"I have a lot to be grateful for in life, you know." I told her when we were walking home last night after watching Mao's Last Dancer. "How often in your life you get the opportunity of waking up in the morning, walking out of your room, and meeting and eating and talking side by side with a beautiful Spanish vet who wants to learn English, who visits poultry farms every week and who treats you like a gentleman?" Not many. We smiled and we nodded to each other and continued to walk solemnly in grateful appreciation of the beautiful life we've been blessed with.
Afterward, when we were home and my friend and I was sitting at our dinner table, eating our Chinese takeaways, my photographer friend joined us. Exhausted from his long day, and complaining to us about his bad day, he dipped his two toasted bread in a baked bean and a leftover of instant Indian dish from yesterday.
I looked at him, and I looked at my soy chicken and rice. "Would you like some of my chicken?" He lifted his eyebrows, "Oh, no, no, no, thanks.". We sat back in silence, each enjoying our meals. Fifteen minutes passed, we talked and we chatted. Suddenly he turned to me, his eyes locked mine in earnest honesty, "Can I have some of your chicken?". We broke in laughter, "Of course!" I shoved my container to him rather happily, glad to wash away my guilt of eating good food while he couldn't.
"One day when you're famous, we'll go to the opening of your gallery in New York and you'll remember us as the people who feed you when you were a poor student." He nodded, smiling mischievously at us while we laughed.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Letters to a Friend: Know thyself
Cowper Street, October 10, 2009
My dearest,
Have I ever told you the meaning of my name? In Arabic it comprises of two words; nur means light, and hidayat means direction. To my utter romantic self, I always believe my name signifies the essence of who I am, the purpose of my being. To me, the idea of how I am in people's life at one point of time to find something for them, to bring them to a different junction of their life and to guide them to their destination, seems so apt.
Yesterday when I was browsing a book with my friend in the little bookstore by the beach, we found out I bore similar and uncanny characteristics to the Goddess Artemis, the androgynous eternal virgin. How much of a coincidence do you think it is? You see, I wasn't kidding when I said I don't see much need for a man to complete me.
This realization, this discovery, this mesmerizing consciousness of my true self reminds me of the short journey I've shared with you in the past, and how in our brief and laconic encounters, I've conceived a reality so clear and unbidden to the faculty of my imaginations. It's as if in meeting you in return - I was guided, found, and brought to life.
How do you think we should explain our seemingly fateful but haphazard friendship, my dearest? I always think how degrading it is to attribute every single thing to mere chance and fortuity, as if our presence in each other's lives serves no larger purposes beyond the random, automated, and mechanized system of our breathing and bleeding bodies. At the same time, to credit our beautiful and blossoming friendship to the working of fate and forces of predetermined events renders a touch of lethargy to our outlook on life. When things are or not meant to be, what use is there in even trying?
There is now a tinge of strange bitterness every time I visit the memories of our time spent together, our intertwined and enjoined conversations are so drenched with saccharine and ecstasy in the barren land of my dreams and expectations - they feel almost unreal. "When you suffered a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling", says Pi. Similarly, when you've become a stranger to compassion and grace, even a minuscule act of generosity touches you like an electric current - shocking and overwhelming and out of the world.
So I'm writing to tell you today, these are what you are to me - a thunderstorm, a lightning, a rain and a sunshine, a gentle wave crashing on the silent and steady rock, a leaf falling from the tree, a dancing fairy, and a Peter Pan in my wonderland, and
I am ever yours truly,
Ati. A. Aziz
My dearest,
Have I ever told you the meaning of my name? In Arabic it comprises of two words; nur means light, and hidayat means direction. To my utter romantic self, I always believe my name signifies the essence of who I am, the purpose of my being. To me, the idea of how I am in people's life at one point of time to find something for them, to bring them to a different junction of their life and to guide them to their destination, seems so apt.
Yesterday when I was browsing a book with my friend in the little bookstore by the beach, we found out I bore similar and uncanny characteristics to the Goddess Artemis, the androgynous eternal virgin. How much of a coincidence do you think it is? You see, I wasn't kidding when I said I don't see much need for a man to complete me.
This realization, this discovery, this mesmerizing consciousness of my true self reminds me of the short journey I've shared with you in the past, and how in our brief and laconic encounters, I've conceived a reality so clear and unbidden to the faculty of my imaginations. It's as if in meeting you in return - I was guided, found, and brought to life.
How do you think we should explain our seemingly fateful but haphazard friendship, my dearest? I always think how degrading it is to attribute every single thing to mere chance and fortuity, as if our presence in each other's lives serves no larger purposes beyond the random, automated, and mechanized system of our breathing and bleeding bodies. At the same time, to credit our beautiful and blossoming friendship to the working of fate and forces of predetermined events renders a touch of lethargy to our outlook on life. When things are or not meant to be, what use is there in even trying?
