My weekends... ermm... 3 weeks ago...

I think it is very unfair that I only ever write about my busy weekends and never on my more staid ones. Well probably because there was nothing to tell… ha ha…

Two of my current successive weekends were very relaxed but it was a happy one. I am truly blessed because I am surrounded with friends. That was what I like bout my last 2 weekends as it showed me that I have friends, loads of them.

Tasren came 2 Saturdays ago. He arrived at 12 and went home at 6. We had so much fun talking and eating that I wished he could stay over. While I was cooking and talking to Tasren, Amelia called to say she is at the dentist next to my kids’ Art Class and therefore offered to send my kids home.

What a lovely gesture. Thanks a million, Amelia.

Went swimming the next day and had our lunch at the bowling alley. Abang of course pestered us for a game, but Babah and Mummy were tired beyond belief and used the convenient excuse of none of using wearing socks at that very moment.

Last Saturday was Jida’s invitation for morning coffee at her house. While waiting for my kiddies’ piano lessons, Noreen called. So after sending my kids to their art class, fetched Noreen and off we went to Jida’s house.

Luckily I had a navigator next to me because I wouldn’t be able to find her house alone. Kamalia was already there, Fiza who I see around Shah Alam from time to time was there too. But the crème de le crème were of course the host Jida whom I saw last when I was 12 and Louisa. Gosh I haven’t seen Louisa since we were 15, I think !! I had always been very fond of Louisa, a person with the sweetest nature. We used to be neighbours but we lost contact when she went to another school after SRP.

Jida said morning coffee but we were greeted with more than just coffee and cakes. Sure there were coffee (and tea and kiwi juice), 2 whole cakes (one chocolate and jam), loads of cupcakes and scones. There were also nasi lemak plus all its condiments with fried chicken plus there was a steaming lasagna to boot !!

.

Oohhh.... where to start. The hostess was very generous and the food was excellent.

Jida was my childhood playmate, together with Noreen and Kamalia. We used to ride the bus to Kamalia’s house where will play at the very red, hilly area which we fondly called Bukit Bontot Merah. Or most often then not, we would play at a land near Jida’s home which we predictably called ‘Bukit Bontot Hitam’. It was a bit hilly, so I understand the bukit. It was covered with black soil, so yeah to the hitam but I don’t remember the bontot on both venues. Maybe we just like butts at that point in life.

I also remember going to Kamalia’s house and put up a fashion show, using all her clothes, her mom’s and her sister’s in the process, having oodles and oodles of fun.

Sometimes I wish both of the butty hills are still here, all of us are still 11, having a good laugh pretending to be grown ups.

Heh….

Anyway, Sunday Jubei came with her family. Had a good 30 minutes visit. It was short, but they came and it was fun.

I like having my own home. People come and go. It is truly a blessing.

Hmmmm........

I read an interesting reporting in a British newspaper yesterday. A mom was put under police interrogation because she hit her son twice, on the shoulder with a hairbrush. The alleged ‘victim’ was taken by the social services and Mummy was only allowed to see her son for 2 hours a day.

Hmmm….. No wonder there are sooo many hooligans in the UK. No wonder the children are rude and have no respect for the elders or even fear for authority. Not all British children for sure, but quite a large number of them.

The ones that kill their peers and murder adults. Read the papers and you can see that a lot of these things happened. A father was brutally beaten to death because he dared to tell off a group of teenagers to pipe down. Another father was again kicked to death because he dared to rescue his car from being vandalised. Too many stories to tell, too many sad incidents to bear.

Why can’t parents smack their own children to evoke some discipline ? She wasn’t abusing him, she was just disciplining.

If parents virtually have no rights, can you imagine what right do the teachers there have ? You can’t scold , you can’t punish. And the government there have the audacity to wonder why so many children played truant and eventually drop out altogether.

I remember once while in school, something terrifying and sad happened. It was Mr Pala’s class, and good ol’ Mr Pala was the disciplinary teacher at that time. We were having a wonderful lesson (Mr Pala is a wonderful teacher) when another teacher interrupted the class with 3 to 4 boys in tow.

Mr Pala asked them to go to the back of the class and all eyes followed them there. I didn’t realise he was holding a cane in his hand until he was waving it about. Truth dawned and I felt sick. I could literally feel bile creeping through my throat.

He said a few things, asked a few questions and lectured a bit but I didn’t hear anything because I was praying very hard that he won’t do it. Unfortunately, he asked them to stick their butts out and I looked away in horror. I think most of us did.

The sound was bloodcurdling but their silence even more so. I didn’t want to look at them because I just don’t want to remember but I did anyway. I only saw one boy but I will remember that face forever. The pain, the embarrassment, the shame and whatever feelings that I can or cannot identify with were evident.

.

However, what disturbed me the most was Mr Pala himself. He returned to his place in front of the blackboard, not quite the same. His shoulders slumped, his face contorted in what I know now as regret.

“I don’t like doing this, you know…” He said, rubbing his face.

“I never like doing this…” His voice was so quiet, I almost cried.

“I am sorry I have to do this in front of all of you…” He said again. “But it needed to be done…”

I was sad for him and for the boys. You see, nobody wanted to be the punisher. Mr Pala caned those boys not because he wanted to for some power trip, but because these boys did something wrong. It must be a hell lot of wrong to warrant caning. Mr Pala said it needed to be done because he hoped that the caning could act as a deterrent to those boys, a message loud and clear that there is a price to pay for breaking the law and it ain’t pleasant. He derived no pleasure from it and it was so patently clear, I can attest to it.

Afterwards I kept seeing that boy’s face. Every single time his face appeared, I wished and wished that he had learnt his lesson. I hoped and hoped the caning acted as what it was meant to do, a warning that you shouldn’t do this again. I prayed and prayed that that was the last act of disobedience he did. It surely did that for me. I wasn’t the one who got thrashed but I had more respect for rules and regulations after that. Although I was a good girl (still am, mind you), it made me became more of a good girl. It was a lesson taught for everybody that law-breaking, and eventually crime doesn’t pay

Teachers, parents when they punish, they are trying to give a message. Sure you are encouraged to talk nicely first but if all else failed what else can you do ? It is mighty too late you know when jail sentence is given. And no parents or teachers do it like every single day, for minor offences. If they do then that is abuse. If the child is all purple and blue, that is abuse. But a smack on the hand or in this case the shoulder, come on….

Is it better for the boy now that he is separated from his mom ? From his siblings ? In fact when asked, he said he feels sorry for his mom because she needed all the help she can get. What I worry is, if ever there comes a time when he or his sibling were abused, they will not have the will to report to the authority because they have seen the consequences and it ain’t pretty. Or worse next time when mom set some ground rules, he intimidates her with 999.

I agree there is a fine line between teaching and abusing, but I have seen that talking and discussing is not enough, not for everybody though. It will just make them have no respect for their parents. I think you know well how hard it is to deal with teenagers. It doesn’t help when every time you set down a rule, they threatened the police on you.

They became infallible.

Luckily our country is still sensible.

PS : Do I sound like an advocate for child abuse ? Hope not. This is a difficult water to thread.

Explaining my IBS - Irritable Bowel Syndrome

Yesterday, my colleagues forced me to follow them for lunch. I refused as usual because I have to watch what I eat. My condition meant that I can only eat carbs sparingly and being Asian, carbs is the main feature in most dishes. And therfore food on sale is laden with them.

I always tapau. Something that I bring from home or bought early in the morning. I either have a light breakfast and heavy lunch or the other way around. Since moving to this new office where food is hard to find, I usually eat something heavy in the morning and for lunch light stuffs like fruits, biscuits or even cereal.

I have been here 4 months and they are still horrified of my eating habits. “Biscuits only, ah ?” Or “Fruits again ?”

I succumbed to their well meaning pressure yesterday so off I went with them, toting my cereal. As they enjoyed their nasi and mee goreng, the 3 of them kept looking at my food.

“I can’t believe that is all you are eating…” Said one.

“Do you want to order something ? Kenyang ke ?” Said another.

I know, I know… It doesn’t look appetising but this is all I could take. Anyway since I have a big breakfast, I am usually still full by lunch. You see if I have lunch, I couldn’t take dinner and dinner is important to me because it is a family affair. I cannot miss dinner. In order to have dinner, my lunch has to be sparse.

Anyway, dinner is something that I can control. Let’ see. Monday we went to Kuting Besar where I only take the lauks and I was fasting that day, so no breakfast or lunch.

Tuesday bought mee hoon goreng for breakfast, then fruit salad for lunch. Dinner I made chicken sandwiches and minestrone soup, which again I controlled the ingredients. Loads of veg and very little macaroni in the soup.

Yesterday, I heated up the yong tau foo I bought from Monday’s pasar malam. That is breakfast. Cereal for lunch. I made chicken pie for dinner. I am okay eating short crust pastry. I think… well so far I am okay with it.

This morning, chicken soup for breakfast and nothing for lunch because the soup was very filling. Tonight I am making crema e spinachi, which is fettucini with chicken and spinach in cream sauce.

Tomorrow morning I think leftover minestrone, maybe cereal again for lunch and maybe night time I can have some rice, if tonight’s fettucine agrees with my tummy. Or else, a sandwich ? Probably.

Anyway, there you go. That is usually the nature of my menu. I love rice like any normal Asians, but I just can’t. I do not want to bloat. Actually I am sooo bloated right now, I am racking my brain for the cause of it. Surely not milk ?

Hmmm……….

I ask again, "Why ?"

I don’t really understand men. My husband being one is included. Of course. Hah !

