С ДНЁМ РОЖДЕНИЯ!
Thank you for being one of the best listeners ever, and for always understanding and putting up with my crazy ideas. May you find happiness always, wherever you are.
Me and Farah at the leaning tower of VolgogradFriday, October 30, 2009
Token of Love part 1
My dearest Farah,
С ДНЁМ РОЖДЕНИЯ!
Thank you for being one of the best listeners ever, and for always understanding and putting up with my crazy ideas. May you find happiness always, wherever you are.
Me and Farah at the leaning tower of Volgograd
С ДНЁМ РОЖДЕНИЯ!
Thank you for being one of the best listeners ever, and for always understanding and putting up with my crazy ideas. May you find happiness always, wherever you are.
Me and Farah at the leaning tower of Volgograd
Friday, October 16, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Maximum Entropy
I’m in lack of proper words to justly describe my life at the moment. Any dissonance between claim and fact becomes trivial as my system steadily evolves toward maximum entropy. Even if I do try to keep a positive mind, my eyes still have to endure this terrible sight of my so-called abode resembling quite remarkably a vagabond tribe’s caravan, which is exactly what I am right now- a vagabond. My ears have to endure alternating promising and crushing news which can be likened to that old chipsmore ad on tv (“sekejap ade, sekejap takde”). My arms and legs have become jelly from chronic jitters.
What a way to start your new academic year, being kicked out of the room you just moved into and not knowing where you’re supposed to move to. It’s starting to become a biennial thing, if you remember my staying-in-guys’-floor misadventure two years back. Thank God two years from now I won’t be living in this hostel anymore. I say, these Russians are really good at ticking people off and act real sensible about it. But again, I’m reserving myself a hard jumping kick in the head for not being able to speak super-fluent Russian and exert myself more.
For all the brouhaha about Russian students not getting the best medical education, I see part of the problem being the significant number of students coming here not to study medicine so much as to wallow in a 6-year vacation with hope of scoring some Russian girls (guys?) along the way. I do wonder why they ever decided to take medicine in the first place- why not some light, short courses that wouldn’t pop their brain with so many facts to digest, and without the heavy accountability of dealing with life and death matters? I may sound harsh, but if you hear half of the stories of it, you’ll be thinking along the same lines too.
Another big part of the problem lies quite plainly in the language barrier. I’ve seen many lecturers who can’t express themselves very well in English but when they switch to Russian, 3 hours of class won’t seem to be enough. After four years the problem of understanding greatly lessens, but I still have a whole lot to work on. And then there are some lecturers who insist on speaking English, and it usually means they can teach less than what they are able to in their native language. Obviously, it affects the practical part as well, the area where everything is wholly conducted in Russian.
So, that is to say, my Russian needs some speedy salvation.
My first two weeks here have been spent in the department of psychiatry, and you only need to look at the patients here to realise that your problems are of microscopic value. If there is one disease that I wish to be spared from, it’s the disease of the mind, the conscience, the essence that makes you aware of who you are in this world. I find the discipline fascinating, but I just can’t imagine myself as a psychiatrist in the future (although my mother has suggested it would suit me, I have no idea why. Hehe). But well, you never know.
I got a little bit of everything from my 2-month break at home this time. My father, as always, sort of kept a constant mental check on the things that I had wished to do when I got back, which, as I lived in Russia, obviously involved cravings of food origin- food I craved to eat, restaurants I craved to go to. He would always think about what we really wanted before making any decisions, which I can’t even begin to express how much I really appreciate it (darn, I’ve got tears in my eyes now).
Meanwhile, I discovered that I’ve grown to enjoy going shopping with my mother, even though she herself sort of dislike shopping by nature. Haha. I used to prefer going with my father when we were younger, as my father would be more readily to indulge in our whims and fancies compared to my mother, who would choose whatever the cheapest to come off the racks. My father, being a man, however, doesn’t seem to quite fit into the shopping scene of a twenty-something daughter anymore (for the most part) and nowadays we’ll just spare him the torment and go by ourselves, me and my sister, or with mother.
My mother is an excellent listener, and for two months she became my ear for all the compiled stories over the past year, the person I confided in with all my problems and fears, the one I asked for advice in personal matters. I reckon you would have made a great psychiatrist, mak. Hehe.
Am I turning this into a tribute-to-family entry? Haha why not. I love my brothers and sisters, even if some days I just feel like kicking them hard for doing things that irritate me (thank God our physical fighting days are over). My elder sister’s in Japan as I write this, and I have to say, I do miss her presence here. We never failed to have a major disastrous fight whenever we were back in home soil, and even though I used to vow to remember that whenever we got back here, to sort of resist being nice to her when she started being nice to me, I would always forget it in the end. And now I don’t even have the privilege anymore, and things aren’t that much fun. Fortunately I’m in company of such great friends (but hold it, today’s is not a tribute-to-friends entry!).
My younger brothers and sister are the ones that liven up the house. Their jokes and antics never fail to crack everyone up, and this is the best reason why everyone should have a big family (by today’s standards, a family of seven is considered big. Heh). So when one fine week in July everyone happened to be home at the same time and I came up with the idea to have an early ‘raya’ family picture, you could imagine what would result from it.
Official, proper version. For the record, my family has never caught on the eid family colour theme thing; the proof is rather striking as you can see.
True colours coming out. Back (L-R)- me, Muhammad, Luqman, Sarah, Aliah. Front (L-R)- mak, abah.
More action as we exchanged headgears. Wish I were the sith lord. Heh.
The next weekend all of us minus Aliah plus my grandmother and aunt went for a trip to Langkawi, and I had a really good time basking in the nature, albeit having an inadvertent self-staged drama with my camera for the better part of it, which we shall not discuss here. Anyway, I had become a passive photographer throughout the entire holiday. It just shows that although I love photography, I love lazing around doing nothing more. And with most of my family members being avid photographers (when we took a boat ride at Kilim national geopark, the boat driver asked, “ni aktiviti kelab fotografi ke?”), and them having much better arsenals of those shiny guns, we wouldn’t need my pictures to cover for an event, which sort of triggered the lazy photographer syndrome.
Sunset at... err, where was it again? A little further from Cenang.
A fisherman waiting for his late catch of the day.
Yes, I only ever managed to shoot the sunset during the trip due to the aforesaid 'drama'.
My youngest brother Luqman. He's been a gem throughout the hols, helping me with various errands in and out of the house. ^_^
One of the very few things that made living at home less favourable than here was the presence of various ‘exotic’ faunas inhabiting our house and the backyard. My least favourite animals, frogs, totally roamed our backyard and for that reason, I never once took a walk across it, not for anything. Lizards were rampant (I once found a humongous lizard in a glass of half-empty cendol that we drank upstairs), and splashes of iguana jumping into the swamp behind the house (purely a hypothesis, but a likely one) have been heard once or twice. Last time I heard, a rattlesnake had been sighted, being pestered by our daredevil cats as my sister went to feed them. Living in a (seemingly) peaceful village overlooking the sea obviously comes at a price.
However, home is home and will always be so. I can’t say Kuantan has the best-looking beaches or sell the cheapest headscarves, but I’ve lived here almost all my life that I simply feel belonged. I find myself totally at ease when, say, I step into a local shopping mall here, but roaming around Suria KLCC, for example, still gives me a sense of alienation, like I’m an outsider and people are throwing me looks. Whereas, I figure, who on earth will have the slightest idea whether I am a native of KL or not? Sometimes your mind can play wonderful tricks on you.
But these are the trivia of life. Sometimes, when you really open your heart to accept it, you’ll be able to find a space for contentment in every breath you take. I’m trying (struggling, really) to complain less because deep inside in my heart, I know I’m contented. When you’re caught in situations, you complain, because it’s sort of become a habit. The truth is- I’m fine. Despite my current stressful situation (some people know the details), I’m savouring the beginning of my final two years here.
My mother asked me whether I liked it here, I said yes. If I were given the choice once more to go anywhere in the world, would I choose to study here? Probably not. Here is a place you won’t fall in love with at first sight. You learn to love it. And I know I’m going to miss it when the time comes for parting ways. My mother asked me what I like about Russia, and I remember not having the chance to answer. Well, I think I’ll save it for another entry.
I feel like I've been writing too much for my own good so I'm leaving it at that with some random pictures from my summer holiday...
Visiting Ustaz Yusof at his house.
Breakfast with family + grandparents at a restaurant in Ampang.
My sister Aliah, me and my youngest aunt.
Me and my friend Erfa at Ikea after our tennis date.
My second aunt Aunty OG, Aliah, me, Kak Sarah, my cousin Qistina.
Very pretty pavlova for dessert.
My brother Muhammad- greatest badut in the family!
Class 3 Gigih '01 reunion.
What a way to start your new academic year, being kicked out of the room you just moved into and not knowing where you’re supposed to move to. It’s starting to become a biennial thing, if you remember my staying-in-guys’-floor misadventure two years back. Thank God two years from now I won’t be living in this hostel anymore. I say, these Russians are really good at ticking people off and act real sensible about it. But again, I’m reserving myself a hard jumping kick in the head for not being able to speak super-fluent Russian and exert myself more.
For all the brouhaha about Russian students not getting the best medical education, I see part of the problem being the significant number of students coming here not to study medicine so much as to wallow in a 6-year vacation with hope of scoring some Russian girls (guys?) along the way. I do wonder why they ever decided to take medicine in the first place- why not some light, short courses that wouldn’t pop their brain with so many facts to digest, and without the heavy accountability of dealing with life and death matters? I may sound harsh, but if you hear half of the stories of it, you’ll be thinking along the same lines too.
Another big part of the problem lies quite plainly in the language barrier. I’ve seen many lecturers who can’t express themselves very well in English but when they switch to Russian, 3 hours of class won’t seem to be enough. After four years the problem of understanding greatly lessens, but I still have a whole lot to work on. And then there are some lecturers who insist on speaking English, and it usually means they can teach less than what they are able to in their native language. Obviously, it affects the practical part as well, the area where everything is wholly conducted in Russian.
So, that is to say, my Russian needs some speedy salvation.
My first two weeks here have been spent in the department of psychiatry, and you only need to look at the patients here to realise that your problems are of microscopic value. If there is one disease that I wish to be spared from, it’s the disease of the mind, the conscience, the essence that makes you aware of who you are in this world. I find the discipline fascinating, but I just can’t imagine myself as a psychiatrist in the future (although my mother has suggested it would suit me, I have no idea why. Hehe). But well, you never know.
