THE DESERT IS COMING UNLESS WE CHANGE. BEGINNING WITH THE MOSQUE - The Ramadan Story, Part 10

My Paradise is My Mosque

There is no desert in my heart. 

For my land is a rainforest, full of tropical trees, flower and fauna. 

Green rivers and streams meander across my heart from the hills that dot my land. 

Valleys and ravines follow the water, clean and pure like the rain 

That showers regularly on the emerald roof of the jungle. 

Birds and mousedeers, tigers and elephants co-habitat, flowers, leaves 

And fruits of wondrous variety, colour and benefit hang from the branches 

Waiting for my eye and ministration. 

For I am not only the master of my heart and my land,

I am also its custodian and servant. 

My eyes takes rest and pleasure gazing on this Earth, 

Its riches spilling over into the tenuous civilization raised by Man. 

And were I to build a mosque here, a House of God, 

I would not build high walls to separate the mosque from the forest, 

Nor find the need to decorate it with the pictures of paradise. 

For my land is both my paradise and my mosque 

And wherever I am praying, 

I want to see heaven all around me.

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

God...?

From the Desert I Came. The religion of Islam is often associated with the desert. For it was in the desert dunes of Arabia that the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) completed the message and deen of Islam, thereby completing the comprehensive beliefs and rites that make up the faith. There is an old saying, which I cannot remember who said it, that God created the forest for Man, but created the desert for Himself. And I guess when you are thinking of setting the atmosphere for contemplation of Man's vulnerability and insignificance, nothing beats a night in the desert, alone with a billion stars twinkling in the heavens above. Questions like "Who am I?'', "Why am I here?" and "Who is out there?" will come to your heart as naturally as breathing.

The Arabian Heaven. The Umayyad Mosque in Damascus is not one of the three Great Mosques of Islam (the Masijidil Haram in Mecca, the Masjid Nabi in Medina and the al-Aqsa in Jerusalem), but in context of the End of Time sequence, it will play a significant role because it is here that Muslims anticipate the Second Coming of Jesus (Isa a.s.). But my interest in the Umayyad Mosque is not about its prophetic relevance, but the design. In particular, the interior walls on which is engraved with green and gold depictions of Paradise, of palm trees overflowing with dates, clear blue rivers of Jannah running through the gardens, and mansions and palaces on the hills for the believers. It is a religious propaganda (and I mean this well) and a spiritual assurance for the believers, as they pray, rest and learn beneath the pillars of the Mosque, a visual persuasion playing upon the Arab's ideal of paradise... "Ah, lovely, beautiful, inspiring..." they must be thinking.

The Tropical Paradise. But it is a little different here. For in Malaysia, as in most tropical and equatorial regions, there is no desert. There is no sand dunes or far-off desert horizons to inspire us. The forest and the jungle is right next door. And some of us ethnic aboriginals even live in the jungle. Tall rain forest trees of hundred years old tower over dense undergrowth. And through them run gentle streams and rivers full of fish, turtles and even alligators. Is this not paradise (well, sans the mosquitoes, alligators, tigers and leeches!) already? So even if you are expelled from your village, in days of yore, you would not starve to death. You will undoubtedly be inconvenienced, but you will live. (My little caveat here is that this might not be the case now for soft, fleshy city folks like me... I would probably misstep and fall into a ravine within hours. And get eaten by tigers. But you get the picture)

An Architectural Proposition for the Mosque. I am not an architect, so all I can venture is a proposition for an open concept Mosque which sits in sympathy with its tropical surroundings. It can be of any size, but the surroundings must be a tropical garden and a running stream drifting around the mosque and perhaps even through it. And the view from inside the mosque must rest upon the bountiful brilliance of the rain forest however far the congregation can see. The mosque must be built with wood and stone, with river pebbles shining darkly from the lower part of the walls while timbered pillars rise up to the wooden beamed roof. But from within the mosque, one ought to be able to see and hear the surrounding garden with its crickets and frogs. Especially at night. After all, the sound of nature is the sound of dzikr (recitation and remembrance of God's Names)

Shutting out Paradise. One of the reason why the proposition encompasses the outside surroundings of the mosque is because the truth is Muslims have been too lazy in caring and nurturing the environment. The mosque should not be a building to shut out the world and dream for paradise. Especially not in this tropical country. Not when just outside most mosques and suraus (small mosques), we find litter, pollution, environmental destruction and ecological disasters staring in the face of the Ummah (the Muslim nation). 

