Thursday, July 31, 2008

A Girl in a Cynical World

When I walk, I stumble
And I swear I can hear the pebbles on the street laughing
Just like they did yesterday

When I dance in the sunlight, the rain pays me a visit
And I swear I can hear the sun giggle behind the soggy clouds
Just like it did yesterday

When I sail away to find tranquil, the wave rocks my boat
And I swear I can hear the sea chuckling
Just like it did yesterday

When I say my prayers before my sleep
I swear I can hear the moon whisper ‘Your prayers didn’t reach heaven’
Just like it did yesterday

I go to sleep and hope
That the world will not be as cynical tomorrow
Just like it is today

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud


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Sunday Mornings and Chocolate Cake

It is her smile that makes her
A smile that then lingers in her eyes
It is on her long hair that the waves run
And her cheeks that the lilies bloom

She smells of summer rain and morning dew
Her struts play with the breeze
Her antics while the time away
The neediness in her eyes
The warmth in her brace
It is her, what pleasure is

The sight, smell, taste and sound of her
Sweep the thoughts to that of heaven

Her playful nature
Relieves and cures
Eases and pleases
Like Sunday mornings and chocolate cake




Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Corporate Keparat

My poor Along is in tears again, thanks to her obnoxious, self-absorbed boss. She was questioned on why she didn’t finish vetting through a document, the next day after she applied an emergency leave because her son was admitted. Obvioulsy the job wasn’t done because she was on leave, and the boss wanted her to know that. The boss wanted her to know that she slipped. But her son was admitted! Gila ke!

And so she came to me nearing to tears and I have nothing to say except just a knowing ‘Uhuh..’ once after 2 or 3 of her sentences, as this is not the first time I hear this infamous story of her boss being selfish.

When our father was on his death bed last year, her boss was constantly on the phone, making it awkward for her and heartbreaking for her and all of us when she has to write down notes or give explanations on things she was not able to do, being out of the office, when everybody else was busy reading Yassin or keeping hush. It also hurts know that sometimes people just do not have respect, let alone care about other’s going-ons. It’s not like she was on vacation, she was just being a good daughter by being by her father’s side when he needed her most. How can anybody take away your right to be at your father’s death bed?

I have no respect for this boss of hers, and I’m feeling I’m not the only one. It hurts to know that people are using her beyond what she can offer. It really does.
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Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Padang Baldu

Aku terus
Menari dengannya
Dalam hambar jalanan itu
Aku melihat sesuatu
Yang hatiku berkata benar
Yang akalku berkata sangkal

Bukankah itu bintang langit?
Dari mana datangnya ia
Bukankah dari padang baldu
Di atas, bersama bulan?
Apa balasan Tuhan kepadaku
Hingga aku tak mampu
Beza hati dan akal?

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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O Do Not Love Too Long

Sweetheart, do not love too long:
I loved long and long,
And grew to be out of fashion
Like an old song.

All through the years of our youth
Neither could have known
Their own thought from the other's,
We were so much at one.
But O, in a minute she changed -
O do not love too long,
Or you will grow out of fashion
Like an old song.

William Butler Yeats

I keep this one very close to me.

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The Ex Factor

I had a conversation with my ex.

Yes, he got married, that robbed away our right to be an item, but it didn't rob away our friendship. I realized that only recently. We started as friends, and in the course of our relationship, we learned that we were each other's best friend. And through the break-up I surrendered to many nights of mourn because I had lost my best friend. Now, after nearly 2 years of him being married, I find him where he was before-in 'The Best Friend' seat.

Maybe it's in the way he addresses my problems, maybe it's in his way of saying things, and maybe it's just the sound of his voice that I find very comforting. But that's what he does, he comforts me, in ways I don't think even he knows. And comfort, I believe, is what a best friend is for.

