Memories always seem to get to you at the most inopportune time. Sometimes they made me think of God as one cheeky supreme being. He enjoys teasing His servants when they thought they had the best cards in their hands, He gave one to surprise, to test, and to see how they respond to it. Not out of spite, not out of vengeance, not out of superiority. Only out of love, out of what He knows is the best of us.
That's why, sometimes even when I'm tired and full of tears, I laughed out loud with Him. You got me there, my Lord. I told Him.
At times like these, when I am in need of an ear to lend. I remember my brother. He had been my voluntary therapist more than what any other can offer me. Even in his imperfections, I cannot conjure any other who had been as persistent as he is in his patience of listening to me, or answering my calls, or watching me cry for no reason, or laughing at my jokes, or taking me out of my squares and showing what the world can be for me.
I remember my brother for the lightness of heart he offered me after hours of pouring my heart out to him. Random things, weird things, pointless things. He never failed to listen. I remember my brother for his impartial and concrete ways of seeing things. When I agonized over things, only one word from him would silence me. I remember my brother for what he had done for me and what I can see of my family. For being a part of his and going home grateful of mine.
Now I remember my brother, when in my strength and my pride of being independent. He sat beside me and said I didn't have to go through everything alone. He is there, many people are there, to be by my side when I need them. Now I remember to open my heart, to allow another person to come close and sit beside me, just like my brother did.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
What am I?
How often do you think you ask yourself the question in your lifetime? What am I, what are you, what are we?
Sometimes I feel like I'm destined for the life of a rebel, the fiercest of all activist and supporter of environmental cause - but I learned now how my soul can be easily disturbed by the crudeness of picket line and angry shouts of the protesters. I even feel for the person hated by most1, a quality I find confusing in myself. Because I'm not sure whether it indicates a failing of resolve or a gentleness of heart. I certainly hope it's the latter.
As a result, sometime I try to imagine myself living a life of a bureaucrat, a policy practitioner. I know my professional qualities have a penchant for it. I'm rational and almost unemotional when it comes to making decisions. I can plan things, innovative things. But at most times I have a feeling I'll be suffocated in no time living in a culture which dictates what, how, and why I should do certain things. I'm not sure I can stand it for longer term.
But most of all, a life I certainly imagine and long for is a life of a writer and society observer. A life with no strings attached, a life which allows me to roam free and engage with everyone around me as I like. Yet, I need purpose in my life, I am best when I am driven by schedules and goals - so a life of a social hermit will not exercise my potential.
So who am I, really - and what am I meant to do?
1 If you're wondering who it was, it's George W. Bush.
Sometimes I feel like I'm destined for the life of a rebel, the fiercest of all activist and supporter of environmental cause - but I learned now how my soul can be easily disturbed by the crudeness of picket line and angry shouts of the protesters. I even feel for the person hated by most1, a quality I find confusing in myself. Because I'm not sure whether it indicates a failing of resolve or a gentleness of heart. I certainly hope it's the latter.
As a result, sometime I try to imagine myself living a life of a bureaucrat, a policy practitioner. I know my professional qualities have a penchant for it. I'm rational and almost unemotional when it comes to making decisions. I can plan things, innovative things. But at most times I have a feeling I'll be suffocated in no time living in a culture which dictates what, how, and why I should do certain things. I'm not sure I can stand it for longer term.
But most of all, a life I certainly imagine and long for is a life of a writer and society observer. A life with no strings attached, a life which allows me to roam free and engage with everyone around me as I like. Yet, I need purpose in my life, I am best when I am driven by schedules and goals - so a life of a social hermit will not exercise my potential.
So who am I, really - and what am I meant to do?
1 If you're wondering who it was, it's George W. Bush.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
The Story of Random Things
I was walking with the green grocery bag in hand filled with whatever food my friend had stuffed in it for her pending temporary absence. You must finish it, she concluded with a grin before I leave the house. I grimaced when I looked at the thigh fillet, sausages, and roasted chicken. Still I took them, resigned with my meat-filled menu for the rest of the week.
On my other hand is a paper bag, filled with magazines of current and previous subscriptions. I hope to read them in my spare time. My aim is to find affordable artworks, for the little project I'm thinking of back home.
