<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150</id><updated>2011-04-22T07:18:42.437+08:00</updated><title type='text'>De' Kapai</title><subtitle type='html'>Sailing in the sea of life</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-117038385894406294</id><published>2007-02-02T10:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T10:37:38.970+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Little Smile Underneath The Thin White Cloth</title><content type='html'>As I unveiled the thin white cloth covering his face, my heart was pumping hard not knowing what to expect. My tears started to fall as I saw an innocent face appearing before me. His lips were blue and eyes shut. A dark colour skin bubbly boy who used to stand at the corridor of my son’s classroom, now lying cold in front of me. I braved myself to kiss him goodbye and inside me whispering deep thoughts of “he will later hold his parents hand accompanying them to heaven”. Azlan left his family last evening. Electrocuted while sitting on the steel swing outside his home. Next 25th January is his 12th birthday but there won’t be any birthday cake for him but most likely a visit to his grave by his family members. A small grave marked number 16 at the new Sg. Tangkas Muslim burial ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How did it happen? I ask his father who were sitting not far from me, leaning on the white wall looking tired and helpless. Eyes red as tears flowing non stop everytime someone unveil that thin white cloth covering his third son’s face to see azlan for the last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He was doing his homework and I told him not to go out as it was raining outside. He did his homework and said that he wanted to continue at night. He told his father that he wanted to just go the nursery in front of his house as it was only drizzling outside…. “He must have come back and just wanted to rest at his favourite swing……”&lt;br /&gt; The iron swing was next to the huge bird cage built by his father. Well decorated with water fountain, lights and plants …. Must have been electricity leakage from the cage and connected straight to the iron swing ….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His brother Azali, who is just 10yrs old, found him lying motionless and quickly called his mother. She rushed and tried to help by was thrown back by the force of electricity, his father came and was rudely thrown back as well. He then rushed to the main switch and just grabbed and pulled any wires he could…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I could not lift him up…. He was so heavy… so I called my workers and we rushed him to the nearby clinic…. He was pronounced dead at 6pm at the clinic...”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was speechless, not a single word came to my mind except “Allahuakhbar!!!” As I hugged him again tears started to flow. I told him to “redha ketentuan Allah” eventthough I myself wouldn’t know what it would be like if I were in his shoes. He gave me a tight hug and I left him and Azlan with teary eyes….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve not met this man before, never heard of him and wouldnt be bothered to say hello even if I bumped into him on the street but tonight I felt as if we are brothers sharing moment of sadness on Azlan’s demise. Maybe as a father of five, such incident does give a deep hard slap on my face. A wake up call to me as not to take things for granted. Be a good father and always be there for your children. You never know what is next waiting for you … even in the next hour or in his case half an hour….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I left his grave this morning after the burial, I fell into a deep thought of what life has to offer and when is my deadline…Few questions popped into this thick skull and tears start to fall…again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“His younger brother found him lying on the floor motionless, but Allah is great  he just wanted Azlan to be with him first… not both of them together…otherwise it could have been Azlan and Azali. Both of them together if Azli would just touch his brother or try to help….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Or it could have been mother and son and later his father…or maybe the whole family… all of them tried to help but the force of electricity pushed them away instead of in Azlan’s case pull him deeper...”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Allah is Great… “&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Azlan, the next time pakcik make a visit to the school to look for Ummar or Iman…you won’t be there giving pakchik a blank stare with your round bubbly face and sweats running down your cheek…. Your dark colour skin, short spiky hair and big belly would no longer be there to welcome pakchik at the corridor...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pa… Azlan masuk syurga terus ka? asked Ummar innocently. “Yes, he is too young and …and tak ada dosa”. My reply did make Ummar feel good and happy for his friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest Azlan and don’t worry about homework and UPSR… you are now His guest and I believe you would be waiting to hold your parents hands to accompany them to Firdaus…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Al-fatihah. To Azlan at no16 Jalan Sungai Tangakas baru…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-117038385894406294?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/117038385894406294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=117038385894406294' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/117038385894406294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/117038385894406294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2007/02/little-smile-underneath-thin-white.html' title='Little Smile Underneath The Thin White Cloth'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-112347565000132695</id><published>2005-08-08T12:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T14:45:41.590+08:00</updated><title type='text'>What's That You Say, My Dear Wife..?</title><content type='html'>For ages we had this argument, ….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffff33;"&gt;You ni… selalu macam tu tau, I cakap you buat tak tahu jeerr…&lt;br /&gt;Kalau dah depan tv tu orang cakap bukan you dengar….&lt;br /&gt;Papa kalau dah depan Tv tu panggil berpuluh kali pun tak dengar…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eeeeerrr…. Say what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here goes….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;London:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Research has revealed that the way men are wired for sounds means they find female voices more difficult to understand than male voices.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Different areas of the brain decode voices of each sex, with masculine tones being dealt with by a more basic area than higher pitched, more sing-song woman’s words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Psychiatrist Dr Michael Hunter of Sheffield University, used a magnetic resonance imagining scanners to see how the brain responded to different voices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He found female tones light up the complex auditory part of the brain, while men’s voices are more simply processed in an area known as the mind’s eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;This need for added brain power means men tire more easily when listening to women speak, a fatigue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; problem frequently experienced by the fictional TV hotelier Basil Fawlty, when his wife Sybil attempted to communicate with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr Hunter said: &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;“The Female voice is more complex than the male voice, due to differences in the size and shape of vocal cords and larynx between men and women and also due to women having greater natural “melody” in their voices.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ This causes a more complex range of sounds than in the male voice”. Women however find other women’s voice easy to listen to because they find it easier to identify with more musical speech pattern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;MALAY MAIL PAGE 18 Monday August 8, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;So the conclusion is that… Your husband is sooooo normal and thanks to Dr Hunter for being sooooo right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I wonder if the “female voices combined with subjects like… having to do house works or pay bills or even too much footballs or golf makes the brain more confused!!! No wonder I felt tired after so much nagging from you!!!!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;So don't blame me, blame Dr Hunter, or even better blame your company for printing this article.... hehehe .!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-112347565000132695?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/112347565000132695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=112347565000132695' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112347565000132695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112347565000132695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/08/whats-that-you-say-my-dear-wife.html' title='What&apos;s That You Say, My Dear Wife..?'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-112306780951058749</id><published>2005-08-03T19:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-04T08:47:18.473+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pictures worth Millions of Pounds Sterling</title><content type='html'>Just to share with you these pictures. Stare at the picture below and you could hear David Arumugum singing Sekuntum Mawar Merah..sebuah puisi... ( the rest of the lyric I leave it to Kak Teh )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a86/dekapai/girls.