“In the name of Allah the most gracious and most merciful.” More than just a sentence, it is an utterance of faith in one omnipotent God, declared by Muslims all around the world before committing even the simplest of deeds. An act so entrenched, it has been taken for granted by those caring only to wet their lips with these beautiful names of Allah, without thoroughly embracing their meanings by heart.
Allah is ar-Rahman, the most Beneficent, the most Gracious. Allah, God of all things living and not, does not discriminate according to blood, family-line, religion, and yes, including race, in awarding His bountiful wealth to a person deserving of what he had worked for.
A person not learned in the laws of God, I could not speak for the many interpretations of God’s kindness. Yet, one thing I do understand is that a number of ways could be used in attempts to explain fairness and equality in various economics terms.
Based on an idea suggested by one John Nash in his 1950 doctorate dissertation in Princeton, the best result achievable by a group of players is when all involved acted in the interest of the group, not of individual preferences. In other words, there is no harm, only goodness, that could come out of sharing, rather than fighting. John Nash may be the one who discovered the theory; the result, however, had been promised by God thousands of years back.
The embarrassing question we cannot avoid but to ask ourselves now is, why do more citizens of Malaysia – in fact, let’s call them the majority – believe so much in the pessimistic view of zero-sum game, that they are afraid to face even the most inevitable challenges of life?
Human beings are created by God from sounding clay, in an array of tones from dark to fair, not for us to shout our claims of which land belongs to who, but to appreciate the differences in us as the glue that has been keeping human relationship from falling apart as God prefers not for one group to feel above another by what granted to them, except only of humility.
With all due respect, I ask, what is a constitution except words written by mortal human beings who did not have the ability to foresee the coming future even if they had wanted to?
Malaysia may be a young country, but based on human time, it had been a while now since we last saw 1957, and the Malaysians that are currently living here are no different from their neighbors except for the limitations put in their way by those easily brought down from vulnerable seats of power.
We are a scared bunch of people. Regrettably, because of our unwarranted fear, not only are we restricting the gains of those we are afraid of facing in a game of strength and perseverance, but because of negative-sum game, indirectly we are putting a constraint to what we can fully achieve too. God is fair, and karma is mean.
I’m proud of 1Malaysia. In fact, why don’t we stretch it further to include 1World?
The challenge now is, to those who have been eating the cili padis, are you too arrogant to defy the law of God for those written by men? Is being Malay, a race, a color of the skin, that is only as pure as the Gombak river, more important to you than being a Muslim, a religion, unchanged by neither time nor weather?
Wallahualam.
-C-
The Mind Is Where The Body Isn't
Monday, June 21, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Peace, an unrealistic term, used realistically
terrorism [ˈtɛrəˌrɪzəm] n shocking acts of violence in which the principal purpose is not destruction itself but the dramatic and psychological effects on populations and governments
The world we are currently living in is unknowingly divided into two, the one shared with others, and another that others choose to keep to themselves, an effect of our own subconscious mind. Physical reality is not made up of atoms and matters; instead, it is made up of our own definition on particular matters.
Before 9/11, the word 'terrorism' was simply defined as the practice of terror, with no hidden message, only truth that comes from adding the English suffix of –ism. Now, ten years after the scare of Y2K, the world has yet to agree upon a universal definition of a word that was once neither flashed nor stamped in the media every time a bomb explodes in some remote places in the world.
Yet, according to the world that we live in today, terrorism is what we choose to call the actions of those who do not abide by conventional laws of war and peace. The question is, “Who decides who gets into the list, and who to be left out?”
The act of terrorism is not exclusively a strategy of one tribe or, say, religion. Terrorist groups can be found in various locations on the map including the Far East in the form of Aleph in Japan, and to as far west in the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC. These very distinct groups use similarly harmful methods as a way to call attention to their causes, since there is very limited use to the human voice if no ear chooses to listen. Destruction is a small price to pay for what these groups deemed as the greater cause. Anybody with a right mind knows no such justification is justification enough.
