Blessings

"If you count Allah's blessings, you can never encompass them all. 

Indeed, the human being is transgressing, unappreciative."

(Surah Ibrahim: 34)

I recently celebrated another birthday, Alhamdulillah; and I am still wondering whether I am any wiser than the year before.  

Like every year, I sincerely do not expect parties or presents, but dear family members and friends have gone through the trouble of making sure that I know there are people who would go a special mile for me.  And yes, it does fill up that sometimes hollow feeling one occasionally gets.

Nothing but my duaas for them; friends and relatives for the amazing wishes and duaas, Mak Morni for the fresh roses, Twin H & Little D for the M&S toiletries, Twin Z for the movie treat, Kak Long for the family dinner, MM for the shawl and perfume, my academic team for the material from Jakel, and mostly, Princess for the juzuks of hafazan and the best of all, the twins (collectively) for the regular and prompt jemaah prayers at the mosque - priceless!  Blessed to bits!

Today is my Princess' birthday and I pray for a million blessings and rezq of all forms for this diamond of mine.  Spent the morning with her arranging for her passport, which is of course just an excuse to spend some time with her on her birthday.

If granted another year of life, how else would you spend it, other than the best you could with your loved ones?


NB: In four more days, it would have been my late brother's 48th birthday.  May Allah grant Him mercy and place Him in jannah...

Pausing again

I woke up in the early hours of the morning to the sound of  rain, falling in soft susurration.  Slowly, I stepped to the window, peeking to confirm that it was showering by looking at the light shining from the street lamp.  The refreshing and ever-familiar smell of rain reaffirmed that it was indeed raining.  MasyaAllah!

I smiled and spent a few minutes gazing into the darkness.  All my worries and concerns were absorbed into the refreshing night.  Quickly, I hurried to take my ablution, and then, to meet my soul Creator, the Most Generous, Most Forgiving and Most Exalted.  

And so I reflected.

Every year, I fall into the delusion that that particular year was the most challenging in bringing up the children.  Last year, for instance, was an indescribable year: physically, financially, mentally and emotionally trying.  This year, however, is a different episode as the twins go off to university, after Little D settled in his school just like my Princess.  The nest will soon be empty! 

Interestingly, year in, year out, Allah tests me and I still fail miserably.  The reaction, upon every single trial, is often of concern and worry.  The realistic, logical and scientific me still think a + b = c.  All theories and lessons learnt regarding the concept of Tawakkul is often forgotten.  

Thus,  moments such as this, where I get to let go and entrust Him with the whole predicament, are most invaluable.  Imagine, the only way for Him to get my attention, a little bit of my time and a wee bit more submission is when He tests me.  Utterly shameful and revolting. 

Despite all these, I know I hold that special position within Him because He never ever fails to grant my du'aas. Every single one of them.   

Recently, when I shared my current worries with my very good spiritual friend who I consider among the biggest blessing Allah has granted me, she cautioned me not to worry.  Nonchalantly, I responded by laughing out loud and exclaimed, "Don't worry? How is that possible?"

She then said something which pierced right through my guts, "Because Allah swt is taking care of you."

Silence.



Allahu-Akbar.

Tears trickled down my cheeks and I knew that she was right.  Forgive me, my Lord.

"O my Lord! let my entry be by the Gate of Truth and Honor and likewise my exit by the Gate of Truth and Honor; and grant me from Thy Presence an authority to aid (me)."
Surah Isra (17) verse 80.

Awkwardness without the *LIKE* button

Deciding to start blogging again does not only mean cracking the head for ideas to write about.  It means blog-hopping too!  You leave a comment on a blogger's page and the person will click your name and hop over to your blog.  That's how you fish for readers.  In time, you don't need to work so hard because you'd be addicted to some blogs and if your writing is good enough to beckon a crowd, you'll receive your fair share of the deal.

However, after many years of abandoning the habit of blog-hopping and enjoying the cruise on Facebook, I find that (I'm sure others do too) I don't want to write anything much in the comment box.  Neither do I want to leave without a mark.  

So, can someone please tell me where the *LIKE* button is??

A possible come back?