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s... Anedra look alike is also there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak &amp;amp; me of course...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" src="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a86/dekapai/Mumson.jpg" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-112306780951058749?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/112306780951058749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=112306780951058749' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112306780951058749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112306780951058749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/08/pictures-worth-millions-of-pounds.html' title='Pictures worth Millions of Pounds Sterling'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-112306553968559907</id><published>2005-08-03T18:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-03T18:38:59.706+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Teletubbies My Power Rangers &amp; My Malaysian Idol</title><content type='html'>Write about Nyak…. Kak Teh asked me one day. I said yes coz I’ve already told myself earlier that I would one day write about him. Write about a special person that has been part of my life, a huge part of me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would still remember when I was small (5 – 6 yrs old) my place would be on someone’s lap and could still feel the warmth of his hug. Felt much secured and will often fell asleep in his arms. During that time, we would be at Lorong Shariff Alor Setar Kedah. Father was there and this person by the name of &lt;strong&gt;Nyak&lt;/strong&gt; was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother befriended him when he was mixing around with local fishermen when we were in Yan, since then Nyak was with our family taking care of us, especially me. Nyak was there for me always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone told me that his real name was Zainal Abidin, that much I know, I never met his family or any of his relatives and as far as I knew he was my Nyak. When I was 7 we moved to another house in Alor Setar, then Nyak was no longer staying with us. He went back to marry someone and back to his hometown, back to his old job – a fisherman. Someone told me that my father had an argument with him but I refused to believe, not my Nyak… he would never do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could still remember Nyak in his &lt;em&gt;batek&lt;/em&gt; shirt walking to our house during one his visits from Yan. I would screamed with delight, ran to him and he would give me his warm hug, the best hug you could ever get from a brother, the kind of hug that you would never want to let go. He would come to visit us off and on since he left us. I was nine when father passed away, since then most of my brother and sisters were away either studying or working in Penang or Kuala Lumpur leaving me with mother &amp; grandmother. So Nyak’s visits would mean a lot to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A humble person from a poor family, Nyak would take me to his house in Tanjung Dawai ( a place where they produce good belacan ), I would then followed him fishing very early in the morning and came back late in the evening. There I learnt a lot about life,  more so about being what Nyak want me to be… a person with kind heart, and always be happy . He would always tell me to be nice to everybody, study hard and don’t be like him, as he is not educated and lead a difficult life. He said to be to be smart so that &lt;em&gt;“Ajie nanti kerja bawah kipas bukan bawah terik matahari macam Nyak” and Ajie jangan lupa Nyak bila Ajie besar.. bila Ajie kaya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Ajie kalau besar nak bagi Nyak apa?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I would reply… &lt;em&gt;“ Ajie bagi Nyak duit million million nazennn&lt;/em&gt; ( which I myself until now don’t really know what ‘nazen’ is but for sure that it is a lot of money ) then he would give me this smile, and I guess he was satisfied with that answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During my school holidays, Tanjung Dawai would be my destination. I would follow Nyak to the open sea, bringing back ikan bilis and kembong.  But there was one day that I will never forget. We came back early from the sea that day, around 5pm we were home and he asked me to take a bath before it gets dark which I refused, suddenly Nyak disappeared and after a while I decided to go to the toilet and only to see Nyak carrying buckets of water for me to take my bath. He was already filling up three quarter of the this huge container… he then turned to me and said &lt;em&gt;“Ajie punya pasai, Nyak sanggup buat apa pun.!!.”&lt;/em&gt; I found out later that their water pump was not working and he has to take the water from a well quite a distance away. He carried buckets of water for me to take my bath. And of course he didnt take his bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;img src="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a86/dekapai/Pumpair.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; There was also a day when we were on the fishing boat, suddenly he said to me that the storm was coming, he asked me to hold on tight to the boat as he needed to help the other fishermen securing the nets. I watched with horror the black sky which suddenly came from nowhere. The boat was hit hard by the storm, Nyak came to me and tried to comfort me by telling me that it was not that bad, but eventhough I held on  to the boat with all my strength I was thrown here and there due to the violent sea. Nyak was there, every few minute he would risk his life walking on the side of the boat to comfort me then he was back with his friends trying to salvage the nets. Later when we manage to take shelter behind an island, he came to bring me some water and lunch. He could see my face was already turned green and blue due to sea sick. Then he said -  &lt;em&gt;“Tak apa Ajie mabuk free… tak kena duit” … Macam ni lah kalau tak belajar pandai pandai…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nyak sang me the lullaby “Du du duii Masam Boyan”  which I’ve written in my blog earlier. He would also tell me all sorts of stories. He was full of jokes but never say  things like –&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;‘Alaaaaaaaaa semak perut la”&lt;/em&gt; then he would say “ pergilah telan la penyapu”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Alaaaaaaaaa lemas perut la”&lt;/em&gt; then he would say “ telan la pelampong”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Nyak ni loyar buruk”&lt;/em&gt; then he would say &lt;em&gt;“ganti tiang baru”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, he was the one who taught me about the birds and the bees… the only difference was that the use of projector…. (well let’s not elaborate on this !!!!)&lt;br /&gt;Nyak told me to marry someone who will also love him, I did and but he never get to see her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day while I was sitting next to him on our favorite swing in front of the house, he said -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Ajie nih bila besar mesti tak ingat Nyak… Nyak matipun Ajie tak mai tengok”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;I was hurt by his remarks as I love him so much and I replied&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“ Ajie mesti  ingat Nyak, dan kalau Nyak mati Ajie lah yang akan bawa keranda Nyak… Ajie yang duduk depan sekali” &lt;/em&gt;– he smiled and later left for his hometown Tanjung Dawai. Then one night, someone came knocking at the door and asked us if we have any relatives in Yan, or Tanjung Dawai. We acknowledged and he said that someone asked him to tell us that whoever that we knew in that area has passed away. He said he himself got the message from his neighbour who happens to have friends in Tanjung Dawai Yan, We asked him if he knew who was the one he said he himself didn’t know who. He left us wondering if it was Nyak or some other relatives…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we just took a drive to Yan and along the way I prayed to God that let it be someone else not Nyak. Hoping to see him with his big smile sitting on the veranda. To my disappointment it was Nyak… Nyak passed away due to heart attack. I lost my Nyak. I cried in silent as he once told me not to cry during his funeral. I kissed him and hugged him but this time round there were not like always - no more warm hugs from Nyak. I felt so empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nyak’s house was already packed with people, and they were worried that the wooden flooring could not take too much weight, they asked us to wait downstairs while they prepared him for burial, I reluctantly obeyed and climbed down the wooden steps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I heard…. &lt;em&gt;“ Sambut sambut …orang kat bawah tolong sambut”&lt;/em&gt; only to find out that they were carrying his coffin down from the house. I helped and refused to let go. I was in front, I was right in front carrying his coffin … after a few steps I cried as I remember my promise to Nyak. I carried his coffin and I was in front.. like what I told him before. I whispered to Nyak and I knew that he heard me.  I fulfilled my promise to Nyak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother was in London at that time, and because she has a weak heart and would definitely been so upset with the news, we have decided to just keep the news to our self. After 2 weeks mother came back and one fine day she popped out this question ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Nyak dah meninggal ka?