thelifeanddeathofHussain

Bloggers In the Parliament!

Salam Muhibbah,

   It’s been a while since I’ve written and post anything online. Recently I ran across an obsolete statement made by the then Information Minister Zainuddin Maidin sometime I suppose early this year about bloggers who express their views on Malaysian political arena; that they do not appear as a threat to the Nation (read as Barisan Nasional) as they only write for each other (as though as there’s a fun-loving membership club of political bloggers out there) to read and share opinions. YB might wanna reflect on his statement as a trail of clue in the party’s post-mortem analysis on the cause of their anti climax ending following the past General Elections.  Not to mention that our ex- Information Minister too did a little mathematics and came up with the sum of 20,000 for the number of blog visitors in Malaysia earlier as he made the statement . By now he’s probably replacing his calculator’s battery.
   Just to enlighten the ex- Information Minister with some useful information which I believe should be obvious to an average Malaysian by now, we’re not that far left behind in utilizing the Information Tech as how he assumed it or how he wanted people to assume it. I’m not good with numbers as much as Zainuddin Maidin is but I imagine the number of people who actually is actively blogging -or visiting blogs to be realistic- in Malaysia is greater than those who attend a particular UMNO meeting or gathering. Blogging is a global phenomenon and Malaysians have joined the bandwagon for years now, they’re not reading Utusan and watching news on RTM anymore, Sir. Even the people of Sg Petani were well ‘informed’ but our YB seemed to be misinformed somehow.
   Malaysia is stepping into the path of countries like Pakistan and Iran where alternative media like the Internet is well accepted and appreciated. Not sure about Pak and Iran, but mainstream media in Malaysia sure did fail in keeping us well informed. Urban society did not simply choose to ‘ubah angin’ like how most of us sitting in kopitiam put it, it’s a result of long held in reserve frustration finally unleashed and the hunger for truth causing people to resort to the free speaking Internet where they may or may not be lied, but at least they now know both sides of the story. Trust me, we know what’s relevant (ah, the magic word again!).
   For some of our young friends (no we’re not talking about juveniles) who had been unfortunate enough and had been growing up with Malay Mail, The Star or in worse cases Metro  as a result to their parents’, ermm how should I put it, ah heck, ignorance (or should I say ‘tak nak’ attitude); the recent political ‘tsunami’ might have left them wondering whatever happened to the country by the time they peek outside their ‘Pemuda/Puteri’ cocoon. Price hikes in goods, toll, petrol; increasing crime rate yada yada might not have been their concern all this while due to various reasons; to name some; ignorance, ignorance and yeah, ignorance. They sacrifice as how the TV tells them to or the fortunate ones might not even sacrifice (let mom and dad play Jesus though you’re 21 now).
   We, urban citizens, be it young or old, men or women, choose to sacrifice no more. Thanks to the alternative media, we know why we shouldn’t, as the question before this had always been why should we? The incumbent (OK, they’re still there though) federal government did not answer these questions. Questions on price hikes were responded with answers like “well it’s rising everywhere”, Issues on roads, tolls and highways were answered with sarcastic remarks (yes we all will remember this man and his sarcasm). Public demand of rights to be made clear on government reps’ scandals and corruptions were responded with delays and demands of proof though the solid proofs were already bestowed before the Judicial throne. 
   We choose to be zombies no more. Today as citizens of Malaysia finally we’re putting ourselves as worthy as to say ‘Malaysia Boleh’. Let’s make it happen together regardless of our skin color or religion. We’ve chosen our fate so let’s mould it together with our Leaders and we shall sacrifice no more in the near future, as we’ve chosen the leaders who promise to sacrifice for the people. Will they or will they not, let we decide then.

   Well I’m referring to the urban citizens of Malaysia. I’ve no comment on the people of Trengganu (who might be looking at each other blankly when the result of the aftermath in Western Peninsula were announced and realizing what they in the East have gotten themselves into by voting for the status quo to stay put now for the next 5 years) and Sabah Sarawak (oh please, tak kuasa bah!). Let’s see how the leaders they have chosen shall enlighten them, with RTM.
Jangan marah, YB!:p

P/S-Bloggers Boleh, ada betul ka Jeff Ooi?

-Hussain @ Muhammad Sajad Hussain Basir.- March 16 08,2:12 a.m KLT.

-Author is a heartbreak kid who decides to go political

Comments are welcomed at here or @ aryazadeh@hotmail.com

"Too much temper can cloud reason"

"Never let anyone know what you are thinking"

"Never hate your enemy … it affects your judgment"

-Michael Corleone-

-The key to negotiation, that is, the most important thing; patience.