There is now a tinge of strange bitterness every time I visit the memories of our time spent together, our intertwined and enjoined conversations are so drenched with saccharine and ecstasy in the barren land of my dreams and expectations - they feel almost unreal. "When you suffered a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling", says Pi. Similarly, when you've become a stranger to compassion and grace, even a minuscule act of generosity touches you like an electric current - shocking and overwhelming and out of the world.
So I'm writing to tell you today, these are what you are to me - a thunderstorm, a lightning, a rain and a sunshine, a gentle wave crashing on the silent and steady rock, a leaf falling from the tree, a dancing fairy, and a Peter Pan in my wonderland, and
I am ever yours truly,
Ati. A. Aziz
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The land of weird and wonderful
On Friday, I had glutinous Chinese meals with my friend cooked especially by her mother. Although we were quite hindered with everyone's ability to converse fluently either in Chinese or English, we ended up laughing most of the time it doesn't matter. Afterward, as I was about to start working at my desk I received a knock on my door. "You have to come out and see us", was the first sentence my friend uttered. A friend's friend was working on his photography project and he wanted to take photos at the bus stop - of half-naked people.
So there we were, under blistering rain and amidst thunderous wind, the foursome combination of weird and wonderful people. While I stood by the road side, shivering in my pajamas and blue cap, holding the umbrella for the photographer, the subject of the photo walked idly back and forth in his boxer short, iPod in his ears and sunglasses on his face. My friend occasionally barked from the other side of the road, her Australian accent was unmistakable, while our neighbour watched us amusingly, his head covered under a part of his shirt like someone wearing a hijab.
We reminisced on the night later on, sipping chai latte and quietly listening to the Velvet Underground. I told them, 'seriously guys, I don't need drugs to get high - I'm high now as it is with our life'.
My friends and I went to a talk by Christopher Hitchens on Saturday. As a part of the opening night for the Festival of Dangerous Ideas, Hitchens discussed his arguments against religion and god. Interestingly enough, even though I find myself nodding to most of his ideas, I did not find the coincidences frightening anymore. As I thought to myself in the morning the next day, if god really exists and he is going to judge me, then let him.
And Sunday was the highlight of my weekend. At the generous expense of my friend, he got us free tickets to watch the Australian National Rugby League (NRL) Grand Final. As my friend and I took the train from the city in the afternoon to his house, we could sense the excitement brewing as throngs of people in blue and yellow or purple jersey shirts, scarves, and caps passed through us. In their exhilaration, some people attempted to engage us in conversation by calling us their Indonesian friends.
As we walked into the ANZ Stadium later on, everyone appeared to burst with energy and anticipation. Although I am naturally apprehensive of crowds and loud voices, I let myself soak in the atmosphere like a dry and new sponge. Sitting there, seven rows from the field and in the middle of eighty thousand strangers, I feel small and overwhelmed with the magnanimity of life and fate and the world.
From afar, the combatant players on the field looked like bison fighting in their mating season - fierce, fast, but muted. Even though I couldn't set my heart to support anyone of the two teams, I watched my friends with keen interest as they jumped at every possible close calls for victory. The team my friends rooted for didn't win in the end, but the sombre mood was quickly replaced by our lively discussion during dinner.
And so passed one of the best weekends I ever had in a long time, which I believe is a starting point for many more to come. Isn't it funny how often only in the end the beginning starts?
So there we were, under blistering rain and amidst thunderous wind, the foursome combination of weird and wonderful people. While I stood by the road side, shivering in my pajamas and blue cap, holding the umbrella for the photographer, the subject of the photo walked idly back and forth in his boxer short, iPod in his ears and sunglasses on his face. My friend occasionally barked from the other side of the road, her Australian accent was unmistakable, while our neighbour watched us amusingly, his head covered under a part of his shirt like someone wearing a hijab.
We reminisced on the night later on, sipping chai latte and quietly listening to the Velvet Underground. I told them, 'seriously guys, I don't need drugs to get high - I'm high now as it is with our life'.
My friends and I went to a talk by Christopher Hitchens on Saturday. As a part of the opening night for the Festival of Dangerous Ideas, Hitchens discussed his arguments against religion and god. Interestingly enough, even though I find myself nodding to most of his ideas, I did not find the coincidences frightening anymore. As I thought to myself in the morning the next day, if god really exists and he is going to judge me, then let him.
