What Ramadhan Brings

And Ramadhan is here. Above all the tests the month will bring, it will definitely, without my permission, test my strength, living without my parents.

God knows, only He knows. The loud silence, the memories, the could have’s, the regrets and the time spent together-I remember them all but I’m wondering now whether it is a good thing to remember.

And I feel alone, and it is above all, painful, and there is no cure. I just have to live with it, and I am not strong enough. And I am begging every part of my soul, begging, pleading, for it not to tear. On my knees asking God to give me strength for He knows that above all the miseries in life I have to go and have gone through, this is the toughest.

And I am not strong enough.

What is the cure, where is it?

I tell myself, ‘Be strong, Ayu, you’re a good girl’. But one can only be too strong.

I have a lot to tell you, Mama. And when I dream of you it always seems too short a time. And you hugged me in one of my dreams. But it was too short a time. When will you hug me again?

And Papa, I am sorry for not being a good daughter. All the years I spent with you in that house, I claim that I was looking after you, when instead; you were the one who looked after me. And I miss you. I always run to you when I have a bad day, and you will always have something nice to say. You said there are no shortcuts to success; you said I have to be nice to everyone, even though they don’t treat me right. Let God deal with them and I just be me. And I keep that close to me, Papa. And I’m sorry; I was a disappointment to you. I love you, you better know that. And I will carry the sins I have done with me all my life, but I want you to know I love you. You’re my Papa, and I’m your little girl. I wouldn’t choose anyone else as my Papa if I had to. But I don’t blame you if you ever wished you had a better daughter than me. I’m sorry...I know I could’ve done better.

There will be quiet nights this month, unlike other families, where laughter will echo throughout buka puasa. And I too will be quiet, not only in the nights. And I will wish for ridiculous things like asking you to hold my hand or sit next to me and talk about nothing at all, and I will wish for you to just be there.

Please God, give me strength to get through the days in front of me. I need it.

If I could ask only one thing now, I would ask You to let me see them in my dreams tonight, so that they can tell me they’re ok.

And Ramadhan will test my will to keep on going. There will be not a second when I do not wish you were here, but I guess I just have to deal with it. Like a blind man having to deal with not being able to see the sun, I shall deal with it. How, I have yet to find out.

‘Be strong, Ayu, you’re a good girl’

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Tropic Thunder

I love Robert Downey Jr. Did I tell you? No? You couldn't have guessed?

Well, I love him. How much? To bits. I have wet dreams of him. I wanna have his children. I'd smoke pot for him. I'd rob a bank for him. That's how much.

Robert Downey Jr will be back with his next movie, Tropic Thunder.

In this movie, he ain’t as cute as he was in Ironman, but well, when you love someone, you just love someone, regardless of how the bloody hell he looks like. Here's what the movie is about.

He plays as an African American character, Sgt. Osiris. Tropic Thunder is a 2008 action comedy film directed by Ben Stiller and written by Stiller, Justin Theroux, and Etan Cohen.

The film stars Stiller, Jack Black and Robert Downey Jr. as a group of prima donna actors making a Vietnam War film when their fed-up writer and director decide to abandon them in the middle of the jungle, forcing them to fight their way out. Stiller initially had the idea for the film while playing a small part in Empire of the Sun, and later brought on Theroux and Cohen to help him complete the script.

After the film was greenlit in 2006, filming took place in 2007 on the Hawaiian island of Kauai over 13 weeks, and was deemed the largest film production in the island's history. The film had a large marketing promotion, including showing numerous screenings, selling the fictional energy drink advertised in the film, and posting faux websites for the characters, films, and products shown in Tropic Thunder.

It will be on Malaysian cinemas October 23rd.

Sounds cool. Stiller and Black in the movie make it even more interesting.

Can’t wait for it!


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It's Like Losing My Caffeine Fix

Goodbyes are always a chore. Doesn't matter how close you are to a person, goodbyes are never easy. I learned that only today.

When he said 'I won't be seeing you again, you take care ok? Aku mintak maaf la klu aku selalu usik ko, bukan sengaje', I felt a gush of feeling that I never thought I would have. I was sad.

He was my colleague. He was always there; we shared thoughts and sometimes sought comfort from each other. But now he's leaving as he received a better offer some place else.

He was the first person I met when joined my current office.

Our conversations back then were always about my boss, and his stories on how he managed to escape from her evil grip.

I remember that day-it was a week after Hari Raya and I already reported for work. My boss, hasn’t. So there I was, stuck in a room with nothing to do, but with a person to talk to.

‘Kau jaga-jaga dengan dia’, was the only thing I remembered from our conversations that day, it was repeated too many times. But when I asked, ‘Why?’, he shrugged and said ‘I’m not gonna tell you, ko find out sendiri la, tak baik aku burukkan dia’.

‘But if you ever, ever, have trouble with her, you come to me, aku dengar masalah ko, ok?’

If that was supposed to be comforting, it didn’t work. I wasn’t consoled.

‘Ko dah tour kawasan office ni?’, he asked.

‘No I haven’t’

‘Lemme take you then’, so we went around the building and he introduced me to everyone.

When my boss finally came in the following week, I was put in another room, with other people. But throughout the months we spend together in the same office, he has never failed to make me laugh. Never did I think that his constant knock on my door and his ‘Are you okay’s’ would be something I miss. And I only realize it, today.

‘Ko je la yang aku saying dalam office ni’, he said, when we were talking about the bullshit we had to go through and deceiving people we had to work with. It is tiring when we have to go through butt-kissing everyday and tolerate the people who talk bad behind our backs, just to get our jobs done. So yes, our short sessions talking about our day was actually detoxifying for me. And I only realize it, today, when he said goodbye.

