a diary

In just moments, a new year begins and new undertakings are steered to course. the year was tough, as like all years would, but without sweat, fruits will not bear. and yes, the year was pretty much how everyone's would seem to, only a twist from one to another. 

i sometimes sit down, and i wonder how things and time pass through when sometimes i just do not realize how it goes on. and yet, it goes on. simply said, another year is through and with huff and a puff, i sit here drawing out those memories. and yes, memories they are, lessons they teach.

making new friends are great. keeping them, that's something tricky. the countless times you share and spread moments you find so much greater than those who don't, brings you what you wished the least for to happen right at your back. confused, adapting, accepting, here i now live, another year.

love is what keeps people going. family, friends, and all alike. but love at times stop you from going. and deep down a road you walk, knowing the end as to what you have imagined, and yet, stopping and then looking back at your path, realizing, that, it may not be a good walk after all, you retreat. all for love, one sacrifices, one gains. all for love, one gives, one takes. demanding, generous, sweet and simple, love's a box of chocolates.

rivalries are tokens you sometimes collect for values. like in a fair, a token for a game, a rivalry is just a game. they start they end, and then the token is kept away, not the player, not the machine, but the game itself. one day, it frustrates you, and another it overwhelms you. and today, it makes you jump high, tomorrow it might keep you at your knees begging for another chance. natural, normal, growing, rivalries compliments us.

and in deep thoughts i dive, questioning and answering questions that are quite illogical, perhaps manageable. and in it, i see the different colours of life that comes together, binding all of us in a cycle that never stops. and these moments may come in a pinch or a bundle, or a lottery. and yes, these moments are the every ticks of the clock that made us who we are now.

happy new year!

Life's pathetic when you lose hope.

Life's pathetic when you lose hope. 

I am a person,

Not the kind you think of,

I am indeed a person,

More than you think of.

If crying soothes you,

It weakens me,

And if laughing strengthens you,

It annoys me.

Respect is a word,

Knowing it is a deed,

Ignoring it is a sin,

Believing it, however, is faith.

Silence is a weapon,

For those who keep calm,

My voice is an asset,

Am proud of it, least embarrassed.

Losing hope is pathetic,

When life’s nothing but grays,

Fighting for a life is relinquishing,

When life’s all against you.

This, a note of a jumbled person,

Deep within he resides,

In a tomb of a chamber,

In darkness,

And then a light strays in,

Lifting me up,

To the rainbows,

The sights of a man.

The sights of a man.

With a stride pacing with force,

Yet slender and calm at the moment,

Hushes in and grabs a sit,

A nearby sit, I am not used to.

And with this sway of grace,

Deep inside little pickle berries,

Sour but sweet, at different parts,

Silent by time, noisy when needed.

What dwells in the life chamber,

None knows, sometimes a flicker,

And a spark glitters calling up a smile,

But then, silence is a name, not knowing anything.

Far across the doves fly,

In search of a place to nest and to settle,

It could be like this analogy,

Only it sounds different, a quiet nest.

Where rainbows colour unicorns,

And stars decorate the modern apes,

Comes a jewel so bright, sparkling like a firework,

Only to keep its value unknown, un-owned.

Like a nest, a bird that lays, and soon leaves with her young,

This place is not a permanent residence,

But what tickles me is a nest that is empty,

A bird, no eggs, no young, no life.

And somehow, with this pace of pride,

The gooseberries, the silence, the little smile,

The firework and the empty nest,

Comes a bird equally made from the heavens above. 

The world at your heart.

It is a wonderful world, the way it is,

Today you see a leaf budding out of its branch,

And tomorrow you see a caterpillar munching it.

Today the ducks get together for a fiesta,

And just after noon, you only get their feathers and poop.

So far it has been a wonderful world, unique in its own way.

It is a terrible world, decidedly as it is,

Today you get your dress on, neatly ironed,

And with the slightest waive of your hand, you coffee spills on it.

