When time stood still

Last night we had a real scare.And I mean a real scare, a moment when time stood still, and we were gasping for breath and our heart eventually stopped beating. It had been real ages when we were last jolted from our sleep with the ringing of the phone in the stillness of the night. And those days, when the phone rang in the middle of the night or in the wee hours of the morning, it only meant one thing. Either our closed ones were in some kind of trouble, accidents had befallen them, or worse still, a death had happened.

So, early this morning, at precisely 12.05 a,m., after both my husband and I had dozed off, I heard the persistent ringing of his phone. My heart missed several beats, and although I couldn't hear exactly what had transpired between him and the caller, I could sense that something awful had happened judging from his body language. The minute he ended the call, his body bent over, and with hands covering his face, he sobbed uncontrollably. I was really shaken and I kept asking him to tell me what had happened.

Somehow I had this instinct that something had happened to my sister-in-law, who underwent operation recently. Despite recovering well, her condition seems erratic.

And my instinct was proven right. My sister-in-law, who is my husband's only sister, and one whom he'd give his limb to had been rushed to a hospital in Bangi around 10.30 p.m, as she was having fainting spells and high bp reading despite not having any problem with her blood pressure prior to the operation.

After a brief examination, the hospital had advised her family to take her to Putrajaya hospital where all her records are kept, so she was rushed to Putarajaya in an ambulance.

Apparently the doctor who had examined her had told my brother-in-law that she could be haemorrhaging in the brain or had probably suffered a stroke.

Imagine hearing this kind of news happening to your loved one. I bravely comforted my husband who kept crying softly. I calmly woke my second son up and told him what had happened. I was hiding my fear for the sake of my husband but deep inside, my heart was screaming and my chest felt as though it was exploding. This couldn't have happened to her. We were just chatting away on Watsapp earlier in the afternoon, and all indications pointed to a good but slow recovery. In fact, I was excited with her recovery progress because that would mean that she could join us for the "merisik" trip we were scheduled to go next weekend.

Both my husband and I dressed quietly. Just as were about to leave for the hospital, we heard the door bell ringing. My eldest son, who had married recently,  had arrived from Seremban with his wife and daughter.  When my son approached my husband to salam him, again he broke into a wrecking, soul and heart-breaking sobs. I could see the distraught look on his face.I was devastated.

We drove in silence until we reached the emergency ward of the  hospital. I can imagine what had gone through my husband's mind, the fear and torment he was suffering. With the passing away of my parents-in-law, my father-in-law in 2010, and my mother-in-law in 2008, my sister-in-law is the only close kin he has, someone whom he loves dearly and would give his life to.

Once we reached the emergency ward of the hospital we were greeted by her sons who related to us what had happened. We waited at the waiting lounge and offered a silent prayer. About 15 minutes after we arrived, I saw a door opening and was hugely relieved to see my sister-in-law being wheeled out of the treatment room by her husband. My husband rushed to hug her and kept kissing her face and forehead. I can imagine how relieved and happy he was.

My brother-in-law later explained that after the doctor had examined her, they did not concur with what the former hospital had diagnosed as her symptoms were not consistent with the earlier diagnosis. And they had advised her to rest at home.

We then saw them to their car, and once again, my husband enveloped her in a tight embrace kissing her face and forehead repeatedly. It was as though he did not want to let her go. It was as though he couldn't believe that she was alright. We left after seeing them off.

In the car, my husband had softly and quietly told our sons and daughter in law, "Ngah is the only person I have in the world. There is no one else." I felt sharp tears springing to my eyes. But I held myself together and rubbed his shoulder and face softly. Ya Allah! The love of a sibling knows no bound!

I wish my sister-in-law speedy recovery and hope she'll recover fully.

Tini, we still need you for many more happy occasions we're celebrating this year and years to come. I love you my dear, and you know that you will always have a special place in our hearts. May Allah speed up your recovery and may Allah bless you.

Are you coming or not?

Oh my! It's been ages since I last wrote in my blog. I have been buried under a rubble and mountains of work/projects/commitments since the 3rd quarter of last year that I've totally neglected penning down my thoughts.


If truth be told, my schedule is still extremely tight. Alas, I am compelled to write as I've been feeling awfully frustrated lately.


To be precise I'm fed up. I'm fed up with people who do not have the courtesy to reply or respond to RSVPs or emails or sms.

