On Monopolies, and Following the Money
Tentang Malam Kekuasaan / On The Night of Power
Tentang Perjalanan
Aku berjalan merempuhi gelap
Mengharungi sunyi malam keqidaman
Mengikrarkan suatu keEsaan
Alam sunyi senyap.
Aku berjalan melangkau sempadan
Menuju medantarung dunia
Cahaya bingit memecah suasana
Alam penuh rontaan.
Aku berjalan bertatih perlahan
Merebut seulas kasih sayang
Cahaya pagi gilang cemerlang
Seri tiada kilan.
Aku berjalan menghambat dunia
Tegarbugar hidup remaja
Menyelami selautan jutawarna
Tawa tiada duka.
Aku berjalan tegap perkasa
Menggarap erti hidup dewasa
Meneguk asamgaram penuh rona
Alam penuh pancaroba.
Kini aku berjalan mulai gagap
Remang senja makin melebar
Binarmata pun makin memudar -
Aku masih enggan lenyap!
On Beautiful Patience
One of the most singular stories in the Quran is that of Joseph. Unlike the stories of other prophets in the Holy Book, which are typically spread over many different chapters and verses, the story of Joseph forms a single coherent narrative, contained in a single chapter which bears the name of Joseph – the Patient, the Beautiful, the Translator of Dreams, the Saviour of Egypt.
One of the most poignant episodes in the story of Joseph, of course, is the sorrow of his father, Jacob. This loving father, well aware of Joseph’s piety and destiny, sought to protect his prodigal son from the jealousy of his envious siblings. Alas, the father’s warning was no match for the machinations of his children: they threw Joseph down the bottom of a well to die, and later pretended to the father, weeping, that Joseph was devoured by a wolf.
Curiously, while the father was quick to challenge the veracity of his children’s claim, the narrative does not speak of castigation or punishment. Jacob says, instead:
“No! Your souls must have tempted you to do something evil. So I can only endure with beautiful patience! It is Allah’s help that I seek to bear your claims.”
But immediately after this, the narrative shifts from Jacob the father to the travails of Joseph the son: discovered at the bottom of a well, sold into slavery, refusing his mistress’ seduction and placed in prison despite his innocence, until later rescued from imprisonment and placed in charge of the great storehouses of Egypt, upon the King’s pronouncement:
“Today you are highly esteemed and fully trusted by us.”
As the story would have it, there is another mention of that phrase, “beautiful patience”: when Joseph’s brothers, desperate for food, enters into Egypt, their brother was detained by Joseph, and they had to return back to their father, this time reporting truthfully over the loss of yet another of their patriarch’s progeny. This time, Jacob repeats his lament, barely suppressing his long-held grief over the loss of Joseph:
“No! Your souls must have tempted you to do something evil. So I am left with nothing but beautiful patience! I trust Allah will return them all to me. Surely He alone is the All-Knowing, All-Wise.” He turned away from them, lamenting, “Alas, poor Joseph!” And his eyes turned white out of the grief he suppressed.
Of course, the story ends happily: Joseph eventually reveals his identity, and welcomes his parents with love and honour:
“Then he raised his parents to the throne, and they all fell down in prostration to Joseph, who then said, ‘O my dear father! This is the interpretation of my old dream. My Lord has made it come true. He was truly kind to me when He freed me from prison, and brought you all from the desert after Satan had ignited rivalry between me and my siblings. Indeed my Lord is subtle in fulfilling what He wills. Surely He alone is the All-Knowing, All-Wise.
“My Lord! You have surely granted me authority and taught me the interpretation of dreams. O Originator of the heavens and the earth! You are my Guardian in this world and the Hereafter. Allow me to die as one who submits and join me with the righteous.”