I was tagged on Facebook yesterday (24th April 2015).  So someone has started a challenge for all bloggers to reactivate and kick-start the old hobby. Yes, to blog or not to blog? (As a fellow blogger's website goes, or went).  Below is the post I was referring to.  Kak Teh is the one creating a ripple effect to fellow bloggers who have mostly converted into Facebook fans: lazily opting to type in single lines or paragraphs to update their activities. For some, this may be hourly (or more frequent, of course!) while others, perhaps daily or occasionally.

Clearly, Facebook has been more convenient and personal.  However, I have developed a sort of love-hate relationship with Facebook in which I despise the cheap publicity but love the 'sharing' concept.  Oh well!

I have always loved writing. Through it, I get to express my feelings, thoughts and doubts.  It often gives me a sense of direction.  Only very recently, I attempted to write regular notes on my FB and I find that I'm still struggling to discipline myself to write regular posts.

Upon reflection, the blogging experience has Alhamdulillah, opened so many doors of friendship for me.  

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

I wrote the above on the 25th of April.  I scheduled the post to be published at midnight of the 6th of May. Patiently, I have been waiting.  

Now, at the eve of the 6th of May, I can't help reminiscing blogging days of yesteryear. Perhaps it was easier when one was in a foreign land and blogging became a way of connecting with the world (and gaining sanity).  Obviously, it was a different kind of social media more popular than Twitter, Facebook or IG today.  

Some ridiculed bloggers for the cheap diary/journal-writing format; enlisting the challenges of bringing up children or sharing recipes that work.  More interestingly, the more heated ones are those creating controversy: too intimate or too politically inclined.  In my humble opinion, the writer (blogger) has all the right to write about anything under the sun.  As readers, however, it is up to one whether to frequent the blog and whether to agree or disagree with the writer.  

I, for one, prefer more general reads and of course, writers (who do it for a living) like Kak Teh's Choc-a-bloc, Kata Kama and Write Lah were among the ones mostly frequented.  Of course, when I google for recipes, then I'd probably land on Dari Dapur Maklang or Kitchen Tales, among others.  My Monologues and Petite n Powerful were written by women who have lost their husbands, just like me (singular, not plural).  What will remain etched in me are blogs written by strong-willed cancer fighters who have ceased; the late Raden Galoh, R2D2, Mas Afzal and Ruby Ahmad. If you want to read entertaining and witty pieces, then you HAVE to go to Serenity Now.  Oh, there were definitely many more meaningful blogs but this mammoth of a woman cannot list them all down. Sorry.

I realize that most of the blogs listed on my blogroll are no longer active.  I probably have to do some spring cleaning and tidying up here, and put up new curtains(links).  Will do some serious blog-hopping in the evening, when bloggers worldwide are awake!

To all bloggers, welcome back!

Didik

I am on leave this week - an excellent pleasure especially when the children did not have school on Monday and Tuesday.  Yesterday morning, I reminded Little D to feed and check on his pets and he dutifully went downstairs.  Minutes later, I heard Little D shout, "Mama, I can't find the chicken!"

"Have you checked the oven?"

"Maaaa!!"

"Ok, I'll check the freezer then!"

"Maaaa!!  Didik's nowhere to be found!"

I tugged on my bedsheets, hung the towels and joined Little D in our backyard. We called out for Didik and lo and behold, there she was, sitting on her eggs.

Little D later whispered to me his hopes.  He hoped that the eggs would hatch this time, after so many failed attempts.  New chicks would mean continued legacy of the beloved pair of chicken as Jalak had died about a month ago. 

You see, my children bought Jalak (male) and Didik (female) which are of Bantam breed (also known as Ayam Katek/Serama) more than a year ago.  They were named after the children's late father's own Bantam pair of chickens.  However, the children's Didik is not like any normal hen.   Initially, she laid eggs but refused to sit on them.  After a few months, she decided to sit on her eggs but she sat on them longer than the she was supposed to; yet no little chicks came to life!

So when Little D expressed his high hopes for a successful new generation from Didik this time, he justified it with one reason: to keep Didik company since she was all alone now.  I couldn't resist saying, "Like me?"

"Hmm... No. You had the four of us when Abah was still alive.  For Didik, Jalak is already dead."

I smiled and counted my blessings.



