...whose days are numbered...

“This used to be the workhouse!” said H, the english lady who was the project manager at the Nightingale Centre. Her eyes gazed at the red bricked building looming across the lawns that must have seen better days.

“What is a workhouse?” I asked looking up from my work. My eyes too, could not help staring at the forlorn-looking relic that could be seen from the large glass window.

“I hate that place!” said E, another english colleague of mine, rubbing the mammographic film in front of her with a piece of smudged rag.

“Why?” My fingers stopped playing with the keyboard, halfway through entering the patients’ cases gathered for the day.

“Rats! Full of them! Running around your feet! Went there to get past patients’ records. That was to be my first and last time! Came out screaming.. Let someone else do the digging!” said E again, putting up the film against the light and scrutinizing it.

“H! You haven’t answered my question!” I turned my face towards H who was at the far side of the glass pane.

“Oh! Sorry! I was drifting back years in time. The workhouse was a place where the poor and hopeless came to stay. Too poor to sustain and too sick to be able to care for themselves. Men, separated from their women, mothers from their children. All for a streak of hope in living. Cleaning, mending doing whatever was necessary to have a roof above their heads and meagre meals to fill their empty tummies."

“Is that so?” I sighed. I turned my face back to the computer screen, running fingers across the buttons in front of me.

“Yes! So much so that in the last century, if a child misbehaves then the parents would threaten them by saying, “If you are naughty, you will end up in the workhouse!””

My fingers halted. It took a while before they ventured on their moves again.

On my way back to the bus stop, I pondered across the lawn again. At the once majestic structure, drinking in the scenery. Closing my eyes, I could picture the sad looks on faces and hear the sounds of their sufferings….

Then I recollected my steps, past the Siemens Park (the medical equipment manufacturer and supplier) signatured with its pristine white buildings towards Elizabeth Slinger Road to catch the number 47 bus back to the campus. Two uniformed policemen strutted past, each one high on horseback, looking magnificent from the Police Headquarters on the right side of the road.

Early the next morning, I made a point to arrive earlier than the norm, tracing my footsteps around the grounds. Under the white cherry blossoms, I stopped and closed my eyes; listening and imagining old conversations. The fragrance of rhododendrons filled the air amidst lavender buds and bright red peonies.

The sound of siren from a passing police car broke the silence. My eyelids flew open to dilapitated sites with rubbish strewn everywhere which can be seen from afar. This is the fate of this once beautiful place. Soon to be relocated at a new hospital, further down south, nearer to the International Manchester Airport.

This workhouse that eventually became the War Hospital during the World War was a tribute to Florence Nightingale, “The Lady With The Lamp” who spent some of her years here. Like The Nightingale Centre, my days as a volunteer for CADET 2 (Computer Aided Detection of Cancer) were numbered too. The place was slowly evolving. Changing…

Change is inevitable. Change we must. Who would want to remain in old, battered and rotting buildings. Only to be invested with pests…like the rats that E was so scared of and which made her ran helter skelter, screaming her heart out? So think! Do we want to end up being like those rodents? Running around people’s feet? Digging for crumbs?

Time to wake up! Time for change!

(..to be continued)

The old, the new and time for change...

Was feeling a bit bored on one of the weekends during my 9 months sabbatical stint last year. Work was hectic at the Nightingale Centre, Nell Lane near the small town of Withington, Greater Manchester. Running to catch the bus in the freezing temperature very early every morning on a working day has distracted me. So, weekends are quite a lull…

My son has gone home to be with his beloved dad and his sister (+family), leaving me behind. To be on my own...

Not that I was not used to being alone. I didn’t even get to see my son as often as I had anticipated. Both of us were occupied. I was attached to ISBE (Imaging Science and Biomedical Engineering) University of Manchester further down south, while he was busy (and still is) with his studies at UMIST (even though UMIST has ceased to exist and both the universities have conjoined to become one). We each had our own abode too. He was at Old Trafford while I chose to stay at Rusholme, home of the “Curry Mile”, heaven for halal food. We would meet only about once a week. At a halfway point along Oxford Road where the university refectory was or at one of those halal eateries dotting the very busy main road.

It was just one of those days…Felt like going on a little adventure on the outskirts of the city.