Beautiful patience: what else can carry a person through the grief and sadness of losing one’s own sons, or being cast into exile by your own siblings, wrongly accused of seduction and put into prison? What else but that beautiful patience could carry one through years of imprisonment, never for once wavering in God’s Justice and Mercy? What else but beautiful patience can explain the stoic acceptance of a father, suspicious of his own children even as he grieves for the loss of his beloved son?
Ramadan, to me, is a time for us to cultivate that aspect of beautiful patience in ourselves – a time for abstaining from food and pleasures of life, to return to Him in prayer and in companionship with His Scripture and the rhythms of the prescribed evening prayers. May He grant us the strength and the courage to arm ourselves with beautiful patience against the slings and arrows of Life’s trials!
On Work as Identity
We live in an age where “meritocracy” is an accepted coin of the realm. Many of us believe that the just desserts of life – success, money, prosperity – rightly go to those who are seen to have deserved their rewards through education and hard work.
Unlike medieval times, when social roles are assigned to us at birth, and social mobility is limited to a lucky few, or only in rare times of unexpected social upheaval, we take it almost for granted that our rise and fall are something that we deserve to get out of our own efforts.
It is only in the past decade or so, in the aftermath of the global financial crisis and the travails of younger members of society, struggling to afford their own homes or earn a decent salary, that we begin to see that the modern regime of meritocracy can be a facade that disguises the many ways in which privilege can still decide the outcomes of many lives in our society.
We no longer live in an age where a moneyed class can inherit all their wealth, and enjoy lives of dissipated leisure. But it is still true that wealth can afford the best education, afford backdoor access into the best universities through benefactions and alumni networks, afford hard-fought slots in corporate internships that lead to high-flying jobs, and afford the rising costs of healthcare and old age living. It is still true that poverty can keep too many of us in chains which are very hard to break, dragging the unfortunate ones down in poorly-funded schools, in ravaged neighhbourhoods, in crime and in constant lack of economic security.
For those few who are lucky enough to have risen through the gates of meritocracy – succeeding in public school examinations, matriculating into the best universities, making it into high-paying elite jobs – it is easy to come to identify oneself primarily with one’s signal achievements in school and at work.
For many years, it mattered to me what the words on my business card would say, the validation of being in a high-powered role or in a well-respected company. I would even use my business cards as bookmarks, occasionally brandishing them as I am reading, silently glorying in this little piece of existential affirmation, like Gollum and his “precious”.
It took me a while to realise that work is but one facet of a life well lived. Yes, one needs to earn a living, but there is infinitely more to life than a paycheque, or the baubles and possessions that we surround ourselves with through the fruits of our daily work. As Kat would say, you gotta find your own organic interests.
I am also reminded of this quote, from a story told by author Toni Morrison. When she complained to her father about her work, cleaning other people’s homes, her father replied,
“Listen. You don’t live there. You live here. With your people. Go to work. Get your money. And come on home.”
This year, as I am hitting 45, I realise that for many of my peers, this time is the primetime for our economically-earning lives. Some of my friends, people who I used to know in university or in my early years as a fresh graduate, are now Ministers and CEOs, high-flying corporate lawyers and well-respected consultants and bankers. I am not doing too badly myself, but I will freely admit that I had greater expectations for how 45 was going to greet me.
But, like Pip in that Dickensian tale of love and ambition and dashed hopes, I know now that work is but one part of who I am, and I also know now that my mission in these years remaining is to make the most of who I am and what I can be, before I am ready to come on home.
Tentang Pembalasan
Apa kau sangka semua perlakuanmu itu Tiada akan membawa kepada pembalasan? Kini tergelar banduan, kau rayukan kemaafan Setelah seluruh dunia menyaksikan tindakrakusmu? Binimu berhujankan emas permata Anakmu berfoya di pentas karpet merah Dengan rezeki rakyat yang mudah kau jarah Sekarang ini kau rayu maaf dengan juraian airmata? Tak cukupkah dengan harta yang telah tersakau? Tak cukupkah dengan nyawa yang hilang melayang? Tak cukupkah dengan tiangarash negara yang bergoyang? Semuanya harus bersujudturut demi engkau?
