improvised. Pernah anda dengar lemang aluminium foil? Kami cuba sedaya upaya menyediakan yang terbaik, samada yang asli dan segar, atau sekadar mengggunakan makanan pek dari Brahim’s kiriman dari kampung.

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar 

Walillah Ilham

Kami bertakbir dan bertahmid beramai-ramai di rumah dan di masjid. Sebenarnya di dunia ini, cuma orang Melayu sahaja yang bertakbir Raya dengan suara yang nyaring. Dan orang Melayu saja yang pakai baju Melayu pada Hari Raya, walaupun di negeri orang Putih. Well, orang Melayu jugalah yang ada banyak koleksi lagu Raya. Lagu-lagu raya yang wajib dari Tok Pah, DJ Dave, M Nasir, Sudirman, Fazidah Joned, P Ramlee dan Saloma. Dulu belum ada Tok Siti.

Time flies. Peristiwa beraya di perantauan sudah hampir berbelas tahun berlalu. Kembali ke tanahair, Hari Raya datang dan pergi. Lagu Dendang Perantau dan Dari Jauh Kupohon Maaf masih menjadi kemestian sewaktu Hari Raya. Belum puas membujang, si bonda tercinta sering membayangkan alangkah seronoknya kalau anak terunanya punya teman di Hari Raya.

“Mak carikanlah. Anak Mak ni setuju sahaja.” Hah, sejuk perut ibu bila mendengar anak lelakinya berkata begitu. Syurga di telapak kaki ibu. Aku akan berbuat semampuku untuk menjaga hatinya.

Yes. Memang seronok ber-Hari Raya bila sudah punya isteri. Terima kasih Mak kerana mencarikan aku seorang isteri yang cantik dan serba mencukupi. Cuma, bila hendak menyambut Hari Raya di rumah ibubapa siapa, soalan itu tiba-tiba ia menjadi tanda tanya (pun intended). Yang nyata bukan lagi secara otomatis di kampungku. OK, penyelesaiannya. Tiap tahun kami suami isteri setuju bergilir. Kalau tahun ini beraya di kampungku, tahun depan di kampung si isteri. Kecuali …

“When I’m pregnant, Raya must be at my Mom’s.” Dan di tahun itu, sistem giliran tidak diambil kira. Wow! Lelaki, siapa kata keputusan di tangan kita. Mungkin ya kalau di pejabat atau di bilik mesyurat. Tapi tidak, bila soal nak beraya di kampung siapa. Sepuluh tahun perkahwinan, tolak empat kali pregnancy, bahagi dua.

“Mak rasa kamu dah jarang balik beraya dengan Mak.” Well, dear Mom you are the one who asked me to get married.

Bila bercakap tentang hendak balik Raya di mana, rasa sensitif semacam. Kadang kala erti beraya di kampung sendiri kita rasakan semacam jawapan ringkas panglima Salahuddin al Ayubi bila ditanya kesatria Balian of Ibelin tentang berapa nilai Jerusalem yang dimenanginya dari tentera Salib. It’s nothing, but it’s everything.

Pun begitu, Hari Raya tetap meriah. Terutama bila melayan kerenah anak-anak. Kami punya dua pasang anak-anak yang comel. Merekalah yang paling bergembira bila tiba Hari Raya. Dan siap sedialah para ibu dan bapa saudara sekelian, duit raya jangan dilupakan. Budak-budak ini menerima minimum yang merah, tapi warna unggu amat dialu-alukan.

Untuk Hari Raya, satu kemestian ialah corak dan warna pada baju Melayu dan baju kurung kami anak beranak, pasti sedondon. Sudah sepuluh kali raya kami sudah tak tahu nak pilih warna apa untuk tahun depan. “Ayang, apa kata kita pakai je baju-baju tahun lepas, what do you think?” Sememangnya soalan tadi berani kutulis tapi tak pula berani kuucapkan, walaupun kurasakan betul. Pesan seseorang kepada para suami, “Two secrets to keep your marriage brimming. Whenever you're wrong, admit it. Whenever you're right, shut up.”