Today you get your new mobile phone, fully accessorized,

And by nighttime, it shuts down, circuit failure.

Really it is a terrible world, if you choose to see it that way.

It is a pleasing world, with surprises that excite you,

Today you get fired as a waiter, for spilling water on your shoes,

And tomorrow, you get a letter, an offer to study someplace else.

Today you saw the marble you wanted sold to another boy,

And tomorrow, you see a yoyo, a gift you have always wanted.

Again, it is a pleasing world, if we notice these small occurrences.

It is a saddening world, with tears and cries that overthrows you,

Today you lost your kitten, after only a week with you,

And tomorrow, you find the matching pair of your ear rings missing.

Today your car tyre bursts, getting you late to the office,

And tomorrow, the mechanics say they have no stock for the tyre that suits the car.

Occasionally, it is a saddening world, devastating at times.

It is a wonderful world, the way it is,

Today you see your best man running away with the rings,

And later, a report gets to you, the robber got hit, the rings secured.

Today you pray for the best things to happen,

And tomorrow, it occurs differently, but amazing you.

So far it has been a wonderful world, unique in its own way.

It actually is a wonderful world,

Desirable, enviable, adorable.

It really has been a wonderful world,

With surprises that could even take your heart away.

Man much?

So you think you’re a man? And you think that having a jaw-dropping person of the opposite sex clinging to you, like you are the last man on earth makes you the utmost superior being? And you believe, that in that ways of yours, you are a man after all?

Well guess again.

It may seem like a biased evaluation or even an unfair assessment. But, logic speaks for itself.

You get in, and you chuck your shoes at the corner, knowing that you will still be using it the day after today, leaving it lying there without a shelf or a proper place to rest on.

You come in, and into you room, you chuck your shirts/pants/inner wears on the bed, knowing that it is your bed, and only you will be using it, leaving it rotting there for later use in case you want to wear it again later.

You enter and into the bathroom, you excrete whatever your bladder, bowels, and digestive system have left out, knowing that it is after all not your bathroom, leaving it to stink and cause displeasure for the nose and the eyes.

You barge in and you start yelling like the world is about to end, and you want everyone to hear you for the last time, knowing that it is your voice after all, leaving it to hurt the peace and calm place people are actually engaging in to complete their own agendas.

You actually wash your clothes, and you surprisingly dry them knowing that it will dry somehow, but not realizing that you do not pick it up until you find your closet is empty, leaving others not a space and the humid air around you.

You dump in your clothes into your closet, like throwing a stone into a well, knowing that it is your space, but only to leave it accumulate, attracting ants, mosquitoes, and even stench of damp clothes.

You walk in with such pride, eat your food with such glory, but stack your utensils into the sink knowing that tomorrow you can always wash it and use it, not knowing, that you attract flies, ants, and even a colony of sometimes, rats.

You come in with that glory of having such great pleasures of a day out with whom you see as the liveliest creature on earth, not knowing that inside that closet, a skeleton, decaying and suffering from all the moss and glitch you not knowingly collect in this proud museum of yours.

And now, you are a man? In your girl’s eyes, perhaps, but not in the eyes of the society, nations and most of all He who lives above us all.

Silencing You

Guilt is not pain. Certainly it is not.

Guilt is dejection.

In a day, how many times do you encounter events, circumstances, and actions that test your guilty conscious? How many turn out to be true? And in that number, how many really worth your guilt? And in that, do you actually need to feel the guilt?

One, perhaps?

Two, maybe?

Or, three?

How about none at all?

But what if all of them were true after all?

What do you do then?

A conscious mind would try making up with that guilt. Offering little tokens of support, fragments of a joke, and sometimes, hinting a change in the topic of discussion. But then, do you really need to do so?

They always said, there are always two sides to everything. Like a coin. I mean, you never get a coin whose both sides are the same, do you? And sometimes, it just is. It simply takes one hand to make a sound. It only takes one side to cause uproar. It only takes a person to feel dejected.

