That forlorn face....continue to haunt...

I pulled my fingers that were wrapped on the steering, careening the car to a halt at a petrol station off the main road from Taiping to Parit Buntar. An innocently sweet face greeted me at the first booth just as I drove past it.

The innocently-faced young man came running to assist me.

“Are you a teacher, ma’am?” smilingly, he asked. His hands holding the petrol pump which he gingerly inserted into the car beside me.

“Yes! Indeed I am!” said I, smiling back at him.

“Which school, may I know?”

“Actually I lecture at Nibong Tebal, the engineering campus, just across the border!”

“The university?” his face suddenly lit up as he said the words.

“Yes! How long have you worked here?” I asked, the curiosity in me was aroused as I studied his physique. He looked like someone fresh out of school.

“Just a few months ago. Actually, I was asked by my father to come back here to take care of my ailing grandmother. I also have my younger brothers’ and sisters’ mouths to feed. So I had to get a job.”

“Why aren’t you furthering your studies?” My heart cried out to know more.

“I had an offer from a university further down south, a few months after the SPM results were released.”

“Then? Didn’t you register?”

“As I said, my father has asked me to take care of granny and to find a job.”

“Where are you parents? Your mum? You dad?” I could not help frowning.

“My mum has passed away. My dad just married another.”

My heart sank. The young face was downcast on the floor by now, trying to hide away the cloud of sadness that might have appeared.

A loud thud! Full! And I was jolted back.

Instantaneously, I said, “Listen here, okay? Take good care of your granny. And your siblings too! God will reward you, Insha Allah. And bestow upon you bounties from paths you least expect. Believe me! I will make doa for you, Insha Allah!”

“Thank you, Aunt!” the shine of innocence lit up again on his face.

Payments to be made. As soon as I stepped out of the glass door of the service station office, I held up my hand. In the direction of the young man right across the other side of the premise, signaling my departure.

Hands waved eagerly back to me. Hands belonging to the sweet, innocently faced young boy.

My thoughts were constantly stirred by those frantic hands. All the way back to the campus, my heart reached out to that face. The intelligent face..looking forlornly on the floor…

Will there be light at the end of the tunnel for him? Oh Allah! Please….help him….Amin.

When your elected member of constituency speaks with a double tongue...

“Have you been in this trade for very long?” my beloved asked.

“Yes! Since the seventies,” said he, the logo of his company emblazoned on the chest of his proudly worn uniform. His hands were pulling the cables and wirings, putting them into a hole in the wall.

“So many people, so many stories, “ J as he is known continued, “in fact, the previous members of constituents have been calling me for assistance.”

“Is that so?” my husband said, nodding his head.

How deftly his fingers moved, making adjustments here and there to the compact residence around Kuala Lumpur that my beloved and I had just acquired a few months prior to that day.

“Talking about your constituent’s representative, I have a story to tell,“ said J continuing the conversation.

I leaned closer to the wall while my beloved made himself comfortable near our storyteller.

“The member of constituency for this area was an old friend of mine. We came from the same kampung. Then worked in the same company. His position was somewhat lower than mine because of his mediocre education background. But then, after a few years, he got promoted to the post of assistant manager because of his connections and involvements in a once dominant and influential political party. I regarded that as his lucky streak and a gift from God.”

“One day, this old friend of mine whom I call Mat came to see me. He said that he was going to contest for a seat in the elections. If he won, he much desired to remain staying in the slums. He also promised to keep on using his old banger and to keep to his words serving the people in his constituency. Finally elections result were out and sure enough he won! Happily too, I shared his days of triumph."

Both my beloved and I were raptly listening to his words.

“Not long after that, I received a phone call from Mat, requesting me to upgrade and repair the wiring systems in a bungalow which he has just moved into only a few days after winning the elections. I was taken aback. He was eating his own words. But because he was my friend, I gave him the benefits of the doubt and lent my hand. I was surprised too when I glimpsed a brand new Mercedes at the porch of his ‘mansion’. I was actually thinking about what he said earlier on before the elections. About his promises.”

One day, I went to settle my bills and then to my dismay I found out that my car had been clamped and taken away by the council. My attempts to appeal for a reduction was unsuccessful unless I could get hold of a letter of assistance from the Head of the Municipal Council or the local representative. I suddenly remembered my old friend and so, off I went to his office. I was told by his assistant that Yang Berhormat (YB) Mat had just left for a meeting at a place not very far from the location. I said very well! As I was confident I could easily get hold of my old friend Mat through the phone!”