I remember how my girlfriends (God bless them) talked me out of thinking about him (or their attempts to) and how they put him in 'The Bad Guy' spotlight when he 'decided' to marry someone else. I understand they were concerned. I understand they wanted to show they were concerned. So I excused their mocking and name-callings and voodoo spells on my ex, as I thought that's the way, the typical way of the female species in showing care for their 'injured' member of species. I appreciated all their efforts, the name-callings as well, but deep down inside, I knew they didn't understand, or at least see it the way I do. I was mourning for the loss of a friend, not the loss of a 'boyfriend'. I too, didn't realize it if the break-up didn't happen.

So last Friday saw the day when I found comfort again. I had a conversation with my ex, and I told him everything that has bothered me recently. And as usual, he put a spell on me. He listened to every detail and told me things I already know, things I have told myself a million times before. But when he says it, he makes them valid.

There’s a love between us, a bond that not even time can erase. He was my friend and I thank God, he still is; although he might not be there with me to hold my hand, at least I know he would if he could. There are places in my soul that nobody can reach, but him. And I feel it is going to stay that way for a long, long time.

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Monday, July 28, 2008

Mister God, This Is Anna


There’s always this pleasure you find when interacting with a child. Their honesty is welcoming and curiousness refreshing. This book tells its story about a little girl called Anna and her faith in God; and her gift of love for those who are near to her.

With the background of East End London in the mid-1930s, ‘Mister God, This is Anna’ is about a 5 ½ year old girl who keeps God near to her in everything she does. She questions every being and believes that everything has a reason in happening. Her words are always of affection for God, whom she calls Mister God, as a sign of respect for her Creator. I admire her ability to find pleasure in the smallest of events and of course, her candour.

Again, a book for those who cannot stop whining about how life is unfair. Recommended for lazy nights in and breezy Sunday afternoons.
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Letters of an Indian Judge to an English Gentlewoman

Ahh..a charming, charming book. I can relate to the mood of the book, it is an easy-reading one, despite, perhaps, the use of classic English.

The book is a book of correspondence, about letters exchanged between an English lady (the wife of an English Colonel) and an English- witted Indian judge.

They met in a party in party at Government House in Calcutta. He found a friend in her and has then sought consolation from her through his letters.

The letters exchanged show the Judge’s views of his country of origin and the problem he faces for being an English-educated individual. His views are different than that of the traditional, which have made him feel alienated even in his own birth country, India. The book sees the struggle of a man forcing through the inflexible mindset of non-British people around him as well as his struggles going through his personal losses and pains.

A book I can relate to and I applaud the candour and wit of the book. A definite must-read.

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To Kill a Mockingbird


You cannot claim you know the English literature until after you read this number. Its’ a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Harper Lee published in 1960. I am proud to say that this was my English Literature textbook when I was in Form 5. But I didn’t pay attention the character of the book then, as I viewed as a textbook as it is, and nothing more. (Plus, my teacher for the subject was somebody who murdered my thrill for reading and writing any piece of literature, but that’s another story altogether, to be told later). It was years after I graduated that I really ‘read’ the book.

Set in the 1930’s this book is about the author and her family dealing with racism in their neighbourhood. The warm and amusing elements in this book are thanks to Lee’s views as a 10 year old. The book intelligently highlighted racism issues through the innocence of children’s perspective.

I have no other reason to coax you into reading the book, except for the fact that you have to. Critics were tongue tied, the British regard it as a writing ahead of the Bible; and was adapted into an Oscar-winning film in 1962 by director Robert Mulligan, with a screenplay by Horton Foote.

So what if you have read all of Shakespeare’s Sonnets? It’s nothing if you haven’t read this one.
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Tuesdays with Morrie

Last year, my sister Nina gave me a paper bag filled with books ‘for entertainment’, she said. I took the bag with not much excitement, as I knew Nina’s reads and mine are very different. I have always viewed her readings as mundane and depressing. Hence the bag was only put aside when I reached home.

The same night, when I was already in bed getting ready for sleep, I remembered the bag. I reached in to it and pulled out a book. The cover read ‘Tuesdays with Morrie- an old man, a young man and life’s greatest lesson’. ‘This is so Nina’, I thought to myself. ‘Another self-help book, must be’, was my next thought. I started reading the next thing I know, I was flipping the pages, whiling me sleeping time away.And, no, people, this is not a self-help book.