In international politics, it must be understood that terrorism can be used by both state and non-state actors. Most commonly, though, more not-state actors choose to hide behind the smoking veil of terrorism because they are disproportionately weaker than the state, or any power, they are rebelling against. On the other hand, states do have an incentive to use terrorism too, especially during a losing battle, to scare their own people or other states, while at the same time avoiding the blame of starting a psychological battle by using surrogate non-state actors.
Unfortunately, there are also a handful of states, committing acts so horrendous they terrorize those dwarfed by their standard of prowess, with no political purpose, using no surrogate actors, except those employed by the states themselves. What do we make of them? Do we leave them alone in the name of self-autonomy? If so, where is the line between humanity and sovereignty? What are we willing to give up in order to maintain world order? If we choose to let blood be spilled to stand up for a belief in the Westphalian system of four hundred years ago, are we any different from those whom the word ‘terrorist’ rolled out of our tongues in spits when their names are mentioned?
Simply, justice does not exist. If such a thing has ever walked and breathed on this earth, where has it been all this while as we quietly watched states take mothers away from sons, nephews away from uncles, and friends away from each other? Where is this justice when cases of families torn apart by the power of the state are to be filed under the eyes of no observer? The balloons of arrogance and hypocrisy are only further blown into, taking more wind out of feeble states to keep them begging for mercy.
Reality does not exist, either. There is nothing real about having to dissect a seemingly objective affair in subjective terms. An influential state does not have to answer to any power above it once the finger (or gun barrel) has been point. But take a much weaker state which is asking for practically nothing, except that of the same rights enjoyed by its neighbors, only to be denied on the ground of unproven suspicion. What, thus, is left to be considered as real about international laws and conventions?
No words or actions can change the reality in which a state chooses to live in. They are not what they say they are not, and we are what they say we are, which technically is what they are, too, except, we are labeled with an ironically undefined word.
-C-
The world we are currently living in is unknowingly divided into two, the one shared with others, and another that others choose to keep to themselves, an effect of our own subconscious mind. Physical reality is not made up of atoms and matters; instead, it is made up of our own definition on particular matters.
Before 9/11, the word 'terrorism' was simply defined as the practice of terror, with no hidden message, only truth that comes from adding the English suffix of –ism. Now, ten years after the scare of Y2K, the world has yet to agree upon a universal definition of a word that was once neither flashed nor stamped in the media every time a bomb explodes in some remote places in the world.
Yet, according to the world that we live in today, terrorism is what we choose to call the actions of those who do not abide by conventional laws of war and peace. The question is, “Who decides who gets into the list, and who to be left out?”
The act of terrorism is not exclusively a strategy of one tribe or, say, religion. Terrorist groups can be found in various locations on the map including the Far East in the form of Aleph in Japan, and to as far west in the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC. These very distinct groups use similarly harmful methods as a way to call attention to their causes, since there is very limited use to the human voice if no ear chooses to listen. Destruction is a small price to pay for what these groups deemed as the greater cause. Anybody with a right mind knows no such justification is justification enough.
In international politics, it must be understood that terrorism can be used by both state and non-state actors. Most commonly, though, more not-state actors choose to hide behind the smoking veil of terrorism because they are disproportionately weaker than the state, or any power, they are rebelling against. On the other hand, states do have an incentive to use terrorism too, especially during a losing battle, to scare their own people or other states, while at the same time avoiding the blame of starting a psychological battle by using surrogate non-state actors.
Unfortunately, there are also a handful of states, committing acts so horrendous they terrorize those dwarfed by their standard of prowess, with no political purpose, using no surrogate actors, except those employed by the states themselves. What do we make of them? Do we leave them alone in the name of self-autonomy? If so, where is the line between humanity and sovereignty? What are we willing to give up in order to maintain world order? If we choose to let blood be spilled to stand up for a belief in the Westphalian system of four hundred years ago, are we any different from those whom the word ‘terrorist’ rolled out of our tongues in spits when their names are mentioned?
