On My Son’s Birthday

On this, my son’s 2nd birthday, I pay tribute to the two most amazing women in my life: my mum and my wife. 

For it is in these 2 years that I have witnessed firsthand how much time, energy, money, sleep, blood, sweat and tears my wife has sacrificed for our son; the superhuman physical, mental and emotional strength she showed in caring for the child entrusted to us.

For it is in these 2 years that I thus found a newfound appreciation for my own mother, who I now realise went through all these caring for me before I was even able to bear witness.

For it is in these two years that I have found an understanding of the words of Allah when He said:

“And We have enjoined upon man [care] for his parents. His mother carried him, [increasing her] in weakness upon weakness, and his weaning is in two years. Be grateful to Me and to your parents; to Me is the [final] destination.”

[Surah Luqman:14]

Thank you so much, to mama/nana and yangku/mummy from myself and baby Mukhlis! 

We are truly blessed to have you both in our lives ❤️❤️❤️

Mukhlis

بسم الله الرحمان الرحيم

Alhamdulillah tsumma Alhamdulillah..

Seven days ago, an amazing blessing entered the lives of my wife and I in the form of a healthy, beautiful, baby boy - our first-born child :’D

وَإِنَّ لَكُمۡ فِي ٱلۡأَنۡعَٰمِ لَعِبۡرَةٗۖ نُّسۡقِيكُم مِّمَّا فِي بُطُونِهِۦ مِنۢ بَيۡنِ فَرۡثٖ وَدَمٖ لَّبَنًا خَالِصٗا سَآئِغٗا لِّلشَّٰرِبِينَ

“And indeed, for you in grazing livestock is a lesson. We give you drink from what is in their bellies -  between excretion and blood -  pure milk, palatable to drinkers.” [An-Nahl, 16:66]

Our child, you entered into this world as pure and sweet as fresh milk.

From your first seconds of life, your face shone with the glow of innocence. How do we put into words how much peace it gives us just gazing at you..?

Thus even in these first days of your life, your Creator has given us an ibrah (lesson) to contemplate: that there is peace to be found even in chaos, hope even in despair, love even in animosity.

What a precious lesson to take in this world you’ve been born into - one seemingly filled with corruption, foulness and hate.

Our child, let your name then be an illustration of that first beautiful lesson:

Mukhlis

- a word composed of the root letters “ل”،”خ” and “ص”; from which the words ikhlas (sincerity) and khalis (to be pure) are also derived.

Mummy and papa pray that you will grow up to be salih wa musleh - that you are in yourself good, and helps others to be good;

that you continue being a vessel through whom Allah continues giving us beautiful lessons and reminders;

that you will help us ourselves become more sincere and more pure;

that you will be a Mukhlis - one who is sincere, devoted and pure-hearted. 

Ameen..

Ice Cream

Many kids stared as I ate a cheap RM1 ice cream at a local shopping mall yesterday.

It reminded me of the time when I was that old and would do anything for the ability to have ice cream anytime I want. Of course, at that age I didn’t have the money nor the means to go to the ice cream shop as often as I wished.

Yesterday I realised how much I now take that freedom for granted - at this age I no longer appreciate the ability to buy ice cream so easily because I’m too busy chasing ‘more important’ things.

Such is human nature - as we grow older we are in a continuous chase for the ‘ice cream’ of that particular phase in life - good exam results, a job, a car, a house, a wife, a good retirement, a good place to die.

Perhaps, once in a while, we should just take the time to sit down and appreciate what we have instead of being constantly fixated on what we don’t just yet.

And hey, have some ice cream while you’re at it ✌🏻

[14:7]

The Malaysian Spring

SubhanAllah walhamdulillah wastaghfirullah..
Malaysian grew up before our eyes yesterday!

But the journey is far from over..and even in our celebration, we can take steps towards a more mature democracy.

Despite the historic nature of this election, it cannot be denied that it was (and still is) marred by the same diseases of the past:
petty name-calling and labelling, racism, an inability to agree to disagree - just to name a few.
No side in this election was immune from such diseases.

We as a people have to strive for an Independence, a Merdeka, from such characteristics;
to have adaab (etiquette) in democracy.

A good place to start would be to distance ourselves from blind partisanship; meaning, that the party I support  is absolutely right and everybody else is absolutely wrong.

