Thursday, January 17, 2013

BGR #2 Don't Be Sad (Part 1)

Bismillahirrahmanirraheem. This usrah is based on the marvellous book authored by Dr 'Aid al Qarni : La Tahzan. Pg 209-210. The word within the (_) sign is a synonym to the word before it.
Don't Be Sad: Sooner or Later Everything in This World Perishes
       Death is the end of us all: the oppressor and the oppresed, the mighty and the feeble, the rich and the poor. Your death is no novelty. Nations before have gone and nations after will perish.
       Ibn Batoota related that in the north, there is a graveyard with one thousand kings buried in it. At the entrance of this graveyard is a sign that reads:
       "The Kings, ask the dirt about them,
         And about the great leaders; they are all bones now."
       A cause for wonder is the forgetfulness of man and how he remains heedless (oblivious) of death, the menace (threat) of which hangs over him day and night. Man delues himself into thinking that he is immortal on this earth.
{ O Mankind! Fear your Lord and be dutiful to Him! Verily, the earthquake of the Hour (of Judgement) is a teribble thing.} (Quran 22:1)
{ Draws near for mankind their reckoning, while they turn away in heedlessness. } (Quran 21:1)
      When Allah destroyed a nation and wiped out a transgressing people, He, the Almighty, said:
{ Can you find a single one of them or hear even a whisper of them? } (Quran 19:98)
Depression Leads To Misery
       The newspaper al-Muslimoon reported that in 1990, two million people suffered from depression around the world. Depression is a sickness that has quietly wreaked (inflicted) havoc on humankind. It does not distinguish between people from the west or east, or between the rich and poor. It is a malady (illness) that attacks all kinds of people... and may in certain cases lead to suicide.
       Depression does not recognize or stand in awe of wealth, nobility (nobleness) or power. However, it does stay aloof from the believer. Some statistics indicate that 200 million people are now suffering from depression.
       The findings of a recent study showed that at least one out of every ten people has at one time or another suffered from this dangerous sickness. The danger is not restricted to adults; even the young are now susceptible (vulnerable) to depression. Even the fetus in the womb is at risk, for a depressed mother can turn to abortion as a means of escaping from her problem.

A Bulatan Gembira Video :D

Credits to Quyyum :)

Monday, January 14, 2013

The Last Time: Chapter Three (THE UNFORESEEN)

Part 2





            I promised to accompany Fik for lunch at the café. I think it would be a good change to have some rice inside me, as I’ve been having biscuits, bread and tea at my room since last two nights. It’s not like I’m on a diet or anything. These few days we have lots of tutorials, and quizzes which automatically refrains me from having a good meal. This sounds extreme, but I guess I choose to get myself busy especially after I encountered Nad at the complex yesterday, her condition and my unreplied messages bound me to get busy with anything as to not let the image of her easily cross my mind. However at some point, I lose.

“You saw her?? Are you sure? Because she has been missing class more than a week now,” Fik looked at me, expecting to hear my explanations. “Yes, I did saw her. Yesterday morning. But her expression…” I decline from telling Fik about Nad’s condition, which I don’t even know, exactly. I clenched my Blackberry while looking at disturbed looking guy standing in front of me. I remember Nad owe me a few text message replies. After the ‘meeting’ at the complex, I realized how reserved she has been. It is as if she’s hiding something. Well…

“It’s the bruises, isn’t it?” Fik actually had asked a question that came into my thoughts. The bruises are old news, but expecting to hear it from him is new news. “How’d you know?” My question is more like a demand.

“I heard it from Ami. Well, overheard, to be exact. She was having a serious conversation with Bel, in the library behind the book shelves, and I was behind their book shelves, actually searching some revision books for our group study, and I heard she mentioned the words ‘Nad’ and ‘serious bruises’.”

 Bel is also his classmate, and Ami’s good friend. While Ami is also close to Nad. What am I talking about, it doesn’t even matter.

“Well, do you know something about the bruises?” Fik asked. “I, I know a bit from Syaz. She just said that Nad wasn’t in a good condition.” I declined from mentioning about the common room incident. “Oh, but I guess everything is settled between Nad and our lecturers. None of them have mentioned anything about her absence. Besides, you know how she is, likes to ask questions, offer some of her perceptions, how could a lecturer forget about her. I wonder whatever happened to her.” Fik continued eating his half-eaten cheese burger. I looked at my untouched guava juice and Nasi Campur in front of me. Suddenly I felt that I want to pack my lunch for dinner instead. Fik’s last thoughts made me lose my appetite. We shared the same thoughts.




After performing the Zuhr prayer together with Fik as my Imaam at the Surau, I straight away headed towards my hostel, and to my room, declining Fik’s invitation to go to the bazaars to check on some clothes. Fik asked me a couple of hours ago when we had our lunch together, but I’ve got more important activity ahead of me. I felt bad that I had to cancel ‘till the last minute but I’ve got to prepare myself for my usrah which will be conducted soon, after Asr prayer. Today is Sunday.

Am wasn’t in the room when I got in. I guessed he would have probably gone to the bazaar too, because I heard that they are selling at discounted rates. But something different caught me as my eyes wanders at the surface of my bed. My sea blue bed sheet is now ‘decorated’ with a medium sized rectangular shaped ‘accessory’ on it. It was a book.

I picked up the book and saw the name of the authors who had been giving great impacts to the lives of the many Muslims in Malaysia. It has been a while since I’ve read their book. Looking at the cover of the book, I realized it has two stories within a book. At the top left corner of the book, it says “Tarbiyah Novel 2 in 1.” I flipped the cover page, and a familiar handwriting captured my eyes and made me smile.


“This book is a good read. It has ‘slapped me hard.’ Lol” – Am

Looking at my watch, I decided to rest for a while and have some dibs on this book, which starts with the story, entitled “Cintaku Kerana Agamamu” by Dr Farhan Hadi. I didn’t realize how time could pass by so quickly. I was already on the page 39 of the book when I heard the sound of the azan. I also realized that I’ve had some valuable information and notes for my beloved mad’us.  As what Am had stated, this book kept me mesmerized, and intrigued. It slapped me, hard.

Although I’m still at the early pages of this wonderful book, I realized that I’d forgotten some bits of the tarbiyah that I’d been exposed at, what my ustaz and ustazah had taught me before. I realized that I had made mistakes and I know I should fix them. From the corner of my eyes, I could see the book Mazha Yakni lying on the desk beside me. I also realized I easily forget what I had learned. I feel helpless knowing that I conducted an usrah and have five mad ‘us under me. Suddenly I felt that I’m not worth it and two drops of tears started to wet my cheeks.




“Am! Am! What’s the rush? Wait for me!! Hey… wait!” I shouted as I try as hard as I could to catch up with Am. But Am is too far now. My hope of having him to hear my calls went down together with the rain into the drain. I know he couldn’t have heard me because the rain is too heavy.

I never knew Am could run as fast as that. I guess I couldn’t outrun a rugby player, I sighed. The sound of the storm breaks my thoughts, and I realized that I need to find a shelter, fast. I think my body temperature just ascended. As I run, I looked around the unfamiliar surroundings. Where are we? I keep on running, hoping to catch up with Am.

Suddenly I heard drenched footsteps right behind me. A familiar face also came running towards my direction. “Syaz! What’s wrong? Why are you running?” I said while slowing down my pace so that Syaz could catch up with me.

