A Night's Prayer...

for all Libyans, Egyptians, Palestinians and other oppressed brothers and sisters..

Jannah

A goal so far.. yet so close



This is a poem by a young Muslim poet from America, Ammar Al-Shukry. Here is an interview of him by my favourite Virtual Mosque.

When asked how does he encourage others to experiment with and develop their creative talents, he answered:

My advice would be to highlight what makes you special and not what makes you ordinary. I’d always be disappointed when I’d hear a Muslim artist talking along the same lines as the non Muslims, about the same superficial things. It’s the syndrome that everyone is talking about how they want to be different but really acting the same. What makes us special is Islam. When we highlight, it we shine because all we’re doing is reflecting off of its light

********************************************************************

Another kinetic typograpic video on the story of Prophet Isa (as)- Al Hayat Al Dunya, narrated by Sheikh Yusuf Estes. A very disturbing one, made me ponder for days...

Lessons In Life

My sons..
You followed our every steps
to places north and south
From cities to highlands
I don't know if you will remember any (you are all still very small!)
But I hope that your minds can capture
The beauty of mountains, rivers and seas
(and be forever thankful for God's creations)
The vastness of land (therefore opportunities)
The diversity of life and cultures (so you respect differences)
And perhaps, when you look back in the pictures,
You will remember that we could not bear a second separated from you...

Your father and I
have given you our unconditional love
In every kiss bears our prayers
that you will understand
this is what every people deserves
Love and Respect
Nothing less...

I want you brothers
to be each other's shoulders
always in one another's prayers
and to be able to say to each other,
"For you brother, a thousand times over..."
to carry when one falls
to remind when one forgets
to correct when one err

In this temporary life
I've been blessed
With you three wonderful boys
What more can I ask?
If there is anything I can wish for
In my duty to you
I hope in the end I will teach you right
and I will teach you enough
For you to be safe
Here and After
and that you will be as great as you are named...

I pray that
He gives me guidance as I guide you
He gives me lessons as I teach you
He bestows me His love as I love you...


-Mama


...the phrase "for you, a thousand times over" is a favourite line of Hassan to Amir, in The Kite Runner (author: Khaled Hosseini)

Remembering Wan (and Death)

Wan had been the central figure of our lives since we were small. Wan was not once-a-year-grandma or Hari-Raya-grandma. When my sister was small, she used to stay at the kampung (village) with Wan (the rest of us only came back during weekends). My sister stayed with Wan until she was six. Then when it was not safe anymore for Wan to stay alone at the kampung, Wan came to stay with us for many years. Later Wan moved around between her daughters' homes, and a few months before she returned to Him, Wan stayed with my parents.

Wan's house at kampung, where we spent much of our childhood carefree, eating raw cocoa, playing houses under rambutan trees and chasing chickens.

Wan's name was Mariam bt Nandor (she was a Minang descendant), but her family nicknamed her Embok (not sure what it meant). And she said when she registered for her identity card, the officer who was also from the same village and knew her by the name Embok filled out the forms using the name Embok, so Embok she became for the rest of her life. Wan finished her primary school and was qualified to be a teacher (yes, during pre-war times primary school graduates can become a teacher). But she had to marry our grandfather (she was 13, our grandpa was 21), so she did not work. They had their firstborn 3 years later. Our grandfather died when my mother was 15, leaving Wan to care for her 6 children (youngest was 8). Wan had been through a lot, but she always smile. My mother said my grandfather was very strict and moody (he was a politician), but never Wan reminisce him as someone unpleasant. She always had good stories about him. Being ex-politician wife, she was very alert about local news as well as world news until her last day. She adored Tun Mahathir very much. At 89, she still read newspapers and knew all about the war in Middle East.

Wan was one of my Quran teachers. Wan remembered everyone's birthdays by heart, including all her 22 grandchildren. Wan will pray for us during exams, and everytime we asked for her prayers she will always answered "udah...tiap2 hari Wan doa". Wan had a strong sixth-sense, that we grew to become cautious and rarely disobey her. When my brother was sick, Wan never turned down his request to be massaged, although Wan's knees and other joints were already 'jammed' (her own word) and painful.

When I became a doctor, she would always show me her medications everytime she got a new batch of it (in case they gave her the wrong ones heheh). She showed me her knee radiographs. The bones were already touching. Whatever joints that were supposed to be there were gone. "Doktor soh wan ganti lutut, tak koso se" Wan would say in her nogori dialect (translation: doctor asked me to replace my knees, i don't give a damn!).