One of the things that irritate me to no end, about that husband of mine, is his need to lie about his lunch menus, or lack of. Usually around 3 to 4 pm either one of us would call each other and ask about dinner plans, hoping that the other one has something specific in mind.

What we have for dinner usually is based upon what we each have for lunch. Say if Babah had rice for lunch, we would either have western food or noodles for dinner. But Babah being Babah, 70% of the time would say that he didn’t have anything during the day.

“I tak makan lunch hari ni… kenyang from breakfast…” Or

“I busy giler hari ni tak sempat makan lunch….” Or

“I takde mood nak makan hari ni so I makan biskut/roti/minum air je…” Or

.

"I satu hari tak makan... Breakfast tak, lunch pun tak..."

These proclaimation would be done in a such pitiful way, I would react accordingly, in a very sympathetic manner. It is natural isn’t it ? Kesian Babah tak makan lunch/one whole day.

Sometimes the discussion of what to fill our bellies would linger until we got home whence we would enlist the help of our progenies.

So one day after answering with one of the above and taking the discussion home, I suggested nasi briyani. And do you know what my husband said, “Tak nak lah, I makan nasi tadi….”

I froze, but my eyes blinked and blinked and blinked at him. He had the audacity to ask “Whaaaattt ?” at my frozen, apart from my eyes, state.

“You told me that you had nothing for lunch…. Just now… JUUUUSSSTTT now you said you had nasi….” A sheepish smile formed on his face, which turned into a huge grin.

“What is going on ? Did you have lunch or not.. ?” Asked me, rather forcefully I have to admit, but that is all due to shock and my head was busy trying to decipher the situation.

“Ye ke ?” He had the gall to ask.

I folded my arms and waited …..

“Makan….” He finally admitted. “Tapi sikit je…..” Now wearing a wounded animal look.

I looked at him, eyes never wavered from his face.

“So tell me… berapa percent of the times you told me you had nothing to eat for lunch is true ?”

"UUhmm... Ahhh.... Hmmm..... Errr.......50 ?” And my incredulous face returned.

“Why ? Why ? Why ?” I went and he went, “Saja…..” and grinned.

Now that incident happened like 2 years ago and when I related that story to my trusted colleague Sue, she tried to enlighten me by saying, “Dia macam aku lah, Myra… nak cari simpati…” And I awarded her the same look I gave Babah the night before. Comprehension of it all never came.

Why did I tell this story now ? Well because it happened again last night. And I warned him, that husband of mine. I warned him by saying, “This is sooo going in my blog….”

I kept true to my words.

Why ? Why ? Why ? Help me…

An URRGHHHH story..

I got plenty of grief from my fellow bloggers for not writing. Sorry friends, but apart from being busy, I was … well still am actually, waiting for our photos of our impromptu holiday in Melaka. Everything was already written nicely, just waiting for the pics to accompany the sentences and paragraphs….

I can however write about an incident that I saw oh, 3-4 weeks ago. An incident so horrific, it re-newed my already merepek policy. I also do not have photos of it… well if I do… uwekkk…

So there I was yeah, 3-4 weeks ago, minding my own business. I like my new office because I have a view. The building is like a typical Malaysia’s school architecture. Box shaped from the outside, but there is a garden in the middle (in lieu of badminton/sepak takraw court in our schools). So the interior of the building is fenced by corridors all around.

Anyway, from my place I get to see the other side of the corridor, the other block, and the lift is literally next to me. That fateful day, while I was minding my own business, I saw somebody came out from HR department holding a bag, yeah ? I looked at him walking when suddenly, he lifted his arm, hover it near his face and …. sneakily inserted a finger inside his nose. He was booger scrounging.

The sight was revolting and nauseating but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It was riveting. The real problem came when he got to the lift. Now his clean hand was holding a bag, remember ? So which hand did he use to press the button ?

Which hand ?

Which hand ?

Which finger ?

Hah ! I now jab the button with my keys or my tag. Never again.

Then, I started obsessing about door knobs and what nots.

Hmmm….

My weekend again

My good friend Yasmin enlisted our help to support a move by her daughter’s kindie to collect money for charity. The kindie organized a sale carnival (or something like that), setting up booths for a small fee, which will be donated.

Yasmin, Melia and myself decided to take two stalls. One, predictably to sell food (what else ?) and the other one, a brainchild of Amelia, a games’ booth. For a small fee, children would have the opportunity to play 3 games.

Luckily I still have the Pin The Tail On The Donkey kit from Arif’s last birthday. I also confirmed that I have a dart set. Amelia said she will bring Amir’s Make And Break.

Friday, posters were printed and lists for groceries were made. But all of us working mum’s were busy. Min said she could only nip to Tesco’s after work. I went to Giant earlier to start the shopping but only came home with tomatoes and sausages. Giant was out of minced beef and I have forgotten the pasta. And the sticks for the sausages.

Went home in search for a chocolate pudding recipe. I promised Min that I would come out with desserts too. Couldn’t find it. In truth, I have lost a quite significant amount of much treasured recipe books and talking bout it still hurts. Not finding a recipe while I need it most hurts even more.

Min came to my house at 10 pm. “Semua nak buat tapi masanya tak dak…” She complained. He he… so true, Min but we try our best, kan ? You get A for effort, Min…

I started the Bolognese immediately. Done by 11.30, woke up my partner who was sprawled on the sofa waiting for me and slept as soon as my head touched the pillows. Woke up early morning to find errrmm… I couldn’t find the darts !! Macamana ni ?

Put my biggest pot on the stove for the pasta and heated up the sauce. Grabbed Zingo to replace the darts and gave the whole lot to Min and Farid. Unfortunately my big pot could only fit 1 ½ packets of spaghetti. Could squeeze in more, but pasta has to be cooked in loads of boiling water so no deal.

Neti helped me to stick the err…. satay sticks in the sausages, wrapped them up nicely and we sped on to Pusat Islam. We were already 30 minutes late. The table looked so empty with just 2 items and a quick look at other tables confirmed my worry.

Went to check on Amelia. She and Atirah were still setting up the table and everything looked okay. Managed to persuade a girl to try the games but after she left and I started walking to Min’s I wondered if she actually paid. He he…

Noticed that apart from a booth selling blended coffee and mineral water, there were no other beverages on offer. Discussed with Min and so after I sent my kiddies to piano class, nipped to Giant and bought air kotak. Since Shah Alam Mall is just across the street to the Pusat Islam, I walked the distance. Dropped the air kotak twice. Ha ha…

Met with a harried and tensed Yasmin. Not enough supply !! Demand too high. I walked back to Shah Alam Mall quickly. Yasmin called en-route. Apparently Farid saw me walking and Min was horrified. After explaining the situation she calmed down. Deposited my kids to their art class and raced home. Cooked another 1 ½ packs of spaghetti and cleared the kitchen. Received an sms from Yasmin saying all the pastas were gone and people actually placed orders !! That was when I despaired why I didn’t have bigger pots.

Raced back to Pusat Islam and the food was gone under 45 minutes.



Went to check on Amelia and Atirah and what a sight to behold !! They were swarmed with kids !! I had to help out some !! Amelia said she wasn’t sure all the participants made payments but she accepted them none-the-less. It was excellent. Some parents left their children with her to shop and she had to console a wailing little girl because she wanted to play again !!


At the end I was glad because both of our booths were a success. This was our first time so it was a bit disorganized but we aim to do better next year with careful planning !!

Yeah !!

I remember when

Lately when we were stumped for what to eat, Babah and I would settle for a simple fare of fried egg sandwiches. We started this faze about 3 months ago, after not having it at all for a good few years. Seriously I don’t remember eating it altogether during my adult years ! Hmmm…..

Therefore I was rather surprised how comforting the first bite was to me. It made me feel safe.

I suppose it is because my family is also rather fond of this dish. Usually a favourite if Mummy was too tired too cook. My mother would fry huge amounts of eggs, one after another. Her eggs are always perfect. Soft yolk, bubbly whites with browned edges. I though fry a flat one because I use a frying pan instead of a wok. I’d better invest in a small one soon, just like my mom’s.

Anyway, this food always reminded me of an incident years ago, when I was still safe in family’s fold. The story happened when the whole family was sick except for me, putting the burden of feeding the sheer number of them on my shoulders. The order of the day was of course the mouth-watering sarnie.

I toasted the bread, fried the eggs, cut the cucumbers and pour either tomato or chillie sauce on them, depending on personal preference of course.

I went back and forth between the kitchen and our family room upstairs, delivering the food and beverages and what nots. When everybody was settled, I came down to make my own sarnie, with the very last egg.

Started the stove, got the egg ready in my hand while waiting for the oil to heat up. However when I cracked the egg, the most horrible pong escaped and instead of a sunny yellow and white egg, out slid a black and brown mucus.

I got a bad one. Telur busuk.

The waterworks came. I sniffed and heaved while I threw it away, washing the wok and finally throwing the garbage out because the smell was too suffocating. I was hungry, tired beyond belief. My disappointment was too gargantuan because I wanted every egg that was cracked, fried and turned into a sandwich. I was salivating after every sarnie that I gave to each and everyone of my family. I was imagining sinking my teeth into it and when my turn finally came, to get it taken away from me so forcefully and unexpectedly was cruel.

And the rotten smell didn’t help either. I wept harder when I saw the already toasted bread, the cut cucumbers and the chillie sauce still on the table, waiting for the anticipated egg.

But to whom shall I spend my anger too ?

I went upstairs desolately. My dad asked about my sandwich. When I told him, he tried to give me his but I refused. I lied and told him I ate Maggie Mee instead. I went without any food that day.

Funny yeah ? Merajuk dengan telur ?

