Soul Fasting on Aidilfitri
This is the piece that I wrote for the Malay Mail that appeared on my birthday on Monday, 30th October - which happened to be my 33rd birthday.
I'm reproducing it here for the benefit of Mimpi Pari readers and also because the original version is slightly more flowing than the "butchered and edited" version that Malay Mail produced which I'm unhappy with (Zul, if you're reading this - kindly take note)
I meant to write another piece, as this is my 300th entry on this blog - but I guess that one can wait. :)
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Soul Fasting on Aidilfitri
By Stingray
As Ramadhan approaches its end, the joyous sentiment that surrounds the celebration of Hari Raya Aidilfitri envelopes the local Muslim community.
Aside from Ramadhan’s significance of willpower overcoming daylight hunger and restraining some of our worldly appetites and excesses, the dawn of Syawal marks a significant point for many, as the celebration usually denotes a family reunion or gathering.
The culture of “balik kampong” for Hari Raya Aidilfitri is well entrenched in our country – for most, a Hari Raya without returning to one’s hometown, would simply be a non-starter.
And a part of what usually makes this ritual of returning to one’s hometown or family home meaningful is the homeward visit to one’s parents or grandparents – aside from being reunited with one’s siblings.
Since Mum passed on in 2004, Aidilfitri has not been the same for me. There’s only one thing worse than being yatim piatu – it’s being an old bujang lapok yatim piatu – and this is especially felt during Aidilfitri.
Mum made all the Aidilfitris in my life special.
I remember how she used to rise early on the first Syawal morning to prepare her delicious nasi dagang, ayam rendang, her divine nasi impit and kuah kacang for the family.
How she would fuss over the family house, looking spotlessly clean and elegant to receive visitors and for my infamous annual open houses too.
How she would mock annoyance at my insistence on her helping me out with the tying of my kain sampin – as I would insist that she help me out, because this was Raya ritual for me and if I cared to admit it, it made me feel closer to her.
I never realized it but Mum was the central core that held my siblings and I, together. We were never close on Aidilfitri, it was our love for her that made us converge in the family home, as opposed to my siblings rushing off directly to the homes of their in-laws.
After she passed on, my Aidilfitris have been deafeningly quiet – usually spent alone in my condominium.
My siblings (and their families) have predictably chosen to spend their Aidilfitris with their in-laws, the only form of parents they have left. And I realize that even though the hunger fasting in Ramadhan has ended, the thirst I feel still continues into Syawal.
My solitary welcoming of Syawal (albeit, cushioned by the presence of well-meaning friends) means that my soul is still fasting, hungry and craving – for love, for family, for a place called home and a sense of belonging.
But fasting teaches us to appreciate the things that we tend to take for granted and things that others may have had to do without.
And even though my Aidilfitris are pretty dreary now, it makes me appreciate better, happier Aidilfitris in the past and in future. For who knows better the joy of quenching thirst than the person who can hardly drink?
To all those more fortunate than me, who are celebrating with family members – count your blessings and savour every moment of it.
If not for you – then do it for me.
(*Stingray is a 30-something bachelor who lives in PJ and who occasionally dreams of dating Carmen Soo)
I'm reproducing it here for the benefit of Mimpi Pari readers and also because the original version is slightly more flowing than the "butchered and edited" version that Malay Mail produced which I'm unhappy with (Zul, if you're reading this - kindly take note)
I meant to write another piece, as this is my 300th entry on this blog - but I guess that one can wait. :)
****************************************************
Soul Fasting on Aidilfitri
By Stingray
As Ramadhan approaches its end, the joyous sentiment that surrounds the celebration of Hari Raya Aidilfitri envelopes the local Muslim community.
Aside from Ramadhan’s significance of willpower overcoming daylight hunger and restraining some of our worldly appetites and excesses, the dawn of Syawal marks a significant point for many, as the celebration usually denotes a family reunion or gathering.
The culture of “balik kampong” for Hari Raya Aidilfitri is well entrenched in our country – for most, a Hari Raya without returning to one’s hometown, would simply be a non-starter.
And a part of what usually makes this ritual of returning to one’s hometown or family home meaningful is the homeward visit to one’s parents or grandparents – aside from being reunited with one’s siblings.
Since Mum passed on in 2004, Aidilfitri has not been the same for me. There’s only one thing worse than being yatim piatu – it’s being an old bujang lapok yatim piatu – and this is especially felt during Aidilfitri.
Mum made all the Aidilfitris in my life special.
I remember how she used to rise early on the first Syawal morning to prepare her delicious nasi dagang, ayam rendang, her divine nasi impit and kuah kacang for the family.
How she would fuss over the family house, looking spotlessly clean and elegant to receive visitors and for my infamous annual open houses too.
How she would mock annoyance at my insistence on her helping me out with the tying of my kain sampin – as I would insist that she help me out, because this was Raya ritual for me and if I cared to admit it, it made me feel closer to her.
I never realized it but Mum was the central core that held my siblings and I, together. We were never close on Aidilfitri, it was our love for her that made us converge in the family home, as opposed to my siblings rushing off directly to the homes of their in-laws.