N.B.  Tok Bah has explained to Little D that Didik will continue laying unfertilized eggs (which will never hatch) because she no longer has a male partner.  So, Special Scrambled eggs for breakfast tomorrow, anyone? :P

What happens to you after six years and three months?

What can a six year old child do? He'd be able to read, write, count and sing. It's an age of initial independence filled with a knowledge-hunting mission; stepping into pre-school and for some, anxiously into primary school.  By six, a child would be able to do some things on his own such as hanging up his clothes and washing his own plate.

Six years and three months ago, my husband of eleven years passed away, leaving behind four children in my care.

Alhamdulillah, I have thus learnt to scale down everything so that things are manageable and stress-free.  I am the north and south of my children; the father and mother to three boys and one girl. I gave up a lot of things - material and personal.  It goes without saying that the biggest trial of all is bringing up the children.  The challenges come in from various directions; emotional, physical, psychological, spiritual, and financial.  No matter what, and no matter how, I juggle with the physical demands and most of the time, fall enslaved to my emotional whims.  

Yet, what did people say about me? They said that I was strong.  Very, very strong.  How they judge this is beyond my own discernment.  How could I appear strong, when my feet were always wobbly, and my heart, always jittery? How was I strong when I was always hopelessly in tears, asking Him to give me strength to live every single day?

Many things have happened during the period of six years and three months and I, for one, am no longer the same as the person I was before.  There's some good in it, Alhamdulillah, and also some disadvantages.

The good thing behind it all is, I am now closer to Him - Allahu Akbar.  The difficulties in life - the loss of my soul-mate, the trials of bringing up four children, etc - are merely reminders that He sets for me.  I am now more responsible for my actions and am also hopefully, more resilient (oh, please let this be true, and not just a figment of my imagination!).

However, the down-side of it is, I have lost any urge to dream.  My hopes are all related to my children and my ibadah.  I live my life, not caring much about the nitty-gritty of things.   I no longer have any material aims.  

Do I still miss him? Oh yes, I do... If I close my eyes, I can run scene upon scene of days with him.  The laughter, the joy, the jokes!  My heart would throb at the thought of him; aching because he has left big gaps in my life.  Nonetheless, six years is a paradoxical period of time: so long ago but then again, wasn't it just yesterday?   Nevertheless, I now understand what the phrase "time heals" means.  Visions of the daily routine sans him gets clearer and somewhat easier, as I learn the ropes and lower my expectations.  So yes, I CAN live without him by my side. He who was my motivator, my driving force and my saviour.  How? I have now shifted my total reliance and dependency towards the Almighty Allah, the One and Only Ar-Rahman Ar-Raheem. Something I should have done all along.

In six years, the children have grown and soon, I will be pulling my hair dealing with the empty-nest syndrome and hopefully, menopausal symptoms will loom in much much later!  Oh boy... Having a blog is definitely therapeutic, even if I shy away from attention.  Unlike raving writers who maintain blogs to be in the lime-light, I somehow prefer to be the opposite.  The irony is, the more you resist, the more it comes closer to you. 

Ergo, I have resumed writing because I have decided to step out of my shadows.  I am going to stop lurking in the dark and hold on strongly to my reins, maneuvering my life in the direction I am to go (even if I don't know where that is). 

What I write here are my own reflections, as this space is where I pause and breathe and gain strength.  May Allah ease it all for us...

Of Joys and Sorrows

The first time I read this poem many years ago, the paradoxical content intrigued me.  It still does.  But today, I can relate to it better from the perspectives of a Muslim. Can you?

 Kahlil Gibran 
 
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Dear Friend

My friend's husband passed away approximately 4 days ago after spending a few weeks in coma.  This letter is dedicated especially to her.

***

Dearest Dibah,

I don't know where to start as I don't know what to say.  As much, I don't want to sound cocky by saying, "I know how you feel", or "I understand", or "I've been there".  But I have.  I truly have.

I am sure, too, that you are perhaps almost tired of all the condolences received. All the cliches and all the words of advice. Because it happened to you, and not anyone else.  Not forgetting, those remarks that may have been meant well but only turned out to be a little inappropriate.

Forgive me for not visiting when I should have. Not when he was in the hospital.  Not even at his funeral. I was perhaps the most selfish and inconsiderate person to not be there. But I chose not to be there because it hurt too much.

