On Sufi

Today, I broke my fast

 

Or in my term, “Puasa Shopping”.

 

Since USD TC (traveller’s check) exchange rate is currently low, I decided to puasa shopping la. Not that I didn’t buy anything at all; I just restrained myself from buying unneccessary stuff – much.

 

NO, I cannot boycotte US Dollar. Pokai la like that.

 

Following my plan (please refer to my previous post) , I went to CS with Kak Sha and Mimi today. Well, I ended up buying kindda a lot of stuff. But that’s not what I want to talk about *change topic change topic*

 

We were waiting for my tailored dress (it only took one hour!) when we heard a deafening sound. Out of curiosity, we tried to find the source of commotion.

 

Turned out, there was a parade. A REAL parade. Not the cincai-cincai ones.

 

 

 

 

 

From one of the many local people who was watching it, I got to know the occasion. It was…well, I’m pretty sure it was T______  S______. Please excuse me, I couldn’t remember the name

 

I asked for further explanation but since he’s not that fluent in English, he just said,

 

“Sufi. Sufi.”

 

I nodded and composed my face to look thoughtful.

 

Tak faham pun.

 

We resumed waiting for my dress. Lambat ah.

“We’re just finishing the sewing”.

Finishing-the-sewing-which-took-almost-half-an-hour my foot.

 

Anyways, since I was still curious about the parade, I asked one of the tailors.

 

ME: What’s the parade about?

HIM: They’re mad.

 

His answer caught me off guard. I was expecting an elaboration on Sufi. Not “They’re mad.”

 

ME: Why?

HIM: They do all this hanky-panky things. But they don’t do amal (deeds to Allah s.w.t).

 

We were shocked to hear his response. Probably because he, like us agreed that- in his word- those people were mad and probably because what he said actually made sense.

And tailors don’t use the word hanky-panky. They just don’t.

 

Googling on what Sufi is, I found this:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sufism

 

Panjang sangat, I don’t understand!

 

So I searched for a more appropriate website and I got this one:

http://www.sufimovement.org/whatsufiis.htm

 

Pendek dan padat, I like. So if you wanna know more + lazy, click on this site.

 

Basically, Sufi is ajaran sesat. So yeah, it’s no mystery why the tailor said what he’d said. And according to my friend, majority of the Muslims here are Sufis.

 

 

And oh yeah, Mimi and I took the chance of getting diarrhoea by sampling one of the street food:

 

 

I dunno what it was. Janji halal,period. It tasted nice though!

 

What attracted me to it was…..

You noticed the bowl? It’s made out of leaf! So cute! And you can throw it anywhere since leaves are biodegradable!

 

Now, toiletttttttt!!!

 

Kidding!

 

One has to live in order to die

 

P.S:  Mum, before you start, ehem, I still have money to survive on. And I’m completely healthy. No sign of diarrhoea! Please don’t take my blog seriously =)

Moments for Palestine

Dear friends,

 

 

 

                                          Friday night   :    Celebratory outing after MCQ test

                                                        Saturday    :    Time to catch the end winter season sales

                                              Sunday morning   :    Moments For Palestine

                                           Remaining Sunday :    Dozed off on your guys’ own bed

                                                           Monday   :    Surf the net the whole day

 

Every bit of reality is made by you

Metamorphosis

I constantly heard the bitter grumbles how things have changed here. India seems to reveal different sides of us. Or is it IMS?

I don’t think I like it.

I don’t have any problem with the girls-next-door-turned-bitches, the vain nobodies or the attention seekers. I couldn’t care any less what they do, how they act, what they think etc.

It’s seriously none of my business. People changing has no effect on me.

It’s me changing that I’m concerned about. It’s like watching a video on metamorphosis; I see an egg changes into a larva, pupa and then it becomes a butterfly. The butterfly will then produce eggs and the same process repeats over and over again. I see myself. Not that I feel I’m comparable to a butterfly or anything..it’s just that

 

 

Gosh, will it never stop?

Will I not stop changing?

