Firdauz takes 5

“Allahu akhbar, Allahu akhbar, Allahu akhbar,
La ila ha illallah, Allahu akhbar,
Allahu akhbar wa lillah il hamd,”

I knew that the moon of Syawal had been sighted by those who observed it, from one of those hills in my country when i heard the Takhbir being recited continuously. In an old building that faced Mecca – a holy city in Saudi Arabia, 7,400 kilometers away from where this old building was, happiness dived into the microphone, raced in the RCA cords, amplified and heard by the surrounding people. The news it brought; Tommorow is Hari Raya Eid ul-Fitri.

“Esok hari raya, esok hari raya,” i was singing and dancing with fire sparkling from the thin metal stick i was holding. I made a few strokes in the thin air, writing “Selamat Hari Raya” with the sparkler.

“Kejap, aku ambik bunga api lagi, korang sini tunggu tau!” i asked my friends to wait for me while i ran inside my grandmother’s house to get more firecrackers and sparklers.

“Adik, kau ambik mercun katak dengan thunderclap sekali. Ambik dalam bag orang,” told my brother.

I was a city kid, who went balik kampung to celebrate Eid ul-Fitri with rendang, lemang, ketupat, dodol – all kinds of Malay delicacies. To seek forgiveness “Maaf zahir dan batin” and be rewarded with duit raya from my parents and elders. To wear new clothes and to flaunt it with a pair of new shoes.

“Kasut aku power, kalau lari laju!” i would run in my new shoes and many times i had refused to take it off when i entered my grandmother’s house.

“Alah tak heran, kawan aku pegi America, kasut dia boleh terbang!” told a friend.

“Fuyoo mak enon!”

“Ka-ka kawan aku kan, ka-ka kawan aku kan, aa- aa- ada kasut Reebok Pump. Best. Ka-ka kalau dia berenang kan, ka-ka kasut dia timbul!”

I loved my friends.

“Puasa sebulan, raya mesti la sebulan,” my friends could never really understand the concept of Eidul Saghir and Eidul Khabir suggested by the Arabs. While the Arabs might only celebrate Eid ul-Fitri for 3 days, the people in my country celebrate it for the whole month of Syawal. 30 days. 10 times greater than the Arabs.

I fell in love with the new idea. To turn Eid ul-Fitri into our own Malay festival called Hari Raya.

Love was everywhere. Cross cultural desire grew into a beautiful mixture. From the Chinese, we learned about firecrackers and Ang Pow, about oil lamps known as pelita probably from the Indians, about open houses perhaps from watching television too much. There were also music and laughters and greeting cards and various television programs blended into this modern celebration.

They threw this new idea into a big kuali , and made dodol out of it.

Today,

“Eh, you dah bayar zakat (fitrah) ke belum?” i was concern about my muslim friends. While looking for possible ways to pay my Jiyza, i had came to conclusion that RM138,937,847.40 collected by Lembaga Zakat Selangor were probably not enough.

So i paid zakat for 4 persons, in hopes that, there will be more children to tell fables about their brand new shoes; ones that can defy gravity, ones that can run so fast, ones that can float.

Selamat Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir dan Batin.

“Saya ada 5 tangan, 13 kaki, 1 kepala dan takda ekor. Siapa saya?” tahun lalu, aku bertanya kepada kononnya, bakal girlfriend merangkap calon isteri.

“You lah,” dia ketawa menutup mulut.

“Bukan la, i ada 2 tangan je,”

“Tak tahu,”

“Saya adalah penipu.”

Macam kenduri kahwinnya anak sulung orang kaya baru, dia gelak besar-besaran. Sebab besar sangat gelak dia, aku sumbatkan harapan ke dalam mulut tu. Dia tak sedar, aku pun tak sedar. Harapan aku murah, cheesy dan corny.

Aku nak jatuh cinta, boleh ke? (sila muntah)

Nama dia Izza, orang nya cantik sangat-sangat. Berdarah campuran Arab dan Pakistan. Kami berkawan mungkin 3-4 bulan sebelum dia pangkah aku kaw-kaw. Ibu aku dan ibu tiri dia yang kenalkan kami berdua. Jumpa kami semasa blind date.