Part 3 - Monday

MONDAY

Monday was painful. I woke up with a sore throat and tender waist. Gelek lebih sangat probably. Ha ha ! Babah lectured that I should have been more careful. Felt a bit dizzy and all around uncomfortable.

Luckily Cik Ta bought us nasi goreng from Tony’s (I will tell you bout Tony later) the night before (Mamu Il and Cik Yin ada hati ajak kita org keluar for dinner after the karaoke. We were ready for bed by then, too tired from the day’s toil) so we heated that up and lazed around for awhile.

Mid morning I asked Babah if he fancied buying more plants for the garden but we went until Bukit Jelutong only because the rain was horrific. Stopped by Shah Alam Mall and sedar-sedar dah pukul 11. Babah almost wept because half the day was already gone.

Went home and got ready for Maulidur Muhammad B Sheik Mazrul yang pertama. One of the first ones to arrive so had a very relaxed meal while talking to the birthday boy’s grandma and mum. Then slowly guests trickled in so had a very nice chat with everybody.

Had a lovely piece of orange cake and tried the hosts' massage chair. It was good at first but after bout 10 minutes it was rather painful so I stopped halfway… he he. Went home at about 4 and at 6 after the clouds stopped it’s drizzling of rain, tackled the jogging track near the courthouse with my family.

My kids were horrified. As we entered the bushy grows, Adik claimed that we were already lost. Abang whimpered if there were any dangerous things lurking behind the trees. Baru nak masuk tu…. Said the person who shared the same feelings not 2 days ago…. He he…. Berlagak…

Alas, we only managed to go ¾ of the way because the sky opened up again.

I started dinner when we got home as it was already near 7 o’clock. Took out the required flours to start on puri. Enlisted the kids to help while I deal with the curry. Even though had delicious roti jala and kari daging at Kamalia’s house but since I had already planned the dinner, I just had to go on. Two curries in 1 day. Call the doctor !!!

.

The kids had fun and I had help, so it was a win-win situation for everybody involved.


And we ate, and cleared up the mess. I bathed after dinner and felt so nice and comfy after washing the grimes of the day off me. I put my tired feet up, opened up my Harry Potter and enjoyed the remaining of my holiday. It was tiring true, but it was a happy one.

.

Bliss….

Part 2 - Sunday

SUNDAY

Sunday was an early one, too. Went to Pasar Tani and again in my head I planned a very easy one, strolling lazily, looking at stuffs without actually buying any, eating keropok lekor and kuih peneram, sipping air tebu, licking ice-cream potong… well you get my drift.

But Babah spoilt it by going around in record time, asking me over and over again what I wanted to buy and it was over in half an hour. He then went to work and I tried my hand at making chocolate pie or pastry. Mum and Marlin came to install a very cheap water filter (very good, the water has no chlorine what-so-ever and so easy to install. Very cheap too at RM 600) and they tried my pie. Mummy repaired my chocolate filling so it turned out very yummy indeed.

Babah came home and we got ready to go to Amelia’s house for sort of bertandang for the newly-weds, Shazmi and Nadia. The food was really good. Kari kepala ikan and my favourite black pepper beef. The bendi in the kari was soooo huge, puas hati… Ha ha ! Then we rushed to pick up Marlin and Mail for karaoke in Sunway Pyramid.

It was soooo much fun. We had oodles and oodles of good time, partying like mad. There were only the 3 of us really (Babah and Abang was more subdued. Adik was crazy like us but she got tired in the end), dancing and singing to Britney Spears’ song especially.

“Tak yah pegi disco macam ni….” Marlin announced. I can’t agree more. It was really cheap because for RM 25 each (for 5 people) we get to be there for 3 and a half hours, were given 5 plates of nibbles and 2 drinks each and 5 plates of food. Even though we are in Malaysia, Halal food is still an issue so we ordered fish and chips, fish nuggets and breaded prawns.

Abang and Adik were very enthusiastic at first, conquering 2 of the 4 mikes we were given. They sang every song, enjoying them selves immensely. Being kids though, they whined for home when the novelty wore off. Abang pleaded exhaustion so Mummy and Babah asked him to lie down on the huge sofa.

It was awesome. Can’t imagine if I go with my entire siblings (that includes my siblings-in-law).

The kids had sausages and chicken soup for dinner and Mummy and Babah had fried egg sandwiches. Sleep came so easy.

To be continued.

My busy weekend - Saturday

Oh man… The weekend was busy !! I hardly ever rested and therefore today I am yawning at my desk.

Where to start ? Why, with Saturday of course…

SATURDAY

I had to keep my help this particular Saturday because Babah was working the whole day and I have my Escapers gathering so I needed her to mind the kids. Drove to Cili Merah, then piano class but skipped the art class for today because Abang had a birthday invitation to fulfill. Bought the pressies at the book store next to Yamaha school and wrapped the goodies while waiting for my babies. Neti laughed when she saw me took out the tape and scissors from my bag. A mummy has to be ready !

Sent my kids and Neti to 6/2B for Hazim and Haziq’s party.

Went home and mom called me to follow her to see this professor, who could read the state of our eyes for health diagnosis. Waited and waited at the good professor’s office at Worlwide (it was okay as I had all my siblings and my nieces with me as well) but left at 12.45 to pick the kiddies up as the party ended at 1 pm. Went back to Worldwide for my turn. After taking a picture of my eye, studying it for a bit, the professor shook his head. Hmm……

Anyway, left his office immediately afterwards with Esya and Anna in tow because Kamalia was to pick me up at 2.30. Raced home with my mind racing bout what the professor said. Stopped by Baker’s Cottage first to buy snack for my 4 children and the help, resumed my journey home, took 2 steps at a time to my room and got ready in record time, conforming to the theme, blue jeans and white top.

Kamalia came with Jubei and off we went to Subang Parade to meet our high school partners in crime, the Escapers. Went to Secret Recipe to Azlin’s annoyance because she said Setiawan pun ada Secret Recipe !! He heh… sorry, aaa.. Lin.

Lin came with Jaja and Chris. All around tight hugs were exchanged. Chris who managed to keep her svelte figure commented on our weight. We only just… just, mind you, managed to stop Jaja from buying shoes to fling at her. Then Nani came with oddly enough, a shopping bag which contained an almost identical baju she was wearing, She must have really, really like that particular design.

We ordered food aplenty. I ordered Curried Cornish which made the waitress blinked rapidly as it turned out to be called Spicy Cornish and not curried. It was not properly heated so I abandoned it, looking at Lin eating her normal Cornish pie. There were plates and plates of cakes and cheesy fries and potato crackers. Nani was reluctant to share her brownie ala mode and Nani again revealing stuffs that made us dizzy. Chris moaned about the No Smoking sign and showed us her tattoos.

Then Cheet showed up, looking like she didn’t age one bit and finally Shazleen turned up with her kiddies. We exchanged stories about our kids, fought on who got the worse job and debated on breast feeding. We laughed, and joked, and confided and reminisced and were so glad that we made this effort to be there.

Every little thing made us laugh, and I had to extend our apology to Chris, the most happening person at the table. “We hardly ever go out and have fun like this, Chris… so forgive us…” Chris loves us, so she didn’t mind our giggly selves.

Thank you ladies for wanting to be there, for still wanting to be friends. A special thank you to Azlin because her journey to this gathering was a long one indeed. Our thoughts were for Cho and Azlinda who can't be there.

We left the gathering at 5.30 as I have another engagement to fill. As Kamalia turned the corner to my house, we saw Amelia’s car whizzed by. Hurry !! That was my 6 pm appointment !! Amelia and Noreen waited in the car while I changed to a more appropriate attire, chatting with Kamalia and Jubei. When I came out again, this time in my trainers, t-shirt and track bottom, Jubei gave a loud laugh.

Went inside Amelia’s car and off we went to the very hilly track next to the court house. I was scared because I went there once and only for a mere minute before I made Babah turned back. I stopped to read a sign near the entrance you see, the normal sign about the dos and don’ts of a public park when I saw another sign warning us of monkeys and snakes. I would have been okay I suppose if they had used a regular picture of a snake in a coil but since they made the effort to use a picture of a cobra… well, that was that.

So I was nervous and cleverly walked in the middle, between my two friends. Then somehow I wasn’t anymore and so walked ahead, staying the middle of the track. Despite my trepidation, it was beautiful and peaceful and somehow fresh, a pocket of very clean air in the middle of the city. Lovely. The track was very challenging, too and I was glad I came. I was panting even though we only did 1 round.

Amelia sent me home and the kids swarmed me, pleading hunger. I was sooo tired but a mother I am so after bathing and sending Neti to her aunt’s, took the kiddies for a meal. No way is Mummy cooking tonight. Endured a very noisy, messy but happy dinner. Sent Esya and Anna home and I climbed the bed gratefully. My head cleared out of any stressful thoughts, just like what the professor ordered….

Tomorrow is another long day, Mummy !!

To be continued…

Oh Mummy....

I am soooooo terrible.

Yesterday my brother Mail finally came home for good. He was expected to arrive at 7 am and therefore before I went to work, I swung by Mum’s house to see him.

I was fasting, my second day actually. I sahur at 11.30 pm (while I watched Ghost Hunter…. Seram gila, tukar channel halfway… he he) with kari ikan made by my mom, timun and kuah kacang. Heaven.

So what has that got to do with my brother or my terrible-ness ? Well… if you are at your mom’s house, where you grew up eating her food, and you know there will always be food somewhere…. Well the inevitable happened.

In my defence, it was morning and I was… well…. I wasn’t even hungry.

