PERHAPS LOVE?
S wrote this for all of us to share....though I beg to differ on some areas about this so-called love. He has his idealistic view on what he term as love. Not that I am unable to love anymore. The hurt that love brings after I lost my loved ones - one after another - makes me feel so alienated from the very word. I prefer not to use the word love so often as it might be misconstrued, not by anyone but by me.
So, here it is:
you are zieman
and words are all i have for you
and if you think its fine to share this piece is for those you love too.
-----------------------------------------------------
love often underestimated
sometimes overestimated
it is never taken for its real worth
it is not an overused word
if it were ...why do people hunger for it?
the truth is...most people are just embarrased about showing affection
they feel super when they are swearing
they feel elated when people laugh at their lewd jokes
they feel belonged when someone tells them a dirty joke
they feel hip when they say (a four-letter word that's not 'fish')
they feel they are 'somebody' when they are first to peek at nudity
but they get queezy about saying 'i love you'
they feel bonded when someone tells them 'i love you'
they think you are lecherous and laschivious
when you say you are not ashame to love
so, what is this thing called love
that everyone is running away from?
it happens every day
and every moment of their life yet, they dont know
love is not a package dealit comes in bits and pieces of ordinary things
love untainted is love for the Almighty
and love for everything else is an extension of that love for the Supreme Being
as we count our blessings
let's count the ways of love from a to zee:
a - affection, amour, adulation, appreciation, adore
b - belief in God, belief in self, blessing, beauty, benevolence, braving the odds
c - caring, concern, cherish, confident, charm, considerate, cheer
d - delight, devotion, desire
e - endearing, emotion, enchantment, enjoyment, enthusiasm, embrace
f - friendship, fondness, frankness, favours, flavours
g - goodness, goodwill, gratitude, gladness, greetings, gentle touch
h - hello, happiness, humour, harmony, hugs, heart and soul
i - inspiration, infatuation, involvement, ideal
j - justk - kindness, kisses
l - like, light. life, living
m- mindful, music, madness (sometimes)
n - neverending story, nice, not giving up, neighbourlinesso - over the moon, overjoyed, opportunity
p - prayers, poetry, patience, passion, purpose, purity, pleasure
q - quiet moments, que sera sera
r - respect, regard, relish, radiance, reverence
s - smile, sincerity, sweetness, sentimental
t - tenderness, truth, trust, tolerance
u - understanding, untiring, unity
v - virtue, value, victorious, vigilant
w - warmth, wellness, wishes, worship
x - 'xpression, 'xtraordinary, 'xcitement, xanadu
y - yearning, z - zeal
and, surely there's much, much more
if you cant chew it alltake a taste, a little at a timeby tomorrow, you could feel it better than today
so, dear zieman
dont be confused and dont feel unloved
there's alway a voice cheering you on just listen to your heart
and the birds too are singing
chirpy! chirpy! cheep! cheep! zieman's back.
wishing you peace, wellness and gladness
smiles and cheers.
TENDER WORDS ARE TRUE POEM OF THE HEART....
Thursday, September 07, 2006
THE 'LOVE' HE WROTE
Dear S,
I didn't mean to expose our 'little secret' for all to know but lovely notes like the ones you have written should be kept in a place where it belongs ---- archive. And this is my archive. Sorry, didn't mean to hurt you again but I just had to share it with my friends...I hope you understand.
It's another way to say I appreciate, I care and I admire your guts for having the courage to tell me what you have been wanting to tell me all these years. No hard feelings please.
Love is such an overused and cliche word. It caused confusion and has been used so often that I don't even know what it means any more. Perhaps I am not meant to be loved...
S wrote:
it came like a bomb
it must be immense hurt
that drove you to break the years of painful silence
and to open, for all to know a trove of love sick prose meant just for you.
i'm actually at a loss for wordsas this was unexpected
it melted my heartweakened my kneesrocked my headand vapoured my eyes
it was a mixed feeling ofwonder, confusiontenderness, dumbness and ...
dont know what else
for some while, i just couldnt think or work
and my first response was :"God, have i devastated her?"
dear zieman
that door that u think i closed
was just in an illusion in slumberland
i only said there was no more dreams to tell
i didnt mean to shut you out of my life.
the corner in my heart
where i have etched your name is always there for you
to seek shelter and warmth
a gentle knock will do
for this door to open and to invite you in
this door was never locked
i'm truly..trully...truly sorry
for my lack of patience and understanding of your feelings
if any good comes from all this
it is by the grace of Allah
and may He forgive us for our weakness
everything else is due to our human failings
and may Allah help and guide us so that we will be strong.
thank you for your kind thoughts of me
thank you for sharing your feelings
thank you ...thank you...thank you
for being you.
wassalamsmiles and cheers.
Dear S,
I didn't mean to expose our 'little secret' for all to know but lovely notes like the ones you have written should be kept in a place where it belongs ---- archive. And this is my archive. Sorry, didn't mean to hurt you again but I just had to share it with my friends...I hope you understand.
It's another way to say I appreciate, I care and I admire your guts for having the courage to tell me what you have been wanting to tell me all these years. No hard feelings please.
Love is such an overused and cliche word. It caused confusion and has been used so often that I don't even know what it means any more. Perhaps I am not meant to be loved...
S wrote:
it came like a bomb
it must be immense hurt
that drove you to break the years of painful silence
and to open, for all to know a trove of love sick prose meant just for you.
i'm actually at a loss for wordsas this was unexpected
it melted my heartweakened my kneesrocked my headand vapoured my eyes
it was a mixed feeling ofwonder, confusiontenderness, dumbness and ...
dont know what else
for some while, i just couldnt think or work
and my first response was :"God, have i devastated her?"
dear zieman
that door that u think i closed
was just in an illusion in slumberland
i only said there was no more dreams to tell
i didnt mean to shut you out of my life.
the corner in my heart
where i have etched your name is always there for you
to seek shelter and warmth
a gentle knock will do
for this door to open and to invite you in
this door was never locked
i'm truly..trully...truly sorry
for my lack of patience and understanding of your feelings
if any good comes from all this
it is by the grace of Allah
and may He forgive us for our weakness
everything else is due to our human failings
and may Allah help and guide us so that we will be strong.
thank you for your kind thoughts of me
thank you for sharing your feelings
thank you ...thank you...thank you
for being you.
wassalamsmiles and cheers.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
THE DIARY!
IT WAS ALMOT LIKE A DIARY. The things that S wrote to me. Never knew how much the notes or the poems meant to me until a friend pointed out. I have very few regrets in life and slighting Shah is oen of them.
How could I be cruel and heartless to a man who loves and admire me in silent. But now I guess its too late because I have hurt S by the way I reacted and treated him all these years.
To S: If you are reading this, I just want you to know I appreciate all the love and attention that you have given me all these years. The prayers that you recited for me in your prayers and the dreams you shared with me are special. Thank you for everything. Your words, messages and poems mean a lot to me now than ever.... after you told me you are closing the door behind you.
I don't blame you S. I deserve that....For memories sake, I have pasted some of the most beautiful words that you said to me which I kept in my archive. I was foolish not to appreciate it before. I hope its not too late to ask forgiveness from you - for all the hurtful words I have said and the long silence.
Thank you for being there for me!
Love Zieman
20/5/2003
i was with a lecturer friends from uum. saw you too at purnama.why are we silly..snubbing each other?
i notice something was bothering you; during the recent office dinner.was hoping, maybe, you'd tell me about it before somebody else do.
you have been strong before, in facing the trials of life.you will pull through this time..InshaAllah...kekadang di sebalik sesuatu rintangan, ada hikmah sebenarnya.
if you believe Allah is with you, nobody ..and nothing..can be against you.
love.
21/5/2003
see what i mean?
i have to find out from an indirect source.
it does not seem fair.
anyway, i'm happy for you. take care.the baby may be the most precious thing now for you.
smiles and cheers.
23/5/2003
apa khabar?
maybe i'm not supposed to be in the list of "being in the know" about your situation.but since i already found out (though not informed), i hope you're okay.
please take care.
cheers.
11/6/2003
what i heard, at first i thought was a joke you laughed, only to say (not to me)"he doesn't know about it"or, something like that meant to hurt me or, to show i was foolish
silently, i walked away to write a note, to say "it's just not fair"
i had heard you talk of the frivolous ways of others their whims, their aspirations and other matters but you were quiet and not wanting to shareabout a new life, within you that i too, would cherish
i remained naive, and blurly asked"what's disturbing you?'and innocently believed, when you said "it's a matter of time before i tell you"
where did the time go when everybody else knew?
so good are you at prose and verses yet, still i'm waiting my turn in the queue for you to tell me those wonderful words"i'm having a baby".
wassalam.
love
13/6/2003
resting in the shade of a tree i see a bird singing a sweet melody
and from the distance too i heard a voice quietly sighing(was it you?)
i do not understand it for a recurring strain was playing not from afar
but from a space inside me
through the leaves i see a gentle light streaming like that ray of sunshine that is soon a-coming
i watch in wonder the feathered one above me
and i feel so humble and even so low
am i to go lower than on my hands and knees or shall i just pretend and move on
will you ever tell me?
wassalam
love
23/6/2003
assalamualaikum
that day when you wore red I wanted to tell how gorgeous you look i held back, however, as i thought"what if she gives the snub?" what if she makes one of her infamous sarcastic remarks?"could i bear it?
i may have lost a love but i still have my dignity yet, why has it come to this?
is this one of those things that men do not understand?
the silence is deafeningand i just dont want to ask anymore
this note is just to say that you're still etched in my heart
though the space i have for you
which once was passionate red is now just a shade of blue
have a good day
love
9pm
18/7/2003
assalamualaikum
you seem to avoid me like i have the sars. Yet i continue to grin like a clown and said "she's ok" when anyone asks "how's zieman?".
i pray God is keeping you well and you are also taking good care of yourself and the new life you are carrying.
i have traced msgs, conversations, chit-chats and small talks with you...trying to find out when...where...why...i have been kicked out of your life.
those people you used to be sarcastic about, they're the ones you go to now and the ones you're running away from are those you once said you trust and care about (like me and A).
so, help me.
what's happening? how did it all happen?
when i see you..from a distance...i long to be near..to touch that life in you..to whisper..to tell..everything is going to be alright.
InsyaAllah, everything will be ok.
love.
wasslam.
ps: all that i had wanted was to hear from your own sweet lips: "i'm having a baby."
3/8/2003
and i still keep asking..a simple question..."when will you tell me?"
the truth is, dear zieman, tho i'm disappointed, i'm not angry.
i still harbour hopes that you'll forget your pride..dont be embarrassed..if you want to talk, i'll listen, and if you want to listen, i'll talk.
whatever is the outcome...i can live with it.and i hope too you will...eventually..know how to handle the matter.
and. this will be the last time i will write to you on this matter. if there is any more message, it would probably be work related. if not there will just be blanks.
for the record, i still care for you and wish you the best in life.take care of the baby, ok?
love,
wassalam.
18/8/2003
i know i said i will not send anymore msgs. but this one, i'd like to share with you.
"when a child is born, everyone - men, women, family, friends..sometimes even foes - fall in delight, tiny babies, in whom we see our future, are the greates joy and blessing we will ever have. and they are so easy to love. these small beings have the ability to bring out the best in us and we want to make them happy.
we can do nothing less than to love them totally and without reservations or judgements. a mother is not waiting to be complimented by the baby. she feels love that is totally without conditions. when you feel that kind of love, it radiates in all directions - not just from the baby, but everywhere and to everyone. it's like light radiating from a bulb (or candle).
the love for our child enlarges our spirit, expands our heart and allow us to feel the essence of our highest levels. the highest delight, the very stuff of heaven comes through when we love a child."
smiles and cheers.
3/9/2003
assalamualaikum.
tho u made me a fool...i continue to see the best in u. since the beginnging....and until now....i tell people u are my dear friend. and everyday, i say a prayer for you and your baby.
i do not know where i went wrong with u...or maybe i'm too naive.
but when somebody asked,"hey, what's this i hear about u and zimen? quarrel?" i was taken aback.
i believe it wasnt u who talked abt the so-called quarrel. as far as i am concerned there wasnt any. but why there is this talk, i dont know.
i guess i.m not just a fool in your eyes..also in others.
InshaAllah, things will work out....for good or for better.
take care of the baby.
wassalam. love
28/10/2003
..........anda di dalam keadaan sihat dan bahagia.
assalamualaikum.
dear zieman,
in this noble month of Ramadhan, my wish is that Allah will give you His hidayahto soften your heart against me.
we all have our problems ..be it financial, health, relationships, family, work, or others....it is only because we are not perfect that we seek the help of others..or Allah....to get out of our predicament.
whatever it is that i may have done (or had not done) that has hurt or grieved you...i'm sorry.but for this Ramadhan and always...i bless you and see the best in you.May Allah keep you safe...always.
peace is where the heart is.wassalam.
9/11/2003
i feel i have to write this, just 4 u.
yesterday from the closet i tookmonths after the last time i put it there
an attire of blue a gift to me from you
i felt its softness like a gentle touch from an enchanting past
and i whispered a blessing and a little hope
that from a distance you'll knowthat i see the best in you
i remember you once said i am part of you and i assured you there's a space i share here in my heart for you
and when i see a baby blooming in his mother's womb by extension, i feel like it is part of mehow i long to touch itto tell it "everything will be all right"to whisper "you'll be fine"but it's not to be
now, the time is nearwhen a little ray of sunshinewill show itself and give your world its glowa bundle of joyto cherish for good..and better
its such a wonder what a blue baju can do and even after it goes back into the closet it will not shut the thoughts i have of you
and if tomorrow is not mine to share with you please forgive me, in your heart and mind for all the hurt i have caused and the pains i cannot repair
may Allah keep you safe..today and everyday and rememberthe best years of your life have yet to come.
selamat berpuasa.
20/3/2004
i read the agenda, and it bleeds my heart it's scary to think that those you call friends can turn out to be foes
this shameless manwhat can he do?but pray to God to give you the strength and courage to break your barriers of pain and sorrow and ease the wound
this despised person who's been spurned, mocked, scorned and laugh at sees just the best in you and know you will prevail and you'll see the truth
InsyaAllah
this impudent fool magnanimous only in his "sorries"ask again to be forgiven for he is helpless to lend a hand except to reach out to the Almighty to keep you safe, protected and unharmed for if the Creator is with you no one can be against you - tho they may try
everyday i bless you i never stopped and at times like this i ache for you and want to comfort you to tell you "everthing will be alright"and to say, "i care".
17/4/2004
this is a goodbye note.
i have joined the league of retirees and...unless i accept thestar's offer for me to continue...this would be the last u'll hear from me.
thank u for the memories, the prose and poems and things that we had shared together..including the drinks, meals and also the raindrops, the tears and the laughter.
what can i say that i've not said to u before?
u have chosen to distant yourself from me, while i still keep the place in my heart where i had etched your name
so i leave, still wondering what was so hurting to you that u never want to forgive me for?
maybe i have the plague maybe your friends know whatever..i'll never know.
i'm such a flawed person that it's almost comical but i will not forget you if not for a long time, at least until about forever.
for now, take care..and take care of khadeem too
and one more thing...get out of your cold room and get back into the sunshine feel the warmth, the glow and bathe in the beauty if God's creations
everyday i bless you.
smiles and cheers, love,
P/S and get back into the sunshine to feel the warmthof love, beauty and get back intothe sunshine, where
love and peace.
4/6/2004
was surprised too. but its not going to spoil my day. i just feel amused.
let's just take the gladness the day brings.
i wish you sunshine and rainbows.
15/6/2004
assalamualaikum.
this one was sent 2 me sometime back by audee. i dont think she'd mind me sharing this with u.
its a piece anyone can relate 2 and i hope it will perk up up on "bad" days it's rather long but i'm sending it via atex cos i dont have ur e-address. maybe, i lost it or something.
anyway, have a good day.
smiles and cheers.
DESIDERATA By Max Ehrmann
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is a perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
30/8/2004
hi,this is not an n-day msg, just a story told that i'd like to share.
