Loss

28 Ramadhan, 1447

A day darkly coloured by deeply sad family news. We'd been worried by recent developments in Sharifah's illness throughout the month and these culminated in what felt like the sudden news of her death as Maghrib arrived today. She'd been in isolation in hospital since early in the month and been struggling with a lung infection. Things appeared to have taken a turn for the better recently, though, and she was actually back on an ordinary ward yesterday. But her oxygen levels suddenly dropped today and she was rushed to ICU. It seems the damage caused to her lungs by the infection was irreparable. 

Noi & Rozita are now working out how they are going to get to KL for the funeral, which is likely to take place tomorrow morning. Unfortunately I'm stuck here meeting deadlines and will be sticking to our original plan of travelling north over the Raya weekend. At least, it looks that way at the moment but things are understandably in flux.

But regardless of any planning the sense of loss is powerful. Hamza and the children have had time to prepare, but that's never really enough to help cope with the passing of someone so dearly loved & regarded.

Changing Times

27 Ramadhan, 1447

We found ourselves in Geylang in the late afternoon. We were there essentially to pay zakat, a mission we accomplished at Darul Arqam without too much fuss. The building, by the way, has undergone some kind of renovation which has meant changes to the interior decor. I'm afraid that none of this appealed at all to Noi and myself, custodians of the way things used to be as we are.

Something similar applied to the general ambiance of this year's bazaar at Geylang. It felt distinctly low-key having been considerably reduced in scope. Now there are hardly any stalls at all on the side of the road where Darul Arqam is positioned. This made it easy to walk there, just as it had been easy to find a place to park, but we missed the cheerful inconvenience of previous years.

Mind you, we were wandering around before the festive lights were to be switched on and the whole thing may have proved more happening later. Noi was talking about going again in the evening in the days that remain, but not with any great keenness. I suppose we miss the days of yore. Just hope that for those who are newly making memories the sense of genuine celebration of the Holy Month remains.

Across The Miles

26 Ramadhan, 1447

Just concluded a long distance chat between ourselves and John & Jeanette. Both ends of the chat moaning about the state of the world.  Both ends finding some relief in venting their feelings about certain individuals they held largely responsible for such. Both ends naming the same names. 

I think both couples felt that little bit better for that aspect of the discussion. But better still was just the chatting about friends & family and feeling warmer & richer and that little bit more normal in the process. 

Losing Count

25 Ramadhan, 1447

Just five days to observe the fast left after today. And since we're now enjoying the start of the one week March vacation it would appear that the deepest challenges are now over. But you never know.

Just like I never really know my real step count for the day. The app thingy on my phone frequently ends the day telling me I've managed more than 10,000 steps, only for the number to mysteriously decline by the time the next day begins. Not sure why and how the rounding down takes place because I don't care about the count in any real sense.

Numbers seem real, but are deceiving. They can only point in broad directions no matter how precise they seem. (Except when you're building a house. Then you seriously need to get them right. There are limits to philosophising, you know.)

A Matter Of Routine

24 Ramadhan, 1447

Got to the gym ahead of breaking the fast yet again. It's now something of a routine and no longer feels that little bit strange, that tiny bit daring, as it did initially. Even The Missus no longer expresses any particular concern as I make my way down to do my thing.

As the month began I set a broad target of ten visits to the gym over the course of Ramadhan and today I recorded the ninth. Which makes me complacently pleased with myself - until I recall just how much I've struggled  to keep going for the full hour on the elliptical trainer, even when I've lowered the resistance. Today it was at full resistance and the muscles in my legs are sort of remembering that even as I sit and relax. 

Hoping to avoid the ambush of a sudden burst of cramp as I lie sleeping later. But will treat it as a reasonable price to pay if I have to suffer such.

Dreaming

23 Ramadhan, 1447

18.40

Off to The Esplanade for a bit of dance this evening. The Dream of Red Mansions, performed by the National Ballet of China. Tired but up for this. More anon.

21.18

It’s intermission time. A break from the ridiculously gorgeous beauty of the evening. Looking forward to further luxuriating.

11.55

Part 1 of the ballet was wonderful and, remarkably, Part 2 was even better, with its darker hues and distinct sense of melancholy. A number of unforgettable images. Kept wanting to capture the moving canvas of the stage and couldn't - which is the whole point, I suppose, of this kind of transient beauty.

Something Found

22 Ramadhan, 1447

Still no time to luxuriate in sweet sounds. But managed a few minutes with The Modfather in top form essaying a blistering live version of Eton Rifles. I'm not claiming it made my day, but it went some way to ensuring that things didn't fall apart on me, providing an injection of energy at just the right time.

Something Missing

21 Ramadhan, 1447

So far it's been a week without music. And, sadly, that looks set to continue. I'm starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms. 

I'll put this right, probably quite loudly, over the weekend. Good to have something to look forward to, eh?

More Than Enough

20 Ramadhan, 1447

The busiest day of the Fasting Month so far. Which meant that it passed exceptionally quickly yet very slowly. Each hour seemed intense, leaving little time to think except for dealing with that which cried out to be dealt with.

Fortunately the busy stuff came to a sharp conclusion once I'd got back to break the fast (delayed, oh dear!) and caught up with all the prayers. Now it's time to look back and ask whether I remained true to the fast. Put simply, did I display grace under pressure, as the fast relentlessly demands?

Well, it wasn't a disaster, so I can enjoy this reflective moment, at least to some small degree. But the final report, as usual, reads, Could do better.

Enough

19 Ramadhan, 1447

Sometimes it's enough just to get to the end of the day. But mine isn't really finished yet.