[NUKILAN] Gone

It's the nose that I have 

It's the voice that I missed

It's the hand that I kissed

It's the mouth that create laughs

It's the face that brings joy

It's the eyes that watch by

He's the one who gave love

He's the one whom I loved

Mocha skinned, tall and tough

Sometimes fierce, but not that rough

And even if he was, those were the past

Which he then repented, and no longer robust

Half of me is him, with him gone

Half of me is gone, gone to the heavens above

Gone, but not forever lost

Gone, to be reunited by the force

Much more powerful than your boss!

He's gone, to make me stronger

To make me realize, 

To make me better,

To make me grow up,

To make me appreciate

Of all the love in this world

And the hereafter.

Aanya, 18th Feb 2012

*in memories of my late father, Shamsudin b. Mohd Ismail, 16/03/1951 - 23/09/2004*

Kenangan Ramadhan #5: Antara Atuk dan Kem IM

9 Ramadhan 1431 Hijrah, aku kehilangan seorang lagi insan yang boleh dikatakan rapat juga. Eh, aku tidak kehilangannya, dia hanya kembali ke pangkuan Ilahi. Hapuslah sudah segala derita dunia yang dialaminya sejak beberapa bulan sebelum dia kembali ke rahmatullah. Siapakah orang kesayangan aku ni? Beliau merupakan atuk aku, atuk sebelah mak yang menetap di Ulu Kelang, 10 minit perjalanan saja dari rumah aku~

Kepergian atuk tidak begitu meninggalkan beribu sesal sebagaimana semasa kepergian Baba. Mungkin hal ini kerana sejak kepergian Baba aku telah menjadi seorang yang super-sensitif terhadap orang-orang sekelilingku. Begitulah yang orang kata sesuatu yang melanda itu pasti mempunyai hikmah dan rahmat di sebaliknya. Daripada hidup sebagai seorang budak perempuan yang tidak pedulikan apa-apa melainkan hal dirinya sendiri, aku seperti transform kepada seorang yang 180 darjah berbeza dari sebelumnya. Itulah, Allah have so many ways of giving to His slaves. Alhamdulillah, walaupun Allah s.w.t. telah menyeru Baba ke pangkuanNya, tetapi Dia telah mengurniakan aku perasaan dan gerak hati yang tak aku punyai sebelum peristiwa itu. Alhamdulillah.

Berbalik kepada cerita asal. Sebelum tiba bulan Ramadhan 1431 Hijrah, MPP fakultiku iaitu Abang Ejat telah mengeluarkan satu senarai nama pelajar yang akan dihantar untuk menyertai kem IM. Memang ada lah nama aku salah seorang yang tersenarai. Apa benda tu IM pun aku tak tahu. Bila aku tanya kat bilik SMF tu perihal kem IM ni, semua nak buat saspen. Aku lagilah saspen bila Ayu dan Nisa kata diorang tak boleh pergi sebab dah semester 5. Bila aku tanya Azam, katanya kem Inspirasi Mahasiswa. Dulu waktu dia masuk kem OM. Hah apa-apa jelah labu. Aku kecut juga kem-kem yang menjurus kepada MPP ni, sekali kena paksa bertanding habislah aku.

Jadualnya tak silap aku ialah pada awal bulan Ramadhan. Mula-mula aku macam akur la juga. Iyalah, kenalah pergi walaupun hati macam tak rela. Tapi agaknya seronok juga sebab nanti dapat ramai kawan baru. Macam-macam gejolak perasaan hinggalah aku mendapat tahu, tak ingat melalui telefon ke apa. Aku dapat tahu yang atuk sudah tak boleh bangun dan berjalan-jalan. Orang putih panggil bedridden. Semua harus dijalankan di tempat tidur. Makan, minum, buang air dan sebagainya. Tapi makan dan minum tak dapat dikira, kerana sejak bulan 6 lagi selera makan atuk memang susah semakin surut. Biskut makan segigit sahaja sudah tak boleh masuk. Air teh susu buatan MakLong yang sedap tu pun sudah tidak dapat diteguk berselera seperti selalu.

