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There are times when you feel like recoiling from the rackets of the outside world and nestle in your own quiet solitude.

There are times when you wish time wouldn’t seem to elude you so that you can get things done.

There are times when the details and niceties don’t matter and you just want to get to basics.

There are times when you feel frustration, exasperation, anger, happiness, and hope all at the same time.

There are times when you feel weak yet determined.

There are times when you truly feel that faith is the best thing you can possess because it keeps you sane.


Now is one of those times.

The Return of The Dreamer

I had virtually given up hope on being able to write anything of more than facebook-status length anymore, when, one fine fortnight ago, I surprisingly managed to churn out a speech for my Malaysian commencement ceremony within one day. Of course, I had great help from my mother and father then, but it did give me a thread of hope for this one.

Four months have passed since my last tiny post, and a whole chapter of history has passed since then. I’ve graduated and become a doctor, technically speaking. I am yet to feel like one though, and when a staff nurse asked me whether I was a doctor (doing locum perhaps) at my father’s workplace the other day, I told her no, I was just the doctor’s daughter.

Indeed I was. But I have officially added another title of responsibility to my portfolio which will unquestionably be asked of me on the Day of Judgment- slave, daughter, sister, friend, neighbour, student, and now, doctor. No pressure. ;)

In practice, though, I’m still holding on to the role of a student I so cherish for just a little bit more, and if my current plan succeeds, it will be the most satisfying achievement in my eyes so far inshaallah (I’m being cryptic I know, don’t mind me).

I have grown so much over the years and I sincerely thank Allah for planning my life so beautifully for me, making me learn the way I did, something I probably would not have gained had I spent the last 6 years somewhere else on this good earth. I will sorely miss Russia (I already am, actually)- for the colourful seasons, nice local people I’ve met, great variety of sports, speedy internet, beautiful (but difficult!) language, amazing friends… but most of all, I will miss the bountiful lessons of life I’ve had from the whole time I was there. From the many hardships we had encountered, the lack of comfort and familiarity, to the little routines and activities that have become a part of what I was and am today, I treasure them all, and am most thankful for them.

Our weekly usrah sessions have given me better understanding of things that I thought I had understood well, the strength to carry on the message, and lifelong beloved sisters whom I know will always be there with me.

Our maghrib, isha’ and subuh prayers in jamaah (and all five during holidays) have taught me the importance of staying together, helping and reminding each other, and have let me truly feel the sweetness of companionship more than I have ever had.

The lack of halal food, the high-priced goods, and different ways of living have taught me the indelible skills of survival- to restrain, assimilate, compromise, and improvise where necessary. A trip to the grocery store never failed to lift my spirits.

The people at the dean’s office have given me the opportunity to test and build up my level of patience and perseverance.

The floor I stayed in has given me the idea of how an ideal neighbourhood should be, and how an ideal neighbour should be- people looking out for one another, lending things selflessly, offering free home-cooked meals every so often, organising get-togethers and many, many more. Things weren’t perfect, but it sure was close. ;)

Again, I thank Allah for always, always blessing me with good people around me. All the nasty ones usually just pass by fleetingly, those whom I don’t have to deal with constantly.

This is just scratching the surface on a topic I can spend hours talking about. But writing, at my present pace, would take a whole lot longer than that. I hope to get the hang of this once again and just, well… write.

Selamat berbuka puasa dan beribadah. ^_^

Volgograd, february 2011.

Happy Birthday Abah!

As I'm sitting here for what seems like forever, pinching my brain to come up with something to begin this otherwise ultrashort, 3-word post, I begin to wonder of the fate of this blog. In every manner of expression, I have stopped writing and I don't really feel the urge to do so for a good while now. And as I'm about to finish my university education (aargh it hurts terribly saying that) in about 2 months, I suspect this blog will be effectively dilapidated (if it isn't already) and forgotten (a friend told me she has given up waiting for my next entry, hehe) for I'll be busy (or try to) studying for my finals. Will I resume to write again after I've started working, perhaps?

Ha-ha-ha.