RSVP, in case you're wondering what it means, stands for a French phrase, "respondez, s'il vous plait,', which when translated, simply means, "please reply'. 


Trust me, it will not take more than 1 or 2 seconds to reply to an sms. If you do not believe me, try timing yourself! What really bugs me is that some of these people not only fail to respond to sms, they don't even have the courtesy to respond or pick up phone calls!!


Sometimes, I just wonder why people ever bother to own a handphone if all they do is ignore all calls or smses! Aren't these people aware that courtesy would demand them to respond to RSVPs or smses?


Imagine if everyone were to have such uncouth and ill-mannered habits, what would happen to a host who needs to tally the number of guests against food to be catered or ordered for a function he/she is planning to host?


The rules surrounding reply etiquettes remain the same as they have always been, since time immemorial. Having RSVP etiquette is a perfect opportunity to show that you are considerate and respectful of other people's time and thoughts.


The term RSVP is a polite way of requesting a response to the invitation, not a suggestion to the invited guest to respond if he or she feels like it.


For those people out there who are still in the dark as to what I'm talking or rambling about, I would urge you to read this interesting article on RSVP.


Alright people. Think carefully again when you receive an invite in future (regardless of what the invitation is for). Just allocate a few seconds to RSVP which will go a long way in aleviating any problems your host may encounter. You may think it is trivial and silly, but one fine day, you yourself may be at the receiving end. Squirm if you must!!! 

Have stairs will climb...

Funny how certain memories or experiences render you fearful, especially of technology. Last night, I accompanied my husband for dinner at a hotel in Bangkok. He was here to present a paper on e-book. And at the hotel I met most of the participants who attended the Seminar.

My husband was seated next to one participant from India, and his colleague was seated diagonally to me. They were regaling tales and experiences in their lives which I did not pay much attention to until something caught my attention.

I overheard the one who was seated next to my husband explaining why there they were staying on a lower floor at the hotel in Bangkok. And usually when they stay at hotels, they would specifically request for the lowest floor available. At the hotel we stayed in, they were lucky as this hotel did not have a ballroom, hence, the rooms are located from the second floor onwards.

And these two Indian nationals had specifically requested to be located on the second floor. I was greatly amused to hear that they were fearful of taking the elevators, hence would prefer to take the stairs. The reason for this deep-set fear was because, back in Mumbai, India, elevators break down so often that they often had to climb up or down several flights of stairs. And due to this embedded fear, whenever they travel, they would avoid the higher floors and elevators like the plague.

And this amusing encounter with these two colorful characters brought to mind my late aunty who had this deep and genuine fear of escalators. She used to live in Butterworth, Penang. And those days, whenever she came down to KL, we would take her shopping. And every time we had to take the elevators to the higher floors, she would be whining and crying softly and begging us to use the staircase instead. And despite much cajoling and trying our level best to convince her that the elevator was perfectly safe, she would not budge. She would stand her feet firmly at the foot of the escalator, and refused to follow us.

There were numerous occasions where after several attempts, we had no choice but to look for a staircase. However, on one, mind you, just one momentous occasion, I managed to convince her to take the elevator, she cried hysterically and was struggling like a maniac all the way up, that all eyes were on us. People were staring, with their mouth and eyes wide open, looking at us, family. as though we were creatures from another planet. I promised myself that was going to be the last ever that we would attempt to switch her to technology.

Mami Pahbee (as we fondly called her), may Allah bless your soul. Al-fatihah.

Demi Ramadan

Tahun ini Ramadan datang lagi
Tahun ini Ramadan menerjah kembali
Tahun ini Ramadan begitu indah sekali
Tahun ini berbuak-buak hati kecil ku ini
menyambut mu wahai Ramadan

Tahun ini Ramadan menyapa diri ku ini
Aku berTahajjud
Aku berTaubat
Aku berTasbih
Aku berHajat
Aku berWitir
Demi Mu Wahai Tuhanku

Air mataku berguguran
Demi Ramadan
Demi Mu wahai Illahi

Alunan tasbih yang berkumandang
Meragut lubuk hatiku ini
Demi Ramadan
Demi Mu wahai Pencipta Alam
yang amatku kasihi

Kini
yang tinggal
hanya cebisan hari-hari terakhir Ramadan

Kan ku tangisi pemergian mu
Wahai Ramadan

Wahai Tuhanku, Ya Rabbbulalamin
Wahai Illahi
Tabahkanlah hati ku ini
untuk menghadapi hari-hari yang mendatang

Selamat tinggal wahai Ramadan
Moga-moga diriku ini
dipilih Illahi
menyambut kedatangan mu lagi
Akan ku nantikan kembalinya Ramadan
Wahai Ramadan
Mudah-mudahan...

