Ini lah paling lama saya jalan terus. Diam tak singgah-singgah bertanya khabar fikiran sendiri yang sembunyi dalam waktu. Tak mengetuk pintu. Tak masuk ke ruang tamu. Tak lantas ke serambi. Tak duduk dan tak berdiri. Ini lah paling lama. Setahun dua hari.
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Setahun banyak yang hilang dan banyak yang ditinggal pergi. Sahabat yang menemui Ilahi. Anak-anak yang menyambung pendidikan di negara sendiri. Bibik yang kembali kepada anak-anak, cucu-cucu dan suami. Kawan-kawan yang hilang harga diri dan sanggup mengkhianati.
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Maka inilah paling lama saya tak berbunyi. Kata adik saya, sepi itu membunuh jiwa. Untung jiwa saya masih bangun melawan. Apa yang tak nampak di utara, saya berpaling ke selatan. Tapi tak hilang rupanya hati. Cuma mati.
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Lalu saya ketuk pintu yang lain.
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Posted in Hope, Hurt, Write On, Writing | Leave a Comment »
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Sewaktu melihat ini, aku seperti terhantar ke jalan-jalan menuju Melegnano dalam hujan petang di bulan-bulan April dan Mei tahun dua ribu satu.
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Pada hujannya, pada comotnya, pada runtuhnya bangunan-bangunan yang entah apa sajalah sejarahnya. Tak pernah terlintas bahawa akan ada rindu buat Melegnano sesudah lapan belas tahun.
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Apakah anak-anakku akan rindu pada Kuala Lumpur yang membuang sejarahnya seperti membuang sampah?
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Monchiesku…
Aturlah langkahmu di Mariposa. Dan sekali-sekala bayangkanlah jalan berbukit kecil kita di Mesra.
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Posted in Monchies, Nostalgia | Leave a Comment »
Dan kuhilangkan tapi-tapi
dari bait-bait puisi ini
agar engkau mencari erti.
Bukan sekadar menanti
rajukku sembuh sendiri.
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Tiada lagi ruang dan waktu
untuk rindu.
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Semua bunyi
terhenti di sini.
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* Enida
* Di sore ulangtahun sahabatku Fidö Didö 2019.
* Mesra Terrace
Posted in Write On | Leave a Comment »
.Sebuah angan-angan saja ini asalnya
yang kemudian aku lupa.
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Dan hanya pada setiap kali aku
berlimpasan di gedung kayu
menjadi kata-kata angan-anganku itu
sekejap saja pupus hapus ditiup waktu.
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Berdebu juga angan-angan
dan kata-kata menunggu masa
tak menjadi cita-cita.
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Entah dari gua mana berhantu
Tuhan datangkan setukangkayu
yang menggergaji angan-anganku
dan memahat kata-kataku
lalu memaku cita-citaku
menjadi bangku sepatu.
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Maha mendengar itu Tuhanku.
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*Enida
17 February 2019
#bangkusepatu
Posted in Mesra, Poetry, Writing | Leave a Comment »
Edrick was telling me how his knuckles hurt a bit after the soccer training the other day. I reassured him that it is normal when one takes up a sport and how it takes a toll on our body.
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Mom: But the main thing is you enjoy it.
Edrick: Yeah. I know Mom. I’m not complaining.
Mom: I know, I can see how passionate you are about soccer.
Edrick: Mom, no pain no gain.
Mom: Hey! That’s my line!
Edrick: I know, you’ve taught me well.
Mom: Awwwwwww!
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[Photo Credit to Little League Soccer]
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Posted in Monchies | Tagged Parenting | Leave a Comment »
Thoughts are wingless birds, but you cage them anyway.
Posted in Write On | Leave a Comment »
When my last pair of white Kitay-Gorod walking shoes were put to their final rest, I swore I had no faith in finding another that would walk with me as long as they did. Nine years.
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And I swore my heart would never beat for another pair ever again. From then on, for many faithless years, I learned to take small steps again. One at a time. Not looking for a new pair to love.
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Until I fell.
For these…
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Posted in Hope, Write On | Leave a Comment »
March 25, 2017:
One thing I noticed about strong-minded people is that… even in times when they feel the most helpless, they often end up helping others instead. And that even in times when they desperately need someone to talk to, they usually end up being the one listening.
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February 16, 2018:
Almost a year later, I noticed that there is a big bottle in each of these strong-minded people, filled with their own words. The bottle stuffed. Capped. The words left unsaid.
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…
..
Posted in Inside Enida, Sense | 1 Comment »
February 22, 2017:
I was going to say it’s way past my bedtime. But the truth is, I’m not sure when exactly my bedtime is. It has been shambolically at sixes and sevens these last few… years. Yes, it has been years since this kampung girl first ran around selling t-shirts for a mere hundred dollars.
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Five years, to be exact.
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There have been so many sleepless nights and sleepful days that in all honesty, I am beginning to miss me. Kids are growing up and growing fast. Our Mesra home has been without Bibik since 2015 and us three have grown remarkably unsusceptible to the dust on the corners of the staircase.
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As an abnormal family (as labeled by Kitreena), we are doing not too bad. Edrick has grown moustache and Kitreena has embraced vegetarianism. I still fit in many of my outfits from 1997 but they are mainly towels and baggy sweaters. I have more grey hair than brown, that’s for sure. To be able to visit my salon as often as I need to, I save hard. And I have found an inexpensive hairdresser in Ampang, although I still don’t go as often as I need to.
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But most importantly, with a moustached 11-year old son and a vegetarian daughter whose hair has grown straight, we have grown to love and embrace our abnormality.
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February 16, 2018:
I just read Syed Azmi’s post about a family in Melaka struggling to make ends meet. It was what the husband said about his little family that made me think about mine. My life without a husband, and my little family abnormal and all, I am happy to repeat after him… “Kami mungkin susah, tapi kami bahagia.”
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Susah is, by all means, subjective.
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Posted in Hope, Inside Enida, Monchies, Write On | Leave a Comment »
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