No matter how mature I think I  am, I know I could be more mature. No matter how hardworking I am, I know I could give more.

 

Why is it always more? Why can’t I just be…that? The me now?

 

Why do I have to change? I don’t want to change. Not all changes are bad, not all changes are good either. What about the intermediate changes? Changes that are neither good nor bad?

 

After I’ve completed foundation, I felt this rare satisfaction. Because with every subject I took, I had an aim. With every leisure time I spend studying, I had these 2 people etched in my mind. Why did I need to score? Why did I have to know? Why this, why that. I had the answers.

I wanted to take medicine. And I remembered what my parents had done and would do for me just so I could achieve that.

Those were enough reasons for me.

Even if I failed to achieve what I aimed for, I couldn’t care less. I knew I’d given my best and the rest was determined by Allah. He knew what’s best for me.

 

When I made the decision to change the way I dress, I felt good, safe. I felt I understood my religion better. I felt I’ve found myself. That the void in my life has been filled. Like I’ve found what I’ve been searching for all this while.

 

Faham tak?? >> (a habit I got from Effa)

 

If you people tak faham pun nevermind.

 

It’s just that, I don’t have the burning desire anymore. I’ve changed in that sense. I couldn’t express myself the way I used to before I came here. Read my posts BEFORE and AFTER India and you’ll notice the difference. My blog is so dead now. Because I couldn’t – I don’t know what to write, the way to define some things. It’s like when I’ve reached this phase of my life, I lost a part of the old one.

 

I feel tired of only accepting things. I NEED TO UNDERSTAND. I NEED TO KNOW.

 

It’s like….like your mum telling you that veggies are good for you. She could state 100 reasons why they’re good. She could show you the charts and the benefits of them. You know but it still doesn’t register in your head because even when you don’t eat veggies, you’re completely healthy.

 

I need answers and I need them quick.

Footprints

Funny that the thing I got from last week’s usrah among other things was this:

 

the farthest thing in life is?

our past.

 

And funny how not true I think it is.

 

Our past is the closest thing to us, that’s how it has always been. Whether I want it or not, it’s there. Nothing I do would make it go away. It’s there, it’s near yet there’s nothing that could be done.

 

That’s how it was. That’s how it is now. That’s how it will always be.

Frozen by time. Wrapped by crystals of ice so I could still see it everyday but not touch, not alter. Every bit would still stay the same.

 

No matter how many times I’ve waved goodbye, I still find myself greeting it again after some time.

No matter how many times I’ve grieved and cried over it, I still find the hurt unhealed.

No matter how many times I’ve convinced myself that I’m already on the other side of the road, I still find myself stuck in the middle.

No matter how much I look forward to the future, I still look back.

And every time, the same coldness greets.

 

The choices I’ve made. Ruled by the logic behind it, the mind that was in control, and the emotion supressed. The theoritical idea of right and wrong.

 

The irony of the whole thing is laughable. 

 

Too ugly to remember yet too beautiful to forget.

Boycotting is caring :)

Now I’m convinced that Kenny Sia is ________ . Well, go and read his latest post and then fill in the blank. To those who don’t know him (~), you guys can click his link on the right bar. He’s supposedly a very famous blogger. Supposedly.

I tried to understand his point of view on the whole thing but all I could see was how shallow a person could be. No matter how funny it could be, it’s not.

I used to think boycotting couldn’t contribute much to those in Gaza either. Come on la, I’m only one person. One Nisa and hundreds of thousands of Palestinians? That won’t do much effect.

 

 

Honestly, one more person drinking Coke wouldn’t add to the damage.

 

Then I realised that………………………………one Nisa boycotting still wouldn’t do much but that’s not what’s important.

 

What’s more important is the fact that I took my stand. That even though I couldn’t grab a gun and fight for the Palestinians, I didn’t just stand and watch. I did something. Even if it didn’t mean much. But hey, unlike you, I took some action. That makes us different now right?

