about us.

"Ya Allah. Seandainya aku sesat, Kau luruskanlah jalanku. Seandainya aku takbur, Kau sedarkanlah hatiku. Seandainya aku lupa daratan, Kau selamatkanlah aku. Ampunkanlah kelancangan perbuatanku ya Allah, ampunkanlah kelancangan detik hatiku. Aku adalah hamba-Mu yang daif ya Allah, Kau selamatkanlah aku.

Amin, amin ya Rabbal Alamin."

"Maka istirahatkanlah hatimu dari perasaan gusar dan bimbang; kerana belum tentu apa yang kamu harap-harapkan itu akan menjadi nyata, dan belum tentu juga apa yang kamu takuti itu akan terhindar."

Adapted from PERIBADI MUSLIM, Imam Ghazali

beckam spike

We were on our way to Terengganu when we stopped for lunch at Genting Sempah. Everyone was eager; one big family was on d move.

It was like 40 of us; including ten grown up yuppies. At the dining, parents wit parents, chicks wit chicks n I gathered my self up wit all d other 9 macho men. I mean, I ve lots of good lookin kezens n of course I was hoping for some spill of them. Hoh.

Its been so while since our last vacation so dis time, I tot some inward attention wud be most welcomed.

Well, everyone loves attentions, no?so did us.

Few mins in a bit n all were fully-tanked, my youngest lil bro loomed from d parents and joined us. It was out of his depth but well, hes like 18 years later than me n he din have any equal pal around dat time. So I let him.

D table next to mine was unoccupied when I was 1^st taking my seat but suddenly I noticed dat everyone was giggling bout something to my right. So, slowly I took a peek.

N the gigglers giggled even harder as I did.

An old man, in his fouled shirt, filthy shorts, wit Einstein’s hairdo was there.

He din look at us, he was juz enjoying d sit. One knee up. Unbuttoned shirt. Grayed hair.

He was not more than 2 feet from me. And dat was even funnier, maybe.

But from his facial bearing, I knew d pilot was somehow still there in his head. Flat broke pilot, probably.

I laughed along wit d gigglers as to save some faces of theirs but I made it short, plus I made it obvious to them dat it was short. Dis wasn’t fine at heart man. Dis wasn’t a gag. He was not crazy.

“isk sian dow korang ni x baek ar. Die x giler ar, org miskin tu.. xde anak kot.”

I let dis out as I killed my giggles.

“Ko tgk rambut die pi, spiky tu…beckam2…beckam ade uban wakakaka”

Siut.

N I cudnt resist d wit so I turned away from d old man sight n snorted out d chortle as hushed as I cud. I wud nt want to wound any old man’s feeling. No, not on my blissful time.

But I knew my kezens well; they were not mean, they were not heartless. They were jz seeking for some funny things to zest up d mood but happened to end up wit d wrong one. They were jz laughing at d Einstein’s thing, nothing was personal. I knew.

Meanwhile, my standard 1 brother was sitting in front of me n d thing is, he was staring directly, unswervingly in d face of d old penniless. I din dare to look at d old man to see whether he was returning d stare or not coz of d discomfiture my sweet bro fetched in.

Pandainye.

So, I jz scolded my lil bro. Mutely of course.

“Ape?”

“Asal Apis pandang die camtu?sape ajar?”

“Apis pandang je x buat ape2 pon”

My face went cherry.

“Sape ajar?Ibu ajar?X boleh! Biadap tau tak, dose!”

No response.

“Apis nak kalo muke Apis ade cekodok tumbuh kat pipi patu org pandang je?"

He smirked at my words, n I smirked too. (aduh asal aku ckp cekodok plak time tgh marah ni)

“Apis x sian kat pacik tu ke apis pandang2 camtu?”

“Ape pacik tu senyum kat Apis, manade die marah”

“Pacik tu senyum?”

“Ye ar, die senyum kat apis”

“Asal die senyum?”

“Ye ar, apis pandang die patu die senyum la kat apis. Patu apis senyum la balek”

As he said dis he rubbed his favorite fishing cap.

(he called himself "Rendra Kecik")

And I went silent on dis.

I was right about d old man.

I was right bout d pilot in d head.

I was right dat he was not crazy.

He was jz one penniless old man.

So, he must have heard wit full implicit what was all d giggling n beckam thing about. But he showed no emotion. He seemed not to worry at all.