-Business matters are resolved by reasonable people.

I keep the words of Mario Puzo and like a Don in his own zone, i reason and negotiate.

Not a hustler in this arena, but like an honest consigliere, i experience and learn.

Rising from sleep,

I become the Sun;

I become anything

That pleases my eyes.

When sitting for a while

On the edge of a stream,

I become the flight of eagles,

The shade of willows.

…And they ask me of my decision in regards of convocation.

Tell them by no means it is a display of emotions or due to boycotting purpose.

By God it is strictly personal and none has the right to justify.

I remain, a man who thinks.

They say I should follow the majority. Let’s see what I would be if I followed the so-called righteous majority. I wouldn’t know who Hussain (A.S) was, let alone his progenies and comrades who were martyred in Kerbala, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea that the women of the Prophet’s household were taken captives, unveiled and dragged across the wilderness of Arabia, under scorching heat of the sun from town to town before presented before Yazid and kept in imprisonment, where four years old Sakina drew her last breath. I wouldn’t know of a heroic figure as loyal as Abbas (A.S) who lost both his arms and life later, the Prince of The Prophet’s Household; Ali Akbar (A.S), Qasim (A.S); the ought to be bridegroom youth who fought to the stage of being slain into pieces, the scions of Zeynab (A.S) who was sent by their own mother into the battlefield; Aun and Muhammad (A.S) and the rest of the relatives and friends who comprised thirsty men, women and children who were tormented and tortured for days on burning earth of Nainawa.

Alas, it’s a shame that these groups of people who compound as the majority, be it the rabid followers or the religious gurus with fancy addresses, do not even recognize the names I’ve mentioned, let alone whatever that had befallen upon them.

Let’s ponder further, if I was one of them, I would have to be perplexed in a dilemma of choosing between work and Solah, I would come up with new names of contractual marriage to ‘rectify’ the existing one so that it’ll be turned into my favor, though I previously denied my natural human instinct. I would be lost on how should I pray when I’m succeeding an Imam of an unlike sect. I would be switching between shifts of a secular or a gnostic, or may just cling to any of them and find myself in absolute confusion later when I’m fronted with matters alien to my ears or untaught by my ’sheikh’ whosoever.

A question I must raise, what heaven are those Central Asian radicals fighting for when they’re bombing Shi’ite neighborhoods (not to be one sided, instead referring to the statistics which agree Shi’ites are the most victimized in these incidents) when they should instead fight the Uncle Sam’s uninvited ‘pacifiers’ who are killing Iraqis day by day, and the Israelites who are laughing over the Muslims’ killing of their own brothers instead of fighting the obvious antagonist in this drama, Zion. Hell no, I will never claim allegiance to this majority who aren’t doing anything but making situations worse.

Oh yes, however will these people oppose their foes even if they know them, as what we have here are only legions and legions of secular Wahhabis, ignorant meek and timid zombies who chant ‘peace’ or fanatic hot-tempered zealots who fight for the religion in the same way they will fight for lands and women, and ‘American Muslims’ who sit in circle, confer and confer until whoever knows when. This is the majority. This is the force which they expect me and you to be affiliated to. May the force be with you, if you wish so, I’m out.

Whatever happened to the vigor and devotion of Abbas and the army of Hussain, the wisdom of Sajjad, the sacrifice and leadership of Hussain, the commitment of Zeynab, the faith of Farwa, the patience of Sughra, the dexterity of Akbar, the dedication of Kulthum and Fizza, the chivalry of Qasim! Where is my anticipated minority who will quench their thirst at the hands of Fathimah (A.S)?

By God there shall come a day when an army will withstand on Palestinian ground, announcing,

Ya Quds, we’re here. Peace be upon Lord Muhammad S.A.W and his household.

Let us pray that we’ll be there too, and for God’s sake, do recite ‘Salawat ‘ala an Nabiy va ahl-baytihi’ in your supplicant.