But instead she outruns me, while still running towards Am’s direction, she shouted back at the rain in front of me, “Didn’t you hear about Nad? We’re going there to meet her! Hurry up!”  My pace slowed down as I heard the words coming out of Syaz’s lips. Nad? “Syaz! Wait! Going to where?? Stop running!!” I shouted back, and tried to run as fast as I could. I’m not sure what exactly is going on. The ambience surrounds me darkens, and my steps slowed down even when I tried as hard as I could to chase them.

“Am! Am!! Wait!”

“Im!! Im!! Hey, what’s wrong? Im!” A familiar voice pounds into my ears, and I could feel my shoulders being shaked. And I opened my eyes.

“Hey, you’re dreaming dude. You okay?” Im was there crouching in front of me, scratching his hair and scrubbing his sleepy eyes. My eyes darted around the ambience surrounded us. It’s the familiar room again.

“It’s 3 am dude. And you were practically shouting my name! What’s wrong? You alright?” Am looked at me with a curious and a worried look. I climbed off my bed and stand in front of my good bud. “Let’s perform qiyam together.” And we went to the bathroom to take our wudhu.




That night’s dream caught me on hold. I’m not sure I could understand the meanings behind the dream. Not to mention, Am and Syaz were there in my dream, and most importantly I could figure out that the dream was mainly about Nad. We were running towards her. I don’t get that bit.

I recalled the conversation I had with Am the day after I had that dream. Am’s curiosity caused me to tell him about my strange dream, and how I felt about it, and about the book he had lent to me.

“So you’re saying I was running towards Nad? Together with Syaz? But that doesn’t make sense. What connection do I have with Nad besides being her classmate? You know we’re not that close. Well, not close as in buddies.” Am said while munching the leftover snacks that we had kept on our shelves. I realized that he doesn’t know about Nad’s condition. Suddenly I felt that I should talk to Fik about this. But to think again telling Am is necessary, because he is a closer friend to me in terms of confiding secrets. Other secrets like how I felt about the book that he lent me.

But before I could say anything, a few munched snack bits fell onto my trousers; it came from Am as he exclaimed, “Ahah!! The way you tell it, it seems like a sign! Don’t you think so?? Yepp, it’s a sign, no doubt!” He looked so excited as if he had just found a precious clue to a mystery. His eyes are at dazed as he munched the snacks messily and some more of the bits fell onto my shirt and trousers. Although the falling snack bits bothered me – not just because of the snacks, I could see his saliva drops onto my shirt as well- what anxious me the most is the statement that he had just said. A sign.

I remember making a du’a that early morning, the qiyam that Am and I performed together. I asked for a sign from Him, so that the dream won’t disturb my feelings. I felt worried about Nad ever since. I texted Syaz, but her replies were common two-words ‘she’s alright.’ As if that explains Nad’s disappearance for the last two weeks.

“So what do you think?” Am’s question breaks my thoughts.

“Yeah, probably. Err, Am, I think I must tell you this.” I said while straightening up my position on my seat. Seating for quite a long time hurts my back. Well, I guessed it is because of my wrong sitting posture.

“It’s about Nad isn’t it? Look, I’m sorry that I laughed at you the last time we had this conversation.” Am’s soft voice surprised me a bit. How’d he know? Well, yes, the dream that I just told him, caused him to a speculation that Nad is the main issue here. But the voice that he used just now as if he knows something beyond the story of my first dream of Nad. Not that Nad was there, but it was about Nad. Isn’t it? But I just had to be sure.

“Yeah, you knew the dream was kind of about Nad.”

“No, the my question was not about the dream. It’s Nad that bothers you lately, isn’t it, Muhammad Aimran B. Radlan?”

The pair of eyes looking straight at me couldn’t let me slide this through. They’re as if two bolts, holding you down.

“Yes. I think it’s her. Look, I don’t understand why Nad is always there somewhere inside me that causes me to become so worried thinking about her. Just simply thinking about her caused me to become so restless. And that frightens me as well. I know I should control myself from…”

“From loving her?” Am’s words interrupt me.

“What? Love? No..!” I was startled by his ‘accusation’. Am I? Do I love her? “I was going to say, I should control myself from thinking about her almost all the time. I read the book you gave me. It means a lot to me.”

“Yeah sure, thinking about her ‘almost all the time’ is not love, and so you think after you read the book you can’t fall in love or something?” Am said while making a invisible quoting signs above his head when he mimicked what I just said.

“No, you can fall in love. It’s our fitrah. It’s just that there’s something else. And could you please listen to me before making false accusations? I’ve got other important things to tell you.” My voice ascended a bit.

“What false accusations? What other important news? Before you tell me anything can’t you just be honest with yourself first? I heard you okay. I heard you saying her name.”

“What do you mean, heard me saying her name? Like what, I called her? I’ve never called her Am.”

“You said her name last night. You thought I woke up because you were shouting my name, but actually you were shouting hers. I thought if I tell you that you wouldn’t be comfortable. But looking at you right now, trying to tell me something, I guess this is the right time I can tell you what my eyes have seen. You’ve fall for her, Im. So, what a big deal? Guys love girls. That’s normal. And I know falling in love in your term, is not just ordinary teen love. It’s more than that. So why must you deny it? You said so yourself, loving is fitrah.”

“It’s our definition of love.” I corrected him. “Ya Allah, Am, seriously? I shouted her name?” I shielded my face with my two hands. Astaghfirullah…

“Chill. You said so yourself, both Syaz and I were running towards Nad or something. No wonder you were shouting her name. I understand, and I’ll keep that between us,” he joked while moving his fingers over his mouth as if pulling a zip close.

I couldn’t even afford to smile. “I think that she’s hurt.” My one single statement caused Am to drop his snacks totally. It is good though the Tupperware lands safely on the ground without having the snacks pop out from it.

“Hurt, how?” asked Am looking confused.

“I’ve seen serious bruises on her arm, it was accidental and Fik overheard Ami’s conversation with Bel last December, also about bruises. Only that he said he didn’t hear exactly Ami said Nad is hurting because of them, but he said he was sure that he heard the words ‘Nad’ and ‘bruises’.”

Am just look straight at me.

“She is probably ill.” I continued.

“Haven’t you asked her friends? I mean, Bel and Ami would’ve known something.”

“Syaz is closer to her. And she won’t tell me a thing. Besides, it will be irrelevant if I asked Ami or Bel when I’m not that close to Nad. Supposedly”

I could hear Am exhaled heavily.

“To think again, it’s weird that none of the lecturers have asked about her absence.” I remember Fik said the same words.

“I’ll help to talk things out with Bel and Ami. Don’t you worry. Just keep on praying. He is there for you always you know. And He will protect Nad.” Am’s words consoled me a little. And yes, Nad has been in lots of my du’a already. Suddenly I remember about the common room incident, and decided to confide that to Am too.

“So that was your first time seeing those bruises? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Hmm, sounds serious indeed.” Am’s voice sounds more curious than ever.

“So, you’re helping me to ask about Nad to Ami alright?”

“Of course. Insha Allah as soon as possible. Fortunately we have group meeting tonight at the library. I’ll ask after it ends,” Am promised.

“Oh yeah, there is other thing too. It’s about the book you lent me.” I recalled how it had succeeded in grasping the deepest corner of my heart. And after finished the book the night before I had the dream, I remember I promised to myself that I’m going to become a better man, especially in terms of dealing with the opposite gender. Especially when dealing with Nad.

Nad? Did I think of that? And this is another thing that I would like to seek some Am’s opinions. He had probably just accused me of loving her, but I don’t understand my own heart.