&lt;/em&gt; She asked me and I was stunned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“Mmmm… Nyak meninggal waktu mak kat London …. Macamana mak tahu? I asked. Mother smiled and said “ Mak mimpi Nyak waktu mak kat London, dia bagitau Mak…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I guess if I love Nyak so much, then mother would too as he was just like her own son. She took care of him for such a long time. His love for her made it possible for him to tell mother that he has left her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want to write about Nyak and end up feeling sad or even make you cry if you read this article as it won’t do justice to Nyak. Nyak is fun, loving, happy go lucky type of person, and to me Nyak was everything nice.&lt;br /&gt;Nyak was my Teletubies, nice to hold and hug and always make me smile.&lt;br /&gt;Nyak was my Power Rangers, as he is my hero.&lt;br /&gt;Nyak was my American Idol or Malaysia Idol as he sang beautiful lullaby and songs that put me to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;I know and I believe that Nyak is up there in heaven, looking down on me. Nyak will always be with me, he was my brother, my father and my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nyak, I know that you could hear me… “I’ll give you million million nazeeennn!!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe… I just sing you a song…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dud u dui mak sam bo yannn&lt;br /&gt;Ucuk hanyir, Nyak kepala buak&lt;br /&gt;Sepak pungkok kena Tupperware&lt;br /&gt;Tak pecah…&lt;br /&gt;Wweeeeeerrreee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That will always be my “million million nazeeeennn”!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Al-Fatihah. May Allah bless your soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-112306553968559907?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/112306553968559907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=112306553968559907' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112306553968559907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112306553968559907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/08/my-teletubbies-my-power-rangers-my.html' title='My Teletubbies My Power Rangers &amp; My Malaysian Idol'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-112252779405025699</id><published>2005-07-28T10:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T11:29:21.846+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yes Dear, I'll sleep outside tonight!!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;After leaving The Menara ITM for more than 15 years, each of us follow our own path and taking with us memories of life in Menara Gading. Some of us decided to further our studies and some climbed the corporate ladder but mostly in communication line. We hold on to the 3 and a half years of campus life memories and like me I graduated in Advertising. Proudly bringing back the Diploma In mass Communication plus a bonus.... a girl whom later became my wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;"What.... A Reunion?"&lt;/span&gt; Yeeeee... and yes after 15 years you would want to get together and meet all your friends. I was very excited about it and confirmed my attendance immediately. An of course my wife did too. A month from now and we will have the opportunity to meet up with our long lost friends. How exciting!!!! Yes my wife too gets so excited and suddenly....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Best nyer ... dapat jumpa Suzana, Jasni ... bla bla bla...."' Razak biji pun kata nak datang, bla bla bla..."&lt;/em&gt; "&lt;/span&gt; and they told me that we need to wear "red" outfit because we were the "Last of The Red".... so the theme for the nite got to do with the colour RED!! and then...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;"I NAK PAKAI BAJU APA?"...&lt;/span&gt; the most dangerous, heart stopping, worst than the Weapon of Mass Destruction, question popped at 11.45 pm just minutes before the last sheep jumped over the fence!!!! "Oh God, here we go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's with woman and clothing? If kenduri they are more worried than the bride, they will be hysterical over what baju to wear, kasut matching ke dak, and believe me the list gets longer and longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weight? No no dont even think that you will escape that question. Question on weight and if she looks good and will her friends commented that she's "three letter word, &lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;rance, &lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;uckland and &lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;T&lt;/span&gt;urkey..." ohh my God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;If your answer is " No darling you look good!!!" then you will get..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Allllleeeehh you saja nak ambik hati IIII...."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;If your answer is " Yes darling, errr you put on weight a bit"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Then you will get...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"You patut bersyukurlah I macam ni walau pun dah anak lima!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well i remember reading the Looney Puff Hide Away blog - On Hitz.fm, (pls all bloggers visit her site and read this article) and I quote&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffccff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, there's nothing wrong in wanting to look good. In fact it's great that we have the inclination to look better. BUT let's not be too obsessed about it, shall we? I mean, look at the tips in Hits.FM. They have to prepare an answer, a standard answer, just to avoid being in a sticky position. This is not being sincere. Both sides has to be. The man and the woman. The one who's doing the asking, and the one who's answering." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, coming from the same gender!!!!!! Thank you Looneypuff Hide Away!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh My God!!!! As Im writing this article, I receive a sms from my wife&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt; " Thank You for being a darling hubby, aprreciate yr patience with me yesterday! Luv you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow!!!! that realllyy gives me the "ggoose bump!!!, she knows that I'm writing about her!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, yesterday she took a day off and followed me to the office, waited for 3 hours and after my meeting we rushed to KLCC Suria for shopping!!! It was 1pm and we were there for almost 4 hours searching for the &lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"baju yang macam ni and macam tu with kain macam ni and top macam tu" You agak agak cantik dak kalau I pakai macam tu!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped for a while at the foodcourt only to realise that the kebab was so nice .... errr not so sure about the "salad" my wife was having!!! I wouldnt dare to ask!!!! ... well i guess i t got to do with the reunion thingy a month from now!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 4 long hours of searching, we couldnt find anything, nothing at all, not even a tiny winnie thing from the whole hundred thousand square feet of the most popular shopping complex in Malaysia. Yes not a single thing!!!KLCC Suria - they should look into getting new management!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife was so dissapointed, I was even in a more terrifying stage 'thinking of having to go thru another day if she couldnt find the clothes!!!! We then left KLCC Suria, and on the way to the car park she said -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;" Thank God that they only organise the Reunion once every 15 years, imagine if we have it every month?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I said to her... my dear , it is not easy, I believe that even Elizabeth Taylor or Liz Hurley do go through these diffifult period!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We headed to another shopping complex on our way home, AMPANG PARK !!!! and after going in and out of these outlets finally she spotted a "baju kebaya pendek" !!! You could see the glow in her face and quickly ask for my approval!!!! and definately the answer is "YES" . That particular baju kebaya pendek does remind me of KakTeh... mmm my wife is also a writer!!! Anyway after she tried on the kebaya, the mood was different, happy and she kept on asking for my opinion on tudong and kain to go along with it. Finally I spotted a small outlet at the far end of the complex, and there was this nice red colour material that definately matched the kebaya. I showed to her and the aunty who was selling it taught her how to tie it to the latest fashion!!!! Again you could see the shine in her eyes. She was sooo happy. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We end up home at 7.15pm and did our asar quickly. She tried on the kebaya and red kain and put on her high heel shoes....&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;MY DEAR... you look stunning!!!!beautiful and it's worth all the suffering!!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I thought the chapter has ended... until&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6666;"&gt;'You nak pakai baju apa?!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I remember.... there are lot more things to go..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Kali ni I nak make-up kat kedai&lt;/em&gt;" tapi kalau function pukul 7 malam, pukul berapa I nak make up? Nak sembahyang maghrib macam mana?