Ramadan on My Mind

We have already passed the halfway mark of Ramadan. Time flies really fast when you are, well, fasting. At least, in my tiny household, it feels that way. Unlike last year, I have made a mental note to brace myself from missing this Holy month once it draws to an end. When Syawal arrived in the previous year, I experienced a sense of loss borne mostly from not fully reaping the bounties available throughout Ramadan. This year, while my supererogatory (‘Terawikh or Tarawih’) prayers have not been up to par as they were during the bachelor days, I have noticed a marked improvement from last year which makes me one happy woman. After all, I received some great advice on the best way to appreciate and savour Ramadan – it lies not in the number of rak'ahs you perform, but in the sincerity of your heart.

Come two more weekends, we will be on our way home, God willing, to Kuching. As accustomed, we would be celebrating the last few days of Ramadan there and fly back to KL in the evening of first Syawal.

Then, it will be back to the maternal family tradition of Raya house-hopping on the second day with a convoy of cars making their way to relatives’ homes in the order predetermined almost two decades ago. And the last home on the block would be, more often than not, my parents’, serving non-Raya goodies for a change (read: fast food like Pizza, KFC or McD). Raya’s third is the culmination of our maternal family’s celebration of sorts, with a larga-scale Open House (‘Rumah Terbuka’) at my grandma’s place where all the maternal relatives – houses that we have visited in the first two days – and close family friends congregate to eat and socialize. And but of course, to exchange the customary Duit Raya – coveted Ringgit notes in rectangular (or square) packets, not unlike the Angpows doled out during Chinese New Year.

Somehow this Ramadan, I am reminded of the past, specifically when it comes to making and keeping friends. I came across something online that made me question what it means to stay friends with certain people and to sever ties with some others. In the middle of the spectrum are those who, for one reason or another, do not want anything to do with us.

Plainly speaking, they hate our guts as we somehow manage to, without much effort, rub them the wrong way. It is as easy as appearing in front of their face. Eyes start to roll and people begin to scamper. No matter how hard you try to suss it out, you cannot account for this critical level of disinterest in your person. “How come he/she doesn’t like me?” More to the point : “How come he/she doesn’t like me BUT likes X’s company?” “What makes X so special?”

(Granted, I already wrote in a post earlier this year that one could not really explain how some folks rub one the wrong way. It’s just beyond comprehension. Thus, I am merely relapsing into self-pity, so please bear with me. :P)

Like the shortsighted goon that I am, I hastily dug into the distant past when the issue of preference recently cropped up involving a familiar set of people. My mind flashed back to the time when I felt alienated just because I didn’t subscribe to the same cliquish mentality that was required back then to remain relevant. I distinctively remember how alone and lonely I was during these formative years.

Yet, as I calmed down and set my sight on the present, I believe, cliché as it may sound, there is a lesson behind this burgeoning albeit foolish desire to be accepted. Why would I want to lose a piece of my identity, sacrifice the idiosyncrasies that make me who I am today, merely out of the communal pressure to conform? In the words of my trusted confidante, “I don’t care if someone doesn’t like me. It’s not MY problem. It’s theirs.” How so very true.

In the spirit of maintaining the kinships – cyber or otherwise – that I have formed and cultivated over the years, I would like to apologise for all the unreplied comments on my previous blogposts. Save for an erratic and unreliable internet connection of late, I have no valid excuse for not responding to these comments (It seems like ‘Zero Internet Connect’ is this generation’s version for ‘The Dog Ate My Homework’). Alright, I blame it all on good old-fashioned procrastination, what with the political strife that has been plaguing the country. Half-Kidding.

With the prospect of further breakdown in online communication (plus, the exponential rise in my sluggishness), I’m taking this golden opportunity to also seek forgiveness for any wrongdoings that I have inadvertently inflicted on anybody. May your 1429H Eid be wonderful as ever and be filled with loved ones and delectable food.