There’s a sudden inferno amongst us, while for you this was a flame.

Love is a five story fire as you thought it was, when you came to him. You’ve to understand, love is nothing than just a losing game.

How I wish you never played that way, coz what a mess you’ve made and now everything is in the final frame and you still didn’t get it, love is nothing than a losing game to him.

You think you can played out this like a band, when your love will never losing hand but little did you know this is more than he could stand and now your love is losing hand.

Your self professed so profound till your safety chips all were down. I know you’re a gambling man but love still can losing hand.

Though most of the time I’m rather be blind and lets your love set a fate to resigned.

What a hurtful memories that mar a mind coz this love of yours is a fate to resigned.

Over futile odds and with all the laughed by the gods.

Now I’m standing in the final frame and enjoying the moment, when your love is a losing game after all.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ds0eIVGHQk

Indah sekali cinta bila buai perasaan diluah dalam kata

1. Seluas mana lautan cintamu, tiada ku ragu dalamnya bukti kasihmu!
2. Walau jauh mataku melangkah, padamu jua hatiku berpijak…
3. Lapahlah cintaku moga dahaga rindumu laparnya tiada
4. Biarlah bulan yang ku saksi menyeri di wajahmu yang ku rindu, biarlah jantungmu yang berdegup bernafas rindu di dada ku… akan kerna semua itu dapat aku hidup untuk menyintai dirimu…
5. Jangan cinta diukur pada janji… kerna janji bisa dimungkiri… biar cinta luhur dari hati… kerna hati tidak bisa berganti…
6. Ku racun kasihmu biar mati cinta di hatiku
7. You’re blind is not bcoz your eyes can’t see but your heart just refused to open and see things…
8. Don’t push your love accelerator when you still on reverse gear…. it will move backward for sure
9. Sometimes you hope and wait coz you want to believe it’s something more than nothing
10. Don’t afraid to lose if you wasn’t really winning or even in the race on the first place
11. Tak guna berlari sekiranya alah untuk melangkah walau setapak
12. Berundur setapak beralah cinta untuk beradu rindu berpanjangan
13. Mulakan setapak untuk jauh melangkah… berkongsi cinta untuk kasih ke akhir hayat

…. bersambung

I remembered when I was 6 having my breakfast at tadika - while sat down with my kiddy friend in front of a plate of pinkish mihun and a glass of sunquick -  I glance upon  this curly wording on the top of the wall above the King & Queen photo;

I wonder myself at that time – whose Him?

We knew Him from His name – ﷲ – which stated in Quran almost at every corner of the page of 114 surah.

Haven’t you heard lately about the uproar about the use of His name?

Looking on it from my point of view – I’m not a religious person – the issue here is not about the right use of His name – it’s more about the right meaning of His name to a person. As always – a political and race card always love to take a center stage. And like usual the many of  our ‘Si Tanggang‘ would love to make remarks like this…

Shae Yew, a 20-year-old ethnic Chinese studying in Britain, said he has no intention of returning to Malaysia ”unless I have no other options.”

”I … hated the policies which protected certain races and excluded the others. Over here, at least everyone is equal,” he said. [NY Times]

Back to the topics, are we the right Malaysian to own His name?

Qur’an was revealed to Nabi Muhammad SAW by Jibril – and written down later on by Nabi Muhammad SAW companions in arabic – the mother tongue of the Prophet.

That’s how it’s began for us, Muslim. I don’t know about others….

The fear of loosing His name is so overwhelmed – which some of you neglected to notice this was a battle not just recently but a long ago.

You’ve to know that as a Catholic, a person must preach out about their religious believes – in this context they have to find the best practice to deliver the message across.

There’s no wrong for them to communicate it in Malay either in newsletter or newspaper or risalah for that matter – but does it’s wise to use a word of Malay translation of – ﷲ – as a ‘Allah’ – the God of Islam to preach about the father of him (Jesus).

Lets imagine this – I have a daughter – and she having a promise to her Catholic friend – she write on her friend’s palm – Alif Lam Lam Ha – and her friend would do the same to her in Malay of Allah – and are those – ﷲ  & Allah – the same God?

