..a single drop of rain..

.. I fly a starship across the Universe divide

And when I reach the other side

I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can

Perhaps I may become a highwayman again

Or I may simply be a single drop of rain

But I will remain..

..and I will be back again..

..I am dreaming of a journey that I would make...to the beginning...to the land of an eternal spring..brought forth by the dance of dainty heels...where echoed the first word, Read...

...I am dreaming of being that little drop of rain...and be part of a flood...of a concentrical congregation..

..Lord, grant me...that I may say..

...O my Lord, here I am at Your service, here I am...

..my 66th birthday, Tun Rahah and growing old gracefully..

..pic from thestar online..Tun with Najib, left..

I woke up on the morning of my 66th birthday to a light drizzle..it was 5.30 am on a Monday morning 14th of March..as I opened my bedroom window to let out Ayam, a strong breeze showered my face with raindrops..Ayam froze but I pushed her gently out..a lil bit of rain would not kill you, go pee and poo...but I sat there for a moment at the window sill..recalling a conversation I had a few days earlier with my cousin's wife, Arfah, who is in her mid fifties and a Datin...

..platinum and gold..

..'Mat, I will be in KB from the 13th..by road with two cars...Tun Hajah Rahah will be in KB from the 14th to 16th..by air ETA 11.30 am..a shopping trip for some batek and maybe jewelleries..with her will be a Toh Puan, a Tok Puan and a Puan Sri...please help me with a tentative iterinary with both Pengkalan Kubur and Rantau Panjang thrown in..'

..cultery in Pengkalan Kubur..

 ..I remember letting it all sank it..Tun Hajah Rahah..whom I used to admire as Toh Puan Rahah...the lady of grace and quiet beauty...whom I would be meeting in a few hours time...she must be now more than 70...78 as it turned out...graceful, healthy and strong...and a presence that was very much felt by her regal demeanor...

...and for the next few days, as I watched her banter with her entourage, the sparkle in her eyes, catching glimpses of her humour, I realised that this is what growing old gracefully is all about...her choice of colours is vibrant and youthful..as her choice of designs modern and ageless...


..and pakmat was enthralled..by this woman who was the wife of our late Prime Minister and mother of the present Prime Minister...

..children, kittens and the blame game..

..it is in the nature of children today to put the blame on the parents for their misdeeds..killed a few kittens, stomped and whacked them, heck, came back a few minutes later for another satisfying stomp on the neck..excuse me, and please forgive me, my parents divorced, here's another whack....poww...

..the age of responsibility and other stuff..

..yes, I have not been blogging much..neither have I been  fbking much...I have been keeping to myself..wallowing in my thoughts.....and I kept those thoughts much to myself whilst jogging at a leisurely pace mornings and evenings.....the rolling sea in the morning have a calming effect on a restless mind....and swaying coconut trees in the evenings kept those thoughts in check..

..I have been called many things in my lifetime..most are not complimentary..but  I took them in my stride...but being called an irresponsible father by a 30year old addict son hurts a little...had he called me that earlier, say when he was 16 or 17, when he was with me,  after his mother begged me to take him as he could not be controlled, I would have reacted to  it..or when he was 13 or 14 , and well ensconsed within his mother's and grandmother's tender loving care, I would have done something about it..as it is he told me when he was 30 and a confirmed addict and upon his failure to solicit money from me...he called me irresponsible years after his mother took him back before he could even sit for his SPM...and had his every whim and fancy catered to, even to the extend of buying him a car, even thought he has no visible means of income, apart from sponging his mother dry.....under the circumstances, there is not much a father can do...except watched from afar...

..but being responsible is a two-sided, sword..it cut both ways..as a kid of about 20, fifty years ago, alone in KL, I was responsible to no one.....marijuana was only 30 cents a stick...and beer a dollar a glass..but with my meagre RM180.00 per mensem salary I stayed clear from both...I hated guys who spewed their innards on the dance floor as I hated youths who were more stoned than the Rolling Stones...I rather made it with the girls...and not having a mother with an interminable pension upon which I could draw upon, or a father, I learned to live within my means...and try to be responsible....to myself...



..

..one way driver..

..for that is what we all are..one way drivers..heading along pre-set routes and alleys..heading towards one ultimate end..for some, sooner, for others, later..



...but the flame that burns quietly from within keeps on its unwavering light, without fading....at the end of a long, dark tunnel..I can see the flame..along with the hope that it brings...I might just make that journey yet..Lord, unto you I surrender...

..sides to a hexagon..