I got a little bit of everything from my 2-month break at home this time. My father, as always, sort of kept a constant mental check on the things that I had wished to do when I got back, which, as I lived in Russia, obviously involved cravings of food origin- food I craved to eat, restaurants I craved to go to. He would always think about what we really wanted before making any decisions, which I can’t even begin to express how much I really appreciate it (darn, I’ve got tears in my eyes now).
Meanwhile, I discovered that I’ve grown to enjoy going shopping with my mother, even though she herself sort of dislike shopping by nature. Haha. I used to prefer going with my father when we were younger, as my father would be more readily to indulge in our whims and fancies compared to my mother, who would choose whatever the cheapest to come off the racks. My father, being a man, however, doesn’t seem to quite fit into the shopping scene of a twenty-something daughter anymore (for the most part) and nowadays we’ll just spare him the torment and go by ourselves, me and my sister, or with mother.
My mother is an excellent listener, and for two months she became my ear for all the compiled stories over the past year, the person I confided in with all my problems and fears, the one I asked for advice in personal matters. I reckon you would have made a great psychiatrist, mak. Hehe.
Am I turning this into a tribute-to-family entry? Haha why not. I love my brothers and sisters, even if some days I just feel like kicking them hard for doing things that irritate me (thank God our physical fighting days are over). My elder sister’s in Japan as I write this, and I have to say, I do miss her presence here. We never failed to have a major disastrous fight whenever we were back in home soil, and even though I used to vow to remember that whenever we got back here, to sort of resist being nice to her when she started being nice to me, I would always forget it in the end. And now I don’t even have the privilege anymore, and things aren’t that much fun. Fortunately I’m in company of such great friends (but hold it, today’s is not a tribute-to-friends entry!).
My younger brothers and sister are the ones that liven up the house. Their jokes and antics never fail to crack everyone up, and this is the best reason why everyone should have a big family (by today’s standards, a family of seven is considered big. Heh). So when one fine week in July everyone happened to be home at the same time and I came up with the idea to have an early ‘raya’ family picture, you could imagine what would result from it.
Official, proper version. For the record, my family has never caught on the eid family colour theme thing; the proof is rather striking as you can see.
True colours coming out. Back (L-R)- me, Muhammad, Luqman, Sarah, Aliah. Front (L-R)- mak, abah.
More action as we exchanged headgears. Wish I were the sith lord. Heh.
The next weekend all of us minus Aliah plus my grandmother and aunt went for a trip to Langkawi, and I had a really good time basking in the nature, albeit having an inadvertent self-staged drama with my camera for the better part of it, which we shall not discuss here. Anyway, I had become a passive photographer throughout the entire holiday. It just shows that although I love photography, I love lazing around doing nothing more. And with most of my family members being avid photographers (when we took a boat ride at Kilim national geopark, the boat driver asked, “ni aktiviti kelab fotografi ke?”), and them having much better arsenals of those shiny guns, we wouldn’t need my pictures to cover for an event, which sort of triggered the lazy photographer syndrome.
Sunset at... err, where was it again? A little further from Cenang.
A fisherman waiting for his late catch of the day.
Yes, I only ever managed to shoot the sunset during the trip due to the aforesaid 'drama'.
My youngest brother Luqman. He's been a gem throughout the hols, helping me with various errands in and out of the house. ^_^One of the very few things that made living at home less favourable than here was the presence of various ‘exotic’ faunas inhabiting our house and the backyard. My least favourite animals, frogs, totally roamed our backyard and for that reason, I never once took a walk across it, not for anything. Lizards were rampant (I once found a humongous lizard in a glass of half-empty cendol that we drank upstairs), and splashes of iguana jumping into the swamp behind the house (purely a hypothesis, but a likely one) have been heard once or twice. Last time I heard, a rattlesnake had been sighted, being pestered by our daredevil cats as my sister went to feed them. Living in a (seemingly) peaceful village overlooking the sea obviously comes at a price.
However, home is home and will always be so. I can’t say Kuantan has the best-looking beaches or sell the cheapest headscarves, but I’ve lived here almost all my life that I simply feel belonged. I find myself totally at ease when, say, I step into a local shopping mall here, but roaming around Suria KLCC, for example, still gives me a sense of alienation, like I’m an outsider and people are throwing me looks. Whereas, I figure, who on earth will have the slightest idea whether I am a native of KL or not? Sometimes your mind can play wonderful tricks on you.
But these are the trivia of life. Sometimes, when you really open your heart to accept it, you’ll be able to find a space for contentment in every breath you take. I’m trying (struggling, really) to complain less because deep inside in my heart, I know I’m contented. When you’re caught in situations, you complain, because it’s sort of become a habit. The truth is- I’m fine. Despite my current stressful situation (some people know the details), I’m savouring the beginning of my final two years here.
My mother asked me whether I liked it here, I said yes. If I were given the choice once more to go anywhere in the world, would I choose to study here? Probably not. Here is a place you won’t fall in love with at first sight. You learn to love it. And I know I’m going to miss it when the time comes for parting ways. My mother asked me what I like about Russia, and I remember not having the chance to answer. Well, I think I’ll save it for another entry.
I feel like I've been writing too much for my own good so I'm leaving it at that with some random pictures from my summer holiday...
Visiting Ustaz Yusof at his house.
Breakfast with family + grandparents at a restaurant in Ampang.
My sister Aliah, me and my youngest aunt.
Me and my friend Erfa at Ikea after our tennis date.
My second aunt Aunty OG, Aliah, me, Kak Sarah, my cousin Qistina.
Very pretty pavlova for dessert.
My brother Muhammad- greatest badut in the family!
Class 3 Gigih '01 reunion.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Everyone will be with those whom he loves
It would be customary for me to nose-dive towards near-insanity around this time of year, but, as astronomical as the tasks lain before me appear to be, I'm inexplicably calm. And people can't use that last-minute-paddler argument with me because this is last minute- Neurology is but three days away (two for control freaks) and I still have about... four gazillion questions to go.
So I browsed through my past summer exam entries to contemplate retrospectively on how I was doing each time- from the world cup-tinged and missing-home kind of entries in 2006, to broody in 2007, to reflective, Euro-coated last year. All shared one thing in common- optimism, the weapon that has gotten me through many sticky situations in life thus far. Not that you can take on the world by optimism alone, but by being optimistic you gain the confidence to fight for success, and to be positive in defeat. It's a win-win situation.
All my life I have been clouded by the thought that more often than not I haven't been giving my absolute best in my endeavours. It may be true in some occasions, but in hindsight, I do strive my best with all these weaknesses I possess that get in the way from following through. I know it sounds disoriented, and more like an excuse, but anyway, this beautiful hadith comforts me whenever I think I'm not doing my best (or can never be the best) to be of any regard to anyone:-
Narrated Abdullah bin Mas'ud r.a. : "A man came to Allah's messenger (S.A.W.) and said, 'O Messenger of Allah! What do you say about a man who loves some people but cannot catch up with their good deeds?' Rasulullah S.A.W. said, 'Everyone will be with those whom he loves.'"
(Bukhari)
And in relation to this hadith, Anas r.a. said,
“There was nothing which made us (sahabas) happier in this world than to hear this”
(Muslim)
May Allah make us from those who are resurrected with the successful ones on the day of reckoning.
Now back to books...
ps: Federer won! ;)
So I browsed through my past summer exam entries to contemplate retrospectively on how I was doing each time- from the world cup-tinged and missing-home kind of entries in 2006, to broody in 2007, to reflective, Euro-coated last year. All shared one thing in common- optimism, the weapon that has gotten me through many sticky situations in life thus far. Not that you can take on the world by optimism alone, but by being optimistic you gain the confidence to fight for success, and to be positive in defeat. It's a win-win situation.
All my life I have been clouded by the thought that more often than not I haven't been giving my absolute best in my endeavours. It may be true in some occasions, but in hindsight, I do strive my best with all these weaknesses I possess that get in the way from following through. I know it sounds disoriented, and more like an excuse, but anyway, this beautiful hadith comforts me whenever I think I'm not doing my best (or can never be the best) to be of any regard to anyone:-
Narrated Abdullah bin Mas'ud r.a. : "A man came to Allah's messenger (S.A.W.) and said, 'O Messenger of Allah! What do you say about a man who loves some people but cannot catch up with their good deeds?' Rasulullah S.A.W. said, 'Everyone will be with those whom he loves.'"
(Bukhari)
And in relation to this hadith, Anas r.a. said,
“There was nothing which made us (sahabas) happier in this world than to hear this”
(Muslim)
May Allah make us from those who are resurrected with the successful ones on the day of reckoning.
Now back to books...
ps: Federer won! ;)
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Unworthy of a title
As is invariably the way when someone has gone by more than a month without an entry, he/she kicks off with detailed explanations for his/her absence (that were just a lot of chaff), as if anyone gives two hoots about it. But I’m all for clichés, so here goes…
It pains to recall since when, but writing has become a punishing chore, like Russian homework. Or Neurology lecture. I like to write, but it’s not always a flowing river of words for me. Thoughts I have plenty, but to translate them into intelligible accounts for human viewing requires a mammoth of an effort in my part, something that the Law of Procrastination simply forbade me to do, the last couple of weeks. A handful of doodles during lectures have gone missing somehow too, and I just hope nobody found ‘em before me, those shoddy excuses of a scribble.
Spring waltzed by with a medley of dramas which could pass for a few Gossip Girl episodes, most of which I was glad for not being directly involved with, because my head would have exploded from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Sometimes you wonder whether you really know the person you thought you knew. And whether the world has gone mad or you're the one not in sync with it anymore.
One of the most interesting topics to talk about in this side of the world these days is- surprise, surprise- the weather. First thunderstorm of the year (at least that I’m aware of) occurred late afternoon on Sunday, as I was sitting amongst the spectators of the handball playoff final match between Dinamo Volgograd and Zvezda Moscow (reigning champs). And what a sizzling match that was- our players were firing on all cylinders right from the start, leading 8-1 at one point. As the star-laden Zvezda (incidentally, 'zvezda' means a star. No pun intended. hehe) began to get into their groove halfway through, one of their top shooters was red-carded and their coach (also the national team coach) got all diva-like with endless protests and even called a couple of unofficial ‘timeouts’ afterwards, delaying the game; I just had to laugh when he was shown the yellow card by the ref for verbal abuse. Anyhow, Dinamo kept Zvezda on its tail throughout the entire game- they were a deserving winner alright.