He’ll be staying near where I’m staying but that doesn’t make it easier. We won’t be having the conversations we used to have; as we’ve run out of reason to bump into each other. We’re not very close friends, so asking him out for a drink or movie won’t be appropriate, even more now because he’s engaged. The only chance I can get near to talking to him is IF he comes by the office. And that is sad.

The saying ‘Don’t take people in your life for granted’ applies aptly here. He may not be a prominent person in my life, but he made my everyday life better. I’m ashamed to admit that I only realize it today.

I wish him well and may he receive all the good things in life.


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Wangi Men

‘He looks so wangi. And his hair, omigod...it makes me wanna run my fingers through it. Don’t even mention the eyes. Sigh..’, I said, explaining why I go ga-ga over Robert Downey Jr.

‘What do you mean when you say a guy ‘looks’ wangi anyway?’, he asked.

I told him I can’t draw a definite line between wangi and busuk guys. I just know one when I see one.

He insisted to know in which category he falls into and I instantaneously, without a doubt, said ‘Busuk!’

Ok, now lemme enlighten you on what I think is wangi and busuk.

1. The ‘clean’ understandable hair-which means that by just looking at it, I understand whether the hair is parted in the middle, side, or not parted at all. Un-understandable hair is when I it’s scruffy or too greased up that it lose its original charm. Un-understandable hair is also the kind of hair a guy has on his head, as a fashion statement (coloured, braided, ‘pacak’ed) or hair that is impossible to run your fingers through. Think make out sessions girls-you don’t wanna kiss him and run your fingers through hair which grease will stick to your hand (ee-yew) or hair that hasn’t been touched by shampoo for so long (super ee-yew).

2. The ‘clean’ understandable clothes-easy lines, easy cut. I really hate it when men wear clothes to show off, they signal lack of confidence in themselves, although I do believe the reason the style up is because of the opposite-to show confidence. Unfortunately guys, those bling bling rantai you have attached to those jeans, or that super tight tees that show your nipples, aren’t really tasty. They attract the wrong attention. Why bother to tell the world you got nipples or a bulging tummy or a bulging whatever? We girls have better looking nipples and worth-the-show curves. So save us the visual explanation. Also men who wear their mothers’ rags as their day-to day attire, men who have BO, dirty finger nails and even dirtier shoes.

3. The ‘clean’ attitude-charming smile. You don’t have to have symmetrical features or traffic stopping 6-pack, you just have to be genuine and sincere when you smile, and that, my dears, can get the attention of any girl or any girl’s mother. Scores big time.

Now, these are the men whom I think ‘look’ wangi:
1. Robert Downey Jr.
2. Heath Ledger
3. Tom Cruise
And the Busuk men are:
1. Collin Farrell
2. Jack Black
3. All the men in My Name Is Earl






But of course, 'busuk' is sometimes used to express affection, which is cute :)

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Office Baby-ing

Ok here goes. People at the office baby me. I don’t know whether it’s good or bad. But they do. Here are a few examples of the baby-ing they do.

‘Ayu dah makan?’, nah amik 10 ringgit ni belilah apa2 kat bawah tu. Tp tu of course la klu I beli apa-apa kene share ngan tuan yang bagi duit tu.

Or another one, ‘Ayu nak makan Big Apple donuts la hari ni’, and then, all I know I found a box of the donuts on my table after I came back to the office after lunch. And there are ALWAYS the donuts that I like! They remembered!

‘Kereta Ayu kene pecah la’, that happened when I was on leave. And in the afternoon, they came to my house and brought me out for a drink ‘to cheer me up’.

‘Ayu, baik ko blah sekarang, Puan cari ko tadi. Aku dah tolong cover kan untuk ko. Aku cakap ko gi bank. Baik ko lari and nyorok sekarang sebelum dia lalu depan ofis kite’, was one of the very familiar baby-ings they do for me, especially on Wednesday mornings.

‘Ayu kene overtime? Sian Ayu. Meh akak temankan kejap’, is another one, if they see me working during lunch time or after working hours. The ‘temankan’ sessions will always be followed by the mocking of the Mak Tiri, in a how-dare-she-dump-her-work-on-you-the-last-minute-and-ask-for-it-in-two-hours mode.

Looking back, I was always babied at the workplace. In my 1st office, I remembered there were two ‘Kakak’ who always took care of me and had my back anytime-personally and professionally. When I was leaving the office, one of the ‘Kakak’ cried and hugged me soooo long and said ‘Akak tak pernah ade adik. Ko lah adik akak’:( In my 2nd office, the bosses babied me. Yup. Got got that right. I’ve never been scolded at in that 2nd office, much to everybody else’s resentment. I was brought into meetings, I was praised in meetings and during my farewell party the boss said ‘I am reluctantly letting her go’..auww..In my 3rd office, I had 4 ‘Kakak’s who knew everything about me, they were my fashion consultants, they have seen my cry, they know my fears and they mock the people I don’t like :D sukeeee.....Now at my current office, there are not a lot of ‘Kakak’s, but there are ‘Abang’s who show their care in a different way, but the effect is still the same.

Ahh..I can’t say I don’t love these little pleasures in the office. These are the things that make my day despite of the endless complications my boss can provide me; there are always these friends who guard me whenever I need. And I know I can turn to them if I need some spoilt-rotten moments.

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My Good Week :)

Ahh..this week has been nothing but pleasant to me. I'll tell you why.

Monday, Aug 18th

Left for Kota Kinabalu for a holiday.

Checked in the hotel, and after lunch went for a boat ride at Klias Wetland, Kampung Kota Klias, 120km away from our hotel in KK. The boat ride, which was about 2 hours long was to catch a glimpse of the infamous proboscis monkey. It was a beautiful ride, and we got to a chance to see the beautiful sunset which brought me to tears, just looking at it.

