The Saka Begins

When you know you inherited an heirloom from your parents, you would feel a sense of pride – that out of all your siblings, you are the one most worthy for an inheritance – a possession that is handed down generations to generations.

Having a ‘saka’ knocking on your door literally every night, draws parallel to the sense of pride. Let me explain why. 

I’m not going to mince words, not going to pretend like this sort of problem does not exist. You’ve got to admit that some things could not be explained not because it doesn’t exist, but its existence could not be measured by our physical instruments.

How do you measure the strength of faith, how do you measure the intensity of love? There are signs like your blood pressure, your iris dilution, your heart beats count that can be used to gauge your inner feelings that could not be otherwise expressed in numbers. But there are literally dozens other things that could not be measured in real life values, that people academically dismiss them as non-existent. But it is ironic that using the same standards to measure God’s existence, you would conclude that God doesn’t exist.

Humans could not accept the fact that our technology is not advanced enough that we could not count and measure every parameter exist in the universe, only the ones that are naked to the eye and our mechanics. Only the ones that we could define into our rigid system of measurement. The easy way, they dismissed this unknowns altogether from scientific knowledge. And that lead us to this exact moment, how could we know some other things exist in our realm? And if they indeed exist, how do we measure their signs of existence? 

How do you measure rezeki, how do you measure rahmat, how do you measure iman, if we all sure that these stuff exist? Yup, they lend themselves as prime examples of how human technology yet to catch up with the unknowns. We know things, but not all these things could be measured definitively.

My father ‘sort of’ inherited one of the unknowns. It is, academically, laughable, but faith-wise, this is serious matter. Never in my 26 years of living would I see myself as the next person in line to receive this ‘inheritance’. I tried curing my father, and little did I know it was the window opportunity for this creature to target me. 

As a son, I would protect my father to whatever extend there is. If I could roll his wheelchair for 11,341 km from home to the Kaabah to be subject of the Almighty, then tried curing him does not even come close to that. 

I hated to unravel the past of his family, the history of great great grandfather who befriended these creatures and made pact with them to protect their lines for 7 generations to come. I didn’t even know my uncles and his family for all I know.

My father started to become severely affected by this ‘creature’ 3 years ago, and we knew something was not right. He was reluctant to tell the story of his family, but he knew he should be cured. He began to saw strange things; people visiting him late at night with strange outfits and regalia. People came to him and suckle on his toes (chuckles, that’s crazy – I know), people came and put things in his hand. We decided we should do something about it.  

Until I came into the picture. Long story short, I tried curing him through a ritual taught by an Ustaz, as any other ‘good’ son would do. And next thing I know, I’ve been followed.

It all started with a feeling of uneasiness when I’m alone, feeling like my back being scorched by sun even when I’m completely indoor, then the sudden goosebumps – my hair standing on its end. And secondly when it came at night, there are three first signs – one, flashes of white light. Secondly, the nudges, pulls and tucks on my hands, feet, and whatever limbs it could lay its metaphorical hands on and thirdly, the loud noises of people working upstairs.

Was I scared? I was. It happened so frequent that I feel like quitting my job. I could not sleep until 3-4 am in the morning and it would disturb me every now and then. Every time I close my eyes, there, somebody’s pulling the chair upstairs again. Every time I’m falling into sleep, somebody took my hand and smashed it onto the wall. I would spring up from the bed, sweating and breathing profusely.

I became annoyed, but it was as reluctant as fuck. I recited the Holy Quran and I could feel its anger, transmitted by waves of severe headaches and goosebumps into my head, I read all sorts of protection doas before I sleep, to no avail. My father soothes me, telling me that it just wants to be friends.

But how could you befriend a being who’s angry to the sound of Ayatul Kursi? How do you become friends with a creature who hated surah al-Falaq, the surah which explicitly invoking Allah for protection against creatures that crawl in intense darkness of the night? And how could you want to be accompanied by an unseen creature who hated every literal word of “Audzu bi kalimatillahittammati min syarrima khalaq”? 

This whole ordeal put an emotional strain on my relationship with my family, my father particularly. 

As funny as it sounds, there exist two exact opposite of opinions about my father that I gather from this experience. 1, I could not deny, though it sounds stupid, that I feel proud that somehow, I was proven to resemble my father closely. That for whatever reasons it chose my father, it could see the same values in me. My whole life I believe that my father is the polar opposite of me – the strict, hardworking father while I am the son who doesn’t listen. But this thing, out of all my siblings, deems that I am the closest to my father in some aspects that I could not tell. 

Secondly, I hated the fact that I had to carry this burden. I loathed the ancestors’ decision of befriending the unknowns that the effects still linger to this modern age. I did not even make a conscious decision to be included, why do I have to worry about this thing on top of my already hectic life? I grow remorseful against my own father, because he was the single thread connecting me to this torment. If I should have left before I tried curing him, I assume things will turn out differently.

I know there’s no logic or scientific background for my experience, but 500 years ago, the thought of radio wavelengths in the air that could transmit messages is crazy and illogical to the then populace. I am optimist that some other time in the future, we could figure this enigma out – that we could measure their existence – and even repel them, using science. 