The climax of the show though, came twenty seconds from time, when a scuffle broke out between two players, and I wondered whether I was watching ice hockey instead. Oh and did I mention these were women we were talking about? From my standpoint it was not very clear because all the benchers charged to the scene right after to back their teammates up but as I saw on the news that night those two were literally pulling hairs and scratching each other’s face! Wow. That didn’t change anything however; Dinamo still won 31 to 26. Russian champions 2009!
OK, I was not, as originally intended, talking about the weather. The weather, meanwhile, has been idiosyncratic- all sunny now, raining cats and dogs the minute after. I love heavy rain, provided I’m on the inside looking out, preferably with a cup of tea and keropok lekor at hand. Otherwise, I don’t really see the joy in soaking my trousers skipping around puddles (or streams) of water, not when I’m on my way to class. That said, summer has just arrived, and I would take drenched trousers over blistering burned skin any time of the day. Yes, summer here is that hot, hotter than Rafa Nadal’s pink attire in the French Open.
Speaking of which, I am thrilled that they are covering the tournament this time, even though most full matches shown are those involving Russian players. So I was hoping most of them get early exits (except for Davydenko, cos he’s a Volgograd resident! And probably Sharapova- her comeback was stirring), and the TV people would have no choice but to air other players as well. Haha. I still haven’t given up hope on Federer seizing the only ‘slam that eludes him (yesterday was a scare, by the way), especially now since he’s the favourite- although Roland Garros this year has given us a bag of surprises thus far. Allez Roger!
I can feel my parents starting to wonder whether I really am studying medicine here so I’ll give an update on my studies. We’re on ENT now, a field that I’m almost sure I won’t specialise in- anatomy of the ear puzzles me. Semester ends this week, followed by a short study leave and then, yes, the thorn at the final corner of the road- final exams. The panic air hasn’t hit town yet for me, but it has for my sister, roomie, and the rest of final year students, because their exam starts today! Hazzun sa'eed- may Allah ease your way and grant you with gempak-issimo results.
Today is another sunny day… for now.
It pains to recall since when, but writing has become a punishing chore, like Russian homework. Or Neurology lecture. I like to write, but it’s not always a flowing river of words for me. Thoughts I have plenty, but to translate them into intelligible accounts for human viewing requires a mammoth of an effort in my part, something that the Law of Procrastination simply forbade me to do, the last couple of weeks. A handful of doodles during lectures have gone missing somehow too, and I just hope nobody found ‘em before me, those shoddy excuses of a scribble.
Spring waltzed by with a medley of dramas which could pass for a few Gossip Girl episodes, most of which I was glad for not being directly involved with, because my head would have exploded from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Sometimes you wonder whether you really know the person you thought you knew. And whether the world has gone mad or you're the one not in sync with it anymore.
One of the most interesting topics to talk about in this side of the world these days is- surprise, surprise- the weather. First thunderstorm of the year (at least that I’m aware of) occurred late afternoon on Sunday, as I was sitting amongst the spectators of the handball playoff final match between Dinamo Volgograd and Zvezda Moscow (reigning champs). And what a sizzling match that was- our players were firing on all cylinders right from the start, leading 8-1 at one point. As the star-laden Zvezda (incidentally, 'zvezda' means a star. No pun intended. hehe) began to get into their groove halfway through, one of their top shooters was red-carded and their coach (also the national team coach) got all diva-like with endless protests and even called a couple of unofficial ‘timeouts’ afterwards, delaying the game; I just had to laugh when he was shown the yellow card by the ref for verbal abuse. Anyhow, Dinamo kept Zvezda on its tail throughout the entire game- they were a deserving winner alright.
The climax of the show though, came twenty seconds from time, when a scuffle broke out between two players, and I wondered whether I was watching ice hockey instead. Oh and did I mention these were women we were talking about? From my standpoint it was not very clear because all the benchers charged to the scene right after to back their teammates up but as I saw on the news that night those two were literally pulling hairs and scratching each other’s face! Wow. That didn’t change anything however; Dinamo still won 31 to 26. Russian champions 2009!
OK, I was not, as originally intended, talking about the weather. The weather, meanwhile, has been idiosyncratic- all sunny now, raining cats and dogs the minute after. I love heavy rain, provided I’m on the inside looking out, preferably with a cup of tea and keropok lekor at hand. Otherwise, I don’t really see the joy in soaking my trousers skipping around puddles (or streams) of water, not when I’m on my way to class. That said, summer has just arrived, and I would take drenched trousers over blistering burned skin any time of the day. Yes, summer here is that hot, hotter than Rafa Nadal’s pink attire in the French Open.
Speaking of which, I am thrilled that they are covering the tournament this time, even though most full matches shown are those involving Russian players. So I was hoping most of them get early exits (except for Davydenko, cos he’s a Volgograd resident! And probably Sharapova- her comeback was stirring), and the TV people would have no choice but to air other players as well. Haha. I still haven’t given up hope on Federer seizing the only ‘slam that eludes him (yesterday was a scare, by the way), especially now since he’s the favourite- although Roland Garros this year has given us a bag of surprises thus far. Allez Roger!
I can feel my parents starting to wonder whether I really am studying medicine here so I’ll give an update on my studies. We’re on ENT now, a field that I’m almost sure I won’t specialise in- anatomy of the ear puzzles me. Semester ends this week, followed by a short study leave and then, yes, the thorn at the final corner of the road- final exams. The panic air hasn’t hit town yet for me, but it has for my sister, roomie, and the rest of final year students, because their exam starts today! Hazzun sa'eed- may Allah ease your way and grant you with gempak-issimo results.
Today is another sunny day… for now.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
My Family and Kokoro no Tomo-tachi (Saiunkoku watchers ;p)
I thought to myself a few days ago, I wouldn’t write another cheesy birthday entry this year. But came my birthday, and I realised why every year I ended up doing it anyway. No, it did not have anything to do with reflecting on getting older and wiser (or not so) and responsibilities and all that boogie-woogie. Honestly, I didn’t the slightest bit care about the fact and when people normally asked, “How does it feel being so-and-so?” I would just say, “fine!” or give non-answers like, “hehe” or “hmm…” or trivias like “my mother got married at this age.” or this time around, “I’m forever seventeen!”.
As far as getting older is concerned, I just don’t think about that on my birthday. I ponder on that perhaps about every other day of the year except my birthday. If you noticed my birthday entries every year, they were all about thanking my family and friends, for this was the time of year for me when the word ‘overwhelmed’ became an understatement. As was the case this year, notwithstanding the feel seemed somewhat different. Perhaps it had to do with the flu I’d been having since the night before. Nevertheless, my birthday is a day to remind me of how I am blessed with such good people around me- one of the greatest blessings of my life.
I had thought before that if I were to treat my friends nicely, I would be treated the same way too. But I know a couple of very nice people who, by some twists of fate, always seem to encounter not-so-nice people who give them headaches in one way or another. Hence I consider myself truly blessed in this respect, for Allah has sent me some very good people to accompany me in this life, wherever I've been. The dinner feast, the homemade birthday cakes, the morning phone call from Sydney, the blog entries, the emails, the SMS-es, the wishes on Facebook/Geni/Friendster, the wishes at the lecture & back in hostel, the surprise gifts on my desk and bed when I got back, the second dinner feast… Yes, as I have tried to convince myself for a while, birthdays are not that big of a deal per se, but it is an occasion nonetheless- for people to wish you well, and for you to notice how fortunate you are, in this big wide world you live in.
Alhamdulillah.
As far as getting older is concerned, I just don’t think about that on my birthday. I ponder on that perhaps about every other day of the year except my birthday. If you noticed my birthday entries every year, they were all about thanking my family and friends, for this was the time of year for me when the word ‘overwhelmed’ became an understatement. As was the case this year, notwithstanding the feel seemed somewhat different. Perhaps it had to do with the flu I’d been having since the night before. Nevertheless, my birthday is a day to remind me of how I am blessed with such good people around me- one of the greatest blessings of my life.
I had thought before that if I were to treat my friends nicely, I would be treated the same way too. But I know a couple of very nice people who, by some twists of fate, always seem to encounter not-so-nice people who give them headaches in one way or another. Hence I consider myself truly blessed in this respect, for Allah has sent me some very good people to accompany me in this life, wherever I've been. The dinner feast, the homemade birthday cakes, the morning phone call from Sydney, the blog entries, the emails, the SMS-es, the wishes on Facebook/Geni/Friendster, the wishes at the lecture & back in hostel, the surprise gifts on my desk and bed when I got back, the second dinner feast… Yes, as I have tried to convince myself for a while, birthdays are not that big of a deal per se, but it is an occasion nonetheless- for people to wish you well, and for you to notice how fortunate you are, in this big wide world you live in.
Alhamdulillah.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Not planning to write, but I have to
Happy 48th birthday, Abah. I wish you well and under Allah's blessings and guidance always. And even though certain parties might erupt into chaos, I'd like to say that I think you're the best-looking out of your siblings. hehehe. (At least Mak will agree.)
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
A Little Midnight Drone
This year, as it turned out, we jumped straight from winter to summer. I hate to sound like a Puteri Lilin because I used to berjemur all the time doing co-curricular activities back in school and was very dark throughout the years, but I really can’t stand being under the sun these days. Today was so hot my spring jacket became a hand accessory instead, and, as if punishing me for not indulging in the glaring beams more like those Russians, the marshrutka I took was flagged down by the police and as it seemed to take a while, I, amongst most of other passengers, decided to get down and resume on foot for the next kilometre or so in order to make it in time for my final Paediatrics class. In the afternoon, as we walked from Ploshad Chekistov to the tram station for lecture, we were told that a massive road block had taken place and all trams and marshrutkas going in the direction we were taking were subsequently halted and thus we had to walk all the way to the hospital, scorching sun and all. I felt alright then, but now my knees are all jelly (now where did I put my TENS device…). I am seriously contemplating on bringing my umbrella tomorrow.
Why the rant, I don’t know… I wasn’t planning to, at the beginning of this post, but the selfish part of me took over. Anyway, to round it up, I owe surviving a depressing day (and not even due to the weather, actually) to the amazing people around me who never stop to be, in my eyes, amazing. Right from my sister whose simple presence was enough of a comfort, to this lovely friend who, after I half-jokingly said on the way back that only cheesecake or nasi lemak could possibly make me happy today, turned up a couple of hours later with nasi lemak for me (Darn, I’ve got to do better than sending roti tissue on Facebook). Minna-san, daisuki yo!
