Inferiority Complex

           I remembered the times when I was a skinny little introvert stuck with an infinite flu. I had problems getting to know everybody, to get close to anyone. It seemed terribly hard for me to show affection for anybody, and I ended up playing alone. It was kinda sad; my seven sisters and I, we made a wonderfully terrible team. I got bullied at school several times; beaten to pieces and mocked like the most hated kid in school.

                 But that's fine; I said to myself. I did not care about how many times they punch me and kick my butt, my solitary games were enough to make me happy. I had a strange obsession with myself; I believed that I am awesome. Teachers liked to tease me for I was always looking unkempt and messy; but meh, I'm awesome. It was a chronic narcissistic disorder. I fell in love with myself, sort of. I would stand in front of mirrors and say: " God, I'm perfect".

             A narcissistic disorder is sick and wrong. Assuming oneself is super awesome induces hyper-confidence and tends  to irk everybody else, especially if you are a maladroit kid with a cantankerous behavior. Narcissism makes you feel good even if your exam results are ineffably bad. Hyper-optimism, I guess. But at least being narcissistic is better than having inferiority complex.

               Inferiority complex is ubiquitous, too many people have that. They are apathetic to themselves and anybody else because of their feeling of inferiority. Out of place, incongruous. Kids who got bad results in exams can't speak up to a straight-A guy. Can't even walk beside them . Can't even look 'em in the eye. This is wrong. Seriously.

             Drivers and cooks feel that they can't be in a group with doctors and bankers. Security guards are always angry because they feel stupid. Well, I like to tell you how wrong that is.

"Say, "Each works according to his manner, but your Lord is most knowing of who is best guided in way." (Al-Isra; 84)

                 Every man and woman is designated to  do a certain job according to his skills. Should everyone becomes an engineer, who's gonna make delicious banana fries and  heavenly chocolates? My God, I can't imagine that. Doctors can't fix cars. Doctors can't sing. Doctors can't make good cookies. They got no time for that. Doctors' lives suck, even though their contributions are too many. There's really nothing to be so proud of being a doctor. Seriously.

                I heard a story once about eight siblings. 7 of them became doctors, bankers and professors, but the other one didn't even finish school. He blatantly assumed that he was born stupid, and therefore he felt inferior and useless. His siblings were all abroad and busy with their lives , rich and proud, but this guy stayed in the village. But then, their parents grew old and sickly, and this so-called uneducated guy took care of his parents until the very end , while his siblings were too busy even to make a phone call. He gets the biggest share in his deeds, better than the doctors and engineers. There is a reason for you being designated to a certain job.

                     The problem with having an inferiority complex is that you feel that you will fail at every occasion, and you cannot voice your hearts out. Nobody ever can claim that he is better than anybody else, and so nobody should feel inferior. Even janitors and toilet cleaners should be proud of their job-a clean work with an income halalan toyyiba, as long as you don't sell drugs and rape kids for fun.

                    I don't know what the world would be without teachers. I will never ride a car again without mechanics. Electricians light up my house and made it bright and colourful; doctors can go away, they can't even fix a light bulb. Whatever is your profession you should feel proud with it, inferiority brings you nowhere and makes me angry.

                  The next time we organize a job fair at school, you poor inferior people should grow a pair and contribute. Be proud of yourselves and join us, or your moms should regret having such pathetic children. We need you more than engineers and doctors, they are useless in various sorts of thing. They are imperfect and terribly busy, but you are different. You are simply awesome, and I love you so much for being so awesome. Be done with it. Only Allah knows whose deeds are the best-probably not doctors.

Peace.

Veni, vidi ,vici~

               

               When  I was young, this day was among the most anticipated day in my school years. This was a day celebrated with grandeur and enthusiasm, absurd joy and spirits. We short kids would sing patriotic songs every single morning during the assembly, which consists of yelling our hearts out rather than singing, starting from the beginning of August . The teachers stood together with us and sing wholeheartedly, and although I did not know the reason for such epic celebration, it was really amazing.

