On the anniversary of my pilgrimage...

End-November marks the beginning of the haji-going period, and I have had my share of the 'doa selamat' kenduris. Which prompted me to recall that it was this time last year that my husband and I were having our own kenduri to bid farewell to neighbours, family and friends before our Mekah-bound trip. Occasions like these are often well-attended as ours was - most people welcome the opportunity to wish the would-be haji and hajah a safe journey. More importantly (perhaps), it is the occasion where all parties concerned can ask and give forgiveness for any wrongdoing or hurt inflicted - actual or perceived - on one another, at some time or other.

As the kenduri drew to an end, words, tears and feelings flowed as generously as did the gifts of telekung, tudung, kain batik, kain pulikat and cash. Every hug and embrace manifested hope and wishes that all would be well for us on our journey - on the physical and the spiritual front. In the doa offered in numbers, we found comfort and consolation, and could embark on our journey with the right frame of mind, resigned to what Allah had in store for us. It would be a journey, as I discovered, fraught with tests of physical, mental and, above all, spiritual strength.

At the outset, I had my fears of the 'tests' that I was told would not only be many, but in different guises and seldom obvious. "Simply accept what comes as a matter of course" was the constant advice I received before my departure. Good advice - I soon discovered, but acceptance wasn't always that simple.

Disguised in many forms, the greatest challenge perhaps was in human relations - keeping cool and composed at all times when dealing with arrogance, prejudice, impudence, impatience, self-righteousness and selfishness, to name a few. Even though these are challenges you could be confronted with just about anywhere, even at home, the millions of people, with their inherent and acquired idiosyncracies, converging in one place at the same time, increases the magnitude of the problem manifold. Adversity can bring out the best and the worst in people, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the Holy Land when people were pressed for time and space. I guess that's why stories abound of friendship souring, marriages ending, relationships breaking.

In my experience, things weren't always smooth; hitches and glitches were many - in the transportation, catering, accommodation, management, etc. It was so easy to get riled up. And even easier still not to notice the rewards - that no matter how small they were, what form they took, were blessings no less. In retrospect, the best preparation (besides the walking exercise) I thought was to develop an open mind and a big heart, and not sweat the small stuff. And not to lose sight of the purpose of the journey - ever.

We survived the 44 days, alhamdulillah - physically unscathed, sanity intact, faith unwavering and with an even more fervent desire to do it all again. Insyaallah.

A Mirror of Friendship

On my last trip to KL in mid-Nov. I planned to shop for a mirror. I knew exactly what I wanted, but previous searches in Ipoh had come to nought. Nothing was even close! It was a Sunday, and my husband and sons had planned on golf (so what's new). So, I called my good friend, T. As luck would have it, she was free and was planning to go to Sg. Buluh to get her sister, N, an orchid plant as a belated birthday present. But she agreed to accompany me on my 'mirror hunt' anyway, so I tagged along with her to Sg. Buluh. T is good to have around when you are shopping for just about anything. She's KL born and bred; so with her, the GPS would be redundant! Besides, if you're looking for someone with taste and style, she is IT.

The mirror was for my kitchen-cum-family dining area; meaning, an informal spot. A nook where the wash basin stands needed a bit of brightening up and I was convinced a mirror would do the trick. But it cannot be anything ostentatious, or anything that was going to dent my already depleted finances. Moreover, my husband had said: "Any mirror would do." As if that wasn't a clear warning to spend as little as possible on the mirror.....

We visited Silk Road in Bangsar - which has ethnic Asian stuff including mirrors, but none took my fancy, nor were they suitable for my nook. Next stop was Bangsar Village, where we decided on lunch first before resuming our quest. As we were finishing lunch at one of the restaurants, who did we meet but N and her husband! N then invited us to her house for tea since I had not been to her new house in Bukit Jelutong, and for T to personally deliver the orchid.

Before making our way to B. Jelutong, T wanted to take me to a furniture shop where she thought I might find what I was looking for. So we headed for PJ - only to find the location of the shop occupied by a car showroom. They must have moved, or gone bust. The latter was most unlikely, according to T. For consolation, she said she would 'google' it so that we could visit it at some other time. So, the search was still on.........

T told N about my quest for the mirror, and the latter suggested that I take a look at a mirror that she no longer wanted since it was not in keeping with the decor of her new house. She had left it behind in her previous house together with other cast-offs. So off we went. When we got there, I spotted the mirror right away. It sat forlorn against the front wall of the house, its glass cracked in two. That it has seen better days was quite obvious. With a white-turned-cream frame of cast iron that had florets at regular intervals, the mirror begged to be rescued. Even then, with its distressed look, it fitted my requirements to a T - the size was right, the European design so fetchingly simple, and it was old. After all, it was N's flea-market find in London some 20 years ago! But given my penchant for antiques, old is not a problem.

I have given the frame a new coat of white paint - just enough to give it an even colour throughout. The broken mirror has been replaced with a new one. It was meant to be hung landscape-style, but that wouldn't do for the wall. So it is now with the welder who would have to remove the original hook from where it is, and weld it back into another position so I could hang it portrait-wise. In a matter of days, it will assume its rightful place on the wall.

