SCOUT JAMBOREE LITE - fathers and mothers, sons and daughters...

Mikhail and his tent mates...

Jamboree Lite. Last weekend Mikhail went on what I might define as a scout jamboree 'lite'. From what I could reckon, there was no hikes, no campfires or anything too arduous for these primary school kids. I am not complaining, as like Mika, many of the children were just 10 years old, and possibly their first night ever under a tent. A tent, in a school field in Taman Tun Dr. Ismail, a prosperous suburban neighbourhood not far from my own neighbourhood. In fact, the school field is just across the road from a restaurant that I often go for dinner. So I wasn't too worried. He he he.

Mikhail and his huge orange suitcase. Just what you need for a camping adventure.
I can assure you that Mika's luggage was the biggest at the jamboree.
I saw some other scouts arriving carrying only their every day school bag and a humble plastic bag. 

Delinquent Parents. In the three days and two nights the scouts were at the "camping site", hilarious and almost unbelievable stories started to turn up on the school moms Whatsapp group. There were some parents who continued hanging around in the school compound way after the scout program officially started. Other parents trotted off to the (conveniently nearby) shops to buy additional food and drinks for their kids, whom they fear would possibly starve or become severely malnourished during the weekend. But perhaps, the most amazing story involved a parent who was seen to actually helping his/her son to shower and change. I put the words 'his/her' to be polite, but I bet it was the mum. He he he.

Finally, unable to stand the interfering parents any longer, the scouts' working committee from Mikhail's school issued a warning to all parents to stay away from the school and camping ground until they are suppose to pick their kids up on Sunday afternoon. If any parent is spotted in the school compound, the committee warned, their child will be asked to immediately leave the program.

I don't blame the committee, because, after all, Mika's school is only one of 5 (I think) schools that sent their scouts for the weekend camping program. I think most of the delinquent parents were from Mika's school. Oh the shame of it all... 

He he he.  

Exhausted but exhilarated. I can still recall such childhood feelings.

But most importantly, despite the attempts by mum and/or dad to totally sabotage the scout camping weekend, I think it went well. When I picked up Mikhail, he was tired and hungry, yet I could see he was also exhilarated by the experience. "I really enjoyed sleeping in a tent, Papa.", he said. "We slept at one in the morning and got up at five!", he added. "I liked the chicken rendang (a very rich coconut based chicken dish... so much for the threat of starvation) that we ate!" And happily, Mika is keen to go for more camping, perhaps next time, at a proper camp site somewhere in the forest. And I bet for that one, the parents won't be furtively keeping watch in the bushes nearby. 

But then again... you never know what mums can get up to when they think their offspring are at risk! 

God bless the patient teachers and scout masters, and God bless all crazy parents.

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

MH370, a Postscript -We all know the news surrounding the tragic event of Flight MH370. May all friends and kin of the missing passengers and crew of that plane, find the courage to persevere with hope and faith as they pick up the shattered pieces of their lives. And for the rest of us, we who mourn with them in this difficult times, we can only pray to understand the lessons from this incident, that it may make us a better human being, and a better Christian, Buddhist, Jew, Hindu, Muslim, Atheists or Agnostics. 

Because, after all... whatever the nature of your belief or disbelief, we are all still part of one humanity.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

APPLES & ARCHERY... of life, love, parenting and cliches

93. Muhammad Mikhail

May he be a servant of God,

A lover of the Prophet,

A  friend of the Angels,

A mureed of the Masters,

A caretaker of the Traditions,

And spring of charity

To all who may come to him in need.

Somewhere far, far down the line,

Perhaps he can also call himself

A son of mine.

That is my prayer for my son.

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

Line of Precedence. Many years ago, when my son was only a baby, I recorded the verses. It sounds fine and properly humble, putting myself and my parental relationship with my Mikhail at the end of a virtuous and noble line beginning with God Almighty. Placing overall protection and education of my offspring upon the grace of God, the Prophet Muhammad (saws) and other divine and holy personages. 

