Another visit.

I haven't visited he Mysterious but Hilarious Rented House of (mostly) Bachelors for a while. I think last was before Eid al Fitr.  I didn't even enter the house, just parked in the front, picking up Anas and Hilmi, then drove off to Kota Bharu (17 hours, by the way).


I came there last night, during my post call. I went to a Eid Reception at Puchong that afternoon, then break my fast at Puchong with my mother and siblings, then on to Ampang to visit the rented house.

Of course, there were delicacies. I was post-call, so initially there were very talking. After a cup of coffee, I gained back my life; I need to finish  off my PowerPoint presentation for the next morning session anyway.


We discussed the usual stuff; things that happened back at home, how were their families, how were they all coping with their studies. We did some arrangements regarding usrah before called it the night, and that made me lost in thought. Dear God, how I missed usrah with them.


How I missed usrah.


How many of us has started our regular weekly meeting? How many of us has started the usual Qiyam Lail post-Ramadhan? Eid is a celebration, yes, but not the one that lowered you from the better you before Ramadhan - if you got what it means.


So, do not hesitate. The time is now (if it was not yesterday or last week). Its time to live what that past Ramadhan had thought us. 20 rakaat per night, insha Allah!


Then I slept in the common room.


It was nice meeting them again.


It always is.

What have i done?

I seriously thought of vomiting. Twice.

The first was during the week before my two exams. As you are all aware of, i just recently passed my exams. Both parts. Subhanallahu amma yushrikun!

But the nauseated feeling during those early-morning wakening, and the sweaty-metallic taste inside your dry mouth - not to forget the constant headache - were all mixed up together. I wasn't ready for the exam. Who ever does? Maybe that one special specialist everyone keep on talking about.

Those were the times I was seriously thinking about vomiting.

The other one was during an on-call with Ikhwan. I broke my glasses. Or rather, it broke by itself. I know i can still barely (not sure about legally, though) driving without them on, but not at nighttime. But everytime i twist my head quickly to my sides i got a sudden jerk of nausea on my frontal lobe.

Thank God for the specacle above!

Weekend away

I was planning for a family day at Sungai Congkak yesterday, and a full-fledge studying session today; but i chose to go home and visit my sick mom.

I brought Sunjay Sharma's Clinical MEdicine MRCP part 2 along, but i know its futile. I found my long lost book, The Interpretation of Murder, and spent hours on it instead.

My exam is coming (again... sigh) in 58 odd days. I've yet to revise a lot of stuff - its almost impossible to revise them all, the syllibus is a joke.

And i wrote a lot, this weekend. I wrote on the criteria of islamic institution, the cycle of circle (usrah), nusrah and its fallacies, and worse of all, my limited view of islamic democracy today.

On one fine day, I'll post them up here. In the meanwhile, you can join me reading novels.

(not really) Look foward to the long drive back to Putrajaya.

What kept me from bed?

I'm tired. The bedroom is cool. but what kept me from sleep?


why am i still awake at this hour? this question keep on bugging my mind, at least for the past 4 hours.


there is a small wee garden on the balcony in our home. its a small area, where we grow our own green vegs and plants. some flowers. nice.


I can water them while i'm at it. thinking.


#thug#


Oh, i forgot that i put the kettle on. Thats the kettle done for boiling. its for my mint tea, my servitude at time like this- where i am totally lost in control. and that annoying westlife song in the background remind me of Belfast and County Down and Ring of Kerry. Again.


i was so tired, i cant sleep.

Going home

No such thing can ever replace family.

Have you ever play a jigsaw puzzle? You painstalkingly bend down on your knees and crossing your eyes to find tiny differences between the pieces.

Family is a thing that you build, its not just happens. Crap happens, but not family. But i suppose, if you dont put your effort into it, a family can 'just happens' with a quality of a chinese takeaway. No thanks, i want a proper 11-course meal, complete with tea and mints and warm hot-towel at the end, after the desert. I want a strong family that i know i can rely on through thick and thin. Complete with complementary maid and gardener (i wish!).