&lt;br /&gt;"I told her to Jamak and I'll drive to Melaka first and then straight down to Shah Alam so that she could Jamak her maghrib!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;" You pakai la tuxedo!!!!&lt;br /&gt;I said " you giler ke... tak adenye aku nak pakai tuxedo!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I nak beli kain and nak suruh tailor I jahit!!!! Apa nama tailor I tu hah? Nga..."&lt;br /&gt;I said " Mana la I tau tailor you nama apa... Ngah Pok atau Ngah Nab (&lt;em&gt;my aunty's name&lt;/em&gt; )kot!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;I bukan apa, I have to look good, nanti orang kata bini you ni tak cantik, I kena la jaga nama you!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;well another month to go and anything can happen, fashion and taste will continue to change, but one thing for sure.... your darling hubby is here at you service!!!!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As long as you are happy my dear wife.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ffcc99;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;p/s.. I'll try to get our reunion pixs posted in my blog... until then. ( If i survive to see the event!!!)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-112252779405025699?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/112252779405025699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=112252779405025699' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112252779405025699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112252779405025699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/07/yes-dear-ill-sleep-outside-tonight.html' title='Yes Dear, I&apos;ll sleep outside tonight!!!!'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-112185055161592796</id><published>2005-07-20T15:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T17:09:11.623+08:00</updated><title type='text'>TOK MISAI at the age of 40.</title><content type='html'>I know I have to write about this, the moment my HILMAN cried for an hour and refused to look at me, I told myself that I need to share this with you guys out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shaved my moustache, yes I did… It has been there since the eighties. Still remember when I was in secondary school, I have to avoid  my school principal, make sure that he was nowhere near coz he will asked me to shave, I even avoid going to the school assembly just because of this.  Not that it is so important to have moustache but I guess it is just to establish that you are an adult. You have grown up, there will be a lot more physical changes along the way and having moustache is one of them. And also I do look good with it..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First time I shaved my moustache was when ADAM was born. I “nazar” that if Allah were to bless me with a baby boy, I would shave my moustache and I did. That was 12 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this time round, without any purpose, I stared at the mirror and made this drastic change. I could not believe myself, even I don’t remember how I look like without my moustache. It does make a lot of differences … I do look like someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of the reactions :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Hilman ( he was the first to see me without my moustache )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ Papa, kenapa dengan papa?, papa ni lain la.” After a while, he cried and refused to look at me again. He said “ Papa pegi pasang misai balik” Poor baby, my daughter had to look for my photo album and convinced him that I am his father showing him my picture when I was in primary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Wife&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God, wat happen to you, whyyyyy?” She screamed and couldn’t stop staring at me, I guess after marrying her for 13 years, even she cant remember me without my moustache. She got a new Husband!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Ummar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ OOOOooo papa macam Antonio Banderas la, ehh ehh papa ada tahi lalat kat bibir eeek?. Well that is the kind of remarks that you wish for. He also couldn’t stop staring at my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Daughter Iman&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She just giggles and also could not stop smiling, then she was busy trying to convince my Hilman that I am not a stranger…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Adam,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scolded him because he dissapeared to his friends house without telling us, and instead of giving his usual "takut / yes I'am guilty Papa" face, he could stop smillling and ran to the kitchen to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Maid,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alamak, kenapa dengan Pak Ajie, she laughed and laughed and said ‘ Saya dapat tauke baru”, nampak muda la tauke saya!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Sister Zaiton..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Huuhhh!!! hodoh sungguh, pelik sungguh muka dia, “ well with my sister, you cant take these remarks seriously, even with or without moustache I will always look ugly to her. “ Macam baru baik demam!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My sister Zalilah&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiled and said “ Huuhh pelik muka dia, nampak gemuk.!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My friend Ekmal&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Engkau ni dah buang tabiat ke, dah nak masuk 40 tahun, kau simpan rambut panjang, kau cukur misai, dah nak mampos le tu!!!!” Orang nak mati memang macam tu!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Niece Wani&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alamak Pak Ajie, nampak muda la, lain sungguh muka Pak Ajie” and she covered her face with her hands and said she’s afraid to look at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Niece Ina,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hahahahahaha………” all the way, and screamed when I approached her…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Niece Dina,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“see ya Pak Ajie, when you have your moustache back!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Nephew Azril&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What what?.... until today he never realize the changes!!!.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I came to a conclusion, that people (be it your family members or friends ) has accepted you as you are, comfortable with the way you look in all there years and difficult to accept the slightest change in you. No changes required, just grow old gracefully… if you beginning to lose your hair then let it be..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, I love all the reactions, sincerely because I know I have a very caring family and friends, they care for me and worry if I make any changes to myself. They react to the slightest change in you. It is worst if you do lose your moustache and your wife don’t even realize it ….&lt;br /&gt;But I guess the changes in me got to do with me reaching the “ambang 40 tahun”. Yes I’am gonna be forty years old. Is it true that life really begins at forty? Do you feel the changes in you or it is just another number? Yes I’ve read about ignoring the numbers to make you happy in life as was written by AuntyN, but I guess these numbers do have a certain “impact” in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, in the cycle of age, you can say that you dah masuk waktu Maghrib!!! Subuh being the age for childhood, zuhur being teenager, asar being early thirties, and Isyak when you have reached sixties…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone out there has anything to say? What really happen when you reach forty. Are you wiser? Do you need to go for soul searching thing? Or what? Help me!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well back to my moustache…. After these few day of me without moustache, I could feel that it is growing and sooner or later I’ll be back with my moustache. Back to the old me. Ajie is back.. and to my dearest HILMAN.. Papa is back.!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p/s SMS from my wife.&lt;br /&gt;“Best pulak you tak ade misai!!!!!” …….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! No misai and I believe that she is quite excited with her “new Husband”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MISAI oooo MISAI!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-112185055161592796?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/112185055161592796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=112185055161592796' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112185055161592796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112185055161592796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/07/tok-misai-at-age-of-40.html' title='TOK MISAI at the age of 40.'