Yeah, i know...
It's been a while since i last wrote. Actually, it's been a while since i last 'visited' here. I guess i got scared. Scared of reading old posts and finding myself with tears. That's it. I was scared.
But somehow today, i finally stopped here. Read back a few posts randomly and read a few blogs i followed, catching up on their news.
And then i'm not scared anymore.
Things have changed a lot since the last time. Moving on isn't easy but i find myself doing that every day. Day after day after day...
Things around me have changed. Improved, even.
I've walked out of my comfort zone starting last december and here i am at a new workplace. Actually, an old-become-new workplace. I've worked here before. But being a junior and senior has its differences...
I even find myself with a new profession starting early february.. The thing that i could not even find the courage to tell u . I finally did it.
I published a book. Alhamdulillah...
I'll tell u all about it on the next post, okay? :)
I made the mistake of opening my father's closet today.
Awashed by the smell of his favourite perfume still lingered there, i stared at his baju melayu's hanging in there, while images came crossing my mind. An image of him in one of those baju melayu's, the turqouise one that he used to marry off his elder three daughters. An image of him in the other ones, smiling at me as he prepared for Jumaat prayer, always going to the mosque earlier than everyone else, smelling of the musky smell of that perfume he loved so much.
Images after images after images... And the tears came without warning.
Can't stop it. Still can't stop it after 7 months...
I miss him. Terribly much.
I remember that time when i sat alone in my car, staring into nothingness, waiting for that plane to take off... With tears flowing nonstop down my cheeks. I didn't know or understand why the tears came then, but i do now.
Because i remember another time before that, i was staring at them as they sat, patiently waiting for the final boarding call. The rest of the passengers walked past them. They should be the last to board. He couldn't walk the short distance to the plane door, you see, so a wheelchair was waiting besides him. I watched as he slowly stood up and sat on the wheelchair and the airport guy wheeled him slowly forward, with my mother close besides him. And that was the last time i saw him alive.
That was the reason for the tears.
Somehow, someway, back then, i knew but didn't realise.
Days passed, tears came, tears went, and i found a message on his sent item folder that made me laugh and cry at the same time. It was a message he sent a few months ago to my mom when it was just me and him at home, my mom had to take care of my sis who had just given birth;
'As'kum Nah, baru lepas makan 2 beranak. Anak suruh abah basuh pinggan. Hahahaha! Anak.'
That 'anak' in the message was me. Yes, i asked him to wash the dishes that night. But i didn't know he told my mother about it and laughed about it. The unconditional love of a parent. You find it in unexpected ways, most of the time.
I miss making him laugh. Even when i didn't know i did it.
I miss the jasmine buds he liked to put on my bed. I would let them bloom and dry up there before i threw them away. I miss his teasing and his jokes. I miss the sound of his voice when he recited the Qur'an after Subuh.
I miss him. So much.
Ya Allah, Ya Rabb, rahmatilah roh abah. Ampunilah dosa-dosanya... Lindungilah dia dari azab kubur-Mu, ya Allah, sayangilah dia... Amin...
'Dengan nama Allah yang maha pemurah, maha penyayang. Segala puji-pujian bagi Allah, Tuhan sekalian alam. Yang maha pemurah, maha penyayang. Yang menguasai hari pembalasan. Kepada-Mu sajalah yang kami sembah, kepada-Mu sajalah yang kami mohon pertolongan. Tunjukilah kami jalan yang lurus. Iaitu jalan orang-orang yang Engkau anugerahkan nikmat kepada mereka, bukan jalan mereka yang Engkau murkai, dan bukan pula jalan mereka yang sesat.'
P/s: err... I know. Bad handwriting. Hanging mid-babble. (i'm talking about the pic down under which supposed to be up here. Oh, well...) Here's what i was actually babbling about;
So, i just recently watched Ombak Rindu last night. Granted, i didn't go to the movies, but someone uploaded the full movie on facebook so i watched it. Haha!
And i understood the writer's dissappoinment in it.
I don't remember when i actually read the book, let alone its storyline. I just remember i skipped quite a few pages. Too emotional for me. But, that's what moves you when reading. The authors' abilities to describe emotions. However, nothing moved me last night when i watched the movie.
I think it is rather insulting to us writers, either the struggling ones (like me) or the accomplished ones (like ombak rindu's author) when the story we put so much efforts into (YOU HAVE NO IDEA) to be portrayed on screen with such careless ways.
I think the only stories quite successfully be transformed into movies were the Harry Potter series. Even then, there were some parts in the movies that the audiences won't understand if they didn't read the books. That i observed from my own experiences having to answer my nephew's continuous questions after we watched the last part of the franchise. But then, maybe that's the whole idea. People who haven't yet read the books, when they watched the movies might want to begin reading them. More profit to the author.
Sadly for me, though, i didn't feel like reading Ombak Rindu again after i watched the movie last night. And that is pretty upsetting if you're the writer. Imagine that.
Even if (or to be more positive, even WHEN) i get the chance to publish my stories, i don't ever want them to be translated into movies or dramas.
We write stories, we put our hearts and souls into it, we breathe our hopes into it to be meaningful to someone. To be something someone can learn from.
Making books into movies or dramas is a big responsibility. HUGE. don't look down on it. Do not belittle the ideas behind the stories. Some small scenes in books might mean big thing to someone. Especially the writers.
Do not sidesweep the author. You don't have her/his brain.
welcome to this blog... which is not that frequently updated, nor it has anything worth taking as a lesson...
but, it's mine, nontheless, so i can do whatever i like with it, ey?
read @ ur leisure, scorn if u must, but don't judge...
because i won't judge u, so u shouldn't feel the need to judge me too...