And that is guilt.

Getting your way is not always the best option available. Being silent is always the available decision in every contemplation, however hurtful and spiteful it might get. Nevertheless, it disregards one’s judgment on you. 

And then, they think you are just another boy who only lurks in the shadows, never trying to come out and feel light. The thing they don’t know is that, only when there’s light, there’s shadow. And without a light, there will never be a shadow. So whose side is the better one? The independent or the dependant? Now, again, there are two sides to everything.

What I mean is, silence may not be the ultimate feedback, but it certainly takes guts, patience, a heart and a clean mind to pursue it.

Having your way, the way you intended it to be, will not necessarily grant you the satisfaction you desire. It only adds the guilt.

After all, as much as pain can be inflicted from guilt, guilt itself dejects one’s soul and heart from the vessel.

And here, I sit, keeping silent.

For I know, there’s two sides to everything. Including silence.  

Growing

I realized one thing. Growing old and becoming matured are two things far apart. Every year, we celebrate a year older. The special day that we dedicate to all our successful years behind of being able to completely finishing and walking through it in times of good and bad. A day that becomes the signifier that on that very day we have grown somewhat bigger, taller, smarter, and even matured. However, how many of us actually sit back and think whether in all this years, on that very day, have they truly become what they thought they have? I mean, saying that I am officially 20 today does not mean that I have what it takes to be one. Just because I appear somewhat physically larger get the woos from the ladies does not account the real self of being a 20 year old.

My mother used to say that some people, though almost in their golden age, seem to act like a new born, demanding things way beyond apprehension and comprehension. It is sad in a way that when I see you over there standing and behaving like somewhat, I had rather refer to as a lone individual; I sometimes keep the words in my mind to myself. They say, the more you keep silent, the more the lone individual sits and rocks on your head. I understand and I believe the statement. However, should I be teaching you morals? Should I be telling you the things we should or should not do? Should I say my mind off and hurt everyone, though it initially was not the original intention?

What should I do then?

Silence.

Sacrifice.

And I keep quiet knowing that, one day for the effort you deliberately kept aside, and for the times I spent covering you, not knowing you realized it or not, would grant me a recognition beyond any rewards, gifts and compliments.

Satisfaction. Acknowledgement.

And so, you once again preach about your age of turning into the adult world, realizing that, everything, once a taboo, now an option. And then you preach to everyone about how good you are, how much efforts you have put, how great sacrifices you have done, belittling those who barely did nothing.

One phrase; pot calling kettle black.

Today I stand on a cliff and you below me, looking up to me. It does not mean that my achievements are greater than you for above me, lies a mountain waiting to be hiked and conquered. And till then, go on preaching of how matured you have become, for it is only to fill the empty slates of your fragments of life. When we age, let not the physical attributes, the proficiency, the knowledge, the do’s and dont’s  only grow, but leave some space for maturity.

Being 20 and acting like a 5 year old.

Now that is something to ponder on.

Lonely

its a lonesome place
in a lonesome country
for a lonely man
around this lonely self
i stay awake alone.

i walk by these corridors
only to see mirrors of myself
and then i laugh at them
knowing it is a lonely place.

i sit in this stall
and ordered a latte
i look at this child
and i smile to myself
i used to be one too.

i stand on a hilltop
preaching what i want
and then i hear replies
the wind blows and the birds call
and then i know God knows.

i sat in the bus
in a ride around the city
i stare at the old building
and i know time passes on
not waiting for me.

i paddle my tricycle
in a porch and gates looked
i smile for a flash
and then i recall of this memory
of my childhood.

i sit by the river bank
and i wonder far
for what is to come
and a fish submerges for a breath of air
and i think to myself
when the time is in need,
then the chance is yours.

i sit on the bench
in this garden with lakes and ponds
i saw this girl pass by
she smiles at me
and i look at my hand
for the silver band saying
Forever.

i sit in front of this screen
and i type of my past
hoping for a future
better than the present one.

and in this lonesome place
in a lonesome country
i sit upon this chair
with a loner whom i call
my self.

