Tag Archives: family
So, the blog’s been left dormant again. The odd picture post, yeah. But largely ignored. Been pretending I was too busy taking pictures for my other blog, where there’s a lot of err… pictures.
How was your raya? As empty and devoid of meaning as it was for me? Quite difficult to celebrate the triumph of abstinence over consumption when one doesn’t abstain, ever.
I was in the living room that bright raya morning, waiting for some semblance of feeling. An approximation of how raya used to feel like when I was younger. You know, the ghost of joy that wasn’t exactly happiness but made your heart swell up with love and forgiveness. Usually it was strongest during the annual on-yer-knees-asking-for-forgiveness-kissing-and-crying rigmarole. You just knelt and mumbled apologies and usually the tears that came after weren’t feigned. You felt something.
It’s wearing off. There is a noticeable decline in the range of emotions experienced during this most well-meaning of rituals. When I was a kid, I genuinely felt that I wronged my parents and really wanted their forgiveness. For the times I ditched school, or whined or protested or beat-up my brothers or knocked-up a maid. This year I didn’t even bother mumbling out the “Selamat hari raya Abah, mintak maaf mintak ampun, halalkan makan minum Along” and shit.
Not because I haven’t wronged anyone this year. I just didn’t feel like it.
It’s nice to smoke out in the open again, though.
Woke up at 1.00 today. It’s almost 4.30 now and I’m still trying to finish last night’s beverages. You know, before my parents get back from the sequel to last week’s wedding. Get the house back to its usual Hadhari state and shit.
The band were here last night. Along with Toj, Ud, Wan As. Some singing and candle blowing at around 10. Caught up on some guy gossip. Of whose mentol is menyalaing and such. Great fun.
Went out for a drive in Tojeng’s VW. P driving and L in the passenger seat. I was with S in the back seat. Me wowing the ride and S actually getting lulled by the combination of The Smiths on the stereo and the incessant humroar of the engine. Great ride, Tojeng!
Ledge was the last to leave I suppose. When I woke up for a loo call at around 9, he was sprawled in front of the tv awakened by one of my huge morning farts. P was on the couch, sleeping in his jeans. A short nap after sending off L to work, maybe. Before he has to rush off to his office for some weekend function. A busy man and expectant father, unrepentant partier and loving husband.
Did some group writing for the Ralat site. A short biography of the band. All awkward without a clue to what needs to be written. Well the bio’s there if anybody’s interested. Oh and a short photo session conducted by Y. The pic is in the banner at the site. P was worried that he looked too menyerlah. I wouldn’t worry too much about that if I were him.
Do you know this song by The Verve called Sonnet? Well, right before the song fades to a finish there is this lovely refrain of a phrase. Y, my beautiful sister just told me about 10 minutes ago that there are 5 …by now’s and 8 …oh by now’s in the song.
When I reached home after school this afternoon, the flags were already there. Abah had apparently put them up earlier and while so doing, hurt his foot. While having lunch he said that the injury he sustained was akin to shedding blood for his own country.
What may seem like a pledge of allegiance and unconditional loyalty to his country, was in fact said with irony and deep cynicism. Yet this did not stop him from sticking two big Jalur Gemilang‘s at our gate.
The fact that he loves his country is indisputable. He served it as a mid-level government officer for more than 3 decades. He had seldom taken a day off from work nor was he one of the tea-break officers who would be at the canteen come 10 o’clock in the morning. He pays his taxes and settles his traffic summonses. Although it was never communicated to me explicitly, my father’s pride was in serving the people. My father’s love for his country is expressed only through his dedication to his job.
This love, however, is not blind love.
“Faults in another / that would not matter / in our loved ones / assume / cataclysmic proportions / and if i did not care / i would not dare / chart / your many imperfections“
To My Country by Cecil Rajendra
A common fixture of his day includes the tantrum he throws, paper in hand, hurling expletives towards the object of his scorn (often in the form of government policy or political personalities). He often laughs at political speeches made by some of our electorate and constantly ridicules displays of patriotic fervour (songs, poems, sketches etc.) on television. All this without ever proselytizing or sharing with us the finer points of his discontent. He ridicules because he finds them worthy of ridicule, not because of something he heard in conversation at the coffee shop.
When the the Month of Independence officially ends, and he has to take the flags down, I wonder if he’d snub his toe again and what would he say to it then. I also wonder about my own turn to shed blood for my beloved bolehland.