I find the book an interesting read-it ‘s about a dying guy, telling a young, healthy guy about life and how to live it. It is inspirational and pathetic at the same time. I think Morrie was a cynical, sour grape guy. He’s dying, and the ones who are not take his words as gospel. I mean, do you have to be half alive to make your opinions valid?

But that was Morrie alright. He made me want to read him. He made me want to know what he’s thinking. Yes, his words were inspiring.

And then he started to talk about how he appreciates life-he sees life from his window every day, appreciating the sunlight, the singing birds...that’s where the patheticness comes in. But then, maybe he’s right. Maybe we should pay attention to the details in life Morrie pointed out. Maybe we sometimes should stop and smell the roses and not be too caught up in life’s everyday blunders.

I love the book, as it gives me room to argue. Both the writings of the author, Mitch Albom, and Morries’ quotes on life make this book a pleasing read. It gives you perspective, makes you appreciate life and everything in it, even more. It’s a suitable for those who always whine about how unfair life is, despite having food on their tables, clothes on their backs and superb health. And also for those who manage to have too many worries on their minds.

Read it, and you will find yourself quoting Morrie subconsciously for weeks on end. (Which is a good thing)
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Saturday, July 26, 2008

Sea Sick

It was 9 past eleven, 6 months past a broken heart
I felt I was drowning, fast and deep
In what I thought was an innocent wave of gladness
Which washed over me with its coolness of love
And bubbles of lust
And force of wanting
I felt I was drowning, fast and deep

Swim, sink or surrender?
Surrender to the subdued sea
And be as one with it?

But I swam back to sand
And swore again and again
That I will never be friends with the sea
Before a wave washes over me
And made me feel
Like I was drowning, fast and deep, once again

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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Star

They clap and cheer,
Knowing not who you were,
Laughter, character,
Another drama, another liar.
Dancing on the stage of dust,
The queen of fake and lust,
Silenced sin in the dark,
They drink until you're drunk.
As clear as painting,
You are anything but nothing,
The colors, the price,
Only seen by blinded eyes.
Shine, my queen dry and dreary,
Cry my queen, pray they could stay,
Drop the crown, put put the light,
Your fire wasn't at all bright.
Another night, another star,
Another story gone too far,
Another fantasy dreamt in sorrow,
Until the sun comes tomorrow.

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud


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Take Good Care Of His Heart

Take good care of his heart
For you're the one who stole it
Shade it from the humid rays
Shield it when the skies are grey
Take good care of his heart
Even though he tore mine apart
Take good care of his heart
Be with him no matter what
Make him smile, lift him high
Maybe sometimes make him fly
Love him dearly, know your part
And be careful with his heart
How can I make him stay
When his heart is so far away?
How can I promise him tomorrow
When all I can bring him is sorrow?
So take good care of my heart
By taking good care of his heart
I'll be OK,my pain will ease
Only his smile I will miss

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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A Little Prayer

Should he cry
Let me lend him my smiles
Should he feel scared
Let angels hold his hands
Should he feel lonely
Let the birds sing, the wind whistle, the leaves hum
Should he feel unloved
Let all the love he gave returned
Should he feel sad
Let all his heart break be mine
Should he smile
Let a thousand souls smile back at him
Should he feel cold
Let all my love warm his heart
Should he make a wish
On the same night I'm making one
Let first his wish fulfilled
Should I die tomorrow, God
Let me be his angel
So I can spend eternity on his shoulder

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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Quick Words and Unsteady Eyes

