..Kota Bharu 1970..and a date..

..it was an incredible time..Kota Bharu in 1970...the streets were filled with Fiat 124 Specials and Datsun Triple S'es... food were cheap, RM1.00 would get you a sumptious breakfast, and the rent was low.. for a young man whose pay as a clerk was RM333.65 cents per month, it was careless times...living was for the day, 'for tomorrow we die' and 'what are friends for if not to die for?'..Hoover Hotel and Restaurant at Jalan Dato Pati was the place to linger and meet up with the gang..Restaurant Sun Too at the end of Jalan Temenggong for ice cream with your date after a movie..and movies were at Panggong Lido, perched on a rise by the river bank along Jalan Post Office Lama..

..where once stood Panggong Lido is now site for the new LKIM building..
remembering the words of Awang Goneng, pakmat was there 
one evening, to take this photograph..and to walk alongside it..
trying to catch those voices, laughters and tears of a time, 
forty years ago..I caught a glimpse of a young
 man peering through the ticket booth, a little bit

anxiously, but the voices are gone..they disappeared along with 
the dust and bricks as the 

building came tumbling down... 

.unbeknowned to most 1970 marked the beginning of the end of an era...those care free, swinging times were about to end..street protests and Mageran was around the corner. for Datuk Mohd Asri Muda, it was to be his last term as Chief Minister..but for a young man in love it was dating time..she took a chance on him and he took her to the movies...to Panggong Lido..we walked there from her home at Jalan Kampong Sireh, less than a kilometer away..I could not remember the movie, but I remembered the walk back..love gave wings to my feet..but she knew nothing about my thumping heart...we talked and we laughed...the night enveloped and conspired with a certain intimacy only couples knew..

..Sun Too as it is now...forlorn and forgotten..

..the courting..

..I did not know it then..but when I came back in the late sixties, I was going against the tide..times were uncertain, then..Kota Bharu, long known as the Paris of the East was about to lose that tag..Britz Park, the place of loud music and svelte joget girls and dark nooks was winding down and closing its gates..and so were the night-clubs..biding its time before the order to close..Pantai Cinta Berahi lost its passion and became Pantai Cahaya Bulan..jobs were scarce and people were leaving the state by droves..looking for better opportunities elsewhere..some to become settlers with newly opened land schemes..those with a little bit of skills in construction left for jobs in Singapore..it was the lull after the May 13th incidence..the New Economic Policy had been forged, but too new to bear any results..it was the worst and the best of times..

..but for a young man madly in love it was courting time...and finding the going rough..for her mother would not have anything to do with him..this two bit clerk, more uncouth than unkempt..and she would served him unfiltered coffee without sugar everytime he went a-visiting... but he went, nonetheless, time and again, going clickety-clack with his Vespa..and parked it gingerly under her porch, and waited anything from 10 to 20 minutes before the front door opened..and he drank the coffee like as if it was nectar..coffee beans and all...

..it  was the time of the Bee Gees. Ray Coniff and Los Indios Tabarajas..and an end to the glorious days of Malaysia Cup when Singapore was a participant..Dali Omar left for Australia..

..and a  young man in love found himself the centre of mirth by friends and relative alike..for having designs on Audrey..but through it all he was unfazed..he may not have power, position or wealth..but he had this inner confidence..

..the towering feeling..

..'and oh..the towering feeling...just to know that somewhere you are near'..



..I  met my Audrey..and the streets of Kota Bharu was where I skipped and jumped in youthful ectasy..I surrendered to the raging in my heart and all the pain and the conflicts  that came along with being in love...and how I struggled to keep it hidden.
..but, no..it was not yet time..and I fought against it..in fighting it I lost myself in the town that accepted me like a long, lost son..there were parties, nightclubs, hot dance-hostess who could do everything except dance and the band boys of Suara Kilat and The Streaks..I sang and I danced..but the tempest that whirled within refused to be quelled..I bought myself a Vespa..and found that every street, every road, every lane led to her house...

..the return..and the first touch..

..it was, by any standard, a tumultous courtship..we met almost immediately after I plonked my suitcase on the stairs of my mother's house..it was heavy with books, with  some clothings pressed within it..she was there about some dresses, (..my late mother was a seamstress..)

..she flashed me a smile..and I just stood there at the bottom of the stairs, taking in her smile and laughing eyes..
'Mamat,' said my mother, from her Singer, set facing  a window, by way of an introduction, 'From KL. My son.' ..yeah, I remembered thinking, your  prodigal son..

..used to the ways of the city, I extended my hand, 'Hi.' ..she took my hand as my mother pedalled on her sewing machine..she asked appropriate questions..I answered appropriate answers..without realising it, we slipped into English..hmm..I thought, an English speaking damsel in Kota Bharu..not bad..

..only later  was I to know that she was a teacher, a  distant relative and single..and have 'captains and officers     among her suitors' as my mother emphatically told me..and I smiled at my mother..Kota Bharu was out there, waiting for me...and since when did I let a little bit of rank and position fazed me?..

...the early years..

