TOUGH LOVE, KIDS! - the whimsical jottings of a sinner (with pictures!)

I have been rather busy of late. But I did manage to sketch a commissioned work (see above) for a little wisp of a girl. I posted the pic later on his dad's Facebook, erroneously referring to her as a nine year old. "Hey! I am already ten going to eleven!" she complained to her dad, who simply replied, "See, that is what happens when you don't eat your vegetables." This is what you call tough love.

I was out last Saturday with my nine year old son to watch 'Planes' at a cineplex nearby. While in the carpark I noticed the signage and said to Mikhail, "Hey, Mika. I really like the Honda, can you pose next to it?" To which he sportingly agreed. Despite Mikhail's whining protestations I proceeded to post the picture in my Facebook and Instagram, captioning "Heartbreaker.. Ladies Man...". Yes, I am merciless, but I am also teaching him to be more observant of his surrounding, and to be less gullible to his Papa's trickery. This is also tough love.

I was watching a show on saltanat.org during office hours when my partner entered my office, deposited himself on the chair in front of me, and slowly and ever so gently drifted to sleep. His department is uber-busy and since the birth of his second son, his house is also uber-busy with the demands of a healthy bouncing baby boy. So he catches naps whenever he can. Poor guy. He he he.

Nothing esoteric, nothing transcendental to share with you today, sunshine. Just winding down the day in my bedroom, listening to the twilight chirping of birds and the devotional singing of my Sikh neighbours next door. The singing is from a temple troupe especially imported from India, I am told.

Have a lovely day, and may Allah (s.w.t.) bless you and the His Muhammad al-Mustafa (s.a.w.s.) guide you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Truth is Beautiful, Magnificent and Inspiring - *SNAP* *SNAP* - THE PRINCE PART 31

A jewel in heaven, peeping through a modest veil.

I was driving home at dusk after a lovely day at work, when just as I was coming up the crest of the hill to reach my house I saw a magnificent sight - a beautiful full moon with clouds adrift around her. Like a gem floating in heaven, peeping through a modest veil. As it was getting dark, I doubted whether my camera phone would be able to take a nice enough picture, which would give justice to just one... just one of the countless beautiful moments in nature that Allah (s.w.t.) graces our day with, each and every day, 24/7.

You know, philosophers say the most beautiful things. Because they often approach the truth of life. And the all-encompassing truth of The Truth is Haqq, that is Allah (s.w.t.) by one of his 99 revealed Divine Names. And Truth is beautiful, magnificent and inspiring. In the context of which, I recall one chap saying some words to the effect that, what you perceive outside, is what you are inside.

So when I see something beautiful, interesting, inspiring, mind-blowing... how I would love to have a good DSLR and the talent to capture for prosperity that sight, that person, that event. And to share it with you, my love.

As I did not have one that evening, I opened my eyes and allowed the soul-camera which we all carry inside the pocket of our conscience to take a picture of that lovely dusk sky... *snap* *snap*. Then later that night, remembering the picture, I sketched something for me and for you, for God(s.w.t.) and His Prophet (s.a.w.s.).

*snap* *snap*

It is only 6.30am now. I woke up early to catch the morning air. In the calmness that God shares with us early-wakers, the stillness allows me to recall all other beautiful scenes and people that have entered my life. Some of whom have long passed away. Their faces, their smiles, and their stories will forever live in my heart. And best of all, I have this wonderful soul-camera which gives me excellent high def pictures. Which makes my memories alive as if it is recurring in front of me right this moment. I kid you not.

It is through the remarkable lens of Muhammad, Habibullah (Beloved of God) Prophet of God(s.a.w.s), that I see such things. And that is how I see you, sunshine. Floating like a gem in the Lord's heaven.

almarhum Sultanul Qulb Shayk Raja Ashman Shah ibni Sultan Azlan Shah (sitting)
...al fatiha

Have a beautiful Sabbath.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

POSTURES IN PRAYERS. GOD IS GOOD TO ME - Pictures tell Stories

Going...

Going...

Barely keeping upright...

Going... (Ooh... I am so tired...)

Leaning back now... (Much better! This is more comfortable!)

And now... horizontal  (alhamdulillah...)

And finally... Bliss. (God is good to me)

Mikhail has been rather keen to visit the mosque for prayers of late. Heche says that he would be pleased to go wherever I go. So note to self: Go to good places and avoid not so good places.

