THE OWNER OF GODLY GRACE - and the passing of a good servant

The Owner of the Godly Grace

I know there is a life after death,

Because our conversation has not ended,

Day in and day out, it is still the same,

I know there is love after death,

Because I can feel you looking to me,

Day in and day out, it is still the same,

I know there is a Prophethood after death,

Day in and day out, it is still the same,
This has been the Mawlana's constant refrain to me, 

I know there is a God after death,

For this true love cannot be contained in one short life,

Day in and day out, eternity rolls out,

And you are still the same to me,

Only that you look much, much better

And wherever you may be, it is a good place to be.

How I wish I will be there with you

When the Owner of Godly Grace

Sends His invitation,

To your side

Be my

Place.

.................

On 7th of May 2014, as I was driving home from work, I received a WhatsApp message from my friend, Sheik Munim Bajrai. Although always praying for the best, I would lie if I said I did not anticipate the possibility. After all, Mawlana Shaykh Nazim was 92 years old, and has been in the ICU for ten days.

This would be a good place to explain who and what the Mawlana was and is. But where do I begin? For I am pretty sure I don't know him enough to say what ought to be said, nor describe what is often times, an indescribable feeling when you are drawn to his presence, whether physically or otherwise.

If you think I am confounded because to talk of the Mawlana is to enter some existentialist transcendental discourse about cosmic consciousness, then may I be permitted to correct you.

All that the Mawlana has ever showed to me and his many followers was love. Love, kindness, mercy and a guidance towards the best master of such love, kindness, mercy and guidance - that being the Seal of the Prophets, Sayyidina Muhammad (saws). And through the miraculous love and obedience of the Prophet (saws), towards the Endless Oceans of Mercy of Allah (swt).

Mawlana's teaching has not ended. Nor his loving concern for his naughty, mischievous mureeds (students). Death, just like when we were born from the womb of our beloved mother, is only the beginning...

And in particular, I came from the womb of this woman, my late mother.
And just as it happens, today marks the 12th year of her passing.
al fatiha...

And thank God, it is!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

- Notrumi , 20th  May 2014.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE PROMISE - I was there... and I saw it all.

THE PROMISE

Before the doctor gathered you into his arms, I was there and I saw it all,
When you opened your eyes for the first time, I was there and I saw it all,
When your mother embraced you for the first time, I was there and I saw it all,
When your father picked you up from your first fall, I was there and I saw it all,

When you cried as your mother left you in school for the first time, I was there and I saw it all,
When you looked at the world as a child, confused and a little scared, I was there and I saw it all,
When you turned teenager and do not know of your place in the world, I was there and I saw it all,
When you left school and took that first tentative steps to manhood, I was there and I saw it all,
When you traveled to a foreign land, seeking knowledge and experience, I was there and I saw it all,
When you returned to your delighted mother, I was there and I saw it all,
When you gave your heart away to only have it broken, I was there and I saw it all,
In your marriage and the birth of your son, I was there and I saw it all,
Through your divorce and the uncertainty that it brought, I was there and I saw it all,
And when you found love in the most unlikely places, I was there and I saw it all,
When you found yourself in the gathering of Sufis, I was there and I saw it all,

When you first kissed the hand and embraced the Masters, I was there and I saw it all,
In all your ups and downs, your valleys and peaks, I was there and I saw it all,
Through everything that you have experienced, many of which you have forgotten,

I was there and I saw it all.

But you did not see Me at all.

And now you speak to Me of love.

How can you, when you have not even seen Me?

In all My sweetness, in all My beauty, in all My mercy for you?

In all My forgiveness and My love for you?

Your yearning for Me accounts as small compared to My yearning for you,

And every second, every moment's delay of our meeting I accept because as your Lord,
I know what is the best way for you, I know what is the end for you...

Lo, how can you imagine I would desire any hurt upon you,
That I would desire anything but the best that I can give,
And as your Lord, the best for Me
Has no limits,

Just like My love for you.

..............................................

