Phd Dilemma

Feeling worry, worry, worry

For everything to be

The 'ifs', the 'shoulds'

The 'woulds' and 'coulds'

Want to get over this phd fast, fast, fast

Exhausted brain strained 24/7

Can't wait for all this be the past

Back to balance and even

Time is ticking..tick-tick-tick

Struggle-juggle to streamline

Swim, dive, run and even flying kick

Anything! as not to be left behind

When duedate comes..how I wish to rewind time!

No..I shall not decline!

Shall not cry nor whine

Bring here all the deadlines!

Don't care if due dates are unkind

Lets have them all defined, designed, outlined, refined, unwind, presented in folders nicely bind

But Yet! still in a peace state of mind!

(All the best my friends no matter at which stage you are; lets us pray for each other . May Allah bless us with a peaceful mind and strength)

Empty Head

It is late..the clock shows eight

Stuck on the office chair, pilled up with papers

A lot more to evaluate.. this work is making me suffocate

One thing that can be of help is an oxygen ventilator

Is it this empty tummy or the night is super cold

Owh, no wonder...the heater is switched off

Of course.. it is centrally controlled

No one else but me and my close friends - spss and microsoft

A little bit more to complete this sentence

The last three words before the fullstop

Spinning thinking but lacking of substance

Time is running..tick-tock, tick-tock

Another pint of coffee please

Lets dip in 2 or three more cookies

And eat the last slice of cake, it says 'low calorie' recipies

Also lunch leftovers - pizza with extra cheese

Woops..it is now nine!

Nothing accomplished but high Na like drinking normal saline

One hour passed, no complete sentence not even a line

I think its time to forget the deadline

Lets go home, while my head is still aligned

Run away

I wish to run away,

Far from everything, everyone

Alone, just me and a glimpse of ray

To leave behind what is left undone

I wish to run away,
Far to a magic place nobody has ever found

Free from expectations and commitments

My own sweet time to lie on the ground, enjoy the melody of no sound

Relish the indifference and unconditioned

I wish to run away,
To live my life as how I wish to live

To the person I wish to be with

To the day victory has arrive

To be free and once again relive!

Actually, its almost nine
I realy do have to run away

Far from my workstaion

Had enough coffee and headache to call it a day

Should be heading home for dinner to satify my starvation!

Snow Boot

There is this pretty snow boot

Its black with zip and matches my suit

The sticker says..wow! eighty pounds!

What a price..I am so astound

The next day snow falls and covers the street

The road turn muddy and slippery

I neary slipped off my feet

Phew..that was close to casualty!

 Oowh..should have grabbed that snow boot yesterday

I hope it is still on display

There is another pretty one in grey

But mind you the price, I dare not pay!

Should I buy or should I not

Winter is only once a year

But snow boot, I have never bought

Perhaps just wait untill they want the old stocks clear

                     "Today, tomorrow no snow"

                     That is what Mr Forecast say

                     But the temperature will be -3celcius & below

                     Oowh.."please, please snow" I pray

                      I have not make Mrs Snowman

                      And a few more pictures to shoot

                      A lot more to do in my plan

                     Owh well..at least now I can forget about the     
                     snow boot!

The lady in black abayyah (Part 3)

Synopsis from part 2: Something happened and that was why she came to Colombo. My curiosity grew stronger each day, so I decided to spend some time with her -  in her room. My mission was to know exactly what happened to her back home and why did she come here? And also, why was she always wearing abayyah even at bedtime (or did she change to other clothes right before going to bed?).

Everytime I peeked into Aunty Anne's room, I saw her doing the same thing in the same position - sitting on the prayer mat with her back against the bed. After breakfast the following day, my parents went out for grocery shopping and the younger siblings were watching 'Land Before Time' cartoon from  Universal Pictures production. I walked up the stairs to Aunty Anne's room. The door was slightly openned. I knocked..silent..knocked again..still not answered. So I slowly pushed the door and peeked inside. I saw Aunty Anne sitting on the prayer mat with her back leaning against the bed and tasbih beads in her hand.. She looked surprise when I sat beside her. I told her that I knocked but she did not answer, she apologised for not  hearing me knock. Then she stood up to sit on the bed, I joined her. 