Apples. But now I guess that the prose can be read from an entirely cynical point of view, and that is... I am running away from my responsibility as a father. I am saying this because Mikhail is going to be ten years old in a few weeks time, and to a large degree he has replicated some of my habits and attitude, the good and the not-so-good inclinations that make up my personality. You know the cliche... the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Do as I say and not as I do. So in Mikhail's 10th year and his father's 44th year, I am minded to do better this 2014 as a father. Because though I implicitly believe that my importance is so small in the greater scheme of things, but to my little child's eye, I am still the mirror by which he reads this world and lives his life. So on Saturday, I was resolved to follow him for his first traditional archery class, simply because of what he said to me...

"Papa, if archery is so important and a sunnah (tradition) of the Prophet, then why haven't you done it? And if you haven't done it, then why should I do it?!"

Cannot argue with that logic. So yesterday you would have found Mikhail, myself and Heche at the field adjacent to the local community hall. And it was great fun, though the hot Sun baked my brain.

He he he.

Have a beautiful Sunday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way  

DRUMS BEATING IN THE NIGHT, SUFIS WHIRLING IN DELIGHT

A Journey in the Meaning of Sound

Life begins as a journey in the meaning of sound,

As you cry out for your mother's milk,

Then, as you grow and learn to discern reality,

Stringing sentences to encapsulate your understanding,

Life becomes a journey in words and their ever-changing meaning,

But for the music writer, 

The composer in all of us,
Listening to nature,

Life still remains  a thing

To be understood in the ebb and tide,

And the tone and tempo of raw sound,

The oboe, the cello, the guitar and the flute,

The piano, the synth, the stirring cup of music,
The songs of the nightingale,
The watery speech of the sperm whale,

Drums beating in the night,

Sufis whirling in delight.

Like the child we once were... 
Crying for our mother's milk,

They raise their voice

In words formed yet formless,

Praising a God felt yet unseen,

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

Why is a sound pleasant to us? Why is Mozart's music often uplifting, Bach's symphonies thought provoking? What is in the nature of a particular melody or chord that strikes us with sadness, joy and melancholy? Even without words, instrumental music has been instrumental (forgive the pun) in shaping our thoughts and our feelings.

The appreciation of music has been wired into the human soul. It is one of the most visceral form of communications we have been granted by God, the Most Musical and Melodious One. To appreciate God and His Attributes through song and music is a gift beyond measure.

If you are musical, do not fret, for you are in good company. As I recorded with a merry nonchalance many, many years ago...

2. Music, Truth and Mercy

Music is prohibited for some,

Not advisable for a few,

Optional for others,

Highly recommended for the rest,

And mandatory for a number.

Truth is for all.

And Mercy is for the asking.

Heh! 

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

So let the music play, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

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

Making the Prose of Rumi more Beautiful and the Discourses of Geylani more Meaningful - honest toil and the virtues of household chores

Prose does not put food on the table, the kitchen stocked
nor the pathways and bathrooms clean...
For that we need the honest toil of workers and domesticity
of the home-makers. Blessed be the Prose of God in action!

(Prologue: This write-up is inspired by the exhaustion of the sinner after only two days' prep and household chores for yesterday's Eid open house. I plonked dead on my bed at 10pm, waking up 12 hours later...)

Kids... Mikhail and Imran.
You want them not to make the mistakes
you have made, and the easiest way is for you
to nag them. But the best way is by example.
You know it, I know it and
they know it too! (dammit)

Secrets. So what? There are secrets, and there are secrets of secrets. On the spiritual path, you will be pleased to know that many veils of such secrets are lifted,... and hey! Kudos to you because you now know! But so what?

For what is the point of knowledge if it is not manifested in your every day life? And as a registered sinner, I am the first to admit that this is not easy. But there are some very basic things which is important and we must at least try to do.

Self Improvement. The path (tarikat) does not enjoin the seekers to give up on the world, for there is much to do and improve, if we would only realise this. And of course it all begins with our own selves, first and last. For the journey to improving our habits and life style does not end until we exhale our last. So for acolytes of the mystic ways to espouse great transcendental knowledge about God and humanity, about the ordering and corruption of society... they must ask first what they are doing (or trying to do) to remedy their own faults - Their own personal health and eating habits. Their own exercise and concern for the household and their neighbours. After all, if nothing is attempted, nothing is gained. 