We reflect and we project reality upon the canvas of this world. So reflect upon God in the most sweetest and endearing thoughts, and the world will be the sweetest and most endearing to you. This is not escapism but realism, for each moment of hopeful thoughts and prayers, each iota of I-will-never-give-up courage and fortitude that you manifest, each second of things-will-get-better that springs in the well of your heart, is yet another step to God, with God.

How can things NOT get better, when we are passing through this captioned life of ours to the one end that is for all of us, to God in His Divine Presence?

This is how my Prophet's teaching (s.a.w.s.) is taught to me, though I am the worst student and know nothing really, except for the moment that I am present. Everything else, in the past and in the future is belief.

May we learn to believe, to be better believers in the Promise.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Gift of a Child - a quiet introspection of a life enriched by children

91. I, Wobot

Like a computer,

Every hour, divine programs

Are downloaded from the

Website in the Sky.

But it is when their elders,

Mess about with their codes,

That children become confused,

And they hang, refusing to reboot;

Ctrl, Alt, Del!

Ctrl, Alt, Del!

.....................

My Son. This coming Monday, Mikhail is going to the U.S. of A. He will be going with his mother Gina and his Uncle Herman to visit his family on the other side of the world. He will be gone for more than 2 weeks. That is a very long time for me to not have his company.

Mika is gonna make a side visit to 'the happiest place on earth'. But for parents,
isn't wherever their children are, the happiest place on earth already?

My Friend's Son. My colleague Alexander was telling me that his son Eby has also become closer to him. Eby is only 4 years old but he is starting to hang out more with his father, now even refusing to be bathed by his mother. Alex asked, "Why Eby don't want to bath with Mummy?" to which the precocious kid replied, "Eby shy. Mummy girl, Eby boy." He he he. Advance kid.

Err... you bought this game for your 4-year old son?

R-Rated. A month ago, Alex showed me the Grand Theft Auto computer game that he bought online. He said he bought it 'for Eby'. I have played GTA myself a long time ago, and knew it was an R-Rated game with violence, street crimes, gangsters, sex, 'whores' and 'the hood'. So I said, "Err, don't you think the game is a little too mature for Eby?" But Alex had a plan - "Yeah, but I will let him only play the car-driving bit (where your character will be driving a car, van, truck or any vehicle he can steal from some poor sucker in the city streets). He loves car-racing."

But his plans had to be adjusted. For yesterday he shared with me what happened when his boy played the game. "Eby was driving the car when he crashed into a bunch of people on the sidewalk. He actually cried, bro! Eby kill people - he said."

We are sometimes so immunized by the depiction of violence, both real and acted, on TV, the cinema and the internet that we forget just what subtle spirits children actually are. They can have such beautiful and nuanced emotion, untainted by life's more hard experiences and lessons. "So what did you do?" I asked further.

"Well, now I drive the car whenever in the city and take it out to the countryside where there are not so many people about. Then I give Eby the wheels." replied my friend.

He he he.

Children and Education. Sometimes I think life can be hard for children. And we parents haven't really much training to educate them. Oh come on, let's admit it. We have had zero training. So while we ourselves are works-in-progress and undergoing on-the-job training ourselves, we are saddled with another small human being to teach and raise up into a decent man or woman. Good luck with that!

92. I, Wobot II

Children are not beta-versions of you

To be experimented with.

....................

But as I have mentioned before, I think our very own life education is only complete when we have to love and care for children, whether it is our very own, our nephews and nieces or even our pupils in the class room. And part of the lesson learned is that we cannot do it alone. For a child is such a precious gift, whose sensitive soul can be moulded (or damaged), that I always found it a relief to have an avenue to ask for help. And that as a man and a father, I have much to fix of myself. So I ask the One God, the Most Helpful Fixer of problems and the Origin of all good lessons, to abide by my son in His Divine Presence, with the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), his Companions and Saints, and the countless angelic heralds of God. I have asked this even before Mika breathed his first. And I pray the support shall continue until he breathed his last and forever more.

