THE ROSE, THE SOUL & THE WINDOW - Of death the beautiful door and love true and eternal...

The Rose, The Soul & the Window

The most beautiful rose

You may find in the cemetery,

Blooming in between the headstones

And loving engravings,

In between the worshipful epithet 

And a weeping widow, there

You may find a soul

And its window.

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

I have changed, I think. The idea of dying, that mortal door through which all men must pass, is a constant thought that rides through my mind like a merry-go-round. I guess it comes with middle age. He he he.

20th May 2002. It should be no wonder too, when the woman who gave birth to me has only just passed the 12th anniversary of her passing. Shedding her mortal skin to wear who-knows-what now... Indeed, Hu (He, meaning God) would know, I guess. He he he. I pray for her eternal peace and happiness, I do. Though I know I am not worthy to kiss her feet.  

30th March 2012. Then, some year later, my Shaykh Raja Ashman was released from his worldly burden, to go to a place where, according to his master, Mawlana Shaykh Nazim, he would bear witness upon real power! I wonder what that meant. Real power. But I am not too worried, for He who wields that power is the Source of all Power, a.k.a. God Almighty Himself. And He loves us, He does... 

God loves us with a longing you cannot know, 

More than you will love any child you bear, 

More than you will love any maiden you marry, 

More than you will ever love even the person

That you call "Me".

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

14th September 2013. Then last year, my elder brother, Saiful Bahri (known as Poone to his kin and friends) also returned to God and His Prophet. It was a surprising death (well, not really, in hindsight), but it was also good for him, looking in death far more beautiful to me (and many of our family and friends) than he was ever alive. It was as if upon death, God the Most Merciful, pulled the veil that hid my brother's true soul, that we might speculate a little upon his love, friendship and generosity. What a trick to pull at the end of his life! I will never forgive him for that. He he he.

7th May 2014. Finally, and most recently, our beloved Mawlana Shaykh Nazim of Lefke, Cyprus departed from this reality for the infinitely greater reality. Not to say that his attachment for this world was ever like us ordinary sinners. Drawn to Nabi Muhammad (saws), beloved to the saints and Companions of the Prophet, like a moth to a candle, he was ever whirling and living with love and mercy, carrying a heavy weight of servanthood. As my good buddy, Munim says... " I will not last a single day of Mawlana's life!". So now Mawlana himself is bearing witness to the real power! 

Well, we may only speculate what these phrases mean when spoken by our betters. But we can hope to be reunited with all of them in the pacific solace of God's Divine Presence. After all, why bother praying if you do not ask God for the best that He can give you?

He he he.

And for myself? My death? Will anyone blog about me?

And when I am dead and buried? 

Who will care for my passing? 

And who will bother to write about me? 

But I am not worried. 

I intend to write my own epithet in your heart, sunshine. 

Just remember me, and I will be there,

Busily scribbling!

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

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Notrumi Embun, 24th May 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

TRUE REALITY OF LOVE, FAITH & HOPE - where hearts asunder are made whole once again...

Somewhere... not far from us, I am sure Poone is waiting. Al-fatiha...

He Never Left, We Have Yet to Arrive.

What is "not here"

When "here" is not really here?

What is "has passed on"

When he has passed on

From the transient to the permanent?

What is death but a door,

To a promised meeting

Foretold long, long ago.

So what is the truth of our present condition?

Our departed friends and kin never really left us,

And we...?

We are the ones yet to arrive.

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

A Happy Gift on an Anniversary. I have been thinking a lot of my late brother, Saiful Bahri a.k.a. Abang Chik to me and Poone to his many devoted friends. A couple of days ago, on the Gregorian calendar date that marks the passing of almarhum Shaykh Raja Ashman Shah ibn Sultan Raja Azlan Muhibuddin Shah, I received an anonymous Whatsapp message. As it turned out, it was Pian, my friend and younger brother to my spirit brother, Ariffin, who also happens to be my partner in our law firm. Pian said that while browsing pictures in his phone, he happened to come across some pictures of Poone (I will refer to my brother that way, as most people reading this will most likely call him by the same traditional Malay nickname for Saiful. Yeah... don't ask me how "Saiful" becomes "Poone". It's a Malay thing) taken during their trip to the international horseback archery competition held in Amman, Jordan in 2012.

Poone standing on the far right, with my beloved Sarawakian companions of Umrah 2011
who are coincidentally my brother's companions for his Jordanian 2012 trip.
On the far left is Moses, completing the fellowship.