Nope.

It’s a different God of both religions. Only it’s all depending on how you, as a parent educating your kids about Him.

I don’t have a fear of loosing His name – He will be the same inside my heart with or without a name – but I do fear for others who didn’t knew Him yet.

Coz don’t worry, Alif Lam Lam Ha knew HIS name!

If God had a name what would it be?
And would you call it to his face?
If you were faced with him
In all his glory
What would you ask if you had just one question?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=USR3bX_PtU4

I hope this entry isn’t to late for me to highlight the recent announcement about the end of Teaching Mathematics and Science in English or famously known as PPSMI.

Even the name ‘PPSMI’ is in Malay acronym, so I would rather say it’s well expected the death of PPSMI.

So 5 years has gone, now we’ve move on and starting another chapter of Malaysian Education ‘try & error’ which Bahasa Melayu will be back as the main language of teaching.

What do we learn out of PPSMI?

It’s nothing wrong with teaching both subject in Bahasa Melayu, however there’s nothing bad also if it will continue in English. Policy may change, execution is still the same – budget and allocation money will flow for other different direction.

From now on, teachers in rural area will start smiling because they need no more to screw up his/her mother tongue to explain the complicated process of Photosynthesis which how the plants never give up generating Oxygen for human race even though human always has a way to destroy them.

In Chinese school, one teacher with his/her mother tongue will fluently explaining on how sperms have to fight each other to swim inside the ovary looking for the ovum – just for sake of a better humanity – at the end the human will kill the plant too;

What a cliche..

They said – a main reason of why the Ministry put a stop on PPSMI is the lack of English language skill amongst our teacher;

Excuses or facts?

The solution; more English subject such as literature and grammar will be introduce to improve level of English amongst student, and this without extra schools hours;

Posibble?

How many English teacher will the Ministry sent to all this school and capable to execute the task of changing the tickness of our mother tongue – either Melayu, Cina atau Tamil?

Now or in the next 5 years?

Can the Ministry get all the English mastery ready by 2012?

Some how for me, the new solution is great but it just a solution that’s fluent to shut some mouth; give them (the Language people) some reason to have a new plan for the next 5 years.

So if I’ve a child at age 12 years old (who has been facing 5 years of PPSMI), he/she will finished his/her school in the next 5 years with another round of policy testing;

I wish they would just make PPSMI as it is, and teach the new graduate teacher on how to master their English in the next 2 years instead;

Lucky me, I’ve no kids and ain’t no TPM.. n no Kit Siang too;

This morning I read an article on NY Times about the recent interest on Islam, especially after the wake up Mr Obama speech in Egypt.

The Intersection of Islam, America and Identity

Some how I’m puzzled with the the articles conclusion.

Is like reading Quran without understanding the meaning of each and every word, that’s how US media interpreted and defines the meaning of Islamic Art.

It’s just become a norm of citing it without knowing the ‘muhasabah’ of every sentence;

I remember one time, I posted how American interpreted keffiyeh as a symbol of terrorism, it’s easy to stereotype the religion by the culture of the people who practice it.

Maybe what these artists trying to do is to remove the stereotype, however they are not eliminating stereotype of Islam but more towards their South Asian culture.

The art showed in the articles, A Statue of Liberty dress in a Pakistan wedding is not the right way to said this is the Islamic value  in the eyes of Islamic painter.

I feel so wrong, is like ok – A bride and groom dress in songket is what’s practices in Islam?

To me, an artist interpret religion in their own way of practicing their religious value – some are very conventional and some are very progressive;

There is many other cultures who practice Islam such us Mongolian, Chinese even people in South East Asia – they would paint their Islamic value in their own way (maybe in shape of  a fisherman coming back from sea during sunset/Maghrib) – and it’s not about the struggle of acknowledging they are Muslim.

I think what’s the painter trying to show generally is more towards their community culture who practices Islam and not as what is Islam as religion all about.

What say you?

It’ll make you laugh, it’ll make you understand how a person would feel when they are alone, it’ll also make you wonder what’s the meaning of sadness and it’s truly make you cry when you start to realise you’re alone and full of sadness although you’re always around with laughters.