Off to bed, eyes all red…
Why the rant, I don’t know… I wasn’t planning to, at the beginning of this post, but the selfish part of me took over. Anyway, to round it up, I owe surviving a depressing day (and not even due to the weather, actually) to the amazing people around me who never stop to be, in my eyes, amazing. Right from my sister whose simple presence was enough of a comfort, to this lovely friend who, after I half-jokingly said on the way back that only cheesecake or nasi lemak could possibly make me happy today, turned up a couple of hours later with nasi lemak for me (Darn, I’ve got to do better than sending roti tissue on Facebook). Minna-san, daisuki yo!
Off to bed, eyes all red…
Friday, March 27, 2009
Vote Earth!
1,189 cities and towns across 80 countries are currently committed to the event this year, which began two years ago in Sydney (Azleen, you blogged about it, didn't you?). Whether it really does physically contribute to the global warming cause significantly, or is simply a symbolic gesture, there certainly is no harm in switching off your lights for an hour tomorrow night, is there? ;) The critical part, for me, is to cultivate awareness amongst the people about the utmost importance of taking care of the environment. It sounds mundane, but you would be amazed at the number of people out there who couldn't care less about safeguarding the world for future generations, global warming or not. A lot of people can't even turn the tap off properly- the sound of drops of water being wasted doesn't bother them the slightest. I wonder why. I can give ten other examples, but I'll save you the misery; you can watch this video instead.
If you decide to go dark, I've got some candles. ;)
earth hour 2009: 28th March, 8.30-9.30pm
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Going a-choo-choo
The Moscow Metro, according to Wiki-sama, is the world's second most heavily used rapid-transit system after the Tokyo Subway, with an average of 7 million passengers per day (that about equals the population of Switzerland by the way). It is the most convenient mode of transport in Moscow, in my opinion, due to its efficiency and extensive coverage throughout the city. Its greatest appeal though, is the intricate design of many of its stations, making it a tourist attraction in its own right. I didn’t get to snap many pictures as we were playing catch up with time, so do visit Moscow and dig into the experience yourself. ;)
The map of the Metro. The brown ring line interlinks with all other lines radially running through the city. The stop for the Red Square and Kremlin is situated at the centre of the ring.
Taking the very steep and long escalator at Kievskaya station. I actually timed the duration but now it's slipped my mind ;( Many other stations also have such deeply-built underground tunnels.
Most of the classically designed stations have dim lightings, lending the dreamy atmosphere.
Waiting for the next train; a bit worn out after getting a little lost searching for the right line- it really was mind-boggling compared to other big metros I've been to, like the London Underground or the Hong Kong MTR.
A train wooshing by on the other side of the rail.
A train clocking in at Arbatskaya.
The blue train is one of the older models; other newer ones have been introduced, though still very few.
Paintings at... Kievskaya station, I think.
The map of the Metro. The brown ring line interlinks with all other lines radially running through the city. The stop for the Red Square and Kremlin is situated at the centre of the ring.
Taking the very steep and long escalator at Kievskaya station. I actually timed the duration but now it's slipped my mind ;( Many other stations also have such deeply-built underground tunnels.
Most of the classically designed stations have dim lightings, lending the dreamy atmosphere.
Waiting for the next train; a bit worn out after getting a little lost searching for the right line- it really was mind-boggling compared to other big metros I've been to, like the London Underground or the Hong Kong MTR.
A train wooshing by on the other side of the rail.
A train clocking in at Arbatskaya.
The blue train is one of the older models; other newer ones have been introduced, though still very few.
Paintings at... Kievskaya station, I think.
Friday, March 20, 2009
blitzkrieg
March is Bulan Amali Muslim in Volgograd. Last Sunday, we had a course on managing a deceased Muslim, from bathing, clothing, praying, to burying the body. It seemed that I had forgotten some stuff from Pendidikan Islam classes in school, so I’m glad I decided to attend. More importantly, as always, I urge everyone including myself to constantly remember death, and not just as something that saps away all things pleasant from us. Death is a passage to another world- a world that, although itself transitory, accommodates us for an even longer time than that we spend on earth. Thus, as we pray for salvation on the Day of Judgement, don’t forget to seek relief from punishment in the grave too, for we know that there are a whole lot of people who would enter Jannah but could not escape punishment in the grave.
On a lighter note, I’m finally putting up some pictures. I wrote a post accompanying them approximately two weeks ago but due to reasons unbeknownst to even myself, I didn’t post it. The truth is, I sort of dislike my own writing. I know I’ll never be literary-hall-of-fame material like some of my favourite authors, but it’s dawned on me that I can’t even write decent, well-structured prose without dwindling it with haphazard details and loads of parentheses (like now. Ha-ha). Sometimes, after reading things over, I wonder, can people actually understand what I’m saying? That doesn’t include the fact that I rarely can write everything that I mean to- it’s as if there is a giant filter in my brain working on autopilot. Hence the result goes… something like this paragraph. Right.
Despite that, life’s good. It may seem lame to say that time and again, but well, I mean it. Of course, you have to brush off ugly little details, like the harassment you get from certain Liverpool fans throughout the past seven days, or the dreadful falls (note the plural) on ice on the way to class last week after two years of clean sheet. Paediatrics cycle started on Monday, and after we finished taking a guided tour of the department with the teacher that day, I knew I was going to enjoy the next two weeks.
Taking the patient’s history can be a bit tricky, though. Apart from having to use terms easier for them to understand, there’s this business of switching your conversation ‘format’ from the polite form which we’re so used to with adult patients, to the common form used for friends or younger people. In short, our grammar was all over the place, and we ended up being a laughingstock for the 12-year-old girl and her two ward buddies. Be wary of girls this age- other girls my age will mostly agree with my assessment that this is their critical period of possibly developing into the ‘gedik’ stage; most guys will typically think they’re cute. Oh and be very wary when they tell you that the scar on their abdomen was caused by a monkey bite. Err yeah.
Anyhow, I had a lot of fun and am looking forward to the rest of next week. And below, is my post from a fortnight ago.
***
At the behest of my father and brother, and uncle (with scoffing taunts to boot), I’m obliged to post an entry of pictures, a whole lot of which had caused me mild headache having to pick and edit them here and there. By editing I naturally mean resizing, and a bit of tweaking at the contrasts and stuff; I am no Photoshop expert.
I can’t even think of appropriate words to express remorse for my lack of writing and posting pictures anymore, notably with respect to my travels. What can I say- I have tried, and even vowed to write in a daily journal during my trip this time, but last time I took a peek into that battered notebook, it stopped at day 3 (which so happened to be the case with my Turkey trip too). And my brother has long stopped pestering me for an entry “promoting Bristol”, as he put it. My uncles would prefer pictures- even that I failed to give.
The reason I didn’t put up pictures on my Flickr was that I wanted my story to be the heart of my work, accompanied by pictures- not the other way round. I’m always a writer first (konon.), a photographer second (if ever I am one). But as I had explained sometime ago, once I started to earnestly write about something, I couldn’t seem to spare any details- everything felt important and indispensable, right to every minute and whiff of the air if possible. My Day 2, for example, took about five pages’ worth of a standard small-line notebook (I have relatively small handwriting, too). And I know my weakness - finishing what I had started, especially when the process is laborious and I can’t appear to make time for it but, out of sheer stubbornness, refuse to trim it down to a “short & sweet” version either. I can do with an editor.
Except that I’m not a published author, as I have finally made my senses to come to realise, and so for the time being I’ve decided to make do with pictures whilst trying my best to get a shorter version of a story out, whenever that may be. Winter is about to end (technically it’s already spring, but for some ironic effect, heavy snowfalls occurred on the 1st of March, spanning a good few days), gracelessly incarnated by mud stain greasing the edges of your pants and fine drizzling drops which at times may trick your eyes into perceiving them as snow (probably because you want ‘em to be). According to my personal weather forecast, tomorrow will be “cloudy with snow tapering off”. I hope they’re wrong.
I’ve been preoccupied thus far, though largely owed to my abominable lack of time management. Also in a bit of a funk, owing to someone trying to get smart-alecky with me. Please, do exercise some manners and respect towards others, even if you disagree with them. It’s difficult enough to keep my patience in check without this kind of people poking round my bubble of sanity.
That being said, life has been kind to me of late (The Optimist speaking again). The startling part of the picture is receiving bountiful amount of kind treatment from the locals. I’ve been so accustomed to the cold stares and cavalier attitudes of many Russians that when people whom I met abroad and back home (upon learning about my place of study) ask about the locals and whether they really are as standoffish as reputed, I would generally agree with the notion, forgetting about many other kind souls who have brought smiles to my face during my drawn-out stay here. Like the old patient yesterday morning who bellowed, “Good morning, doctors!” when we passed by, or another old patient who kissed each of us on the cheek (after blowing a kiss to each of us) and called us her granddaughters, or the many gentlemen who gave me their rights to a seat in the marshrutka, or another gentleman who defended me when I couldn’t find my tram ticket and had to pay again before suddenly finding it right after (how classic.) and the conductor refused to return my money (with words like, “she’s only a student!”, “are you trying to take advantage over foreign students?”; even threatening to complain to the authority. Haha). And I haven’t even mentioned my teachers- most of them are awfully kind and helpful, though we still have our fair share of likes and dislikes, which is normal, of course. I’ll have to remember all these people the next time someone asks me about Russia.
Enough yapping let the pictures do the talking.
***
Fatin and Kak Nadiyah
Fahida and I
It turns out I can't just let the pictures do the talking. ;p Anyways, this was my first time taking a train ride in Russia. It was better than what I had expected it to be- in that jagged, traveller-roughing-it way, of course. There was only one drawback that i could think of- it was extremely warm inside- too warm for comfort- although we found out way later that we could actually open the window. But alhamdulillah, my biggest fear was unfounded- the toilet was relatively clean and thus I didn't have to test the superpower potential of my bladder for the stretched 18-hour journey.
A boy in a forlorn mood throughout the entire pre-departure time.
A lot of fellow students of my university were also on board, all heading to various destinations in Europe for the two-week-long holiday. Luckily, four of us girls got to bunk together and the remaining two in our compartment were also women. The upper bunk was decidedly small, bordering on claustrophobic; nonetheless, I slept a full seven hours soundly, uninterrupted.
The narrow aisle, not unlike an aeroplane's. Note the purple-haired old lady playing crosswords- favourite pastime of many Russian elderlies. Purple is also a favourite colour for hair dye amongst the elderly, apparently.
The view outside was either that of trees, village houses, dachas (summer houses), factories, and, occasionally, frozen river. The train made a number of stops along the way, each one ranging from 5 to 20 minutes, and you could go out to buy drinks and snacks at the many kiosks by the side of the track.
