This song keeps playing in my mind. Catchy and raw. It fits where I am today:
"Need You"
I know its not your fault, but I'm a locked door
Anytime I'm a mess by someone before
And I wish that I, I could find a key
To unlock all the things that you want us to be
Let me open up and start again, But there's a safe around my heart
I don't know how to let you in, And that's what keeps us apart
And that's why I need time.
I said I need you,
I need you to understand, you, you, you [x2)
Call up the locksmith, Tell him we need him quick
We've got a million keys,
None of them seem to fit
While you're on the phone, call up the clocksmith,
Cuz I could use some time, Even the slightest bit
Let me open up and start again, And break this safe around my heart
I don't know how to let you in, And that's what keeps us apart
And that's why I need time I said I need you I need you to understand, you, you, you [x2]
I'm thinking now's the time,
Maybe its time to go, if I gave you my heart, be gentle,
I'm tired of laying low, lets give the world a show
And when you know, you know,
And when you know, you know, you know And when you know, you know, you know, you know And that's why I need time I said I need you, I need you to understand, you, you, you [x2]
I need you to understand [x4]
I need you [x3]
I need you, you, you
Sunday, February 20, 2011
I Need You
My sister and I attended a tahlil organized for my late maternal grandmother. My parents and aunts were all away so we represented the family. When I arrived, I was amazed at the house full of people.
The attendees were mainly 50-80 years old. I felt very conscious. We made our way to the center of the room. We read Quranic verses. This elder lady shared her book with me when I forgot some of the verses (fail betul). She asked me whether I was ''pelapis'' (successors) to the existing members.
I asked the kind lady how she knew the deceased. She said that they have been friends for more than 20 years. They enjoy coming together to pray for their friends who have parted. Hearing that struck a huge chord with me.
These women band together for the common good and go beyond the call of friendship to bless their friends' soul. May Allah reward them all with Jannah for their good intentions. I revealed that I was the deceased's granddaughter. She then became very happy and showed me around, introduced us to a few people. These ladies recognized us, and yet I could hardly make their faces. I felt bad. I felt like I needed to know these women who supported my grandmother.
In any case, the point of writing is this, while I am counselling couples to proceed to the next step, couples who are separating, couples who contemplate divorce, singles in general, feuding best friends, and feuding colleagues, I begin to think about...me.
Where am I in all the equation?
Where will I be 20 years from now?
Who will remain 30 years from now?
An optimistic at heart, I tend to be passionate with matters close to my heart.
Islam, family, love, friendship, justice, etc.
The attendees were mainly 50-80 years old. I felt very conscious. We made our way to the center of the room. We read Quranic verses. This elder lady shared her book with me when I forgot some of the verses (fail betul). She asked me whether I was ''pelapis'' (successors) to the existing members.
I asked the kind lady how she knew the deceased. She said that they have been friends for more than 20 years. They enjoy coming together to pray for their friends who have parted. Hearing that struck a huge chord with me.
These women band together for the common good and go beyond the call of friendship to bless their friends' soul. May Allah reward them all with Jannah for their good intentions. I revealed that I was the deceased's granddaughter. She then became very happy and showed me around, introduced us to a few people. These ladies recognized us, and yet I could hardly make their faces. I felt bad. I felt like I needed to know these women who supported my grandmother.
In any case, the point of writing is this, while I am counselling couples to proceed to the next step, couples who are separating, couples who contemplate divorce, singles in general, feuding best friends, and feuding colleagues, I begin to think about...me.
Where am I in all the equation?
Where will I be 20 years from now?
Who will remain 30 years from now?
An optimistic at heart, I tend to be passionate with matters close to my heart.
Islam, family, love, friendship, justice, etc.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
The Popularity Contest
If there was a popularity poll, my name would not even make it on the list.
My personality is such that people either love or hate it. More people tend to flock the latter.
I remember when at my late Nyai (maternal grandmother)'s tahlil, our house was full of arwah's families and friends. People travelled as far as Singapore, and friends called to get the address of the house on the haunted hill in the secret Bangi jungle. Women and men were in constant prayer; grieving and praying for arwah's soul. Our close friends also came to support my family at this difficult stage.