“Abang! Ayang dah sedia.” Kulihat si isteri cukup menarik dengan busana anggun baju kurung pesak gantung diperbuat dari kain sutera Thai. “Tapi, yang beropol-ropol tu apa?” Sudah semacam fesyen si pereka yang diundi keluar dalam Project Runway pulak. Sebenarnya si isteri juga complaint kenapa tiap-tiap tahun aku cuma beli baju Melayu Johor (disclaimer: aku orang Perak) jahitan tulang belut sahaja. “That my dear is my prerogative.” Tapi, anak-anak kamilah yang paling teruja. Mereka nampaknya sudah bersedia untuk ber-Hari Raya di rumah datuk dan opah di kampung. Tahun ini di kampung si isteri. So, it’s nothing for me.

Klik! Satu gambar digital keluarga tipikal di suatu pagi Hari Raya nan indah. Senyuman ceria kami seiras senyuman di gambar para pelajar kita di luar negara.

Selamat Hari Raya! Maaf Zahir dan Batin.

-Glam-

Faraway Places

It’s kind of trepidation, knowing that I sometimes would like to make myself ‘lost’ in solitude and seclusion, far and away from the madding crowd, faraway from everyone. Though, sometimes we did get ourselves lost in the busiest street in the busiest city.

Anyway below are some of the places I’ve been, where I had myself ‘lost’ for a while.

Tiruchchendur, Southern India. There’s abundance of sea coconut trees by the beach. The sea coconut is much (very much) tastier when eaten raw, unlike the preserved version. The beautiful beach is empty. The sand (or was it the pebbles) are multi coloured. It’s where the three great seas viz. the Arabian Sea, the Indian Ocean and the Bay of Bengal meet.

Goteborg, Vastergotland. I love the bread and the Gotland goat cheese. The tram and the Avenyn.

Kharbajaur, FATA near North West Frontier Province (where?). Ever seen snow capped mountain ranges? The hills, the barren land without vegetation. It was the major crossroad on the Silk Road. The tough but really nice Pashtuns people will greet you like brothers. There’s Kalashnikov AK-45 in most of their houses though.

Daddy Cool

All of you know it, right. 

Every third Sunday in the month of June is dedicated to those who are called fathers. Though in my humble opinion, every day should be father’s day. Anyway, let me write something about my dear father.

I called my father Ayah. And right, my kids called me Ayah as well. Well, except for Ayra. Somehow she called me Daddy.

My Ayah was born in 1932. Those days under the British rule, life was tough. Somehow, though he resided in a remote kampung, he managed to enter the Sultan Idris Training College (now UPSI). Ayah lost his dear mother due to some sort of epidemic (small pox?) where the grandma that I never knew had to be quarantined, until she passed away.

Ayah used to relate me stories how during the Emergency in Tanjung Malim, the bravest were the Askar Melayu. And those written in most of the history books about the heroic acts of the British Army were not entirely true.

Ayah has taught me a lot of things about life. He loves to read. His collection of books is voluminous. He loves to write. Especially letters to his children, and now grandchildren. I too had the pleasure of getting such letters, written in the neat hand-writing (have you seen my scribes … which you’ll fall in love with instantly, his' much better). 

Remember the letter about how he and my mom met my future wife. The ‘bahasa’ was as how a proper letter should be written. Full of ‘ayahanda’, ‘bonda’, ‘nenda’, ‘kekanda’ nomenclatures etc. 

The last letter addressed to me when I was in the UK, "…di sini ayahanda ingin menyampaikan jemputan ke perkahwinan bekas kekasih anakanda …"

I also used to write post cards to him wherever new foreign countries that I went to during my studies as well in my business trips. He was very proud in receiving all the 30-odd postcards from European countries and the US. He even tracked the places I went in the world geographical map.

Ayah taught me the fardu ain. Everyday, I spend like half an hour or so, receiving religious knowledge from him. He used that green book, which I forgot the name. Ayah was gentle to me. I was never being scolded by him. Maybe I was a good boy, and smart too (this I’m sure, my wife would say, it’s because you’re not so healthy then).

Ayah never commented anything about my friends, especially the female ones. But I always remember his word of wisdom with regard to them, "Son, even the tunggul (tree stumps) if you look at them everyday, they will look good." 

Yes Ayah, what’s more if they were beautiful girls. Ok, noted. I will try my best to cast down my eyes, promise you that. Or at least, I try lah ...

He is an honourable gentleman and stays steadfast in his ibadah. Looking at his photos when he was younger, I knew that he was a smart looking guy (yours truly, inherited some ...). 