“What happened then?” my husband said almost spontaneously.

“That is what I was about to tell. I was disturbed and angry!”

“For whatever reason?”

“Dont you feel that your friend might be lying when he says that he is on an overseas trip at that moment and is therefore not around?”

“Was that true?”

“Of course not! And this is what I wish to tell! God is Great and He was showing us signs. On that same night, I was walking back from prayers at the community masjid when suddenly we met! Yes! My old friend was walking in my direction. Little did he expect to see me there. Nonchalantly, I asked, “Just arrived from your overseas trip?” "

“I could sense his uneasiness in the face-to-face encounter like that. It was clearly written right across his face as he said, his voice stuttering, “Yes! Only just now!” "

“He walked on and I slowly followed in his footsteps. I was curious to know where he was going. At that time of night? I climbed onto a flight of stairs behind him and at the reception counter, asked the lady behind it, “The honourable member of constituency (YB), what is he doing here?” "

The lady receptionist said, “What honourable YB?”

“The one who came in just now, wearing the batik shirt and carrying a bag!”

“Really? Never knew that was one! He enrolled here just recently to learn English!”

“It was my turn to say “Really?” “

“I was still dissatisfied and my hurt turned to anger. I would not have hurt half as bad if he had just apologized and say that he could not help me. But he lied! He chose to lie. That was what hurt me most! I searched for his car and as soon as I found it, I punctured one tyre and then another. I was thinking if I let loose only one, he could simply replace it with the spare one. That was why I did for both. I felt much better and left for home.”

"Later in the night, I received a call. From Mat! Who else? He said, “Please come! Help needed! I have two flat tyres!” "

I calmly replied! “I am awfully sorry for I am in Singapore right now! Remember when we met just now? I was on my way to the airport!”

My husband and I pursed our lips in a twisted smile.

“That was it! For a long time, I have always abhorred the way certain people manage things. They tend to forget who they are and where they come from! Not respecting the peoples’ wishes. This is especially so for some who rose in their ranks not because of their capabilities and sound knowledge but because of other things…lobbying is one..I was simply too frustrated. It was largely because I knew Mat very well. I knew his family, his children, his ex-wife! Yes! Ex! Not only did he lie and broke his promises. Moved house, changed his car…worst of all, dumped his old wife for someone new! If he could lie to me, his old friend then what more to others?” said J letting go his floodgates of anger and hurt.

My husband and I were too dumbstruck to speak. We could only exchange glances to each other.

Puteri Salsabila..(Princess Salsabila)..a folk tale..

This is my first attempt to write a story that is purely based upon my own imagination and which has an air and sense of adventure, swaying the words in the malay semi-classical style...

This book is also one of a series on folk tales under PTS Fortuna. It was written to fulfill the call by SifuPTS (Madam Ainon Mohd.) for stories that no longer belittle the minds of readers. This, she felt, is especially so, by the messages left behind after reading the existing Malay classical tales. For example, the story ‘Lebai Malang’, makes fun of religious people who are supposed to be respected in our society, the story ’Bawang Putih Bawang Merah’ does not show an exemplary example of a step mother who should be gracious to a young one who has just lost her own mother..So too are stories originating from the west: ‘Sleeping Beauty’ does not bring the right connotation to young girls. Sleep all you can for eventually you may marry someone rich (meaning one may be lazy, no matter because one may still catch a big fish), without having to put in efforts for the betterment of oneself, equiping oneself and strive for knowledge…

This book is a tale about Princess Salsabila, an intelligent and highly skilled young lady. Despite the odds, together with her faithful friend Tasnim, they clung together in a maze of adventure, full of treachery, suspence, sadness, laughter ..thwarting a vicious attempt by certain quarters to overthrow a kingdom that they were accidentally thrown into..

May this story be beneficial and contribute towards changing the mind-sets of the younger generations and continue to be appreciated for years to come, Insha Allah…Amin. (This book is published in the Malay Language)

Finesse…an art to be acquired and practiced…

“What is all that ruckus?” D’s screams could be heard from upstairs. The next instant, her steps were heard running down the staircase.

I opened my bedroom door, held out my head and said, “Maybe some people just want to share their piece of favourite music?” My lips pursed a smile.

T shook her head and said, “At 2 a.m.? You gotta be joking!”

“Where are you going at this time of night?” I said, realizing that T was putting on her jacket.