I know my life has never been normal, but this has set the bar even higher. Trust me, thoughts of suicide crosses my mind several times, and the thought of quitting my career and move abroad even more so. But I must have faith, and to whoever reading this, please, pray for me to be safe from this creature’s harm. 

I'm still in denial, denying that it could affect me in any way, because I want to believe that my life is normal and that no silly creature could take my happiness away. But staying positive sometimes took too much toll on me. 

Berikan Aku Sejam

Berikan aku sejam lagi,

Sebelum tamat kita berpatah hati.

Aku ingin wujud dalam ruang terakhir yang mengisi hatimu

Maka berikanku sedikit lagi waktu

Masa yang berdetik pada saat dan minit

Denting-denting terakhir pada jam yang melekap di dinding

Pada usia yang manakah berlalunya masa

Dan titik bilakah berlangsungnya seksa

Sedang kita masih rawan dalam gemilangnya usia muda

Aku sedari, pendeknya jambatan masa

Pernahkah kau terfikir hakikat hayat dan nyawa

Emosi yang bergelojak dalam jiwa

Keinginan dan mahuku

Dan singkatnya waktu

Pernahkah kau terfikir, apa sebenarnya mahuku?

Gerak langsung yang berlalu lesu,

Atau rentak waktu yang laju berdesup

Apalah maksudnya lagi perlahan atau laju, dalam detik-detik kita yang hujung?

Apakah lagi akhirnya yang kita genggam dalam tangan, dalam hati, dalam senyum?

Kembalilah, pada bila-bila saat yang kau mahu

Dalam laju putaran dunia, dalam kejam ligatan usia,

Hanya tinggal aku yang masih mahu menunggu

Yang diam dalam malarnya waktu, penanti setia.

Pulanglah, ke saat segalanya bermula.

Lewat musim semi, dingin musim luruh.

Pulanglah kamu, pulanglah ke pangkuanku. 

Aku, masih rindu. 


Bedaduz,
Sri Kembangan

Big Boys Don't Cry

Petang hening Isnin, deruan dingin angin dari fan coil unit menghembus ke muka. Jemarinya masih mengetik-ngetik papan kekunci, sebekas kole kaca di sisi dengan sedikit cecair koko masih berbaki - semua haba sudah terbebas kini airnya sudah dingin. Dia tidak gemar menjamah makanan dan minuman yang sudah sejuk, melainkan jika sifat semulajadi makanan dan minuman itu sejuk.

Kaca mata yang memisah di antara mata dan skrin sedikit bersilau menyambut cahaya dari monitor.

Beberapa kali butang menekan backspace bila bertemu kesilapan. Matanya sesekali dikalih ke jam di dinding – pukul 5.40 petang, lewat 10 minit dari tamat waktu bekerja.

Setelah ilhamnya bertemu kebuntuan, tangannya dikepal menjadi penumbuk. Meja di depan menjadi mangsa.“Bodoh!” pekik hatinya sambil menumbuk permukaan meja dengan kedua-dua belah tangan.

Dia sedar dia hanya memaki diri sendiri, tapi dia perlu melepaskan kemarahan. Penumbuknya dilepaskan, tangan mencapai kole berbaki sejatan koko. Dia ke pantry ingin berehat sebentar.

Anita sedang membancuh kopi di kaunter pantry.

“Hey Anita, belum pulang?”

Anita berpaling sekilas, tersenyum.

“Hey honey. Belum lagi. Ada kerja sikit.”

Anita gemar memanggil kenalannya dengan nama-nama yang manis. Honey, dear, sayang, gorgeous, handsome. Anita ketua penulis Bahasa Inggeris di pejabat media atas talian mereka, berusia 33 tahun, masih bujang.

“You tak pulang lagi, kenapa?”

“Sama macam you. Ada kerja sikit.”

Dia ke sinki, membasuh kolenya.

Anita sudah siap membancuh kopi.

“Dear, I pergi dulu. Ada kerja. I catch you later, okay?”

Anita terus meninggalkannya, dengan senyuman manis.

Dia meletakkan kolenya di mesin pembancuh kopi dan menekan butang ‘White Coffee’ di panel mesin. Mesin pembancuh mula berbunyi. Dari hujung saluran mesin mula terkeluar air panas, kemudian serbuk-serbuk kopi, serbuk krimer dan akhir sekali larutan glukosa menggelongsor ke dalam kole. Dia sebetulnya bukan penggemar kopi, tapi kadang-kadang kaffein satu-satunya pemangkin yang mampu menggerakkan dirinya untuk bekerja, terutama pada waktu-waktu dia bertemu kebuntuan.

Dia mencapai sudu plastik di dalam rak, lalu membancuh larutan di dalam kolenya, memastikan semua campuran tadi teradun sebati.

Sambil berjalan meninggalkan pantry, tangannya sempat mengagau biskut wholemeal bebas garam di dalam tin.