Atuk sudah bedridden. Aku masih di UiTM. Hujung minggu ada kem IM. Macam dalam dilema kan? Tapi bagi aku, perkara ini tidak memerlukan aku untuk berfikir terlalu banyak. Keputusan sudah dibuat.

Keesokannya:

Aku : Abang Ejat, sorry Ai (aku cakap nama aku la, yang ini dah disingkatkan) tak dapat pergi kem IM tu, ada sebab/masalah yang tak dapat dielakkan 

Abg Ejat: Apa masalah yang tak dapat dielakkan tu?

Aku : Saya nak balik hujung minggu ni, jenguk atuk saya sakit.


Abg Ejat: Oh okey-okey tak apa.

Maka pada hujung minggu tu aku pun pulang ke rumah untuk ikut Mama pergi rumah atuk. Aku betul-betul nak tengok atuk selagi dia masih hidup. Aku juga nak atuk nampak aku sebelum dia pergi meninggalkan dunia ni. Aku tak mahu menyesal di kemudian hari.

Bila tiba di rumah atuk, keadaannya memang menyedihkan. Atuk terbaring di kerusi yang dialas kain dan ada la sikit bantal. Kadang-kadang atuk minta untuk duduk sebab dah tak selesa berbaring. Kakinya bengkak. Atuk kata dia rasa sakit sangat, tak dapat nak digambarkan. Memandangkan aku adalah hafal satu do'a sakit (yang aku baca kat diri sendiri bila sakit perut sakit kepala whatsoever yang menyerang aku) maka Mama meminta aku untuk membacakannya pada atuk semoga kurang sedikit rasa sakitnya. Aku harap apa yang aku buat itu dapat meringankan bebannya. Itu sahajalah perkara termampu aku lakukan sebagai seorang cucu pada waktu itu.

Atuk, sejak dari zaman aku sekolah lagi, selalu suruh aku jadi doktor. Tapi masa atuk cakap tu aku dah pun dalam tingkatan 5 dan tingkatan 6, waktu yang dah terlambat untuk memilih profesi dalam bidang sains. Kalau atuk beritahu awal-awal lagi mungkin aku takkan buat keputusan bodoh pergi tukar ke kelas Prinsip Akaun masa tingkatan 4 dulu, aduh...

Aku teringat masa aku awal-awal masuk universiti pada tahun 2009. Kelas Photo Communication waktu semester 1 telah diatur untuk menyertai lawatan sambil belajar di Zoo Negara. Kebetulan rumah atuk di Ulu Kelang sahaja. Sebaik sahaja atuk mengetahui bahawa aku akan berada di Zoo Negara pada hari itu, dia meminta ibuku untuk membawanya datang berjumpa denganku.

"Jah, bawak bapak. Bapak nak jumpa Nana"

Maka petang tu sebelum bas bertolak kembali ke UiTM, Mama dan Atuk datang untuk bertemuku di pagar hadapan Zoo Negara. Aku rasa terharu, tetapi pada waktu itu perasaanku tidaklah serawan perasaanku sekarang, sewaktu atuk sudah tidak boleh lagi duduk dan makan seperti biasa. Tidak mampu lagi untuk beribadah seperti biasa. Aku sudah merasakan bahawa masa atuk sudah tidak begitu lama, apabila aku pulang untuk menjenguk atuk dan dia masih bernyawa, aku jadi sedikit lega. Sekurang-kurangnya, jika atuk meninggalkan dunia selepas ini, sungguhpun aku tidak ada di rumah, hatiku tidak akan menjadi begitu sesal.

Selesai hujung minggu tersebut, aku kembali ke kolej seperti biasa. Menjalani kehidupan kuliah sehari-hari seperti biasa. Tiba hari Khamis, aku tidak bercadang pun untuk pulang ke rumah pada hari itu kerana sudah hampir pukul 6 petang. Malas sungguh rasanya nak pergi tunggu bas dan melalui perjalanan pulang yang begitu panjang dan meletihkan. Lagipun keesokan petang aku ada kelas Animation Technique (waktu ni kelas Animation masih lagi hari Jumaat, belum ditukar ke hari Rabu. Tak silap aku la..eh? Ataupun ini kelas ganti, lupalah pula tapi yang penting memang ada kelas Animation Technique petang hari Jumaat tu). 

