my rhapsody

my rhapsody

Thursday, September 8, 2011

i missed you...

i am not a good person...
i always take things for granted..
most of the time i paid less attention
to the things which appeared unimportant to me..
but this time, it was not a thing..
a person...
a very important person...

we were near, yet it felt so far..
three years of being so close with each other..
but i seldom met you..
the one who fed me milk and porridge..
bathed and dressed me..
i was just two at that time..
yet i could still remember..
you were always in my memories..

now i am all grown up..
and you were getting smaller..
day by day..
i turned out to be an ungrateful person ..
especially to you..

it was not enough just by remembering someone..
i did not take the chance when i really have it..
i should have gone to see you..
hug you, kiss you..
tell you things i could not share with anybody else..
to watch you do what you did best..
feed the tummy of the ones you loved..
we have always asked you to cook..
because you were the best..

i know you told others we seemed like strangers to one another..
i know you felt so frustrated with me..
i never called..
i did not visit..
i never asked about how you were doing..

i should have done all that..
but i didn't..
it was too late..
you were always sick..
last two years was a turning point..
you were no longer a person you used to be..
healthy.. strong.. 
we could only meet either in hospitals..
or at your children's houses..
where you laid in bed..
too tired to do anything..

you were sick so many times...
i've lost counts..
that one time..
papa was sick, so were you..
he called to ask how you were doing..
you were in a ward..
he was at our home..
you told him..
"i feel better now"..
"but i had a headache last night,
it was so painful.. i've never felt like that in my life"
papa was glad you felt better..
not for long.....

papa got a call..
aunty cik was on the line..
"she's in a coma..."
"but last night she told me she felt better..."
"the doctor said this could be her last time"

papa was struck numb..
he told us the news..
all six of us was there..
initially i was not so keen to go back..
to be crammed in a sedan with six people on board..
i hated the idea..
so i asked for exemption..
"this could be your last chance to meet her"
and so i followed..

i prayed along the way..
prayed to God so i could meet her..
asking for forgiveness that i could no longer get..
we reminisced the times we shared with you..
the nine hour drive felt so long...
but we filled it with prayers and memories we had with you..

the phone rang..
mama rose was on the phone..
she flew back immediately after hearing the news..
"the doctor asked if we would like to bring her home"
"no,let her stay in the hospital..
the doctors could help if anything happens.."
papa was clueless..

the road was endless....
the phone rang again...
"should we let the hospital attendants bathe her?"
to all muslims, at the sound of those words
we know that someone is no longer alive..
"she's gone???"
papa had no idea you were already gone..
the first call was the sign that you were
no longer breathing...

i was asleep..
i woke up at the sounds of papa's voice over the phone..
tears filled my eyes..
guilt overwhelmed my sadness..
"what if ......what if.....what if...."
i should have gone to see you when i had the chance..
but i didn't...

when we finally met,
i got the chance to kiss you..
to hug you..
but this time it was different..
i felt your cold skin touched my lips..
no more hands to hug me back..
no more kisses on my cheeks..

you were wrapped in white..
you were so beautiful..
i could not stop my tears from forming in my eyes..
papa was crying..
now he has no one to go home to..
he is now an orphan..
i felt so sad for him..

i am sorry nenek..
i loved you..
but i never showed it...
you never knew how much i loved you..
i was ungrateful child in your eyes..
and i did not prove myself that you were wrong..
i could not ask for your forgiveness..
not anymore...
as you laid stiff on the mattress..
i did the only thing i could for you..
the gift of Al-Fatihah and Yaasin..
tears filled my eyes as i recited the verses..
over and over again..
until your house was filled with guests and relatives
from all over..

as i was watching you in your resting place..
i could never forgive myself..
i could have called..
at least a call...
BUT I DIDN'T......

Raya this year was so different now that you were gone..
we have lost a precious diamond.. one could ever be compared to you..
going back to Kelantan has no meaning to me
like it used to..
i could never hear your voice again..
scolding your younger grandchildren for being so naughty..
the older ones would always be scolded for wearing 
clothes that appeared indecent in your eyes..
your voice echoed in my ears...
your face was glued at the back of my eyes..

i hope you could meet with atuk in heaven..
may Allah be with you nenek..
i will always remember you in my prayers..
though i could never forgive myself 
for being ungrateful to you..

Halimah Binti Awang 1940-2011

Saturday, April 16, 2011

The Love of my life

When would 'Farihan' get its meaning back..

Each night seems so long,
Water dripping from the tank,
Whirring of the fan beneath me,
The darkness falls into the room,
it does nothing to scare me,
to intoxicate me
into a deep sleep..

everything comes back to me,
memories, stories, places, faces,
one after another,
it all comes back..
i cried..
i was once a happy child..
the memories..
they are all drugs,
addictive, intoxicating,
i always need them,
almost every night,
for there is no happiness
in daylight.

‘Farihan’ is no longer whispered
in my ears,
the soft soothing sound was so dear
to me ..
it was like a prayer to me..
so i could become happy
as what my name once gave me.

but why am i like this??
why can’t i be more like
other people...
why can’t i smile an honest smile..
why can’t i be happy again..
why can’t i see people
the way they ought to be seen..
why must i be different,
what have i done to deserve this..