,,Ziona Chana has 39 wives..94 children..33 grandchildren...and I am sure, he is still  counting....which confirms a lifelong suspicion of mine...that women, on the main, do not mind sharing husbands...but, please, before my lady friends come after me with  lynching ropes and unsheathed claws, please bear with an old man..



..it is interesting that both the clips are from Kelantan..but Kelantan leads with the highest number of polygamous marriages..and the highest number of divorces....



.Muslim males, by and large, ignore what has been decreed..'..marry two, three, or four..but if you cannot give justice, marry one...'...as pakmat himself then in his ignorance married two, not once but twice, without taking into account his ability, his strenght, his weaknesses, that he may do it with justice...for marriage is easy...having children easier still...but to do it with justice and to mete out justice with responsibility...ahh...that is another story altogether...for justice is a subjective thing..a husband's understanding of it  is totally different from the first  wife's..and apart from the second wife's...and when tempers flared, as it often does, nobody bothered about how justice is spelt out in the Book....



..whether one or several wives, it would still need efforts from everyone involved in order for it to work..looking back, would it be fair for the first wife to cooperate?..why should she?..when the husband could not even fast to curb his lusts and desires?....



..but there is always the other end of the scale....woman with two husbands...

..jogging and the missus...

..carcass of a boat, pantai irama..

..for the past one week we have been jogging together, my wife and I...everyday at about six in the evening along Pantai Irama..skirting the water edge and getting our shoes wet as it is high tide in the evenings...setting out at a little estuary behind Pak Ya Gulai Kawah and headed south towards Dato Awang Adek family home...

...in the past I jogged alone..my constant cajoling  and comments on her rotundness did not get her to hit the sand...a doctor did...she was told during a routine check that her cholesterol count is a bit on the high side..so is her blood pressure....and I scared her in a worst case scenario and she buckled....

...pitting my 66 years against her 53, I realised that I am in a better form than she is...far cry from Justiffa and Jun  Malik, of course, but she is improving...unaware, our relationship also improves..something about the sea and the sand...and the pounding waves that peters into soft foam chasing little feet...and that particular hour of the day...a setting sun and a couple in the sunset years of their life...it brought about a certain intimacy of a different kind....the sky merges with the sea and it feels good to be alive..it is good to be alive....Praise be unto Him for little mercies such as these...

..give me my flowers while I'm living...

..seeing it is such a beautiful Saturday morning with the sun shining through intermittent clouds and temperature at a cool 26'C, I thought it is a good time as any to drop a hint to my children, ex-wives, wife and friends..

..an old country song, by the aptly named 'Aching Back String Band'...

..enjoy your life while you still can..count your blessings..for not much can be done once you are dead..



..for it is in this world that we need our flowers...
..a kind word to help us get along..

..100 years..

..thank you, debest, for pointing out this song to this old coot...I must have heard it hummed by my daughter..but a dad is not one who would listen to their children humming...

...enjoy it whilst reading my blog below....cheers

..the best age to be..

..kite flying along Pantai Irama..after a long let off due to the monsoon,
Pakmat  went jogging along his favourite trail..along the water edge..

...I have been thinking a lot lately....these days that is about the only thing I can do..seeing that most pursuits are cerebral and no longer physical..but what brought it about is my impending 66th birthday...on March the 14th.....officially, that is..it should be 'on or thereabout' as my late mother could not recall herself, except that it was in the early part of 1945..what with Kelantan in a state of uncertainty..with the Japanese leaving after Nagasaki and Hiroshima, and the British trying to get their act together again...and she was in no position to have her third birth registered...with husband having died a few months earlier..

..I used to wish my friends happy 21st ++ birthday, thinking that 21 is the best age to be..and if due to a freak electrical storm that shifted and warped the axis of the universe and you are stuck at particular age, being 21 is a good age to be stuck with....I remember being 21..and as clueless as a door post...no, being 21 is not the best age to be...

..30 to 40 is generally a period of struggle for everyone...marriage..payment for the house, car..with children adding to the chaos...juxtaposing with careers of both the husband and wife...it is a breathless decade..

..but by the time you are 40, you reached a little plateau where you paused a little and take back that lost wind..there is shelter over your head, wheels to ferry you around, and a little extra in your wallet...the children having grown somewhat and your roles as parents, along with your careers, clearly defined...you eased a little on the throttle and relaxed...little or no wrinkles, no flabs...there is still that youthful look..and some youthful flamboyance... it is the age to be..until you are 50..