“I bawak kawan tau, nama dia Nabil. Dia hensem, bapak dia Arab. Nanti kalau you tengok yang muka cam haram tu, yang tu saya, kthnxbye,” dari mula lagi, aku memang agak skeptikal (pasal mak aku cakap dia cun) dan reluctant (pasal aku stereotype dia gadis cun yang arrogant) nak jumpa Izza. Aku ajak Nabil sebab muka dia boleh blah, muka aku macam rumah kos rendah yang pecah pecah. Kot.

Jadi aku bawa Nabil, Izza bawa adik perempuan dia. Di pendekkan cerita, Izza cool walaupun aku lagi cool, surprisingly dia tak sombong, tak selfish, easy going, warm, friendly dan sejak makan malam itu, kami mula berkawan.

Sekarang, di panjangkan cerita.

Sebelum tahun 2007. Setiap kali jumpa saudara mara, makcik-makcik aku yang kadang-kadang aku sendiri pun tak kenal, mereka suka bercakap begini dengan aku;

“Eh eh Tomen (ini nama panggilan ibu aku, maksudnya, tomel/comel), dah besar anak kau ya. Handsome, dah ade girlfriend?”

Mana-mana makcik pun yang aku jumpa, akan guna perkataan handsome untuk menerangkan maksud “You turned out fine, you look good.” Bukan good looking, look good.

Jadi di sebabkan status single aku yang dah masuk tahun ke berapa entah, aku memang tak kisah bersosial dan berkenal-kenal. Walau selalunya, aku yang menggatal-gatal.

Kalau beraya di rumah saudara, aku akan ke dapur menolong. Tapi tak ikhlas pun. Aku saja nak kacau kacau semua orang kat dapur tu. Sebab ape tahu? Sebab kat ruang tamu ada tetamu yang hot hot! Yang mungkin saudara dan mungkin tidak, aku pun tak kenal sangat dorang tu. Dan bila aku ke dapur, dorang akan curi-curi tengok aku.

Jadi aku suka kena tengok curi-curi. Dan aku suka mencuri-curi tengok.

Aku kan murah, cheesy dan corny. Cliche nak mati lah semua taktik buruk aku.

Sekarang, berbalik kepada Izza.

Sejak Izza pangkah aku kaw kaw dan sebelum itu aku di pangkah lagi kaw kaw oleh entah berapa gadis yang aku tackle tak dapat-dapat, aku sedar satu perkara; hati aku semakin membesar, makin banyak perasaan yang perasan yang perlu aku kongsi dengan dunia, mungkin masanya belum sesuai untuk aku bercouple. Kot.

Jadi selepas Izza, aku lupakan perihal untuk bercouple. Walaupun masih keluar date dan bermesra, aku dah berhenti tackle gadis single, aku dah macam mellow, more mature, more friendly, more caring. Bukan lost hope, bukan malas, bukan tak laku (penipu la kalau aku cakap takda yang meluah perasaan dorang kat aku, atau aku kepada dorang, adalah satu dua special kes, tapi takkan nak commit kalau takde chemistry kan?), cuma aku nampak cantiknya nilai keikhlasan.

Dan bodohnya menjadi desperate.

Aku tak tahu aku bayar dengan apa, mungkin, aku masih berhutang, tapi lately, ramai kawan-kawan, yang baru dan lama, yang pernah jumpa dan tak pernah jumpa, yang hilang dah lama yang baru menampakkan muka, menulis aku email, menelefon dan sms aku, yang msg aku di msn/ym/gtalk, yang keluar dan lepak sekali.

Dan berkongsi hati dan bertanya soalan; How are you? You okay tak? How are things between you and your family? Wanna talk about it?

Aku mungkin penipu. Aku mungkin takda 5 tangan, 13 kaki, 1 kepala dan takda ekor. Tapi aku rasa, aku ada 100 ribu belas cinta untuk ditabur tinggi-tinggi kat atas korang semua. (muntah lagi)

Mungkin cinta aku sedikit basi, sedikit murah dan tinggi kandungan lemaknya. (muntah lebih sedikit)

Sekarang, peluk aku dan cakap “I love you” cepat! (Oh, berhenti muntah. Peluk sahaja dan cium di pipi)

“Ikan apa yang paling besar dalam dunia?” Asked a friend as if i didn’t know that blue whale is the largest marine mammal.