“Have got to study. Can’t stay here! Want to spend the night at my friend’s. Away from this noise! See you later!” said she, her fingers twisting the key at the main door.

“You take care now! It is so late!” I said, with a frown on my forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me!” she said, in between her voluptuous lips. The main door rattled as she pulled it close behind her.

I went back to my bedside. Then putting aside my Ph.D thesis which I was trying to read all over and revise while awaiting my viva, I lay in bed with a book instead. “I Coriander” was written on its cover, penned by Sally Gardner.

A delightful piece set amidst medieval times, full of admirable prose. No wonder it garnered the most popular book by British school children in 2005 (Book of the Year Award). The amazing thing about the author was that she was a dyslexic as a child; was often ridiculed at by her friends and called ‘stupid’ by her teachers, thrown out of several schools, labeled unteachable and also sent to maladjusted children. It was only after her parents sent her to a special school that she started to learn how to read at the age of 14. Then gaining a degree with highest honours at a leading London art college and became a highly successful costume designer in film production.

All of a sudden, there was a loud bang on the glass pane, accompanied by the voices of drunkards singing. My hands quickly reached to put out the reading light and I hid under the sleeping bag. My lips, uttering prayers, “Please Allah! Please protect me..”

I occupied the room fronting the main road of the corner unit, double storey terrace house that was rented with T and two other non-British girls (non Muslims too). But we all got on very well indeed! The lower storey façade was all glass windows from ceiling down to nearly to the floor and not grilled like back here in Malaysia. A hard knock and the glass might shatter…

Most weekends would typically be as such! The sound that was heard earlier on was the loud music coming from cars which would sometimes whizz pass the corner. The driver manning the steering sometimes behaving like a competitor in Formula One. Most of the time, young Muslims of Pakistani descent or from the Middle East. Questions were sometimes posed by people in the local white community, “When is the next Muslim Christmas?” referring to the wild parties, liquor binging and swinging by the Muslim youths on the eves of the two auspicious Eids in the Muslim calendar along the sidewalks of the Curry Mile. How ironic!

Sometimes I would feel ashamed and full of disgrace, especially when I chance upon British gentlemen driving their automobiles full of politeness and grace.

How do you explain such a thing like this? It is just beyond comprehension!

I remembered Brother Idris Tawfiq’s words at the question and answer session at the end of his talk a month back then. How befitting it was, as his audience were mostly young Muslim men and women from universities all over Britain and especially from the University of Manchester.

This was what he said, “Muslims should exemplify good examples. As muslim youths staying in the UK, you should be doing this. Then only will the British people be straightening up in their seats to listen to you! And lastly, I would like to say this. There are little things that you can do to help our fellow brothers and sisters who are being subjected to hardship in this world right now. Boycott the goods and products of those who use your money to continue to buy weapons to persecute our muslim brothers and sisters. Please do this and please spread these words. Remember, the power is in your hands! May Allah continue to bless you all! Assalamualaikum!”

Have we asked ourselves these questions? How far have we tried to portray good examples as Muslims? Especially in the spate of recent happenings? Certain quarters amongst us have suddenly become objects of attention…roving eyes and ears all pricked up! The slightest blunder and tongues would start wagging and worse still, the confidence of the masses waning. Have we really done our best to render our opinion, act and react with wisdom? Touching people’s hearts with grace and kindness? Until they realize that Islam is full of glory and its followers are compassionate beings? For these were exemplified by our Rasul (peace be upon him), especially more so during the opening of Makkah. Absolutely no vengeance, no malice. Only gentleness and forgiveness...

And are we prepared to forgo and boycott (as strongly suggested by Brother Idris Tawfiq) certain quarters whose sales of products contribute to (if not in its entirety then maybe some) the destruction, massacre, torture and misery of our fellow men, women and children in other parts of the world including Palestine?

So think!

The road towards peace..victory...is only ONE..

My mind is wandering..back in time. Around this time last year, I was in Roscoe Hall, the University of Manchester, listening to a talk..by Brother Idris Tawfiq; entitled “From the Vatican to Al Azhar”.

This scribbling was what I managed to gather from my listening. And which I circulated amongst my friends in my maling list (did not have the luxury of spending time building my own blog back then..) And so, I would like to share it here with you too!

So here it is…

------------------------------------

Brother Idris Tawfiq opened his delivery with this, “How funny? A long time ago, I was the one sitting there in your place and listening to a lecture. And now, I am standing here in front of you, steadfast youths, eager to learn about Islam. And now, I am about to give you a lecture! Alhamdulillah!”