Quick words and unsteady eyes
Tell me more than I need to know
I keep the door open
Not that I want to leave, I need to see more than
What I see in you now
Our feet steady, our hearts leaving
Leaving each other's ill at ease
And your quick words have ended
Your eyes remained steady, on something to your left
If there will be a goodbye
I shall leave you with no decision to make
I shall leave you with goodbye
But we are begging our hearts to continue being strong
To overcome all the pain when the door sees us out
You ran out of quick words, your eyes occupied
The room has ran out of novelty to humour
As you try to find us and I try to find you
And as we run each other dry
My feet dragged me to the door
I stepped out, left it ajar, and pray
That you will peek through and see me leave
And somehow run after me
As I will, after all, miss you
As you were before your quick words and unsteady eyes

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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Tuesday, July 22, 2008

The Dark Knight

All I can say about The Dark Knight which was christened as Movie of the Year is, it’s about time. It’s about time Hollywood gave us Hollywood and instead of HolyS**t. I don’t know whether the lack of ‘good’ movies this year so far has made this one stand out or is it as good as it seems.

It is, however, in a class of its own. Yes, it was good. I need not say anymore as the world viewers have already said a lot. So, for the sake of not hitting your head to the wall for missing the movie, for the sake of having something to say at a party and for the sake of new edgy pick-up lines ‘Why so serious’ and ‘Let’s put a smile on that face’, for not feeling left out from society, just get out and watch it.
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Monday, July 21, 2008

Tomorrow

I walked pass you again today
I stepped on your brown dried leaves
that crushed melodically beneath
my red rubber slippers
The warm damp wind carressed my face
telling me the October rain will soon
touch the red soils of yours
I miss your whispers in the starless nights
and when you sang prayers to the Almighty
during the depth dawn
I grasp the dear memories of you
wrapped in the silk of your scarf
I remember how feminine you were
in those worn out brown and red sarong
and when you gathered your tresses in a bouquet
I miss it when you smile only to show those
slightly rusted teeth that became your pride
I walked pass you again today but tomorrow
I'll stop by to send you
Prayers for your soul.

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud
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Sunday, July 20, 2008

Mama's Struggles (to Make a Girl Out of Me)


I was wearing a long light yellow cotton tracksuit and a ‘Carebear’ t-shirt. My hair was short with a fringe that lies scruffily on my forehead, nearly covering my eyes. I grabbed my little blue bicycle, something I was proud to announce as my own-I bought it with money collected from Hari Raya ang-pows. Jumping on the bike, I cycled to Fuad’s.

‘Jom’ and with that, the two of us cycled to the ‘taman permainan’. There, our gang was already waiting. I can see the fun we’re gonna have, I can see which one of the boys is going to run home crying after a game of kejar-kejar.

‘Osom dulu’

And the game bagan.


----------------------

‘Ayu, tolong siram pokok’

Darn, I hated that. Especially when I was all ready for my bike ride.

‘Ala, Ma..Ayu nak pergi main ni’

‘Tolong la kejap je’.

If there’s anything I hated more than weeding and folding the laundry, it was watering the plants. I just can’t understand the reason for having too many plants in the garden. Mama prized them as if they were my younger siblings, talks to them, spends more time on them than she did on my lunch and pinched me whenever I stepped on one of her dainty greenies.

The bike was put aside, the water hose grabbed. There were many types of flowers in Mama’s garden. There were orchids-yellow, purple, white and red; there was the mysterious morning glory, the big, ugly sunflower, a much bigger and uglier tree called ‘Janda Kaya’-it was 3 times taller than I was with pink flowers with velvety surface. The ‘Janda Kaya’ flowers didn’t seem like happy flowers, as their petals always looked like they’re sagging and weeping-like a janda.

And there were also a group of greenies in pots, some of them were skinny and tall, some of them were bulky. I didn’t know the names and I couldn’t have cared less. All I knew was the more of them added to Mama’s garden, the more my job description was as an 8 year old. I watered them hastily, from the sunflowers to the fellas in pots. Finished, I hung the water hose, grabbed my bike and as I left the porch, I heard Mama screaming ‘Jangan main jauh-jauh’, to which I replied ‘OK!’

----------------------

Being friends with the girls is only when the boys are not around.