Wan's 89th birthday, 2 weeks before she returned to her Creator..




Wan with some of her great-grandchildren..



Wan gave her unconditional love to everybody. We pray that Allah will love her thousand times more.

Remembering Death

Pembaringan terakhir..


Penghormatan terakhir..


Mandian terakhir..


Pakaian terakhir..


Rumah terakhir...


Kelibat terakhir..


Land of No Return

Alas, that joy takes flight: not many hearts
The pangs of desolating grief are spared;
No traveler from Death's dark realm returns
To tell us how his fellow pilgrims fared.

Afterwards

When from my corpse and yours the shining souls have fled,
The dust of other men will serve us as a bed;
Long afterwards a brick from our dust shall be made
To form the tomb in which our sons' sons will be laid.

Both poems are rubaiyats (a type of Persian poetry) by Omar Al-Khayyam.

Alfatihah untuk arwah Wan...

He's My X and You're My Y

I was thinking of writing a book review on Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist but since it is already late so I think I will write it later. We are going to London today to meet Papaboyz's parents. We haven't seen them since we left Malaysia and at that time Ammar was smaller than Abid now! Can't wait to see their reaction :))

So for today I want to share a raw talent with you readers. This is a clever poem by my school friend Siti Aminah Ramli. She has written a few brilliant pieces and this is my favourite (excuse the grammar..who cares hehehe)...


He's My X and You're My Y

You can still imagine he/she remembers you
cause they are not there to answer
you can imagine they're there
to wait for your call/sms/email..
even if they're NOT!!
You will still remember him/her
as the person you once knew
slim.slender and lovely
like the first time that you laid your eyes upon them
that make you fall in love,
You will still think he/she is S in size now and forever
even the fact he/she is XXXL hehehe

There are big different between
the person that you think
you'll miss in life
and the person whom you shared
your life with

He's my eX and you're my Y
because he's not the person that cares for me
day and nite
he's not the one that stay around
when everyone's gone
he's not the person that wakes up
each nite to prepare milk or change my baby's diaper..
he's not the one that I call
every 10 minutes when my car broke down

You're my Y cause
you're the reason Y I'm happy
you're there always without a reason Y
cause love doesn't need a reason Y
I'm really glad to have you by my side
and pray it'll be forever
I'm also really,really glad that
he's just my X and you're my wonderful Y

by Siti Aminah Ramli (with permission)

(fyi my ex is orlando bloom)


We'll be gone for a few days.. Meanwhile I will ask you a question, Bibliobibuli style..

What are you reading now? (me: John Wood's Leaving Microsoft To Change The World)

Birthday Wish...

It's Papaboyz's birthday today....


You remember when we met-
we clicked, just like that.

And ever since then, we’ve been finding
more reasons to fall in love all over again.

Like the way we bring our best in each other,
the way we can both grin at the silliest things
and have the same quirky ideas.

Or the way we can talk about anything
and be entertained just by being together.

With you and me, even the ordinary, must-do
parts of life can turn out to be fun.

And on those days when it’s sometimes hard to smile,
we stick together – because that’s what we do.

We’re a team, two souls, one love,
and a history between us
that only gets better and better.

Marrying you was the best decision I ever made
And I’m sure of it, because you make
every part of loving you wonderful.


Source: Ustaz Hasrizal (Saifulislam.com)

Traveler

This life is temporary...
It is only a journey...
A realm of tests, uncertainties...
(only death is certain)
A transition to a permanent After
Victorious After?
Disastrous After?
You traveler!
What's on your shoulders?
(what are you carrying with you?)
for The destiny?

Will you cry and beg in great desperation at the Checkpoints?

Will you stab your loved ones to save yourself?

Ohh the day of Chaos!

sighh....



Salam Ramadhan....

Long Marriage

I got this poem from Puisi-poesy (a blog where the contributing authors post poems and discuss about them)



Long Marriage

You're worried, so you wake her
& you talk into the dark:
Do you think I have cancer, you
say, or Were there worms
in that meat, or Do you think
our son is OK, and it's
wonderful, really--almost
ceremonial as you feel
the vessel of your worry pass
miraculously from you to her--
Gee, the rain sounds so beautiful,
you say--I'm going back to sleep


Poem by Gerald Fleming
from Swimmer Climbing onto Shore,
Sixteen Rivers Press, San Francisco, 2005

How beautiful!!
When you have loved somebody long enough, you can just pass your worries to him/her,
and although you don't get any answer, the worries just ease away...