Friday, January 11, 2013

The Last Time: Chapter Three (THE UNFORESEEN)

(Note for Readers: Dear readers, as I'm publishing my short novel per chapter, and for chapter 3, per part, I hope all of you won't judge some of my writings until the whole chapters being released. Some of the contents are probably distressing)

       Part 1



I look at the screen of my iPhone, and re-read the newly received text. Looking at the sender, I recalled Im’s first message to me, after the incident near the common room last December.

Assalamualaikum, Nadhia. I’m sorry if I disturb you with anything. Got your number from Syaz. I just want you to know, you don’t have to be insecure with me if we have the chance to “meet” again. And I don’t mean to be busybody but the bruises that I saw last Saturday were very serious. Are you alright? Have you gone to the medics? Well, I think it needs some treatment. Hope to hear from you soon. Im.

No one could tell how my feeling at that time was. He sort of showed his concerns in me. But the feelings were indescribable. I thanked him, and replied that I was fine. I lied saying I got the bruises from the marathon trainings; well it makes sense if you run to a light pole. I know lying to him won’t make me feel better, won’t change anything, and simply just add my sin. O Allah, please forgive your slave. And I don’t know the causes, then.

 We exchanged texts a few times in December, mostly in the matter of studies, asking on certain matter of topics that he claimed he did not comprehend, which surprised me because Im is no ordinary student. Well to compare with me, he is. He was the President of the Medical Students’ Council back in Matriculation Center. He talks as if he is a law student. But I don’t want to get my hopes high, and so I disapprove all the thoughts that as if he really cared about me, and that he wants to know me better.

I don’t have much time for that kind of hopes. No, not much time. Im’s first message of the New Year, really motivated me, but in other way, I tried as hard as I could to take his message as a friendly text, and not more than that. After all, looking at how he greeted in the message, I assumed it's a New Year wish for all of his friends. The message was before we stumbled into each other at the stadium- yes, the awkward moment.

Assalamualaikum to all my friends. May this January leads us closer to Him. Let’s not forget our responsibilities as duats. Being twenty sooner or later would change the fact that time doesn’t gets slower in its pace. I remember my BTQ Sir said that ‘who are going to spread the true message of Islam, if it’s not all of you (referring to us students) who learn about it quite thoroughly here. What can you do for Islam? You should ask yourselves that question every day when you wakes up in the morning…’ Well something like that. I hope each of us would not let go of our responsibilities that we have. Let’s strive harder each and every day to become a better Mukmin.  In (63:8): ‘And the greatness (only) belongs to Allah, and His Messenger, and the Mukminoon’. J Im”

Not shortly after we met coincidentally at the stadium, I got a text from Im. It was dated 2nd January and the time was 4 pm. He asked why I cried that morning. He asked if I got hurt again. He asked again where I’ve been these entire long. And to the extent, saying that I shouldn’t keep everything to myself. Also asking whether Syaz knows about my condition, well we being best buddies and all, because Syaz isn’t telling anything to him or to anyone. Well I made her do that. I replied;

“Wassalam, Im. This morning was very awkward and odd. I know. No, I wasn’t crying because of what you said, somewhat hurt? I wasn’t. (Well, I wasn’t really crying because of the bruises I’ve got) Don’t, worry. Syaz knows about whatever that is happening to me. And it’s not like I prefer to keep everything to myself, it’s just that sometimes, things are better left unspoken.

Please, just don’t bother about me. You could just imply that I’ve got problems that I don’t wish to share it to the world. And that’s why I’m not the same anymore. All the best always, Im. May Allah ease everything for you. Nad “

Three days have passed since I showed my red-rimmed eyes to Im at the stadium. Three days have passed since my Converse stepped onto the red pavement of IIUM’s entrance. And three days have passed since I left home and got re-admitted to the hospital.  Today marks the date January the 4th.
And the text? Of course he replied back and asked more questions that I know he could guess I’m not going to reply them. I never bother to reply it. I turned my head to the right side of the room, and look at the calendar that is placed next to me on the side table. 20 more days to go and I’m officially 20 years old. I heard the door creaked open, and a medium-height, good looking guy came towards me, behind him, a woman of mid-thirties is carrying a tray, on it a small cup of tablets.

The doctor smiled at me and said, “Are you ready for the treatment, Nadhia? You have to take your pills first and after 2 hours Miss Husna will administer your medication.” I just nodded. I took my pills, and lie down again. Mom is at work again after taking care of me overnight, but dad will join mom later to accompany me undergoing my first “treatment”.

I suddenly remember the memory of 3 weeks old; the last time when I ran away from Miss Lisa, the last time when I finally understood the reasons behind those bruises.




I was home shortly after my mom called me she would fetch me from my hostel on that day Miss Lisa found out about my bruises. “Miss Lisa called me and told me what happened. We’ll deal with her later but now let me see the bruises.” Obediently, I allow my mother to examine me.

Worriedly she said, “There really are lots of bruises, honey. Are you sure you don’t where you got them?” “No, I don’t. Its okay mom, I feel fine. It’s probably the flu.” But mom wasn’t buying it. She then grabs the car keys and said, “Get ready, we’ve got to go and see the doctor.”

 I touched the glands in my neck and realized they were swollen. I can’t get sick now I’ve got a major debate competition coming up in less than 6 weeks, not to mention the new semester is starting in a month. After 45 minutes’ drive, we’ve arrived at the General Hospital. Dr Mila, welcomed us with her warm smile, a pretty woman in the late thirties, has always been one of my favourite doctors.

Our last meeting was when I was 10, I’ve got viral fever, and she took care of me with so much attention. Dr Mila’s examination was routine. She checked me with sure, confident fingers, feeling my swollen glands and bruises, and then takes my blood sample. I squeezed my eyes shut as the needle pricked my right arm.

“It’s just flu, isn’t it Doctor?” I asked as Dr Mila secured my puncture with a bandage. On some point I felt that mom’s idea of bringing me here is a good one, because I could never been less than curious ever since I got these bruises and just now realized that my glands are swollen too.

Dr Addin gave me a professional non-committal smile. “It’s something. We can’t be sure with that yet.” “What do you think it is?” My mom asked uneasily. “I don’t like the look of those bruises. And you young girl, should’ve told me earlier. Dad is going to be cross with this and worried sick too.”

Mom looked at me with a sad face. I never meant to worry her; I don’t want to become a trouble in our “new” family. Things were getting fine since two years ago, but now? I just want to go back home and have some rest, while hoping that tomorrow everything will return back as normal. Normal like a month ago.

Dr Mila breaks my thought by saying, “It could be as simple as anaemia. That is common in girls as early as sixteen.” “Then I’ll take iron pills,” I said, relieved. “Nadhia made the International Debate Competition,” my mother said, as if that might influence the doctor in some way.

“I can go back to the college, can’t I?” I asked. But Dr Mila didn’t respond to either of us, instead she made her way to the peach coloured door and said, “I want to check a blood smear under the microscope. I’ll be right back.” I turned towards mom and said, “It’s going to be alright mom,” and I put my arms around her neck and hug her.

Frankly, I had been feeling bad about this, worried about myself and been asking what has been happening to myself all along. “Insha Allah, let’s hope so.” My mom reassured me with another long and big hug. Dr Mila returned her expression unreadable. She positioned herself in front of me. “Your red blood count is low…”

I gave a quick relief smile. “Then just write me a prescription on iron pills. I’ll take them truly. I promise” I said while gesturing a “scouts’ honour”. She held up her hand. “Whoa it’s not that simple. Your white blood cells on the other hand is rather high, Nadhia.” 
“So?” I asked, puzzled.