Live in the moment

Naitre desirent la mort,

Grandir regrettant l’enfance ou le coeur d’or

Viellir regrettant la jeunesse ravit

Et mourir regrettant la vieiliesse et la vie.

We are born wishing for death

We grow up regretting the loss of our childhood

where the heart is as pure as gold

We grow old regretting the loss of our happy, healthy youth

And we face death regretting growing old, and life itself

Ayah, I miss you so....................................

14 September 2009

Ayah, I was watching a movie, "Evening" on HBO one Sunday afternoon (18 July 2009), where an old woman shared and recalled her greatest regret in love that would change the lives of her two daughters.

And in one very poignant and heart-wrenching scene, her daughter screamed and collapsed upon hearing that her mum had died. It brought back memories of the morning when your 4 grand children heard a piercing scream, a sound which I did not realize actually came from my own throat. The sound that escaped my throat that day was so eerie that it shattered the usually peaceful morning in my household.

That was the day your 8 kids lost you, Ayah. Ayah, we know that you were on loan to us from 9 September 1921 to 13 December 2008. Ayah, we were grateful to Allah for lending you to us.  However, your passing away caused a deep void in our lives. It was difficult for us at first to accept the grim reality that you would cease to be with us, and that God had taken back what belonged to him.

Ayah, you left me when I hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to you. You left me when I hadn't even kissed your hands and your wrinkled face. You left when I hadn't even had a chance to hug you in a warm embrace, with a whiff of cigar smell coming from your face. You left us peacefully in your sleep.

And the deep regret I felt after hearing that you're no longer with us will haunt me for the rest of my life. I regretted the fact that I did not spend Hari Raya Haji with you in 2008. As Amir, your son-in-law couldn't take long leave due to heavy work commitments, we were not able to go back to Penang to celebrate Hari Raya Haji with you.

And when you came down to KL for your medical check-up after Hari Raya Haji, I could not visit you immediately as I was lecturing and very busy with work. In fact we were planning to visit you that weekend at Ocah's house (your third daughter).

So, Ayah, you can imagine my torment when I recalled that fateful morning.

Ayah, I woke up feeling very excited on 13 December 2008 as I was supposed to join Amir at Negri Sembilan as he was attending a three-day meeting. That was the day Khairul was supposed to drive me to join my husband at the hotel.

For some strange reason, your granddaughter, Ina woke up early that day.  Usually, it'll be mid day before this sleepy head would welcome the sun. All my boys were still fast asleep as I packed my bag in my room, with Ina hovering around.

I was jolted out of my reverie when Ina's phone rang.  And my heart skipped several beats when she said, "Ma, Babah called, and he wants you to sit down first." As I turned my head to look at her, the look of total horror on her face sent a surge of terrible foreboding racing through my body.

I grabbed her phone and my husband repeated what Ina had said to me earlier, "Sayang, please sit down.  I've bad news to tell you!" Somehow, my brain froze, and deep in my heart I knew something had happened to you Ayah.

And when Amir continued, "Sayang, please take a deep breath, and no matter what, please stay calm.  Sayang, Ayah has passed away."

"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!!! That was what I kept exclaiming which was interspersed with piercing scream and uncontrollable sobbing. No! No! No! Ayah.  You couldn't have passed away.  You couldn't have been gone.  I just spoke to you two days earlier and you sounded cheerful, far more cheerful than ever before. So how can my husband tell me that you have passed away!!

"Ya Allah.  Please, please tell me this is not true.  Please, please let me wake up from this nightmare.  Please, please tell me that it's just a dream."

Ayah, all I recalled was sobbing uncontrollably with Ina hugging me tightly and rubbing my back, like a mum would a child. And all I did was to continue screaming and sobbing.

