wishful drink

She is a woman in her early sixties.

Haughty, without apology. She made sure that her house is clean, spic and span, her kitchen immaculate and she will have no excuse for her (now grand)children’s sloppiness. She believes in discipline, as her years enduring the toughest nursing career had shaped her.

I was having lunch with her when I brought the bowl of rice to her plate, while she demanded her glass of water She wasn’t even beginning to eat when she scowled. “You know my son Joe will never forget my drink.”

“How do you expect me to eat if there’s no drink?”

“Do you want me to choke?”  

I felt clumsy . And inefficient.

She continued to  fuss about it, threatening to not eat at all. I had no notion of hinting to her that I was just a visitor, just finalizing some legal documents and still I was subjected to her wrath. But I said nothing and brought her glass of water. Then she began telling me years of good upbringing had weaved her Joe to become a gentleman that he is, forever putting her as his first priority. I sat, listening and slowly munching my lunch. It felt like a stale bread.

Then dinner came.

Her four children joined us for dinner. Being a guest, and with that I afforded myself with not doing anything, while her children busied themselves manning the dining room. They helped themselves with curry, salads and then they sat down for dinner. We were beginning to eat when the old lady raised her voice the first time in the evening “Where’s my glass of water?”-

No one remembered her. Not even Joe.

Joe studied his mother, hesitantly motioned her sister to pass the jug of water to the matriarch. She sat still, unknowing of what to do with her own expectation of her children. Still she had to take her own glass from the kitchen cabinet.

I saw the hurt in her eye, for her belief had shattered right before us. Before the guest for the evening, especially.

Read more...

Lief story

Little Lief.

Many wonder where did I get Hanzalah’s screen name from. It originated from Dutch, meaning Lovable/Beloved. But honestly, I got it from an online store (gasp!). 

Don’t be put off just yet, the story how an online store inspired me is as memorable that I nickname our Mr. H in that way. 

I’d like to believe that I’m an easy going Mother.

So simple that Little Lief had not been wearing socks since he was 1 m.o, to much annoyance to traditional mothers. Its not that I have my own (anti-angin) theory, but its because at 1 months young, Hanzalah had outgrown most of his stockings.  His weight doubled to 6kg, so it left me with sudden overwhelmingly short of socks.

Of course, the ‘aunties’ bunch were not happy. Its not like I intend to.

[Dalam hati rasa..eh anak aku dok Malaysia kan. Why do I need to overbundle him. Tengok anak Areej yang dok uk OK je takdok alas kaki). But to assuage them all, since I’m an inexperienced mother so better to listen to any possible passable logic. So I thought, I’ll buy him Shoes for him to wear during the outings (where the ‘aunties’ bunch can be met). So ada la jugak alas kaki kan.

So I online shopped and came across this gorgeous semi boots:

Lief! Stoer Brand. Comel kot.

Everything is ok, the boots are still in stock and payment for the Dutch flown boots are about to be made. But Angie from mybabypitstop, the online store owner called me personally, and asked me if I’m a muslim.

Of course, I told her.

So she told me, she’s not selling the boots to me.

……………

“because the boot has pig-skin lining”.

Siapa kata..China(wo)man pikir untung saja? Angie could have just sold the boots, and our family wouldn’t have known et all, but thinking that it would somehow detriment our belief in any way, Angie did not. She could have made her sale that day, but she did not. She respects our belief despite 'its all business'.

[Although she offered me different shoes afterwards, I didn’t buy. Picky BUT easygoing mother. But Amy’s still cool about me not buying anything]

Honest business people. Just like the Prophetic tradition.

Read more...

wear 'em

Probably I should not.

But I always cringe to people who wear 'their sins' on their skin, like a scarlet letter. Negative energies, (which I find it hard to control),should stay within oneself. Unless you let it out, it won’t go a-bombing. That is why I love to see people wearing their wedding band, it signifies family, bond and love. It’s a whole lot different matter if you see people with self-inflicted scar ‘down with capitalism’. (Please, no hate mails).  It just goes on to show differences, hate and, negativity. But most of the time I just put a sock in my mouth, to avoid any nasty exchange of ideologies. (Well, there’s various ways to channel your frustration. Wearing ‘em is not- IMHO).

That's why when I pointed to my opponent's left arm, with a tattoo inscribing a date – I assumed it was dated for a happy, joyous moment in his life. “Wedding huh?” ice breaker my foot.

gambar adalah hiasan. Google of course.