..by 50, you are in auto cruise..not fearing too much of the future and not looking back too much, either..but you do take peeks at the mirror and marveled at how good looking your are at 50...unlike those goods on the shelves, at 50 you do not have an expiry date....

..but by the time you reached 60 or way past like me, you realised it does not really matter at what age you are....for whatever the count is, it is the age to be....as long as you keep the child in you...enough to enjoy and relish those quiet moments with your love ones...be thrilled by the kites flying in the evening breeze..and just as thrilled by wet, blubbering kisses from grandchildren or that rare hot kiss from the wife...

..

...stock-taking, 2011..

with 6 cucus..taken a few days ago at my ex home..
...2nd daughter, Lina's birthday..

..now that we are all well into the new year, after the probationary month of January, its time for this coot take stock of what he's got..a profit and loss of sorts..the debits and the credits....

..now, let's see...the movables and the immovables..statics and liquid..

..3 marriages and 2 divorces..14 children, 8 girls.. a son died at infancy..6 of them gainfully employed, 2 in colleges 1 awaiting spm, and 2 still at school..and an only son from the first marriage, 30 years old, an addict, forever giving problems to his mother and grandmother, not to mention his sisters..5 son-in-laws with the resultant 8 grandchildren..all under 7..

...not too bad, if I may say so, 1 bad nut out of 13..but still a dot, nonetheless..

sibling-wise..an eldest brother fast approaching senility...alone and lonely, living in a derelict room with his 10yr old grey tomcat named Yellow..we were 3 brothers born to Aminah and Hamid, with me being the youngest..2nd elder brother, in a better economic position, approaching 70,  sickly and pale but young wife expecting her 1st child..flukes do happened.....and a half sister in KL, not too happy with 3 adopted children and children in-laws..yet not able to bear her own children...

..eldest brother, Jo with his constant companion,
 an aged, grey cat, named Yellow..

.there is a saying in Malay that goes..where ever the feet is planted,  the sky is shouldered.

...the sky is Bachok, where I had my feet planted...on a piece of land given by my wife late father..upon which I build a home..and a house..with some cats, 5 children...2 stray chickens and a monkey..the mosques are too near for me not to heed the bilals' call to prayer..and the neighbours are too nice and generous for me to be otherwise...if there is any truth into the thinking that environment maketh the man, than I am Pakmat..shaped and moulded by my environment.....approaching 66 and, hopefully,  well on the road to redemption...

2 cucus in London...

..as in everyone else's life, there are highs...and there are lows..I have taken the good along with the bad...and try to keep an equable stance, no matter the situation...even thought the horizon is getting nearer, there is no trepidation..for whatever our plans are...God disposes..

..to Tommy, Yuin Ting, Chuan, Pin, Ee Lynn, Way Fong, Way Lee, Uncle Lee, Pat and all of my friends, no matter the creed or race...Happy Chinese New Year...
..






..

..bi-anne and other daughters..

..I followed with interest the fight for Bi-Anne..and try to see in her all of my children who were affected when their mothers and I parted...we had our differences, their mothers and me..mainly it was my gallivanting ways, but I try not to aggravate the already bad situation by imposing my will on the children..a few days after the parting of ways with the first, the children, six girls and a boy stood in a line with the elder among them telling me that they chose to stay with their mother...I was stunned for a minute by their show of solidarity..but I agreed...I leave you this house and everything in it...I remember saying...and plucked myself out of the scene..

..my reasoning was simple..I tried not to change what they were familiar with..the two eldest girls were in UITM, Jengka Pusat and Kuantan and the third in TFC, Johore..and I visited them on average once a month..they have their mother..no reason why they should lose too much of their father..after all I was with a younger wife...

..in the case of Bi-Anne, its obvious that unlike what her name implies, she cannot be divided into two...I hope that reason will prevail and she be allowed to stay with the parent she is most comfortable with..she is, after all, eleven..and eleven-year olds these days are as much an adult as some 66-year olds that I know...

..love fires..

..fire in my garden..trash and leaves..pic taken thro my bedroom window..

..remember as a kid how we loved playing with fires?.....and got ticked off for it?..I remember when I was about 8 or 9, running riot around the padi fields in Kubang Kerian with rolled newspapers lit one end...I think every kid  have this fascination with fires..it is an essential part of growing up...like running naked in the rain..

.. as adults we play with different kind of fires..mainly fires of the heart..and being burnt just the same..with similar pain, maybe worse...and most times, we have no one to blame but ourselves....for we are arsonist ourselves, arsonist of the heart...

