Happy Mother's Day, Mummy

You passed away last April.
I loved you deeply; now you're simply gone.
All my life I'd known that I was loved,
Living in the circle of your arms.
I can't believe your love is not somewhere,
So strong it was, so much a part of me.
I feel it in the harsh salt of the sea
And in the stinging sadness of the wind.

This Mother's Day without you strains belief
In life and love and what it means to be,
But there is beauty in my lonely grief.
Your death is like a wound without relief,
Pain on pain as far as I can see,
You fell away from me, a withered leaf
Twisting down to darkness, leaving me
This day without you.

The love I have for you, a jewel-like reef
In silent prayer beneath my empty sea.
This Mother's Day without you strains belief,
But there is beauty in my lonely grief.
I ride the waves along the rock-strewn shore.
No one watches me with fear and pride.
Now among the stars I am alone.
In your heart I had my only home.

Kids' Day Out

Last weekend Nisa nearly gave Hazni and I a heart attack.

Quite innocently and blissfully unaware of it, of course. As always, she was just being her cute rambunctious self, oblivious to the panic and worry she caused her dad and me.

Actually it happened at the park. It's been a while since Hazni and I took the kids out for an outing. So last week we decided to take them to the park and later to McDonald’s.

After the kids tore around to their hearts' content like a couple of pint-sized twisters on the swings, the slides and up-and-down the monkey bars, Luqman decided that he was thirsty.

Since Nisa did not show any signs of letting up, I decided to leave her with her dad on the playground and take Luqman to the car, which was parked some way off, to fetch his water-bottle.

Imagine my horror when, after crossing the road and walking quite the distance to the car while holding tight to Luqman’s hand, I heard Nisa’s gleeful “Mommy!” a few steps behind us!

Apparently Nisa saw us going off and decided to ditch her dad and run across the road after us all by herself! Angry with her dad for carelessly letting her off on her own, I wasted no time in calling Hazni on his handphone. When it rang unanswered after the sixth or seventh try, I grabbed both kids’s hands tightly in mine and marched them straight back to the playground.

In the distance I could see Hazni frantically searching for Nisa under the monkey bars and slides. I was ready to give him hell for his lack of care until I saw how frantic he was!

According to Hazni, Nisa only escaped his attention for one second. In that one second, her quick little feet had scampered across the playground and ran across the road!!! I thanked my lucky stars that no cars were on the road when she crossed it!

Of course, that did not stop me from giving Hazni a piece of my mind.

Whereupon he reminded me of a previous "incident" wherein I “misplaced” Luqman at the Carrefour Hypermarket in the midst of our shopping -- during which he was found wandering alone at the women’s clothing section by some kindhearted Carrefour staff.

Kids...! No wonder their dad and I are going prematurely gray!

Al-Fatihah

A long-time friend and neighbour of my close friend Linda passed away on Tuesday evening. She was only in her mid-30s.

According to Linda, her friend had had a sudden asthma attack at her home, collapsed and passed away right in front of her frantic 8-year old daughter.

Although I cannot claim to have known her intimately, I knew of her through the stories and anecdotes told by Linda.

We had also met on a number of occasions on a social basis.

From the stories I heard, I knew that she had an unhappy marriage. Her husband was a womaniser who regularly abused and neglected his wife and only child.

According to Linda, through it all, this resilient and cheerful woman had always managed to hide her pain, made a joke of it all and stayed positive.

After all, she had her “buah hati” – her only child and daughter, for whom she would have had willingly sacrificed anything to ensure the security and happiness of her small world.

Her passing and Linda’s outpouring of grief brought to mind fragments of the poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow–

"Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing;
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence."

Linda regrets the fact that she took her friend for granted. In fact, all of us do - we incessantly take family, our friends, our loved ones and those who touch our lives for granted. And the sad fact is that we only realise the fact after they are taken away from us.

Like a ship that passed in the night, I may not have known her as closely as Linda may have did. In the rush of my everyday life, I must admit that I may not have spared her much thought at all.

But now that she's gone, I can't help it but to mourn for her.

As a wife, I mourn for her and the fact that she had never felt the joy of a happy marriage.

I mourn the fact that she had died alone, save for her daughter, without the presence of a loving husband.

As a mother, I mourn for her little orphaned daughter.