From afar I saw the old man came out from his house. I talked to him once, and I've already forgotten his name. But I never forget his house. The friendliest house in the district, with blooming and colourful flowers flooding the front porch. It reminded me of a fairy tale cottage. He was followed by a little Havanese with a dirty brown fur and he has a cigarette in his hand. Clad in his typical sweater and slack apparel and a beret in his head, he looked as content as any little boy in his play time.
Hello!, I bellowed as I approached him. He turned around and flashed a big smile at me. Good afternoon, it's a nice day. He greeted me with his deep Italian accent. We talked about the weather, my shopping bags and his dog Kareena before I continued my walk home.
***
Hey, come here and look!, my housemate nudged at my elbow. Quietly he took me to the lounge. There he was, pecking on our carpet as if it was the ground. His little feet still sore from whatever accident he had had the days before. I rushed to the kitchen, took out a slice of bread, and began throwing them bit by bit on the backyard. Let's call him Poopy. We decided later on. Because he pooped so much on the floor of our backyard, and because it was the name of cute Greek guy in the latest movie we watched the night before, Poopy Carcass.
***
I was having my breakfast when I saw her walking quietly in the backyard. Hello!, I called to her excitedly. She looked up, surprised at the greeting. But when she saw me, she continued her quest, unsurprised. She was checking out the bread I left out for Poopy, but clearly she wasn't interested. Hey, are you hungry? I asked her, but still she seemed to feign no interest to my offer. I laughed at her cheekiness, so I walked to the fridge and took out one of the sausages my friend had left for me.
She was already nowhere in sight, but I walked straight to the backyard and I called out her name while dangling the sausage in my hand. Angie, I've got a sausage for you. I sang her name. There was a ruffle in the grass at my feet. I squatted down and there she was, looking at me wide-eyed, full of hope for the sausage in my grasp.
Angie, come here. I called out to her again. This time I put out my hand closer to her, she didn't budge from her place, but she held out her head and started licking the sausage. There you are, I laughed to myself. Now we've finally met.
On my other hand is a paper bag, filled with magazines of current and previous subscriptions. I hope to read them in my spare time. My aim is to find affordable artworks, for the little project I'm thinking of back home.
From afar I saw the old man came out from his house. I talked to him once, and I've already forgotten his name. But I never forget his house. The friendliest house in the district, with blooming and colourful flowers flooding the front porch. It reminded me of a fairy tale cottage. He was followed by a little Havanese with a dirty brown fur and he has a cigarette in his hand. Clad in his typical sweater and slack apparel and a beret in his head, he looked as content as any little boy in his play time.
Hello!, I bellowed as I approached him. He turned around and flashed a big smile at me. Good afternoon, it's a nice day. He greeted me with his deep Italian accent. We talked about the weather, my shopping bags and his dog Kareena before I continued my walk home.
***
Hey, come here and look!, my housemate nudged at my elbow. Quietly he took me to the lounge. There he was, pecking on our carpet as if it was the ground. His little feet still sore from whatever accident he had had the days before. I rushed to the kitchen, took out a slice of bread, and began throwing them bit by bit on the backyard. Let's call him Poopy. We decided later on. Because he pooped so much on the floor of our backyard, and because it was the name of cute Greek guy in the latest movie we watched the night before, Poopy Carcass.
***
I was having my breakfast when I saw her walking quietly in the backyard. Hello!, I called to her excitedly. She looked up, surprised at the greeting. But when she saw me, she continued her quest, unsurprised. She was checking out the bread I left out for Poopy, but clearly she wasn't interested. Hey, are you hungry? I asked her, but still she seemed to feign no interest to my offer. I laughed at her cheekiness, so I walked to the fridge and took out one of the sausages my friend had left for me.
She was already nowhere in sight, but I walked straight to the backyard and I called out her name while dangling the sausage in my hand. Angie, I've got a sausage for you. I sang her name. There was a ruffle in the grass at my feet. I squatted down and there she was, looking at me wide-eyed, full of hope for the sausage in my grasp.
Angie, come here. I called out to her again. This time I put out my hand closer to her, she didn't budge from her place, but she held out her head and started licking the sausage. There you are, I laughed to myself. Now we've finally met.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Awan Tidak Gelap Langit Tidak Hujan
Alangkah! Barangkali itu satu-satunya perkataan yang saya mampu ungkapkan untuk mencernakan hampir semua hal yang berlaku beberapa minggu ini.
