We would act so much better,
If we can recall that not too long ago,
We were nothing
But a little lump
In our mum.
Top picture: From left, my cousin Zaid, my brothers Saiful and Zahurein. Bottom picture: My mother and me, just out of the lump in my mum. No doubt she was relieved. |
So now we are adults. We have been to the University of Life and Hard Knocks, we have eaten our salt and come to a point where we think, "Ah, yes... I have this world all figured out." Perhaps we are already married, with children of our own to care and guide. Oh boy, then we realise we have not actually figured things out properly. We say 'A' but we do 'B', and our growing up children are starting to notice these contradictions.
The problem is not our upbringing. Our parents did the best that they possibly could. But we ourselves have picked up some bad habits and these spiritual illnesses have become ingrained. Perhaps there is no worse illness than the illness of forgetfulness. For forgetfulness precedes ingratitude, and once ingratitude has laid its claws on us... nothing in the world will be enough to satisfy our egos.
So on this wet, wet Sunday in Kuala Lumpur, I am wistfully thinking back. Back to the time when I was a baby, and further back to the days when I was still in my mother, being nourished by her and God, slowly growing my organs and my limbs to make up what I am today. If my mother were to have had a fall, or some overbearing stress, well... Taufiq would no be here today. But that was not meant to be. Some 41 years ago I was born and my father and mother had a third son, and their 2 offspring suddenly found themselves a new kid brother. My brothers took a good look at me, undoubtedly thinking the same thought, "Uh oh. Trouble."
9 years ago my mother passed away, returning to the Creator. But however old I shall be, I shall always be a son to her, and wherever she may be now, I wish I could just pick up the phone and call her...
99. Mum
I cannot pick up the phone
To call her anymore,
Nor knock on her door
Like I used to before.
I cannot see her smile,
Nor sit beside her for awhile,
No more errands to be run,
No more chores to be done,
Nothing but a memory,
Written in a poem
Penned from a wistful parting,
Praised in a heavenly song,
My little something
For my Mum, who gave
Everything to me,
And to whom, Oh Lord,
I shall always belong.
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way
Postscript - Embarrassingly the sinner has made an error. The cousin is actually Shaha. And perhaps even more awkward is the controversy about the baby picture. My cuz Zaid has come out saying that it is actually my auntie Mak Ndak holding me (the baby. Thank God there is no controversy about that.). But it looks like my mum... Ah well. Sisters! I will leave it as a mystery.
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