Talentime is so Yasmin, by end of the movie I feel so Yasmin inside me.

She tell a story in such, she make me feel how sad it’s to be her (creatively). No matter how creative you’re, no matter how good you’re – if you’re alone – you need people around you – to be appreciated the greatness, the pureness and the loveliness of who you’re.

At least you can say to yourself there is nothing wrong of being you.

It’s so complex, I feel stuck in the chaos of the world of rejection.

“I want to have 100 not 97″ – It’s all about imperfection and imperfection bring anger, anger to achieves something that you know you’ll never get it.

“97 is still good..” – you know.

“She chose a decision she think can make her happy even it was imperfect and Monkey, you’ve to chose a decision that make you happy” – hmmm, I wonder what is Monkey represent in the history of Hinduism?

A Yasmin maybe.

Talentime was not a movie about Malaysian, it’s to me, a movie about Yasmin’s struggles and like all her movie’s characters, she succumb to the feeling of alone although she is around by all the laughters, even if most of us go and watch her movie and appreciate the art of it and to her it’s still all just a tale n time.

A short of 2 hours of laugh, alone, sad and cry of Yasmin Ahmad.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=5awZ9sOTA54

Updated: August ’09 – Looking back on this entry after the passing of her, it’s sad to know this would be her last movie – how she had a hard time to be different; – may her soul rest in peace;

Kekadang bila sayang berada di dalam belaian, kita terlupa betapa di sekelipan mata senang sekali ia bisa terlepas dari erat genggaman.

Kenapa perlu dipersoalkan salah siapa, bila kamu hanya tahu sekadar untuk mempermainkan sayang, dan  tidak lebih dari batukan senda gurauan!

Setidaknya, malulah pada keikhlasan dan ketulusan hati.

_wahaza

—

I watch this live last night and was sitting behind her after the performance.

Trust me, even she was shock with his anticipation!

Dalam sibuk sebuah kota yang tidak sebesar mana, berdiri seorang manusia ini di sebalik dinding kaca yang tidak setinggi mana, merenung ke arah sebuah bangunan yang tidak seindah mana, di dalam sebuah toko ilmiah yang tidak sehebat mana.

Di tangan manusia ini, tergenggam sebuah karya seorang manusia itu yang akan pertama kali dibacanya, karya seorang manusia yang cukup besar, tinggi, indah dah hebat sekali.

Akhirnya, manusia itu yang menjadi inspirasi setiap karya manusia yang ini, berangkat untuk bertemu Yang Maha Satu.

Tiada karya yang lain mampu dibaca manusia yang ini selain karya yang diwahyu oleh Yang Maha Besar, Yang Maha Tinggi, Yang Maha Indah dan jua Yang Maha Hebat…

Al-Fatihah.

Arena Wati : 1925 – 2009

Kelip-kelip disangka api, kalau api mana puntungnya, hilang ghaib di sangka mati, kalau mati mana kuburnya…

Bermundaran mandir berbolak hati terasanya perit jiwa ingin menulis nukilan ini.

Jauh dibenak, kisah sebegini harusnya dikunci berkaratan di dasar lautan. Mungkin jua dibiar hanyut jatuh ke jurang dasaran, tiada dipedulikan.

Apakan daya hasrat itu, kekadang bila hati keseorangan, rindu yang menerpa menitis jua air mata.

Walau sukar diterjemah minda, berfikiran pendek sepanjang mana pun, sedosa mana bila seorang adik berkisahan warkah hidup seorang insan bergelar abang…

…walau ia jua tak selama mana.

Kisah bermula apabila seorang ibu kepingan seorang anak lelaki, sudahnya si ibu punya anak sulung jua seorang anak perempuan.

Tetiap malam gembira hatinya menyedari akan dia sedang mengandung zuriat kedua. Berharian, si ibu bercerita pada seisi kampung, anak itu diharap akannya seorang anak lelaki.

Anak lelaki yang bakal mengubah hidup tiga sekeluarga; setidaknya bakal membantu si ayah bercucuk tanam di bendang jua bakal menjadi panduan si adik-adik yang akan tiba di hari yang mendatang.