The next moment, I was on a bus heading towards Ashton-under-Lyne, the eastern part of Greater Manchester. Was on the upper deck when this view caught my eye.

“Interesting!” Click! Went the sound from my little faithful companion which I have always kept close by, just as the bus driver turned a corner.

What was so interesting? Notice the year written on the plaque? Yes! 1890, sculptured on the wall of the row of shop houses which still exists. And the satellite dish? Indeed! One is old while the other is new.

Someone once posed me this question, “The earth evolves, times change, we grow old and change too. But there is one thing that never changes. You know what that is?”

“I am afraid not? If you would be kind enough to tell me?” I asked.

“Well! Change! Change itself. Because that has been its feat for as long as it ever existed!”

“I don’t quite understand!” I said.

My ears perceived this reply, “Do you know why the dinosaurs have become extinct? I was asked this question by my professor. I hadn’t a clue. It was because those creatures refused to change. To acclimatise and adapt themselves to new surroundings. The same thing goes for us, if we refuse to do the same thing. So, change we must. If we want to continue to exist.”

I was silent, mincing the words that tumbled out from those lips.

Allah says in the Quran (Ar-Ra’d: verse 11) ".. Lo! Allah changeth not the condition of a folk until they (first) change that which is in their hearts.”

Even established institutions like UMIST (at one moment in time, the leader in pioneering scientific discoveries) and the University of Manchester have both become one to sustain their existence and glory.

Do we want to be like the dinosaurs or for that matter, the words on the plaque? To be mere imprints, monuments or shadows of the past? True! Those are cherished memories but to be of further use, we must adapt. We must make new moves. We must cater for new things, to allow new products to be hinged on to us, that may be of benefit to render and prolong the relevance of our existence. The power to bring about change is in our hands..

And the time for change is NOW!

Jihad from the eyes of our tiny but spritely spirited…

The apple of both our eyes…was very fast on her feet. Weaving her way in and out, between shoplots and along the corridor at a shopping mall last Sunday morning.

Pity her Grandad (whom she affectionately calls ‘Tok Wan’), who had to scamper here and there, panting away… A man, past middle age while the other..an energetic two and a half year old. How can one compare? Moreover, one cannot afford to be complacent these days. Too many stories. Too many incidents. Our little ones are no longer safe on their own.

The plucky, little girl stopped in her tracks at one of the adjoining corridors and said, “Hey Don’t fight!” There was a big frown on her face, one hand was on her waist while the other, finger pointing.

In front of her, were two burly five to six year olds, jostling each other and were definitely crossing their fists. Our pint-sized Nuha Inshirah's remarks must have been effective. For they stopped whatever they were doing and moved on…Our little bombshell was still giving them ‘her looks’ albeit sideways now…

I told myself, “Masha Allah! Small but brave enough to forbid something that is not right. Her act looked so natural despite it being spontaneous!”

My beloved and I exchanged glances and we could not hold back our chuckles.

Well! Isn’t it the duty of every Muslim (regardless of age and position) to forbid wrongdoings? In fact, it is a component of jihad.

Think! What are the things that we can do to make jihad as being part of our ritual in daily life?

Jihad should be seen as something very vast. An act of virtue that is not confined to only being involved with warfare. We are constantly being asked to fight against ill desire, not to succumb to the persuasions of the shaitan that comes to sway us from His path, in all shapes and forms. We are told to strive to give our utmost and strength to be near to Allah. To do whatever that He has asked us to do. To leave and put aside the things that He has stated as forbidden. To uphold the truth and fight for the sake of curbing and preventing falsehood.

The prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) says, “The greatest Jihad to God is a word of truth before an unjust ruler.” [HR Ahmad].

A year older today but …..wiser?

Yes! Today marks the day when I was born. And 49 it is! But then, if calculated using the Muslim calendar, my age would have been more than a century…(51 to be exact!)

How much more years are there left? Thinking about it makes me shudder… Then I realized that my time life is drawing near. I should fill it with planting and sowing more seeds…Insha Allah..

