Saturday, March 24, 2012

The written conflicts.


Assalamualaikum w.b.t.

From this:

“I could hear your voice from the other block.”

“Your voice had paused a lesson in a Form 6 classroom.”

“You should act no longer, give other people chance.”
“Okay, I'll be the director then.”

To this:

“Could you try to talk more... make conversations more?”
“I don't think so. I tried. Believe me.”


Khair, I've been different lately.
I am in this condition, called self-conflict. To make it easier it might be called the disease of the heart, not literally of course.

I could not believe how the environment could actually effect one person so much that it includes the personality, the beliefs and everything. The easiest example would be me. Because I know myself and I don't want to talk about  others.

I was raised by my grandmother, because my parents are busy all the time that I remembered one day when I was a lot younger and had a very bad fever and they have to go to work and left the three of us at home. They gave us a phone and we did not know how to use it. We walked to the factory.

Back then I was so “strong” that one day we were left on the night time and both my sisters went to hide at the back of a chair. And I, stayed in front of the door. I saw the lights of the car, and I felt relieved.

One day, my uncle accidentally left me at the school. It wasn't my parents who picked me up, it was either the neighbour or one of my uncles. I waited and waited. I had another school to attend on the evening. I don't memorize any number so I decided to walk. How long is the journey exactly? Crossing the road and made my way through the highway, the distance is a little bit less from CFS to LRT Uni. I don't know exactly how long it takes for an elementary school girl to walk.

It was hardly Islamic at all, the way I was raised. I don't know how but I still manage to read the Quran and it was easy for me. From Muqaddam directly to Quran. Never I read the Iqra', and I don't even finish my Muqaddam.

There were some points where I don't recognize Malay cuisines.
There were many moments I don't wear hijab.
I read English books, watched English cartoons, listened to Japanese songs and so on. I knew Allah, I knew the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.

But I just, don't know yet the significance of being a Muslim.

And suddenly, I was accepted to an Islamic Boarding School.
This, were it all began.

Suddenly, I wore a long hijab.
Suddenly, I am out-spoken.
Suddenly, people treat me with the best treatment.
But no, I still don't see Islam as I should have.

For two years, I was there.

When I moved to daily school...

Suddenly, my parents sent and picked me up from school.
Suddenly, I was the minority.
Suddenly, people recognized me.

Until the point friends of mine said, “Who doesn't know Amirah?”

The best thing about the Islamic Boarding School was the environment. I never got sick, jema'ah was compulsory, Quran reading would be in everyday schedule and lagha wasn't there. No entertainment was there.

At the daily school on the other hand, dakwah was far more easier. Can you believe, how easy people accepted what I would want to deliver?

Such as, when I saw people doesn't wear hijab, if she was the same age as me, I would prefer to pull of her hair and I did. They accepted it.

When I saw people doesn't wear their baju kurung properly, I would do it myself. I'll straightened everything out.

Until it came to the point where my friends would not do whatever I don't like in front of me, at the least. Until it came to the point that they will not even speak bad things. Even at the point they were really angry and need do speak out words that I don't like, they'll ask me to cover my ears. They'll asked me to shut down my eyes.

They were normal people, SMK's student.

And what I found out when I moved to CFS was, people questionedd everything. It hurts, really.
I need time to think, I need time to comprehend all of these diffferents.

I can't believe I am in the place where ISLAMIC is written all over it.

THIS IS AN ENGLISH SPEAKING CAMPUS,

plus

THIS IS AN ISLAMIC UNIVERSITY, mind you.

It broke my heart when niqab was forbidden,
it broke my heart when people questioned me about talaqqi,
it broke my heart when people are not covering their aurah,
it broke my heart when people are listening to lagha things the whole day,
it broke my heart when ikhtilat was not taken seriously,
it broke my heart when couples are still common,
it broke my heart when people talked to much and do nothing,

what is left of my heart then?

Saying, “Islam is the way of life.”
and yet, what happened to your study?

Quoting the words of Allah,
and yet, your contacts are mostly from the other gender.

Carrying the duty of a MUSLIM,
Subhanallah, please, I beg you. Please. Out of millions of people in this world Allah had chosen you to receive His Guidance.

Please, what could you ever ask more?

Don't try to be cool or respected in front of people,
they are all the same. We are all just slaves.

Will you show off yourself to a slave?


I admit, I am not a good  talker. I prefer silence.
Believe me, I am having a conversation with you in my heart.
InsyaAllah, once we left the world, to meet our Creator,
we'll talk there. We'll have conversations there.

InsyaAllah.

Wallahua'lam.

1 comment:

  1. sis, u are such a great person who inspire me a lot..but still, you are leaving..may Allah be with you dear sis..love you because of HIM..
    -it's me, the not-so-good-girl-who-started-to-find-herself-in-cfs-but-still-frequently-stumbled-and-fumbled-along-the-way...

    ReplyDelete

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