93. Muhammad Mikhail

May he be a servant of God,

A lover of the Prophet,

A friend of the Angels,

A mureed of the Masters,

A caretaker of the Traditions,

And spring of charity

To all who may come to him in need.

Somewhere far, far down the line,

Perhaps he can also call himself

A son of mine.

That is my prayer for my son.

...................

May God abide by the children that is enriching your own life, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Best Things in Life Are Free - lovingly wrapped in your mortal skin and crowned with a heart and a conscience

I am a confirmed hoarder. My bedroom and my office is full of knick knacks and bric-a-brac from my misadventures over the past couple of years. A few are impulsive purchases, but nowadays, as I grow old, I tend to contemplate long and hard before buying anything. It can be as big as the purchase of a new car to something trivial like a new pair of walking shoes. I don’t why know why I do it. Perhaps it is because of my fondness for familiar things. Take the walking shoes for instant. It’s a New Balance, and I have had it for almost 7 years I. Literally it is now in its last gasp of life, barely hanging on - having been re-glued at least twice and stitched once over the past year.

But nothing beats the free stuff. I think that old saying, ‘The best things in life are free’ is so true. Take for instance this picture of my ‘possessions’. I put the word in open and close inverted commas because these things are not really mine. I am simply holding these gifts in my care and custody for a while. The long beige velvet Mehlevi hat is from my Turkish hombre, Mr. Ihsan Aslan, who gave it to me about 4 months ago. The small green and red insignia of the Prophet (pbuh) adorning the hat was given to me about 8 months previous by an Indonesian of Yemeni extract from the Hadramaut region, this same Mr. Ahmad Alatas also gave me the two hundred beaded tasbih (rosary). The yellow turban cloth is at least 20 years old, but it was given to me by my own brother, Mr. Saiful Bahri some 4 years back. And beneath all that headgear is little Muhammad Mikhail bin Taufiq. And he was given to me some 8 years ago by God Almighty.

I do not know why they give me these things. Perhaps they believe that I have been a good friend and brother (What a ridiculous idea). I certainly cannot fathom why God gave me Mika. Perhaps it is because He sees something in me that is lost to my own sight, but is apparent and clear in His Vision. I cannot say that I will succeed (in fact I have little faith), but I hope to one day see this Taufiq He is seeing. Because once I perceive who I really am, I shall be able to perceive God. And finally get to 'know' Him better. At long last...

At least that is what bearded wise men tell me.

If you are a father or mother, I think this is a good quest to take up. And even if you have no children, it is still a good quest. After all, you are God’s gift and trust to your own father and mother. So again, there must be something utterly perfect and beautiful in you that God had decided to present you to your parents as a precious gift of His own creation - Lovingly wrapped in your mortal skin and crowned with a heart and a conscience.

Have a lovely Monday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Mikhail in my Cartoons - Saturday Cartoons Part 2!

On Children

(by Kahlil Gibran)

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

.............................................

I don't often quote anyone's poetry in this almanac. But since the sketch was drawn expressly with this poem by Kahlil Gibran in mind, it would not be fair not to do so. And I do try to be fair, though a sinner I am. Honest.

Below are some other cartoons done with my son, Mikhail in it. He has added an extra spice of uncertainty and exuberant brilliance in my life. I cannot thank God enough. And I cannot thank my son enough. One late night recently, as he was about to fall asleep, I said, "Thank you, Mika." Under the blanket and pillow he sleepily replied, "What for, Papa?" To which I answered, "For being born."

All these cartoons have been previously posted, but I hope it shall not impede your enjoyment.

Be close to your children. Who else can they come to,
if they cannot come to you in times of trouble?

The direction of prayers (kiblat) is towards the holy Kaaba in Mecca.
But in their formative years, you are the kiblat of your children.

Your children need you. But don't cramp their style.
They need room to breath and grow as how God intended.

And lastly, expect to be the object of humour and laughter for your children.
Children's laughter is the music of heaven. So what if you look foolish for a while?