He said, “No, it’s the worst day of my life”.

I should keep my trap shut but instead there goes Afzanic blurting “why would you want to be reminded of something that makes you sad?”.

Okay preachy me.

He simply retorted with a kind voice “so that it can remind me  that I wouldn’t be that monster anymore”.

“You see, before that date, I couldn’t even talk to anyone without raising hell”

Here I am. Hot in court. With a 6 footer opponent with yakuza tattoos and I’m poking into his personal life. But still he told me he got himself and his family into so many trouble because of his ways. He sought fulfillment through quick, wrong ways. And the tattoo-ed date was the end of his evil ways. He didn’t tell me what happened on that fateful day, but I guess it made him whoever he is today.

To tell you the truth, he had been a wonderful opponent (which is quite rare, coming from the legal field). Soft spoken and always cooperative.

I guess I could make amend with modern day scarlet letter wearers.

Just that it’s not for me.

Read more...

one jealous boy

Our daily ritual after Maghrib consist of him playing  and I will be subdued from the day’s work with a book in hand. So for 15 minutes, it was suppose to be an easy affair; him with the toys, I with the books. 

Now not anymore.

The boy gets jealous of the book(s) and will attempt to snatch it away, crying, and will try to nestle his head onto mine so I will stop reading the book. He glued his button nose to my mouth, disabling any contact whatsoever with the poor book while his stumpy hand tears away the book from me.

So read the book to him you say.

But try reading 1941 to him, and try sounding silly when you read part of Blitzkrieg to the little boy, who will look to you longingly, like a lost love regained. Sungguh tidak kena.

Before he snatches the book and kick it out of sight (anyway).

So I stopped doing that. I will have to surrender and put down the book, completely stop reading the book.

And after did I stop, he will run back to his toys and continue to play out of his toy box, completely ignoring the mother.

Until I reach for the book, and up the tantrum circle.

This had been going on for about a week now and I have not been able to read (except when he is fast asleep, which by then, I will be too sleepy to do anything too)

Hanzalah 7 – Ibu  0.

‘Ibu cannot read book. Ibu must not look at something else. Ibu must look adoringly ONLY to me’ the jealous-of-the-book boy say, triumphant from his daily conquer of the Mother.

Read more...

micro cuts



Just because you can't see it, it does not mean it's not there.

                   



Read more...

life is not fair

just take a good look at ivanka.

she's brilliant, a genius and has regal presence.

I think this is this the second time I posted on her.

Getting jittery on today's appeal. Oh God, don't let me look like a dork.

Read more...

HKA 1

Hanzalah.

Dia yang kini bergigi 7,  merangkak laju berkuak lentang, dengan senyuman semanis madu, kini genap setahun hari ini.

Setahun lepas, dalam dakapan ayah, ibu sedang bertarung nyawa menyambutmu.

Kelahiran yang dinantikan, yang dipermudahkan dan diringankan Allah, dengan seorang bayi lelaki seberat 3 kilo dan panjang 54 sm.

Dan kami namakan dia Hanzalah, sempena nama seorang panglima dan sahabat nabi.

Nama yang kami angan-angankan untuk anak pertama kami sejak mula bertemu.

Peribadi ringkas yang berani, dan dia yang tegas memilih antara dua cinta. Dia yang merasakan tertipu dengan dirinya sampaikan dikatakan dirinya munafik, walhal dirinya pantas merasa insaf dan dekat dengan TuhanNya. Itulah dia, Hanzalah ibnu Ar Rabi r.a

 

Dan harapan kami buat Hanzalah ibnu Khalis Amali, semoga terus menjadi seorang yang soleh dan ikhlas.

Semoga hatinya cepat menyerap kebaikan dan kebenaran. InshaAllah.

Semoga dijauhkan dari sifat dengki, bisikan syaitan, perkara yang buruk dan perbuatan jahat manusia. Nauzubillah.

Setiap anak itu dilahirkan dalam fitrahnya sesuci kain putih.

Semoga Allah membimbing Ayah dan Ibu selalu dalam mencorakkan peribadi muslim kepada dirimu wahai anakku. Ameen.

Selamat hari jadi, sayang.

Sanah Helwah, Hanzalah habibi.

Wahai belahan dedua ayah dan ibu.

Read more...

wordless wednesday

:) 

Read more...

without fear or favour

“Islam is the only religion that retains its weltanschauung; nonetheless I wouldn’t like to live in an islamic state.”