Tetapi entah mengapa, hati aku berkata sebaliknya. Gerak hati aku mendesak aku untuk pulang hari itu juga, tak perlu tunggu sampai esok malam. Aku mengatur langkah menunggu bas. Lebih kurang hampir pukul 9, aku tiba di Wangsa Maju. Perlu berjalan pulang kerana nak buat kejutanlah konon.

Di pertengahan jalan, Banglong menelefon. Katanya Pakcu memberitahu yang atuk sedang nazak. Aku terus menelefon Mama dan bertanyakan keadaan atuk.

Mama: Nana, atuk dah meninggal tadi lebih kurang pukul 8. Selepas buka puasa. Sekarang mama kat rumah atuk.

Aku, Bangah dan Kaklang pergi ke rumah atuk menaiki teksi. Mama melarang aku memandu memandangkan skil aku yang tak berapa bagus dan jalan yang sibuk akibat pasar malam. Dia tidak mahu aku buat hal pula buatnya terlanggar kereta lain ataupun orang, kan ke naya~

Setibanya kami di rumah atuk, aku tengok ramai sungguh ahli tahfiz Surau Al-Mustaqim sedang membaca Yaasin. Ramai sehingga ke luar rumah. Setelah mereka selesai, aku mendapatkan Mama di dapur. Aku merasakan bahawa aku perlu untuk memberinya sokongan emosi semampu aku, kerana aku juga sudah merasai keperitan perasaan kehilangan bapa. Aku terus memeluk Mama.

Aku: Mama okey?

Mama: Mama okey. Kau dah tengok atuk?

Aku: Belum.

Mama: Pergilah tengok.

Aku ke ruang tamu di mana jenazah terbujur. Mak Teh membukakan kain penutup muka atuk. Wajah atuk...

Tersenyum. Tersenyum lebar. Tersenyum sehingga matanya turut tersenyum. Sungguh-sungguh.

Aku dan Kaklang: Mama, kitorang tak boleh nak rasa sedih bila tengok muka atuk. Atuk nampaknya sungguh bahagia. Mungkin dia telah melihat tempat tujunya selepas ini.

Jenazah atuk disemadikan pagi keesokannya. Mama menceritakan peristiwa yang berlaku sebelum kepergian atuk.

"Semalam saya datang rumah atuk, masa tu atuk cakap jelas, tak macam masa sebelum-sebelum ni atuk cakap apa pun tak dengar. Bila saya nak balik rumah petang semalam, atuk suruh tunggu buka puasa. Dan atuk ada cakap 'Bapak pun ada 2 jam je lagi'. Masa tu saya dengan Pak Uda saspen juga dengar atuk cakap macam tu. Jadi saya tunggulah sampai buka puasa. Ingatkan selepas buka puasa tu nak balik rumah sekejap. Saya pun on the way balik rumah masa MakLong tiba-tiba call kata atuk dah takda sekejap je selepas saya start kereta nak balik. Saya ingat ada masa sebab masa atuk cakap ada lagi 2 jam tu dalam pukul 6.30 petang. Rupa-rupanya lagi sekejap daripada tu. Nak pukul 8 jugalah atuk meninggal".

Atuk cakap dia ada 2 jam sahaja lagi? Patutlah atuk sentiasa ada sebiji jam loceng kecil di bawah tempat pembaringannya. Patutlah atuk asyik bertanyakan sudah jam berapa semasa kami datang melawat. Patutlah atuk asyik bertanya bilakah Ramadhan 1431 akan menjelma. Patutlah...

Dan kerana atuk pergi dengan senyuman, aku juga tidak mampu untuk menjadi terlalu sedih. Sungguhpun dulu Baba pergi dengan senyuman yang tenang dan tidaklah selebar senyuman atuk, aku begitu sedih waktu itu kerana terlalu banyak kekesalan menyerbu kotak fikiranku. Kekesalan oleh kerana perbuatanku sendiri.

