Musings

These days I barely manage to flick through the newspapers to catch some bits of news and articles interesting enough to take up my precious time. Sometimes I put these aside in a ‘to read’ folder for a more relaxed time. What’s obvious is the crime desk reporters are not short of assignments, giving us our daily dose of shocks and warnings to be alert and cautious in and out of our homes.

Marina Mahathir’s column, “Musings”, in ‘The Star’ is among the items I usually do not postpone to read and I am so glad I did not miss it yesterday. I read it again this morning. For someone who is generally a cool observer on the fence on the country’s political matters (though I never fail to cast my vote on election day), I am moved. She certainly sounds like she is in her element in expounding her views on the case of the demolition of the surau in a resort in Sedili Besar, Kota Tinggi. I’ve read other like opponents’ opinions on the case and am totally in sync with their call for forgiveness and tolerance. But this one is brilliant, for one thing, reminding us of the history of the Kaaba and for another, appealing for the protection of the “voiceless and powerless”. I take my cap off (I sometimes do wear one in the sun) for the writer’s vehemence. When I first heard about the demolition of the surau, I found my mouth agape for a few minutes, then I kept it shut. Thanks, Marina, for shouting!! So eloquently that many, hopefully, will be shocked into listening for the betterment of their souls. For as I see it, at the core of the issue is the question of spirituality and humanity. And if her father were still the Prime Minister, I know he would have taken his stand and stopped the ruckus right there.

The picture of the excavator and the tumbling-down surau is not a pretty sight. Has it struck a raw nerve in the lifeline of  1 Malaysia, I wonder. Dichotomous as it may seem, perhaps the government should attempt to define the grey areas underlying the precept of 1 Malaysia so people could be more astute in making  decisions in religion-related matters and not simply follow their hearts.   
  

I still have my librarian’s habit of filing newspaper cuttings in folders under various subject headings, mainly as resource material for my English classes. I haven’t filed away this article yet. I’m not sure in which existing folder I should place it….’religion’, ‘writers/books’ or ‘miscellaneous’. Perhaps I should open a new folder and label it ‘religio-politics’ to borrow from Marina’s vocabulary…’religio-politicians’. Of course, not for teaching material but for my own musing. We do not discuss politics in class, just the semantics…sometimes.

       

  

Uncle Ta

 It was pouring down in torrents when I woke up at 4.45 this morning and peeped into the small adjoining bedroom to see my eldest son, Idzfan, doing his last bits of packing for his journey back to Sydney after a 3-week holiday. There is never enough time to complete the ‘to do’ list on holidays like this, he said, and even some important discussions had to be put on hold. But I’m completely contented with our early morning tete-a-tete in the kitchen (before Alman came down) over honey lemon tea , teh susu or mocha and toast. And so thankful he was going back in good health after a week’s spell of cough and cold during his second week home.

The deafening downpour lent an air of solemnity to the occasion as we moved about quietly  getting ready. His cousin Shahril was downstairs by 6.15 am as promised to drive him to the airport. The two are such compatible buddies. It was drizzling by the time we bade farewell at the gate.

Whenever the boys are home, they occupy my so-called day room and I would remove my personal things from there. This morning after I had put them back in, the room still looked empty, even emptier than before. The space and ambience resonate with the void in my life that has been inevitable since the boys left home. Thank God my daughter chose not to further her study overseas and has made good of her career here too.  I left the room quickly, after deciding to let some items lie where Idzfan left them…the kain pelekat and sejadah neatly folded on my bookshelf and his coins on the computer table. And I will leave the neatly done bed as it is too. At least his aura will still be there and I’m reminded that my sons are just 8- 9 hours away and do come home now and then.

The sun came up by mid-day, but it was still raining in my heart. But being able to visualize his life over there is such a great comfort. We had walked along his route to work, his jogging track, visited his favourite grocery store, coffee spots and eating places in the neighbourhood, just as Izaz had done with me in Melbourne. Growing up at home, they had always been pampered and waited on by ‘kakak’ and mama dearest, but they have quickly learnt to clean and keep house rather well on their own, and even cook decent meals. In fact, Izaz has acquired quite a reputation for his culinary skills. I must have done something right, Alhamdulillah. 

Though I miss them all the time, deep in my heart I’m happier knowing that they are where the pastures are greener for them. And there is always hope that the right time will come for us to live together again, in the same city or even at least in the same country. For now, family reunions are such a great blessing for us, especially now that Alman is in his tender formative years. He had called Idzfan “Ankevar” during the first week he was home, then later “Abang” and for 3 days before he left, “Ta”!

Putting his bath towel and red & white Lego football jersey (IDZFAN 10) in the wash, nostalgia gushed in too quickly. As for the bed sheet, pillow cases and quilt cover, they are Izaz’s favourite. I shall wash and put them back on just before he comes home next month.

Speaking of family reunions, I would like to thank Jijo for being our angel on our last trip to Melbourne…for lending us such a warm home in the cold season. And Zul and Oki too for adding to the gracious hospitality.  Wonderful memories of South Yarra are forever etched in our minds and I’m sure Alman will get recurring dreams of them as he grows up! I truly apologize for this late gesture. I had wanted to write as soon as we returned to KL, but daily routines leave me breathless most of the time and there is just too much to write about….the home, the company, the reunion, the animal farm, long walks in the city, the books I managed to read…that I kept postponing it for lack of a long quiet block of time. I may just get around to it one of these days. Selamat Hari Raya, maaf zahir dan batin.