Terlalu banyak peristiwa, terlalu sedikit masa.
Dari belakang mengundur ke depan, hal-hal baru terus-terusan menjenguk dalam hidup saya. Adakalanya ia manis sekali, menyejukkan hati. Seperti A (bukan nama sebenar), sahabat baru yang nampaknya tidak serik-serik mengejutkan saya dengan tingkah budiman dia. Makan malam, dialog lucu dan usikan dia kadangkala buat saya tersenyum-senyum sendiri. Indeed, friends do come from unlikely places.
Berlainan pula dengan B (bukan nama sebenar), anak muda berapi yang menjenguk sebentar di rumah saya minggu lalu. Berapi, itu satu kualiti yang saya hargai. Tapi berapi sahaja tidak cukup. Passion without attitude will not get us far, I believe. Sepanjang saya di sisi dia resah remuk hati saya, hati yang satu dijaga, hati yang seribu ditatang. Ia benar-benar satu pelajaran untuk diri sendiri; kenal dulu hati budi orang sebelum senang-senang mahu tawarkan bumbung berlindung.
Peristiwa C mengajar saya tentang betapa saya ini traditionalist orangnya. Saya percaya akan susun atur, fitrah, dan tingkah hormat orang tua. Barangkali saya ini memang benar Melayu habis-habisan. Tapi bila bercakap tentang perbezaan pendapat, saya benar-benar berharap tunduk, akur, dan angguk bukan satu-satunya jalan saya. The art of getting the message across,- menulis, berpidato, berpiket? Banyaknya yang saya perlu belajar.
Hal terakhir, saya rindukan kampung halaman. Ada sahabat-sahabat yang menunggu saya pulang.
Terlalu banyak peristiwa, terlalu sedikit masa.
Dari belakang mengundur ke depan, hal-hal baru terus-terusan menjenguk dalam hidup saya. Adakalanya ia manis sekali, menyejukkan hati. Seperti A (bukan nama sebenar), sahabat baru yang nampaknya tidak serik-serik mengejutkan saya dengan tingkah budiman dia. Makan malam, dialog lucu dan usikan dia kadangkala buat saya tersenyum-senyum sendiri. Indeed, friends do come from unlikely places.
Berlainan pula dengan B (bukan nama sebenar), anak muda berapi yang menjenguk sebentar di rumah saya minggu lalu. Berapi, itu satu kualiti yang saya hargai. Tapi berapi sahaja tidak cukup. Passion without attitude will not get us far, I believe. Sepanjang saya di sisi dia resah remuk hati saya, hati yang satu dijaga, hati yang seribu ditatang. Ia benar-benar satu pelajaran untuk diri sendiri; kenal dulu hati budi orang sebelum senang-senang mahu tawarkan bumbung berlindung.
Peristiwa C mengajar saya tentang betapa saya ini traditionalist orangnya. Saya percaya akan susun atur, fitrah, dan tingkah hormat orang tua. Barangkali saya ini memang benar Melayu habis-habisan. Tapi bila bercakap tentang perbezaan pendapat, saya benar-benar berharap tunduk, akur, dan angguk bukan satu-satunya jalan saya. The art of getting the message across,- menulis, berpidato, berpiket? Banyaknya yang saya perlu belajar.
Hal terakhir, saya rindukan kampung halaman. Ada sahabat-sahabat yang menunggu saya pulang.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Ada dua perkara paling besar dalam dunia ini;
"Cinta, dan kehidupan. Bila kita siap menerima keduanya, maka kita akan siap menghadapi apa sahaja."
Sebelum tidur, tangan saya mencari-cari kekunci di telefon bimbit. Sungguhpun saya tahu saya tak sepatutnya pergi ke dunia yang lagi satu itu - ini minggu rehat saya, jauh dari semuanya - tapi membaca mel panjang dari sahabat yang jauh di tanah air buat saya tersenyum sebelum pejam mata saya malam itu.