My months-long search is over, and I am as pleased as Punch. When once the mirror had been her object of desire, tended with love and care, N had given it to me without a second thought. It mirrors the generosity of a friend, and a friendship that spans over 25 years - something to reflect upon, and that will always be reflected every time I look at it. Thank you, N.

Alarming !

The house alarm would go off at anytime of day or night. When it does, it doesn't stop - till hours later when it is disarmed. Meanwhile, we suffer noise pollution of the highest order. When it happens during the day, you are deprived of any other sound you might be listening to - like the soothing strains of Kenny G or Mesuari's recital of the Surahs. It's difficult not to be irritated or annoyed. When it goes off at night, you might be abruptly awakened from a deep sleep. Which could be trauma for some people. The sound is so piercing that I won't be surprised if the elderly residents (which most are) had been shocked or startled at one time or another.

The house-owner lives in another state in pursuit of a political career. So, he leaves the house equipped to discourage burglary. Most (if not all) burglar alarms are designed to be so sensitive that the slightest movement would trigger it off. If only the house-owner is equally sensitive. They designed alarms to ward off intrusion from the two-legged kind, but forgot about the four-legged variety. Stray cats prowling for food are aplenty here, and might well have been the culprit setting off the alarm on many occasions. So I think.

An alarm that goes on for a long time is bound to attract attention, including from unwanted sources. Defeats the purpose then, doesn't it? Now anyone contemplating an unwelcome entry would be well-prepared to tackle the alarm knowing there is one. Still, it has been this way for the last 3 years and shows no sign of being resolved. Have the neighbours complained? Not openly, no. They grouse about it at the surau, though. Then they sleep on it - till it goes off again.

In Memory of a dear Friend

I got acquainted with Yip when we were both freshies and residents of Third College, Univ. of Malaya back in 1969/1970. When we served on the Junior Common Room Committee (JCRC) of the College - he as Chairman and I as Asst. Secretary – and on the Orientation Committee 1970/71, I got to know him better. In between, we had our one-on-one chats on just about anything and everything that was going on around us. I was comfortable with him, as he was with me and it was these private, unguarded moments, in all of 3 years, that reveal the Yip that I choose to remember.

Though he was several years older than most of us in the College then, earning him the nickname of ‘Uncle Yip’ from some, in reality he was no different from us. He had an eye for the pretty girls - prompting a friend to call him ‘dirty old man’- but not in a lascivious sort of way. He just appreciated beauty. He was imbued with leadership qualities that seemed natural to him, without a conscious desire to be a leader. For Yip was not one with lofty ambitions. I thought he went about his ways, as would someone with a purpose in life, earnestly, but with empathy and sympathy. Was he a special being? He would be the first to deny being one – and vehemently too. Whatever his religious inclinations, he never once assumed the moral high ground with me. Because of the person that he was – simple, kind and unassuming - making friends seemed effortless to him. Perhaps it stemmed from a magnanimity, or humanity; or simply a spirit of goodwill regardless of colour, creed or religion. Most probably, all of these.

I met him last in August 2006 when some of us, ex-Third Collegians, had a reunion of sorts to coincide with him being in Kuala Lumpur. If there was anyone I wanted to see again, it was Yip, and I’m glad I did. If for nothing else, it reaffirmed the fact that he was still the person that I knew in College. The over-30 years of no-contact simply dissipated, and we chatted again like old friends do.

I believe that he enjoyed considerable esteem among family and friends. He was the kind of man a friend would easily love and an enemy, if any, respect. He might not have been ‘perfect’, but he was perfectly human and for this alone, he touched our lives. In his ordinariness, he was extraordinary – and this was the most endearing part of Yip. This was the Yip that I knew, and the one that is forever etched in my heart – with fondness. Yip, I am proud to have called you ‘friend’ and prouder still to have been one of yours. To Lucy – you may have lost a loved one; but because of Yip, you have found a friend in me.

Goodbye, my dear friend; may your soul rest in peace.

Birthday Joy

The children had agonised over the choice of a birthday present for days. One thing for sure, though - they decided it had to be golf-related. Still, it wasn't going to be that easy; what would a hardcore golfer not have after all these years of playing the game? Over a breakfast of his favourite cucur udang (which I have almost perfected for his taste), the children presented him with his birthday present - a golf bag. He couldn't believe his eyes; much less contain his happiness. I could tell he was genuinely touched. Proud even - that his children had found him the 'perfect' gift (for now anyway). Maybe he had been hankering for a new bag, but didn't want to indulge after that splurge on the iPhone just days before. So, it was a case of orang mengantuk disorongkan bantal! He was on a high the whole day.

The children were equally delighted that they had made the right pick. They told him that it was the brand's latest item in the market, and that he should use it right away before the novelty wears out. But no, he said; "I'm keeping it for special occasions." Whatever that means. Maybe a special tournament between him and his golf buddies when he can show off the bag? But he did take a photo of it - on his iPhone, of course.

Two days later - he came home from a golf game at the Club, suitably flushed. A flush of triumph, I thought. "So, you won (again)", I said. "Yes!" he replied, and in the same breadth continued, "But I should have used my new bag!" "Why?" I asked. "Because I saw someone having the very same one!" he exclaimed. I detected the slight note of regret in his tone. Well, you win some, lose some.