It was best, though, to bring your own supply of food and eat together with your friends, as we did. The amusing part was that the food were supposed to last us for the whole journey, but as it happened, a couple of hours (or less?) was all that was needed to polish off the sushi, tandoori chicken, fried squids, jemput-jemput, and corn pudding. I think they should just provide us a kitchen next time.
Kak Nadiyah, Fatin, Fahida and Shafwan in front of the renowned St. Basil's Cathedral.
We managed to make a little day tour around the heart of Moscow- the Red Square and Kremlin, Arbat street, and Europa mall for halal kebabs at Kebab House. Snow had melted, and the Red Square was a picture of puddles of water. The weather was gloomy and foggy too, and later in Arbat it rained.
Shafwan with the Kremlin at the background.
It was only the second time that I had really been in Moscow, after a 3-day stopover last summer. The city emits an appealing aura- its strange blend of opulence and decay fascinates me. The wobbly, wooden-benched but fast metro, the olden architecture of Kievskiy train station next to the steely-looking Europa mall... it would be comforting to think that the contrast provides some kind of balance to the setting of this great capital, except that I know better. It seems to be a recurrent theme in many cities in this country- beautiful, elegant shops for the rich are everywhere, yet you see poor people, beggars in every direction. Moscow is the reputed capital of billionaires, yet many of its public facilities leave much to be desired. Where does all the wealth go to- making the rich richer?
Gum, a luxurious shopping mall at Red Square, housing all the pricey labels. We went in to use the bathroom. ;p
gorgeous baby and father inside Gum
I think packing all these into one entry is starting to look wearisome. I'll follow up with the Moscow Metro... soon. ;D
On a lighter note, I’m finally putting up some pictures. I wrote a post accompanying them approximately two weeks ago but due to reasons unbeknownst to even myself, I didn’t post it. The truth is, I sort of dislike my own writing. I know I’ll never be literary-hall-of-fame material like some of my favourite authors, but it’s dawned on me that I can’t even write decent, well-structured prose without dwindling it with haphazard details and loads of parentheses (like now. Ha-ha). Sometimes, after reading things over, I wonder, can people actually understand what I’m saying? That doesn’t include the fact that I rarely can write everything that I mean to- it’s as if there is a giant filter in my brain working on autopilot. Hence the result goes… something like this paragraph. Right.
Despite that, life’s good. It may seem lame to say that time and again, but well, I mean it. Of course, you have to brush off ugly little details, like the harassment you get from certain Liverpool fans throughout the past seven days, or the dreadful falls (note the plural) on ice on the way to class last week after two years of clean sheet. Paediatrics cycle started on Monday, and after we finished taking a guided tour of the department with the teacher that day, I knew I was going to enjoy the next two weeks.
Taking the patient’s history can be a bit tricky, though. Apart from having to use terms easier for them to understand, there’s this business of switching your conversation ‘format’ from the polite form which we’re so used to with adult patients, to the common form used for friends or younger people. In short, our grammar was all over the place, and we ended up being a laughingstock for the 12-year-old girl and her two ward buddies. Be wary of girls this age- other girls my age will mostly agree with my assessment that this is their critical period of possibly developing into the ‘gedik’ stage; most guys will typically think they’re cute. Oh and be very wary when they tell you that the scar on their abdomen was caused by a monkey bite. Err yeah.
Anyhow, I had a lot of fun and am looking forward to the rest of next week. And below, is my post from a fortnight ago.
***
At the behest of my father and brother, and uncle (with scoffing taunts to boot), I’m obliged to post an entry of pictures, a whole lot of which had caused me mild headache having to pick and edit them here and there. By editing I naturally mean resizing, and a bit of tweaking at the contrasts and stuff; I am no Photoshop expert.
I can’t even think of appropriate words to express remorse for my lack of writing and posting pictures anymore, notably with respect to my travels. What can I say- I have tried, and even vowed to write in a daily journal during my trip this time, but last time I took a peek into that battered notebook, it stopped at day 3 (which so happened to be the case with my Turkey trip too). And my brother has long stopped pestering me for an entry “promoting Bristol”, as he put it. My uncles would prefer pictures- even that I failed to give.
The reason I didn’t put up pictures on my Flickr was that I wanted my story to be the heart of my work, accompanied by pictures- not the other way round. I’m always a writer first (konon.), a photographer second (if ever I am one). But as I had explained sometime ago, once I started to earnestly write about something, I couldn’t seem to spare any details- everything felt important and indispensable, right to every minute and whiff of the air if possible. My Day 2, for example, took about five pages’ worth of a standard small-line notebook (I have relatively small handwriting, too). And I know my weakness - finishing what I had started, especially when the process is laborious and I can’t appear to make time for it but, out of sheer stubbornness, refuse to trim it down to a “short & sweet” version either. I can do with an editor.
Except that I’m not a published author, as I have finally made my senses to come to realise, and so for the time being I’ve decided to make do with pictures whilst trying my best to get a shorter version of a story out, whenever that may be. Winter is about to end (technically it’s already spring, but for some ironic effect, heavy snowfalls occurred on the 1st of March, spanning a good few days), gracelessly incarnated by mud stain greasing the edges of your pants and fine drizzling drops which at times may trick your eyes into perceiving them as snow (probably because you want ‘em to be). According to my personal weather forecast, tomorrow will be “cloudy with snow tapering off”. I hope they’re wrong.
I’ve been preoccupied thus far, though largely owed to my abominable lack of time management. Also in a bit of a funk, owing to someone trying to get smart-alecky with me. Please, do exercise some manners and respect towards others, even if you disagree with them. It’s difficult enough to keep my patience in check without this kind of people poking round my bubble of sanity.
That being said, life has been kind to me of late (The Optimist speaking again). The startling part of the picture is receiving bountiful amount of kind treatment from the locals. I’ve been so accustomed to the cold stares and cavalier attitudes of many Russians that when people whom I met abroad and back home (upon learning about my place of study) ask about the locals and whether they really are as standoffish as reputed, I would generally agree with the notion, forgetting about many other kind souls who have brought smiles to my face during my drawn-out stay here. Like the old patient yesterday morning who bellowed, “Good morning, doctors!” when we passed by, or another old patient who kissed each of us on the cheek (after blowing a kiss to each of us) and called us her granddaughters, or the many gentlemen who gave me their rights to a seat in the marshrutka, or another gentleman who defended me when I couldn’t find my tram ticket and had to pay again before suddenly finding it right after (how classic.) and the conductor refused to return my money (with words like, “she’s only a student!”, “are you trying to take advantage over foreign students?”; even threatening to complain to the authority. Haha). And I haven’t even mentioned my teachers- most of them are awfully kind and helpful, though we still have our fair share of likes and dislikes, which is normal, of course. I’ll have to remember all these people the next time someone asks me about Russia.
Enough yapping let the pictures do the talking.
***
Fatin and Kak Nadiyah
Fahida and I
It turns out I can't just let the pictures do the talking. ;p Anyways, this was my first time taking a train ride in Russia. It was better than what I had expected it to be- in that jagged, traveller-roughing-it way, of course. There was only one drawback that i could think of- it was extremely warm inside- too warm for comfort- although we found out way later that we could actually open the window. But alhamdulillah, my biggest fear was unfounded- the toilet was relatively clean and thus I didn't have to test the superpower potential of my bladder for the stretched 18-hour journey.
A boy in a forlorn mood throughout the entire pre-departure time.
A lot of fellow students of my university were also on board, all heading to various destinations in Europe for the two-week-long holiday. Luckily, four of us girls got to bunk together and the remaining two in our compartment were also women. The upper bunk was decidedly small, bordering on claustrophobic; nonetheless, I slept a full seven hours soundly, uninterrupted.
The narrow aisle, not unlike an aeroplane's. Note the purple-haired old lady playing crosswords- favourite pastime of many Russian elderlies. Purple is also a favourite colour for hair dye amongst the elderly, apparently.
The view outside was either that of trees, village houses, dachas (summer houses), factories, and, occasionally, frozen river. The train made a number of stops along the way, each one ranging from 5 to 20 minutes, and you could go out to buy drinks and snacks at the many kiosks by the side of the track.
It was best, though, to bring your own supply of food and eat together with your friends, as we did. The amusing part was that the food were supposed to last us for the whole journey, but as it happened, a couple of hours (or less?) was all that was needed to polish off the sushi, tandoori chicken, fried squids, jemput-jemput, and corn pudding. I think they should just provide us a kitchen next time.
Kak Nadiyah, Fatin, Fahida and Shafwan in front of the renowned St. Basil's Cathedral.
We managed to make a little day tour around the heart of Moscow- the Red Square and Kremlin, Arbat street, and Europa mall for halal kebabs at Kebab House. Snow had melted, and the Red Square was a picture of puddles of water. The weather was gloomy and foggy too, and later in Arbat it rained.
Shafwan with the Kremlin at the background.
It was only the second time that I had really been in Moscow, after a 3-day stopover last summer. The city emits an appealing aura- its strange blend of opulence and decay fascinates me. The wobbly, wooden-benched but fast metro, the olden architecture of Kievskiy train station next to the steely-looking Europa mall... it would be comforting to think that the contrast provides some kind of balance to the setting of this great capital, except that I know better. It seems to be a recurrent theme in many cities in this country- beautiful, elegant shops for the rich are everywhere, yet you see poor people, beggars in every direction. Moscow is the reputed capital of billionaires, yet many of its public facilities leave much to be desired. Where does all the wealth go to- making the rich richer?
Gum, a luxurious shopping mall at Red Square, housing all the pricey labels. We went in to use the bathroom. ;p
gorgeous baby and father inside Gum
I think packing all these into one entry is starting to look wearisome. I'll follow up with the Moscow Metro... soon. ;D
Monday, March 09, 2009
the person whom i love most
The person whom I love most is someone I have never met in my life, but hold dear hope of meeting one day. I was taught to love him ever since I was small, even more than the love I should reserve for my father and mother. It was difficult- I’d read about his life and attributes and I loved and held him in high esteem, but to sincerely love him more than my whole family whom I’ve known for life? Truth be told, I didn’t put in too much effort then to inculcate the feeling in its entirety- I thought it was normal because of the huge chronological gap between us, plus the vague details I knew about his appearance.
But love really does transcend all that. As I grew, I kept reading stories about him I’ve read tens of times before, and each time felt like I was reading something new- their meanings stretched further and further into the nooks and cranny of my heart. I eventually came to understand when, upon finishing a chapter about him, my heart would ache from a sense of longing, and a session wouldn’t pass without a tear being shed. At risk of sounding melodramatic, I had finally found the love I was searching for.