....I was not born into property..there were no inheritance of any kind..and when I set myself adrift in KL in the sixties, preferring work to studies, I knew that in the country of my birth, I do not have a home that I could go back to..my late mother was staying in a house owned by her husband's relative in Jalan Gajah Mati, Kota Bharu..not having born nor spend my growing up years there, the house sheltered no fond memories that I could relate to..
..sometimes I did not even bother to go back for Raya..preferring, instead to linger in KL, my adopted city..even though home was in Brickfields, where I rented a 3bedroom flat with 5 others, I was familiar with almost every part of KL, having covered every nook and cranny..
..but there was only so much of KL that you can take...even a stone gets tired of rolling after some time..I was 25..and tired of the tinsel and neon..tired and ridden with little debts..kedai mamak to the bookstore..and still slightly immature to see through a relationship..I needed to start anew in Kota Bharu..a cooperative loan settled all my debts and I was off to Kelantan, on a transfer that was approved within a week of putting it in..and it was early 1969..to a town I was not familiar with..hardly the hometown that I would like it to be..but it was a swinging town, then..and it did not take long before I merged with it..enjoyed its vibrant night life and took part in its nocturnal activities..I embraced the town as it accepted me and I met my wife....my first wife...

..on health and a prayer..

..what is a man without his health?..


..be he a king or a slave...a rich man or a pauper..they are nothing once their health is gone...all the soldiers in the world to the most powerful of kings mean nothing.. they are powerless against the onslaught of ill-health..


.. an old man without his health is worse...what is pakmat but for this lingering remnants of dubious health..?


..Lord. I thanked Thee for this brief moment that Thou has bestowed upon me..
..Thou has blessed me with lasting eyesight, that I may see..
..ears that I may hear..and good health that I may be free..
..and a constantly beating heart..
..that I might savour the might of Your mercy..

..the send-off and felda jengka, pahang..

..they met when she was a student and he was hanging around after SPM..she the daughter of police parents, and he the son of a Felda settler.. they had their nuptials among the hills in Camerons..and last Saturday was the sending off of the bride to the groom's home, Kg New Zealand, Maran, Pahang..

..the bride's paternal uncle, Haji Saari bin Din, had insisted on being host to the 'menghantar ceremony'..and he was the Regional General Manager, Felda Eastern Territory, whose office and home  is in Felda Residence Tekam Resort, a few kilometers  from Bandar Jengka.,  a six-room double-storey house on a small hillock..Kampong Tun Razak..paying homage to the man responsible for Felda..

..as the clan arrived and gathered, pakmat interviewed Hj. Saari casually.. over sumptious dinner and breakfast so graciously prepared by his wife..(gulai tempoyak ikan fatin was out of this world)..and was told that Felda is the largest single owner estate  in the world, exceeding 855 thousand hectares of developed area ..as RGM he covers 37 regions, each with its own Manager..and that on average, each settler receives an income of RM2500.00 per mensen....aside  from their income as sub-contractors, entreprenuers and service providers..all economic activities in Bandar Jengka are operated by Malays..

..

..pakmat interviewing Hj. Saari, (in red), to the amusement of pakmat's present mother-in-law..

..the morning before the send-off..pakmat took the photo..pakmat 

dressed the groom as the wife painted and prepared the bride..

..arrival at the groom's home, Kg. New Zealand..Hj. Saari leading the
charge.. and the groom with his samping askewed ( my fault)..

..sunrise from the hillock of Hj. Saari's home..we enjoyed our breakfast 

as we enjoyed the sunrise..

..pakmat took the Gua Musang - Kecau - Kuala Lipis - Kerambit - 

Jerantut - route to Bandar Jengka..the scene above is of a respite 

after Friday prayers at Kuala Lipis mosque, 

overlooking the railway station..

..we left for home through the Ulu Jabor-Kuala Berang road, leaving New Zealand and the newly married couple around 5 in the evening..they will be there for  a week..before proceeding to Langkawi, where the groom has been posted as a police officer..we left them there at the sunrise of their life..good luck and fare thee well, both of you....as pakmat went back to the sunset of his life.....

..camerons and a wedding..

..when the wedding ceremony is held in the hills, Cameron Highlands, you cannot help but be surrounded with  flowers..a profusion of them..of various shapes, shades and hues..adding colour and a certain vibrancy to the occassion..

..but this flower needs some pruning..

..and the father marrying his daughter to this gentleman..

..pakmat bears witness..

..look at pakmat's shoes..I misplaced mine and wore my son's Nike..:)

..I know I shouldn't..(heck, I am no Lady Kama) but the bride's father insisted, and it was my niece's wedding, and I already looked ridiculous in my son's Nike..and I could not resist the beat..so pakmat belted out a song... my wife looked away..and my children disappeared...a lil girl who did not know anything handed me a stalk..and I felt twenty-five..

..awang goneng, kota bharu and pakmat..

..the new Parkson/Giant getting a bit of rain..

..unlike Awang Goneng, (whose blog can be viewed here) who grew up in Trengganu and put out a book and a blog about Growing Up in Trengganu, I did not grow up in Kelantan..for a few years as a kid, I was in Kuala Krai and Pasir Mas..later, I was transplanted to Perak and Kuala Lumpur..coming back to Kota Bharu in early 1969 as a strapling youth..I like to think that I spent the best part of my youth in Kota Bharu..whether as a bachelor or as a newly married young man in the seventies..before being transferred to Kuala Trengganu in 1974..

