A solemn moment of silence, please.
Ramadhan is here again. =)
Wow. Time really does move along quickly. I can still distinctively smell my mother’s specially-made rendang, best when eaten with her fantastic lontong from last Raya morning, while the echos of the morning Takbir reverberate around the house.
And now, a year has gone and this holy month has finally arrived again.
This year, Ramadhan’s beginning was of a different sort. My first night was spent in the company of my fellow friends as we greeted the holy night with much joy (and smsing). The first time in 18 years, in 18 Ramadhan months that I did not spend that special moment with my family.
I speak as though they’re a million miles away, padahal kalau naik teksi, tak sampai pun sejam dah sampai dah…but it doesn’t make things any easier.
First night of Ramadhan: the usual rituals. Give Ummi and Abah a hug, pat Lutfi’s back and remind him his responsibilities as the first son and as a Muslim, and give quick lectures to Widad and Luqman, and finally settle for a lecture from Ummi herself as she lists down the things I’m to do during Ramadhan. Ummi doesn’t have much of a problem with me, really. It’s just the fact that I’m completely kitchen-intolerant and have a knack of appearing only when it’s time to do the petty tasks, like making tea, mixing the air bandung, watching the stove, amongst other things a mere half hour before Iftar. Me and the kitchen, we got issues. Unless its for making puddings and pastries and the normal breakfast meals, we don’t get along well. We’ve waged wars for too long a time now.
Yeah, an excuse I’ve used that doesn’t seem to discourage Ummi from her exasperated attempts that I need to get my behind into the kitchen and work the place. Ah well. A woman’s obligation remains a woman’s obligation. As I grow older, I guess I can see why there’s now a sense of urgency in her voice that tells me I need to really be serious about learning how to cook. And fast.
The nights would have us praying Tarawikh at the WP mosque. Without fail, since the year it was built, our family would be familiar faces at that mosque. Have you been there? It’s absolutely magnificent, and the Imam reads so beautifully that you feel like crying sometimes, and wouldn’t mind if he goes on for another minute or two. After Witr, head back home, and after a quick snack, prepare for Quranic recitals, a Juzu’ a night. Ramadhan after Ramadhan, for as long as I can remember.
Last night, I suffered a horrid sore throat and could not stop fidgeting, being restless and anxious about the upcoming tests I have (one which I completed today, and another which I will have tomorrow). Kak Shara and Yani were fairly quiet, and we were all pretty much lost in our own thoughts. As Maghrib approached, I headed out to my thinking spot to catch the Sunset on Ramadhan’s eve. Breathtaking, as usual.
If there are many things that saddened me a little last night, it was the fact that I had to wish my family a happy Ramadhan over the phone, and that I had to do my Tarawikh prayers alone because I wasn’t feeling well enough to head down to the mosque. Dahlah rindu depa yang bising-bising kat rumah tu. I wonder what Lutfi must be feeling as well, he switched off his phone. Ummi called in to ask what I was having for Sahur, and Widad called later to just ask how I was doing. Hm. Could it be? My sister actually misses me.
And now my sore throat’s developed into a cough. I can’t wait to go back home this weekend. I just need that sense of familiarity and comfort.
Last night was fun. There was a lot of laughter and a lot of sharing, and that aura that only roommates would be able to understand. I still have the image of Kak Laila running to hide the ‘thing’ when Raihan came acalling unexpectedly. Hilarious.
But.
Home is still Home. And I can bet everyone would have traded almost anything to have that first night with their family.
May this month bring all of us the happiness and blessings we constantly seek, Insya Allah.
Enough said here.
