SeaDemon Says

Someone sent me an e-mail and asked for my forgiveness. I told that person that all is forgiven. She wanted to leave me so I let her leave. She is now happy, things are good for her now, and I am very happy for her. I told her not to think about it so much but just remember that she had made me happy once. It is only fair that she is now happier, and that makes me happy too. She will be spending this Hari Raya happily at her in-laws’ place somewhere up North.

So Hari Raya is in two days time.

I will only see all my children tomorrow night, on the eve of Hari Raya. I will not be celebrating Hari Raya with them. On the first day, I am going to go to the mosque, then come back home and sleep, wake up around lunchtime, and go to Forelorn Soldier‘s house and also maybe to Bakawali‘s. Feed myself with as much cholesterol, fat, uric acid, sodium. See what that does to my BP as I have been off medication since sahur this morning.

As it is right now, I can feel neckache, stiffness of the shoulders and my scalp feels warm. Two months of betablockers and ACEs have not done much for me. Taking more will only give me toxicity and organ failures. So it’s better for me to die of one cause only and not as a direct result of what was supposed to help me.

Then come the night of the first Hari Raya I will be going diving. I will pack clothes for a week and just rotate if I plan to stay longer. Extended stay during the monsoon would be good. Incommunicado.

After all, I only celebrate Ramadhan. Hari Raya is only for kids and suicide drivers.

I read Spena‘s blog tonight. It seems that she has been mistaken for a person of another nationality twice. Previously she had a woman from South Africa who asked her if she is South African, then in tonight’s posting, she’s been mistaken for either an Italian or a Spaniard.

Forelorn Soldier, who is a full-blooded Limey, if you must, who has been away from Blighty for ages, had one fine day called up an acquaintant in England. After a while of talking, the lady on the other end of the line asked him who he is, and he told her who. And she went, “You sound like a Paki(stani)!” Well, I had to add “stani” at the end of it because it’s a derogatory term. Then again, “stani” on its own is derogatory (pronounced STAH-NEE).

Some 7 years ago I was at the Thalad Santisuk in Hat Yai buying some Thai silk from this middle-aged lady. I was with some Malaysian friends when I spoke to this elderly lady and bargained in Thai. Her eyes widened. She then asked me how long have I been working in Malaysia because I then looked like a Malaysian. I laughed and told her that I am a Malaysian. She didn’t believe me.

Well, at least that’s better than the Australian-sounding advertisements on our radio.

Yeah…we’re running into the final phase of the month of Ramadhan, and I can tell you my KBI (Key Boredom Index) hit an all-time high over the weekend. If it was the Doomsday Clock, it would have shown one minute to midnight.

So what is a Laylat-al-Qadr (spelt in Malaysia as Lailatul Qadar)?

It is to be the night of nights, where miracles and blessings come in abundance to those who spend their final 10 nights of Ramadhan searching for His grace.

I seriously cannot comprehend why wouldn’t Muslims do the same every night. Beats the crap out of my brain thinking about it.

Anyway, I remember back in 1984, I went down to Victoria Station…no! Not the one at Medan Damansara or Taipan USJ, but the one in London, waiting for my former classmate, Arif, to arrive from Belgium. It was the fasting month smack bang in June. Yes, summer. So we would commence fasting at 2 in the morning and break fast at 10.30pm.

Having missed our train at Euston, with the next one at around 10pm, we decided to kill time by going to the Picadilly Circus area to buy Lamb Kebab for breaking fast at my favourite Kebab joint. Having done that, we walked around Regent Street, and were soon quickly bored. Then we walked towards Soho and soon found ourselves entering a peep show joint. At first I was hesitant. Then Arif pointed out that in search of the Laylat-al-Qadr, one must be bold enough to go to where it is most unexpected. I concured and soon we were changing notes into pennies for the slot machine. There was nothing but a tired looking granny trying to look as energetic and appealing as she was some 40 years ago. Nothing must have been more revolting than the sight of a granny fingering herself when it’s drier than the Sahara desert, and manhandling what looked like a soggy roti canai dough sticking on her chest. I mean, there was no elasticity in the thing. After squeezing her tit, it stayed in exactly how it was when it was being squeezed long after she had taken her hand off.

As for her fingering herself and letting out granny moans, I should have donated her a bottle of engine lubricant to make it look more interesting. I could have put my whole leg in it without her noticing.

But all in the spirit of Laylat-al-Qadr.

Two years prior to that, back in Henry Gurney school, my friends and I (yeah, you know who you are…you read this, don’t you?) would seek Laylat-al-Qadr by channeling our frustrations towards a creature most Muslims hate: the house lizard.

We would kill these creatures by the dozen almost each night. At the end of our hunt, we would collect our victims and sweep them under the Headmaster’s office’s door. Then we would gloat over our success in exterminating the creature that almost cost the life of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) and would discuss how many naked angels would we each want as companions in Paradise.

23 years down the road, I am still wondering what is the rationale behind killing thousands if not millions of God’s creatures just because one of them screwed up fifteen hundred years ago.

And I also wonder should I ask Bakawali for a crate of Viagra should I be granted the 70 naked angels in Paradise later.

Let me just keep wondering then while you people seek the night of nights…

“One of the joys of travel is visiting new towns and meeting new people”

– Genghis Khan

I must be doing something wrong. The guy was an avid traveller and his name is plastered on all the world’s history books!