Poone with his namesake, Saiful Bahri and Ijan, with a couple of the
Royal Jordanian Calvary soldiers. My brother makes friends easily, just like
our late mother. I wish I have such a talent. 

Poone, resplendent in traditional Malay attire, the Baju Melayu. And there sitting
close to him is Ariffin. 

The Third Eye. I am tired of using my physical eyes. They often mislead me, making me see what I want to see, hiding many, many beautiful secrets and signs that Allah (swt) has left for us here, still stuck in this world. With three of the most gentlest people (My late mother, Ku Ash and Poone) I know now not visible to my eyes, I have acquired a habit of looking with my other eye. The third eye that is the spiritual heart which we all own. It is not out of faith or religion that I do so. I do it because I am yearning for something that is not available directly and physically in our plane of reality. Selfishly, I am yearning for those whom I have been separated from, wanting to feel their presence, thirsty for their kind words, their gentle smile and assuring embrace.

So I ask God Almighty, and His Beloved Muhammad (saws). I ask that my third eye may be opened for me to see, and to feel their presence. And sometimes, I do. In the dead of night all alone, or even in a crowded place. Their faces, their presence grow within me while this world and all its distractions recede into the background, barely a murmur in the true reality of Love, Faith and Hope.  

So you see... the prose is right all along. The deceased never really left us, we are the ones still yet to arrive.

The Boss... al fatiha...

May Allah bless our journey home. May His Muhammad Habibullah (saws) be our captain and master, and guide us safely to the Divine Presence where hearts asunder are made whole once again.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE BROKEN ARROW - the ego and surrender to the Sunnah of Muhammad (saws)

The Broken Arrow

My Lord is there across the field,

My body takes the physical form of a bow,

It is my Prophet that draws the bowstring,

As he holds my spirit as an arrow 

Between his thumb and index finger.

Lo, how beautiful I would fly to my Lord,

But I am overcome by my ego

And my flight is turning ugly!

Thus you found me, my master,

Lying on the ground, 

A broken arrow.

In need of your Love

And your Mercy.

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

Recycling Love. Yesterday, my nephew was practicing archery at my house. He was taking a break when he noticed a broken arrow on the table. He asked me if I can repair it, and I said no. There is a hairline crack running through the shaft that is beyond my limited understanding to remedy. Then he inquired if he could smash it with a hammer. Kids... I remember being just as strangely destructive in my younger days.

I said no. The arrow has sentimental value, for it is the first one that I made with help from Enda and Pak Din, my archery-mad friends. And the arrow served me well when it was whole, and even upon being irretrievably damaged, I was able to recycle the notch and arrow head for two other arrows that had lost their parts. 

The Broken Arrow. I am utterly convinced of the perfection of Islam, in the words of the Book of the Universe, known as the Holy Quran, manifested in the Sunnah (traditions) of Muhammad Habibullah (saws), known as the walking, living embodiment of the holy book.

And I am also utterly convinced of my woeful neglect and sin. And how I allow my ego and nafs (base desires) to gain ascendancy over me, until I find in my life, across this archery range, many, many broken arrows... a testimony of my own broken promises to God Almighty and to myself, of my many broken breaths wasted in pursuit of worldly, temporary gratification. 

But God the Most Compassionate and Merciful... through the ministration of His Beloved Muhammad (saws)... He does not leave me there. God picks me up in my moment of greatest despair, He studies the hairline cracks running through my soul and attends to my smallest errors. 

Through our Prophet (saws), God has never forsaken me... 

Not while there is still any sinew in my mortal coil 

To release my spirit-arrow from Muhammad the Beloved (saws) 

To God the all-loving One.

Archers of Malaysia and others... in Amman, Jordan, 2011. Including my late brother
Arwah Saiful Bahri bin Abdul Khalid (sitting 2nd row, 2nd from the right)
al fatiha... 

You understand, sunshine? 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

HAPPY 50TH BIRTHDAY, POONE! ...The World of the Heart, Sibling Love and the Eternal Debt

When alive, Poone used to confide in his nephews that he shan't live to reach 50.
But to me, he has.

Happy Birthday, Poone! Today is my late brother Abang Chik's (Saiful Bahri, or Poone to his friends) birthday. I was reminded of this yesterday evening when my only living brother, Abang Ein (Mohamed Zahurein) mentioned it to me. Poone is 50 years old today. 