Tears

Tears are not just drops of salt water.

Tears are not just proof of your feelings.

Tears are not just pain.

Tears is the purpose of one's desire to communicate in a way that one sees as something beautiful and truly honest. 

It is the way of how you and I see things and perceive it to be sad, pain, loneliness, and deprivation.

It teaches us to be strong and put up a face tougher and a heart stronger.

It provides the courtesy of feelings and humanity.

It is will.

It is power.

It is desire.

It is a message sent from one's heart to another.

It is a culture.

Indeed, tears is not just drops of salt water, proof of your feelings, pain but a new chapter of a new beginning.

Tears.

Being a Gold Coin

An advantage is like a gold coin. Off all the coins that you see in your wallets, piggy banks, and even collector's album, you never get to see a gold coin. Coins are common and they are everywhere, but a gold coin is random, peculiar, awkward perhaps, but it certainly is something not what you and I see everyday. Coins come to us in different values, sizes, maybe weights, but the fact is, all of them are coins. A gold coin however, is still, permanent, one of a kind and is somehow interesting.

What differs a common coin to an interesting gold coin, despite of them being coins and come in values?
Should a common coin be tarnished, what of the gold coin? Will it be too? Or shall it sustain its interesting personality?
And what makes a coin common and a gold coin interesting?

When the day gets hot, a boy uses his last few coins in his pockets to get an ice cream. It was strawberry and he licked it off his hands.
The economy was at a point where notes became nothing but coloured papers. So, a man went to the bank, depositing in a private account, a safe, better said, a bundle of gold coins.
A man was about to cross the road when he received this gold coin, and then smiled, thanking God for the lorry that zoomed past missed his cane.
A boy got so mad at his friend that he took one of his coin and threw it into the lake where it was seen no more. The boy lost a coin but gained a weight lighter.

What all of us are, are like coins. A bunch of coins together in a sack, with different values, shades, designs and the years! Its a common things that we get to know things the common way, do things the common way,  perceive things the common way and responding to things the common way. As much as almost every transaction demands a certain number of coins of different values, depending on the currency, the same goes to how we as people react and respond to one another, or to any situations. The irony is, as different the value of one coin is to another, we, living beings maintain a parallel property to the coins. We act differently, respond variously, and even comprehend unlikely.

A lady seeing a boy beating up another boy might call him a bully, but for all you know, that victim was trying to disturb the "bully's " sister.

A man calling for help might be seen as weak, for the fact of him being a man, but the next thing you know, that man died or lost in the battle in agony, while you watched prejudicing him.

A girl calling a shy boy 'chicken' for not wanting to face his bully might seem hilarious, perhaps pragmatic, but, deep inside, the boy may have had a trauma and this mental sickness is eating him by the minute and by your name-calls.

A boy who has the passion for cooking, mostly, are referred as a girl's boy, sometimes, a sissy, but what about the chefs around the world and the fact that men are indeed the best in the field?

So, all this is just another bunch of coins all having different values. We all are made to complement one another, filling the gaps between the innocent and the rebellious. We come as beings to this world to proclaim what has been destined for u since birth but all we do is sulk at the misfortunes and the short comings of our lives. We come to this world as a player, but clawing others acting as champions but not realising that the same player and Champion are taken deep under six foot, side by side.

The gold coins are the little gifts that God put among us. They are within us, only waiting to be harnessed. These gold coins claim a much better respect, look, acknowledgement and confidence, knowing that they always put a smile on our faces. They lie deep in the minds, in the hearts, and in the conscious self, always reminding us that, in every coin you see, there is a drop of gold and it is this gold that makes it, no matter what year, what value, what currency, a gold coin.