Drove back to hotel and went to bed with a full tummy :D

Tuesday, Aug 19th

Went to see the Mount Kinabalu!

Brought me nearing to tears looking at the Mountain too. According to our tour guide, the name 'Kinabalu' originated from a story of a Chinese widow. One of the Kinabalu's peaks, called St. John's Peak (which is not the highest. The highest peak is Low's Peak) resembled a face of a Chinese lady, facing the South China Sea. Legend has it that this poor lady sat on that peak, facing the SCS on days on end, waiting for her husband to come back from China. She apparently unfortunately turned into a mountain peak, because of the long, endless wait. Sheesh! Tu la, dulu takde roaming. Nak buat camne. So, the name Kinabalu was actually originated from the words Cina Balu (Chinese widow). Geddit?

And then we went shopping at a souvenir bazaar.

Then comes the fun part.

We went to Poring Hot Springs! My colleague, who went to Poring 2 weeks before came back and told me that I MUST go to Poring for the canopy walk. 'Are you afraid of heights?' he asked. I can't answer him. I can't recall a time when I was too high above ground, neither can I remember feeling 'gayat' so I guess I had to go for the canopy walk to answer his question.
And the answer is I'M NOT! :D I'm so proud of myself! Hehe..

That night we had lobsters for dinner at Port View Seafood Village ! Yum yum. Lobster with butter. You can’t get anything better than THAT for dinner.

Drove back to hotel and went to bed with a full tummy :D

Wednesday, Aug 20th

Another river expedition.

This time even better! White Water Rafting at Kiulu River!

The Kiulu river was one of the tamest rivers in Sabah for white water rafting, said out tour guide. It was a 15km river and it took us about 2 hours to reach the ending point.

The scenery was beautiful. You just have to experience it yourself as I am out of words.

After rafting, we showered and made our journey to the Monosopiad Cultural Village and saw the cultural dances as well as the infamous skulls of the men killed by the legendary warrior, Monosopiad. The skulls, 42 of it, were more than 300 years old as were lined up and displayed as proof of Monosopiad’s power.

That night we went out to eat and a Northern Indian Restaurant, Kohinoor. The food was delicious!

Drove back to hotel and went to bed with a full tummy :D

Thursday, Aug 21st

Last day in Kota Kinabalu.

We went shopping for souvernirs and visited famous buildings and landmarks around town.

Had lunch in Sri Melaka Restaurant.

Went back to hotel, packed our bags. That’s when I received an SMS from my very dear boss saying ‘Esok pasang badan. I got you a ticket for the Star-Biz ICR Awards ’

Woohoo! I jumped up and down as I was sooooooo happy that I can go. My company’s nomination for that award was my blood, sweat and tears. I worked soooo hard for the report, the write-ups, the material collection, the table bookings and everything else in between. So yeah, I guess I deserve a seat, thank you.

After packing, we drove to the airport and boarded the plane.

In the plane, to make the day even better, I tuned in to Ironman! Oh.My.God. He never fails to make my heart skip a beat. He looked sooo...wangi! And cute, and smart and had a very, very adorable sense of humour, which scores big time with me anytime, babes, anytime. Tapi dapat tengok separuh je sbb movie started half hour after takeoff and flight was only 2 hours. Lepas tu siaran diganggu oleh iklan-iklan MAS. Bummer.

We reached home at 12.30am.

Friday, Aug 22nd

Went to work, to catch up on e-mails and to return phone calls when I was on leave.

Went home earlier to get prepared for the dinner at Nikko Hotel.

Arrived at Nikko Hotel and my Group General Manager said to me ‘Kalau menang, you tak boleh balik awal-awal tau, kene tolong I jawab soalan interview kalau reporter cari nanti’. Hehe. So I guess that means that he knew I was the one who struggled for the awards, not the ‘other’ person, so that’s good. Sat beside my good lovely friend (gambar later) and had a good lovely dinner. The Tetamu Kehormat was Raja Muda Perak, Raja Nazrin Shah, and boy oh boy, was he a view to behold *drools*

After dinner was the announcement of the winners and................my company WON! WE WON!!!Woohooo!!! THAT was just the icing on the cake. I was sooooooooooo HAPPY! Beyond words! (I wished Papa was around so that I can tell him about it. He would be very proud of me :( )

Drove back home and went to bed with a full tummy and a smile that lasted until morning :D

*More pics here

Saturday, Aug 23rd

Oil prices went down! I mean, THAT made my day. And my week. And maybe the months to come until it hikes up again.

What a week!

So...I am proud to declare that I had a GOOD week. Maybe not such a big deal for you guys out there who go for a holiday on a monthly basis, or attend dinners week after week. But it was big to me. If you knew where I came from to get where I am today, then you’ll understand. My life has been quite stressful as far as I can remember and this week was one of the best weeks in my life so far.

So SMILE for me :D

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I Made You Smile

And then there was that smile
Your eyes squinted
Your face beamed
Never have I thought that I can make you happy
For that moment of a few seconds

And I cherish that moment
When you smiled
I keep it playing in my mind
So I will never forget
The few seconds of happiness I gave you

And now I miss you
And wonder if you are smiling too
But be it a smile for anyone
I know there is a moment I can claim as mine
The moment when I made you smile

Copyright ©2009 Aida Rahayu Mahmud


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A Year Ago, Today (4)

Please note that the short sentences and empty space made between each sentence in this post are intentional. They signify the emptiness the writer felt when recording one of the tragedies in her life.

I woke up.

My heart was beating fast.

I looked outside the car window.

No sign of Liza.

Sigh.

Was just a dream.

The clock showed 8:20am.

I better get in now.


Liza was still at Papa’s bedside, awake.

‘Did you knock on the car door earlier?’

‘No, why?’

