rekindling an old love...

you know, i always enjoy looking at a beautiful scenery. or maybe just a wag of a dog's tail excites me. or a baby's twinkling eyes due to tears after a little tantrum thrown. these are just some of the moments that i would love to capture. what the eyes could see, would be lost somewhere in memory. but what if i could capture it? freeze the moment. make a story out of it. tell a tale. wouldn't it be interesting?

photography. it freezes those priceless moments, those precious emotions. and a lot of stories to tell. when i was younger, Dad used to have a Yashica camera. i forgot the model number. but it was a vintage camera and he bought it 2nd hand from his, er... biras... What do call you call biras in English? Ok, my mother's bro-in-law. He got my Dad interested in photography. Dad used to lug that heavy-duty camera whenever we went out for outings with all his lenses and special accessories. And we used to be his models. Maybe somehow, the photography bug hit me then. As I grew up, I love taking photos. I remember all the camera models I used to play with. From film to digital. From big to small. From fat to slim. From basic black to colour.

and wonders of wonders, work also involves photography. how to run away and say, "No, photography is not my thing."? IT IS MY THING. just sadly, i don't have the right equipment. i mean i do take good pictures. but you know, there's always something in every picture that i know i can do better with. and an automatic, compact, point and shoot camera isn't going to give me all those results. and so, photography still goes on but amateur-ly...

and then work gave me a chance to go on a basic photography workshop. with the work's D70 DSLR, i went to the workshop. seriously, i thought what can that heavy, nearly 10 years old camera do. there were a lot of buttons on the camera, but i know nuts about them. and it doesn't help that i have fellow workshop mates who carry a cannon, an olympus E-P3, and a Lumix. Depression tahap gaban lor...

and i was in for a great shock. what their cameras could do, my cameras can do them to. maybe not as good, but hell, it was similar. 1st day the instructor asked me what do i want to achieve at the end of the workshop. i only answered that i wanna fall in love with my camera. and at the end of the three-days workshop, i fell in love HEAD OVER HEELS with my camera.

2nd day of the workshop was the best. we had a field trip to Botanic Gardens. And I think I must have been like a gila woman running around taking pictures. coz now i know what the buttons on the camera meant. i control the camera. i got out of automatic mode. i tell the camera what i want. my instructor told me everyone can take pasar malam photos - photos which show you everything. but that's not what we wanna show. we wanna show what is essential. we wanna show what our eyes capture. if i see a beautiful flower, i wanna show only the flower, not the leaves, not the trees or shrubs behind the flowers.

i really really enjoyed the workshop. taking pictures isn't hard if we tell the camera what we want. the instructor was an excellent teacher. he tells a story with every topic. now, of course, i don't have the financial ability to buy a kick-ass high end camera. but that's where i wanna end up eventually. coz i know my love is right there. in photography. what my Dad started and stopped, i wanna continue. i will of course enrol myself in more workshops once i get a power gedemak camera. may Allah make it easy for me, if it's fated for me, InShaa Allah...

oh well, i can go on and on about an old love rekindled but anyway, just enjoy the pictures. i know they are nothing fantastic, what more taken with a borrowed camera hehehe... they are too basic. but i know how much i've jumped from knowing nothing to knowing certain things. enjoy the pics.

and oh, don't forget to go to johnarifin.com or his facebook page Nature@Work. awesome instructor, amazing photographer and best teacher. i'd definitely go for his classes in the future, In Shaa Allah...

Ilal Liqaa'...!!

new adventure... new journey...

finally, we are in the final 12 hours into the new journey. well, the farewell wasn't as emotional as I thought it would be. I didn't cry. There weren't tears shed. No, I didn't feel unloved. In fact, I feel so happy it went very smoothly. It was a difficult farewell, but a nice one.

Had some presents from some colleagues. Had the 1st and last lunch date with the Boss. And then I didn't get to click a picture with him. Very upsetting. But I think I will just pop by one of these days to say Hi, and click a picture. I have to. He was the one who operated on me. Saw me when I was still red out of my mum's stomach. And gave me the job. Thought me a lot of things. I appreciate a lot of what he has done for me. Personally and professionaly. That, I will NEVER forget.

and the colleagues. i can never say enough of them. well, work and professional relationships have their ups and downs, no doubt about that, but the way we've handled the communications all these while have been amazing.

this new adventure im going to embark on, it will be so much similar but at the same time, different. it will be challenging, it will be different, it will be a whole new experience. and i hope it's going to be a positive blast. i hope to be able to achieve what i've been dreaming of all these while.

may Allah guide me along the way. and may this be a good decision, InshaAllah.

ilal liqaa'...!

the little remaining days...

finally, im entering the last week into my new transition. it has been very very very hectic. i really had no idea the amount of work that i have been doing thus far is A LOT. and handing over is practically a chaotic headache.