..sometimes I pined for the old Kota Bharu, ..but unlike Awang Goneng, who laments the lost of old Trengganu, and wrote so beautifully about it in his blog and his column in NST, I cannot put into words the way he did my feelings and emotions..my mastery of the language is limited, as it were..and I do not have much experience in travelling, either..not having ventured beyond the peninsula, except once to Lake Toba. so  I cannot do much comparison..

..but sometimes I missed the old Kota Bharu....like the day when from an aimless wondering around the town, trying to get familiar with a town that has changed so much that I felt a little bit overwhelmed by the strangeness of it...I came across a street from my youth of 40 years ago, Jalan Ismail...I found myself standing in front of a restaurant that I used to frequent back then..Restoran Seng Huat..standing at a corner of a junction of Jalan Ismail..

..I stood there next to my car and felt a rush of memories and I wondered how would Awang Goneng go about writing about it if I was him..

..and I recalled his words, that he wrote so skillfully in his column..that words, laughters and tears of yesteryears did not just settled into dust or decay..but somehow they remained there...reverberating among the walls of old buildings..playing endlessly in the labyrinths of minds like this old coot...

..I walked into the restaurant..the table was still there..we were having chicken chop..her laughter was teasing....'Marry me..'I said. She let her laughter hung in the air..her sparkling eyes consented..

..as I walked in, I heard her laughter again...

..oh my darling..

..a song from Kelantan..parodising a man who should have known better..I have reproduced the lyrics. and translated them into English..




bilo doh umor kat lima puloh..dega ore tino gah ja re se tuh..
when you are fifty...you seldom touch your wife..
makane kerah takleh mamoh  gadoh..takut patah gigi bubuh..
cannot hurry with hard food..less you break your false teeth
suka derah derah sungguh..gangga luas gigi plong jatuh..
laughed too hard, mouth too wideopened, teeth will drop plong..


oh my darling I love you..pedih gusi makan nasi dengan budu..
oh my darling I love you..it hurts the gums eating rice with budu..


dah berkedak ma ce ore bujang,..gi bertekok di kelab male..
like to move like a bachelor..have drinking sprees in nightclubss..
kilek anok ayam mempeh..nak bangun taklek gatong ke ore..
grab at girls drunk..cannot stand up, holding onto people..
kecek jugak berhingok bergotel..ke parking sembur sembo keno ore..
..carry on with the girls..vomitted in parking lot..splashing others..


oh my darling I love you..paka kencing sapu daun kayu..
oh my darling  I love you..wipe your urine with leaves..


kelik ke rumah duit tadok..teraso lemah awo jadi sesok...
..back home with no money..feeling weak now poor..
tido bawah rumah jenero dale rok..bini dok gamok anok teriok..
sleeps under the house and bushes..wife ranting children crying..
naik atah rumoh tak de nok gangkok..bini maroh nak te denga kapok..
no time to crawl once in the house..wife wanted to strike with an axe..
terjun ke tanoh berjalan kecok..
lept to the ground and walked with a lame


oh my darling I love you..duit habih licin hok tino tipu
oh my darling I love you..all money gone, cheated by the girl..


..enjoy the song as you read my post below..cheers..

..65 and none the wiser..

..being old does not neccessarily make you wise..experience  makes you prudent, yes, but not wiser.. matters of the heart will render most men foolish..as I was, when I was in my early fifties..foolish and
shortedsighted..but then, I had always been foolish and impulsive in heart matters..


..I was fifty-two when I married my third wife..and she was a year past half my age..I already had a dozen children then..separated from my first, living with my second in Bachok with five of my children.... yes, I should have known better..it was so unneccessary..but it was my last attempt at holding onto my youth..at fifty I was still unable to rein in my heart...and I know that a man of fifty unable to rein in a buckling heart is not worth his spurs..looking at pictures of that very much publicised marriage of a starlet, I supposed that was how I looked at that time..ridiculous, even though, then, I, too, was grinning..


..but we started as friends, she and I..a friendship that began among the hills, brooks and creeks..rivers, rapid and rafts.. I would like to  think that we ended also as friends..distance separated us..and tiredness..at 60 you could not anymore do things with the same vim and vigour..something has got to give..you could not anymore drove non-stop to KL alone, braving the sun and the pelting rain..no matter how warmth the welcoming embrace..


..and so I said no..no more..I need to wind-up whatever was left of my assets and simply closed shop..I did what any tired old man would have done, under the circumstances...I hung up my spurs...

..my elder brother, Jo..

...he's getting lonelier  by the day..when he came to see me this morning, there were tears in his heart and lament on his face..he was also almost a destitute..he had sold the house that he built with his late wife and moved into her inherited home, which he later pulled down with the intention of building a better one on it..now, out of work and strapped for cash, he has no where to stay..whatever the alternatives, they are not good..and he got no one to blame but himself..


..'I am lonely, Mat..' He let his voice trailed as he toyed with the roti canai sardine..I devoured mine. It was nine in the morning and I was hungry..He needed to be lectured, and I am going to need all my strength..He needed a wife..but wives don't come easy at his age..being a Class F contractor, he also needed jobs..but jobs do not come easy, too...not matter your age..I looked at this pitiful sight of an old man and tried to feel his sorrow..he is my  brother, after all..but I might as well be looking at a stranger...