         

           My school held a competition for classes; Merdeka themed decorations . The class with the most creative decoration would win hampers and snacks, the master of us kids. The whole month is spent with cutting and drawing and hanging stuff up the window sills, painting the walls with red and white stripes , making the complicated stars and quarreling with each other. It was seriously fun.

              We kids rode bikes to school back then, and the headmistress made a competition of the most beautifully decorated bikes. Some bicycles had dozens of flags; you can't even ride it without getting blown off the road. My friends would gather around those ostentatiously decorated bikes and brag like adults do. We were kids, we do what we want, so shut up.

               There was also a drawing competition ,where you draw posters that should show your patriotism; mine was always a big flag with terribly crooked stars. I really know how to draw, but in an abstruse way-perhaps. My school's language department held an annual essay competition for the glorious Independence day.  I wrote a terrific story about the catharsis of a soldier in the maelstrom of war, where he died, bombed in pieces in the end. It was depressing back then, just to write the title.

no idea what are we doing here

         By the end of the month,  my beloved school would become a magnificent place with ornate walls and flags everywhere. The classes were scrupulously decorated, somewhat beyond imagination. My class would always lose, because we maladroit kids had too much creativity to transform it into reality. Failed ambitions ,sort of.

               That was eons ago. My feelings about the celebration is now a dichotomy of two eras; my childhood when I understood none of the reasons, and the present , when I see crap everywhere. I have the inner urge to feel happy today, even to sing alone in this claustrophobia-inducing room, or to write a post about it, but it feels terribly incongruous and absurd.

               The joy of celebration diminishes along  the years. Even the teachers hate the patriotic songs now-they sound incredibly sad , although forever better than Rais Yatim's song. There are no flags along the streets or any houses in the town.

sup bro?

           How can I celebrate Independence when I live with constraints? I can't wear a yellow shirt in fear of political taunts and jabs. Our leaders are pure and free of criticism. Sinless. Certified devils, as the former prime minister said.

            How can I celebrate Independence when the prices of goods keep skyrocketing, and my pocket got big holes in it? We started off 55 years ago with the same pace as Korea, Taiwan and Singapore, and just how far behind are we?

             Walk around the streets in my place and see with thy eyes the proof of the permanent legacy of the imperialists; kids my age who love discos and admire alcohol and sex. Freedom at its best.

            You don't have to love the government if you want to love the country. You don't have to choose those corrupt and pretentious skullduggers if you love Malaysia. Yes, I choose Malaysia, and  I love this country, but the big blue tick in the tv ads was terribly unnecessary.

"Saya pilih untuk setia. Saya pilih kemajuan. Saya pilih Malaysia. Big blue tick drawing commences"

Hahahaha.

Peace.

                             

Choices~

     I woke up this morning with a surprise. I am still alive. My fingers and limbs are completely here, none were plucked or cut off. This is a bizarre business indeed. My eyes do not belong to me. Not even an inch of my skin is my own. All of it belongs to the supreme Creator, the almighty Lord. I have sinned so much, and Allah still gives me the chance to live another day. He is indeed the Most Merciful. There is no reason for Him not to punish me for everything I did, and yet I am standing here, complete and healthy. I have lost hope in myself, yet He gives me another chance to repent, and change for the better.

           I look at the trees and the skies, how they grow tall and mighty, the birds flying fearlessly, the fields all green and subtle to behold. The One who made all this has the power to break my neck and split me in half, but he never did. I am here, alive and strong. Praise the Lord for giving us a chance to live another day, to fix ourselves into better men.

          My friend,

         We live our lives each  to different and diversified purposes. My  cat seemed to be nice with me for the sake of food alone. Without that, I am just an alien to its whole existence. Some kids fast so they can get more money. Some people get married because Facebook says that it is so wonderful. It's not. Politicians make crappy National Day song because they really want to lose the next election. Peter Jackson directs "The Hobbit" because The Lord of The Rings made so much money. There, my friend, we've got reasons for stuff.

