On My Undivided Time

All I can give you
is my undivided time,
here and now,
to listen to
what you have to say.

To sympathise,
to commiserate,
to suggest,
to advise.

There is not much else
that I can give,
or would want to give.

This is it.
Take it as it is.

Tentang Takabbur

Siapa Tuhan kamu?
- Allah Tuhanku.

Tapi siapa Tuhan kamu?
- Allah sesungguhnya Tuhanku.

Ah, siapa sebenarnya Tuhan kamu?
- Tiada melainkan Allah sahajalah Tuhanku.

Kamu kata Allah itu Tuhan kamu,
tapi yang kamu puja dan sanjung dan yang kamu sembah,
adalah:
wang ringgit yang kau kantungkan
kereta besar yang kau supirkan
bisnes dagang yang kau buru
gadis polos yang kau pujukrayu
pingat gelar yang kau pamerkan
puji bodek yang kau cembungkan

Dan yang paling kau sembah melainkan segalanya,
yang kau agungkan melangkaui semuanya, ialah:
nafsu engkau yang kau turutkan
ego engkau yang kau lambungkan
status engkau yang kau gilapkan
diri engkau yang kau akbarkan

Maka hari ini
terimalah habuanmu
wahai sang hamba yang angkuh haloba
wahai insanhina yang ujub bangga:
“Man Rabbuka” pencetus debur
leburlah engkau dalam takabbur
lumatlah engkau sehingga hancur.

On a Majestic Unfolding

The sky was a dark hue of
Vermilion and pink and purple and
It took my breath away to
Know that just outside my balcony tonight is
His Majesty unfolding like
A banner of blessings.

On Anwar Ibrahim, Zahid Hamidi, and Madani

Overheard earlier today:

“You know, if I was Anwar Ibrahim, at that point when they were negotiating for UMNO and BN to join the Kerajaan Perpaduan, Anwar should have just told Zahid: ‘Sorry bro, I do need you and your team with me in this Government, but I cannot have you in my Cabinet – I spent the past 15 years talking about Reformasi, and now that I’m about to become Prime Minister, I want to have a government that’s whiter than white. Your UMNO colleagues can come in, but for you, not yet. Stay out of Cabinet dulu, clear your name in court. And when you’re properly exonerated, I will happily make room for you in my Cabinet. Otherwise, all my rhetoric about Reformasi and tatakelola would be meaningless and hollow.’

“And you know, if Anwar actually said this, I am pretty sure that Zahid would simply play along. He had no other choice. And we would have had a very different tone to the start of this Kerajaan Perpaduan.

“Now look at us. Nak sebut nama dia kat ceramah pun tak selera. Susah bro.”

“Yalah. What to do. Madani, bro.”

-Tammat-

On Mikhail Sholokhov’s And Quiet Flows the Don

One of the joys of reading is to walk into a bookshop, browse around to look at books (preferably for some hours), and stumble onto a new book that you had not meant to read, and probably did not even know about until you stepped into the bookshop that day. That was the case with me and Mikhail Sholokhov’s And Quiet Flows the Don, which I discovered as I was browsing around Kinokuniya in KLCC a few weeks ago.

What caught my eye? Firstly it was the fact that Sholokhov had won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1965, with this book being his magnum opus. The other was the inevitable blurb on the back cover, comparing the book to Tolstoy’s War and Peace.

So, having finished reading the book, here are some observations and reflections from Sholokhov’s work.

The first is that, sadly, this book is no War and Peace. The comparison is inevitable, I suppose, given that Sholokhov deals with relatively congruent themes of intertwined lives, family drama and love affairs, and how these get strained and tested amidst the horrors and travails of war. But thenceforth the comparison grows thin.

Sholokhov is a capable enough writer, and his love for his native Cossack life shines through at regular moments throughout the novel. He grows especially lyrical when describing the titular Don river, and how it frames and shapes the lives of the novel’s characters. But Sholokhov lacks Tolstoy’s supreme skill and ability as a writer, especially in the ways that Tolstoy draws very accurate psychological portraits of the main characters of his novel. Sholokhov’s characters are believable, and for the most part the very likeable, but lack the realistic depth and psychological heft of Tolstoy’s cast. Also, while parts of the book were given to expositions of Bolshevik ideology, which the reader assumes Sholokhov has deep sympathies, if not allegiance, for, Sholokhov shies away from the essential questions that form, to this reader at least, the core of War and Peace. Gregor Melekhov is an interesting and admirable Cossack protagonist, but he is no Pierre Bezukhov, with the latter’s almost desperate search for existential truth.

The other observation is that, as a paean to Cossack life, the book certainly hits all the right notes. The reader gets a panoramic sense of the daily lives of the Cossacks, deeply religious, very agrarian, and always engaged in hard and strenuous labour. The Cossack is also a famed warrior, and the Cossack cavalryman is a key linchpin of the Russian Army of that era. But what is especially poignant is the way in which the individual characters in the novel convey, through their choices and decisions, the unique way of life of the Cossacks: independent-minded, free-spirited, courageous, democratic, passionate.

The other thing worthwhile noting about the book is that it does not shy away from portraying the horrors and senselessness of war. The fact that Tolstoy took great pains to paint realistic portraits of military action during the Napoleonic invasion of Moscow, especially the battle at Borodino which takes centre stage in the early part of War and Peace, is clear to see. But when the reader steps backwards to survey the novel as a whole, one cannot escape the feeling that for Tolstoy, the war was merely one part of the overall framing of the lives of his characters, especially Bezukhov and his search for universal truth. Whereas for Sholokhov, the war was interesting and worthy of attention, in and of itself. Throughout the novel, we read of various depictions of military action, and the ways in which the principal characters – Gregor Melekhov, Eugene Listnitsky, Ilya Bunchuk and others – are shaped and wounded and transformed by the experience of war. The drama peters off somewhat in the third quarter of the novel, but this is consistent with the chaotic time between the February and October Revolutions of 1917, and the narrative has stayed largely true to the historical drama of the time.

Overall, I enjoyed reading this. A four-star read, and especially recommended as a Deep Cuts selection for readers who have gone through the Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky and Turgenev books, but still crave further exploration of Russian literature.

On Days Unending

These days I tread in silence
In patient reverie
With faith in His Munificence
I spend each day with thee

These days I do remember
And softly meditate
On past travails and thunder -
Reflections inundate!

These days I wait and wonder
If ever future holds
Or if perhaps t’was never
My fortune to behold

These days I pass in silence
I wait resignedly
For Him to pass my sentence
My fate, eternal be!