You don't call yourself a poet

You don't call yourself a poet 
For writing rhythms and poems 
For poet is more than just about making a book of phrases 
And you are no one but the acting pieces 

You don't call yourself a poet 

For giving people an idea of wise words 
For poet is more that just about giving and inspiring 
You are still that plain Jane who would prefer to sit alone at the time of spring 

Poets were legendary 

They were the endless art of precisions
They were gems one couldn't realize when just be looked at first 
And for variety of masterpieces 
they would be producing out of leisures
They are still no one
But the hidden ghost that is scary in being written 
That is hideous in being seen
That is magnificent in being felt
They are everything and everywhere
that lay in the layers of skin
And when it's the time of gloomy 
They would show up
In everything and everywhere.

Still, they don't call themselves a poet

They are just not less
than those from the typical sad writers. 

- A.Y. 

Bah's lecture

That night was intense. We were on the way to cyberjaya, and Bah was mad about alien. There was an issue back at home and the issue then been dragged to car and there goes Bah throwing out all everything that were in his mind while in the journey.

Bah has always like that. When he speaks, all everything will stop. While me, my mind went wandering around haha. I prefer to ignore and stay in peace though you know, it was an intense journey because Bah seems to not stop talking. By talking, i mean nagging. 

But I was triggered when Bah speaks about something that was to me really opens up my eyes. And my mind then stop wandering around and then eventually get focused. 


Bah starts to lecture us about sufficiency and how do we ask from Allah to have cukup rather than anything else. 

"When asking dua' from Allah, do not just asking for endless wealth, prosperity and something materialistically and in specific. Despite, ask for kecukupan in everything He'd give you." 

Well, I had something to further ask but I kept silent. Just hoping that Bah would continue his lecture. 

And then he continued. 

He justified of what has been said by stating "because we do not know how much we need of something to reach our sufficiency. There are people that Allah has given them such something that is so wealthy and rich but they don't feel cukup with what they held. They wanted more, they weren't in peace at heart because their self always desiring for more and more. They don't feel sufficed." 

Then, ask Allah to give you sufficiency to suffice you. 

We do not know ourselves as much as God knows us. He creates us so perfectly that to Him back we shall seek security and protection from the bad desires of ourselves. 

This is just an extra input as guidance for us to ask Dua' from Allah. However, it is still our obligation to always thank Him for anything He'd give. Make it something more or less, have gratitude towards Him. Always. 

Bah also said "it is fine, if Allah didn't answer your prayers today. You have five times daily to ask from Him. In fact, you have forever to ask for the thing you want. Keep asking and be desperate in asking. You can give up with anything but not with Him."

Thank you Bah, now I can go back to Cyber peacefully. 

we talk about compatibility

There was a night when all my girlfriends were sit around the table discussing about this one particular cliche topic yet a crucial one-- marriage. Some of us did tell how and what kind of future husband they would want to have in mind? It went to a very broad discusion, because each of us indeed had a very different preference in many areas. Some would want to settle with a well-established guy, some would prefer to have a weekend husband instead of a daily one, as well as, some would want to give in to fate-- like what ever kind of husband comes to them in future would be a kind of gift and blessing. Something more to do with 'what will be, will be'. Submit pleasantly to; rezeki. 

Further discussed, we took a ponder moment to an area when we thought ourselves; "are we compatible with those types of criteria we preferred?" or if you find this familiar to you-- kufaa'ah (sekufu) (?) 

 Are rich guys good for us? Is weekend husband someone that we needed? Do submitting wholly to fate justify yourself as being too nice in choosing? How do we justify compatibility? 

You see, this area has come to my mind long long time ago. Ever since the topic was my subject in school while in form 4. I thought, long ago, that kufa'ah would be something more objective. Like you should marry someone who is similar to you in particular aspects. A high-end guy should marry a high-end lady; because they are compatible to understand each other's way of life. An educated guy should marry an educated woman; logically because they would be compatible to fit in each other's way of thinking. It went like that. 

Objective. My thought went tangible. 

That might be true, eventually. But while choosing a guy to marry, I doubt a lot, like one should be looking thoroughly. Not particularly take it too lightly. I am forced to think something more deeper and yet, subjective. Allah doesn't choose a spouse for you specifically for something you acquire; the wealth, the family background, or the education level. Don't get confused, those that have been mentioned is including. But we would like to have a deeper though onto this. 

Be more abstract. 

A rich guy who live a high-end life, might be compatible for an ordinary life lady. We don't know how wise someone could be living their life, do we? An educated lady who is so humble intellectually could be a compatible pair for a man with nothing but skills? It is justifiable, still. 

My point, on top of all, is that; kufa'ah can be justified only when you talk to the future husband, only when you know them. And only, when you love them. Because after all, love justifies almost anything. When you talk to them, you can listen to their body language, you see how they would be willing to fit you when there is diversification. When you know them, you know their behavior; their way of thinking. In essense, Allah knows best. 

Woman of purity is for the man of purity and so otherwise. 

I guess that's precise and brilliant enough to feel secured that God in no matter what and how knows best about what's best for you while you know not. And there's nothing so safer such that.

As for me, I am blessed to have those friends who are open to have this kind of conversation. By that I mean, it is not too opinionated and everyone is welcomed to speak out their own thoughts. Sharing is indeed, love. 

Mahu pulang

Hati aku telah pulang
Ia sudah tidak lagi berada di mana mana tempat asing;
yang tidak mahu berkehendakkan dia

Hati aku telah pulang
Ia telah tahu harga sebenar
Yang perlu dibayar untuk berada
pada tempat yang ternyata bukan untuknya.