Earlier in the day, after fajar prayers, my beloved husband presented me with a book entitled “Book of Unforgettable Journeys” – Great Writers on Great Places, published by Penguin Books. Year – 2007. Very recent indeed! Sounds magical too! Can’t wait to put my hands around it and feast on it with my eyes and soul…maybe tonight…

A small message appeared on my mobile phone. From my daughter…inscribed, “Happy 49th. birthday to a great Mum and Neena. May Allah bless you always. Thank you for all the support and understanding..Loves: Nusaybah, Khalil and little Insyirah.”

My eyes are starting to swell already...

I also recalled the email I received from my son (Anas bin Mohd. Sofian) who is still zealously immersed in his studies at Manchester. A sweet poem was what he sent. And so befitting its title too…(since it was written in the Malay Language, maybe it would sound a bit off the tune…but still, I would like to share it with you…) Here it is...

Sweetness

The sweetness of a face lies in the smile,

The sweetness of character bears respect,

The sweetness of good deeds is in tandem with sincerity,

The sweetness of knowledge bears its fruits in amal (deeds),

The sweetness of doing amal is carying it out with ihsan (excellence),

The sweetness of living a life is furnishing it with iman (faith),

The sweetness of a family is fertilizing it with mawaddah (love),

The sweetness of being in a jamaah is nourishing it with ukhuwwah (brotherhood of love),

The sweetness of an ummah is sowing it with tarbiyyah (character building),

The sweetness of a daulah is being in the shade of barakah (blessings),

The sweetness of doing da’wah is encountering mehnah (tribulations),

The sweetness of Islam lies in its izzah (glory),

So Mum, may your days be filled with sweetness….

(Copyright

aNas.Manchester darul Iman..=)

)

Little did I realize that Puan Ainon Mohd (PTS_Guru) and I share the same birth date. So, I wished her a birthday day wish by sharing the poem with her, exchanging the “Mum” with “Puan” for her.

The gift of the book from my beloved husband, the greetings from my daughter and the poem form my son are fathomless gifts...which are far more valuable than all the whole riches in the world…

“Oh Allah! We are ever so grateful for these love that You have bestowed upon us…Accept our good deeds, guide us and prevent us from straying away from Your path, grant us opportunites to sow seeds of goodness and righteousness in championing Your faith, within the few more moments of our lives….Amin”

Seindah Dafodil (Beautiful Daffodils)…inspirational fiction…

This book was based on my own experience living alone, far away (at the city of Calgary, Canada) for 3 months under the sponsorship of the Asian Development Bank (ADB) in the year 1993.

I was nominated by the head of department to undergo a research attachment programme. And I was supposed to come up with a name of a place that I would be spending my days within 2 weeks. And so I began sending emails all throughout the world. None came right until the last few days and I was becoming desperate. I told myself to just accept whoever that responded first, wherever that may be. Then the next day, an email arrived from a kind professor at the University of Calgary. And so I just had to follow through.

I had to be on my own in a place so far away. Life was very challenging indeed. At that time, no Malays were there at all. This, I learnt while picking up my flight tickets at the Public Services Department.

“Don’t you think that you are being unwise?” said the officer behind the counter.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, a bit disturbed.

“This place you are going. There is hardly any Malays! And the Malaysian Students’ Department is thousands of miles away!”

“I really had no idea. Moreover, I had a deadline. Two weeks is too short a time. I had to just contend myself with whosoever came first.”

The officer shook his head, wearing a big frown on his forehead. He handed me my flight tickets and the cheque from ADB to cover my living expenses.

I started to ask myself, “Am I doing the right thing?”

Alhamdulillah, my husband gave his supporting words, “You are educated and bright. Surely you will learn to get to know places and adjust yourself with situations!”

When I arrived at the Calgary Airport, only the kind professor was there to greet me. And the days that followed, I had to learn things on my own. To make extra efforts to be friends and to be kind to others.

Most of the characters written (especially those around Calgary) were based on real people that I encountered. (Of course, their names were changed accordingly). Only the story line was fabricated and made to appeal to readers.

My family (my husband and two small children-a girl and a boy) had the opportunity to join me during the last two weeks of my stay. How can one ever forget? The sweet memories...The beautiful moments that were spent with them were pictured at the fruit farms and the rolling hills beside the calm, sapphire blue waters of the Lake Okanagan…Alhamdulillah

Another gem is also gone...forever

True! Another glimmering jewel is now gone forever. To be with Allah....But her demise has not been in vain....For, just like our previous friend, she too has left a legacy....