The tears shed freely. And with it came a feeling of deep regret. I tried hard to stop everything, even the beat of my heart, so that I could think with a clear head. One second of total clarity was all I craved for.  One moment of stillness so that I might advance confidently into a million moments of undoubted mayhem from that point, that moment when I finally realised you have left us for good.

Ayah, that was also the day, Ina became the mum, the one who comforted me, the shoulder I cried on, the one who kept holding my hands as they trembled non stop and the one who held me as my lips quivered with wrecking sobs.

That was your little cucu Ayah, the cucu who would unashamedly embraced and hugged you tightly and kissed you lovingly and warmly everytime she met you.  The cucu who would gladly make cheese poppers for you (she would actually take several slices of cheese and popped it in the microwave and let it cooked until it popped).  She knew how much you love to savour that special delicacy created by her.

Ayah, Ina was the one who woke her three brothers up and with a heavy heart, had to slowly break the news about your death.  How brave she was.  I did not recall her crying.  I guess she had to put up a brave front given that I was a total wreck, given that my husband was away and she knew instinctively that I'd need support.

Ayah, I recalled my sons waking up, crowding around me, not knowing what to do.  They were as devastated as I was and they felt totally lost as their dad was not around.

Ayah, I remembered going back to my packing and had looked inside the bag.  And without even realising what I was doing, I had taken out all the clothings I had put inside earlier for my trip to Negri Sembilan and had automatically reached for other clothings more suitable for this sombre occasion. The loud sobbing had ceased, and was now replaced with soft, wrecking weeping.  I felt as if my heart was going to burst.

I couldn't recall much whatever unfolded later. An hour later, Amir rushed home from Negri Sembilan to be with me, and when he walked into my room, tears of distress filled my eyes and rolled down my face. All the pent up emotions of the last couple of hours had ruptured.  It was like the flood gate had been released.

Ayah, as Amir hugged me, I clung to him for the longest time and started bawling again. This time much louder than before.  It was as if I had lost my mind.

Amir comforted me softly, and kept whispering in my ears to stay calm, and kept whispering that Allah had taken back what belonged to him. That you were only on loan to us. That I should be grateful that God had extended his loan of you to us. And that you have had a fulfilling life, surrounded by everyone who had loved you, your four sons, four daughters, four sons-in-law, four daughters-in-law, thirty three grandchildren, and six great grandchildren.

Ayah,  right after that, everything was a blur for me. I recalled reaching Ocah's house with all the bags packed for our journey to Bukit Mertajam.

Upon reaching Ocah's house, I was greeted at the door by Jude and Zaini.who enveloped me in a hug.  And once again, the floodgate was let open and the dam burst again.

And once I reached your bed, where your body lay lifeless and cold, I kissed your forehead and cheeks tenderly. I kept holding your hands and stroking them gently.

Ayah, you couldn't have passed away because you looked as though you had just fallen asleep. Your face looked serene and calm. And your face belied someone whose soul had just left the body, where Malaikatulmaut had just finished his task of separating and returning your body from your soul. Ayah, you have been recalled permanently from the physical world back to the primordial spiritual world.

At the graveyard in Bukit Mertajam, all I could do was watch your body being lowered six feet under. For weeks later, every time I looked at your photos or looked up the contacts in the handphone and came across your name, I would sit down and weep again.  Suddenly I was afraid. I was afraid to have lost both you and mak.  I'm now an orphan.

Ayah, up till today, I'm not sure how I survived the first 24 hours.  But after the initial shock had worn off, huge waves of emotions had hit me.  And I must have cried throughout the day, throughout the night, and probably throughout the month. Everything was a blur.

And today, Ayah, I still cry, but instead of weeping, I would summon your image again.  I would reminisce the good times we've had.

I'm thankful to have been born into this family.  I'm thankful to have been loved by you and mak.  I'm thankful that you've had a fulfilling life with Mak and all your 8 kids, grandchildren and great grand children.  I'm thankful to have been your daughter. Thank you Ayah for being my dad. And thank you Allah for lending you and mak to us.

Alfatihah.

Kalau Ku Tahu

Kalau ku tahu dahulu
Tidakkan aku setuju
Kalau ku tahu
Akan ku lari seribu batu
Kalau ku tahu
Pasti fikiranku tidak bercelaru
Kalau ku tahu
Ohhh...kini aku termanggu
Leraikan diriku dari belenggu
Yang saban hari menghantuiku