Banyak cerita yang kami kongsi, hal-hal yang lama dan yang baru. Bila bercakap tentang perubahan, adakalanya yang saya lihat menginjak dewasa ini adalah betapa cepatnya perubahan dan masa berlalu. Jika 5 tahun dahulu sahabat yang di sisi hari inilah sahabat yang di sisi minggu depan, sekarang bertemu kenalan baru, bermesra dan bergelak tawa tak bermakna sudah jadi teman seumur hidup.
Makin tua, makin dewasa; hati perlu lebih rasional, tapi fikiran perlu lebih bertimbang-rasa. Bagi saya, ini adalah satu ironi yang benar-benar hikmah.
Sebelum tidur, tangan saya mencari-cari kekunci di telefon bimbit. Sungguhpun saya tahu saya tak sepatutnya pergi ke dunia yang lagi satu itu - ini minggu rehat saya, jauh dari semuanya - tapi membaca mel panjang dari sahabat yang jauh di tanah air buat saya tersenyum sebelum pejam mata saya malam itu.
Banyak cerita yang kami kongsi, hal-hal yang lama dan yang baru. Bila bercakap tentang perubahan, adakalanya yang saya lihat menginjak dewasa ini adalah betapa cepatnya perubahan dan masa berlalu. Jika 5 tahun dahulu sahabat yang di sisi hari inilah sahabat yang di sisi minggu depan, sekarang bertemu kenalan baru, bermesra dan bergelak tawa tak bermakna sudah jadi teman seumur hidup.
Makin tua, makin dewasa; hati perlu lebih rasional, tapi fikiran perlu lebih bertimbang-rasa. Bagi saya, ini adalah satu ironi yang benar-benar hikmah.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Lavender's Blue, Dilly Dilly
Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green. When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen. The memory of her serene voices, repeating after the book reader I had bought for her birthday, never failed to make me smile despite myself. Her body swaying side to side, smiling widely each time she look up to see all of us watching her with pride.
How she had grown! From the doted and enthusiastic little girl we all showered our attention to, she became a devoted kak long to her baby sister, brimming with confidence of her status as the protective and commanding first grandchild in our family.
Like the most surprising gift, her arrival although expected, is nothing I ever imagined. Her tiny face, fingers and legs, at first seemed alien to me. I remember the first time seeing her cradled by her nyai, my mother, I asked myself - who is the little stranger? Only when I hold her later on, her bobbling head nestled comfortably at my neck, I felt awash with emotions. My mind overwhelmed at such wonderment, the little beautiful thing who shares a part of me in her.
And oh her little sister! If the older sister is a burst of emotions who the very existence of her seem to unblock in us all of those wells of repressed and unsaid affections, the little darling possesses such a calm disposition. She is shy and she is quiet, and she lets you know if you're in her favour through her generous affections, for she doesn't wear her heart on her sleeves.
I still remember when she ran to me when she woke up from sleep one day, wrapping her arms and legs around me tightly as if I am the one person in the world who makes her safe. These days, even as the older sister chattered away about what her nyai and tok ki, her ummi and abah are doing through the phone, I can see the little sister sitting quietly, watching rather admirably at the big vast world around her.
I don't remember wishing a sister when I grow up, and I'm not sure how it would change things if I have one. But looking at the two of them they look like the perfect pair, heaven-sent little angels to all of us in the family. It used to amaze me how they had invoked in me the ability to love freely, to look at the world with unsuspecting eyes - but now I see.
What is it in little children's heart which allow them to love so much and so generously? A heart as golden and soul as pure, untouched by what foolishness the adults are putting up on the world.
How she had grown! From the doted and enthusiastic little girl we all showered our attention to, she became a devoted kak long to her baby sister, brimming with confidence of her status as the protective and commanding first grandchild in our family.
Like the most surprising gift, her arrival although expected, is nothing I ever imagined. Her tiny face, fingers and legs, at first seemed alien to me. I remember the first time seeing her cradled by her nyai, my mother, I asked myself - who is the little stranger? Only when I hold her later on, her bobbling head nestled comfortably at my neck, I felt awash with emotions. My mind overwhelmed at such wonderment, the little beautiful thing who shares a part of me in her.