In the song, 'We are the Champions' by Queen there is part that goes "...We are the champions... No time for losers... 'cause we are the champions of the world." Just before sleep time one night, Mika shared with me his disagreement with the song and that we cannot have any time for losers. And I agreed, after all if there are winners and champions, there are bound to be losers. And at some point in our lives we have lost and are losers ourselves. Thank God for God and His Prophet who always has time for us losers, then...

The pictures here was taken one early morning prayers at the mosque. Mikhail was resolute to 'see how things are in the mosque for dawn prayers...' So despite it being a school day, he got up at 5.30am (after some prompting) and zombie-like headed to the washroom to perform the pre-prayer ablutions (wuduq). When we arrived at the prayer hall, he first observed that there are not that many people there compared to maghrib (sunset) prayers. This is not surprising since the maghrib congregation is augmented by people who work around Bukit Damansara, who sometimes pray here before heading back home. But I guess Mikhail was most surprised by having to wait 20 minutes before the jemaah (congregational) prayers was actually started. This is partly because the Imam of the Mosque is waiting for more people to arrive. But by 6.25am the prayers began, much to the relief of Mika and myself, because I have to rush him back home for him to shower and dress for school. I normally drop him off at his school at about 7.00am, you see. 

I am not much of a dad. But I am trying to learn. And when my knowledge and my own habits fall far short of a good father (as it often does), I take some solace that even before he was born, I recognised this reality and asked for the succour of God and guide of His Most Beloved Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), the Companions and the Saints. Thus I recorded more than 9 years ago...

189. Ward Of The State Of Friends

Knowing himself unworthy,

The father,

In anxiety,

Declares the child

Ward of the State of Friends,

A pupil of Angels,

Before the child ever

Breathed his first.

And so far? Alhamdulillah... God has been good to me. And to Mikhail.

Have a beautiful Sabbath, sunshine. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Janda Baik, The District of Virtuous Widows and Divorcees - a short road trip

Good morning, sunshine. Alas,  no sunshine here this morning as an overcast sky hides the Sun and its life-giving light. It has been raining here for weeks on end, and I cannot now recall a day when it didn't rain. And we are not getting the mild cozy sort of morning drizzle nowadays, but a series of evening rainstorms that is lively enough to cause landslides and uproot trees. Not to mention making potholes all along the affected roads. More work for the municipal councils, I guess.

But yesterday I managed to visit the small hillside district of Janda Baik (literally meaning Virtuous Widows / Divorcees). I guess this is my fav spot to run away from the urban rat race, and even though we were there only for a couple of hours, it certainly did my spirit a whole lot of wonderful. It was the rivers, the trees, the flowers and the food that did it for me. In the company of Heche and friends (none of them being widows or divorcees nor too virtuous. He he he) , we made our way to the small villages and took some pictures. I hope you like them...

5. The Eye III

I shall never be ready

For Thee, o’ Lord!

I shall be caught in Thy clutches

Like a deer surprised in the forest,

Like a fish

Entangled in the net,

Like a bride seeing her groom for the first time,

And gasping shyly, “Oh, Lord!”

Forever regretting she had ever

Questioned the match!

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

The union between the Lover (aka Allah) and the loved (aka you) is a union without any fear or risk of separation. No widows, widowers or divorcees in the spiritual union will add to the (sadly) long list of divorces and separations of the wholly mortal nature. For once God has entered your life, there is no more separation, and the only uncertainty lies wholly in the limitations of our ilmu (knowledge) and adab (good manners) towards our Maker... 

Have a lovely day, sunshine. And a good beginning of your working week.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

What is Love? Pictures tell stories

What is love? Love means many things to many people. But I would like to believe that for most of humanity, all 7 billion of us, these few thoughts and depictions of love illustrates what is good and wonderful about us mortals. And however bitter, sad or disappointed we may feel sometimes, we must never give up on ourselves, for the Lord has not given up on us for even a single moment... Not at all.

I will shut up now and let the pictures take it from here...

Love is the innocent exploring friendship of children...
My son Mikhail has only a few close friends in school. But he remembers
them and sometimes exchange toys and books with them. One night, a mother of
one of his friends sms-ed Mika's mother, saying thanks for the advance birthday gift
that Mika gave her son. What the...?

Love is the gathering of knowledge with humility and compassion...
Karen Armstrong is one of my fav writers around. But I am ashamed to admit
that I have been finding it very difficult to finish her books... 

Love is the proposal, the engagement and the wedding table all set for the happy couple... 
A wedding is the culmination of every girls' dream. But for the groom, he is expected only
to get there on time and to avoid bumping into the furniture... 

