Assalamualaikum...

Bismillahi rahmani rahiim..

In the name of Allah most gracious, most compassionate..

Laying here in the midst of His creation, I am dwindled. I was blind... and I guess I still am. Astaghfirullah..

How did it turn this way?
Where did I go wrong?

I was sad..
I was depressed..
I was angry..
So I turned away... far away..

From You...
And Your blessing...

I gave into him..
Yet You gave me friends as blessings to keep me with You..
I started my days with him on my mind...
Yet You're beautiful ayat were still played for my wretched ears to listen..
So I'd remember You...
Even if it's just for a moment..
I ignored your calls..
Just so that I could have it my way...
Yet You still gave me the pleasures of life...
But what is life without You, oh almighty...

I've sinned...
Sinned in the worst way...
Buy your forgiveness is undeniable...

How could I've been so blind...

Blind by the 'dunia'

I'm ashamed...
Ashamed to call myself a Muslim...
Ashamed to call myself the servant of the One..
The most Gracious...
I'm ashamed that I have astray..
Far from where I should be..
But I have no one else to blame but me...

Our sahabah had onced been asked,

"What is the greatest nikmah to be received for a muslim? "

One of them said "wealth,"

Then they are asked, "what nikmah is bigger than that a Muslim had ever received?"

One of them said, "the nikmah of health and prosperity, "

"Bigger than that? " he asked again.

One of them said,"the nikmah of iman and Islam, "

"Bigger than that?" He asked again.

They all fell silent.  They did not understand neither could they find the answer to thay question.  The asker smiled then said,

"The biggest nikmah that a Muslim has ever received is having Allah as God"

Having Allah as God is more than anything we could ever ask for. Why?

He loves us. He cares for us. He gives us second chances.  He forgives us. He remembers us.
Most of all, He gives us everything we asked for.

Everything.

So tell me now...

Who should we live for?

Puding...

Puding..

Caramel Puding..

I remember that day when my eyes met you for the first time.

It was like a jolt of electricity had struck my lifeless core.

It had been so long since I've felt excitement rushing in me.

It had been so ling since I've felt the agony of pain tormenting me.

There are many candies out there.

Very delicious ones.

But when I'm here,

all I see is you.

Puding...

It's hard to think that we would ever be..

because I'm out here, and you're in there,

tucked safely and peacefully behind that glass.

It's hard not being able to touch you.

Not with these filthy hands.

It's hard not being able to claim you as mine.

Not with these torn, worn up clothes.

A beggar from the streets like me, an outcast...

would never have a chance,

to taste the sweetness of your caramel

like everyone else would of their's.

I'm scared that one day, someone else might see you.

I'm scared that one day, someone else might take you away.

Far away from me...

Forever...

I don' want forever.

Forever seems like a long time.

It'll shatter me.

It'll shatter me to pieces..

Until nothing of me remains.

Isn't there anything I could do?

Anything I could do to tell them that I want you.

To tell them that I need you.

To tell you that I'm happy whenever you're around.

To let you know that even just from behind the glass,

I'm grateful to get to see you, smile at you and sense you're alluring aroma.

Because I know as you do too

that this might be our last.

My last.

Their moving you.

You're moving away,

to a better place.

Where I don't get to see you anymore.

Where I don't get to hear of you anymore.

Where I don't get to smile from you're sweetness anymore.

I'll miss that.

A lot.

Please don't hate me.

I just wish you'd know.

That I really do like you...

Thinker...

In the name of Allah, most Gracious, most Compassionate...

What makes a thinker?

Well, at school basically I learnt that a thinker is a person who could generate exotic ideas as a  result of thinking deeply and in a passionate way.

Yeah, I know... I get called 'the walking dictionary' all the time. It's totally natural. But  the point is a thinker in this context says that you're able to produce ideas that are out of the box and - what people my kind would say- going against the tide. In my opinion, since roughly estimating the normal human brain could handle 10 quadrillion instructions per second then thinkers can handle 10.1 quadrillion instructions per second...

Not that much of a diff? Well of course it won't have that much difference. We're just the same you and I. Homo sapiens. How different can I be from you? But lets save that question for later. ;)

The human brain when awake has enough energy to light a single light bulb, therefore millions, billions, trillions of ideas are generated every second which -by now you should know- makes an individual a thinker.
But the hint starts here...

Can you see the resemblance between them?

How about a similar pattern?

No.

There is absolutely no resemblance between the famous thinkers such as Leonardo daVinci, Mozart, Einstein, imam Syafi'e, sultan al Fateh and even al khwarizmi.

Okay... maybe I got that from Monsters University. You must think me as a childish person and immature and bla.. bla.. bla.. yada.. yada.. ect.. but good things should be shared, yeah?