             “So, I will need you to stay here for a few days for testing.”

            I think my heart might have stopped beating. The hospital? “The hospital, doctor?” My mom said my thought aloud. “Is it really necessary? Is it really serious? I can’t afford to leave college now. We’ve got preparations before the debate competition. And it’s less than 10 weeks from now,” I protested.

 “Is this absolutely necessary Dr Mila?” Mom’s voice sounded tense. The doctor with the black rimmed-spectacles answered, “Yes. It’s imperative that we find out what’s ailing Nadhia.” I wanted to ask what is she testing for, but I could sense that Dr Mila won’t tell me.

Instead I asked, “When do I have to go Doctor?” “The sooner, the better. My receptionist will call and have your admitting papers prepared by tomorrow.” She said and gave me a comfort pat on the shoulder.

The next thing I know I’m admitted to the hospital, got a pint of blood a day, Syaz going crazy because I never confide to her about me not feeling well lately, and the biggest thing that became less bigger after I found out what bugs me is the bone marrow aspiration on the 7th day of my stay at the “Hotel General”.

I nervous-laugh whenever my parents or my sister asked about my condition, and Syaz kept treating me as if I’m a little girl who needs full attention, I acted all courageous whenever they were around. I even reminded Syaz to take all notes that I’ll miss during lectures, and keep all of my assignments. But when visiting hours were over, I was left alone, I plucked the bed sheets and the bravado drowned with the night sounds that echoed around me. I was scared.

My lips can’t stop from reciting dzikr, and like my dad always said to me when things are tough, “do lots of dzikr of Ya Haleem (The Most Compassionate), Ya Muhaymin (The Guardian) and Ya Salam (The Source of Peace) besides keep reciting Ayatul Kursi and the three Quls (Surah Al Ikhlas, Al Falaq, An Naas)”. And I found out the right side of the pillow was drenched with my tears the next morning.

The D-Day; bone marrow aspiration. The technicians came for me early in the morning. The first thing that they did was electrocardiogram. This was to rule out the rheumatic fever, the woman in the blue lab coat said. I asked, “Rheumatic fever causes heart damage, isn’t it?” But as soon as I uttered the question, the thought terrified me.

 “What causes it?” I asked again. Although I might have a hunch because I remember Fik asked about in in our last lecture to Sir Rahman. “Untreated strep,” the nurse said. I swallowed against my scratchy throat. Could I have had strep throat and overlooked it long enough to have caused rheumatic fever to develop?

However, the bone marrow aspiration was not less pleasant then the electrocardiogram. They placed me on the examination table on my stomach, with a pillow tucked under my pelvis. The nurse cleaned my hip area with iodine and next, she applied a cooling spray which she explained “this is a local anaesthetic, Nadhia. It will numb the site so you won’t feel anything while the needle is going in. We’ll insert it in the spongy part of the bone where your marrow is manufactured and don’t worry, it won’t take but a few seconds to withdraw the cells we required for the lab analysis.”

It annoys me a little that she had to explain this basic knowledge. I clutched the metal edge of the table, determined to hold my pupils focus on the cream coloured wall in front of me and not being distracted with the syringe that looked a foot long. I gritted my teeth as pressure, then pain, overcame me. It felt as if a vacuum sucked something from inside of me. It was horrible.



“If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it” I slide through my iPhone and saw this quote from someone’s Tumblr. The next picture said, “Allah won’t burden you with something you couldn’t bear.” I realized this quote is taken from a Quranic verse. Tears drop slowly from my eyes as I browse through the pictures that eventually motivate me. Ya Allah, I don’t know if I could endure this test, this seems unbearable. But I also don’t know what’s Your plan, and I surrender everything to You. Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem, please give me strength.

My lips trembled as tears kept flowing, and I couldn’t stop recite the istighfar as I recalled the conversations I had with Dr Mila and my family in the ward just half an hour ago, after we have the results from the bone marrow test.




I laughed a nervous laugh. Dr Mila sounded irrational and my family, hovering around my bed with disturbed looks, which reminds me of a silent movie. “I don’t believe you. You have been mistaken. I’m going twenty in less than a month. I’m still young, how could I possibly have leukaemia?”

Dr Mila slightly squeezed my arm and said, “The bone marrow aspiration confirmed it, Nadhia. Leukaemia is a blood disorder. It occurs when young white blood cells reproduce abnormally and crowd out the normal ones. They take up the spaces of red blood cells and platelets. Platelets cause your blood to clot normally and because your supply is low, that’s why you get bruises easily. Without enough red blood cells to carry oxygen, you become anaemic. That’s the reason why you’ve become tired all the time, and you always look pale.”

Tears weld up in my eyes, and as dad touched my arm, mom approached me and hugged me, and Nasuha, my younger and only sister, looked at me with sad looking eyes, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling anymore. I cried, hard, and I never thought I could cry as much as this.

I heard dad almost whispered ‘innalillah…’ Mom wiped the non-stop flowing tears on my cheeks, and comfortingly said, “Insha Allah, we will fight it Nadhia. We’ve got the best medical help available. We will fight it.” Dr Mila cleared her throat. “Over the past few years Medicine has made great advancements for different kinds of leukaemia treatment. Despite the fact that we have no cure for the disease, we do have sophisticated ways of dealing with it, insha Allah. The vital thing now is Nadhia should begin treatment as soon as possible.”

“What kind of treatment?” Dad and I asked at the same time. “Traditional treatments include chemotherapy. Once we initiate chemo, we’ll expect an improvement. It will take several days to establish the right combination of drugs, but our goal is to get you into remission as quickly as possible. Remission is a decrease, sometimes a reversal, of your symptoms. After we achieve remission you will go on to maintenance.”

Dr Mila continued, “Once initial treatments do their job and healthy blood-forming tissue begins to regrow, you’ll take oral medication. You only have to come to the clinic every few weeks for testing and possible further IV chemotherapy. The longer you remain in remission, the better your chances for complete recovery.”

“And if there is no recovery?” My mind was spinning, but somehow the question popped out from my mouth. Dr Mila’s expression grew sombre, and she touched my arm; her eyes are filled with deep empathy. “I believe in being honest with my patients, Nadhia, because being truthful is necessary for them to actively participate in the treatment of their disease. I’m not going to lie to you, but I won’t be leaving with you without hope either. If you remain in a continuous first remission for five years, we considered you cured.”

 “And if I don’t?” “We shall try for second remission. We also consider a bone marrow transplant. That’s mean we graft healthy marrow from a biologically compatible donor into your marrow.” Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed by too much information from Dr Mila and my head felt like it’s going to split into two. Ya Allah, why me? Tears kept flowing and dad grab a hold of me. I shield my face onto his chest, and keep on sobbing on his shirt.

I couldn’t stand anymore information from Dr Mila. Mercifully, my mother interrupted. “What are you going to do with Nadhia right now?” “Today we will do a lumbar puncture. We’ll take fluid from around Nadhia’s spinal cord and examine it to determine whether the leukemic cells have invaded your central nervous system. That test will also help us to decide on the best drugs combination to begin fighting your leukaemia.”

I suddenly realized that my body has become a war zone. My internal defences no longer controlled whatever happens inside me.

“When will you start the drugs?”


“That soon?”

“Clinically, the disease progresses rapidly. We must begin the test immediately.” The warmth of Dr Mila’s hands on my bare arm caused me to nod almost subtly. “Do it, so that I could be as soon as possible at home.”