Si ibu tersenyum walau susah mengandung berat, jerih perit kandung si anak yang itu. Si ibu tahu, kali ini Tuhan bakal mengabulkan doanya.

Walau sering bertelagahan, sependapat tidak, si ibu dengan ibunya, dia tahu ibunya sungguh jua berharap anak perempuannya yang satu itu punya anak lelaki juga. Entah mengapa, si ibu betul-betul kasih pada ibunya walau kekadang dirasakan perit dipaksa si ibu membuat segala kerja.

Sembilan bulan berlalu, hajat si ibu dimakbulkan Tuhan jua…

Lahirlah seorang anak lelaki, tersayang hati si ibu, hitungnya tiada terkira.

Hitam mata, bulat menagih hati kasih. Hitam manis, belai manja didodoi masih.

Sayang si ibu pada si anak lelaki di luar kebiasaan, seakan pendek kekal usianya, tiada bandingan, sekali pun tidak berenggangan walau ke kamar tidur.

Di hari ke tiga puluh, peristiwa berlaku.

Si ibu tidur nyenyak di sisi si anak lelaki, didatanginya asing seorang tua, duduk di sisi si ibu dan berkata, “Nak (anak), datuk datang hendak mengambil anakmu”

Si ibu enggan!

Memanggil jerit nama ibunya. Berlari ibu si ibu merampas si anak lelaki dari tangan si tua.

Dirampas kembali si tua!

Lalu ibu si ibu tersungkur ke dinding bergelutan… si ibu bangun dan menerpa pada si tua, merampas kembali anak kesayangan.

Di pukul kuat bertalu-talu, belakang si tua – sehingga hilang dari igauan. Menangis tiada henti si anak lelaki terkulai ke lantai.

Huh…

Si ibu tersedar, rupanya hanya sekadar mimpi… namun si anak lelaki, terbaring di sisi, sunyi sudah tiada lagi, menjerit tangis tidak henti.

Lebam seluruh badan dipukul si ibu… tiada kesedaran. Maka menangislah si ibu tiada henti, berdosa rasa di segenap air mata menitis.

Sayang si ibu deritanya tak lama, si anak lelaki bertemu Tuhan jua tiada sempat sepurnama. Siksanya tangis tiada henti, dari Isyak ke subuh hingga terang syuruk mencecah maghrib.

Tiada mampu lagi ditahan si ibu.

Si ibu pasrah, pasrah sehingga tiada lagi si anak lelaki dikandungnya pada 4 anak yang mendatang.

Di petang 25hb Disember 1976, hajat si ibu akhirnya termakbul jua – mungkin kerna sudah hilang rasa dosanya. Rupanya si anak lelaki yang ini, tetap jua mengenangkannya pada si anak lelaki yang tiada dapat dibesarkannya.

Di hari si ibu berangkat ke rumah Allah, tiada yang lain tangisannya, teringin sangat meminta ampun dan jua bertemuan walau sekilas, si anak lelaki di kota Kaabah.

Di malam raya, tiada yang lain dipohon si ibu pada anak-anaknya, agar mendoakan si anak lelaki yang tidak sempat melihat adik-adiknya.

Kata si ibu lagi, anak yang bertemu Tuhan di usia yang muda, berseri wajahnya bermain riang di Syurga.

Bakal menanti datang si ibu di pintu Barakah.

Abang, di hari kelahiran ku ini, tiada jua kudoakan panjangnya umurku ini pada Tuhan Yang Esa, bukan kerna dirimu…

Agarku sihat mampu menjaga ibu sehingga akhir hayatnya…

Kerna pabila ibu berangkat ke sana…

Tunggulah ibu di pintu Syurga, walau seribu tahun jua lamanya…

Kerna… adikmu ini belum pasti akhirnya ke sana…

Kisah benar nukilan,

_wahaza extra
25th December 2008

www.youtube.com/watch?v=98GsCUVuFlc

Back in 80′s,  late afternoon – on a day when sun is so bright and shadowed by the trees on the west – we, the whole family would pack a ‘kopi ais‘ in red thermos and ‘biskut majerin‘, an inch rectangle size biscuits which you can easily get from ‘Kedai Runcit‘ – and we all went to ‘Kute‘ till dawn.