Dr. Yatimah Sarmani (Universiti Teknology Malaysia) took her last breath right after 'proof reading' her book that is due to be printed...

Alhamdulillah....Such a noble ending...

Gone while you are in the midst of doing something good....

While sowing seeds that may reaped and harvested, time and again....as provisions in the hereafter...

"Oh Allah! Forgive her wrongdoings, accept her good deeds and grant her a place amongst those who are steadfast in their duty towards You and those who enjoin good deeds...Amin..Ya Rabbal Alamin..."

Al-Fatihah...
(for more info: http://universitipts.com/index.php/site/comments/al_fatihah_seorang_lagi_bunga_pts_gugur/)

Tokens of appreciation and responses to workshop..

Thank you very much to:-

i. Chairperson – Women’s Wing JIM Perak State for giving me the honour of conducting the Writing Workshop. Also to the Chairperson of JIM Perak State for lending his approval.
ii. Ms. Hajjah Norhayati Hj. Sidek for her assistance in arranging the premise with appropriate setting of tables and chairs, also preparing the necessary forms.
iii. Mrs. Hajjah Kerisisiah Mohd. Daud for arranging the excellent menu catered by the AL Hidayah School, Ipoh. The food was delicious – feedback from participants, stating they were certainly well-fed. It was a good thing that the workshop involved a lot of movements and not just sitting down, listening. If not then everybody would have a hard time trying to stay awake!
iv. Mr. Cik Wan dan Mr. Shukri Daud for making sure that the venue was extremely comfortable.
v. My beloved Ir. Haji Mohd. Sofian bin Ahmad for the moral support, technical, transport and other assistance.

Congratulations again to:

a. Young participants (below 15) who faithfully stayed on in their seats until the last minute, for showing perseverance and persistence. Even though it was realized that the last two activities were a bit too taxing for their age. We will try to work out some other forms of activities more suitable for you in future, okay?
b. All the pariticipants for showing their eagerness and willingness to learn and diligently following the numerous instructions. The success of the workshop would not have been possible if not for the kind of spirit and proactive attitude displayed by them. All of you were such a sport!

These are some of the responses that were received from participants through emails:-

Ms.Hajjah Norhayati Haji Sidek from Ipoh:-

“The environment during the workshop was harmonious and cheerful. Even though our stomachs were constantly full, we were too excited to fall asleep…. Of course being laughed at while reading your piece, is one thing… as well as laughing yourself while listening to others. But it was good because everybody had a sense of humour. The fun we had exploring things "hands-on, minds-on and hearts-on" was really significant..."

Mrs. Hajjah Anita Ali (Chairperson, Women’s Wing JIM, Perak State) from Manjung:-

“Really worthwhile attending this! Considering the small fee that is incurred. The knowledge and exposure certainly is worth much more!..Very practical approach for all who would want to venture into writing..”

Mrs. Dzilal Abdul Aziz from Ipoh:-

“The activities from morning till late afternoon were not boring at all. Time passed by without you really realizing it. You need to be constantly involved and practically ‘forced’ to write. How bewitching! And great too! Hearing the pieces produced by each participants. Never realized that there were so many with potentials. It is true what Aunt Umi has said, writers can be trained and groomed.

If ever there would be another upcoming one, I would not hesitate to participate…in fact, I would be the first to attend. It was really worthwhile!….”

Mrs. Mahani Yusof from Kuala Kangsar:-

“Alhamdulillah, I have gathered a lof of benefits in terms of knowledge…It was such an effort to crack your brains!”

Mrs. Norizan Lazim from Taiping (through phone message):-

“The ikhwan leaders and religious scholars like Hamka, they write and produce materials that continue to be read and ‘lived’ through the hearts of souls and readers until now. This is a branch of da’wah and medium that I would love to choose and contribute in!”

Mrs. Rosidah Mohd. Isa from Pasir Pinji, Ipoh (not a member of JIM as yet!):-

“I gathered a lot of knowledge during the workshop that day. Insha Allah, now I intend to attend the workshops organized by PTS with my cousin from Cheras in KL…”

May this small effort start to kindle the love of writing and also be of benefit to the participants. And may these seeds be accepted by Allah as a harvest to be reaped in the hereafter…Amin.

