2:40 am. One of the phones just rang like crazy. Definitely not mine.hmmm…..To get up or not to get up,that’s the question.It’s okay we’ll get up;me,myself and I. An hour later we were out walking the street again. The burst water pipe has been repaired so we’re okay this morning. Not taking the wet and dirty shoes into the mosque anymore.
At half past four the crowd is bustling and there always someone tried to nick a space where it is clearly inappropriate — like right in the junction. “ tariq tariq ya haj gaddank….” , yelled the police. Sounded like he’s cursing at the end of his sentence but I better find out what that means—-“gaddank”.
As we sipped our last drops of zamzam, another day of Ramadhan will start. We pray for today to be less challenging and opens up more opportunities to increase our ibadah. InsyAllah.
The morning was calm and cool as if promising a beautiful day ahead. The sky was showing rays of sunshine from afar. A trail of sunrise just a few minutes ago. My morning routines ended at Dhuha when I would go back to the hotel and run some errands: housekeeping(get the Bangla to clean the room or change the towels),washing, topup simcard, grocery shopping, update blog and of course a good stretch of sleep. I need my sleep like you need the air to breathe. When I see someone in a deep sleep, I would be jealous thinking how lucky he can be right now. I would leave him be and stay away as quietly as possible for not to disturb him.
By 11 am, I would be ready to head back for Zuhr.
Early this morning news of my auntie’s death came through quietly. She was my father’s elder sister and the last one to leave us. I remember her vividly as most of her life overlapped with mine. She lived in the kampung where father was born (Kg Sungai,Tendong) so we went back and visited grandma every so often. Just a short bus ride from Pasir Mas. Auntie was a housewife all her life so when we visited she would be there all the time. I remember she rarely travelled out of the kampung unless some one died or got sick.
Back then life was hard ,not poor ,just hard. Poverty has never had a name or face; just a terrible struggle to live. Auntie was not poor she had her house to live and a kebun to harvest her produce; kampungs life just as it was. And there was the river that provides everything they needed. She had always been good to me whenever I was around. Not enough words can describe her caring and motherly character. Her world seemed small and limited but full of love and compassion. Her voice cracked but the smiles made our conversation so sweet and memorable. Her humility made her approachable to me as a small child. When I visited grandma, auntie would be the first person I looked for. From afar, she would smile and through a few missing teeth would call out my name. The way nobody else would and now no one ever will.
She had a big family so it was hard when the children were small just like my family back then. Now that they all have grown up her family seems prosperous and harmony. You had done well auntie! You left children that will make doa for your wellbeing in the hereafter. May you be among the pious and enter Jannah without hisab. Aamiin.
Good bye auntie Soh!