Aunty Anne looked naturally beautiful even though her jilbab was not neatly worned. She was wearing a different abayyah that day -  plain black with small black sequines. I wonder how many more abayyahs in her Samsonite suitcase. I asked Aunty Anne everything I wanted to know about her - my questions were plain and straight forward. I hope she was not annoyed...wished I gave more attention to mama's etiquette lectures. Aunty Anne answered in the most simple words. According to Aunty Anne, she had had a wonderful and colourful life. As far as I could remember, this was what I understood that day - She is a divorcee. She was the wife to 'somebody' well-known and well to-do (I better not reveal his name). According to Aunty Anne, her previous life  looked perfect to the common eyes - loving husband, luxury life style within the aristocrat circle..something like 'if you want it, just name it and you'll get it'. That explained the branded shoes and handbag, I must be correct about the facial treatment too. Later on she met someone who took her love entirely away from 'dunya'. 'Dunya' is a word in Arabic  which means, in Islamic terminology, the temporal world—and its earthly concerns and possessions—as opposed to the eternal spiritual realm, or the hereafter[1].  Her ex-husband did not see what she saw, when they no longer share the same passion nor speak at the same frequency, they seperated. She did not mentioned anything about having a child (or children) and I did not ask. Since she met this person, her life dramatically changed - abayyah was just one of those changes which everyone could see. She said not many welcomed her anymore, unlike when she was in mini skirts and flashing red lipsticks. That explained why she accepted my invitation on the flight, it has been a while since she made new friends. Oh by the way, she did changed to pyjamas right before going to bed.

A few if not many members of our society relate abayyah with orthodox Islamic followers. I remembered sometime in the 80's before I entered primary school, women in abayyah were teased 'ghost' or specifically 'hantu kom-kom' - even children made fun of them and their parents never utter a word about such behaviour. "O Prophet, tell your wives and daughters, and the believing women, to cover themselves with a loose garment. They will thus be recognised and no harm will come to them" 33:59 . Abayya is an example of the loose garmet - it is a long cloak that covers the whole body. Nowadays, we have modern abayya made from various fabrics and in many colours. But those days - just loose black. Anyone wearing old fashioned black abayya reminded me of my aunty (the wife to abah's eldest brother). My uncle has been a tabligh preacher since I can remember, so I grew up seeing  half of my female relatives wearing abayyah as their daily attire. Maybe that was why I invited Aunty Anne without thinking twice. I admired her will power and self confidence to face dirty looks and bear dirty words - to her it was a sweet path to get closer to Allah. Her purpose of life also changed from 'living life to the fullest' to 'serving the Creator and nothing else matter'. Her time was allocated only to worship HIM as if Izrail [2]  is sitting by her side unpatiently waiting to perform his duty - thus money, glamour, Noritake, Royal Albert, jewelleries, Mercedes you name it all (because the list never ends) were meaningless and worth less than a penny. That explained why she behaved and acted the way I previuosly described in the last chapter. She saw life in a totally different perspective; to many of us..its like no life! I was 4 decades younger than Aunty Anne..the information was too much for me to digest that it made me so scared. Suddenly for the second time in my 14 years of life I felt sorry to be born. The first time was when I learned all living soul will definitely die - this was when I was 7 years old. I was so crossed and scolded mama for bringing me to earth (I was too young to understand that abah should be blamed too in this case). It took me awhile to accept that fact - I got over it when my brother was born three years later. The second time at 14 years old, I became scared of growing up...'Peter Pan was right!' shouted my mind - so many uncertainties and frustrations. From Aunty Anne's experience, my imaginative mind got wild that it started printing a list of all possible worse case scenario of my life-to-be. Faces of the unfortunate people living on the streets whom I saw on the way home from the airport came back like flash cards. 'What if I die young and not see what Aunty Anne saw?' That was the starting point I see life beyond the ordinary.

Aunty Anne also told me that she came all the way to Colombo with an empty heart but a strong will to look for a 'Syeikh'. A pupil of this 'Syeikh' shared an insight of  iman that made her change - and she wanted more. The problem was she had no clue where to find this 'Syeikh'; even though Ceylon is a small island, it required more than just luck to search for a specific man. She told me that she has been praying asking Allah to guide and help her find this 'Syeikh'.

I do not know whether Allah sent me and my family to her or the other way round because it just so happened that abah knew this 'Syeikh'! This 'Syeikh' came to the Malaysian Embassy a few months ago, and that was how abah met him. We managed to take Aunty Anne visit the 'Syeikh' at his house and later on she joined a group of sufis at a mosque where this 'Syiekh' held regular lecture. The day Aunty Anne left,  mama and I agreed that we missed her presence at home. That evening abah took us to Galle Beach - a beautiful seaside near the southern end of the Sri Lanka. As I watched the sunset, I praised Allah for what HE has given me. At that moment once again I secretly said a prayer - Allah has not answered that prayer so I'll keep it secret  for now. Finally, this is where the story ends. Thank you for reading.

