Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Ali the 5th.

25.6.2013.

He's my fifth grandchild, my fourth grandson, from my third son with my third daughter-in-law.

Ali.

Born on the fifthteenth of Sya'aban in the Hijriah 1434. That was yesterday, Monday 24th. of June, 2013, at  12 p.m. at the Pantai Hospital, Bangsar.

Ali's maternal and paternal grandmothers both witnessed his emergence into the world. All 2.9 kilograms of him, all pink with thick black hair. Alhamdulillah, all went well.

A simple name that wasn't simply chosen. His dad had spoken about it to me months before. It's a good name. I thought I might personally look at a few good Arabic names first, the way I looked for and chose "Ahmad Zulhilmi" 31 years ago at the Assunta Hospital, P.J.  "Ahmad" from the Prophet, "Zulhilmi" the possessor of tenderness.

But "Ali" is excellent.

Ali was the Prophet's first cousin and his son-in-law, Fatimah's husband, who was to become the fourth of the Rightly Guided Caliphs who took over the leadership of the growing Islamic nation from Muhammad saw.

To-day we visited Ali again, because yesterday I couldn't see him  personally, the staff having  taken him immediately into seclusion in the post-natal ward, and I had to go home to Seremban at 5. So today I held Ali in my arms. His eyes opened and his tiny hands and feet pushed out the wrap he was bound in. He looks  like his dad, I offered.

I told Suhaili I've opened another "tabung" for my new grandson, and  wrote on the bottle "Ali - 24-6-14" the date of his first birthday when I'll give him the bottle of coins, as I've done for his cousins Iman, Arsyad, Amir and Azim. All good Arabic names that hopefully would bring good tidings for all of them.

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Sunday, June 16, 2013

Aman Shah

17.6.2013.

Aman gave me a pleasant surprise on Sunday. We were, my wife & I, about to go to Azali's daughter's wedding when a Mini Cooper came into our driveway and honked. It was Aman, a dear friend from  "old Felda" days. I insist on that adjective "old" but that merits another story.

Aman came with his now "hijjabbed" wife Salomi ( "She looks different" said  my wife after they left ) just to pass me his book "Yesterday, Tomorrow ...." under the not particularly imaginative nom de guerre "Tok Man". "If I post it, it may not arrive" - not a similiarly imaginative description of the national service. 

I was hugely happy to see him, and tried to hug him, but his awkward gait somehow made it, well, awkward, and I realized something was the matter. It was his right arm and right leg. It was only then related to me that he had a stroke ten years ago. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear about it."

I very much wanted them to stay longer, but they said they were in a hurry to go somewhere, and it was all I could do to serve them two glasses of cold grape juice before they took their leave.

Aman is an old friend from another time, now a lingering memory, of drives around KL (before the roads became impossible), of monthly departmental meetings of the regional officers poring over mountainous reports (before pc's and pads), of nights of jumping night-spots. I told Salomi I wasn't happy with the brevity of this visit,  but I guess time we don't have control over.

Thank you, my friend, for that too quick a reunion of sorts, until another time. Take care. God Bless.


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