..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..

..the many ways of blindness..

..after a while we reached a stage where there is nothing to quarrel about..things just settled into an agreement, acquiescence..any perceived aberrations elicit no protests..life is routine and humdrum..there is a perpetual calm in the sea..and, sometimes, at odd moments when I am alone with my thoughts, I missed my polygamous mayhem days..when the mind was almost always in overdrive..countering arguments..driving in my misguided points..and the left foot pressed on the accelerator, taking corners with squeals and a rush..

..and as I wrote this, I glanced at my wife who is snoring peacefully in bed..she was once my second wife..whom society would normally tabbed as the home-wrecker..emissaries sent to discover the type of girl she was that pakmat was so taken up marrying must have been a bit taken back when they met her..just a simple village girl, comfortable in kurung and sarong..hardly the sex-siren that they thought she was, measuring against my gallavanting ways..but we married properly..properly in the sense that I followed procedures, filled in the proper forms and went through interviews by the kadi's office..

..extract from pakmat's interview..

...officer from kadi's office:..hmm, I see that pakmat already had a wife, children, and good salary..

..pakmat: silence..

..ofko: ..so.....why this need for polygamy?..

..pakmat: silence..

..from wife..

..ofko:...hmm..do you know he is already married?

..wife: I know..

..ofko: and you still want to marry him?

..wife: yes..

..her late father..

..ofko: ..do you know that your daughter will be marrying a married man?..
..father: yes..
..ofko..you have no objection?
..father: she is the one marrying..not me..
..ofko: silence..

..we married a week later..and the peaceful sea knew no more the calm. there is no end to man's fascination with pain....

..I am not a so-po..just a so, so..

..and I hope whoever wins in Galas will give 

a thought to the environment..

I think its about time the yellow river of Kelantan 

take on the hue of a river it once was..

..it has suffered for more than two decades..

..most of my children could not remember it being anything else

except yellow..

..pic from TheStar..the river cruise that was no more..

..who would pay to cruise on a muddy river?

pic taken without permission from

 http://www.flickr.com/photos/azmibogart/with/2950615073/

..fishing for non-existence fish,,

..a time for living..a time for dying..a time to change my cell phone..

..yesterday Ayam, still in Ramadan mode,  woke me up two hours before dawn...she followed me as I staggered to the kitchen for her pre-dawn meal..10 minutes later as I pushed the window to let her out, I saw the silvery moon through the trees low in the western sky..caressed by a light breeze, I sat still for a second..no..it is not 'thank God its Friday..instead it is 'thank you God, for extending my time on this earth for one more day...

..as I started the car I heard the muezzin's call to prayers..its 5.45 am..a movement caught my eye..it was Mekbu..and she had just delivered a litter of 4 kittens..I stroked her and gave her words of encouragement..by the time I reached the mosque the congregation was already well into the first rakaat..but its ok..its a Friday..sujud sejadah..prostration on the prayer mat whilst in solat...and was told by the imam that Ayah Mat, 76, who lived across the river from my house, but just across the road from the mosque, had died of heart failure..solat jenazah, prayers for the decease, was scheduled after solat Asr..

..later, late in the morning, the downcast sky cleared as we headed for Kota Bharu, my wife and I..it is becoming  almost a weekly ritual, this weekly trips..but I need to buy a new phone..my trusty Sony Ericsson K801 had finally laid down its tired keys..after two years of faithful service, it gave up on the run.. time to get a new phone..my children sighed a sigh of relief...they called it the dinosaur phone..papa's dino phone, not quite realising the implication..I smiled..I got myself a Nokia C5..it came with an English lady telling me to take the corners 300 meters ahead, left or right..and Auji is in love with it

..yes, it was an eventful Friday for pakmat..thank you, Lord...

..scenes of a night market..

..scenes from the weekly night market, set along Pantai Irama, Bachok..

..every Friday from 5.00 pm to 10.00 pm..with the sea as backdrop..

..children romping by the water edge..

..horses galloping by..and a para-glider whizzing above..

..but for this man with impaired sight..time to set up his keyboard..

..pakmat slipped him a ringgit and requested the song 'Aku Semut Merah',

a dangdut pakmat's era..he looked confused..he was much younger than I thought..

..he did not know the song..he belted out a nasyid, instead..

remembering the time when he accompanied her with some friends at Globe Silk Store, along 

Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman..he loitered outside..

there were two of them with their keyboard and bongos..

..it was mainly dangdut..he donned his sunglasses and sang along with them..

'..untuk apa kau menyayangi ku..

..orang yang tak punya apa apa..' 

..and got a ringgit or two thrown his way...

..Michele Yeoh, aging and death..

..I am not one of her ardent fans..but I have been watching her long before Crouching Tiger..she is an Ipoh girl, after all..and we know what they say of Ipoh girls...indubitably fair and smooth of skin, and pretty of face with figures to die for..I can rave on about her exploits, being an A-class actress and an international campaigner that she is..but last August, she was 48 years old..and she does not look it..known for doing her own stunts, she is out with a new movie, Reign of Assassins, by John Woo

pics taken from www.starpulse.com
and www.micheleyeoh.info

..she also said that there are two things guaranteed in life..one, you will age...two, you will die..

..she must have said it simply to the reporter who interviewed her about her beauty belying her age..and pakmat said, yes, Dato', you will age, as pakmat has undoubtedly aged..and one day you will die..as pakmat will one day, dies..but you have proven that a local girl from a tin-mining town of Ipoh, can danced and kicked into internatonal stardom and be there with the rest of them..and to that, pakmat salutes you...