But when he saw my lil bro stared in puzzle at him, he returned d stare wit a truthful smile. An old man around 70, n a lil bro of mine in standard one.

One in d beginning, one approaching d end. But it seemed like they comprehended each other real well.

I felt a lil shame for ourselves; me n d kezens. Yuppies, uh? I did laugh along did I. N he must have heard it. But shit, I jz cud nt stand when they pronounced dat beckham spike. I din mean to laugh at d old man. Aww man.

Then the parents called, it was getting late. 5 hours to go wit lots more checkpoints. Lots more happy time, dat wud b most likely to have d sad life of d penniless forgotten by me. I took my bro across d old man’s table but cud nt find d guts to give him one honest smile (as he did to my bro).

But my bro looked at him. And he gave d old man another genuine smile u cud only get from d standard ones. And eventho without looking at him, I knew d old man was doing d same.

good people with good heart

Fiona (bukan nama sebenar) merupakan seorang gadis yang berwajah ayu. Dilahirkan dalam tahun 1985, Fiona baru sahaja menjangkau usia 20 tahun pada bulan Jun yang lepas.

Sebetulnya saya baru sahaja mengenali gadis yang bernama Fiona ini. Kami berkenalan melalui sebuah laman web persahabatan di internet, sekitar bulan Disember yang lalu.

Semenjak dari itu, persahabatan kami menjadi semakin akrab. Kami menjadi kian rapat dan mesra. Fiona ada juga beberapa kali menyatakan pada saya, tentang betapa beruntungnya saya kerana di antara ribuan rakan internetnya, hanya saya seorang sahaja yang berjaya mendapat nombor telefonnya. Saya berasa agak hairan juga kerana Fiona langsung tidak pernah mengenali saya sebelum itu; malah melihat wajah saya pun beliau tidak pernah. Atas dasar apa terbuka hatinya pun tidaklah saya ketahui.

Kami meneruskan persahabatan kami dengan bertukar-tukar cerita dan khabar melalui sms. Teringin juga di hati saya untuk menelefonnya tetapi Fiona ada mengingatkan sewaktu di awal perkenalan dahulu bahawa beliau tidak berapa suka untuk bersembang di telefon. Terpaksalah saya pendam dahulu hasrat saya yang begitu membuak-buak itu.

Pada suatu hari yang baik, saya mengirimkan sms padanya memberitahu (meminta izin sebenarnya) bahawa saya ingin menelefonnya pada malam itu. Ketika itu sudah hampir sebulan kami berkawan, jadi saya kira apalah yang menjadi salah jika saya dapat berbual-bual dengannya di dalam telefon, lebih kurang begitulah alasan saya ketika meminta izin itu.

Pada hemat saya, Fiona juga sebenarnya sudah mula teringin untuk mendengar suara saya (buat kali yang pertama) kerana beliau begitu cepat dan mudah untuk memberikan kebenaran. Walaupun ketika memberi kebenaran itu Fiona menegaskan bahawa perbualan kami itu haruslah pendek; sekitar 2 minit, tetapi dari saat itu lagi saya sudah tahu bahawa dia sebenarnya mengharapkan perbualan yang lebih lama.

Lalu, pada malam itu buat kali yang pertamanya saya menelefon Fiona. Buat kali yang pertama jugalah saya dapat mendengar suaranya yang halus dan kecil (agak comel), dan buat kali pertama jugalah dia dapat mendengar suara saya yang saya sendiri pun tidak pasti hendak dikategorikan sebagai sedap atau tidak. Benarlah apa yang saya jangka, perbualan kami yang pertama itu berlarutan, sehinggakan saya terpaksa beberapa kali bergegas ke kedai berhampiran untuk menukar syiling. Rasanya, saya menukar RM3 sebanyak 2 kali, dan buat kali yang ketiganya saya memutuskan untuk menukar semua wang yang saya bawa di dalam dompet; adalah sekitar RM 10. Ketika itu saya tidak mempunyai kerjaya yang tetap, saya bekerja dengan mendapat gaji harian. Kerana itulah anda mungkin menganggap saya ini sebagai seorang lelaki yang amat tidak berduit. Tidak mengapa, duit bukan segalanya bagi saya. (Duit sama sekali tidak boleh membeli cinta)