'nora' has never forgiven her father for being rageful and, she felt, he had always neglected her needs. she was so angry with him,she would not go to his funeral. in the 20 years since his death, she never visited his grave.
then something happened (no need to go into details on this) and she picked up the courage to go to the cemetery. with an armful of flowers, she reached the grave. and then she cried...and cried...and cried her heart out. memories came flooding back of all the fine things her father had done for her and the good times they had shared. and then all the resentment she had harboured against her dad, evaporated, she felt a sense of relief and healing. with all the dammed-up feelings released, she felt a surge of new energy flowing through her. and she's now on the way to enjoying life much better then she was previously. and she has advised her friends to ask for forgiveness from those they had hurt. and whether or not the other side forgives...one side is surely going to feel better.
hearing about 'nora', i realised that if she could get over 20 years of anger, maybe there's hope for me to get some forgiveness from some people i have disappointed. so, this shameless man is now asking: if i had hurt you, can you forgive me?
peace be with you
19/12/2004
sometime in january i held a baby in my arms and whispered in his ears words of love, inspiration and devotion to God. the child, then, was about a month old.
khadeem would be celebrating - or has celebrated - his 1st birthday at about this time.
i pray he will grow up to be a fine, healthy, smart. loving and lovable gentleman. InsyaAllah.
as for you, if ever you feel down or think the world is against you. listen to a voice that will be cheering you on: "don't quit. get up and go. you're a winner!"
that voice would be mine.
wassalam.
smiles and peace
2/5/2005
On jan 30 last year, i and two of ur best-loved friends - shamala and sheela - as well as fadzillah, visited you to see little khadeem.
i have been thinking a lot about him lately and wondering how he is.i am sure - and i pray - that he is growing up healthy, well and smart.
would it be too much to ask u to send my love to him?
i still remember that as i held him in my arms, he looked at me with his lovely eyes and smiled.it was very touching (for me, at least).
i whispered some things in his ears which..if Allah wills it..will help him grow to be a fine, gentle person with a lot of love and affection to share with others.
InsyaAllah, u will be proud of him.
this is not a chinese new year message, but i do wish you and your familycontinued good health, prosperity and Allah's blessings forever.
smiles and cheers,
27/5/2005
i had a dream one night. it was about you.
you were standing at the bottom of a long and massive stairway.
The steps - which were as wide as stadium terraces - led to a huge white building, against a backdrop of a clear blue sky.
you were dressed in a dark jubah, looking up towards either the giant building or the sky.
the only other form of life was a cockroach, running down the steps towards you.
thinking about the dream, i can only guess that the building suggests some kind of authority.
while the sky showed the supremacy of God.
the cockroach could be someone - probably an insignificant being in your life at the moment - trying to reach out to you.
whatever you conclude from this
i'm sending this note to just say 'please take greatcare in whatever you do.'
i wish you well and, while i often worry about you,
i dont think its going to change your contempt of me.
no, no need to respond to this msg. We both can pretend this note did not reach you.
just...take care.
wishing you peace and happinness..always.
28/5/2005
i wont question why you replied in a "blank" but i think you meant to tell me to mind my own business.
sorry i had bothered you.
i will continue to have kind thoughts of you.
may God keep you away from harm ...always.
12/2/2006
assalamualaikum.
i was deeply touched by your write-up on your parents' love story in starmag.
i could tell you wrote it with a lot of affection and devotion.
"the diamond in his life" as the sub-heading suggests, was your mum. significantly, your dad's name, johar, also means a gem stone.
theirs is a classic case of a marriage lived "for good and for better", giving us ordinary people who are still living hope that the best years of our life have yet to come.
with parents like yours, you will always have a romantic streak in you. more than that, you will always be strong, like them, in facing the trials and tribulations of life.
wassalam.smiles and cheers.
11/5/2006
had meant to tell you this several days back, but had forgotten.
so, while i'm thinking about it now. i want to tell you.........that i dreamed of you...again..twice.
in the earlier dream, you were sitting in a corner of a theatre hall,watching intensely at the stage.
no one was playing.
neither was there anybody else in the hall.
however, there were murmurs of voices in the background.can't make out the words. but they were voices.
the other dream was rather strange too..and lasted just a few seconds.
you were in a mother theresa type of jubah, white with light blue linings.
you stood alone against a dark backdrop (blue, green, or purple..i'm not sure. but not black).
not smiliing nor frowning.
just still and looking in a particular direction with soft eyes.
when these dreams come, i worry about you.
you may loath me, for what ever reasons.
But my thoughts and feelings about you have not changed..
maybe, under different circumstances i would be at your side to sooth you and tell you everything will be ok.
in the current situation i can only tell it to you from a distant.
take care...really take care.
wassalam.
26/7/2006
i feel like a million dollars richer getting a smile and a 'salam' from you.
it's been so long.....
have a good day,
31/7/2006
assalamualaikum.
why do these dreams keep coming?
the most recent, however, was different from the previous ones.
there was a crowd, perhaps, there was a festival or some event.
i was sitting at a table, you were sitting across me.
my face was swollen, like i had a terrible toothache, mumps or suffering froma horrible bee sting.
you looked straight at me and.....gave a sympathetic smile.
then the dream faded away.
like i said, this dream was different.
you were not alone.
there were people around.
and i was there, though looking uglier than my usual self.
and you were not looking sombre, sad or bewildered.
i guess the dream tells me that things are working well for you.
i dont know what you've been through other than read what you write in your blogg (must be pretty busy since you've not updated it for more than a month).
but i do pray for your well being and am confident that Allah is there with you in all your trials and tribulations.
wassalam.
31/7/2006
i came up with this frivolous poem while idling.
its for you to keep...or to dump in the bin.
idle feelings
Reaching for the end of a rainbow is but a romantic dream
Answering questions that are not asked is also just a whim
Singing tunes without a melody robs from a song its special meaning
Piecing a jigsaw with missing bits is mere acting or pretending, and
Untieing a knot that is not tangled is just doing nothing
The truth, if i can share, is in a little heart pounding
Inviting you in, for some warmth when the world is chilling
Never closing its door, always keeping - for you - a little light glowing.
5/9/2006
u'll probably be bored by this.
i had another dream of u.
the scene is the office at the 5th floor.
i left my seat and walked to a place where u were sitting.
u were seated at the corner spot on the subs row.(opposite the door)
u were not wearing a tudung andyou looked kind of pale.
i asked u what is the matter and could i help?
u gestured - with your head - towards the door.i walked out.
what is the dream all about?
i think, like the others that i had shared with u,its about feelings.
dear zieman
i poured my feelings for u a million times(and i thought, so did u)
and then it all came down to zero.
bcos they eventually mean nothing to u.
so, these dreams, if anything keep me in company with u in another dimension.
i pray u will have a good life, filled with lots of tender loving careu deserve it..
between us, there'll be no more dreams to share.
wassalam.
smiles and cheers.(with apologies for disturbing your peace)
IT WAS ALMOT LIKE A DIARY. The things that S wrote to me. Never knew how much the notes or the poems meant to me until a friend pointed out. I have very few regrets in life and slighting Shah is oen of them.
How could I be cruel and heartless to a man who loves and admire me in silent. But now I guess its too late because I have hurt S by the way I reacted and treated him all these years.
To S: If you are reading this, I just want you to know I appreciate all the love and attention that you have given me all these years. The prayers that you recited for me in your prayers and the dreams you shared with me are special. Thank you for everything. Your words, messages and poems mean a lot to me now than ever.... after you told me you are closing the door behind you.
I don't blame you S. I deserve that....For memories sake, I have pasted some of the most beautiful words that you said to me which I kept in my archive. I was foolish not to appreciate it before. I hope its not too late to ask forgiveness from you - for all the hurtful words I have said and the long silence.
Thank you for being there for me!
Love Zieman
20/5/2003
i was with a lecturer friends from uum. saw you too at purnama.why are we silly..snubbing each other?
i notice something was bothering you; during the recent office dinner.was hoping, maybe, you'd tell me about it before somebody else do.
you have been strong before, in facing the trials of life.you will pull through this time..InshaAllah...kekadang di sebalik sesuatu rintangan, ada hikmah sebenarnya.
if you believe Allah is with you, nobody ..and nothing..can be against you.
love.
21/5/2003
see what i mean?
i have to find out from an indirect source.
it does not seem fair.
anyway, i'm happy for you. take care.the baby may be the most precious thing now for you.
smiles and cheers.
23/5/2003
apa khabar?
maybe i'm not supposed to be in the list of "being in the know" about your situation.but since i already found out (though not informed), i hope you're okay.
please take care.
cheers.
11/6/2003
what i heard, at first i thought was a joke you laughed, only to say (not to me)"he doesn't know about it"or, something like that meant to hurt me or, to show i was foolish
silently, i walked away to write a note, to say "it's just not fair"
i had heard you talk of the frivolous ways of others their whims, their aspirations and other matters but you were quiet and not wanting to shareabout a new life, within you that i too, would cherish
i remained naive, and blurly asked"what's disturbing you?'and innocently believed, when you said "it's a matter of time before i tell you"
where did the time go when everybody else knew?
so good are you at prose and verses yet, still i'm waiting my turn in the queue for you to tell me those wonderful words"i'm having a baby".
wassalam.
love
13/6/2003
resting in the shade of a tree i see a bird singing a sweet melody
and from the distance too i heard a voice quietly sighing(was it you?)
i do not understand it for a recurring strain was playing not from afar
but from a space inside me
through the leaves i see a gentle light streaming like that ray of sunshine that is soon a-coming
i watch in wonder the feathered one above me
and i feel so humble and even so low
am i to go lower than on my hands and knees or shall i just pretend and move on
will you ever tell me?
wassalam
love
23/6/2003
assalamualaikum
that day when you wore red I wanted to tell how gorgeous you look i held back, however, as i thought"what if she gives the snub?" what if she makes one of her infamous sarcastic remarks?"could i bear it?
i may have lost a love but i still have my dignity yet, why has it come to this?
is this one of those things that men do not understand?
the silence is deafeningand i just dont want to ask anymore
this note is just to say that you're still etched in my heart
though the space i have for you
which once was passionate red is now just a shade of blue
have a good day
love
9pm
18/7/2003
assalamualaikum
you seem to avoid me like i have the sars. Yet i continue to grin like a clown and said "she's ok" when anyone asks "how's zieman?".
i pray God is keeping you well and you are also taking good care of yourself and the new life you are carrying.
i have traced msgs, conversations, chit-chats and small talks with you...trying to find out when...where...why...i have been kicked out of your life.
those people you used to be sarcastic about, they're the ones you go to now and the ones you're running away from are those you once said you trust and care about (like me and A).
so, help me.
what's happening? how did it all happen?
when i see you..from a distance...i long to be near..to touch that life in you..to whisper..to tell..everything is going to be alright.
InsyaAllah, everything will be ok.
love.
wasslam.
ps: all that i had wanted was to hear from your own sweet lips: "i'm having a baby."
3/8/2003
and i still keep asking..a simple question..."when will you tell me?"
the truth is, dear zieman, tho i'm disappointed, i'm not angry.
i still harbour hopes that you'll forget your pride..dont be embarrassed..if you want to talk, i'll listen, and if you want to listen, i'll talk.
whatever is the outcome...i can live with it.and i hope too you will...eventually..know how to handle the matter.
and. this will be the last time i will write to you on this matter. if there is any more message, it would probably be work related. if not there will just be blanks.
for the record, i still care for you and wish you the best in life.take care of the baby, ok?
love,
wassalam.
18/8/2003
i know i said i will not send anymore msgs. but this one, i'd like to share with you.
"when a child is born, everyone - men, women, family, friends..sometimes even foes - fall in delight, tiny babies, in whom we see our future, are the greates joy and blessing we will ever have. and they are so easy to love. these small beings have the ability to bring out the best in us and we want to make them happy.
we can do nothing less than to love them totally and without reservations or judgements. a mother is not waiting to be complimented by the baby. she feels love that is totally without conditions. when you feel that kind of love, it radiates in all directions - not just from the baby, but everywhere and to everyone. it's like light radiating from a bulb (or candle).
the love for our child enlarges our spirit, expands our heart and allow us to feel the essence of our highest levels. the highest delight, the very stuff of heaven comes through when we love a child."
smiles and cheers.
3/9/2003
assalamualaikum.
tho u made me a fool...i continue to see the best in u. since the beginnging....and until now....i tell people u are my dear friend. and everyday, i say a prayer for you and your baby.
i do not know where i went wrong with u...or maybe i'm too naive.
but when somebody asked,"hey, what's this i hear about u and zimen? quarrel?" i was taken aback.
i believe it wasnt u who talked abt the so-called quarrel. as far as i am concerned there wasnt any. but why there is this talk, i dont know.
i guess i.m not just a fool in your eyes..also in others.
InshaAllah, things will work out....for good or for better.
take care of the baby.
wassalam. love
28/10/2003
..........anda di dalam keadaan sihat dan bahagia.
assalamualaikum.
dear zieman,
in this noble month of Ramadhan, my wish is that Allah will give you His hidayahto soften your heart against me.
we all have our problems ..be it financial, health, relationships, family, work, or others....it is only because we are not perfect that we seek the help of others..or Allah....to get out of our predicament.
whatever it is that i may have done (or had not done) that has hurt or grieved you...i'm sorry.but for this Ramadhan and always...i bless you and see the best in you.May Allah keep you safe...always.
peace is where the heart is.wassalam.
9/11/2003
i feel i have to write this, just 4 u.
yesterday from the closet i tookmonths after the last time i put it there
an attire of blue a gift to me from you
i felt its softness like a gentle touch from an enchanting past
and i whispered a blessing and a little hope
that from a distance you'll knowthat i see the best in you
i remember you once said i am part of you and i assured you there's a space i share here in my heart for you
and when i see a baby blooming in his mother's womb by extension, i feel like it is part of mehow i long to touch itto tell it "everything will be all right"to whisper "you'll be fine"but it's not to be
now, the time is nearwhen a little ray of sunshinewill show itself and give your world its glowa bundle of joyto cherish for good..and better
its such a wonder what a blue baju can do and even after it goes back into the closet it will not shut the thoughts i have of you
and if tomorrow is not mine to share with you please forgive me, in your heart and mind for all the hurt i have caused and the pains i cannot repair
may Allah keep you safe..today and everyday and rememberthe best years of your life have yet to come.
selamat berpuasa.
20/3/2004
i read the agenda, and it bleeds my heart it's scary to think that those you call friends can turn out to be foes
this shameless manwhat can he do?but pray to God to give you the strength and courage to break your barriers of pain and sorrow and ease the wound
this despised person who's been spurned, mocked, scorned and laugh at sees just the best in you and know you will prevail and you'll see the truth
InsyaAllah
this impudent fool magnanimous only in his "sorries"ask again to be forgiven for he is helpless to lend a hand except to reach out to the Almighty to keep you safe, protected and unharmed for if the Creator is with you no one can be against you - tho they may try
everyday i bless you i never stopped and at times like this i ache for you and want to comfort you to tell you "everthing will be alright"and to say, "i care".
17/4/2004
this is a goodbye note.
i have joined the league of retirees and...unless i accept thestar's offer for me to continue...this would be the last u'll hear from me.
thank u for the memories, the prose and poems and things that we had shared together..including the drinks, meals and also the raindrops, the tears and the laughter.
what can i say that i've not said to u before?
u have chosen to distant yourself from me, while i still keep the place in my heart where i had etched your name
so i leave, still wondering what was so hurting to you that u never want to forgive me for?
maybe i have the plague maybe your friends know whatever..i'll never know.
i'm such a flawed person that it's almost comical but i will not forget you if not for a long time, at least until about forever.
for now, take care..and take care of khadeem too
and one more thing...get out of your cold room and get back into the sunshine feel the warmth, the glow and bathe in the beauty if God's creations
everyday i bless you.
smiles and cheers, love,
P/S and get back into the sunshine to feel the warmthof love, beauty and get back intothe sunshine, where
love and peace.
4/6/2004
was surprised too. but its not going to spoil my day. i just feel amused.
let's just take the gladness the day brings.
i wish you sunshine and rainbows.
15/6/2004
assalamualaikum.
this one was sent 2 me sometime back by audee. i dont think she'd mind me sharing this with u.
its a piece anyone can relate 2 and i hope it will perk up up on "bad" days it's rather long but i'm sending it via atex cos i dont have ur e-address. maybe, i lost it or something.
anyway, have a good day.
smiles and cheers.
DESIDERATA By Max Ehrmann
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is a perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
30/8/2004
hi,this is not an n-day msg, just a story told that i'd like to share.