The Desert is Coming. So in reality are we shutting out the outside world because we cannot now bear to look upon the handiwork of our modern society on this paradise garden that we have been given? Are we turning our beautiful forests and jungles into deserts? If so, then we need not wait too long. The desert is coming if we do not change our ways.

Beginning with the Mosque. I reckon we can begin to accept our responsibility for the Earth this way - From the mosque, and if we believe in Allah (s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), from our conscience which must always be in sympathy for all of creation and all of God's creatures that we share this planet with. 

I think that this makes more sense than all the political and often violent upheavals that are presently besieging the Ummah. After all, what is the point of Islam in a world already despoiled and destroyed..? 

Don't you agree, sunshine?

Wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way  

The Most Impertinent Gift of All - life, love, children and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.)

1.      A Clear blue sky, Qasidah Burdah!

I am standing beneath

A clear blue sky,

As the night clouds part

To reveal stars that twinkle

And wink at me,

Trying to winkle from me

A little sigh, a little tear,

A little chuckle,

As I, Taufiq,

Take delight in God’s apparentness,

In the burning fire of stars countless

Light years away from me,

And in the delight of God’s covertness,

In the burning heart of the Prophet’s Companions

So near to me, that I can feel

Their breath upon my cheek,

Their hand upon my hand,

And they are saying,

“O’ Taufiq! What do you desire?”

And I am replying now,

“O’ Stars of my Twilight Sky,

It is your Master that I covet!

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

Really I do declare that I am the most greedy person I know. Not happy enough with the delights of this world and the birth of my son some 8 years ago, I still want more. I want the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), of all the most impertinent desires that mortal men can hide in the folds of their hearts. 

But the point about divine gifts is that it comes with a qualification, for each thing which we receive, whether it is money and wealth, breath and health, land and friends, has a flip side. With great gifts come great responsibility - For what are we spending our money on? With each breath are we making this world better or worse? If we have health, what are doing with our bodies? And what are we allowing to be built on our lands? And do we take care of our friends, or do we neglect them?

And when it comes to the gift of children, come on... let's face it. We have never been properly trained and educated to fulfill our responsibilities towards them. For Muslims, they would therefore ask for the most impertinent divine gift to help them manage their responsibilities in this life, and that boon is the gift of access and intimacy with the best guide to all Mankind - God's anointed Mercy to the world(s), the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.).

Of course, he has passed away a long, long time ago. But if you really wanna know, the nature of death and the reality of the after life makes this a wholly technical issue which can be dealt with easily...

Attending to the Prophet(s.a.w.s.)

Attend to the Prophet

And the Prophet will attend to you

Direct your attention to the Prophet

And the Prophet will direct his attention to you

Listen to the Prophet, for he is already speaking to you,

Turn to the Prophet, for he is already gazing to you,

From a place far,  far away

But very, very near.

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

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The World, The Beggar and The Goodness Implicit in Imperfection

"Come and pray on top of me." said the lonely hill

The whole world asked for my company

But I gave my company to a beggar…

The stream said,

“Come pray beside me,

You can make ablution with my water

That I wish to give you freely.”

My bedroom said,

“Come pray in me,

You will pray easy and at peace

Just as you do while sleeping in me.”

The tree said,

“Come and pray beneath me,

I shall shelter you from the sun and the rain

While you call unto God with your gentle hymn.”

The Gypsy said,

“Come and pray by my caravan

For you will find no better travelling companion

Than me who will take you to far off and wonderous places.”

The lonely hill said,

“Come and pray on top of me

That you might find the silence and solace

In private commune with your Maker.”

The ocean said,

“Come and pray beside me

To the music of my wave and surf

That Adam first heard when he arrived

Disconsolate, tired and unhappy.”

Finally I heard a beggar say,

“Come and pray with me,

For I am lost, lonely and weary.”

To this, I readily consented,

For the beggar was no one else but me.

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

It lowers your blood pressure

It is good to pray. The ablutions encourages cleanliness, the meditation lowers your blood pressure, the melodious chant fills the air with musical hymn, and you have a couple of minutes to rest your tired conscience away from the taxing trying reality of this world - "Work? Career? Family disputes? Scandal? War? Famine? Money? No, not now." You say, "I am taking a five minutes break."