I remember having this conversation, feeling the awkward fusion of both defensive and combative. He was the only son to a wealthy Indian family, who read both medicine and law (locally and in the UK), and had almost be deserted by the family when he married a French alien. Surely his view, at least as Malaysian, mattered. He was no longer professing any belief. So it did not matter to me if his opinion on religion may be discounted by ungodly sentiment, I was not going to impose him my belief, and he wasn’t forcing me accept his independent view whatsoever.

Otherwise I would have lectured him the peaceful tenets of our religion, as the achievement of an Islamic state (perfectly. That state bordering India need not apply) would make him and other Malaysians happy contented citizens.

But the real problem rests within the scope of understanding the religion by Muslims themselves. Oft they see themselves as untouchables. And even more so the ones with religious knowledge will use it to back up things to condone sinful things. One must always see that every step they take has consequences. And Allah knows everything.

Besides, religiously, if you ask me, nowadays it can longer can be restricted in academic discussion but has more political effect. To his echoing statement, I remember looking at his wizened gaze and told him “I understand”.

Word of caution: I do not accept what he said, but I merely understand.
I understand his fear.
Fear of the unknown. Things that he had not understood. Things that he could see as a threat.

I remember walking down the streets of Prague, Czechoslovakia as a university student, I was busy (attempting to) sketch moleskin's of buildings and snapping my life away with the camera on the loop. I didn’t realise I had entered into a discreet synagogue when suddenly a man wanted to snatch the camera away and had began to chase me , shouting, with several other men. Surely I can relate of not calling such place as home.

But if anyone, not asking the Rabbi, any reasonable man, had told me off, that it was a zoned-out aucshtung do not enter religious process is taking place, I wouldn’t have wandered far and will not fear for life. Heck, I didn’t even realise it was a synagogue in the first place!

Don’t think any real practicing Jew would want me to feel that way.
Vice versa, but how come they see a 20 year old female as a threat?

It all has to do with politics. How the worldview has shaped who is dangerous, what to fear, who to hate. I remember a friend of mine (Muslim Malaysian female) who studied at Harvard who had came unprepared for a Halloween party. She was donning the usual scarf and blouse and a backpack. So when she was asked who she might be for Halloween costume, she jokingly said “a suicide bomber”. Later she related the story to me, I was surprise not many could see it a joke.

This is not merely asking you or anyone else to sell your belief out to others just so we all can live happily ever after. You see, living happily ever after, is an ongoing process. When no compromise can be measured with so many differences, can we atleast acknowledge it and accept that the differences are what we are? But we shall not use our upperhand (who says we have it anyway?) to suppress it. It looks ugly.

Like how ugly France looks (at least to me lah)  when the Jumuah are banned from praying on the streets. Demographically, the influx of melting pots to France rests no wonder that Muslims community are quite large, but sadly, they are not respected. Their rights to profess and practice Islam beautifully and peacefully is denied. If you have Muslim French friends, ask them how they feel, and I’m sure they wished for a more acceptable authority.

Islam is a religion of peace.

Peaceful as it should be you could be rest assured that you can let guards down in the protection of Allah, when it comes with dealing with other beliefs. It is not by being forceful or overzealous or over righteousness can Islam be reflected beautifully on others, but through gentle, hikmah and wisdom.

Just like how the Prophet (sallahu alahi wasalam) did.

Read more...

tasmanian mountains

how I wish I could stay and never return.

 Oh his next hols is so faraway :-(

Read more...

angels on my right and wrong.

I have (only) one (thank God) elder brother.

He who had set the tone of the household with his comical and/or annoying gimmicks, the rebel who have an ACCA under his belt just for the sake of why not? The mathematician and music maverick whom I can not be, no matter how hard I tried, these two disciplines remains as his personal forte. Apart from that, both of us share the same insight for arts and philosophy, and will not fight about literature and politics. The good son, the beloved lazy bum who intentionally get lost during travel just to explore the unfamiliar and sudden beauties of the travel, who truly adores our mother and my child. Will soon be getting married to a wonderful lady.


 I have a twin sister.
Who seems to be living out my dream. Who knows exactly how I feel and still will give me a tight slap about it nonetheless. She’s an army officer, a doctor, a nomad vagabond, a paratrooper, a skydiver, etc etc. Who is always surrounded by equally crazy friends who would always have plans to do something, somewhere, with her. She’s volatile, funny and the custodian of my deepest secrets. She who gives and gives and gives and gives and expects nothing in return. A passionate doctor who squabbles when one ask for a free mc, but understands anyway that a human need is not justifiable only on paper, and a medical encyclopedia who know nuts about football or where Tanjung Karang is(but will go to cluelessly, just for the sake of why not).