-Sajad Hussain-

Ali’s Azaan

Ashoor’s dawn,
Ali Akbar
Your Azaan

Beating her breast
Mother cries in tent
Your Azaan

Qudsi’s door opened
As you recited Syahadat
Your Azaan

Blessed with zikr
Tongue of yours
Your Azaan

Shedding Hussain’s tears
Leaving no soul sleeping
Your Azaan

Everywhere people roam
Song of Misery
Your Azaan

Out of the tent
Azaan across Karbala
Your Azaan

Mother holds her heart
Saying this
Your Azaan

Carried by winds
It reached to your sister
Your Azaan

She starts weeping
Hiccuping
Your Azaan

With pain in your chest
Saving Azaan’s sanctity
Your Azaan

You’ll be no more
Even if Azaan lives now
Your Azaan

Beating her breast
Mother cries in tent
Your Azaan

-Sajad Hussain-

Qasim’s Wedding

Such was Qasim’s wedding
          Celebrated in battlefield
                 Bridegroom of Death
                         In thirst of a Parade

                         To Qasim quoted his Mother
                               Don’t you waste a minute now
                                           As soon as I send Akbar
                                                    I’ll call for Sughra too

                                                       Perplexed and bewildered
                                                            Firdaus and Paradise pondered
                                                                   Such was the ruined battlefield
                                                                            Decorated for the Wedding

                                                                                        Such a preparation
                                                                                   Made for the event
                                                               In aspiration was Qasim’s face
                                                      Henna of blood filled his hands

                                             Everyone attended the Wedding
                                         Sunken in sorrow and grief
        Last night made through by Mother and sisters
    With weeping and wailing

    The earth shook in terror
        The stars wailed in misfortunate sky
              When as the gown of the bride
                   A shroud was worn to her

                            They wept in bloody tears
                                  Upon witnessing her poverty
                                           When in place of bangles
                                                Chains were cuffed to her hands

                                                        Before being built
                                                              Your palace is already diminished
                                                                                     Saying this
                                                                             The Mother unveiled herself

                                                                                       Saying this O People
                                                                                 She fell to her feet
                                                              Never will there be in history
                                                          A wedding such as this

                                          Such was Qasim’s wedding
                                    Celebrated in battlefield
                                 Bridegroom of Death
                        In thirst of a Parade

                                                                                     -Muhd Sajad Hussain-
                                                                                      November 2006

Exhausted from carrying bodies of dead family members..

Hussain beats his chest and cries aloud..

I smell an unpleasant odor coming from the army behind me, If I lose any of my man in this battlefield, I know who should answer me in detail.

Upon realizing that the first sword has been unsheathed, I signal with my hand to my blood brother. Like a lion he rises to confront the challenger.

Wednesday is indeed pleasantly welcoming, ah! the strong smell of blood in the air is always like coffee on a wartime morning.

Inviting and enticing, alluring and tempting, death and victory could not be separated, as a man is bound to the lust of a woman.

The first hyena falls helplessly to the ground, my brother roars gallantly. I signal him to retreat, kissed him on his forehead, thou art indeed of my blood.

Sajad Hussain

Tribute to my Family

I’ve lost something of importance on the day of Eid, it was a gift by someone. The rest of the day went in sorrow. El was ‘texting’ me, telling me how she was enjoying the day, just what I needed, great. Wanted to boast about something in my counter attack to her, but I realized I had no point, and started my lamentations instead, telling her what calamity had befallen on me on the day. I realized too that I was missing my kopitiam nights with her.

Later that night I found myself some space to write again, when everyone else were somewhere eating free dinner and forking out big bucks for peoples’ kids. Listening to nauhay (religious songs mourning the event of Karbala, something that normal homo sapiens don’t do especially on Eid day). This Eid has been as what I expected during the Syawal countdown this time around, to be the same as those in the past years, or maybe worse. I wonder why do the artists wearing baju melayu and stirring dodols seem to be so happy on TV, singing joyous songs as if Raya is what they tell you it is.

The night before I received a lot of SMS from those who still believe I’m alive, with all type of forwarded pantuns and alike. I expected to receive something special and personal from someone who used to say I was everything to her, but instead I got a ‘selamat blah blah blah sincerely from -full name-’ which was obviously forwarded to a list of names which I had been ranked in to these days. Voila. So now I’m ‘one of those’. I paused for a few minutes, shrugged and let it go. Thank God I’ve dumped the weird ‘natural instinct’ of men somewhere in the past.

The conflicts in the preparation for the grand dinner lalala haunted me again, faces of the then sacrificial and now suicidal committee members linger in my nowadays blurry vision. O, for the day when I merrily ran under gay sun singing Shakespeare, But on second thought, those were my ‘useless days’. Alas, preoccupation isn’t as sweet as it seemed earlier, but it’s better than ‘Shakespearing’. Ah, whatever, this isn’t what Syawal promise to others.

So let’s see what the next Eid has in preparation for me. Sometime on that night a question rose in my mind, ‘dude how was your Ramadhan?’