"Come and pray beside me." said the stream.

Pray with yourself first. My religion encourages praying in a congregation, even if it is just two. I think it is a good idea because it fosters brotherhood, tolerance and unity. But someone told me this yesterday, "It is good to pray with people. But you should pray with yourself first, before praying with anyone else." And I think he is right. We take for granted we are here. And when we are praying we take for granted we exist in the present. But the problem is our thoughts and imagination often drift away from the present, either meandering to some contemplation of the past - "Gee, did I forget to lock the car?", or some reflection of an urgent future - "Oh no! I need to sort out my tax filing today!"

Not being perfect ain't so bad after all. I think all religions have this same problem. But perhaps it is wrong to call this a 'problem'. I would like to call it a process, a path that we must pass through. You will not get your prayers perfect because perfection is a state of Divine Attributes. But as a human being you can certainly get it better and better... 

The Good Thing About Not Being Perfect

So we should thank God that we are not perfect. 

And that for us there is always a better tomorrow around the corner, 

A better moment just waiting to happen, 

A chance for a better cup of tea, 

A chance for a better you and 

A better me!

Thanks for dropping in, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Saints and the Saintly - They walk amongst us

6. Somehow Different

There is no quest,

No holy grail,

For those who would take it

And share none of its blessings

With beggars, strangers and simpletons,

No offering of wine

For someone

Somehow different.

A 1997 STORY. Once upon a time, in 1997, two nondescript friends were having a conversation during lunch. And somehow or rather the topic turned to hermit saints, and this was what one friend said to the other, "What's the point of him staying in his cave in the jungle, on a deserted island or on top some lonely mountain, having learnt all that he have from his meditation, prayers and fasting? He must come back to society to help us! Really wha..." The speaker abruptly stopped as his eyes glazed over, and then he started to cry. He cried and cried and cried, much to the consternation of his friend who was getting desperately worried about him and about the food getting cold, "Hey... Hey... Hey! Are you alright?"

Finally his tears stopped running, and he replied, "Oh my friend. A veil was raised and I saw an ocean of sorrow, a horizon of regret, a sea of despair afflicting all of mankind... Who am I to ask the saints to face such horrifying spectacle." Then he sighed and concluded. "I understand a little now what faces the saints. But it also makes me so sad..."

THEY WALK AMONGST US. Well that was 14 years ago. Since then I have come face to face and met saints of all sorts. Tall and short, fat and thin, and they are in the midst of people, dealing with the poor and destitute, the rich and powerful, from street hawkers to tycoons, ministers, princes and kings. Attending to people with no homes, to people with many, many homes, whether you are a sinner or saintly. They take everyone in... if it is thus meant to be.

For the true saints have no qualm sharing their knowledge with people, albeit with discretion. It is not for glory of the quest nor honour for the holy grail that they do what they do. They do it for God and His Beloved Prophet. And with their 'gifts' they are commanded to be responsible over the kin of Adam and Eve, over the Nation of Muhammad. It is a heavy, heavy task. God bless their busy little hearts!

May you meet a saint, sunshine. If (you think) you hadn't, ask to meet one and see what happens. God will not refuse you. As for the saintly... well, I am sure you have been bumping into them through out your life. Perhaps you are one yourself.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way.

Gurindam , the Weed, the Rice and the Lemongrass - The Nature of Love and Her Sweet Responsibilities

Love's Gentle Feint
It was overcast I said in the morning. And it was.
Later the wind blew the clouds away, and I thought… oh no, a sunny (hot) day!
But in the afternoon the rain came, with lightning and thunder.
So I bared my shoulder
As the Prophet once did,
And I danced in the rain,
The dervish in rapture
To Love’s intimacy
And gentle feint.

GURINDAM, THE WEED, THE RICE AND THE LEMONGRASS. My last story (which I can recall) of Gurindam and his traditional Malay lore concerns the weed, the rice and the lemongrass.

