Aku juga mahu bahagia

Aku ingin mereka bahagia

Bahagia dalam erti kata sebenarnya

Walau perlu kulakukan segala apa

Aku ingin mereka bahagia

Kerna apa? Kita kan bukan seibu sebapa?

Tapi bukankah aqidah kita sama?

Aku ingin mereka bahagia

Walau aku tidak punya apa

Hanya punya hati yg penuh cinta

Aku ingin mereka bahagia

Dengan hati yang ikhlas taqwa

Kerna hanya itu yg Dia terima

Aku ingin mereka bahagia

Di dunia dan semestinya di akhirat sana

Tinggalkanlah semua duka lama

Biarlah masa merawat lukanya

Aku juga mahu bahagia

Aku dan mereka, kita berhak bahagia!

Kalam jiwa Nurulhuda

Perubatan Tahun Lima

Tanta Gharbiya

******

Mencurah-curah pula idea utk berpuisi ^___^ V

Bebaskan Dirimu

Ku tahu dalam perjuangan hidupmu
mengharungi arus keremajaan ini
terkadang jiwa mudamu diulit kealpaan
hanyut dalam buaian perasaan
yang tidak berkesudahan
itulah fitrah orang muda

Dalam kesibukan menghadapi pelajaran
tanggungjawab pada agama
keluarga dan masyarakat
dirimu tetap tidak dapat lari
dari belenggu dan hambatan naluri mudamu
benarlah usia kuda banyak pancaroba
kehidupanmu yang terlalu padat dengan emosi
serta ilusi CINTA dan cita-cita

Namun, jangan biarkan dirimu
hanyut dek pergaulan yang tidak syara'
kerana percampuran tanpa batas itu
hanyalah KESERONOKAN PALSU
berusahalah muhasabah diri
dalam mengatasi kehawatan akhlak
serta jadilah seorang PUTERI
yang tinggi nilainya di sisi Allah
kekalutanmu menempis semua itu
pastinya dianggap satu MUJAHADAH
yang begitu mahal harganya

Anggaplah itu sekadar SEEKOR RAMA-RAMA
yang singgah untuk MEWARNAI HIDUPMU

Wahai diriku...
janganlah ikutkan kata hati
kerana hati yang beku dari mengingati Allah
tidak mungkin menunjukkan jalan yang benar
kembalilah semula pada asuhan dan didikan Allah
serahkan sepenuh hatimu
kerana di situlah tempatmu yang sebenar
semoga di situ kau kan dapat MEMBEBASKAN DIRIMU
dari kemelut perasaan yang berpanjangan................

10.15 pm -fitrah- 29 may 04

Sudah 51 tahun negara kita merdeka. Merdekakah kita? Apa erti kemerdekaan yg sebenarnya?

Jubah emas dari Tambunan

Bilakah pula tiba di Melaka
Jubli Emas jadi taruhan
Bilakah bila kita kan merdeka?

Eh, masih belum merdekakah kita? Habis, laungan MERDEKA tepat jam 00.00 31 Ogos setiap tahun itu apa?

Jubah Emas tiba di Melaka
Sulaman indah parang dan lada
Bilakah bila kita kan merdeka
Selagi Jahiliyyah bersarang di dada?

Merdeka atau bebas dalam erti kata yg sebenarnya dan dari kaca mata Islam adalah kemerdekaan mutlak dari sebarang perhambaan selain Allah. Selain itu, merdeka juga bererti bebas dari belenggu hawa nafsu dan penjajahan pemikiran jahiliyah.

Bagaimana mahu merdeka dari itu semua?

1. Kenali sifat nafsu, tuntutannnya dan dorongannya.
2. Kenali apa itu jahiliyyah, kesannya, akibatnya, perangkapnya dan cara menjauhinya.
3. Bezakan dan beramal dgn cara hidup Islam yg syumul. Tanpa mengenali Islam kita x akan dapat membezakannya.

Misi merdeka saya:
1. Babas dari sifat malas utk membaca buku fikrah.
2. Tahu, kenal dan bezakan jahiliyyah dgn Islam.

Jom merdekakan diri!!
Wallahu a3lam............

The Endangered Species

Lelaki
Dulu,
Bila disebut lelaki, Wanitanya mendongak megah,
Lelaki kami Asadullah, Saifullah,
Tokoh ramai tak terkira,
Kini, Bila disebut lelaki, Wanitanya menunduk lemah,
Tokoh kami sedikit sekali,
Ramainya, boneka Yahudi.