            2 hours has passed, and Miss Husna came in with Dr Mila and the handsome doctor, Dr Hafiz. “Okay Nur Nadhia Rania, your treatment shall begin now.”





Thursday, January 10, 2013


Ask me anything at:

BGR #1 : A Cure For The Heart

"A Cure For The Heart" - Adapted from 'Quran Teachings Made Simple' by Saniyasnain Khan

The Quran is the cure for any sickness of the heart. This means that when a true seeker recites the Quran, he will continually find answers to the questions he has in the heart during his recitation. He will also come to know the cure for the sickness of his heart.

For example, one has doubts about the existence of Allah. With his doubt in his mind, he begins to recite the Quran. When he reaches the verse 10 of the Chapter Abrahim (Surah Ibrahim) : "Is there any doubt about God, the Originator of the heavens and the earth?" and gives deep thought to it, he will find therein pure rational evidence of the existence of God. Thus this verse will prove a means of changing his doubt into belief.

Similarly, a man may have all the material comforts, but he may not have mental peace; he lives in depression and despair. When such a person begins reciting the Quran, and reaches this verse, " those who believe and whose hearts find comforts in teh remembrance of God- surely in the remembrance of God, do hearts find comfort," he is startled and then he begins to reflect on this and even come to discover such a reality as was quite unknown to hikm before.

This reality is that these material things are not any source of comfort; only the remembrance of God can bring comfort. The fact is that man accroding to his nature is an idealistic creature, while all the things of this world are less than ideal in their nature. Everything in this world is looked upon by him as not measuring up to his desires.

On the contrary, God is a perfect Being to the ultimate degree. He has no flaws. That is why man can find comfort only when he discovers Allah and comes to lead his life in His remembrance.

There is, no doubt, a cure for the human hearts in the Quran. But this cure is only for those who seek guidance for themselves from the Quran, that is to say, those who read the Quran with an open mind and are ready to accept the message of the Quran unconditionally. In this world, only those can achieve a desired thing who are truly its seekers.

" O mankind! There has come to you
an admonition from your Lord,
a cure for what is in the hearts,
and a guide and a blessing to true believers."
- Surah Yunus, 10:57

BGR - Let's Get This Started


Assalamualaikum wbt peeps! :D

*london slang on* Soo, BGR eyh? Wot iz it? Iz it some kind of, well, probably emm a new project of mine?

*london slang off* Well sort of. Soo, BGR which also stands for - Bulatan Gembira RaihanaEuphoria (hahah nama kemain gitu) would be a label of entries posting about valuable topics, such as tazkirah, for all us to ponder at. So it's more or less like an usrah.

I'm not saying that I'm very capable and a suitable candidate for a naqibah, but as a Muslim, I believe that all of us should spread the message of Islam. We are no perfectos, but there are always rooms for improvements.

Surah Ali-Imran ayat 110

'Kamu (wahai umat Muhammad) adalah sebaik-baik umat yang dilahirkan, (kerana) kamu menyuruh berbuat segala perkara yang baik dan melarang daripada segala perkara yang salah (buruk dan keji), serta kamu pula beriman kepada Allah (dengan sebenar-benar iman)'.
Insha Allah entries labelled BGR will be posting tazkirahs, sirahs or any other valuable motivational stories adapted from various wonderful books, written by prominent islamic scholars or wonderful writers who simply write for spreading the word of Islam.

So let get this started :D

A 2013 New Project

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

A Quick Babble: On Scholarships!


Assalamualaikum wbt :) Just a short post. So, last time I tweeted about Shell Scholarship Fund, last month. But just now I suddenly browse (one of le best website on scholarship updates) because I was texting with my friend about scholarships, and I noticed that although Shell listed their preferred degree discipline, I don't see the harm of trying to apply it! And the best thing is that its application is via online :) easy peasy!

Btw, I'm having a hard time to upload the pics. But this link will help you guys browse through the conditions. Whatever it is, PLEASE DOWNLOAD THE APPLICATION FORM first. Then, you may think twice whether not to apply it.

Okay then, bye bye! :)

ps: deadline is on 28th Jan 2013. Take note.

The Last Time: Chapter Two (FLASHBACKS)






“Can’t you be faster? Geesh!” This is the third call for me. I asked my best friend Syaz to accompany me to the toilet because the sports complex’s toilet scares me a bit. It is always dark all the time. Well, on the outside. I cannot give an excuse to go to the café’s toilet (which is more far than the stadium’s restroom) because the sunlight could trespass into the window inside the toilet.

So anyway, Syaz is being pretty annoying outside, and I’m actually struggle to wear the knee pads inside a small “room”. I couldn’t run or do any active movements without them – the knee pads, I mean- my knees ache on certain occasions and it will just bug me to stop myself from exercising or do any kinds of sports.

 Then I heard footsteps come towards my bathroom door and heard a loud knocking sound, which irritates me more. I opened the lock and saw a girl of my age, a few inches shorter than I am and looked more or less annoyed. “I told you I have always had the problem when it comes to wear the knee pads back again. They’re so tight,” I complained. Well actually just to be in the safe side, because Syaz’s look irritates me a little.

I headed towards the sink and wash my face. As I looked up at the mirror, I saw Syaz’s face; her eyes looked as if she’s looking at something gruesome. I follow the direction of her hazel brown pupils, and asked “what’s wrong? You alright? Is there something at the floor?” Her eyes seem to look at the floor where I stand but there was nothing there, well besides the dirty tissues that fell on the floor.

“Nad, you’re bleeding.” Sure enough, blood trickled down my leg from behind my knee. I folded my track pants until my knees; well that’s how both of us could see the blood clearly. It’s red as red geraniums. “Oh I must have cut it when we try to climb over the back gate this morning.” We just entered the campus in September, as new sophomores, and we were just super excited to ‘work out’ at the campus’s proud sports complex, or a stadium-what we preferred to call it, because the complex is actually very big.
It has a big trampoline placed at the centre of the stadium. And the red tracks are just so welcoming. We just cannot wait to officialise our newly bought pair of Nike runners. Just for the information, our campus has two different sports stadium which separate between the genders, which is great because I’m easily self-conscious if guys watch me run. But of course that’s not the main point. It is always good if places like this, separable.

Today marks the day of our ‘freedom’- we just finished our orientation week, and it was quite hectic, that’s why we yet to have dibs on the stadium. The front gate is not opened until 8 am, but I got some info from our very helpful seniors that there’s a back gate, and you just need to climb over it to be inside the stadium, and there is nobody around if you go there early.

The fences are not that tall. As I’m 5 feet 7 inches tall and the fences are almost two inches taller than me, so it wasn’t a big of a problem, only it was for Syaz though. However, the fences are quite sharp at its tips. We just couldn’t wait until 8 am, that’s why we felt that we want to have the tracks all for ourselves, not to mention the trampoline. We packed ourselves breakfast boxes into our backpacks, and headed to the stadium as early as 6.45 am.

 I reassured her, and take out some Kleenex out of my backpack and wiped off the blood and secured the tissue over the cut. Then I stick on the plaster. “And it’s still bleeding? This morning you mean 6.45 am this morning? Now is almost 1 pm, Nad. And you’d have thought it would have clotted by now.”

I rolled down my folded pants and rearrange my shawl. Agh, I’m always in a bad ‘tudung’ day, like my friend would call it. Ignoring Syaz’s statement, I said “Let’s go, I’m hungry” while dragging Syaz towards the exit.


