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.
________________________________________________________________________
9 comments:
ur entry ni reminds me of my experience kena ngaji setiap lepas maghrib dgn my mum. it was a very unpleasant routine (masa tu la..)
tapi without those experience, tak tau lah agaknya mcm mana i skrg
it is a minaret of kg muhibbah mosque in the pic. not far from jln paip, meru and the fairy park. looks so magnificent...
orang cakap lagi berusia kita ni lagi banyak kita mengenang masa silam kita.. tak kira la walau hanya teringat mcmana orang ajar kita mengaji.. (i didn't say old, did i? :P). kita rasa rugi sebab arwah ayah tak ajo kita mengaji... tarannum dia sedap.. siapa pun tak inherit..
pastu bila dia ajak solat jemaah selalu ngelat... how i miss the memories.. kalo la jadi lebih dengar kata time tu..
HELLIKONIA (YATT)--> Kids are always kids. They would never like what their parents want them to do. Not until it is running in their blood through relentless conditioning. Thus, it makes us realize how tough parenting had been for them to mould us up and in turn, it's not too easy for us as parents today either.
SUEALEEN --> I was trying hard to recall the name of the mosque, even the name of that kampung also escaped me. Thanks for telling. That particular evening, I was driving around with my girl Fara and we ended up at that place just in time to snap the pic.
Those memories when we were small indeed are priceless. Smile.
gab.. oopss correction... it's kg budiman.. (kg muhibbah mana lak che cedok ni). see... i pun dah growing older...
GaB bro, alangkah seronok nye kalau bolih masuk time machine back to future, agak2 nye mau saja aku menyelami kembali balik ke zaman2 yg mempunyai kenangan2 nostalgia itu, mengaji mukadam n quran ( teringat kata2 Pak Kasim yg mengajar tu menjerit masa dia marah2 kpd anak murid nye sambil menunjukkan rotan " aku belasah pa**** korang " kene censored psl lain negeri lain makna nye hehehe ), belajar sembahyang dan masa mula2 belajar berpuasa ( byk yg ponteng nye ). Yg paling aku nak buat balik kerana tidak sempat aku lakukan dulu2 ialah belajar mengaji dan sembanyang berjemaah dengan ibu/bapa dan adik beradik aku...
Gab, kalau ko diberi peluang back to future agak2 apa ko nak buat ?... jeng jeng jenggg.....
Gab,
Again, this entry reminds me of my childhood, my ustazah & the rotan..:)
Going for mengaji Quran was a must since we had our askar ustaz(my late father was an army) assigned to teach us and this ustaz was very mean and strict ( askar lah katakan ).Dengan jasanya kami semua dapat membaca Quran dengan lancar ,Alhamdulillah.
gab, those formative years are the most enjoyable ones and looking back..i dont think we'd change anything.
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