.: Will of heaven :.

Parting beneath the clouded skies.

If your love is true, you would feel an aversion for anything that does not remind you of the one you love. How odd! Whoever claims to love and needs someone to remind him of the lover, his love is not complete. The least thing that shows your love is that you never forget your beloved one.

Imam Ibn Qayyim (rahimullah) 

Perhaps I am not as forgetful as I thought I am.

4.03pm Malaysian Time

.: Ounces of life :.

Ties that bind.

I’ve been pondering about people and the lives that they lead. Then I began reflecting on the life I’m having, and Alhamdulillah I can openly admit that I am blessed. The family that I’m brought up in is able to provide the comforts of life and there hasn’t been a time when I had to endure a kind of hardship which is literally unbearable. The closest idea I have on what hardship means is based on the stories told by my parents and friends.

For the past few years I have started to learn to be more responsible in relation to myself and the family. However it is great to know that I will always have my family’s backing and support whenever, and wherever the need arises. Hence I supposed I had been living in a life where complacency and contentment exists as a pair.

On the other hand, conversations with friends and new acquaintances introduced me to another kind of life. Some voiced their concerns of striving tirelessly to make ends meet, while some are only seeing bleak futures. One of the appalling truths was when a friend fesses up some problems due to improper financial management. Thankfully the damage wasn’t so severe.

Just the other day I read about a person seeking forgiveness from his parents because he has been lying about his income. He doesn’t earn a lot, yet circumstances didn’t allow him to tell the truth. He doesn’t want to disappoint his parents neither does he want them to worry about him. He reached a deadlock when he felt he was unable to continue living in a life full of deceits, particularly to his parents.

In our culture as I supposed this happens in other cultures too we are expected to give our parents money once we are in the workforce, but my parents never raise this issue. Whatever I give, whether it is in monetary or material-form is solely based on my own discretion. They don't set any rules that I need to abide to. Then again, some parents expect certain obligations from their children, and this happens to be one of it. So I have friends lamenting that the amount they give is never enough.

This got me thinking again, just what is filial piety and does our definition of it ascertain the kind of life we lead? Are we truly being honest to ourselves and our parents when we  try to assume the role of a filial son/daughter? Or are we doing it because society and surroundings compel us to do so?

Just a thought.

10.43am Malaysian Time

.: Entangled footprints :.

Tracing the footsteps.

 

"Shoes" attributed to my cousin SyazaMST

"The memory will become stronger ..." 

I'm returning to where it all began.  

12.57noon Malaysian Time

.: Mellow grandeur :.

Delicate enclosure.

My brother took me out for a ride in his first set of wheels. I was about 11 years old. 

Me: "Look bro! It's the Eiffel Tower!"

Bro: "Silly little girl ... that's the electric transmission tower. :)"

Me: "You're no fun!"

Several years down the road as I was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower at the Champ de Mars, my brother sneaked behind my back and said ...

"Why are you admiring that electric transmission tower? :)" 

Amazing how that memory triggered when I visited a replica of the Eiffel Tower in Shenzhen, China.

Along with other memories. :)

11.41am Malaysian Time

.: Faltering silence :.

His demise.

Both of his legs were amputated. He sat on a wheelchair, and his clothes were tattered, and filthy. Yet, even under those circumstances he greeted everyone that passed by him with a jovial smile, and continued to beg for alms at the corner of the street. 

Sometimes strangers will stop and talk to him, while others will drop a few coins into his chipped mug. Seldom does one sees another person not returning his smile, and warm greetings.

One fine day the police came and surrounded his begging spot. Flies were circulating his clothes. He had fallen off his wheelchair. As the police inspected his condition, they shook their heads and called for assistance from the public. 

The uncle was no longer breathing. 

Several months have passed since his death, yet I still see people whom are familiar with the uncle stop for a brief moment at his begging spot to show their respects. 

It is disheartening to know that my silent friend is no longer around.

May he rest in peace.

3.55pm Malaysian Time