Dulu,
Bila disebut lelaki, Wanitanya tenang di hati,
Lelaki kami menjaga, melindungi,
Kini,
Bila disebut lelaki, Wanitanya mahu cabut lari,
Lelaki pengkhianat, perogol bersiri.

Dulu,
Bila seorang wanita teraniaya,
Sepasukan kuda putih membela, Al-Mu'tasim kebanggaan wanita,
Kini, ribuan wanita suci dipenjara,
Fatimah diperkosa minta dibela,
Lelaki tunduk tak bertenaga.

Dulu,
Bila wanita di bawah jagaannya,
Lelaki memagari sehabis daya,
Tiada siapa berani menggoda,
Kini,
Bila wanita di bawah jagaannya,
Lelaki tak kisah auratnya terbuka,
Wanita dibiar bebas, binasa.

Dulu,
Lelaki menggadai harta dan nyawa,
Untuk mengangkat kemuliaan agama,
Kini,
Lelaki menggadai ketinggian agama,
Demi nafsu, dunia dan seisinya.

Dulu,
Lelaki bermatian mencipta sejarah,
Kental berjihad, tekun berdakwah,
Kini, Lelaki hanya menyanjungi sejarah,
Diri bermalasan, tenaga tak dikerah.

Dulu,
Lelaki memperjuangkan deen dan ummah, Al-Farouq, Zunnurain mati terbunuh,
Kini,
Lelaki memperjuangkan diri dan kroninya,
Hingga sanggup membunuh.

Dulu,
Lelaki bersatu menghadapi musuh,
Angkatannya kuat dan teguh,
Kini,
Lelakinya berpuak dan berpecah,
Sesama sendiri saling bertelingkah.

Kembalilah lelakiku,
Pada kelelakianmu,
Kami rindukan lelaki dulu,
Acuan Madrasah Rasul.

Srikandi,
Damsyik, Syria.

Syabab Musafir Kasih-Fatimah Syarha Mohd.Noordin

-credits to deviantart.com-

Bait2 katanya betul2 mencerminkan sang maskulin era pascakenabian dan perbandingannya dgn pemuda era alaf ke-21. How was it guys? Nodding or defending? Apa2 pun bukan semua lelaki sekarang x boleh diharap. But the fact is, sebab nila setitik, rosak susu sebelanga.

Saya: Sekarang susah betol nak jumpa lelaki yg betul2 LELAKI kan yah kn? Kat U*** tu, sampai lecturer pun dah xlarat nak tengok lelaki 'gentleman'. Lembut.Macam2 alasan bila ditanya kenapa jadi macam tu. Ada yg sebab nk diterima berkawan dan rapat dgn geng2 perempuan(yg rata2nya mendominasi ipt skrg ni), dan ada jugak yg mmg teringin jadi perempuan.Mungkin pengaruh feminisme yg semakin lantang bersuara.

Ayah: -senyap

Saya: Lelaki sekarang x leh harap. Dari sekecil2 budak sampai orang tua. Kerja sekolah tiru budak perempuan, nota kuliah mintak kat perempuan, sampai kerja kosong pon, siap iklankan 'operator perhubungan wanita'.

Ayah: Ye lah, lelaki sekarang x nak usaha. Tau kenapa orang byk ambik perempuan bekerja?

Ummi: Sbb perempuan lebih detail kerjenye. Tangan lelaki kan besar2, kalo keje kat kilang tu, abis rosak sume part2 yg kecik tu.

Ayah: Sbb lelaki terdedah dgn rasuah, pangkat. Perempuan, duit bukannya penting sgt, abis beli barang dia dah la.Pangkat pon bukannya nak sangat. Lelaki ngan dadah lagi, tarikan perempuan lagi. Tarikan perempuan ni bagi laki, ko tau x? x pernah habis. Sampai bila2 pon x habis.

Ummi: Tu yang atok yek kate, lelaki kene berjaga2 dgn 3 TA. harTA, takhTA, waniTA.