With Knowledge comes Responsibility. But for those blessed with secret knowledge, the responsibility is heavier. For as Imam Shafi'e said - Knowledge without practice is arrogance. In other words, you are principled in words and thoughts, but unprincipled in actions. This is not a good place to be in. In fact, it would be better to know less or nothing at all.

Honest Living. If you toil every day for an honest living, you gain money and wealth. With that prosperity, you can share it with your family and friends, your neighbours and needful charities, and there are a great number of people needing help out there. If you do not work, what are you contributing to the world? Whether you are trading, working for people, there is always room to work. 

Mikhail is a grandson of a great and efficient home-maker.
Though he never got the opportunity to meet my mum,
I hope to instill a little of my mum's domesticity in him.
(And in my own lazy self, come to think of it.)

The Prose of Rumi, the Discourses of Geylani. Even if you have no job whatsoever, you can at least be helpful about the house. For me, fixing the toilet, changing the light bulbs, sweeping the garden and throwing away the rubbish properly, are all a necessary and distinguished part of life. For it makes life for ourselves and everyone around us better. Menial though these chores may be, but the truth is they make the prose of Rumi and the discourses of Geylani even more beautiful, poignant and moving. Otherwise, are we not merely pandering to our spiritual ego?

Household Chores. Such things must be taught when young. And we must take the effort and be patient with our children. Otherwise, they will grow up dismissive of domestic chores, giving little credit to the little wives, mothers and sisters without whom a house can turn into a dung heap really, really fast.

So God bless all house-makers, and may we always be reminded to help them in their virtuous work!

Oh, and thank you to all who came yesterday. Most of all, I did the open house in loving memory of my late mother, Arbayah binti Haji Hashim, who made us a loving and generous home. May Allah (s.w.t.) bless her in the company of His friends.

My late-mum, the efficient home-maker. She only rested when she died.
But I wonder if she is now just as efficient in the Hereafter as she was here,
...watering the roses and weeding the Eternal Garden of the eternal weeds. He he he
al fatiha

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE SAD SUFI CLOWN - The Ramadan Story, Part 2

Action-Figure. Not a Doll. My partner, Alex, is a collector of dolls. Oops, sorry, my bad, I mean action-figures. And in the pursuit of this hobby he has spent thousands for Iron Man, the Joker, Batman, the Predator and other assortment of American and Manga characters. On a smaller scale, he also buys small mini-Lego figures for his four-year old son. The only problem is you don't actually know what you would get when you buy a Lego packet, because the packet is not transparent. So what the 40-year old property and banking lawyer would do is spend some time standing in front of the Toys'r'Us counter, softly massaging the packaging to try and guess what figurine is inside. "Wait.. wait!" Alex would breathe excitedly, "I think I can feel the trident / sword / roman helmet!" Yes. Yes. This is the sort of lawyers working with me. Awesome.

Sad Clown. Anyways, perusing the current catalog (Lego comes out with different series of mini-figures), I found one which caught my fancy - a sad-clown figurine with a pointy hat. I have a thing for pointy-hats. The wizards in the Lord of the Ring wears them, and the Shaykhs of the Naqshbandi Sufi Order wears them. So I challenged Alex if he could find me the clown. And last Monday, he didn't fail me and triumphantly brought a small mini-Lego package for me to open. And God bless his heart, for it was indeed the sad-clown!

Clownish Obsession. I have always been fond of clowns, and have sketched a couple in the past for this almanac. I guess I have empathy for the vocation of clownship, for in my life I have often found my face splattered by custard pie, feeling both foolish and embarrassed. And just like my own clown, the Lego clown also has a tear running down his face.

Coincidence? I think not. After all, it is Ramadan! 

Alhamdulillah. Is there any seriousity at all in this meandering story about clowns and Lego? He he he. I am not sure really. Perhaps I am writing this because I never expected anyone to give me, a crusty, life-worn 42-year old man, a Lego toy. Me and Alex joked about it later. And our conclusion is that we are fortunate to be one of those who can be made happy by the simple, whimsical things in life. Like a little toy figurine. Like afternoon rain... Like a smile playing on our children's faces. Like the assuring handshake between two friends. Alhamdulillah (Praise unto God!).

