My syair and me on the No 7

Prominent on my list of regrets - not learning to read or write Jawi. Am kicking myself senseless now as I have to struggle with an old manuscript that I am working on before completing my studies. And it is not just Jawi, but old Jawi which scribes took liberty to add or leave out any dots, just to add to the confusion, I suspect.

Anyway, I believe I know enough to be able to read the Quran and I never had any real use or need to learn Jawi until now. Mak used to read the syair or hikayats to us like modern mums read Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

My first attempt to write was of course, if I remember correctly, done with the intention to impress my dearly intended. He, of course, coming from the East Coast, writes beautiful Jawi. So, I wrote a letter to my Mak and asked him to check. He took one look and smiled. (He was then, too polite to laugh). Instead of Mak, I had written Maka… so, enough said. Nowadays, he leaves notes in Jawi outside the door to our son, telling him where he has left the house keys. Clever or what?

Now, fast forward to London years and years later, I answered a call from a friend who asked whether I’d like to earn some extra money and help her catalogue some old books in the british Library. But one requirement was that I must be able to read Jawi.

“So, I assume you do read Jawi,” she said, without actually asking for an answer.

“Ah!” I giggled a pitch higher, “do birds fly? Do fish swim?”

And with that, for my arrogance and sin, I found myself in the company of old Malay manuscripts and hikayats and newspapers, dusty and some even crumbling at the touch, at the British Library. I had the opportunity to see the early copies of Jawi Peranakan, Abdullah Munsyi’s compilation of “Sepuluh Kebodohan Orang-orang Melayu” and many more interesting titles…well, interesting only when I got to decipher them, which might have taken something like ten minutes… going, Jim Alif Ja Wau Ya Wi…Jawi. That transported me right back to the house of my old Quran teacher in Yan, as I repeated after her sing song style of spelling, all the while pointing to the script with her finely carved lidi. which was of course, yesteryear's cursor.

But that experience at the BL left me with this legacy that I have not been able to shake off. One, it triggered asthma and later hayfever, because of all the dust and two, it increased my interest in old Malay manuscripts and books, some of which are not even in the possession of our libraries or museums.

This Syair that I am working on is yet unstudied, I am proud to say. And with this knowledge, I am spurred on to painstakingly transliterate each line, with the intention to have it published.

The British Library has the only copy of this Syair and I had the pages copied and everyday, with a few pages each, I’d sit on the number seven to work or to the university and transliterate the beautiful stanzas from this early nineteenth century or late eighteenth century poet. On most days, I’d be transported to the intrigues in the Malay royal court with belles of beauty with none to match and heroes with charm and wit to die for. I’d be oblivious to the chaos and humdrum on the streets of London, until I reach my destination.

So, yesterday, armed with about 30 pages of the manuscript, and the transliteration,I marched to my professor’s room. As it was my first consultation this year, I decided to buy some almond croissants, with which we could chew and digest the syair.

I have long eaten my humble pie. I am no longer embarrassed that as a Malay, I have to study from a non-Malay. But I am proud to say, if I have to learn anything from any non_Malay, it will have to be the best…and Professor Braginsky, a Russian, is certainly one of the best in this area of Traditional Malay Literature. He is the seefoo in this area, well informed and much quoted by scholars all over the world.

My transliteration, needless to say, have lots of blanks to be filled, eventhough my other half has helped me a lot with certain words. Most times, I had to consult Wilkinson, the bible for traditional Malay literature scholars. So, over tea and croissants, I listened intently as my old Russian guru talked about ‘raja pisari’ or raja bistari, about hints to read old jawi: to look out for the alphabet Ga and not confuse it with Kaf and so on and so forth.

There are a lot of mine fields, these Jawi manuscripts, and I tripped onto one yesterday and it exploded right in my face.

“Ah, yes,” said I trying hard to sound academic. “I find it quite interesting that, given the Islamic overtones of the stanza, they do have samsu and such likes,”

“Samsu?” said Dr B, curious.

“Yes,” I offered, very confidently, almost verging on arrogance again. “See..it is sin mim sin wau…samsu..”

“Ah…,” said the wise one, ignoring my offer of the original script. “It is not samsu as in the arak, but it is Shamsu…it is not Sin but Shin….so, Shamsu dan Qamar…The sun and the moon,”

My face collapsed, and the almond croissant tasted funny. You see, being Malay, we tend to make these mistakes. Take one look and we assume, and thus, re: Pok Ku, we are an ass. For non-Malay scholars learning the classic literature, they refer to the basics! That's how they learn and that's how they know more than us.

Anyway, I have about 50 more pages to go.

Rushed out to catch the number seven just about to leave the stop outside the campus. Nothing beats being on the number seven at this time of the evening…hardly anyone. Just me and my syair sailing along Oxford Street.

menengar titah raja yang adil,
keluarlah semua pandai dan jahil,
riuh rendah meriam dan bedil
Oh..debenhams ada sale!

As you can see, once in a while, there are distractions and I am bounced back to 21st century London and its cruel realities.