              I am writing this because you cannot see reason , whatever I do to make it clear.

      

    Organizations exist for reasons. Prefects in school exist because teachers need a place to release their daily stress, and students need role models to despise and hate. Sorry.  UMNO exists as a safe platform for legalized robbers to plunder the nation's wealth. My village's JKKK exists because they should. Charity organizations exist because there are still a lot of good men walking upon the earth. Some organizations are unclear of their direction ; for whatever purpose ;we can't figure them out.

            For us students , we have a lot of groups and clubs. We are young and wild with the idea of a leadership to change the whole world, change everything and make it all new. We ridiculous kids strive for charity works and campaigns, most of it are those that the adults have lost hope in achieving. We are young men, hopeful youths! We can plan carnivals, summits, dinners the size of a whole district, countless forums and competitions. For what?

         Here's a list of things you should check before joining a group;

1. What kind of activities does this group do? Charity or training for assassins? Does it improves hablumminallah, and hablumminannas?

2. Is the organization free of the ideas of extremism, racism, and bigotry? Take Perkasa for an example; among groups that should have never existed.

3. Does this group support the corrupt government? If yes, then you really have to run away from them. I mean, really? How could you?

         Should you be wanting to commit in their activities and posts, consider this my friend. There are groups which are complete; the charity and organizational works, religious affiliations and strong , correct political stands. Why? Our religion is complete, it is not just rituals , but it constitutes human development, charity and politics among others; who are we to refuse them? Some organizations are  doing just  simple group works, and other groups focuses only on the rituals. If there are groups that are perfect, would you be joining the lesser ones?

       

      Some people  refuses to discuss this, citing unity measures and the freedom of diversity. Well, crap, I really don't care about that. This is just a simple guide in the form of questions, should you ask about it someday. If you still want to join groups which goes against the religion, supports the evil acts of the government, and displayed racist remarks, then go on  my friend. It is your choice, and I really don't care. Why should I?

     

         The thing is, we would be questioned about our choices in the Hereafter. Why did I marry this woman? She got a lot of pimples to begin with. Why did I let my cat live with so much allergies and infections? Why can't you just go on with your decision, since you don't really want to change it? Good day mate.

Peace.          

      

Mean~

                  I stared at the crazy man at the roadside. The guy was shirtless under the blazing heat of the day. He sit at the same place by the side of the road every day, observing cars and people alike. The day was perhaps the hottest day of the monsoon, and we were fasting. My throat was terribly dry, and I felt a constant pulsating pain from inside my head. But the crazy man, he just sat there like the world was his. Like a  traffic officer ,I guess, buy the way his eyes judge the way I drive the car.

         I thought about how blissful it is to be a crazy man. He does not have a need to worry about anything. Let the price of gas rise again or the government loses the general election, he just doesn't have to care.  The whim and fancies of this world is nothing to him. He fears nothing-because he is crazy. Not even angry wives , bad exam results or an empty bank account. His life is just the road and its cars. Sometimes he gets up and yells and the drivers who irks his feelings, for he feels offended at the sight of a yellow coloured vehicle, and rich old men in Mercedes.  Other than that, he is free of all of the obligations of this world.

               I do not know how that guy became crazy. Perhaps his lover was killed in an accident involving a yellow Mercedes, driven by rich old men? I don't know. He got a pretty decent face under the tangle of beard and hair, and a terribly deep tan.  

             One of the best things of being a mad man is you do not have to care what other people say about you. Say anything to him, even the meanest thing, and he would just smile and wave at you like an innocent little child. Call him fat, stupid, and all sorts of the meanest curse words and phrases you can coin. He won't care. He doesn't  have to. He's crazy, remember. The only thing that would irritate this guy is to call him crazy. He insists that he is a traffic officer on duty, not a mad man.