To all participants, keep the momentum going. Write at least fifteen minutes a day…don’t forget that!

And remember too! “Writers are not born, they are made!”

A chest of treasure waiting to be uncovered..Writing Workshop

For the first time, a ‘hands-on’ workshop was conducted under the Women’s Wing of Pertubuhan Jamaah Islah Malaysia (JIM) in Perak with full (but one) attendance from participants who pledged to sign up when the announcements were made.

Congratulations to all the participants who were eager to learn and spare their time in attending the First Writing Workshop with the theme “Journeying with the Heart and Soul”, dated February 2nd. 2008 at the JIM Centre, Ipoh, Perak.

A conducive and serene environment was absolutely necessary for triggering sparks of inspiration to participants. The venue chosen certainly served to accommodate this purpose very well.

“I think what I had just written is entirely rubbish!” said one of the participants, straggling on his feet, his hands holding a smudged piece of paper.

“Never mind! Rubbish to you but may be not to others. Just read whatever you have just written. After all, we are all here to learn.”

As soon as he opened his mouth, giggles and hoarse laughs started to sprout here, there and everywhere.

“Syy! Please let our friend here finish whatever he is reading. The rest of you, please! Be silent!”

All was quiet after that. But there were still signs of laughter on pursed lips, bodies quivering and hands covering mouths trying hard to stifle the tickles in their throats.

This was the atmosphere at the workshop. There were so many untapped talents. How good it would be if these talents are nurtured and groomed. Especially those young ones…

Most participants seemed so excited and full of spirit. Isn’t that what it is supposed to be? Fun. Yes! That is the key word!

Indeed! I was entertained throughout the workshop. A whole day and I didn’t even realize it was coming to an end!

A Drop of Pearl….has returned to its rightful place

..to be with our Creator

My heart missed a beat while reading an entry by Puan Ainon Mohd. while browsing through Prof. Mohd. Kamil Ibrahim’s http://muhdkamil.net/mystory/?m=200711). “Prof! I am deeply saddened..” These words were left there by this great hearted lady whom we have grown to affectionately address as SifuPTS.

In an instant, my fingers deftly moved the mouse to http://www.universitipts.com/

I was dumbfounded the moment my eyes glanced through the entry dated February 3rd. 2008.

http://universitipts.com/index.php/site/comments/al_fatihah_buat_buah_hati_sifu/

From HIM we came and unto HIM do we return…

True! This gentle soul has gone. This kind man by the name of Ahmad Zafran Abdul Mutalib or more profoundly known as Panaharjuna has been called home while he lay sleeping. He had been suffering from heart ailment, commuting alone, back and forth between Kuala Lumpur and his hometown in Negeri Sembilan for treatment and hoping for a new heart in the waiting list. He was only 35 years old.

A gleaming drop of pearl has vanished from this earth. However, he will most certainly be remembered through his numerous books, a legacy he has left behind. PTS community will surely miss him…and I for one, being involved in writing only very recently.

The last entry in his blog

http://panaharjuna.blogspot.com/ was dated January 2d. 2008. The many times, I arrived at his blog for the past few weeks, I would start to ask myself, “It has been quite some time…no more new entries…Well! Perhaps, he is busy…”


I met this young writer a few times while attending the workshops organized by Puan Ainon at Taman Pertama and we exchanged a few words. Coincidentally, the illustrator and visual illustrator for the late writer’s books “Sahabat Kole Kacang” and “Sahabat Kole Kacang – Jiwa Pendekar” i.e. Mohd. Faizal Nordin (known as ICesoul) was a student of mine at the engineering campus of Universiti Sains Malaysia a few years ago.

Our friend has gone. Our days too are numbered. The fire on our candle of life that is still burning will one day too, quiver away. Only Allah knows for certain when the hour will be. In the meantime, sow our seeds, nurture good deeds, while the fire is still lit and the clock is still ticking…

“Oh Allah! Accept our friend’s good deeds, forgive his wrongdoings and place him amongst the people whom you love, those who are righteous and enjoin good deeds…Amin, Ya Rabbul Alamin…”

Al Fatihah…