‘I dreamt you did. I’m so sorry I slept until morning’

‘No, it’s okay. You haven’t slept past few days pun kan?’

‘How’s Papa?’

‘Macam ni la’

Of course. What did I expect? Papa sitting up reading Robert Ludlum?

‘I hope it’s today’

Liza just nodded.

Ya Allah, hidupkanlah dia jika hidup itu lebih baik dan matikanlah dia, jika mati itu lebih baik.

Make it easy, God.

‘Uncle Kamal wants to come. I’ll pick them up’, Liza said.

Uncle and my cousin spent the night at Papa’s house. Poor them.

‘Go ahead’


I looked at Papa.

‘La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah’


Nina came.

She looked at Papa, as a doctor this time.

‘I wanna tell you something’, she said

‘What?’

‘I think he’s no longer with us’

‘What?’

‘Yes, the machine helps him breathe, but that’s the machine, not him. He’s losing colour. See?’

She showed me Papa’s fingernails.

‘They’re blue, Ayu. And look at his face. He sweat yeaterday. No traces of sweat now. He’s cold’

No. Please don’t say he left when I was there, sleeping in the car.

‘Jap, I mintak second opinion’, she grabbed her phone and talked to a doctor friend of hers.

‘What did he say?’

‘Well, technically, he said, Papa is still alive. The machine is helping his heart to beat, yes, but the heart can stop whenever it wants to. So the heart is still beating. He is still ‘alive’’

Ok. I wondered whether that statement was given to provide some kind of consolation to me. But consoled, I was not. I don’t know what to feel.

Nina read the Yassin.

Uncle Kamal, Liza and cousin arrived.


That afternoon, Uncle Kamal went to Masjid for Solat Jumaat.

It was Liza, Nina and I.


Mama’s best friend came.

‘How are you guys doing?’

‘We’re ok, Aunty’

She sat at the bedside.


She was talking about something when Nina realized.

The BP is low. The heartbeat too.

No.

Papa...say ‘La ilahaillallah’...say it with me Pa. Say it with me.

‘A’u zubillahi misnash syaitonnirrajim’

Say it Papa. Say it.


Nina was in tears.

Liza was continually reciting the syahadat.

‘Bye Dad, we won’t see you again, will we?’, Nina's tears streamed down her face, her hand on Papa’s shoulder.

‘I’m sorry, Pa’

I cried.

More than I ever thought I could.

‘La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah’

I was holding Papa’s hand, Nina too. Liza was near his ear, whispering the syahadat.

The monitor showed that his heart is beating slower.

It showed more straight lines.

And then the beep.

The long, loud beep.

1:45pm, Papa left, on a Friday.



We brought Papa home.

Many people came.

Mostly the same faces who came the days before.


‘Waris Allahyarham diminta untuk mandikan jenazah’

Liza came in and poured a water on Papa, from shoulder to toes.

Nina and I did too.

He was wrapped in white cloth, we each gave him a kiss goodbye.


We were fighting for time.

Papa was brought to the nearby surau for prayers

Papa was brought to the graveyard.

Papa was buried.

Papa’s place was near Mama’s.


We went home after that.

Home.

I looked at Papa’s bed.

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A Year Ago, Today (3)

Please note that the short sentences and empty space made between each sentence in this post are intentional. They signify the emptiness the writer felt when recording one of the tragedies in her life.

My back was aching and I woke up, to the voices of nurses.

Brushed my teeth, looked at Papa.

He is still, as he was yesterday.


Today, it’s a Chinese doctor.

Unlike the young Malay doctor, this doctor was hands on.

He checked Papa’s eyes.

I stayed quiet and observed everything he did.

‘Have you called your relatives?’, he said, hanging back his stethoscope on his neck, flipping Papa’s file.

Yes.

‘Ok’, he said. Putting down the file, this time looking me in the eyes, he continued, ‘He has probably 2 or 3 hours to live’

I blinked.

I nodded.

As usual, he gave me a concerned look; I gave him a bland smile.

He left.


Tonight is malam Jumaat. Make it a Friday, God, and make it easy. If he has to go, make it tonight or tomorrow, before Maghrib.

‘La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah, La ilahaillallah’

Follow me Pa, say ‘La ilahaillallah’

2-3 hours you say?

2 or 3 hours...

I looked at his BP, still okay.

His heartbeat too.



30, maybe 45 minutes passed.

He is still okay.

I don't trust this doctor.

I just don't. See, Papa's ok.


I went outside. I wanted to wait for my sisters.

As I left the ward door, I gave the guard at the entrance a ‘how-dare-you-give-my-sisters-a-hard-time-coming-in-to-see-our-dying-dad-yesterday’ look.

I walked and sat at the outdoor waiting area. It’s around 9 am.

There were many people at that area-women, children. But their faces conveyed the same message: they are not the happiest people in the world right now.


Nina came.

I saw her car entering the hospital area.

She brought food, as usual.

She sat beside me.

‘The Chinese doctor said he only has a couple of hours left’

She nodded and said, 'That's what the young doctor told me yeaterday too. A couple of hours. But he's still here today'

Oh.

I guess they can never tell.

‘Uncle Kamal is coming today’, she continued. He is my late mother’s younger brother, from Johor. How nice of him to come.

How nice to have Mama’s siblings around. How nice.


We went into the ward surprisingly easily, without any word from the guard.

Liza came in later.

A few minutes after, suspicion finally got over the guard and he decided to confront us when we were at Papa’s bed.

‘Maaf, cik, seorang sahaja boleh tunggu sini’

That bought him our angry look.

Nina, who was holding a Yassin, shot back, ‘Bapak saya tengah nazak ni. Mak kami dah takde. Kami bertiga sahaja. Saya akan tetap duduk sini’

Her eyes getting watery.