Author's note:
This event happened in 1993 when the world is much tamer than the one we are currently in. If you have children - advise them 'Do not talk to strangers'. 

Ref:

[1] : Wikipedia definition

[2]: Izrail - the angel of death. He is responsible for parting the soul from the body. He is only referred as malak al-maut, meaning angel of death, in the Qur'an

The lady in black abayyah (Part 2)

Synopsis from Part 1:  It was not until the pilot announced we were about to land that I realised how on earth am I going to explain to abah and mama about bringing home a complete stranger who I just met less than four hours ago!! "Owh- O, I'm in trouble!" I heard myself whispered. At the same time, I did want to take her home with me no matter what..have I gone crazy?

There was a  hard 'thud' as the flight touched down at Bandaranaike International Airport. As I exited the aircraft and walked out the corridor, my eyes were wild searching for familiar figures. I jumped as I spotted  abah standing 6 feet tall and mama dressed modestly elegant; both were in their mid 40's waiting as promised. I ran toward them with bouncing rucksack, pecked mama on the cheek and recieved a big hug in return from abah.  I was so happy; at that very moment I put my guard down. No need to behave like someone 10 years older or constantly looking around my surroundings for anyone/anything suspicious anymore..its the safe and secured feeling once more. A red name tag that read 'Diplomatic Pass' was on abah's dark blue linen suit; well tailored  to adapt Sri Lanka's warm and humid weather. I recalled from my leisure readings that other than precious gem stones and tea, Ceylon also has good quality cotton and linen clothing. I bet mama must have started her collection, I was looking forward to try them on. It was an advantage to be able to fit in mama's clothes - at least her casual blouses and shirts - thanks to my height from abah's gene.

Overjoyed to meet my siblings at home I totally forgotten Aunty Anne! I pulled my hands away from my parents and turned around to find Aunty Anne standing exactly where I left her before jumping off. What if I had not remembered and left her watching me walk away? Suddenly I felt horribly guilty, looked straight up and said in one breath "Abah, mama..I met a friend on the flight, her name is Aunty Anne, she is from Malaysia and has no where to go, can she stay with us, please?" Well... I did not leave them any other choice do I? But somehow I expected they would not mind because one, they rarely say 'no' and two, we always welcome guests - relatives, friends including strangers err.. once in a while. Also, abah is a Malaysian Embassy diplomatic officer; thus hosting a Malaysian in need is an obligation. After the adults were introduced, we head off to the immigration counter and baggage claim. 

The surroundings outside Bandaranaike International Airport was totally different from Subang International Airport. The scents were unfamiliar to my nostrils, not sure if I sneezed because of the smell or the dusty air perhaps both; many taxi drivers were offering service like five at a time and porters busy lifting our two luggage  bags as if we had 10 of them. The taxi-drivers were frustrated because we already had our transport arranged and I saw abah hand the porters a few Rupees. As the car sped leaving the airport, I saw women with babies strapped to their body walking in colorful sarees, men in white dhotti and some children running around naked.  We passed by a number of mini round-a-bouts, and shared the road with cattle carts. However, a totally new scenery to me was to see 'families' living in card board tents carefully built under the bridges and at secluded corners in public gardens. There and then I felt like such a spoiled child, riding a nice car towards a nice house belonging to a nice family...thousands out there would feel like being in dunya heaven if they get 1/4 of what Allah has given me, Alhamdulillah. The next time I want to complain, I should rephrase this thoughts again. I looked at Aunty Anne and thought 'Who is this woman?'. Having her in the car felt like I have succeeded in a big mission.  In the car, other than eves-dropping boring adults' conversation I had nothing else to do, so I read every sign board on the roadside. 'Colombo 7' was the last signboard I saw before falling asleep.   

It was 4pm, we finally reached home at Kinsey Road in Colombo 7. My cute brothers and sisters aged between 11 and 4 were eager to greet us. I felt so old to be around them. We did not realise how much we missed each other; all 5 of us hopped on a single bed and exchanged stories - most of the time we lost track who was saying what because all of us were talking at the same time; except for our youngest sister Mira who was happily seating on my lap. From inside the room, I saw abah, mama and Aunty Anne also busy talking while sipping hot Ceylon tea. An hour later mama escorted Aunty Anne to the guest room.