I feel your sorrows, your frustrations and your anger.  I understand the feeling of emptiness that envelopes you every time you turn and see that space next to you.  I can hear loneliness echoing in that petite body of yours. I sense the sheer sadness that glooms over you when you realise that he is no longer physically here with you.

He is gone.

So, do cry, my dear - with the tears that will never stop streaming down your cheeks, day and night.  Let those tears wash away your sadness, fears and sorrows.  Let them trickle and drench yourself because that is the best medicine of all!

Yet all is not lost.

When my late husband was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus at the advanced stage more than six years ago, my heart shattered into pieces.  The only thing that kept me intact on the days that followed was what my dad said to me: "Believe in the Divine Will and Decree" (Percaya kepada Qada' dan Qadar).  And that was what I repeatedly chanted to myself, as a reminder that would help me snap out of my hazy days.

Adibah,

I want you to grieve today.  And the day after. And the day after. You have 4 months and 10 days.   It is the time He has given to us so make the best out of it.  Feel sorry for yourself.  Sit down and spend your time looking at all the photos and videos you've taken of him and of yourselves, together.  Embrace it all. Absorb them.  You are in bereavement.

Use the time to think of tomorrow. Of whether the sun is going to shine, or the postman's going to come and bring you some good news.  Think of what you are going to do when you feel hopeless without your Gentle Giant to help reach out to the impossibly high shelves when you need someone to.  Yes, the days will no longer be the same.  From now on, you are forced to accept the change.  No matter how unpleasant it is.

But you know what, Dibah?  If you accept this change with great contentment (redha), then, He will ease it for you.  He will keep His eyes on you and help you sail through, lest the hiccups and the stumbling up the stairs.  For He has blessed you with great companions: your children, family and friends.  They may not be the same as your very own soul mate, but collectively, they make excellent remedies on dreadful days.  Well, at least that was what happened to me.

I know that you will actually be fine.  In time, perhaps.  InsyaAllah...

Make him proud by being the best of you because that's what made him love you so much.


Hugs, love and kisses,

Kak Dij

Hello!

This blog has evolved through so many phases.

Started in 2006 and the last post I wrote was in 2010.

I once hid the blog from everyone's view but because so many people wrote in and requested me to share what I had written with others, I opened it up to public again.

Occasionally, I do come to pause and reflect, and to have a good cry.

Today, I came because a friend lost her husband. Yet, how do I tell her that I know how she feels, while avoiding all the cliches?

So, here I am.  I thought I'd continue writing. I don't know who's reading and where my writing will lead me to. There are so many bitter-sweet memories here but the sweetest thing that has probably happened to me is the lesson learnt. That I have Allah -  no matter what, no matter where.

I'll see you when I see you. If I do.

G for

good
great
goo
glum
gist
gigantic
game
give
glance
gossip
grateful
giddy
glimpse
gene
glorious
guts
gorgeous
guillotine
gelatine
guy
glove
gloat
gun
gap
gleam

Goodbye!

I'm finally doing what I've been contemplating to do for so long.  And I'm doing it today - exactly three years on the Gregorian calendar.  He would have been 41 today.  Writing this blog for the past four years has been an experience I am so grateful for.  I have learnt so much about life through the blog, albeit it only being a virtual element.  This blog has evolved from a simple reflective blog to a more philosophical one which has apparently been inspiring to some, so I've been told.  Strange how my initial attempts to write as a personal reflection has aspired others more than it has to me!

The number of people I've made friends with is uncountable and priceless.  It is strange how technology has drawn humans closer to the extent that even though most have not met in person, they each know so much about the others' life and personality.  I am grateful to have known people from all walks of life, from the rich to the poor, to the quiet and timid to the famous and popular.  I will surely not forget all my dear friends, including those who have returned to our Creator.

If my reflections are worth the pause, then let us hope it will help us wade through our journey tomorrow.

If what I write are merely rantings of a damsel in distress, then let me be forgiven for the unsettling laments of the restless soul.


PTR now bids adieu to acquaintances and friends.  She can still be contacted via the facebook account: Pause To Reflect.  She will continue writing and blogging where nobody knows her name.  Well, until someone nonchalantly reveals it, that is!   