183. The Little Things

If I am not your distraction,

Shall I ever be your devotion?

If you do not remember Me in the little things,

Will any miracle persuade you into believing?

Something to think about on this second day of Ramadan, sunshine, in a month when I reckon that goodness and mercy are like little divine dominoes simply waiting to fall into your life. Like rain... like falling in love... like a life as how Allah (s.w.t.) and His Habibullah (s.a.w.s.) would like you to live yours - A life lit with adab (good manners) and ilm (knowledge). Don't you agree?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Living With a Pregnant Woman - by Mikhail

"This pregnancy thing is going overboard."

My son was with me over the weekend. During which Mikhail practically never stopped speaking. There was always something for him to share with me. About his school, his friends, his computer games and his life generally. I always enjoy his company, and his interesting observation of the world. He he he.

My son is insightful. Even with chopsticks inside his nose.

His mother is pregnant, which is good news for Gina and her husband, Herman. But having a pregnant woman in the house does affect some necessary changes to one's daily life. So now Mika is expected to do some minor chores. One afternoon his mom asked him to set the table for lunch, and undoubtedly he was busy playing or reading, but being the good boy that he is he got up anyway to do the job. But Gina overheard his dissatisfaction as he mumbled under his breath, "This pregnancy thing is going overboard."

And it continues. "You know, Papa..." he said, "I really don't know if Mummy is lazy because she is lazy or because she is pregnant. Just now, she asked me to fetch the remote for her... but it was just a feet away from her!" And he was also alarmed by his mother's sudden lack of patience. "Mummy gets angry quicker than you Papa... and that is saying something."

Have a beautiful Monday, sunshine. It is raining outside, alhamdulillah... (God be praised). And that too is saying something. May Allah bless our children, the bright sparkle which constantly entertains us and challenges our attitude and beliefs.

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

Great Days Now, Great Days Ahead - Mika and his sampin

"... I knew I should have tied his sampin tighter..."

My nine-year old son, Mika, insists on wearing the full traditional Malay attire for prayers at the mosque. It is called the Baju Melayu (literally the Malay shirt) and consists of unicoloured pants and round-collared long-sleeved shirt. Around the waist would be tied a sampin (a traditional sash with with intricately woven designs) and topped off with the songkok (a black-coloured velvet headgear). 

Last time we went for maghrib prayers (evening / sunset), his sampin came loose before prayers even started. So I confidently called Mika, "Come here..." and tied it back around his waist. "Wow, Papa... you tied the sampin so fast! Bibik takes so long to do it!", he said to which I smiled contentedly, "Ah, it comes with experience, Mika..."

Soon the khatib called the congregation for prayers. Half-way through the first rakaat (first cycle of the three-cycle maghrib prayers) the sampin came gently undone and fell around Mika's ankles. 

He he he. So much for experience.

But he carried on praying unperturbed and later we had a great laugh about it. Chuckling and simpering impolitely in the mosque like two buddies.

These must be some of the greatest days of my life, I think.

May your days and nights be as wonderful, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

God bless the Invisible Thread! - fathers and mothers, sons and daughters...

The Invisible Thread

There is an invisible thread

Between your heart and your child's,

And every tremor, every passion and peace,

Every fear, hope, every ambition and wish

Passes like mercury between the two of you,

So think beautiful things and thoughts,

Reflect with candour and gratitude

For all that the Lord has wrought,

Above all, that which is your child,

And the invisible thread 

That is between the two

Of you.

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

I am off to Singapore again shortly for work. So I shall miss my Saturday with Mika, my 9-year old son.

It is weary sometimes, working apart and away from your children. Not being able to come home to them. But this is just a two day's delay. My esteem for those who have to work outstation or overseas for months (or even years!) on end without seeing their children cannot be over estimated.

And the love that such parents have for their children - to work in a foreign country just so they  can give their children a better life?

God bless all fathers and mothers, all sons and daughters!

And God bless the Invisible Thread!

Have a wonderful Friday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE LAST SMILE AND THE RETURN TO THE TIMELESS

Less than one week ago, I wrote about my partner Ariffin, packing his family on a moment's notice, and returning to Sarawak to visit and care for his ailing father, the only man who has ever bathed me (his dad, not Ariffin). The post was entitled 101-Year Old Man, A Homecoming, An Uncle and Friendship.

