is this a prose? : i'm giving it a shot

to err is human,

to forgive, divine.

to send reports of it,

is Windows XP.

prose: mad hatter at Friday's

Last few Fridays, a man suddenly collapsed during Friday prayers. His breathing sounded like a slaughtered bull. Some men near him quit their prayers and helped to send the man to a hospital, while some just remained unperturbedly (kononnya, I don’t know) khusyuk. Me? I didn’t know there was a collapsed man until after the prayers. (no, not that i am khusyuk but rather because i was praying on the lawn, i was late hehe)

What ARE we supposed to do in times like that? Do we quit and run when Jewish soldiers are opening fire towards the jemaah or do we just stay in devotion and pray for divine help or die hopefully in iman?

If one runs, what would it show? Does it show cowardice for running, or is it an ikhtiar to avoid danger? Which one displays a stronger iman, the one who just accepts his fate or the one who actually did something to save his life? Or, does the one who runs show that he would readily denounce his religion when faced with the slightest threat for being a Muslim?

Or, is it when you are khusyuk you should be oblivious to your surroundings because you are transcended beyond the physical to offer your sacred prayer to God? So technically nothing else should matter, be it war, be it business, be it family, all that will come AFTER you finish your solat, should you die so be it or should you live so be it. And, this khusyuk-ness is your iman and it will guide you in whatever you do, should you run or should you stay in prayer?

Very tricky. And scary too. Let’s just wish our imans are intact.

disclaimer: I'm NOT religious as in Persatuan Mahasiswa Islam religious, okay babes??

On a less tricky note,

Flowing clothes like robes, cloaks, and even sarongs makes you feel ethereal and at the same time regal, especially when descending wide steps with a gusty wind giving life to your frolicsome frock. Think Eowyn at Edoras.

But then a sick thought crossed my mind. And a degrading experience is not unhelpful either. What if,

In a prayer hall where the space is limited and you need to squeeze in behind another saf. Your headroom during sujud is barely adequate. Then suddenly the person in front-of-you’s (TPIFOY) loose sarong was blown up and it caught over your head. You embarrassedly hoped that the cloth would just slide back. It didn’t. You have no choice but to get up from your sujud (you wouldn’t want to sujud forever and let everyone see this degrading situation). And you get up, with your head inside the sarong of TPIFOY. You just better hope he’s not going commando that day.



So people, better wear trousers instead of sarongs. Even those people who wear jubah sometimes wear trousers inside. Or, tie your sarong neatly and closely, like when you are wearing a sampin. Do have your underwear on when wearing a sarong. And don’t distance yourself too closely to the person in front of you. Or, just shove off the sarong if it caught on your head.

Ladies and gentlemen, your dose of crazy logic from the friendly people at crazylogicpopstartour.blogspot.com.

Remember folks, It’s crazy, but it can logically happen! ekekekekekeek

prosa: Eidul Adha

Selamat Hari Raya Qurban!

if you want to wish a friend who is repeating Urban Studio (fifth year architecture) please make sure you do not spell 'korban' that way. Those people can be very sensitive.

anyway, one raya haji which is very memorable for me is that one year where the family slaughtered a buffalo. and then the family, with relatives and friends hanged the carcass and lapah the meat in our very own garden. then we cooked a big portion of 1/3 of the meat (1/3 was for our own use, 1/3 went to relatives, and 1/3 went to the poor) in a big pot for the kenduri. at one corner of the garden you can see a small party barbequeing some meat over some charcoal. ever wonder what barbequed buffalo meat sans marinade taste like?

"rasa macam ghebau (taste like a buffalo)" was my youngest brother's comment, spitting it out disgustedly.

The ladies were busy inside the house preparing for the kenduri. and all these happened not without noise and clamour.

So if you have seen 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding ' where the Greek family roasted a lamb on a spit in their garden, you'll get the picture.

minus the dancing, of course.

prose: meskateers

whenever i hear people mention halwa meskat (or the other kueh) this story would always put a secret grin on my face. in a fair dining hall, where we lay our scene.....

"You alls, try la makan ni...sedap ni" (proudly taking out something yellow and gooey and sticky looking)

"Apa benda ni?"