Thank you for dropping in, sunshine. God bless all children, wonderful vessels of love and energy that they are.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

I FELL FROM THE SKY. WHO AM I?

Who am I?

I am sitting and writing

Facing the Sunrise

As it bathed me in its

Gentle morning luster.

When I noticed on my laptop screen

The Morning Moon, peeking over my shoulder...

Thus it was between God and the Prophet,

Between Ahad and Ahmad

Did I find a consolation for

My wandering heart…

… I fell from the sky, you see

Countless years ago.

And I cannot say with certainty

What I was before.

… thus I walked out of the sea,

While proud Atlantis was sinking,

… thus I fished in Mother Nile,

While warlocks ruled over her kings.

And I saw the green man! The green man!

Who said, “You are not meant to see me,

But ah… I remember now. You are the one

That fell from the sky, the wandering heart,

Ever asking – who am I? Who am I?”

………………………………………………………

Willy (Shakespeare) got it right when he said that life was a stage and we are all actors. But I will go a step further and say that it is a rehearsal, or shall we call it an audition to be part of a show before the Divine Presence? Not surprisingly, most of us want to be the heroes or heroines. Nobody wants to be the villain of the piece. But as mankind are such fickle creatures we sometimes mix up our roles, and one moment you are Snow White and the next the Wicked Queen. On one day you may be playing the role of the wisest professor on campus, before becoming an old fool in love with his student.

All this is part of our journey, I guess, of self-discovery. Because you will not know your Lord if you do not know yourself. So we try all sorts of parts, hoping to find the role that best suits our character... For me, the greatest gift that God gives us, is that God has never pulled us aside during these 'live' auditions and whisper into our ears, "Look, son. Maybe the role of a human being is not for you. Why don't you try to be a rock, a tree perhaps or a butterfly..."

I have written quite a bit around Shaykh Raja Ashman
Shah (Ku Ash). Oh no. I never write of him, for I really
don't know him at all. One day, if God permit me,
I shall ask the Prophet. 
al-fatihah

But God has not. For some reason only known to God, He keeps on watching and listening as we fumble our lines and bump into the furniture. In a way, each day, as He sends us to sleep, He is assuring us, "Go on back, luvvie. Learn the lines better and we will try again tomorrow. And for goodness sake, try to find the best role you can carry..."

So don't worry too much if you are like that strange one who fell from the sky and who keeps on asking, "Who am I? Who am I?" Because even if God one day asks you, "Who are you?" You can still reply even if you do not know the answer... "I am whoever you say I am, o' Lord."

Have a beautiful day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way.

"Come, Share My Life With Me..." - the origin of us all

10. The Meaning of Sharing

Grandfather!

Why was Paradise alone not enough for you?

Why did you ask God for someone to share Paradise with?

Grandson!

Perhaps all just to lead to this moment?

Because, grandson, If I was contented,

Would you now be able to call me grandfather?

From relative poverty in rural Kuala Pilah, from a small village in Juasih, a young boy overcame his difficulties, with a single-minded focus and an edgy ambition to excel in all that he did. His beloved sister and kind Indian teachers cajoled and helped him with moral and financial support. A paternal government saw the promise in him and plucked him out of obscurity for scholarship in Medicine. A young pretty thing named Arbayah, noticed him walking around and clutching books under his arm. And above all, this young fellow carried around an English dictionary, keen never to let the mere exercise of words to stop his ascent. And ascent he did. The young boy is my father, Abdul Khalid, and Arbayah is my mother.

Tepi kasi nipis sikit saja... (Just a little trim on the sides...)

Yesterday my father turned 78, 2 years short of becoming an octogenarian. He is exactly now 70 years older than my son, Mikhail. Now that puts things in perspective, for he has seen, done and experienced a lot in his life.

A cake? For ME?

He celebrated his birthday in a low-key way. We went for lunch at a local Malay beriani restaurant in the nearby suburbs of Shah Alam. And after that we waited while he went for his haircut at his favourite barber. In the evening my eldest brother, Zahurein popped by with Desi, Aqheel and Bebita with a cake. Later they went out for dinner together. Earlier, Mikhail who was with his mum Gina, called to wish his granddad happy birthday. My father literally jumped (for a 78-year old) out of his sofa to get the call. He has a soft spot for his youngest grandson...