Let us instead recognise that in this new Malaysian Spring, the flowers which will bloom shall be in the form of diverse political views - often in competition and disagreement, but altogether a sign of a healthy garden.

Let those flowers bloom, do not crush them.
We may disagree with the views of other Malaysians - find them repulsive, even stupid.
But it is only if we can agree to disagree in a mature manner, to respect others’ right to hold an opinion we don’t agree with, that this new Malaysia can be a better one.
Let us realise that those you disagree with are fellow Malaysians. Often, family and friends. Accept them as human beings, and treat them as you expect to be treated.

This doesn’t mean you should keep your views quietly to yourself. The freedom to express one’s views, after all, is a sign of a healthy democracy.
So go ahead and try to convince others. Discuss. Debate, even.
But realise that the worst argument is to tell others, emotionally, to “shut up”;
that just shows how weak your own stand is.

Stay cool.
Show good akhlaq.
Have adaab.


P.s. Congratulations, Malaysia.
Truly I am especially proud today to be Malaysian. If one day I am blessed to have children and grandchildren, I will surely tell them of the day our country achieved her 2nd Merdeka, InsyaAllah!



#MalaysiaMenujuNegaraRahmah

A Democracy in it’s Infancy

At a voter registration centre in Afghanistan today, a bomb went off; among those killed, children.
It is a symbolic situation - a democracy in its infancy struggling to mature in a climate of violence.

In Malaysia, Alhamdulillah, we have been spared such violence - but our democracy has also seemed to find it hard to mature.


I have been warned by those around me to be careful when talking about politics.
To not criticise those in power too openly.
After all, I am a government-sponsored student -
not the wisest thing to do, is it, to bite the hand which feeds you?

Largely this advice has come from well-meaning people, from family and friends.

But with all due respect, and with no intention to shame or embarrass, I humbly assert that it is this very mindset which has held democracy back in Malaysia.
An unwillingness to challenge authority in fear of the ‘bad things’ which can happen to ME, is the very thing that has led to ‘bad things’ happening to ALL OF US -
the kleptocratic mess we find our country in today.

This self-censorship kills the freedom of expression necessary to hold our representatives in government to account.

And yes - they are OUR representatives. They work for us, NOT the other way around.

The allowance I receive is from the PEOPLE of Malaysia, NOT the government’s.
Is it not, then, even more of a responsibility for me to speak out against a government oppressing my people?
Is it not selfish of me to sit down quietly and let the corruption of my government be?


Yes, I realise that in saying this I may come across as a naively idealistic young kid.
But perhaps it is because I am young that I have so much to lose with a corrupt government in power.
It is because I’m so idealistic that I can speak with a clear conscience, no strings attached.

So I shall speak.
And in my own small insignificant way, I shall hold to account those in power.

As Afghans die in a bomb blast seeking their democracy,
we in Malaysia cannot let our democracy die quietly.

Rise up and speak.



P.s. if you are afraid of speaking up because of the government, perhaps its time you get a new government.

Saad and Ayyan

Two 10-year-old boys meekly approached me, wearing sheepish grins. 

“Assalamualaikum..”

“Yes?”

“We want to apologise about yesterday..”

Yesterday as the two boys entered the masjid, they saw me and whispered (audibly) to each other: 

“Chang Ching Chong is here” 

- alluding to my Oriental appearance.

Fighting the temptation to give them a piece of my mind there and then, I instead kept my cool and approached the man who brought the two boys to the masjid.

I asked him who they were - he said they were his son and nephew. Aged 10.

I told him what they called me, and reminded him that racism is wrong in Islam.

Visibly embarrassed, he told me he will handle it.

I asked him not to scold them - they are only young and didn’t know better. But they DO need to be told that what they did was wrong.

After salah, I approached the family of three as they were leaving the masjid.

“I just want to say that what you did today was very brave - apologising.

Not many grown-ups are able to do that.”

They grinned. A bit more proudly this time.

Saad and Ayyan, you are growing up in a world full of prejudice and hate. Already some of it has tainted you.

But as long as you retain the courage to admit your mistakes and apologise, there still is hope.

(And we adults can learn a thing or two on that too)

one can live several different lives concurrently;

while feeling in each and every one

lonely.

let not the loneliness be 

perpetual,

let not the loneliness be

spiritual.

[2:186] 

Papa is a Tree

Pa, I remember you arriving home from work,

hands on hips, imitating the branches of a tree:

"Papa is a tree. 