Bila difikir kembali, atuk tidak mensia-siakan kehidupannya selama 82 tahun di muka bumi ini. Atuk mengisi hidupnya dengan ibadah dan amal soleh. Atuk kurang bercakap dan kerap beruzlah. Atuk tidak mengumpat dan menjauhkan diri bilamana cakap-cakap kosong yang sia-sia dituturkan di persekitarannya. Atuk lebih senang berdiam dari berkata-kata. Tidak pernah sekalipun aku mendengar atuk memarahi atau kompelin tentang sebarang perkara selain daripada memarahi orang yang mengumpat.

10 hari pertama Ramadhan merupakan rahmat, 10 hari di pertengahan merupakan pengampunan dan 10 hari terakhir merupakan pembebasan dari api neraka. Semoga atuk ditempatkan di kalangan orang-orang yang dirahmatiNya. Amin.

Separation vs Death

The thought of losing someone you love is unbearable. Separation and death is two different things. When you are separated with your loved ones, you can always call to check out whether they are doing well. You can always pay them a visit when you missed them so much. The most distinct quality is, you can expect to hear their voice. You can hear their voice calling you, you can enjoy the comfort of having that person with you whenever you try to call out their name and get the answer right away.

How about death? Have you ever experienced it? It's cold and lonely. You know that person would never answer when you call out their name in the middle of the night. You won't hear that person calling your name or just talking to anyone. You missed his/her voice, you want to listen to every recorded tape that you made during their lifetime. Because you can expect to hear their voice here and there in the tape. Sometimes you missed calling them, and you just called their name although you're sitting alone facing the wall. You thought you're going crazy but just doing that gives you so much relief which always ended with a breakdown afterwards. It's somewhat unbearable, but you still have to.

This afternoon, Mama suddenly felt sick. Something in the chest. I was so afraid, and still am. I couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Baba passed away, having the symptoms of pain in the chest to, or even close to heart problem. He went away when he was 53, and now Mama is going to be 56. I am so afraid. I don't want to lose another half of me. I know that I won't go nuts but it's natural human emotion. I...I hope Mama will stay healthy, for many-many years to come...

Kenangan Ramadhan #3: Pengat Pisang

*Cerita hari ni cuma setakat yang aku ingat, mungkin tak berapa tepat sebab aku tak betul-betul ingat setiap perincian peristiwa ni. Tapi secara keseluruhannya macam ni lah*

(gambar cilok, sorii owner)

Tahun 2003 tak silap aku, ada satu hari di mana aku rasa macam betul-betul teruk gila. Kisahnya macam ni. Dulu rumah nenek aku ada pokok pisang, maka selalulah keluarga aku dibekalkan pisang bila masa dia berbuah. Pisang ni apa bangsa pun aku tak tau, sebab dia gemuk gila dan ada biji kat dalam. Mak aku selalu buat rebus tapi aku lagi suka makan mentah macam itu aje. 


Maka satu hari dalam bulan Ramadhan ni, rumah kami dibekalkan pisang lagi. Mama kerja waktu ni jadi tak ada masa sangat nak uruskan pisang ni masa hari bekerja. Memandangkan Baba tak kerja dan duduk di rumah, beliaulah yang selalu excited nak masak apa untuk berbuka nanti.


Baba aku memang pandai masak. Tapi satu yang paling boleh kenal masakan dia, barang mesti banyak, presentation mesti nak lawa. Agak sempurnalah gayanya. Jadi bila dah nampak pisang ni depan mata, Baba pun berhasrat nak buat pengat pisang. 


Aku masa tu bukan gemar sangat dengan pingat pisang, rasa macam bosan gila. Tapi aku turut excited jugalah bila tengok Baba excited dok masak. Pengat pisang yang Baba masak tak taruk gula merah, maka warnanya pun putih aje, nampak betullah warna kuning pisang kat dalam kuah santan tu. 


Bila berbuka aku makan sikit je, langsung tak tambah. Pada lidah aku biasa je, malas nak makanlah, tak seleralah warna putih je, inilah itulah macam-macam. Dulu kalau aku tak minat aku memang tak makan, jujurlah konon. Tapi yang peliknya kalau maklong kasi pengat pisang yang rupa tipikal warna coklat sebab letak gula merah tu, laju jugalah aku makan walaupun masih kurang minat.