          I am not crazy. I am sane. I am offended by mean words. Why do people have to be so mean? Words are the best psychological weapon you can ever find. You can wage war upon some people, kill their family and put a gun on their head, they won't budge. But if you use the right words, people can change. Even the most badass of criminals can surrender to the cops , when consulted with soft encouraging words.

           Words that you say, my friend, helps to create an atmosphere around us. What kind of atmosphere, you decide. Let's hang out, and try saying some positive words and nice jokes for laughing out loud, that day would be among the best in my life. Let's start with some mean curse words , and slanders, talks behind others, and I do have an urge to punch you in the face.

"No good is there in much of their private conversation, except for those who enjoin charity or that which is right or conciliation between people. And whoever does that seeking means to the approval of Allah - then We are going to give him a great reward." (Annisa' ; 114)

        I am not insane, but some of the words people say can really make you crazy.

        Things that you say are indirect prayers , my friend. You nickname your friend Chicken, and he would really be a chicken some day, sort of. Call me a successful banker, and I will be, with God's will.

           Some things are better left unsaid. Seriously. No matter how mad you are with someone, there is always a better alternative than to curse him with the meanest words you can summon. Punch him in the face or kick his butt , perhaps. I can take that, rather than the words nobody wants to hear.

"Allah does not like the public mention of evil except by one who has been wronged. And ever is Allah Hearing and Knowing." (Annisa': 148)

            Even a falcon punch only hurts the physical being , but mean words stabs the heart, and the wound take years to heal. Never resort to such downgrading words, my friend. This is Ramadan, the time you take to restrain ourselves from saying mean words.

               Our throats are too dry to utter such horrible words. This is Ramadan, for goodness sake, our practicing ground. Your curses make people despise you and your soul, because we are not crazy, and we are offended by mean words.

                If you are an adult, that adds to the severity of the situation. Children listen to you and pick up the word you say. They repeat them, mostly without knowing the meaning. If your choice of curse words is your favourite thing to say, then those toddlers who are with you inevitably become accustomed to use them. Imagine a chubby little kid cursing his mother with your favourite word. You can officially murder yourself for corrupting children. It takes various measures and a freaking long time to make them stop cursing their own parents, if you don't know~

              I try to imagine a world where we can put our tongues to good use, where everybody sounds so nice. A world like the mad man has. Ya Rabbi, what a life~

Believe me~

             Trust is something that is very difficult. Complicated, not to mention dangerous. We all do work to gain trust. Workers tire themselves to show the boss how hardworking they are, that they are not worthy of being sacked in this economic turmoil. Young men like me make various efforts to gain their parents' trust that they are matured enough to get married at this age. They try to act cool during their interactions with the elders, despite the permanent childish nature that resides in the deepest chamber of their hearts. I am but an exception to that. I just don't care.

        You see my friend , trust is what everyone seeks. Politicians seek for the people's trust through manifestos or bribes in the form of instant cash, or perhaps political ads in the news channel that can make you feel sick and produces the urge to vomit continuously. The problem with trust-gaining-efforts are that they are terribly fake. Hardcore politicians can look like the supreme angels before the elections, but once they win your trust , it is highly probable that they will steal millions from your money and cheat you people with every other way they can.  We only work hard to gain trust, but we tend to abuse it, once achieved.

              Forget these words and blunders, you don't trust a thing that I say. I don't trust you either.

         The word trust itself, when repeated for the hundredth time, sounds seriously untrustworthy.

          Trust between friends, is a dangerous thing. You cannot really trust a friend, but at the same you  cannot not trust him. You have to trust him, because he is your friend, but you can't really trust them because he does not have a real obligation upon your soul. Sorry.

         Say that you would like to advise a friend upon a very sensitive issue. You fear losing his trust should he resent your behaviour, but at the same time, as a trustworthy friend, you have to do the right thing! God, what a thing to do~

            Trusting someone is difficult my friend, but once you have my trust, I would give my life for you . Trust me.

         We have some serious trusting problem. For example we tend to trust every story that the media produces. We think that these men cannot be lying; how could they? Telling lies is a very wrong thing to do; the reporters in this newspaper cannot be lying, they are  probably misinformed or something. Lies, my friend, open your eyes, they are plain lies.