“When these three plants are just a few days old, it is hard to distinguish them apart. They look exactly alike!” said Gurindam. "So you need to get close to the ground and feel them. The leaf of the weed is coarse to the touch, so you can rule the weed out. But then you find that both the rice and lemongrass is soft. Now you need to get even closer and smell them. You will find that the rice sapling has no scent, but the lemongrass has that familiar tangy lemongrass aroma.” Then he smiled at me. “So you see, when you are in a position of responsibility (he was an ancient Planter, the boss of bosses of the palm oil estates, bearing the title of Chief Operating Officer), you cannot rely on hearsay and judge from a distant. You must go to the ground, examine the matter firsthand. If need be, you need to get on your hands and knees and taste the salinity of the trench canals which cuts across the estate like a city block grid.”

DUE DILIGENCE. He is right of course. In everything which we do, whether it is to bestow privilege or largesse or to withdraw entitlements, we need to get dirty on our hands and knees, and to run our hands through the soil of the human soul. We cannot know for certain of course, but we need to apply some basic diligence because let’s be frank here - People are often reticent and shy even if they are not overtly deceptive. They are just reluctant about revealing the relevant truths, and will hide the real source of their problem(s).

IT IS ALL ABOUT LOVE. Hehehe. It cuts against the grain does it not? Talking about management in this little almanac. After all, talking about responsibilities, rights and obligations appear to be anathema to our mystical credentials of ‘just letting go’ and ‘going with God’s flow’. But it isn’t really, in fact sometimes it is the essence of Love. After all… as the sinner once ruefully noted…

Jika (If)
Jika kamu tidak ingin
Berjabat tangan
Dengan kesabaran,
Usahlah kamu katakan
Yang kamu mencintaiku,

Jika kamu tidak ingin
Berkenalan dengan
Tanggungjawab,
Mengapakah
Kamu katakan,
Yang diri ini,
Kamu kasihi?

Translation:
If you do not desire
To befriend patience,
Do not say unto me
That you love me.

If you do not wish
To make acquaintance
With responsibilities,
Then why, pray tell,
Do you say that,
It is I,
Whom you truly love?

So you see? It is all about love after all. Just like a good Sufi would say. If you find one tell me. After all, sinners are what Sufis are made for.

Have a nice Sunday, pet.

Pax Taufiqa.

A Silly Little Man With Too Much To Say

THIS BLOG CONSISTS OF ONE SINGLE WRITTEN DOCUMENT BUT BROKEN UP INTO POSTINGS. I have noticed that in all the prose recorded by the sinner over almost 8 years (and they are a lot!), I have often had to fight the impulse to continue writing a poem. This is simply, from where I am writing, one story crosses into another story, and on and on and on. You might say that I have written up to now (since July 2010, when I really started getting serious about this blog) only 1 single writing - its just that it has been divided into 299 as of now.

BUT HONESTLY AND TRULY - I am writing about the same thing again and again, it's just that the perspectives are always different… I am describing an apple, but this apple is unimaginably beautiful and forms layer upon layer of infinite meanings. This singular apple is our Maker (aka God) in all His beautiful Attributes. In this picturesque apple is also mankind, resting between the Lord's and the Messenger's Hand, a constellation of stars adorning the night sky between the rising sun of Ahad and the setting Moon of Ahmad. This is how I see you. And this is how I see the world really.

BUT I AM NO HIPPY. You know, this doesn’t mean I am a hippy. I do not have a rose-tinted view of the world. My work itself (I am a solicitor doing mostly corporate work) means that I am daily dealing with rights, privileges, obligations and promises made for money. From my experience there is no such thing as a free lunch in the reality of any commercial enterprises, whether you are running a children’s television show, a fish farm, a design house or a public listed construction company. At the end of the day, it is all about fulfilling our responsibility and differing roles – which in my case would be as a friend, lover, a service provider, boss, father, son, brother and nephew. And I know, it is not the easiest thing in the world for you too.

SO A TOAST TO YOU - For your own present and future success in fulfilling your responsibilities. Responsibilities are not obstacles or even diversions in your search for the meaning of life, love and God. It is the path by which all lovers come to fully comprehend the meaning of love… for isn’t God Ultimately Responsible for us too? So rest your responsibility upon His responsibility for you. And open your heart to those around you who are there to ease your burden and share your every day worries, riddles, exasperation and tears – our beloved family and friends.

Today I open my heart to you, sunshine. It is dusty, cluttered and needs tidying up, but it’s all I have for you. So I hope you can accept me as I am. Just a silly little man with too much to say!

Hehehe,

Pax Taufiqa.