‘Kute‘ is an area where we have our sawah padi.

Although it was not our own land, my dad will ‘pawah‘ it with the land owner so this would becomes our main source of income to support us all.

Me and my sisters, we sat under a coconut tree at ‘atas gong‘, a pieces of higher land surround by ‘lelalang‘ bush that always waving non-stop blown by the strong wind.

Nearby, there is a rambutan tree, which my dad at one time fall from it and had to go hospital for a minor injury checkup.

At that time, two of my younger brother still very young to play around with me. Looking below the land, there are yellowing crops and ready to be cut and later to be stack together. You could catch ‘belalang kuning‘ that hopping from one stack to another stack of ‘padi‘.

My mum would put a red color ‘kain batik sarung‘ on top of her head to avoid the heat of the sun and she would asking my other sister to help her cut the crops with the ‘sabit‘ knife.

Not far from her, my dad would pick those stack of paddy leaf which have been cut off and smash it on a wooden box which have four ‘tiang‘ built by bamboo and warp around with a white yellowish ‘guni baja‘ and inside it there is a small wooden stair.

I would run on the ‘batas-batas‘ between the ‘relung‘ and jumping across when I see the gap that use to ‘alirkan‘ a water from the main ‘parit air‘.

I would lay on top of the stack of crop which has been ‘ketam‘ looking up on the blue sky…

Wishing someday, a day that I would be better person, a better man and a loveable person.

And now, does ‘kiranya pedih hati riang‘ when you’re crave to love someone…

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qbS20BVR7RA

lihatlah kemesraan
sawahku bersama hidupku
lihatlah kemesraan
padiku bersama hatiku

dicelah lumpur yang ku langkah
bersama peluh yang mengalir
kulerai padi yang tersikat
kiranya pedih hati riang

lihatlah keindahan awan
mencelah langit biru
lihatlah keindahan
kampung halaman gunung-ganang

biarkan kepedihan
kita hadapi dan tempuhi
biarkan kepedihan
inilah riwayat petani

pada Ilahi doa restu
lindungilah kami selalu
senyum menyimpul rahsia hati
inilah riwayat petani

I would remember running away from my mum during Maghrib time with her loud shrinking voice chasing me to go upstair to take shower after playing a ‘lempar koo‘ game with my cousin under the machang tree next to grandma place.

And I would go to a perigi to take a naked buffalo shower surround by the bamboo wall and very rustic zink door.

December like this, a wind would shake the rubber tree next to the house and you can here the POP sound from the ‘buah getah‘ drop on the ground; and the huge rumpun bamboo behind the house scratching between each other and the sound I always thought a ‘hantu kopek lanjut‘ laughing – like what mum said to scared me off;

Then, I would hear my sister playing this song in her room and my mum would bang on the door.

“Gharik ni, Yah! Tubik lah nyo, goren ike…” and she would slow it down the volume but I would still hear it from the hole everywhere on the wall.

“batinku menjerit namun tiada suara…”

I miss my old time… are we insane to just let our heart falling for someone?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGdXziYWoXA

Ku terpegun di jendela bila hujan gerimis senja

Tak ku lihat di hadapan ku diri ku dalam lamunan
Tiada lain yang ku bayangkan hanyalah peristiwa itu
Dosa-dosa yang ku lakukan tetap mengganggu batin

Tanya pada diri apakah ini semua cobaan belaka
Kesal ku tak berakhir menduga keyakinan ku kepadanya
Batin ku menjerit namun tiada suara

Aku cuba menyatukan semua harapan yang berkecai
Tuhan ku bimbingkanlah diri ku agar kesal ku hilang
Gerimis sungguh mencengkam tiada dapat ku tahan lagi
Sungguh-sungguh tak ku menduka hingga jadi begini

I’ve been trying to wrote this for a few days but I was let down by many of dark flashback and my own personal ego.

Sometimes it’s difficult for any of us to share especially on our blog (and the rest of the world) the truth about ourselves.