..there were no early memories between us..we grew up separately, moving in different worlds..fate has taken us along different paths.only as adults did it crossed...but he is my brother, nonetheless..my very own flesh and blood..and he was telling me that last night he slept in a mosque..against myself I sighed as he took out a cigarette to light...Saat..living life out by the seconds before death embraces us all, I pondered..


..Will you quit smoking?..I was  thinking aloud..he heard it and pushed back the stick into the box..he has outlived his time..and nothing can pushed him back into his past..he was silent as my words flowed..he has to find his peace..with himself..and with his Creator..I ignored his tears that filled his eyes..


'I am lonely, Mat'...I never felt so helpless....God..whatever Your plans for this servant of Yours, please, let him find his peace...

..grandchildren and gatherings..

..sometimes they gathered at their mother's house, with their husbands and children..like this evening, to celebrate in a laid back way the birthday of one of their siblings..my fifth daughter, of whom, some years ago caused everyone, including me, a little bit of heartache with her decision to marry her then beau who was a Thai.. two children later they were still married..

..after a tumultuous beginning things are now a bit settled..hopefully their marriage will last..things are looking up for her, it seems..a gleaming new car outside stands as testimony to her prowess in sales with a firm selling the Toyota brand..and he is a cook with an established restaurant somewhere in Kota Bharu, but not too far from her mother's house..where once I called home..

..pakmat with his 6 grandchildren..

..and their 3 mothers..1st, 2nd and 5th daughters..

..inevitably I will be invited, too..and happily I would made the trip from Bachok..as on other occasions, I busied myself with the grandchildren, whilst eyeing the food..the children knows that I enjoyed their mother's cooking..whether its cakes or bread pudding or spaghetti...but we did not really talked much, their mother and I..but I can sensed that the  animosity is gone..a smile that came like the soft evening breeze from Pantai Irama, signalling, perhaps, acceptance..as to what I am..or what I have become..a toothless old man, just coming to terms with himself and his past...

..these days, those days..

..these days children mature early and marry late.

.blame it on their diet..or the quality of life..or on all those rich food from fastfood outlets and designer restaurants..or on changing lifestyles...girls tend to have their menstruation as early as nine and boys mature by the time they are ten or eleven...

at fifteen or sixteen, their bodies are ready for motherhood..like that fifteen-year old hitting the news for adamantly wanting to get married, Halimaton Ab. Rashid...she looks twenty..and ready for marriage..and knows her mind..and I applauded her steadfastness..

but these days it is the norm to marry late..never mind the hormones or the testorone..or their over developing bodies..basic schooling have to be completed..college and university after that.. and maybe additional tertiary education before they can even think of entering the job market...and by the time they can start thinking of marrying, they are pushing thirty..

in the meantime they must learn how to control all those hormones and testorone effect and wayward desires as best as they can..not too successfully, judging by the number of babies found in dustbins and drains..

..those days they marry early and mature late...

..girls are known to start menstruating at 17..again we put the blame on the diet and the  quality of life then..but they marry at fourteen or fifteen, waiting a few years before consummation of their marriage..by the time their hormones start to play havoc, they are safely married, so to speak..less babies in dustbins and drains..

..these days children are healthier than their parents..they are prettier, taller, better built and sometimes, more intelligent..they are wise to the ways of the world...information are instantaneous..and unlimited..they are exposed to porn earlier..by their 13th or 14th year, it is at their fingertips..cyber friendship and cyber porn..

..those days children listen to their parents..these days parents listen to their children..

..and yet, parents would rather impose their terms on them..as in the case of Halimaton..we say she is too young, when she is not..whereas those days we allow them to marry at 15..we do not think of them as too young, then..whereas in reality, they are...

..so, why can't a girl of fifteen marry and continue with her schooling..?

..death imaginings..

..journeys' end..

..no matter what age you are, you know your time on this earth is limited..but you don't think about it..as a kid you were busy with school or whatever that kids are busy with..as a youth you were busy with your pimples and angsts to even think about it..you heard it happening to others, but your time, then, was forever, as was with every promises that you made.. with every girl that caught your your fancy then...you looked to the horizon and saw eternity..for a lifetime, then, was forever..

..until you are sixty-five..then you realised that death is just around the corner..it can come anytime..as it did to your neighbour who was stricken with a stroke weeks ago..he was 62..or to that grand old lady across the road, just a few days later..she was 70..or that Pak Haji a few houses away, who died a week after her, also 70, or thereabout..and we had tahlil almost everynight..and pakmat helped tended to the deceases, layering them in white, and soft muff of cotton..before the solat jenazah, a final prayer before the burial..and even as I amin'ed the doa, I wondered when will my turn be..and tried to imagine that it was me that lay prostrated, bounded in white..

..tears and grief will be short..a final kiss to the forehead, before it is covered..but they have to leave me there..within the soft earth that covered my breast..an old record that can no longer be played..

..the past, holding the future..

..at sixty-five, you do not looked to the future..for you are the future..each new day is a bonus..as every morning I looked to the eastern sky and welcomed the sun..Lord, let the power of your Mercy be like the sun's rays..unrestrained...

..sunrise in Irama..

..no, 'I will not brood the time I have left..I will just type faster'..

..Asimov

back to the hills..and a little beyond...