A month has passed and I’ve considered the library- or to be exact, the carrel room to be my second home. In fact, I’ve got my favourite already, room 241, and the windows facing the vast green field.

The backdrop is not cloudless and always dashing blue, well except when it rains, but the ambience really motivates me to study and actually finish my works. Assignments are piling up, and I can’t possibly finish my tutorials while my room at the hostel keeps remind me of the bed.

But today my favourite carrel room has been taken by somebody else, and I blamed Syaz. If she could stop bothering me at the café this morning to linger a bit when my eyes keep darting at my Swatch, and my legs are begging me to go to the library fast because it’s about to open –well I might have the opportunity to book my carrel room, but no I just had to ‘linger’ at the café a bit because Syaz kept pestering me about Im, who’s also having his breakfast two tables beside us. “Omg, he is like just beside you!” Ugh, and I don’t even know why I bother confided to her about this. But she is still my best friend. I know she’s acting like a normal best pal would do.

I’ve got my headphones on and Danial Jang’s Violin Cover of a famous Korean song pounding slowly into my delicate ears. It has been delicate since ages, which is why I really cannot stand loud music. I’ve got biophysics homework to finish today and as I was about to put my pen down to start an answer essay, Ami –my Biochemistry classmate, also my good friend- came in front of my table.

 She leaned across the table and whispers “just got to tell you this, I’ve won the Manga Comic Fiesta tickets! I’ve got to attend Tokyo International Anime Fair!!! I got to go to Japan! Aaaaaaah!” She practically shouted on “Japan” and all of the students nearby shot us murderous looks. Well, literally. Ami, being a ‘good sport’, rolled her eyes at them.

I lunged at her to hush her down and she just laughed, catching my wrist. I grimaced as her fingers closed around my bruise. She dropped my arm, and folds down my sleeves, and eyed the ugly purple mark in surprised. “What’s that? And how did you get it?” She looked worried, and I’m too. “Just a bruise and I don’t know.” I was curious myself but I couldn’t figure out how I got them.

I tossed my backpack on the study desk, and slumped myself onto bed. Today is a tiring day, the most exhausting day, perhaps. But I’ve been feeling tired these days, and I thought I had took enough of vitamins. And actually it is only 10 am in the morning. My girlfriends have been saying that I look pale. Whatever it is I need some rest before Mr. Lopez's class at 2 pm.
 I look at the paper butterflies hanging above me. I cut them out of multiple colour manila cards and decorated it with my roommate’s remaining scrapbook kits last week at the common room down the hall at the library. I planned to read the newspaper, also, try to finish my 5 pages of tutorials but instead found a few used manila cards, and thought instead letting them to waste I should innovate them or something.

Yeah, I could be easily distracted. And when I came back into the room bringing the scrapbook kits, I don’t know it will turn out to be this lovely. But something else happened at the common room. Reminiscing it, I realized something is wrong with me, besides keep being self-conscious with myself because Im keeps appearing in my life; I’m no less than confused and curious.




I texted Fik that I would be heading to the tennis court after I drop by at the common room to return the newspaper I borrowed. Today’s headline is about my brothers and sisters in Islam are in grave battle in Rohingya – May Allah protects them always, besides other political issues and gossips on the local celebs.

As I’m placing my Blackberry inside my pocket, I heard a ‘thump’ sound ahead of me, besides looking at papers strewn everywhere, and one paper was right in front of my Converse. I took the paper and realized I have seen one just like it before; a Calculus tutorial, except that this paper’s owner has way better handwritings than mine.

As I look in front of me, I saw a body lying down on the dark blue carpet, trying to get up. I run towards her and saw the familiar beautiful face again. “Nad, you alright?” I looked around to see if there are any female students that could help her, but at the same time, my eyes cannot release from looking at her condition.

She looked weary and helpless, and I on the other hand, trying as hard as I could to resist myself from touching her to help her up. “I’m, I’m fine, I just stumbled, that’s all,” she said while standing up. But her face couldn’t mask the lie she just told me. She looked different, not healthy of different. She looked darn pale.

I saw two girls walking towards us, and quickly ask them to help her, to carry her things, because she really needs someone to lean onto while walking, or at least walk behind her just in case she falls again. Nad shot me a startled look and turned her head towards the girls and said, “It’s okay, I’m fine. My friend here just thought that I’m not well. You guys may carry on.”

The two girls looked a bit taken aback and felt half-guilty but they walk on when Nad kept reassure them that she’s fine. I flinched when she addressed me as her “friend”. “I said I’m fine, you could go now,” Nad said to me after the girls were gone, in a stern way. She then crouches down and quickly gathers her fallen tutorials up.

She was about to continue her journey but I stopped her and said, “Hey, you forgot this” and handed her handmade butterflies. She took it with her right hand and her baju kurung sleeve fell down a bit, exposing her fair skin, I guess she’d probably forgotten to wear her arm socks, like she always did, well not that I’m aware of at most of the time.

 But that doesn’t bother me as much as the serious purple bruises on her arm. I think she caught my startled eyes and quickly grab the butterflies and secure her sleeve. “Thank you” Nad said and walks away. I had made her feel self-conscious; I noticed that when she pulls down her sleeve, heck does it even matter. In my mind, I was asking are you alright, Nad? And I watch her from behind until her tall figure has disappeared from my sight, before I turn my sneakers to the opposite side, towards the common room.




I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and her pale look during the incident last week. Well last week is not that long. Two days ago, on Saturday. A voice deep inside me saying that she is not fine. I look at the book in my hand, I’ve been trying to finish re-reading this book for three days now, a revision that I thought I urgently need before I conduct my usrah this Saturday morning – Mazha Yakni ‘an Intimai Islam (What is the purpose I profess in Islam) by Fathi Yakan is such an indispensable book, for all of us who consider ourselves as Muslims. And I’ve got the last part to cover up.

Two hours has passed and Alhamdulillah, I managed to absorb every word written by the late prominent Islamic scholar. I lie down and thought to take a short nap before ‘Asr but as I took a glimpse at my phone, I recalled my previous conversation with Am, my good friend and Nad’s classmate, that she had been called to Miss Lisa’s room. She’s the Head Guardian Counsellor for our course department. And normally students who got to see her are either because they are problematic or have some problems that needed guidance and counselling.

No, I’m not being judgemental to those people who walk into and out of her polished wooden door, but she always said it herself whenever she presents her speech; introducing the department’s Guidance and Counselling Unit, as if we students never heard about it. I looked at my Blackberry, and I fought with myself whether I should text her, ask her myself whether she’s fine or even call her if I have the guts.

But calling her would be a very brave attempt, I know she would not be fine with me calling her, and I know that it’s not the right thing to do. Our nuqaba’ reminded us always about ikhtilat. Yes, another reason that caused me to be concern about her is because we go for the same usrah.

That would be a good reason to answer the questions that kept pounding inside my head; why do you have to be so worried about her? Have you fallen for her? But I could only answer the first question. The second question keeps me in curiosity. But, the bruises. I can’t forget the vivid image that I’d seen on her arm last weekend.

I asked Syaz on the same Saturday when we stumbled into each other outside the  cafe, it was unusual already that she’s not with Nad. They’re like glue, stick strongly with each other, Am would have commented. After a few hesitations she said she also thought that Nad is not in a good pace and she told me about some more bruises.

 She was going to say more but she stopped herself, I figured she felt she had betrayed Nad’s trust if she did. She told me was because she has a better trust in me, she mentioned the words, “with the same fikrah, that’s why I trusted you with Nad’s condition.”