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-112132742588177266</id><published>2005-07-14T14:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-14T15:50:25.886+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?... I guess We Would Never Understand</title><content type='html'>I was driving to my office after lunch, accompanied by my Chinese friend. We stopped at the traffic light and as usual we were laughing over jokes about our friends. Suddenly I notice a pair of beautiful eyes staring at me. Sandwiched between her mom and dad, this little girl was sweating under the hot sun. She was staring at me maybe because of my sunglasses and my long hair, or maybe because of something else… maybe she was asking us to give her a lift as she was reaaaalllly uncomfortable under the hot sun. She must be 1 or two years old. Sadly she was not wearing the crash helmet. Then another pair of eyes stared at us, and that must be the elder brother, also sweating. He was seated in front of his father with two legs inside the motorcycle’s bucket. With two hands holding the handle, I guess that must be the best seat given to him for this journey. Also he was not wearing any crash helmet…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I turned to my friend and commented on how insensitive their parents were, only they were the ones with the crash helmet. What if anything were to happen? Would the mother be able to protect the daughter she was holding? Would the father be able to do anything at all to save the son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sincerely hope that my friend agree with me but instead he said…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ Dont you think that the parents would want to give the best to their children?”&lt;br /&gt;“ Don’t you think that they would have bought a nice car with air conditioned like your car.?If they can afford?.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They cant afford it, they have to live with what ever they have. Maybe they are on their way home and it is too far for the father to make more than one trip. There are a lot of things that we ourselves take for granted just because God has blessed us with “a little” bit more comfort in life than the family …” “Wouldn’t we do the same if we were in their shoes?” he said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is true, maybe because we are blessed with lots of good things in life that we tend to take things for granted. That reminds me of my days when I was small. I cycled to school very early in the morning, cycled for almost 6 kilometres everyday, crossed so many roads, beat the traffic lights, and I was just eleven years old then. Anything can happen to you.. but thank Allah nothing happened. And I would never allow my kids to do that now. Don’t even think of that!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we continued our journey as my friend lectured me few things about life, suddenly we touched on this very interesting topic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why would a muslim blow himself up for the name of revenge or jihad?”&lt;br /&gt;Again the topic of Edgeware Road Station, King Cross, Russell Square and Moorgate station in London became the centre of discussion. Another 9-11 incident. Another sad story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Maybe Kak Teh has lots of things to say about this&lt;/em&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Chinese friend told me that he could never understand why someone is willing to kill himself for the name of jihad, and asked me to explain what jihad is. Well I did try my best to explain to him and he finally agreed with me on certain things. After few questions were thrown to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“What would you think would happened if the beautiful pair of eyes that were staring at you just now were taken away from the mother or father for any reasons at all?.&lt;br /&gt;“What would the parents do if they their children were taken away from them?. Or even worst if the wife is also taken away from the husband and he has nowhere else to go to. Even their houses were destroyed, no food to eat. Not even the usual sweet voice “Papa balik papa balik” to greet you at your doorstep?.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may not agree with the idea of killing or hurting another human being for any reason at all.&lt;br /&gt;We may not do things of which would label us as insane, killer, murderer, or even terrorist, but I pray to Allah Al-Mighty, and thank Him for the comfort, health, peace and most of all for my loving friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That changed me… Instead of cursing the parents for being insensitive over the crash helmet thingy, why not we pray to Allah, every time we see things like these, that Allah would give them a “little” bit more comfort in life so that they wouldn’t have to ride the motorbike in foursome, or if they need to, that the parents can afford the crash helmets for their kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pray to Allah …&lt;br /&gt;That those who have lost their love ones would be strong in these difficult times.&lt;br /&gt;That All Leaders would be most sensitive over these issues of killing each other in Aghanistan, Iraq, Iran, New York and now London. One thing they have in common…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All of them have lost “the beautiful pair of eyes” that stares at you. Unnecessarily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;For all of you in London, Leeds and other places in UK, please be careful… We pray to Allah for your safety.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-112132742588177266?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/112132742588177266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=112132742588177266' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112132742588177266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112132742588177266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/07/why-i-guess-we-would-never-understand.html' title='Why?... I guess We Would Never Understand'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-112063856021581339</id><published>2005-07-06T16:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-06T16:39:25.150+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sekilo Daging Sekarung Ikan Temenung</title><content type='html'>I had a good friend, an old man by the name of Pak Embi. Big sized and very funny old man. Red lips from chewing sireh, white hair and most of the time without his shirt. With his old bicycle he will push it until the junction of our lorong (lane ), once there was no car then only he’ll climb onto it, cycling to the nearby wet market where he sells meat. All you see from him is his smile as most people will greet salam to him. I was in my primary school days then…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to stop at his house especially after school, I would spend time with him as he will tell me lot of jokes and we would laugh together. In between these jokes he will talk to his cats, there were at least 40 or 50 of them. Yes, he loves cats. He talks to them as if they all his children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pak Embi lives in an old wooden shack, really old one, old zinc roof, with holes everywhere, even the pillars were not straight upright, he used to say that the house is like that because of him being too heavy. Again he will smile &amp; laugh. After his wife passed away, his only son deserted him. His son got married and left him for good. Never came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pak Embi has a big heart, really big heart, - a big heart for a big old man.&lt;br /&gt;Pak Embi would cycle to the wet market every morning, after he finished his work, you would see him cycling back and made few stops along the way. Then as he climb down his old bicycle, you would see stray cats running towards him. Meow here meow there as he then gently open the sack which he caries with him and feed fresh fish ( kembung or sardines ) to all of them.. Each and every one of them. He will then continue his two kilometer journey and made at least another three or four stops along the way. He will feed at least another fifty to sixty stray cats. And yes he will do these every day. Even when Pak Embi was no longer selling meat at the wet market he still made his normal visits to all his “children”. The only different was just that he will cycle to the wet market for his morning coffee and buy fresh fish not for him but for his cats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was once when I visited him, He was so down, not that talkative or even tell me jokes. I thought he was angry at something only to find out later that one of his cats was killed by the neighbour’s car. He cried. Later he told me that he buried his cat in front of his house. He even told me that his cat died and now in heaven waiting for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pak Embi survived by zakat given to him by kampong folks, that is the only income he has. I would visit him every now and then during my semester break. I used to greet salaam to him and ask for a cup of coffee and then both of will sit at the veranda where we both smoke “rokok daun together. He will be without his shirt and only with his sarong. Puffing away his miseries …&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pak Embi appeared in Majalah Tiga, someone told me. I was not surprised. They showed him with his cats, I didn’t watch the programme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was once when I visited him early in the morning, Pak Embi was still asleep. After a while he answered my salam and invited me in. He was still in his bed. Mosquito net was still intact and he would try to peep through the holes to see me. I could smell the cats and see dirty dishes everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pak Embi tak sihat” (I’m not well ) then I ask him to rest.