Free-living Organism

As of yesterday, I'm a free man. And a free-living organism (classified myself as a temporary parasite during exam season). And everything went well too. Alhamdulillah! The cherry on top of the icing of the cake: my scholarship money has unexpectedly been banked in. Double hurrah! Now I can get to the main agenda before flying home- shopping! LOL.

Thanks Mak and Abah for your duas. And to my friends, especially those who had the unfortunate misadventure of becoming my temporary host ;)

ps: Definition of temporary parasite- A free-living organism but seeks its host from time to time for food.
pps: Collecting my visa at the academy today =)

Numbers and facts

10 more days before returning home.

9 more days before the United States’ Independence Day (not relevant, I know).

8 more questions to be done by today.

7 more questions of my ‘favourite’ topic (Darn! That many??).

6 more hours before Portugal-Holland match (I won’t be watching, of course ;p).

5 more days before this torture ends.

4 more games before Brazil wins the World Cup.

3 more days before my traditional Panic Day.

2 more Rubles before my credit expires.

1 more paper to go!

Bored me

I really really want to go home. No, it’s not simply the food anymore. It’s not even the World Cup.

… Ok, it is the World Cup. But it’s not just the World Cup. I miss my family and friends too. Baaadly.

Things that I miss most about home (in no particular order)

1. My family and friends
2. Malaysian food (an entry has been dedicated to this but I will spare some space for more ;p)
3. Free (well, almost… but free anyway cos my dad foots the bill. Hehe) internet
4. Television
5. Walking at the beach near my house
6. Sending my brother and sister to school (and picking them up)
7. Playing computer games (Nak go against my dad in C&C: General again- even though I lost every time)
8. Playing with our super-duper lovely cats
9. Breakfast outings around town =)
10. ‘Mapley’ outings around town =D
11. Kinokuniya
12. Cycling
13. Fighting with my brother
14. Trapped in the traffic jam whilst behind the wheels
15. Buah-buahan tempatan (Manggis, mangga, langsat… bliss defined! Yum!)
16. Curled up in bed reading a good book
17. Taman Gelora
18. Pasar malam (Yeah, I seldom went before, but now I’m missing it. Argh!)
19. Kenduri-kendara at Aki’s place (Great food! Cute cousins!)
20. My dad’s old car ;)

And I’m tired of poring my head into these textbooks. God please give me strength...

I can’t watch the World Cup because…

1) I don’t have a television.

2) My friends don’t have televisions too.

3) Even if I do have one, I still have a big final exam stretching throughout the better half of this month.

4) And I couldn’t ask my family to record the whole show, as our vcr has broken down some centuries ago and a recordable dvd player would cost a small fortune. And apparently vcr is another machine of the past. Hehe.

Have fun everyone, and spare a thought or two for me when you’re busy cheering for Brazil and Germany and Italy or screaming boos for France (Hehe French fans are going to kill me), and aah… don’t forget Ukraine’s in this time (Soviet spirit. LOL)!


Probably our last meal before 'going on strike' =p


Four Malaysians lost in translation =)

Of Growing Up

I was lying on the bed, hugging my baby lion Dmitri when I suddenly thought of Sifi. My recollection then progressed to all my cats back home- I missed them so much it made my jaw clenched so hard at the thought of it. I then engaged my roommate Fatin in a conversation wherein we reminisced about Sifi and how we missed her ‘kitten days’, during which her hyperactive demeanour constantly put our lives on edge (haha). We recalled how she used to wake all three of us up in the morning the couple of times she had stayed over by paying us visits sequentially in our respective beds and tried her very best to get our attention.

Farah had related on how she would unexpectedly feel something warm and fuzzy on her tummy and find Sifi nicely curled up there when she opened her eyes. That was when all hell would break loose. Yes, Farah was terrified of cats. She would then dive into Fatin’s bed and I would scoop the confused Sifi and bring her (Sifi) back to my bed. Trust her to learn her lesson. Not. She would proceed with either Fatin or me, tugging on our clothes, feet, hair, everything. Once though, one memorable moment, I slowly opened my eyes to find Sifi cleaving to my right arm and simply stared at me with this adorable look which uncannily resembled that of Puss in Boots in Shrek 2 when he pleaded with Shrek.

