The Oracle
An awesome display of a minaret of a small mosque basking in the evening light. The place is at the road leading to Meru. From our place in Saujana Utama, we have a back entrance that connects to Puncak Alam. Some 5 km from the entrance, there's a junction to the left where the infamous Mongolian lady, Al-Tantuya was depleted to bits by her assailants last 2 years while the mosque, as the minaret in the pic above, is located some 200 meters on the right turn at the junction.
Do you think there is no plan for this world, this life? God is in control. He assigns our destiny. Our job is to obey the laws set forth by God.
Talking about laws, granny never took it for granted when I was little. She was then very particular on religious matters. She would be nagging endlessly upon discovering my foul play in observing my religious duties.
It was no fun when I had to recite Quran in late afternoon and you can imagine how you would have to control yourself while in the distance you heard the laughter of friends having good time playing. I had to delay my presence joining the group with much pain to endure. Grandpa would notice the less-than-focused in my reciting and I would have to succumb to his stern voice as a warning. It’s not too strange when my eyes were then clouded with tears, and dropped.
I would be on grandma’s tail to “madrasah” together with grandpa every now and then. Despite of my lack of interest, I switched my preference to liking to be at madrasah when I knew I would have opportunity to play with friends.
More often than not, I would be a subject that caught on the old folks’ nerves over my mischief. At times, I would be caught giggling during my prayer when friends like Fadhil or Ariff shoveling an elbow or two. Regardless of who have started, everyone would try to give a return. Shunned! And missed! And it tickles our funny bones – felt as if it was very funny. In the height of controlling the giggle, with a single knock of forehead on the floor during “sujud” that louder than usual, it was enough for three of us to burst.
It didn’t fall below my expectation. Right after the second “salam” when the prayer was over, the very look from grandpa’s eyes in the front row signals trouble. I knew it. Well, Fadhil and Ariff have got their own shares of stares too. Lucky it happened while many people were around. If it was only me, and him, within his reach while he was boiling, it could have been different story altogether.
It happened for reasons when I was ushered by granny for my “Asar” prayer while we were still in the height of our play. I couldn’t understand why; of all the kids of similar age playing, I was the only one have to rush home for my prayer. Many times over, I was in anger, dissatisfied, but had to execute order anyway.
It took time for me to understand all these.
May be due to age I am in now, I would reflect over small things that happened during my formative years and try to bridge my comprehension on how the conspire has worked on me and why, that in the end makes I am who I am today.
That’s just a small piece of me.
Everyone has got his or her own unique story to tell. It somehow is exclusive to the individual that makes you as you.
________________________________________________________________________
Talking about laws, granny never took it for granted when I was little. She was then very particular on religious matters. She would be nagging endlessly upon discovering my foul play in observing my religious duties.
It was no fun when I had to recite Quran in late afternoon and you can imagine how you would have to control yourself while in the distance you heard the laughter of friends having good time playing. I had to delay my presence joining the group with much pain to endure. Grandpa would notice the less-than-focused in my reciting and I would have to succumb to his stern voice as a warning. It’s not too strange when my eyes were then clouded with tears, and dropped.
I would be on grandma’s tail to “madrasah” together with grandpa every now and then. Despite of my lack of interest, I switched my preference to liking to be at madrasah when I knew I would have opportunity to play with friends.
More often than not, I would be a subject that caught on the old folks’ nerves over my mischief. At times, I would be caught giggling during my prayer when friends like Fadhil or Ariff shoveling an elbow or two. Regardless of who have started, everyone would try to give a return. Shunned! And missed! And it tickles our funny bones – felt as if it was very funny. In the height of controlling the giggle, with a single knock of forehead on the floor during “sujud” that louder than usual, it was enough for three of us to burst.
It didn’t fall below my expectation. Right after the second “salam” when the prayer was over, the very look from grandpa’s eyes in the front row signals trouble. I knew it. Well, Fadhil and Ariff have got their own shares of stares too. Lucky it happened while many people were around. If it was only me, and him, within his reach while he was boiling, it could have been different story altogether.
It happened for reasons when I was ushered by granny for my “Asar” prayer while we were still in the height of our play. I couldn’t understand why; of all the kids of similar age playing, I was the only one have to rush home for my prayer. Many times over, I was in anger, dissatisfied, but had to execute order anyway.
It took time for me to understand all these.
May be due to age I am in now, I would reflect over small things that happened during my formative years and try to bridge my comprehension on how the conspire has worked on me and why, that in the end makes I am who I am today.
That’s just a small piece of me.
Everyone has got his or her own unique story to tell. It somehow is exclusive to the individual that makes you as you.
________________________________________________________________________