Alas, now it is my sad duty to report that Ariffin's decision is inspired, for this morning at about 10am, I received a message from him on the cellphone that his father, Abang Bohan, has finally relinquished his hold of this mortal world, to return to the Divine Presence. 

Ariffin adored his dad, a man of distinct presence, and the only 100-year old man I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Two stories about them comes to my mind now, as I sit here in my bedroom, and the cool evening air wafts in like love's gentle comfort. For I too, in my little clumsy way, adored his dad.

Is this guy a Sheikh or something? First I recall Ariffin's happy return to the office after one of his (many) umrah (pilgrimage) to Mecca and Medina. But this time it was extra special because he brought his mom and dad too. And I remember seeing pictures of the pair with Ariffin pushing his ancient father on the wheel chair. "I treated him like a V.I.P, bro..." Ariffin shared as he smiled, "...in fact some people were asking me quietly.. 'Is this man some sheikh or something?'" Then he laughed. 

Dad's New Car! Then I recall sometime in 2011 (I think), as we lounged in the office after Ariffin returned from his hometown of Kuching. "Guess what I did, bro!" Of course, I didn't even bother trying and simply asked my partner what he did.

"I bought my father a Myvi (a little hatchback car)! " Then he explained, "One day I was sitting with my dad when suddenly he commented that he wished he had a better car than the old Kancil which he potters around in. You know... like the cars that his children now drive. So without hesitation I visited my friend's car dealership nearby and immediately ordered a Myvi. My friend was surprised because I didn't even bother test driving the car at all. When the car arrived at my dad's house, I quickly called him to come and see his new car. He was so excited that he ran out (albeit as well as a 90 plus year old man can run) when suddenly his kain pelekat ( a traditional wrap that Malay men wear) came undone and fell around his ankle. I helped him up and into the driver's seat and sat next to him. But after a while my dad just sat there and had not even started the car. So finally I asked him why isn't he starting the engine, to which he replied, 'Well... what did you expect? This is such a surprise!! Can't you see that my hands are trembling!!?"

Then Ariffin became silent and with a wistful look in his eyes, he confided to me, "Bro, I didn't think about the money and how I am actually gonna be paying for the car. Because the look of sheer joy in my father's face is worth any amount of money. If he had died there at that very moment, I myself would be happy because then my dad would have passed away in utter joy and it was I, who put that last smile on his face. After all he has done for me, it is the very least I can do for him..."

You know, our parents are not perfect. And even Ariffin admits one or two incidents which he felt that his father made a judgment call that may have been less than right. But that is what judgment calls are all about. Sometimes, when finely balanced between the pros and cons, even the best father or mother can get it wrong. But in the case of Abang Bohan, I think his correct judgments far outweigh in his favour. And I hope to fly down to Kuching soon to visit the family and pay my respects to this ancient man and the grieving family that he has left behind.

In our light moments, we both refer to Ariffin's dad as the Buddha, because he kinda looks like Buddha, venerable, ancient and timeless. And now I guess he has truly left us to return to the Timeless, our One God, Allah(s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.).

al-fatiha

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

BEAUTY IS IN THE EYES OF A WOOKIE - Mikhail, Gungi and Emina...

299. Learn to Listen

You must learn

To listen

To your children.

For though

They may be the one

Asking the questions,

In truth, it is you,

Who is also learning.

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

My son, Mikhail is 9 years old now. And I guess like all children he is both curious and self-absorbed, both habitual and arbitrary, both learning and forgetting, resting and playing, and sometimes doing such contrary actions all together in a single moment. Sometimes he appears to be the kindest angel, while at times he can be overborne by impatience and confusion in a world where the adults say one thing, but do the exact opposite sometimes. I think it is tough being a kid, sorting out all the mixed signals we adults transmit in our daily lives.

When he is sleeping, I too get confused. I know Mikhail is Mikhail, but I when I gaze at him also know that he is me. And that a part of me and my kin is inside him. An epoch of previous lives making up part of what we and our children are. And I wonder sometimes, how shall we account compared to our ancestors, both the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly?