Everyone Deserves an Ariffin

My ability in the English language is 'okay'. It is not my mother tongue so you must forgive my spelling and grammar mistakes. Often though such error is because I am rushing to post out the blog. I am in a rush most of the time now because since 1st Jan 2011, I am the managing partner of my law chambers.
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After 8 years of selfless service, my partner and friend, Ariffin offered to me the job of ensuring that the office is pest-free, kept clean and tidy, all staff and cleaners are paid, the rental, utilities and other overheads are settled promptly. When Ariffin made clear his offer, I remember feeling sickly and tired the whole day. I knew that managing a firm would not be easy.
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I joined the firm about 9 months after it was formed. While Ariffin always consults with me on all decisions concerning the firm, the main burden in managing the firm was shouldered by him. He is one of those natural leaders who had the ability to inspire. When he enters the office, I could just sense his presence, lighting up the atmosphere with his jokes and banter. But do not be fooled, for I have met few men as serious in discharging his responsibility as this dude. And above all, the responsibility of Love.
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When my friend, Shahzad (former and founding partner) offered me a job in 2004, he asked that I speak with Ariffin, who he informed me was the managing partner of this new law firm. In the one hour meeting, we spent about 10 minutes talking about my work experience and possible role in the office. The following one hour was essentially a conversation about Love. Love distilled of all selfishness, Love that is not only inspirational, but perhaps more importantly, practical. Ariffin (who I must admit, loves to talk) made me comfortable from the word 'Go', and I left the meeting room with my job confirmed, but above all, with a sense of happiness that perhaps, after years of jumping jobs, I have found a home.
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For my partner, it is not enough to talk about Love. In his head, the highest embodiment of Love is to discharge your responsibilities that arises naturally from Love. If you do not wish to be accountable for your actions, if you wish to live the life of a rolling stone with no care for anything or anyone, then it is not suitable for you to have any affair in the matters of Love. I believe I have posted this poem before, but just this once, I would like to share with you again this poem I wrote sometime in May 2009...

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53. Jika
Jika kamu tidak ingin
Berjabat tangan
Dengan kesabaran,
Usahlah kamu katakan
Yang kamu mencintaiku,

Jika kamu tidak ingin
Berkenalan dengan
Tanggungjawab,
Mengapakah
Kamu katakan,
Yang diri ini,
Kamu kasihi?

Translation:
If you do not desire
To befriend patience,
Do not say unto me
That you love me.

If you do not wish
To make acquaintance
With responsibilities,
Then why, pray tell,
Do you say that,
It is I,
Whom you truly love?
.

People like to talk about 'Sufism' and 'Mysticism', but the truth of the matter is there is no division in the life that we lead, nor the knowledge that we fish from the Ocean of God. Labels, important as they maybe in helping to identify you and I, are only at the end of it all, merely labels. The essence in the form is that we are all from one God, and one day we shall return to Him. In that sense, you and I and the cat named Moses... we are all one.

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Such things I learn from the conduct of my partners. It is my fervent wish that you also have with you a loyal and loving friend, who is devoted to the unmasking of lies and the establishment of love as I have found in my friend. I think everyone deserves an Ariffin.

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Have a friendshipful day, sunshine.

.

Pax Taufiqa

Rumi, Irony, Time and Money.

IRONY. If there is one thing which any aspirant of the inner path shall pass through it is Irony. Indeed, there is little in life which we cannot label as ironic. I don't think Irony is a bad thing. Even Alanis Morissette sang about it. And I for one always take a tablet of irony each morning to maintain my supple mind and laugh off as much as possible the (sometimes) bitter darts that fate habitually shoots at me on a fairly regular basis.

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MONEY. I don't think it is a bad idea to have money. Like all things, it is really what you do with it that matters. Take your lips for instance. You can use it to praise God, to compliment your waiter, to remember the wonderful things that your father has done for you, and of course you can use your lips to kiss someone (which I think is always a very good idea). Alternatively, from your lips can pour words of scorn and anger, full of sarcastic remarks intended to hurt. Just like money, you can use it for good, or you can use it for bad. It is up to you really. But like all things entrusted to you, just like your body - you are responsible for the good use of it. So don't be like me, use it well!