The above poem is in fact about Adam, Eve and their descendants. But like almost all stories about Prophets, it is a reflection of our own lives. Had our mother and father not decide to share each other's lives together, we would probably not even be here. We all originate from that sweet moment when two souls decide on each own accord to say to one another, "Come, share my life with me..."

I reckon that the little boy from Juasih never anticipated where his life would bring him. Thankfully, life has brought him here, 78 years old and living a quiet pensioner's life, in the bosom of a family that may never truly understand him, but loves him nonetheless, as a father and a grandfather.

Happy birthday, Bapak.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

He is in the Ripples of Human Emotion

50. Love is a word I use

Love is a word I

Use for you, but

Sadly it is but only

For a moment true.

For you would soon

Outstrip whatever meaning

I meant when I said 'love'...

By what you say,

By what you do,

By the smallest

Of your gestures,

I am left once again

To ponder your many

Buried treasures.

Romance. I meant this prose and was recorded in romantic sentimentality. The occasion of human passion is a wonderful thing, as the object of your desire drives you crazy-in-love and drives you mad by the strange and often contradictory nuances in their behaviour and character. But you are in love, and so you accept. It is not as if you have much choice, and it is this which drives your ego crazy. But your ego deserves to be driven crazy and humbled, for the human ego thinks itself independent and godlike. So in a way, your amour, the woman (or man) that exasperates you so is actually doing you good. Love is both honey (which is yummy) and medicine (which is ucky).

God. I do not think it strange that God hides His Attributes in us. I think it is the most natural place where Love ought to be...

He is in the Ripples of Human Emotion

In the realm of love and passion, is God's own kingdom...

In the first encounter, in the first timid advances,

In the first shy and glancing touch,

In the first opening of your hearts,

In the wedding and procreation,

In the birth of your first child

Are the pools of thoughtful reflection

Where you can find God...

In the ripples of human emotion.

Kiara Cemetery

May you find Love in you, sunshine. For Love has always been in love with you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Greetings from the Dead - Garden of Stones Part 2

Greetings from the Dead

Come to rest with us, my love and friend,

Discard the world and all its baubles,

Lay your weary head and rest by us

From all your toil and

Worldly troubles.

Beneath the grass and the Jasmine trees,

Marked by stone and marble heads,

Mask the beauty and the reason

That most men learn

When they are dead.

By Predicting Human Behaviourial Trends, 

You Yourself Become Part of the Experiment

I am curious why people can be so dead certain (excuse the pun), especially when they are not dead but very much alive. Mankind, who have zero control over what happens to themselves one second from the next, are awfully keen to commit themselves on ideologies and philosophies. They like to forecast public trends and societal changes based upon their knowledge. Such people would lead us to believe that they are objective. That somehow their knowledge and their academic (or political) pedigree somehow insulates them from their grand experimentation in behavourial human sciences. But this is what I believe - when it comes to predicting what mankind will or will not do, no one can be an objective bystander. By predicting human behaviourial trends, you yourself become part of the experiment. This is true whether you are a capitalist, a monetarist, a Keynesian, a communist, a socialist or any other -ist there is (oh, excuse the pun again).

Religion

I think religion, in its most pure form does not dabble in such fiction. For religion is essentially about the development and transformation of the individual. It is from the betterment of our own selves that we may have a positive impact on society. And really, it does not matter if we don't have such a wide effect, because for God, He is already very happy that you are feeling better about yourself. Such simple gratification is not enough for those who are earnest in changing the world.