..I supposed in every one's life there comes a time when someone sets one's heart on fire...indubitably and furiously...releasing enough heat to cloud one's judgement and rationale..but love is like that...it may last..it may not..no matter how tenacious the fire...

..looking at the fire burning outside through my bedroom window made me realised that I have had my fires and burns...the  first have embered and its dying glow but a distant memory...but there is another kind of fire now burning.,.steadily and surreptitiously..I can feel the heat..and how helpless I am....O Lord, how I yearned for Your Mercy and Bounty..

..accidents and love..

..most times when accidents happened, the victims were caught unaware..like that 41year-old motorcyclist waiting for the lights to change in uptown Kota Bharu a few days ago...most likely he was on an errant..without doubt he was a law-abiding rider...unlike most mamat found whizzing around in town and jumping lights with ease..for that he paid with his life...a 4-wheel drive ramped him from behind and flung him a few meters across the road and snuffed the life out of him and cut short his life expentancy....and the lights was not yet green...

..accidents along life long road, sometimes, were just as unpredictable...we may be in auto-cruise mode one minute, with everything in its proper places and peachy..until an accident happened..it could be anything..like that youth going about diligently plucking palm fruits..no doubt whilst thinking about his wages, his family, or his love interest that he intends to wed...he was unwittingly electrocuted..he did not die...but he lost an arm..and maybe a leg...somehow, trying to tell him how fortunate he was for being alive sounds coarse and unsincere..

..its true...the only thing constant is death, and taxes..cliche, but profound...

as I woke up this Wednesday morning...it was the same old bed...across was the same old wife..I glanced at the same old clock on the wall..it was quarter to six...Ayam, the same old cat, meowed at my feet...and I glanced at son and daughter in their adjacent  rooms...same old children... but I gave my thanks..for the sameness...for I knew that it could be anything but...

..I gave my thanks to my Lord..for this extra time that He has bestowed upon me...and later, as I left for work, I gave my wife that extra lingering kiss..she was surprised, and impatient..but I persisted, for it could be my last..as earlier I had surprised my children by holding them a wee bit longer than usual..they complained, thinking, maybe I had gone nuts..only Ayam did not complain..but then, she is a cat..and what does a cat know about life's unpredictability?.....

..retirement, wives and stuffs..

..on the day of my retirement, eleven years ago, a subordinate who was also a close friend, gave me a card wishing me happy retirement..it was the only card that I received..oh, there were farewell gatherings, speeches and gifts..even a trip to Haadyai just for the heck of it..where we ramvonged and karaoked the nights away..but the card was special..I had it framed and hung it on a wall in my  bedroom....where it remained until this morning when I took it off to have it scanned..

..one would think that after more than a decade, one would get over it..but no, like those passionate moments with your ex-wives or girlfriends, it lingers and remains just as fresh as the day you last punched your card....a few days into retirement, I was still in back-to-office mode..pants and socks on, shirt tucked in and fingering a tie..not knowing where to go..wife, on the way to the kitchen, gave me a peck on the forehead and said, 'Go for breakfast outside..' I did...but the language was foreign..it was cows and goats..tabacco seasons and water released...different from office canteen stuff...later, I just sat in front of the telly and absentmindedly switched channels...the birds twittering outside were having a better time than me...

..a few years on, I realised that people retired everyday..it is just another stop before the last...for death awaits all...I just need to keep myself busy...so I landscaped the garden, renovated the house and traveled to my second wife in KL...that kept me busy for a while..but the mind, the brain, needed stimulus...it was too late to go hunting..sweet young things will not anymore gave me the time of day..no..I needed to channel it to something more productive than sex...

..later I was to learn that 90% of retirees spent their gratuities within their first year of retirement..and just as much percentage of their business endeavours failed...

..I spent my gratuity alright..but I also got myself a job...with a leading building contractor who secured a design and build school complex in Maran, Pahang...I prepared reports, chaired meeting on his behalf..and liased with the sub-contractors and consultants..and made trips to KL..it was only 2 hours away..and she waited my arrival with a warm embrace and petulant lips...

..but like upon everything else on this earth, gentle time had a telling effect on 55-year olds approaching 60...a bout of hypertension and tinnitus forced a change of gears...on downshifting, I discovered the net...I became a little bit net savvy...I made cyber friends..I blog...and most important of all.....I came to terms with myself...and old coot...


 ..to Asod, who gave me the card, and who will be retiring this 23rd of February..cheers and good luck...life does not begin at 40...no...it starts at 60...
 

..monsoon meanderings...

...a morning in between the rain..when the sky cleared momentarily and revealed its blue..

