..the return..

..it is the beginning of those time again..when children from the cities make a beeline for their kampongs...you can feel the anticipation in the air..as Bachok braced itself for the influx of cars and people, PaRam operators take stock of the situation, knowing that in the final stretch of Ramadan, sales will, inevitalbly doubled, maybe trebled...and parents, like pakmat, await their return anxiously, praying for their safety...whilst looking forward to breaking of the fast together..

...but not all the children returned to the awaiting arms of their mothers, or fathers..for some it is a return to a memory and an empty house, having lost both parents earlier...but they returned, nonetheless, to where their roots are...and for the next few days, they and their children add laughter and cacophony to a house once bare and lonely...a house that was once a  home..and amid the joy and laughter, they are once more the children of before..treading gingerly through their memory..

..this is such a house...its owner, Mok Zah, or Mek to her children died a year ago of kidney failure..widowed more than a decade earlier, she would sit alone in front of the kitchen, awaiting any of her 8 children's return...bereft of children, a house is not a home...as this year, this house sits alone...awaiting her children to 'balik kampong'...when once more it will come alive...

..dreams and regrets..

..pakmat's home in Bachok..

...once, decades ago,  I used to dream of having a house set up on a hillock, among verdant trees, facing a lake..a wife with long flowing, hair... you know, Nancy Kwan was the dreamgirl then, resulting in many a young man having wet dreams....and a speed-boat...but I never thought of children, a four-wheel drive was in the picture...but never children...

..Nancy Kwan..pic googled..

 ..but children showed up after marriage...and when you were the marrying kind, like I once was,  you will have more of them...and I went on to sire 13...which is, of course, a sizeable number, by any account...when I first got married, and she got pregnant soon after, I thought maybe we will have two..or three..but definitely not seven...and I went on to have another six.....

..3rd daughter Ida's 3rd birthday..the one that flew the nest
and setup her own in a foreign land..

...but I met a woman in my kampong, in her fifties, who had 13 children... a villager who lived off the land with her villager husband...and I looked at her in awe and amazement as she chatted away about her children with the wife when I gave her a lift home one day from Balai Islam, Kota Bharu...it must have been hard, I thought..yes, she chirped, almost reading my thoughts..but it is not that we had them simultaneously...all were breastfed and the eldest among them helped...food was scarced but they grew whatever they need..planted padi and water was free..and most of them went on to complete their studies, entered institute of higher learning and became teachers and such...

..there were bad times and there were good times, although rare...but through it all she never lost faith...
in God's bounty...and in her husband...and together they scraped through each day...eat whatever they managed to put on the table and never dream of what was impossible for them to have...and pakmat was silenced into a quiet reverie...thinking of what might have been...

A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams...John Barrymore

..at 66..

..pakmat..blogging at 66..

..at 66 you do not anymore hold on to whatever perceived youth that you have...you accept aging for what it is, a natural process..and you remember with a chuckle those futile times of dyeing your hair in an attempt to push back Father Time....and the time you marry for the third time a very much younger wife..hoping that her youth will make you youthful....only to realised that her youth made you older...

..at 66 I am thankful for whatever parts of my body that still work...not at its former premium pace, but still working, nonetheless...and you accept those that have gone...or ceased to work as some things inevitable....like teeth and memory...sometimes you remember with detailed clarity incidents of 20years ago...but cannot seemed to remember where you placed the car keys...or left your wife at the mosque after subuh prayers and drove back alone...forgetting that you went together...

..at 66 you do not care anymore for birthdays..those are stuff for your children and grandchildren...no..not for you...but you measure your years, nonetheless...from one Ramadan to another...for when a Ramadan comes, you remember the last...where you cupped your hands in a prayer...and asked Him forgiveness for your sins and transgressions..and asked of Him longevity...that you will be around for the next Ramadan...

..at 66 you do not have anymore a future..for you are the future..but you have a past...for as far as your memory can takes you...though you do not dwell too much on them, you are always aware of them..accepting those things that is now beyond you and revelling in the things you used to be capable of doing...

