Hari Nyepi

So here I am on an island where rituals are still the way of life. Little did I imagine that in this age of technology, people still live up to traditions and culture is still very much upheld. Or maybe I haven't seen much of this world. The Balinese are very strong in their belief of Hinduism and very much belong to the earth and mother nature. I see it as a combination of Hindu and paganism, and I see ritualistic prayers all the time throughout my stay. I am not sure if I enjoyed what I saw, but I'm sure to like the different way of life and the diversity of culture even in this. malay archipelago. And i am certainly amazed by hiw much they love mother nature, the earth, which is very much ignored today by us all as men race towards modernisation and only think of digging its richness, raping every part abd every bit if this earth. A driver who drives me aroung tells me that they have a soecial ceremonial day once a year where everyone is to stay indoor. No one is to go out, or work or do anything at all. All businesses are closed. Even the airport in Bali is closed on this day, and no planeses are to fly in and out of the island on thus day. For24 hours, all vehicles are not to move, all people are not to go out. The day is called "Hari Nyepi". I did ask him, what if someone in the household is sick or needs to be rushed to the hospital during this time. He told me that of course, there are allowable exceptions. "Hari Nyepi" is celebrated to honour the mother nature who has given so much to men throughout the year. We live by its resources. Its plants, animals, water, and so forth. So there is one soecial day dedicated to earth where men do not do anything to earth. As simple as that. Indeed, it is amazing. And why should we not care for something we love?

Bertemu Kasih di Chini

myMetro | Mencari kedamaian rimba

Utusan Malaysia Online - Hiburan

Utusan Malaysia Online - Hiburan

time flies

Time flies, and I almost gave up on my blog, but now I'm back here, writing again, after almost two years of absence. Boy, isn't that a long time for a disappearing act. The truth is I have never stopped writing but a lot has happened to me in the past couple of years. Perhaps I should just skip that part of my life and move on to telling what my heart wants to tell. I wish with my comeback, I can continue my piece of "LEINAD" and also the beginning of "ARTUNAPSHI" for which i've written its prologue some two years ago.

Although "Leinad" is becoming history now, I feel its story is worth telling. After all, it is all about life, and this is exactly what my Blog is all about. I suppose now I know what taddiscovers is all about. I didn't exactly know then, but I guess I do now. It's not about philosophy, neither is it about films or fiction, it's about everything that life has to offer - people, places, emotions, careers, journals... everything.

I have lost a few people since I discovered taddiscovers , and I have met a few new people too since. One thing for sure, they come and go, but the memories of them remain.

And these memories are what I keep in this "house" I call RumahBilut...

The one I knew

The One I Knew

(in loving memory of Hamzah Hussin, 1927 - 2007)

by Tengku Adrian Ismail

On the faces of the aged there are wrinkles made by sympathy, by strong and pure thought, and are carved by passion. And those who have lived righteously, age is calm, peaceful, and softly mellowed, like the setting sun.

He was a talented writer with a little ego about the whole thing of his writings, one who wrote to do good, or at least to contribute to the goodness in the world. One who supported his own beliefs with arguments. He had someone who was the closest to him yet too far to reach out to. I keep thinking about him and thought if I should snap thoughts into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and start constructing a world where at least part of him lives forever.

It was in the year 2002 that brought me to knowing him, a man who had been physically weak yet strong in his will. The weakness in his movement was not the weakness in his heart. He was never and had never been a slave to his own self. He had walked with the aid of a stick with confidence. Yes, he was old but he was never weak.

I had then thought that humanity surged with uncontrolled passion, for passion was what I saw in him. He was a teacher, and probably a mentor or he could be a father, grandfather, friend. Whatever the term may be, I am glad that I met him.

That night when I stood outside the balcony of my house and listened to the breeze, the silence felt like divine. My conversation with the wind made me realise that he was right, that the home is where the heart is and that one’s house is one’s world (Rumah Itu Dunia Aku). Perhaps that was what inspired him to write that novel.

Soon it was that famous, classic novel of his that became my breakthrough. How thankful I should be for he had called me to turn that novel of his into a drama series, some sort of a telenovela he said. I was to co-write it with him and although I had, as a matter of fact, written almost everything, I was glad. Glad to be the chosen one.

I had thought to myself that it could probably be my winning the competition in 2003 with my Serendah Sekebun Bunga that he had chosen me, or probably he just happened to favour me. Whatever the reason might be, I was glad. Glad to be working with one of Malaysia’s greatest novelists and screenwriters, one who had been in the film industry as long as one can remember, one who had worked with great screen legends such as the late Tan Sri P. Ramlee and Puan Sri Saloma, M. Amin, Nordin Ahmad and many more. I remember how he had repeatedly told me about him being very close to the late Tan Sri P. Ramlee until the last of his (P. Ramlee) days, and how he had boasted about him being courted by some of the famous stars. I had been his good listener, not only to his funny stories but also to his sad ones. How his proposal of marriage had been rejected because of caste difference. This, according to him, became the basis of most of the stories he wrote. How true it is, that life’s experience always becomes part of a writer’s successful work.