 I would have done something the next day, on Nad’s sake, but Am caught me on hold, he got injured during his rugby practice, and he needed further treatment, which later caused him to have 20 stiches on his knee. Alhamdulillah he’s fine now, and he assured me by saying “Go and solve your Nad’s problem. This is the first time I’ve seen you cannot solve an equation. Nad is surely a pretty tough one. Ha-ha”
 I threw at him hard, a pillow, and if he hadn’t fallen injured, I would have done more, I flinched when he laughed. But I can’t possibly do that when he doesn’t even know the other side of Nad’s story. He said that because he thought I have a crush on Nad or something. Which I, don’t. I realized that I’d been staring at the book too long now. I grab my Blackberry, and start texting.




I can’t believe she could say that! The next thing I knew I find myself collapsed into my bed in tears and exhaustion. Today is the most weird, awkward day for me. First is the situation with Ami, next with Miss Lisa. That was the first time I went to the GCU – Guidance and Counselling Unit, and I already loathe the wooden door of her entrance.

 She would have probably thought she is helping me, but saying the words makes me feel I’m that problematic, like you could watch in movies where the counsellors trying to get hold of the kid, and normally the situation is because the kid is problematic. Am I problematic? I compete in marathons; I finished my coursework and tutorials before the due date. I’m an active participant of our debate team, in fact we were scheduled to have an International Championship in the UK, London to be specific, next January- approximately  one month to go from now.

 If I’m problematic won’t I be able to go through all that, I mean if you watch movies, problematic kids are usually timid in personality, and doesn’t want to disclose themselves to the world. But to think again, I’ve stopped participating in marathon because these few weeks I cannot walk right. I feel tired most of the time, and those mysterious bruises.

I never tell this directly to Syaz, let alone my family. I don’t want to screw up our current family status; ‘reforming the happiness’ within our family, besides, I trust myself to be independent. I knew I’m skipping classes, but I don’t care. I won’t want my classmates and lecturer to found me in this state, enough of unwanted moments already. I turned my head and recalled each and every word that came from her red lips.


I was having my lunch -mac and cheese- at the café with Syaz when I was summoned to the GCU. Curiosity dodged Syaz and I down the hall to Miss Lisa’s room. But on entering, I asked Syaz to wait for me outside while adding “but if I’m late, just go first to Mr. Lopez class.” Our lunch break is an hour and a half before Microbiology. And it’s 2.00 pm already, I hope this won’t be a long meeting because I’ve got to head to the musolla first before 2.30.

 I walked into a baby blue coloured room, finished with fully furnished office set, and in front of me sat a professionally dressed woman in a bright pink scarf. “Assalamualaikum, have a seat Nadhia.” She motioned to the chair in front of her neat and orderly expensive looking desk.

I replied her salaam and sit down while my pupils not moving from looking at her pretty face and the red lips. I still cannot tell why she calls me here. “Congratulations on your debate championship last month. You’ll have an International Championship scheduled next year in London, am I right? Well it’s certainly the best one IIUM had to date.” She said beaming at me.

 I nodded, I still can’t figure out what’s behind this somewhat pep talk. “Thank you Miss Lisa.” A slight case of jitters set in while the pretty figure in front of me studied me for a few thoughtful moments. “Have I done something wrong Miss Lisa?” I asked. “Not at all,” she said while looking straight at me.

After a few long seconds, and I could no longer possibly facing the red lips in front of me, I said, “Is there anything wrong Miss Lisa, because I’ve got Microbiology in less than 15 minutes. I haven’t performed my Zuhr yet.” Impatient and apprehensiveness outgrew me.

What’s with the look? “That’s what I want you to tell me, Nadhia.” She walked out of her desk and crouches in front of me, and patted my hand, as one might stroke a frightened child.  “My dear, there are laws protecting children from parental abuse.” “E-Excuse me?” I was dumbfounded. The counsellor offered an indulgent, all-knowing half-smile. “The bruises, on your legs and arms have been reported Nadhia. You can tell me the truth, is anyone hurting you at home?”

I was horrified. I stared at her open-mouthed. “Now dear, please understand me. Although you’re not a minor, you are still protected by certain laws and the university personnel only want to make sure that no one harms you. You are a brilliant student Nadhia. You’ve got long path ahead of you. And we don’t want anything to change that,” she continued.
My thoughts whirled and tumbled. She thinks my parents beat me! The impact of the thought sent blind rage coursing through me. A mental picture of my family -learning and helping each other to mend the broken pieces two years ago; trying to fill in our leisure times with much happiness as possible; mother trying as hard as she could to be a good mom; and dad works hard for all of us- flashed through my mind.

In an instant I was on my feet. “Are you asking me, implying if my parents hit me? No one in my house struck me! No one!” I seemed to lost control of myself. I forgot everything what my naqibah had taught me, about patience, and courteousness, about how our beloved Prophet, may peace be upon him, has the best akhlaq that I should always conform to. 

“Please calm down, Nadhia. We can’t ignore those bruises.” She seemed taken aback with my attitude, the look on her face shows that my respond was unexpected. “I don’t know how I got these stupid bruises. But they didn’t come from my parents. There are some other reasons for them.” My anger was so intense.

“What other reason?” She asked further despite seeing my fury. “I don’t know! Maybe it’s because of my strenuous training for the marathon a month ago. I just don’t know!” I sputtered. Miss Lisa kept going as if she knew everything. “I can’t let this go unreported Nadhia. I must call your parents for consultation. I would be negligent in my duties if I didn’t.”

 “No! My parents, they’re wonderful! They would not strike me, alright? Just leave this alone. Don’t involve them!” Without knowing, I bolted out of her office, and ran outside into the bright afternoon light. I did hear she called my names, but I can’t possibly return back.


A moment of sadness to seek Allah’s pleasure, is a thousand times better than

being sad every day because of love for this Dunya.




"With age, comes the realisation
that you're that much closer to death,
which in turn spurs you to stop wasting your life,
and live it the way its supposed to be lived.
So its a good thing."
- Rizwan Saiful Raslin, an old good pal

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Special 2013 Post

Basically I planned to post this entry last december. But unfortunately I couldn't make it. Alhamdulillah, I managed to finish typing these, so, here goes for my special 2013 welcome entry ;D Happy reading!


   Assalamualaikum wbt kepada semua para pembaca yang setia J Insha Allah entry hari ni saya akan bawa satu cerita yang saya petik daripada novel tarbiyah pertama yang saya baru sahaja baca pagi tadi, Cintaku Kerana Agamamu daripada Dr. Farhan Hadi. Kalau Angel Pakai Gucci baru je release satu entry yang dapat beri ‘lempangan sakti’ pada setiap individu yang membacanya, insha Allah petikan cerita yang saya ambil daripada buku ini juga dapat beri ‘tamparan hebat’ pada diri kita semua yang membacanya, saya harap, terutama buat kaum hawa.