..at 66 you are appreciative of those little mercies that He blessed you with...the love of your children...a wife's devotion...a neighbour's generosity...and other little things that once you do not give a hoot..or a care..

..at 66 a lovers' forever' is but a second...

..at 66 I become a bit cranky...

..Ramadan..and some pictures..

..as Ramadan nighs, pakmat sat back a little..it has been a year since the last..Bachok is gearing up for it..you can see tents coming up on open fields..fasting schedules were distributed at mosques and suraus..and conversations are laced with anticipations..

..pakmat with Rizal Hashim of Loose Conan and Kelvin of MSL
enjoying a meal of nasi kerabu at Yati's..not among the best,the nasi..
just passable...but the memory is priceless.. 

..and pakmat gave his thanks..to his Lord...for the last Ramadan..

You gave me Blessings unasked..let every drop of rain be testaments to Your Greatness..

..and every cry of infants a reminder that my time is nearing its end...

..Auji with brother Amnan..and their mother..

..Lord, You have granted me the time and space that I may greet welcome another Ramadan..

..give me strength, Lord, that I may strive more..

..Ayam..right royal as usual..confident of her place..

..for I tried my best then..and I fell short..and I will again this Ramadan..

.I seek Your Guidance...

..and I seek your Benevolence...

..Comot and the rest following my evening jogs around the village..

..please forgive me my sins...and accept my repentance..

...going out to see..seeking God's bounty..

...Your Gifts to me are many and boundless..and my thanks to You inadequate and small..

..a morning at Pantai Irama..

..a naked tree..as one day pakmat will be..

..coffee and a good read..

..a creeper in pakmat's garden..

....and it is as with every Ramadan..pakmat is full of trepidation... regrets of past sins..joys of sahurs...

 satisfaction of breaking of the fast..and fullfillment of solat in congregations...

..MBMC - Muslim Born Malay and Confused..

..I got a 'pirrah' for my last posting..which is not too bad, considering that I expected worse...guys like me and polygamy will always be something distasteful to most women...but it is an imperfect world that we lived in..as they will always be men who have no qualms about taking on another younger wife and plead polygamy...as they will always be women who have no qualms about giving married men the eye and come hither look...

..undoubtedly, we have come a long way since the night of the first word, Ikraq...especially for Muslim women...no matter what they say about Islam and its women, Islam brought them out of the closet, in a manner of speaking...equality is a word carelessly flaunted to denote the bridge, imagined or non-existent, between the sexes...we talked about oppression and empowerment of and for women...mistaking the veil as an act of oppression and the bikini as empowerment...but modern, meaning Western, values have put on a strain on them..leading to a rarely acknowledged identity crisis..in the US, among the Pakistanis we have ABCD..American born Confused Desi..Do we have MBMC here?..Muslim Born Malay Confused?...

..in seeking equality with their male counterparts, they have to strike a balance between being a good Muslim and all the liberty of being a modern one...aurat is a case in point..do we flaunt it, now that we have it?..or do we hide it?..what is the message if we flaunt it?..that we are just as trapped in the standards of the West about  what beauty is?..is it all there is to it in being a woman?..surely, no...take beauty pageants..protests should not be against the Muslim gal taking part in it, but against the competition being held at all...

..I am old schooled..and a bit conservative..to my mind there can never be equality among the sexes the way the women are seeking it...we are too different..we are created different..we are of two different parts that complement and supplement each other..seemingly equal yet not so...men have the little extras...but that little extras carry an almost unsurmountable load of responsibilities...

..

..polgamists, whores and hookers..

..no,I did not marry my wives because they behave like whores..I think I married them because of my dislike for whores...not that I did not, as a youth in the big city of KL seek them out...I was just as curious as the next boy about sex..pornography in the sixties came in the form of little magazines surreptitiously passed around in brown office envelopes...sometimes, opportunities made us  huddled together over an 8mm projector with a decaying concrete wall as a screen, in a room stifled by cigarette  smokes..

