Let the waves come. I'm tired.

A hooded man with a scythe.

The face of death, an image of death.

Black as the night, feathers of crows.

Black as jet, dripping down ink.

 

Trapped in cement, wood or air.

House, they say.

Shelter, they say.

Safe, they say.

Heaven, they say.

 

Yet demons slither in,

Eyes red as ruby,

Tongue sharp as words,

Hands of cold corpse,

Cold winds and searing pains.

 

Windows that were once so wide,

Shrinks and dissipates,

Into nothing but a cell,

Blocking and stopping,

Whatever it wishes.

 

For what is this all?

A distant roar of uprisals,

A distant roll of waves,

But too distant,

Too far,

How long is this all?

Come forth uprisals.

Come forth,

Waves.

Disparage

It's like a thunder when an idea cross your mind and send you tumbling to your laptop, hoping you'll catch at least the tail of the boom. So here's Disparage. An expression of a sudden wave of pandemic existence confusion.

Disparage.

Not to disparage, but am i going through a hard time or same old non pandemic years.

Not to disparage, but am i turning numb to the tribulations or same feelings so not feeling.

Not to disparage, but am i growing used to the changes or same routine so no gloating.

Not to disparage,

my own life or the world's crisis,

but I lay down, listen to the world, and fall into a state of eerie confusion,

what is going on?

Are we happy or grieving?

Or both, alternating in balance, too much to resist,

and like a pendulum, without resistance, slowly stops without realising.

When we're in a constant alternation,

do we stagnate like a river that doesn't flow?

When we're in a constant alternation,

do we, become a part of the constellation?

Hikmah dalam Tawar #3

Lately I’ve been loving hot soup. They’re so nice and pleasant to eat. Often feels like a warm blanket on a cold cold day.  

Talking about soup, a type of food made from a mix of different raw pieces, that somehow blends together into a harmonious end flavor. My life too, feels like it’s churning in a big pot, heading towards an end flavor, the “just right for me” flavor.

 

Last few months ago, I enrolled in a translation course outside of uni. 8 classes on weekends. Only one physical class due to mco. It just so happened that the the remaining 7 classes started at around the same time as when my uni resumed classes. So I had to adapt to online classes, being at home, being in my room, facing my own raw self with all its starkness and vividness, all the while trying to not miss classes while swimming in murky water. 

 

I like the course though. I like what I learnt. I didn’t mind the Saturday 9-5 classes. I really really wanted to do well in that course. I want to do well in the exam.

 

Then, the wind blew backwards, bending even the strongest hope, down.

 

It just so happened, again, that the exam date for this translation course was situated on a very busy week filled with exams and submissions. A stress-filled week. I had a uni subject exam right before the scheduled exam date for the translation course. The new system for uni online classes exam is, you are given 24 hours to finish the exam. On Friday evening, 3pm, the paper was given, I answered, until around 5am, Saturday. Then I couldn’t sleep. I have to answer the translation exam at 8! I was afraid I couldn’t sleep. Plus I didn’t study for the translation exam at all oh God. The exam was held at ITBM building. So that morning, without sleep, in a state I had never been in even for my uni exams, I answered three papers on the same day, despairing over the outcome because really, I actually wanted to do well in the course. It was just, tragic :D

 

So exam done, I waited for a few months for the result. Thinking that high chances, I would fail. I guess I have to retake the exam, I thought. I was expecting the worse, because I really didn’t prepare for the exam. 

 

Then few days ago, the exam slip and certificate arrived in the mail, I passed! Not with flying colors, but pass “LULUS” said the cert to me. I looked at the marks for each category, oh I did quite well in most parts, except for the theory part which required revision. And oh, only 1 more mark to “KEPUJIAN”, oh. “Oh” I said, and my mind goes into a swirl. Oh, if only I studied, if only I was in a better state, if only I had more time, if only I fought my fatigue a little bit more before the exam, maybe, maybe, I could have remembered some facts, and answered better, and get that extra one mark to get “KEPUJIAN”.

 

Then I thought, wow, 

Wow.

 

Wasn’t I extremely happy when I discovered I passed? Because I expected myself to fail. Wasn’t I super grateful just few minutes before I checked the marks? Wasn’t the whole situation, better than what I expected?

 

The ONE mark that divided a lower and higher rank, why am I so distraught over it? 

 

This ONE mark, is a test, I thought. A subtle test from Allah, isn’t it? To see where my thoughts and emotions will sway to? Didn’t I thought I would fail, and yes, the chances of passing without studying and in a bad bad mental and physical state, isn’t it a miracle I passed? Wow.

 

Just ONE mark, just ONE more, this train of thought, opened doors to many many new chamber of thoughts, brought in strong tides of murky and rough water that could my brain in a momentary disaster. Close the door before the water comes. Close it quickly. Think. Hikmah. What is it. Grab onto it. Hikmah.