&lt;br /&gt;“Pak Embi nak makan apa?” I asked. Then he replied, “Entah lah” I offered him to buy roti canai and coffee and promised him that I be back. I did. With roti canai and coffee I wanted to serve him only to find out that there were no clean plates or cups in this house. He got off his bed, pick up a dirty plate and a mug, wipe them with his hands and gave them to me for me to put the roti canai and coffee. I cried in silent. I washed his plates, cleaned his toilets and made him promised to ask for me if he needs anything. He never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every year, during the month of Ramadan I would drive home and mother would remind me to visit Pak Embi. I would bring my kids and pay Zakat to him. These days you only pay zakat to Amil, you pay them and get the receipt that’s about all, but with Pak Embi we would beli and jual beras and he would make sure you pronounce the names clearly. He will still jokes around and offer you coffee. And of course in between these jual and beli beras, his would talk to his cats. Telling them to behave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would see Pak Embi at the end of the junction, with kopiah putih, big size baju melayu johor putih and sarong cycling to the mosque. He would smile to you as he answers your salam. After a few years Pak Embi was sick, only to get worst by his weakening knee which fail to support his weight. He was so sick that he could not even walk to the toilet. And then one day my mother called me at the office only to tell me that Pak Embi has left us. His relative discovered him at noon. He passed away leaving all his “children”. They told me that early morning his cats were all there calling for him. His only son was nowhere to be seen; only his cats were there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Al-Fatihah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May Allah bless your soul. And I believe you are there in heaven with your “children” all hundreds of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss my cup of coffee&lt;br /&gt;I miss my rokok daun&lt;br /&gt;But most of all I miss my “big heart funny old man”&lt;br /&gt;I wish for God Al-Mighty to create more of Pak Embi in this world, for all of us to learn a lesson or two. About life, love and most of all about sharing…&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Pak Embi… you taught me a lot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-112063856021581339?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/112063856021581339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=112063856021581339' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112063856021581339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/112063856021581339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/07/sekilo-daging-sekarung-ikan-temenung.html' title='Sekilo Daging Sekarung Ikan Temenung'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-111925045707859348</id><published>2005-06-20T14:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T14:16:43.953+08:00</updated><title type='text'>MAK, IBU, MAMA, BONDA &amp; UMI</title><content type='html'>Pagi pagi berus gigi&lt;br /&gt;Gigi gusi cantik berseri&lt;br /&gt;Mak Ibu Bonda Mama atau Umi&lt;br /&gt;Ku sujud restu syurga di bawah kaki&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pagi tadi roti secawan kopi&lt;br /&gt;Ibu berdiri sentiasa menanti&lt;br /&gt;"Lewat bangun sembahyang subuh dak tadi?"&lt;br /&gt;"Sembahyang mak, tapi ajie tidur kembali...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a86/dekapai/FAMILY/Tok_flower_garden1.jpg" alt="Image hosted by Photobucket.com"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umur dah lanjut, jalan terhoyong hayang&lt;br /&gt;Mata masih cerah cuma telinga saja kurang&lt;br /&gt;Tapi hati bonda penuh kasih sayang&lt;br /&gt;Leter bonda iringi usia ku yang semakin panjang&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aku ada anak lima&lt;br /&gt;Bonda peluk cium anak ke semua&lt;br /&gt;Apa jasa yang hendak ku balas wahai mama&lt;br /&gt;Sehingga kini kasih mama panas membara&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ku peluk Umi ku cium dahi&lt;br /&gt;Mak, aku dak nak pergi lagi mencari rezeki&lt;br /&gt;"Kerjalah anak, rezeki nak bela anak isteri"&lt;br /&gt;"Jangan lupa sembahyang kalau tidak tak berkat rezeki"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wahai Ibu aku sujud ke hadrat Ilahi&lt;br /&gt;Kurnia Nya pada ku Seorang insan bernama Umi&lt;br /&gt;Tapi hati ini sentiasa tertanya tanya pada satu misteri&lt;br /&gt;Apakah aku sudah bersedia seandainya Umi tiada lagi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dari kecil aku genggam tangan ibu&lt;br /&gt;Cepat lintas jalan Ajie, kereta dah nak mari&lt;br /&gt;Semalam aku genggam tangan ibu lagi&lt;br /&gt;"hati hati mak, jangan tersepak batu di jalan ni"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Semalam Mak bisik di telinga aku&lt;br /&gt;"Mak dah bosan mak dah jemu"&lt;br /&gt;"Hantar mak balik, rumah mak dah menunggu"&lt;br /&gt;" Mak balik dulu, mak nak balik lebih kurang seminggu"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hati aku berkecai lagi wahai ibu&lt;br /&gt;jangan lah mak, duduk lah sini bersama aku&lt;br /&gt;tapi aku tau aku derhaka, tiada masa untuk mu&lt;br /&gt;wahai mama, umi, bonda dan ibu ampun kan aku.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kubiarmu usap rambut ku acap kali&lt;br /&gt;Aku tersenyum sendiri aku menanti&lt;br /&gt;"Uhhhh..... potong lah jambang, biar berseri"&lt;br /&gt;Leter lah ibu, leter lah ibu biar berkali kali&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Semalam aku melihat mu bersama Sofea&lt;br /&gt;merenung matamu senyuman terukir&lt;br /&gt;ghairah tangan mu menyuap nasi padanya&lt;br /&gt;tangan itulah dulu menyuap aku anak yang terakhir&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ku ingat lagi wahai umi&lt;br /&gt;sewaktu aku bersekolah lagi&lt;br /&gt;umi datang jauh ke sekolah ku di sungai petani&lt;br /&gt;di tangan umi mangkuk tingkat sambal tumis udang dan nasi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kini aku semakin mengerti&lt;br /&gt;mengapa dulu baju sekolah aku tak terbeli&lt;br /&gt;sehingga aku tak nampak lagi kalung emas di dada umi&lt;br /&gt;kau sandarkan agar aku dapat ke sekolah lagi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kedut di dahi penanda usia&lt;br /&gt;berkali kali ibu tanya soalan yang sama&lt;br /&gt;aku berdoa wahai Tuhan Yang Maha Esa&lt;br /&gt;Agar anak anak ku syang aku seperti aku sayang mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mata ibu tepat memandang aku&lt;br /&gt;Senyum ibu aku mengerti&lt;br /&gt;Balik lah ibu sekiranya itu yang ibu mahu&lt;br /&gt;tapi ibu janji ibu datang balik ke rumah ajie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aku doakan sejahtera wahai umi&lt;br /&gt;aku akur pada pesanmu ibu&lt;br /&gt;aku mohon ampun ketelanjuranku wahai bonda&lt;br /&gt;aku pohon syurga di bawah kaki mu mama.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-111925045707859348?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/111925045707859348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=111925045707859348' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111925045707859348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111925045707859348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/06/mak-ibu-mama-bonda-umi.html' title='MAK, IBU, MAMA, BONDA &amp; UMI'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a86/dekapai/FAMILY/th_Tok_flower_garden1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-111924617841421630</id><published>2005-06-20T12:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-20T13:56:55.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Apa Ada Pada Nama</title><content type='html'>Day in day out especially if you are from the North, you would hear names which make you wonder how creative some people could be. For example Din Bangau, Ah Rintik, Mak Wan Bunga Melor, Din Toge, Art Buluh or even Art Capang. In my case it all started when I was in ITM, during the “induction period” whereby all seniors took advantage of making their life easier by getting juniors to prepare coffee, make up their beds or even clean their rooms. I remember during that time someone told me to oblige to the seniors requests and make sure that you don’t go againsts their commands otherwise you wont live to see the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, coming from the North to Menara Gading located in the big city makes you wonder if you could survive the “new culture” consist of all type of people from various states. I did try my level best to accommodate all my seniors’ wishes. Coffee done, katil dah kemas, I sang to them and even dance to what ever tune they make. Until one day, it was 3.00 in the morning, we were summoned to the seniors room. We dragged our feet and was very tired after a long day of induction programmes. But we had to go coz these seniors were the “beast” amongst all. So here goes…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nama apa?”&lt;br /&gt;“kampong Mana?”&lt;br /&gt;Apa pasal buat Mass Comm?&lt;br /&gt;Blab la blab la blab la bla…… the whole night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had to act to our favourite advertisement just becoz we told them that we wanted to major in Advertising. Not to mention going underneath their beds chasing each other coz one of us told the seniors that he wanted to become the member of ROTU – Reserve Officer Training Unit (If I got that right!!!!). Until one moment, one of my seniors asked me why my name is “different”, he asked me to tell everybody the story….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, I was born in Mekah, That is why people called me AJIE – used to be HAJI kecik - Padang Arafah to be exact, ….. I started my story relating the reasons for my name to sound different from the rest of the world…. My mother went to perform her Haj by ….. KAPAI -(it was long time ago, back then people went to Saudi Arabia by ship, it took them more than 3 months - ) obviously I could not pronounce it as KAPAL (Ship) coz I’m from the North, we say BANTAI not Bantal, MAHAI not MAHAL…..”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ no no …. KAPAL bukan Kapai’ my senior stopped me even before I could finish my story.&lt;br /&gt;Kapal…. Ok Kapal…Sebut KAPAL…. Bukan KAPAI…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well at that particular moment my seniors burst into laughters and that nite I had to endure the “pronounciation drill” for hours….