"Kalau you all nak tau... ni la halwa meskat, kueh dari Penang..." (beaming)

(the other guys taking a bite of the stuff)
"babe, apsal rasa cam puding jagung jek?"

"eh, ye ke......." (red in the face)

ekekekekekekek.

prose: Wan Nur Sunami Wan Albakri

(this is from verbal sources, and as is with verbal sources, subject to exaggeration and liquid evidence)

I was a bit apprehensive when a friend told me (on Boxing Day) that his house we were in was shaking earlier that morning. It came out with a casual inquiry as to where we parked our car, and when we told him it was at the immediate ground floor of the 4 storey flat he recommended that we move it outside the building’s footprint. In my mind I was thinking, great, save the car first, we can always buy our lives at a used life sale, after being persuaded by a typical used life salesman. (but what were I myself to do, I ponder, were I to face such circumstance?)

I, who rummaged through the Technical Report on the Collapse of Highland Towers for several semesters, feared it was a structural defect.

(I had no opportunity to news because I was attending a wedding) The realization that it was an earthquake came to me with a phone call from my Dad in London who saw it on CNN. When I got home, my brother told me about my eldest grandmother’s kenduri (which I had to forgo) being washed by a big wave.

Those few weeks saw Kampong Kuala Muda, Seberang Perai Pulau Pinang in a bit of commotion. Main roads are full of parked cars (beachfront resident’s, aid worker’s, curious people’s), victims relocated to a school, and some residents clearing dried mud from their houses (like mat salleh shoveling snow from their compounds in winter).

And conversations-

“depa dok peghati nu apa dia benda putih-putih sepanjang-panjang laut tu dok mai dekat”

“dia mai tinggi bumbung sekolah”

“nasib baik la takdak oghang pi cari kepah, pasai masa jadi tu, ayaq tenang, takdak ribut takdak apa, dia mai tiba-tiba”

“perahu orang ke laut habih, depa jumpa balik bersusun kat pulau tengah tu, bercampoq pukat hang pukat aku”

It was fortunate that there were several kenduri in the area, making the villagers lively and busily scurrying about, instead of lazily dozing inside their houses or leisurely collecting kepahs at the beach (under the very noses of harm) typical of an uneventful Sunday. It was easier to alert and herd people who are already up on their feet.

In the event of the big waves hitting the beach during the kenduri, as related by my brother (please note that this portion of the kampong is not as badly struck as elsewhere, the houses are still standing, and only one life was claimed):

- people hurriedly saving their cars
- some fled to safety, some abandoned the scene where help might be needed, some even fled back home but soon realized they forgot a relative at the scene,
- some would remain at the affected houses, indifferent to a probability of a recurring onslaught
- couldn’t care less to confirm whose boat was seen in the sea prior to the tsunami (and who might be dead), and to check if there are family members missing after the waves hit
- nobody informed the authorities (police, firemen, paramedics, even the ketua kampong) of the incident

What we can learn from these incidents is that in spite of living long in a peaceful existence we are ill-prepared and sometimes fail to be reasonable in event of such disasters. Some were concerned more that the kenduri was ruined when it should be a cause for reflection that it unintentionally helped to save lives. (and what were I myself to do, I ponder, were I to face such circumstance? In these cases, I was just the outsider looking in) Butter has indeed made us fat.

And then there was the aftermath. When charity is politicized, the benevolence of philanthropists worldwide who handed in huge amounts of money in aid of the victims is misplaced. Those who were truly needy of the fund, whose wrecked perahus severed their sole source of living, were given only a small consolation while the remainder of it goes to close relatives and neighbours of the distributor of the aid, who were not in the least affected. Even to this day I can see people smilingly walking a-hippity-hop with free mattresses collected at the aid points, to their houses some few kilometers away from the affected areas.

There were also the greedy. When aid workers distributing the relief funds called for names and found out that the person was absent from the meeting, they would ask for a representative. One villager would bear the responsibility, in fact, of at least three names which gave him at least RM2000 in funds, only to act oblivious of the money when claimed by the rightful recipients. There was also a family from as far as Perak (when the hell did a tsunami hit Perak? Are you asking for one? I hope you get one, and I hope you won’t survive, that you are macerated and bloated in all your repulsive greediness) trying to claim a piece of the pie, and RELA members suspected of breaking in temporarily evacuated houses which they were supposed to be guarding (the police was obliged to take over to prevent this incident from recurring). I just hope this sad state of affairs is corrected pronto.