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SUFIS. Rumi himself said that (the disease of) WORLDLINESS is not simply about you having property, wealth and family. It is as I said - its all about how you put what you have to good use. After all, even if you don't have a bean in this world and the trousers you are wearing is borrowed, you still have the most precious commodity in this world, which is valuable beyond measure and can never be hoarded or purchased - TIME.

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TIME. So you are rich already. Use the time you have on this planet well, my love. For it is as precious as the blood that flows through your vein. Perhaps even more so.

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Have a timely Tuesday, sunshine. Endeavour to be punctual. After all, God the Most Loving always is.

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Pax Taufiqa!

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Footnote: Toons are from my old archives. As yet to be published.

Why do I have to tell you (that I love you)?

1. Why do I have to tell you (that I love you)?
Tell me why,
Tell me your reasons,
Why, after all these years,
You need to know
And to hear I say,
That I love you.

Tell me why,
And what compelled you
To forget me, to dismiss me
From your mind.

And now you say you are lonely,
Now you tell me that you are sad,
And that you need to hear me say,
I love you
One more time.

I am sorry,
I cannot do that,
For the truth is,
I have never stopped saying
I love you,

But you,
You cannot hear me
Because you do not believe me,

Disbelief has made you deaf,

So believe

And be deaf no longer.

One night, I found the above words written on the walls of my soul. Have you seen these words before? The lovers of God (of all faiths and denominations) make a habit of singing their lamentable yearning for God. This poem appears to be a reply.

WISHING AWAY GOD. I am often guilty of feeling miserable. It is ALWAYS because I forgot myself, and thereon, I forgot God. Whether motivated by greed, selfishness, jealousy, impatience or anger, my mind would wish away God, thinking away the lessons of the Prophets, ignoring all the wisdom that my pater and mater had taught me.

WISHING AWAY MYSELF. But in truth, we cannot wish away God. What has happened is that I, Taufiq, has exiled myself from the Kingdom of Happiness – simply because I choose myself and my ego over God, and over others to whom I owe a duty of brotherhood. I have separated myself from mankind, attaching myself instead to the false nation of mancruel.

I wish I could direct this post to all whom I have failed in the past. If you are one of them, please accept my apologies, kiss my forehead, take my hand and lead me back through the gates of forgiveness.

I am wistful today. Maybe because I am a little tired. I take solace in the comforting warmth of your embrace, my friends.
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Thank you, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote: Poem is from Chapter 33 ‘Hear Me’, completed 12th day of August, 2008. I guess this posting is a sequel to my earlier posting entitled 'Believing in God and Believing God is not the same thing'. Click here.

Mika Mr. Big Heart, How to Recognise a Saint, and Being Saintly

Driving through a wealthy neighbourhood one day, Mika observed, “Wow, Papa, these houses are HUGE!”

I am not poor. I am okay. But in my life, we have seen happy people living in a tiny house, and I have seen frustrated and sad souls surrounded by all the luxuries that this life can offer. I know of an elderly woman, who travels from one family home to another, with no fixed address or house to call her own, but who has the clarity of mind greater than someone half her age. She is beloved wherever she minds to stay.
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Along that point, I said to Mika in response to his observation, “Mika, if you live in a small house but have a big heart, you are okay. On the other hand, if you live in a big house but have a small heart, you are in trouble.” He was quiet and thoughtful, so I asked him, “What about you, do you have a big heart?”

“Papa, I have the biggest heart!”, he responded excitedly.

I queried my son further, “And how come you have a big heart?”

He turned to me and said with great serious-ity, “Because I never give up, Papa.”

I was struck by Mika’s reply, as I anticipated his stock answer, which would be “Oh, because God and Nabi Muhammad is in my heart, Papa.” Mika’s words takes me back a couple of months ago when I bumped into Nun Tuck’s blog. The very first posting which I came across was one entitled “Saints are sinners who keep on trying.” Click here to read this wonderful article.

You can be a bona fide saint or you can be plain old saintly. You can try to be a saint if you want, but I know of no saint who actually wants to be a saint. It is a 24/7 job with parallel responsibilities running along the different dimensions and pseudo-worlds. On top of that, as a de jure Saint, you have to deal with the appalling manners and constant bleating of sinners like me...
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10. Blue Mosque
Someone has given me
Sinan’s building plans,
Though I know not
How to even build up a sweat.

Someone has given me
The key to Baghdad’s library,
Though I lie easily,
So whatever is learnt is easily forgotten.