..sometimes, I give vent to this innate desire to travel..load the family in the car, fill up the tank, and simply point the car onto an open road, and just go..I need to smell and feel the petrol and rubber burning...but being no longer young, and no more the impulsive, devil-may-care youth of before, I have to plan a bit..but the hills beacon again..and the children who are still with me, Akram and Auji, needs some cajoling..Tuesday and Wednesday being public holidays, as it were..should be a good time to leave the state, while they ponder between the two palaces,  Kota Bharu or Kubang Kerian..

..and so it was that we decided to retreat again to Camerons, whilst checking out preparations for the wedding of niece scheduled for the 1st of May this year...but looking a the number of cars making a bee-line for the hills, it looks like we were not the only one taking the opportunity to leave the state..

..grilled cobs, souvenirs galore, and breakfast of roti canai at Pak Wan and Mak Wan's restaurant, Tanah Rata..two unassuming millionaires who would occasionally holidayed in Europe... 

..Camerons-Simpang Pulai Road..

..old men are like old cars..once in a while, they need to go on long journeys..to clear up their systems and cylinders of carbon build-up..after such journeys, old cars feel preppy..and pakmat feels happy, zesty even..

..but there were too many cars in Tanah Rata..fighting for limited space on the road with no alternative access..polluting the air and bringing up the temperature..

..after a quick discussion, we left for Lumut the next morning..taking the Simpang Pulai-Batu Gajah-Pusing-Lumut Road, as advised by Google Maps..a journey of 169 Kilometers, which we did in 3 hours..but we were in no hurry..evening was spent checking out Lumut and its water front..but the next day was at a lagoon..Teluk Batik..I was here before, twenty years ago with this wife and two children..and found the wooden chalets were still standing..but the rates have trebled..from RM60.00 to RM180.00 per night..

..daughter Auji with her aunt, cousins...

..we skipped Pangkor as the wife was not feeling well..until the next time, perhaps...

.. earth watch and a grandchild..

..no, I did not switch off my lights that night..my son told me something about Earth Hour..and I said, yeah..but its my hour, too..but I switched off the porch lights..and caught the eerie light of the almost full moon..and reminded myself to try and catch the full moon rise at Pantai Irama in a few days time.

.some one said it is an act of tokenism..considering the things we have done to ravage our planet earth throughout man's existence..I think it is gimmicky, considering how resilient Earth is..hey, it survived meteors that took the dinosaurs..

..I think the worry is misplaced..let us not fret about Mother Earth..it has been around long before Man..it will survive..no matter the damage we render it..time has always been on its side..and one day, when we are gone, when all of human kind are gone, I am pretty sure that Earth will still be spinning around..and that is what we should be worried about..our very existence..for at the rate we are going...damaging our own chances of survival for short term gains...fighting for borders and space..we are on track towards ensuring our own annihilation from the surface of this earth..starting-point: Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

...instead of having Earth Watch..let's have Human Watch, let us take steps to watch ourselves from threatening our existence on this planet..let us ensure our children and grandchildren are left with the chance to savour the glory of sunrises..and the beauty of the full moon..let there be continuance of the human race..

..like pakmat did last night when 2nd daughter went into labor pains..,and watched the hours and the seconds before she delivered her 3rd child, a girl...my 8th grandchild.....at 12.10 am this morning..

..tentively named Sarah, I held that pinkish bundle in my arms..I thanked Him for this gift..God showered endless miracles..but I could not helped but wonder..what sort of legacy are we leaving her..?..will she, one day, grows up and blames us for all the chaos that we are leaving behind???

..my eldest daughter..

..pakmat with first daughter, 38 years ago..

..my eldest daughter from my first marriage is 38 years old..married to an army man, she quit her job recently to be with her husband who will be transferred to KL after a promotion..she is quick-witted, forthright and direct..not one to mince words, she has a certain ability to play with them, as her constant updating of her status on facebook reveals... she would rather called a spade, a spade, without the dressing..most of her siblings agreed that she took after me..but they all accepted her for what she is..whose words may be laser, but the heart is always in its proper place..

..sometimes she took a dig at me..(no reasons why a father should be spared)...like the time I asked her to get a good number for the Avanza that she decided to sell me..it has been with her for five years..her move to KL prompted her to change to a smaller car..having only a son, she does not need too much space..but she wants to retain her old registration nomber..

'Old car with new number plates,' she said..'I'll try to get DBP 7513,' she continued, giving me a meaningful look..I gave her a quizzical frown in return..not getting it...what's so special about DBP 7513?..

..'Alaa..papa..' she looked at me direct in the eye..'seven, five and one are the children you had from each mother...and three is for the number of wives'... and DBP? Dari Banyak Perkahwinan..

..yes, I was stumped..her quicksilver mind is faster than mine..and only later, on the way home, did I laughed..a guffaw that started slowly..but died before it could reached a crescendo..hmm..this daughter of mine..but I love you, anyways...

..hot spring, ulu la, trengganu..

..sometimes, like last Friday,  pakmat leaves Pantai Irama behind and retreats to the hills..to Ulu La, Trengganu, where there nestles a quaint, two-tiered pools  of steaming hot water catched from little hot springs that gushed through rocks... from a source hidden deep in the bowels of the earth...

..it is cradled amongst some hillocks and forest, where there also runs a small brook, Sungai Air Hangat, with bracing cool water running so clear you can see little fishes darting, just above the sand and pebbles..