Since Papa fell, this is the first time I saw her eyes show traces of tears.

He left.

‘I’m gonna talk to the doctor later about the guard’, she said, continuing to read the Yassin.


Later that afternoon, Uncle Kamal came, with her daughter, my cousin.

He was the only one who didn’t say ‘Sabar ye’, and I noticed that easily.

He came in, took a chair, sat beside the bed, and opened his small Al-Quran and started reading. That, and not saying ‘Sabar ye’, made him my favourite visitor.


My colleagues came. My 3 best friends from the office came.

‘Sorry Ayu, Kak Zue tak dapat datang, dia dah masuk ward’, one of them said.

Kak Zue is going to have a baby.

I am happy for her.

And I thought to myself, hospitals are not only for sad people.


My obnoxious boss came.

My General Manager came. She gave me a hug.

My ex-bosses from Kementerian came. They were doctors. Explaining to them about Papa’s condition was easy. They even took a look at the CT Scan results. And they too, didn’t say ‘Sabar ye’.

Papa’s friends came. Yes, Papa’s friends.

I asked to talk in private with one of them, who happened to be a Khairat Kematian member of our Masjid back home.

‘Pakcik, macam mana nak menguruskan jenazah Papa nanti?’

Menguruskan jenazah Papa? Did I just say that? Is he really nearing his death? Do I risk sounding like an irresponsible daughter by saying that? I was sure that those were the same questions the Pakcik had, as he looked at me, blank.

‘Doktor kata apa, nak?, he said, making me feel that I had to explain Papa’s condition from scratch, so I did.

Throughout the lengthy explanation, he nodded after 2 or 3 of my sentences.

When I reached ‘Jadi kami nak tau macam mana dan siapa nak uruskan’, his head sank down, he was in deep thought.

‘Kami boleh uruskan. Haji Mahmud ni dulu ahli Khairat masjid. Kami boleh buat. Ayu cuma telefon Pakcik, nanti, dan kami akan bawa jenazah dari hospital ke rumah, kami akan hantar tukang mandi jenazah sekali.’

‘Kain kapan dan peralatan pengkebumian?’

‘Kami bagi semua. Jangan risau. Tak perlu bayar apa-apa’

‘Kenapa?’

‘Macam Pakcik cakap tadi, Papa tu dulu ahli Khairat Masjid, dia ada bayar yuran keahlian, jadi untuk ahli, tak perlu bayar apa-apa’

Alhamdulillah. There is somebody to help. Thank you, God, for making it easy on us.

Pakcik and I went back to Papa’s bed, and minutes later, Pakcik said he had to go, to ‘sediakan apa yang patut’.

Terma kasih pakcik.


I asked my cousin to come with me to go back home for me to have a shower.

She came along.


‘Papa’s blood pressure is dropping, heartbeat’s slow’, was Nina’s SMS when I was already on the way back to the hospital.

Rushing in, I saw Nina, Liza and Uncle Kamal, calm, as they were before I left.

‘The BP turned normal a few minutes ago, so did his heartbeat’, Nina said, when she saw me puzzled.

I took a deep breath.


Late afternoon.

Papa’s siblings came.

More cousins came.

Aziz came.

Anuar came.

More neighbours came.

More of Liza’s friends came.

My ex-school mates came.

It was after visiting hours. But everybody I can think of came.

Obviously the guard was given a word of warning from someone, maybe the Doctor, as he let everybody in easily.


That night, Liza went back home for her shower.

She came back at midnight.

‘Can I sleep in your car? Just for a while’,

‘Yeah, sure, I’ll stay here’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. Nah ambik kunci ni’


In Liza’s car, I turned on the radio.

Orang mengaji.

I blinked.

Just for a while. I promise to come back in two hours. Kesian Kak Liza.

I dozed off.


It was bright morning.

Liza came and frantically knocked on the car door.

‘Something’s the matter with Papa. Come quick!’

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Empangan

This was one of my textbooks when I was in Form 6. This is also one of the very few Malay literatures I’ve managed to read, and love.

It’s about a soul-searching J, missing the place where he came from and wondering whether or not he should go back in being the person he was, or he thought he was.

A PhD Student from Harvard, this Rembau born gentleman has been home bound for nearly 10 years, pursuing academics. The 10 years studying overseas provided him more than 2 academic degrees-it has turned him into a ‘manusia sepi’, which the definition is being stated rather attractively in a paragraph in this novel.

His final thesis for the final semester, he decided, was to be about Malay philosophy, and where better to study it than at home, Rembau. The trip home was for him to find who he was before and what made him; also with hopes to foster his new found love for God.

Back home, in his constant search of what’s right and what he thinks is right, he almost always finds himself in situations where his stand was challenged, his believes questioned and his comeback unwelcomed.

The book has characters with interesting names, such as Endot Bondorang, Daun Nadim and Nira Hitam, as well as Dave Moron, which suit their personality.

A lovely read, I fell in love with J reading this book. (Of course, J only comes second after Atticus Finch in ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ in my list of ‘Irresistible Men in Novels’:D )

I’m reading it again now, that’s how connected I am to the book.

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A Year Ago, Today (2)

Please note that the short sentences and empty space made between each sentence in this post are intentional. They signify the emptiness the writer felt when recording one of the tragedies in her life.

I woke up to the sound of footsteps.

I looked up; trying to see through hardly opened eyes and saw a nurse changing Papa’s drip.

It was 8.30 am.

Papa was lying down, still.

I SMSed my sisters, asking them when they’re gonna come.

‘In an hour’ was their reply.

‘Please bring toothbrush. Breakfast if possible’


I’m still in yesterday’s clothes.

I went to the washroom and washed my face.

Went back to Papa’s bed, looked around, and saw the doctor making his round.