I guess the normal wording would be is Poone would be 50 years old today, if only he is still alive. For you see, my brother passed away one rainy evening on 14th September 2013. But I cannot bring myself to write the normal way about Poone. Because to me, he is still living. If not alive in this physical world, he is very much alive in my heart. And in God's beautiful way, the world of the heart trumps the physical world all the time. No contest, really.

Don't you agree, sunshine?

Formed, Formless in the Dictionary of Love

He was formless,

Then he was born and given form,

Then God wanted him back and

He became formless again...

But lo, I can feel him in my heart

And upon my lips and in my eyes,

Formed or formless he is my brother,

And there is no past tense

In the Dictionary of Love

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

Poone & Ein. My two brothers never really got on when Poone was alive. They had some similar tastes in music, but I think I would do neither of them any disservice if I said that both brothers had different passion and essence lighting their own separate destinies. Yesterday, Adam our nephew said, "You know... I wish my dad and Pak Poone was closer before..." I thought for awhile before replying, "But Adam, you and your dad washed his naked body before we prayed jenazah (funeral prayers) for Pak Poone. How much more intimate do you want your father to be with Pak Poone?" I think my nephew saw the logic of my reply. 

My brother, Abang Ein stepped up when Poone died and performed his brotherly duties. Which made me very happy. Because I am learning now that we often get frustrated, angry, annoyed and irritated by our close kin because they are our close kin. Had we not loved them so, we would not have cared and been so disturbed! He he he.

Don't you agree, sunshine?

A Sibling Love

May God bless our brothers and sisters,

No matter how we may feel about them,

For it is through love that we feel the sorrow today,

And it is through love that we will find happiness tomorrow!

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

I cannot tell you how much debt I owe to my brother Poone. He influenced and taught me so many things.

A Debt to a Brother

When I was stupid,

He brought me  good books,

When I was deaf,

He taught me beautiful music,

When I was impatient and angry

He showed me patience and mercy,

And when I was lost and needed guidance,

He took me to a Murshid,

To whom I swore the Bay'ah.

I shall be indebted to him

In so many ways

Till the day that I die,

On which day I hope to see him,

To say "I am sorry, I love you..."

And to rest my weary head on his shoulders and cry.

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

Sigh. Story of my life. And perhaps it is a story of your life too? Dearly departed(s) leaving us with a debt that we will never be able to repay. 

It is a good thing, it is a beautiful thing, but it also brings tears to your eyes sometimes. 

Don't you agree, sunshine?

Saiful Bahri bin Abdul Khalid aka Poone
al fatiha

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

GOOD ATTRACTS GOOD - now that you are not here...

Now That You Are Not Here

Dear gentle soul,

Now that you are gone,

I constantly pray for you,

As I know you are constantly praying for me,

Dear gentle soul,

You were not meant to be long here,

Beneath the eaves of this forest of trees,

And the tall roofs of the minaret spires,

Where are you walking now that you are not here?

Now that you have nothing left to fear?

Dear gentle soul,

The middle child of two beautiful souls,

Will you give my greetings to our mother,

Now that you are with her and not here?

Dear gentle soul,

You shall now never grow old,

And your love will never grow cold.

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

My late brother, Saiful Bahri, whom I call Abang Chik (meaning, literally older younger brother) and you call Poone would undoubtedly say to me, "Enough already laaa with the poems (us Malaysians like to say laaa at the end of everything to stress a point)". But if he took such an unexpected and discourteous exit from this world (well, God fated his passing, but I am still going to blame Poone), I think I deserve as much time as I want to write about him. Because, frankly, I won't be posting anything at all here in the Almanac if I am not writing about my dear brother.

Mak Ndak, my auntie sitting near the foot of Poone's grave.
Well, that's what I call her. My brother called her Mak, meaning mother, for
she cared for him when he was just a baby, as my parents
had to travel overseas for my father's further studies.

Last week, a very excellent friend of my brother called Boy (though he is not a boy anymore) dropped by the house to ask for directions to find Poone's grave in the cemetery. We did not talk for very long, but I was deeply touched by what he said. "You know..., if I get to heaven, I would wish my father and mother to be there, my wife, my children... and Poone."

From all these unnecessary accolades about my brother, I rather take it that my brother was a jolly good fellow. And I think in his all-too short life, Poone also collected a bunch of jolly good fellows as friends.

Good attracts Good. That's what I think. Don't you agree, sunshine?

Have a lovely Monday now.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE PAST, THE TUNA SANDWICH AND THE ORANGE

The Past

Do not look to the past,

And do not ask,

Could I have said this instead?

Could I have done something else?

Why did I not simply wait?

Could I have spared that dime?