Simply, justice does not exist. If such a thing has ever walked and breathed on this earth, where has it been all this while as we quietly watched states take mothers away from sons, nephews away from uncles, and friends away from each other? Where is this justice when cases of families torn apart by the power of the state are to be filed under the eyes of no observer? The balloons of arrogance and hypocrisy are only further blown into, taking more wind out of feeble states to keep them begging for mercy.
Reality does not exist, either. There is nothing real about having to dissect a seemingly objective affair in subjective terms. An influential state does not have to answer to any power above it once the finger (or gun barrel) has been point. But take a much weaker state which is asking for practically nothing, except that of the same rights enjoyed by its neighbors, only to be denied on the ground of unproven suspicion. What, thus, is left to be considered as real about international laws and conventions?
No words or actions can change the reality in which a state chooses to live in. They are not what they say they are not, and we are what they say we are, which technically is what they are, too, except, we are labeled with an ironically undefined word.
-C-
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Nur Kasih
Barely two days back in Malaysia and my mum was already eagerly promoting the new supposedly exciting Malaysian drama called Nur Kasih, which according to her had all Malaysians glued to the television for those at home, and laptops if they’re overseas. To be honest, I was reluctant to watch it at first because I am not a Malay drama fan. But I do like Kabir Bhatia, the director. And I do try to show appreciation to talented Malaysians where it is deserved. Plus, it’s not like my husband and I have other things to do at home. So we did – we watched. My brother wanted me to do a review on the show, but instead of doing a typical review, I’d like to comment on particular things about the show.
In general, I do like the plot. It’s interesting. I guess I can’t complain much about the ending as a Malay drama won’t be a Malay drama if it’s not predictable. Basically Nur Kasih is about two brothers, both on either end of the spectrum. Because of the wish of a dying father, the lives of both brothers were met with obstacles one after another.
Now, firstly I’d like to comment on the fact that they put the ‘good brother’ in Cairo, and the other one in Sydney. It’s a simplistic way to tell the story, I know. Not a bad one, but too old fashioned. "Those who go to more western countries to further their studies have a higher tendency to fall off the right path." I may be a bit too emotional in writing this, but I’m ashamed and embarrassed for those who think so. In my opinion, when one goes to a country where one is a minority, it reinforces one’s identity thus further pushes one to stay on the right track. It is when one is surrounded by his or her people that are doing wrong that one feels ‘comfortable’ in acting the same way. For example, I do have friends in our many local universities, including those Islamic universities and colleges. But I’ve frequently heard more stories about them drinking, doing drugs, and having pre-marital sex – yes including students of those universities. It’s because when they see their peers doing it, they’ll feel like outsiders if they don’t. But in a place where no one knows your name, you are under less pressure except to live your own life.
Secondly, the idea of early marriage. I support the drama in its attempt to prove that one does not automatically fail if one marries early, especially with little financial support. It is do-able with the right attitude. Maybe I was a bit frustrated when Nur, the title name, felt like she had to give up her dreams when she got married. She does not need to feel so if she really has the gut to face both responsibilities head-on. I hope the ‘right persons’ are reading what I’m about to write: being married while studying is difficult. Instead of just having to focus on getting good grades, one needs to focus on one’s spouse too. Furthermore, as Muslims it’s not just about cooking and cleaning, it’s much more. It’s about being partners. It’s about being leaders. It’s about being forgiving. It’s not easy living with another person for the first time. It’s not. It takes a lot of work and compromises. When they say one needs to be ready, it’s not financially, it’s mentally. That’s why one needs to be married with someone one loves. Someone you truly love. Someone who can change the way you view life. Someone who can make you a better person. It’s not about wiping stain off your spouse’s cheeks, it’s about holding the other’s hand firmer even after countless screams and tears. I believe that is the main idea behind Nur Kasih. Don’t underestimate the power of a marriage IF it is entered whole-heartedly.