My two siblings, my two (why nots?) 6th September brother and sister.

Zainal and Zakiah.

Happy birthday.

Lucky to have both of you, right and wrong, me stuck in the middle.

Without you, I can not be who I am now.

Thank you.

all pictures taken during their visit to Manipal. :)

Read more...

cabang-cabang cinta

Abg Romi and his beautiful family (Nur, after so long, baru dapat jumpa!)  came to our humble abode. Love begets love. That's what I learn from the short but sweet visit. He wrote about our pride n' joy here.

Kekuatan dan ketabahan hati Nur dapat dirasai. Sejuk hati memandang Nada dan Marwa. Semoga menjadi anak soleh yang mendoakan ayah dan umi, ya?

Read more...

19 hari

Masuk minggu ketiga puasa, berat badan saya susut hampir 2kg. Berpuasa sambil menyusukan anak memang sangat-sangat mencabar. Tiba waktu petang, kepala saya terasa kosong, seakan-akan diisi angin dan tekak menjadi sangat kering. Seolah-olah ini kali pertama saya belajar berpuasa. Very draining.


Pengalaman puasa saya bermula semasa saya berumur 7 tahun. Saya tak pasti bagaimana saya boleh berpuasa penuh, yang nyata tiada metod khusus yang diajar oleh mak abah.Tidak pernah juga kami digula-gulakan dengan juadah iftar, cuma seingat saya, mak abah ‘mengajak’ kami berpuasa. Diajak bangun sahur. Tak nak bangun, sudah.

Tapi mengingatkan ketika itu saya yang masih kecil, agak lucu apabali  pemandu kami yang baik hati, Auntie Gan sering merasa kesian kepada kami adik beradik, terutama saya dan Zakiah yang masih kecil dan selalu berhenti di gerai minuman tebu untuk membelikan  air. Katanya ‘jangan risau, auntie dah Tanya semua orang. Budak-budak tak payah puasa maa. Kesian lu orang, nah auntie belanja”. Tapi seakan-akan sudah berjanji pada mak,air tebu yang sejuk tu hanya dipegang, direnung dan  tiba dirumah, air disimpan terus dalam peti sejuk. (Ada jugak 2-3 kali saya jenguk air tebu, nak make sure isinya tak berkurangan) hehe.

(Dengan Auntie Gan juga saya belajar untuk bermain dengan anjing. Saya nak sangat betulkan persepsi Melayu presumed to be Muslim kat Malaysia ni, menyayangi anjing bukan sama dengan menghina Nabi-tajuk Majalah Mestika yang agak tolol. Main, dan basuh dengan tanah. Tak susah. Islam tak susah. )

Tapi kali pertama saya dikenalkan dengan ibadah puasa, sebenarnya semasa saya di Tadika Husna, taski kelolaan Jim Petaling (yang menemukan saya dengan Aliza dan anak tuan punya tadika, Maryam Aizuddin yang seringkali dibuli sebab saiznya yang kiutmiut. Hahaha jahat.). Pun masa tu kami tidak diajar puasa dengan paksaan, Cuma dijanjikan manis syurga. Percayalah, ceritakan keindahan syurga pada kanak-kanak, memang berkesan. Akan saya praktikkan pada Hanzalah, insyaAllah.

p.s : perasan tak, waktu puasa ni, ramai betul kaum adam yang tiba-tiba menjadi sungguh ‘fatherly’? keluar dari McDonalds’ dengan Happy Meal berbondong-bondong, waktu lunch hour. Wow. Muda-muda pun dah ada 3-4 anak. Bukan seorang, tapi satu waktu tu ada 5-6 orang lelaki Melayu presumed to be Muslims yang buat macam tu.

Read more...

satanic steps

After two weeks of Ramadhan (or 28 years, 4 months and 23 days to be exact) I finally concede that evil can outsmart us in the most spectacular ways, so subtle you will not realise that it was wrong at the first instance.


Bit by bit, it whispers the things you're almost familiar with, never would it startle you with something that you're not comfortable with.
Until it snowballs into something bigger and you're in so much mess when you realise you shouldn't have started it. But by then, it's already almost, too late.