..a view from pakmat's house..

 ..for these boys, Mozaid and friends from KIST, Kolej Islam, Sains dan Teknologi, Bachok,

time to take out the net for some casting..

..but for Mekbu's litter of four..time for a snooze whilst waiting out the rain..

..year 3000,anyone?..

..when year 2000 came around, I was a bit perturbed..I am a nineteen-hundred man,having lived more than two scores of my life in them..in the fifties, the year 2000 was so very much in the future..it was unimaginable..and here I am, a few months short of being 66 years old, stepping out into another decade..

... I paused a little at the door as I let out a clueless Ayam..it was 6.00 o'clock in the morning of the first day of 2011..there was a slight drizzle and I could hear the relentless roar of the monsoon waves beating the shore...a squirrel frisked across an electrical supply cable, having feasted upon my apple mango tree laden with fruits..I bade it happy new year..

..later, as I crossed over to my neighbour's kitchen to check on their newly acquired kitten, I came across a copy of the Reader's Digest...November, 2010's edition..it has been aeon since I last read a copy...it used to be the favourite magazine of my school days..my 'Word Power' and 'Laughter is the Best Medicine' magazine..you walked into the future only to be transported back half a century by a little magazine...

..as I flipped through the pages, enjoying once more those small anecdotes scattered everywhere, my android rang..it was a friend's daughter..her female cat kept her awake last night,wailing for a mate..will pakmat please bring his tom, Mokmok over?..later at her house, I glanced at a Malay daily..a 120year-old man wanting to marry an 80year-old woman..hey..cats do it..the birds do it..centurions do it..and pakmat is only a few months short of 66..there is some life in this old coot yet..

..Mokmok..trying to look as fierce as pakmat..

..but I will not make it into the year 3000, of course..none of our present will.....but I have faith in our future generations..we may be self-destructive...but self-annihilation will not be our destiny.. God willing..

..happy new year, everyone...

..I beg your pardon..

..I used to tell my children that you cannot live on love and fresh air alone..you will need rice..and powdered milk..you cannot simply say to the grocer to supply you with rice and milk on the strength of your love..no, he would want something more tangible..like hard cash..children this days are always in a hurry..but in a time of instantaneous delivery, how not to blame them?..we sat a pace that scorches the asphalt..and we told them to slow down, to hold on..

..as in marriages..you got to work to get that rose garden going..what more if you marry with you heart..against parental advice..unlike the song by the Beatles, some things just could not be work out. for 'love grows old and waxes cold'...and when it faded away, you are left with your spoils of war..namely two precocious and innocent kids.. and when you came with them trailing, what is a father and grandfather to say or do..?..except to take them into his arms and try not to see the tears welling in your eyes?...

..I wished I could say, I told you so..but I could not..marriage is one big, unending learning curve, girl....but if it is against a wall that you have backed yourself into...then, maybe, it is time you fight back...

..a playground no more..

..kl has changed since the last decade..of course, it is not anymore the playground of my unbridled youth...the spirit and passion of the sixties are gone..along with Sudirman and Chow Kit Road...but I made a vain stop at Chow Kit, trying to rekindle past flames..and discovered that the language of Chow Kit is gone..every one that I talked to is an Indonesian...

..I took a walk along a little lane of my memory and found myself in front of Globe Silk Store..it is a far cry from its glorious era of the sixties..then, any self-respecting Kelantanese's trip to KL was not complete without shopping at the store..but one feature remains..a couple with impaired sight bashing it out on keyboards..this  time it is Roslan and friend, Mona...semut merah is in their repertoire..

..but I did not sing along with them..I have lost the abandonment of my youth..things are calculated and measured now..kl, the city, is no longer for me..as I made my way around keramat and kampung baru, I did see the young man in me..foraging the streets..but it is for my children the city awaits...

..the weather, hypermarkets and stuffs..

..the only thing predictable about the weather these days, is that it will rain..as this morning.. at about ten the clouds cleared and the sun burst through with all its glory and splendour..Kee-Ra, the monkey, peered through his hut and ran rings within his chain...as Mekbu's litter of four scampered and frolicked in the poor excuse of a garden, the wife contemplated a trip to Pasir Mas and Kota Bharu after Jumaat's solat..I agreed..I need to perk up my spirits a bit...and the children were restless..with the exams over, Auji is on the rebound with excess energy..

..but as we headed out of Bachok just after two in the afternoon, the western sky darkened...by the time we made Kubang Kerian the sky opened up..the rain came in heavy pellets that pounded on the roof of cars...but the perky DJ on Radio Era kept our spirits up...