Ketika syiling saya hampir kehabisan, saya mengucapkan berbanyak-banyak terima kasih pada Fiona kerana telah bermurah hati mengizinkan saya untuk menelefonnya malam itu. Dan terima kasih juga kerana sudi melayan saya berbual walaupun apa yang kami bualkan itu mungkin agak mengarut dan out of topic. Hati saya amatlah berbunga apabila Fiona juga turut menyatakan rasa terima kasihnya kepada saya kerana sudi menelefonnya. Walaupun kata-katanya itu mungkin adalah suatu ayat yang common; yang biasa-biasa sahaja, tetapi sekurang-kurangnya hati saya tetap merasa seronok mendengarnya. Sambil berjalan pulang selepas itu, saya mengangkat tangan kepada lelaki berbangsa Acheh seraya mengucapkan terima kasih kerana sudi memberi tukaran syiling kepada saya.

Ibarat sebuah sungai, masa juga terus mengalir; menghanyutkan apa-apa yang terapung dipermukaannya dan memendapkan apa-apa yang terbenam di dasar. Persahabatan kami kini bukanlah sesuatu yang baru lagi. Dan lewat beberapa hari yang lepas, saya dan Fiona telah pun berselisih faham. Sebahagian dari kata-katanya telah menyinggung hati saya, dan saya benar-benar berasa jauh hati dengan Fiona. Hendak saya memarahinya, saya ini hanyalah sekadar teman biasa. Melukut tepi gantang; masuk tidak penuh tumpah tidak luak. Saya sedar taraf saya. Saya tahu saya tidak mempunyai hak untuk memarahinya. Tetapi, sekurang-kurangnya, saya rasa ianya bukanlah sesuatu yang keterlaluan untuk saya mendiamkan diri dan tidak membalas message-messagenya buat masa ini. Mungkin saya perlukan waktu, sedikit ruang untuk saya menyejukkan hati.

Yang dipermukaan itulah saya anggapkan sebagai persahabatan kami. Tetap sahaja menyelusuri setiap liku-liku sungai. Walaupun ada kalanya kami tersangkut dan terperangkap oleh arus-arus yang buas di jeram, tetapi akhirnya berjaya juga melepasi dan menyambung kembali perjalanan kami. Bagi saya, walaupun pengalaman terperangkap oleh arus yang buas di jeram itu tadi amat-amat meletihkan, tetapi sekurang-kurangnya ia adalah sesuatu yang amat manis untuk kami bualkan sewaktu perjalanan kami menjadi tenang kembali.

Tetapi tidak kira betapa manisnya perjalanan dan pelayaran kami itu, tetapi yang nyata setiap sungai punya muaranya. Di muara itu nanti, akan terbentang sebuah lautan lepas, terlalu luas hingga kadang-kala saya menjadi takut dan tidak mahu memikirkannya. Jika sebelum ini kami adalah puntung-puntung kayu yang hanyut bersama di sungai dahulu, kini air sudah menjadi masin dan arus sudah menjadi ombak. Mereka-mereka itu tegar sahaja memisahkan kami, kerana kami hanyalah puntung-puntung kayu yang kerdil. Lautan itu terlalu luas untuk kami, hanya Allah S.W.T sahaja yang mampu mengekalkan kebersamaan kami.

Jika kami punya rezeki untuk terus sahaja bersama, maka kami mungkin akan terdampar di muara dan memulakan lembaran kami yang baru bersama-sama. Dan di dalam hidup kami yang baru di muara itu, mungkin ada waktunya kami akan merenung ke lautan sambil membincangkan betapa beruntungnya kami kerana tidak sampai lepas ke samudra dan seterusnya terpisah.

Tetapi jika kami tidak punya rezeki, maka lautan yang luas itulah yang akan kami tempuhi. Kami akan mengucapkan salam perpisahan, dan sampai bertemu lagi yang entah bila saya sendiri tidak ketahui. Kemudian kami pun meneruskan perlayaran kami sendiri, secara berasingan. Maka di situlah saya kira sebagai penamat persahabatan kami.