Imagine this, in black and white. Four gentlemen (one whom is my dad) in their black ties and cool sun shades posing in front of the Tugu Negara. As with many other young guys those days, Ayah also had a scooter. He used to take my mother (in her tight kebaya, I supposed) scootering around the town, maybe like in the movie Roman Holiday.

Now in his 70’s he still in good health (except those little ailments). You know what, his eyes do not need any aid, no reading glasses, no nothing. God bless (unlike me, without my glasses, I’ll be either sleeping or … ).

Dearest Ayah, thank you for being a good father to me. Thank you for teaching me a lot of things about life. May the Almighty bless you and mom with his Kindness and shower you both with His infinite Mercy.

[al-Fatihah, my dear Ayah passed away peacefully on September 4th, 2014)

Breakfast with Dad
(few months before my Ayah passed away ...)

Syaaban

The last few months or so, saw my non activeness in the outdoor physical activities such as cricket, jogging or at the driving range. The indoor ones however, still …

That, plus work commitment which forced me to participate in endless business lunches and dinners.

These somehow have an adverse effect on my body (my tummy specifically). I’m now beginning to look like a normal early/mid 40s. Though people swear (not kidding here) that I look like at least anything minus six to eight solar years.

Last few days when I measured my weight on those nice electronic weighing machine at the massage chairs outlets at the mall, showed mine at 77 kg. That is 5 kg above my normal reading. To make it more unpleasant, Jay’s weighed about 20 kilos less, that’s over 6 kilos extra. But then, electronics, they are known for what we call glitches, and not to be trusted whole heartedly.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I saw Jay already started her Syaaban fasting and no heavy meal at night. Even (this is her routine) drinks strictly only to air suam.

Yeap, I’ll soon follow her.

The Tale of Two Turks (as I was passing)

So, after more than two years I mentioned the country Turkmenistan in this very blog, finally I have the chance to set foot on it. But not before I passed Turkey first.

I took the MAS flight to Istanbul had to overnight there (this is planned) and off to Ashgabat using Turkish Airlines the next day.

- Beautiful ladies at the missing luggage centre at Atarturk Airport

- Someone kind enough to show me a nice & simple hotel (50 euro per night)

- The front desk office named Mohammed who speaks fluent Malay

- The friendly and philosophical US educated carpet seller in front of Blue Mosque

- The majestic Blue Mosque

- Aya Sofya

- Beyazit Mosque

- Elif and Merve, two sweet girls that interviewed me for their school project

- My PETRONAS friends

- Alex and Shakrat

- Guvlev

Sulaiman the Magnificent

Mentioned the name Sulaiman, my thoughts were always about this, the name ‘man of peace’ in the form of Suleiman the Magnificent, one of the great Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, who conquered the Christian strongholds of Belgrade, Rhodes, and most of Hungary and whose fleet dominated the seas from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf.

And maybe the Prophet Sulaiman, who has been given control over various elements, such as the wind and transportation, and command over the Jinn and animals.

But not this Sulaiman.

I met up with him at the Indira Gandhi International Airport last April. Somehow as I penned my thoughts in my Facebook previously on something wrt the Law of Attraction, the magnetism towards him was damn great. It’s like my thoughts had the energy which attracts whatever that I’m thinking of. That particular day at the airport, I was thinking how to say my prayer in peace*. Then, the Almighty sent me His ‘man’.

What attracted me was initially the way he was dressed. Reminds me of the blessed Sahabah. He dressed in a robe, unlike the typical Tablighi Jamaat brothers or the white ones usually worn by the Arabs. It’s something in between. That nice beard. The nicely trimmed short moustache. The North Face backpack. The slippers (though he later admitted that my Crocs Off Road was better alternative for Jamaat journeys).

My brother Sulaiman was seriously mixed up. He’s an American but has a Caucasian, African and Cherokee origins. And he looks like er, er maybe a Malay. He has a kid from his previous marriage. His wife was from Eritrea (near Sudan). He is now finishing his ‘Alim Studies in one of the madrasah in San Diego, California.

After meeting him while taking wudhu’ in the gents, I got the honour to say the Isya’ prayer with him as the imam. Somehow, the Almighty works in magnificent ways, even my seat in the MAS A320 was next to him. He was on his way back to LA from Delhi, via KL. We chatted (intelligent discourse, I would say), ate the mutton briyani (served by beautiful stewardess) to our filled and said goodbye after Subuh prayer in one of the surau in KLIA.