                  News like " old lady found dead in the park" does not sell to the audience.

             Add something like " poor old lady raped and robbed, arms cut off , found dead and disfigured in the park"

          Blimey. That sells.

          I found a man once lying half dead in a deserted road. I found him FIRST. There was no one else but me. Nothing else, but the man and his bike. I called the ambulance and the police, just to discover that he died minutes later. News in the next morning says something like this, " Man found dead after a hit-and-run accident, done by loan sharks" . Wut?

                    There  were nothing there to suggest a presence of another vehicle. It was clear that he fell off his bike, and that's that.The newspaper put shame to the deceased by saying he was indebted with loan sharks, and add that to the pain of his family.

          Soon people were talking, and  rumours spread in our closely-knit community. What a shame.

     Trust me my friend, you don't have to trust everything they say.

      

Wide Awake~

                 I'm wide awake. My eyes can see the silhouette of nothingness all around me. I feel cold. The cement floor is too cold in the midst of a monsoon night. The chill creep into the depth of my bones, removing all the warmth that is left inside me. I try to keep the living memory of my children playing together, giggling merrily around the house . Sara's hair was long and wavy, always messy and tangled. Abrar and his chubby hands, always crying and yelling , for his sister is a true troll. But I can't really remember their faces. Their lovely faces, God, help me. How did her nose look like? What is the colour of his eyes? Is it brown?

                

                    I cannot sleep. My mates have fallen into deep slumber, unaware of the coldness and the air of despair around me. After four years, the most uncomfortable place for most people is already a luxury for them. But I cannot feel comfort. I still have a hope burning inside me. And hope is a good thing.

              I wonder how's my mother coping right now. I was always her favourite son, the jewel of her eyes. Of course I am, I am the only son out of eight siblings; who am I kidding? She was so proud when I excelled in my studies as a child, and I was more than happy to see her smile. I was the cream of the cream-as they called it, the crown jewel of the school, the district and the state. I was highly ambitious, too high , perhaps. I said that I want to be the prime minister when I was 13. I had a scheme and a perfected plan towards that, as if life will go on with my desire and my wants alone.

                  I always placed myself as the best among others, or so I think. Naive, I was, for thinking that success in these days are credited by my achievements and results alone. Get a doctorate and some wealth, you will be good to go. I shut myself from the lies of the world and became a hermit in my studies, ignorant and invincible. I forgot that this world is not perfect.

              I was deep in my assimilation with political studies, when I saw how corrupt people are. Billions of money were siphoned out of this country, robbed in a legalized way. Tenders were given to cronies without a chance for other qualified firms. Government grants and shares were given to an elite few, sons of ministers and royalties, while the people suffer with the rising prices of goods . The rulers are no good muslims. They are drunkards  and pimps, not to mention supporters of pure hedonism.

          There was I, at the brink of success, leader of various student groups and community unions, the hope of youth. I  stopped my vision of utopia and began to assess reality. All of these are so wrong. All of it need fixing and cure.

               I made the biggest u-turn in my life. From a positive utopian, I became a pessimist who criticize everything that was proven wrong. I began to write in various forms of publications and media about this massive lie made  by the government and the elites. I was like a detective , able to solve cases faster than Sherlock Holmes himself. I work with a team of free journalists and social activists, who like me, found a need to act as a public reminder. I put it as a part of my political studies to investigate such massive corruption in the country.  Soon, there were raids and imprisonment of several corrupt elites and politicians, whom I know will despise me and my friends for the rests of our lives.

          I know that the day will come when those elites would try to stop us for good. But I fear none but God himself, for I was searching for nothing but the truth itself. It was fun to condemn corrupt people, like we are the king of the world.