Try and climb papa!"

Gleefully adik and I obliged, 

having never climbed a real tree,

racing to climb you like the city kids we are

(and having little regard for the health of your back 😅).

It has been nearly 15 years now since we last did that.

Those years have seen us kids 

grow up, leave school, fly overseas.

While you, Pa; 

our football coach, 

our chauffeur,

our best friend, 

have stayed our steady tree. 

I guess it can be tricky playing that role..

Being that steady over the years, 

it's easy to blend into the background -

people forgetting how important you are.

As you put out roots into yesterday, 

giving us steady support;

as you put out shoots into tomorrow, 

sheltering us from Life's elements;

as you put out flowers and fruits, 

nurturing those around you;

as you put out leaves green, red and brown, 

coloring our lives.

Trees, like everything, grow old

but they do develop a certain beauty with old age:

barks scarred and wrinkled with wisdom, 

leaves no longer growing thick,

revealing the empty nests of those city kids

who once lived on you, but

now live halfway across the world.

They remember still what you once said,

hands on hips, imitating the branches of a tree:

"Papa is a tree. 

Try and climb papa!"

Happy birthday, pa..

We love you! ❤️❤️😬😬

It's easy to look down on babies;

those chubby piles of blubber who don't seem to know how to do anything  

but eat, sleep, poop and cry

(and bite - yes, Dik, I'm referring to you.)

Yet babies are doing something many of us cannot claim to be doing:

Growing up - physically, mentally, emotionally. 

Because how many of us "grown ups" forget to do just that?

We forget to grow up, and merely grow old;

living our lives blindly from point A to point B,

from task to thoughtless task.

So perhaps it is from those chubby piles of blubber

who seem to know nothing

that we have to take a big lesson;

one that we all once knew 

but many of us have forgotten:

to be amazed with everything, 

to smile sincerely,

to learn readily.

To grow up.

Happy birthday, Dik :)

(And all the best for your test tomorrow. Don't bite anyone 😑)

Birthday Book

To write a book has always been my dream - today it still is.

Then again, I already have written some books - 

if those books I wrote as a young child count:

books about the adventures of a hero in a made-up planet,

a book compiling random stories and tales of Pokemon.

And, then again,

maybe life itself is a book;

the first chapter written in words unseen

at the moment we draw our first breath,

or at the moment we start existing as a ball of cells,

or even when our parents first met.

If so then every birthday is a chapter

of a story which nobody knows how it will unfold, 

nor end;

the story of a hero in a made-up planet,

living out a compilation of random stories 

(and yeah, the odd Pokemon once in a while).

Perhaps, then, a birthday 

is a chance to take a pause.

To stop and reflect on how the story has panned out so far,

though it is so very tempting to rush to the next chapter.

Perhaps it is a chance to appreciate 

not just you, the hero of your story,

but also those 'minor' characters around you

who we too often disregard as 

playing only cameo roles -

the neighbour,

the canteen lady,

the person you passed by on the street today -

forgetting that they, in fact, have

kept us entertained, 

came up with surprises, 

gave our lives meaning

over all those chapters.

Also forgetting that those 'minor characters' 

are themselves developing; 

the heroes of their own books,

written in parallel to mine, but 

so often intersecting with my story.

Anyways,

I was gifted this book for my birthday this year:

"When Breath becomes Air"

a book not completed by its original author

because he died before he could finished it.

His wife wrote the rest.

A book about meaning, about identity, about mortality - 

a (surprisingly 😜) deep present from a person from

one of those characters in my life who turn out to be not-so-minor after all;

who has over the chapters entertained, come up with surprises, gave me meaning.

And yes, herself developed as a heroine.

Maybe I shouldn't let it stay a dream, 

and start writing a book..

If Allah wills, I'll live to see it to completion.

If not, perhaps someone else will finish it for me.

After all, perhaps 

we are not meant to finish our own book..

Thank you to all who wished me happy birthday today,

I am grateful to have everyone of you in my story, 

as I hope you are grateful to have me in yours.

(thanks Dik for the wonderful present :))

Awfa's Treatise on Loyalty and Trust

How beautiful a couple make Loyalty and Trust,

though too often they are found separated; incomplete:

This is the lesson from a baby

who hasn't yet learnt how to not trust.

A baby is born with eyes that do not judge.

But one of the first social skills she will learn

is to be anxious around strangers. 

To distrust.