..we intend to hop hypermarkets, and we did..after a short trip to Bunut Susu, Pasir Mas, where the missus checked up on her catfish investment...I worry for her, it was against my advice..but so far she is getting her returns...

..first stop, Tesco, for Asr's solat..and to replenish my supply of Soups in a Mug..Tesco is number one in my list of preference..it has ample parking.. covered and free....with the suraus, one at each level, spacious and clean..

..but the surau in KB Mall is a letdown..it has limited space and difficult  to access, being on the roof..the basement parking is ok, with the roof parking a wee bit risky..Auji wanted to get some skins and paraphelia for her netbook and I wanted to pick up an android phone ordered earlier..missus got herself a pair of slippers..

..solat Magrib was at Mydin Hypermarket, Kubang Kerian..where you have to pay for parking wtihin its vincity and a beautiful surau next to it has the pipes built low, a few inches above ground, more suitable for mini-midgets than an old coot like me..we had mee sizzling at the foodcourt..a son-in-law was the cook..and it was delicious..

.. it was just a slight drizzle when we were finally done and headed back for Bachok..by the time we reached home at almost 11.00 pm the rain stopped....as the kids hurried in, I sauntered outside and took in the cool air..I looked up through the darkness and saw a constellation of stars..and saw an old friend peering down upon me.. the Big Dipper,  flickered through wisps of light, slivery clouds..

...hi, friend..how many before me looked up to you for guidance?..and how many after me will looked up to you in wonderment?...yours is eternity..while mine is drawing its end..

..a procrastinator, that's me..

..he who procrastinate is a thief of time..an Arab saying that I got from Dato' AKJ's blog..whose blog I surfed early in the morning on the !st of  Muharam, 1432..

...in a way, I have always been a thief..for I just loved to postpone things, even during my governmental days..I thought I  worked well under pressure..but it was an illusion, of course..an excuse to put off things until the very last minute..procrastinators, I soon learned, will do anything just so they can avoid doing what they are supposed to do..like in these video..



..so it was that when things turned a lil bit sour with my third wife, I turned on the delaying tactics.. not really addressing the issues at hand..hoping that it would blow over in time..but nothing blows over if you do not face it squarely....I did everything but faced it..she got mad and asked me to divorce her through the phone..which prompted me to do something right for once..I prayed two rakaat of special solat...it calmed me..and later I told her in a measured voice that as we did not marry through the phone, there is no reason why we should  end it through one..video-call or otherwise..it must have calmed her a bit as she brought down her tone...

..the next day I submitted the relevant divorce papers ...a month later we walked up the stairs of the Kadi's Office together, where a solemn face Syariah Officer bore witness as I pronounced I, pakmat, hereby divorce thee with one talak..

..salam Muharam, everyone..

..

..my first car..

.

..my first car was a 1968 Toyota Corolla..bought in late 1973..I just got married a few months earlier and she was into her 20th week of pregnancy with our first child....means of transport then was a Yamaha 110 cc which I used to send her to school 6 kilometers away from home, a rented house in Lorong Tok Gading, Kota Bharu...

..riding a bike whilst pregnant is bad for health, a friend said, and he loaned me RM1,500 for the down payment to purchase a car..I went along with him, the late Dato Nan Rahimi bin Sulaiman, to choose the model...some friends will go out of their way just to make your life comfortable..

..the first day I  brought home the car, I did not see my mother-in-law walking by..I just got my license then, and was driving by the rules..but I mastered it soon enough and was able to ferry my wife around without much problem..

..it was a simple car, actually..easy to maintain and reliable..there was so much space under the hood that I could wrapped my arms around the engine block...so was my life then..simple and easy to maintain..until, of course, years later, seven children later, when I turned up the dust and dirt....but, then, by then, even cars got complicated...

..you got your troubles..

..I got mine..

..end of year blues..

...I have slowed down on blogging lately....I could feel the lethargy seeping in, much against myself....there is something niggling at the back of mind which I just could not put my finger to...calls from my ex does not help much..or calls to my children..maybe it is this time of the year..and a receding year has a way of putting you into doldrums..for you tend  to measure yourself against the year before..and the years before...and realised that as the years piled up, there isn't much that you have achieved..intellectually speaking, that is....about the most positive thing that I have done was when I quit smoking 6 years ago..other than that I could see that my horizon has not widened much..

..maybe it is the weather..they say negative ions after rain should give you a lift..maybe I need to lift my face..but, no..I have come to terms with aging....