We wrote something nice to amuse people, some funny entries to bring a smile on their face or something sad to grab a little sympathy. 

But are we really sharing what readers want to read or just to please ourselves?

So, does after writing those kind of entry, are we just sit back and leave or we do a little glance on our life, counting what right or wrong like a light house shinning through a calm sea looking for a tsunami that might crossing fast across the ocean. 

Cause, when a tsunami would hit us; we may just break, hurt, angry and sad for not making a right decision to change ourselves.

What I’m sharing with you, I would say one of my darkest secret; It haunt me since it happen – it might have happen to you, to your brother, to your son – it may look like no big deal but it does shape a human like me for the rest of my life.

Over the weekend, I received a little not so good news from someone from my past and the news slowly kind started digging this secret I’ve buried since I left my school.

And it was since I left my hometown and make a living in Kuala Lumpur.

Not many people knows where I’m from if they first met me, I would just straight away wash out my slang to avoid any question raised by them where do I schooling prior to go to university.

Why didn’t I’m proud of it? Huh, hard to say. 

After I left my school, even my mum do wonder why every time Hari Raya, I would just stay home and never go out with my school mates. I guess I just get rid of them rather than facing the issues and live with it. 

Year by year, I’ve become invisible to others (my school friends); My look change drastically, my mother tongue slowly becomes hidden and I just being my new me for rest of my post university years. 

Why does it become so challenging for me to accept what I’m previously?

This is how it’s happen…

Back in Form 2, I was one of the smaller sizes (body) in my class; I was not that smart – it was the 3rd class standard and when you’re in this classes, there are many bullies!

From the big size to the most nasty one, they would just pick you to do all sort of thing. You try your best to blend in with your classmate. Even you’ve this ‘Cirik’ nickname, a mockery of a small-black looking size animal call ‘cengkerik’ or crickets.

To make it matter worse, this was all boys’ school. What this boy do when they want tease you coz no girl around?

They would steal your money, they steal your shirt (we’re living in a hostel), they would ask you to do their homework and worse they strip you NAKED!

Am I a shame writing this? Noooh… let it out…

One day, I was, believe me, so damn naive – I only know – the thing I have is only to use for wiwi – never thought for other thing.

Stop there! This is long time ago – when there is no TV (my home got no TV till I was Form 3), no Internet, I didn’t read any Newspaper – no newspaper distribution comes to my hometown, let alone mix around with youngster – so I was like damn!

After that thing happen, I’ve become a different person. My anger towards myself was so high up there. I’ve started questioning my life living in kampung.

Worse, I feel ashamed at that person. He was teasing me for the whole years and a couple year till I leave school!

Aside, I’ve transform the anger and frustration towards changing myself and it was a successful attempt and it shapes me for what I’m now.

I never scared to conquer the world, cause I know the far I go the lesser chances I would met him ever again.

Ever again, rephrase that!

However in the last few days… It was supposedly a happy victory for me. If I was a Non-Muslim I should pop-up a champagne to celebrate my life!

A victory supposedly I wish for a long time ago.

Instead I was sitting on my sajadah, cheating my not so fluent of surah Yassin.

Cause, that person have gone to see the One… the Mighty God;

… and I was here never had chance to give my forgiveness to him ever again.

….. (my hand is shaking) ….

Today, I ask Allah for forgiveness to forgive him for the thing he have done to me… and I know it was too little too late.

I’m not justifying either this manifestation is a Quran based thing to do or just a Malay custom code of conduct but if we didn’t act fast some part of us will be gone soon.

As the Prophet [s] said, ‘To whomsoever a child is born, and he wants to perform the sacrifice of aqiqa on behalf of it, he should sacrifice two goats for a boy and one goat for a girl.’

However, aqiqa is not obligatory, but is recommended. In the same way it is not necessary to sacrifice two goats for a male child.

Later on, the Akikah feast have to be distributed to the poor people around the village. 

According to Sunnah, the Prophet (s) also has done the same thing on the seventh day of his grandchild, Hasan & Husin.

On the day, a newborn children have to be shaved his/her head and also must be given a name.

Every hair shaved from the newborn children’s head have to be measured using the value of a silver.