Okay, my legs was on automatic, it just took me to the dining table… as you know that was what they usually do when the entered the house. I announced that if there were food, I was going to break my fast. I of course was joking… I didn’t mean that. Marlin however shouted, “You’d better not, A…. Nanti ko mesti bukak puasa punya…”

It was too late. And I was in euphoric mood. You know my brother being home (not a convincing argument at all), and out of habit I lifted the tudung saji and lo and behold, there were rows and rows and rows of beefy French toast. They shone and were mesmerizing that I stared and stared and stared.

I didn’t think, I grabbed one, break a small piece, dipped it in the kuah cuka and put it in my mouth. Then I chewed, closed my eyes in ecstasy and swallowed. Then I took another bite. Mail came to join me and we both ate like there was no tomorrow. “I don’t believe aku bukak puasa…” I muttered over and over again.

Mail who had been living on a diet of Indian food could not answer.

Marlin was right, I shouldn’t have ventured into the dining room.

Ya Allah, I couldn’t believe I wasted my sahur !! Forgive me….

So today, I am fasting and didn’t go anywhere near my mom’s.

Scarlet lips

I went to pasar malam on Tuesday and bumped into my cousin Jimmy whose wife, Kak Lin was buying fish.

I was fasting that day and therefore as usual when my Mum found out (I deliberately told her he heh), she cooked delicious food for my buka. Therefore when I saw abang Jimmy I graciously furnished him with the inside information that I had.

“Pergi rumah Mummy !” I said, “Ada rendang and kari ikan… dah siap…. Pergi makan….” His eyes bulged at the though of food that he knows Mum would serve in record time. He could be experiencing gastronomical delight in mere minutes.

But how did he re-pay me ?

By telling me I need to wear lispstick.

It didn’t help either when I got home, as I was putting the groceries away, Abang who came to hug me suddenly said, “Mummy, are you sick ?” His face contorted with worry.

“No, I am not….”

He forehead creased, giving me a once over.

“Well… you looked sick….” He said, grabbed a keropok leko and resumed his telly watching.

Cess ! So for two days now I went to work with coloured lips and earned surprised looks from my colleagues.

Aku malas aaa pakai lipstick !!

Adik, please don’t read this entry. Move to the next one….

Today don’t know why I was reminded of an incident that happened years ago while I was still in school (it makes you feel old doesn’t it, being in school yeaaaarsss ago ?)

Anyway it was the days of the Bosnian war. Maybe the concert to support war victims trend was started then because a concert for the Bosnian war was organized. I don’t remember whether it was to collect money or just raise awareness but a concert was organized and we took that excuse to show support for the Bosnians, by partying…. Hmmm…. Seriously I don’t remember what the concert was for.

I am sure all Malay girls my age share my predicament. We aren’t allowed to be out of the house after Maghrib, apatah lagi nak pegi nengok concert malam-malam. I begged and begged my parents for the opportunity to go and after quizzing details of the people that is making up the party and what nots, my parents finally relented.

Bahagianya hidup. It is not easy for me to gain permission to be out after hours !! Isa came to pick me up and in the car was Babah, of course and sadly, that is all I remember. Maybe Shazmi went. Or maybe Anu too.

Anyway the concert was at Stadium Negara. The field was decorated with mock Christian and Muslim headstones, depicting victims from both sides. Wars are sad affairs yeah and I was saddened by the fates of the victims who were still being slaughtered at that time.

Moving on, I can’t remember the concert very much and the memory I want to tell is not about the concert, but afterwards when the show was over, after we had late night dinner in Bangsar and Isa finally dropping me off at 2 am. What a coup indeed for me.

I was very nervous of course especially when I caught a glimpse of my father pacing the living room. I knew I had to release the weapon that I have since I was born, the ability to twist my father around my finger. I knew his weakness and I have to use it.

At the sound of my footsteps, Ayah threw open the door but before he could say anything I said, “Wow ! I had the best night ever !! It was fun, Ayah !” I then quickly hugged him and said, “Thank you for letting me go…” kissing him soundly on the cheek.

Then I offered to make him toasts. Over toasts I regaled him stories on the going ons at the concert and he was so glad that I had a good time, he forgot to be angry.

My arse was saved.

PS : This reminded me of another night that I was allowed to go out. I don’t know how (I am very sure via lying through my teeth) I managed to go to Subang Parade with Babah at night. Our friend Shah was working at Toys R’ Us and we decided to visit him. He was stocking shelves at that time and at the sight of me, he looked at Babah and asked, “Macamana boleh terlepas ni ?” while jerking his head at my direction. Cess…

Pak Boleh Belah

My blood boiled yesterday when I inadvertently saw the news, during MB Selangor talking about the repairs of his car issue.

Macam ni lah, bear in mind that I am not partial to any parties in Malaysia, but for BN to make such a big deal out of this is unforgivable. Especially when we the rakyat know that there are bigger swindlers hiding behind the political masks, that there are bigger pengabih duit rakyat.

Now, as far as I know he didn’t have a government issue car. He is using his own car, and therefore since he is making a huge savings already, why begrudge him the maintenance cost ? After all he is entitled to it, as all MBs and big corporate figures are. There got to be some perks for high positions, isn't it ? Other menteris have bigger perks than that I am sure... 2-3 extra houses, cars for wife, second and third wife, children, tok nenek, mak and pak menakan... well the list goes on and on..

Pak Lah to me has failed again. I do not know why he is letting this happening. This petty accusations are not endearing him more to the rakyat because we know the truth, and the truth is, please see paragraph 2.

Pak Lah should rise to the occasion by asking this matter to be closed. He should let MB Selangor do his job because at the end of the day if you truly are berjiwa rakyat, you would want Selangor to be governed efficiently. He should have issued a challenge instead to MB Selangor to make Selangor prosper under his governance.

He should have said, well that is his mistake, don’t do it again so let us see if he can make Selangor better. Then, we would probably have to admit “Hey… Pak Lah is actually quite all right…..”

Instead it has turned into this hugely embarrassing political melee.

Opportunity came and Pak Lah didn’t know how to take it and twist it to his advantage. Accusing Khalid of that charges is like pot calling the kettle black. Pak lah should stop thinking that the rakyat is stupid. We know better…

Duh… !!

Saturday and Sunday

My Saturday was BUSY !!

It started of with normal Saturday routine. Cili Merah, piano then art. Everybody was home by 1.30 to eat Beef and Mushroom pie Mummy prepared while she had the house all on her own. Babah and kiddies, take note that Mummy wasn’t lazing around, she made lunch !

2.30 off to Subang Parade to buy a birthday present for Abang Kamal. Babah dropped me off at Amelia’s house close to 4 pm and at 4.30 we were already at Kakiku, SACC Mall for a massage. Noreen joined us at 5.

Hang out at Secret Recipe until 6.30 after which Amelia sent me to Babah’s sister Wawa’s house for her husband Kamal’s birthday party or… more appropriately get-together. It wasn’t a party. Much more sedate than that.

Stayed there until 9 before we made a move to Yasmin’s housewarming pulak.

Made it home by 11, I think all sweaty and sticky… belengas kata orang Penang.

Before sleep claimed me, I groaned when I remember bout the tennis class on Sunday.. at 7.30 am !! Contemplated my attendance, decided to be absent because the class was to be held at sek 21 Matsushita sports complex since ITM is renovating their courts. Don’t know where it is so sms-ed coach to say that Umar will be there at 8.30.

Sleep……

The busyness of Saturday was offset by the laziness of Sunday, exacerbated by the rain. Since Astro’s reception goes wonky when it pours, we sat on our ugly patio to watch the rain.

Lazy, lazy Sunday.

Itu aje ?

Babah and I usually decides our dinner menu around 4 pm because it depends on what he eats for lunch (I usually have boring stuffs like bread or fruits so there is no danger of repeats for dinner in my case).

I suggested nasi lemak from Makcik Soto at Seksyen 8 and Babah readily agreed because we hadn’t been there for while. When we got home, Abang’s face was flushed. Demam. He complained in the morning of dizziness but since he didn’t whine or made a big fuss about it he still went to school.

With that we discovered that we have quite a number of places to go to that night since I have to go to the bank and lack of ubat demam at home means a trip to the pharmacist. Discussed again and the first order of the night was nasi lemak. Bought 2 delicious looking nasi lemak to go, please.

Then the pharmacist at Sek 9, next to Shell. No pharmacist pulak. Entered the car and the smell of nasi lemak wafted through the air. Yummm….

Drove to the one near Secret Recipe and when we entered the car again, the vehicle smelt strongly of it. Our stomachs growled.

Raced to the bank because at that point we were half crazed with the aroma already, me especially so since I only had fruit salad for lunch ! Again when we entered the car the scent was so overwhelming, we half contemplated wolfing it down that very minute. It was the longest 3 minute ride home.

We entered the house with one, sole purpose; to eat. We should have eaten 20 minutes ago.

10 minutes after that, we were satiated, and watched American Idol. 5 minutes watching I turned to Babah and said, “I feel empty somehow. All those waiting and it was over in 10 minutes… What a let down….”

Ha ha…

Boleh berkenalan ?

I have requests to write an entry of my journey with my husband. I do not know how to start really….. My apologies if I missed out anything or if my friends remember it differently.. HA HA !

Hmm….

Babah and I were school mates. I think I was aware of his presence when we were in form 1. A friend of mine had a crush on him and I was entrusted to take his photo. So we called him to our class, asked him to stand there at the corridor, I crouched and clicked. Girls….