It was friday and after the mundane delivery of Friday sermon, I stayed over for a bit reciting al-Anfal. I finished in rush because we got a 260km to drive this afternoon. After refuelling the ever-thirsty Satria, we commenced our journey home.

It was 4PM. We just drove past Bidor. I always get this toss up sensation in my belly everytime I crossed into our district's border. It a comfortable sensation knowing that you're home, yet an eagerness to finish off this journey to see faces that matter. Its a strong feeling of missing someone added with that weakness you got seeing that someone your got a crush on, while you were on a roller-coster ride.

A thought crossed my mind. In 20 years, will I ever got this feeeling again? Which border am I supposed to cross to get my stomach churning? Which direction should I drive after the dreary sermont of Friday prayer? (I always thought that average men would only listen to a religious sermon once a week, so why the monotonous, unexciting delivery with exhausted pace? Big lunch?)

It's not about place. This powerful feeling insde my stomach can only be made by association. Its not about place. Its about feeling. Afterall, home is where the heart is. At the moment, my heart is here.

Home. Such a strong word.

Utterly helpless

I was working extra hours the other day, and during free times i managed to come across to my favourite sites. There was an article the other day about school uniform and its relevance. It was an open article so any surfer can leave their comment(s), especially hungry, over-worked, under-paid, tired people like me who got nothing better to do but unable to sleep.

The article was questioning about how school still make it compulsory for their pupil to wear school uniform, when it is actually removing their sense of security and confidence, while suppressing their creativity and decision making. It also argue the mechanism of school uniform in instilling discipline; when it only preventing any individual pupil to go their own way ‘with clothing’.

Most of the comment i read made a reference (at some points) of degrading (their) children or school pupil as by and large insecure creature with a strong desire to be accepted by their peers. By not having uniform, they presumed that the pupils will start a social stigma to not having the latest designer labels. Uniforms also help (a bit) by raising the level for those who can’t afford expensive clothing and thus, preventing (some sort of) bullying.

I have to agree on the statement that the article was written solely on causative and effect argument rather than strong, hard-core evidences. That, too, blatantly applied for the ferocious comments. But some of the comment, oh my! Just because you are into fashion does not mean that your kids will be, too.

We tend to judge what is best for society according to our past experiences.

We tend to judge what is best for society according to our opinion.

Which side are you?

Simply aggressive

No one knows you?

What was that school that you went to?

I never heard your workplace before, where is it?

Ever feel remote and distance from your colleague? Ever feel shy, or even shame that you're from that place no one could care less about? Don't you hate it when your very existance could not be relate to anyone else - be it racially, economically or culturally?

This idea of community ethos will confined your self-expression and mental development. The attitude that everyone should be bucketed together and branding them under one single unifying work character and personality. Have we not matured enough to stop this Orwelian thought that slowly creeping up into our mind?

Finding common things to relate to each other is just annoying. Social caste and their selective mixing are even more irritating. A culture of uniformity in which you are expected to bend to the institution/social class regardless of background and character creates a culture where diversity is not tolerated. To follow orders whatever the costs?

Your job, whatever it is, deserved to be taken by the brightest applicant, and this happened to be, right now, you. Be it janitor, law student, lighting staff or cook. There will be voices (and sometimes, within your own bold chest) that you have no more integrity, emotional intelligence and better mental health compare to your colleague, subordinates, boss. to your senior colleagues. Knowledge, experience, recongnition, maybe. But who are they to judge your mental health when they only know you through work?

This is your works. Your responsibilities. Your domain. There may be some disgruntled parties telling you how you should do your job 'well'- by the requirement of the services. Policy complexities took 6 months at the very least to master. How are you going to master it? Their way?

You are no one. No benchmark, yardstick, scale. Only characters. Spirit. Your status symbol is your individuality, intelligence and creativity.

We have no name, no recognition, nothing.

We are simply aggressive.