 

Yes. Allah wants to see if I grateful, if I am able to think beyond, if I am able to see the context. Why is it that we must allow numbers and ranks determined by humans to become our badge of honor? Then my mind says, “but Allah, I could have done better, if I was in a better state”, then I realize, with a gulp, that wow. Allah is teaching me that MY ability, MY potential, MY intellect, are not determined nor tied by the numbers printed on a sheet of paper that could easily crumble and fade. I know what I am able to do, I know that I am better than whatever lables, numbers or grades the world had printed out for me. Wow. 

 

I get it Allah. I get it.

 

Thank you.

 

Alhamdulillah.

 

And like a hot soup that burns your toungue if eaten too hastily, but enjoyable when eaten slowly, waiting for a bit to let it cool down a bit, then swallowing it, enjoying the warm sensation that flows through your senses, life too requires the "intense period" follows by a “cool down” to attain the “perfect warmth” and the “just right flavor”. Success, redefine it. Don’t ever let this world cage you with their standardized claws. A tree with strong roots, will stand, even in the biggest hail. This too, is another story for Hikmah dalam Tawar.

 

A baggage of my soul. Here world, take it.

Fira's: The wonders of a crow

She looked up, above, into the skies that stretched above her, forming a sea of mystery, and hope. Why is it that A. Samad Said emphasized so much on crows in his book, Daerah Zeni? Is it simply because of the abundance of crows in Tanah Melayu or is there another layer worth digging?

Crows. Jet black animals, caws and are just, I guess, not as pleasant to the eyes as other colorful birds, like say, a parrot. It’s not even cute size like a sparrow, or majestic like a flamingo. Then what is it?

Crows often get a bad rap. In many Western cultures, they've historically been associated with death, disease, and bad omens, reviled as crop-stealers by farmers, and condemned as nuisances by city dwellers. But the birds are fascinating creatures, adaptable and brainy to an extent that's almost scary. 

Read the first paragraph on Google. Fira puts her chin on her palm and lets the information sink in. Above her, a shadow of black feathers flew past the clear glass of her window. ‘Beautiful’, she thought.

She scrolled down the website, WHEN A CROW DIES, ITS NEIGHBORS MAY THROW A FUNERAL, a line spoke to her. ‘Ahha’, she muttered to herself, suddenly remembering the story of how the two sons of Adam had a fight and Habil killed Qabil. Then unsure of what to do with his brother’s corpse, he saw a crow digging a grave for another dead crow, and did the same for his long gone brother. ‘Intelligent’ she whispers after relieving the thought. The fact that the Quran chose the crow to be the one demonstrating the act, to so called intelligent humans, whom was at lost after succumbing to his own rage and nafs, is a very interesting fact. Afterall, humans often deem crows as dirty, noisy and evil creatures. Often associating crows with witches, wizards, black magic, monsters, demons, in their literatures. Well, in one perspective, maybe not many creatures have the wits and capabilities to live with witches, wizards etc., hence the crows are accepted into the circle. Logically why would powerful creatures want weak and stupid companions by their side right? Crows must be smart and strong, to endure living among the demons without shedding a feather, cawing all the way. 

Of all the living birds, crows, ravens, and parrots have the biggest brain-to-body size ratios. And in lab experiments, these avians show a degree of cognition that puts them on par with the great apes. In fact, research has shown that they have a much higher density of neurons in their forebrains than primates do. The amount of neurons in this region is thought to correlate with a given animal's intelligence. Theoretically, having more neurons translates to better cognitive reasoning. Thus, it looks like crows, ravens, and parrots have enviable minds indeed.

That explains everything, Fira thought, reaching out for a Munchy’s Nutty Chocolate Oat Krunch in front of her, eyes glues on her laptop’s bright screen, eyes as bright as the screen, rivalling the technology in its intensity.

CROWS HAVE REGIONAL DIALECTS—WHICH THEY CAN DELIBERATELY CHANGE

CERTAIN CROWS KNOW HOW TO READ TRAFFIC LIGHTS

‘Ooooh, see, they’re amazing!’, exclaimed Fira, nearly choking on her second packet of Oat Krunch. She wiped the crumbs on her keyboard (this is why you must not eat in front of your laptop), and continued reading, this time loudly. You don't want a crow for an enemy.‘Crap’ she muttered, and remembered how the crows in Daerah Zeni were often hunted and shoot down by humans who considered them as pests. Apparently, crows can recognize and remember our face, and hold a grudge at the same time. ‘Well, good for them. Hopefully they’ll hunt down the humans who made their life hell’.

YOU CAN CALL A GROUP OF CROWS A MURDER, BUT SOME SCIENTISTS WOULD RATHER YOU DIDN'T.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the correct term for a group of crows is a murder, an expression bird-watchers and poets have been using since at least the 15th century, which the OED speculates may allude "to the crow's traditional association with violent death, or … to its harsh and raucous cry." But maybe it's time to come up with a replacement. McGowan hates the phrase "murder of crows." To him, it only feeds the public's negative outlook on the animals. "These birds aren't a gang of nasty villains," he wrote in the book Birdology. "These birds are just birds." McGowan would also have you know that American crows rank among "the most family-oriented birds in the world."