'nora' has never forgiven her father for being rageful and, she felt, he had always neglected her needs. she was so angry with him,she would not go to his funeral. in the 20 years since his death, she never visited his grave.
then something happened (no need to go into details on this) and she picked up the courage to go to the cemetery. with an armful of flowers, she reached the grave. and then she cried...and cried...and cried her heart out. memories came flooding back of all the fine things her father had done for her and the good times they had shared. and then all the resentment she had harboured against her dad, evaporated, she felt a sense of relief and healing. with all the dammed-up feelings released, she felt a surge of new energy flowing through her. and she's now on the way to enjoying life much better then she was previously. and she has advised her friends to ask for forgiveness from those they had hurt. and whether or not the other side forgives...one side is surely going to feel better.
hearing about 'nora', i realised that if she could get over 20 years of anger, maybe there's hope for me to get some forgiveness from some people i have disappointed. so, this shameless man is now asking: if i had hurt you, can you forgive me?
peace be with you
19/12/2004
sometime in january i held a baby in my arms and whispered in his ears words of love, inspiration and devotion to God. the child, then, was about a month old.
khadeem would be celebrating - or has celebrated - his 1st birthday at about this time.
i pray he will grow up to be a fine, healthy, smart. loving and lovable gentleman. InsyaAllah.
as for you, if ever you feel down or think the world is against you. listen to a voice that will be cheering you on: "don't quit. get up and go. you're a winner!"
that voice would be mine.
wassalam.
smiles and peace
2/5/2005
On jan 30 last year, i and two of ur best-loved friends - shamala and sheela - as well as fadzillah, visited you to see little khadeem.
i have been thinking a lot about him lately and wondering how he is.i am sure - and i pray - that he is growing up healthy, well and smart.
would it be too much to ask u to send my love to him?
i still remember that as i held him in my arms, he looked at me with his lovely eyes and smiled.it was very touching (for me, at least).
i whispered some things in his ears which..if Allah wills it..will help him grow to be a fine, gentle person with a lot of love and affection to share with others.
InsyaAllah, u will be proud of him.
this is not a chinese new year message, but i do wish you and your familycontinued good health, prosperity and Allah's blessings forever.
smiles and cheers,
27/5/2005
i had a dream one night. it was about you.
you were standing at the bottom of a long and massive stairway.
The steps - which were as wide as stadium terraces - led to a huge white building, against a backdrop of a clear blue sky.
you were dressed in a dark jubah, looking up towards either the giant building or the sky.
the only other form of life was a cockroach, running down the steps towards you.
thinking about the dream, i can only guess that the building suggests some kind of authority.
while the sky showed the supremacy of God.
the cockroach could be someone - probably an insignificant being in your life at the moment - trying to reach out to you.
whatever you conclude from this
i'm sending this note to just say 'please take greatcare in whatever you do.'
i wish you well and, while i often worry about you,
i dont think its going to change your contempt of me.
no, no need to respond to this msg. We both can pretend this note did not reach you.
just...take care.
wishing you peace and happinness..always.
28/5/2005
i wont question why you replied in a "blank" but i think you meant to tell me to mind my own business.
sorry i had bothered you.
i will continue to have kind thoughts of you.
may God keep you away from harm ...always.
12/2/2006
assalamualaikum.
i was deeply touched by your write-up on your parents' love story in starmag.
i could tell you wrote it with a lot of affection and devotion.
"the diamond in his life" as the sub-heading suggests, was your mum. significantly, your dad's name, johar, also means a gem stone.
theirs is a classic case of a marriage lived "for good and for better", giving us ordinary people who are still living hope that the best years of our life have yet to come.
with parents like yours, you will always have a romantic streak in you. more than that, you will always be strong, like them, in facing the trials and tribulations of life.
wassalam.smiles and cheers.
11/5/2006
had meant to tell you this several days back, but had forgotten.
so, while i'm thinking about it now. i want to tell you.........that i dreamed of you...again..twice.
in the earlier dream, you were sitting in a corner of a theatre hall,watching intensely at the stage.
no one was playing.
neither was there anybody else in the hall.
however, there were murmurs of voices in the background.can't make out the words. but they were voices.
the other dream was rather strange too..and lasted just a few seconds.
you were in a mother theresa type of jubah, white with light blue linings.
you stood alone against a dark backdrop (blue, green, or purple..i'm not sure. but not black).
not smiliing nor frowning.
just still and looking in a particular direction with soft eyes.
when these dreams come, i worry about you.
you may loath me, for what ever reasons.
But my thoughts and feelings about you have not changed..
maybe, under different circumstances i would be at your side to sooth you and tell you everything will be ok.
in the current situation i can only tell it to you from a distant.
take care...really take care.
wassalam.
26/7/2006
i feel like a million dollars richer getting a smile and a 'salam' from you.
it's been so long.....
have a good day,
31/7/2006
assalamualaikum.
why do these dreams keep coming?
the most recent, however, was different from the previous ones.
there was a crowd, perhaps, there was a festival or some event.
i was sitting at a table, you were sitting across me.
my face was swollen, like i had a terrible toothache, mumps or suffering froma horrible bee sting.
you looked straight at me and.....gave a sympathetic smile.
then the dream faded away.
like i said, this dream was different.
you were not alone.
there were people around.
and i was there, though looking uglier than my usual self.
and you were not looking sombre, sad or bewildered.
i guess the dream tells me that things are working well for you.
i dont know what you've been through other than read what you write in your blogg (must be pretty busy since you've not updated it for more than a month).
but i do pray for your well being and am confident that Allah is there with you in all your trials and tribulations.
wassalam.
31/7/2006
i came up with this frivolous poem while idling.
its for you to keep...or to dump in the bin.
idle feelings
Reaching for the end of a rainbow is but a romantic dream
Answering questions that are not asked is also just a whim
Singing tunes without a melody robs from a song its special meaning
Piecing a jigsaw with missing bits is mere acting or pretending, and
Untieing a knot that is not tangled is just doing nothing
The truth, if i can share, is in a little heart pounding
Inviting you in, for some warmth when the world is chilling
Never closing its door, always keeping - for you - a little light glowing.
5/9/2006
u'll probably be bored by this.
i had another dream of u.
the scene is the office at the 5th floor.
i left my seat and walked to a place where u were sitting.
u were seated at the corner spot on the subs row.(opposite the door)
u were not wearing a tudung andyou looked kind of pale.
i asked u what is the matter and could i help?
u gestured - with your head - towards the door.i walked out.
what is the dream all about?
i think, like the others that i had shared with u,its about feelings.
dear zieman
i poured my feelings for u a million times(and i thought, so did u)
and then it all came down to zero.
bcos they eventually mean nothing to u.
so, these dreams, if anything keep me in company with u in another dimension.
i pray u will have a good life, filled with lots of tender loving careu deserve it..
between us, there'll be no more dreams to share.
wassalam.
smiles and cheers.(with apologies for disturbing your peace)
IN MEMORY OF A LOST LOVE!
IT'S NOT OFTEN I feel meloncholic about someone. This person that I am about to introduce is someone from the past. A man who has hurt me so profusely that my bleeding heart does not know how to love again.
Six years ago, this man just watched me sink and walked passed me like I was a worthless being. A man who had tried to avoid me as if I was a deadly virus. A man whom I have given my heart and soul yet did not give back anything in return. Just insults and humiliation.
I 'lost' him many years ago. It was too painful to remember. I tried to wash away those bitter memories but destiny had other plans for me. Our relationship was like a big jigsaw puzzle. Not many people knew what actually happened but thanks to an email that circulated all over, my friends especially knew of his existence in my past life.
And now that he is back in my life, I feel a rather strange feeling creeping all over me every time we meet up. I feel numb in my every vein when I look at him. The numbness slowly changed to coldness because it's difficult to forget. Only elephants forget. I maybe the size of an elephant but I am not one.
These days when we are together, words failed me. Perhaps I am so tired. Tired of thinking of how he had hurt me in the past.
He doesn't appreciate what I do and feel for him yet he is so special in many ways. He has an endearing character which sometimes gets to me. His playfullness and good natured personality irks me because the shadow of our past relationship had cast a dark cloud over us. I have no more feelings for him.
I like to think its the age gap that makes me feel so 'detached' from him. But it is not so. It's those silent years when we were not together that would turn me cold.
Yet those boyish grin and sparkling eyes makes me warm up to him like a errr... sister.
Actually, once upon a time, there was so much love for him. Then one day, the feeling died. I buried and etched it deep inside me. Never do I want to reveal it nor talk about it for it will only shamed me.
Those were the beautiful memories that I once shared with him. It was too painful to even talk about it now. For obsecure reasons, the love was not reciprocated. And he didn't even care one bit about me. And the most painful part is I found out in a quiet and ceremonious way through an email which I do not wish to elaborate.
Over the years, we managed to patch things up and became friends. But then again, the friendship affects me in an unnatural way. He provides the mental and emotional stability when we are together, showing me that he cares in a very careless way.
Though special in lot of ways, his heart is made of stone. The principles he abides makes him like the 'Rock of Gibraltar'. Well, that is his doctrine and what do I have? A shattered hope, a broken heart and a shameless body which he often cruelly makes fun of.
How can I forget the years that I cried his name to sleep? How can I forget those time when I avoided the 'Pearl of the Orient' just because he was there. But God was kind enough to heal the wound. He sent other men to my life only to make me feel more frustrated than ever.
Just days ago, I had an argument with him over 'nasi dagang'. He refused to give in because 'nasi dagang' and 'this woman" is insignificant in his life. Past memories flooded in and I knew once again where I stood in his life. He didn't have to say it or remind me of his feelings for me.
I just knew it. I have tried to fit into his life but I was shifted everywhere until I gave up and walked out. That's how I lost him. So, I told myself I should not be surprised by his action nor his depraved words.
Sometimes I feel we are poles apart, at times I feel so close to him that I don't even feel the distance between us. And when we hugged...sigh? Its pointless to even mention it.
He has changed lately - more firm, more assertive and commanding. And he is beginning to speak what's inside his heart. But I don't wish to listen to him...
I'd rather take sleeping pills than rekindle those memories. The wound is too deep and actually it never healed. I told him it had. But I lied...
IT'S NOT OFTEN I feel meloncholic about someone. This person that I am about to introduce is someone from the past. A man who has hurt me so profusely that my bleeding heart does not know how to love again.
Six years ago, this man just watched me sink and walked passed me like I was a worthless being. A man who had tried to avoid me as if I was a deadly virus. A man whom I have given my heart and soul yet did not give back anything in return. Just insults and humiliation.
I 'lost' him many years ago. It was too painful to remember. I tried to wash away those bitter memories but destiny had other plans for me. Our relationship was like a big jigsaw puzzle. Not many people knew what actually happened but thanks to an email that circulated all over, my friends especially knew of his existence in my past life.
And now that he is back in my life, I feel a rather strange feeling creeping all over me every time we meet up. I feel numb in my every vein when I look at him. The numbness slowly changed to coldness because it's difficult to forget. Only elephants forget. I maybe the size of an elephant but I am not one.
These days when we are together, words failed me. Perhaps I am so tired. Tired of thinking of how he had hurt me in the past.
He doesn't appreciate what I do and feel for him yet he is so special in many ways. He has an endearing character which sometimes gets to me. His playfullness and good natured personality irks me because the shadow of our past relationship had cast a dark cloud over us. I have no more feelings for him.
I like to think its the age gap that makes me feel so 'detached' from him. But it is not so. It's those silent years when we were not together that would turn me cold.
Yet those boyish grin and sparkling eyes makes me warm up to him like a errr... sister.
Actually, once upon a time, there was so much love for him. Then one day, the feeling died. I buried and etched it deep inside me. Never do I want to reveal it nor talk about it for it will only shamed me.
Those were the beautiful memories that I once shared with him. It was too painful to even talk about it now. For obsecure reasons, the love was not reciprocated. And he didn't even care one bit about me. And the most painful part is I found out in a quiet and ceremonious way through an email which I do not wish to elaborate.
Over the years, we managed to patch things up and became friends. But then again, the friendship affects me in an unnatural way. He provides the mental and emotional stability when we are together, showing me that he cares in a very careless way.
Though special in lot of ways, his heart is made of stone. The principles he abides makes him like the 'Rock of Gibraltar'. Well, that is his doctrine and what do I have? A shattered hope, a broken heart and a shameless body which he often cruelly makes fun of.
How can I forget the years that I cried his name to sleep? How can I forget those time when I avoided the 'Pearl of the Orient' just because he was there. But God was kind enough to heal the wound. He sent other men to my life only to make me feel more frustrated than ever.
Just days ago, I had an argument with him over 'nasi dagang'. He refused to give in because 'nasi dagang' and 'this woman" is insignificant in his life. Past memories flooded in and I knew once again where I stood in his life. He didn't have to say it or remind me of his feelings for me.
I just knew it. I have tried to fit into his life but I was shifted everywhere until I gave up and walked out. That's how I lost him. So, I told myself I should not be surprised by his action nor his depraved words.
Sometimes I feel we are poles apart, at times I feel so close to him that I don't even feel the distance between us. And when we hugged...sigh? Its pointless to even mention it.
He has changed lately - more firm, more assertive and commanding. And he is beginning to speak what's inside his heart. But I don't wish to listen to him...
I'd rather take sleeping pills than rekindle those memories. The wound is too deep and actually it never healed. I told him it had. But I lied...
Monday, June 12, 2006
THE TIME WAS NEAR - so I thought!
I wrote this poem the night after I did the angiogram. After all the ECG and stress test and one rescheduling of the procedure, I had no choice but to head for the hospital.
"I've always thought I have a good heart," I said to Rafeah, my good friend who works in the hospital.
I was scared to bits that I behaved quite erratic, crying intermittently to the hospital, bringing all the sentimental things along with me including my old IC, the only identity card I have after I lost the valid one in a mugging incident at SS2 in PJ several years ago. I never bothered to get a new one since I also misplaced the temporary one. Afterall, I am no illegal immigrant. Though my friends always joke that I am the only Malaysian journalist who has to produce an international passport to enter Penang.
When I checked into B417, the room which Rafeah booked for me the week before, the first question I asked the nurse was - "How many have died from this procedure?" No amount of counselling or coaxing could put me at ease. I will not share with you what the reply was. It was too embarassing.
I behaved like a shameless and uneducated macik from some kampung who did not care what others thought of my question. My only worry was - "would I die today?"
I had to be sedated twice - they gave me valiam for my anxiety, even that did not come my nerves. My halluciantion got worst when I heard one nurse asking "was there any relatives accompanying her...".
I only had Wahid Nasir with me. Though he was more than a brother but he is not related to me. But Wahid was sweet enough to shelve everything else that day just to be with me. He visited me three times, wearing a worried and loving look on his face and babysit Lina and Farhan back in the ward. Even my Cyborg who flew in from Penang and parked himself at Eastin Hotel, was too engrossed in his seminar. Though he came a fleeting moment later, I could not forgive him.
My "Mak" Quraishah could not be with me because there was no one to bring her to me. And I know all my 'sisters' - Dalilah, Jai, Rafeah, Imma, Shaz, Izatun, Kak Siti, Kak Ani and Aishah - were all praying hard for me.
"Don't worry. We do hundreds angiogram procedures every month. Believe me you will be alright," said Esther.
But it was the scenario more than anything else that gripped me real hard. Looking back at the whole thing, I must have been a pathetic sight.
Having to hear that I am all alone in this world at that point of time was just unbearable.
"Don't tell me she came alone? Where's her relative?," said the voice again. That remark snapped me back to reality.
I was more terrified of losing all my loved ones - especially little Qadeem, my pride and joy who is only 2-year-old. His cherubic face dancing infront of my eyes made it difficult to hold back my tears. Then they ushered me to THAT room. Esther and Mohanas, the two nurses tried to calm me down with their friendly banters but it was hopeless. The thought of dying was just too much.
I had made a few requests to the charming consultant cardiologist Datuk Dr Ridzwan Bakar earlie on. I told the handsome Dr, who had the gentlest and softest hands, not to drug me or put me on any GA as I want to be wide awake. That way I can be sure I am alive and kicking...silly me!
"Please don't sedate me and I want pipe-in music to soothe my soul," I said.
And that I got but the choice of song was somewhat not right. The song that came on just as I was about to be "worked on" was "How Can I Live Without Her." I cried even more. So while adjusting his surgical mask, the kind Dr signalled the nurse to pass me some tissue.
After all the 12 cameras captured my beautiful arteries, Dr Ridzwan was more surprised than this difficult patient.
"There's nothing wrong with your heart. This is more a case of sakit hati than sakit jantung" - he said jokingly. Then I accidentally pulled his tie to thank him. At that moment, I felt like Lucielle Ball!
THE TIME WAS NEAR
Several days before I was to 'die'
I dreamt of my late father
He looked so sad
His tears were like drops of ink
It soiled his white robe
He said nothing - just tears
When he stared at me
With more than human stillness
I felt the compassion...
I felt the anger he was trying to tell me
Beware....was the unspoken words.