What I was saying is that ideas may appear in different forms and ways.. so why up until now would our kind be too judgmental about ideas.

Take Adidas and Puma. (I just got this last night... heeeee :3) For starters both the creators of the brand were brothers. One is named  Adi and the other younger brother was named something-das (just for the favor that I forgot their full names) when put together becomes Adidas.  On one special day  they got into a fight, then the younger left the 'Adidas FC' and made his own called 'Puma'. Both had lots of colorful Sharpie to fly with. The point is that they have different ideas and both of them sell. Like Ustaz Zul said they sold 'Ideas'. (That actually caught my ear at the time, it's past my bed time. Boo) Rawhazza! Now we can all be Mark Zuckerberg; all we have to do is sell our brains! :D

Well, you can actually get a lot of money by selling parts of your organs in the black markets BUT don't take that into account. I really DON'T want to be responsible for whatever is in the trash.

So to say actually, people differ generally from standards and capability thus differing the productivity of their ideas. (I do not know where I'm going with this idea and am totally writing what ever comes to mind) So don't judge. In every generation there will be people who may appear to be a bit different then the majority of citizens. They don't go with the flow and are often prejudiced just because they have a different way of thinking. Da Vinci seldom stays with people anyways and people always thought that he was a tad different from other 'normal's in the world. BUT people of every millennium love his ideas, his paintings and his inventions. They're actually trying with their best efforts to rebuilt his inventions even.

So to say when a friend comes by with an odd idea or thinks a tad differently, then don't just sweep it away. You'll never know when Spongebob's pretty patties might actually be a break to your dream car or whatever dream you have. Sorry Mr Crabs, no harm done.

Lastly, all ideas come and generate from the Creator, Allah the Almighty.

"...Thus Allah makes clear to you the verses [of revelation] that you might give thought."
[2:219]

wallahu alambisswaab.

Feelings...

Feelings are difficult things...

Sometimes it's pretty easy to tell what you feel.. like when you get a present for your birthday or go to your favourite restaurant eating your favourite food, it makes you feel happy. But during other times... especially as you get older... happiness doesn't just revolves around your favourite food or favourite singer... it changes...

You'll start to feel happy for someone else,  feel sad when they are too, miss them, and have this excited feeling by just the thought of seeing them again...

it's weird...

It's like you can't really focus on the things you need anymore.
It's like your priorities have shifted.
It's like nothing else in this world matter as much as that one person...
Like... you'll die for that person...

How is this possible?

Even Einstein doesn't have the answer to that.

Human nature... that's what I've heard from my peers. A phenomenon unable to be cracked by logic.

But there's a catch...

Not all roads are smooth.

On a certain route...
There comes the heart break... where you think life is meaningless without them... where you think you won't be able to move on any longer. ..
Where you feel that by ending this hell would make everything better...
But it doesn't...

What is this?

Why am I feeling this way?

I don't know.

How can I stop?

Break your heart...

How?

ummi, mama, ibu, mom, mother...

Today, was a fine day...

We were going out, wanted to grief for his mercy...
Then I saw a young girl carrying her belongings to the elevator, I smiled to myself at the memories of my now very far away family... but wait...

A very exhausted looking woman was tagging along behind her carrying a huge load with her as she staggered on. An item slipped from her hands,

"next time be careful when you bring my things," said... the girl...

My heart sank.




Today was a fine day...
We were in a cafeteria, praising his creations...
Then I saw a young girl, probably around 5 tugging and pulling an enormous trash can, I frowned.
How could someone treat her in such a way? she was innocent, so very young.

A very exhausted looking woman walked behind her wearing a sad expression. she reached out with her dirty hands to collect trash,

"don't worry mother, I'll do that. Your hands are too pure to touch such things," said... the girl...

My heart enlightened.



Our mother is the person who gave birth to us.
She is not perfect.
She is not rich.
But she was, and still is the person who loves us right from the start,
Who cared for us when anyone else wouldn't,
who would kiss us goodnight and keep us in her arms in a stormy night.

So what is she to us?

She should be our queen.
She should be our hero.
She should be the one we love the most.

So should we treat her like a slave?
No.

Should we shout at her for thinking she's wrong?
No.

Should we leave her lost and never come back?
No.

She's our mother, our only mother we have and will ever have...
so don't you love her?

Short Story of Friends.

Sitting under a very old oak tree, his nose buried in his hard covered book completely oblivious to his surroundings, John’s golden locks shimmered under the sun’s ray peeking between the tree leaves. Whenever he has a hold of a book, be it just a short story or a five inches thick novel, he would read all the way. Honestly, I don’t recall anyone seeing him doing anything else besides breathing in his book. 