..I think it was watching Paul Anka singing with his daughter, Anthea, that did it..I used to Youtubed him for the nostalgia...remembering the pangs of unrequited puppy loves with the likes of 'Put Your Head on My Shoulder' and 'Lonely Boy'..but watching him sing 'Yo Te Amo' Do I Love You stirred strange and unfathomable emotions in this old coot....

.,.with a brand new year looming, I am missing my past..




..happy year end holidays everyone..perchance we are there together as the new year comes in, as surely it will...here's an early Happy New Year wish from me..life goes on unabated..as surely it must..take this time to  kiss that flower..plant a tree..hug your love ones..forgive a wrong..do something crazy..and tell that  someone..'I love you...'

..collateral damage..

..war, as in divorce, has its casualties..most times the casualties are the innocents..the Americans, seeking refuge under euphemism, called it collateral damage..a nice, impersonal term for lives lost..lives that are not factored when those precision missiles somehow killed innocents..

..but there are no precision in a divorce..and like wars, divorces sometime happened..whether acrimonious or otherwise, collateral damage in a divorce are always the children..and a society quick to condemn which does not help any one bit..every little thing that the children does after the big D is magnified, with an accusing finger pointed at the father..if their grades fall, its the father..if they took to smoking, its the father..even if they had a mishap with their bicycle on the way back from school, its knowing looks and mutterings ..their father just divorced their mother..

..homes that broke down results in broken down children..it is what we come to expect from such children..society  expects them to..it is as if all social ills are because fathers such as me, divorced their wives..we are quick at generalizing..all those mat rempits came from broken down homes.,.sheesh..

..but I know that fathers can still play a role after a divorce..it is a matter of minimising the damage..it is a matter of giving him a chance  to control..and damage control is through being near..being around..and an acceptance of the situation, especially by their mother..for children reacts to their mother's reactions..restricting access to their father is not the way..neither is the blame-game..yes, I am guilty as charge..but where does  it leaves things?..

....a time to sacrifice..a time to remember the departed..

..during festivals we remember the dead..as usual, after the solat aidil-adha, the jumaah, the congregation will make a bee-line for the graveyard adjacent to the mosque..as my children gathered with their mother around their grandfather's plot, I sat back a little, taking in the scene...

.."we bid thee  peace..oh, ye of the grave..God willing we will follow thee...soon"...

..I sat there on the wakaf as I try to remember those near and afar who have departed before me..

..images of the dead  flashes through my mind..except for my father, Hamid bin Daud, who died a few months after I was conceived in early 1945...he died during an unsettling time, when the country was occupied by the Japanese..and there were no pictures of him...

..but images of others who were once dear to me were clear and true..my grandfather, Sulong bin Lassim, who died more than 40 years ago..he was about the only grandfather that I ever knew..I remember his fondness for ikan haruan and other such fishes found in abundance in padi fields around the house in Kubang Kerian..

..my mother Che Minah bt Sulong, who died 14 years ago in 1996..my son, Amnan Fahim, 20 years ago, 40 days after he was born..my uncle, Zakaria bin Sulong, more than 30 years  ago, of a heart attack at the airport, after stopping by my house in Jalan Pengkalan Chepa..he was the uncle who took me in, treated me like his own son, and threw a shoe at me for too much playing around instead of concentrating on my studies..another uncle Zainal Abidin bin Sulong, a few months ago..

..and friends..friends who once shared their last kopek with me..who helped me in time of need..and gave ungrudgingly..friends who shared the dingy, concrete floor of a room in Kuala Lumpur..who died before me..

..images of them came back to me as I sat there on the wakaf on the morning of Aidil Adha...may the Lord shower His Blessings upon them...may the Lord forgive all of their sins...may they be taken in and placed among those who were with iman..in Your Syurga Firdaus..Your Garden of Edin..

..amin.....

..men hunt..

..I gave in to that primordial urge found in every men yesterday..the urge to hunt..it was more instinct that anything else, this need to stalk with a gun in hand..and trying to outwit your prey..I supposed, in a way, I have always been a hunter..using skills learned as a kid with a catapult..but a gun in hand gave you power..and a sense of control..nothing settles a man more than when he is hunting..maybe I am linking back to the Pleistocene era..when men are hunters..and hunt in order to mate..

..but yesterday it was a good excuse to get out of the house..to take in the fresh air..work out a sweat and bond with the villagers..it was harvesting time..padi planted from scattering of seeds and harvested with a machine that munched through ripe padi-stalks and shoo-ed the birds away..