And oh her little sister! If the older sister is a burst of emotions who the very existence of her seem to unblock in us all of those wells of repressed and unsaid affections, the little darling possesses such a calm disposition. She is shy and she is quiet, and she lets you know if you're in her favour through her generous affections, for she doesn't wear her heart on her sleeves.
I still remember when she ran to me when she woke up from sleep one day, wrapping her arms and legs around me tightly as if I am the one person in the world who makes her safe. These days, even as the older sister chattered away about what her nyai and tok ki, her ummi and abah are doing through the phone, I can see the little sister sitting quietly, watching rather admirably at the big vast world around her.
I don't remember wishing a sister when I grow up, and I'm not sure how it would change things if I have one. But looking at the two of them they look like the perfect pair, heaven-sent little angels to all of us in the family. It used to amaze me how they had invoked in me the ability to love freely, to look at the world with unsuspecting eyes - but now I see.
What is it in little children's heart which allow them to love so much and so generously? A heart as golden and soul as pure, untouched by what foolishness the adults are putting up on the world.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Apa Yang Saya Ingatkan Adalah Masa Lalu
Kalau diikutkan yang dulu-dulu itu makin lama makin manis dikenang. Barangkali ia mengingatkan kita pada hal-hal yang tunas, muda, dan cuwek. Mungkin juga sebab ia boleh jadi romantis, sebab ia bukan lagi hal yang kita boleh kejar. Barang yang disimpan, mestilah yang elok dan cantik-cantik sahaja kan?
Sebetulnya semakin berusia ini buat saya benar-benar menghitung kurnia Tuhan. Saya ingat dengan kemas lagi perbualan saya dengan seorang sahabat - someday you need to share your life with someone, otherwise no one will be on your side. Hari ini saya ziarah kembali titik masa itu, hampir lima tahun yang lalu, saya lihat teman-teman bermain dan bergaduh saya.
Bukankah jalan yang ditentukan Tuhan itu begitu cantik dan molek sekali?
Tentunya it wasn't all bed of roses, tentunya saya ingat lagi detik-detik cemas menangis di meja makan di depan sahabat magis saya, atau menunggu dengan kalut balasan-balasan surat panjang dia yang selalu mengingatkan saya untuk yakin janji Tuhan. Tapi agaknya itulah harganya, supaya hari ini saya dan dia boleh bergelak ketawa dan bermain kata. Walaupun kami tahu hari ini ujian lain akan datang, but the worst is over and what doesn't kill us will make us stronger.
Begitu juga dengan teman-teman akrab saya, dari pagi ke petang dulunya sama-sama belajar hal-hal cinta dan patah hati. Sama-sama berjalan, sama-sama jatuh dan sama-sama berpimpinan. Sama-sama bergaduh dan sama-sama bertepuk tangan. Lima tahun bukan masa singkat, kami sama-sama dewasa jadi manusia (apatah lagi ibu bapa manusia!).
Mengenangkan hal-hal beginilah yang buat saya rindu-rinduan. Menjadi tetamu tanah asing, walaupun cabarannya cukup mengajar, boleh jadi terlalu memenatkan. Ada rasa yang perlu dijaga, ada prinsip yang perlu diperkasa. Mengenangkan hal-hal beginilah yang buat saya berfikir, alangkah senang sekali berbahukan teman yang kenal lebih dan kurang diri!
Nota kaki: Tentunya, tentu sekali - sahabat-sahabat baru itu adakalanya menyegarkan dan membuka mata, malah dialu-alukan sekali. :)
Sebetulnya semakin berusia ini buat saya benar-benar menghitung kurnia Tuhan. Saya ingat dengan kemas lagi perbualan saya dengan seorang sahabat - someday you need to share your life with someone, otherwise no one will be on your side. Hari ini saya ziarah kembali titik masa itu, hampir lima tahun yang lalu, saya lihat teman-teman bermain dan bergaduh saya.
Bukankah jalan yang ditentukan Tuhan itu begitu cantik dan molek sekali?
Tentunya it wasn't all bed of roses, tentunya saya ingat lagi detik-detik cemas menangis di meja makan di depan sahabat magis saya, atau menunggu dengan kalut balasan-balasan surat panjang dia yang selalu mengingatkan saya untuk yakin janji Tuhan. Tapi agaknya itulah harganya, supaya hari ini saya dan dia boleh bergelak ketawa dan bermain kata. Walaupun kami tahu hari ini ujian lain akan datang, but the worst is over and what doesn't kill us will make us stronger.