Dia berjalan dengan fikiran kosong sambil mengunyah biskut.

Kerjanya masih banyak yang belum selesai, cut off date semakin menghampiri.

Dia kembali ke mejanya, kembali menghadap skrin. Dia mengeluh – kemudian menghela nafas yang berat.

Sudah 6 bulan dia di sini, tapi prospek kerjaya masih pudar. Dia mengenang mengingat kembali zaman sebelum tiba di sini, mengejar impian. Belum sempat kenangannya dicakar jauh ke dalam, telefonnya berbunyi. Korus ‘Rain of Castamere’ bermain. Gambar ibunya terpampang di skrin. Jarinya pantas menekan butang di Gorilla glass.

“Hai ibu!”

“Assalamualaikum anak ibu! Apa cerita?”

“Waalaikummusaalam bu. Sihat-sihat sahaja. Kenapa bu?”

“Ni along, kamu pulang tidak hujung minggu nanti? Ayah kamu hendak berjalan makan angin.”

"Berjalan makan angin ke mana bu? Bukan itu hari dah makan angin ke?”

“Tahulah ayah. Dia bosan duduk rumah. Bukannya tak kenal ayah kamu. Semalam diajaknya ibu pergi petik buah betik dengan ulam dekat dusun Pak Cik Mail, lepas tu cari ikan sungai, suruh ibu buat gulai tempoyak dengan sambal belacan makan dengan ulam. Bising ayah kamu kata ibu pemalas asyik duduk rumah. Bukan tak tahu, Pak Cik Mail bukan suka asyik datang rumah dia mintak macam-macam dekat dusun. Pokok betik tu buah pertama pulak tu. Ayah kamu bukan tahu malu.”

Sambil ibunya bercerita, dia menelek-nelek kalendar. Hari Sabtu dan Ahad ibunya menyuruh pulang, hari Isnin cut off date.

Ibunya menyambung cerita.

“Ayah bukan nampak sangat tu bawak kereta. Kejap ke tengah, kejap ke tepi. Kereta potong semua tengok. Hari tu dah kena hon berapa kali.”

“Ibu, minggu ni macam tak dapat balik. Sebab Isnin minggu depan dah cut off date. Kena siap semua kerja”

Ibunya terdiam terus di hujung talian. Takut perbualannya berhenti, dia memujuk lekas.

“Tapi lepas minggu depan orang free tahu ibu. Kalau minggu depan orang boleh balik.”

“Kerja sampai mati pun kamu tak kaya-kaya jugak. Ikut kamulah.”

Ibunya bernada perlahan mengandung kecewa, kontras daripada nada cerianya baru beberapa saat yang lalu.

“bukan tak mahu, bu. Tapi ibu tahulah...”

“Ya Along. Ibu tahu. Kamu dekat mana tu? Dekat pejabat lagi ke?”

Ibunya juga lekas mengalih topik. Keluarganya memang begitu, enggan berlama-lama dalam suasana janggal.

“Haah dekat pejabat lagi, bu. Kejap lagi baliklah.”

“Jaga kesihatan tahu. Jangan kerja lewat-lewat. Ibu nak keluar kejap ni pergi pasar malam.”

“Ibu pergi dengan ayah berdua ke?”

“Jadi?”

Nada suara ibunya mengejek di hujung talian, kemudian disertai dengan bunyi tawa.

“Sudah biasa Along, tua-tua ni makin romantik. Asyik berdating berdua. Kamu tu je entah bila nak berdua.”

“Ibu ni!”

Ibunya mengekek ketawa.

“Baiklah along. Ibu nak keluar dah ni.”

“Baik bu. Kirim salam pada ayah. Assalamualaikum.”

“Waalaikummussalam.”

Sebelum sempat ibunya mematikan panggilan, terdengar suara ayahnya di hujung talian.

“Dia kata apa?” tanya ayahnya dengan nada ingin tahu.

Panggilan terputus. Hatinya rasa bagai ditampar. Kaca mata ditanggal, kalendar dicampak ke tepi. Dia termenung kembali menghadap skrin, air mata berlinang.

Hey, lelaki tak menangis – bisik hati kecilnya.

TUHAN

Tuhan,

Maafkan aku

Masih bisa tika sujudku membayang-bayang manis madu dunia

Tuhan,

Ampuni aku

Dalam ratap doaku masih aku mengintai di sebalik tirai dosa

Aku sedar, Tuhan.

Dalam gelita jiwaku

Dalam pekatnya hatiku

Bahkan kaulah yang menyinar setiap rongga kalbu

Ampuni aku Tuhan

Jika dalam fikirku aku masih bermimpi-mimpi

Untuk mendustakan limpah nikmatMu

Maafkan aku Tuhan

Terbit titis-titis dari mataku ketika aku merayu ihsanMu

Aku masih berteleku di pinggiran hening nafsu

Belaslah aku, Tuhanku.

Kasihanilah aku.

Ampunkanlah aku.

Muliakanlah aku.

Sungguh-sungguh.

Tuhan.