Farihan.. cheerful as it means
remains so irony to me..
Nurul Farihan..the light of happiness..
Why can’t i give happiness to others
for it is sorrow that i’m cursed with..
when will i be sober..
when will i see the light again..
oh God.. help me go through this life..
cause i am nearly giving in.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

i was speechless!

we were hungry..
drama practice started quite early, 1 o'clock..
i didn't have the time to take my lunch..
after some hard work performing on stage,
my stomach growled and i couldn't wait no more..

azie needed to go to the post office to claim her parcel..
so we went to kb post office..
unfortunately, the van has not yet returned to the office..
sorry azie.. i tried to drive as fast as i could to
get to the post office before the business hour ends..
maybe today was just not our day..
everything happened not just the way we wanted..

that was not the only thing that happened..
after the visit to the post office, we stopped at
Sutera Restaurant for lunch for we were starving!
after devouring three "scrumptious" imported meat,
cooked in a way which was no comparison to shukur or yus..
we walked out the restaurant with sigh... however!!!
credits to Azie for the treat!!!!:)

we walked towards Anie's car..
i was the designated driver for cohort 4 girls..
so i was with the car key..
i ignited the car and put the gear in reverse..
as usual, reverse does not need much speed..
i pressed the acceleration softly and
i was shocked!!!
was it a bike?
was it a motorcycle?
no!!!!it was a vios!!!!!!!!

sweat began to wet my face..
on the nose...
above my lips..
my legs trembled..
my feet were weak..
Azie looked behind her shoulder..
"ferr, xde pape, xkemek pon"
so i thought i was lucky enough..

suddenly...'knock knock knock'
there was a guy in red tshirt asking anie
to draw the window down..
"bakpo lentum keto blkg nyo??"
i'm a dead meat!!"
"maghi la klua tgk"
i moved slowly...
trembling..i tried to switch off the ac and the radio..
one by one...
i was so scared...
"shit!RM300 will be burnt just for this.."
i turned off the ignition..

i stepped out of the car..
i looked at the people who started to crowd the
scene.. everybody was in awe..
i looked at the car...
since it was a i was so scared..
but...nothing...i really mean, NOTHING..
i tried to look at it again...
yet i couldn't find any scratch or dent other than dirt
on that car..
that car was so dusty and dirty..
the owner, was so 'poyo'!
i know it was my fault..
yes, i admit it..but hello!!
look at the way you parked your car dude!!
the rear, even the whole car was not even within the parking space!!!
he tried to rub the front bumper looking for scratch he taught i made..
guess what???? there was none!
it turned out he was just rubbing the dirt on his bumper!!!

he was not going to let us go, no no no..not like that..
so he began inspecting his plate number..
there was a peeled off paint..
"ni calar ni.."
"bang, saye reverse straight je td, plate keta ni x kene pon..
camne plak saye yg wat calar ni??"
everybody was silent...

then i saw..a man in white shirt...
luckily he was a good hearted man ..
he saw everything..
he stepped forward..
probably, he is more EDUCATED than the others..
"dok calar pon kan??"

i felt my heart leaped for joy!!
at least there was someone who saw the actual thing..
"bang, mane owner keta ni??
mcmne kite nk settle ni?"
i was so glad the man in white shirt was there...
"dok payoh la dik..dok calar pon"
the owner remained silent...
he couldn't say much..
he knew he overreacted over some small matters..

everything was settled, i could spare my RM300..
but my legs still trembled all the way home..

as we arrived at the gate of our house..
i slowly walked to the rear bumper..
searching for scratches or dents...
but Anie pulled me away..
took me into the house..
"Anie,ferr mtk maaf sgt...ferr sggp byr bpe pon..
if ani anta kedai ckp je..ferr bg duit.."
but as usual, having a friend like anie, an angelic friend..
of course she would say no...
"takde bende la ferr..bukan lekuk pon.. 
bende da nak jd..if anie bwk pon, da tertules nk
kene..trlanggar jgk ferr..if ferr ckp lg psl bnd ni esk siapp!!"
that was anie... always good to anybody..
but nothing could stop me from feeling guilty..
a hhhugeee one...

from this day on, I declare myself..
i will not be cohort 4 supir anymore..
no, no... not anymore...
the guilt is too great to bear...
anie...thank you anie..for not being mad..
azie, thanks for laughing at the owner's
stupidity and 'poyoness'...

after all, today was such an unbelievable experience..
Oh God, no more please...
at least not like this one:)

Friday, February 25, 2011

"that thing scared the shit out of me..."

i woke up startled..
and stared at the dark ceiling.. wondering why i was awake..
i tried to go back to sleep.. my eyes could not shut tight..
i did not have the guts to shake my cousin who was sound asleep..

again and again i tried to go back to sleep..
i began to feel uneasy..
heard sounds of dogs howling outside the house..
scary thoughts crept into my mind..

then i heard something..
was it the sound of someone breathing??
it was so dim at first, i tried to ignore it..
still..i could not stop my ears from hearing things which
i was not so keen to listen..