...the learning process and maturing  period for pakmat in the sixties was not always smooth..but KL then was a bit laidback..The Strollers held concerts at Stadium Negara and a neighbour's daughter, all of her 16 years old, was smitten with me...marriage was never in the equation..being not able to see beyond yesterday, if someone then were to tell me that I would one day be a polygamist, I would in all probability shrugged my shoulders in disbelief...

..but all that did not stop me from marrying my Audrey Hepburn on the 1st of April, 1973 and took another much younger wife 15 years later, 6 daughters and a son later...of course, that made me into a rogue, a cur, an ogre and a dragon...and most time, I would just stand there and say that I am guilty...I am all that...I was forty when I became a polygamist...and now, at 66, 3 marriages and 2 divorces, later, I like to think that it was polygamy that saved me...

..you see, I was never meant to be a one woman man...some men are just like that...even now, at 66, frail and rotting, I would again, but did not, not because for the lack of a willing mate, but because I am in a better position to control  my actions...there are several truths, bitter or otherwise, we just have to accept...one, that to most men, sex is just  a matter of getting an ejaculation...two, there will always be women who chose, voluntarily, to become whores and hookers, as there will always be women who would not mind sharing husbands, no matter what their religion is...and three, if we can be genderless for a moment, and view it from a world view, polygamy is all for women...not so much for men...(oh..oh..I can see the bricks and excrement being aimed at me..:)) but I will not elaborate on this..I am trying to keep religion out...

..bringing back pakmat into the equation - I was a  smooth talker and a womaniser...though at some point, I tried to curb my waywardness...I knew my weakness...irresistible to smooth foreheads...so I married another..no, she was not a trophy wife...just a simple kampong gal who was a little lost in Kota Bharu...thereon I put an end to all my activities..whether nocturnal or otherwise...I tried to be a good polygamist...and I know I would be, given the chance...in the divorce and the despair, I found my salvation...reconnected with the children and made their mother a friend...

.children and fathers leaving homes....

...rare moments...jogging together...

..there comes a time when children leaves home, for some reason or other..all too soon all those space and rooms added became empty and bare..the din and cacophony of siblings rivalry became silent...and parents, middle-aged or older, like pakmat, went throught a kind of a withdrawal phase..when they can only look at each other with no words uttered..and waited anxiously for that phone calls or text messages..

...it was slightly different for pakmat...

...I left home before the children did..a year before that I had taken on another wife..the constant quarrels culminated into a divorce...I remember leaving with my bagful of clothings and two cars..there were indignant tears..and compressed fists..my other wife kept her peace..the eldest two left for UITM Kuantan and Jengka Pusat..the third left for boarding school, Johor at the tender age of 12th...and I left home...to return as a father but not as a husband...an ex-wife does not forgive easily but as a father I took it within my stride..for the moment, on this planet earth, they are my children...no matter what..as if to prove a point, I took on another wife..which, of course, does not resolves and solves anything..

..which is to say that I am missing my children, no matter who their mother is....which is also to say that no matter how grand the design and schemes, old age will make a man frail....and short of breath...and weak of strength...along with bones that creak...for benign Father Time spares no one...

...which does not stop me from making a one thousand and one hundred fifteen kilometer round trip to Tangkak, Johor with a stopover in Dengkil, Kuala Langat, Selangor, and looked up my youngest daughter, Auni Fatin...she is barely thirteen, a young lady who is taking music lessons..the day I was there she played 'Heartaches By The Number' and old country song by Ray Price...I remember smiling..unknowingly and innocently, she took a poke at her papa..

..the best shot, part 2..

..auji shopping for bags, towels and stuff with her mama..

...life is always about  making decisions...and for Auji, I know she is finding it hard, not really knowing what is best for her...her teachers were of not much help either, giving conflicting opinions...she retreated into her room for a few days, with her netbook continuously on Korean dramas...her mother gave me a warning look...and I refrained...sheesh...and I thought being accepted into Kolej Matrikulasi Johor for a year is something of a celebration...