Actually, the most real excuse I can give for not going to write anymore- at least for the time being- is that my laptop has gone through a rough patch and I can only fix it when I get back home (cos they charge, like, four times more here. tsk). Hence this late post to wish my dearest father a happy 50th birthday.....! May Allah be pleased with you always, and shower you with love, blessings, guidance and mercy, and unite us in jannah. I love you very much. ^_^

Happy birthday, mak!

"Your Heaven lies under the feet of your mother"- Rasulullah s.a.w. (Ahmad, Nasai).

To my dearest mother, who tirelessly sends me medical articles/cases every day so that I may learn and become a good doctor (I'll try my best to read them all! ;p). May Allah give you the best from this world and the next, and always make you happy.

ps: Sorry I'm late, there was a technical error. hehe.

Prologue

Never would have I imagined that a trip with so many trials- less than half of the activities went according to plan, most of which were spent in a 5-room flat with 11 other fellow travelers- would turn out to be one of my best winter holiday experiences ever, if not the best. And I owe that mostly to the persons I shared my moments with- my amazing friends, old and new, and the wonderful ‘ustazs’ who went to great lengths to ensure that we felt as much at home as possible. Only Allah could justly reward them for their kindness and sincerity.

My heart felt unusually heavy when it was time to leave this place, the land of the prophets. Perhaps it was because of the state of the country when we were leaving. This might sound lame, but I could quietly feel the air of revolution surrounding us, and even though most of the time we were cooped up in our flat knowing less of what was going on outside than the rest of the world watching the news on tv, the atmosphere was somewhat different, the kind of which I would not feel if I were back in my hostel in Russia, or home sweet home in Malaysia watching the news on tv; to actually be there was an altogether different feeling.

It angers me to read some of the news about the situation here, especially by the Malaysian media (but I have lost my faith in them ages ago, so no love lost there). Yes, the situation here is very serious, but why must these people emphasise on unnecessary details to appear more dramatic? People like drama, that’s why, and the media are playing by it.

When we went to the airport 2 days ago to confirm our tickets, we were interviewed by a couple of our media journalists. And the questions always revolved around the fear of what was going on at the moment, whether we slept with knives and sticks or not (ok I made this one up)- nothing which actually required us to think, like what were our opinions about the issue at hand, or what solutions could we offer to the problem, or what could we learn from this experience. Now who would want to listen to that, huh? Haha. At one point I did tell the journalist off (politely) about their inclination towards drama, which had had parents and families in Malaysia in a frenzy (that was probably why the interview didn't get published ;p).

When I read an account of a local student that she felt like living in Palestine, I couldn’t help but cringe. Firstly, has she ever lived in Palestine to know how it felt like over there? Secondly, knowing the media’s ‘dramaphilic’ attitude, they would definitely use that as a headline and everyone in Malaysia who trusted the news with undaunted faith would be under the impression that this entire nation was a warzone. So I say, why the need for drama?

Another account mentioned about the ‘scary’ route to the airport where there were many ‘askar dan perusuh yang bersenjata”. Soldiers with guns? That’s like doctors with stethoscopes. Perusuh? Rioters? These were people who gathered and marched peacefully to claim their rights after decades of oppression by a dictator’s regime, and you associated them with violence, which, by the way, only occurred when initiated by the police or the dictator’s ‘third force’. They were not the dangerous people here, so to be clear. Everywhere we went, they showed us the 'peace' sign. Why were they armed on the street? Because when the police stopped working, lootings were rampant, and the people took it upon themselves to watch the streets. They patrolled the city day and night, and it was heartwarming watching their spirit and determination as we walked past them on our frequent trips to nearby shops. Sure, they were holding sticks from woods and steel, but they were not going to hit you with them (unless you hit them first, that is).

All in all, I had learned a great deal out of this experience. Every moment was a treasure- from the visits to amazing places to the 'bedtime activity' to the 'rooftop activity' to the flight delay! hehe. I would like to thank my friends again, especially my two closest companions who were by my side practically 24/7 during the whole trip- and I apologise for any wrongs that I made. Let's go again to complete this journey, ok! :) I wish the people good luck, and that a new era will begin in the country- one filled with freedom and justice. And let us all turn to Allah, for He holds the key to our every detail in life, and only through Him shall we attain success.