Jazakallah. Hope to see you again brother.

* previously at the Tom Bradley Airport Los Angeles early 2008, the Almighty also send me one of his slave, just to accompany me to say my solat.

Somewhere in Greater Tokyo

Kichijoji

When I reached Narita Airport, I felt like I was really lost.

When I took the Japan Railway map, it looked more complicated that the London subway, with more than 2 dozen railway lines, each with different colour coding. But then, I was totally wrong. In fact, it was so damn easy. In fact, the whole system (Japanese system) is really piece of cake.

For example to get to Tokyo Disneyland, I have to take the Keiyo Line which stops at Maihama Station. From there, I proceed to Kichijoji Station via the same Keiyo Line to Tokyo Main Station (with more than six different train integrating to each other) and change to the famous Yamanote Line and onto Chuo Line to Kichijoji.

Things that I realised:

• The Japs are very trendy lot
• The train and busses are very efficient to the dot
• They are very friendly, trying to help even if they don’t know
• Most of them don’t speak English, or really very bad engrish
• The tv stations are crystal clear like blue-ray discs
• The internet is at lightning speed at gigabit per seconds
• I don’t see any Bangla or Indon around to do odd jobs, all by Japanese
• They know marayshia

Enjoying spring in Tokyo Disneyland

The Tokyo Train Network

The Taj Mahal

Akanku kota janji kita

Mendirikan Taj Mahal cinta

Seteguh kasih

Shah Jahan kepada

Mumtaznya

- Nubhan AF6

Unlike the song, the Taj Mahal is too much. Much, much more. Mere words cannot justify its existence.

The Taj Mahal was built by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan in commemoration of his favourite wife (wife number 3 for your info), the Empress Mumtaz Mahal. In fact the wife number 1 and number 2 also buried in the Taj complex, but in a very much (very, very much) smaller mausoleums. Some said, he loved her so much because she bears him all his children, where the other twos were barren.

Shah Jahan married Mumtaz Mahal (real name Arjumand Bano), a grandaugther of Itimad-ud-Daula, the Wazir of Emperor Jahangir in 1612. Mumtaz died in 1631 at the birth of her 14^th child.

The grief stricken emperor spared no effort in building the tomb in her memory, which is universally acknowledged as one of the most beautiful creation on earth. After his death in 1666, Shah Jahan was buried in a tomb beside his beloved.

Artisans were requisitioned from all over the empire and from Central Asia and Iran. While bricks from the internal framework were locally made, white marble for external surfaces was brought from Makrana in Rajasthan. The building was completed in 1648 after 17 years, at the costs of about 40 million rupees at a time when gold was sold at Rp 15 per 11.66 gram. Now without taking the inflation rate factor, only on the gold pricing alone, the costs would be 40 billion rupees (RM 5.3 billion). However, looking at the intricate and elaborate designs and embellishments, at least it worth 4 times more.

Shah Jahan, grandson of the Emperor Akbar, had a passion for architecture. Under his aegis, Mughal architecture reached its zenith, entering its classical phase. The emperor personally oversaw the building and the architect for the most part is believed to be Ustad Ahmed Lahori.

The Taj plans display strict bilateral symmetry. Every single thing in the Taj complex is symmetrical, except the tomb of Shah Jahan, which was not part of the master plan. The central point is the tomb (rauza) and its four minarets (used for calling azan in those days), flanked by a mosque and an assembly hall (Mehman Khanah … mehman is guests, by the way). The Taj is exactly as wide as it is high (55m) and the height of its dome is the same as the height of its arcade façade. A highlight of the monument is the exquisitely carved pietra dura inlaid with semi precious stones. Some of the stones glow during full moon.

The colour of the translucent marble keeps changing from dawn to midnight, giving it a magical aura in keeping with Shah Jahan’s vision that the tomb and the garden should represent paradise on earth.

To Jay, my dearest wife, the mother of my children, I could not possibly able to emulate to any extent what Shah Jahan did. He’s the Emperor. He’s not even a king, he’s the Emperor. I’m just a man on the street. And of course, Mumtaz had 14 children, you have 4 (itu pun dah handful dah ...).