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On top of that “ OK everybody…from now on we call him AJIE KAPAI…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I graduated with that name, and even more varieties - “KAPAI” “Abang KAPAI” "Abang Ajie Kapai” “PAI”. That’s me. &lt;strong&gt;AJIE KAPAI&lt;/strong&gt;. Well, my wife who I was dating during the few years there was also called “Mrs KAPAI!!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thanked GOD for the name, at least not as bad as some unfortunate friends, - we had &lt;strong&gt;Ajoi Muniady&lt;/strong&gt; – just because he is dark, &lt;strong&gt;Zainal – Ah Chong&lt;/strong&gt; ( his mother is a Chinese ). Sometimes these names were given becoz it has its hidden meaning… like&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man Ganja&lt;/strong&gt;- a guy who is “so selamba” that he looks like he is stoned most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Art Capang&lt;/strong&gt; – because of his ears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Art Buluh&lt;/strong&gt; – he makes a lot of noise but in actual fact those noises are just noises you could ignore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Din Bangau&lt;/strong&gt; – tall and he walks like a Bangau&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Malik Puyuh&lt;/strong&gt; – also because he wanted to walk like John Travolta after seeing "Saturday Nite Fever" but people see him walks like burung puyuh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Nan Kole&lt;/strong&gt; – just because he used to go to the toilet holding this KOLE with all his tooth brush, tooth paste and etc… in it”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Zainal Pegawai&lt;/strong&gt; – A gentleman whom you would never see with faded jeans, always with his “briefcase” , nice and neat hair cut, iron shirt….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Mustapa Tokong&lt;/strong&gt; - you should see him in his yellow towel, exactly like the tokong(Buddist statue...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Ed Rabbit&lt;/strong&gt; - his front teeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Zaim Jaws&lt;/strong&gt; - he wore braces and like to open his mouth so wide when he yawn.&lt;br /&gt;Last but not least – &lt;strong&gt;PAK YA KO..&lt;/strong&gt; – well he was very unfortunate that you always see him with his hands scratching his private parts….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well you just have to accept what was given to you. I live my life with this name and I'm proud of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-111924617841421630?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/111924617841421630/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=111924617841421630' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111924617841421630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111924617841421630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/06/apa-ada-pada-nama.html' title='Apa Ada Pada Nama'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-111157686670555431</id><published>2005-03-23T19:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-23T19:31:13.580+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pa here Pa there Everywhere Pa Pa Pa</title><content type='html'>PAPA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pa… boleh tak A… pegi main bola kat padang”&lt;br /&gt;“Pa … I….. nak beli buku latihan mewarna buah-buahan, bole ? seringgit lapan puluh sen saja”&lt;br /&gt;“Pa… duduk diam diam jangan gerak U….. nak cabut rambut putih Papa”&lt;br /&gt;“Pa… H…… nak suuupy ( 7 Eleven Slurpy )&lt;br /&gt;“Pa…pa..pa. pa…… S&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A day in a life of Kapai,&lt;br /&gt;Pa here Pa there&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere Pa pa Pa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day my eldest son said to me “ Papa dah tua, tak payah la main bola lagi, kan dah sakit sakit, biar A… saja main” . God knows how hurt I was at the time…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then while watching ESPN I had to sit still because U….. will be busy screening for my grey hair. I still remember those days when we had to “cabut uban Mak” or rambut gatai she called it. ‘ Hah … panjang nye…. 4 ringgit 20 puluh seeeeeennn..” that is the amount to pay for the service. Ten cents for one grey hair. Those day we were not paid for this kind of service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes in the middle of a serious discussion at the Client’s place, you need to attend to a more urgent call “ Pa…. Pa balik pukul berapa?” “ Kenapa? “ I whispered to my daughter…….. “ Saje je, Pa … buat apa tu?” Papa tengah kerja ni… nanti pa pa call balik” “Pa… Kak Tin kata beras dah habis, ikan dah habis, susu dengan corn flake pun dah habis” “ Semalam Pa pa hutang I…. cabut uban Papa 2 ringgit tujuh puluh seeeeeeeennnn”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve been blessed with all these, I know God that You have given me more than I deserve. I thank You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pa……… waaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhh” – (duration 2 mins 23 secs before you could hear the first word ) and you would ask why and he will take another one more minute to answer. “Ok hilman nanti Papa beli slurpy….” “ Err… sorry Mr Client… where were we……..”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always ask myself if I’m a good father, I never had the chance to be with my father that long coz he left me at the age of nine. Is there a book on “How to be a good father?” I’m trying to be one, so one day while busy doing nothing at home I saw my two sons and daughter playing “masak masak”. Well being a father and to make sure that they grow up to be real man I had to say something………&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Apa ni main masak masak, budak perempuan saja main masak masak…nak jadi p…… ke” and believe it or not these were their answers…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eeeeellllllllleeeeeeeehhhhhh…… kita main main jer… Yang Papa tu masak betul betul kat dapor tu….hahahahaha….Papa p……. ke? Masak mee bandung la, masak kari la…”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God , it never cross my mind how observant they could be, I remember at one time when we were in Alor Star, my grandmother was very sick, bedridden for almost 10 years and during her last few months we noticed that she suffers from bed sores, quite bad and to attend to the bed sores, you need real guts to deal with blood and smell. Well my wife did well, she passed the test with flying colours but not my sisters. So when we came back to Kuala Lumpur, my daughter was asked by somebody on her trip back to Alor Setar and the conditions of my grandmother……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I….. balik tengok nenek, dia sakit, mama tolong cuci luka dia, kesian dia…… tapi Mak Ngah tak tolong. Dia sembunyi belakang tiang jerrrr…..dia takut”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is true what Mak used to say to us, “makan la dalam pinggan kaca, pinggan sumbing buang, budak budak pun makan dalam pinggan kaca jugak, pecah kita beli lain” Now I understand and thank you mak for another lesson on parenting. It means you need to treat everybody to the best possible manner, even kids and never treat them differently as somehow they notice. Everything has to be proper… Makan di meja makan, tidor di katil so on and so forth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine if we were to serve food to the old lady with “pinggan plastic like pinggan kucing…..” what is the possibility of being treated the same way by your children whose eyes were wide open observing every single thing you did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“ Pa …. Papa kerje apa? I…. tahu Papa kerje main bunga api kan……..” Maybe she is right, I took her to see my event and there were fireworks and pyro-technics. She saw me with walkie talkie giving cues to people”. Few days ago my cousin called from Miri, after a while he congratulated me … I asked him for what? He said he was impressed with I…. , He saw her at my sister inlaw’s funeral. She was sitting beside her Mak Lang and kissed her few times. She cried and she said “ I…… dah tak ada Mak Lang lagi”. She was the only child around. She followed Mak Lang when her body was later carried for funeral. She saw everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all my sons and daughters… Papa will always try to be a good father. But Papa need your help……..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“STOP CALLING MY MOBILE PHONE UNLESS THERE IS EMERGENCY!!!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but the best will always come last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pa.... bil Astro, air, letrik belum bayar lagi................."coming from my wife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TERKAPAI LAGI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-111157686670555431?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/111157686670555431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=111157686670555431' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111157686670555431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111157686670555431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/03/pa-here-pa-there-everywhere-pa-pa-pa.html' title='Pa here Pa there Everywhere Pa Pa Pa'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-111149114292986576</id><published>2005-03-22T19:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-23T11:40:48.546+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Du du duuiii Mak sam bo yan!!!