Finally, Nur Kasih is special in its idea of change. People can change. No human is born evil, nor is there anyone born perfect. I do believe that the thing that molds a person into himself, more than anything else, is his experience whilst growing up. That is why the roles played by parents are very important. This takes us back to the idea of responsibility in a marriage. Please, don’t have kids if you’re not ready to answer to Allah if you die tomorrow. They are your biggest responsibility. That does not mean you could do anything to them; you need to respect and see them as persons, as equals. Talk to them and don’t easily reach for the cane as it is the last resort according to our Prophet (pbuh). They may be hard to understand. They may be different from you. But they’re yours. Allah is fair. Mischievous children are not bad children, just misunderstood. But of course, one should not expect to have angelic sons or daughters if one does not practice what’s asked of them too. Trust in God, and He’ll trust you.
So that’s my two cents’ worth on Nur Kasih. If you love a good story, beautiful cinematography, and is looking for food for the soul, I highly recommend Nur Kasih.
-C-
p/s: Rassyid and I did not watch the current repeats on TV3, my parents actually bought the collector's DVD box.
In general, I do like the plot. It’s interesting. I guess I can’t complain much about the ending as a Malay drama won’t be a Malay drama if it’s not predictable. Basically Nur Kasih is about two brothers, both on either end of the spectrum. Because of the wish of a dying father, the lives of both brothers were met with obstacles one after another.
Now, firstly I’d like to comment on the fact that they put the ‘good brother’ in Cairo, and the other one in Sydney. It’s a simplistic way to tell the story, I know. Not a bad one, but too old fashioned. "Those who go to more western countries to further their studies have a higher tendency to fall off the right path." I may be a bit too emotional in writing this, but I’m ashamed and embarrassed for those who think so. In my opinion, when one goes to a country where one is a minority, it reinforces one’s identity thus further pushes one to stay on the right track. It is when one is surrounded by his or her people that are doing wrong that one feels ‘comfortable’ in acting the same way. For example, I do have friends in our many local universities, including those Islamic universities and colleges. But I’ve frequently heard more stories about them drinking, doing drugs, and having pre-marital sex – yes including students of those universities. It’s because when they see their peers doing it, they’ll feel like outsiders if they don’t. But in a place where no one knows your name, you are under less pressure except to live your own life.
Secondly, the idea of early marriage. I support the drama in its attempt to prove that one does not automatically fail if one marries early, especially with little financial support. It is do-able with the right attitude. Maybe I was a bit frustrated when Nur, the title name, felt like she had to give up her dreams when she got married. She does not need to feel so if she really has the gut to face both responsibilities head-on. I hope the ‘right persons’ are reading what I’m about to write: being married while studying is difficult. Instead of just having to focus on getting good grades, one needs to focus on one’s spouse too. Furthermore, as Muslims it’s not just about cooking and cleaning, it’s much more. It’s about being partners. It’s about being leaders. It’s about being forgiving. It’s not easy living with another person for the first time. It’s not. It takes a lot of work and compromises. When they say one needs to be ready, it’s not financially, it’s mentally. That’s why one needs to be married with someone one loves. Someone you truly love. Someone who can change the way you view life. Someone who can make you a better person. It’s not about wiping stain off your spouse’s cheeks, it’s about holding the other’s hand firmer even after countless screams and tears. I believe that is the main idea behind Nur Kasih. Don’t underestimate the power of a marriage IF it is entered whole-heartedly.
Finally, Nur Kasih is special in its idea of change. People can change. No human is born evil, nor is there anyone born perfect. I do believe that the thing that molds a person into himself, more than anything else, is his experience whilst growing up. That is why the roles played by parents are very important. This takes us back to the idea of responsibility in a marriage. Please, don’t have kids if you’re not ready to answer to Allah if you die tomorrow. They are your biggest responsibility. That does not mean you could do anything to them; you need to respect and see them as persons, as equals. Talk to them and don’t easily reach for the cane as it is the last resort according to our Prophet (pbuh). They may be hard to understand. They may be different from you. But they’re yours. Allah is fair. Mischievous children are not bad children, just misunderstood. But of course, one should not expect to have angelic sons or daughters if one does not practice what’s asked of them too. Trust in God, and He’ll trust you.