”I want people to know that Islam is a beautiful religion; pure and natural. A religion of peace, not a religion of war and terror and has got nothing to do with terrorists. Its sweetness and gentle message that was what has touched my heart very deeply. And it will continue to touch other people’s hearts every day. And as Muslims, we should always allow its gentleness and its deeper meanings to touch everybody’s heart and whomsoever that we meet. And that was the reason why I wrote the book, Gardens of Delight. To give a very basic understanding of Islam to a person coming from a western background.

There is an old English saying, “All roads lead to Rome” After reverting to Islam, I have this to say, “All roads lead to Allah!”

As Muslims too, we have nothing to hide and we have nothing to fear. Even though there were times when certain quarters had succeeded in blowing up a helpless old man bound in a wheelchair from up a helicopter. I have nothing to fear. And you have nothing to fear, my brothers and sisters. Because? We believe that Allah is the Most Powerful. Remember that Allah is always in control! Not men! Not the enemies of Islam. And if there are people who have bad intentions against me out here amongst you, then may you sit and listen first? Who knows? Allah might open up your hearts and let you see things that previously you do not and may not be able to see!

I have no regrets nor do I have any intentions of speaking ill of other faiths. More so of the people who shaped me. I am very indebted to the Vatican for the training that I have received during my seminary. How can I forsake them? After all, they were part of me! Part of my life before. They were good to me....

And a Muslim should never feel threatened by goodness. Respect goodness when you see it or receive it! And speak graciously of the people whom you love. And pray so that Allah’s guidance will reach their hearts eventually.

I was not happy with what I was doing. It's not that I was not doing my job well. In fact I was loved by the people and community who came to hear my sermons at the place where I was. .I just had to follow my heart. AND little did I know that Allah has already made plans for me!”

Let me share with you how Allah works things through your heart.

I was poor, but I wanted to get away. I decided to go for a holiday. Wandered around at the travel agencies. I saw adverts and the only holiday I could afford to go to was to Egypt. Stayed in a place which I did not like (gambling, casinos). Then, the next day, I decided to take the next bus to Cairo…AND that was the most extraordinary thing and the most extraordinary week of my life!

I have never met Muslims before in my life…but there…I met Muslims….not violent…not aggressive…but very sweet and gentle people AND very religious. Everywhere I go, I would hear…Assalamualaikum… which when I asked for the translation means…may peace be upon you…and words like Insya Allah, Alhamdulillah… .these marvellous people have religion constantly on their lips and at a drop of a pin….We British people…we do not talk and do not like to talk about religion with any man on the street.

What impressed me most was when I was at a restaurant, having a drink…there was a call for prayer…everybody left for the mosque…leaving me…a perfect stranger…a foreigner….they were entrusting me with a place that was what was supposedly their own possession…their own belonging…

After that, every morning, I used to wake up before sunrise and sit near the window…just to listen for this call for prayer…from one distant mosque to another….I would listen until tears come streaking down my cheeks…All in praise of this Allah….I was fascinated and I DID go into a mosque…but all I could see were simple things…except for the wall-to-wall carpet and intricate tile works on the pillars…. that was it….AND the rows upon rows of people worshiping this ONE GOD, Allah….

A week after that, I returned to London. I was jobless so I had to find something…I became a teacher at a state school and I had to teach about all religions…and one of them is Islam.

I had to learn…I got a book to read about Islam in order to teach it…The more I learnt, the more I liked the things that I taught. When I speak about Muhammad, tears would well up my eyes…I don’t know why…

I was teaching an inner city London school…many Muslim boys…naughty boys…but I know they are good inside, in their hearts…because this boys…they don’t and never swear like the other children...

Ramadhan came and the boys wanted a place to do their solat. And of all the people in the school, the boys approached me…Why? Because my office or room was the only one that was carpeted.

Didn’t I tell you that Allah has made HIS plans? Why is it that, of all the teachers’ rooms in the school, mine was the only room that was carpeted? I cannot answer. But anyway, the headmaster warned me jokingly to say that I had better keep an eye on the boys because who knows what they are up to…they might steal the carpet, he laughingly added…..

Actually when the boys asked my permission to use my room for prayers…I decided to join them in their fast…So….there I sat, marking my books…days went on…Until I ask myself…What were these boys doing?