I mourn the fact that she had to go through the devastating experience alone without a father who should have been there for her.

And for the little girl, I wish only this… although no woman can ever replace the wonderful, selfless woman that carried her though pregnancy and nurtured her since infancy, I wish to heaven that her new mother-figure, no matter whom she may be, will be a loving, kind, and compassionate woman to the little girl whose beloved, secure world crumbled in front of her eyes last Tuesday evening.

Al-Fatihah.

Takde Kelas

When I was working with a company in Petronas Tower Two KLCC, I regularly came across a very stylish, self-assured and well-groomed Malay woman (circa late twenties/early thirties) who always took the elevator up to one of the top floors.

Since she neither looked like the typical career woman nor did she dress like one, I assumed that she came to visit her father or husband or partner or lover, presumably after a bout of shopping at KLCC, judging from the chic paper bags she usually brought along with her.

Looking at her, one could be forgiven for mistaking her to be a local film star or an actress in the local television drama series. Indubitably, she would draw a second glance whenever she went. She exuded glamour and confidence from her every pore, from the top of her stylishly streaked hair to tips of her well-manicured toes.

She appeared to be a true woman of class. That is, until she opened her mouth to speak – whence all such illusion is shattered.

For the classy-looking “Ms Glamour” did not speak like a lady!

My cronies and I happened upon her and her two girlfriends one day during lunch at an upscale eatery in KLCC. They were noisily talking about “girl stuff” – you know – clothes, jewellery and men.

Though the place was rather noisy with teeming lunchtime patrons, “Ms Glamour” and friends’ loud voices, coarse language – a “chacha-marba” mixture of Malay and English - and raucous laughter, seemed to drown out the rest of the noise.

Needless to say, quite a number of eyes were riveted in their direction. They did not seem to mind that, in fact, they basked in all the attention. Unashamedly so, mind you, for one could actually cringe at some of the indecorous, uncouth words that rolled off their tongues!

What a pity, I thought. You know what they say – “Money can buy classy things and branded goods, it can’t buy class and good breeding”.

Although, I admit that I may be wrong: for in truth, perhaps “Ms Glamour” was brought up by her mother to be polite and courteous to others. Perhaps an aunt did advise her to sit properly while eating, and to behave with decorum especially in public. Perhaps her grandmother did tell her it is unseemly for a “good girl” to draw unwarranted attention towards herself. And perhaps her teacher did indeed inform her that it was offensive to be vulgar, and disrespectful to be bad-mannered.

If that is, indeed the case, there is nothing left to say, except, all the more pity to her, and to those who taught her in vain.

Battle with the Bulge

My colleague, who is rather “warm in the pockets” and is therefore fortunate enough to have her hair washed and styled by professional hairstylists every weekend, related to me that, last weekend, her favorite hairstylist recommended a tried- and-true (or so he claimed) slimming product to her, who happens to be quite “gebu” (read: plump).

Apparently, his sister, who used the product, lost 5 kilos in two months.

Whereupon he received a shock when my colleague told him that she was quite happy with her figure!

If she could recall, his exact words to her were “Haiyaaa!! Mana ada orang pompuan tak mau kurus?!” (read: “what woman does not desire to be thin?!”)

Unfortunately, he’s quite right.

To borrow the words of Austen, “It is a universally accepted truth” that women throughout the world and throughout the ages, desire to be thin.

Me included.

As far as I can recall, all of my girlfriends and female relatives (yup, we gebu-statured ladies tend to stick together..!) have at one point or another tried all kinds of things: slimming pills, meal replacement shakes, slimming tea and fat-busting massage soap/cream, slimming belts, fat-burners, injections, etc etc etc. We’ve tried enrolling ourselves at the gym, (yeah, that’s us, Linda!) we’ve gone for slimming treatments at huge costs (Ros…. RM3,000 was it??) and we’ve bought expensive running shoes and tights for that morning/evening jog in the park (sounds familiar, Saba?!) . We sweated it out at aerobics sessions (I’m sure Hajar remembers this) and at the sauna (what a great time we had, sis Faizah!). We’ve deliberately missed eating dinners with the family at home and lunches with our colleagues at work. We’ve deliberately deprived our bodies of heavenly treats like chocolate and cheesecake at parties and nasi minyak at weddings.