To Dear Ol' Sushi

To make one's life easy is to make the other's difficult.
To give an excuse of self importance is to make others hateful of you.

Story of His Life:

Once upon a day, Sushi went to the shop. Sushi went to a Japanese-serving food shop. Sushi liked the food served in the shop there for he has been going there for the past 36 months since it was built out of shacks and ropes. Sushi's favourite dish was the kimchi. He liked it so much that he only ordered that particular dish each time he visited the shop. He is always known by the waiters and waitresses there for his most unique order, "One kimchi set or I'll blow your face up!" Everyone will laugh at it and then they serve his most favourite dish; the kimchi set.

As Sushi enjoyed his kimchi everytime he went there, one day something happened that changed his life completely, if not like how they are used of saying, it isn't what I had mind and that it was a difficult decision to make. One day, as Sushi went to the Japanese shop again, and as he ordered his normal menu, one of the waitress came out of the kitchen and told him that they were out of kimchi and that they have something else to replace it with. Ti Sushi's surprise, the one that his normal kimchi set was replaced with was none other than the traditional Malay's style of preserving fruits using vinegar. Only this time, it was preserved vegetables and mixed with the Malay sambal.

Sushi did not like the idea of changing his sense of taste buds to a new taste, for the one he had been tasting has been the one he liked most and never want to change. However, things you see are not for us to control. At one time, you can be the president of your nation, in results of the highest votes, but tomorrow, you may just be slashed with a news saying you were caught sneaking into a club or even a motel for reasons no others have rights to know, but they who commit it. At one time, you could win the sprint by all means of practice and determination, but tomorrow, you may skid in the run and fall far back, leaving you no chance to get up and finishing even second. At one time, you will laugh your hearts out forgetting all those who have ruined your day, but tomorrow, you will tear knowing that the friends you had laughed once with are now nowhere by your side.

Sushi was like any other person. All he did was to go the shop and order his kimchi, and for a Japanese food outlet, its signature dish should never run out. And so Sushi went and saw the chef, the one who has been preparing his kimchi sets all this while. Sushi talked to the chef about the matter. He said he do not want the new pickled vegetabe with sambal. Sushi said that he, as a customer, has all the rights to get what he wants and reject what he does not. After all, it is Sushi who pays the bill. The chef too explained that it was not his fault for the run out of the kimchi. It was a decision made by the owner of the shop. The chef told Sushi that, if he still insisted on having the kimchi, maybe he could go to other shops serving the kimchi and ask them whether could they deliver his set over here. The chef wished him good luck and Sushi, feeling both irritated and depressed looked for the nearby Japanese shops.

"Would you mind if you could send over one kmichi set over to the shop over there and in return, that shop will let you have their recipe of the newly figured out pickled vegetables with Malay sambal?"


There were no positive feedbacks and Sushi was left alone to himself.

Sushi knew not of his fate then though he could slightly imagine it but again Sushi will not give up till the battle is over. Sushi would never trade his kimchi for hot pickled vegetable. And yet, Sushi sits down at that very moment thinking of how would his chances be, whether to get back his kimchi from the other shops or to just manage his sense of taste bud to this new discovered dish.

Moral of the story:


To make one's life easy is to make the other's difficult.
To give an excuse of self importance is to make others hateful of you.
And God always watches upon us.

A stranger is a better friend

What is a friend and what is a stranger?
What is a stranger compared to a friend?
And what is a friend if you have a stranger on your right hand?

A friend in need is a friend indeed. A stranger indeed, but a friend indeed. Yes. A stranger or an outsider is a better companion than a friend. Living with a person for the past twenty years does not give you the authority to judge and rule the person. Mind you, you may have known him or her for as long time can be traced back, but judging one based on oneself's perspective is not a wise act but a rather selfish attitude.