Then I walked into the room
I felt death was close
The time was near
Yet I braved myself like I always do
I heard the music
The familiar chatters in that room
I was scared like a dove
My voice trailed so helplessly
The time was near
Alas
It was a false alarm
No - a reminder
That time was not now
I wiped my tears
Said my prayers
Count my blessings
The warning that was
So take heed
To do
To say
right now
right here
Days after the miracle
The dream returned - My father
I held him dear
He had lived through my dreams
The silent thoughts returned my will
Lifting me from death
For he knows more than me
And I felt like a new spirit
shifting right left by the shore
By some majestic wave.
I wrote this poem the night after I did the angiogram. After all the ECG and stress test and one rescheduling of the procedure, I had no choice but to head for the hospital.
"I've always thought I have a good heart," I said to Rafeah, my good friend who works in the hospital.
I was scared to bits that I behaved quite erratic, crying intermittently to the hospital, bringing all the sentimental things along with me including my old IC, the only identity card I have after I lost the valid one in a mugging incident at SS2 in PJ several years ago. I never bothered to get a new one since I also misplaced the temporary one. Afterall, I am no illegal immigrant. Though my friends always joke that I am the only Malaysian journalist who has to produce an international passport to enter Penang.
When I checked into B417, the room which Rafeah booked for me the week before, the first question I asked the nurse was - "How many have died from this procedure?" No amount of counselling or coaxing could put me at ease. I will not share with you what the reply was. It was too embarassing.
I behaved like a shameless and uneducated macik from some kampung who did not care what others thought of my question. My only worry was - "would I die today?"
I had to be sedated twice - they gave me valiam for my anxiety, even that did not come my nerves. My halluciantion got worst when I heard one nurse asking "was there any relatives accompanying her...".
I only had Wahid Nasir with me. Though he was more than a brother but he is not related to me. But Wahid was sweet enough to shelve everything else that day just to be with me. He visited me three times, wearing a worried and loving look on his face and babysit Lina and Farhan back in the ward. Even my Cyborg who flew in from Penang and parked himself at Eastin Hotel, was too engrossed in his seminar. Though he came a fleeting moment later, I could not forgive him.
My "Mak" Quraishah could not be with me because there was no one to bring her to me. And I know all my 'sisters' - Dalilah, Jai, Rafeah, Imma, Shaz, Izatun, Kak Siti, Kak Ani and Aishah - were all praying hard for me.
"Don't worry. We do hundreds angiogram procedures every month. Believe me you will be alright," said Esther.
But it was the scenario more than anything else that gripped me real hard. Looking back at the whole thing, I must have been a pathetic sight.
Having to hear that I am all alone in this world at that point of time was just unbearable.
"Don't tell me she came alone? Where's her relative?," said the voice again. That remark snapped me back to reality.
I was more terrified of losing all my loved ones - especially little Qadeem, my pride and joy who is only 2-year-old. His cherubic face dancing infront of my eyes made it difficult to hold back my tears. Then they ushered me to THAT room. Esther and Mohanas, the two nurses tried to calm me down with their friendly banters but it was hopeless. The thought of dying was just too much.
I had made a few requests to the charming consultant cardiologist Datuk Dr Ridzwan Bakar earlie on. I told the handsome Dr, who had the gentlest and softest hands, not to drug me or put me on any GA as I want to be wide awake. That way I can be sure I am alive and kicking...silly me!
"Please don't sedate me and I want pipe-in music to soothe my soul," I said.
And that I got but the choice of song was somewhat not right. The song that came on just as I was about to be "worked on" was "How Can I Live Without Her." I cried even more. So while adjusting his surgical mask, the kind Dr signalled the nurse to pass me some tissue.
After all the 12 cameras captured my beautiful arteries, Dr Ridzwan was more surprised than this difficult patient.
"There's nothing wrong with your heart. This is more a case of sakit hati than sakit jantung" - he said jokingly. Then I accidentally pulled his tie to thank him. At that moment, I felt like Lucielle Ball!
THE TIME WAS NEAR
Several days before I was to 'die'
I dreamt of my late father
He looked so sad
His tears were like drops of ink
It soiled his white robe
He said nothing - just tears
When he stared at me
With more than human stillness
I felt the compassion...
I felt the anger he was trying to tell me
Beware....was the unspoken words.
Then I walked into the room
I felt death was close
The time was near
Yet I braved myself like I always do
I heard the music
The familiar chatters in that room
I was scared like a dove
My voice trailed so helplessly
The time was near
Alas
It was a false alarm
No - a reminder
That time was not now
I wiped my tears
Said my prayers
Count my blessings
The warning that was
So take heed
To do
To say
right now
right here
Days after the miracle
The dream returned - My father
I held him dear
He had lived through my dreams
The silent thoughts returned my will
Lifting me from death
For he knows more than me
And I felt like a new spirit
shifting right left by the shore
By some majestic wave.
Friday, May 05, 2006
MARRIAGE MADE IN HELL
I used the byline Zelda M because I didn't want to reveal too much about myself when I first started work in the Star six years ago. This is one of the saddest story in my life. Each time I am in Shah Alam, my heart skipped because that's where it all happened 22 years ago. I am a forgiving person but somehow I couldn't find the strength to forget this sad episode nor forgave this man who has hurt and battered me so much. The only good thing that came out of this marriage is Arif.
To Arif, I hope you will understand why I just could not bring myself to talk about your father.
Hosted by Sparkle Tags
MARRIAGE MADE IN HELL
BY ZELDA M
I HAVE an enduring soft spot for older men. They make my heart beat faster. Young men are not for me because from past experiences, most of them regard women as Nintendo games - the minute a new version appears, their fingers itch to have a go.
So, as a young divorcee and student at a local university, I was flattered when 46-year-old Hardy showered me with attention. A lecturer in senior management, he was 24 years older than me with three sons from a previous marriage.
Hardy wouldn't start his lectures without me. He walked me to the library, spent more and more time with me and it wasn't long before he frequented my dorm. Though I felt suffocated initially, all this had a quaint effect.
I was gradually drawn to him. I used to listen raptly to all his stories. Hardy had a formidable character. He barred my friends from me. He would get very annoyed if I didn't pay attention to him.
But it was his unfeigned openness and persistence to "own'' me as his wife that really boosted my ego. He made me feel so desirable and attractive.
When he told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, I thought that was the sincerest thing a man could say to a woman. I'd heard before from my father how he had to sacrifice his family and everything else to marry a rich Pakistani girl, my mum. By that yardstick, I thought Hardy was made of the same stuff as my father and I was elated.
After I graduated, Hardy suggested I work at the same place so that we could be together.
He proposed and bought me an exquisite platinum ring. I felt like a cherished treasure. My three-year-old daughter, Alya, was happy when told about her new daddy.
But Hardy had a few surprises in store for me after our wedding. First, he told me I couldn't keep the keys to the house in Shah Alam because he didn't trust me. I had to ask his permission if I wanted to talk to the neighbours or make a call. That came like a bombshell. Next, he told me I had to share his ex-wife's closet. But I thought he was just being practical.
On our wedding night, I grew restless waiting for him in the master bedroom while he dawdled. I went looking for him and found him cleaning his collection of kris and cooling them with lime juice.
Terrified, I tiptoed back to bed and covered myself with a blanket. When he finally came in and placed the kris underneath my pillow, I knew I was in for big trouble.
"The kris is like my spirit,'' he explained. I was never to disobey him or I'd be harmed, he warned.
The following night, I was in for another blow. Just after dinner, Hardy told me to get to bed. It was more like an order. He looked scornful when I told him I wanted to finish what I was reading. I recalled Hardy telling me I was openly defying him.
The minute I entered the room, I smelt traces of incense. He locked the room. I could see he was in a different mood this time. It was menacing and his voice was threatening. I shivered when he pushed me towards the bed.
Before I knew it, he had tied me up with a long rope. I put up a struggle but he was stronger. When I cried, he whipped me.
For Hardy, my groans of pain were the most sensual thing he'd ever heard. It satisfied his insatiable lust. By the time he had me, I was shaking all over. The trauma was too much for my small frame and my whole body ached so badly I thought I had passed out.
Although I was hurting all over, I could not sleep a wink and literally dragged my feet to the office next morning. It was the most disturbing experience I ever had. Till today, I go cold when I think of how he terrorised me.
Hardy loved my cooking and would demand a big spread even when there was just the two of us dining. Visitors, relatives or neighbours were out of bounds.
Sometimes, I forgot his instructions. Sometimes, I didn't understand, sometimes I was just plain stupid. Each time I failed to live up to his expectations, Hardy said I was rebelling against him.
In the days that followed, I felt like the prisoner of Zenda. The frequent heated arguments and his obsessive control over my every move made my first month of marriage excruciatingly painful.
I knew I was living dangerously - Hardy had an obsession with order and control, and a violent temper. I remember vividly, the first time Hardy hit me.
It was late one night, two weeks after the wedding. I was reading a book near the dining table. He tried talking to me. I remember that the conversation seemed to be going well.
We were really conversing, sharing ideas for the first time since we got married. We were not fighting, we were not sarcastic or nasty. I swear we were just talking. But I think it was the first time I disagreed with him and I was sticking to my guns. I held on to my side of the argument calmly.
He got up and hit the left side of my face. Then came a hard punch to my right eye. I felt like my whole pupil had popped out. Then, another good sock to my left ear. I heard this ringing sound. I found out later he had broken my eardrum.
By the second month of our marriage, I was getting used to my bruises healing and changing from black, to green to maroon and yellow before fading.
Hosted by Sparkle Tags
The next attack came a week later. I was lying down on the sofa and recovering from a mild flu. I had just prepared dinner. He asked me what was wrong. "Maybe I'm pregnant but do you care?'' I answered.
This irritated him and we argued for a good 10 minutes. He got furious and hit me hard in the abdomen a number of times. I bent over, trying to protect my tummy. I tried pushing him away, which only seemed to make him angrier. He yelled that he didn't care if he killed me or the baby. That night, I plotted to run away or hide somewhere, anywhere as long as I got away from this hell.
I went missing for three days without taking my clothes or personal belongings. I couldn't plan my escape from his clutches because we worked in the same place. Right after work, I hid in a friend's house. But I wasn't settled. The thoughts of Hardy coming after me scared me witless.
Hardy came looking for me every night at all my friends' homes. In the end, my friends gave me up and I was forced to go back with Hardy. At that point, I really felt like a sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
The doctor confirmed I was pregnant. Riding home on the bus, I felt more alone than I ever had in my life. When I told Hardy about the baby, he was convinced I couldn't take care of the baby.
I can't remember any physical abuse during the first month of my pregnancy. But there were new problems - chronic black moods and silences that stretched on for days. It was the forced abstinence, I presumed. The kinky sex had stopped but "the spirit of the kris'' was there.
Sex had always seemed to settle his dark moods and made him happy. Much as I detested our love-making, that was the only time I did not feel rejected.
I was totally subservient but that didn't stop Hardy from coming at me for the slightest thing. He was like a big bully and behaved erratically.
By my fifth month of pregnancy, Hardy had slipped into a semi-silent mood. One Sunday, I was dusting the book shelf and arranging his books. The place looked messy and I suggested a library or something. Before I knew it, Hardy grabbed my hair and slapped me hard. I managed to run to the garden.
I remember crouching in a corner of the garage. He chased me to our bedroom. It was one of the worst beatings Hardy ever gave me. And I hadn't done anything but to suggest having a library.
I used to hit my hand against the wall in complete frustration, so much so that the platinum ring he gave me was bent out of shape. I also hid in the closet a number of times during that horrible, horrible year of 1983.
Sometimes, I would lock myself in the reading room, curled up in a foetal position when he banged on the door. The dark void was like a tranquilliser. I couldn't see him. But most importantly, it was so dark I couldn't see myself.
But I finally walked out after a beating on Alya's fourth birthday. I had bought a two-faced doll for her and promised to visit her at my parents' home. I cried, pleaded and eventually yelled at Hardy for not allowing me to see her.
I finally challenged him to divorce me. I guess I had finally realised that if I could not have Alya, that was it.
I walked up to him and said: "I miss her and I want to be with her and you can't stop me.''
His face was terrifying, filled with incredible hate and wide-eyed anger. I ran. He came after me and caught me right outside the room at the top of the stairwell. I never expected he would try to throw me over the banister.
He held me by my hair and shook me hard. He broke my glasses with a punch.
That night, after he was fast asleep, I sneaked downstairs to call my father. I bundled my clothes in one of my caftans and despite my pregnancy, climbed down from the balcony, Rapunzel-style.
My father was shocked at my battered state. He wanted to challenge Hardy to a fight but my mother stopped him. That was the end of our eight-month-old marriage.
We went to the police station in Shah Alam. I didn't know what I wanted to do then. The bruise was beginning to colour. My father insisted the police photograph it for proof. The police told me they could issue a warrant of arrest if I filed a complaint. But I didn't want Hardy put in jail. I just wanted someone to talk to him.
I stayed with my parents throughout the rest of my pregnancy. My father chaperoned me to work and never allowed me near Hardy. When our son was born, Hardy wanted a reconciliation.
I acted fast. Just after my maternity leave, I asked for a transfer to another branch in Pahang. By then, the office already knew of Hardy's wife-beating reputation so my transfer was approved within 24 hours (the fastest ever by government standards).
Hardy wouldn't divorce me. In fact, he told all our friends I was legally his wife. I finally plucked up enough courage to challenge him in court. I couldn't take it anymore - not the slaps, not his control over me, not his compulsive cleanliness, his stringent household rules, his erratic behaviour nor his depraved ways. Enough was enough.
The relationship had many incestuous overtones. Hardy was old enough to be my father. The bitter experience taught me one lesson - if you marry a father figure, you cannot grow up. Father teaches, daughter learns.
I used the byline Zelda M because I didn't want to reveal too much about myself when I first started work in the Star six years ago. This is one of the saddest story in my life. Each time I am in Shah Alam, my heart skipped because that's where it all happened 22 years ago. I am a forgiving person but somehow I couldn't find the strength to forget this sad episode nor forgave this man who has hurt and battered me so much. The only good thing that came out of this marriage is Arif.
To Arif, I hope you will understand why I just could not bring myself to talk about your father.
Hosted by Sparkle Tags
MARRIAGE MADE IN HELL
BY ZELDA M
I HAVE an enduring soft spot for older men. They make my heart beat faster. Young men are not for me because from past experiences, most of them regard women as Nintendo games - the minute a new version appears, their fingers itch to have a go.
So, as a young divorcee and student at a local university, I was flattered when 46-year-old Hardy showered me with attention. A lecturer in senior management, he was 24 years older than me with three sons from a previous marriage.
Hardy wouldn't start his lectures without me. He walked me to the library, spent more and more time with me and it wasn't long before he frequented my dorm. Though I felt suffocated initially, all this had a quaint effect.
I was gradually drawn to him. I used to listen raptly to all his stories. Hardy had a formidable character. He barred my friends from me. He would get very annoyed if I didn't pay attention to him.
But it was his unfeigned openness and persistence to "own'' me as his wife that really boosted my ego. He made me feel so desirable and attractive.
When he told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, I thought that was the sincerest thing a man could say to a woman. I'd heard before from my father how he had to sacrifice his family and everything else to marry a rich Pakistani girl, my mum. By that yardstick, I thought Hardy was made of the same stuff as my father and I was elated.
After I graduated, Hardy suggested I work at the same place so that we could be together.
He proposed and bought me an exquisite platinum ring. I felt like a cherished treasure. My three-year-old daughter, Alya, was happy when told about her new daddy.
But Hardy had a few surprises in store for me after our wedding. First, he told me I couldn't keep the keys to the house in Shah Alam because he didn't trust me. I had to ask his permission if I wanted to talk to the neighbours or make a call. That came like a bombshell. Next, he told me I had to share his ex-wife's closet. But I thought he was just being practical.
On our wedding night, I grew restless waiting for him in the master bedroom while he dawdled. I went looking for him and found him cleaning his collection of kris and cooling them with lime juice.
Terrified, I tiptoed back to bed and covered myself with a blanket. When he finally came in and placed the kris underneath my pillow, I knew I was in for big trouble.
"The kris is like my spirit,'' he explained. I was never to disobey him or I'd be harmed, he warned.
The following night, I was in for another blow. Just after dinner, Hardy told me to get to bed. It was more like an order. He looked scornful when I told him I wanted to finish what I was reading. I recalled Hardy telling me I was openly defying him.
The minute I entered the room, I smelt traces of incense. He locked the room. I could see he was in a different mood this time. It was menacing and his voice was threatening. I shivered when he pushed me towards the bed.
Before I knew it, he had tied me up with a long rope. I put up a struggle but he was stronger. When I cried, he whipped me.