I feel fortunate to be born a Muslim, but at times I do envy Muslim reverts who have willfully sought out the truth and have pure notions about what defines Islam and the true way of living it. And thus, their newfound love is both strong and pure. Contrary to what many would believe, Muslims like me don’t have it all laid out for us. Again, I’m fortunate to be blessed with God-fearing parents, but in a society intertwined with miscellaneous strings of opposing nature i.e. tradition and modernisation, life’s tricky for all. True faith is not a given; you can be a Muslim by name for all your lives, yet your heart is empty.
But I digress. The person that I love most- the Prophet Muhammad S.A.W. was a man like no other. He is lauded the world over for his steady success in all aspects of leadership- religious-wise, military-wise, government-wise, yet what strikes most about him is his excellent morals and manners- attributes that have won him many admirers and turned enemies into believers.
“Indeed you stand on an exalted standard of character.” (Al-Qalam 68:4)
Ali ibn abi Talib r.a. has described prophet Muhammad S.A.W. in length:
"He was not vulgar nor did he condone vulgarity, and he was not one to shout in the market place. He did not reward evil with evil, rather, he would forgive and overlook. He never in his life struck anything with his hand except when he was fighting in the name of Allah. He never struck a servant nor a woman, and I never saw him taking revenge for an injustice dealt him, except if the prohibitions of Allah were transgressed. For if the prohibitions of Allah were transgressed he was among the strongest of them in anger. He was never given a choice between two matters but he chose the simpler of the two. If he entered into his home he was a man like any other; cleaning his own garment, milking his own goat, and serving himself.
He would guard his tongue from that which did not concern him. He would attract them (the people) and not repel them. He would ennoble the noble of the people and charge them with their affairs. He was wary of the people and guarded himself against them but without depriving them a warm smile or fitting conduct. He would inquire after his companions and would ask the people about their affairs. He would encourage that which was good and strengthen it, and he would discourage that which was evil and undermine it.
He was balanced and consistent. He would never be neglectful that they would not learn neglect and grow indifferent. He had a provision for every occasion and he never fell short of justice nor exceeded it. The closest people to him were the best among them, and the best among them in his eyes were the most comprehensive in advice. The highest of them in stature with him was the best among them in looking after the people and assisting them.
He would not rise nor sit down without praise [to God]. If he visited a gathering he would sit wherever the group ended (and not at their head) and he encouraged the same. He would give all those sitting with him their just due [to the extent that] they would each feel that none was more important to him than them. If someone were to sit with him or come in search of a favor he would be patient with them until they (the guest) would be the one to leave. Whoever came to him with a request was never turned away except with that which they had asked for or with a kind word.
His cheerfulness and good manners encompassed them all such that he became a father to them and they all became equal in rights. His gatherings were those of knowledge, humbleness, patience, and integrity. In them there would be no raising of voices nor transgressions of prohibitions. They would not expose one-another's errors, but would be equal, encouraging each-other in the fear of God. In them, they would respect their elders, be merciful to their children, give preference to those in need, and protect the stranger."
He continues: "He was continually smiling, gentle in manners, soft in nature. He was not severe, harsh-hearted, loud, abusive, or miserly. He would disregard that which he disliked, and no one ever despaired of him. He never responded to disparagement or evil words.
He forbade upon himself three things: Argument, arrogance, and that which did not concern him. And he relieved the people of three: He would not degrade any among them or abuse them, he would not search after their honor or private matters, and he would not speak except in matters which he hoped to be rewarded for. When he spoke his attendees would lower their heads as if birds had alighted upon them. Once he finished they would speak. They would not vie with one-another in his presence to speak, but when one would talk in his presence the rest would listen until he finished. Speech in his presence was that of the first among them. He would laugh with them, and wonder with them. He had patience with the strangers when they were gruff in speech and requests, to a degree that his companions would fetch them to him. He would say: 'If you see someone in need, fetch him to me.'
He would not accept praise except from those who were balanced and not excessive. He would not interject into someone's speech unless they transgressed, in which case he would either rebuke them or else leave. He was the most generous of heart, truthful of tongue, softest in disposition, and noble in relationship. He who first set eyes upon him feared him, but he who associated with him loved him. Those who described him would say: 'I have never seen before or after him anyone similar to him, peace be upon him'.
All accounts of his life testify to the peerless superiority of his character. How it hurts me then, to read about contortions of truth by some people based on semi-learned facts about the Prophet which they patch together to form a twisted puzzle of an image. Whilst they appear to be pathetic and bedeviled by prejudices, there are seemingly a lot of ignorant people out there who fall prey to those lies. By all means, try to read all objective works on him and you will find that, amongst others, his admirable character is indisputable. The prophet, whilst clearly displaying the most exemplary virtues of a human being, however disliked being praised and put upon a pedestal. Anas ibn Malik said:
"No one was more beloved to us than the Messenger of Allah (s.a.w.), [however], if we saw him we would not stand up for him for we knew how much he disliked [for us to do so].”
And on one occasion someone called to him saying: "O best of mankind ..." He replied: "That is Ibrahim, peace be upon him".(Muslim)
By nature he was gentle and kind-hearted, always inclined to be gracious and to overlook the faults of others. Politeness and courtesy, compassion and tenderness, simplicity and humility, sympathy and sincerity were some of the keynotes of his character. One day, he was leading the prayer and intended to make it long, when he heard the cry of a baby. He then shortened the prayer because he didn’t want the mother to be worried and distracted.
Once, a pagan (in another account, a Jew) by the name of Zaid ibn Sa'ana came to the Messenger of Allah (S.A.W.) in order to collect a debt. When he drew near Muhammad (S.A.W.) he wrenched him by his clothes violently, exposing his shoulder, and spoke rudely at him. Finally, he said: "You sons of Abdul Muttalib are all a procrastinating lot." Immediately, Umar ibn Al-Khattab leapt at him chastising and rebuking him harshly, all the while the Messenger of Allah (S.A.W.) looked on smiling. Then the Prophet (S.A.W.) said to Umar: "He and I were in need of other than this O Umar; You should have commanded me to excel in my repayment, and have commanded him to excel in his request for repayment." He (Muhammad, S.A.W.) said: "There [still] remains in his term three [days]" However, He (Muhammad, S.A.W.) then immediately commanded Umar to see to his recompensation and to increase him twenty 'saa' (weights) as compensation for the ‘terrorisation’ he had endured (from Umar). This man later became a Muslim. (Al-Bayhaqi, ibn Habban, and Al-Tabarani)
One of the Prophet’s most famous attributes is his matchless generosity. In an authentic hadith narrated by Bukhari, it was said that he was never asked for something and then said ‘no’. Abu Dharr narrated that Allah's Messenger (S.A.W.) said,
"If I had gold equal to the mountain of Uhud, it would not please me that any of it should remain with me after three nights (i.e. I would spend all of it in Allah's cause) except what I would keep for repaying debts." (Bukhari)
Once the Prophet went home in a hurry after the prayer and then immediately came out again. The people were surprised, but he told them that he had remembered during the prayer that there was some gold in his house. He thought that he might forget and the gold might remain there all night. He then went back home to ask that it might immediately be given in charity.
His love for the poor was so deep that he used to pray: "O Allah, keep me poor in my life and at my death and raise me at resurrection among those who are poor." (Nasai)
To his wife he said, "O A'ishah, love the poor and let them come to you and Allah will draw you near to Himself." (Bukhari)
His sense of justice was also unassailable and in a narration by Abu Dawud, the Jews, in spite of their hostility to the Prophet S.A.W., were so impressed by his impartiality and sense of justice that they used to bring their cases to him, and he decided them according to Jewish law.
Once, while he was distributing the spoils of war, people flocked around him and one man almost fell upon him. He pushed the men with a stick causing a slight abrasion. He was so sorry about this that he told the man that he could have his revenge, but the man said, "O messenger of Allah, I forgive you." (Abu Dawud)
The miracle to result from the examples of the Prophet was the staggering transformation in the morals and manners of the people itself, who, not so many years before, were a bunch of brash, discourteous tribesmen, readily spilling blood with one another over wealth, women and status. Iqbal mentions these gifts of Prophet Muhammad in some of his inimitable verses:
He slept on a mat of rushes,
But the crown of Chosroes lay beneath the feet of his followers;
He chose the nightly solitude of Mount Hira,
And founded a nation, law and government;
He passed his nights with sleepless eyes,
That his Millet might sleep on Chosroes throne
In the hour of battle, iron was melted by the flash of his sword.
At prayer time, tears fell like drops of rain from his eyes.
In his prayer for Divine help, his Amen' was a sword,
Which extirpated the lineage of kings.
He inaugurated a new Order in the world,
He brought the empires old to an end:
In his sight the high and the low were one,
He sat with the slave at table one;
He burnt clear the distinctions of birth and clan.
His fire consumed all this trash and bran.
Do we truly appreciate what the Prophet S.A.W. has done for us? Do all of us even realise just how much he loved us and constantly worried about our fate right till the end of his life? Do we truly feel his sorrows in Taif and Uhud? Verse 178 from Surah At-Taubah tugged at my heart whenever I read it:
“Now hath come unto you a Messenger from amongst yourselves: it grieves him that ye should perish: ardently anxious is he over you: to the Believers is he most kind and merciful.”
Let’s all take a moment to reflect on our love for the Prophet and how we can best demonstrate it. Return to the core teachings of Al-Quran and As-sunnah. I realise it’s not enough to offer such general words of advice, yet to list down everything we all know but may have slipped our mind won’t fit into this one article. One of the Prophet’s last words was to uphold solaah, and whilst it is something that I’m sure we all do, let’s all try to improve on the quality of our prayers.
“Establish regular prayers - at the sun's decline till the darkness of the night, and the morning prayer and reading: for the prayer and reading in the morning carry their testimony.
And pray in the small watches of the morning (tahajjud): (it would be) an additional prayer (or spiritual profit) for thee: soon will thy Lord raise thee to a Station of Praise and Glory!”
Al-Isra’:78-79
Allahumma salli ala saiyidina Muhammad waala alihi wasahbihi ajmaiin.
Ps: Materials were extracted from As-Sirah An-Nabawiyyah by Sh. Abul Hasan Ali An-Nadwy.
Pps: To those who managed to read this without skipping so much as a sentence (I know it's long), I hope you have gained some benefits from it. ;)
But love really does transcend all that. As I grew, I kept reading stories about him I’ve read tens of times before, and each time felt like I was reading something new- their meanings stretched further and further into the nooks and cranny of my heart. I eventually came to understand when, upon finishing a chapter about him, my heart would ache from a sense of longing, and a session wouldn’t pass without a tear being shed. At risk of sounding melodramatic, I had finally found the love I was searching for.
