Visit the dead, the Sick and those getting Engaged.

I was on the road with my cousin and her husband driving in their Waja, and another Proton made Malaysian car second oldest brother of the Kancil, the Perdana being the eldest in terms of quality and size and not to mention price. I was driving a more comfortable vehicle than my Kancil in other words but does not mean I like it better than driving my Kancil, small as she is, she is my car, a part of me if not my own physical extension while on the road. Our intention was to visit my cousin brother['s brother who was in the last lag of his life. He lived with his daughter in Negeri Sembilan, somewhere South West of Kuala Lumpur, we missed him departing this life by a few hours, so we ended up burying him instead.
We left Penang on Friday morning after picking up another relative who hitched a ride to Ipoh where we left her at the bus station for one of her children to pick her up and continued to Kl. Not the best part of the journey as it was hot and we had to find our way through the one way streets of Ipoh on a a Friday afternoon when it was Prayer time- the Friday Prayer when all the streets were congested with people on their way to the mosque, but it was an experience as I have seldom been to this town in  the State of Perak. a state south of Penang. It is growing into a brautiful town from last i was there, cannot remember how long ago. This was the town where i stood underneath an electric light with two suitcases full of bay cloths in a drizzling rain at twilight with warm tears flwoing down my cheeks while waiting for a ride to KL to see my first born at the Asunta Hospital, in Petaling Jaya. I must have written it somewhere in my journal before. This is what I remember most about Ipoh and the next being that this is where my martial instructor's daughter had married and settled down with the man considered to be the second man in the hierachy of the Silat Seni gayong, Malaysia, a most beutiful lady I had a n affair with while a martial arts student in Kuala Terengganu. He apprently was a given a Dato' Title, like a Sir, soeone you do not want to mes around with in every sense of the word!
I also remember Ipoh being where i had driven my friend and fellow artist Entekhabi, Sharom from Iran when i had to smuggle him out of the country because he was being threatened bodily harm due to one of his botched relationship here with a Malay woman. I must have written this too in my blog sometime after it had happened, don't and don'n care when anymore.It is also where my niece Nakiah had lived for a short while, while being employed at the Tanjung Rambutan mental home as a psychiatrist, which i thought was unique if you happen to know Nakiah's personality and character. So, that in a nut shell was Ipoh to me, most of the time i just pass through it along the North South Highway from Penang to KL.
The first house we dropped by in Kl was Non Mama Chon's, one of the cousin who was baby sitting her grand daughter somewhere in KL, she is quite a character, large like her other siblings but strong in will having raised two boys and a girl as a single parent while working as a factory worker, whose husband succumbed to drugs and died at an early age. Now the children are adults and each doing very well with themselves. The eldest is a professional artist designer, the second works on the oil rig as a store keeper and the third married to a great guy whose house we visited. These are the children of my auntie who had recently passed away, the lady who had raised me as a child after being adopted away from my parents. I wrote about tis too in my blog. While at their house having a scrumptuous takeaways from the Indian restaurant somewhere we learned that my cousin's brother had passed away and so we made plans for the trip to his house in Seremban, Negeri Sembilan.
My cousin Zakaria who lives in Shah Alam  was on site where the death occured and had it not been for him the death would not have been discovered as he walked into the room while the deceased was in the process of giving up his last breath. The lights were off as he was thoght to be sleeping after being fed his food and medicine by his daughter, it was a Grace for him asmy cousin Zakaria is one of the most pious Muslim in my book; in Islam we call such person, Al - Insan Kamil or the perfect man though not quite. By Buddhist standard he would be considered an advanced Bodhisatva not yet a Mahasatve like Manjushri or Samantabadra. But that is another story reseved for those who knows only, of what I am talking about. So Zakaria administered the Islamic last rites for the departing soul; like making the Sha'hadah or the profession of the Oneness of  Allah and that the recognition of his Prophet. In Buddhist it is like the performance of the Bardo Todol in the Tibetan tradition.
This is one of the most significant event in the spiritual life of a man, to be reminded of his faith and his religion on his last breath for in the process one is reminded of who we are and what life was all about. To die in ignorance of this is no better than having lived and died as an animal and msot of us who passed on while under the influence of drugs like in the cancer wards are not so fortunate like those who die instantly due to some accident or who die in fear alone through guilt with the mind dominating our consciousness filling it with what is not really who you truly are. To die consciously is to know one's Maker and return to the Source of one's being in whatever form it may be.

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un (Arabic: إِنَّا لِلّهِ وَإِنَّـا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعونَ‎) is a part of a verse from the Qur'an which translates to "Surely we belong to Allah and to Him shall we return".^{[n 1][1]} The phrase is recited by Muslims when a person experiences a tragedy in life,^[2][3] especially upon hearing news that a Muslim has died.^[3] The phrase is also recited in situation that involve risk of any sort.

We drove to Shah Alam where we waited for my cousin Zack (Zakaria) to return to his house and lead the way to the deceased home as we felt the chances of finding was better.At the house we spent the night sitting around in wake waiting for the morning. Relatives arrived from far and near and i sat listening to them shooting the breeze.The body was laid to rest according to fll Muslim rites and we headed for Kl by noon. We dropped by a Medical center to pay a visit to one of Zakaria's daighters who was warded for some Calcium buildup problem and awaiting further diagnosis prior to an operation.
 Our next pit stop was Zowie Mountford's house, Non Mama Chon's younger sister and another character of a lady who is is married to 'Brother Ray' an English man.with their one child JJ. Handed to her some artworks of mine for her to sell as she wants to be my promoter and dealer in KL. Raymond Mountford who goes by his Muslim name Ashraf has not had much luck in getting any kind of business venture off the ground and so not in top form but we enjoyed an Hercules movie together and watched to FIFA soccer games. We slept over
Next morning we visited another hospital where Zowie's grand daughter was warded with high fever where we found her daughter in law and her mother was babysitting the child. Listen to all that they ere chatting about while sitting in the back ground. From there we left in the afternoon and had lunch at Chinese restaurant the caters to all races somewhere in PJ was it? What raised my consciousness about the place was the fact that i saw no less than three couples who appeared to be Chinese men married to Malay women sitting all around our table. I felt a little hope in me where the racial issues in this country is concern. Mixed marriages without too much religious claws dug into it might be the answer to our racial predicament, a true Malaysian will have no claim of his purity in blood but that of a One Malaysian breed of people, all mixed.
To be contd....
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