It could have been horrifically worse.

 Tuesday, 10.12.2024.

My house is on top of the hill. Jalan Aman runs in front of it, and 10 meters to the right, looking out from in front of the house, is Jalan Sentosa. Jalan Sentosa runs steeply downhill for about 100 meters until it reaches the surau, where the road branches left and right. If it rains it's slippery. Yesterday it was drizzling the whole afternoon.

Both sides of Jalan Sentosa  has large monsoon drains, about waist-deep to the bottom. There's no barricade between the road and the drains. Some years ago my wife drove my Volvo 194 GE into the left drain, and I had to call the tow service to pull it out. A careless person could unknowingly walk right into either drain.

There are many office and other workers living in this housing estate. Early mornings and late evenings see many vehicles on all the internal roads here. Not all the drivers, I used to observe, are careful and courteous to other users. I had many near misses, even when not going at any speed. Hitting someone on the road here would not take much.

Habib, 3, is my youngest grandson - no. 12. He's normal-sized, active, fair-complexioned like his mother, his grandmother and late great-grandmother. He hums the songs he listens to on the tv he likes to watch. No words. Speech seems to be coming slow, though he looks intelligent. 

My wife likes to decorate the house. If anything, I think she's overdoing it. But it pleases her, so why should it bother me. Habib, though, likes the ornaments on the tables, and can't keep his hands off, and that's a bother to my wife.

Monday morning my wife said "no lunch today".  Both cooking gas cannisters were empty. 

"That's why I got the 2nd cannister" I exclaimed. "When you finish one tank, I can take time to replace it because you have a spare one. But you don't tell me that you're on the 2nd tank. This is what happens now !"

When my daughter returned from work, it was past 6 pm. While still in her office attire, I asked for her car key to get a fresh cooking gas tank. But I went without taking the empty gas tank with me. You see, the sundry shop is run by the single shopkeeper alone. He keeps irregular hours. Sometimes he just closes shop without notice. If I brought the empty tank and he's closed, then I'd have to heave the empty but heavy tank back again. But this time he was open, so I bought the gas and said I'll bring the empty tank afterwards.

I went back in my daughter's car with the empty cannister, and promptly return home. As I turn into the uphill Jalan Sentosa towards  home, I saw something moving in the middle of the road, about 50 meters ahead. "Looks like a child" I thought. As I came closer, slowing down, but needing also to keep some pressure on pedal because of the climb plus my daughter's large MPV, I saw that it was in fact a child, running towards me.

"Where the hell is the mother, leaving this child unattended  dangerously on this road ? And it's drizzling !"  I slowed down, thumping my horn, hoping that the child would move to the side. It didn't. It kept running on the slippery-looking road towards me ! What a great shock ! When I could make out the features of the smiling, yes smiling, kid, I instantly recognized him to be Habib, my grandson !! He was maybe already 50 meters from the house, right in front of Kamaruddin Basir's house.

I don't know if I jumped out or what from the car, but the engine was on and this is an automatic car. I must have put it on neutral or stopped and somehow stepped on the foot brake, and just jumped out, ran out and grabbed Habib, who kept on grinning and waving his hands about, like he always does. I wanted to put him at the back, but decided to pull him with me into the driver's seat, and held him tight, and just drove on back to the house. Anger was boiling in me.

As I turned into the patio, I hit many times on the horn. My wife and daughter took time to come out.

"Are you all stupid ? Didn't you realize Habib had come out of the house ? He'd reached the surau !!! Are you all stupid ?" I repeated several times, at the top of my voice.

My daughter took Habib from my arms, bursting into tears, while my wife cried out "Ya Allah, Ya Allah". I'd gone berserk and kept shouting, and repeating expletives.

This  was all around 6.20 - 6.30 pm.

When I did my Magrib prayers at 7.07, I cried when I said my do'a. I didn't tell anyone I'd cried. It was simply terrifying, and I was truly facing my Maker, pleading forgiveness, and at the same time offering my gratitude at a possible horror avoided.

After my Isya' prayers, at 8.20, I went looking for Habib. He was with his dad. I stroked his head several times, in silence. Truly God Showed Mercy, and I'm thankful.

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