This I mentioned to Fatin and we went, “ Cepat kan dia membesar…!” It seemed not a while ago that I could enfold her in my palm and now… she is already Mayo’s size and even developed that bored, almost snobbish look so characteristic of our dear ol’ Mayo. We were solemnly pondering on this undeniable face of reality when Fatin remarked, “macam ni ke mak2 fikir anak2 dorang agaknye kan…”

The sentence ended with our laughter, but on retrospection, I really wonder whether our mothers do feel that we grew up too fast and at times wished we could be the four-year-old nuisance they had to bear with once again. When Sifi stayed here some time ago, I remember having to wash her after she defaecated, as she didn’t know how to cleanse herself yet. Moreover, a few times she even did her stuff on the floor/carpet (perhaps due to the unfamiliar surroundings) - imagine the stink I had to put up with. Yet I miss those days. I didn’t want her to grow up so fast, but she did.

In a way, I don’t want to grow up too fast. I’m twenty, for goodness’ sake. Sheesh. I don’t feel twenty. When I was nine, I had this thought- by twelve I would already know how to cook. I didn’t. When I was fifteen, I thought of getting married before I reach twenty-five. Above that would be too old. Now I’m thinking, I can’t possibly get married before twenty-five! I can’t even flip over an omelet without tearing the poor thing apart, and I’d probably burn my house down before I knew it (ok, bit soap opera-ish there). Honestly, I can be either seventeen or twenty-three for all I care, and you would still see me as I am now. Yet I feel I’ve been growing up too fast. Oo-kay… aren’t I an expert in pointless, twisted entries. Leave me be.

Tukar topic- summer has come! And whoever the Geography person that assigned the climate here to be ‘mild climate’ need to conduct a new research- Russia is so not mild. Yesterday the thermometer read 38 degrees. Enough said.

Remembering Death

The intense emotion I experienced last night prompted me to put up the lyrics to this Arabic song that I find to be poignantly reflective. I retrieved it some time ago through the wonders of file sharing, and the melancholic tune and meaningful lyrics complemented by the evocative vocals just got to me. Having gone through 5 years of Arabic more or less enabled me to appreciate the beauty of the poetic lines, which are much more refined than the translated English version. This song serves as a good remembrance of who we are- of where we came from and to whom we will return. To those who put their trust in Allah, death is but another transient phase en route to a greater pursuit- Al-Akhirah.

If you wish to watch the video, click here.

"Now, if they turn away (O Muhammad) say: Allah sufficeth me. There is no God save Him. In Him have I put my trust, and He is Lord of the Tremendous Throne.” - At-Taubah: 129


Dust is My Bed

Performed & Composed by:
Meshary Alaradah

Lyrcis by:
Ahmad Alkandiry

Dust is my bed, embracing me, and is my cover
The sands are around me, engulfing me from all directions
And the grave recounts (the story of) the darkness of my calamity
And the light has destined that my pleasure is in meeting (Allah)

Where is the kindness of kin? They relinquished fidelity (sold my loyalty)
Where are the scores of friends? They left my brotherhood
Where is the bliss of money? I left it behind
And where is the glory of fame and compliments?
That’s my end; dust is my bed

The beloved bade farewell to his love, and cried my elegy
The tears flow dried out, after crying
The vast universe shrank, narrowing my space
The grave to my corpse became both my land and my sky
That’s my end; dust is my bed

Fear overwhelms my estrangement and sadness is my ailment
Hoping for steadfastness, which is – I swear – my remedy
Sincerely supplicating to the Lord; You are my hope
Hoping- O Allaah – for a paradise, in which my bliss shall be attained

A little reminder

This morning, instead of the usual weekly tafseer classes, we viewed two slideshows concerning the plight of our Palestinian brothers and sisters. Later, they handed round a box for donations. I mulled over the fact that we could do so little to help our afflicted fellow Muslims in this jihad against the musyriqin. This issue has been highlighted time and again, but I fear that only very few amongst us who really did empathise with the essence of it and committed to the cause wholeheartedly. And by that, I mean boycotting the products of Israel and those who support the Zionists. We were reminded of this boycotting ‘thing’ during the furor surrounding the Danish cartoon issue not long ago but I think we could use a little prompting on our roles every now and then.