As I prayed and offered verses to arwah, I felt very happy that so many people cared and loved her very much. So many people wanted to help her in the afterlife. By offering prayer and verses.
It was truly a miracle that I was home that weekend. Looking back, we were all there when she breathed her last breath. I remember coming home in time to see her conscious but in pain. She saw me, and I smiled at her. As usual, I started cracking jokes to make her laugh. There was a glistening stream of tears on her face. I put my brave face on and continued with my silly banter.
After the night I arrived, my grandmother immediately slipped into a coma. I remember reading Yasin for Nyai day and night on that short trip. I cancelled all plans with my friends so I could be by her side. I remember whispering verses in her ear. I also whispered how much I loved her. According to my sister Ilham, after I read the Yasin to Nyai on Sunday morning, Nyai's eyes opened. Her breathing was haggard. Her eyes shot up, frozen. Something was wrong.
Ilham called everyone to come into the room. My mother started reciting the kalimah shahadah and asked me to call all family members. My hands trembled as I struggled to tell people what was going on. As I dialled numbers, I watched from the door as Nyai struggled with the Angel of Death. The chants grew louder.
Nyai drew her last breath. The whole ''process'' took a few minutes. I heard crying. I watched as everyone grieved, and I walked away. Emotions always came very slowly to me. Slowly but surely, I felt tears trickling on my cheeks. My hands were shaking and still dialing numbers.
I had to be strong for my mother.
It was my first glimpse of the soul leaving the body. Different from my late grandfathers, by the time I arrived, their souls had already departed. With Tok We, I was in Padang, Indonesia when he passed. I was miserable on that day, too.
My sisters and I also learned to bathe the deceased following Islamic traditions and principles. I performed my first jenazah prayer (Not sure what the English word is). The experience was truly humbling.
I have since had thoughts about death, my deeds, and how I want to live my life.
Just a few days before Nyai's passing, Shafiq's younger sister passed away from dengue shock syndrome. We were very supportive of one another. I can relate to how painful dengue can be.
Returning to my post, I realized that in death, you truly know who your real friends are. The people that come far and wide to pray for your soul, or who even far away and continue to pray for your soul in their own homes. The people who speak fondly/badly of you in your presence as they do in your absence. People who run to help when you are in trouble instead of walking away. People who stay even when the world abandons you.
I listened to people sharing stories about my late grandmother, my late grandfather, and about Shafiq's late sister. Their shining contribution. How they lead their life.
The things that can help the soul of the deceased are:
My personality is such that people either love or hate it. More people tend to flock the latter.
I remember when at my late Nyai (maternal grandmother)'s tahlil, our house was full of arwah's families and friends. People travelled as far as Singapore, and friends called to get the address of the house on the haunted hill in the secret Bangi jungle. Women and men were in constant prayer; grieving and praying for arwah's soul. Our close friends also came to support my family at this difficult stage.
As I prayed and offered verses to arwah, I felt very happy that so many people cared and loved her very much. So many people wanted to help her in the afterlife. By offering prayer and verses.
It was truly a miracle that I was home that weekend. Looking back, we were all there when she breathed her last breath. I remember coming home in time to see her conscious but in pain. She saw me, and I smiled at her. As usual, I started cracking jokes to make her laugh. There was a glistening stream of tears on her face. I put my brave face on and continued with my silly banter.
After the night I arrived, my grandmother immediately slipped into a coma. I remember reading Yasin for Nyai day and night on that short trip. I cancelled all plans with my friends so I could be by her side. I remember whispering verses in her ear. I also whispered how much I loved her. According to my sister Ilham, after I read the Yasin to Nyai on Sunday morning, Nyai's eyes opened. Her breathing was haggard. Her eyes shot up, frozen. Something was wrong.
Ilham called everyone to come into the room. My mother started reciting the kalimah shahadah and asked me to call all family members. My hands trembled as I struggled to tell people what was going on. As I dialled numbers, I watched from the door as Nyai struggled with the Angel of Death. The chants grew louder.