“Ikan paus lah,” i knew that i was fucking awesome. It only took me 0.000005 seconds to answer it. I was God’s portfolio of a beautiful mind.

“Nope, ada ikan lagi besar dari tu,” told a friend.

You fucking whore. I’ve broken the laws of physics. How else do you want me to process my intelligent mind? Slow like the rest?

“It’s the blue whale kan?” i said in a softened tone.

“No, ikan yang paling besar adalah, ikan paus biru goreng tepung,” yet she had to purse the most boring smirk ever. Laughing her ass off.

I hate batter-dipped fried blue whale.

=(

Satu hari Jumaat yang lalu.

1.

“Buah apa yang menjadi tanda tanya?” Godop, boyfriend si Hidayah berteka teki dengan aku.

“Buah fikiran?” aku meneka dengan anggapan ianya permainan bahasa.

“No no, what kind of fruit that makes the people wanna ask about it?” dia megulang dalam bahasa asing.

“Durian?”

“Nope,”

“Rambutan?”

“Nope,”

“Give up je Ajie,” Hidayah memang gemar memanggil aku Ajie.

“Ok la give up. Buah apa?”

“Watermelon,” jawab si Godop.

“Why?”

“There you go,”

“Hahahahahahahha, cibai!”

2.

“Ada seorang pak Arab ni, dia tak boleh berbahasa Melayu mahupun English, boleh cakap Arab je,” si Godop bermula lagi. “Dia pegi petrol stesyen, nak isi minyak, tapi minyak kat petrol stesyen tu dah habis. Pump attendant tu punya la guna semua jenis bahasa isyarat nak cakap minyak dah abis. Tapi pak Arab tu tak faham-faham. Tahu pump attendant tu cakap apa last sekali?”

“Tak tahu, dia cakap apa?” aku mula tersengih mendengar cerita si Godop ni.

“Dia cakap, ‘Sadaqallah hul Azeem ¹‘,” cerita si Godop sambil mengeleng-gelengkan kedua tangannya.

“Hahahahahahahahahahah,” aku ketawa sampai hilang pedoman.

3.

“If this is a spear,” aku mengangkat jari telunjuk, “what is this?” lalu aku ayunkan jari tersebut, ke kiri dan ke kanan.

“A dancing spear?”

“Nope, Shakespeare!”

“Hahaha,”

“Ok ok, if this is Shakespeare,” aku mengulang perbuatan tadi, “what is this?”, kali ini, tarian jari aku menjadi sedikit gila. Ke atas, ke bawah, ke kiri, ke kenan, dan berpusing-pusing.

“Britney Spears?” teka Hidayah.

“Hahahah, how you know one?!”

“It’s just too obvious. Only Britney dances like that,” terang si hidayah dengan senyum sinisnya.

Dan kami bercerita perihal politik terkini di Waroeng Penyetz, The Curve berkongsi makan malam kami. Kami bentangkan kerisauan ekonomi negara di atas meja makan. Dan kami ringankan gundah hati kami dengan gelak tawa yang biasa.

(more…)

“Here, read her message,” I passed my phone to a friend. “I hope you understand Malay.” I continued.

Adek ni anak yg derhaka. X takut bt(buat) maksiat n x tahu malu, Ingat Hukum ALLAH teramat pedh. Ibu ini x redha atas akhlk(akhlak/kelakuan) kamu yg jahil(bodoh) INGAT HUKUM ALLAH pd orang yang derhaka..

- Umie my mother, through sms.

When i was younger, i used to study 2 foreign languages; Scandinavian and Deutsch. In my phonebook i used Min Mor for my mother, Min Far for my father, Min Søster and Min Bror for my sisters and brothers.

When i was in university, i wrote everything in foreign languages – the schedule, the lecture notes, the secret notes, all were in either Scandinavian, Deutsch or English. But my mother tongue is still Malay of course.

I studied foreign languages not because i hated my native language, it was because i loved to make contact with the outsiders, to make friends and to share stories. And these languages were elective, i didn’t have to take them at all. I took it at my will. Extra credit.