John is a very quiet guy. He is very tall, taller than a basketball pole, I think and they say his eyes are as blue as the clear sky, though no soul has actually seen it. How could we? His face was always hidden behind the facade of a book.

“Yo Cook. You’re flirting with that nerd again?” I heard as a hand rested, gripping on my shoulder with a light slap. I turned to see, it was my friend, Don. “Dude, we are 50 miles away, how can you call that flirting? And I'm not bi,” I said, swatting his hand away. He laughed.

“Joking man”

 I snorted. It wasn’t that I like him in any way but he was always alone only accompanied by his book. You could say I pitied him because a teenage life without friends is a life without internet, or a life without television, a boring black and white life.

“Kringgg!!”

My friend tapped my shoulder, signaling that he was heading to class. I dismissed him with a nod, not carrying to look at him. Since I had free period, I lingered in the cafeteria jotting down my biology experiment jotter. I hate homework. Then, I heard a soft cough. I pulled my head upwards, scanning the school lawn for any presence and that was when our eyes met. It’s true, I thought to myself. His eyes are as blue as the sky, as calm as the ocean and very friendly. It was inviting and I felt that maybe I can give it a chance. 

He raked his gaze away from mine as I saw him slightly blushing as he turned. This is weird.

I slammed my text book, shoved it in my bag and stomped up to the oak tree where John sat still blushing. “Hi, you’re John, I’m Cook. Pleasure, we’re friends now, let’s hang out” I mumbled as I stretched my hand to him. 

He stayed silent. 

I was dumbfounded, to his reaction, “I said, I’m Cook. We’re friends, let’s hang out.” 

He remained quiet. Did I say something wrong? Did I upset him by any chance? Why won’t he say anything?

Then his phone vibrated. He picked up his phone, said a few words then stood up and abruptly ran out the school gate. Shocked, I stumbled on my feet but managed to catch up to his surreal speed. Who knew a basketball pole can run that fast. I managed to follow him illegally to the hospital, gasping, I stood in front of an opened door that held a very old woman lying helplessly on the hospital bed with John kneeling by her side. “John, why are you here?”

“I’m here for you,”

“You shouldn’t always be here with me. Worry more of yourself and your friends, I don’t have much left,” her voice melodious. 

“I don’t have any,” said John.

She smiled, “why?”

“I don’t want to lose anyone like how I lost mom and dad, not anymore, not again. And I don’t want to lose you” John said as small sobs escaped his lips.

feeling the sudden rush of courage, I slowly walked in unnoticed and I muttered “I’m here,” resting my hand on his. 

“We’re friends, so I’ll have your back. We’ll make it out together.” 

Then he smiled.

calling of Iman...

Peace be upon my beloved yet very little readers,

It had been a very long exstand of time that I hadn't wrote any posts. Well, today is your very lucky day... or unlucky.. which ever fits in your position :)

It had been three weeks since I entered UiTM and my life now is... well... to say the least... peachy. But I have a small story as I like to name it, to tell. It's not something big or extra plus ordinary but I'm sure if someone was to read this... please to all do respect...

answer that call.

As I walked past the throngs of people my eyes caught sight of a man in white, seemingly like in his early 50-ties. He came strolling in, stopped at the entrance, looked to his right, then to his left then sighed. It wasn't any of one in a million miraculous sight but somehow his thorough actions had pulled my heart to ask of the reason for his sorrows.

Why?

It wasn't long after that I heard the call. Oblivious to my surroundings I stood nailed to the floor, pacing back and forward, waiting. I was at the merge of breaking down the whole store for the quiet annoying services given but that's when I saw the old man again. Our eyes had met during the cliche moment and I had felt the anguish of guilt flooding my system. It didn't make sense.

Why?

He raked his eyes away from mine and looked to everyone who were still eating, still laughing, still playing and most of all still talking of others.

Then it all made sense.
I looked at those who were laughing and talking, even while eating.

"We must remain silence during the azan.."

I looked to those who were eating, sleeping,and studying.

"When you hear the azan, stop what you are doing and immediately submit to prayers..."

Astaghfirullah...

It all made perfect sense. The old man had seen this coming. He had worried they would turn a cold shoulder to the call.

"One way to determine the strength of your Iman is by answering to the call of Iman itself," my teacher's words rang.

The call of Iman, the azan, as wonderful and melodious it was, was being ignored just for the sake of dunia.
It had saddened me that even I myself was one of those unlucky people. So, to make up for that humongous lost why not we (you and me) together make this little change? :)

because Jannah is not for me or you...

It's for US. InsyaAllah. :)