You see, we don't forget how to trust.

Rather, we learn how to distrust. 

It is a natural stage of a baby's development;

maybe, an instinctive preparation to face a world

which is not always what it seems:

where people cheat, lie, deceive, play power games.

And to cheat, lie, deceive, play power games,

are social skills the baby, too, 

will learn as she grows up;

though now she is deceptively innocent.

We don't forget how to trust.

Rather, we learn how to distrust. 

And 

perhaps the belief that other people deceive

is a mechanism we build in our own minds

to cope with the guilt of our own deception.

Perhaps the belief that other people are not what they seem

is a mechanism we build in our minds

to cope with the burden of our own secrets.

If so then to trust is something to re-learn. 

And to learn how to trust others, 

one first has to learn to be worthy 

of the trust of others. 

How can I expect loyalty from others when I am myself untrustworthy? 

How can I expect to trust others when I am myself disloyal? 

Loyalty and Trust come hand in hand.

Naturally. Beautifully.

But only if they meet.

This is the lesson from a baby

who hasn't yet learnt how to not trust:

though too often they are found separated; incomplete,

how beautiful a couple make Loyalty and Trust. 

Credits: Awfa binti Adlan Wafi

Popo's Relationship Advice

An extract from yesterday's conversation* with popo**

Me: popo sudah makan?

Popo: sudah..!

Me: saya pon dah makan pagi tadi la

Popo: makan apa? Nasi lemak ka? Kahkahkah

Me: haha tada la..nasi putih sama telur goreng saja laa

Popo: wahh..lu manyak panai ah..! Masak pon panai, semua pon panai.. Satu hari nanti lu kawen la kahkahkah

Me: hahaha popo tolong saya pujuk mama kasi saya kawen laa

Popo: aiya..lu cali sendili la.. Lu punya mama tala cali untuk lu la kahkahkah..! Haiya...mikai*** ah!

*sorry..google translate will definitely not help with this, guys

**chinese for 'grandma'

***how popo pronounces my name

Thermodynamics

The applicability of thermodynamics against jiwang:

Chill.

Lower the temperature.

The heart has a melting point.

"Until your heart is in check,

you can't use your mind"

- Nouman Ali Khan 

But to make a decision with BOTH heart and mind?

Ahah..now that requires more than a knowledge of thermodynamics 🤓

(Confirm ak kne tembak pasni sbb bajet paham thermodynamics)

Happy Mother's Day!

At the antenatal clinic last week, 

I was given the chance to operate the ultrasound device 

which detects the heartbeat of a fetus in the womb. 

Taking a while to find the heartbeat, it then took me a few seconds for me to realize how profound a situation I found myself in:

I was holding the device which allowed a would-be mother to hear her baby's heartbeat for the first time.

Cameo role that I played, I was nonetheless part of a precious moment she would probably remember for life.

There is something I've noticed about the nature of Obs & Gynae placement thus far:

it allows you to witness the wonder, the beauty of motherhood.

But it also shows you the blood and gore that comes along with it.

And as much as babies are the most adorable of creatures, 

one cannot help, on this placement, 

but to realize that a baby fits the definition of a parasite quite well:

"An organism which lives in or on another organism (its host) and benefits by deriving nutrients at the other’s expense."

(And by this definition a baby continues to be a parasite even after it leaves the host's body, 

draining the host and her spouse off their physical, emotional and mental vitality as he continues to grow. Sorry Ma 😶)

Anyways what I was trying to get at, Ma,

is that when I was holding the ultrasound device

I thought about you, and 

wondered about that moment when you first heard MY heartbeat;

the heartbeat of that parasite which until today 

has yet to grow up fully and still gives you headaches 😅

Too often we don't appreciate 

the most precious things in life until it's passed us by: 

whether it be a precious moment, like hearing the heartbeat of a baby for the first time,

or a precious person, like the lady who has always loved you unconditionally despite your parasitic nature.

This parasite has got nothing to give you this Mother's Day, Ma

except this message of gratitude 

and a video of an otter and her baby 😅

Love you much, mooch2, assalamualaikum 

(Credits to Norshahkang Shuaib who first showed me this video and thus showed me that sanity is apparently not a prerequisite for postgraduate study)

To Commit

The goalkeeper who runs out of goal,

the person who founds a club,

the man who decides to settle down -

they are wildly different situations with a common thread:

it involves making a decision, and committing to it.