‘You’re right McGowan. Nothing truer than this. Crows are just birds, creatures of God, like us. Why must we paint and depict them in a narrow and harsh light? Isn’t it enough that we murder our own kinds by our lies and fabrications disguised in the form of ‘spill the tea’, ‘truth’. Humans really enjoy sharing stories to each other, nothing wrong with that, but they often forget, every human have their own filter on how they view the world, and often, not one filter is similar. Then what do they do when their worldview differ? They force it upon the other under the guise of ‘retweets’, ‘likes’, clout, publicity, popularity and power. Easy to act that way, since the mass population often too, forget, that they have a mind of their own and is not obliged to follow the masses. We are all a mind of our own, so today, at least, I have allowed myself to ponder about an existence by my own will. Crows are awesome!’. 

Fira looked up upon hearing a cawing sound and a ruffle of feathers, a glimpse of black glistening feathers, light reflected upon its feathers projecting a velvet touch, spreading its wings across the clear blue sky, gaily and mightily, soars untainted, unruffled, unshackled, from any human filters. ‘Herein, the crow exist’.

Reference: https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/504722/12-fascinating-facts-about-crows

 

 

 

 

22. Expectations.

“Challenges bring forth stress.

   Challenges, makes you stronger.”

“Put your expectations not in this world,

   But the promises that lies beyond.”

I am still very far from the individual I wish to be, but life itself, from the day we were born to the world of now, is ‘work in progress’. Therefore, I will continue to progress, mend, build, create, and learn from every single element in my life. 

Expectations,

Turned out to be one of the most ground breaking lessons in my life. A shackle I had to break and be free from. Learning where to put my expectations at, took years for me to comprehend. A lesson that cannot be learnt through lectures or continuous memorization. A lesson that had to be thought by a thousand and one individuals. 

From a child who keeps herself in her shell, afraid of the thorns and bullets flying around her, braving through the blood, in order to live, and retreating back into the shell, trying to comprehend the scratches and bruises on her skin and soul.

To a child who comprehends now, that the scars, the tears, the blood, was all a part of growing up, of maturing, of learning, and relearning, of turning into a person who can see the reason and wisdom behind the thorns, of why it happened, of why it had to happen, of why it had to be learnt from.

Expectations, had to bring hammers and bulldozers to crush and break me, to break the shell around me, in order to rebuild me from better elements, elements that may withstand the sharpest tongue without having to retreat backwards, elements that absorbs every good and evil and turn it into a form that can do nothing, but bring value to a life.

Expectations, now at 22, resides in my belief of what God promises humankind. Do your best, do good, and worry not of the results. Be at ease if it doesn’t go the way you think it should go. Be at ease when the lights in your life turns black. Be at ease when your path shrinks, and the sky collapse. Be at ease because God has promised eternal heaven for those who strive for good, remain patient, learn from their own faults, and never fail to be grateful for just, being able to breathe yet again. No darkness is constant, for God, has promised us an everlasting light in an everlasting dimension. So be at ease.

The labyrinth where time stops.

The labyrinth where time stops.

Morocco.

She stood above her gaze, traversing through unknown figures, turning into a translucent sheet of fabric, allowing light to travel through. Buildings of turāb, turāb means earth, the buildings here reminded her of the ground below her, crumbling but intact, a compact base, for crippling humans.

One step after another, she placed her foot, one after another, on the dusty stairs of the blocks of hope. Hope of seeing the sun in its galore, descending to earth like a holy deity blessing humankind with its grace. She pushed open the door separating her world and heaven. The wind gushed in, singing a tune of freedom, skipping and tumbling all over her existence. She pulled her sweater sleeves over her cold hands, unready for the world. Closer, she walked to the edge, towards a mere human creation that separated sanity from insanity, a small wall that stops beneath her shoulders, made to remind, that humans are mortal and death beyond the wall, waves, and calls, like a siren in the vast sea, beautiful and inviting.

She stood near death and insanity, her gaze swept over  square fortresses and stretches of dreamy blue sky, emblazed in majestic gold, dipped in gentle pink hues, and  there she saw, a glimpse of the deity on its pedestal.

of a hidden river

I realise, that things won't be easy.
This path I take, many will feel the burden.
Of a long distant relationship,
separated by seas, connected through a screen.

I realise, that it will only get harder,
but this is a path that I must take,
to relinquish the fire in me,
that seeks for new challenges,
that seeks new wonders,
that seeks to explore.

Despite my own weaknesses, I somehow,
still find myself trudging on thorny roads,
cutting through thick bushes,
just to see the hidden river beneath the thickets,
only for the determined,
only for the ones who seek.

Forgive me, but I must.