             I was having a nice and warm cup of lemon tea with my mother-in-law when the cops came to my house. She was cuddling young Abrar in her lap, and my lovely wife was baking a butter cake in the kitchen. Even the officers stood at the door for a good minute to take in the  fresh aroma of the cake. I was petrified , and the house became silently still. I was a good economist at a decent firm then , although my underground journalism was running wild and aggressive. The officers rejected my offer of hot lemon tea and searched my house all over. They took my files and  laptops,  stacks of documents and all the books I have. Sara woke up in tears to find her mother unable to speak a word. My mother-in-law was puzzled and somewhat terrified, the old lady was not used to such ferocity shown by the men in blue. After a good thirty minutes of searching and rummaging my stuffs, they handcuffed me and took me away in a police truck, in the name of national security.

" I will be back, mom, don't worry. This is just a slight misunderstanding. Abrar , please don't cry. Daddy will be home soon, I promise. Dear, I promise.."

My lovely wife was already in tears, her face showed complete despair and panic.

                Weeks later I was told by my lawyer, a friend of my own, that the detectives found a blueprint of a bomb capable to destroy a whole building in my digital files. They said that  there was a highly structured plan of a coup that involves some of my fellow economists and a number of high ranked opposition leaders. The "files" , as they said , were programmed to self-destruct moments after the officers found it in my laptop, and so they have no evidence against me.

            It was a complete lie. There was no such thing. I am a decent man, with a happy family and a good salary for a living. I do  not seek violence or such ridiculous ways of a coup d'état. I believe in democracy and fair election, and the only thing I go against was the obvious corruptions.

              They had no proof-but yet they have suspicions upon me. I am officially a dangerous threat to the national security. I was sentenced under the Internal Security Act to an indefinite arrest. My fellow friends in our non-existent coup team joined me in imprisonment soon after that, and I know this was the end.

             I have the rights to a fair trial, as I am a good citizen with a clean record. My children need a father to be with them, to care for the family. My mother is still having a trauma to have known that her beloved son is a "criminal" . To them senior folks, it doesn't matter if I'm guilty or not. The fact that I am a prisoner is enough to make me the biggest shame of their lives. My wife married an irresponsible man who tried to bomb people, they said. My children's father is a criminal , they said.

                     Who can bear the emotional pressure that my children have to suffer? Who can tell mother that I did nothing wrong, that her son is innocent? Who can help to lessen the trauma my young wife had to endure?

           Even if I killed  ten guys in public, I deserve a trial. I still deserve a court hearing , even if I cut off people's hands  and hang them in the public market. I did nothing wrong, and there wasn't even any proof to support the accusations. I freaking deserve a trial as a human being.

                  I hope that you remember that the day will come when justice prevails. The day will come when you will regret the fact that you robbed me from my family and put me in prison. Whether it is in this world, or in the Hereafter, you will be punished for good. And I will never forget. Never.

                      I still cannot sleep. The iron bars and the cold concrete walls clamped off my hopes and my spirits . It is no good to despair , my friend, for hope is a good thing. I ponder in the darkness, in search for calamity. Light will prevail, my friend, and the night is almost over. Dawn is coming.

Paranoid~

             What is it that you fear, my friend? Is it the  eight legged creature which crawl the night in silence? Or is it those foul creatures which hide in the cupboards of imaginative kids and under our beds, my friend? It is not wrong to fear. Never wrong; it is one of the basic feelings of a human being; even the bravest of men have a fear of something in particular; bossy wives, perhaps. Whilst true believers fear nothing but Allah, we commoners sure fear a lot of things.

                  Fear is subjective , and there are various kinds of fear, my friend. A phobia is  a persistent fear of an object or situation in which the sufferer commits to great lengths in avoiding. Paranoia  is a thought process believed to be heavily influenced by anxiety or fear, often to the point of irrationality and delusion. Paranoid thinking typically includes persecutory beliefs, or beliefs of conspiracy concerning a perceived threat towards oneself.