As quoted in a translated letter by Dr Khalil Ismael Al-Hayyah of HAMAS in a copy given to us (I’m paraphrasing) - if we merely become observers to this episodes of transgression and do nothing about it, we will be adjudicated in the Day of Judgment. Our brothers and sisters will demand the rights that they did not get from us in dire needs. They would die as syahids, but our fate is still hanging in the balance. Whilst they are bearing bullets in their bodies, we are happily digesting food made by the very people who fired the bullets in the first place. We are handing them the means to manufacture those bullets, thus in a way, we are fraternising with them. Aren’t we ashamed by that fact?

And just so to clarify the consequences, we won’t die from not eating McDonald’s or not drinking Cokes or Starbucks coffee. It’s just that our love for this world too often overcast the greater beauty of Al-Akhirah that we fail to sort our priorities accordingly. We are not perfect, but we can always strive for the better. And Allah knows best.


Mother Russia in spring

She walks in beauty

She Walks In Beauty
by George Gordon, Lord Byron

She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

My mother is an admirable person of all sorts- character-wise, knowledge-wise, career-wise... it is unnecessary really to go on. She was a strict mother (not so now, I think my youngest brother is having it really easy ;p) but maybe we were really stubborn back then. Hehe. Anyhow, she impelled every one of us to be the best we could possibly be, especially in our studies and character. All my successes have been due to her (and my father's, of course, but he's not our main character today. haha) endless encouragement and support, and also, her amazing drive to repeat the same babblings advice over and over again (I must be really stubborn then. Hehe).

I love my mother very much and am very proud of having her as a mother, and I hope that I won't be a disappointment to her (I know I have been a few times) too. Here's wishing you a very Happy Mother's Day, Mak, and you really ARE the lady described in Lord Byron's poem =)

V for Victory

We had a little 2-day holiday on 8 and 9 May to commemorate Victory Day (or VE Day) for the Allies in World War 2 during which warm celebrations were held in town. Earlier on Friday, my class together with a 3rd year class engaged in an excursion organised by our Russian teachers. We footslogged about the Square of Fallen Fighters, the Alley of Heroes and the Volga (all of which housed quite a number of monuments) in an effort to commemorate the courageous defenders (consisted not only of soldiers but also factory workers and generally untrained civilians) of Stalingrad- the former name of Volgograd, for those really in the dark- in the Battle of Stalingrad. The bloody battle, whose casualties of both German and Soviet amounted up to 2 million, stamped a pivotal moment in the war leading to the decisive Battle of Berlin that had the Nazi bowing to defeat.

But enough of history ;) Stretching from days prior to this significant date you could distinctly observe war veterans with numerous medals pinned on their chests ambling along the alley, paying due respect to their fallen comrades. As our teacher enlightened us with historical facts and thoughts, which eminently centred on the national heroes, I could feel the love and pride swelling in her heart through every syllable enunciated on her tongue (and her teary-eyed expressions)- and it made me feel, too… I felt for the people who were caught in the web of insanity of the era, interwoven with hatred between politically correct world leaders in which these people had no choice but to fight for their family and land. How awful it must have been, to be ensnared in tight battlefield unarmed but told not to leave in the pretext of preserving the spirits of the soldiers. Nevertheless, look at Volgograd today! Quite a remarkable sight for a city reduced to mere rubbles courtesy of the war, I must say.

The pictures below, however, were not taken during the excursion, as I sensibly forgot my camera (“A good photographer always brings his camera”- my dad. Well!), but on Tuesday, May 9 instead. A whole lot of people flocked to the centre to watch live cultural performances, buy plentiful souvenirs and balloons of every shape and shade, and of course, paid homage to the war heroes at the memorials. As for me, I got myself a red star-shaped balloon (I don’t know why, stars fascinate me- when I’m bored I’d doodle stars<-- but that might be due to the fact that I couldn’t draw much else. Haha), a Russian flag to complement my newfound patriotism (hahaha) and a giant cotton candy for my super-sweet tooth. Fabuloso!


A view of a monument in the park opposite our academy


Lovely fountains by the embankment of Volga


a guy talking to a war veteran (note his medals if you can)


20 Roubles for a few snaps with Mr. Python. No, thank you, sir!


A happy couple dancing to the tune of Native Indian live music nearby


catching on the collage bug from neemo ;)

Spring pictures part 1