Begitu juga dengan teman-teman akrab saya, dari pagi ke petang dulunya sama-sama belajar hal-hal cinta dan patah hati. Sama-sama berjalan, sama-sama jatuh dan sama-sama berpimpinan. Sama-sama bergaduh dan sama-sama bertepuk tangan. Lima tahun bukan masa singkat, kami sama-sama dewasa jadi manusia (apatah lagi ibu bapa manusia!).
Mengenangkan hal-hal beginilah yang buat saya rindu-rinduan. Menjadi tetamu tanah asing, walaupun cabarannya cukup mengajar, boleh jadi terlalu memenatkan. Ada rasa yang perlu dijaga, ada prinsip yang perlu diperkasa. Mengenangkan hal-hal beginilah yang buat saya berfikir, alangkah senang sekali berbahukan teman yang kenal lebih dan kurang diri!
Nota kaki: Tentunya, tentu sekali - sahabat-sahabat baru itu adakalanya menyegarkan dan membuka mata, malah dialu-alukan sekali. :)
Friday, July 3, 2009
When You Want Something, All the Universe Conspires in Helping You to Achieve It
"Where did you get the idea you aren't allowed to petition the universe with prayer? You are part of this universe, Liz. You're a constituent - you have every entitlement to participate in the actions of the universe, and to let your feelings be know. So put your opinion out there. Make your case. Believe me - it will at least be taken into consideration."
Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Notes on Frets (Happy Birthday Abah
Every time I reflected upon my decision to come to Australia, there is always one person hovering around my every shadows. It was not deliberated, I had always wanted to go to Scotland, and initially I was already offered an admission to the University of Aberdeen. But I remember one night, in my little room in Kuantan, I quickly dialed Mak's number after the evening prayer; "Mak rasa senang tak nak dapat scholarship pergi UNSW?"
What followed suit was a rapid succession of events, and in a blink of an eye I already sat determinedly on the plane one July evening in 2008. Friends were surprised, question after question they ask on how certain I was to pursue the cause. I did not faltered, but the decision seemed to break all the rules laid out on me and opened up a whole new dimensions to what was inside me in the past years.
I was not sure what I would find, nor do I know what to expect. Meeting Uncle Greg for the second time after more than 15 years filled me with unimaginable relief, my memories of him and Aunt Lorraine when we were in Jerteh remained distinct and memorable in my mind and I am comforted by the shared tales of the place with them. It was as if given the fleeting presence of my family in so many different soils when I grew up, they are the proof of my 7-year old existence.
There were two things I remembered saying to myself when I walked home from school one day, deciding what it was I came to Australia for, "I want to find God, and I want to find Abah before I go back."
Finding my father, truth to be told, I earlier expected to find his name on the Golden Snitch or his friends like what Sirius, Lupin and Snape had been to James Potter. It's admittedly bizarre to expect such things of course, but I am desperately foolish to begin with. What then did I find of him? a genius, respected among his friends, and a larrikin too. He played guitar and he lived with an old man when he was studying. Qualities I have never gotten to learn due to the distance between us.
I remembered Abah's constant absence seemed to magnify his presence among us in the family. A single voice of Abah in the morning would wake me up instantly, pisang goreng and buah mangga always indicate his fortnightly return, even now we could predict the visit of my nieces at the presence of their Tok Ki. Perhaps, why engineers always appeal to me hopelessly could even be attributed to Abah's profession.
Does it really matter, now, how little or how much I know of my father? Are all the anger and despair washed away now I am treading on the very soil he had laboured on years before he even became a father? How did this journey change what I view of my father then and now? I ask myself again tonight at the eve of Abah's 63rd anniversary.
The answer is I don't know. But in all uncertainties, I only want to know he loves me now as he had loved me when he first held me in his arms, I only want to know he holds dear our family and my mother as he had before everything changed, and I only want to know I made him proud, no matter how hopelessly flawed I had been in my life.
Abah, please forgive me my flaws and shortcomings, and all the pain I had caused to you and Mak. Happy birthday and I love you both very much.
