Ramadhan
They said the month of ramadhan is a month full of goodness n redemption. So they say. I often wonder why issit tht only ramadhan most ppl becum much better than usual. Or so I believe. Not all ppl it seems. Perhaps its true, tht if one soul is so tainted, that the internal light of the soul is forever extinguished, their heart forever closed to things that are good n right.
What about me then. Hav i not feel that there is sumthing missing in my heart? I used to remember, when I was seventeen, I went to Umrah before. Is is there I witness the magnificent beauty n awesum power of my faith in my religion. There, I feel so much alive. I knew I was treading in the footsteps of countless others before me. I can never forget the sense of humilty as I stood in the shadow of the ka'ba, facing it right before my very eyes as I performed my daily prayers. It is there... I feel at peace wif myself and the world.
I drank zamzam daily there. Its like drinking from an oasis after a long period of thirst. I could almost feel its rejuvenating coolness washing away all the tainted darkness in my body, purifying it. To be purified in soul. It is there that I tought I found it at long last. All the prayers that I perform, I can feel its depth... its connection.
Perhaps its true then, to be purified in soul, one muz banish all hatred within one's heart. I feel no hatred while I was there, all the burning anger was extinguished. There was no pain. No sense of loss. Only a certain longing to be part of the enlightened people, dedicating my life to the path of all things that are righteous n good.
But that was a long time ago. Though its so distant now.. I still carry its memories with me. How far hav I fallen from grace? I do not know.
Life is so brief, so fragile. No matter how strong a person, in the end, we all share the common fate. A friend of mine lay at TTSH HICU. Motorbike accident. Hit n run. He flew 20 meters away, degloving injury and fracture of leg n rib cage. No witness came forward. The police hav no leads. The saddest thing is? His dad passed away. His mother is no longer workin. And he hav two younger sibbling to support. And he lay there, separated from the rest of us by a transparent glass pane. His chest heaving, struggling to draw the next breath, as though the next one might be his last...
And so they say, life goes on. There is a better place out there. I know there is. I want to believe. A place where there is no pain and suffering. A place where there is honest joyful laughter... endless fields of flowers n butterflies and plentyful sunshine n warmth. A place called heaven.
I went to the pusara on sunday mornin. There I visited the final resting place of those that I cared, those who had touched my life but gone before me. I read the yassin to each n every one of them; I cleaned and trimmed the wild vegetations there and changed the white cloth. I closed my eyes after i finished recitin the yassin for them. I poured water over their tomb, and left their final resting place. As I approached my waiting ride, I look one last time over the vast open field. It is really peaceful here. Over here, I am neither shah darkside or whatever side.
I promise I will return on 1st syawal after my raya prayers. Not to mourn or grieve, but juz to pay my respects. I really miss u all... my prayers are always with you. I know its the only way for me to honour all the goodness that you hav done for me.