...from rivulets such as these, years ago I slaked my thirst when trekking through jungle trails heading towards some aboriginal camps deep in Gua Musang virginal forest..she who was to be my third wife dared me to drink from water scooped with a bamboo cup fashioned by a Tok Batin..her laughing eyes egging me with taunts..but that was another time..another era..

..it is, indeed,  a charming retreat..and easily accessible...from Jerteh, you take the road T5 to Kg. La, 30 kilometers away...which is along the road to Ulu Keruak..past Bukit Payong and Felda Tenang...but the road is  JKR Grade A, and the ride is pleasant..it is only 80 kilometers from home in Bachok...

..from Jertih the scenery quickly changed from urban to fields of padi... and later, after Bukit Payong, shaded rubber trees and orchards.. which suddenly gave way to rows of matured palm trees, Felda Tenang...from Kg. La, a side road newly completed, will take you to the hot spring..the vista that greets you is of the Gunong Tebu Range, of which Ulu La Hot Springs is part of...

..the Hot Spring's Maintenance Committee charges RM2.00 per car per entry, irregardless of the number of occupants..and they did a good to keep the area and surroundings generally clean and the river debris-free.

    ..top pic is the main pool..it is steaming hot and small enough to be cosy..first you submerge your  feet and keep still..after a while upon perspiring profusely, you may make an attempt to sink lower in..like pakmat did...and felt invigorated and zesty after that..the pool is about 10 meters high from the river below..but just below it is the 2nd pool..which is deeper...and less hot..see second pic..of Auji and Cousins...

..from there the spring cascaded down onto the shallow, knee deep river..where children and adults alike frolic...but no matter what they do, the water remain clear..for the river is sandy, with coarse sand and pebbles, free of sediments and mud...

..the feast, prepared by the wives..budu with ulam pucuk daun gajus..a rare treat for pakmat..who most times abstain from budu for its high salt content..trying and succeeding at maintaining my BP at 78/128..Friday prayers was at Kg.La double-storey mosque..it drizzled a little the day we were there, but it did little to dampen our spirits..for it is little pleasures  like these that make us appreciative..of little mercies...

..p.s. to post ..its Friday..

...prompted by Tommy Yewfigure, that veritable magi in blogsphere I searched for the Cure's 'Friday I am In Love'..and found this fresh-faced kids putting across the message better..:)

...here's to you, Tommy..for life is, indeed, short...and for me, at 65, shorter still.. so I should not be complicating things...but try, instead, to just keep it simple...cheers to all of you...:)

..its Friday..

..Friday is many things to many people..for some it is the last day before the weekend..thus, Casual Friday..giving the phrase TGIF..thank goodness its Friday...

..to the Romans a day of Venus, ..for most Christians, Good Friday is for planting seed, potatoes..perhaps taking it to mean the day of Resurrection..the Jewish Sabbath is on a Friday..and Aussies celebrate Red Bull Fridays, where they consume Red Bulls, an energy drink from Thailand, and the Thais associate Friday with the colour blue, the auspicious colour for the day..as against red for Sunday..more reasons to paint the town red on Sundays..

..but for some, Friday is unlucky..sailors of yore refused to haul up anchor on a Friday.. and Friday the 13th is the ultimate in being unlucky..as of our very own Friday the 13th in the month of May, 1969..then I was a swashbuckling kid of 24 and in Kota Bharu, having obtained a transfer back from KL a few months earlier..

..and I remember the frantic phone calls that I made to check out my friends with whom I once shared a 3- bedroom flat in Brickfields..5 of them..and they were all Malays in a sea of Chinese and Indians..during better times we played football together at the railway padang..and got outselves invited to parties held by our Chinese friends where I learned the cha-cha-cha and some rudimentary Rumba..with a girl named Mary..

..it was with much relief that I later came to know that they were all safe and sound..sheltered and brought out of the troubled area by a group of Chinese residents..they owed their lives to them..to some Chinese underworld lieutenants who gave them their protection..in Kota Bharu, it was curfew times..and I sat out the nights with my late mother..abstaining from all activities associated with the time..praying for the safety of my friends in KL..

..to Muslims, Friday is a day of rest..it also the day of Friday Prayers at the mosques..during which time it is forbidden to continue with worldly activities....until after its completion..and so pakmat rests..with a song from
Mali, Africa..M'bora...I do not know what it means..perhaps mamadou of blog 'Everything is Possible' can help..but I liked the beat..and the sounds of the kora..

..at peace with my past...

..a wish from a friend, on facebook,  'May you make peace with your past,' sets this old man thinking..

..I started this blog talking about Bachok..and somehow it centrifuged into a whirlpool that is my past..it became a memoir of sorts..the words flowed along with my anger..and I supposed it showed..to a discerning reader, and there are lots out there,  I guessed it more than showed, for sometimes I released all plugs and write with my heart..along with my pain..and bias..and angst..and idiosyncrasies...for I told myself then, as of now, that I will be honest..maybe I have been too honest..

..it must have showed, too, that I am very much a romantic..and sentimental to boot..and that sometimes there is this revolt in me..this constant revolt in some dark corner of my heart that I find difficult to suppress..that surfaced and coloured my words....but I realised now that it is so unneccessary..this anger..this damning the past..as said that anonymous  commentor, I must learn to let go..its like fishing..I have been through the catches..now its time for release..time to let go..