The series was aired over RTM in 2004 and I had shared the honour, again thanking him and my lucky star. He then continued to serve his last days as a Script Consultant at FINAS. Even that did not stop me from being in contact with him. I had grown to know him not only for who he was and for what he was. Indeed I am indebted to him, he who had taught me, who had shared with me his knowledge and many years of experience. I could only do as much, to keep in touch and visit him and be with him as often as possible. He was staying at an apartment in Pandan Jaya, Kuala Lumpur and I would visit him at any possible time. There were also a number of occasions when he would call me to his house, at that very instant. I remember how I would come up with excuses whenever I could not make it, only to succumb to his request later.

He had since moved to stay in Subang USJ, and I continued my visits. There is a sense of sadness when I think about the times he had called to ask me to be at his house for many reasons, reasons he wrote in his own mind. He would tell me that he just fell from his wheelchair or he wanted a drink he could not get or he had been left alone by his son who was tending to him or he had just been poisoned.

My visits continued. I would listen to his ideas, his stories, how he was planning to write another script, another novel, and another, and another. He came up with all possible titles – Kunang-kunang Terbang Malam, Penjara Kasih and many others I can hardly remember now. He had also asked me to finish the unfinished story by the late Tan Sri P. Ramlee, Airmata di Kuala Lumpur. I had listened to whatever he was saying, without really giving full concentration, because I realised his mind never stopped winding when his physical health was getting weaker day by day.

Much to my regret, my story with him did not end as how I would hope it to be. A message went to me that he had left KL for Singapore and that he was being treated at a hospital there, the hospital that was to be his last home. I had since planned a visit to Singapore but time was the limit, or time became my excuse. I reasoned with myself that I had been busy with my day job and my writings of the first feature I wrote in 2005, followed by another script for competition entry in 2006.

That Monday morning of 23rd July 2007, as I was turning the pages of a newspaper, I read about the news. It was sad news. I was sad, and there was a feel of guilt and regret. I did not get the chance to see him before his last breath. I had let myself to let go of the chance to see him before his final breath. I started to form my own reconciliation. That there had not been a moment he was absent from my mind, not a moment that I was not proud I had known him. Perhaps the only regret was that I did not get the chance to show him the film I wrote, Bilut and the other script I won, Telaga Atas Bukit. But I know he would have been proud of me as how I have always been and will always be of him.

Then I realised that no one can go back to where he has left. He may turn back, however, just to find that it is no longer exactly the same. Seasons change and so do people. It is the ordinary pattern of life that we meet and part, fall in and out, tie and break connections - all around the edges of something, for the edges are always there, at times when we are arriving and departing, and these times, more often they come too swiftly, and unless we seize these brief moments, we may end up missing what should have been a part of us. I seized mine.

I may not have known him for longer years as many others have had, yet I am blessed. And I know well that it’s not how long you are together but it’s how much love you have shared within that period of time. He may have departed with the angels of the Lord, yet he lives on.

I may have met and known other notable people and maybe I will know more people as my journey continue. They have been and may be special, but he is he. He, who had lived a life among the legends, has now become a legend himself.

He is the one I knew. To him, I offer my prayer and Al-Fatihah. May you rest in peace, Pak Hamzah.

- ends -

artupnashi (the prologue)

There's no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard, no song that I could sing but I can try for your heart, our dreams, and they are made out of real things, like a shoebox of photographs, with sepiatone loving, love is the answer at least for most of the questions in my heart, like why are we here?

And where do we go? and how come it's so hard?

It's not always easy, and sometimes life can be deceiving, I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together.

And all of these moments just might find their way into my dreams tonight but I know that they'll be gone, when the morning light sings and brings new things, but tomorrow night you see that they'll be gone too, too many things I have to do, but if all of these dreams might find their way into my day to day scene.

I'll be under the impression, I was somewhere in-between with only two, just me and you. Not so many things we got to do, or places we got to be, we'll sit beneath the mango tree now.

I believe in memories, they look so, so pretty when I sleep, and when I wake up, you look so pretty sleeping next to me, but there is not enough time, and there is no, no song I could sing, and there is no combination of words I could say, but I will still tell you one thing, we're better together.

leinad (babak 7)

Sebegitu lama dia tidak menghubunginya. Semuanya angkara perselisihan faham yang tidak pernah sebenarnya menjadi perselisihan. Semuanya angkara seseorang bernama kawan yang dianggapnya sahabat. Selama itulah dia mendapati dirinya mengagumi orang-orang lama, yang menciptakan pepatah "harapkan pagar, pagar makan padi" serta istilah mudah orang-orang baru, "kawan makan kawan".

Sebegitu lama dia meletakkan kesalahan terhadap orang yang bergelar kawan, orang yang dia gelari sahabat. Selama itulah juga dia menyalahkannya. Lantaran dialah yang menghubungi orang bergelar kawan, orang yang digelarinya sahabat itu. Sebegitu lamalah juga dia tidak menyedari akan hakikat bahawa sebelah tangan yang bertepuk tak kan berbunyi.