And Sunday was the highlight of my weekend. At the generous expense of my friend, he got us free tickets to watch the Australian National Rugby League (NRL) Grand Final. As my friend and I took the train from the city in the afternoon to his house, we could sense the excitement brewing as throngs of people in blue and yellow or purple jersey shirts, scarves, and caps passed through us. In their exhilaration, some people attempted to engage us in conversation by calling us their Indonesian friends.
As we walked into the ANZ Stadium later on, everyone appeared to burst with energy and anticipation. Although I am naturally apprehensive of crowds and loud voices, I let myself soak in the atmosphere like a dry and new sponge. Sitting there, seven rows from the field and in the middle of eighty thousand strangers, I feel small and overwhelmed with the magnanimity of life and fate and the world.
From afar, the combatant players on the field looked like bison fighting in their mating season - fierce, fast, but muted. Even though I couldn't set my heart to support anyone of the two teams, I watched my friends with keen interest as they jumped at every possible close calls for victory. The team my friends rooted for didn't win in the end, but the sombre mood was quickly replaced by our lively discussion during dinner.
And so passed one of the best weekends I ever had in a long time, which I believe is a starting point for many more to come. Isn't it funny how often only in the end the beginning starts?
Thursday, October 1, 2009
How do you see the opposite gender?
"Oh, I like him. But he's too much", my friend said to me one day in utter exasperation and honest confusion.
We were having coffee in one of my favorite coffee spots, spending our lazy Monday afternoon away as if we have no obligation to fulfill. I just came back from a camping trip and I needed some resemblance of home to feel grounded again. So we each took a short walk from our respective place to the little cafe in the corner, where beautiful men make beautiful coffee and I can listen to beautiful music.
I shook my head, I leaned back on my chair, and I laughed at her statement. Her head turned sharply, and she looked at me with a bewildered look on her face. "What, why?", as usual she gets fidgety at my observation of her behaviour.
"True love is a strange and misleading notion, don't you think?" I folded my arms around my body, bracing for the debate to ensue. "Where do we get all these ideas when we meet the right person, he or she is going to be perfect and everything is going to work out by itself?". I ended my questions with a smile. I wasn't sure whether she was going to take my arguments as a head-on battle or throw her arms in the air with exasperation.
When she did the latter, I continued, "And what is it with us wo/men and our naive but persistent expectations of the other gender?" "I like him, but he's boring." "I like him, but he's too much." "I like her, but she's clingy." "I like her, but she's not spontaneous enough."
I breathed deeply at the end of my sentence, consumed in return by my own frustration.
Truly, I'm getting tired of looking at people through gender and sex telescope. When we are continuously looking at a person simply because s/he is a wo/man and when we are judging them based on whether or not they fit in the fe/male mould society has given us, we are simply admitting ourselves to the mere boundaries of our primal instinct.
Why do we seek companionship? Because we are one sex and they are the other? Because we are constantly bombarded by the thoughts of how hopeless we are alone and therefore we are always desperately in need of someone else to help us get through our difficult life? Why?
It is evident to me, when we constantly look at the other gender as potential mating match - we fail to look at them as individuals. And what a waste it is.
We were having coffee in one of my favorite coffee spots, spending our lazy Monday afternoon away as if we have no obligation to fulfill. I just came back from a camping trip and I needed some resemblance of home to feel grounded again. So we each took a short walk from our respective place to the little cafe in the corner, where beautiful men make beautiful coffee and I can listen to beautiful music.
I shook my head, I leaned back on my chair, and I laughed at her statement. Her head turned sharply, and she looked at me with a bewildered look on her face. "What, why?", as usual she gets fidgety at my observation of her behaviour.
"True love is a strange and misleading notion, don't you think?" I folded my arms around my body, bracing for the debate to ensue. "Where do we get all these ideas when we meet the right person, he or she is going to be perfect and everything is going to work out by itself?". I ended my questions with a smile. I wasn't sure whether she was going to take my arguments as a head-on battle or throw her arms in the air with exasperation.
When she did the latter, I continued, "And what is it with us wo/men and our naive but persistent expectations of the other gender?" "I like him, but he's boring." "I like him, but he's too much." "I like her, but she's clingy." "I like her, but she's not spontaneous enough."
I breathed deeply at the end of my sentence, consumed in return by my own frustration.
Truly, I'm getting tired of looking at people through gender and sex telescope. When we are continuously looking at a person simply because s/he is a wo/man and when we are judging them based on whether or not they fit in the fe/male mould society has given us, we are simply admitting ourselves to the mere boundaries of our primal instinct.
Why do we seek companionship? Because we are one sex and they are the other? Because we are constantly bombarded by the thoughts of how hopeless we are alone and therefore we are always desperately in need of someone else to help us get through our difficult life? Why?
It is evident to me, when we constantly look at the other gender as potential mating match - we fail to look at them as individuals. And what a waste it is.
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