Three days passed, I realised that Aunty Anne did not talk much even with mama since day one; she stayed in her room all day and sometimes skipped meals (maybe because she was fasting?). I too, did not have many chances to talk to her. During meal time, I pretended not to pay attention to details when the adults were talking but my ears and head were actively eves-dropping and thinking. So I got to know that Aunty Anne was either a soon to be divorcee or already an ex-wife to an aristocrat back home. Listening to the description of her 'husband'...abayyah did not fit in their life style (oops!..was I wrong to say that? That came from a 14 year old logic).

Something happened and that was why she came to Colombo. My curiosity grew stronger each day, so I decided to spend some time with her -  in her room. My mission was to know exactly what happened to her back home and why did she come here? And also, why was she always wearing abayyah even at bedtime (or did she change to other clothes right before going to bed?).

To be continued in Part 3

The lady in black abayyah (Part 1)

My first experience travelling abroad alone was at age 14. It was a six hours flight to Sri Lanka during semester holidays. My father whom I addressed as "abah" was working there, so mama and all my other 4 siblings moved to Sri Lanka, the pearl shaped island with breathtaking beaches. Me? I could have opted for international school too if I followed my parents, but I did not. I preferred continuing secondary education locally at a boarding school instead - not that my academic performance was so good; it was because I was too attached to debate and silat martial art activities. What?! Yeah, I reacted the same whenever I looked back....entering school overseas, skipping PMR/SPM the national exams and hopping into any AU/UK/US university through O/A levels or IB should be more appealing than lame debate and silat don't you think so? Oh well, it was not an attraction for me at that time. No, I didnot regret because if I had chosen otherwise, I would not have met my soulmate.

Anyways...my luggage was filled with jeans, t-shirts and books- everything fit into 1/2 the space. I was a simple young lady, so packing took me maximum 15 minutes. I had not seen my family for almost a year! For a 14 year old, that is way too long. I still remember how excited I was to travel on a 6 hours flight, alone. Knowing that abah will be waiting inside the terminal gate excites me even more! Those were the years when abah was my only hero, the only man in my life. Everything seems to be in place and calm when abah was around. His charismatic appearence made me feel safe and secured. I admired (and still do) abah's public speaking talent, he was one of the UM speakers during his prime time. Perhaps that was the reason why I was not interested in a steady boyfriend back then. I had many chances and choices too, but I was busy falling in love with abah; and that was good enough for me. So, on my 13th birthday, I decided to start reciting a secret doa "O Allah, please close my heart to any man other than abah, untill I meet the one who is destined to be my husband..I dont want any trial-error please, please. So please Allah, let my 1st love be eternal". Eversince then, the doa became a routine after my 5 daily prayers..untill I finally met my husband 10 years later. Alhamdulillah.

Back to the part of me travelling alone at 14. It is no big deal, many have travelled alone years younger so what is so special at 14? Age and 1st time travelling alone is not the point of my story. What I wanted to share is my encounter with a lady. This lady, is a God sent complete stranger who made me see the other side of life at 14. Let me first describe how she looked like. Base on my memory of 18 years ago, she was approximately 165 cm tall and slim, chinese-malay features, either in her late 30's or early 40's (I presumed). Her shoes and handbag...pretty branded. Her facial skin seem well maintained, perhaps from regular facial treatment and high end product. No jewelleries, not even a slight make-up and she was fully covered with black abayyah. Bare in mind that full abayyah was not a common trend in Malaysia those days, so she stood up from the crowd. There was something about her eyes though - deep sorrow that even a 14 year old could recognise. She too, was travelling alone. I wondered what was in her mind, her lips were whisperimg something that sounded familiar but it was not clear enough for me to work out what it was. Me being me at 14, a girl who just could not sit still and be quiet decided to break the ice by asking her name and why she was travelling to Sri Lanka ( I know, very busy body of me, but I cant help it...I was so bored, no ACE!) She preferred to be addressed as Aunty Anne. When she answered my 2nd question; I became more curious and confused than before. She said she had not plan of where to stay, who to meet, why she was going to Sri Lanka and what to do when she arrives. For an adult..it means a runaway plan of a lonely soul, running away from something or someone, pretty normal, sort of "i want to be alone" kind of thing. However, for a 14 year old, it sounded awful, sad and troubled. I did not know why I offered her to stay with me; maybe it was the sadness in her eyes. Or maybe I was trapped psycologically. She could have been in desperation to accept an invitation from a 14 year old travelling unaccompanied; they are not even elligible to give consent what more to bring strangers home! It was not untill the pilot announced we were about to land that I realised how on earth am I going to explain to abah and mama about bringing home a complete stranger who I just met less than four hours ago!! "Owh- O, Im in trouble!" I heard myself whispered. At the same time, I did want to take her home with me no matter what..have I gone crazy?

To be continued in Part 2