..but there was nothing to shoot yesterday..and I went home without firing a single shot..

..but life is like that...you stalked around, gun at ready...and there's nothing to shoot..the next day you are without your gun, they came and wiggle their tails...

..the monsoon and the cup in Bachok..

..almost on cue, the rain stopped this Friday morning..the clouds cleared, making way for the sun.....as housewives took out their washings to dry, pakmat gave his thanks to the Lord..yes, its gonna be a beautiful day..a glorious day for the Cup to make its first ever appearance in Bachok..and what better place if not at Dataran Perahu, Pantai Irama, Bachok?..

..the Cup arrived and history was made..

  

..pakmat with the big man himself..he was amused..whilst attention
was focussed on the players and the cup, this old coot singled
him out, shook his hands and have daughter Auji took this pic..

  

..auji and her mother..getting a ringside view..

..Rizal Hashim of Loose Canon was right...among reasons he chose Kelantan to win:

1. Sebagai hadiah buat majoriti penyokong Kelantan yang ghairah tapi sopan dan tertib.

2. Sebagai hadiah buat Tan Sri Annuar Musa yang membawa transformasi luar dan dalam padang.

3. Alah, NS dah menang tahun lepas, bagi chance la kat Kelantan.

4. Sebagai hadiah buat B. Sathianathan, atau ejaan sebenarnya B. Satiananthan...kerana selepas ini dia akan digantung enam bulan!

5. Sebagai hadiah buat Akmal Rizal Ahmad Rakhli yang tak pernah menang gelaran besar sepanjang kerjaya

6. Kesan ekonomi buat negeri Cik Siti Wan Kembang serta menghidupkan pembangunan bola sepak di akar umbi.

..right on, LC..I was not there at the Stadium..but I was there this morning at Pantai Irama..the crowd was by far small, compared to that in Bukit Jalil the night Kelantan won..but this morning, I could feel the passion..for in the words of KAFA.s president..through sports, no matter the divide, we are united..and Kelantan has proven that their supporters make their team into...the red warriors.....

..age and weights..

..I have gained some weight lately..5 kilos..not since my polygamous days have I put on so much...polygamy kept me trim and slim..and lithe...all those running around burnt those calories..my girth has increased, too,  by an inch..from a constant 29 inches to 30..the missus likes it..got some extra flesh to hold and hug, she says..

..retirement, monogamy and blogging must have agreed with me..my 60 kilos against her 70..pushing past 50, she needs to go on a diet..but there was a time when she was rake-thin..that was when she discovered that I had taken on another wife in the city of KL, a girl of 26 whom I had married at 50..my final fling, and last attempt, at keeping growing old at bay..

..it does not work, of course..but the wife revolted  when she found out..having married a married man herself, she could say much then..as she did not say much now..but she lost weight through self-suppression of her inner revolt..there were no flying pans and pots..no shrieks and screams..no shamans and no bomohs..just tears that flowed silently as she prayed her five times a day solat...tears that fell in the silent of the night as she prayed a few hours before dawn..I used to watch her through the half-light of a waning moon that caressed and enveloped her..a figure in white, almost ghostly as the moon streamed its light through the translucent window...

..but the next morning, I would just packed by travelling bag with a few clothes and left for KL..invariably, she would be in the kitchen..at the kitchen door, watching me go...

..gi dulu, cik....the driver would say..she would try to muster a smile..not quite looking at him, as we drove past..

..the monsoon and the cup..

..for the first time ever, Kelantan won the Malaysia Cup..we never won it during those heady days when Singapore was a participant, when Kelantan and Terengganu were arch rivals, or when Malaysia ruled the turf with the likes of Mokhtar Dahari and Soh Chin Aun..we never won it  when I was that carefree youth shouting myself hoarse as Dali Omar took to the field with aplomb, and my butt burnt from the hot concrete seat of Stadium Sultan Mohamed the IV drenched hot by the afternoon sun as the game started at 4.30 pm..

...we won it when this old geezer had given up of Kelantan ever winning the cup..we won it when I have become an old horse left to roam free in the meadows..with no more spring in his trot, and with just a memory of the fire that burns in every staunch and fervent a supporter's heart  that he still is..

.the next day, it rained..the skys darkened with black clouds hiding the sun..the rain came along with howling wind and cold..it is like as if the final that Saturday night was the turning point for the monsoon to start..

,,the view in front of pakmat's home..

..for mekbu, it is time to nestle her litter of 4..

...Trengganu may have the Monsoon Cup..but we have the monsoon and the cup..cheers to the red warriors..