Years later after the camera clicking incident we joined the same extra co-curricular club and somewhat re-newed our acquaintance. We somehow managed to not talk to each other before that. However I hated him. I wondered why my friend could have a crush on him because he was loud mouthed, opiniated and I hated his glasses… he he.. Our feelings were mutual. We passionately hated each other.

How did we make our peace ? Well it was very weird. It was during one of the club meetings and I recounted a story to my dimpled friend of a dream I had the night before. I was on a London bus, and when I got off it, he…(the guy that I hate, Babah le tu) came down the bus with me !

Now, our mutual friend overheard the story and said something to the effect of “Hey very funny, Babah told me of his dream of you and him in London, too !” So this guy called him over and we were forced to talk politely to each other about the dream out of curiosity. However during the course of that conversation I was relaxed and my talons were in check voluntarily. We exchanged stories peacefully.

That was very weird. Weirder still, I had a good look at him for the first time and thought, “Hmmm…. He wouldn’t look so bad without those wretched glasses…” He he…. We somehow made our peace that day and gradually our warring days were over.

He then started to give me attention which I found bizarre. You know… suddenly appearing at my side when I walk or actually caring about what I said without mocking me. Calling me at home….. Hmmm…. I am never quick into thinking that a guy has interests in me. To me the most embarrassing thing people can call me are perasan and mengada-ngada. Therefore I always am very careful to avoid that kind of label. Hence, I didn’t want to think that he was interested. I don’t want to be perasan…. Or perah santan as we used to call it (for what reason I don’t know, our own attempt to be Cockney probably).

At that time my love life was rather busy anyway. I was flirting with this younger guy (he is gorgeous but sometimes accidentally added kakak in front of my name and that could dampen any notion of romance in a jiffy) and was fending off attentions from a friend in the same club (let’s call him A to avoid confusion) and now him ? I cannot be that hot… ha ha. Jangan perasan, jangan perasan….. I told myself.

However at that point I cannot say that I didn’t like his attention, but because I hated him so much before, the sudden affection he was showing me was rather overwhelming when I was just getting used to like him as a person. It was all very confusing.

To make matters worse this other guy A, was giving me hints so crystal clear all our mutual friends could see it and kept laughing at us ! But… at the same time they liked to create opportunities for us to be left alone (for their amusement I think…. the seniors memang naughty). Whenever these impromptu ‘time alone’ with A happened, I always looked around to see Babah’s reactions. It is safe to say I was rather smitten by Mr Babah at that point.

My husband, luckily was very persistent. He kept plying me with attentions and he succeeded in making me think of him day and night. You would too if you have this guy who kept asking “Hai, boleh berkenalan ?” Everytime he saw you ? Tergelak aku sekarang…. Hai, boleh berkenalan ? Hai, boleh berkenalan….

One day during raya a group of us went to visit Shazleen’s house. Isa brought his car but since there were so many of us and I happened to live nearby, I decided to walk home, to lighten Isa’s burden. Guess who followed me home ?

He made his feelings known that day (first day of raya okay… I was lucky my parents decided to raya in Shah Alam that year instead of going back to Penang as we usually did) and although I was giddy with happiness, I kept it all inside. I just can’t believe it, it was hari raya, the best day of the year and now this, a guy who by then I found to be gorgeous beyond belief (he changed his glasses) professing his undying love for me ? I could still remember the way he looked when he described my honkers as 'button nose'. People usually commented on its invisibility so I was duly flattered. He had me at "your button nose..." Haii......

However I played it cool because I did not want to show how happy I was (jaga maruah sikit) and secondly because A is one of his closest friends.

He however had no such compunctions and held my hand. And I let him. Gatal... He he... Unfortunately, our mutual best friend Shazmi’s father saw us from the height of his house, informed his son and Shazmi came down to laugh at us. Uncle waved at us from his balcony. Sigh…. I can still blush when I think of that moment.

On the 13th of April 1993, I finally decided okay, I do want to be with him. People started asking me why they always see us together and those who didn’t ask made the correct conclusions. Zaki (a guy in school that people loved to hate but whom I like very much) informed me while we were drinking near the canteen that he doesn’t understand why all our girl friends could fall for the Malay boys in school. He went on to inform me that most of those boys were ugly (I think Zaki is half Pakistani… well he doesn’t look Malay and is rather cute… or was…. I haven’t seen him in ages) and that “The only Malay guy whom I find is good looking is Babah…” he concluded, without looking at me, then smiled. I take that as his approval of my choice.

Well 6 years after that we got married. And 10 years after that we are still here. How much do I love him ? Well my parents took the same stance as most Asian parents at that time in the daughter-boyfriend issue, which is basically Hell, No ! but my feelings for him was so gargantuan, I bravely took him home. My parents said nothing. They can’t I think because although I could be naughty, my parents trust me. That was what my father told me when I came home during my first summer holidays. He said that he trusts me and that was huge and something that I appreciate until now.

We have never been apart. We somehow managed to be with each other throughout the course of our lives. I don’t think we could bear being apart, so we somehow made sacrifices just to be together.

Seriously, I don’t know how long this will last because we never had the chance to properly look around, but I hope that there will always be the two of together, forever.

PS : Despite our dream, I have never been on a London bus with him. I did with my parents and he got on one with Razif (while I was in Manchester visiting Nani with Cho) but never together. We did take the Nottingham double decker loads of time, though… but they were green and beige and not red. Hmmm.......

Babah

Hai lah…

I met up my husband for lunch. We agreed yesterday that I make fish and chips for dinner tonight and since the we couldn’t find any tartare sauce to go with the fish last night, after lunch we headed straight for Cold Storage at Ikano Power Center.

I love the Cold Storage there. Ingredients for western cooking are in abundance, you are spoilt for choice.

Found the tartare sauce, bought some mushrooms for mushroom soup, paid and walked back to his office. Before he closed the door to my car (on our last lunch date, a car knocked my shoulder – sakit woooo – so now he saw me to my car, making sure no drama unfolded when his shoulders are turned away from me.. he he) he asked me, “Hey… what are we having for dinner ?”

Laa…. What were we talking about during lunch, not half an hour ago ? Why the rush to buy the tartare sauce ?

Itu le… saya dah cakap awak tu dah tua… tak caya…..

PS : This entry was written yesterday but didn’t post it due to a more important news….

PPS : Pagi tadi while we were still in between sleep and wakeness, he asked, “Today (13/02/09) we have been together 15 years and 10 months ?”

I was still clouded with sleep and struggled to answer him. “Kita dah kawin berapa tahun ha ?”

“Sepuluh…” He answered and I went “Well yeah kalau sepuluh tahun then yes this April 16 tahun…”

“Whoaa…” That came from him.

“Kenapa ? Lama sangat ke ?” Biasa lah orang perempuan, senang kecik hati…

“No… I was thinking why didn’t I meet you earlier…”

Aww…. (kalau dia kelentong baik punya pun bukan nya aku tahu kan.... baik AWwwww.... je...)

The oh very disturbing news

Okay this is very disturbing, yeah ?

I just read that Paris Hilton have the hots for Robert Pattinson a.k.a the dreamy albeit pasty Edward Cullen from Twlight.

My advice, “Run, love. Run for your life !! Do not even turn back to look !! She is soooo not worth it. Go on then, run !! Bugger off quick !”

Hmm…. I have done my part. The rest is up to him.

Ohh.... Babah

Aku nak tergelak ni ha…

As a rule, I will usually buy stuffs from the street peddlers. Makcik kerepek, anak-anak sekolah yang sepatutnya pegi sekolah tapi pukul 11 malam pun aku nampak masih menjaja calendar and sekarang ubat …

Aku kesian.

Don’t think I would be heading for the poorhouse if I give them my RM 10.

Anyway, yesterday we went to fetch our children from their class, Babah and I. When I got in the car, I saw a keropok seller talking to my husband, talking in his Terengganu accent.

“You nak ke keropok ?” He asked.

“Ambik je….” Was my answer.

So my husband felt around for money and when he paid, he asked “Dari terengganuNG ya….”

And terbahak-bahak le aku ketawa.

I looked at my obviously embarrassed husband.

“Babah… Terengganung ? Sejak bila ?”

“I don’t know……” I can still see him laughing with sheer embarrassment when he said that, head almost touching the steering wheel...

Ha ha !!

Apa Saja...

Recently Babah was rooting around our CD collections and found some old CDs… he he… segan jugak nak cakap… but he found Best of KRU album that we both still enjoy.

We were driving to KL that night and so he put on the CD and the car was filled with songs that took us back, waaaayyy back when we were younger. 16 years ago to be precise, when he still had moustache (which he fondly refers to as kumis… uweekk…..) and I was with very oily T-Zone and angry red spots… he he…

The songs evoked so many memories that I let one secret out. With the 3 brothers singing Apa Saja in the background I said, “You know… dulu… whenever our day ended and you were going home, I always, always felt like I wanted to go with you…..”

“Ha ?” He asked, looking at me with nose scrunched. It is not cute, his nose scrunching because the sheer size of the beak.. he heh…

“Well yeah… I had separation issues… I didn’t like that we have to be separated at the end of the day…. So I nak ikut you balik…”

Gosh, it didn’t come out right, did it ? Instead of sounding so bloody in love I just can’t be without him kind of thing, I sounded like perempuan paling gatal dalam Shah Alam… he he…

Perak kat mane ?

I try not to be political..

No... that is not true.

I DO NOT want to be political. I hate politics because that is when I will find people who get pissed off if anybody dared to not share their views. I have to say during the elections is when all the hideous people decided to come out of their 5 years reasonable and lovable personality façade. Who is this know-it-all is the question I always ask.