Someone has brought me
To the attention of a Master,
Though when I was in school,
I was indifferent.
……….

So why not be saintly, my friend? Just keep on trying and don't give up (on sinners like me).

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote: ‘Blue Mosque’ is from Chapter 4, ‘The Eighteen Verses’. First picture is of Mika and his cousin, Aqil attending a thursday night God-remembering (Dzikr) function.

God's Door is Never Closed, neither was my Mother's

9. No Barred Gate
There is no barred gate,
No locked door,
To My temple.

Not for My servants,
Are the endless wailing
To gain entry
Into My house,
Furiously knocking at the doorsteps
Of the priests and caretakers,
Asleep in their priestly cots.

For My true abode
Is in the hearts of My servants,

And be assured I sleep not.
……….

So wrote the sinner in chapter 34, entitled “A Thought Away” (circa September 2008).

Oh yes, God doesn’t sleep or rest. But I do. I need to. So if you come to me seeking aid while I am asleep, you shan’t get any. Not unless you wake me up. I may help you, but I reserve the right to be surly and (a little) insincere.

The sad thing about me is, unlike the Loving God, I ain’t so loving even when I am conscious. If I am tired, or busy and a deadline is knocking on my door, I would be like those priests and caretakers, not asleep, but simply too engrossed with my exhaustion or my work to give you aid. So between deadlines and friends, it is probable that I would choose deadline over friends. Especially if it is nearing the end of the month and my overheads are looming in my horizon like a black looking thingy. I am rationalising... sorry. There is really no excuse.

How lucky for you then that God is not finite. He is running His show 24/7 since year dot and before. Depend on Him to keep His Pearly Gates open. And don’t be like me; make sure your own pearly gates are continuously open also, to love and accept whoever God has sent to you seeking aid. If you do so, surely then, you are also a good host to God Himself.

My mum taught me all this. Not by words (like me), but by the best lesson possible - by example. And today I am sharing it with you, with the hope that it goes some way to mitigate for my poor hospitality. I am a sinner, but you… you are absolutely wonderful. Your example is a golden hope in the skies of my graying soul. And if one day, you find me knocking on your door asking for help, then help me. God will repay you for whatever kindness you give to this beggarly sinner.

Have a great Thursday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Mika, Usman Awang, Orientation Day and a Debt that shall never be paid

Muhammad Mikhail bin Taufiq was born on 31st January 2004 I in Ward C, Pantai Medical Centre, Kuala Lumpur. I was nervously waiting in the room when the nurse came in and said, “Can the father come with me?”. I followed her in a semi-conscious state to the babies ward. The as-yet unnamed baby son looked red like a tomato. The nurse gently passed him to me, and I recited the Azan (Call of Prayers) into his ear (I did it wrongly, but never mind that). That same night, I wrote a prose. I do not know why, but angels were mentioned…

..

8. Pantai Hospital, Ward C
Babies talk in Morse
To angels who tread these corridors

What beautiful talent we sadly unlearn
Weary of life’s maze, twist and turn
Until life itself ebbs to its full and final term
And we lay in bed, old, weak and infirm

Only to find ourselves once again speaking
To angels garbed in light, and with yea, what mighty wings!

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

His first pre-school was Villa Maria, run by the Good Shepherd Sisters. In end of 2009, he graduated. His major achievement I must say is his high tolerance of embarrassing costumes that he had to wear for the annual concerts. Often, I can see it in his eyes an unfulfilled wish to be 1 million miles away from the little concert hall.
.

Skip 1 year onwards, and today I and Mika’s mother accompanied him for his orientation day in his primary school, Sekolah Rendah Taman Tun Dr. Ismail (1) for the January 2011 intake. Preliminary placing of Mika put him in Kelas 1 Mutiara (1 Pearl). During registration a teacher came in to round up the kids for an assessment test. Happily, Mika was the first to finish, but he had to wait for the rest to finish - Waiting is not one of his strong points.

Well, neither is it mine really. So I left him and wandered around the school compound. On a stairwell I found this beautiful poem by Malaysia’s Poet Laureate Usman Awang hanging of the wall…

Translation:
If today
There is a Prime Minister in power
If today
A King ascends a throne
If today
(There is) An Honourable Spiritual Scholar
If today
A lawyer wins a trail
If today
A writer becomes famous
If today
Anyone becomes an adult
Their history was begun
By an ordinary teacher
(Who) with kindness, and patience
Taught (them) to read and write.

