Warm Muharram Greetings...

Warm Muharram Greetings 1430 everyone! May our hearts be furnished with deeper faith, spurring us to persevere in the right path towards Allah…Amin… Dear brothers and sisters, please pray with me…

"Oh Allah! Please protect our sisters and brothers in the never ending siege and cruelty imposed upon them, all over the world, especially the plight of our brethren in Palestine….Amin Ya Rabbul Alamin…."

Let us do something to help and lessen their burdens. Trim the bits of luxury that we may be indulging in, and channel them generously towards relief efforts.

Federation of Islamic Medical Associations:

Asraf Jedaar (Jordan)

ajedar@iafrica.com

FIMA Relief Coordinator

Musa Mohd. Nordin (Dr.) (Malaysia)

musamn@gmail.com

FIMA President

Banking details:

JORDAN ISLAMIC BANK
Shmeisani Branch - AmmanAccount
#46327
Beneficiary: Jordan Society for Islamic Medical Sciences.
Contact: Prof Aly Mishal: 00962795990054
E-mail: info@islamic- hospital.org
Swift Code: JIBAJOAM
Full No.: (235860 - 235821) (001) 001 0046327

Boycott Israeli products (Click here for updates)

Amidst the dunes….

“So! You’ll be doing the sand dune bashing?” said the young man sitting beside the Pakistani driver behind the wheel.

The four wheel drive we were in, was purring momentarily at the campsite, the wheels of which were let loose of the air several kilometers at the entrance to the desert. The coldness (18 degrees Celsius) was pinching my skin.

“The what bashing?” I asked, taken by surprised.

“You know! Riding in this, across the dunes,” said he, glancing to my other half, sitting directly behind him.

“Whatever!” I said, still quite confused and throwing a frown to my hubbie too, who was busy setting his camcorder.

“My wife and the two boys are not! That’s why they’re getting off here. But I think you should give it a try,” he continued.

“Okay!” said I, tilting my head, looking out of the window. Yonder, small shrubs thrived on the undulating sands, the colours of which reminded me of demerara sugar.

The driver of the four wheel was blowing his hands, smiling gleefully.

And then…it all started. The 4 x 4 vehicle, cranked its way through the wobbly dunes. My tummy felt a bit quizzy as the machine headed towards the main road. A few kilometers, then it careened to a stop, beside a fenced up area, overlooking the desert.

From afar, we could see the horizon and the beautiful, rolling sand dunes…

“There are plastic bags just at your sides. Seat belts on? All set and ready? Here we go!” said the driver.

Just then, the engines roared. And, immediately, I remembered! The look! The cheeky grin and the bright shine in the eyes of our host (Lil, my junior at TKC– sweet wifey of PP, my hubby’s schoolmate, we spent some time last week at their superbly serene abode, at their invitation) when she sent us off, outside her abode.

“Enjoy yourself!” said Lil, her eyes twinkling a naughty smile.

When I lifted myself into the Toyoto Landcruiser that came to pick us up, little did I know then, what was in store for us!

The desert safari… The journey had only just begun…

We were all smiles and giggles at the start. After a few minutes, everyone was absolutely quiet. My eyes were rolling. My stomach in tune with the twists and turns. My head getting giddier than ever as my fingers held on tight to the seat belt. The tough 4x4 continued to spur on, up the slopes and then speeding down, careering here and there, sometimes slipping sideways, bringing bursts of sands, splashing onto the glass windows. My heart was beating as fast as the wheels of the ‘beast’ we were in.

“Are you all right? Your fingers are so cold!” said my beloved, his fingers clasping mine.

I nodded, my eyes narrowing. The ride seemed like forever. My heart was screaming, “Oh! When will all this end?”

At the final moments of the half hour ride, I was already burping and trying hard to hold down whatever that was slowly creeping up my throat. My hands were already clutching the little piece of blue plastic bag, at the seat pocket just in front of me.

Just then, “Right! We stop here for a while. Watch the sunset. And you may take some pictures,” said the driver.

I heaved a sigh of relief. But my head was really heavy and I was trying to hold myself steady when we got down.

“Boy! That was some ride! I was beginning to feel dreadful!” said the other passenger.

“So do I!” said I, trying to keep my balance on the soft, fine sand.

The sun was setting. The most magnificent orange…Glory be to God! We had our pictures taken, my beloved and I. With the help of the other passenger. How lovely!

Then, we proceeded back to the camp. I was wincing again when the ride started to get rough…At last! We reached the camp. Certainly felt better after sipping some herbal tea.

My husband came running, saying, “Here! Rub this! On your forehead and nose.”

“Where did you get this?” I asked, puzzled, looking at the small familiar bottle of 'minyak cap kapak' (ointment made from eucalyptus oil).

“At the stall over there. 5 dirhams!” he smiled. I smiled in return.

Dinner was fabulous, dimly lit lights, under a clear, starry sky …How romantic! A moment to be cherished…..

Thank you PP and Lil! Thank you for having us there. Your hospitality and kindness will always remain in our hearts….May Allah always bless you and the entire family…Amin.

On track....

There is something about trains. Full of nostalgia. Reminds me of moments of my childhood. Days when we get to travel as a family during the school holidays.