Feelings

Last night, just before I switched off my computer, I thought I'd check on my facebook. There, I was entertained by the video of Saloma and Ahmad Daud which Naz had put up: 'Sudah kawin ke belum?' And before I know it, I was on youtube listening to songs I grew up with such as 'Tiru macam saya', 'Chiki chiki boom' and 'Dengar ini cerita'. Surely, I was typing all the songs that came to mind. Until I came to this:



I still remember my Kak Long singing this sentimental piece all her heart, which we ridiculed with 'Feelings.... Cicak on the ceiling...'. Oh, the joy and laughter!

Yet today, I sing the same song with the memories of my siblings' laughter and jest, but the lyrics seem more appropriately relevant to the person I had (and still have) feelings for. Who would think the same song could bring different effects on a person?

Another opportunity to help

Having a child (no matter what number it may be!) is an experience any normal parent would be joyful for.  To watch a sleeping baby, to let it grasp your finger, to slowly pat its back waiting for the big burp, to cheer as it is able to turn, sit and finally walk are all the delights of child raising. Each milestone is applauded as it rewards you a sense of happiness only another parent can understand.  

Yet there are people who begin to get puzzled when their children (normally around the age of 2) show slow development and/or strange behaviours, compared to other children.  The most common disturbing symptoms of all are the lack of eye contact and the inability to socialize.  When friends, parents and relatives are consulted, they often brush it off as 'normal' and recommend giving it a little bit more time. Surely, a very healthy child who, in most cases, seem bright too, just has minor problems with socialising? Unfortunately, even GPs sometimes fail to recognise these slight symptoms and dismiss them as entirely normal. 

Not many parents therefore take the extra mile to read and do more research on the possibilities of their child's strange or peculiar behaviour.  Call it parental instinct, but some do find the issue intriguing and insist that they get to the bottom of the matter.  That was how Ezlika felt when her second child, Imaan, was still crawling when children of his age had begun to walk.  Imaan finally walked at 18 months.  After a series of check-ups he was later diagnosed as autistic.

Ezlika and Adam are both PhD students at the University of Warwick.  Being academicians, they have researched the topic of autism and are trying their best to help their son.  Their thorough research has also brought them to the discovery of the Son-Rise programme which is perhaps the only programme which believes that autism can be cured!


I know that there are so many opinions out there.  In fact, some condone attempts to 'cure' autism as they believe that the act is often against the child's will and nature.  However, a parent should not be discouraged to believe that his/her child can develop and be as independent as any other individual.   With proper techniques, why not? I am fascinated at their approach and am merely sharing this piece of information for parents who may be looking for something for their autistic child.

Four months into the programme, Imaan (4) has developed his vocabulary from merely nothing to 100+.  He can now utter several complete sentences.  However, the programme which requires a lot of one-to-one tutoring and facilitating is rather expensive (click here for detailed costs).  One way of dealing with this is by employing volunteers who will be trained by Adam and Ezlika to help facilitate Imaan.  You can visit their blog here and watch the video sessions with one of  Imaan's facilitators.  In other words, it is vital that funds need to be raised.  That is why Ezlika's sister, Ezura (Eju) is running a marathon in Wimbledon this Sunday (17th October 2010).  I have just been informed how much Eju has raised so far and I felt an anchor weighing my heart down.  

Last Wednesday, in less than 24 hours, friends managed to gather unwanted things and set up a stall at the university, to raise for the Help Imaan to talk project.  £285.87 were raised! Thank you to charismatic Hayati Ismail and husband, Faizam who initiated the drive.  Now, that amount cannot be compared to the amount Eju has raised; it is less than half of the amount raised by Hayati!  

I am therefore trying my best, as a friend, Muslim and human being, to spread out the word to friends and readers of my blog.  Let's Help Imaan to Talk.  If you recall, some time ago, I wrote about Adam's research on blogging and pleaded for help here (Adam is Imaan's father).  Adam came back to me saying that most of his respondents came from my blog and thus, I began to realise the power of the blogosphere and how kind my blog friends are.  

Let's do it again.  Details of Eju's marathons are as follows, but if you want to donate, you'd have to click here.