</title><content type='html'>“Do do doi mak sam bo yan&lt;br /&gt;Ucuk anyark,&lt;br /&gt;Kapai kepala buak&lt;br /&gt;Sepak pungkok kena Tupperware&lt;br /&gt;Tak pecah&lt;br /&gt;Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee………”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nominated as the song of the year&lt;br /&gt;The best lyric ever written by mankind&lt;br /&gt;The most creative song ever produced&lt;br /&gt;The most memorable and beautiful lullaby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll treasure it&lt;br /&gt;I’ll sing it to my children&lt;br /&gt;I’ll will always remember you Nyak&lt;br /&gt;God bless your soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever heard of the word “LOVE”?&lt;br /&gt;Ever wonder what it means?&lt;br /&gt;Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“La illa ha illallah”…… Abang stood before me, trying very hard to persuade Irfan, his only grandchild to sleep….. “penat Tok Abah macam ni”. Indeed he is tired, after months of sleepless night accompanying Kak Piah who has just left him few days ago. Left him for good. She passed away last Friday after one and a half years of struggling with the big C. I looked deep into his eyes and I could see anger, emptiness… and here Abang stood strong in front of me trying hard to hide his feelings……… “Mana Irfan Tok Abah niiiii……..” now that is what we called LOVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dia nak susu kot…” and you could see Mak with her trembling hands trying to help Abang with Irfan’s milk bottle…. Again she is beside him, again during his difficult times she will be there, always on time, never late, never fail to be there. Again by his side. Look deep into her eyes and I could see sadness, hope and worries. Sad because no Mother wants to see their son suffers, hope.. praying to God to let her live another 100 years so that she could be with Abang, worry.. that her health will fail on her. Again this is LOVE…mother’s LOVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to think of it, who is taking care of whom … My 65 yrs old brother taking care of Mak or my 90yrs old Mak is taking care of Abang. I think I know, and I’m very sure that it is Mak who is there for Abang. She will always be there for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you God………&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Mak tak pernah cakap, mak simpan kat mak biar merobok dalam perut, pak pernah pesan kat mak dia kata ..Yun hang duduk di rumah ni , jangan dok pi menyusah anak-anak” Rumah ni aku buat untuk hang…. Hang duduk kat rumah ni…..”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Mak la ni nak balik dok rumah mak…. Memang mak dah tak dengar tapi mak kecik hati kalau orang cakap kasar-kasar dengan mak…. Mak tak pernah cakap kasar dengan anak-anak mak….”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the longest journey I’ve ever been, listening to all her words in the middle of the night traveling from my Abang’s house …. Who are we to stop her from doing what she wants. Since when we were granted the veto power to brush aside her wishes, Who gave us the right to determine what is right and what is wrong for her…… she was the one who taught us all that since Pak left 30 years ago..? Is she suffering in silence, or we are just too ignorant to realize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We love you mak……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to all Si Tanggang, Mat Tanggang and Minah Tanggang out there…. Do we really know what the true meaning of LOVE. Do you? Really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dud u dui ( dodoi la dodoi )&lt;br /&gt;Mak Sam bo yan ( budak masam di buaian )&lt;br /&gt;Ucuk anyark ( Busuk hanyir )&lt;br /&gt;Kapai kepala buak ( kapai la si budak manja )&lt;br /&gt;Sepak pungkok ( I guess it means geram )&lt;br /&gt;Kena Tupperware ( he missed and kick a Tupperware )&lt;br /&gt;Tak pecah ( It doesn’t break……it is Tupperware )&lt;br /&gt;Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ( yeaaaahhhhhhhhh )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I wish you were still around Nyak to sing me this beautiful Lullaby….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still….. Mak nak balik rumah Mak.!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mak, Can I sing you this lullaby so that we just forget about all these. We do love you, worry about you but we just don’t really know how to do it. We thought we know but…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;terkapai kapai&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-111149114292986576?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/111149114292986576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=111149114292986576' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111149114292986576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111149114292986576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/03/du-du-duuiii-mak-sam-bo-yan.html' title='Du du duuiii Mak sam bo yan!!!'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-111064451934156989</id><published>2005-03-12T22:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-13T20:07:25.106+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Bapak" dont cry.....</title><content type='html'>Life is such that if you are the youngest everything have to be fast.... my sis started my blog, filled up my profile, taught me how to post my first "article" and ...... "cepat la Kak Teh nak tengok ....". yeah, yeah.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So kak teh, here goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i first read Kak Teh's story on Abang.. and how he has changed becoz of the big C, i printed the article and passed it around... proud i may be, coz kak Teh has always been the one that could put everything in writing, sad i may feel coz i could still see how Abang cried when Prof Yip told him the truth, i was there, standing next to him.... I thought you could only see this "moment" in drama swasta... but one thing for sure , in drama swasta the doctor will tell u the bad news and walk away, but when Prof Yip told Abang that there is nothing much she could do to help his wife, if could see tears in her eyes, she held his arms....abang cried. Both of the them tried and failed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what is next, life is such... I had to be the one to tell him that he has done everything, no regrets please... it has been one and a half years of HUKM, IJN, back and forth.. morning till evening, forgo everything, golf, appointments, frens.... still she is leaving, he lost the battle. Again the big C wins.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True, u never thought u could see Abang cry... he did and actually cried in front of me.... I still remember how tasty "belacan" is in the wee hours ..... but could still smile coz u know Abang is home. He has a strange way of announcing his arrival, usually very early in the morning. But Abang please dont cry, let me be the one to shed the tears as I'm the youngest... that should be the way... U should be the one with the big laughs, jokes and even funny or weird stories...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father left us when I was 9, so there were only two of u who used to be there for me... bapu and you. Strangely I did once ask God why he was so "unfair" to take away my father so soon... yesterday my nephew said to me the same thing... he said "Why?"it is not fair... my mother wont be able to see my son grow up.... " and I could give him this answer:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fair or not " only God knows what He is doing...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now i know, Abang.... u dont cry, "bapak dont cry"... I be there coz I'm the youngest and your only brother. U were always there for me so... "we will make her comfortable... the best we can"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to be quick...for Abang&lt;br /&gt;I got to be there... for Comat&lt;br /&gt;Only for my "bapak".. maybe this is when or how you say "thank you" for being there all these years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kak teh, thank you for the blog!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-111064451934156989?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/111064451934156989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=111064451934156989' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111064451934156989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111064451934156989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/03/bapak-dont-cry.html' title='&quot;Bapak&quot; dont cry.....'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11396150.post-111063637435487116</id><published>2005-03-12T22:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-03-12T22:06:47.616+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My first post</title><content type='html'>Now that I've got a blog, what do I do with it? Its not as f I don't have enough to do, a blog is another responsibility, daily updates, checking comments, visiting other blogs, writing in comments etc. Will think of something...may be a special post for my wife's birthday. There's so many birthdays this month. Two sisters' birthday and my own ....arghhhhh! Age is catching up with me. Am getting depressed...fening! fening!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/11396150-111063637435487116?l=dekapai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/feeds/111063637435487116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=11396150&amp;postID=111063637435487116' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111063637435487116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/11396150/posts/default/111063637435487116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dekapai.blogspot.com/2005/03/my-first-post.html' title='My first post'/><author><name>De'Kapai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06370798466304516356</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry></feed>