All these years, all i wanted to do was only one thing; to connect with the people of the world. And to share what i have with them.

But when your mother reads your blog and she thinks you have no morals because you drink wine to complement a good meal, or because you date the people, girls and guys alike, because you care to know what’s on their mind, i think she just feels threatened by this knowledge and thus cursing you and threatening you back.

The paradox of threatening a non believer is that you can’t use your personal belief to attack him/her. It will just not work.

“So she thinks you’re an ungrateful son because you don’t believe in what she does?” asked a friend.

“The thing is, i never provoked her. I just keep quiet since last Sunday. She just had to go through all the archive on my blog and to hurt herself more. And now, she can’t accept it and thinks i’m being ungrateful.” I said.

Until today, i never mentioned about my blog to my mother. I never asked her to read it. She found this blog herself and now she is hurt by the knowledge. To her, knowledge is pain. Her son should believe in what she believes in and that’s that.

“It’s kind of sad for a mother to curse her own son because her son doesn’t believe in her religion. This shows that religion at times surpasses the affection between a mother and a son,” said a friend.

And then we talked at length about the value and the need to establish mutual respect between people over the lunch.

Mother, one day, i hope to make you understand the importance of respecting other people’s beliefs. And no, i will not force you to practice it. You can continue to hate you kafir son for i am going to hell if that still is your belief. You can continue to threaten your kafir son with your belief.

Threaten me mother. Keep on cursing me and to resort to using profanities so you can cheer the victory for i have different perspective and for i don’t have the right to find the meaning of life by sharing the story of my life with the world.

“Firdauz, remember yeah tomorrow. The Apartment,” told Robb.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there. Definitely.”

I had to constantly be reminded, not because i suffered an Alzeimer’s disease that tricked memory into the realm of fantasy. But it was because i had been deliberately skipping events, one too many. If i ever had any incurable malady, it would have been my attitude to be driven to despair, by consuming excessive happiness.

Sanity is when i’m in a complete loss in the absence of hope, lying comatose with sweets and candies in my hand.

Responsibility is when you suck on those sweets and candies, wake up from coma, put smile on your face and say hello to the guests.

“Hello (pretty face), i’m Firdauz (i like you), and you are (can i have your number)?”

“Lina,”

“So Lina (you single?), what do you blog about (let’s date sometime), mostly?”

“Stuff. I’m an angry blogger,”

“Well, i’m a bimbo blogger (kthnxbye).”

I made it to The Apartment. Imagining Lina’s blog touching the topic of politics, human stupidity and how she hated pretty bunnies in rosy miniskirts. She might have thought i wrote about the latest mega sale buying miniskirts, getting manicured and prepubescent boob enlargement.

But she would have gotten it right should she had pictured me having the passion in ogling at those big boobs.

“Mya kerja kat mana ye?”

“Bank negara.”

Her boobs were not the reason i came to her table. Earlier that day, Robb had given me an order; To mingle around. So mingled around i did, going from one blogger to another. Well OK! Gosh, you caught me red handed; going from one girl to another. Happy now? =p

Before i knew it, i had 3 girls sitting with me on the same table. I was the only guy. And they thought doa berbuka was a guy’s thing.

“Hey, you guys dah baca doa buka ke belum?” i asked them.

“Kitaorang tak puasa la,”

“You lelaki, you kena la baca,” and they all agreed i should say the prayers.

“I tahu sampai Allahumma la ka sumtu sahaja,” i was good at multitasking – i lied while i was eating, i marked some girls i wanted to approach while i was eating, i pursed a silly smile while i was eating. Everyone bought my smile. That smirk, even it was lacking in honesty, it never failed to buy sympathy.

“That’s okay. I tahu melayu sahaja. Sahaja aku berbuka puasa, kerana Allah Taala,” said Jannah.

Jannah was an internet friend. I didn’t know she was on the guest list until i i saw her name, just about 20 minutes before she reached there. To have met Jannah, brought joy to me. If i had came to this party empty handed, i think Jannah was one of those 24 other people who showed me the meaning of sharing and put it in my pocket.