So I shy away from discussing politics… I do discuss them when it is brought up, but only participate when I am in polite company. And I do not take the word polite lightly.

Anyway, I do not support anybody. After Pak Lah, I look at politicians wearily and take everything they say not with a pinch of salt, but with a whole 30 sen packet ( is it still 30 sen nowadays ? ). Money politics is evident and even after what has transpired during the last election, it still failed to jolt these people out of their crimes.

I know of a Menteri whose second wife drove an old CRV before the election and after was seen zipping around town in a CX9. His second father in-law (he heh) drove a Vios and now drives a new CRV. That is the second family, I shudder to think what upgrades he gave to his first one.

Now, the situation in Perak to me is shameful. Next election do not vote for these frogs because in my observation I believe the voters voted for the party, not the candidates. They just want BN out and do not give a rat’s ass who represented the opposition.

The people of Perak voted for PKR and I believe another small election at the respective frogs’ seat would be the fair course of action.

Allow the rakyat to vote again.

Kesian

Ada cerita sedih ni…. Really sad.

On Monday my sister Ita called me up at 4. She is sooo like my mother who loves to create suspense when she has something important to tell.

“A, aku rasa something happened kat akwasan rumah ko ni lah…..”

Eh ? What ?

“I think something bad happened here….. Ko tahu tak nak masuk rumah ko….”

Ya Rabbi !! Tell me the story already !! Don’t mind the location first lah !

“Tak… ada van forensic, polis and krew TV3 kat sini….”

Okay now you tell me where exactly this is happening already !

I was scared. Because it is a house just across the street, 3 houses away to the left. Basically a neighbour. I raced home because I was scared for my family’s safety. In my head I expected the same thing that happened to that poor lady in Sek 13.

When I got home, the street was empty. It didn’t look like anything had happened. It was peaceful. I rang the bell of a neighbour but no answer. As I was about to go back home, I saw Aunty Intan who lives a door away parked her car near the scene.

I waved at her and she waited for me. My question of apa jadi, aunty was promptly answered and it was sad indeed.

Apparently Aunty Katherine (I think) who lived alone had died. The thing is she had passed away for 2-3 days before her next door neighbour smelt something foul from her house. She dared not break the door so she called the cops and they made the sad discovery.

Her husband passed away years ago and her only child is in the States. She only has her stepchildren from her husband’s first wife in Malaysia.

It is not just the fact that she died alone and remained undiscovered for a few days that saddens me, also the fact that the house is quiet, devoid from any activity. Aunty Intan said probably her stepchildren are handling it from where they live but the thing is we don’t even know where she is buried or more distressingly if her body was even claimed.

I have been looking at the house, waiting for any sign of her relatives and friends but there is none. Hopefully they came while I was at work.

The question people asked was how come the neighbours didn’t know ? Well.. because she is a recluse. She did go to the surau once in a while but she kept much to herself. Maybe that is the culture of mat sallehs, I don’t know. Maybe neighbours pun tak perasan that they haven’t seen her for a few days already. Maybe she preferred to stay indoors so her neighbours thought all is normal.

She did come for my kenduri though when we first moved in. My husband and I went knocking at all the houses on our street to extend our invititation for the kenduri. When we called on her, there was no answer but when we were about to leave I saw her peering from a window upstairs. I waited but she didn’t come out, neither did she when I called again.

But she came to grace our kenduri with apologies. She explained that since she lives alone, she is scared of strangers, something that I readily accept. Kesian dia.

Al-Fatihah for her.

Tasik

Saturday we went walking again but this time we decided to walk around the tasik near Kompleks PKNS. We had always walked there last time, but the sorry state of the tasik made us prefer the one near the mosque.

Well, our absence hadn’t made the tasik any better. It is dirty and unkempt. End of story. No flowers to enhance the beauty, nothing that could actually make it memorable.

It is also in a state of disrepair, most of the wooden bridges looked frail. We passed behind Wet World and I do not have to discourage my children from going. Umar didn’t want to go because the place smelt bad.

Even the playground looked old. It is definitely newer than the KLCC ones but why does it looked so….blah ? The KLCC ones were shining and clean and looked inviting. I know. We went last month.

The bird island that used to enthrall us with the promises of bird sightings, even from afar was empty and messy, with broken fences. Abang then saw what promises to be a lovely spot with a nice bridge, near the defunct Taman Orkid. I answered his questions of what is that and why is it like that with a “Hangat-hangat taik ayam” answer. The idea is there but no will to carry it through.

Let me tell you about St. James Park in London. Year after year, the park remained a delight. Birds of various types wandered freely with the humans. The last year we where there, they build a low fence along the lake to keep the birds out but the long legged ones and of course the determined ones got out anyway. One even greeted the chubby 2 year old Abang and the gurgling and bubbling Umar followed him home !!

We see gardeners tending the flowers all the time. The gardener’s hut was hidden but was awashed with flowers, beautifully maintained. Nothing was done halfway and if there were any, they took all its evidence away from our eyes. I want to be proud of the tasik. I love the trees and the breeze… but that is not enough, is it ?

Lepak dengan Alhady

Received a message Tuesday night from my friend, Tini - ‘tt with alhady after maghrib”. Discussed with Babah and I confirmed our attendance. Amelia then called to ask if we were going and arranged to pick her up.

Come Wednesday, off we went to pick Amelia up and went straight to the chosen venue.

We saw only Usop and after 20 minutes, the rest of the party trickled in. Nikman and Ami, Tini and hubby, then the man of the hour himself, Alhady with Eldin and lastly Ain.

Effiezal joined in via telephone, well not really because he only talked to Babah.

It was very merry, the gathering. Talking and laughing and teasing.

Sadly we had to go home early and left at 9.20 pm.

As we aged, we need our friends. Although some on the table were not close friends, we are okay now, you know what I mean ?

PS : Found out that tt is a universally (well in Malaysia…) accepted abbreviation of the tarik. How come Amelia, Babah and I myself don’t know that ?

PPS : I need to watch more telly because I do not know who in the world is Dang Suria and her ex-husband whom apparently married my classmate.

Girls

Happy Chinese New Year !!

Well…. after the new Islamic calendar and then the new year of the roman calendar, Chinese New Year is a bit too excessive. Ha ha. However… all 3 new years meant a day off work (or 2 days when you talk about CNY) so yeah !!

We didn’t do much. Didn’t go anywhere. We stayed home mostly, relaxing. Babah needed it since he didn’t take any leave for 6 months so we stayed home. No wayang, no malls. Just home, for friends and family.

Went to Cho’s house. She was leaving for Labuan, her new home. New adventure. Good luck, babes. Don’t forget us. We love you. Come back soon.

I love going to friends’ kenduris as I know I will be meeting my close friends where we can sit down and chat properly. Saw Jubei, Min and Melia and we had a wonderful time eating and exchanging stories. There are so many to tell and share so why don’t we do it often, eh ? Commitments, what else ? Working commitments to be exact….

Hmmm……..

Going to Cho’s house brought loads of memories. Since her house was 3 minutes walk from school, it became our port for study groups during our final year in high school. There we will troop almost daily where we will eat, relax a little before opening our books again. Sigh….

Of course her house is all too familiar to me. I was happy to see her family and sit in the memorable living room. And the memories !!

Well, of all the things I remember, it strongly reminded me of the time we decided to forego studying all together and play computer games instead. What was the choice of games for four 16 year olds ? Dig dug. He heh.

I remember all of us, Jubei, Kamalia, Cho and yours truly huddled in front of the computer, each one taking a turn, digging and fighting dragons, screaming our heads off.

Girls…..

Maybe it is time to resurrect our usrah, eh friends ?

A and Amelia strike again !!

Hmm…. What are we like, Amelia and I ?

Friday received an sms from my best friend, asking me whether I am interested for a Thai massage. Her colleague recommended it, she said. Well…. Both of us love the spas experience so of course I want to go.

She picked me up at 11 am and off we went to Summit. I am very weary of Summit, to tell the truth. Been only once, with Anu, Sheena and Babah of course for a movie. Didn’t like it. Not to the movie but the mall.

Anyway, got there, went up to second floor only to discover that the place was closed down. Bummer. We asked around and a lady helpfully told us of another spa on the first floor. Off we went but do not know why it was closed too but for a very funny reason, no electricity. I looked around the well lit shopping complex in wonder and at their very much lit wall lamps.

We went in circles for awhile. At the entrance of the mall was an advertisement for a RM 38 reflexology massage at the Zouk Spa. We discussed and agreed since we had come all the way for a massage, a massage we will get, no matter where..

We were greeted by a Chinese man whose speech we can’t understand. “Where are you from ?” Asked Amelia. “China..” He said and bowed… he heh bowed…really. I see, okay.

He then looked at me and said something that I couldn’t make heads and tails of, I just looked at him questioningly and said, “Eh ?” and he looked back at me awkwardly. Amelia giggled and pointed at the slippers that he had placed in front of me.

“Ohh… you want me to take of my shoes…..”

After that we were ushered into a room. From the doorway we could see it was dark and both of us hesitated. It was too dark to see anything but we could see rows and rows of bed like chairs.

“You can sit here or here or here….. Anywhere !!” Announced the guy, sweeping his hands around the room. But it was too dark, we can’t see anything and I was thinking “Which ones are clean ?”

Then I heard Amelia said, “Duduk dekat ngan pintu A. Kalau apa-apa… senang lari….” He heh… Why do we always find ourselves in this kind of situation ? Why ?

So I settled on a bed/chair near the door and Amelia sat next to me. It was really comfortable.

When the masseuses came with the buckets of water, my first request of the day was, “Please switch on more lights !!”

