A life lesson from napping on the bus

On my long bus rides home from school, I (naturally) take naps. Twice, I overslept. It's interesting how these two separate instances could spark a rather intrinsic change in me.

The first time that happened, I only managed to wake up when I heard the bus driver turning off the engine of the bus. Realising that we've reached the end-point of the bus journey and that all the passengers had alighted, I hurriedly ran to the front door so that I wouldn't end up being trapped. He was apparently surpised as I sheepishly chuckled while getting off the bus. I was pretty appalled, and somewhat angry, at how nobody woke me up knowing full well that we had already reached the terminal. We could bring up possibilities as to why that happened: maybe none of the passengers saw me, or perhaps all of them alighted at the previous stops. I was, however, pretty skeptical of these highly unprobable likelihoods.

The second time it occurred, a kind stranger lightly tapped my shoulder. I awoke to the sounds of feet hustling to the exit of the bus. We've reached the interchange, but this time, passengers were still in sight and the engines of the bus were still running. No need for panic, no shocked bus drivers, no snickles of embarrassment, and most importantly, no negative emotions within me. I felt very pleased by the good-natured gesture of someone I did not know and had made my day. I only wished I had the chance to thank him/her.

 

Henceforth, I made a point to always wake anyone who oversleeps on the bus. Beyond that, it is a timely reminder that I should lend a helping hand when needed. This is simply because I know the inner outrage that comes with an unfulfilled expectation of a simple deed, and also the delight that arises from having someone take that extra step with the sole intention of giving assistance.  Stranger or otherwise, I now find it compelling to be more considerate and affectionate with people I encounter. Afterall, gestures of compassion are like a purple drop of ink in a cup of clear water: it eventually spreads and emanates all that surrounds it.

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Photo: I honestly have a very vague memory of taking this picture, except that I was in my dad's taxi. So I'm not sure if the white strip diagonally dissecting the photo are clouds, but it's awe-inspiring still :)

I wonder how the Shore felt when it saw the waves coming for the first time.

The Shore came to realise that perhaps its life was being threatened. They came in prowess, and they came uninvited, removing some of the finest grains of sand that inhabited the beach. The Shore felt intruded, uncomfortable, lonely and of course, hopeless. Who wouldn't be? You would too if you had to reluctantly embrace something that takes away what is rightfully yours. After being overtaken by the harrowing tidal waves for the umpteenth time, the Shore became apparently immune to its enemy. It let the incoming swashes of seawater come at any time of day, lay claims to anything they wanted to, and determine how it would eventually look like.

The Shore came to realise that perhaps the waves were blessings in disguise. Sure, they stripped it away of the sanctuary it initially was. But even as the most valuable of treasures were being swept away into the sea, the Shore also bade hello to unprecedented gems, like the crystalline rocks that glistened under the sun. The Shore had never seen something so hard and strong, yet so beautiful and elegant all the same. Prized jewels indeed. And the starfish that tried to end its life. The Shore became its confidante, staying up late to lend its listening ears. The Shore could fathom it, because the Shore too had experience a loss before, perhaps once too many times. That was all it took - a willing friend - to convince the starfish that maybe, just maybe, it had to accept the circumstances and be resilient. It was thrown back into the sea yesterday. The Shore had saved its life.

The Shore came to realise that perhaps amidst the violent crashes of the waves, there were times when the touch of water felt like a kiss instead - a gentle reminder that they only meant well. They wanted to push the Shore out of its comfort zone to maximise its potential, to let it have a taste of struggle so that it would appreciate the easier times, to let it feel helpless so as to remind it to remain humble, and to push it back by five steps in order to fuel it to take ten more forward.

The Shore came to realise that perhaps the waves were their friends - a relationship bound by tough love. Look at how they have immaculately chiseled it into the awe-inspiring landscape that it is today. The pain and sorrow of being repeatedly crashed upon was worth it. It was all worth it.

The world at my dining table

 

Comfortably sitting cross-legged on a chair with an empty plate before me, I reached for my mother's fully-filled water bottle and gently poured a miniscule amount into my cup: a deviation from any normal, usual circumstances, when I would lazily saunter to the kitchen before ambling back to my favourite spot at the dining table. With my father sitting to my right, we were in the midst of an electrifying, vibrant conversation. One which I was extremely reluctant on halting.