..they say age makes a man cynical..and I say that age makes you look back into your past, sometimes ruefully...at my age, there is not much future to look forward to, except, perhaps, death..and death has a way of coming unannounced..as today it came to a fellow  blogger, Ruby Ahmad..our path crossed but once in cybersphere, when I commented on Uncle Lee's blog..May she rest in Peace...

..but I supposed we all have our time...

..pakmat's chronology..

..inasmuch Malaysia as a country had its formative years in the fifties and the sixties..from the Federated Malay States, Unfederated Malay States to the Federation of Malaya..(a term that pakmat loved best..Persekutuan Tanah Melayu..taking it to mean unity in a country)..so did pakmat..I considered the fifties and the sixties as my formative years, too..growing and maturing along with my country, Malaysia..

..the onslaught of the Japanese 25th Army..routing the British on bicycles..

..it was on the 13th of  March, 1945 or thereabout that I was born..in Lemal, Pasir Mas, Kelantan..at the tail end of the Japanese Occupation..where food is scarce, money of the banana kind valueless and life is cheap..even though it lasted only for a number of years..from 8.12.1941 to 3.9.1945, it was a life of hardship unparalleled in the history of Malaya..

..and took over KL..

..and I cannot imagine or put a scale on the hardship that my late parents must have gone through during those period..for when the Japanese 25th Army landed in Kota Bharu that fateful day on the 8th of
December, 1941 at almost 2.00 o'clock in the morning,  my eldest brother, Johan was 2 years old and my mother in confinement with her second son, Adnan....there were no stories to tell, but when her husband, Hamid, died in late 1944, she was a two months pregnant widow with two sons aged around 6 and 4..and a bad bout of morning sickness..but I was born, nonetheless..and through the pain and blood, she must have cried out for her late husband, as I must have cried out, too, gasping for air, in protestation of being released from the comfort of her womb...

..I know she struggled to bring the three of us up..the best she could..even thought the Japanese surrendered, nationalism was born, communism through the MCP became a threat..and a state of Ermegency was declared in 1948..it unsettled her..a young mother trying to fill out her life with subsequent marriages that somehow failed to fleshed out the vacuum  left by my father's death..

..but in 1951 her younger brother, Zakaria, was a somebody..an Assistant District Officer in Kuala Krai..and so to him she sought help..'Take this Mamat, my son..and give him a chance for education"..he took me and promptly send me to school..Government English School (Primary), Kuala Krai..and pakmat suddenly became an 'anak D.O.', whatever it means..

..it was the height of the emergency in Kuala Krai..the nights inevitably broken by the staccato sounds of gunfire and the days I was taught 'a man a pan...a man and a pan..' my first introduction to the Queens language..and rides to Kota Bharu was almost always on an amoured GMC police truck..

.. on 27th Julai, 1955, Malaya held its first General Election..I was in Standard 5..it was festival time in Kuala Krai but I did not know anything about it..I remembered the song, though..and the late Dato' Zainal Alam..



..when Tunku shouted Merdeka! Merdeka! Merdeka! on the 31st August, 1957 I was in Form 2 and in Perak..Sultan Yusof School, Batu Gajah..reading Henry Miller alongside The Tale of Two Cities..and a thick sex manual that my late uncle hid in his cupboard..

..and when Malaysia was declared on the 16th of September, 1963, I was a temporary Federal clerk  with the Public Services Commission, Young Road, KL..having been appointed earlier on the 18th of May, 1963..managing to impress the interview board with my command of English..

..yes, I grew up and matured together with my country, Malaysia..been through its highs and lows..sang wholeheartedly God Save the Queen and stood just as proudly through the strains and drumbeat of Negara Ku..

..now in peaceful Bachok I made my retreat..leading my life as quietly as I could..the sun may have faded from my life..and I am enjoying the stars..but I know, for my country, the sun is shining just as brightly, through the storm clouds and the tempests...I leave thee in the hands of my children and my grandchildren..
..and to my parents, my mother who toiled during those desperate years, my father whom I never get to see...Al-Fatihah..

..the 8th pic..

..

..was a picture of the Imam of Bachok District's Mosque calling our the azan, the call to prayer for solat Asar..there was a momentary breakdown in the electrical supply and the mosque appointed bilal was indisposed..I remembered being surprised when the Imam himself did it, wishing that he had asked me instead..but since he did not, I took out my handphone and took a shot of him doing it.

..the District Mosque is about a hundred meters from the beach, Pantai Irama..the above pic is the view from the mosque, taken through one of its windows..it is routine for pakmat to do the noon  and afternoon solat here..and later to slowly sip a cool glass of air kelapa muda  by the beach whilst reading the days NST..before fetching the kids from school, (65 and still fetching and sending kids to school..sheesh..so  have your children early and truly retire from the humdrum of raising kids when old..and leave the raising of kids to your children..) .

..but sometimes I came for night prayers, too..and catch up on the night market just across the mosque, as in pic above..and basked in the glow of the full moon..remembering the times in Trengganu, afloat on a small boat, fishing with some friends off the coast of Merang..not getting much fish, but astounded by the beauty of the moon..and the lights of a distant shore...