After she passed on, my Aidilfitris have been deafeningly quiet – usually spent alone in my condominium.
My siblings (and their families) have predictably chosen to spend their Aidilfitris with their in-laws, the only form of parents they have left. And I realize that even though the hunger fasting in Ramadhan has ended, the thirst I feel still continues into Syawal.
My solitary welcoming of Syawal (albeit, cushioned by the presence of well-meaning friends) means that my soul is still fasting, hungry and craving – for love, for family, for a place called home and a sense of belonging.
But fasting teaches us to appreciate the things that we tend to take for granted and things that others may have had to do without.
And even though my Aidilfitris are pretty dreary now, it makes me appreciate better, happier Aidilfitris in the past and in future. For who knows better the joy of quenching thirst than the person who can hardly drink?
To all those more fortunate than me, who are celebrating with family members – count your blessings and savour every moment of it.
If not for you – then do it for me.
(*Stingray is a 30-something bachelor who lives in PJ and who occasionally dreams of dating Carmen Soo)
posted by Stingrayz | 7:24 PM
8 Comments:
Hmm Ray, this is the 2nd Aidilfitri that I am correcting you. IT IS KAIN SAMPIN!!! Not Samping - which means beside/s ... sheesh ... :-)
Xena:
Sorry, I stand corrected. It shall be amended. :)
ka songket??
angkasaone:
They're both, actually! :)
(p.s. Welcome to the blog! Are you an astronaut? ;))
"...my Aidilfitris have been deafeningly quiet – usually spent alone in my condominium."
I won't pretend to understand how this must feel (so please excuse me) but are you not, to some extent, choosing to drown in solitude?
Selamat Hari Raya, by the way, Maaf Zahir & Batin.
Anon 2
Anon 2:
Selamat Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir Batin to you too. :)
Just a point to note: I wrote this before Raya, but it only got printed in the Malay Mail on the 30th.
In the 2 previous Raya's after my Mum's passing, I was adjusting to the fact that there will be no more family-oriented (not to mention Mum-centered) Aidilfitris anymore.
When something does not feel the same, it's hard for you to rejoice.
You're grappling for something familiar - something that will bring you back to how things were.
The sadness kept me away from people - for fear of bringing them down with my despair, during Aidilfitri.
Solitude seems to be the best and most considerate option when you're likely to be the only party-pooper, at other people's joyous Aidilfitri parties.
But this year - despite some relative sadness still there, I decided that I'm going to beat this feeling and try to enjoy myself - even without a family and loved ones.
I decided that I will do this, the way I've always done it when I was starved of attention and affection as a child - I would seek it at other people's homes.
(Although I hate doing this nowadays - because of the feeling that I'm dependent on friends and relative strangers, to feel some semblance of joy on Aidilfitri)
So, on the first day of Raya, I visited three open houses and on the second day of Raya, I visited another two open houses.
On the fourth day of Raya, I went back to work and drowned myself in work and meetings, for a few days.
On the 6th day of Raya, I treated myself to a luxurious break in a resort in Langkawi, for 2 nights.
Spent a bomb on the holiday but what the heck, you only live once and it beats being miserable in the 1st week of Raya - and not to mention, my birthday.
Yes, you can make a choice not to drown in solitude, if you're not too unhappy. And yes, I was able to do that, this year.
And hopefully again, next year.
And you know what? All this effort makes Aidilfitris perhaps, a tad more bearable - but not anymore than that.
The joy I used to feel, is still blatantly missing.
Yes, life goes on.
Yes, in order to look like a functional human being to others, most times we have to pretend like we're coping and having a good time.
Making an effort and changing how you see things, perhaps, does make things look slightly better.
But in reality, things don't get better just because you choose to window-dress your beliefs. It's still the same.
It's like terminal cancer - no matter how prepared you are for death, it doesn't change the reality that you are dying and will eventually die.
Perhaps, the only thing that will change is your perspective and reaction to death. Perhaps, resignation and acceptance will be the best option outcomes.
But you go on and do what you have to do to cope. But I've always preferred the truth in things.
Things can only get better, when you know the limits of how far you can lie to yourself, about being happy - or not being unhappy.
We live our lives in reality, even if we have to swallow and entertain the fantasy of positive thinking and the distraction of proactive action, to overcome the saddest of days.
That's what I think. But you'd have to be here in my shoes to understand, maybe.
And maybe because of that, you never will.
I retreated to a resort for a short break on the 3rd day of Raya. We've done this for several years already. We tend to keep the visits to the necessary few (meaning just parents and parents-in-law). After my parents depart, will I assemble with my siblings or just send them a Raya card? Maybe this is the way of the world, or maybe the family bond will improve.
Anon 2
Anon 2:
I completely understand.
Maybe it is meant to the way of the world, for some of us.
Though it makes a mockery of the phrase "blood is thicker than water" when like me, one finds that the most caring and dependable people around oneself - are one's friends.
It's okay - for now. But one day, I'd definitely like my own family unit.
After all, no man is an island.
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