 

Fine, we don’t have to talk about death or how many people are being killed as I’m typing this now if it’s making you feel depressed. We won’t talk about faith and religion either. We’ll take things simple.

 

What’s one of the rules of life?

When someone pissed you off, you ignore them. You give them the silent treatment. You blanked that person from your life. You usually do that right? I do.

What’s stopping you from doing the same thing to Israel and their products?

 

Another important rule of life?

Treat people how you would wanna be treated. When I said people, I didn’t mean only those you know. And I didn’t mean only conciously or directly either.

By boycotting, we show empathy. Humanity. Brotherhood and sisterhood.

By NOT boycotting and saying, “Oh, I do care for them but seriously there’s nothing much I could do. At least I sympathised them. That should be good enough.”, face it:  YOU ACTUALLY DON’T CARE. 

 

And lastly?

There’s always a bigger picture. Whatever you do, however you do it, it affects someone else. By spitting a chewing gum on the road, you don’t only pollute the environment; you might ruined someone else’s $120 Doc Martens boots which he/she had waited for 7 weeks to arrive by post. The good riddance of that chewing gum left someone else feeling devastated.

 

What’s the worth of those compared to Coke? Or Loreal? Or Starbucks?

We won’t die if we don’t eat McD right?

No, no matter how much of a McD freak you claimed yourself to be, you won’t die. Go fry your own burger.

 

To boycott everything is of course, HARD. To boycott some things though, is POSSIBLE.

 

And I’m not saying all this because I’m a Muslim either. I’m saying it as a human being with feelings.

 

If you sided with Israel, if you said the Palestinians deserved what they’re going through now, then you’re not human. Get outta my face.

Nobody deserved to be treated that way.

Fried chicken

We have our turns for housechores.

One of them is cooking.

 

Usually….

 

Nisa: Hari ni turn kita masak ke?

Housemate: Aah. Aku masak sayur campur. B masak ikan. Ko masak ape?

Nisa: Umm..

*thinking mode*

         Aku masak……telur!

 

 

Basically, that’s the only thing I know how to cook.

Scrambled egg, fried egg, scrambled egg, fried egg, scrambled egg, fried egg.

Still haven’t passed in making omelette and boiled eggs though.

Oh, I’ve also learned how to cook rice recently.

 

 

Anyways, today was almost the same.

 

Housemate: Aku masak sayur tom yam. B masak sambal ikan. Ko masak ape?

Nisa: Telur!

 

BUT

 

Housemate: Asyik masak telur je, muak aku. Ko goreng ayam r.

 

My mouth formed a perfect O and my face registered a total look of horror. She cannot be serious in asking me to fry chicken.

My housemate ignored my expression. So I changed tactic.

 

My puppy eyes look. Blink blink. Muka kesian mode.

 

Still she didn’t layan. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…kekejaman!

 

Nisa: Goreng ayam susah!

Housemate: Senang je! Ko kena blaja.

 

And so I touched the raw chicken (after a moment of hesitation), covered the pieces of chicken with turmeric and salt and

 

 

 

I tell you, eating fried food is NOT HEALTHY. Let us just stick to bread and buns.

Wishing well

Mimi told me (she got it out of The Secret), if I believed in the things I wished to have, I would.

 

 

If I really wanted a cup of coffee for breakfast tomorrow, and I had faith that I would, then I would.

 

All one needs to do is to believe and to really want for it to come true.

The rule is to start with something simple.

 

 

Wishing for an Ambassador isn’t it

 

Start with something really simple. And try not to be too materialistic (reminder to self). There’s no genie involved here; only the power of mind.

 

So,

 

I wish for brighter tomorrows.

I wish for the strength to face life.

I wish for more smiles and joy.

I wish for confidence in myself.

 

I wish to be serene.

 

 

Seems like something straight from a fairytale story?

It shows that when all hopes are gone, there’s still hope.

Just believe

 

 

P.S: The Kerala pictures are up, at last. You guys can click on Flickr on my right bar. Or else, just click here:

        http://www.flickr.com/photos/33902836@N06/