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.

Partially invisible

Partially invisible, is her, sitting in her sphere, in a small office, trying to keep herself occupied, while footsteps sprinkle around her, reminding her of the purpose missing from her, a ring of a phone and the sound of the receiver being picked up, the rustling of papers, the sound of someone muttering something deep in work, the distinct sound of fingers pressing keyboards typing a line of importance, the sound of someone in the pantry, making a cup of coffee, stirring the mixture, a power booster, back to work, a blue shirt passing in front of her small cubicle, visible in her sight as she train her eyes on the screen of her desktop, legs starting to cramp, sat for too long with no work to do, a voice calling someone, the beeping sound of the printer, creaking out papers, a door opened, more voices, request, discussions, the doorbell rings a melody, greetings exchanged as the cleaner enters, “Assalamualaikum” she greets, and the intern sits, listens, reads, types, sits, wondering if she is partially invisible, and if it is possible to be fully invisible because then she can at least take a much needed nap which no one can blame her for taking, then the clock strikes five and a voice chimes “Taknak balik ke Maryam?”, the chime of freedom, suddenly, like cinderella who loses her magic at midnight, the intern's magic fades at 5, now, no longer partially invisible, she gathers her stuff and inhale the welcoming air of being a fully visible, functional human and takes firm strides filled with purpose, towards the door, out into the cool post-rain air, now, she lives, I live.

Apple crumble

Love comes in many forms.

I still remember feeling my chest swelling with happiness upon hearing the sound of the gate opening and the soft purr of a car signaling my father’s return from his work after a night away in a different state.

I also remember the warmth that fills my soul as I hear my brother’s voice in front of the house, returning from tarawih prayer, half screaming in joy at the sight of the Mercedes Benz parked cozily in the parking space, and the way his footsteps and energy reverberates as he enters the house, bursting in with radiance greeting the one man he grew up with, an innocence that only he can possess.

I remember looking up from the soft green sofa and greeted with white enshrouded backs. The backs of wan and mak, in their telekung, both now weak in the legs, consumed by age, seated on plastic chairs, praying two rakaat after Isyak prayer.

I remember the silent humm of the house on that night, filling in every nook with radiance, comfort, peace. Like the warmth and crunchiness of the apples of an apple crumble, baked to golden. Warm and sweet, with a grunge of texture perfecting the stimulus. My apple crumble.

That night, nothing else seems to matter more than savoring the taste of the night. A love that I know will not last, so let time stop, imprint it on letters, and let the crumbs spill all over the world.

Recommended song: Nap of a star - TXT

Unpacking memories

I was packing my stuff because the semester has ended for me and I’m going home tomorrow, and an overwhelming nostalgia hits.

This whole process of packing and unpacking brings back the memories of my childhood. I have lived a childhood of hopping from one school to another, one house to another, one city to another. Not as much as some people but Wangsa Maju-Shah Alam-Kota Damansara-Bangi-Saudi-Bangi, is still a handful for an introvert soul like me.

While packing, I reminisced on the memories of my school life that seems to become even more vivid right in front of my eyes. Without realization, when I was in primary one, I have already began the process of moving from one place to another. I had two schools for primary one, because I hated my first school for some reason, I ran from that school to my old kindergarten (it was right beside the school). The second one gratefully went fine for me. Made friends, played a lot, lived a typical life of a primary one kid. Little did I know I was going to move in one more year.

I remember telling my friends I was going to another school and my friends were angry because I told them lambat. Honestly, I didn’t know what was the huge deal, I was just going to move to another place. Heh.

Then I moved, to an apartment in Shah Alam and boy the apartment was a handful for my 9-year-old soul. I remember throwing tantrums for some reason for quite a few times at the parking lot (still have no idea why), watching kacang kacang show on tv, poking at my huge pillow God knows why I have it and why anyone bought it for me, and staring at the empty walls and the limited spaces in the white walled apartment.

Then Kota Damansara happened. I remember sitting at the arm of a sofa, staring at my parents unloading boxes from the car, eyes starting to get teary and I blinked it away. Damansara brought with it many good and conflicting memories. A larger house, had friends to play with as my cousins live a few houses away, had my own space for toys and books, but school, was a challenge.