Ha ha….

Decision, decisions....

Why am I at 32 found myself at a crossroad again ? I hate making decisions and would rather if life just folds and unfolds with great timing. Decisions that were made for my by circumstances and turned out magnificently.

I was at this junction twice before in my life. And both times I was forced to follow the popular opinion and not what I wanted. It turned out okay but I have always wondered what would have happened if I followed my dream.

The first one came during university. In the UK students can do a sandwich year, where after second year of university we can go into the world and get working experience for 1 year before continuing with our 3rd year. It will be reflected on our certificate, which is good I think.

Anyway I duly applied for loads of jobs and was called for an interview at Cummins Engineering in Darlington and … got the job. Can you imagine my excitement, especially thinking that the 2 hours train ride (alone) up north was not wasted ? Plus if you count the amount of worrying that I did, the many – many times my heart threatened to leave my body, particularly when I pondered and analysed my ability to speak English. I mean can I really speak in English ? Would they understand me ? To tell you the truth I admitted defeat as soon as I stepped in the waiting room because the place was flowing with other candidates. So what was my chance with all these other mat sallehs, eh ?

Imagine my surprise when a call came 2 weeks after the interview offering me the place. I was deliriously happy and was ready to accept when I saw Babah shed a tear at the prospect of us being apart.

Tambah pulak dengan my own bapak who was sekejap okay sekejap jangan. Last-last sekali he said since Darlington dekat dengan Middlesborough and he had been to Middlesborough and he warned me that there are werewolves in Middlesborough. Werewolves !! Knowing my dad that is him saying don’t go.

So I didn’t. And I have always wondered what would’ve happened if I actually went ? What kind of engineer my 1 year experience with Cummins would have made me ? A better one ? A more sought after one ? Would I have gotten a better job if I actually spent 1 year with them ?

Hmmm……


A year after joining the previous company I worked for, they sent me to England to be trained at Merpro’s factory in Montrose Scotland then to their sales office in Bristol.

In Bristol, the MD, a lovely man that I have met on a few occasions before offered me a job, based in England as their liaison officer for South East Asia. We were having lunch at this beautiful Italian restaurant when he offered it. The company's lawyer was also present and was giving me encouraging looks. I was dumbfounded and was thoughtful during the meal. I so wanted the job, because it sounded (it still does, unfortunately) so exciting and challenging.

But in the end I declined, Actually as soon as his words sunk in, I knew that I had to decline because I know Babah wouldn’t want to leave Malaysia again.

So... say that I accepted the offers. Who will I be right now ? Will I, today be home by 6 pm and oversee my children's preparations for mengaji ? Will I be able to come home when the sun is still up, shake of my engineer's persona and become a Mum. For what is worth, do I want to come home and could only manage to see my children sleeping ? Never get to hear Adik’s chatters and Abang’s theories no matter how ridiculous they are ?

So, have I made the right choices ? I want to have it all but I can’t, can I ?

I am at that crossroad again. More money that comes with longer hours. Or a less pay packet that enables me to be home by 6.15 ? But with a small pay can I pay for my children’s university education later on ? But if I am an absent Mum, will my children ever make it to uni ?

Do I really want that Mercedes ?

Hmmm…..

The thing I started to do way back

Today apparently there is a ceasefire. Or they are withdrawing altogether. I don’t know. I have stopped reading long time ago because I can’t stomach all the atrocities.

Last time, when I first started boycotting, I used to get a lot of crap from my fellow Muslims.

“How sure are you ?”

“Then there is nothing that you can take anymore if you go on hearsay….”

“Don’t tell me all these companies support Israel ? Where is your proof ?”

“Blah, blah, blah….”

My fellow Muslims mocking me. Usually friends. I do not know why they get so defensive. Why they mock me. Until now I do not understand. I never ask them to do the same. I think. I would think most of the time I am making a statement, like ”Yeah, I don’t drink Coke.. so no thank you……” then it starts.

Pheww…..

I go on was-was. If you are unsure, don’t.

I try to go on the net and there are a few websites dedicated to it, giving us links to follow through and to read for ourselves and I suppose to make the conscious decision. But internet is internet, any Tom, Dick and Harry can set up a website full of lies or the truth or half truths…. I don’t know.

The trick is I suppose to differentiate between Jews and Zionists. Cannot be prejudiced as it is HARAM. Can’t support musuh Islam as that is HARAM, as well. So again I go on was-was.

Like when there is no HALAL certificate, only NO PORK AND LARD signage, I wouldn’t enter those premises because I think about the condition of the chicken and beef. So was-was and therefore don’t go.

It doesn’t matter if you do not boycott Israel linked companies (as they are now called) but do not judge my jihad. This is my jihad. I can’t go to Palestine like the wonderful Dr. Jemilah and her MERCY, but this is mine and let me be.

I am just afraid that when my time comes and Allah asks me what I have done for my fellow Muslims, I have no answer at all.

I refuse to give even 1 sen of my money to fund the massacre of the Palestinians.

PS : Mahatma Gandhi’s grandson is doing the boycotting, why can’t us their brothers and sisters ?

If you play with you children, you might get vertigo.

Well… that was what happened to me anyway.

It was last Thursday and I was still on my sejadah. I had finished my doa and noticed movements behind me. The thing was on my left then moved to my right then to my left again, advancing steadily.

My daughter, wanting to jump on me from behind. I though, have an advantage… or two. First, I was trained in this kind of game. Well trained. For years and years. And second, I taught her all she knew.

Before she could pounce on me, I jumped off the mat simultaneously twisting my body to face her, arms in hooks with a roar ready, in one fluid movement my dad would be proud of. I smiled inside when shock registered on her face and when my feet was firmly planted on the floor, her laughter erupted and the room started spinning.

Funny… I have never learned this trick. This spin the room trick.

I closed my eyes, trying to get my bearings in the whirlpool but it didn’t help. I opened my eyes and saw Babah sighed.

“Ha… pening dah ?”

I dared not nod my head, slowly descended to the bed and closed my eyes again. It would not go away. Somehow the turntable I was on was still there and I was so dizzy I started retching. Out came my lunch.

Babah applied Minyak Kapak on my head but the massaging action made my head spin faster. Out came the yellow fluid but I still did not feel any respite.

“Doctor !!” I gasped.

Babah questioned about my lunch and breakfast and lectured on angin.

DEMC as usual was full but I can’t take anymore of the car ride and decided to wait with the rest of the sick. Vomitted twice and leaned on Babah. But that man kept fidgeting so I had to lean on the seat in front of me. Lucky for me when it was my turn, I got the doctor that I like.

“Make the room stop spinning !!” I ordered as soon as I saw his beaming face.

“I am not pregnant…” I advised, waving my finger at him.

“It must be vertigo if you are not pregnant…” He said after arguing with me on the state of my womb and recounting exactly what happened. Prescribed injection and one bag of saline that would take an hour the good doctor did.

So I was ushered to a treatment room where I was duly injected and dripped… he he… Mercifully I slept after begging Allah for forgiveness. After about an hour I was woken up and felt better. Better mind you, not that it had completely gone. I still felt somewhat woozy and out of sorts. Babah collected a tipsy wife.

After a week, I could still feel the effects. I still had to take the ubat pening everyday.

No sudden movements, okay friends ? It must be our age.

Sambal belacan

As promised, today I will narrate the my brother and sambal belacan story.

I hated my brother when I was small. In fact I hated him yesterday and I am sure if I see him later, I would hate him again. Why do older brothers makes you 10, spotty and ready for a fight ?

Anyway, in Malay society, adik is adik and abang or kakak is abang or kakak. The transition of you ordering your elder siblings about with “Please switch on the light for me (with 8 siblings I was forever switching on the lights for my younger siblings and when I thought I was finally getting a rest from that, out came my children, ordering me to “Tolong bukak lampu” again) and “Nak basuh tangan” came swiftly because suddenly they were telling you to “Please go to my room and get my book” etc. And don’t know why you just obey. You made your protest sure, but you still obey.

Maybe the possibility of nobody taking you to the shops or nobody to teman you in the darkened room was the motivation, I don’t know but you do as you are told.

Anyway, one day my brother was eating his lunch and I was passing by him when he said, “Tolong buat kan aku sambal belacan ?” We must have fought that day or last week, I don’t remember, but I do remember replying “Buat sendirilah !!”

A few minutes after that as I was climbing the stairs (the stairs play a major role in my family life doesn’t it ?), I heard the familiar sound of pounding. I looked into the kitchen and saw my brother, in a squat pounding chillies on the kitchen floor with a pestle (lesung batu lah tuh), face contorted in concentration.

I went into my room, closed the door, hugged my knees to my chest and played the picture over and over again with remorse.

I must have really learned my lesson about refusing family’s request for food because I have no other painful memory involving it.

PS: Hmmm…. I do have another one actually. My smaller brother’s requested for tuna sandwiches was refused because he asked for some right after lunch. Sometimes sandwiches reminded me of him asking “Buatkan sandwich ?” Why do these people ask for food from me ?

It reminded me of....

Yesterday as I was putting away my sejadah, I mulled over what to have for dinner. Babah and I met for lunch and had excellent pizzas with generous soups (not Pizza Hut so there was no disturbing after taste after the meal). I had starchy breakfast so what else is there for dinner ?

My mind fleeted from having nothing at all (because was still full at that time) to roti canai then settled on French toasts (roti teloq kata bapak aku) then went off to other food again when I took stock of the greasiness and fat content.