Walaupun itu mungkin terlalu menyedihkan, seolah-olah lebih baik sahaja saya tidak pernah mengenali dia, tetapi saya harus akur dengan kehendak Allah S.W.T. Jika itu adalah takdir hidup saya, maka saya akan menerimanya dengan hati yang redha. Walaupun akhirnya kami akan terpisah, tetapi saya tetap bersyukur mengenalinya dan jika diberi peluang mengundur waktu sekalipun saya akan tetap memilih untuk mengenalinya juga. Kerana dia adalah seorang manusia yang baik, yang tahu menjaga hati saya walaupun adakalanya dia melukai hati saya. Dia terlalu mendamaikan, mana mungkin gadis seikhlasnya akan mampu saya lupakan. Dia adalah mimpi saya yang sempurna.

Adapted from The Perfect Dream, 2^nd Dec 2005.

grandma's call

I have a grandma and she is like 90. She still can walk, cook, solat, taking a bath and membebel when she please.

She enjoys being urut or picit very much dat all of us have been avoiding dat particular concern ever since. She has 8 children n 1 had passed away at d age of 18.

Now d other 7 are all grown up, have children n some even have grandchildren.

I am like among the 2^nd batch of her grandchildren, n I strongly think we are the finest batch of all. We have entreprendes, we have academicians, we have musician, we have playboy(wit s plz kakakaka), we have racers and we also have fighters. Its like if we decide to form some sort of mob organization, d work wud b like d Italian’s. (demolition expert’s stil in matriculation =p)

So d thing is we have a good life over here without extreme challenge and we are enjoying d pride of it very well. And more than occasionally, our good life wud surely rally up wit grandma’s.

One thing about grandma is dat she is heavily down to negative attitude bout everything dat surrounds her. She seems to suffer from bipolar disorder but only sticks wit d depression episode. She always talks bout our late grandpa, she always talks bout death, bout her asthma, n bout her despairs. Jz name it n I’ll most likely say yep.

Her eldest son is an entreprende; big cars big money big schedule. But to her dis uncle of mine got more time to sparkle d S class rather than having a lunch wit her.

Her 2^nd eldest son is d head engineer in JKR; tons of paperworks n computer screen but to her, he worships d sweet smelling secretary rather than her greyed hair n wrinkled skin.

And her youngest daughter cum my mum; is a teacher. Student’s affair n PIBG meetings but again, all of these are jz some fucking excuses from us to keep her cold in d forgotten bin.

All of dat fuckin pitiless thoughts of us are obviously poignant myths; they are not true at all. I mean, despite d busy life my mum have always got a time to spend every weekends wit grandma. Same goes to my uncles n my aunties; dat forgotten bin never exist.

But as I said, she can still membebel and she enjoys it very much, shes good at it, she must have taken a PhD in it. All d poetic and lyrical facets are appropriately included. Wutta.

Like they have in physics, certain action will produce certain reaction and dat particular reaction wud be accordingly defined by d joules of d energy. So if 20k joules of soothing speech are projected onto d sets of thin eardrums wic belong to a group of bad-tempered grandchildren on d average of once every week, u can imagine how handsome d reaction wud be.

Yes, sadly d group of d thin eared bad-tempered grandchildren ends up wit d rude n harsh words n attitude. N double sadly, more than occasionally dis includes me, d soft-hearted n properly taught sufi. Fuck me.

Sometimes when we were staying up late playing pakau, she came around n served us wit dat soothing speech again. N in d morning (I mean afternoon) she came to me n woke me up wit d sudden accelerating move (jurus memintak kaki kalo bukan nenek aku).

N I din jz growl, but closely to yelling I said: pah ni apasal nak bunuh orang ke kejut2 camni?!! Mesti nk jerit2???orang baru tido ahhhhhhh.

Yeh, like dat. I did feel a lil remorse subsequently, but I’d always managed to forgive myself wit some soft talk wit her later on (bodek2). But like 2 or 3 days later, same thing will happen again. U know, like a constant cycle.

But I din mean to be rude or whatever; its jz like our unique way (our unique fuckin way) to be outspoken. U know how they say it; d level of politeness is at its lowest wit d closest ones. So we ve been using it as our finest excuse to keep doing d thing, we ve been keeping it as our finest defense to eradicate d remorse n forgive ourselves. Its not dat we dun luv our grandma; we luv her very much like we wud die for her n we wud cry if she dies.

But it’s jz dat we are a group of grandchildren wit a stupid attitude n manners constraint. And dats y we ve been reacting like dis towards d 20k joules of her soothing speech.