..I'll be all smiles tonight..

..an 1879 Irish waltz for a relaxing Friday..listening to it  reminds this old coot of the time he waltzes the night away as a bachelor in KL..



..and for some of you, enjoy your 'malam Jumaat'..:)  ..let's us all be all smiles tonight...

..the house where mother stayed..

..not all buildings are pulled down to make way for the new..some are left standing, unattended and forgotten..fading by inches and worn down by the rain and the sun ...corroding gently by gentle time that passes like the relentless flow of the river, where upon its banks it sits..

..no.833, Lorong Gajah Mati is such a house. a house sitting forlorn and alone, hidden by fences and undergrowth, ignored by its neighbours..and forgotten by me, who once stayed there.. it sat by the bank of  Kelantan River..facing death as death comes in stealthy steps..crumbling in little pieces, yet still holding onto memories of a time 40 over years ago..

..and as I stood there on Sunday afternoon, taking in the battered remnants of what was once a house, I was that sapling youth once more, coming back home to my mother..

..it was a house on stilts almost 7 feet high..she peered through her glasses and through the window where she was sewing when he first arrived, huffing and puffing a suitcase full of clothes and books..he rested at the stairs..after almost 20 years, her youngest son, Mamat returned..to a home which was not hers..but for the next couple of years, it was to be his home, too..

..now, 40 over years later, I stood there upon a Sunday afternoon..I saw her face through the window..and I saw mine clambering excitedly up the steps..

..she died 14 years ago..I stood there facing the stairs..and I heard her voice as I kick started my Vespa..

..'Mat...mu make doh ko ?..duk du moh getek gah...:'..as she pedalled on her Singer..Mat, have you eaten?.. can't you stay home once in a while ...as I rode away through the lane of Gajah Mati...

..an uncle died..

..an uncle died today..he was 77..born 3.3.33 and died 10.10.10..
as an adult I seldom meet him, busy with my own life, as it were....memories of him were confined to the time when I was a kid..the first time I went to his house was with my mother.. I was about nine or ten..it was also my first time to KL..as my mother was engrossed in a conversation with him., I was left on my own, playing around with a sewing machine set in a corner..I broke it and  had my ear pinched..

..I remember him as a simple man..on my own in KL, struggling as a clerk, I would sometimes visited him at his sprawling government quarters..once I caught him as he was going out..holding a pair of shoes, he was searching for something under the furniture..retrieved it, (it was a pair of socks), wiped his shoes with it, put it on and stride out whilst talking to me.."Ahh. Mat Ite..duklah..nak tubit semetar.."

"O Allah, forgive him, Lord. Make him among the guided ones, raise his status and be his deputy among the grieving. O Lord of the two worlds, forgive us and him and make his grave wide and full of light"

..MCP and firecraker..

..a lil bit of country for a lazy weekend..click on play..tap your feet..snap your fingers as you read the post below..




..and thank God for the differences..

..MCP, and thank God for the differences..

..you don't often hear the term 'male chauvinist pig' these days..it has receded into some distant past along with the belief that women are of lesser stuff as compared to men..we do not hear anymore about the fights for emancipation among women..women have never been disfranchised, as far as pakmat is concerned..they have always been my equal..and I never bear them grudges in their fight for equality..there is no reason why they should be paid less for doing the same job as men..or restrict some jobs to males only..if we can do it, and they can do it better, then let them in, by all means..

..and even in the days of women receiving better treatment because they are women, like that two days unrecorded leave for female constables in the police force when they had their menstruation, pakmat attributed it to the differences between a man and a woman..something that should be recognised and given due regard..

..the point I am trying make is this: we are equal but we are different..and the sooner we accept the differences, and  adjust our lives around them, the better for everyone..

..after several marriages, a couple of divorces and more than a dozen children, I have learned to take them in my stride..and arranged my life around it..it is less of a hassle..

...like..when taking my wife to a supermarket..she had to buy some underwear..hers were all worn..I would have completed the purchase in under fifteen minutes..

"Won't be long, love..just a jiffy."She said..and I would parked my car, irregardless,  walked to the food court, got the papers out and relaxed..two hours later she would walked out with 12 tins of evaporated milk, several bottles of sauce, bread, sugar, a new dress, a pair of slippers, batteries for those clocks hung around the house and a pair of shears for her gardening..(those batteries I have been meaning to buy for the past month, but not quite getting to it)..

..fifteen minutes later, as I was negotiating the traffic lights, she would tapped me gently on the shoulder and said that she had forgotten about the underwear..
"It's ok," I said, "We'll do it again next Friday." She'd smiled...and I would touched her cheeks...

..your first..

..it is generally believed that no one forgets their first..no matter what the first is..whether it is the first love, first kiss or your first divorce..there are other first that are just as unforgettable..things like first car, first accident..or first plane ride...for some there will never be a second after the first..and there are some who never had a first....but in every one's life, there will always be a first time..

..but for pakmat the first whatever came and went..some were blissful and cause of much happiness, like receiving my first pay as a clerk in the Public Services Commission, K. Lumpur way back in April, 1963....some were painful and cause of much regret..like losing a month's salary at a card game of twenty-one a few months later..which led to the last time I gambled..so some first became your last..

...and, of course, there is the first marriage..which led to second...and a third..you do not forget your first when you marry more than once..but you do not forget your subsequent marriages either..and the first divorce..which led to a second...and you do not forget them, too..

..but if I had not married at all, there will be no 13 children...which brings up an interesting question...who am I to deny them their first step on this earth?...