For Hardy, my groans of pain were the most sensual thing he'd ever heard. It satisfied his insatiable lust. By the time he had me, I was shaking all over. The trauma was too much for my small frame and my whole body ached so badly I thought I had passed out.
Although I was hurting all over, I could not sleep a wink and literally dragged my feet to the office next morning. It was the most disturbing experience I ever had. Till today, I go cold when I think of how he terrorised me.
Hardy loved my cooking and would demand a big spread even when there was just the two of us dining. Visitors, relatives or neighbours were out of bounds.
Sometimes, I forgot his instructions. Sometimes, I didn't understand, sometimes I was just plain stupid. Each time I failed to live up to his expectations, Hardy said I was rebelling against him.
In the days that followed, I felt like the prisoner of Zenda. The frequent heated arguments and his obsessive control over my every move made my first month of marriage excruciatingly painful.
I knew I was living dangerously - Hardy had an obsession with order and control, and a violent temper. I remember vividly, the first time Hardy hit me.
It was late one night, two weeks after the wedding. I was reading a book near the dining table. He tried talking to me. I remember that the conversation seemed to be going well.
We were really conversing, sharing ideas for the first time since we got married. We were not fighting, we were not sarcastic or nasty. I swear we were just talking. But I think it was the first time I disagreed with him and I was sticking to my guns. I held on to my side of the argument calmly.
He got up and hit the left side of my face. Then came a hard punch to my right eye. I felt like my whole pupil had popped out. Then, another good sock to my left ear. I heard this ringing sound. I found out later he had broken my eardrum.
By the second month of our marriage, I was getting used to my bruises healing and changing from black, to green to maroon and yellow before fading.
Hosted by Sparkle Tags
The next attack came a week later. I was lying down on the sofa and recovering from a mild flu. I had just prepared dinner. He asked me what was wrong. "Maybe I'm pregnant but do you care?'' I answered.
This irritated him and we argued for a good 10 minutes. He got furious and hit me hard in the abdomen a number of times. I bent over, trying to protect my tummy. I tried pushing him away, which only seemed to make him angrier. He yelled that he didn't care if he killed me or the baby. That night, I plotted to run away or hide somewhere, anywhere as long as I got away from this hell.
I went missing for three days without taking my clothes or personal belongings. I couldn't plan my escape from his clutches because we worked in the same place. Right after work, I hid in a friend's house. But I wasn't settled. The thoughts of Hardy coming after me scared me witless.
Hardy came looking for me every night at all my friends' homes. In the end, my friends gave me up and I was forced to go back with Hardy. At that point, I really felt like a sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
The doctor confirmed I was pregnant. Riding home on the bus, I felt more alone than I ever had in my life. When I told Hardy about the baby, he was convinced I couldn't take care of the baby.
I can't remember any physical abuse during the first month of my pregnancy. But there were new problems - chronic black moods and silences that stretched on for days. It was the forced abstinence, I presumed. The kinky sex had stopped but "the spirit of the kris'' was there.
Sex had always seemed to settle his dark moods and made him happy. Much as I detested our love-making, that was the only time I did not feel rejected.
I was totally subservient but that didn't stop Hardy from coming at me for the slightest thing. He was like a big bully and behaved erratically.
By my fifth month of pregnancy, Hardy had slipped into a semi-silent mood. One Sunday, I was dusting the book shelf and arranging his books. The place looked messy and I suggested a library or something. Before I knew it, Hardy grabbed my hair and slapped me hard. I managed to run to the garden.
I remember crouching in a corner of the garage. He chased me to our bedroom. It was one of the worst beatings Hardy ever gave me. And I hadn't done anything but to suggest having a library.
I used to hit my hand against the wall in complete frustration, so much so that the platinum ring he gave me was bent out of shape. I also hid in the closet a number of times during that horrible, horrible year of 1983.
Sometimes, I would lock myself in the reading room, curled up in a foetal position when he banged on the door. The dark void was like a tranquilliser. I couldn't see him. But most importantly, it was so dark I couldn't see myself.
But I finally walked out after a beating on Alya's fourth birthday. I had bought a two-faced doll for her and promised to visit her at my parents' home. I cried, pleaded and eventually yelled at Hardy for not allowing me to see her.
I finally challenged him to divorce me. I guess I had finally realised that if I could not have Alya, that was it.
I walked up to him and said: "I miss her and I want to be with her and you can't stop me.''
His face was terrifying, filled with incredible hate and wide-eyed anger. I ran. He came after me and caught me right outside the room at the top of the stairwell. I never expected he would try to throw me over the banister.
He held me by my hair and shook me hard. He broke my glasses with a punch.
That night, after he was fast asleep, I sneaked downstairs to call my father. I bundled my clothes in one of my caftans and despite my pregnancy, climbed down from the balcony, Rapunzel-style.
My father was shocked at my battered state. He wanted to challenge Hardy to a fight but my mother stopped him. That was the end of our eight-month-old marriage.
We went to the police station in Shah Alam. I didn't know what I wanted to do then. The bruise was beginning to colour. My father insisted the police photograph it for proof. The police told me they could issue a warrant of arrest if I filed a complaint. But I didn't want Hardy put in jail. I just wanted someone to talk to him.
I stayed with my parents throughout the rest of my pregnancy. My father chaperoned me to work and never allowed me near Hardy. When our son was born, Hardy wanted a reconciliation.
I acted fast. Just after my maternity leave, I asked for a transfer to another branch in Pahang. By then, the office already knew of Hardy's wife-beating reputation so my transfer was approved within 24 hours (the fastest ever by government standards).
Hardy wouldn't divorce me. In fact, he told all our friends I was legally his wife. I finally plucked up enough courage to challenge him in court. I couldn't take it anymore - not the slaps, not his control over me, not his compulsive cleanliness, his stringent household rules, his erratic behaviour nor his depraved ways. Enough was enough.
The relationship had many incestuous overtones. Hardy was old enough to be my father. The bitter experience taught me one lesson - if you marry a father figure, you cannot grow up. Father teaches, daughter learns.
MARRIAGE-GO-ROUND
I am no Elizabeth Taylor despite being much married. I don't have the beauty nor the wealth that Liz has. I wrote this using my pseudonym Zizi Machushla because I just love the name. It's not that I am proud of what I have gone through but I have often been misconstrued by people. There is much more to this story but don't try to read too much into the line because it might not be true.
Marriage-go-round
Byline: ZIZI MACHUSHLA
I'D ALWAYS dreamt of being a modern-day Cinderella, swept off my feet by a prince at the stroke of midnight, to a proverbial fairytale happy-ever-after. Instead I got married five times before I was 24! My marriages and children by different fathers have naturally made me a target for gossip. My first marriage was arranged. My parents were as conservative as they come.
I would even say that much of my rebellious streak is a reaction against their starchy ways. My father even followed me for what passed as first `date'. Under the pretext of returning a book, I met Rudy beside a cherry tree, near my house. It was the swiftest `thank you' and `bye' gestures because nothing else would have been possible under the watchful eyes of my father.
From then on, my parents made sure there were no more dates, no illicit romances, no boyfriends; but secretly I wrote lots of love letters to friends and admirers.
When my father knew I had several paramours - from the mail which he monitored secretly - he thought nothing of marrying me off. He was more adamant after learning that I'd walked away during my chemistry paper. I was game for marriage because I couldn't stand the grip they had over my life.
So, there I was an innocent bride to Joshua, a 26-year-old bank officer. Then came the exam results. They were fairly good - good enough for me to gain entry to university.
This led to fresh plans for me by my domineering father, even though I was already a married woman with a life of my own. Without my knowledge, he had enrolled me in a local university.
Soon, I was a student again, a part-time wife and halfway to motherhood. It sounds too good to be true. And it was.
A call from a woman who claimed she was Joshua's wife burst the bubble.
My father was shattered. A bitter confrontation was followed by a temporary separation and then a divorce. At 18, after nine months of married life and pregnant, I was a divorcee.
When Ezra, my firstborn was one-year-old, I befriended a physics lecturer, Isaac, again under the hawk-eyed scrutiny of my father. As usual, there was no time for courtship and dating rituals.
So in less than two months, I married Isaac in a grand wedding. But the preparation lasted just a bit longer than the marriage: we were husband and wife for just one week.
When Isaac's parents learnt that he had just married a divorcee, they insisted that he deserved a better deal. So, there I was again, divorced and alone.
Husband Number 3 was my lecturer in my finals. He was very much older than I was. The union was an unhappy one as I discovered, after marriage, that he was abusive, possessive, cruel and regarded me like an object more than his wife. It was a turbulent marriage which lasted almost eight months. Secretly, I hoped and prayed this marriage would work. It was like hoping for a miracle. And there was none this time either. And once again, I found myself alone and pregnant.
At 21, I was thrice divorced. This was the blackest phase of my life since I had to seek refuge in another state from my abusive ex who was hassling me for a reconciliation.
People around me tried to be helpful. But there was no comfort. The more I looked at my two kids, the more desolate I felt. All I could think of was how to keep going and stay busy to keep my sanity. I needed my solitude badly.
A job transfer to Kuantan seemed the only solution. The office wanted someone for a PR job, responsible for the administration and welfare of the students and 40-odd staff - that sort of thing.
When they finally chose me, I felt a small current of hope as I thought of a new place, a new job and a new start.
I liked it. I found the whole new setting absolutely therapeutic. I don't remember having so much fun in life. For the first time, away from my father's watchful eyes, I could date the men of my choice. I was wooed by many men but was not interested in looking for another husband.
After a few months, I fell for Zack, who was gentle and - more importantly - unattached. I was 23 years-old. Zack insisted I quit my job. Like a fool I obeyed. That's when I discovered we were `squatters' in his cousin's house.
Zack also began to disappear, using his work as an excuse. My jewellery went missing, and my savings ran out fast.
When Zack went missing again for weeks - something that had become predictable - stories filtered back to me about his shady lifestyle.
When I confronted Zack after he finally showed up, he was so smooth that I just wanted to believe him. But deep in my heart, I knew it was over.
The day I discovered I had morning sickness, totally broke, I felt my humiliation was complete. I couldn't bear to face anyone. In my search for a fairytale, it never occurred to me that reality and men could be so heartless and cruel. It just shows how people's inner needs can cloud their judgement. My loneliness and fantasy had made me a target.
Just as I was about to give up, an old friend referred me to his superior, Larry.
A distinguished-looking man in his late 40s, Larry was a highranking law enforcement officer with the wellbred air of someone to the manner born.
There's something about mature men that sends shivers down my spine. Maybe I had seen too many movies and read too many romance paperbacks. Whatever it was, when I met Larry, all the others seemed to fade away. The snag: he was still very much married.
After learning about my marriage fiasco, Larry swiftly took me under his wing, and confronted Zack. The face-off seemed a wakeup call for Zack. It drove him mad with jealousy and he was "yours faithfully" for a while.
Then Zack's ex-wife, Sara, who had a hairtrigger temper and a madwoman's disposition, badgered Zack to leave me, and that he did.
But I had no time to wallow in self-pity because Larry was waiting for me the day I packed my things.
He lost no time making up for all the pain of my four failed marriages. He clothed me in designer suits, we travelled extensively, dined in the most exclusive places and wrote each other cards and letters.
Once, when I was in my parents house, Larry sent a telegram. My poor father almost had heart palpitations when he saw the message: `'Z, my one and only love. I miss you." On my 24th birthday, Larry gave me seven watches, eleven cards and a huge bouquet.
His concern for my unborn child was real and moving. The minute labour began, Larry was by my bedside. He was there for me and my baby, something which no previous husband had done.
We were married for 14 years, got divorced twice and had four kids. Larry wanted more children with me because he said he was different from all the other jerks I had married.
But all good things come to an end, some sooner than others. A heart attack struck two years ago. Larry collapsed one evening suddenly. Panic-stricken, all I could do was to let his face rest on my lap as he clutched my hands until the ambulance came.
I can still remember how his head lolled over, slumped and rested on my body that day; how I cradled him protectively.
When they wrested him from my grasp and loaded his still form into the vehicle and strapped him down, I knew I had lost him.
He was declared brain-dead on arrival at the hospital. When I signed the pile of papers the hospital gave me, that was one of the loneliest moments of my life.
When they lowered him into the ground, dropping handfuls of earth on his covered body as the priest said the final goodbye, I went numb. After everyone had left, I stood by his grave, silently talking to my dear husband.
I floated in and out of reality for a week. Every day after fixing food for my children, I would stare at the ceiling or into space until I was able to fall asleep. I was eaten by memories of Larry.
It is not easy to be a divorcee or widow in a conservative society. She must now, of course, live her life in a manner befitting her enforced single status.
To be a divorcee several times, like myself, is a virtual kiss of death.
But I refuse to follow the road usually travelled by people in my situation. A woman has the right to bail out of a bad relationship, but that should not stop her from trying again and again until she finds the right one.
I may be divorced several times, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in romance and marriage.
But I will never walk into a relationship without being sure he is the right man for me and my children.
I am no Elizabeth Taylor despite being much married. I don't have the beauty nor the wealth that Liz has. I wrote this using my pseudonym Zizi Machushla because I just love the name. It's not that I am proud of what I have gone through but I have often been misconstrued by people. There is much more to this story but don't try to read too much into the line because it might not be true.
Marriage-go-round
Byline: ZIZI MACHUSHLA
I'D ALWAYS dreamt of being a modern-day Cinderella, swept off my feet by a prince at the stroke of midnight, to a proverbial fairytale happy-ever-after. Instead I got married five times before I was 24! My marriages and children by different fathers have naturally made me a target for gossip. My first marriage was arranged. My parents were as conservative as they come.
I would even say that much of my rebellious streak is a reaction against their starchy ways. My father even followed me for what passed as first `date'. Under the pretext of returning a book, I met Rudy beside a cherry tree, near my house. It was the swiftest `thank you' and `bye' gestures because nothing else would have been possible under the watchful eyes of my father.
From then on, my parents made sure there were no more dates, no illicit romances, no boyfriends; but secretly I wrote lots of love letters to friends and admirers.
When my father knew I had several paramours - from the mail which he monitored secretly - he thought nothing of marrying me off. He was more adamant after learning that I'd walked away during my chemistry paper. I was game for marriage because I couldn't stand the grip they had over my life.
So, there I was an innocent bride to Joshua, a 26-year-old bank officer. Then came the exam results. They were fairly good - good enough for me to gain entry to university.
This led to fresh plans for me by my domineering father, even though I was already a married woman with a life of my own. Without my knowledge, he had enrolled me in a local university.
Soon, I was a student again, a part-time wife and halfway to motherhood. It sounds too good to be true. And it was.
A call from a woman who claimed she was Joshua's wife burst the bubble.My father was shattered. A bitter confrontation was followed by a temporary separation and then a divorce. At 18, after nine months of married life and pregnant, I was a divorcee.
When Ezra, my firstborn was one-year-old, I befriended a physics lecturer, Isaac, again under the hawk-eyed scrutiny of my father. As usual, there was no time for courtship and dating rituals.
So in less than two months, I married Isaac in a grand wedding. But the preparation lasted just a bit longer than the marriage: we were husband and wife for just one week.
When Isaac's parents learnt that he had just married a divorcee, they insisted that he deserved a better deal. So, there I was again, divorced and alone.
Husband Number 3 was my lecturer in my finals. He was very much older than I was. The union was an unhappy one as I discovered, after marriage, that he was abusive, possessive, cruel and regarded me like an object more than his wife. It was a turbulent marriage which lasted almost eight months. Secretly, I hoped and prayed this marriage would work. It was like hoping for a miracle. And there was none this time either. And once again, I found myself alone and pregnant.
At 21, I was thrice divorced. This was the blackest phase of my life since I had to seek refuge in another state from my abusive ex who was hassling me for a reconciliation.
People around me tried to be helpful. But there was no comfort. The more I looked at my two kids, the more desolate I felt. All I could think of was how to keep going and stay busy to keep my sanity. I needed my solitude badly.
A job transfer to Kuantan seemed the only solution. The office wanted someone for a PR job, responsible for the administration and welfare of the students and 40-odd staff - that sort of thing.
When they finally chose me, I felt a small current of hope as I thought of a new place, a new job and a new start.
I liked it. I found the whole new setting absolutely therapeutic. I don't remember having so much fun in life. For the first time, away from my father's watchful eyes, I could date the men of my choice. I was wooed by many men but was not interested in looking for another husband.
After a few months, I fell for Zack, who was gentle and - more importantly - unattached. I was 23 years-old. Zack insisted I quit my job. Like a fool I obeyed. That's when I discovered we were `squatters' in his cousin's house.
Zack also began to disappear, using his work as an excuse. My jewellery went missing, and my savings ran out fast.