Written on the plane from Cairo to Moscow, 5^th February 2011.

A temporary farewell

The last time I departed with someone this significant in my life, it was fourteen years ago. The added years have taught me to muddle through the grief better, but they have also doubled the ache I was made capable of feeling.

This was the person who took care of me when I was little, and I will always have the fondest memories of playing ‘ghost’ with him and sleeping by his side at night during the weekends. This was the person who encouraged me to memorise the Quran when I was little, even awarding me RM100 when I completed surah Yasin. I love him so much, and I simply can’t stop these tears flowing throughout the day. The typical initial waves of guilt washed through this morning- I had meant to call him for the past three days but due to a little tight schedule, I forgot. Never in my prayers though, and I hope he realised that.

May Allah grant His forgiveness and mercy to my dearest grandfather, and place him amongst the highest ranks of the believers. And this separation is only temporary; may we meet again in jannah, Aki.

Imam Al-Ghazali, whom my grandfather shared his name with, wrote the following verses right before he breathed his last:-

"Say to my friends, when they look upon me, dead
Weeping for me and mourning me in sorrow
Do not believe that this corpse you see is myself
In the name of God, I tell you, it is not I,
I am a spirit, and this is naught but flesh
It was my abode and my garment for a time.
I am a treasure, by a talisman kept hid,
Fashioned of dust, which served me as a shrine,
I am a pearl, which has left its shell deserted,
I am a bird, and this body was my cage
Whence I have now flown forth and it is left as a token
Praise to God, who hath now set me free
And prepared for me my place in the highest of the heaven,
Until today I was dead, though alive in your midst.
Now I live in truth, with the grave - clothes discarded.
Today I hold converse with the saints above,
With no veil between, I see God face to face.
I look upon "Loh-i-Mahfuz" and there in I read
Whatever was and is and all that is to be.
Let my house fall in ruins, lay my cage in the ground,
Cast away the talisman, it is a token, no more
Lay aside my cloak, it was but my outer garment.
Place them all in the grave, let them be forgotten,
I have passed on my way and you are left behind
Your place of abode was no dwelling place for me.
Think not that death is death, nay, it is life,
A life that surpasses all we could dream of here,
While in this world, here we are granted sleep,
Death is but sleep, sleep that shall be prolonged
Be not frightened when death draweth nigh,
It is but the departure for this blessed home
Think of the mercy and love of your Lord,
Give thanks for His Grace and come without fear.
What I am now, even so shall you be
For I know that you are even as I am
The souls of all men come forth from God
The bodies of all are compounded alike
Good and evil, alike it was ours
I give you now a message of good cheer
May God's peace and joy for evermore be yours."

Thank you to my family, and friends who offered kind words and moral support. Innalillahi wainna ilaihi rajiun.

23!

I wouldn't miss my annual birthday wish to you, Azleen, no matter how late this might be (actually according to our time zone, it's not late yet). Hehe.

Happy birthday...

may Allah give you the sweetness of iman, the light of wisdom, and the beauty of akhlaq. ^_^

Rollercoaster Ride

My final year as a medical student commenced in quite an uncharacteristic fashion- new russian teachers and too many free hours. The latter is expected to come to an end this week, and, as incredulous as this may sound, I kind of look forward to it. The Russian-teacher experience, meanwhile, has come full circle- our 1st year teacher, who gave us up when she was afflicted with illness four years ago, is making a comeback. Things don't seem so promising when some of us apparently still have nightmares from yesteryear, but I remain optimistic. ;)

