Moments

I suppose it is not too late to look back and see how 2006 had treated me as this will also give me a chance to look at lost opportunities and unfulfilled dreams. Looking back, I see moments that I want to treasure and freeze frame in my own archives of youtube to be played and replayed in the winter moments of my life.

There were several moments, beautiful and unforgettable ones and humbling ones too. Like the moment I set eyes on the kaa’bah. It was after zuhur prayers, just minutes after we entered the Holy City. The walk to the middle section of the Masjidil Haram could be likened to a slow magnetic pull and all the while my eyes were transfixed on the ka'abah. There were pilgrims doing their tawaf just like the images we see on TV and stories we hear from people who had been there. I reached the railings and was oblivious to the hundreds of people there – a sea of white robes circling the ka’abah. I struggled to read my doas as I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, I couldn’t thank God enough for making me His guest here. Even as I walked back, I kept looking back as if I was looking at it for the last time. The feeling was indescribable.

If someone had told me three or four months before that I would be making this journey of my life time, I wouldn’t have believed it. But there I was walking in Covent Garden when I received an sms from a very dear friend of mine. We exchanged jokes and banters as we usually do and suddenly one message stopped me in my tracks. It simply said, “Jom pi umrah dengan I. I belanja you.” I had to read the message several times in case it was only an invitation to the theatre or to have coffee. But she was serious.

As I would be going without my husband, I needed his letter to get a visa. Even his simple letter was worthy of a sweet moment in itself to be treasured. It simply said, “Saya sebagai suami memberi izin kepada isteri saya untuk menunaikan umrah bersama....” It didn’t seem to matter that we were not going together. What was important was he gave me his blessings.

I flew back to Kuala Lumpur to get my mother’s blessings for this important journey. But Mak was frail. In fact she was hospitalised and I spent days with her at the hospital. But again, these are treasured moments. I sat by her bedside as she recounted her own journey by sea. How clear her recollections were, how lively she suddenly became especially when she remembered giving birth at Arafah. How we laughed and cried at the same time at my futile attempts to put her pampers on. But this was also a moment of truth when the doctor told me she has cancer. As her child, I felt helpless but I remember the urge to plunge into her insides and rip it out – take out whatever it is that is hurting Mak.

But I went ahead, even with Mak in such a state, bringing with me prayers for her well being and more importantly that she’d be there when I return. And she was. Alhamdulillah.

There were several moments during my umrah that I want to document. Like the time we were leaving Madinah, or the first sip of the zam zam water in Masjidil Haram or the feeling of being very close to God and feeling very, very small indeed. I would like to go back, this time with my husband and the family. Insyaallah. And to my friend, I can never repay you your kindness. All I have are my prayers.

One other moment that remained etched in my mind is the walk on the stage to receive that piece of scroll. It was as if it was played on slo mo. I remember trying not to trip on my robe with the high heels that Dt JC had made as a gift just for the occasion, with his signature at the bottom. And I remember thinking that my father would have been so proud because I was announced as his daughter, not as someone’s wife. It was the same feeling Pak had when abang received some awards in Belfast years ago, and abang said – they had called out Mr Othman. Pak was so proud he recounted the story to anyone who was willing to hear. During that two minute walk, the rows and rows of men and women in funny berets before me were just a blur as the long hours of slogging on my syair, transliterating on the number 7, nail biting moments outside the examination hall, presenting my first academic paper in Paris, came flooding back, just in time to stretch out my hand to get hold of that scroll. The VC must have noted that striding right before her was no spring chicken, unlike all the other fresh faces before that, and she had to adjust her small talk to me accordingly. “Must be quite a juggle,” she noted. Aaaah, if only she knew!

My heart burst with happiness as I was greeted with hubby and all the sayang mamas with a bouquet of flowers. And we took photographs on the steps of the uni, the very same steps I sat on two years before, contemplating my academic future, my feelings not unlike a new pupil on the first day of school. It wasn’t butterflies in my tummy, but more like elephants making a stampede – it was after all my first day at school after...30 years?
So, what is next, a PhD?

There was also this priceless moment I spent sharing a Krispy Cream doughnut with another very dear friend at Paddington Station. His familiar famous name and face not withstanding, this friend has accepted me for what I am - a Mak Cik blur to boot - and yet , there we were, sharing a doughnut at Krispy Cream Paddington Station, talking about our children, our life and our future. He has been a kind, far too kind a friend, who has shared many wonderful moments of his celebrated life with me last year. And for that I am thankful.

And gosh, this last year has seen the children all grown up and making poor mama and daddy feel so old. Seeing R & N wearing my old kebayas at a wedding last year, watching them coming to terms with grief a the loss of someone so close to them; they have all matured. And one moment that was captured on my digital – of my R in my graduation kebaya, sitting demurely at my feet, sewing up my hem. And one that I captured on tape, of my sayang mama T doing his first takbir raya. Awwwww!

And then there was the moment junior H presented us with a weekend away, just for the two of us as mama and daddy hardly ever spend quality time together. I remember waiting anxiously at Paddington Station and then I looked up and saw him with his suit bag carelessly slung over his shoulders striding towards me. That moment in time saw us young again with a spring in our footsteps and not a care in the world.

Just the two of us.