Saya: Lagi satu, bila ummi cite pasal tok yek teringat nenek cite.."Tok yek ngko tuh, dia kata 'kalo aku, kalah ngan perempuan MATI aku' hehehe (nenek tertawa bila teringatkan kisah itu)"

Lelaki dahulu betul2 menjaga kedudukannya dalam organisasi keluarga, kedudukannya dalam masyarakat. Sempat saya berdiskusi pendek dgn makcik saya, kebetulan menziarahi keluarganya pulang dari kampung hari itu. Antara sebab2 lelaki tidak menjadi LELAKI lagi pada hari ini, menurutnya adalah kerana salah faham fungsi dan tanggungjawab masing2. Tidak adillah hanya menunding jari pada kaum lelaki sahaja apabila keadaan ini berlaku, bukan? Perempuan melaung2kan hak keadilan sama rata. Dan psikologi BEBERAPA lelaki, menurut analisa dan pengalamannya(makcik), golongan lelaki akan berundur jika dicabar oleh kaum bukan sejenisnya.

"Haa, ngko nk tunjuk pandai sgt kn? ko buat la sendiri!"

MANA BOLEH!Bg saya, itu pengecut namanya!Lelaki sepatutnya menjadi ketua, pencari nafkah keluarga. Tetapi kini di kebanyakan syarikat, sekolah, sektor awam dan swasta sudah dimonopoli golongan hawa. Mana silapnya?

Kembalilah merenung, muhasabah kembali fungsi masing2. Perempuan tempatnya di rumah, lelaki yg layak keluar mencari nafkah. Namun, x dpt dinafikan jika perempuan harus bekerja untuk menampung keperluan keluarga dek hambatan meterial dan dunia.

Saya: Habis, kami ni sbg bakal doktor macammana pulak?

Makcik: Sebagai doktor wanita, bukan x boleh bekerja. Itu mmg kes wajib keluar bekerja utk membela nasib wanita. X kan nk bagi lelaki kot.Tetapi niat hanyalah untuk membantu manjaga kebajikan muslimah, kebajikan wanita. Bukan bekerja dgn niat mencari nafkah.

Panjang lebar pula entry kali ini. X bernilai rasanya tanpa kalamullah atau sunnahnya sebagai dalil. Buat renungan ~ An Nisa' : 34-37




Fikir-fikirkanlah dgn mata hati dan iman.

"Lelaki rasional hanya lelaki yg beriman" [falsafah harian husna ^ ^]

Wallahua3lam...

Stranger in The Dark

A few months before I was born, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small town. From the beginning, dad was fascinated with the enchanting newcomer, and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around to welcome in me into the world a few months later.

As I grew up, I never questioned his place in our family. In my young mind, each member had a special niche. My brother, Bilal, five years my senior, was my example. Fatima, my younger sister, gave me the opportunity to play big brother and develop the art of teasing. My parents were complementary instructors. Mom thought me to love the word of Allah, and dad told me to obey it.

But the stranger was our storyteller. He could weave the most fascinating tales. Adventures, mysteries and comedies were daily conversations. He could hold our whole family spell bound for hours each evening. If I wanted to know about politics, history, or science, he knew it.

He knew about the past, understood the present and seemingly could predict the future. The pictures he could draw so life that I would often laugh or cry as I listened. He was like a friend to the whole family. He took dad, Bilal and me to our first major league baseball game. He was always encouraging us to see the movies and he even made arrangements to introduce us to several movies stars.

The stranger was an incessant talker. Dad didn't seem to mind but sometimes mom would quietly get up while the rest of us were enthralled with one of his stories far away places, go to her room and read her Qur'an and pray. I wonder now if she ever prayed that the stranger would leave.

You see, my dad ruled out our household with certain moral convictions. But the stranger never felt an obligation to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our house- not for some of us, from our friends or adults.

Our longtime visitor however used occasionally four letter words the turn my ears and made dad squirm. To my knowledge, the stranger was never confronted. My father was a teetotaler who didn't permit alcohol in his home, as well as Muslims should. but the stranger felt like we needed exposure and enlightened us to other ways of life. He offered us beer and other alcohol beverages often. He made cigarettes look tasty, cigars mainly, and pipes distinguished. He talk freely (probably too much, too freely) about sex. His comments sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing. I know that the stranger influenced my early concepts of man-woman relationship.

As I look back, I believe it was the grace of Allah that the stranger did not influence us more. Time after time, he apposed the values of my parents. Yet, he was seldom rebuked and never asked to leave. More than thirty years have passed since the stranger moved in with the young family on Wan Gee Road. He is not nearly as intriguing to my dad as he was in those early years. But if I were to talk into my parents' den today, you would still see him sitting over in a corner waiting for someone to listen to to his talk and watch him draw his pictures. His name you ask? We called him TV.