When Zack went missing again for weeks - something that had become predictable - stories filtered back to me about his shady lifestyle.
When I confronted Zack after he finally showed up, he was so smooth that I just wanted to believe him. But deep in my heart, I knew it was over.
The day I discovered I had morning sickness, totally broke, I felt my humiliation was complete. I couldn't bear to face anyone. In my search for a fairytale, it never occurred to me that reality and men could be so heartless and cruel. It just shows how people's inner needs can cloud their judgement. My loneliness and fantasy had made me a target.
Just as I was about to give up, an old friend referred me to his superior, Larry.
A distinguished-looking man in his late 40s, Larry was a highranking law enforcement officer with the wellbred air of someone to the manner born.
There's something about mature men that sends shivers down my spine. Maybe I had seen too many movies and read too many romance paperbacks. Whatever it was, when I met Larry, all the others seemed to fade away. The snag: he was still very much married.
After learning about my marriage fiasco, Larry swiftly took me under his wing, and confronted Zack. The face-off seemed a wakeup call for Zack. It drove him mad with jealousy and he was "yours faithfully" for a while.
Then Zack's ex-wife, Sara, who had a hairtrigger temper and a madwoman's disposition, badgered Zack to leave me, and that he did.
But I had no time to wallow in self-pity because Larry was waiting for me the day I packed my things.
He lost no time making up for all the pain of my four failed marriages. He clothed me in designer suits, we travelled extensively, dined in the most exclusive places and wrote each other cards and letters.
Once, when I was in my parents house, Larry sent a telegram. My poor father almost had heart palpitations when he saw the message: `'Z, my one and only love. I miss you." On my 24th birthday, Larry gave me seven watches, eleven cards and a huge bouquet.
His concern for my unborn child was real and moving. The minute labour began, Larry was by my bedside. He was there for me and my baby, something which no previous husband had done.
We were married for 14 years, got divorced twice and had four kids. Larry wanted more children with me because he said he was different from all the other jerks I had married.
But all good things come to an end, some sooner than others. A heart attack struck two years ago. Larry collapsed one evening suddenly. Panic-stricken, all I could do was to let his face rest on my lap as he clutched my hands until the ambulance came.
I can still remember how his head lolled over, slumped and rested on my body that day; how I cradled him protectively.
When they wrested him from my grasp and loaded his still form into the vehicle and strapped him down, I knew I had lost him.
He was declared brain-dead on arrival at the hospital. When I signed the pile of papers the hospital gave me, that was one of the loneliest moments of my life.
When they lowered him into the ground, dropping handfuls of earth on his covered body as the priest said the final goodbye, I went numb. After everyone had left, I stood by his grave, silently talking to my dear husband.
I floated in and out of reality for a week. Every day after fixing food for my children, I would stare at the ceiling or into space until I was able to fall asleep. I was eaten by memories of Larry.
It is not easy to be a divorcee or widow in a conservative society. She must now, of course, live her life in a manner befitting her enforced single status.
To be a divorcee several times, like myself, is a virtual kiss of death.
But I refuse to follow the road usually travelled by people in my situation. A woman has the right to bail out of a bad relationship, but that should not stop her from trying again and again until she finds the right one.
I may be divorced several times, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in romance and marriage.
But I will never walk into a relationship without being sure he is the right man for me and my children.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
MY SOUL MATE IS A CYBORG
He is not my lover but we are quite attached. The attachment would set tongues wagging and assumed that we are having a romantic liaison. But that is simply not possible because he is a CYBORG.
This cyborg happens to be hundred miles away from me and yet we are closely bonded, both spiritually and mentally. My soul mate is Ahmad Shahril. He is also my best friend and constant companion. The predicament we are in now somehow draw us closer to each other. We care a lot about each other no matter what we do or say.
People described soul mate as an eternal partner made and given by God. Well, maybe that's true. Shahril knows what I am thinking even if we are not together. He can even predict I am munching "kacang botak" in the middle of the night. And I hate that.
"And what is that you are having by your side Madam...kacang is it?," said the deep-voiced Shahril over the phone one night. It just makes me want to put the phone down when he hits the nail on the head.
He provides the security and emotional stability for me, something that other men had failed to do. And he makes sure that I maintain my sanity by making sure I am emotionally ok with a short sms.
Our meeting in the year 2000 was never planned. There wasn't even any physical attraction just an instant liking that made us clicked straight away.
Never mind if I am years older to him, that did not make any difference. Its only when Shahril starts to control my diet and my cholestrol level that I feel the age gap. Sometimes he behaves like a dietician dictating what I should and should not eat. At times he acts like a gym instructor asking me to do simple exercise so that he could buy me "that little black dress in KLCC."
Shahril even understands my body language and knows exactly what I am thinking just by looking at me. We "speak" the same language and feel for the same people and things. Having shared many secrets together, I would say we are awesome buddies and could get along so well.
Our ideas and interests seemed to revolve around the same thing - music and movies.
But there were times when we had our differences and quarrels and were not on good terms.
I hate myself for all the "torture" that I made him go through especially when I am in that no-communicado mood. It's a bad habit of mine. I do this when I do not want to hurt a person. I would switch off myself and in the process, cut off and severe ties momentarily with any people who have hurt me. And Shahril is often one of them. I especially get very upset when he refused to understand me. The frustration and anger would make me snap at him. And the cool and calm Shahril would try to reason things out with me.
We've had countless disagreement over the years but none lasted more than a month. Most of the time, its my fault. The stubborn streak in me would never allow him to talk sense into me. His gentle and forgiving nature would make me give in no matter what. I try not to exploit this because knowing Shahril, he would know if I try to do that.
Shahril is accomodating to a limit. Once you pushed him to the wall, he would make his stand. A firm one but without retaliation, leaving the other party feel guilty. I have seen this happen to him many times. But he doesn't like confrontation nor does he like to be in any messy situation. He just doesn't like to get involved. Maybe that is a "selfish" part of him not wanting to be in anyone's bad book.
He is NEVER judgemental, a virtue which I really appreciate. He doesn't lie to me nor does he try to. I enjoying doing anything with him except for eating. He has this habit of deciding what is good for my body. A bowl of salad for lunch is considered a lavish spread for me. He would say in a matter-of-fact tone, "You are what you eat!" And goes on and on about what I should and should not it. As if it was a lecture, he would end it with..."understand. Any question."
Shahril lectures in one of the colleges in Penang. All his students love him. I gather this from the enthusiasm I saw on some of his student faces. He maybe a cyborg but I think he knows how to show his love for his loved one - Pendek, his cat. Pendek, who likes to feed on raw fish, is the only one who knows how Shahril feels. Whenever I call him at home, I have to greet Pendek first.
A practical person who never allows his heart to rule his head, that's Shahril. Matters of the heart do not interest him at all. Even if we were to hold hands, hug each other and talk for hours, I still wonder what goes on in his head. I still can't figure out how deep are his feelings. But what I know is he has a heart. He has wiped my tears and counselled me on many occassions.
At times when we are both busy we would just communicate vis sms. The reply that I always get would be ..."talk to you soon. Have a good day."
I think cyborgs have been programmed in such a way that they do not know how to respond to human feelings unless you change the chip inside them. I would not want to do that because I love my cyborg the way he is.
I often tease him with a cheeky private joke that we share like "Shahril, you sayang I tak?" And the reply would be a monotonous "Errr...I can't hear you."
But my feelings for Shahril will never change. He will always be in my heart and soul. Soul mates can have various types of relationships, which do not always include romantic love. I never have any regrets about our relationship because I know that my cyborg will always be there for me and make me feel so complete.
At times, I do have this urge to change the chip in my cyborg and see what happens. Now wouldn't that be fun!
He is not my lover but we are quite attached. The attachment would set tongues wagging and assumed that we are having a romantic liaison. But that is simply not possible because he is a CYBORG.
This cyborg happens to be hundred miles away from me and yet we are closely bonded, both spiritually and mentally. My soul mate is Ahmad Shahril. He is also my best friend and constant companion. The predicament we are in now somehow draw us closer to each other. We care a lot about each other no matter what we do or say.
People described soul mate as an eternal partner made and given by God. Well, maybe that's true. Shahril knows what I am thinking even if we are not together. He can even predict I am munching "kacang botak" in the middle of the night. And I hate that.
"And what is that you are having by your side Madam...kacang is it?," said the deep-voiced Shahril over the phone one night. It just makes me want to put the phone down when he hits the nail on the head.
He provides the security and emotional stability for me, something that other men had failed to do. And he makes sure that I maintain my sanity by making sure I am emotionally ok with a short sms.
Our meeting in the year 2000 was never planned. There wasn't even any physical attraction just an instant liking that made us clicked straight away.
Never mind if I am years older to him, that did not make any difference. Its only when Shahril starts to control my diet and my cholestrol level that I feel the age gap. Sometimes he behaves like a dietician dictating what I should and should not eat. At times he acts like a gym instructor asking me to do simple exercise so that he could buy me "that little black dress in KLCC."
Shahril even understands my body language and knows exactly what I am thinking just by looking at me. We "speak" the same language and feel for the same people and things. Having shared many secrets together, I would say we are awesome buddies and could get along so well.
Our ideas and interests seemed to revolve around the same thing - music and movies.
But there were times when we had our differences and quarrels and were not on good terms.
I hate myself for all the "torture" that I made him go through especially when I am in that no-communicado mood. It's a bad habit of mine. I do this when I do not want to hurt a person. I would switch off myself and in the process, cut off and severe ties momentarily with any people who have hurt me. And Shahril is often one of them. I especially get very upset when he refused to understand me. The frustration and anger would make me snap at him. And the cool and calm Shahril would try to reason things out with me.
We've had countless disagreement over the years but none lasted more than a month. Most of the time, its my fault. The stubborn streak in me would never allow him to talk sense into me. His gentle and forgiving nature would make me give in no matter what. I try not to exploit this because knowing Shahril, he would know if I try to do that.
Shahril is accomodating to a limit. Once you pushed him to the wall, he would make his stand. A firm one but without retaliation, leaving the other party feel guilty. I have seen this happen to him many times. But he doesn't like confrontation nor does he like to be in any messy situation. He just doesn't like to get involved. Maybe that is a "selfish" part of him not wanting to be in anyone's bad book.
He is NEVER judgemental, a virtue which I really appreciate. He doesn't lie to me nor does he try to. I enjoying doing anything with him except for eating. He has this habit of deciding what is good for my body. A bowl of salad for lunch is considered a lavish spread for me. He would say in a matter-of-fact tone, "You are what you eat!" And goes on and on about what I should and should not it. As if it was a lecture, he would end it with..."understand. Any question."
Shahril lectures in one of the colleges in Penang. All his students love him. I gather this from the enthusiasm I saw on some of his student faces. He maybe a cyborg but I think he knows how to show his love for his loved one - Pendek, his cat. Pendek, who likes to feed on raw fish, is the only one who knows how Shahril feels. Whenever I call him at home, I have to greet Pendek first.
A practical person who never allows his heart to rule his head, that's Shahril. Matters of the heart do not interest him at all. Even if we were to hold hands, hug each other and talk for hours, I still wonder what goes on in his head. I still can't figure out how deep are his feelings. But what I know is he has a heart. He has wiped my tears and counselled me on many occassions.
At times when we are both busy we would just communicate vis sms. The reply that I always get would be ..."talk to you soon. Have a good day."
I think cyborgs have been programmed in such a way that they do not know how to respond to human feelings unless you change the chip inside them. I would not want to do that because I love my cyborg the way he is.
I often tease him with a cheeky private joke that we share like "Shahril, you sayang I tak?" And the reply would be a monotonous "Errr...I can't hear you."
But my feelings for Shahril will never change. He will always be in my heart and soul. Soul mates can have various types of relationships, which do not always include romantic love. I never have any regrets about our relationship because I know that my cyborg will always be there for me and make me feel so complete.
At times, I do have this urge to change the chip in my cyborg and see what happens. Now wouldn't that be fun!
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
THE DAY I BECAME A STALKER!
This article was written on Aug 4, 2000, five months after I joined the Star. Joon Yee, the editor almost gave up on me when I refused to do anything for seven days. I needed the exclusive interview badly. I just had to. This is a chance in a lifetime. My first meeting with the Bollywood King. No one should miss this opportunity especially a fanatic fan like me.
When every attempt failed to get the exclusive interview, I decided to write a small note to SRK and passed it on to Mr Rao. It read something like this ....."I know you are special, I am too. I think two special people should meet." With that note, I secured my first meeting which was scheduled at FRIM Kepong.
The journey to Kepong was a hillarious one. I bullied my way through my sifu Fauziah Samad (Jee) who volunteered to drive me all the way to Kepong. Little did she realise that she had to ferry me for the next three days driving endlessly to many places. Jee finally lost her cool when I pleaded her to be my "driver" for another session with SRK, this time at an exclusive hotel which was attended by more than 100 press including some groupies.
Jee was never impressed with SRK. She described him as "budak comot." I wrote my article and passed it on to her. She scanned through and look out for the mistakes. I think there was hardly any. It made us feel like the old NST days. When I gave her a picture of SRK, she carelessly put it aside on the kitchen stove. When I told her to paste it somewhere, she chose to do it on the side of her fridge which was partly hidden.
It ached me so much to see her doing this. How could she put my dear SRK there? But I just have to watch her. Afterall, she is my sifu and you don't scold your sifu.
When the article came out as the cover of Sec 2, the heading was "Stalking Shah Rukh." My friends call it the "Hair" story. You will never believe how many calls I got from this article. They all want to know where I kept the hair. I got the strand of hair framed by a frame maker in Old Town.
I told the Indian Muslim film maker that I had to frame the last strand of hair of my late husband for sentimental reason. He looked so sad. I am not good at acting but I did not wear the guilty look on my face. Still, my daughter said I wasn't convincing enough. She giggled and almost gave it away. The frame work was done in 10 minutes. Ok, so it was a lie but the late husband bit was true, NOT the hair though.
Eight days, seven nights
Byline: ZIEMAN
MANY call him a great star and an evergreen entertainer; others say he is full of himself, noting his commercialism and tendency to pander to the masses.
Whatever the perception of others, none had ever challenged or engrossed this writer more than when trailing the 35-year-old Bollywood badshah (king) Shah Rukh Khan for eight days during his recent visit here. From the private Bakti concert to the filming along a stretch of Jalan Ampang; the foothill of Genting Sempah, the alps of Genting Highlands; the pride and joy of Malaysia the Petronas Twin Towers and Suria KLCC; an old quarry site; the Tanjung Bidara beach in Malacca; the three-day shoot at the Forest Reserve Institute of Malaysia (FRIM) in Kepong and the press conference in Kuala Lumpur, trailing the Indian actor certainly made one feel more like a stalker than a journalist.
By the eighth day of the filming of One Two Ka Four (One, Two or Four), the whole scenario and the tunes of Rukh Pyar and Dil Sachacha Chehra Jhoota had become so familiar that producer Nazir Ahmed from Glamour Films Bollywood and the main sponsor R.A. Rao from Siva Productions would probably have no qualms about signing me on as the handyman for Shah Rukh's next movie.
The One Two Ka Four shoot
On the set, Shah Rukh exuded the extreme self-confidence that is rare among actors. Repetitive and predictable though he was in Dil To Pagal Hai, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Yes Boss and Dilwale Le Dulhania Le Jayange, his fans simply love him no matter how he tackles his cliched lover-boy roles.
One Two Ka Four tells about a police officer Javed (played by Jackie Shroff), a widower of four children who is killed by a group of thugs. Before he dies, he leaves his children in Arun's care. Arun (Shah Rukh Khan) is a spirited bachelor who regards children as a burden.
He then passes the chore to Geetha (Juhi Chawla). In no time, Arun falls for both children and nanny ... think The Sound of Music and you'll get the picture.
The earlier filming of this movie was done in Switzerland.
During the shoot at FRIM in Kepong, local officials had a field day standing in as bodyguards when throngs of fans and curious onlookers jammed the place during the singing scenes.
Outside the main gate, Shah Rukh Khan and his ideal screen partner Juhi Chawla were acting out a singing scene from the movie. The two were garbed in neon yellow a tad shocking but still tame and stylish by Bollywood standards.
When Shah Rukh dipped his hand into a bag full of sunglasses to pick the right shades, his fans looked on as if he were in a goldfish bowl.
His hard-core fans came with banners, head bands and posters, and provided the unwarranted extra prop which contributed to the shoot being slightly disrupted by their overzealous antics.
But not once did the self-serving, camera-hogging Shah Rukh, who strikes the right notes and pushes the right buttons in his movies, lose his cool.