I came back to check on Mika, and saw that the pencil box has lost all its attraction and he has started making friends with the boy next to him. But he ignored the lovely girl to his right. My fault - Initially, I told Mika that all boys share a secret vow which simply reads 'Don’t Trust Girls!’. After a brief look at the class register, I found that girls outnumber boys by almost 2 to 1. In the car later, I suggested gently to him that the ‘Don’t Trust Girls’ dogma needs to be reassessed in light of the new discovery. He solemnly nodded his agreement.

After the assessment test was over, the teachers took the children for a tour around the school, you know, the canteen, the toilets, the computer lab, the teachers’ rooms etc. I found it naively sweet that the school authority believes that the 6-year olds would recall it all when they come for their 1st day of school in more than 1 month’s time from today.

The final item of the orientation was the re-placement of children to different classes. Some parents were kiasu (‘overly-earnest’ is the best translation I can give) and excited, waiting with bated breath. I made a joke that the teachers are in fact re-placing children according to how kiasu their parents were. They have no problem with the kids, it’s their parents that are the trouble-makers. I thought it was funny… but nobody laughed.

I am happy that everything went well today. And sad. I feel that my son is growing up too fast for me. But let me share with you a personal observation. When Mikhail was a baby / toddler, I always thought that I shall never love him as much as I loved him then. Such a cute and cuddly kid, I thought, with those huge Japanese cartoon eyes. Surely, when he grows up he will start to develop his own personality and character quirks, and shed the baby fat. No doubt, he will be less adorable to me. Less innocent. Less cute.

Now I can say that I was wrong. My love for him has grown on a steep learning curve. I love him for his good and bad habits. I love him for his patience and impatience. I love him for his smile and his scowls. I love him for his selfishness and generosity. I do, and I don’t know why I do.

As is often the case, such thoughts lead me back to my father and mother. And I believe that they too were faced with the same unexplained mystery. And that is why I know that my debt to them cannot be measured, and their love for me is counted every moment in a Heavenly Scale untouched by human weakness and caprice. This debt shall never be paid.

I would like to conclude this posting with the same question that I have often asked in this blog - If you share the same sentiments about your parents and your children, how can we not be brothers and sisters?

Have a great Saturday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

P/S – ‘Pantai Hospital, Ward C’ is from the 1st Chapter called ‘the Dam.SunSun.Ana’, completed June 2004.

Especially for fathers, mothers, sons and daughters

BY YOUR BIRTH AM I DIMINISHED (A Parent’s Lament)


O’ my child,
O’ my beloved child.

Why do you appear surprised
To see me cry this way?
Only because you have not
Seen me cry before?
Only because I was always
The strong one,
Strict and unbending?

The truth is,
I have cried for you
In all the years of your life.
From the first moment
I cradled you in my arms.

I cry because
So much of me have passed to you,
And I am left with only a little.
By your birth am I diminished.

I cry not of sorrow,
But in the state of witnessing
Of our Lord’s promise.

And the mirror which you carry
Within you hurts my eye
Whenever I look into you,
And see me.

For in you
Is a ray of hope
For a better me,

A ray of light
That at times,
Shines a little too bright.

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

Found this little prose written in 2006. I cannot remember what transpired behind the writing. But I think, such sentiments are eternal and real, any time, anywhere. May God bless our parents and our children, may God forgive us this Ramadan the Fabulous for the sake of Muhammad, the Last Word in Fabulousism.

Sometimes, we must do as the Masons do.

154. Taj Mahal of the Heart
O’ lazy builder,
You already have foundations of love,
But you have not built
The pillars of responsibility.

Build! And waiver not in your conviction,
Do as the masons do,
For just as the masons build,
So must you.

Build in the hearts of men
And all you hold dear!

Build! For the Lord
Is your Guarantor of any edifice
Which you raise upon
The Foundations of Love,
In the Name of Love.

A testament still standing,
When all of men’s conceit
Have crumbled to the earth,
And all the stars in the night sky
Have twinkled out of existence.

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

From 'i.alone.exist.in.a.world.of.mirrors'. Many people speak of love. But Sinan tells me that sometimes, in the name of Love and its Glory, we must do as the Masons do, and build.