First time being a new kid, you gotta learn the rules. No friends for a few months and never mentioning anything to my parents, life went on, along with school drama. Gradually, the friend problem ceased, people apologized to me, friends entered my sphere, and life rolls on. At my second year in the school, I was told by my parents that we were going to move again. I remember internally slowly detaching myself from my friends, teachers and school environment. This time, with farewell gifts in my hand, I knew what moving means.

Then we moved.

A young city, that will soon grow faster than it should. New house, new city, new friends, new environment, and once again, the new kid in the block. School went fine, gained more friends, made many great memories, but it was also in this city where God decided to teach me a life-long lesson. My world became significantly darker as I exited my primary school life with a greater sensitivity to my surroundings than before.

High school life, began. 

Three schools for Form 1. Two in Malaysia, one in Saudi. Each with their own stories. Just when I thought my life should have settled down, somehow I was on a plane to a place I have never imagined I would go so early in my life. A new home means I have to quickly adapt and learn the ropes in a new school. Every school is different. New kid in the block once again, this time in an international school. Fun. The memories were polarized from very nice to very depressing.  One year in, and I was again, told by my parents that we will be moving back to Malaysia. Again, I thought, what’s new?. I was ready to move, and we did. 

Somehow, after that, my life settled down in one school until high school graduation. Sri Ayesya. The first school I stayed in for more than two years. I was definitely amused. A world record.

What was I doing? Ahh I was quietly packing my stuff, but somehow, old memories waft in my mind, creeping out from the hidden passages in my mind. Amazing isn’t it, to be able to experience all of that. A life unique to only me and no others. An exquisite journey designed to bring out the best in me. All this while, while moving from school to school, I never realized that in the end, schools, are merely classrooms for me to learn. The real school is this whole worldly journey I’m on. I have nine schools but none can teach me as much as the school God have tailor-made for me. 

May whatever journey or path we embark on, becomes a character-building experience for all of us. It might be rocky, confusing, lonely, exciting, and a thousand more sensations, but in the end, it’ll be a unique experience that only you will get to experience. Have faith, it’ll be an amazing story to tell. 

Hot Season

https://listenonrepeat.com/?v=f6bHMLFwJmw&s=&e=#Sad_Piano_Music_-_Searching_(Copyright_Free)

A hot season with a cool mug of iced tea in both hands,

Fresh from class,

From frantic people,

From mind wrecking decisions

From stifling lecturers,

From random passerby,

From the golden sun,

From the clear blue sky,

From a day filled with different levels of energy.

“It’s fun but also tiring”,

She types in her whatsapp group,

Not intending to complain but,

To just let it out ,

Let it out,

Of the system that lies in a human physique.

“I mean, I AM happy. I love what I do. I am proud of myself for handling everything so well.”

“but, sometimes, the heat gets to me. I hate how I always watch other people’s whatsapp stories, I hate how I always glance at my whatsapp to see if there’s any new messages although my brain is full. I can’t respond to everyone who needs me. I can’t please everyone who seeks me. I can’t be the perfect figure for people who looks at me. My life is full. I wonder what’s my limit on these days? On days where I walk under the sun while maintaining a calm composure, wincing at the heat.”

Then, as the headache knocks,

And the heat level increases,

And auto-pilot mode activates,

She realize,

“Ahh, I have reach my limit. Right, let’s take a break.”

And curtains drawn,

A mug of iced tea,

Laptop ready,

Earphones on,

Calming tunes began to play,

she moves,

And listen,

And watch,

And write,

Whatever her heart wills,

And the weather becomes cooler,

The breeze began to enter,

Into her dimly lit room,

Colors began to form,

Splashes of red, blue, purple,

Recolor her fading soul,

Spreading warmth,

And comfort,

Until finally the end product,

Her heart beats again,

With life,

Spirit,

And a soothing coolness.

“Could this be the iced tea effect?”

She wonders,

As she sips her sweet tea,

And allows the coolness of the mug,

To sink into her dry palms,

And cools her humid world.