Hati aku telah pulang
Ia telah benar-benar pulang
Usai cerita ditutup oleh masa yang lekas
mahu berlalu laju
Tidak disuruh malah tidak dipaksa
Cuma pergi dari kata 'telah' dan 'sedang'

Ia masih kurang tahu soal menuju 'akan'. 

Kuala Lumpur, 2017.

My country isn't a safe place

My country is no longer a safe place. 
This entry was supposed to be a happy new written journal. Well, not until I got traumatised with one incident happened along our way to Petaling Street as one of our stop during the KL-hopping trip yesterday.

I got T and H along with me, we went as a trio young lady who had enough of Malaysia but still wanted more so to KL we go. It was a long walk-in-distance trip with many places to be caught on eyes; from KL sentral to pasar seni then to dataran merdeka, proceed to Jalan Tun Abdul Rahman, back to Pasar Seni and then China Town nearby Jalan Petaling of KL. From Pasar Seni we went across this one bus station in a way to Jalan Petaling .

It was still early in the evening, 6 o clock approximately. I took the lead eventually, T and H were just few metres away at the back from me. While crossing the bus station accordingly to the right direction shown by google in T's phone, our mind sure weren't in the step we were on. Our mind were wandering around, we were the three young ladies who sure were exhausted after such long hours walking around Kuala Lumpur from morning. Until then, we were approached by this one beggar asking us some money. 

As we were walking towards Jalan Petaling, came a man out of nowhere standing in front of us begging for money. He then showed us his wallet and told us how he was so in need of money because he is an OKU (based on OKU card he held). This beggar I tell you, I didn't recognize his face so clearly. I wasn't really focus who was this person standing in front of me. We three were ignoring him out of fear, while me with my lowered down face at the very front because I was so anxious to bring out my purse to give him some money I tried to walk him by. But his voice was nothing like asking money, he indeed was scolding us. His voice was loud enough to make us in fear of what to do. I was thinking hard that moment, of what to do next. While thinking, I kept walking that then was assumed to be a signal of ignorance to him. 

His voice was a desperate one, I heard it so clearly. He wanted money, we neglected to give any. He got mad, of course he was. He sure was on drug, because H who analysed his face so clearly can see how red were his eyes out of intoxication. I couldn't really remember how, but then I got attacked physically right onto my face. I can't describe as if he slapped or punched me with his bare hand or something. I just know I was being attacked when I got my face half numb, and I wanted to cry. More hurtful was that, there were two male Malaysians sitting on the bench watching the whole scene but never helping.

After got attacked, I took away my shades on. I looked around as if I was looking for someone to help. I desperately wanted a protection with the society around. We made an eye contact with some men as well, but how hurtful my heart is now by just reminding that moment; when no one was actually helping us. NO ONE. Like I was nothing like a public physical abuse victim. I was hurted, I was scolded, I was attacked; all out of nowhere. And no one sees me as a lady who needed a protection. At least to ask us of what actually were happening, of were we fine after the incident. 

I am so disappointed with my home people. 

I thought, it must be safe to be in my own country, where everywhere I go I am around of my people; they must be nice people because they are Malaysian. Well, I doubt that now. I don't feel safe anymore. I was a positive Malaysian before, I cared a lot that I was so sure feminism is never an issue because women here would always be protected. That was what I kept always in mind. Now, I am a skeptical Malaysian, I don't feel secure, I have big fear in my ignorant society. To that guys who were sitting while watching but never helping; SHAME ON YOU. Cut off your dick coz you don't deserved to be called "a man". 

This trauma I suffer isn't going to define my confidence as a woman, but it does affect of how I see my society now. This is national issue. This is our issue. If I wanted justice, it is not because the pain I got by being attacked by an intoxicated man. I wanted justice for being hurted and no one was helping. No one while they actually see eveything. No one while they watch the whole scene. 

Dear Malaysian, I've had enough of you. 

Friends we keep

As I grow up, I realize of how I've been getting lesser and lesser friends. By friends I mean someone more closer, not necessarily someone who has been long ago in my contact list. Sure, they are still friends I used to call 'friends', but this one I stress more on those souls I rarely meet but nevertheless we never get lost in connection. They are those people I keep in mind and heart. Those cliques I want to listen to their story once in awhile. And those people I would dare to spend them hours writing an appreciation essay for their upcoming birthday. 

I know those people who used to be so close with me, and now that they are no one but just another person in my contact list. Also, I know those people I used to bump into one another awkwardly because they were just no one but strangers, and suprisingly they are now those people I want to eye-into-eye when I just need someone to talk to; they sure are like my happy pills.

I miss my friends, somehow. All of them; those that are far, and near. Just those people I used to joke around and had laugh together like we never had tomorrow. I miss my group of girls I used to lepak with especially those aspuri(s). I miss my silat cliques as well; those black in wear women who are not just competitive but dramatic at times (we all are dramatic). I miss my male friend I used to contact continuously throughout my highschool time; and now that (where are you?). I miss my deskmates of four; because I swear no sadness could be forgotten while with uguys. I miss those of my friends whom I talk to them very minimally but they are those people who would gather around just to have some inspirational conversations together. 

I miss my very best friend; the one I've known since form one in highschool. 

You know who you are. How you meant so much to me and my life. I hope to meet all of you, from time to time; sharing everything we've had in our own life path and just having a wise conversation together. I'm looking forward to such times; I promise. 

You see, we have bunch of people we call "friends". We may fit them into some categories or groups; but which of them would you (really) want to keep? 

Which of them you really want to save into your heart? 

As for me, as long as positivity are within them; I would dive through the ocean just to bear them into my mind and life. For as long as positivity are within them, I don't mind to sacrifice my time for moments --
Such this one; 

{just wanna have this photos saved in this blog. }