Could I have made amends,

And said I am sorry a thousand times?

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

Perhaps this would be what my late brother would tell me now. And I think I must agree with him. I am not interested to live through the past regrets and wasted opportunities of my life (I am too lazy). But I think we can change the past by learning to apply it in the present. Let me explain...

Oranges. Yesterday, while having an after dinner cigarette with my dad (who is turning 80 next year), he passed me a plate of sliced oranges. "This is good..." He said. I balked, because I actually stole a slice earlier from the fridge, and oh boy, was it sour. But then I recall the last conversation I had with Abang Chik (whom you call Poone). He was asking me (for a second time) to eat the tuna sandwich that he bought earlier that afternoon. And for a second time I said no - first I declined because I just had lunch, and I said no for the second and last time because we were already going out to dinner. A dinner which we were all destined not to have when arwah Poone suddenly passed away just as we were about to leave our house on that rainy evening on 14th September. 

"So what if this is the last orange that my father might offer me?" The thought crossed my mind. After all, if Poone could go so suddenly, why not me, and why not my dad. "Perhaps this would be the last dinner we shall ever have together in this life?". Oh boy, the drama, the weighty issues at hand.

So yes. I had that orange. A couple of slices actually.

And yes. It was still damn sour.

Hehehe.

Appreciate every second of your life, sunshine. And every second of your kin and friends' time here. It will not last forever. Don't be like me and take everything for granted.

A Caveat about the Sinners' Almanac - Just a short reminder before I leave you... You know, I often share stories about my life here. And some of them appear to make me out to be a decent sort of fella. I am not sure I am. For just like the man who posts on his Facebook wall, pictures of him going to the gym, you must ask yourself about the number of times that he hasn't actually gone to the gym (he he he). He is not going to post pictures of him lazing on the sofa in front of the TV. I think I am like that man.

But you know... I am trying.

Have a lovely sabbath.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

ONE MONTH ON... Saiful Bahri aka Poone (1964-2013)

A Stranger, A Wanderer

The more this world becomes familiar,

The more I feel like a stranger,

So let me leave this world

As I came into it...

A wanderer.

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

Today marks the first month of my brother's passing. He died in my arms on that rainy evening on 14th September 2013.

I could tell you how much I miss him. How so many things remind me of him. How I miss our conversations and arguments, even our awkward silence. But if I was to do that, this posting would go on and on. So let me leave you with the above prose, cast into a sea of memories, as fresh and green as the new grass laid upon his final resting place.

God bless all our dearly departed friends and kin. May they be in the noble company ennobled by Allah (swt) and His Muhammad (saws). And at the end of our own restless wandering, may we be gathered there in Love's eternal solace.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Poone, the Humble Shovel, Suzanne Vega and the Garden of Stones...

The Humble Shovel

You may have ridden in the finest horse and carriage,

You may have feasted from plates of gold and silver,

But to me will you come at the end of your world,

I am your ready servant, whatever your tone,

Me, beside the waiting gravedigger,

Me, your humble shovel

In the Garden of Stones.

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

The Best Time to Go. I am so at home at the cemetery, especially now that Poone (my late brother and the one I call Abang Chik) is laid to rest there. The only issue I have is the buzzing mosquitoes that insist on accompanying me wherever I am, at whichever grave I visit. It crossed my mind that the safest place from this annoying insects is to be six feet under. But thank God that my own passing is not mine to choose the time and place. Are we not lucky that the circumstances of our passing shall be in the hand of He Who Created us? He Who knows us best (and despite knowing all our filthy secrets), Loves us best of all? 

It will be the best of time for us, and for those we will leave behind.

Obnoxious. I have no doubt of this, because God has promised us... Sometimes, we living inevitably sigh and yearn for the company of our dearly departed kin or friend. However happy, angry, sad or irritating our relationship with the deceased may have been. One of my brother's closest friend said to me, as we were burying Poone, "Oh my God, he is one of the most obnoxious person I know!" And I agree with him. But he would also agree that we would give all our worldly treasures to have just one more obnoxious moment with him. 

He he he.

Poone's musical taste. Before I leave you, let me leave you with what my brother has left me. A taste in some of the great musicians of our era. In the early eighties, Santa Monica-born folk singer and songwriter Suzanne Vega made a bit of name in England, captivating audiences with her haunting prose and magical guitar. This is one of our favourite(est)... its called 'Cracking'.  