Like an addiction. If you ask the hardcore drug hippies, they'll tell you the same thing.
Alcohols. Prostitution. Telling lies. Crimes. Zoning out of Allah's mercy.
It all started with a simple 'alah, sikit je ni- takde pape pun ni..'




How it can be disguised even after full prayers, full hijab and clean intentions.
Remember how easy it was for satan to entice numbers of 'Abids, just when they started to think 'I can always repent later?, for Allah is Merciful"


Like a game of chess, but how many pawns do you have to sacrifice in losing the battle for you to win the war?
Now I know better.


Be sure to make your move, your move.

Hassan Al-Basri (radiyAllahu' anh) identified 6 ways that the heart can become corrupted:1} Committing sins in the hope of repenting,2} Seeking knowledge and not applying it,3} Practice without sincerity,4} Eating the sustenance of Allah without appreciating Him,5} Not being pleased with the decree of Allah, 6} Burying the dead without learning from them.

Read more...

cause and effect

In my fifth year of legal practice, I noticed somehow everything I encounter is translated to Legal semantics, cause and effect, almost mathematically, always automatically. 


Like when I'm reminded to recent personal event, I would start listing all the Latin maxims:
Persona non grata. Damnatio memoriae .Ex turpi causa non oritur actio which I loosely translate it as niat tidak menghalalkan cara. 


Like how I see the recent London riots had nothing to do with the effectual incident (as you might already see, pro BN fanbois are suddenly posting youtubes on the aftermath of the riot, and heh aren't they all quite happy to see the bashing of our student?), but rather I see it as a working class uprising.


Stop- before any of you fanbois say 'that's why we need to curb these demonstrations, its not safe etc etc'.


What you don't see is, the cause of the riot.
For a nation that respects the rule of law, it still has a wide disparity of social classes, and this alone can never guarantee permanent peace. It's an ongoing process which needs to be checked and re-checked. Always. But not in Malaysia, IMHO rule of law only exist in the scribbles of my legal notes while I was studying Constitution.And think these people would rather wait until the gap between the rich and the poor becomes as wide as heaven, than to correct it.


Sigh. 


Anyway I wish I can be objective in (subconsciously) automated legal thinking while working too. Or when I really need to.
Now my brain plays dead on me while I frantically searching for cases to be referred for next Monday's submission. Even with Lexis, everything seems to be AWOL. 


Cause: rollercoaster emotions, and a huge wave of love for my men~ Khalis n Hanz.
Effect: neverending daydreaming. Haiyohhhh I need to get back to my subs la wey!


Alhamdulillah ya Allah for my family.

Read more...

1 ramadhan

Brought Little Leif for his first Tarawikh experience.

Suffice to say, I think everyone at the last row would remember (while praying) a little boy crawling across the hall as fast as he could away from the defocused mother. Haih. I could almost hear some trying not to giggle.

I even left before the Tarawikh started, after successfully chasing and yanking the babbling baby from meddling with other people's sejadah.
He was trying to match the Imam's prayers.

And the score is: Hanzalah 1- Ibu 0.



Hanzo, you're so grounded.

:)

Missing the funny  Leif now, starting this month he's stationed with a new nanny- no more nanny Macu who's heading back to campus life. Thank you Macu and ayacik for your care :')


Ramadhan Mubarak! May we attain the pleasure of seeking of His pleasure in this holy month :)

Read more...

Still hating Mondays

2 years ago.

Why I love Digi. (family post paid)

Wife:    eh bill bulan lepas dah dapat tau

Hubster: alamak. Mungkin bill bulan ni ter-banyak sikit. Abang call mak abah banyak.

Wife: ala, mak abah abang kan Bil melambung pun tak pe. Yang tak bolehnya awek.

Hubster: dengan awek abang, calls kan free

Air-cond

while travelling back to Ipoh, banyak betul iklan Air Cond.

Wife: do you know,  the correct translation of aircon is pendingin hawa, not penghawa dingin?

Hubster: hm. sebab perempuan (hawa) memang cold kot?

Arundhati Roy (God Of Small Things)

Hubster: Nah, I’m done with this book

Wife: How is it? Do you like it?

Hubster: Maybe you could tell me. Abang tak faham.

Wife: eh how could you go on and on finishing the book without understanding it?

Hubster: that’s just like loving a woman.

Read more...

about breastfeeding

This is my opinion about breastfeeding (sorry, this is not a post where I tell you what brand I use for the breastpumps,how I stow it in the freezer, what freezer I use, with pictures etc etc).