Tentang Ufuk Jingga
Pada wajah ufuk jingga itu aku pahatkan
Suatu doa kudus yang sarat dengan harapan
Aka ikrarkan padaMu wahai Rabbul Jalal
Betapa rasa syukur ini membuak tebal
Telah Kau kurniakan semua kesenangan ini
Yang selama ini aku terima tanpa banyak rasa peduli
Menginsafi - terpacullah kalimah alhamdulillah
Membisikkan rafak sembah dalam nafas lelah -
Kalau mungkin ini kali penghabisan akhir
Pada rona mataku ufuk jingga ini terzahir
Kau ambillah nyawa ini dengan tulus cermat
Aku pasrah mangkat mengharap rahmat.
On Prophetic Leadership
One of my favourites parts of the Quran (and there are a few), is the stories of the prophets in Surah as-Shu’ara, when various prophets – Nuh, Hud, Salih, Lut, Shu’aib – were sent to their peoples, with the mission to call their communities to the obedience of God. Each of their respective peoples suffer from some distinctive sin – be it idolatry, or vanity, or greed, or lust – and it is the mission of the respective prophets to call to their people, to lead them away from their waywardness and to guide them back unto His Path.
There is a beautiful symmetry in each story of the prophets, particularly in the call they make to their people:
“Will you not fear Allah?
I am truly a trustworthy messenger to you.
So fear Allah, and obey me.
I do not ask you for any reward for this message. My reward is only from the Lord of all worlds.”
For every prophet, there is a resonance in the message that they bring to their respective people. This refrain, in the call to God and in the refusal for reward, marks to my mind a code for what could be termed Prophetic Leadership, which is:
The Goal is Taqwa – Fear of God, or God-consciousness. For each of the peoples that have been sent a prophet, the remedy to their immorality and depravity is to return to a constant state of being aware of His Majesty and His Power. What we now think of “mindfulness” cannot be shorn from the divine nature of Taqwa – it is not enough to be merely mindful, but what will truly save us as individuals and as a community is constant and vigilant awareness and consciousness of His Mercy and His Compassion.
The important of Trustworthiness. More than anything, for a messenger to be taken as credible by the people he calls to, is for that messenger to be trusted by his people. Modern concepts of leadership often tolerates immorality as well as amorality: many of us accept and even expect poor behaviour from our leaders, and often the leaders themselves come to believe that they are above “common” norms of conduct, or even above the law. And especially at the international stage, it is regarded as naive to believe that there is any other more important goal for a state than its own self-interest. But we have seen, throughout history as well as in literature, how human communities need trust more than anything to bind people together. The idea of moral leadership may sometimes be seen as naive, today, but only because we have allowed poor leaders to lower the bar for what society expects from its leaders. More recently, banking crises have erupted over the loss of trust amongst depositors – indeed, trust is at the centre, the vital commodity – not only of our system of banking and credit, but the very core of our humanity.
Obedience to the Leader is founded on God. It is important to note here that in the prophetic approach to leadership, the concept is not founded on some mystical idea of a leader’s greatness, or some consensual acceptance of the leader’s intelligence or strength or cunning – rather, the proper foundation of obedience is that very goal of human existence: the fear and consciousness of God. For the prophets, leadership is a contract with the Divine: “I obey you for as long as you call for the fear of God, and for as long as your conduct is in line with that very fear of God.” There is no place for the dictator or the despot in the Muslim conception of leadership. Obedience is necessary for cohesion and unity in the community, but that very obedience is marshalled in the cause of God, and for nothing and no one else.