Nyai drew her last breath. The whole ''process'' took a few minutes. I heard crying. I watched as everyone grieved, and I walked away. Emotions always came very slowly to me. Slowly but surely, I felt tears trickling on my cheeks. My hands were shaking and still dialing numbers.
I had to be strong for my mother.
It was my first glimpse of the soul leaving the body. Different from my late grandfathers, by the time I arrived, their souls had already departed. With Tok We, I was in Padang, Indonesia when he passed. I was miserable on that day, too.
My sisters and I also learned to bathe the deceased following Islamic traditions and principles. I performed my first jenazah prayer (Not sure what the English word is). The experience was truly humbling.
I have since had thoughts about death, my deeds, and how I want to live my life.
Just a few days before Nyai's passing, Shafiq's younger sister passed away from dengue shock syndrome. We were very supportive of one another. I can relate to how painful dengue can be.
Returning to my post, I realized that in death, you truly know who your real friends are. The people that come far and wide to pray for your soul, or who even far away and continue to pray for your soul in their own homes. The people who speak fondly/badly of you in your presence as they do in your absence. People who run to help when you are in trouble instead of walking away. People who stay even when the world abandons you.
I listened to people sharing stories about my late grandmother, my late grandfather, and about Shafiq's late sister. Their shining contribution. How they lead their life.
The things that can help the soul of the deceased are:
- Constant prayer and verses offered to the deceased
- The deceased's good knowledge/behavior/deeds are taught and simulated/practiced by others
Since then, I suggested to my parents that every time we have our monthly family gatherings, we should also have tahlil for all of the deceased. We hope this tradition is passed on to our children and their offspring.
Hmm...if I pass, I'll be fortunate if there were 10 people at my tahlil.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Discovery on 2 Wheels
One of the many ways to discover Bintulu apart from using a boat and 4WD is by cycling. The above picture is how I looked this morning, and coincidentally, how my nephew looks when he cycles! :-)
After trying out 6.5 km marathon in Dec 2010, I decided to check out cycling. My friends who are avid runners, divers and cyclers, who join triathalons for fun (I'm not joking!) where they have to run, cycle and then swim at the sea, organized a ''family'' trip from Bintulu riverfront to Kampung Jepak (Jepak Village). There was Su, his wife Oshin, their adorable son Irfan, myself, Husni and Juwan.
Since I don't have a bike and the necessary gear, I borrowed it from our mutual friend Naza.
To get to Kg Jepak, we had to take a boat to cross the river. It was quite an experience riding this boat-cum-mini ferry where it transports people, motorcyclists and cyclists.
The road that we took was the trunk road which would lead to the Bintulu airport. We cycled through basically Iban villages where I learned how to identify their long houses and families. Some families were blasting loud music- still celebrating the arrival of 2011. I could see that many Sarawakian families were still poor or hard core poor from the conditions of their long houses.
We saw storks, hornbills, exotic lizards, and ...exotic slugs. The scenery and weather was lovely.
At the 17th km, we stopped for fresh coconut and drank it right from the fruit. Somehow, I managed to get grease on my pants and my sleeves so I looked like a grease monkey.
Overall, we cycled for 34 km in 4 hours including stops, and boat rides.
Going on this cycling trip reverts my thoughts on the Western evangelists who preach Christianity by cycling from longhouse to longhouse in Bintulu. They wear black ties, white shirt and black pants. They are paid generously to spread the word and convert non-Muslims in Sarawak.
Would I cycle to preach Islam?
It's not just about the exercize, but I realize more about the plight of the general Sarawakian and also the Muslim communities.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The Mighty Jungle
1) What would be your first reaction when someone says that they've gained weight?
Asma: I would start eating more to equal their weight.
Correct Answer: Someone has cast black magic on the person.
-------------------------------2) What would be your thoughts if someone you knew ignored you for a whole month, and said that they could not establish contact because their company did not allow them to bring their personal laptops & handphones to their location, that they fell off an offshore platform, broke their leg, then they fell off a helicopter after the platform incident, and worked the next month while still on medical leave?
