Life without Abah

It's been seventy five days since Abah was called to the eternal world. How do I feel? You guessed it. Yup, sad, pain, gloom, hurt--you name it, they are there in the soft dark spot of my heart. I never had the chance to see him before he closed his eyes for the final time. Regret? Kind of.
A day before he left me, I had a chat with him--yup, a chat--as we always did. He even joked that I wouldn't possibly know if he's dead by then because I didn't call him. No, I did call but not him, my brother, who was there and always there in time of need-asking about Abah. Yes, Abah, I bought the curtain but unfortunately you left before I could show them to you.
I don't regret not having to see Abah one last time. I know if I did I won't be able to bring myself to bid farewell to him without crying. And I don't suppose I have the heart to see a figure, a legend, a mentor, a teacher who used to appear with so much strength, so much confidence lying there helpless. But I guess till his very last moment he had not lose his confident-state-of-being.
Everybody was there that day. Who wouldn't? After all he was a father, a teacher and a friend to all throughout his fruitful life. We had shared him with everybody then and we still do now, now even when he is no longer around.
I am glad though. Of what? Yes, I am glad actually because I inherited something from him--his talent, his teaching career and of course his complexion. Don't I treasure those! I do, I really do. As I make my routine journey to school, I know deep in me that he is so proud of me for having been able to carry on his passion. And God, I really love facing the crowd ever since I could remember- he did too. I can act, which he did in his early days and I know he is proud of me for choosing English as the language that I would go deep into, he asked me to make the choice which I did and have no regrets, ever.
Abah was a funny man, everybody would agree with me. He could crack jokes at a snap. He was a man full of expressions, ideas, logic and he made me think all the time whenever I talked to him. He was a reminder. I never forgot my duties with him around then and now in my heart. He could make any subject interesting from religion to tree planting.
Such a great man he was and he still is to me. I know God will bless his soul. I know he will be in heaven. i have only fond memories of him. After all, I know he is proud of me. Thank you Abah for the lesson taught and for being a wonderful man in my life. I miss you each and every moment of my days. I love you, forever.

With much tears in my eyes
Dec 8th, 2006.
10.58 p.m.

Here comes Uzaier

I could hear his steps
coming closer and closer,
tap, tap, tap, tap.
Stop.
Turn back.

Then the steps again,
tap, tap, tap, tap.
Stop.
Door banged!

Now, not the steps were heard,
but the thud upon the alphabets,
stirring the hotwheels in the basket,
like a current causing the underwater waves.

There goes B-Machine,
flies away the Twin Mill,
Way-2-Fast twists and turns,
Phastasm and Turboa twirls and churns.
Stop. Got it.
The Overbored.

Chubby left cheek on the capital V.
Tiny thumb presses the Wheel.
There you go, move, move,
you bore me, fly away.
Bang! Hit the fan.

Now the steps again,
tap, tap, tap, tap.
Fade away.
Yelling.

Mommy
Dec. 8th 2006
10.05 a.m.

A Rainbow in Rembau

Saw it this morning,
lovely, lonely,
paired with a baby cloud,
picturesque, painted-like.

Saw it this morning,
beautiful, brilliant,
incomplete pallette of colours,
unique unrevealing.

The rainbow,
the small town.
blended, ignorant
of the weather with pride.
Ahh...such trivial matter,
a facade.

An early loner,
pacing through and disappears.
Wondering as she goes along,
where could it be...
The Pot of Gold.

11.40 a.m.
NOV 23rd, 2006

I want my Daddy

to be home,
to share my toys,
to read me books upon books,
to share the meals,
to join in laughter,
to sit next to me
watching Discovery,
to help me think
better, wiser,
to slump in bed,
to stroke the cats,
to view nature,
to hit the keys
smoothly, perfectly,
to wipe away my tears,
to tell stories,
to trust with secrets,
to climb on his back,
to sit on his lap,
to brush his beard,
to tap on his hairless head,
to quarrel joyfully,
to be mischief,
to feel his hug,
to kiss his hand.

I want my Daddy
to watch me,
to be proud of me,
to be home,
where he should be.

Written on behalf of JR1
NOV 23rd. 2006

6355 EST

She's alone,
facing the white.
Alone in her heart,
that's for her to decide.

She's alone,
none to cuddle.
Alone in the world,
that, she could handle.

She's alone,
with strength that remains.
Alone in absence
of dignity nearly gone.

She's alone,
and she's lonely.
The fact could be wrong,
when judging what you see.

She's alone

Alone today.
Alone all the way.
Alone never hurts,
when you are alone
with God.

Abah

Gone is the legend of my life.
Stabbed through my heart,
slashed open my vein.

Bleeding profusely,
scarring eternally.

Write

When I don't write,
I dream, I fantasize, I imagine.

Views on the silverscreen of my mind,
varying in modes,
changing brightness, colour and contrast,
with miming characters,
mute.

The setting stretches far,
way beyond imaginable distance.
Rewind it as you please,
redirect it as you desire.
It could repeat itself,
clinging to the main theme though, every time.
Hold it virtually--pause,
start appeciating.

Those occur
when I don't write.
So I wrote them down,
for eyes to devour,
for the mind to ponder.

When I don't write,
myriads of lives bustling around me,
but none could share.

So, I wrote them down.

We share.