It was the young doctor again; he was at the bed opposite of Papa’s

When he reached Papa’s bed, he had nothing to say, only a lot to write down.

He gave me a concerned look, I gave him a bland smile.

He left.


By now I've already received a lot of SMSes.

'Papa Ayu masuk hospital? Semoga cepat sembuh, sabar ya'

He isn't going to 'sembuh', and yes, I think I know what sabar is, thank you. I just don't like it when people say 'Sabar ye'.

It's as if that person is telling you that you are not 'sabar' enough and they feel they have to calm you down. It's as if, if they don't say it, you might turn berserk and murder someone.

And 'Sabar ye' to me, signals that you are experiencing a tragedy in your life, and all you have is your sanity to hang on to.

I don’t like it.

'Kami nak datang lunch time, ward berapa ek?' was another SMS, from a friend.

I sat at Papa's bedside, my mind wandering off to some other thoughts.


'Hi, how are you keeping up?' Nina said, with a plastic bag of food in her hand.

'I brought you toothpaste, toothbrush, food, newspaper'

Thank you.

Liza came with a backpack of clothes.

‘We had a hard time with the guard when we wanted to come in’

Apparently the guard said ‘Seorang sahaja yang boleh masuk’

‘Ni nanti I nak pergi solat kat surau luar tu, macam mana I nak masuk balik? Sure dia tak bagi’

‘Our father’s dying. Tell him that. I’m sure he wants his children to be with him when he’s on his deathbed’

We sit some more after I have brushed my teeth. Nina read the Yassin. Both me and Liza were uzur.


We received visitors that day.

Family, bosses, ex bosses, colleagues, ex colleagues. Many people came.

‘What happened, what did the doctors say?’

That, continued with the many ‘Sabar ye’


It was late afternoon.

‘The doctor wants to talk to all of you’ someone said.

We walked out.

Waiting outside Papa’s room, was the young doctor again, and his colleague, an older female doctor.

‘Basically, there is nothing we can do’, the older doctor said.

Yeah. I thought we already know that?

‘I have a father too’, she continued, ‘and I know how it feels like. But I guess now is the time you should start calling your relatives’

And she went on telling us things we already know, also about Papa’s current condition, how the bleeding is getting worse.

Yes, it is her job to explain. But I wasn’t interested.

I blocked out everything anybody says after the HKL doctor said ‘There’s nothing we can do’. Hence, further explanation, to me, was unnecessary.

‘How active do you want us to be?’ she said.

By this she meant, what do we want them to do if Papa’s heart suddenly stopped beating. Do we want them to jump in and resuscitate him?

No we don’t.

‘I understand. As Muslims, we want to make it as easy as possible. Buat apa nak seksa dia’, she said.

The young doctor nodded. We nodded.

Agreed. They won’t be ‘active’ on Papa. We’re gonna let him go, as easy as possible.


That night Liza and I went back to Papa’s house and tidied it up-to prepare for the visitors for the kapan and pengkebumian ceremony.

Carpets rolled, Papa’s belongings’ put aside, the TV covered with cloth, the floor swept.

‘Assalamualaikum’ was a neighbour’s voice.

‘How is Papa?’

I kept quiet and kept on tidying. Liza did all the answering.

It’s funny that I am still numb. I kept on tidying.

Then I had my shower.

I took my clothes.

We left again for Kajang Hospital.


Later that night, Aziz came.

More people came.

Yassin was recited.

I think I slept in between. Or maybe I didn’t.

Another night in the hospital.

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A Year Ago, Today (1)

Please note that the short sentences and empty space made between each sentence in this post are intentional. They signify the emptiness the writer felt when recording one of the tragedies in her life.

A year ago, today, Papa fell. On the floor, at his bedside.

He was standing up on his own, and he fell, in front of my eyes, after my shower.

I lifted him onto his bed, still clad in my towel.

He was in pain. I saw him in pain.

I asked him to lie down, and called Liza and Nina.

The sisters came, called for an ambulance.

The beeping ambulance brought him to the hospital, while the 3 of us try to catch up with it, in our cars.

Papa was brought into the ICU, Hospital Kajang. We sat in the waiting room-a small room with smaller chairs, while they were working on Papa in the opposite room.

I sat beside the window, held my knees close to my chin, and looked outside.

I saw many gloomy faces walking. People in hospitals are always gloomy, I thought.

And so was I. I must be gloomy. I am gloomy, aren’t I?

But then, why should I be gloomy?

Look at that mother carrying a child in her arms. She looks gloomy. Maybe her husband has had an accident, and she is thinking about the mouths she has to feed, if he never comes out of the OT alive.

Look at that man walking with canes because he broke a bone in his left leg. He looks gloomy; the woman beside him looks gloomy, because he might not be able to work for the next 3 months, and who to pay the bills then?

People in hospitals are gloomy because of their fear of losing the people they love, losing the happiness they once had, losing their freedom from problems.

I am not losing the person I love.

So I shouldn’t feel gloomy.

Papa will be fine. He’s fine.

See, the doctors are coming in. And the nurses too.

They are going to fix Papa up.

After they fix him, they’re gonna say, like all of the doctors Papa have been to have said, ‘He’s fine. Just a bruise. But he’s fine. You say he’s 86? Well then, he is the fittest 86 year old I’ve ever met! You can take him home now.’ That’s what they’re gonna say.


But what is taking the doctors so long?


I looked outside the window again, I saw the main gate. That’s where we got in, and that’s where we’re gonna leave, all four of us, with smiles on our faces.

And I’m gonna scold Papa for being adventurous, getting up on his own. And he’s gonna just stay quiet. But I know he’ll be listening.


But what is taking the doctors so long?


‘Papa, I’m going to buy a car, you know’ I said, sitting beside him on his bed last night.