Ahli keluarga aku yang lain pun tak berapa nak makan sangat pengat yang Baba buat tu. Tapi masa tu aku tak rasa apa-apa pun. 


Keesokannya bila nak siap-siapkan makanan buka, Baba tengok dalam periuk tu pengat pisang dah basi, banyak lagi bakinya sebab orang tak makan sangat. Aku bilang "sorry" aku tak makan banyak, Baba kata takpe. Baba memang tak pernah salahkan orang ataupun merungut kalau benda macam ni jadi. Pada beliau dah takde rezeki, beliau memang takkan ungkit-ungkit lain kali tak mau buat lagi ataupun semua orang teruk sebab tak makan. Maka pengat lebih tu pun dibuang.


Kemudian malam tu ke hari lain aku tak berapa ingat, aku masih tak lepas hati memikirkan pengat pisang Baba yang terbuang tu. Sebenarnya pengat tu bukanlah tak sedap, aku je yang gedik tak suka makan bagai. Pastu aku datang kat Baba, aku kata;


"Baba, nanti puasa tahun depan boleh Baba buat lagi pengat pisang macam hari tu? Nana nak makan." (aku nangis ke tak ntah maklumlah dulu bila rasa bersalah je dah nangis ehehe)


"Okey-okey nanti Baba buat."


Tapi bila tiba puasa tahun depan, Baba dah tak ada lagi. Beliau sudah kembali ke rahmatullah. Baba 'pergi' bulan Syaaban, tak berkesempatan nak melalui Ramadhan 1425H, bulan yang memang beliau tunggu-tunggu. 


Tak dapatlah aku merasa pengat pisang buatan Baba buat kali kedua dan untuk selamanya.

My Father's Day

Father's Day meh? So overrated~ 


Heh, don't get me wrong, it's not that I do not love my dad but yeah, what's with the celebration of father's day on just one day that we ourselves (or only me) do not actually know from what occasion did the Father's Day came into existence. Like celebrating your mother on your birthday, maybe we should construct our own father's day when err...we were successfully 'made'. Oh forget about that. Let's not limit ourselves from showing love to our daddy merely on Father's Day. Instead, it's an everyday business. You can celebrate your father or mother at any time, don't have to wait for that special day that is being marked by unknown in the calendar which if we see it in our own significant calendar, the date is just an ordinary Sunday, not even our birthday or our dad's birthday. Heh~

But since it is Father's Day, and everybody's been talking about it, I'd love to share my story too. It has been a long time ago since me and my sister stopped celebrating Father's Day and stopped remembering the Sunday as some sort of special. And this was because our father told us about not to celebrate something so blindly like that. He didn't favor the idea of Father's Day. Maybe around nine years ago, in 2002, we stopped this whole Father's Day/Mother's Day thingy. Life went on ordinarily, I was quite a kid at that time so for me, it's just lessen the days of the year to celebrate. 


Out of the four childrens, my father loved me the most, and spoiled me the most. I could go on without being scolded even though after he asked me to lend a hand in something and I hesitate and end up forgetting about it and he have to do them all by himself. Whenever I got back from school, there would always be things to eat. He would have either bought them or he had cooked something. Sometimes he haven't, but I don't really care about food when I got back. What's important is doing my business, that is playing games. 


In the evening, he would watch TV with all the cartoons Animaniacs, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid and some other that I couldn't recall. He would always call me to watch them too, but I always end up not watching them with him because I was too busy being with myself. I always left him calling for me with replies like "Malaslah" or "Baba tengoklah". Heh, now I realized that he just wanted someone to accompany him, especially his beloved daughter. My father is 39 years older than me, so that means that when I turned 11, he was already 50. My father used to say to my mother, that old people didn't usually demand for many things, they just hoped to have a person to talk to, a person to accompany them, they would ask for nothing more. 

