Friday, April 30, 2021

My mother

I've been lonely.  It was even dreaded before.

Especially I'm alone in that rented room near my workplace.  My friends (not colleagues, and I don't have work friends) they're occupied. So here I am minding my own business...The new ones, the old ones are even more.  But I can't tell them that I'm lonely cuz that would b selfish.  And I knw several who actually choose to distant themselves.

There's a prayer on how not to feel lonely, you knw you are lonely but you won't feel that way, because Allah is there, but at the same time..these feelings are what make me write.  Words by words.  Beautiful even no one reads it, even no one thinks nothing of it.  May Allah grants me what's best for me.  

The song Your Mother by various artist

"...who should I take good care of?
..giving all my love..."

This part n the way the kid sings it, the stress on Giiiving

aih it's just a tear jerker.
Missing her.

رَبَّنَا اغْفِرْ لِي وَلِوَالِدَيَّ وَلِلْمُؤْمِنِينَ يَوْمَ يَقُومُ الْحِسَابُ

Oh Allah, forgive her and elevate her station among to those who are guided.  Send her along the path of those who came before, and forgive us and her, O lord of the worlds.  Enlarge for her grave and shed light upon her in it.

♥️♥️♥️

Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Writing: A contest but I lost

Yellow

 

Seha boiled things.  She boiled cups, plates and other kitchenware.  Today, she boiled some towels.  When she thought the world was through with it, intrusive thoughts took over.  Many rejoiced and many remained cautious even when the end of Covid-19 was finally declared.   

Watching the bubble heat up in rage satisfied her baggy eyes behind the fogged up glasses.  She could almost see the germs burnt away, brutally.  She stirred the water to see it calmed and bubbled up again in almost instantly, more furious.  She turned the stove off.

She had to boil them today, the air was wet.  Germs or virus, they love it like that.  She walked closer to the window to observe the day.  The downpour was beginning to slow down to a drizzle.  The grass became glossy, reflecting the Sun and slowly they waved through the soft breeze. 

People were already out and about.  A man hurriedly climbed up his house which looked like it throwing up trees to fetch his forgotten full face respirator.  He put it on while sliding down the bamboo ladder to join the waiting others.  It’s that time of the month where the fittest would head to a place where several underground tankers were kept.  The collected rainwater was made drinkable after undergoing a clean technology.

Seha was angry.  It’s been there for a while now.  It was red.  It escaped whenever she’s alone.  She had always been alone ever since her mom’s death.  It was dreadful.  She was one from numerous Coronavirus’ victims.  Her dad left to find solace.  When the world enforced a lockdown, again, he knew he had to stay there, wherever he was.  That was not many years ago.

Occasionally, a 30sen postcard would arrive on Seha’s doorstep.  His strong, slight cursive penmanship was always brief and monotonous: pupils have internet now. All. 

Fortunately the internet services remained fine, perhaps better.  Everything went online, including authorized websites such as “Sembang” or “Kitahidupsolo”.  As the names suggested, the NGOs were trying to help boosting mental health of many people who were addicted to self-isolation.  Prolonged lack of contact with others had started taking its toll.  Believing technology could be helpful to tackle loneliness, they reinitiated the long forlorn trend.  Seha thought the efforts were cynical.  Even the names were cringing.

However it’s the case with Seha.  Juwa, her next door friend, haven’t replied her text.  She went out.  Spinach was ready for harvest.  She put the towels on a wire hung between the beeping sliding door and the floor where the bamboo ladder was bound to.  Houses were bound to many individual big trees and a rope ladder was tied in between.  She looked at Juwa’s closed door.  Seha sensed the TV was on.

“Juwa, are you there?” She half yelled. 

Heavy, fast steps were heard.  Seha was anticipating Juwa to appear through any of the windows. 

Juwa appeared through the sliding door.  Despite faded yellow respirator covering her face, Seha could pick up what was about to come.  Her chest filled with remorse.

“What do you want? It’s obvious!”  Juwa questioned.  The red that Seha managed to swallow started to grow in her.

“Huh? what IS obvious?” Seha asked.

 “-that I don’t want to talk to you,” Juwa folded her arms.

“Well, yeah I was worried, I-“

“Well stop, I’m fine and I thought I sensed your anger, don’t come out here making me the bad guy!”  Juwa spat.  

The red inside her belly grew bigger.  Her breath was heavy.

            “…I am happy, well taken care of now-”

            My brain tricked me, shows me how my mom died, on loop.

“…You always need attention, it’s too much!”

You’ve never given any, why the outburst?

A thunder was heard and felt something snapped inside her.  The red, it came out as hot as its colour.  Like a fire had ever flamed, it burnt the person she rooted forau the most.  She wouldn’t forget her eyes, how she got burnt to ashes. 

Seha sizzled when the rain dropped on her.  Seha went inside, took off her now burnt yellow respirator, took out her frozen nasi lemak and microwaved it.  She guessed she really needed the “Sembang” afterall.

 

Theme: Post Covid (I forgot)
Word Limit: 700 words (this piece is 700 words exactly the initial draft was around 1k n I misunderstood the word limit)

Monday, March 1, 2021

Movie: Pad Man

One evening, while we were vidcalling, Kapana suggested us to watch a movie and I looked up for it and didn't there's a movie on that.  I've heard about a guy who created pads for his wife and the villagers think he's gone mad and that his wife eventually left him.  That's all.  

Upon learning Akshay Kumar is the lead character, I needed to watch this.  Watching the trailer was exciting enough.

So we watched, and we learned that there's more to it (of course).

This movie is based on the true story but it's not an actual biography; just like I said, it's based on.  They don't use the actual name and I believe it's georaphically different too. 

This is a total eye opening, how a large number of woman in India alone (at that time) don't use sanitary pads.  How can we knw if we never witnessed such movies rite.  

They celebrate the coming of age of a girl's first menstruation but the men, they never talked to and talk about this with their females; be it wives, sisters etc.  It works both ways..the males aren't bothered to deal and educate themselves (and also ignorantly disgustingly disturbed by the topic) and to those women who never talked about this to their males; husbands, sons, and brothers.  A very frustrated moments for me.  Fortunately we live in a community where it's not a total taboo to talk about this.  I can casually say to a new, male colleague that I'm on my period (got asked whether I've performed solat or not so he can take over while I take a break).
Males however still are shy to buy pads from the store but we can understand, I don't mind that as long as they don't think that's a wrongful deed or smthing.  I'd like to think that they're probably think that the store would think it's them that be needing the pads.

hahah. brains r crazy 🤣



Padman
Synopsis:Upon realizing the extent to which women are affected by their menses, a man sets out to create a sanitary pad machine and to provide inexpensive sanitary pads to the women of rural India.
Genre: Biography, Comedy, Drama
Director(s): R. Balki
Actors: Akshay Kumar, Radhika Apte, Sonam Kapoor, Saurabh Agarwal
  IMDB: 8.3

Me and sister openly shipping these two.  The lady is a fictional character but it plays a big role.  She's his first customer.  The look on his face when he received "it works as it should.." feedback from her.


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