An Old Sufi Tale

Once upon a time, a grand old Sufi master was dying. He called his followers to inform them that he is appointing a very young mureed to succeed him when he passes away. There was great disquiet especially among the elders, of which two were especially doubtful of his decision. He called upon the two men to attend to him. To both he posed the same question, "There is great unrest among our people, and religious duties are being neglected. What do you propose to do about it?" To which both of them replied that efforts must be made to educate the public, and enforce the laws on religious observance. Then he called his successor to come, and the young lad sat next to the old master. "Now, laddie." said the master. "The people are troubled, and they are not being good Muslims. What will you do about it?" The lad replied, "I will do nothing." The master then keenly gazed at the two rebels and said, "See? This is why he will be my successor."

And Rumi Said Something Too

And of course, Rumi had to have his own say when he told his disciples, "This world is absolutely fantabulous and peachy-keen perfect. If you find anything wrong, it is because you are looking at it through your tainted mirror."

And Those Malays

So the lesson is simple really. We need to change ourselves first... And last. The Malays have an old saying, "Jaga kubur sendiri." (literally meaning 'Take care of your own grave', but essentially to mean that you must be responsible for your own destiny and do not think yourself so wise as to determine the fate of anyone else. After all, you are not God. Are you?). 

See? Here lie the rebels...

See? Here lie the rebels...

Thus end all their seasons

And experiments in mind and reason,

To be buried with all their logic,

Their sleights of hands

And dabbling in magic.

Have a wonderful day, sunshine. Believe and it will be.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

3 years on, still very much of the same - Thank God!

My name is Taufiq but I am also Abu Mikhail, meaning Father of Mikhail.

13. A&E, 21st July 2008 (with Ariffin)

How wonderful it is to know

That you can feel love

As you did before.

And to suffer love’s terrible blows

As you did

Once before.

Long have I not felt

This alive!

And this numb,

And this dumb.

My name is Taufiq,

And on the eve of this 38th year,

I am Abu Mikhail

Ringmaker, wordsmith, rosarymaker,

Poet, most sincere hypocrite,

Bumbling meddler, habitual sinner.

With a heart crushed by Ahmad, though I know him not at all,

Taking pleasure

In the floating clouds above me,

In the rustle of leaves around me,

When all humanity, including myself

Seem to have forgotten him.

I am looking for the Maulud in me,

And am a lover of graves and their dwellers,

I am between two fixed points

Of my own beginning and God’s eternity,

Though dishonorable,

I am in the company of honorable friends,

I am meaningless,

And only made meaningful by the hand

That holds me.

But I am also,

Finally, and painfully, just a man.

Note: Maulud - festive congregation celebrating and praising the Prophet Muhammad in music and hymn.

It was more than 3 years ago that I recorded this prose. It was the eve of my first birthday post-divorce, and I guess I was in melancholic introspection of my 38 years since I babbled and gurgled as a newborn in the Abdul Khalid household.

I was a ringmaker because I skipped work for an intensive three days (with room and board) silversmithing course in Newcastle (Kota Bharu, Kelantan). The course was taught by a school teacher by the name of Mr.Zuki. I think I made three silver rings. And I am in fact a rosary maker, although I have not made one for the longest time.

In the prose I also confessed that I am Mikhail's father, I love visiting cemeteries, I love songs in praise of the Prophet (as referred by his other name, Ahmad) and not to mention being a hypocrite and sinner. No surprises there.

Things have not changed much over the three years. What and whom I love, I still do. And lastly, I can confirm (again) that I am still very much, just a man. A happy man, in the company of good friends.

Have a sprightly Sunday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Bridesmaid of the Sun and Her Veil

7. Shams-al-shams

O’ Pale Shining Moon

Bridesmaid of the Sun

How many veils have been drawn

Between this one

And the Sun of the Sun?

And a few days later...

12. Shams-al-shams II

One night the moon crept low to earth

And I wondered again,

How many veils have been drawn

Between this one

And the Sun of the sun

And the answer came; What veil?

These 2 poems were written more than 7 years ago. I know this because it was written when Mikhail was born. Life was born, and death dies. Good and bad things have happened, but the sinner is still the same. Mika is bigger though. Cleverer and wiser. He brightens up the house when he returns and when he leaves, it always feels like someone switched off a light in the wellness of my soul. We have sparkling nonsensical conversations, and his observations about life and people is worryingly mature.