-C-
p/s: Rassyid and I did not watch the current repeats on TV3, my parents actually bought the collector's DVD box.
Monday, May 3, 2010
A Walk Alone
The smell of freshly cut grass. Green, with yellow in between. Spring has finally sprung. Heat through leaves, wind through leaves. The sound of Spring. Porch with people rocking in chairs. One said Hi and Peace be Upon Me. Lovely day, lovely weather. Didn't notice it whilst escaping Winter. Not just the colors but also the feel. Of Spring rushing through my fingers. Drips of water on watered greens. Splashes of them on a smiling face. How else to explain this wonder. Of changing seasons, ever-changing times.
-C-
-C-
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Mother's Day 2010
In one week we’ll be celebrating Mother’s Day. I haven’t made a big deal out of the day since I was about fourteen, probably. It was all caused by that crap people kept on telling at me about, “Oh, as Muslims we should not celebrate our mothers for just one day, but it should be a year-long event!” Well, I know that, but does it make me a sinner to love my momma extra special for another day besides on her birthday? Celebrating Mother's Day has never been about guilt of loving her less for the rest of the year, but I was young so I fell for that, and stopped buying my mum presents on this day after years of dragging my brother to our neighborhood Giant to buy something as simple as a mirror, or a make-up box (this was when my allowance was RM1 a day). But then I stopped.
But for this coming weekend, in honor of my mother, I’ve decided to give her something extra special. I’ve now come to a place where I can say I know myself and my momma better. I know now, without doubt, that I’m an ‘arguer’. Well, actually, my parents already knew that about me way before I joined the school’s debate team. I got that from my daddy. But my mum, my ibu, she’s not like us. She’s the opposite. She’s the sweetest human being who loves her kids so much that she’d lie to us so as to not hurt our feelings. Better yet, sometimes she doesn’t need to lie because somehow - magically - she knows exactly what to say to make things all better again. Since she’s such a loving person, she would always tell me, “Let others talk, they will never know the real you.” My mum would never waste her time arguing with others, even if they’re wrong. But me, I would.
I’ve heard a lot of people say, “Today’s working mothers are not real mothers! Real mothers stay at home to cook and clean for their kids!” It’s kind of like a stigma for women to work, even though what these people don’t realize is, MOST women - wives and mothers - do work these days, and I’ve seen equally, if not more beautiful children coming from these families. My mum works…so what? These people who say mothers should not work because extra money is not that important, they are actually lying to themselves. Money is one of the main reasons families tear apart. Having extra is never wrong. Besides that, I believe that working women are more in touch with themselves thus in return, they are better at giving without feeling empty inside. This further leads to sincerity and maturity from the mums and also the kids.
My mum works, so does that mean she loves me and my brother less? No. Does that mean she doesn’t teach us valuable life lessons? No. As much as I would like to maintain a strong case, I won’t lie and say I haven’t wished more than once for them to have more time to spend with us. But like my mum always says, “It’s not the number of kids that counts, it is their quality.” Hence I’m going to repeat what she’s taught me and say, “It’s not the number of hours that count, it’s how those hours were spent.” And the hours that we did spend together, they were definitely priceless, making it bittersweet knowing life will never be the same now with new additions into our family.
When we were younger, and our parents were stronger, they would take us cycling, swimming, and playing badminton, after or before a round of arcade-game playing. My mum and dad taught me how to live healthily (even if now I’m the reason they have to stash their junk food away from sight). As a matter of fact, them taking us cycling when I was six, with me having to cross what-had-seemed-back-then as heavy traffic, was where I got my sense of 'trust' in the world. If I were afraid to even cross the road, how will I ever be able to do anything? After days of work and school, my parents try their best to spend the weekends with us, usually shopping. This was of course when I used to say to my mum, “I’ll never understand why you need to have these much clothes and shoes!” But it was because of those hours rummaging through clothes that I learned from her how to manage my money. She was the one who taught me cash is always better, even when my friends would raise an eyebrow when I refused to use the credit card I had since I was seventeen. My mum was also the one who taught me how to cook our famous chocolate cake, and nobody can argue that those hours spent baking was not real quality bonding time between mother and daughter. Most importantly, she was the one who taught me the value of education, both secular and spiritual. When I was eight, she dragged me to an MPH and told me to ‘choose a book, any book, as long as it’s in English'. Man, if it wasn’t for her, who knows where I’ll be now? My mother taught me how to pray, how to be a good girl, and how to live life right. She’s always gentle, always friendly to others, and she's always smiling. It doesn’t surprise me to see how much others adore her, not because she’s their friend or sister, but because of who she is inside.