Anyway the thought of French toasts reminded me of an incident that happened way back, when I was little but… well big enough to already help my Mum in the kitchen. Now, when Mum makes French toasts she made it like Chinese shrimp toast. Instead of shrimp, she covers one side of the bread with minced meat. It is utterly delicious. I do not know if every house does this, but we accompany our beefy French toast with a chilli-onion-vinegar dip. The crunchy toast laden with beef, coupled with a tangy hot vinegary dip explodes in your mouth. Truly… he he…

So one day, ages ago, for some reason Mum didn’t make the dip. Bapak was at the dining table, a plate of toasts in front of him. My sister Ita and myself were climbing up the stairs when Bapak said, “Can one of you make the kuah cicah (dip) for me ?”

His mistake was not naming names. He let us decide who was going to do it and therefore war broke out.

“Engkaulah buat !! (You do it !)” Said my sister.

“No ! You do it. I’m tired… blah blah blah….”

As we fought, Bapak looked at us quietly. I stole a look and saw his face was in amusement.

I stopped.

I will remember this forever.

He smiled kindly at us and said, “Your papa (he always addresses himself as papa if he wants his children to see reason. I hate it. It’s like my mom’s resigned “Suka hati kau lah” or “Up to you” ) wants to eat this bread your mummy makes with kuah cuka (vinegar dip). Sedapnya (delicious). Dengan cili sikit, bawang sikit… oooo bestnya (With a little onion, chillies… yummy…). Sapa yang boleh buat untuk (who can do this for) your old papa ni ?”

I stormed to the kitchen, yanked open the fridge and started the dip. Because of my huge ego, I slammed the bowl down in front of him. He in return grinned inanely at me and said “Thank you, girl..”

Believe me the regret came soon, much soon after. Love ya, papa.

.

PS : This entry reminds me of the episode of sambal belacan and my brother. Next entry, yeah ?

Coach baru

My friends know my Sunday schedule. By 7.30 I will be at the courts in ITM playing tennis with my children’s coach while my babies do some tennis related exercises. I love my Sunday morning exercise. I love what it is doing to my game, although I do sometimes ask, why am I doing this, vamping up my game. Who am I trying to impress with my serves and spins ? Whatever.

I like the coach, too. Coach Anuar was trained by cousin, Izam who in turn was trained by his dad, my uncle Pak Mat. In fact most of us were trained by my formidable in the court uncle (but luar court he is the sweetest so and so around… he he… Sayang Pak Mat…). Therefore I was rather perplexed with Coach Anuar’s sunny and easy-going attitude. He sometimes had to force his errant students to get up their butts and start running or put their racquets into action.

But because of that very attitude, the students kept coming. He didn’t make it hard for them, he made it fun and for that I admire him. His father assisted him, a nice man with a very kind face who loves children. He knows how to make them do things that he wants. In fact he was the one who made Elsa joined the team ! Elsa had no say in it what-so-ever, suddenly found herself running and swinging with the rest of the big people. Ha ha….

In short I really like the family.

However 2 weeks ago Anuar left a bomb. He is leaving for a teacher’s training school in Penang that very week and will be introducing his replacement that very Sunday. I was worried for the children but also worried for me. Will the new coach agree to play with me ? Would he be kind and considerate like him ?

“Have you asked Izam to recommend a substitute ?” I asked.

The line was bad for some reason and I thought he said Izam is still trying to find somebody (for the record the tennis class in ITM was initiated by my cousin Izam who is a Sports Science lecturer there. It is a very good effort as I see all these children doing something to fill their days away from the telly).

Sunday came and I was feeling sad that Anuar was leaving, although for a year only but he is a good guy so he will be sorely missed. When I got there, Anuar was there first as usual minus the new coach. So we played and then at 8.30 am Anuar said the new coach has arrived.

I looked at him and he looked familiar, a tall guy with a sweet face. He looked young though so I asked Anuar if he is any good. Anuar gave me a puzzled look. “Mestilah….” He said and before he could say anything else, the new coach was in front of us.

Anuar’s introduction was a surprising, “Kenal kan ?” Hmm…. Yeah, I have seen him around the courts sometimes… but with whom… ? Maybe that is why he looked so familiar… Also he looked like someone I know from ages ago… Someone I used to…

Hang on…

“Sedara kan ?” Asked Anuar. The boy was taken aback.

“Ini sepupu bapak kau kan ?” Ya Rabbi. Anak si Izam… No wonder he looked so much like Izam did when he was that age.

“Ini Huzaifah kak…. Eii… tak pernah jumpa ke ?” Bukan tak pernah, jarang….
Tapi yang segan… anak sedara jadi coach makcik ? Elok2 coach panggil kakak ni nak kena panggil Cik Ala. Sabar ke dia nak mengajar aku ni ?

Last Sunday I woke up with a determination to cancel the class. But … dah sedara malu lah pulak. What would my Pak Mat say ? But what would Pak Mat say when he hears his grandson is coaching his niece, if he haven’t heard of it yet, that is.

Huzaifah was overly polite although my first 2 balls (okaylah 5….. ha ha) went everywhere. I could almost hear him think “Aduih, teruknya makcik aku ni….” Waa….
But after a few minutes he was able to gauge the level of my ability and we fell into an easy rally. But strict he is like his father and his grandfather. Anuar only plays with me and telling me where I went wrong. But this guy actually treated me like the other kids by marking a square space and tell me to aim all my balls there.

He didn’t give the kiddies a chance either. But he is a good change and I can see that we will have a good thing going on here.

He he…

PS : Anuar will be gone for a year and he promised that he will come back every holiday. Yeay !

Tammy Mathews Childers

I had the best surprise yesterday. When I accessed my gmail account, I got a notification from Facebook informing me that I have a message from a Tammy Childers.

I do not know any Tammy Childers but I know a Tammy Mathews and I quickly click on the message. It was a good day for me yesterday. My pen-pal Tammy from Tennessee, USA found me. After losing each other for at least 9 years (she knew I was in England but didn’t know about Umar… so that was probably right), she typed my name on Facebook and found me.

I quickly replied enthusiastically and while I was still surfing the net, she messaged me and we had a wonderful one hour conversation via FB messenger.

Thank you, Facebook. Thank you, technology. Thank you, Allah SWT.

Tammy and I became pen pals when I was 13 and she was 12. I would think almost everybody in my age bracket joined in the pen-pal round the world club (kena bayar RM 5 yek ?). One day a letter from the States came for me, my dad hollered for me to come down and he showed me a letter (opened … that is a federal offense, mister) addressed to me from the States. He gave me the envelope and started reading the letter out loud, my family gathered around.

I was confused, looking at the envelope while trying to hear my dad read (like I don’t know how to). In the letter she introduced herself, and her wish to be my pen-pal and she stated her interests. That was the interesting part because I remember this so well. My dad was reading yeah, “I like books and…. boys…” Laughter erupted. My father was laughing like mad.

“Girl, she likes boys !!” And Wa Ha Ha Ha he went.

I snatched the letter from him, left my very amused family and locked myself in the room and read and re-read and re-read the letter. Then I wrote a reply and the rest is history. She enclosed a picture of herself, a very pretty girl in cheerleading outfits that I still have.

She moved house once and then I suppose I moved to England and apparently we were still in communication then. Then after a hiatus of incommunicado I wrote to her again but my letter was returned. I wrote again, thinking I had the address wrong and it too was returned.

I think about her on and off and had been quite sad that we lost touch. I suppose because the pen-pal club was suppose to find a similar minded friend for us and they were spot on with Tammy and myself.

So now I found her, and today I am giddy with happiness.

PS : Tammy, they weren’t laughing because you like boys, but being Asian, dads are not supposed to know that they even exist so you announcing how much you like them was sort of funny because I should be in trouble. Sort of like my secret is out… I suppose it is one of those you have to be there joke…. Ha ha…

PS: Now I want to find my other pal, Emma Crouch from Wales. She is not exactly a pen-pal because we have met each other before we started writing to each other.

Today's ramblings...

I have so many things to say but… well…

First of all, I want to capture my sorrow for the Travolta family on the death of their son. My sympathy is overwhelming especially when I saw the picture of John and his late son gazing at each other adoringly.

I respect men who are not afraid to show his love towards their sons. Father and daughter are different but father and son’s relationship is a bit at arm’s length isn’t it ? My father still kisses me, a woman of 32 but I haven’t seen him kissing my brothers in a loooong time. Women are different, we have no sense of macho-ness or masculinity to protect so men who are not afraid to wear pink and who could look at his son with absolute admiration is beautiful in my book.

And then the picture of John resting his head on his son’s shoulder and Jett had his arm around his father’s head while he kisses him made my cry. The love is so evident and I am so sorry. I could not imagine the pain.

Secondly, just want to say that fitnah hurts. No wonder Allah SWT said fitnah is worse than murder. To the victim of fitnah, sadness envelopes him, uneasiness came knocking and anger will soon come. All this negativity robs him of sleep.

He would start to doubt himself surely, thinking did he really did what they say he did ? Why is his memory, his recollection of that particular incident different from the accuser ? Was it his choice of words ? Was it his face that betrayed his real feelings ? What were his real feelings ?

Sleep eluded him.

Then came the plotting. Plotting to get the truth of what really happened. He is lucky if there were witnesses. However he is in another dilemma. Should he really make a big deal out of this ? Would the witness keep their conversation private ? What if the witness informs the accuser ? Does he want that to happen ? Is confrontation good ? Will it solve the problem ? What if the witness sides with the accuser. Allahu Akhbar. Allahu Akhbar. Allahu Akhbar.

Sembahyang Istikharah. Itu saja jawapannya dan kemudian bersabar. Allah makbulkan doa orang yang teraniaya.