Easter Holidays- Matlock Bath

Matlock Bath is a designated conservation village in south of Derbyshire, aka 'little Switzerland' (hey, sebenarnya tak macam Switzerland pun). River Derwent runs at the heart of it, and there are a lot of gifts/souvenirs shop, cafes etc along the river.

(kitorang lupa amik gambar River Derwent, so pinjam Suria punya)



It is a beautiful old town...








And I even found a poem on Matlock Bath...

Matlock Bath

From Matlock Bath's half-timbered station
I see the black dissenting spire
Thin witness of a congregation,
Stone emblem of a Handel choir;
In blest Bethesda's limpid pool
Comes treacling out of Sunday School.

By cool Siloam's shady rill
The sounds are sweet as strawberry jam
I raise mine eyes unto the hill,
The beetling Heights of Abraham;
The branchy trees are white with rime
In Matlock Bath this winter-time,

And from the whiteness, grey uprearing,
Huge cliffs hang sunless ere they fall,
A tossed and stony ocean nearing
The moment to o'erwhelm us all
Eternal Father, strong to save,
How long wilt thou suspend the wave?

How long before the pleasant acres
Of intersecting Lovers' Walks
Are rolled across by limestone breakers,
Whole woodlands snapp'd like cabbage stalks?
O God, our help in ages past,
How long will Speedwell Cavern last?

In this dark dale I hear the thunder
Of houses folding with the shocks,
The Grand Pavilion buckling under
The weight of the Romantic Rocks,
The hardest Blue John ash-trays seem
To melt away in thermal steam.

Deep in their Nonconformist setting
The shivering children wait their doom
The father's whip, the mother's petting
In many a coffee-coloured room;
And attic bedrooms shriek with fright,
For dread of Pilgrims of the Night.

Perhaps it's this that makes me shiver
As I ascend the slippery path
High, high above the sliding river
And terraces of Matlock Bath
A sense of doom, a dread to see
The Rock of Ages cleft for me.

(Sir John Betjeman 1906-1984)

A Treasure Chest

Last week my husband joined a reading session in Adam's class (invited by his teacher). Parents who came sat at the back of classroom while the teacher read the kids a story. This session was held to encourage parents to continue this activity at home. (cuma Papa Adam je yg lelaki, lain semua mak-mak, hahaha)

Then at the end of the session, each kid whose parent was present was given a treasure chest! This is from the Bookstart Program, a program to help kids start their own library/book collections at home.

This is the treasure chest..



Contents of the chest includes 2 new story books, 2 colouring books, a set of pencil colours, a guide book for parents, a book voucher and a set of stickers (walaupun free, ni bukan cikai punya barang ok).





See how dedicated the government is to encourage reading from a young age. This is a program in a public school, not an expensive private nursery. I wonder what programs are there to encourage reading in our Tadika KEMAS and how much support they get.

Here is a poem to share (got this from the treasure chest):

TREASURE

Opening the covers of a book
Is like lifting the lid of a treasure chest.
Look inside and you will find
Golden stories and glittering characters.

Some are given a map to show where X marks the spot.
Some are given the precious key to open the lock.
Some are helped to lift the heavy lid.
But for some it will remain hidden treasure.

Gervase Phinn

First Entry

Salam..

As this is my very first entry, I will write 2 of my favourite rubaiyats by the famous Omar Khayyam

For those who does not know, rubaiyat is a type of Persian poetry that is written in 4 lines, in which the all the lines rhyme except for the third line (ala2 pantun), but since these are english translations, the translator did his best to get the meaning but I guess it's difficult to rhyme all the lines..

Happiness

Be happy, for anguish shall be boundless;
In the wheel of Heaven there shall be a conjunction of stars;
The brick which men shall mould out of your dust,
will become the wall of other men's palace.

(be happy while you may because the wheel of life is determined in Heaven and it may bring you anguish, after all, after you die you will become dust which in the future will be used to make the bricks of other people's palace)


The Game of Chess

We are but chessmen in God's scheme of things,
The most are merely pawns, a few are kings;
And when our game is done
Back in the box we tumble one by one.

(i think this is quite straight forward; our destiny is determined by Allah, and whoever we are,in the end to Him we will return)