..but when she said she is turning it down and sit for STP instead,  I hunched my shoulders and took her aside...

..I have nothing against STP, Diploma or whatever she wants to do with her life..But which father or mother would sit quietly by without trying to put their toe in when it comes to their children's future?..I have to say my piece..and you better remove that plastic wads from your ears and listen up...

..matric is the formal process of entering a university...it is as simple as that..in some countries it is equivalent to the completion of Form Six...in your case, it is an accelerated preparatory course of one year leading to you entering a university, and thereon ends with you acquiring a degree..hopefully in a field of your choice...

..now, you can begin your tertiary education with STP or Diploma..after two or three years...failing which you can fall back on your STP or Diploma...and look for a job, or a husband..unlike matric..if you fail, you have nothing to fall back to, except your SPM...but you will not fail, because you have shown that you are willing to work hard...we will give you all the support you need...take your time to reflect...you have been given a chance..a chance that comes once..take it..grab it...and give it your best shot..and show me that scroll in five years..go, girl...you can do it, as I know you can...

..

...

..acts of kindness..

..I am easily moved by little acts of kindness..and I see this small acts everywhere, in various forms..a young mother breastfeeding her infant under the stealth of her tudung whilst waiting for her bus, seated under a shade away from the hot sun.....a mother cat scavenging for food under tables and chairs around the market, for her litter stashed behind some boxes.....pretty damsels flashing me smiles as they pass me by...ahhh...these are acts of kindness that I found hard to ignore...along with readers of my blog who came unsolicited, yet took the time and bother to give me words of encouragement..and doa's .. and banter and jest along with me..yes, it is kindness just humoring an old man..

..and there are those friends that I met on Facebook....people I met in  the cyberspace ...whom, ordinarily, would have bumped my shoulder in the real world and carry on without giving me a second glance...but in that third domain, they took their time to give me the time of day...they are being kind, I know...some crossed the ether world into the real world and continue their act of kindness...

...reciprocally, I try to be kind to everything that I came across with...birds, bees, stray cats, chickens that dirtied the front door with their excrement..and those of unsound mind that mingle with school children at the busstop begging for a dollar to buy food...the missus says I am getting a little strange in my old age...and I say that life is getting shorter by the day...let us just be nice to fellow creatures with whom we share this little part of the earth...

...actually I wanted to say thank you to Elviza of Write Away...and realises that her act of kindness epitomises  all those kind souls I met as a blogger and as a facebooker...thank you all...

..old coots talking..

..this old coot talks to his cats..as he also talks to everything else..little dragons that cross his path..plants and shrubs that grew unattended in his garden...an apple mango tree fruiting in front of his kitchen..he talks to everything, animate or inanimate...but especially to his cats...and one day as he was jogging in front of his home with Ayam, Mokmok and Mekbu's litter of four, Mek Karong,  Oren, Comot and Pakteh, running haphazardly in between his feet, a little girl who was with her mother visiting my neighbour, tugged her mom's kurung and pointed at me...'Look, ma..that old coot is talking to his cats..' ...and I said, yes...they loved jogging with me...and her mother raised her eyebrows...

..I even talk with my wife..and I think it is a good thing among couples..whether young or old..that they talk to each other..more so in their late years..you cannot do much else, but at least you get comfort through talking....as I have been trying to tell my 5th daughter, Ebok who married that Thai youngster...who, two children later, is trying to get herself out...in marriage you tend to get whom you marry..she married a youngster with a running nose and who was still scruffy around the ears..several years into the marriage she found that he is still the youngster  with a running nose..and still scruffy around his ears...boys do not become men within a few years..it takes them decades to mature...if you are lucky...but children these days do not listen much to their parents...for there is nothing new that a parent can tell...

..I even tried to talk with my ex'es..

..and with my children...which soon enough turned into monologues...you try too hard and they clammed up..you don't try at all and they say you are too distant...