1) Wimbledon Audi 10K

Event Date: Sunday 17th Oct 2010, 9:00am
Location: Wimbledon Rugby Club, Beverley Meads, Barham Road, Copse Hill, Wimbledon, SW20 0ET
Race Details: 10km

2) The 10k Mo Run

Event Date : Sat, 13th Nov, 2010, 10:00am
Location : Greenwich Park, London
Race Details: 10km
Race website: http://www.thefixevents.com/content/movember-10k-run-greenwich-park/


Lastly, I extend my appreciation to all of you in advance.  May Allah reward you with an abundance of wealth today and in the hereafter...

Autumn

Autumn Song by Katherine Mansfield

Now's the time when children's noses
All become as red as roses
And the colour of their faces
Makes me think of orchard places
Where the juicy apples grow,
And tomatoes in a row.

And to-day the hardened sinner
Never could be late for dinner,
But will jump up to the table
Just as soon as he is able,
Ask for three times hot roast mutton--
Oh! the shocking little glutton.

Come then, find your ball and racket,
Pop into your winter jacket,
With the lovely bear-skin lining.
While the sun is brightly shining,
Let us run and play together
And just love the autumn weather. 

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

The days are getting shorter, the temperature is getting lower.  Praise the Almighty for the occasional sunny days we get, in between the odd foggy and rainy days.

Ironically, the golden foliage haphazardly splashes hope into my soul as the different shades remind me of the different phases, places and people of my life...

17th Syawal it is

3 years already.

At times, it feels like it's been sooooo long. The days I wake up and struggle and fight. The tears, the sorrow, the troubles and tests have been like a dagger in the heart.

At other moments, it's still so surreal - was it yesterday? Has it all passed? Has it been that long? O, remember those days?

I am neither here nor there. Neither this nor that.

Some misunderstand my expressions but I care not what they think for I live my life the way I do. The way He sets it to. Within my limitations, I will carry on living one day at a time.

Since P. Ramlee used to be his favourite, I'm putting this song up with a disclamer: ku tidak mencari ganti!

Reflections on 6th Syawal

Ramadhan came and left, followed by Eid.  Undoubtedly, it brought joy and laughter.  Yet, amidst it all many tears were shed upon reflecting His powers, love and affection. 

Throughout the month of Ramadhan, I tried to instill the importance of working as a team in my children, whereby we did things together: read the Quran, prepared food for iftar, and baked eid cookies to be shared with friends.  Within the community, many activities were organised in order to strengthen the friendship and ukhwah within the Malaysians. 

It is already the 6th of Syawal.  I have not yet started my fasting due to health restrictions.  A peek into the cookie containers this morning was quite alarming indeed - they are all-most gone!  My London Almonds, Hazelnut Snowtops, Super Stars, Hearties and Makmurs are definitely depleting so quickly!!

How they grow, MasyaAllah...

September this year arrived with a mixture of feelings and anxieties.  After 6 weeks of summer break, the children are due back to school today.  And in 4 days' time, Eid will be knocking on our doors.

A few weeks ahead I rummaged through their wardrobes to look for their school uniforms, baju kurungs and baju melayus.  The sinking truth cannot be denied.  Everyone but one has outgrown their clothes.  Well, I know I kept on persuading my Princess to keep on wearing her school  shirt last summer term despite the fact that the sleeves had shrunk by one to two inches, so  that was not a surprise at all.  But don't tell me Little D's grown an inch too??  And Abang Z is already catching up on Abang H's size?!  Well, at least Abang H seems to have gone down a little - all his trousers seem to fit, and the few inches we had to fold are now falling into place.  Phew...

Abang H can even fit in the baju melayu I bought 2 years ago (which was undeniably one size bigger - LOL!)!!  Isn't that great news as everyone else can't seem to fit in theirs?  Previously, it was Abang H that worried me most; 'Ma, I don't have any shirt to wear!' or 'Ma, have you washed the only jeans I can fit into?'. So, of course Abang Z was blessed to have more clothes to choose from, since his twin had outgrown them.

Obviously, that was a tale told 6 months ago.  Today it's a different story.  After some careful hunting, shopping, cleaning and polishing, the children are all back to school in their proper attires, Alhamdulillah.  Well, I never got to fix Abang H's bicycle which required some professional attention, so he walked to school instead.  I'll see what I can do today.  After all, it is their 13th birthday.  I'm sure the least I can do is to make him happier.