But commitment (by its very nature)

is not without risks:

the risk of failure, 

of heartbreak, 

or plain embarrassment.

It is no surprise why many choose not to commit;

thinking it's the safest choice to make.

But then they do not realize

that the act of not making a choice 

is itself a decision.

Lol.

So..what to do?

No risk, no rizq.

Aiyoyo..!

P.s. Maybe the inability to make a decision is a symptom of an underlying disease: an unwillingness to take responsibility.

P. p. s. there is, though, one relationship in which there is no risk in committing to. The relationship with Allah lah..duhh ✌🏻️

#salamjumaat #imanbarunakup #amsyajanganpressure

Idols

When those statues around the Kaabah were brought down, I imagine

that it must have been painful for the worshippers of those idols to see.

It must be hard to let go of old habits, old attachments.

But that pain was, ultimately, short-lived.

And that pain was necessary, before 

the inner peace that Islam brought 

could enter their hearts.

It is a similar case, I imagine, for those idols we have in our hearts:

wealth, self, a lover.

But like those statues around the Kaabah they too must be brought down.

It is a pain necessary to achieve inner peace.

And I pray that it too will be a pain short-lived.

#imanbarunakup

Kintsugi

If mistakes are necessary to move towards perfection

then so, necessarily, we will never be perfect.

Is that where beauty lies?

"The world breaks everyone and 

afterward many are strong 

in the broken places."

- Ernest Hemmingway

(How can I expect you to be perfect 

when I'm not either?)

Inflammation

Inflammation is the body's way of protecting itself;

after a wound is made, inflammation 

clears harmful objects and dead tissue,

and helps the body heal.

Yet with inflammation

there is pain, loss of function

and in a tragic irony, 

too much inflammation can actually damage 

the very body it is meant to protect.

Such is the case with love,

which is but inflammation of the heart:

it is natural, human, and 

in the correct dose, good.

But what a tragic irony it would be 

if love for this world 

takes one away from 

the One who is Most Loving, who

blessed him with the object of love 

in the first place.

"Ya muqallibal quluub..tsabbit qalbi 'ala deenik"

#imanbarunakup

Makan tak kenyang,
tidur tak lena,
mandi tak basah..
jangan sampai solat tak khusyuk.
Hehehe.. 😉

(The love story with Allah comes first and always.)

[2:45-46]

p.s. esok hari isnin. Jgn lupa puasa

To Love and Be Loved

Mohammad Ramtoola ヅ was confused when I asked him how to say in French

the word "lover".

"What do you mean?" he asked back;

"Someone who you love, or someone who loves you?"

For apparently they are two different words.

This highlighted an important fact,

often overlooked:

Love is not a monolithic thing;

there are actually TWO components to it:

to love, and

to be loved.

For most of us, the 'to be loved' part comes easily.

Because

ever since we are born our parents have showered us with love 

unconditionally;

we are loved just for the fact that we are us: their children.

And so we grow up not just taking the

food, clothing and shelter they give us 

for granted,

but also love itself as a given.

With time we reach teenagehood

and suddenly the urge to fall in love with someone else -

a "lover" -

creeps into our psyche.

But

when teenagers say they want to fall in love,

often they still mean they want 'to be loved' - 

more than they actually want 'to love'.

Because although teens 

have the bodies of adults,

they still have the minds of children

when it comes to the matter of love.

And so it takes the passage of even more time 

to mature us into people who truly learn 

that 1st component:

'to love'

(Maybe, even, it takes us to have our own children 

before we truly learn that).

Anyhow

without BOTH components present,

a relationship cannot work properly.

The Malays have a saying, apt to describe

a relationship in which the parties are willing 

only 'to be loved'

but not 'to love':

"tepuk sebelah tangan"

"to clap with one hand" -

a futile act.

It is the same in our relationship with God;

that relationship is a love story,

and so it too has TWO components.

'To be loved' by God is obvious

for

ever since we are born.

It is He who has given us our parents 

via whom He has given us

food, clothes and shelter.

Question is have we learnt that 1st component of love

in this love story with God?

'To love' him is to worship him exclusively;

to put him above yourself and 

all the attractions of this dunya.

And no, He doesn't need our love 

for He is free from need.

It is us who stand to lose out 

in this world and the next,

attempting vainly to clap with one hand

if we don't learn eventually 

how to love.

Reminder to self.