          I believe that our society lives in a paranoia. My friend, there is really nothing wrong to be afraid of something , but to a limited extent. A good example is the belief that non-muslims have the obligation and tendency to put pig essence in every food that we eat, every beverage that we drink, and every single product we consume. There goes tales that say that food with conditioners labelled E***  got some serious pig liver in it. That chocolate with the red mark is made from pig skin. Coffee beans got some pigs; really? Coffee beans? Really? Even dairy milk is contained with pig faeces and bone shards. People everywhere are anxious and restless. Is it essential that one must be careful with what he consumes, but he should be afraid of something real. Something that exists. If my favourite drink really have pig essence in it, as so said the religious authority and the panel of investigation, then consumption should stop. But all these are mostly slanders of the social media, without any proof, just a picture with some labels ,and we are bound to  trust that without question.

         Didn't it ever come to you that such slanders are just dirty marketing strategies to eliminate competition? Like the widespread SMS that said that Munchy's biscuits are made with a mixture of liquor and alcohol, and the manager is a real evil guy? Seriously?

          To add to the monstrosity of such ridicule, is the recent accusations that the cartoon series Upin dan Ipin is a Freemason conspiracy. The word Upin means " I hate the prophet". Ipin means " I like Israel". "U" on the kid's shirt is a symbol for USA, and "I" stands for Israel. Now, Upin dan Ipin is a Freemason conspiracy? Really? Whoever believes such nonsense should die , for their supreme bigotry and the capability to create stories out of thin air.

           Paranoid, we are, more than anything.

           We are most paranoid with Jews. Even the word itself triggers a negative reaction-like pronouncing the name Voldemort. It is true that the Protocols of Zion exists, and there are tremendous measures against us,but,  there are good Jews, I say, and the Quran approves of this, my friend. There are those who fought against the occupation of Baitul Maqdis, who stand against the policies of the illegal country, Israel. And they do exist, my friend. Only those who are aggresive, those slayers of innocent children and terrorists should be condemned, fought and  exterminated from this planet  , for good riddance.

"They are not [all] the same; among the People of the Scripture is a community standing [in obedience], reciting the verses of Allah during periods of the night and prostrating [in prayer]."(Ali-Imran, 113)

             But enough chitchat, my friend, our paranoia is used against us. The words Jews and Zionists are used in every slander that the national media produces, because they know how much we are afraid of it , and how much we despise them. Bersih is a Zionist propaganda, they said. The programs held by the opposition is sponsored by the Jews, they said. Anwar is a zionist agent, they said. He is a friend of filthy Jews and killers alike, they said. What the hell, I say.

"O you who have believed, if there comes to you a disobedient one with information, investigate, lest you harm a people out of ignorance and become, over what you have done, regretful." (Al-Hujurat; 6)

               My  friend, there is nothing wrong to be afraid, and to be careful. It is a must that one be careful with such things, but too much of anything is always not something good, or so said a friend of mine. Paranoid, we are really.

         It is not wrong to be afraid, but at least put the fear in something real. Something worth fearing. Slanders about pig essence in food is baseless, without any proof, and we have no reason to fear. We have to learn to fear that our daughters in schools get pregnant , and there are thousands of babies without a father. This is real , my friend, and something we must be afraid of.

           We have to learn to fear that the government rejects the application of Islamic laws, and all of us voters will be questioned for choices we made that led to this.

          We have  to fear that our masjid are being deserted by young men and women alike.

          We need to fear that our children wear nothing but skimpy clothes they saw in magazines and the internet.

            Because we will be questioned about things that we fear and care most not  to ruin, and our priorities, my friend. Even for us to fear something, there are priorities we have to obey. Should burglars enter a house one night and threaten the residing family for money, the father should fear more of the safety of his family, more than he fears the armed burglars themselves, more than he fears the loss of his fortune. 

Priority, my friend, is vital.

Fear not, my friend, for Allah is always there for us.

"They said, "Our Lord, indeed we are afraid that he will hasten [punishment] against us or that he will transgress."

[ Allah ] said, "Fear not. Indeed, I am with you both; I hear and I see."

( Taha; 35-36)

Peace.