 

From the moment we picked up our utensils,
right till no speck of food was left on our plates, and a good few minutes beyond that, I found myself indulging in a discussion that gave me lessons and insights I probably can never find in a book. From effective governance to World Cup qualifiers and then to divinely inspired leaders, our exchange of ideas grew and expanded, much like a spider web - starting at a central point before branching out and interweaving into a sanctuary. I felt as though I was opening a treasure chest in which the world's precious gems laid untouched, or walking through the thick Cambodian jungles only to stumble upon the hidden City of Temples. All while still staying rooted to my chair.

 

I was and have always been amazed at the extent of my father's knowledge. Despite his very humble backgrounds, he has almost never failed to answer any of my inquisitive questions and seems to know the ropes of the real world well. More importantly, he is able to convey them in a way that an innocent, protected nymph like me can fathom.

 

This is why no matter the pile of work that I have to get done, and naturally worrying over them, I almost always set aside time for mealtimes. In an age where family dinners are reduced to merely eating and drinking in silence as the only form of communication that takes place involved the mobile device, I still place an intrinsic value in mealtime interactions. And I hope to always remember and hold onto this principle.

 

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Towards the end of the conversation, my dad and I were talking about religion (which in our case, is Islam). His conclusion was that zikr or the remembrance of God removes the blemishes of and cleanses the heart :)

Photo: Beautiful sky greeting me as I walked through the school gates.

Odyssey /Two

Prophet Muhammad (sallallahu 'alayhi wa sallam) said, in his (sallallahu 'alayhi wa sallam) final sermon: "All mankind is from Adam and Eve, an Arab has no superiority over a non-Arab nor non-Arab has any superiority over an Arab; also a White has no superiority over a Black nor a Black has any superiority over a White except by piety and good action."

 

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For all the mornings,

you awoke:

broken

underappreciated

destitute.

 

For all the nights

you slumbered:

pride

arrogance

narcissm.

 

Write a mental note:

rejuvenation

of a sound mind

of a healthy soul

begins with

realisation -

God's Grace

His Justice.

 

We, human beings, are all equal.

 

Pull your body up,

Push your head down,

Brush the dirt off your shoulders,

Root your feet to the ground.

 

Pray.

Renew

Restart

Rebuild.

Pray.

Summer Confessions

There it was again; another grotesque blotch of black gazed blankly right at her. That was the fourth one. She seemed to harrass the corner of each new sheet of paper she had a grasp on. It was unintentional, yet plainly unappalling. Why would it be a surprise that the pen she held rather awkwardly created nothing but reluctant, heavy strokes? Her eyes possessed a perfect vision of the harrowing, incomplete work before her, but her mind... her mind was envisioning an epic adventure unraveling somewhere far away.

 

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Day after day, we drive our cars on this long road called Life, passing by breath-taking picturesques of snow-capped mountain tops, grassy green valleys, and golden sand dunes. What happens, though, if we run out of fuel while surrounded by swamps; mangrove roots poking our skins, as the shade of the trees turn into darkness, slowly closing in on us?

 

 

Perhaps we could remain, far from civilisation. Solitude, no matter how eerie on hindsight, can seem comfortable with time. Perhaps Perhaps we could end the journey right there and then. The living wonders amongst us could welcome us into their homes, where we could return to our primary of being. Perhaps we seek solace in these ideas, but what about...

 

 

Our family we hold close to our heart; who gave up a part of themselves to let us reach this point of the odyssey; who constantly spare a thought and a prayer for us while we drive through these swamps; who would joyously drive along with us once we past this difficult terrain?

 

 

Our peers, who face the same gruelling task albeit of varying intensities; some of them simply drove by swiftly; some pressed the gas peddle with cautiously; some were depleted of fuel like we were, but found ways of restarting their engines?

 

 

The rest of the world who are at risk of losing someone who could potentially pave the way for awe-inspiring sceneries for others to drive past, or at least inform them of the frightening swamp that looms ahead of the road?

 

 

Perhaps these thoughts would be the reason we eventually decide to refuel, re-energise, and revive our voyage on this road called Life.

 

 

 

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Pictures:

1: A gloomy Tuesday morning in school

2: I walked through the school gates on morning and was greeted by the moon

3: Final product of my first stained glass painting

4: A fast-moving train in Hong Kong

5: A random pavement somewhere in Woodlands

6: One of my drafts