Even a wall of water this magnitude cannot wash the filth out of the hearts of men.

shitus poemus: mosquito

when buzzing annoyingly in your ear,
thus depriving you of a peaceful slumber,
a nyamuk (mosquito) is a nyamuk no longer,

that nyamuk is babiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!

prose: my friend's dream of hazy Genting

my friend related this dream (thanks for this inspirational piece, awan!!) Apparently he was reading the Top Ten Richest People in Malaysia.

he dreamed going to a glamorous function, where he met the son of Lim Goh Tong. He asked him, "what is the secret of your success?"

He answered, "have a good breakfast."

prose: proverbs(?) closer to heart

one who laughs last,

will be laughed at, reason being: lambat pikap.

prose: beg kulit kak long (or, eldest sister's leather bag)

You employ a piece of leather, strong durable yarn, a steel buckle, all of these things assembled to correspond to a certain unity. And what is the result of that unity? A bag.

Observe; leather + yarn + buckle or lock = bag (or, specifically a leather bag)

(of course this equation could also make up shoes, or even anything, therefore it has a prerequisite of:

handle or strap + storage compartment + bigger than a purse = bag

Or, any other equations attributable to a ‘bag’. surely you guys know what a bag is don’t you?)

On its own, the bag is beautiful. It is therefore; much admired and is put on display. After all, leather ages to be more beautiful.

Over time, however, it collects dust. Dust is not a requisite to achieve a bag. Dust does not correspond to that unity which brings this state of beauty; in fact, it deters it. It is a foreign entity (aptly called ‘foreign entity’ because even without it, it can also be a bag, nevertheless).

Observe; leather + yarn + steel buckle + dust = ugly bag

(A foreign entity does not necessarily deter its beauty. For example,

Leather + yarn + steel buckle + silver pendants = beautiful bag

of course, ‘taste’ would also have to be taken into consideration, for a bag with silver pendants could also be poorly designed, thus ugly, but this is a hypothetical thingy, to provide a clarity of concept)

So what do you do when a bag turns ugly the result of accumulated dust?
You dust it. So it becomes itself again, in all its pureness.
Thus it is beautiful again, in its unity.



by the way, how much would a bag of this stature cost, anyone?

2005!

let's party like it's 2005? nope, never happened.

i always longed, back in my stuck-in-the-studio days ( not that it's a million years ago) that i would celebrate new year, merdeka and whatever like other merry makers-congregrate at Dataran Merdeka, new year dinner with friends or whatever. but this recent new year's eve i find myself stuck again, in my room now, also staring at the pc, besides watching endless telly. if that were my azam, i'm afraid i failed. anyhow, in view of the recent happenings of tsunami (my kampung was affected) there would be no cause for celebration, and staying at home minding my own business is not so bad after all.

so what happened last year? i don't remember much. last year was like a fleeting memory. there were events, like our pre graduation dinner which was a blast, the parting of enam tahun, the seminar at Marriot, Return of the King, the buka puasa with green curry etc, but on the personal level, i couldn't make out whatever improvement that i have achieved. (wait! perhaps, being able to sing at karaoke in front of other people without embarrassment. haha big deal.)

my friends and i have this thing that we fondly call 'the forever list'. this is a list of the things that we dream of having or doing, but it takes like, forever to be realized.

so ladies and gentleman, i present you, in no particular order, my forever list for 2005 ( heck, this could be my forever list for forever!) :

1) yoga classes
2) a weight gain diet
3) a morning person routine which includes jogging to start the day
4) swimming lessons
5) exploring the streets of Singapore on foot
6) organizing and writing my blog ideas (yes, this takes forever!)
7) furnishing my apartment-to-be
8) reading a Salman Rushdie
9) bone china tea set
10) love

i hope achieving all these things would make me a better person, who enjoys this life and living it to the fullest.

wishing u all a fantastic year ahead.
happy new year!