  Alhamdulillah, ketenangan jiwa dapat terasa setelah membaca -walaupun tak habis lagi- buku-buku yang dapat mentarbiyah diri dan memelihara diri daripada segala yang lagha; Mazha Yakni oleh Fathi Yakan, La Tahzan oleh Dr A’id al Qarni. Saya amat galakkan anda semua untuk membeli novelet tarbiyah 2 dalam 1 terbitan Galeri Ilmu yang bertajuk Cinta High Class oleh Fatimah Syarha dan Cintaku Kerana Agamamu karya Dr. Farhan Hadi. Seriously, meskipun saya baru je baca 66 muka surat, namun setiap page buku tersebut beri tamparan yang amat hebat kepada diri saya. Rasa malu, terkesima, dan bersalah bercampur aduk dalam diri yang jauh daripada layak mengharapkan seorang bakal imam yang soleh seperti Dr. Muslih. Saya sarankan rakan-rakan sekalian untuk baca novel ni, sebab bak kata adik saya yang sudah pun merasmikan buku ni terlebih dahulu daripada saya, dia comment tarbiyah dalam buku ni amatlah mendidik diri, dan dia siap tambah lagi menginginkan ‘baitul muslim’ sepertimana yang digambarkan dalam novel ni.


Petikan yang saya ingin kongsikan ni lebih menjurus soal hubungan perempuan dan lelaki. Dr. Muslih baru je dapat sepucuk surat cinta daripada seorang secret admirer. Tapi disebabkan dia sedang sibuk bercinta dengan ilmu, dia menolak cinta manusia yang tiada kepastian itu.


Maaf wahai kaum hawa yang kusanjungi jika aku menanggap tindakan seumpama ini mengurangkan sedikit martabat malu seorang wanita. Jika aku ingin beristeri, aku tidak mengharapkan seorang wanita yang begitu senang menawarkan dirinya kepada mana-mana lelaki dengan cara seperti ini.

Aku lebih sanggup meredah samudera mencari mana yang suci lagi terpelihara. Secara psikologi, beginilah jiwa lelaki, sentiasa inginkan cabaran. Maaf, jika ada segelintir orang yang tidak bersetuju. Tiada paksaan untuk menerimanya. Mungkin ini cuma pendapat peribadiku. Impak sesebuah pemilihan nanti masing-masing menanggungnya sendiri. Pilihlah.

Aku menghargai wanita sebagai pelengkap hidup lelaki. Masing-masing mempunyai keunikan tersendiri. Wanita bukanlah diciptakan semata-mata untuk memuaskan pendapat lelaki sehingga mereka tidak berhak memiliki kemahuan sendiri.

Wanita memiliki kecerdasan untuk menyumbang kepada keluarga dan masyarakat sebagaimana lelaki. Demikian juga wanita memiliki kekurangan dan kelebihan seperti lelaki. Itu yang kufahami tentang makhluk istimewa bergelar wanita daripada buku Abdul Halim Abu Syuqqah bertajuk Kebebasan Wanita Pada Zaman Risalah beserta dalil-dalil yang kuat.

Kuakui, memilih itu bukan hanya hak lelaki. Wanita juga berhak memilih. Aku menyokong jika wanita ingin memulakan dahulu. Tiada masalah. Cuma, menggunakan orang tengah itu lebih bersopan. Lebih menepati sifat gadis Muslimah dan budaya Timur.

Lihatlah beradabnya Sayidatina Khadijah menggunakan khidmat maisarah dan seorang sahabiah apabila tertawan kepada Muhammad ibn Abdullah. Bukankah sebagai majikan beliau boleh memanggil dan berjumpa sendiri dengan pekerjanya?

Lihatlah pemalunya puteri Nabi Syuaib yang memuji sifat kuat dan amanah Nabi Musa di hadapan ayahnya. Hingga si ayah menghidu puterinya menyukai Nabi Musa. Lalu, disatukan mereka.

Jika seorang wanita sekadar ingin menyatakan hasrat hati lalu menawarkan diri, harus baginya. Ia pernah dilakukan oleh sebahagian sahabiah sebagaimana diceritakan oleh Allah SWT dalam surah al-Ahzab, ayat 50. Semuanya ditolak Nabi kecuali janda bernama Maimunah.

Dalam hadis riwayat Bukhari pula diceritakan tentang wanita yang menawarkan dirinya kepada leaki soleh. Puteri Anas mengutuknya sebagai tidak malu. Anas membela wanita itu yang sukakan seorang Nabi.

Jika tidak mahu menggunakan orang tengah … ya, boleh mulakan dulu dengan cara penuh adab. Nyatakan hasrat hati. Noktah. Jangan dilagha-laghakan dengan mengajak melalui surat, e-mel, SMS, telefon dan chatting.


Namun tiada paksaan buatmu jika tetap ingin memberanikan diri mengurat lelaki dengan mengajaknya terjun ke dunia khayalan. Itu pilihanmu. Aku cuma memberi pandangan. Jangan terkejut jika tawaranmu ditolak oleh lelaki yang baik-baik.

Aku teruja pada kata-kata Sayidatina ‘Aisyah r.a. ketika ditanya ciri-ciri wanita mulia, “iaitu wanita yang tidak dikenali dengan perkataan yang mengaibkan (mulut celupar) dan tidak terpedaya dengan tipu muslihat lelaki.

Bagiku, wanita solehah perlu arif tabiat kebanyakan lelaki. Otak mereka licik dan suka mengambil kesempatan. Wanita yang senang dimiliki, senang pula dipermainkan dan dipersiakan. Wanita yang berhati-hati akan mendapat nilaian yang tinggi.

Wanita yang bijak dapat dikenal daripada bijaknya dia menangkis tipu muslihat lelaki. Itu sifirku. Jika wanita sebegini dijadikan isteri, dia akan bertindak bijak dalam melaksanakan amanahnya. Ciri-ciri wanita sebeginilah yang terlukis dalam impian hidupku.

Aku ingin melangkah ke syurga perkahwinan dengan mengecap cinta, kasih sayang dan ketenangan. Aku tidak mahu berkahwin tanpa memahami kaedah yang betul untuk bahagia. Akibatnya, perkahwinan menjadi penjara cinta yang menyesakkan dada. Dipertahankan hanya kerana kasihan. Anak-anak tertekan melihat ibu bapanya tidak berkasih sayang.

Inilah akibat perkahwinan bagi orang-orang yang menjadikan rumah tangga medan cuba-cubaan atau perjudian. Rasa bahagia atau tidak diserahkan pada takdir yang menentukan tanpa diri sendiri berusaha menciptakannya.

Usaha untuk bahagia itu pula perlu bermula daripada pemilihan pasangan hidup yang tepat. Aku inginkan insan yang terpelihara. Aku tidak mahu berkahwin hanya kerana sebab-sebab murahan seperti sudah terlanjur bercinta, kasihankan insan yang diberikan harapan, puas hidup membujang atau desakan sesiapa. Kata Ibnu Qayyim, “Cinta boleh lenyap bersama lenyapnya sebab.” Kuingin mencintainya kerana Allah. Lantaran aku yakin Allah tidak akan lenyap.

Istikharahku menambahkan kekuatan. Hatiku tidak cenderung kepada mereka. Aku yakin kerana belum seusai masanya. Mungkin juga kerana aku belum bertemu si mawar agama. Aku mesti amanah meletakkan sesuatu pada tepatnya. Cintaku kini dengan ilmu dan perjuangan. Biarlah prioriti cintaku berjalan lancar satu demi satu. Tidak mahu nasibku nanti ibarat Mat Jenin, yang dikejar tidak dapat, yang dikendong berciciran.

Aku mengambil buku di hadapanku lalu menciumnya. Kening kananku terangkat. Kujeling ke kanan dan ke kiri. Malu juga jika ada orang yang nampak. Tidak kisahlah.

‘Buku. Aku sedang sibuk bercinta denganmu kerana Allah. Aku tidak ada masa untuk cinta-cinta yang lain,’ Kataku lagi dalam hati.