1. Break the Market. Please.
Google-lically speaking, there are one or two prevalent brands of breastpumps that really helps breastfeeding.   Its too bad no more marketing brains are trying to break this monopoly, as breastpumps are unnecessarily expensive. Some say its an investment, long term savings instead of buying tins of formula milk. But when you ask working mothers with a monthly household income of RM2000, the lowest range of pump are priced at RM700, they'll say "breastfeeding is for the rich, because we can't afford the breastpump, the freezer, the ebm storage and whatnots". And you said breasfeeding is au naturel. It should be. But it doesn't help when the ones that really encourages milk production are pricey.

You know what I think: I think this is all is a marketing scam. My friend, who is a specialist doctor, who has to work 8-12 hours a day, sometimes for 48 hours when she's on call, managed to breastfed her daughter until the kid is almost 2. And yet she used only Manual Hand Breastpump. There you go. All you need is your own determination. Don't fall in the trap of the marketing bubble.

2. Alienation.
And to those mothers who do not breastfeed, don't feel bad. I'm sure you have your own reasons why. If breastfeeding mothers/relatives/friends pressure you, just shoo them away. They know nuts about you and you kid. There's nothing honourable in them being able to breastfeed, just to belittle others who don't.

If they tell you that you're still fat because you don't breastfeed, tell them its vice versa, without exercise the babyfats are still going to be there to stay. Haha!

Read more...

love, unconditional

At first, he was adamant not to pay for his sister’s bail.

As a school teacher, he felt the amount of RM3,000.00 was too much for a man like him to fork out just to let his sister out from the prison, a repeat drug offender, nonetheless her first time in jail.

When our eyes met, he told me maybe its best for her, to stay in jail this one time, for her to learn her lesson, this time. It wasn’t easy for him to care for her sister’s daughter, and he had his own share of mouths to feed. And it wasn’t easy to fend his sister’s addiction, he was tired of his own hope that maybe she’ll change.

As I accompanied the family out of the prison, the client told me her next trial date is fixed on 1^st July. Teary eyed, her brother told her he simply cannot afford to pay for her. She cried. Her 6 year old daughter, cried without any sound.

Just today I received a call from the brother. He told me, he’ll find a way to pay.

When I asked him what made him change his mind, he related to me the same day we went to prison, the daughter, with her grubby hands brought to him the calendar and showed to him “Mummy out from prison, 1 July is  Friday, paklong”.

That was more than enough reason. When he felt a child missing her own mother.

Love, unconditional. A child's love.

Read more...

luaran

Scenario 1:

Was eating at a vegetarian restaurant with Karen. We were suggested by the friendly waitress to order "vegetarian chicken", "vegetarian beef" etc -its egg/tofu based with artificial flavours. Karen, who is a devout Buddhist, said "ni macam topeng. muka saja hijau tapi hati masih merah".

Scenario 2:
At a mamak restaurant with Mr K, I pointed to him rows of Barbican (drinks that imitatae the taste of alcoholic drinks) which is oxymoronically labelled as "halal beer". He said "buat pe. Macam hipokrit".

Why do people try to create alternatives for the things already forbidden?
Macam nak menipu diri sendiri, luar je nak menunjukkan diri tu baik (dengan ikut yang halal), tapi hati masih teringin nak merasa (yang haram).

Kalau hati hijau, luar pun akan hijau juga.
Tapi bukan sebaliknya.

Would you? (tofu perisa babi) hmm.

Read more...

cloud nine

A small bookstore.

Corner with windows, pebbled driveway.

The original first editions on top of the bookshelves.

Mockingbird. Critus. Nineteen weeks. Graham Greenes.

And posters of civic duties (and favourite rock star albums).

Stereo playing softly O Fortuna! sometimes Yellow Submarine.

Books of dissent, comedy, debates, history and beauty.

Nothing on vampires, or loving blood sucking creature that reminds you of bats.

Collectors’ item, The Simpsons included and graphic novels.

Small tables to serve coffee, tea and toast.

One or two customer sitting down,  savouring tuna sandwich.

Students photostating friend’s homework, grandma buying recipes.

And little Hanz, playing, down at the counter, choo choo train.

Read more...

Zoe Jane is 19

She's already 19.

Half of her is ready for the future, half is still deep rooted onto her past, her home.

Home where she laughs, where she seldom cries, and lives her life, showered by those who loves her the most. Sometime she leave home (and comes back often), to become whatever she is destined to be, may her steps be graced and blessed by God Almighty, all the same out there where danger lurks, people seemed to be in line to hurt her, where other strangers couldn't care less.

