A missive

Hanif,

I try not to show it, but going back to base is one of the scariest responsibilities that I have put it off for so long. To be honest, I wasn't planning to ever return to base. I had a set, comfortable life of nothing, and running became my dream. I found it easy to hide from the government, and I have been fortunate enough to have great people who are happy to shelter me in my time of need. Yes! It was the simple, comfortable life of escape.

...then I met you.

I know what I now have to do. I am not any less scared, nor am I any less tempted to run, but you are worth so much more than what I now lack. You are the reason that I am going back to base; I love you, I cherish you, and I desire to remain with you as long as you'll have me.

I am scared, but I will andure fear for you!

The next weeks to follow will be undoubtly rough. I am only going to be as strong as you support me. Please, don't give up. I will return.

Seriously?

Read more here

After all she has done to Malaysia film industry, this is what she get? A huge defamation a day after her death? It's not about telling the truth, it's about dignity of her family, her companions, her "anak-anak". I've been questioning the morality and ethics of most of Malaysian reporters and newspapers. Instead of supporting the industry towards a much more matured field competing with other nations, they dig a whole of humaliation of a true Malaysian artist.

This is not how I, at least, remember my "mother", who has served country well. If you are also disgusted by Kosmo! please support this protest.

Some of us agree that boycotting them won't work. Contact them. Spam them with calls - emails, espicially emails!

Send your complaints on that insentive piece of innuendo laden news piece that cowardly didn't have a byline to berita(at)kosmo.com.my.

Call then at 603-92214001 (ext 508 & 506) demand to speak to the editor.

Fax them your complaints to 603 92218590

I'm spreading the words so they won't forget.

Ask for apology - not for us, but for the memory of Yasmin Ahmad, our storyteller and filmmaker and her family who are hurting the most.

Thank you.

And she's gone..

She taught me how to open barriers I built against love.

She showed me my roots of being a Malaysian, which then I translate through my daily interactions with other human beings, regardless the differences.

She introduced me to the great oeuvres of Pablo Neruda, who now becomes my favorite poet.

She told me to find the beauty behind Mira Nair's collections, which then lead me to "meet" Jhumpa lahiri.

She adviced me to seek the truth behind stunning act and enticing lines, which then lead me to have another degree, which is Theatre.

She wanted me to seek refuge in the tranquility of Qurans sentences, which then I portrayed in my art works through humanity.

And there she goes, my greatest hero, Yasmin Ahmad, returning back to the Almighty.

I'm grateful to God for letting me meeting this beautiful creature of His for a very short time. It has always been my dream to meet her in personal after years of conversation through e-mails and instant messages. A huge part of myself right now has been built according to her guidance, that I will treasure in my whole life in becoming an artist. After all, she was a friend, a teacher, and a mother to me. And truth to be told I am not coping with her death well.

Rest in peace Mak.

Eros II

I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

- Love Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda

Man.. I'm really drunk in this love.