***

Let's fast-forward to three weeks later. I've become so good at procrastinating, I should get a medal. Anyway, the breaking news of this week is that we're approaching the coldest winter here in 1000 years- tell me if that doesn't sound amazing. Hehe. It's only the beginning of the second month of autumn and we're already talking 3-5 degrees in the morning, 8-10 degrees in the afternoon. Our room has slowly begun to resemble the fridge in the kitchen and if the trend continues, by the end of this month, I predict, we'll reach freezer standard (I'm only half-joking here). There's an urban myth which has been circulating in town since the day I set foot here, saying that if the temperature ever reaches -40 degrees or so, we can all pack our bags and go home. It'd be interesting to put it to test and if this so-called coldest-winter claim is bona fide, I might just spend my winter hols. this year at home! ^_^

I just withstood a metaphorical roller coaster ride for the past couple of weeks, reaching the highest of the high, the lowest of the low, without completely understanding the reason of it all. I later did understand, and thank God for that, for now I feel the strength and conviction to keep one step ahead of my own self. Pardon the obscurity of my words, nobody but few will understand the emotional chaos I've just been through; I suddenly feel the need to write it down now, at 12.22 in the morning, when the night is still and the heart is tender. I came to feel the most priceless feeling from what I've gone through lately- that even if the people you count on most let you down, even if the whole world is against you (yes, try to imagine that), you will always have Allah. He will never leave you. I truly felt that during one of the many not-so-great moments of late, and it was the most comforting feeling I've had. It lifted the pressure off your chest, made you realise your own shortcomings, and most importantly, it made you forgive the people around you, because everything that had happened suddenly seemed so trivial. I hope He will not take this away from me and let it be my thin gossamer thread towards getting closer to Him. Inshaallah.

Good day, everyone. :)

Abah & Mak

I meant to write an obnoxiously long-winded update on life and its blessings (and shortcomings) but a matter of urgency triggered by a miserly 2-hour sleep yesterday made me cut it short this time (and no promises on the next one either U_U).

The said urgency is, in fact, a belated wish to my parents for their 26th anniversary- may Allah bless both of you forever after... It took me a while, but I do realise now how exceedingly fortunate I have been, and continue to be, having the two of you behind my back. Only Allah can rightfully reward you for all that you've done for me, and I pray we'll all be together again in jannah, inshaallah.

I feel like putting up their wedding picture (hehe) but realise that I don't actually have them. So these are a couple of old family photos for old times' sakes.

My dad, my sister Sarah, my brother Muhammad, and me.
Bukit Bendera, 1989.



My mother and the three of us, and good ol' (or new, at that time ;p) Sentra.
Aboard Penang ferry, 1989.

Selamat Hari Raya & Eid Mubarak everyone. :)

Post-exam relief syndrome

Life is like a Rubik's cube, with 519 quintillion possible arrangements of the pieces, each discrete and unique from the other. The past few weeks for me, at least, have demonstrated just that- news and events, good and bad, have contrastingly teemed this head to the brim, and left me marveling at the sublimity of God's decree for every one of His creations.

Most of the things happened felt too personal to write about, and it's funny that after filtering my thoughts, the things left to be said suddenly seem so shallow and trivial. Like the World Cup. People know I love football, and people know I'm quite, er, expressive by nature, but make no mistake, I won't lose sleep over Brazil's loss in the quarters. Nor Roger Federer's exit in Wimbledon for that matter (tibe2). Hehe. I'm into it, yes, but I can be out of it in (almost) no time too.

That said, vamos Argentina and Rafa!

Alhamdulillah Allah has eased my way through my finals (which included a week of sleeping on the floor. Don't ask.), and now that it's over, I should be flying home as I usually would, right? Wrong. We're bullied into doing this 3-week practical thing in emergency care, and as positive as I have been about this program ever since its conception, this badgering shadow of doubt keeps creeping back in. I hope to be proven wrong, and be an enlightened person by the end of it. *sniffs*

It's a comforting thought, having another year of medical slogging before getting that giant responsibility of a doctor thrusted upon your shoulders. All things considered, no, I do not envy my recently-graduated seniors, for I feel so inadequate in my position right now to be coveting any title but that of a student. I love being a student, and I don't have to experience the brunt of heavy work for a while to realise that. ;p Stormy seas await me next year, so let me work on my sails and bearings for now...