it kept getting closer..
the noise was coming from the first floor..
i was quite sure now..
it was the sound of someone, panting for air..

i could imagine someone was coming up the stairways..
step by step.." hissshh..hssshh.."
i was struck numb...
i could not think of what to do..
i stared at the door of my room..
looking at the strip of light from outside the corridor..
waiting and waiting for something, someone..

i hid under covers..
shivering and sweating..
covering both of my ears with my hands..
"this is not the night for a ghostly encounter..
no, no...not tonight..
this is not even my house!"

memories of ghost stories and horror movies
crawled into my thoughts..
"how does it look like..
long messy hair and white robes?
severed head with blood dripping from the veins?"
my younger cousin once saw a 'pontianak'
outside this house, lingered around the mango tree
aunt planted years ago..
"damn" i thought..
i shut my eyes tight..
trying to get rid of those thoughts..
yet, the sound kept giving me goosebumps..

the sound kept getting louder... closer... with every breath i took..
it was coming towards my door..
again, i looked at the strip of light..
still no sign of legs or anything..
"this is going to be it.."
i reached for my cousin,
but i could not find her..
i waited...nothing happened..
at last, i fell asleep..

next day, everybody asked me
why i looked so pale..
like i have seen a ghost..
i started to open up and tell them..
from the beginning to the part where i nearly
wet my bed, scared shitless..
they asked me "what was the sound like?"
and i imitated it "hisssh .. hsssshh.."
enthused by the adrenaline in my blood,
the story was quite impressive and believable to my audience..

suddenly my aunt spoke..
"are you sure it was coming from downstairs?"
of course i was sure..
it scared the hell out of me last night..
"try to make that sound again..."

my uncle descend the stairs and joined us..
my aunt laughed whole-heartedly..
"pa, nurul was scared of your loud snoring..."
everybody in the room laughed..
i kept quiet..
besides feeling embarrassed of last night's incident,
i was relieved..
at least i have not seen any ghost, yet....
THANK GOD!!!!!:)


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

are we freaks???

some speak in front of mirrors.. some converse alone with nobody besides them.. some play with their mothers' make ups.. these can be considered as children's playtime... as for me, i used to play alone by myself.. i prefer to take roles of people.. in the layman term, ACTING...

since i was small, i love watching English dramas or films on tv with my family... i observed how the actors and actresses (especially actors:D) were so into their characters.. from a businessman to a lady with a bun in the oven... or even a man who was involved in an accident and was bedridden on a hospital bed... i love to imitate everything i watch in the tv...

in my primary school years, i used to play a role of a career man.. so what did i do?? i took the smallest shirt papa no longer uses as well as his trousers.. i took a tie.. this was the moment i asked papa on how to wear a tie, and now i'm already a pro!!

so, in the small bedroom i once lived in my gammy's house, i created a shooting set of my own... before i started acting and immersing into my character, i needed a name... Daniel, Faris, Faiz, Sam and all kinds of men's names.. name any, i probably had used them in my own 'play'.. i almost forget, the actings were done in front of a big mirror gammy put in the bedroom, so that i could look at my facial expressions...:D

i started the act when i laid on my bed and pretended as though i was sleeping, waiting for the alarm to wake me up for work.. i got up, took a bath and dressed up like i was really going to work, but all of these were pretentious... i pretended to drive a car and with my brief case i went to my office.. the rest was all cut short and i came home again to continue with my routine as a man at home...

the most favourite part i used to play was an injured man or woman... i guess because it is easy, you don't have to change in working clothes or anything.. in my pajama, i laid down, with one pillow under my left leg and another supporting my right arm... i pretended to be so much in pain and with only my imagination, i could visualise visitors coming and said condolences to me.. so we talked and i even pretended as though a nurse came to change my bandage...

i have never once played with mama's make ups... i guess this makes me who i am now.. i just put on some concealer to cover my prominent scars and flaws and then, i just apply some pressed powder.. oh, not to forget, some sheer colour lip balm.. or a very plain lipstick.. you see, i'm that simple... ocassionally, i apply some eye liner and mascara, but only when i feel like wearing them.. or when i'm wearing my contact lenses.. but not with my giant spectacles.. my eye lashes keep on touching the lenses of my specs and i'm not very comfortable with it.. you see, i know people say 'beauty is pain' but i see no point of sacrificing your comfort for the rest of your outing just to be beautiful... i stick to my principle, simple and comfortable..:D

so, after all my embarrasing confessions about how i used to spend my playtime, do you think all of these are symptoms of us being freaks?? i bet most of you have ways to indulge in your playtime.. but above all, i think when we imagine things, we work our minds.. we create unseen figures and i believe, we are being creative.. when we utilise our right brain (of course we use both of our brains.. the left one for most of the academic stuffs) for creative and imaginative things, we could sharpen our thoughts..

so folks, no matter what you do, either talking by yourself in front of mirrors, or conversing alone with unseen figures.. just ignore when people say 'you're a freak!' because i guarantee, they have had their shares of childhood playtime as well..  no harm in being different!!!:D  

Fellow buddies