..its better talking to the cats...

..papago goes, again..reminiscing..

..on most counts, and anyway you looked at it, I am a government man...I am partial to the government of the day...and I am, also, always, thankful for little mercies that He, in His Greatness, had bestowed upon me....I could have strove harder and, perhaps, reached greater heights economically and intellectually....but I did not..


...without really trying, I have attained some measure of success..in that I am now not lacking on most things and there is that degree of happiness that I found in my late years...thought I could wished  for more, I found myself not wishing for them...I allowed myself to wallow a little in contentment..whilst aspiring to be a better Muslim..setting achievable targets..mainly for this year...the Haj...God willing....


...education wise,  I did not proceed beyond Higher School Certificate...though I have been through many schools, thanks to my civil servant late uncle, who was an MCS officer, the fire to strive for more did not really burn..but schools were all English medium schools....unconsciously, I developed a love for reading and a flair for the language...


being born in 1945, I was there during the fight for independence, the first federal elections, and was around when Tunku was made the first Prime Minister...I have lived through all our Prime Ministers and like to think of myself as someone with a long memory, politically...though I found politics unattractive...at least most politicians are...


..having lived almost half of my life in the city capital and used to its ways, it was with a condescend heart that I returned to Kota Bharu and homestate of Kelantan....only to later found out umno leaners are infidels and that there was no solidarity in Islam...with suraus and mosques painted either green or blue..


..but in the seventies I was very much in love with my first wife to bother about those things..and entered suraus and mosques irregardless of its colour or hues..to me, then as now, there is only one God, Allah..and Mohammad, PBUH, is His Prophet...and inasfar as intermediaries are concerned, whether Tuan Guru, Ustaz or plain Joe, whether Tun, Dato or plain Mamat, I measure them through their actions and words...sincerity is hard to find, but after a time, I learn to detect when it shines through...


..although it is a rare commodity these days, there are those out there with theirs shining like a beacon...to them pakmat bids, 'Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh...'

..the best shot..

..4A's, 2B's and 3C's  is nothing to shout about..she had warned us earlier that Science is not her cup of tea, but such is the system that for giving a good showing  in PMR, (6 A's), she was streamed into Science...and when she returned C's for Chemistry, Biology and Physics, I was not totally perturbed...when we met at her mother's little hair salon later  in the day, she tried to put up a brave face...she was disappointed..and so was I..I hid mine, but hers showed....she protested when I took her in my arms and gave her a peck on her head...its ok..you have given your best shot...and I love you...for now let us not think too much about it...the future is still there, waiting....it need some re-planning, yes..but it is not bleak...so, chin up...

..Auji, centre, with her cousin and friend..

..pictures..life's reflections..

..Pantai Irama..I love this part of the beach..something about
the soft sand, the lapping waves and the gentle breeze..you feel
at one with mother earth...as you give your thanks to Him...

..the moon setting..

..Ayam..who has staked a claim on a piece of this coot's heart..

..Gem Resort, Trengganu..my second state...I will always be in love
with Trengganu...with its sprawling beaches, over 200 km of them,  places
like Kuala Jengai, Pasir Raja and Tasik Kenyir...Dungun and Jerteh..
keropok lekor and akok manis...

..wife, reading the Book with daughter, Auji..we try to read
a few verses every night..

..Mekbu litter of four..for a blind cat, Mekbu is an exemplary mother..
..she is tender and loving...and caring...for a cat.. 

..niece's daughter, Dayana..infants astound me...I look at them
and see the future that I will not be part of...

..pakmat's first time in a 7 series Beemer...feels like being
in a terrace house with wheels..centre is Tun Rahah's
personal bodyguard..

..picnic with the children and grandchildren..they called their
stepmother Cik Ani..and and pakmat just basked in the warm..

..a slow walk back after the jog..

..listening raptly to the ways of the Haj..hopefully Pakmat
and missus will make it this year...hopefully my appeal
will get the nod from Tabong Haji..

..super moon over Irama's night market..

..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...