Asma: I would take the hint that the person has no personal interest in me.
Correct Answer: The person has been witchcrafted by jealous ex-girl friends.
--------------------------------------Summary:
In both situations, when the correct response of the person had to do with black magic, I am quite certain my facial expression was that of McCaulay Culkin's.
I suppose if I gained weight, my natural reaction would be to hold myself accountable and exercize. This is probably the standard response.
Similarly, if people exhibit strong behavior which includes complete avoidance and bizarre excuses, naturally I would see it as a rejection. Then I would move on.
Perhaps everyone else gets the black magic response a lot, but not me. I believe in accountability, and if we are quick to blame the invisible forces of nature, then we are neglecting the truth. We are ignoring the core issue. Furthermore, it's unjust to blame others for an assumption you cannot prove.
Do you remember the case in Malaysia a few years ago where the football player went MIA on the day of his wedding? His family stated that someone cast black magic on him. The groom was silent. His jilted fiance sued for losses. The next few weeks, he married another girl.
Call me negative, but I think he had cold feet. That's normal. Don't call it black magic. Be a man and own up.
In any case, I do accept the person's opinion because we are all entitled to one. I just don't understand how they arrived to that conclusion.
Just sharing. Have you experienced this?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Social Engineering
In December, my department was a given an intern. His name is Jonathan. John hails from Kuching and is completing his final semester at a local university UiTM Sarawak campus.
Ever since my days in Port Dickson, I have always enjoyed having interns. Something about imparting what you learned at the office, and relating that to what you've learned from textbooks and your lecturers excite me. When I can, I also try to relate it back to Islamic concepts.
With John, the experience is two-fold. I find him enthusiastic, confident, sharp and dedicated. I give him manuals, and he ASKS me questions before I get to ask him. On his 3rd day, I have already given him tasks that I would normally give a graduate. At the end of each day, I love having discussions with him about what he has learned, what his observations are, and going through his tasks.
After he has completed his tasks, he says, ''What's next?''
He's so confident and sharp that I am secretly training him to take over my position. Hahaha.
So he follows me around to the control room. I will be letting him perform our annual stock count with the auditors as well as the tank dipping exercizes. He will get a flavor of pre-turnaround and major project exposure. Though it adds more hours to my work, it doesn't feel that way at all.
Thus far I have never asked my interns to make me coffee or the like. I'm not sure why some Malaysian staff in other companies do that. What a waste of talent.
In any case, I celebrate people and talent like Johnathan. I can only hope that he enjoys his internship as much as I have teaching and coaching him.
PS> My other colleagues and line manager love him too!
I'm thinking of getting him a Christmas present. Any suggestions?
Ever since my days in Port Dickson, I have always enjoyed having interns. Something about imparting what you learned at the office, and relating that to what you've learned from textbooks and your lecturers excite me. When I can, I also try to relate it back to Islamic concepts.
With John, the experience is two-fold. I find him enthusiastic, confident, sharp and dedicated. I give him manuals, and he ASKS me questions before I get to ask him. On his 3rd day, I have already given him tasks that I would normally give a graduate. At the end of each day, I love having discussions with him about what he has learned, what his observations are, and going through his tasks.
After he has completed his tasks, he says, ''What's next?''
He's so confident and sharp that I am secretly training him to take over my position. Hahaha.
So he follows me around to the control room. I will be letting him perform our annual stock count with the auditors as well as the tank dipping exercizes. He will get a flavor of pre-turnaround and major project exposure. Though it adds more hours to my work, it doesn't feel that way at all.
Thus far I have never asked my interns to make me coffee or the like. I'm not sure why some Malaysian staff in other companies do that. What a waste of talent.
In any case, I celebrate people and talent like Johnathan. I can only hope that he enjoys his internship as much as I have teaching and coaching him.
PS> My other colleagues and line manager love him too!
I'm thinking of getting him a Christmas present. Any suggestions?
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