Islam encourage us to shave the baby hair till it’s bald so all the dirtiness from the mother’s womb would be clean and its may grows a new healthy hair.

Also on this seventh day, narrated by Ayesha [ra] that ‘people used to bring their newborn children to the Prophet, and he would bless them and perform the ceremony of tahnik.

Tahnik is a manifestations of the deep devotion by applying on its palate, the pulp of a date etc. The date or any sweet thing should be chewed to make it easier for the baby to swallow.

From this we learn that when a child is born in a Muslim home, it should be taken to a god-fearing person to receive his blessings and have the tahnik done.

It’s one of the Sunnah.

To our ignorance it’s slowly could becomes extinct.

During last Hari Raya, I visited my aunty and she just got a new grandchild.

After Friday prayer, a group of villagers come with the Tok Imam to perform a Tahnik to this newborn child.

Sadly I realised both father and mother of the child was so ignorance and naives and didn’t know what to do.

Didn’t know that they have to shaved their baby head, didn’t know why it has to be done and even didn’t know how to cited marhaban too.

I’m totally blank!

I think our generation only knows how makes babies; either by banging on their bed or not, during day or night, or either inside or out;

Worse, back or front!

Possibly, only expert in shouting, tubik doh! (I’m cumming!). 

After the baby comes out, just let our parents do all the rest.

However, what would happen when they all gone and goes under the surface of the earth, what would happen when all the old folks around us gone?

Whose going to say you should do this and shouldn’t do that?

I’m speechless…

And most of us in every rest of the day ONLY think about the pleasure of having a f***ing good sex!

Coming back to your hometown sometimes bring all the memories back to where its belong; your heart!

Suddenly all the things I see bring all my memories when I was young and naive; I hope when you back to your hometown, a simple things like this would bring yours too.

A wau bulan hanging on the wall

A rusty zinc awning at the backyard

Kids coloring books on the verandah

A fish net hanging under the verandah waiting for the next raining season

Kiddy bikes park in front of the house

A colorful sandal on the wooden stairs

A gate lock with an old box rope

An orchid pots hanging from the verandah ceiling

An old saji on top of zinc roof

A couple of flower pots hanging at the nearby bamboo cage

A view of wooden floor from below of the house

A rain water inside an old paint container

A hen nesting her eggs under the house

A chicken shit on top of piece of wood inside the bamboo cage

The following conversation happen inside my car between 3 young kids (all under 12) after a yong-tau-fu supper.

Kids 1 : “Pokse! Pokse! Airbag ni kalu dio tubik, bole wak ma’suk balik, ko?”
Kids 2 : “Mano bule!”
Kids 1 : “Kheto Latio abah, airbag dio tok tubik lagi. Kheto Sentra pokse ni, tubik dok ko?”
Kids 2 : “Pokse keno teqha langga tia lapu, hahaha”

Suddenly there was a roadblock upfront.

Kids 3 : “Cepat, cepat, cepat paka sit belt! Ado polih nuh”
Kids 2 : “Smalea ado qho’ blok jugok sini”
Kids 3 : “Abah ghoyak ko Mama ado ore’ mati kena bunoh”
Kids 1 : “Bilo?”
Kids 2 : “Malea!”

There is an old Camry was park next to a patrol car.

Kids 1 : “Camry…”
Kids 2 : “Keto dia lagi maha lagi ko dengan keta Latio?”
Kids 1 : “Keja’ ”

A little pause.

Kids 1 : “Camry lamo ni tapi maha lagi…”
Kids 3 : “Hok ni ado airbag jugok ko?”

A policemen flash a light towards them!

Policemen 1 : “Budo’-budo’ ni maghi mano ni?”
Me : “Tubik make”
Kids 1 : “Nok balik qhumoh Tok!”
Policemen 2 : “Jale! Jale!”

There is plenty of small talk I heard between them likes about which fireworks is more exciting and a coworker also a friend to their mothers have to be transfered to Johor that’s make me chuckle.

However its start to make me wonder if kids do notices a little thing more than you expected and what will they think about this nasty thing and many other things currently happening to our society.

May God be with us all during the last few days of Ramadhan!