But she;ll be bringing our prayers for her to be safe, be protected and blessed.

This time around, she's a year older, no longer a small toddler, but a full grown beautiful maiden (who is now a baby sitter, no longer the baby sister).

My Zoe Jane.

Happy 19th birthday.

Read more...

july 14!

Baru nak happy sebab esok hari minggu.

Tapi Mr K tak jadi balik. Ada exam surgery next week.

(Good luck to you, dear.)

Terus rasa down.

Takpelah. Esok hari yang happy sebab dah plan nak buat birthday celebration untuk Zetty, ikut stail favourite kami iaitu picnic sambil main game. (Ala tapi Mr K selalu yang paling excited main board game. Takde dia tak berapa best).

Down balik.

Takpelah. Tibe-tibe dapat sms dari babysitter aka birthday girl Hanz, katanya baby dah pesta poo-poo kat rumah. I’ve never been happier to see human faeces until I became a mother. Alhamdulillah after 3 days of no poo. Yay! Siap beli cherries and pears lagi, nak buat puree untuk Hanzalah makan time picnic esok. Fun and fibrous, senang nak poo. Tula.. hari-hari makan bubur nasi, mana taknya sembelit cinonet ibu tu. (When I actually initially plan to give him rice alternate days). Dasar pemalas. Tapi sebenarnya puree lagi senang. Kukus je. Takpun mash. dahla buat fresh hari2, so storage tak jadi hal ape. Tapi bubur nasi + kentang + ikan tenggiri favourite Hanzalah. Nak buat cemana, perut melayu, ikut Ayah dia.. kalau ikut ibu dia.. hari2 makan puree pun takpe. Sigh.

Apesal la dok ingat kat boyfriend yang kesian kena pulun tu..biarla dia..huhu..


Tengah layan blues, ternampak burung gagak berak kat kepala orang. Orang tu menggelabah. Haha sakan gelak. Tapi orang-orang tua kata, orang yg kena tahi burung tu lucky. Sigh. Kenapa kau tak yakyak kat aku wahai gagak? even birds don't like me. (Err biarkan. Tengah blues semua pun ntahapahapa). Sedih balik.

Tibe-tibe officemate datang bagi training pass Liverpool.

Hehe. 

J

What sadness? 

Read more...

a comma. not a dot.

(It’s a bug. Once you start, you can’t stop. I’ve been blogging for 3 days now. Gila poyo).

And like I true kaypohchi, I started to check on friends’ blogs too. For convenience, I’ll check those who are on my RSS tabs. And there’s always this unspeakable feeling when I see J’s Nafastari blog. The last time he blogged was 4 months ago and as you might know already, he died sometime ago from a car accident. He is survived by his wife and two daughters.

The very notion of someone you knew passed away will always make you think about how frail human lives are. How temporary everything is. Life and death, separated by a blink.

Even when I start writing this, I still stumble with the is/was. Too late to write, but lest be forgotten this is a small reminder that life is just a vessel for the afterworld.

J was a coursemate at our alma mater. We were never close much while we were both reading law, but while he was stationed in Pakistan and I was in India, we chatted regularly on the ym. We always compared ‘notes’ on living abroad, and when Embun was born, I congratulated him, he said “Nur makin cantik kan Af?”.

That’s how I will remember him. A loving husband and father.

Now when I look at my little universe, and I realized that everything I own is on loan. Nothing is forever. Nothing is mine. Not even my own breath.

 Thing is, I’m a little bit whiney when it comes about having to be so far away from the husband. I love weekends when he comes home, but I hate Sundays when he’ll head back South. I keep on telling myself that I’ll endure this for a year plus, and then that’s it. I dread when Monday starts, when I have to be on my own again. I have great respect for J's wife who is now caring for their daughters on her own, and my experience seems so trivial compared to hers.

What I need to learn is to be grateful~ distance is not a separation, even if it is, nothing is forever.

Read more...

of obedient wives and few good men

After months of underutilized syariah practice, and yonks of years since I last laughed hard at memorizing the atomic structure of Faraid formulas, today I had the chance of honing the almost inexistent skills.

Private law is not a favourite niche of mine. Its too emotional, and as a woman (and a wife and a daughter) I tend to get too biased for my own good. But I’m not a hardened feminist, as I believe not ALL equality can or shall be achieved. One to its own!

But what about the exclusive classes offered by the Obedient Wives’ Club?