I feel fortunate to be born a Muslim, but at times I do envy Muslim reverts who have willfully sought out the truth and have pure notions about what defines Islam and the true way of living it. And thus, their newfound love is both strong and pure. Contrary to what many would believe, Muslims like me don’t have it all laid out for us. Again, I’m fortunate to be blessed with God-fearing parents, but in a society intertwined with miscellaneous strings of opposing nature i.e. tradition and modernisation, life’s tricky for all. True faith is not a given; you can be a Muslim by name for all your lives, yet your heart is empty.
But I digress. The person that I love most- the Prophet Muhammad S.A.W. was a man like no other. He is lauded the world over for his steady success in all aspects of leadership- religious-wise, military-wise, government-wise, yet what strikes most about him is his excellent morals and manners- attributes that have won him many admirers and turned enemies into believers.
“Indeed you stand on an exalted standard of character.” (Al-Qalam 68:4)
Ali ibn abi Talib r.a. has described prophet Muhammad S.A.W. in length:
"He was not vulgar nor did he condone vulgarity, and he was not one to shout in the market place. He did not reward evil with evil, rather, he would forgive and overlook. He never in his life struck anything with his hand except when he was fighting in the name of Allah. He never struck a servant nor a woman, and I never saw him taking revenge for an injustice dealt him, except if the prohibitions of Allah were transgressed. For if the prohibitions of Allah were transgressed he was among the strongest of them in anger. He was never given a choice between two matters but he chose the simpler of the two. If he entered into his home he was a man like any other; cleaning his own garment, milking his own goat, and serving himself.
He would guard his tongue from that which did not concern him. He would attract them (the people) and not repel them. He would ennoble the noble of the people and charge them with their affairs. He was wary of the people and guarded himself against them but without depriving them a warm smile or fitting conduct. He would inquire after his companions and would ask the people about their affairs. He would encourage that which was good and strengthen it, and he would discourage that which was evil and undermine it.
He was balanced and consistent. He would never be neglectful that they would not learn neglect and grow indifferent. He had a provision for every occasion and he never fell short of justice nor exceeded it. The closest people to him were the best among them, and the best among them in his eyes were the most comprehensive in advice. The highest of them in stature with him was the best among them in looking after the people and assisting them.
He would not rise nor sit down without praise [to God]. If he visited a gathering he would sit wherever the group ended (and not at their head) and he encouraged the same. He would give all those sitting with him their just due [to the extent that] they would each feel that none was more important to him than them. If someone were to sit with him or come in search of a favor he would be patient with them until they (the guest) would be the one to leave. Whoever came to him with a request was never turned away except with that which they had asked for or with a kind word.
His cheerfulness and good manners encompassed them all such that he became a father to them and they all became equal in rights. His gatherings were those of knowledge, humbleness, patience, and integrity. In them there would be no raising of voices nor transgressions of prohibitions. They would not expose one-another's errors, but would be equal, encouraging each-other in the fear of God. In them, they would respect their elders, be merciful to their children, give preference to those in need, and protect the stranger."
He continues: "He was continually smiling, gentle in manners, soft in nature. He was not severe, harsh-hearted, loud, abusive, or miserly. He would disregard that which he disliked, and no one ever despaired of him. He never responded to disparagement or evil words.
He forbade upon himself three things: Argument, arrogance, and that which did not concern him. And he relieved the people of three: He would not degrade any among them or abuse them, he would not search after their honor or private matters, and he would not speak except in matters which he hoped to be rewarded for. When he spoke his attendees would lower their heads as if birds had alighted upon them. Once he finished they would speak. They would not vie with one-another in his presence to speak, but when one would talk in his presence the rest would listen until he finished. Speech in his presence was that of the first among them. He would laugh with them, and wonder with them. He had patience with the strangers when they were gruff in speech and requests, to a degree that his companions would fetch them to him. He would say: 'If you see someone in need, fetch him to me.'
He would not accept praise except from those who were balanced and not excessive. He would not interject into someone's speech unless they transgressed, in which case he would either rebuke them or else leave. He was the most generous of heart, truthful of tongue, softest in disposition, and noble in relationship. He who first set eyes upon him feared him, but he who associated with him loved him. Those who described him would say: 'I have never seen before or after him anyone similar to him, peace be upon him'.
All accounts of his life testify to the peerless superiority of his character. How it hurts me then, to read about contortions of truth by some people based on semi-learned facts about the Prophet which they patch together to form a twisted puzzle of an image. Whilst they appear to be pathetic and bedeviled by prejudices, there are seemingly a lot of ignorant people out there who fall prey to those lies. By all means, try to read all objective works on him and you will find that, amongst others, his admirable character is indisputable. The prophet, whilst clearly displaying the most exemplary virtues of a human being, however disliked being praised and put upon a pedestal. Anas ibn Malik said:
"No one was more beloved to us than the Messenger of Allah (s.a.w.), [however], if we saw him we would not stand up for him for we knew how much he disliked [for us to do so].”
And on one occasion someone called to him saying: "O best of mankind ..." He replied: "That is Ibrahim, peace be upon him".(Muslim)
By nature he was gentle and kind-hearted, always inclined to be gracious and to overlook the faults of others. Politeness and courtesy, compassion and tenderness, simplicity and humility, sympathy and sincerity were some of the keynotes of his character. One day, he was leading the prayer and intended to make it long, when he heard the cry of a baby. He then shortened the prayer because he didn’t want the mother to be worried and distracted.
Once, a pagan (in another account, a Jew) by the name of Zaid ibn Sa'ana came to the Messenger of Allah (S.A.W.) in order to collect a debt. When he drew near Muhammad (S.A.W.) he wrenched him by his clothes violently, exposing his shoulder, and spoke rudely at him. Finally, he said: "You sons of Abdul Muttalib are all a procrastinating lot." Immediately, Umar ibn Al-Khattab leapt at him chastising and rebuking him harshly, all the while the Messenger of Allah (S.A.W.) looked on smiling. Then the Prophet (S.A.W.) said to Umar: "He and I were in need of other than this O Umar; You should have commanded me to excel in my repayment, and have commanded him to excel in his request for repayment." He (Muhammad, S.A.W.) said: "There [still] remains in his term three [days]" However, He (Muhammad, S.A.W.) then immediately commanded Umar to see to his recompensation and to increase him twenty 'saa' (weights) as compensation for the ‘terrorisation’ he had endured (from Umar). This man later became a Muslim. (Al-Bayhaqi, ibn Habban, and Al-Tabarani)
One of the Prophet’s most famous attributes is his matchless generosity. In an authentic hadith narrated by Bukhari, it was said that he was never asked for something and then said ‘no’. Abu Dharr narrated that Allah's Messenger (S.A.W.) said,
"If I had gold equal to the mountain of Uhud, it would not please me that any of it should remain with me after three nights (i.e. I would spend all of it in Allah's cause) except what I would keep for repaying debts." (Bukhari)
Once the Prophet went home in a hurry after the prayer and then immediately came out again. The people were surprised, but he told them that he had remembered during the prayer that there was some gold in his house. He thought that he might forget and the gold might remain there all night. He then went back home to ask that it might immediately be given in charity.
His love for the poor was so deep that he used to pray: "O Allah, keep me poor in my life and at my death and raise me at resurrection among those who are poor." (Nasai)
To his wife he said, "O A'ishah, love the poor and let them come to you and Allah will draw you near to Himself." (Bukhari)
His sense of justice was also unassailable and in a narration by Abu Dawud, the Jews, in spite of their hostility to the Prophet S.A.W., were so impressed by his impartiality and sense of justice that they used to bring their cases to him, and he decided them according to Jewish law.
Once, while he was distributing the spoils of war, people flocked around him and one man almost fell upon him. He pushed the men with a stick causing a slight abrasion. He was so sorry about this that he told the man that he could have his revenge, but the man said, "O messenger of Allah, I forgive you." (Abu Dawud)
The miracle to result from the examples of the Prophet was the staggering transformation in the morals and manners of the people itself, who, not so many years before, were a bunch of brash, discourteous tribesmen, readily spilling blood with one another over wealth, women and status. Iqbal mentions these gifts of Prophet Muhammad in some of his inimitable verses:
He slept on a mat of rushes,
But the crown of Chosroes lay beneath the feet of his followers;
He chose the nightly solitude of Mount Hira,
And founded a nation, law and government;
He passed his nights with sleepless eyes,
That his Millet might sleep on Chosroes throne
In the hour of battle, iron was melted by the flash of his sword.
At prayer time, tears fell like drops of rain from his eyes.
In his prayer for Divine help, his Amen' was a sword,
Which extirpated the lineage of kings.
He inaugurated a new Order in the world,
He brought the empires old to an end:
In his sight the high and the low were one,
He sat with the slave at table one;
He burnt clear the distinctions of birth and clan.
His fire consumed all this trash and bran.
Do we truly appreciate what the Prophet S.A.W. has done for us? Do all of us even realise just how much he loved us and constantly worried about our fate right till the end of his life? Do we truly feel his sorrows in Taif and Uhud? Verse 178 from Surah At-Taubah tugged at my heart whenever I read it:
“Now hath come unto you a Messenger from amongst yourselves: it grieves him that ye should perish: ardently anxious is he over you: to the Believers is he most kind and merciful.”
Let’s all take a moment to reflect on our love for the Prophet and how we can best demonstrate it. Return to the core teachings of Al-Quran and As-sunnah. I realise it’s not enough to offer such general words of advice, yet to list down everything we all know but may have slipped our mind won’t fit into this one article. One of the Prophet’s last words was to uphold solaah, and whilst it is something that I’m sure we all do, let’s all try to improve on the quality of our prayers.
“Establish regular prayers - at the sun's decline till the darkness of the night, and the morning prayer and reading: for the prayer and reading in the morning carry their testimony.
And pray in the small watches of the morning (tahajjud): (it would be) an additional prayer (or spiritual profit) for thee: soon will thy Lord raise thee to a Station of Praise and Glory!”
Al-Isra’:78-79
Allahumma salli ala saiyidina Muhammad waala alihi wasahbihi ajmaiin.
Ps: Materials were extracted from As-Sirah An-Nabawiyyah by Sh. Abul Hasan Ali An-Nadwy.
