Floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee

The mood was thick in Mydin. Now I know why prepping for Hari Raya's such a big fuck. After all the fasting and praying, there must be something to look forward to right? New curtains, clothes, car, furniture... etc. That would last for a month now, wouldn't it? I betcha it won't.

CNY's a little different. Yup, many of us do get new clothes and shit, but it's really to usher in the Lunar New Year, after the bountiful harvest. Both races and religion do exhibit similar practises afterall.

Looking at it, I've not bought myself a shirt for CNY in the past 9 years. Never saw a need to. My clothes are mostly bought or given to me. Yup, I'm cheap like that (as though you didn't know). I can wear a torn or stained shirt (as most of you already know) for years. It's only when it cannot be mended that I discard it. But not without a proper ceremony. I hate throwing things away for the very simple reason: I don't horde junk. I simple see no need to invest in new shirts or pants. Never saw the need to be trendy or fashionable. Ok, Spikey have got more clothes and accessories than me (I love him in his "Adi-Dog" tee shirt" and his colorful leashes and collars). I just love dressing him up!

This Hari Raya would be just like any other day for me. I see the intense actions of prepping. I see the sights, smell the smells and tastes the flavours. But it somehow cannot get to me. Ok, I've a few invites to homes of people I barely know. These people are gracious to extend their hospitality to a total stranger (they usually are very nice and welcoming when I tell them I am a convert and I do not know many muslims here in Singapore). I am grateful as well as touched. It is extremely sweet of anyone to do that, what more so to a stranger.

I see people in his clothes during Teraweh this evening. Almost everyone. I sat outside the main hall, debating whether I should go in to join them or to pray outside. The difference between me and everyone else? I was not in the typical malay dress. Then I thought again, fuck it. Islam's not only for malays. I can pray as well as anyone (of course... I can be sincere in it too). But fuck it, I'm doing it for Su. Till today, after so many months, I still cannot grasp many concepts and practises. And I've closed my ears to it all. Not cause I'm a stuck-up SOB. Don't you all ever see that most religious teachers just force things down your throat? Ok, your recitation of the book and scripture is impressive (please... give me a couple of years and I'll recite and relate it better than any of you fucks.. nothing... it's your vocation... so stop blowing your puny lil' trumpet and beating on your tiny lil' drum... any fool can do it given the time and interest).

Reciting me verses of scripture is simple. I can do that. All I need is to flip to the relavant page and it'll tell me what I need to know... and probably more. Relate that passage to me then, why don't you, you fucking wimp? Wearing a turban, having a beard does not mean you know what's to know. It can also mean you know nothing and you're cosmetically covering it up together with your "Holier than thou" mannerisms. Now... how far am I away from that fact? If you're that smart why not be an Imam or someone with authority? Why poach on newbies like myself. Fuck your mother.

Why then am I dragging myself to the mosque? Well... I usually leave after breaking of fast. I don't even stay for dusk prayers. I am doing it for Su. I know that in order to build a cohesive family, religion MUST form the basis of the family foundation. And even that is no gaurantee. But it's an insurance. False insurance. But in a situation in which you cannot control (in this case, the future), there is 2 main emotions that you'd feel - Hope & Fear. I feel fear that my off-springs (I Insayallah, I will have some) will follow in my footsteps. I would like to give them the foundation that I never experienced in my family. We all took religion for granted, that it would always be there. We took it lightly.

My elder brother prays everyday by chanting a mantra, but he still cheats and lies. So what the fuck? I don't pray as religiously as him, but I don't cause harm do I? True, in the eyes of man. But you're fucking way off tangent when you're dealing with Him. How so? Well... in my lifestyle, I do believe in God. But I did not (and still do not), believe in fate or destiny. I create my own. If I work hard, I may reap some rewards. If I don't, at least I die trying to build a better life for my family. But this is where the mistake lies. I think I am better than Him. Which is fucked-truth. So what makes it different now than before? Not much, except that I am not doing it for myself.

I try to concentrate and REALLY TRY to speak to Him. But I lose my focus fast. Real fast. My eyes wander around the mosque, my mind thinks of something else, my body gets tired and I yawn endlessly. But heck, what is the defination of trying and what is the conclusion of that effort of which there is no measure. My own understanding is it's gotta hurt. It's gotta hurt really bad. Then it's considered "trying". Of course you've to utilise every resource around you. You've got to keep an open mind. You've gotta know whom to trust and whom to shove-off (this takes a little practise... and it helps if you've a booming voice like mine). This is the test and the challenge.

For the past couple of days, it seems that closer to the time of breaking fast, I'll lose my temper. And in those days, I broke my fast by lighting a cigi with less than an hour to spare. An Imam told me that the more I am angry, the more I should stick with it. I laughed... and I called him an optimist. How can anyone do that? It was time for Ashr when we spoke and he urged me on to join him in prayer. I told him that I was pretty angry then and I needed to focus. Man, did I get a slap on my face from him. He indirectly said that the words I used are the words a weak person uses to get out of prayer. Fuck! ME WEAK???!!! My first reaction was to bang the table and walk off. Funnily, I didn't. I did not pray that day with him. But I took his challenge. I fasted the whole time for the days that I was SO ANGRY, and Ahamdulilah he was right. He was fucking right! I couldn't believe this. I AM SUPERMAN!!!

The fuck I managed to do it surprises even myself. I honestly felt that for the first time in my life, I did not have all the answers. I was weak, and I was in need of guidance. I was in the worst shape of my life. I needed help in the faith. I need to unscrew my head and ask Him to take a dump down my neck, if that's needed to fill me with the hope that there is still a chance that a mother fucker like me can still go to heaven, however unlikely the fact. I will attempt to go for classes. I will attempt to hold my temper. I deserve to go to heaven! Yeah! Ok, fuck it, it's just an adrenaline rush from the coffee.

jahwsl
0122
16 Oct 06'