Of weddings and pantuns...

After last week’s busy schedule, I am feeling a trifle melancholic and just this minute, the reality set in. Last Sunday, in between the April showers and bursts of sunshine, a normally not so busy street in west London came alive with the beating of the kompang by a group of young Malay boys in colourful baju Melayu accompanying the groom along the short walk to the hotel. Inside, the bride was already waiting on the pelamin, and the guests ready seated waiting for the bersanding. I was unnecessarily nervous. I had rehearsed the pantuns several times and when given the cue that the groom and his party were already coming down the stairs, my heart was beating in rythm with the kompang, and even louder! This was my debut as the mak cik kepo, assigned to obstruct the advancing party with pantuns before they were allowed in. It was all in good fun, and I had never even witnesed this in real life. I don’t even know whether in Malaysia this is still done. But here in London, whenever we had a wedding, we tried to make it as traditional as possible, kompangs, pantuns, silat, tarian asyik, majlis merenjis and even the joget lambak. Anything at all to remind us of our roots and at the same time to give our children, a glimpse of our tradition.

It is during occassions like this that we see the Malay community coming together – everyone with an expertise in anything at all will chip in. A group of friends stayed till the wee hours of the morning doing the pelamin, some did the sirih junjung and hantaran, while others prepared the bunga manggar. Although Mak was an expert in all of these, I never inherited any of her skills, so I stuck to what I do best – pantuns and emceeing!

My own wedding was a very modest affair. No silat, no pantuns, not even a pelamin. Just two cushions from Abang’s sofa that was placed on the floor. We sat there facing each other and for the first time, as a wife, I kissed his hands. He, in return, took my hand and held it high in the manner of a boxing champion, causing a lot of laughter, even among the sternest of aunts in the crowd. And that was twenty six years ago, in Abang’s lounge in Bangsar.

Tomorrow, Abang will go through this ceremony again. His second in his lifetime after Kak Piah left him last year. Tomorrow, he will be a husband again and he will have a wife by his side. He had had so many good years with Kak Piah and spent almost everyday of Kak Piah’s last year by her bedside as he watched her succumb to cancer. Kak Piah’s family had been instrumental in searching for someone to bring that smile to his face again. And tomorrow is the the day. And I wont be there. I wont be there to watch the chaos and kelamkabutness in Sungai Merab as Kak Cik delegates everyone around her. I won’t be there to see Abang with his endless smiles or the look of happiness on Mak’s face as she sees her eldest son beaming with joy again. I wont be there to banter with Ajie or Lilah and Kak. I will miss all these. I have been so involved in other people’s weddings – people who have become my family here – but I will miss my own brother’s wedding. I promise, I will be there in spirit!

Pantun untuk Abang

Bunga mawar di atas batu,

Bau semerbak dicium selalu,

Walaupun jauh beribu batu,

Kebahagian Abang adik doakan selalu.

Nasi minyak terlepas lagi,

Simpanlah sikit di dalam peti,

Dengar kata Abang sengeh nampak gigi,

Maklumlah dah jumpa yang berkenan di hati.