The leader does not ask for any reward other than from Him. Amongst the Malay community today, there is a tacit acceptance, a dubious social contract: “I will tolerate the corrupt leader, for as long as the corrupt leader showers me and my community with assistance.” We shrug our shoulders when we are told that our leaders are enriching themselves at the public expense, and we take it for granted that a leader would naturally surround himself with fancy cars and big houses and women. But the prophet as leader does not ask for any earthly reward. Muhammad himself, from all reliable narrations, lived a life of relative poverty, mending his own clothes, helping his wife with domestic chores. Sadly today, even those who profess to walk in his path, who claim the name of Islam in the service of their politics, have done away with Muhammad’s life and example in the conduct of their own daily lives.
It is certainly a truism through the ages, that it is much easier to claim that one is on the path of jihad, to claim to be a defender and fighter for the cause of Islam and in the name of God. It is much harder to actually walk the path of the prophets, to walk the path of Muhammad himself and how he led others and himself. It is much harder to lead as the prophets did: with utter devotion to His cause, in fear of Him, in adoration of His Mercy and His Compassion, to evince Trust in one’s behaviour and conduct, and to seek no reward except for His Forgiveness.
It is a difficult and arduous path – a lifetime of obedience to God and self-sacrifice. How many of us today are willing to take up that cause?
Tentang Rerautan Wajahmu
Pada rerautan wajahmu itu
Terukir seribu penderitaan
Seumur dirundung pencelaan
Suatu penyeksaan yang jitu
Setiap garis terpahat kemas
Mencatat setiap penghinaan
“Apakah aku yang kekurangan?” -
ratib sang jiwa yang lemas
Sedu sedan kau redamkan
Berbuku dalam cembul sunyi
Tersekam nyalaan mahangeri
“Aku bukan milikmu lagi.”
On This Ramadan Evening (Thoughts on the 20th of Ramadan)
As I am writing this, it is the 20th night of Ramadan, and I have just completed my Tarawih prayers for the evening.
“Would you say this is the best Ramadan you’ve ever had, yang?” Kat looked up at me, asking casually.
I thought about that question, and I am compelled to answer: Yes. I am not sure if this is the best ever, but certainly the best Ramadan that I can remember in years. I am keeping to the Tarawih prayers, every night, mostly at home. I have been keeping pace with my Quran recitation, and I feel calmer than I have felt in a long, long time.
The Quran recitation, I think, has a lot to do with the latter. This year, like most of the Ramadans I can remember over the past decade or so, I made the promise to myself that I would try to recite the Quran in full – to khatam the entire Book by the end of Ramadan. And most years, I would keep pace for maybe the first week, before the full blast of work deadlines and buka puasa invites and moreh gatherings would derail me by around the second week of the fasting month.
This year so far, Alhamdulillah, it has been good. It is the night of the 20th, and I am halfway through the 24th juz of the Quran. And more than just the momentum – I feel a serenity and a palpable sense of flow these nights of Ramadan as I recite the Quran. My Arabic is barely serviceable, but I know enough to make a guess of what it is I am reading – but even when I don’t, the very act of reciting the Quran fills me with a sense of wonder and grace.
As I recite each verse, I feel myself almost floating on a breeze, my tone rising and dipping and rising again to a crescendo as I reach the end of this verse, or at the start of that other verse. At times, my recitation feels like a horse at a brisk gallop, my enunciation almost breathlessly trying to keep up with flow of His Words. At other times, I whisper the words in a low hush, just luxuriating in the melody of the words, many of which sometimes I can barely understand, with my rudimentary command of the language. Sometimes, I hear myself reading the words and I try to imagine how it must have been for the earliest Muslims, to hear this strange music and to know, in their heart of hearts, that what they were hearing was something truly Eternal.
Every year, I am told that we are supposed to make the best of the final ten nights of Ramadan – a final coup de grace to this most revered of months. I am seeing now, though dimly as if through a haze, that feeling of bittersweet embrace, knowing that I am here in the final ten nights and that the sands of Ramadan will soon run out, not to return for another year. InshaAllah, the hope is to make the most of it, before Ramadan comes to an end.