It was a sharing session. It was Nuffnang Sharing Session. We had people sharing food and telling stories. We shared some moments and we sliced our experience into portions and passed it around. So everyone could taste the meaning of sharing. Whether they came in a glass of cooler (a mixture of fruit juice and soda water), whether they were on the table at the buffet dinner, the meaning of this session came together upstairs with the chef welcoming feedback. With Red Mommy and SultanMuzaffar welcoming questions. With Robb putting magic into the session.

I felt small, yet i felt the appreciation of my presence, shown when they passed me those cigarettes. When they showed concern and they asked questions. When they laughed when i never was being funny.

True, i never suffered an Alzeimer’s disease that tricked memory into the realm of fantasy. But the reality that i danced with in The Apartment, in Nuffnang Sharing Session, taught me one important lesson – to never skip events for the best things in life are free.

The bloggers

Suthesh, Julian Hopkins, Lolina, Jannah Rafali, Arif, Zakiah, Zaidi, Azz Azfar, Syd, Mya, Affandi, Zach Boy, Marcus, Lina, Yap Thomas, Shaun, Jacquelyn, Greg, Kuee, Robb, SultanMuzaffar, Sirman, Red Mummy.

It finally happened.

Someone from my family had found this blog. A family member, i dunno who found it first. But by this time, Umie could have dug up all the archive.

Well dear Umie,

Dear Abang, dear Siti, dear Zaid, dear Nabila, dear my family member;

I appreciate the concern that you guys have about me mengingkari suruhan tuhan di bulan ramadhan, bulan di mana Al-Quran diwahyukan di gua Hira’. “Iqra, bismirabbikallazi halaq,”And me doing all the kemungkaran di bumi Allah ini.

Surah Al-Baqarah ada menyebut, puasa itu membina taqwa. Maka Ittaqullah, bertaqwalah kamu kepada Allah.

Well, i don’t know how to say this the easy way, but if there’s one thing you guys should have known years ago, there’s one surah that really explains everything.

(more…)

This is getting funnier.

Usually, i would always have a reading material such as a magazine or a novel with me, but not last night. Last night, i just happened to read people’s faces and the stories they wanted to tell, or hide. They, the faces, always talk to me, wanting my hand to gently stroke on the surface, to run my fingers rubbing the texture of their unsolved problems. I need money, i need money, i need money, and with enough money, everything is going to be alright. People worry too much that it just shows on their faces and you can read them like an open book.

“You tak perasan i ke?” asked a girl, facing me.

I had to make the “Wait, are you talking to me?”’s face. Completely puzzled.

This wasn’t a dream, wasn’t a lie, wasn’t a fiction, but stranger. On this train, there really was a girl, a total stranger, talking to me, asking me whether i did notice her. I was stunned by her question, and my reflexes was failing on me. Before i had the chance to make a new friend, do the small talk and bla bla bla, money is not everything bla bla bla, she turned to face the other people and never to look at me again.

She was kinda cute.

=(

But okay la, okay la. At least i had 2 strangers talking to me on the same day, yay!

=)

Next time some stranger talks to me again, no matter how weird and random their approach can be, i’m gonna pretend like i’ve known them for years!

I just recovered from high fever/ flu/ tonsillitis.

Had it from last sunday until last nite.

Still have that little dizziness, but i think it’s getting better although the pills are making me feel sleepy and slow.

Anyway, something interesting happened this morning. I was in the elevator, on my way down, came in a guy. He stood beside me, pressing buttons on his cellphone, sending text i guess. He stopped at 3rd floor, went out, and said “Bye, see you again!” I raised my eyebrows, opened my eyes bigger, and shaped my lips as if i was about to smile.

Then he said again. “Bye, see you again.” And he waived with his hand.

This time i smiled to him. It’s kind of flattering i guess.

Doesn’t matter whether he was a gay or he was just being friendly. Doesn’t really matter i guess.

Kind of flattering to have strangers showing some appreciation.

In case you guys wondering, is the guy good looking? Yes. Mat Salleh? No, Chinese.

I stopped at ground floor.

Ting!

Went to work.

Lunch. RM18 Set Lunch with Robb.

Robb, is a queer.

Ting!

I might wanna be a queer too. Actually, i’m always open to this idea. Being a queer.

After all, why not.

(more…)

dan lain lain.