Happy birthday, Abah!

The following entry was written from 10th April until 12th April 2010.

First of all, happy 49th birthday to my father- the person whom I always looked up to for answers when I was small, and at some point when he couldn’t give one, I would be struck by surprise. May Allah bestow upon you the best of this life and the hereafter.

It would appear as if I had really been following the birthday-wish pattern, but this really is a simple matter of coincidence. Kind of. There’s no need to elaborate, but I just wanna say that my laptop’s gone (almost) bust, and I’ve been scraping off what’s left of it besides parasiting on my roomie’s (who’s gone back to Malaysia for two weeks, but we’ll get to that later). Hence the non-existent blog.

Between surviving surgery and having a wisdom tooth eruption, nothing major has happened in this side of the world. Oh, but the bombings. It was a tragedy, and I knew paranoia was bound to seep in thereafter. Some people were concerned about me wearing black headscarf, so I’ve been wearing every colour other than black (actually only brown and purple) for the past fortnight. Fortunately, I haven’t had any unpleasant encounter with relations to the incident, although some had (a friend even got slightly harassed by a drunk in the marshrut- luckily a gentleman came to rescue). I was surprised to learn that muslim girls wearing hijab had to be scanned before taking the metro here the other day. It’s been quite a while since I took the metro so I was spared the disgrace. Caution mixed with prejudice will only sow unmerited distrust in everyone. Come on, most muslim girls wearing hijab in this city are Malaysians, and ask any average, unprejudiced Russian out there, and they will tell you that Muslim girls in hijab here are the most polite, mischief-free group of people.

Life has been bouncing up and down for me these days- to say that it’s been good is sugarcoating it, to say it’s been bad is an exaggeration. Procrastinations, emotional turmoils, bad falls and headbumps (I still keep hitting my head on the bedpost), impatience… basically old issues with my own self. But there also have been improvements in some other parts, of which I’m very happy. I’m turning a year older myself tomorrow, so I sure dang hope I’ve improved! Hehe.

My roomie’s coming back tonight from homeland. Her father’s been recently diagnosed with astrocytoma and is undergoing radiotherapy at the moment, and she flew back to be with him, albeit for a short while. Having gone through a similar experience three years back (my father had pituitary tumour), I kind of hoped I understood her feelings. But each of us is different, and the way we handle road blocks in life are also perceptibly different. One thing, though- however tall the mountains before us, however deep the sea beneath our feet, however bumpy the road we tread on, we know, perhaps deep inside, of the tools necessary to get through unscathed. We’ve known this all along, but more often than not, we choose to fall prey to our own diseased hearts, drowning in perpetual depression. And that is to turn to Allah, our Protector, who alone is sufficient for us.

“But if they turn away, say: ‘Allah is sufficient for me. None has the right to be worshipped but He, in Him I put my trust and He is the Lord of the Mighty Throne.’”
~At-Taubah:129

When my father was about to undergo surgery to remove his tumour, I spoke to him on the phone, and I asked whether he was the tiniest bit scared about the whole thing. He answered “no” after a nanosecond pause, and the conviction in his voice made me feel ashamed of myself- for not being able to be as strong as him, for not fully putting my faith in Him, that He knew what was best for my father. I mean, I did have faith, or I thought I did. But I was also breaking into pieces inside my heart, which I knew I shouldn’t.

We always chant the word “tawakkal”, but do we fully understand its meaning? We say we do, but when a calamity befalls us, we grumble, question God, become hysterical, overly depressed, and even despair, or any milder versions of these.

To my roomie, behind that soft exterior of yours, I know there’s a hard shell of determination, and faith. I pray you and your family will get through this test, and pass with flying colours, inshaallah.