And few days ago, I was on my way to campus. Since I left my spare helmet in grandma’s house, so I dropped in. It was like 2.30 in d evening. Hot, searing, dry air, no wind. Like a sizzling sun. I parked my bike under d tree n jumped off as quickly as I cud. N dat was when I saw her sitting on an aged chair, staring uncaringly thru d winds, tho there was no wind. She was alone, in her washed out baju kurung kedah, holding her favorite tasbih, wit a very mind-numbing facial expression.

15mins previously, as I was on my bike, one average-good-looking chick illuminated my emotion wit her damned pretty smile when we were stopping side-by-side for d red. Eventho it is considered as a short-lived event, but things like dat cud b a good stimulus to keep my days going. U know, I mean like if I am tired one day n feel sluggish for d one hour trip to campus, events like dat cud b some sort of motivation to me, slight motivation I mean. It cud be part of d things dat make d days of a guy at my age. Dat event is not important at all, but it cud help me up to accomplish important ones.

So, now here’s d point.

I got chick on d red to cheer my days up plus a good fren oversea.

My kezen got his EK 9 large v-tec for d pride plus one loyal gf whose name is included wit ir.

N my uncle is having a constant conversation bout buying d brand new eagle eyes. Oh yes, he doesn’t plan to trade-in d s-class.

But wat do my grandma got?

Macho man on d red?
She haven’t seen no traffic light like years; d bed d kitchen d aged chair d front yard have been d only regular sight of hers n most probably it wud b routine until death.

EK 9 large v-tec? She got carsick thus no car wud stimulate her.

N like I said before, she talks a lot about our late grandpa so a conversation bout big cars won’t draw her attention at all.

So wat wud make up her days?

Then I remember on d last Ramadhan when most of her children n grandchildren dtg lepak berbuke puase kat umah die, she seemed to be so full at hand. Her mouth was like pot pet2 cam mulut pakai bateri suh org sume mkn. She had made a nice n crispy karipap n lempeng pisang for our dessert tho her condition is not appropriate for any kitchen work. But she did it. n from d shine in her greyed eyes, I knew dat it were things like dis dat made up her days. She talked much n she laughed at d stupidest joke. N I din see her staring uncaringly thru d wind, tho there was no wind.

Yep. Things like dat wud make up her days.

But to we; dats damned boring.

WE; all her fellow sons n daughters n grandsons n granddaughters have been neglecting her, at least in her points of view. When she kept babbling n nagging as if we were keeping her cold in d forgotten bin, we simply perceived dat she was very demanding n making use of her status as an old widowed woman. We simply convinced each other dat she was exaggerating. We ignored our fucking selves; we ignored her loneliness n her needs; for a fucking simple depth-listening.

She din ask for money.

She din ask my mum to dump d students n stay wit her days n nights.

She din ask my uncle to rebuilt d old house n bring in mahogany sofas.

All she ever wanted was a group of us, a group of people for whom she cud make a nice n crispy karipap.

to kill her boredom.

to be her companion when d noon is hot n searing.

to sooth her memories of our late grandpa, when she wipes d tears on d wrinkled skin.

And now, she was in front of me wit dat uncaringly stare. She din notice me; she din hear d growling engine of my bike since her ears were out of coverage long time ago. I looked at her. I felt my chest was starting to double its weight. Wat is she doing? This is damned boring, I wud have gone elsewhere, perhaps hanging around at bb. But where shud she go? There is no one; she’s all alone, sitting purposelessly on d aged chair. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to make some crispy karipap for. N the sun is hot, she cud nt sleep so d boredom wud die away.

I felt my eyes were starting to get very wet. So I stepped ahead n called her but then I had to shout to her since it was very hard for her to catch up wit my words. Highly-pitched, I explained to her dat I was on my way to campus, dat I was here for d spare helmet. Then she told me to study hard, get good job, make good money n find good wife n have a good life. I jz stayed muted. I cudnt produce any sound. My chest was very heavy.

Then i took n kissed her hand, I kissed both of her cheeks n I kissed her forehead like I always do when I was a kid. Then I grabbed d helmet behind d door. N as I kissed her wrinkled forehead again, I promised her dat I will stay here for d night.

I put on my helmet n headed for my bike. I felt an unfamiliar heat in my eyes. Silently i asked myself; wat a fuckin grandson i am.

sufi, mlm ni opi datang, 9^th jan 2009, 4.54am.

"unseen asia"

esok gua tulis.ngantok dah ni