Sometimes my father ask me to go out to the shops with him, 7Eleven or the mamak place. Because my father is not working anymore, and he is a heavy smoker, I am always suspicious as to what he is going to buy with the little money that he have in hand. I would argue with him at times, saying that he is surely going to buy ciggies with the money and at one time, he became mad and we return back home after being halfway to 7Eleven. I would always regret my manners, and came seeking apologies. He would always forgive me, and saying that I am a good child, I am always sensitive to other people feelings. But then, I'm back at my basic spoiled manners again.


My father is my hero, not because he will give me a lot of money to make my day. In fact, he didn't even have any money, except some amount from his 50 years EPF withdrawal that didn't last long. He showers me with the love I could never ask more. There is one day when I was in Standard 6 (2001), I was punished by the Art teacher for not finishing my craftwork. The punishment is to left the school shoes and socks at school, and having to walk home barefooted. Some of my friends who were also punished tried hard to persuade the teacher to give them back, almost crying. But I was hard-headed. I hate the teacher and the teacher's decision and I went back proudly without my shoes on. Unfortunately, the road's tar were newly lapered, and it was hot as hell. 


Father, who waited for me halfway from home, were shocked to see the scene. He insisted on me wearing his slippers and he would walk home barefooted. I hesitated, but end up taking his slippers because I couldn't stand the hotness of the road anymore. I felt bad for making him walk barefooted at that time, but when I thought about it now, I felt very sad for the sacrifice.


When I enter secondary school, I was a a fat kid. And it was always natural for me to hate anybody who seemed to pick on me. I was always hypersensitive to childish issues and blurted a lot of bitching at home. My father, he would always turn my bad stories into jokes, and I came to forget my problem a little without the support to hate from him. Yeah, he had never supported me to hate anybody who picked on me. He would always have his way of changing topics to a more happy one. That method, although is effective for a short period of time, but left me being who I am today. It's not easy to hate people entirely, maybe I think like this because I have matured a little than before, thanks to his joke method of seeing little problems.


During 2002 Hari Raya Aidilfitri, my father open the closet and took a pair of my brother's old Baju Melayu, magenta in color. He wants to wear it for the Friday prayer that day. When he got back, he told us that he didn't realize that there was a hole on the pants. It's a sad situation, and I hold my tears. The next year, my mum bought him a navy Baju Melayu for Hari Raya. He was so happy and he would always wear that during prayer times, together with his Punjabi pants. 

And he left wearing that baju too. In 23rd September 2004, two months before my 14th birthday, 10 days before I sit for PMR, on the night of the Thursday, father passed away during Isya' prayers. That day, we merely had any interactions, because after Maghrib he had gone and talked with our neighbour next door for about 2 hours before coming in the house, gave some fried chicken to Combi (the naughty cat), drank a glass of water and went upstairs to perform Isya' prayer. He didn't came down after an hour, it's quite unusual because he always took 20 minutes only each prayer. I went upstairs to the room, when I opened it, I was afraid but I thought he fell asleep until I saw his palm. It was white, like there were no blood being circulated. One hand was on his forehead, his eyes were half opened. It might be a heart-attack, because he indeed have a heart problem. 


I don't know what to do. It happened all of a sudden. There were hardly any warning. I cried, I cried a lot when thinking that I had took for granted all the times that I have with him. I took for granted all the advices from facilitators that came to our school, reminding us to seek restu, apologies for our sins towards our parents, and hug them tight before PMR. I thought that I'm going to do all that a day before the first paper in 4th October. I took for granted that he'll always be with me. I took for granted his existence and love. I lost appetite for some days, and skipped school for a few days. I can't believe that I could no longer hear him answer each time I called "Baba". 


Baba, if he is still around, he's already 60 years old because I'll turn 21 this year. He left me too soon, but when I think again, had he not left me at that time, I would never learn to appreciate the people who loved me, I would never learn to appreciate my family, I would never learn to appreciate time and all the chances that I had. Never had I passed a single takbir raya without remembering him, never had I passed a single Father's Day celebration hype without thinking about him. Never had I appreciate my looks that resembles so much of his genes without thanking Allah for making him my father :)


And now that he is in God's hands. I can heave sighs of relief, he would never get hurt by worldly matters anymore.