‘Munirah, kenape awak pakai banyak sangat bedak kat muke awak?’ she pouted and said nothing.

Munirah has a pair of very sepet eyes and fair skin, thanks to her Chinese nenek-a person she always quoted in all her conversations. I noticed she sported a pink hairband to keep her straight bob in place.

‘Cantik cekak awak Munirah. Bila awak beli?’

Her pout instantaneously turned into a smile. ‘Cantik kan? Nenek kite beli semalam’

It happens that anything new she wears has been bought ‘semalam’ by her ‘nenek’. Once, I complimented the baju kurung she wore to our kelas mengaji. Apparently the baju kurung too was bought ‘semalam’ by ‘nenek’. I knew that was a lie, because the baju kurung was actually worn by her during Hari Raya a few months back.

‘Jom main masak-masak’ she said, already standing up and pulling my hand.

‘Main masak-masak’ was the most horrifying thing to play, especially when I have experienced swimming in the sungai, playing with katak and hard core kejar-kejar with the boys-a game I owe my knees an apology for playing, for because of it, my knees have suffered many bruises. What despises me the most about playing masak-masak was the fact that it didn’t make me have to sit on a bike or run around.

I calmly looked at Munirah, Yaya and Nini who were laying down the plastic pots and pans. The second Munirah quipped ‘Nak masak apa?’ was the exact second I wished that Fuad and Farez were back from their vacation to take me away for a swim in the sungai.

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‘Assalamualaikum! Animmmmm....!’

‘Anim, cepat..Ayu dah panggil’ was the voice of Aunty Midah, Anim’s mother.

It was a night in Ramadhan and who best to bring with to the Surau for Tarawih than my best friend, Anim, a girl 2 years older than me.

‘Hi Ayu. Jom’ she said as she reached the door, already clad in her telekung. Tagging along behind her was her younger sister, Yaya.

‘Kite dengar malam ni diorang bagi makan nasi lemak la’

‘Ala, Ayu, Ayu nak dok sampai malam ke? Kite nak dok sampai 8 rakaat je’

‘Ala, tak best la..asek balik awal je..jom la dok lama sket. Papa kite tak kisah’

Along the way to the surau we bumped into more of my good friends-Fizah and her sister Wani, and also Munirah. We walked together. Jokes and stories were exchanged. This short walk to the surau defined my meaning of Ramadhan for most of my childhood years.

We entered the surau, went to the back row and changed into our telekungs.
We took places next to one another. And when the prayer started, I felt a sense of calmness. I had my friends on either side, and we were devoting ourselves to God.

Until this day, nothing has ever been more gratifying for me than being in the company of my loved ones-God and my friends.

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Helmi was a tall, skinny boy with fair skin. His eyes were sepet, his dark brown hair was short and straight, parted in the middle, sometimes covering his eyes. All this made him pretty much an eye candy.

It was a hot day and all of us were still waiting for our teacher to enter our classroom-a small space filled with 44 11 year old kids. I was ransacking my bag when I realized someone was standing on my right. Looking up, I saw Helmi, hands in his pocket.

‘Ayu ade sharperner?’ he quipped.

I looked into my pencil case.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t bring it today’

His eyes winked. And winked again. ‘Takpelah,’ he said, walking back to his place.

Later in the afternoon at home, Mama came back from her regular chit chat with other mommies in the neighbourhood.

‘Ayu, tadi Ayu ade cakap apa-apa dengan Helmi tak?’

I must have looked puzzled, so she continued ‘Tadi dia ada minta Ayu bagi dia pinjam sharperner tak?'

I nodded.

'Did you speak English with him?'

Another nod.

'Well, he came back from school and told his mother that you spoke English with him,' Mama said, tidying up the dining table.

Her tone was flat, which made me wonder whether or not it was a good thing answering Helmi in English that day. After all, it was just one sentence.

'Next time Ayu,' she said, 'when people ask you in Malay, you answer in Malay.'

That, besides 'don't talk with your mouth full' and 'sit properly' became part of my life-long rule.
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