He switched his mood in synchrony with the demands of the shoot. One minute he would be flashing those boyish dimples and throwing kisses in the air to his fans. The next, he would be so absorbed doing his own thing that he would shut off his fans much in the same way he stubs out a cigarette butt.
The press conference
Then came the bad news the press conference would be two and half hours late. Patience was petering out by the time the star showed up. Surprisingly, the media people had been waiting good-naturedly.
The crowd poured in, fans came, clamouring outside and yelling to be let in. One teenage girl cried hysterically for Shah Rukh, pinning her face against the door pane of the bar. What a pitiful sight!
Inside the Mezzo bar, the paparazzi had gathered like vultures, cameras at the ready trying to get the best pictures.
The versatile actor confirmed his megastar status when he was escorted in by hordes of bodyguards. It took some time before the way was cleared of anxious photographers who snapped away oblivious of whether their gusto had further delayed the conference.
But before anyone could ask, "Why are you late?'', Shah Rukh displayed his utmost charm. In no time at all, Shah Rukh had the jaded journos eating out of the palm of his hand.
"(The organisers) did not tell us about the PC (press conference) until 4pm. This is my third visit and it's really marvellous. I enjoy coming here because there's so much, and the people are so friendly, is that what you want to hear?'' said an affable Shah Rukh, guzzling a cola drink.
Visibly affected by the overwhelming crowd response, Shah Rukh said, ``It makes me feel like an international star. I feel like Jackie Chan.''
So why don't you get into Hollywood movies like Jackie Chan?
"No, I'd rather rule in hell than be a slave in heaven. I don't desire to be known internationally. I'm happy being a frog in the well. There's so much talent in India as far as directors, technicians and creative people are concerned, more than anywhere else in the world. If they don't acknowledge it abroad, it's their loss, not ours. But, really, the issue here is not about making a name internationally or trying to break into Hollywood. I started in India and I want to remain there.''
According to Shah Rukh, people who do not understand him would perceive him differently.
"Like some people who find it difficult to accept me as a successful, rich and happy man an ideal package.''
Back home, his first home production, his Dreamz Unlimited movie Phir Bil Dil Hai Hindustani (PBDHH) was dismissed as just average.
"We tried a tongue-in-cheek approach to depict politics and the media world. The strongest point is, of course, the media, an important single unit which dictates what rules. The movie didn't do well because the audience, especially those in the rural areas, were not ready (for such themes). It fared better in cities like Mumbai and outside India. But we are not discouraged and we hope to make better films in future.''
He was referring to Asoka, Dreamz Unlimited's second project. This is an epic about the historical and dynamic ruler Asoka who turned a staunch Buddhist after he led his innocent people to war and bloodshed.
The most typecast roles for Shah Rukh are the romantic ones, something which he does not like doing but is forced to because that is what sells.
"Strangely, the films I don't like `click' (with the masses) and the films I like, don't do so well, like Koyla, Ram Jaane and PBDHH. Maybe it's my fault. (Perhaps) there's something wrong with my interpretation of the scenes. (They are) not so well-defined and understood by everybody ... (But) you'll see a lot of me in every film I do.''
What about all the talk pitting him against Bollywood's current favourite, budding actor Hrithik Roshan of Kahona Pyar Hai fame whom the press likened to a Greek god?
"I really pity that boy. I acted with his father, Rakesh Roshan, when he was just a small boy. I saw him growing up. He could never come near me because I am so damned good, really. He only has one film compared to my 30 movies. Let's be fair to him.''
There is other wild talk about his liaison with his screen and business partner, Juhi Chawla. In fact, a writer actually asked why Shah Rukh was smooching Juhi Chawla in the FRIM jungle. Was it part of the act?
"Do you want to be part of the act too? But, really, I am a close friend of Juhi's husband, Jai Mehta, and we are family friends. Jai Mehta handles the paperwork and business of our company. Aziz Mirza is the director and scriptwriter while Juhi makes sure we all do our work. So, we are all part of the organisation. That's all to it,'' explained Shah Rukh whose wife, Gauri, has just given birth to their second child and first baby girl, Suhana. The couple has an older son named Aryaan.
Is true that he doesn't give interviews easily?
"People like to believe that. When journalists write me off, I feel they are not being fair. The effect is damaging. I don't like to talk bad about anyone. I'd be ungrateful if I said journalists have not treated me well.
"I do things with a lot of good-heartedness and openness. But if there's anyone who says anything adverse about me, may God punish them because I believe in divine intervention.
"Anybody who does malicious things will have to pay for their acts because I am a very sincere person. I am upfront, honest and I take people at face value. But people like to analyse me and I don't like it.''
Stardom may not have influenced his personality but it does encroach into his private life.
"It's part of the deal ... my occupational hazard. I don't have privacy. But, really, it's no big deal. I chose this life. I'd feel worse if everywhere I go, I'm not recognised on the streets, not served first in a hotel or they don't play my songs; I'd feel terrible. Someone said the other day, actors are the strangest people. They spend all their lives to be known, and spend the rest of their lives covering their faces like wearing (sun)glasses. That's really stupid. I've worked so hard to reach this stage, why should I wear glasses?''
Shah Rukh the actor
Underneath the "I am the best'' bravado which is projected in a majority of his roles from Deewana (1986) to Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani (PBDHH) this year, Shah Rukh is an intelligent actor. Maybe not as intense as Naseeruddin Shah or Nana Patekar but he is a fine actor and a great entertainer without equal.
Up close, the real Shah Rukh Khan is almost like the slick, result-oriented, quick-witted, self-assured television journalist Ajay Bakshi from PBDHH.
What's interesting is that Shah Rukh's screen presence can always be depended on. He is one of the few actors who can afford to have a few flops or even play negative characters and still come up tops.
This he did in Yash Chopra's Darr, Abbas-Mustan's Baazigar and Rahul Rawail's Anjaam or roles with shades of grey like the Jim Carrey take-off in Mahesh Bhatt's Duplicate or the slum-scum in Umesh Mehra's Ram Jaane. He exudes the aura of a bratty scene-stealer in whatever characters he plays, such as the spoofy detective in Badshah.
In fact, he has a timelessness akin to the legendary durability of Rajesh Khanna, Amitabh Bachchan and Shashi Kapoor all rolled into one.
Shah Rukh's massive energy knows no bounds. He eats and sleeps very little but he behaves like a marathon man dancing on the set for 12 hours at a stretch and working till the early hours of the morning, he said.
An absolute charmer, Shah Rukh appeared not in the least cocky, at least to this smitten writer, or plagued by the egomaniac syndrome which many stars have.
"All this (pointing at the hordes of fans around him) doesn't go to my head. It goes to my heart,'' he said.
Up close and the brawl
People clustered around the waterfall site in the FRIM woods, making it difficult to move up the path. Shah Rukh relaxed in a chair with a koleh (steel mug) of teh tarik in his hand. I reached him, fell on my knees and almost kissed the hem of his brown leather jacket.
Someone pulled up a chair for me next to him. Shah Rukh was just six inches away from me. A fantasy had come true.
Out of the blue, he said, "Juhi and I read your article four times,'' referring to this writer's review of their Bakti show.
The admission had an odd effect on me my heart fluttered. Then I chanced upon an inch-long strand of hair on his brown jacket. He followed my gaze and flashed an approving look, granting permission. Mementoes like this won't come by often. I flicked it onto my palm.
Suddenly a brawl broke out behind us. Apparently, a cab driver, envious of the close proximity we shared, wanted to get near Shah Rukh. The cabbie had slapped one of Shah Rukh's men and tried to fling a chair in the style of Tamil movies. A commotion ensued. By now, two groups had already converged the fans versus the bodyguards and FRIM officials.
Like a true hero in Badshah, Shah Rukh got up, said something in Hindi and comforted his aide, all the time holding onto my autographed notebook while I breathlessly clutched that strand of hair. For the record, The Hair is not up for auction! The whole heady, exotic experience will be a cherished memory for a long time to come.
This article was written on Aug 4, 2000, five months after I joined the Star. Joon Yee, the editor almost gave up on me when I refused to do anything for seven days. I needed the exclusive interview badly. I just had to. This is a chance in a lifetime. My first meeting with the Bollywood King. No one should miss this opportunity especially a fanatic fan like me.
When every attempt failed to get the exclusive interview, I decided to write a small note to SRK and passed it on to Mr Rao. It read something like this ....."I know you are special, I am too. I think two special people should meet." With that note, I secured my first meeting which was scheduled at FRIM Kepong.
The journey to Kepong was a hillarious one. I bullied my way through my sifu Fauziah Samad (Jee) who volunteered to drive me all the way to Kepong. Little did she realise that she had to ferry me for the next three days driving endlessly to many places. Jee finally lost her cool when I pleaded her to be my "driver" for another session with SRK, this time at an exclusive hotel which was attended by more than 100 press including some groupies.
Jee was never impressed with SRK. She described him as "budak comot." I wrote my article and passed it on to her. She scanned through and look out for the mistakes. I think there was hardly any. It made us feel like the old NST days. When I gave her a picture of SRK, she carelessly put it aside on the kitchen stove. When I told her to paste it somewhere, she chose to do it on the side of her fridge which was partly hidden.
It ached me so much to see her doing this. How could she put my dear SRK there? But I just have to watch her. Afterall, she is my sifu and you don't scold your sifu.
When the article came out as the cover of Sec 2, the heading was "Stalking Shah Rukh." My friends call it the "Hair" story. You will never believe how many calls I got from this article. They all want to know where I kept the hair. I got the strand of hair framed by a frame maker in Old Town.
I told the Indian Muslim film maker that I had to frame the last strand of hair of my late husband for sentimental reason. He looked so sad. I am not good at acting but I did not wear the guilty look on my face. Still, my daughter said I wasn't convincing enough. She giggled and almost gave it away. The frame work was done in 10 minutes. Ok, so it was a lie but the late husband bit was true, NOT the hair though.
Eight days, seven nights
Byline: ZIEMAN
MANY call him a great star and an evergreen entertainer; others say he is full of himself, noting his commercialism and tendency to pander to the masses.
Whatever the perception of others, none had ever challenged or engrossed this writer more than when trailing the 35-year-old Bollywood badshah (king) Shah Rukh Khan for eight days during his recent visit here. From the private Bakti concert to the filming along a stretch of Jalan Ampang; the foothill of Genting Sempah, the alps of Genting Highlands; the pride and joy of Malaysia the Petronas Twin Towers and Suria KLCC; an old quarry site; the Tanjung Bidara beach in Malacca; the three-day shoot at the Forest Reserve Institute of Malaysia (FRIM) in Kepong and the press conference in Kuala Lumpur, trailing the Indian actor certainly made one feel more like a stalker than a journalist.
By the eighth day of the filming of One Two Ka Four (One, Two or Four), the whole scenario and the tunes of Rukh Pyar and Dil Sachacha Chehra Jhoota had become so familiar that producer Nazir Ahmed from Glamour Films Bollywood and the main sponsor R.A. Rao from Siva Productions would probably have no qualms about signing me on as the handyman for Shah Rukh's next movie.
The One Two Ka Four shoot
On the set, Shah Rukh exuded the extreme self-confidence that is rare among actors. Repetitive and predictable though he was in Dil To Pagal Hai, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Yes Boss and Dilwale Le Dulhania Le Jayange, his fans simply love him no matter how he tackles his cliched lover-boy roles.
One Two Ka Four tells about a police officer Javed (played by Jackie Shroff), a widower of four children who is killed by a group of thugs. Before he dies, he leaves his children in Arun's care. Arun (Shah Rukh Khan) is a spirited bachelor who regards children as a burden.
He then passes the chore to Geetha (Juhi Chawla). In no time, Arun falls for both children and nanny ... think The Sound of Music and you'll get the picture.
The earlier filming of this movie was done in Switzerland.
During the shoot at FRIM in Kepong, local officials had a field day standing in as bodyguards when throngs of fans and curious onlookers jammed the place during the singing scenes.
Outside the main gate, Shah Rukh Khan and his ideal screen partner Juhi Chawla were acting out a singing scene from the movie. The two were garbed in neon yellow a tad shocking but still tame and stylish by Bollywood standards.
When Shah Rukh dipped his hand into a bag full of sunglasses to pick the right shades, his fans looked on as if he were in a goldfish bowl.
His hard-core fans came with banners, head bands and posters, and provided the unwarranted extra prop which contributed to the shoot being slightly disrupted by their overzealous antics.
But not once did the self-serving, camera-hogging Shah Rukh, who strikes the right notes and pushes the right buttons in his movies, lose his cool.
He switched his mood in synchrony with the demands of the shoot. One minute he would be flashing those boyish dimples and throwing kisses in the air to his fans. The next, he would be so absorbed doing his own thing that he would shut off his fans much in the same way he stubs out a cigarette butt.
The press conference
Then came the bad news the press conference would be two and half hours late. Patience was petering out by the time the star showed up. Surprisingly, the media people had been waiting good-naturedly.
The crowd poured in, fans came, clamouring outside and yelling to be let in. One teenage girl cried hysterically for Shah Rukh, pinning her face against the door pane of the bar. What a pitiful sight!
Inside the Mezzo bar, the paparazzi had gathered like vultures, cameras at the ready trying to get the best pictures.
The versatile actor confirmed his megastar status when he was escorted in by hordes of bodyguards. It took some time before the way was cleared of anxious photographers who snapped away oblivious of whether their gusto had further delayed the conference.
But before anyone could ask, "Why are you late?'', Shah Rukh displayed his utmost charm. In no time at all, Shah Rukh had the jaded journos eating out of the palm of his hand.
"(The organisers) did not tell us about the PC (press conference) until 4pm. This is my third visit and it's really marvellous. I enjoy coming here because there's so much, and the people are so friendly, is that what you want to hear?'' said an affable Shah Rukh, guzzling a cola drink.
Visibly affected by the overwhelming crowd response, Shah Rukh said, ``It makes me feel like an international star. I feel like Jackie Chan.''
So why don't you get into Hollywood movies like Jackie Chan?
"No, I'd rather rule in hell than be a slave in heaven. I don't desire to be known internationally. I'm happy being a frog in the well. There's so much talent in India as far as directors, technicians and creative people are concerned, more than anywhere else in the world. If they don't acknowledge it abroad, it's their loss, not ours. But, really, the issue here is not about making a name internationally or trying to break into Hollywood. I started in India and I want to remain there.''
According to Shah Rukh, people who do not understand him would perceive him differently.
"Like some people who find it difficult to accept me as a successful, rich and happy man an ideal package.''
Back home, his first home production, his Dreamz Unlimited movie Phir Bil Dil Hai Hindustani (PBDHH) was dismissed as just average.
"We tried a tongue-in-cheek approach to depict politics and the media world. The strongest point is, of course, the media, an important single unit which dictates what rules. The movie didn't do well because the audience, especially those in the rural areas, were not ready (for such themes). It fared better in cities like Mumbai and outside India. But we are not discouraged and we hope to make better films in future.''
He was referring to Asoka, Dreamz Unlimited's second project. This is an epic about the historical and dynamic ruler Asoka who turned a staunch Buddhist after he led his innocent people to war and bloodshed.
The most typecast roles for Shah Rukh are the romantic ones, something which he does not like doing but is forced to because that is what sells.
"Strangely, the films I don't like `click' (with the masses) and the films I like, don't do so well, like Koyla, Ram Jaane and PBDHH. Maybe it's my fault. (Perhaps) there's something wrong with my interpretation of the scenes. (They are) not so well-defined and understood by everybody ... (But) you'll see a lot of me in every film I do.''
What about all the talk pitting him against Bollywood's current favourite, budding actor Hrithik Roshan of Kahona Pyar Hai fame whom the press likened to a Greek god?
"I really pity that boy. I acted with his father, Rakesh Roshan, when he was just a small boy. I saw him growing up. He could never come near me because I am so damned good, really. He only has one film compared to my 30 movies. Let's be fair to him.''
There is other wild talk about his liaison with his screen and business partner, Juhi Chawla. In fact, a writer actually asked why Shah Rukh was smooching Juhi Chawla in the FRIM jungle. Was it part of the act?
"Do you want to be part of the act too? But, really, I am a close friend of Juhi's husband, Jai Mehta, and we are family friends. Jai Mehta handles the paperwork and business of our company. Aziz Mirza is the director and scriptwriter while Juhi makes sure we all do our work. So, we are all part of the organisation. That's all to it,'' explained Shah Rukh whose wife, Gauri, has just given birth to their second child and first baby girl, Suhana. The couple has an older son named Aryaan.
Is true that he doesn't give interviews easily?