(I have been tagged by both lili of SuddenlyHeta and Cat-in-Sydney..(must be getting popular in my old age)..but the tagging stops here..there is this peculiar habit of mine of not forwarding whatever chain-mail or whatever that I am asked to copy and forward..no matter how much wealth it will bring me..or how healthy it will make me..and being 65 in a few days time, I have become set in my ways..:) 

..a little interlude..

..as I have been tagged by lili of Suddenly Heta to dig out my eighth picture from my eighth album, just for the fun of it, I am now digging for that eighth pic..to the chill out music from Africa..for only from Africa can such music emanates..songs that highlighted the kora..a harp like instrument found only in Africa..its like listening to an anguished soul, wandering in wide open prairies of Africa..

..sunrise and newborns...

..sunrise, from in front of pakmat's home..

..back from my morning prayers,

I will normally be here for a brisk morning walk,

accompanied by my retinue of cats - Pakpong, Ayam, Pakteh and Tupai..

..having a home near the beach have its advantages..and having it just a short distance away, just enough to not get the pounding of the monsoon, added to the advantages..but where ever your house is in Bachok, it is not too far from the sea..and the sea is the South China Sea..spreading out into the horizon with a silhouette of Perhentian Islands a little bit to the north..

..early morning fishing..

..as the sea is in the east, you get to see sunrises..glorious sunrises..sunrises that will hold you enthrall and take your breath away..sometimes it is so petrifyingly beautiful, you just cannot help but gasp..and thank Him..for creating such beauty..it is not in vain, Lord..as you utter a prayer..

..scenes of Pantai Irama..

..how similar are new borns  to sunrises..they came in a cradle..and like the sunrises, bring with it hope -  through its colours, beauty and light.. lighting up every corner of the heart..every dark recesses..putting on smiles to ashened faces, wrinkled by constant toil..softening hearts hardened by squalor..evoking strange yet soothing emotions..and yet, unifying and healing through its soft rays..bridging families..

..3 of pakmat's 7 grandchildren..little sunrises, all...bringing light

and happiness into their world..along with hope for their parents..

..yes..having a home not too far from the sea have its advantages...

..jodoh and polygyny..

.marry not a woman for her beauty..or for her wealth..but  for her piety..or a man for his position and wealth, but for his virtue and religion...

..sometimes we agree that jodoh is something within His knowledge..we are taught since young, that God, in his Greatness have preordained three things when life is breathed into an embryo of 12 weeks..his bounty..his death and his jodoh...which could be once or several...and we are taught Qhada...that can be changed through sincere and ernest du'a..and those that cannot be changed..and all these are within His Knowledge..


..and when we parted, we say that it is the end of our jodoh..until he or she marries again..then we say that they still have jodoh..


.....even though Islam provides for polygamy, not either spouse can have more  that one spouse at one time, Islam actually provides only for polygyny, only the husband having more than one wife simultaneously..for Islam does not allow polyandry, where the wife can have more than one husband at the same time..polyandry is haram in Islam..saying, 'what if I have more than one husband?' runs contrary to what is allowed in Islam.


..taking into account the above, to me, there is no such thing as true jodoh or false jodoh..although there is a tendency  to think that the first marriage is your true jodoh..but if the husband takes on the second wife, then that second marriage as a false jodoh..or seeken jodoh..you seek, therefore you find..but whether 2, 3, 4 or 1, Islam provides for seeking out your jodoh..within certain guidelines..and it  does not necessarily end  with death..as divorce will also end a particular jodoh..until, perhaps, another takes over..


..inasmuch as there  are those who lived  and died without meeting their jodoh, there are those, like pakmat, who had several within their lifetime..again within His Knowledge and Consent...as all things are..


..but as to why me and not you, or why mine and not yours..that, I think, is not for us, as His Creations, to ask or wonder..for all things have His Hikmah..His Blessings..if we but care to ponder and reflect..

.

..happiest at 74..

..according to scientists, (NST feature, today's edition under Health) it did not say whether rocket or otherwise, we are at our happiest at 74..our contentment level will be at its peak and we become better at keeping negative emotions in check..according to Dr. Carlo Strenger, of Tel Aviv University, "If you make fruitful discoveries about yourself in the first half of your life, the second half would be most fulfilling. Most people can anticipate a second life, if not a second career."

..hmm..the trick is to discover things fruitful about yourself before 40..but before 40 you are busy..acquiring that property...fighting for that promotion..bringing up the children and seeing them through tertiary education..and spending all your meagre savings there..and for some, like pakmat, getting married again, and going through the rollercoaster ride only polygamy can give..there is hardly time to discover anything fruitful..hardly time for the mind to fruit..until now..but at 65, there is nothing else new to discover, let alone, fruit

..agree with the contentment level peaking, though..less responsibilities and financial burdens bring contentment..along with not much in the want/wishing list...'cept, perhaps, for a set of teeth..at 65 you learn to control your wants...but a second career helps..not so much for the money, more for keeping the mind lithe and supple..if anything, I discovered that the mind does not aged..only your body does..which sometimes resulted in the mind willing but the body quitting..and so, pakmat learns to keep his mind in check..

..and the second trick is to be around until you reached the age of 74...a bit difficult that..looking at the unknowables and unforeseeables...but then, no harm in hoping..cheers..



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