" O Lord! Forgive us our sins and expiate from us our devil deeds, and make us die in the state of rightousness."



--An award winning short story. I couldn't remember which award. But this story really open my eyes and letting me see TV in other perspective.

" Ya Rabb kami, jgnlah Engkau jadikan hati kami condong kpd kesesatan sesudah Engkau memberi petunjuk kpd kami, dan kurniakanlah kpd kami rahmat dari sisi Engkau kerana sesungguhnya Engkaulah Maha Pemberi Kurnia." [Ali-Imran : 8]

A Tale of Two Sisters

Assalam3aleyk.. todays entry is one of heart-warming stories. A friend of mine had share this with me, but I thought it also a pleasure to share it here. :D


Her cheeks were worn and sunken, and her skin hugged her bones. That didn't stop her because you could never catch her not reciting Qur'an. She was always vigil in her personal prayer room that our father had set up for her. Bowing, prostrating, raising her hands in prayer, was the way she was from dawn to sunset and back again; boredom was for other people.

As for me, I craved nothing more than fashion magazines and novels. I treated myself to videos until the trips to the rental place became my trademark. It's a saying that when something becomes habit, people tend to distinguish you by it. I was negligent in my responsibilities and my salah was characterized by laziness.

One night, after a long three hours of watching, I turned the video off. The adhan rose softly in the quiet night. I slipped peacefully into my blanket.

Her voice called me from her prayer room. "Yes? Would you like anything Noorah?" I asked.

With a sharp needle she popped my plans. "Don't sleep before you pray Fajr!"

Agghh! "There's still an hour before Fajr. That was only the first adhan," I said.

With those loving pinches of hers, she called me closer. She was like that even before the fierce sickness shook her spirit and shut her in bed. "Hanan, can you come sit beside me."

I could never refuse any of her requests; you could touch the purity and sincerity in her. "Yes, Noorah?"

"Please sit here."

"Alright, I'm sitting. What's on your mind?"

With the sweetest mono voice she began reciting:

Every soul shall taste death and you will merely be repaid your earnings on the Day of Resurrection.

She stopped thoughtfully. Then she asked, "Do you believe in death?"

"Of course I do," I replied.

"Do you believe that you shall be responsible for whatever you do, regardless of how small or large?"

"I do, but Allah is Forgiving and Merciful, and I've got a long life waiting for me."

"Stop it Hanan! Are you not afraid of death and its abruptness? Take a look at Hind. She was younger than you but she died in a car accident. Death is age-blind and your age could never be a measure of when you shall die."

The darkness of the room filled my skin with fear. "I'm scared of the dark and now you made me scared of death. How am I supposed to go to sleep now? Noorah, I thought you promised you'd go with us on vacation during the summer break."

Her voice broke and her heart quivered. "I might be going on a long trip this year Hanan, but somewhere else. All of our lives are in Allah's hands and we all belong to Him."

My eyes welled and the tears slipped down both cheeks. I pondered my sisters grizzly sickness. The doctors had informed my father in private that there was not much hope Noorah was going to outlive the disease. She wasn't told, so I wondered who hinted to her. Or was it that she could sense the truth?

"What are you thinking about Hanan?" Her voice was sharp. "Do you think I am just saying this because I am sick? I hope not. In fact, I may live longer than people who are not sick. How long are you going to live Hanan? Perhaps twenty years? Maybe forty? Then what?" Through the dark she reached for my hand and squeezed gently. "There's no difference between us; we're all going to leave this world to live in Paradise or agonize in Hell. Listen to the words of Allah:

Anyone who is pushed away from the Fire and shown into Jannah will have triumphed.

I left my sister's room dazed, her words ringing in my ears: "May Allah guide you Hanan - don't forget your prayer."

I heard pounding on my door at eight o'clock in the morning. I don't usually wake up at this time. There was crying and confusion. O Allah, what happened?

Noorah's condition became critical after Fajr; they took her to the hospital immediately.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'oon.

There wasn't going to be any trips this summer. It was written that I would spend the summer at home.

It felt like an eternity had gone by when it was one o'clock in the afternoon. Mother phoned the hospital.