What followed suit was a rapid succession of events, and in a blink of an eye I already sat determinedly on the plane one July evening in 2008. Friends were surprised, question after question they ask on how certain I was to pursue the cause. I did not faltered, but the decision seemed to break all the rules laid out on me and opened up a whole new dimensions to what was inside me in the past years.
I was not sure what I would find, nor do I know what to expect. Meeting Uncle Greg for the second time after more than 15 years filled me with unimaginable relief, my memories of him and Aunt Lorraine when we were in Jerteh remained distinct and memorable in my mind and I am comforted by the shared tales of the place with them. It was as if given the fleeting presence of my family in so many different soils when I grew up, they are the proof of my 7-year old existence.
There were two things I remembered saying to myself when I walked home from school one day, deciding what it was I came to Australia for, "I want to find God, and I want to find Abah before I go back."
Finding my father, truth to be told, I earlier expected to find his name on the Golden Snitch or his friends like what Sirius, Lupin and Snape had been to James Potter. It's admittedly bizarre to expect such things of course, but I am desperately foolish to begin with. What then did I find of him? a genius, respected among his friends, and a larrikin too. He played guitar and he lived with an old man when he was studying. Qualities I have never gotten to learn due to the distance between us.
I remembered Abah's constant absence seemed to magnify his presence among us in the family. A single voice of Abah in the morning would wake me up instantly, pisang goreng and buah mangga always indicate his fortnightly return, even now we could predict the visit of my nieces at the presence of their Tok Ki. Perhaps, why engineers always appeal to me hopelessly could even be attributed to Abah's profession.
Does it really matter, now, how little or how much I know of my father? Are all the anger and despair washed away now I am treading on the very soil he had laboured on years before he even became a father? How did this journey change what I view of my father then and now? I ask myself again tonight at the eve of Abah's 63rd anniversary.
The answer is I don't know. But in all uncertainties, I only want to know he loves me now as he had loved me when he first held me in his arms, I only want to know he holds dear our family and my mother as he had before everything changed, and I only want to know I made him proud, no matter how hopelessly flawed I had been in my life.
Abah, please forgive me my flaws and shortcomings, and all the pain I had caused to you and Mak. Happy birthday and I love you both very much.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Letters to a Friend: 1
Cowper St, July 1, 2009
My dearest,
There are times when amidst joyous moments, I am brought back to a slither of memories when you and I trotted the same land. Because sometimes even invaluable my experiences had been in this foreign soil, I still severely wish how I could see you present among my acquaintances, savouring the spices of my adventurous journey.
We had a generous dinner last night, the three great cook of the house as we call ourselves, each made food fit to serve an army. Lasagna, polenta and grilled vegetable stacks, spring rolls, spinach and cheese-filled cobb bread, salads, and Indian-fused pasta brought by our gentle neighbour spread the table. The food, suffice to say, filled us before we even get to greet our dessert enthusiastically.
And oh the companies! It was such joy to listen and witness the conversations. The avid observer you know I am, I listened with indifference as the dinner table became a battle of eastern and western cultures. They had discussed with rare spirits about the fear our fathers and mothers harbour of our wobbling young impulses. While some hold dear their parent's trust, others flee to pursue their heart's desire.
It made me question myself, whether I boarded the plane to say goodbye to everything which is not to my heart's desire or I had left with ample trust to honour my parents pride in me for taking such uncertain road.
What of your thoughts, my friend, what road have you taken in your life and why so? Ever so little I understand of your life, your composed and warm manner always assure me of the world's kindness and honesty. It is you who reminds me, every time I had to contain my anger towards the world, there is always a reason to go home.
As fiery as the conversations had been, laughter and merriment followed the rest of our night. It suited me very well because such conviviality let me alone with my own reflection. It is often at such times my thoughts are tenderly drawn towards the memory of you. As if in the middle of our youngest Indian ambassador demonstrating his eloquent dance and the audience laughing around him with delight, I could see you there too nodding appreciatively with the little crooked smile of yours I've come to memorize in my sleep.
Can you tell my why my friend, even with the generosity of technology around us, these minutes and miles between us do not seem to budge faster and more rapidly for our impending reunion?
Awaiting your reply,
Very sincerely yours,
Ati A. Aziz.
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