Love is the signals, signets, signs and symbols worn as a token of affection and passion... 
The songkok (a traditional Muslim Malay headgear originating from India) is adorned with
the depiction of the sandal of the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.). In the old days, knights would
keep a token of his paramour close to his heart... 

Love is Daddy... 

Love is a rainbow cake for a 42-year old birthday boy... 

Love is relaxing on the massage chair...
"Papa...!" says Mikhail, "I feel like a hundred little hands are
punching my butt!"

And in finality... Love is God, and
God is Love

This is nothing but a small sticky note sneaked between the pages of our lives. Love adorns us wherever we go, whoever we are with and whatever we may be doing. Thus God has accessorize our life from His Treasure Trove of Love. It is all here, we only need to open our hearts, I think...

Sunday is coming to an end... God bless you, sunshine. Thank you for dropping in!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Back from North Dakota - Mikhail, our avatars in the Star Wars Universe, and the eternal battle between plants and zombies

The Kuala Lumpur International Airport is a quiet and gloomy place at 3.30am. There are
rows and rows of parked airport taxis waiting for the passengers.

Hi guys. I never followed through about Mikhail's (my 8-year old heir and scion of the sinner's empire) arrival at 4.30am on Wednesday morning. Well, I was unable to sleep so I woke up about 2.30am which was quite fortunate because a quick check online showed that the flight was gonna arrive early by one hour! So me and my brother zoomed down to the airport in an early morning downpour. The airport is a good 45 minutes drive away. We drove pass the many container lorries plying their trade along the empty highway.

Mika and the Maricars arrived safely and we immediately took my son home, although we did first buy him some Chicken Tenders from Burger King. Poor kid had only 3 french buns over the course of the 24 hours flight and transit from Bismarck, ND. He was terribly hungry, but I could see that he was also very happy to be home.

Bonding over Plants vs Zombies... at 2am the night after

He couldn't sleep later that night due to jetlag, so we spent our time bonding over Plants vs Zombies. I am embarrassed to admit that I too am addicted to this ridiculous game. 

Over breakfast he shared his view of the Star Wars Universe. And it appears that he and I have our own avatars in George Lucas's sci-fi fantasy world... of varying degrees of goodness and beauty. He he he.

Jango Fett is the father of Boba Fett. They are mercenaries and bounty hunters.
I am just a lawyer, but I guess that approximates some people's idea of
a mercenary or bounty hunter. He he he.

Rotta is the baby son of Jabba. I think you can guess
which one is Mika and which one is me... 

Have a lovely Friday, sunshine. I am happy when things are in order as they should be. Like Mika being home with me. alhamdulillah...

The plants defending the lawn from invasion by the zombies.
It looks confusing. But this damn game is a lot of fun!

God bless.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Droplets of Beauty - pictures tell stories

My Maker is more beautiful than me...

Droplets of Beauty

My mind is restless,

And my heart is waiting impatiently

For some word, some vision to come my way

And strike me down as a lonely tree atop a lonely hill

Assailed by wind and thunder on a stormy day,

But sometimes love is no opera, no grand vista

But little droplets of beauty, that if you look hard enough

Will tell you of your Lord God, and His Love...

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

My Maker is more interesting and inspiring than me...

I went for a walk this morning. But I woke up late, and so my plan to scurry about in the cold morning air has gone astray. Outside, the day already looked hot and bright. So I planned my walk along the most shady avenues. And the walk must end at the neighborhood cafe where they serve a decent cup of coffee. This is exercise sinner-style.

He he he.

Even in death, my Maker leaves me to be beautiful...

I have nothing more interesting to share than these pictures I took while walking. It broke my walking rhythm, but that's all right. I think I was meant to notice such things. So I guess this means that I am meant to share them with you.

Man made me from inspiration of the Maker and His works...

Have a lovely Sunday, sunshine. God bless you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Mika's Memento - travel and sadness through the gates of love

1. A good land

Wherever you may go, Mikhail

However far you may journey,

Because you bring me with you,

The land to which your feet takes you,

Will, with my blessing,

Always be a good land.

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

Tomorrow morning, Mikhail is leaving on a jetplane on a trip to the U.S. of A. He will be visiting his mother's family in Bismarck, North Dakota (the only state in the Union with a falling population) after making a short side-visit to Disneyland LA.

I am not sending him off at the airport tomorrow, but promised him that I shall be waiting for him when he returns in a couple of weeks. I hate airport goodbyes, and the drive home alone would be torture, ya know?

