Friday, June 19, 2009


A part of me, likes it if my boyfriend stays at where he grew up. Everything is simple and modest and I want to raise my children in that kind of environment:

In a neighbourhood where you learn how to handle the jenazah since you were hardly a teenager, where gotong royong is still widely practised, where young boys and their friends go to the mosque and are trained to become Imam and Bilal, where you are surrounded by humble lives that make you hugely grateful even though you are not that rich, where little children get excited over a piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken, where nobody cares what brand of clothes and handbags you are wearing because they have never even heard about it, let alone know how to pronounce it.

I'd like to live there too. Helping out people. Giving out money instead of getting too caught up with work because whatever you have is never enough for you. Presently, we simply have to have more, don't we?

I'm glad that I've experienced both worlds of near extremes.

I know many people who never ride a plane before, people who got excited because it was their first time being on LRT, people whose dream is to go to Sunway Pyramid and buy something from that shopping mall.
Most of these people are nice, hardworking kind. The type who always have a dictionary in one hand, and whenever they watch an English drama, they would pause at certain times to search for the foreign word they've just heard in the dictionary for its translation, and then continue to enjoy the show.
The kind who swaps telur bistik for telur dadar because telur bistik is quite expensive for them.

The other extreme? Family owns a helicopter and bought 7 LV bags at one go.

When you put the two types of people side by side and I ask you, "Who is the more successful?" What will your immediate response be?

In my opinion, a success is a success and cannot be measured by how much you make every month. How shallow can you be if you judge the degree of a success by looking at the brand of the car one is driving.

Sometimes, I just want to tell these young people, "Walaupun kita miskin, tak semestinya kita tak boleh berjaya dan kita bukan orang berjaya."

Some people choose to live humbly like the Prophet. Right now, I choose to be just comfortable.
(Right now lah, in a few hours, I might change my mind and I want to be rich again. Haha. Nafsu.)

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

under one roof.

Sometime last week, Father made me cry and then he cried as well.
After that, he accused Mother for being such a 'lalang' because sometimes she is on my side, sometimes she is on Father's.
My sister received a scolding too because she defended me during the ordeal.

So, there we were in a room, parents and daughters crying.

In the end, I left the place just to avoid further arguing and I didn't want to listen to the hurtful words coming out from Father's mouth, most of them were inaccurate anyway.

I walked and walked untul I saw a bakery shop and asked for a hot chocolate and a pastry to accompany me on a cold night. I thought of how my life will be doomed forever because Father had labeled me as anak derhaka. I came to accept that I will suffer in this life, tapi tak apalah, biar Tuhan balas anak derhaka ni dekat dunia, rather than He saves the punishment masa akhirat.

A text message from Mother was received, "Kamu dekat mana? Baliklah cepat. Jangan ikutkan hati yang marah. Baliklah. Lepas tu, minta maaf walaupun kita tak bersalah." I arrived back half an hour later, took a long shower and cried until I fell asleep.

I was supposed to move in with my parents but after that incident, I am determined to avoid home as much as possible.
Mother knew as I told her the day after.

My reason is simple: We can't live under the same roof. We'll end up fighting, as always.
That's why whenever I call home, I only talk to Mother.

Mother tried to coax me, "You know how your Father is. Takkan tak kenal lagi perangai dia...Dengan Abang kamu pun dia selalu bising, tapi Abang kamu senyap saja, buat tak tahu."

"Ma, mana boleh semua anak-anak Ma perangai sama. Salah seorangnya mesti kena berani bersuara!" And in this family, I am the condemned one, the black sheep, the rebel, the one who is brave enough to stand up for myself.

"Abang kamu pun kadang-kadang bersuara juga. Kadang-kadang dia tak ikut juga kata bapa kamu," Mother said.

We spent a few days later unusually quiet.

I asked my sister to be the middle man but she also gave up. "Biarlah dia. Bila dia tahu dia silap, nanti dia senyaplah," my sister smiled.