God bless you, sunshine. Be happy and assured of love from God, a love infinite in its breadth and deeper in its solace than your most intimate dreams...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Final Punch Line - Saiful Bahri (1964 - 2013) Part 3

121. The Door (By Poone)

Oh, My servant!

Long have you been knocking on My door.

Here, take the door and go!

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

Pooneseque Prose. There are a number of prose recorded over this past decade, which I attribute to my late brother, Saiful (better known to his friend as Poone). Some arose from our quick banter, so much so that I am not sure as to who said what (this comes with age... trust me), but others I clearly recall as being spoken originally by Poone. And The Door is one of those which I remember distinctly as a Poonesque prose (you see, that is why the prose is recorded as 'by Poone' and not 'with Poone').

But I guess, the ultimate punch line for his joke is that three weeks ago, on the night of 14th of September 2013 when Poone passed away, God finally replied...

"Oh My servant! 

Long have you been knocking on My door, 

You need wait no longer...

Now enter!"

I Choose Happy. Just something short today, sunshine. Just so you know that I am alive and still here. And I am happy that I wrote this, because I now realise how good it is for us all if we would only accept God's final punch line for this strange, confusing but often hilarious journey that we call our life. 

"As if we actually have a choice!" you may say to me. But we do. We can choose to be in denial and be sad. Or we can accept and be happy. I choose happy. 

Poone, May 2012. Smiling in the Jordanian desert somewhere.

Have a lovely day, and may Allah (swt) shower grace and blessings upon all our dearly departed, that they may be in the congregation of the blessed and the graced. Madad ya Muhammad Rasulullah (saws), al fatiha. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE GHOST... Death becomes him - Saiful Bahri (1964-2013) Part 2

Poone... in Jordan, May 2011. In the company of his friends.

The Ghost

I keep feeling him,

There he goes, on my door, knocking,

Asking for a lighter, or a fiver,

I keep feeling him,

There he is, lazing on the sofa,

From dawn till dusk,

Though he never liked Edward or Bella,

I keep feeling him,

Sitting quietly outside my bedroom,

Fiddling about on the internet,

Making pointed comments,

Needling the bigots,

I keep seeing him,

Right in front of me,

Or sitting there, by the piano,

Smiling, and happy.

I keep feeling him,

In the books that I read,

In the music that I cherish,

In the ripening of an ancient flame,

In the passion of the dervish

And the Golden Chain...

He always had a story to share,

This brother of mine,

But rarely of himself,

So let me share with you

A thing or two

About Saiful,

a.k.a. Poone...

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

The dotting uncle. Keeping an eye on
his beloved nephews.

Hi there, sunshine. It's been more than two weeks since my brother, Poone (a.k.a. Saiful), passed away suddenly. Since then I have written but only one posting, and I cannot reason out why. I can only hazard a guess that unlike the passing of my mother, which was preceded by an agonising 6 to 9 months of debilitating cancer and chemo treatments, the death of my brother was surprising and unexpected.

A contented soul (dammit!). As the prose suggests, I need only to pause to recall my brother. It is the easiest thing in the world for me to imagine him playing his guitar in his room. Reading a book outside on the landings, and just you know... shuffling about the house. Utterly lacking in worldly ambitions, he was an alien creature to me, though perhaps I know him as well as any other person. But he was contented, dammit, much to my own discontent and bemusement. 

How ironic. He he he. He would like this sort of conclusion. For he had always agreed with me about wit - 

Sarcasm is from the Devil, Irony is from God.

A brotherly kiss. Many, many years ago, I remember falling asleep in the sofa downstairs in my old house. Those were in fact the early days of my brother's rites of passage into a Sufi order. Anyways, I was awoken by my brother gently pressing a kiss on my forehead. He did not notice that I was awake. I didn't say anything and merely looked on as he walked away. "Now that was unexpected. What was that all about?" I pondered wearily before falling back to sleep. Alas, now I wished I had asked him. 

When Poone passed away, my immediate impression was that my brother has become a ghost. A memory that will haunt me forever. A furtive omnipresence in the corner of my eye. But an old prose posed an alternative view... 

2. Layla’s ghost

I thought I was tangible,

I thought I had meaning,

I thought I was a lover,

Ruling with the heart of a king.

I now know

I am none of the above,

I am but a ghost,

A vagrant amongst the living.

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

The Real Ghosts. Thus I am reminded of the truth. That the ghost in this sad and beautiful story is us. Continuing to persist in this physical world that is so darn convincingly real and permanent, when the truth is that this life is transient and its reality a mere reflection of the absolute reality of the afterlife. For our cherished departed friend and kin, theirs is the privilege of the true existence in the divine presence. In the cobbled stone path, the grassy knoll of the cemetery and the silence of the graves is the long-awaited union between the Creator and the created. 