Papa was busy arranging the little packets of ‘Kuih Lapis’ in a plastic Tupperware.

‘When Ayu ada kereta, kalau Papa sakit, then we don’t have to call Liza and ask her to come all the way and take you to the hospital. I can’, I said proudly.

He was quiet, and then said, ‘Don’t make promises. When the time comes, you won’t have the time’,


Why are the doctors taking too long?


Liza was on another chair, near the door, on the phone.

Nina was on a chair in front of me; her fingers are busy with the phone, too.

I, have nobody to call or contact. Why should I call anyone? Papa is fine.

‘Doctor, boleh saya cakap sebentar?’ was the voice of a young doctor standing at the door, looking at my Doctor sister, Nina.

‘OK, Doctor,’ Nina said, standing up and walking to him. They walked slowly together to the opposite room, where Papa was being fixed.

I looked out the window again. My knees, still close to my chin.

Did I lock the front door? Did I switch off the iron? There’s this document at the office which my boss is supposed to sign. Did I tell him? Does he know?


‘Guys, you wanna take a peek?’ Nina said, at the waiting room door.

We walked up.

We stood at the door of the opposite room, and we saw Papa.

He was on a bed, his eyes closed.

He had wires and tubes all over his chest and wrists, and some were even put through his nostrils. There were beeping sounds, coming from the machines he was connected to.

But his eyes were closed.

‘You have two options,’ the young doctor said. ‘You can let him stay here, for observation, or you can take him to HKL for a CT Scan, since we don’t have the scan here’.

But you’re supposed to say he’s fine! He is fine!

Nina was doubtful that the Scan could tell us anything more than we already should know by now.

Liza was quiet.

I want to go to HKL. Take him to HKL. Now.


‘Ayu, you go with the ambulance, we’ll be right behind you’

I sat beside him in the ambulance.

The wires are still with him. The beeping sounds too.
And then the siren.

Why are my cheeks wet? Damn these tears.

We arrived at HKL. They rushed Papa to the scan room and asked me to stay outside. The red light above the door turned red. Papa was being scanned. They are gonna find out what’s wrong him and they are gonna fix him.


Another waiting area.

There were chairs, unoccupied. Why do they have chairs? I can’t sit, I can’t stay still, nobody can, when their loved ones are in that room. So why do they have chairs?

Staring at the red light, I fought my own denial.

He is leaving us.

Liza and Nina finally arrived.

Soon after that, the red light was turned off. Papa was then rushed out of the scan room into another room.

In that room, there was only one wire connected to him, to read his heart beat and blood pressure.


‘The doctor wants to talk to you’ someone said.

‘There, let’s take a look at this’, the doctor said, holding up Papa’s CT Scan results up.

The doctor said that the fall had caused his head to bleed extensively. The blood now occupies the room in his skull, taking the space of the brain and at the same time pushing the brain to one side, which causes his unconsciousness. The bleeding will continue, she says, and there is nothing they can do about it.

Nothing they can do. Even if this happened to a younger person, they still cannot do anything.

They cannot fix Papa up.

She suggests us to take him back to Kajang Hospital ‘for observation’. To observe what?

We went back to the room where Papa is.

We waited for the ambulance.

Liza was outside the room, walking back and forth.

I went up to her.

She leaned on the wall, her body slowly nearing the floor. She burst into tears.

I hugged her and cried too, there, on the hospital floor.


We reached Kajang Hospital.

Papa was placed in a four bedded room.

Papa was connected to more wires and tubes.

‘Ayu stay the night here ok? Anything you need?’

No.

‘Ok so then, please call us if anything,’

Ok.

‘Will you be okay?’

Yes.

‘We will come back later for you, tukar shift’

Ok.


They left.

I stared at Papa.

It was getting dark.

I was getting numb.

‘La ilaha illallah, La ilaha illallah, La ilaha illallah’

Follow me Pa, say ‘La ilaha illallah’

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To Where I Was Before

I'm on the highway again
To where I was before
I'm running away now
From what or whom I can't recall
But I'm far away and out of breath now
I left a part of me
Somewhere along the highway
I'll just look for it again
Some other day
I'm too far now
And I have to go
To where I was before
To somewhere I was before

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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New Job Jitters

I received an SMS from my ex schoolmate asking me ‘Wei, ape tips masuk keje tempat baru ek? Aku nervous la.’

The nervousness is understandable. I have worked in three places before my current one, and from the experiences, I know that no matter how prepared you are for your first day at work, there is always this feeling that you might end up doing the things you prayed you weren’t stupid enough to do. You cross your fingers you won't end up being everyone’s joke for the whole year.

Well, to me, besides dressing accordingly, making sure you have fresh breath and your hands are well moisturised for all the ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Nice meeting you’s’ handshakes, you have to master TWO very important things.

Number One – Sense of Direction (which I suck at, on the road, and even in a bloody building..sigh. But take note that I’m working on it). You need to know a few VERY important locations – toilet and cafe, for obvious reasons, The Boss’s Room, so that you stay away from it, and oh, of course, your table.

Number Two – Sense of Humour (which is a God-given gift of mine :D). You need to have this. Easy peasy way to win friends. Not gifted? Well then read a few jokes the night before you turn up for work. Make sure the jokes aren’t gender, status or race bias, unless you wanna get kicked out the first day.
There. My two cents’ worth. Hope it helps!