While I sat there day in and day out…fascinated with these boys, I also prayed with them. During dusk, when they would break their fast, I would too…when they would sit reading their Holy Book…have sweets, fruits, praying through the nights….. and then the night of Lailatul Qadr (I did not know realize what it was then)…I was touched when I saw this beautiful light coming in through the windows…it was so beautiful…didn’t know what it was….or its significance…

I went to Regent’s Park Mosque, London. Listened to what was being said and I liked what was being said.

Finally, I talked to Brother Yusof Islam and asked him, “Could you tell me what you would have to do to be a Muslim?”

To which he answered very simply, “Believe! Believe in ONE god and in Muhammad, HIS messenger.”

“Then?” I asked again.

“Pray five times a day.”

“I know how to do that. In fact I know how to do the prayers and what to recite…I learnt after a week in Egypt!”

“Fast during the month of Ramadhan!”

“I did fast in the last month of Ramadhan with the boys at my school!”

Then Yusof Islam turned to me and said, “Brother! Whom are you trying to fool?”

And then the call for prayer came. I sat there and cried and cried and cried. Everything that he had said has touched my heart very deeply.

Not long after prayers, Yusof Islam asked me,”Repeat after me…La ila ha illallah..," which I did and followed right through the kalimah syahadah…

And then everybody in the mosque embraced me. I have never felt so happy in my life. There was a certain peacefulness in my heart…

I have lived in Cairo since then, writing every Friday on IslamOnline.net,” his voice trailling away...

There was stillness in the air. Not even the sound of a drop of a pin in the hall. Then the silence broke. Someone blew his/her nose with a piece of tissue. Little did I realize that tears were streaming down my cheeks too. Tried to brush them away with the tips of my fingers as fast as I could.....

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

What are we waiting for? How long more and what else is there for us to think?

As clear as crystal….the only road towards peace… is the road to Allah…just like the serenity of greenery and foliage…the tranquility and stillness of night where the full moon shines…lending its silvery touch..

Choose Islam..the way towards peace, harmony…..victory…as promised by Allah in this world as well as in the hereafter…

The power of doing good and kind words...

“Good morning! You’re early!” F greeted me from the reception desk.

“Good morning to you too!” I said, rubbing the soles of my shoes on the doormat of the main lobby while my eyes caught a glimpse of the entrance leading into the building from the glass door.

“Freezin’ out there, ain’t it?” said F again, looking up from her scribbling.

“As usual but I’ve got these!” said I, smiling and nodding my head, waving the pair of gloves which I had just removed from the tips of my fingers.

Across the entrance hung something which caught my attention. And so gingerly, I paced my steps across the shiny floor.

“Princess Diana?” I said, reading the picture on the wall.

“She was a good soul, wasn’t she?” F’s voice came from across the hall.

I turned my head and nodded towards her smiling face. Then, I picked up my heels and headed for the stairs. At the top landing, my fingers punched the security codes at the door and then entered my work place.

I had wanted to see the new place where the Nightingale Centre would be. And so, right after work at midday, I walked further down the road to catch the bus to Wythenshawe, resting at a bench, cosy with greenery lined with lavenders bushes at the centre court. My eyes gazed at huge billboards across the road, announcing the arrival of luxury apartments and buildings soon to replace the old premises (i.e. the Nightingale Centre and its grounds). My heart drooped a bit and I was feeling a little melancholic…

Why was it that Lady Diana was so revered by so many people. Even when she is no longer here with us?

These were my questions which were only answered after attending a talk by Brother Idris Tawfiq who came all the way from Eqypt (where he resides now even though England used to be his home) to share his experience after reverting to Islam. He came to render his talk during 'Understanding Islam', a week long programme organized by students of the Islamic Society of the University of Manchester.

Brother Idris was a specially trained Catholic priest with the Vatican. He was one of the priests (at that time, he had no idea what Islam was) who recited the last rites during the princess's funeral. From his delivery, I could now appreciate the fact that Diana symbolized goodness, sincerity as her hands were always reaching out touching other peoples’ souls. No wonder, the mountains of fragrant wreaths laid at her Kensington grounds and the Buckingham Palace. Not forgetting the bucketful of tears shed and the sea of people during her burial ceremony, who braved the streets of London as her casket passed by.

In this world right now that is ever full of malice, treachery and selfishness, people still want to be associated with purity and goodwill. And so the princess became the symbol that the people of Britain had been looking for. And so, the people connected…they still do..even now, when she’s gone forever...

So! The lesson here is…people appreciate goodness, caring words and soft gentle touch. To touch other people’s hearts and make them change for the better, we need to do just that…to do goodness..