You know, the recent hullabaloo nonsense saying that if wives are more ‘creative’ on bed, then their men won’t go straying away to find other ladies. Up to a point they did say something about being a ‘whore on the bed’.

Since when (yes the Obedient Wives Club is headed by Muslim women) marriage is predominantly dominated only by affairs of the bedroom? Statistic shows that breakdowns of marriage are caused more by economic factors, socio-economics and life arrangements.

I don’t think it helps if wives have to be dirty, or feel dirty, or be looked as one for marriage to last. 

I think its all about mutual respect. What remains in the bedroom, stays in it. But when men stray outside to another, it has got nothing to do with his wife, it him who’s having the problem.

Alamak. Biased lagi. Haha baru nak ngutuk the obedient wives club.

Read more...

bills bills bills

Just another day. Drafting. Pleadings. Work.

I have been accused of neglecting this dear blog of mine, without defence, but I'm reminded to a friend who told me the hardest feeling to describe is happiness.

Bila hati kacau, I tend to write more.
So yes, am no longer brooding.
Happy.


Happiness is defined in a 9kg healthy baby, with 6 tooth and a penchant for adventure.
That's all I ask for.

On a hindsight, I miss my mischievous curious rebellious me. The one that fuelled the writer/blogger in me, to write with abandon.To write in almost, teenage angst but in ofcourse responsible rage (I don't write too personal post here. He he. Misteri itu manis. PDA itu yucky)

That, or I'm to miserably busy with work. Not too bad, but I hate chasing clients for bills. I hate keeping up with the costcentre I'm running about for. Hence this post. :)

Read more...

lunchtime news

Was having lunch (for the second time. Thanks boss) while reading today’s paper. Some thief died in a red-pursuit by the victim’s car. With his remaining testis (obviously being torn off) clamped on the car, his body is thrown into a drain. 

Not a good way to die. No. but it’s not for us either to say ‘padan muka’. Have respect for the dead, while you’re still alive.

That statement, almost made me choke my (second time) lunch. Not the testicular incident. Nope.

Read more...

goodbye, girl

Now just go already.

Helloo Suarez!

Read more...

roti basi

I like the number 23.
My firstborn was born on 23 September, and I had said yes to his father, almost six years ago, on a 23 December.

If you ask me, what I've learnt about the roller-coaster ride of 6 years together, I'd say the most important thing in a relationship is compassion.
Not even loyalty.

Without compassion such thing as wonderful as love would lead the two of you into an obsessive, jealousy-driven relationship. You'd say no to your partner's need to breathe (from you. hey, remember s/he is an individual, not your conjoined twin)  Pastu pakat pakai baju sedondon tapi bila gaduh tak ingat akhirat. Please lah. So tingkatan 2 punya cinta.

Couple t-shirt. So lame. rofl

And without compassion, loyalty will not just tumble into its place. No siree.
Let me give you a comparison:

Bayangkan menunggu kawan kau yang contact kau time dia nak promote bisnes MLM je. Pastu lambat 4 jam. Panas tak panas. Walaupun lepas tu dia belanja kau greentea starbucks, kau still rasa nak pelangkung dia, kan? No way you'll let that happen again.

Bezakan kalau korang tunggu untuk cinta hati kau? sanggup berhujan berpanas, kan?
Cinta hati punya pasal. No hal lah.

(At the spur of the moment lah. Time mengorat lautan berapi pun sanggup redah)

But, when you wait for your cinta hati for the next 40 years come rain or 'shine, that's what I call compassion.
Compassion is what keepin' the love alive y'all.

N.b. I need to be more compassionate. Porfavour.

Lek2. A woman's imagination is so wired up ad infinitum.
I wrote this because of number 23.
Because today, on 29th January 2011, I almost ate an expired loaf of bread, dated 23 January.

Huargh I need help. Mekeke.

Read more...

coming soon

I don't want to retire when my child is already an adult.

I want to see him grow before my own eyes.
Friends suggested "so open up your own Firm"

To which, as i reflected to the bosses I work(ed) with, being a boss will take your time even more than being an employee (And I hate to micro-manage the office) so I said:

"SoHo, anyone?"

Imagine cooking for lunch, while waiting for clients, in the office part of the home.
~ah so romantic

Read more...

dexter

Cried watching (3 year old) Dexter.


And to this.

to all dexters, little Sudanese kids..and to the abandoned children of the world.
May angels' wings protect your journey, for there is a piece of heaven in each of your smile.

Read more...