im left with some major work before finally handing over everything and say, "I'm done." now that the news is well-spread, there are a lot of people stopping me in my tracks and asking me where i'm going. then i realise, "oh, important lah jugak aku ni. haha!!"


it's going to be an emotional farewell, no doubt, and i can confidently say, i will shed a few tears... 13 years going to 14 is a long long long time. from a nerdy 20 year old to a 34 year old, i have come a long way. from knowing nothing about the job, to knowing everything beyond my job.


the freedom i get while being on the job is the best thing about this work. i don't think that will be something i get to enjoy in my new endevour. but well, when one makes changes, he/she has to accept the consequences that comes along.


i will miss everyone. they and the place has made me the person i am now. and this final week will be very tough for me as i will need to swallow the lump in my throat and trying hard not to cry when i say goodbye.


may the final goodbye be sweet and may my new adventure be a blast. inshaAllah.


ilal liqaa'...!!

no title... just ramblings...

The easiest way not to get hurt, is to not care... But that is the hardest thing to do...

so...

Ya Allah, awasilah langkahku. Agar tidak sering terpijak mereka yang berjiwa kecil.

Apatah lagi jika yang berjiwa kecil itu mempunyai makna yang besar dalam hidupku.

Because I know what hurt is, so I wouldnt want them to be hurt by my words.

Pakistani? Nah, Im something else actually...

Chanced upon this post in my Multiply account and didn't want to lose it. Hehehe... So here goes, the copied version.

Ok as my title goes, some of you have already known that in my IC, my race is specified as Pakistani.

But as I grew up and got wiser, hehehe, I found out from the dad that actually our lineage came from Bangladesh. Both my paternal and maternal grand-dads were Banglas. Mula2 macam tak percaya gitu… Yelah, sapa nak mengaku diri ni Bangla mwahahaha…!!! But I was interested to know more.

So the story goes. India and Pakistan were one big country. They separated and Pakistan became an independent country in 1947. And Pakistan consisted of two geographically separate regions, West Pakistan – where Urdu is their main language and East Pakistan – where Bengali was their main language. Both my grand-dads were from East Pakistan and they spoke Bengali, the same language spoken by our foreign Bangla workers.

West Pakistan and East Pakistan separated in 1971. West Pakistan became Pakistan and East Pakistan became Bangladesh. So when I was born, the country my grand-dads came from was already called Bangladesh. But true, during those times, people don’t hear about Bangladesh much. Since the ICs of my mum and dad still bear the race Pakistani, me and my sisters had to follow suit.

I never met my grand-dads, it would have been a great thing if they are alive now. I would have gotten a lot of stories from them. I love history by the way. But from what little stories I got from both my grand-mums, its confirmed that the grand-dads came from Bangladesh and they spoke Bengali. In fact, my paternal grand-ma – who is a Singaporean Malay-Chinese mixed – even lived in Bangladesh for a few years. And my dad was born there.

Sidenote: Bengali is not Sikh by the way. We always have this misconception that Bengali are Sikhs. Nope, Bengali are Bengalis and they speak Bengali and Sikhs are Sikhs and they speak Punjabi.


Now knowing I have roots in Bangladesh, how wonderful would it have been if both my grand-dads were alive. That means I have relatives in Bangladesh. My grand-dads sure had siblings. And the siblings sure had children. And the children sure had their own children. Means I might have uncles and aunties, cuzzins, nieces and nephews or who knows, even grandchildren hehehe…!! My mum told me before that she was nearly married off to one of her second-cuzzins in Bangladesh! Hehehe...!!!

Its such a pity, I have nowhere to start from. If there is a little hope of me finding relatives in Bangladesh, I would have done it. Maybe go through the net (although Im quite sure its very hard, coz Bangladesh is still a developing country). Or even when I get in touch with a relative there, who knows, I might just go over and meet them hehehe…!!!

But language will be a problem. I speak Hindi coz like I said, I grew up thinking Im Pakistani. So I was more interested in learning and speaking Hindi coz Urdu and Hindi are similar in a lot of ways.. And my maternal grand-ma race is specified as Hindi in her IC. Kalao lah aku tahu Im Bangladeshi right from young, I might have just learnt Bengali hehehe…!!