Back then, my father could not even afford to buy a motorbike, so public transport was the only option. The night before, I would lay in bed, trying hard to fall asleep. Then, I would be up very early, heart pumping with excitement. Happy and looking forward to the whole idea that I will be on the ferry, across from Penang to the mainland (even though we had to brave through and squeeze our way in between the crowds to get on the bus from home to the ferry terminal) then to be on the train! I can still remember vividly, the familiar mamak selling his curry puffs, wailing “Karipap! Pap! Pap!” (the sizes of which were bigger than ordinary) and carrying his rattan weaved basket all along the carriages. Yum! Yum!

Mum would also be lugging around her own extraordinarily sized rattan basket, full of things. Mum and dad had always inculcated in us the habit of being frugal in our ways. I remembered, there were 2 flasks, one containing piping hot coffee; the other, plain warm water. Plastic cups, plates, teaspoons, hard-boiled eggs, complete with a bottle of soya sauce to go with the eggs, a tiffin carrier containing rice and home cooked meals, usually of the dry kind, for fear of spilling when the journey gets a little bit too rough. Plus a lot of other knick-knacks. We would take the train down to Kuala Lumpur once a year, during the school holidays and would stay at our cousin’s place, which used to be one of the squarter houses at Kampung Kerinci, taking bath using water from the well, washing cloths, pots and utensils using rain water which was collected on a daily basis among other things. I wonder now, why it was, we did not complain and took life as it was. I wonder too whether the children of this era would be able to go through the same, without frets and frowns? While I was at boarding school in Seremban, we used the train to get home and back to school for the holidays. The sweet encounters I have shared in my book, “Seungu Lavendar” (Malay language readers, please click here and here for reviews). Those were happy days…simple days…Ah! For the simple pleasures of life…

So, one morning, while on my way to campus, I found myself at the railway crossing. Red lights blinking and the sound of the bell never-ending…A train! It was coming! So, I could not resist taking these pictures… Passengers in the train smiling, waving….Motorists, and the people waiting patiently by the crossing, grinning back too! Watching the train go by….What a sight!

Sadly too, this crossing would soon be gone forever. For, a flyover has been planned and work has started. These moments captured, would remain in my album. And….in my heart…

Trains remind me of another thing… The journey of our life. Trains always move. And to move, they need to be on a track, without which, they would be stranded or even worse, perish! Likewise, in charting our journey through life, we need to always be on a certain track, so we may not go astray…For Muslims, our track is the syariah….No compromise...No questions asked...

We must strive to always be on the correct track. May God’s guidance be there always, in our journey in life…towards our ultimate destination….Amin…

PS. Dr. Ez’s beloved wife has passed away in the evening of Eidul Adha. May Allah reward her good deeds, wash away all her wrongdoings and place her in line with those whom He loves…Amin. My condolences too to the souls who perished in the recent upheavals at Bukit Antarabangsa. Al Fatihah…

Small kindness (2)...

“Late again!” I scowled at myself in the mirror, my fingers deftly pulling my hijab.

“Why is there only 1 bathroom for a 5 bedroom house? Beats me!” I said half screaming.

Mornings are such a pain. If you have stayed in this part of the world before, you would agree with me. I have never understood the fact that you need to share 1 bathroom with so many other occupants. Especially if you have housemates who take all the time in the world when they are using it!

I was sprinting again that morning. Made a dash across the busy road. At the bus stop, the 111 bus was still waiting.

“Alhamdulillah!” I said, and then began to understand why.

“Come on now!” wailed a silver haired English man who was holding on to the bus; one leg on the bus, while the other on the ground, his hands waving frantically towards me.

The other passengers had taken their seats. And so, I bolted my last few strides.

“Thank you!” I said, panting in between my breaths, to the old man and the driver of the bus, as soon as my feet touched the floor of the bus.

“Welcomed! You have helped me before! Now, it’s my turn!” said the elderly man, walking past me to his seat at the back of the bus.

I sat there, confused, trying to remember his face, but to no avail. I raised my feet as soon as we approached the traffic light at Withington Hospital. Just then, the old man was behind me, waiting to get off too.

“Thank you!” said he to the driver and then turning his head towards me, he said, “See you later!”

Just then, I remembered. A few months back…

I was busy at work at the Nightingale Centre, making copies of documents at the photocopying room. Suddenly, there was pounding on the glass door across the corridor.

“Please anyone! Please open this door for me? I forgot my security pass!” was the voice of a man, garbed in blue.

And so, I rushed to answer his cries, turning the bolt that could only be opened from the inside.

“Sorry to interrupt your work. Thank you very much! It’s so cold out there!” he said, rubbing both his hands. His knuckles had turned white.

“It is alright! You’re welcomed!” I said, getting back to my work.

The elderly man, the janitor. Without his blue uniform, I could not recognize him…

“Is reward of the goodness (of deeds) anything but the goodness (as a result)? Then which of the powers of your Lord you would deny?” ~ (Al Quran, Ar Rahman:60-61)

To all readers...

Eid Mubarak! May Allah guide us all to live and to uphold the true spirit of sacrifice...Amin