It’d be a great blessing to grow up and be a tenth of who she is now. I love you ibu, I do.
-C-
But for this coming weekend, in honor of my mother, I’ve decided to give her something extra special. I’ve now come to a place where I can say I know myself and my momma better. I know now, without doubt, that I’m an ‘arguer’. Well, actually, my parents already knew that about me way before I joined the school’s debate team. I got that from my daddy. But my mum, my ibu, she’s not like us. She’s the opposite. She’s the sweetest human being who loves her kids so much that she’d lie to us so as to not hurt our feelings. Better yet, sometimes she doesn’t need to lie because somehow - magically - she knows exactly what to say to make things all better again. Since she’s such a loving person, she would always tell me, “Let others talk, they will never know the real you.” My mum would never waste her time arguing with others, even if they’re wrong. But me, I would.
I’ve heard a lot of people say, “Today’s working mothers are not real mothers! Real mothers stay at home to cook and clean for their kids!” It’s kind of like a stigma for women to work, even though what these people don’t realize is, MOST women - wives and mothers - do work these days, and I’ve seen equally, if not more beautiful children coming from these families. My mum works…so what? These people who say mothers should not work because extra money is not that important, they are actually lying to themselves. Money is one of the main reasons families tear apart. Having extra is never wrong. Besides that, I believe that working women are more in touch with themselves thus in return, they are better at giving without feeling empty inside. This further leads to sincerity and maturity from the mums and also the kids.
My mum works, so does that mean she loves me and my brother less? No. Does that mean she doesn’t teach us valuable life lessons? No. As much as I would like to maintain a strong case, I won’t lie and say I haven’t wished more than once for them to have more time to spend with us. But like my mum always says, “It’s not the number of kids that counts, it is their quality.” Hence I’m going to repeat what she’s taught me and say, “It’s not the number of hours that count, it’s how those hours were spent.” And the hours that we did spend together, they were definitely priceless, making it bittersweet knowing life will never be the same now with new additions into our family.
When we were younger, and our parents were stronger, they would take us cycling, swimming, and playing badminton, after or before a round of arcade-game playing. My mum and dad taught me how to live healthily (even if now I’m the reason they have to stash their junk food away from sight). As a matter of fact, them taking us cycling when I was six, with me having to cross what-had-seemed-back-then as heavy traffic, was where I got my sense of 'trust' in the world. If I were afraid to even cross the road, how will I ever be able to do anything? After days of work and school, my parents try their best to spend the weekends with us, usually shopping. This was of course when I used to say to my mum, “I’ll never understand why you need to have these much clothes and shoes!” But it was because of those hours rummaging through clothes that I learned from her how to manage my money. She was the one who taught me cash is always better, even when my friends would raise an eyebrow when I refused to use the credit card I had since I was seventeen. My mum was also the one who taught me how to cook our famous chocolate cake, and nobody can argue that those hours spent baking was not real quality bonding time between mother and daughter. Most importantly, she was the one who taught me the value of education, both secular and spiritual. When I was eight, she dragged me to an MPH and told me to ‘choose a book, any book, as long as it’s in English'. Man, if it wasn’t for her, who knows where I’ll be now? My mother taught me how to pray, how to be a good girl, and how to live life right. She’s always gentle, always friendly to others, and she's always smiling. It doesn’t surprise me to see how much others adore her, not because she’s their friend or sister, but because of who she is inside.
It’d be a great blessing to grow up and be a tenth of who she is now. I love you ibu, I do.
-C-
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