Dia lemas. Lemas dalam kekeliruan. Tenggelam dalam keresahan. Kesedihan yang membaluti fikiran. Keliru apakah dia menyukai kawannya yang dianggapnya sahabat. Tenggelam dalam membuat andaian apakah dia memilih seseorang yang lebih berada. Sedih apabila mengagak bahawa dia mungkin sudah bosan terhadapnya.

Lalu dia memutuskan untuk memutuskan perhubungan yang dibina daripada kasih sayangnya itu. Perhubungan yang sekian lama dipupuk dengan luhur tanpa noda, walaupun hakikatnya dia sering dirasuk noda itu. Namun, dia bukan orangnya yang memilih untuk menagih. "Rasa kasih seharusnya datang dengan rela, tanpa paksa, tanpa meminta" - berkali-kali dia cuba untuk tidak melupakan ungkapan hatinya itu.

Dia sedar, air yang mengalir ada kalanya tidak terus mengalir, kerana ada ketika alirannya disekat oleh longgokan tanah dan sampah. Biarlah dia terus menjadi tebing yang menjaga air itu daripada melimpah, dan biarlah kawannya yang dianggapnya sahabat sebagai sampah yang seketika menghalang aliran itu.

Dia sedar, tiba ketikanya, air itu akan mengalir lagi, lebih deras menuju ke muara, di mana dia akan setia menanti.

a tale to tell

So life is about curiosity, because life is uncertainty. Many a time I hear that life is a play and the world the stage, and we the actors - and that it is unrehearsed. So much to do, so much to learn, so much in which to share. I enjoyed my youth, or rather, I enjoyed my teen and adolescent years, but I was enjoying it too much that I realised life was easy. I guess when you've lived life longer, you tend to look at it more seriously, and only then you begin to learn more, and that is when you find that there's more that you do not know. There is so much of a tale life is to tell.

I was reminded by a voice within to share something of extraordinary nature with those who may want to hear or rather read about what I have to tell. As a matter of fact, it is so ordinary to tell stories, to tell tales. What makes it extraordinary is the story, the tale that is being told, and how it is being told.

So here I find myself about to tell something that has been told to me, through visuals and audio I had the advantage of watching and listening on this thing called silver screen. Despite the mostly not-so-positive reviews about the latest local flick, Puaka Tebing Biru, I found myself glued to my seat throughout the slightly over 120 minutes show, watching the actions, feeling the emotions.

Walking out of that hall, I felt of sharing my feeling with others. I am neither a film reviewer nor a critic, yet I enjoy being in another world of its own each time my emotions attach to certain films I watch. What is strange is that I do not make such emotions flow, it just flows. And whenever such happened, I knew that I was actually exposed to a finely made film with a finely told story, and to me, a finely made film with a finely told story is easily a good film. It is another matter altogether if it is an excellent film or the best film. Maybe my expectation is not high? I do have certain expectations though, but at the same time, I try to form my own justice towards the film and the scope and limitations the maker may have had.

So the tale is about a woman haunted by her past. Her best friend was her past. Her best friend's sin was her past sin, only hers was a different kind of sin. Her best friend's suffering was her suffering, again, in her own way. This mix of the story of the woman, her best friend and her best friend’s lover became one through the existence of a ghost. It is a tale about one's mistakes in life and if redemption of the mistakes and sins is possible.

This tale of mistakes and sins are in fact, acts of love. Ratna loves herself that she does not want to suffer and end up like her mother. Ayu loves Mohsin that she gives her all. Even the supporting character like Ratna's room mate, chooses to go through Ratna's suffering because of love.

How strong is the message of love in this film, aptly dubbed as a horror film. Perhaps that is where the mistake lies. The expectation that viewers at large have when they walk into the cinema to watch the film. The title itself promises a horror story. And when expectation is not met, frustration surfaces. To me, it is not the fault of the filmmaker, in this case, the director. It is about expectation and perception. From what I see, Puaka Tebing Biru is a drama of love and sacrifices, told within a context of horror, and this actually makes it one special film, distinguishing itself from a normal horror movie and the usual drama. Perhaps the word "Puaka" could have been omitted from its title, to be merely called "Tebing Biru", literally means Blue Bank - the place that witnesses the birth of love, lust, horror, mystery and all there is to tell in the film.

Because I am not a film reviewer, I am not going to talk film. I am just interested to talk about its contents and the soul that it has within. Very rarely do I find a local film that has a very strong message within its soul, narrated within good visuals, unfolded within interesting plots. Puaka Tebing Biru is an exception. And for this, I salute.

And back to life, I understand that life can be barren. Language is a body of suffering, words the source of pain as they are the way to heal. And here I am, hearing, watching, feeling - is that all? Shouldn’t we exercise our rights to speak our minds? Just so that there is consensus between us all, then there’d be absolute peace in this world. What then? Perhaps then it's not life anymore, for life is a blend of happiness and sufferings, tears and laughter and all other elements that contain within it, without which, there’s no more tales to tell, life can no longer be a play, the world no longer the stage, and we no longer the actors.

If we are no actors, are but just the props?