I'm most certain that every parent has the same anxieties I have when a new academic year begins, or when the festive season approaches.  I know that back in Malaysia it might be multiplied by two or three folds, if not more.  At least here in the UK, we need not worry about books and bags.  Primary school children don't even have to bring in their own stationery! 

I know that if their late father was here, he'd say the same thing he used to say, 'Can you believe that they've all grown so much?'  He used to speak as if time froze, denying to accept the truth that lay ahead of us.  'Remember how small they used to be?'  

The arrival of the twins 13 years ago was something I will remember forever.  They were right on time - promptly after 40 weeks of gestation, complete with intense contractions that were 3 minutes apart.  Yet, they never wanted to come out normally, hence the C-section.

How can I forget being woken up by an Indian nurse who called my name repeatedly, 'Awak dapat anak kembar lelaki' ('You've got twin boys').  I gave a slow nod, relieved that the babies were finally delivered and that I had two boys (throughout my pregnancy, I refused to be told the genders of the babies).  I was heavily sedated with drugs - a dose of general anaesthetic, after being so high inhaling the laughing gas while in labour.  So, surely I can't recall what they looked like, other than the two blue bundles in the nurses' arms.  Yet, my late husband related how the boys, wide-eyed and alert, appeared so eager and curious!

13 years later, they have grown into teenagers with raging hormones which sometimes drives me crazy.  The twins I had last year are definitely not the same ones I have this year.  I don't know what the obsession is with technological gadgets or the physique but oh boy, oh boy, oh boy...

May Allah bless them all and give me strength to bring them up into good Muslims.

The end of August

The holy month is almost over and I've yet to publish any posts. Well, what's new?

Today is the country's 53rd year celebrating independence. So again, I attempted to educate the children with some stories of the past; stories I heard from my father and also from my history teachers. I think the children find it rather difficult to imagine what it meant to be colonized by others. Thus I had to emphasize (and exaggerate) how difficult life was back then. Food was scarce and everything was restricted.

We sang patriotic songs and I googled images of all our Prime Ministers, as well as pictures of Malaysia in the past. Malaysia has indeed progressed and transformed into a developing country, Alhamdulillah... From the black and white photos, we could see that Kuala Lumpur didn't use to have majestic sky-scrapers like today. The ever-famous moment of Tunku Abdul Rahman declaring the nation's independence at the National Stadium perhaps assisted them to understand a little bit more about independence.  In fact,the video was repeated numerous times after I told them to look out for their grandfather who was at the stadium at that time!





31st of August often evokes memories of the past.  Ironically, this year it coincides with Ramadhan, which is also a month I often find myself very sentimental.  It'll soon be three years but my heart is still sore.  I have learnt a lot for the past three years and the children have grown so much within this short period of time.  They have changed physically, mentally and spiritually.  And I sure hope it is all for the better.

Yes, there will be many more mountains to climb and many more rivers to cross.  As the years pass by, marked by various occasions, I will still march on whilst holding on tight to my children's hands.

Ramadhan Kareem...

Are you sure it's halal?

"O ye people! Eat of what is on earth, lawful and clean..."(Al-Baqarah:168)

Eating in the UK today is much easier than it was a decade or two ago.  When I boarded the plane to London in 1990, I sat next to a second year A-level student who briefed me about the various types of Malaysians (students) in the UK.  He noted that since there were Malaysians who stayed in boarding schools or halls, eating can pose a big problem.  He studied me closely and asked whether I was a 'ngap sayot' - a term used to describe those who ate whatever they could get their hands on due to the darurah situation.  I laughed and made it clear to him that I believed darurah situations called for more complicated scenarios. 

“He hath forbidden you only dead meat, and blood, and swineflesh, and that which hath been immolated to (the name of) any other than Allah. But he who is driven by necessity, neither craving nor transgressing, it is no sin for him. Lo! Allah is Forgiving, Merciful” (Al-Baqarah:173).

A few years later, I was taken aback when I saw my friend chomping on a chicken sandwich she grabbed from a nearby shop and remember thinking, 'Oh no, she's a ngap sayot!' A hundred metres away from us was a kebab shop and another 130 metres or so was a vegetarian outlet.  Surely, there were alternatives?  Was she driven by necessity?