So, there’s very little chance that I might get in touch with relatives over there. How wonderful would it be if a miracle happened and just by the touch of destiny (and Allah’s will), I might just fulfil this dream of mine – of meeting relatives in Bangladesh.
*still hoping*

And yes, you all can call me a Bangla coz I am one mwahahahahaha…!!!

the heart melted today...

in quite a severe way, I would say.

all these years, while working with babies who were born with the same abnormility that I was born with, had made me immuned to the cries, the screams and the struggles whenever a drip is to be inserted into the little tiny hands or legs. i was always made the foster mother, the one who will carry the babies into the operation theatre, as the babies are quite silent when i carry them in. i dont know, maybe the emotional bonding. and also, the parents feel a bit secured seeing me there, carrrying their little souls and assuring them that i am there for the babies.

my arms will usually be the solace the babies could have when they are going through the painful experience of maybe having the gas over them or the needle into them. and all these years, i've managed to build a wall around my emotions so as not to cry or feel sorry for the baby at the crucial moment of incubating.

today a baby came in. i saw the parents and they were happy to see me. carried the baby in and assured the parents that all is going to be well. baby was sleeping all the way to the operation theatre. then she opened up her big eyes, and suddenly i got reminded of the nephew. same eyes, only different colour. and then the occasional smile... ah... lovely...

then the needle was inserted. baby cried, a harrowing cry. and suddenly, there was this huge urge in me to burst into tears also. there i was, trying to calm the baby down and at the same time, trying to keep my emotions in check. it was a DIFFICULT moment. i was only thinking about the nephew. same age, same hair, same eyes. not that i was hoping the nephew to go through such a thing, naudzubillah, but it was all that was running in the mind.

lucky thing baby slept fast enough. i had to walk out of the theatre for a while to calm my nerves. i guess having a baby in the house, just reignited the motherly instincts. it felt exactly like it felt 13 years ago when i first saw a baby being brought into the operation theatre.

the wall had crumble. i need to build up a new wall. i need to convince the heart and mind that this is work. this is what will make the babies lead a more beautiful life. i need to start being strong back again.

haisshhhh... dah lembut hati aku ni... baby nangis, aku pun nak nangis. hehehe...!!

ilal liqaa'...!!

i wanna spread my wings and fly...

and i think it's about time.

6 years ago, an opportunity was laid in front of me, like a bonus, like a 'durian runtuh' which I had to reluctantly say no to. it was the hardest no ever. on one end was loyalty, on one end was familiarity. i stuck to loyalty. and was hoping i wouldnt have to serve loyalty for long. but i did. for 13 years and counting.

it was a difficult 13 years. had to go through lots of pain, lots of tears, lots of headache, because i simply had no one to turn to. i had to answer everything alone. it was initially so difficult, i would be practically crying every day. the pillar of strength was gone. there was no one to hug me and say it's ok. and i was so missing the hug that i felt like a lovelorn Juliet.

soon, tough became me and i became tougher. i learnt to survive. i learnt how to accept words into my right ear and let them go out through my left and never let them get stucked in my heart. i think that made me a strong person. and i learnt it the hard way. and im glad.

i wouldnt regret these 13 years. because without these 13 years, i wouldnt be what i am today. i wouldnt have learnt so many things with the little paper qualifications that i'm holding. and i wouldnt have gained all the experiences that i've enjoyed. if these 13 years have been tough, then, in the future, nothing is tough for me InshaAllah...

now im ready to spread my wings and fly. Allah has arranged this whole transition so well. Everything seems to be falling into place. and I hope that this will be an exciting new chapter in my life, InshaAllah.

of course there'll be differences. of course there'll be personal adjustments. but nothing is without changes. changes have to be made to achieve a better tomorrow. and i will thread the road happily and gleefully, hand in hand, along with the pillars of strength. words just cant describe how i've longed for this change. and finally, it comes as a beautifully arranged story-line and i hope for a happily ever after ending.

thank you Allah. for giving me this phase in life. i make du'a that this is a smooth transition for me. and may everything be nice and dandy and finally i will finally feel that im settled in to the place i always wanted to belong in. InshaAllah...

Alhamdulillah.

Ilal Liqaa'...!

dreams are made of these...

the mornings i wake up from sleep were never as special as that day when i dreamt of you. seriously, i was cursing the alarm on my hp when it sounded. it was a really special dream. you were here, wearing yellow... and jeans... and smelling real nice... you were joking with me like always... and trying to make me angry... and i will eventually be angry, only for you to coax me till i smile... like you do always since the time first i knew you...it felt so real, i didnt want to wake up from sleep... haissss... when will that day be a reality, i wonder...

and then i dreamt of you telling me a date. i dont remember what that date was for. i heard it in a voice, presumably your voice, which i've never heard in real life... 22 May 2012. I checked the calendar, it's a Tuesday. What would that Tuesday bring to me, I wonder...

And in the end, I have to pull myself to the real world and think rationally. Those are dreams, dreams are playgrounds for emotions... I must have been thinking so much about you... Till I let you into my dreams... The more I try to pull myself away from all these, the more Im being sucked in. It's like quicksand. Pulling me in deeper and deeper.

And the question you asked me yesterday, it took me back by surprise a bit. But I hope the answer I gave made you a happy person. Like you always say, you want to make me always happy and smiling, I would like to be able to do the same to you.

Till then, my bodyguard. We'll see how this goes... Ashtaqo ilayka even if I talk to you everyday...

Ilal Liqaa'...!