A friend that judges is not a friend but a stranger that judges is only a stranger.
A friend treated as a mat is not a friend but a stranger treated as a mat will never be a friend.
A friend that wishes you luck might be a friend but a stranger who wishes you luck is a friend.
A friend that keeps things away from you could be a friend but a stranger that keeps things away is only a stranger.
A friend who buys your meal could be a friend but a stranger that buys your meal need not necessarily have an intention.
A friend that laughs together is a friend but a stranger that laughs will only be a stranger.

After all, it is the outsiders people prefer than those near them. It is sad to know it, that a man of logic favours another man whom to others, he is a stranger because at times knowing that you have someone beside you but not having the trust and belief is not what I call a friend, but a mat or foot rag.

I guess, it is nature. And that the nature of mankind is a funny thing. They like the ones others dislike and prefers the ones others dislike. It is all the way of life, everyday in the mind, body, soul of one man, struggling to find him a seat in this theater. 

Forgiving Forgiveness

What is to forgive someone and what is to forgive something?
Forgiveness is a word, more precisely, a noun but what comes to the mind when the word arises?
Apologizing is a way, but what if apologizing itself isn't true forgiveness?
Admitting or confronting oneself's wrong doing is another, but what if it is not enough to forgive?
Then, what is forgiving and forgiveness?

A boy, who know not much but enough to say said, "People deserves a second chance.."
But, mind you that a second chance does not mean a second time or a second forgiveness. Its about knowing that at one level, up to a certain point, where you have now nothing to loose but only to gain, that doing something, ridiculing and taking things for granted just because of one, two, or maybe ten incidents is not something i would say, forgiving. It is definitely not forgiveness and what more of forgetting and moving forth?

One woman married a man, got abused later on just after her second child, with her first born traumatized with the incident stayed in deep void for, what knows like, months. And then, there comes this time, she starts to stand up and lead her life being a single parent, leaving that filth to rot, and smile to her very own parents whom she once deserted because of the trauma. Next, she, who was jobless, dependent on her parents, one of whom is a handicap and another, a housewife illiterate, now took up a job and got a car, insurance for her two children and fed them well. A woman once fell into the fangs of a devil is now making ends meet with a smile. As people start to look up to her, there comes this one other individual that picks on the past, calling her a fool for loving a fool. That individual disowned this woman, saying, she does not deserve respect, honour, and love. That same individual laughed at her misfortunes and clanked wine glasses together for a drink.

One boy who went to school to study, that came from a town, where clubs and discotheques were uncommon, was misjudged, and ridiculed for knowing nothing. This boy, looked like a someone who knew not much but enough to speak was then somehow deserted indirectly. Soon, this very boy became a mat like item, was laughed and left aside by tales of once he shared and received. Later, this boy became a ghost and talked to himself, started a new way of life. He became topics of conversation among the teachers. He became a pre-star among those divas and real stars. He became a person! Like a balloon, that is kicked from one corner to another, that balloon tore a slit and flew high into the skies inflating itself and dropping in a whole new place.

One can say that he or she has forgave that person, that woman, and that boy. However, that very person should know what his or her words mean. A simple acceptance of one's mistake is not just an act of conscience but it has got to be an act of will, pureness, and most of all, it should last. It is like, a boar saying that a pig is so pink that it looks like Barbie's next pet, but unknowingly, it is also that very black boar become the hunted pet of mankind. There is nothing good nor nothing great of making one look small, minute, insignificant or indistinct because at the end of the day, it is only the pot calling kettle black.

To forgive is to know that you have no more thoughts of that person, but respect and honour.
To forgive is to know that it lasts, and even if it is broken, to that person who forgave, it must last.
To forgive is to know that you are a person too and the next, it may be you who devastates for acceptance.

There is a reason why the Earth is a sphere, a circle in two dimensional view and not a square, a triangle or a prism. What goes around comes around, just like a ball, you kick it, and as it hits the surface, it is reflected and aims back at you.

That is forgiving and forgiveness.