I was told by another friend who was in a boarding school how he had nonchalantly accepted Toad-in-the-hole for breakfast one morning, without knowing what it was.  He was ready to dig in when he realised that the toad was actually pork sausages!  Blerghhhhh...!  What surprised me was, even when he had realised the food in front of him was not halal, he continued eating until the very last crumb!  Would you?

Today, halal restaurants and butchers may be found in almost every city in the UK.  In fact, today there are even KFC and Nando restaurants throughout the country which serve halal meat.  Yet, some debate over the issue of halalness as may be found here.  This problem is in fact worldwide and it all depends on the group of scholars which one might want to follow.  Personally, I feel that it is a delicate matter.  Seek knowledge and follow throughout.  This is what I believe.

When it comes to the issue of Halal-ness, the Muslims are divided.  Some take the easy way out, quoting that Islam is simple, it is us humans who complicate it.  I recall a friend of mine who had this very interesting theory regarding alcohol.  If alcohol is put in the food one cooks (on a stove/fire), it is halal because the alcohol evaporates in the air, thus making it no longer there.  Is this so?  Would there be neither trace of alcohol nor flavour?  

On the other hand, there are some who go through all the trouble to ensure that everything is clean and pure because what we consume will become our flesh and blood.  Often, there are lists of ingredients Muslims have to look out for when purchasing produce from the supermarket, especially emulsifiers.  And yet, I have seen friends who grab mousses or chocolates from the shelves without the slightest glimpse at the ingredients.  Wallahu'alam...

“Forbidden unto you (for food) are carrion and blood and swine-flesh, and that which hath been dedicated unto any other than Allah, and the strangled, and the dead through beating, and the dead through falling from a height, and that which hath been killed by (the goring of) horns, and the devoured of wild beasts, saving that which ye make lawful (by the death-stroke), and that which hath been immolated unto idols.  And (forbidden is it) that ye swear by the divining arrows. This is an abomination. This day are those who disbelieve in despair of (ever harming) your religion; so fear them not, fear Me! This day have I perfected your religion for you and completed My favour unto you and have chosen for you as religion Al-Islam. Whoso is forced by hunger, not by will, to sin: (for him) lo! Allah is Forgiving, Merciful” (Al-Maidah: 3)

When a fighter leaves...

She is the epitome of hope, life and strength.  But now the flower has wilted and has returned to her Creator, Ar-Rahman Ar-Raheem.  Sis Dalilah Tamrin of http://onebreastbouncing.blogspot.com has fought her last battle and is now laid to rest.  Innalillahi wainna ilaihi rojiun...

I marvel at the fight that she put up with.  Her will to live is awed at and her outlook in life was simply marvelous.  A glance at her does not reveal that she's a cancer patient but she fought it so long; from breast cancer to metastatic cancer.  The smile she flashes were genuine and soothing.  The words she shared were  more than words of wisdom; they were words from a true survivor. 

Only the chosen one is tested with such pain, as it is believed that pain is a sign of forgiveness.  It is only through pain that we humans are reminded of our borrowed time on earth and of the more meaningful life of the hereafter...

When I started blogging in 2006, I stumbled into her somewhere in the blogosphere.  But I didn't make much of it.  Later, our paths crossed again when my late husband fell sick.  Apparently, she had known him before.  From then on, I followed her blog very closely and became good friends with her.

 

I had only met her three times during my short vacation home in 2008.  I remember meeting her for the first time at Amcorp Mall on a Sunday morning.  Warm and friendly, I instantly felt like I had known her forever.  The next meetings were unfortunately scheduled at hospitals.  I can't recall which one was first, but I visited her at HKL once and I once fetched her from her office to bring her to meet my sister in HUKM.  After I returned to the UK, we kept in contact through our blogs, text messages and also mail.  She never forgot my birthdays.  When she sent me a copy of her book, Kanser Payudaraku, I kept the book close to me even after I finished reading it.  It was as if I could feel her energy every time I touched the book.  Strange but true. Cancer connected us.

Life is short.  Dalilah has lived her life to the fullest, despite all the pain.  She met so many people and touched so many hearts.   My heart goes out to her family who has stayed close by her side.  They must be so proud of her though...  

May Allah bless her soul and place her in jannah. Al-fatihah.