I took him out for a couple of hours today. I wanted it to be just me and him, but after a while, I decided to call Heche. I was becoming a little quiet thinking of him leaving and Heche would provide the infotainment to deal with Mr. 'Chatterbox' Mikhail.

We managed to take some pictures before we finally dropped him off at Gina's place in the afternoon. Pictures always tell stories, if you listen to them carefully enough...

No, this is not just a Lego Han Solo. This is a memento of love.
It came with a Star Wars Universe book of Lego memorabilia.
Mikhail will be taking the book on flight, so I get to keep Han Solo.
I get my way because I am the father. he he he

Lookin' Good!

What do you do with a pair of chopsticks?
Stick 'em up your nose of course!

I didn't feel like writing at all today. But it is sometimes good to share a little sadness. Because someone extremely smart once told me...

22. The Gates of Love

Love is not all joy.

It is also to learn how to cry.

So disdain not sadness,

For of all the gates of the House,

It is through Love

That sadness enters

And departs.

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

Don't you agree, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

A Wedding in Perlis - Pictures tell stories

Fifi's parents love gardening I guess. They have an interesting batch of pink and
orange hibiscus around their little patch of village in Kangar. The red version is
the national flower of Malaysia.

The sinner is in the northern state of Perlis Indera Kayangan, the smallest little state in the Federation of Malaysia and the rice basket of the country. I have not been here for 30 years, I reckon, and am glad to know that things have developed decently, although the old ways are, happily, still the same. As we left our spanking new hotel last night, I was shocked to find a rice combine harvester, ploughing through a paddy field which we did not even noticed were right there in front of the hotel.

I am here for a wedding of two dear friends, Fifi and Syed Khaled, expected to take place this late afternoon after Asr prayers at her house just a five minutes drive from here. The marriage is an interesting amalgamation of Fifi who is a thoroughly Malay girl (with some spots of Siamese heritage I suspect), and Khaled who originates from Arabian stock.

I have misplaced my beloved songkok (traditional black-coloured Malay head gear) during the Eidul Fitri celebrations, and am now rushing to the small city (okay... let's call it a town) of Kangar to look for a replacement. So I can't write much right now. Below are some more pictures I managed to take yesterday.

When we arrived, Fifi the blushing bride was frantically asking us,
"Ooh... take me out! Take me out of my house at least for a while,
I cannot stand anymore of this wedding preparation!" So after telling
her father a bald-faced lie, we headed to Fifi's favourite seafood restaurant
at the jetty in Kuala Perlis. You cannot even see the place from the main road,
and would have to walk down this dark lonely path to find it.
Only the locals knows the place, she says. Wow. Exclusive.

Along rickety and loose planked pier we walked (or is it a jetty?), and pass
through the trees and small houses we arrive at the restaurant, hidden from
prying eyes and with a view of the Straits of Melaka. There were many Muslims
eating, but Fifi had once earlier asked the Chinese proprietor whether the food was
halal (permissable for Muslims). He blustered his reply,
"Waa... Agung pun makan sini! (Even the King have eaten here!)" He he he.

We didn't know what to order, but happily Fifi's relatives were having their dinner
at the next table. So we sought their advice and tested their food before ordering
ours. Yes. Fifi, and by proxy all of us, is quite shameless.

After dinner and incessant calls from her mother to come home, we left happy, satisfied and sleepy. Heche however went to do her best-friend-job and stayed with Fifi to help her with the wedding prep until later into the night.

Now it's 10.50am here in Kangar. And they are waiting for me. Gotta go now, sunshine. See ya later!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Eidul Fitri, Mika, my Mother, Sponge Bob and the Solace of the Cemetery - pictures tell stories

Early in this morning of 1st Syawal, as droves of Muslims made their way to perform the Eidul Fitri prayers at mosques all over Malaysia, Mak Ndak (my auntie), Mikhail and myself sneaked towards the Bukit Kiara Cemetery which hosts the final resting place of my mother, Arba'yah binti Hj Mohd Hashim. While there I took some pictures (as is my habit in all cemeteries). And these are the stories that the pictures tell...

My mother is a gardener. My auntie Mak Ndak tells me that she was that way even
in her childhood days, always pottering around in the lawn outside my grandfather's
house in Kuala Kangsar, the royal seat of the Sultan of Perak. It was her gardening and
digging about that unearthed a small trove of ancient golden plates. I think that the number of people
who discovers hidden treasures is quite small. And those who discover them by accident
is even more minuscule. I do believe my mother was born under a lucky star. As a
gardener I thought she would be pleased to have a bouquet of yellow roses posed in
a small tin watering can. Me and Heche found it at a florist just the evening before.  I think
it turned out pretty, don't you agree?