"People like to believe that. When journalists write me off, I feel they are not being fair. The effect is damaging. I don't like to talk bad about anyone. I'd be ungrateful if I said journalists have not treated me well.
"I do things with a lot of good-heartedness and openness. But if there's anyone who says anything adverse about me, may God punish them because I believe in divine intervention.
"Anybody who does malicious things will have to pay for their acts because I am a very sincere person. I am upfront, honest and I take people at face value. But people like to analyse me and I don't like it.''
Stardom may not have influenced his personality but it does encroach into his private life.
"It's part of the deal ... my occupational hazard. I don't have privacy. But, really, it's no big deal. I chose this life. I'd feel worse if everywhere I go, I'm not recognised on the streets, not served first in a hotel or they don't play my songs; I'd feel terrible. Someone said the other day, actors are the strangest people. They spend all their lives to be known, and spend the rest of their lives covering their faces like wearing (sun)glasses. That's really stupid. I've worked so hard to reach this stage, why should I wear glasses?''
Shah Rukh the actor
Underneath the "I am the best'' bravado which is projected in a majority of his roles from Deewana (1986) to Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani (PBDHH) this year, Shah Rukh is an intelligent actor. Maybe not as intense as Naseeruddin Shah or Nana Patekar but he is a fine actor and a great entertainer without equal.
Up close, the real Shah Rukh Khan is almost like the slick, result-oriented, quick-witted, self-assured television journalist Ajay Bakshi from PBDHH.
What's interesting is that Shah Rukh's screen presence can always be depended on. He is one of the few actors who can afford to have a few flops or even play negative characters and still come up tops.
This he did in Yash Chopra's Darr, Abbas-Mustan's Baazigar and Rahul Rawail's Anjaam or roles with shades of grey like the Jim Carrey take-off in Mahesh Bhatt's Duplicate or the slum-scum in Umesh Mehra's Ram Jaane. He exudes the aura of a bratty scene-stealer in whatever characters he plays, such as the spoofy detective in Badshah.
In fact, he has a timelessness akin to the legendary durability of Rajesh Khanna, Amitabh Bachchan and Shashi Kapoor all rolled into one.
Shah Rukh's massive energy knows no bounds. He eats and sleeps very little but he behaves like a marathon man dancing on the set for 12 hours at a stretch and working till the early hours of the morning, he said.
An absolute charmer, Shah Rukh appeared not in the least cocky, at least to this smitten writer, or plagued by the egomaniac syndrome which many stars have.
"All this (pointing at the hordes of fans around him) doesn't go to my head. It goes to my heart,'' he said.
Up close and the brawl
People clustered around the waterfall site in the FRIM woods, making it difficult to move up the path. Shah Rukh relaxed in a chair with a koleh (steel mug) of teh tarik in his hand. I reached him, fell on my knees and almost kissed the hem of his brown leather jacket.
Someone pulled up a chair for me next to him. Shah Rukh was just six inches away from me. A fantasy had come true.
Out of the blue, he said, "Juhi and I read your article four times,'' referring to this writer's review of their Bakti show.
The admission had an odd effect on me my heart fluttered. Then I chanced upon an inch-long strand of hair on his brown jacket. He followed my gaze and flashed an approving look, granting permission. Mementoes like this won't come by often. I flicked it onto my palm.
Suddenly a brawl broke out behind us. Apparently, a cab driver, envious of the close proximity we shared, wanted to get near Shah Rukh. The cabbie had slapped one of Shah Rukh's men and tried to fling a chair in the style of Tamil movies. A commotion ensued. By now, two groups had already converged the fans versus the bodyguards and FRIM officials.
Like a true hero in Badshah, Shah Rukh got up, said something in Hindi and comforted his aide, all the time holding onto my autographed notebook while I breathlessly clutched that strand of hair. For the record, The Hair is not up for auction! The whole heady, exotic experience will be a cherished memory for a long time to come.
THE INFATUATION!
I could never get enough of Shah Rukh Khan. Friends teased me of my obsession. Some even ridiculed me and said that I have gone overboard with my infatuation after I built the "shrine" in the corner of my house to keep all his belongings.
When I first "saw" him, I had butterflies in my stomach. And it wasn't even a real meeting. How can I forget those hypnotic eyes and cheeky smile. I love everything about him even his "big" nose. I just fell for him. These days, I just watch him from far. I suppose old age is catching up on me. Old women are more dignified when they are in love.
Pardes, the first SRK movie that I watched, jolted all the beautiful memories I have of him. It's one of my favourite movies. But English Babu Desi Mem is still the best though not many people have watched it. The thing that kept our "relationship alive" is the chemistry that we have together on screen. I have been in the shoes of Sonali Bendre, Juhi Chawla, Preity Zinta, Karisma Kapoor and Mahima Chaudary. That's how I enjoy watching SRK movies. I have to visualise and dream that I am these beautiful, curvaceous women.
I love SRK so much that I just had to call my favourite son, Ayan when his real name is Farhan. SRK's first born is Aryan. This is just one of the many similarities we share. We may not be together as often but we have a way of "connecting" to each other, through strange ways like the movies, our Scorpion zodiac, line of thoughts and the way we speak our minds.
I am so proud to tell my friends that I have all of his CDs, VCDs and now DVDs. And there's two copies of each, just in case someone decides to steal it from me. These personal belonging which I guard with all my life will never be shared. SRK is irreplaceable. No one takes his place nor his things.
None of my friends dared to say anything about SRK. If they rave about him, I would feel jealous and if they try to be analytical about his acting or looks, my claws will be all ready to dig their eyes out.
So, SRK is untouchable. He is the best and will remain that way, at least for me.
This review was done in 2000 and I was thrilled to bits when he threw a teddy bear at me. It landed not on my lap but straight to my heart! Happy Reading.
STILL THE BEST
Byline: Zieman
IT WAS an infatuation which, unbelievably, led to an intoxicating encounter when Bollywood's biggest star Shah Rukh Khan stood in all his glory two metres away during Bakti's exclusive Charity Concert at the Merdeka Hall of PWTC last Sunday.
The minute he flashed those cute, saucy dimples, this brazen fan was all ready to launch into an all-out flirtation (and who knows what else?) with the Bollywood King, vigilant eyes of several VIPs, Prime Minister Datuk Seri Dr Mahathir Mohamad notwithstanding.
Unfortunately, despite the "bodyguard'' tag on me, I had no access to this lover-boy idol of Dil To Pagal Hai, Pardes, Dil Se and one of the biggest box office Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. The closest I got to realising my fantasy was when Shah Rukh threw a teddy bear at me, which left me agog and starstruck. Unfortunately, a makcik seated at my feet rudely snatched it away, and in doing so, scratched me ....
Though the evening was filled with great entertainment by singers Udit Narayan and Nayan Rathod, and beautiful actresses Manisha Koirala and Juhi Chawla, the main star was undoubtedly Shah Rukh.
The euphoria he created in the hall was positive indication that his star power is far from diminishing. Predictions by Bollywood film pundits who anticipated his career ``obituary'' and dwindling popularity after new and younger heartthrob Hrithik Roshan came into the picture were completely off the mark.
The charisma and magic he exuded sent many frenzied fans in the hall screaming. Teenage girls went weak at the knees, mothers swooned and kids gushed at the sight of this megastar. Not forgetting the male species who watched with envy in while reserving their praises for this actor's acting, dancing skills and persona.
Getting crazy over Hindi songs and stars are a norm but going delirious over miming sessions (which was what the show was) is something else. It was unbelievable how his fans cheered and screamed when he broke into songs from hit movies like Koyla (where he was a mute labourer), Dil To Pagal Hai (a passionate dancer) and Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani (a sharp, shrewd TV journalist Ajay Bakshi).
He interacted with his fans through autograph-signing sessions, "singing'', dancing and throwing mementos and souvenirs in the form of teddy bears and balls to the audience.
At one point, he recited a pantun. Though he struggled with his atrocious Bahasa pronunciation, the crowd loved him for the attempt.
The lovable Shah Rukh joked, pranced, mingled and made sure everyone had a whale of a time at the concert. He included songs like Mere Mehboob Mere Sanam from Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayange, Wah Hi Wah (Duplicate) and Bholi Si Soarat (Dil To Pagal Hai).
Female fan Vareen, an accountancy student was all goo-goo eyes over her idol and unashamedly made attempts to seduce him with her coy replies and tender gestures which made the amiable Shah Rukh almost speechless for once.
When she finally announced "Mum and Dad I am in love with Shah Rukh Khan'' and kissed him, no one could possibly blame her for the confession. The special moments were overwhelming for both Vareen and Shah Rukh Khan fans.
Earlier on during the show, the elegant and witty emcee Ruby Bhatia who last appeared over ntv7 in BPL Oye! kept the show spirited with her candid and smart delivery.
Young playback singer Nayan Rathod kicked off the fervour with a song from Hrithik Roshan's megahit movie Kahona Pyar Hai.
Another act which heated things up for the 2,500-strong audience at the hall was Manisha Koirala. The exotic Nepal beauty invited the first scream when she appeared in a shimmering misty grey and peach attire, miming the song from the movie Bombay.
At the sight of her exquisite beauty, unofficial photographers young and old started to scramble up just below the stage in front of the first row, rudely intruding the privacy and vision of my previously unhampered view. The security officials had to work overtime, making sure Manisha's fans were under control.
Manisha looked so sultry and composed (though she did not appear again for the curtain call as she wasn't well) and swayed and waltzed through a medley from movies Mann, Khamoshi, Agni Sakshi and Dil Se backed by four dancers.
The next repertoire had a calming effect on the audience. The melodious voice of playback singer Udit Narayan was simply enthralling as he rendered familiar tunes from the movies Kahona Pyar Hai, Mann and Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayange, complemented by the excellent back-up musicians of the eight-piece Rhythm Nation.
His controlled and limited choreography would have been a distraction if not for his voice. Though he tried hard to work on his confined moves, it was obvious that Udit is just another par excellence playback singer. Period.
Former beauty-queen Juhi Chawla who is noted for her infectious giggles on screen mesmerised the audience when she appeared in a deep purple cape which she later discarded to make way for a glistening silver and yellow outfit which revealed a flawless navel area.
When Juhi started the first bar of the title track of the movie Ishq (which starred Amir Khan, Kajol and Ajay Devgan), the number of pseudo-cameramen in front of the stage doubled.
Promoter Raj Bhatt from Pro-Imej Production Sdn Bhd who retained the exclusive rights to bringing the awesome Shah Rukh Khan to our shores three times in a row should be commended for the brilliant effort.
To justify that he is no ordinary promoter, Raj took the mike and entertained the guests with his cool, polished and effortless rendition of Main Koyi Aisa Geet from the Yes Boss movie, making him the only promoter allowed to share the limelight with Bollywood stars.
The successful closed-door concert which ended well after midnight was aimed at underprivileged, spastic and handicapped children. The effect of the fun-filled entertainment would linger in our minds long after Shah Rukh completed his One Two Ka Four shoot this month.
All the fantasy came to an abrupt end when I was rudely jolted back to reality. I came away feeling like Rishma, the character who was obsessed with ``little-boy-lost'' Shah Rukh in Chahat.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
I LOVE THE NAME AZIZ
Somehow, I could get along with anyone by that name. My favourite Aziz person is En Aziz Hamdan, the former THR.fm's CEO.
We hit it off instantly over a telephone interview. We became friends after I interviewed him over the suspended Kontrolversi programme, which was helmed by Richie Rahman. This controversial program was axed as it allegedly carried certain sexual innuendoes. Kontrolversi had created a stir after an MP brought the matter up in Parliament.
We spoke at length over the telephone. It was almost like meeting up with an old friend. From friendly talks, we gradually progressed to discussing projects. En Aziz is a supportive person who is open to new ideas. So, when I propose to do a radio talk-show called "Scoop Sensasi" a collaborative effort between WHAM and THR.fm, he was more than willing to give it a go.
The talk show became a hit and En Aziz was quick to credit me for it. How could an idea take off if the support system wasn't there? With En Aziz it was so easy. He gave a lot of room for me to grow.
It was always..."Ok, we'll do it." And the rest just flowed.
En Aziz and I was especially proud of "Scoop Sensasi" as the program was a hit and ran for over a year. It featured journalists, top artistes and public relations practitioners in the entertainment industry. For one year, we had to field the best topics, issues and top drawing artistes to pull in the crowd.
It was hard work but no one complained. My reporter friends were all so supportive to chip in when the need required. I felt guity having to call the same people again and again but that's how it is. The reliable ones are a handful like Dalilah Ibrahim, Wani Muthiah, Abie Abdullah, Saharuddin Mustapha, Saniboey, Zainal Alam Kadir and Siti Rohayah Atan.
We had called Hani Mohsin and Chef Wan on air to discuss the dispute between them. The reporters acted like a team of firing squad who behaved more like a batu api. We felt guilty of instigating the hot discussion.
But memorable all the same when Chef Wan broke down on air and the phone never stopped ringing since. When we tried to grill Mohsin on the air in the next episode, En Aziz called in to ask us to go easy on him. Mohsin was an old friend so it was understandable. However, En Aziz rarely interfered in the running of the programmes but he was very involved.
He would listen raptly and passed his comments after the show. If we get an invite for an assumptuous lunch at American Chillis then we know it was a job well done.
Scoop Sensasi was provocative which touched on current issues like the failed Malay movies, the sensational cuts in Embun, the "bias" policy of Istana Budaya and how to master several langguages with multitalented Mahadzir Lokman.
Scoop Sensasi was created in 2002. Four years down the road, we have Fenomena Seni over TV1. Somehow, it sounded tame compared to Scoop. Maybe I am bias.
The next project that we worked together was the “feel good” mission for the Siamese twins Ahmad and Muhammad, inviting listeners to send cards, e-mails and letters to wish them a quick recovery after an operation to separate them in Saudi Arabia.
The station hit thousand well-wishes.
Then it was "Sumber Ilhamku" paying tribute to the greatest Malaysian composer Datuk Ahmad Nawab who had written more than 2,000 songs and groomed over 75 artistes which include the biggest names in the Malaysian music industry.
Having been around for 40 years in show business, Ahmad Nawab is still a hit with Malaysians. He could still blow his saxophone away to the delight of his fans. The program featured more than 200 golden melodies and it was aired non-stop for 14 hours from Aug 22 at 8pm.
The unusual record-breaking feat entitled Ahmad Nawab for entry into the Malaysia Book of Records as “Composer with the Most Number of Songs” and for THR.fm to get an entry for “Most Number of Songs in a Show”.
"20 Best Hits of Ahmad Nawab” on Aug 23 rounded-off THR.fm’s feat for that day. There were exhibition of Ahmad Nawab’s works, a karaoke competition and performances by music students from higher institutions, all were displayed and conducted at the Menara Kuala Lumpur.
“An exclusive dinner at the private Mega View Banquet Deck with 300 special guests was the culmination of the whole show." It was indeed a rare night for everyone. Especially so for me because I ended straight into Pantai Hospital on the night of the event as I had food poisoning which almost costs me my life as I was seven months pregnant.
En Aziz is a special friend who is almost like a sibling. We could sit down for hours at the coffee house sharing a plate of mee mamak and if we become the brunt of wild gossip. Our open friendship is an envy to many. Can't help it if we could click instantly.
Though we hardly spend time together as both of us are tied up with work, we would catch up whenever we have the time. Our favourite meeting places were Coffee Bean infront of PJ Hilton and Eastin Hotel, as it was most convenient for me.
En Aziz is a man of few words when he chose to. He often advised me to start writing my book and get it published as he thinks I am a good story-teller.
He still cuts a handsome figure with his distinguished good looks though he is a bit on the heavy side. A good friend is a rare gem and En Aziz is just that, the kind of friend who would help you no matter what.
Just last week he bailed me out again when I told him about my battle with termites. En Aziz has a soft spot for kids and seeing how my kids live in the ramshackle house infested by termites must have moved him.
I remember En Aziz giving me a Nokia handphone when I was mugged at McDonalds in SS2 in 2001. It was the sweetest gift that left me speechless for a while. I needed a handphone badly as I lost everything in my handbag. I was like a woman with no identity, no money and personal belongings. He knew a handphone is important so he gave it to me. Rosni, En Aziz's most trusted aide and our common friend, was just as thrilled when she saw my joy.
We also share the same passion for food. Evertime I talk to En Aziz, he would always ask me to be patient and take it one day at a time. Just because he has a jovial disposition, not many people know that he is actually a sensitive person.
He used to tell me stories of his "fair weather" friends. I could detect the hurt in his voice. Naturally, he felt the hurt and betrayal after helping these friends. I know exactly how he feels. I was there once and I am still there!
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