Mika was at my mother's grave last year. Who would have guessed that
my brother would soon join her near her final resting place.
The return of the prodigal son...

The First One. It is strange, this death. Even as I write this I am torn between what to say and what to keep silent. He had such an impact in my life that I cannot begin to count them. I did not realise this earlier, but after these thousands of prose and poems, our conversations and arguments, now I understand that Poone was my first Shaykh (master) before I even knew about the existence of Shaykhs and the Sufis. I never knew this because he never acted like a master. He acted like a brother... a kindly and forgiving one. 

Poone was not one to dress up, always in his old tattered shirts
and ancient khaki pants. "Dammit..." I ventured to anyone who would care to listen,
"...Don't you think he looks better than when he was alive?
Death becomes him..."

Our siblings are not perfect. But who is? Do not be like me, sunshine. Be contented with them, regardless, for they are who they are, and a large part of us comes from them too. 

Permit me to end with a prose recorded almost 10 years ago, and one which was mined from a conversation I had with my brother, whom I call Abang Chik, the one you call Poone.

27. Arms-Length (With Poone)

Never get too close to a problem,

Because even a grain of sand can eclipse the sun,

If it is lodged in your eyes. 

May we never be blinded, may Allah (swt) always light our understanding,
in the perfection of humanity and servanthood that is Muhammad (saws). 

Have a lovely day, sunshine. al fatiha.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

BURYING MY FRUSTRATION - Saiful Bahri (1964 - 2013) Part 1

In Jordan (May 2012), with a guitar on his lap, a cigarette in his mouth and
surrounded by friends. My brother knew how to enjoy himself!

BURYING MY FRUSTRATION (Saiful Bahri 1)

Yesterday I buried my frustration,

I buried him beneath an overcast sky,

In the company of a congregation I buried him,

Buried him I did, with no need to ask why,

For I have been wondering of late,

How my brother will fare if I am not there,

So God has saved me such fate,

Taking my brother home instead, 

And sparing me 

The worry...

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

Frustrating. My brother, Saiful Bahri bin Abdul Khalid is a brother and such a bother to me. I guess I inherited the frustration from my dearly departed mother, who knew, instinctively, that Abang Chik (for that is how I call him) is the brightest, kindest and most creative of her three boys. But right up to her death in 2002, Abang Chik do not fulfill the conventional expectations rendered unto him, by the God-given gifts that was his blessing, and also responsibility. 

For my dear brother was not a conventional fellow at all. And neither did he try to be. Very early on in his life, he figured his path already. A path that would place him in a position to be teased (by the gentle-minded) and ridiculed (by the rude). He lacked worldly ambitions, you see. Despite all his talents and sense of empathy.

But now I know.

Though I did bury my frustrations yesterday, among a crowd of teary friends and family. By God... I swear to you now, that I also buried something else there too... my inspiration.

And I bet he was enjoying this too. Me bending over awkwardly to kiss his forehead.

He was Saiful Bahri. I call him Abang Chik. To his friends and Family, he was known as Poone.

Old Story. I once wrote about Abang Chik in May 2012, when he was away in Jordan (Click Here to My Brother, Horseback Archery and the Caliph of Islam). In the short posting you may understand why, despite appearances to the contrary, my brother was a singular force of all that is good and beautiful in my life.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way  

Friday Morning - ...and God did not take your life last night

107. My Dear Creation

If you wish to serve Me

Then serve my servants

For I am not needful of your services

But they are.

And If you wish to love Me

Then love my servants

For I am not needful of your love

But they are.

Do this both

And you shall find in Me

A fair recompense

Beyond your happiest hopes.

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

Hi sunshine! It is Friday morning already! Let us try to be good to each other, while God is good to us always. There is time now to pick up the phone and call that old auntie of yours. There is time now to reply to your friend's SMS and ask for her forgiveness. There is time now to repay the debt you owe your school friend. There is still time to email your brother about the help he asked of you last week. 

For you see, while you slept soundly in bed, the whole of the Universe bore witness that God did not take your life last night. No, He must have felt that there is still good for you to do upon this Earth, and in His generous and all-knowing wisdom, He has permitted your soul to return to your body from its nightly travels. 

So here we are, you and I. Brothers and sisters united in the love of God, fellow travelers in the the journey through the Consciousness of God. What shall we do today? 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way