"Yes. You can come and see her now." Dad's voice had changed, and mother could sense something had gone deathly wrong. We left immediately.

Where was that avenue I used to travel and thought was so short? Why was it so very long now? Where was the cherished crowd and traffic that would give me a chance to gaze left and right? Everyone, just move out of our way!

Mother was shaking her head in her hands crying as she made du'a for her Noorah. We arrived at the hospital's main entrance. One man was moaning, while another was involved in an accident. A third man's eyes were iced. You couldn't tell if he was dead or alive.


Noorah was in intensive care. We skipped stairs to her floor. The nurse approached us. "Let me take you to her."

As we walked down the aisles the nurse went on expressing how sweet of a girl Noorah was. She somewhat reassured Mother that Noorah's condition had gotten better than what it was in the morning. "Sorry. No more than one visitor at a time," the nurse said.

This was the intensive care unit. Past the flurry white robes, through the small window in the door, I caught my sister's eyes. Mother was standing beside her. After about two minutes, mother came out unable to control her crying. "You may enter and say salaam to her on the condition that you do not speak too long," they told me. "Two minutes should be enough."

"How are you Noorah? You were fine last night sister, what happened?"

We held hands; she squeezed harmlessly. "Even now, alhamdulillah, I'm doing fine."

"Alhamdulillah. ...but... your hands are so cold."

I sat on her bedside and rested my fingers on her knee. She jerked it away. "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, it is just that I remembered Allah's words."

Waltafatul saaqu bil saaq (One leg will be wrapped to the other leg [in the death shroud]).

"Hanan pray for me. I may be meeting the first day of the Hereafter very soon. It's a long journey and I haven't prepared enough good deeds in my suitcase."

A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek at her words. I cried and she joined me. The room blurred away and left us two sisters to cry together. Rivulets of tears splashed down on my sister's palm, which I held with both hands. Dad was now becoming more worried about me. I've never cried like that before.

At home and upstairs in my room, I watched the sun pass away with a sorrowful day. Silence mingled in our corridors. One after another, my cousins came in my room. The visitors were many and all the voices from downstairs stirred together. Only one thing was clear at that point – Noorah had died!

I stopped distinguishing who came and who went. I couldn't remember what they said. O Allah, where was I? What was going on? I couldn't even cry anymore.

Later that week they told me what had happened. Dad had taken my hand to say goodbye to my sister for the last time. I had kissed Noorah's head.

I remember only one thing while seeing her spread on that bed – the bed that she was going to die on. I remembered the verse she recited:

One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud).

And I knew too well the truth of the next verse:

The drive on that day will be to your Lord (Allah)!

I tiptoed into her prayer room that night. Staring at the quiet dressers and silenced mirrors, I treasured the person that had shared my mother's stomach with me. Noorah was my twin sister.

I remembered who I had swapped sorrows with, who comforted my rainy days. I remembered who prayed for my guidance and who spent so many tears for many long nights telling me about death and accountability. May Allah save us all.

Tonight is Noorah's first night that she shall spend in her tomb. O Allah, have mercy on her and illumine her grave. This was her Qur'an and her prayer mat. And this was the spring, rose-colored dress that she told me she would hide until she got married; the dress she wanted to keep just for her husband.

I remembered my sister and cried over all the days that I had lost. I prayed to Allah to have mercy on me, accept me and forgive me. I prayed to Allah to keep her firm in her grave as she always liked to mention in her supplications.

At that moment, I stopped. I asked myself what if it was I who had died. Where would I be moving on to? Fear pressed me and the tears began all over again.

"Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…" The first adhan rose softly from the masjid. It sounded so beautiful this time. I felt calm and relaxed as I repeated the mu'adhin's call. I wrapped the shawl around my shoulders and stood to pray Fajr. I prayed as if it was my last prayer, a farewell prayer, just like Noorah had done yesterday. It had been her last Fajr.

Now, and in sha Allah for the rest of my life, if I awake in the morning I do not count on being alive by evening, and in the evening I do not count on being alive by morning. We are all going on Noorah's journey. What have we prepared for it?

by Muhammad Alshareef
------------ --------

*Muhammad Alshareef's final speech at the 1999 MYNA East Zone Conference.

Shaykh Jami states:

It is incumbent (obligatory) on the intelligent person to model himself on the characteristics of the Prophets and the saints, and to conduct himself in accordance with their exemplary patterns of behaviour.