Pps: To those who managed to read this without skipping so much as a sentence (I know it's long), I hope you have gained some benefits from it. ;)
Monday, January 19, 2009
"Cataract"
I’m in the middle of my exams and my mind is a bedlam but I’m determined to write today no matter what. I know by the end of this I’ll be screaming with self-condemnation and whatnots, but for now, let me be. This won’t be a long essay outlining some key guidelines to world peace, nor will it be an angsty commentary on why no football player is worth a hundred million pounds when people in Gaza are starving and that Kaka is hundred million times better off in Milan anyway (Giorgio Armani agrees with me too).
I just want to make a few statements to people who matter to me- specifically those whom I don’t contact often. OK, that would make ALL the people that matter. To my defence, firstly, my archaic hand phone has officially been retired.
The fall from grace was gradual- the screen initially went blank, though I could still receive calls and send messages (with a blank screen, mind. Kinda like a twisted version of Braille). The state then progressed to receiving calls but not hearing the caller’s voice when picked up (but he/she could still hear me). So the phone could still be useful if, say, hypothetically, I was kidnapped and managed to call my sister and informed her of the situation so that she could get help, but would be totally ineffective if the situation was reversed. By then, I already sensed the downhill direction of this device I bought a little over two years ago after ‘donating’ my previous faithful one to the hospital where I had my practical classes.
And as of today, I can’t even use it as an alarm anymore- gotta be content with that shrieking monotonous sound of my table clock. No more good music waking you up. But that’s the least of my concerns- bottom line is, I can’t contact any of you guys. For some of you who use the internet as much as I do, it’s not that big of a problem, but I know some of you who don’t.
To get to the point after that dismal, rather unnecessary ode to my hand phone, I miss a lot of people back home. Especially after talking to my parents the day before yesterday- I sorely miss home. I want to go home. And I’m not talking about the food one bit this time. Really.
Perhaps it’s part of the exam syndrome. Or the after-effect of “Hari bersama pejabat dekan”. Anyhow, I’m so not in the mood to study now (aah, finally I let that out loud and clear!). I think I’ll make myself a cup of tea.
ps: Great photos by my brother Muhammad taken during Palestine solidarity rallies in Cardiff and Bristol. Way to go, badut!
This pic was published in Reuters's site. (Hope you won't mind me putting it up here. My site carries more weight than theirs. Hahaha.) ;)
I just want to make a few statements to people who matter to me- specifically those whom I don’t contact often. OK, that would make ALL the people that matter. To my defence, firstly, my archaic hand phone has officially been retired.
The fall from grace was gradual- the screen initially went blank, though I could still receive calls and send messages (with a blank screen, mind. Kinda like a twisted version of Braille). The state then progressed to receiving calls but not hearing the caller’s voice when picked up (but he/she could still hear me). So the phone could still be useful if, say, hypothetically, I was kidnapped and managed to call my sister and informed her of the situation so that she could get help, but would be totally ineffective if the situation was reversed. By then, I already sensed the downhill direction of this device I bought a little over two years ago after ‘donating’ my previous faithful one to the hospital where I had my practical classes.
And as of today, I can’t even use it as an alarm anymore- gotta be content with that shrieking monotonous sound of my table clock. No more good music waking you up. But that’s the least of my concerns- bottom line is, I can’t contact any of you guys. For some of you who use the internet as much as I do, it’s not that big of a problem, but I know some of you who don’t.
To get to the point after that dismal, rather unnecessary ode to my hand phone, I miss a lot of people back home. Especially after talking to my parents the day before yesterday- I sorely miss home. I want to go home. And I’m not talking about the food one bit this time. Really.
Perhaps it’s part of the exam syndrome. Or the after-effect of “Hari bersama pejabat dekan”. Anyhow, I’m so not in the mood to study now (aah, finally I let that out loud and clear!). I think I’ll make myself a cup of tea.
ps: Great photos by my brother Muhammad taken during Palestine solidarity rallies in Cardiff and Bristol. Way to go, badut!
This pic was published in Reuters's site. (Hope you won't mind me putting it up here. My site carries more weight than theirs. Hahaha.) ;)
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Day of Ashura
In the month of Muharram, we should remember the Hijrah of the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) from Makkah to Madinah. There are many lessons in this story and it can help us understand the basic significance of the Hijrah calendar. It is good to remember that Hijrah was a significant move for the growth of Islam and throughout history, Islam has benefited from the Hijrah.
It is also the Sunnah of the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) to fast on the 9th and 10th of Muharram. The Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) used to fast on the 10th day (`Ashura'). When he came to Madinah, he found out that the Jews of Madinah were also fasting on this day remembering Prophet Musa (peace and blessings be upon him). The Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) admired this tradition and he said to the Jews, "We are closer to Musa than you are." He fasted and he also told his Companions to fast on this day. Later, before the end of his life on this earth, the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) told Muslims to add the 9th day also. Thus, it is recommended to fast on both the 9th and 10th of Muharram.
It is also good to remember the great sacrifice of Al-Husain and his family (may Allah be pleased with all of them). Theirs was the true Jihad for the cause of truth and justice. We should learn the lessons of courage, patience and perseverance from the episode of Karbala' (year 61 A.H. / 680 C.E).
Dr. Muzammil Siddiqi, president of the Fiqh Council of North America
~~~
New year holidays are a blanket term that predominantly comprises of study leave for winter exams. So whilst I should be out there painting the town red (or white, to be in tune with the mood) or stuffing snowballs into some poor fella's hood, I'm glued to these four walls, torn between the bed and the table. I did go out yesterday, actually, but it didn't snow. Those white thingies are mischievous- they would usually choose exam days and those surrounding them to pay us a merry visit. How befitting.
It is also the Sunnah of the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) to fast on the 9th and 10th of Muharram. The Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) used to fast on the 10th day (`Ashura'). When he came to Madinah, he found out that the Jews of Madinah were also fasting on this day remembering Prophet Musa (peace and blessings be upon him). The Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) admired this tradition and he said to the Jews, "We are closer to Musa than you are." He fasted and he also told his Companions to fast on this day. Later, before the end of his life on this earth, the Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) told Muslims to add the 9th day also. Thus, it is recommended to fast on both the 9th and 10th of Muharram.
It is also good to remember the great sacrifice of Al-Husain and his family (may Allah be pleased with all of them). Theirs was the true Jihad for the cause of truth and justice. We should learn the lessons of courage, patience and perseverance from the episode of Karbala' (year 61 A.H. / 680 C.E).
Dr. Muzammil Siddiqi, president of the Fiqh Council of North America
~~~
New year holidays are a blanket term that predominantly comprises of study leave for winter exams. So whilst I should be out there painting the town red (or white, to be in tune with the mood) or stuffing snowballs into some poor fella's hood, I'm glued to these four walls, torn between the bed and the table. I did go out yesterday, actually, but it didn't snow. Those white thingies are mischievous- they would usually choose exam days and those surrounding them to pay us a merry visit. How befitting.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Making a stand
I remember entering 2005 with the world shrouded by the Indian Ocean tsunami tragedy. Today, we usher into 2009 and 1430 with a parallel atmosphere- in the form of classic work of terrorism by the Israeli Zionists. There are so many emotions compressing my chest when asked to voice my opinion on this particular issue, mostly excruciating to try putting into words. Whether you’re a Muslim and think that this is by and large an issue of native Palestinians wanting to regain the rights to their land and deny the primary cause being religious (which is a misapprehension, if you study the Quran and hadith), or a non-Muslim who think this an Islamic cause and has nothing to do with you, you can’t deny the fact that what we see happening in Palestine today is an injustice in the most extreme of definitions. What indeed is the justification of the Zionists invading the land, ousting its inhabitants by force, besides it being their so-called promised land? And how can the rest of the world even justify that when 99% of us are not even Jewish? I fail to see the logic in an era overfed with a supposed sense of political correctness and pretend civilisation.
It is difficult to resolve the crisis when the bad guys get all the backings from certain giant superpowers who swiftly pave the way for these people to play big bullies, quashing any efforts from other parties to restore integrity. What then, can we measly members of the society do?
Firstly, we have to take a stand. I, as a Muslim, perhaps feel a greater sense of kinship with this issue, but it’s a cause everyone should be aware of. What can we do against these terrorists, being so far away from our brothers and sisters? We pray, pray, and keep praying. We spread the news; build up awareness within the public. And a point strongly stressed in yesterday’s weekly halaqah centering on this current predicament- strive to improve ourselves, to make ourselves worthy Muslims whose prayers will be answered.
Why do we boycott their goods? To show our solidarity and earnestness, with the ambitious goal of subverting their economy. Why do we make public protests? Again, to show our solidarity AND to pressure these people into retracting their actions. International pressure has been proven to work in past aggressions, and although it may not bear similar results in this case, what do we have to lose? I believe it’s better than going about in our everyday complacency, perhaps occasionally condemning these abominable acts when they’re shown on TV, and that’s that. It’s something I feel strongly about, and although I can’t have everyone seeing it through my eyes, I wish they would. I’ve blogged about this issue a couple of times already, but it’s a timeless cause, and I will continue to bring it up in the future.
So I guess that ends my reflection of December. As of the year 2008- it has been a good year, but I wish I had written more. I wish I had done a whole lot more. Well.
And I miss home.
It is difficult to resolve the crisis when the bad guys get all the backings from certain giant superpowers who swiftly pave the way for these people to play big bullies, quashing any efforts from other parties to restore integrity. What then, can we measly members of the society do?
Firstly, we have to take a stand. I, as a Muslim, perhaps feel a greater sense of kinship with this issue, but it’s a cause everyone should be aware of. What can we do against these terrorists, being so far away from our brothers and sisters? We pray, pray, and keep praying. We spread the news; build up awareness within the public. And a point strongly stressed in yesterday’s weekly halaqah centering on this current predicament- strive to improve ourselves, to make ourselves worthy Muslims whose prayers will be answered.
Why do we boycott their goods? To show our solidarity and earnestness, with the ambitious goal of subverting their economy. Why do we make public protests? Again, to show our solidarity AND to pressure these people into retracting their actions. International pressure has been proven to work in past aggressions, and although it may not bear similar results in this case, what do we have to lose? I believe it’s better than going about in our everyday complacency, perhaps occasionally condemning these abominable acts when they’re shown on TV, and that’s that. It’s something I feel strongly about, and although I can’t have everyone seeing it through my eyes, I wish they would. I’ve blogged about this issue a couple of times already, but it’s a timeless cause, and I will continue to bring it up in the future.
So I guess that ends my reflection of December. As of the year 2008- it has been a good year, but I wish I had written more. I wish I had done a whole lot more. Well.
And I miss home.
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