Oddly enough we never seem to realise that hardly any of these methods work for long. All the kilos shed always manage to come back on at breakneck speed!

Moreover, our battle with the bulge have made us sado-masochists. It seems like we take pleasure in torture and depravation – albeit to ourselves. We disregard the hazard it may post to our health (I actually landed in hospital for a week with a gallstone the size of a 20-sen coin, my bile duct aggravated by a slimming product!).

S'truth! Women are cruel beings indeed!

And think of the thousands of Ringgit spent! If we had saved the money that went towards our battle with the bulge, we would have been a great deal richer by now!

But looking at the positive side, our common quest for slimness has brought us all closer. It provides an avenue that allows female bonding where secrets are shared; gossips are exchanged and time is spent together. It's practically a virtual exclusive club where only gebu-statured ladies can claim membership!

Having said that, you were probably wondering… “Ape ke benda nama slimming product yang adik stylist tu guna?” (read: “so what was the slimming product that the hairstylist’s sister consumed?”)

Don’t worry, I’ve asked my colleague to find out this weekend!

No more Chemos

My mum went for her final chemo session last Monday.

In October of last year we received the devastating news that her uterus, which was removed through an operation done in July due to an enlarged fibrous growth, showed signs of cancer.



Her doctor, Prof Ng of HUKM called me up at work one fateful day in October with the grave news. The removed uterus had cancer cells. Though though the uterus was totally removed, there could be cancer cells still left in her body. She would need chemotheraphy.

Needless to say, I was shell-shocked. Only the day before was I teasing my mum for trying out several figure-hugging kebayas, something she was not able to wear previously, due to her huge protuding stomach before the operation. She had looked so radiant and happy, her face all rosy and smiling.

Did I want to break the news to her or would I leave it to him? I was too numb to reply.

I remember sitting at my desk staring at the walls of my office until slowly, the tears started to fall. The tears acted as a release. I was able to call up my husband and mother-in-law as well as caring family members and close friends for support and advice. Their words of encouragement became soothing balm that calmed my fearful heart and frayed nerves, and allowed me to go home to her with a more cheerful face and positive demeanour.

Needless to say, mum was devastated when she heard the news from her doctor (I had no guts to tell her myself). But being a strong person of faith, she faced the frightening prospect of chemotheraphy with calm determination and resilience. And through it all, she was secure in the knowledge that we - her children - were there by her side, me in body and my brother Jim, though far away in the UK, in spirit.

Alhamdulillah, through the pain, anxiety, discomfort and fear, my mum successfully completed her six cycles of chemotheraphy. Free from the horrendous effects of the cancer drugs that ravaged her body, she can now concentrate on the slow process of healing.

The three-month long weekly ordeal is finally over.

My Little Camera Girl

My little girl, Nisa who's not quite three, has taken an avid interest in digital photography.

Not looking at actual photos, mind you, but actually taking shots! It never ceases to amaze me how quick her baby mind works, for she could grasp the technicalities of operating her father's camera phone or my digital camera through the process of observation. And her subject? Things close to her heart, of course, like Fat Cat, her stuffed orange toy cat; like Ginger, her rag doll; like her pink baby doll and of course, her favourite model, 4-year old big brother Luqman!

Well, I must admit that most of her shots are misses rather than hits. Nearly all are off focus and end up being deleted. But her enthusiasm is downright infectious, and antics truly endearing. So much so that one would forget that one is actually allowing a tiny girl of two to handle an expensive piece of equiptment in her tiny, unsteady, baby hands!

There is an old and familiar malay adage - "Di mana tumpahnya kuah kalau tidak ke nasi" - i.e. "the fruit will not fall far from the tree".

For her paternal grandpa was a roaming photographer in his youth, travelling the breadth of Kuala Lumpur with his trusty old Rolleiflex. And two of his children - my husband Hazni and his oldest sister Kak Dada are avid photographers. But while Kak Dada has captured almost every single family event on film from the heydays of her youth until now, Hazni prefers nature and landscapes. My brother, Jimmy, is another keen photographer, and has a number of portfolios compiled over the years, the collection of which is to be proud of .

As for Nisa? Well, its too soon to tell how far or where her new interest will take her. After all, she's not quite three yet!

But for now, her father and I, as do her other doting aunts, uncles and grandparents, revel in the wonder of her digital masterpieces.