God bless our children, and God bless our parents. Sometimes, when the divine hue of the moon is just so, when the number of Angels in company is just so, and the runes in the sky are all in perfect symmetry, again I can hear the whisper from the moon... What Veil, mortal?

What Veil, mortal?

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

The Family Tree in the Forest of Promises - Prose of Ramadhan Part 72

God will NEVER find me in here. *chuckle*

The Family Tree (Ramadhan Verses 37)
“Let’ play hide and seek,” God said.
“I will close my eyes and count to ten.”

“Yeah! Don’t peek!” I remember yelling out to God
As I scurried about in the Forest of Promises.

I looked all around until I found a beautiful tree which had a hollow in it. There was a sign at the base which read ‘Mummy + Daddy’. “Whatever that means?” I remember thinking. Anyway, I managed to climb up, crept into the hole and was chuckling to myself in the cosy darkness, “God will NEVER find me in here.”

Then I fell asleep. I don’t know for how long.

When I woke up, I was in the embrace of a beautiful woman. And I saw a man wearing spectacles looking over her. “Hi, Taufiq.” She said. This was clearly not heaven, but boy, did they look heavenly.

I have been here for 41 years now. Is God still looking for me?

I kinda miss Him.

And that beautiful woman passed away in 2002. So I kinda miss her too.

.....The End...


Have a beautiful Friday, my friends. Love your fathers and mothers.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Beauty is the Birthmark of Love - Prose of Ramadhan Part 45

74. Beauty II

Beauty is

The Birthmark of Love.

Without Love,

Beauty is stillborn.

Have a lovely Tuesday, sunshine. This has been, without doubt, one of the most difficult days at the office. Nothing more to think about now, but to go home and join my father, brother and Mikhail for break-fast. While musing about the events of the day I found this little tribute to love and beauty recorded some three years ago. 

I will hold on to these words, and seek solace in the eternal truth. I am not perfect, but truth is perfect, and may truth find in you a perfect fit, my friends.

Until later, pet. God bless.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Mothers are just WOW - Following mine around Jerusalem

INTREPID MOTHER. Sometime in mid 1990s, I was vaguely aware that my mother went to Jerusalem. The fact that Malaysia and Israel has diplomatic relations, the fact that in our Passport, it specifically states that Israel (and North Korea back then) was one of only two countries in the world where we are not suppose to visit, did not stop her. Nor did I find it surprising that she would find her way to Jerusalem. I knew she was keen to visit the Holy City, so one way or the other, I expected my intrepid mother to figure her way to the Dome of the Rock, al-Aqsa Mosque and the Old City.

THE WAILING WALL. And she even ended up where I didn't, which was the Wailing Wall. If you recall in my posting on my trip to Jerusalem (I met a man in Jerusalem - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 13, CLICK HERE), I kinda ditch the group to walk around myself. They all managed to visit the Wailing Wall, sadly I didn't manage that. (You visited Jerusalem and didn't visit the Wailing Wall? You idiot!)

MOMS ARE WOW. My dear chocolate sunshine. Our mothers are our trailblazer. Indeed it is nigh impossible for us to even be around without the active participation of our mumsies for 9 months - bearing a load of love. This year I finally found myself retracing the steps of my mother in the Land of the Prophets. On a little pilgrimage, not to Medina and Mecca, but to find the little bit in me that is my Mother, the good part, the beautiful part. This was a journey planned long before - 41 years ago when my mother cradled me in her arms, and for the first time ever I looked into her eyes, thinking "Wow".

17. Haj II
O’ pilgrim,
Be aware of each heart beat.

Because your pilgrimage
To the Hidden Kaaba
Begun from the first moment
You were conceived in your mother’s womb.

Each fleeting moment of your days
Is a step in your pilgrimage,
That either brings you closer to
The Holy Precinct
Or draws you further away.

Happy pre-Mother's Day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.