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The Selfish Self

Oh so what is there to whine
And what is left to murmur
Tranquil be what tranquil is
Yours and mine are not the same

What is there to hurt apart
When we hurt more together
And selfishness is what selfishness is
When what interests me don’t interest you

Oh what is there to regret
When the judge of all this is only you and me
Either can be wrong, either can be right
Remember just-time fades but fate doesn’t

But oh, beyond the hurtful words and the silent curses
And in search of who is worse
We become inhuman, you and I
As we were all along

May this be not just of a chapter we read
Or just a theory we memorize
But a lesson we learn
To be remembered, should the test come again

Aida Rahayu Mahmud
Copyright ©2008 Aida Rahayu Mahmud

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The Brain Theory

My experiences showed that, you cannot avoid from falling in love. You don’t control it, not even when you want to.

You don’t tell the heart what to do; it falls for anyone it wants. There were many times when I question myself as to why I fell for whomever I fell, be it requited or not. In cases where it was not, and when he says ‘But you’re only a friend’, I blame myself; although I know very well that it wasn’t my fault. I did not pray for the heart to fall for him. I did not put an effort in making the heart fall for him; it just did, on its own. The heart was to blame, not me.

So when the heart has a brain of its own, I am often put in an awkward situation, and find myself singing to the cliché line sung by Olivia Newton John ‘My heart is saying ‘Fool! Forget him’, my heart is saying ‘Don’t let go, hold on to the end’.

So more often than not, the brain does all the cleaning up for the mess the heart has made.

‘But he’s not into you. There must be a reason. This is a lesson to be learned; maybe Karma was trying to tell you something. This time, think of yourself first, take into account your feelings and your needs-you have been ignoring them for him. Think of you now. Are you worth all the pain the heart causes? Of course you’re not’ was the Brain’s justification during the recent heartbreak.

For the second time, I listened to the Brain. I know the heart can be trained. It can fall in love all it wants, but the Brain can clean up the wears and tears when the heart breaks and discipline the heart, as long as you let the Brain do his job.

You have to be cruel to be kind. Let the Brain get rid of that guy you go ga-ga over, because, hey, if they didn't pass the 'Rational Filtering Test' from the Brain, then why cling on. Listen to the Brain and help yourself.

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The Bus Ride Theory

‘It’s a bus ride, dear’, said Viv. We were sitting in front of the fax machine, looking out a window where we can see carelessly plotted setinggan houses down below. The spot where we were was secluded from everyone in the office, a tiny spot where we sit to find perspective.

‘It’s a bloody bus ride. You never know when the bus will come, who the driver will be and what the destination is. The only thing definite is that, we have to pay for the ticket upon entering the bus’.

Yes. We have to pay and it’s not refundable.

‘Heck, then what if we like the driver but the ride ain’t good? What if the bus is accident-prone, would we still wanna ride it? And the destination-that’s a different story altogether. Besides, what if you came on the bus not because of the destination? What if you just want the ride?’ I said, staring at a bunch of kids playing footie in the humble space in front of their setinggan houses.

‘Yeah, can the driver guarantee a safe trip? A trip we really want?’ Viv’s reply was echoed by the beeping of the fax machine, telling us it got the document through.

And with that, we went back to our seats. Five minutes of sitting in front of the machine, we gained perspective, and a theory to be put to test for the rest of our lives.

Now that theory finds its place in my current situation.

I’m in pain. I cannot pretend that I am not. I have been through this road before, it is all very familiar. Sometimes, just sometimes, I think of why God is putting me on this winding road again and again when I know what the destination would be. Maybe there was something I missed the last time I passed this road. Maybe I left something behind; maybe God just wants me to ride on the bus, to while time away. Maybe the bus ride is better than being at the bus stop, unprotected from the rain.

Like a bus ride, I have been through bumps along the road. I have been to destinations where I crave being home with myself; also destinations that make me forget who I am.

Now I find myself at the bus stop again, after a ride. Like every other bus rides, this one gives another lesson.

The lesson is-Remember that every bus has a bell.

When the bus driver is charming but when he asks you to ride with him to keep him company because he was sleepy and needed a friend to keep him awake for a ride around town, you can opt to stay and be his company to ensure he has a safe trip. But if you opt to get to a destination with him when all he wants is a company for a town ride, remember, there is always bell you can press, to get down at the next stop. When you step down, say goodbye, pray he’ll be well and hope that he will only receive good things in life.

And what happens to you? Well, you will be at the stop again. Who cares if you’re not protected from the rain?

The next time a bus arrives; do not hop right in-think again and again, whether the ride is worth the fee you pay, and whether you want to hop in for the ride, the driver or the destination.

All this carried me back to that five minutes with Viv, in front of the fax machine, sitting on blue chairs and staring at the setinggan houses’ rusted rooftops, looking for answers.

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About Going On

When Papa passed away, many have been robbed away from me-love, attention and responsibilities. Losing Mama at a young age has taught me to deal with pain and forced independency. Losing Papa in my adult life taught me how to deal with losing things you take for granted, things that you thought would be there all the time. I lost the home when Papa left, as well as the memories wrapped around it.

The hardest part of losing your parents is when, during your silent nights alone, you think of how much more you could’ve done for them, how many times more you should have said ‘I love you’ and whether you have done enough for them to feel the slightest pride in calling you their child. And during the holidays are the times you wish they were there to just sit beside you and call your name in their laughs and giggles. Also when you did well at school or at work and you smile from ear to ear, you wish that your parents we there for the pat on the back, the high fives and the ‘Well done!’s. And of course, when your heart is broken, all you want is for them to just be there, no comfort words needed, but just be there, for a hug. And when you realize they are not there to hold, you plead and beg that they didn’t leave you in the first place.

All that, and yet you will still find the strength in yourself to go through every single day. It is amazing what the heart can carry, it can bear a lot.

So I go on, as I am, as Mama would have wanted me to, I go on. As far as I can, Ma. And when I can’t, it will be just a night of tears and no more. The next day, I will go on. Until it breaks me again, I promise I’ll go on.

(Al-Fatihah to my parents, Hayati Ariffin and Mahmud Simin)
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