But what is beautiful and ugly anyhow? A young wookie may not be everyone's idea of the ultimate expression of beauty, but to Mikhail he certainly is. "But Gungi is sooo... cute, Papa!" My son exclaims. 

"Cuter even than Emina (Mikhail's malay-turkish cousin)?" I enquired. 

"Of course, Papa!"

Oh well then.

Listening in was Heche, and she unhelpfully interjected, "Do you know, Mika, we used to have a belief that pregnant woman who always looks at a particular person during her pregnancy, her baby will probably turn out looking like that person?" Mika's eyes widened, "Really?"

Heche, "Yes, reaaally..."

"In that case, when I have a wife, I am going to lock her up in a room with three types of food (Don't ask me why...) and hang pictures of Gungi all on the wall! Then I will have a baby that looks like a mini-Wookie! Yea!"

Heche laughed and simply commented, "I cannot wait to see how your wife will react to your plan, Mika."

Life is full of laughter and wisdom. And the ever-engaging personality of a 9-year old and his strange ideal of human (Wookie?) beauty.

alhamdulillah, sunshine!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Dead are not Dead in Spirit - The Prince Part 27

Falling into the Sea

Falling in love is like falling into the sea

And not knowing how to swim,

You trash about, your hands flaying like crazy

Trying to keep afloat, trying to keep your reason,

Nobody sees your struggle, nobody understands your pain,

A little tiny speck in a vast ocean,

Until finally, you understand your Lover,

And learn how to breathe

Under water.

The Norms of the Afterlife

Life is all about

Preparing for the afterlife,

And acquainting yourself

To the norms of

The afterlife.

In its kind courtesies,

Its gentle ways,

Its subtle nuances,

Its mighty mercies,

Its infinite ocean

Of the Lord.

The Milk in the Pitcher

I am here,

But I am not all here,

I am a creature of history,

And this life is but one step 

In a journey from the past

To the future.

So excuse my haste

For I am in a hurry,

And it is my constant wonder

That people do not see

There is little milk

Left in the pitcher,

And I look towards this life and the next

As a divine adventure.

Death, my Kinsman

O’ Death!

Come to me gently in the Reality

Of what you are and who I am,

Come to me unmasked

And I shall wait for you unmasked,

Cast aside that face you wear

And I shall cast aside this face I wear,

For if ALLAH has in Truth, created,

He has created only Muhammad,

And in one body,

Can there beat more than one heart?

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

In the second morning, you will find Mikhail wandering around the royal cemetery of the Perak royal household on Bukit Chandan in Kuala Kangsar. "Where are the babies?" he asked as he looked around, standing on the side of a hill by the edge of the Perak River. He is always fond of babies and makes a particular effort to find their final resting place whenever we visit the garden of stone that is the garden of the dead. He wondered aloud why some graves were in 'cages' (iron fences, actually). I reckoned because they were close kin and told him so.

We finally found al-Marhum Shaykh Raja Ashman Shah's grave lying in a small quadrangle of the Maqam diRaja (Royal Mausoleum), still in its open soil without any marbled tomb raised above it. We normally leave the grave untouched for at least one year for the earth and soil to settle before raising its marbled edifice. Otherwise there is always the risk of the heavy marble sinking into the soil and cracking.

Before we left the royal town, we paid our last visit to Tok Temong's maqam. It was a lot warmer than yesterday, but a river side breeze came to cool the heat of this Sunday morning. Mika apologised for rushing our visit yesterday and looked pleased, as if he had settled an account. I cannot help but smile at his entreaties.

Sometimes I think that cemeteries and maqams, especially those that hold in their breadth the memories of the saints are wonderful places. A penthouse mansion that rises high above the mad rushing life of this world and its rat-race. I am glad Mikhail has no fear of such places. Indeed, he appears very much comfortable and contented. I think this is a good lesson for his future, however Allah (s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s) may plan it. 

God bless the dead, for they are not dead in spirit. God bless our children, for they are fresh with the spirit of life, curiosity and hope. And God bless you, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

The Prince. The link to this post has been uploaded to The Prince Page, which contains all previous postings relating to al-Marhum Shaykh Raja Ashman. You can access the page by clicking here.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way