There she is, the indomitable Mak Ndak- Giving her greetings of peace to the spirit of my late mother, her
much beloved second youngest sister, and making her doa (prayers) for my mum's peaceful and joyous
 after life. As we left much later, I heard my auntie whispering under her breath, "InsyaAllah (Godwilling),
Ba'yah, I will be joining you here one day..." I know I am being selfish, but I found myself praying that
the fateful day will be delayed as long as possible, for my Mak Ndak has been a pillar in my home and
a reservoir of memories of my mother that is simply priceless to me. Allah knows best...

While we were at my mother's grave, Mika wandered away and crossed over to the section
of the cemetery for babies and little children. I looked for him until I saw him returning from a
distant way, looking rather pensive and busy. What was he up to?

He came across a little grave of a baby, and crouched down to read the
inscriptions, that would normally state the name, date of birth and death of the dear child.

Then he abruptly stood up and gazed across the babies' graves, as if he was looking
for something or someone. I could not contain my curiosity much longer, and
I asked him, "Hey, Mika... what are you doing over there?"

He replied back, "I am looking for my friend! Remember... the baby that I gave a
present to? Remember...?" Indeed he did. When we were here last time, he stubbed
his Crocs on a stone and his Sponge Bob character fell of his Crocs. He left it at
the grave of a baby as a gift. But he was looking at the wrong place, because I remember.
So I said, "I know where your friend is! Come over here first, Mika, you need to help me
find another grave for Mak Ndak..!

For my Mak Ndak wanted me to find the grave of her late aunt, Hajah Aminah Saad. So with
Mikhail in tow, we started to make our way down the line of graves near my mother's. It is not
far from there, Mak Ndak said. So Mikhail started to check the inscriptions on all the readable
grave stones, sometimes commenting, "Hey Papa! This one died in Ramadhan... I guess he
is kinda blessed, right?" Right, Mikhail. After a while we came across a grave stone with exactly
the same black marble as my mom's and after pushing aside the shrubbery that blocked it, found
my late grand aunt's final resting place. Mika and myself were flushed with pride to find her.

So Mika did the honours and recited the al-fatiha for his great grand aunt, Hajjah Amina
binti Mohd Saad. I am somehow pleased that he has made acquaintance with our
ancestor. I think my mom would have been pleased too.

Mika in his one-Croc Sponge Bob continued his search for his friend. He found his 'friend
and 'the gift'. It was nestled between the grave and the stone marking which gives the number
of the grave in the cemetery's registrar of the dead. I was apprehensive that perhaps someone
may have simply thrown away the Sponge Bob, perhaps thinking it to be a mere litter. But instead
an unknown person took the little toy and wedged it where we found it.

I asked Mika if the baby was a boy or a girl.
"It's a boy, Papa!" he said after checking the tombstone.

Before we left, Mika gave the greetings of salam to his friend, and once more
recited the al-fatiha (the Opening Verse of the Holy Quran).

Amiiiiin.... (Amen)

Before we left, I asked Mika to wedge Sponge Bob back to its original place.
Mika complied and said, "Yeah, Papa... the baby will find it easier
to grab Sponge Bob and play with him from there..."

We returned to my mother's grave where Mak Ndak was waiting for us patiently.
Mika turned to face her grave as he recited the al-fatiha. "This is the fourth
al-Fatiha I am saying for Tok (Grandma)!" So Mak Ndak and myself dutifully
raised our hands in doa behind him. His recitation was longer than normal before he finally
sighed a profound, "Amen!" Then smiling impishly, Mika confided in me...
"I did two bonus doas for Tok!" That's Mika for you.

I don't think I am a good dad. I set way too many bad examples for him. For like it or not, as adults, we become de facto teachers, by the things we do or by the things we omit to do. For the young, whether he or she is our son, daughter, niece or nephew will inevitably look up to us as an example. I pray that where I am amiss, God and His Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), and the Companions and Saints will cover my son, Mikhail. For I am someone truly sensitive as to his weaknesses. And boy, do I have my weaknesses... 

But when it comes to the cemetery and graves, sunshine, I am happy with Mikhail's contentment and curiosity around so many dead people. There are many adults out there who still cringe with fear at the mere whif of graves and the deceased, which I think is a rather ridiculous and short-sighted attitude. After all, we are all gonna end up here one day. Alhamdulillah, may we be gathered by God the Most Compassionate and Most Merciful in a worthy and noble company of kindred souls. Amen.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way