Another Raya

In a few hours' time, the fasting month will come to an end and Syawal arrives to denote the beginning of festivities. Known in some parts of the Muslim world as 'Eid-ul-Fitri' or 'Raya Aidil Fitri' or 'Hari Lebaran', to me it has always been simply 'Raya'.

And Raya is only Raya when -

(a) we get to buy new baju kurungs and new shoes. In those days, there was no question of whether it's tight-fitting kebaya, modern kebarungs, see-through baju kurungs or lacy what-nots. Mom decreed that we are to wear simple cotton baju kurungs and that's that. The only choice we could make (or squabble on) was the colour and design. Mom also used to sew the baju kurungs for us but that soon paved way into tailored or ready-made outfits. As for the shoes, well, that's the time we get to pick either new Mary-Janes or in one particular year, ankle high black shiny boots. I could still remember that year when we insisted (for vanity's sake) on wearing the boots during our yearly visit to our maternal grandmother's resting place. Instead of the usual slippers which would have made our lives much easier, the three of us had much difficulty in trudging through the muddy pathway of the cemetery. Our black boots which were once so pretty and shiny are now muddied. Needless to say, that was the only time we wore new shoes on first day of Raya;

Picture of my siblings and I during one of the 1980's Rayas taken at our late grandfather's house. During those days, Raya fashion is dictated by what Mum decreed it to be.

Us with my late maternal grandfather, Mom and our uncle's wife. Until today, our hairstyles in the picture remained a sensitive issue =p

Us with my mom's brother. Notice my sisters' sleepy look? And ignore my expression, thank you very much

(b) we wake up early in the morning and gleefully await our 'reward' for completing our fasting successfully. You see, fasting is a requirement for all practising Muslims but how do you explain that to young kids that they can't eat, drink etc for an entire one month? Mom and Dad figured out that the best way to get us to fast was to provide incentives. For every weekday that we fasted, they would give us RM1. That sum doubles if we manage to wave away the fridge's temptations on weekends. And if we complete one whole month without any gaps, then the total amount would be doubled! Added with the customary duit raya, we can't help but feeling rich =) But before any of you start to think that the practice is still ongoing, let me just clarify now. We stopped receiving the 'reward' after completing primary school and after that, we fasted on our own, having understood that it's a religious requirement;

Syazwina and I comparing our loot =p

See how happy I was counting money? Back then, even piles of RM1 could make me feel like a millionaire (not that I understood what a millionaire was at that age)

(c) we spent the first half of the day at my maternal grandfather's house. To the adults, it was a chance (never mind the fact that they tend to meet up almost every other day or week) to meet up and share stories (the same stories my Dad would point out to be old soup boiled for the umpteenth time). To the kids, it was simply a visit to the bank's vault! Imagine, Mom's siblings totalling 7 would gather at my grandfather's house and each of them would give us Raya angpaos. With a simple kiss on their hands (well, more like the forehead touching their hands, haha) and a mumbled 'Selamat Hari Raya', we would receive pieces of red notes. Some of them would be more generous and depending on our age, we could receive up to RM100 each. And each year, Dad commented that we're too spoiled for our own good while Mom would defend her family's practice as being a mere once-a year thing.

After my grandfather's passing, the tradition has now changed. We now meet up at Mom's eldest sister's house. Even then, the feeling is not the same as there is some truth that you need the presence of the family patriarch or matriarch to make the celebrations complete. Cousins that I grew up with and whose faces are also a must have also since gotten married and they too will be absent as they spend their Rayas with their spouses' families;

One of those Raya gatherings on Dad's side. Pictures do tend to bring back flashes of memories which is especially poignant when those who were with us are no longer here. The boy in the purple baju melayu who's caught on camera drinking passed away a few years ago.

One of those rare pictures with my paternal grandmother. She passed away when I was in Primary 6 and her absence is continually felt, most keenly during times like Raya.

One of the later Rayas in my late grandfather's new house. Syazwina with (a few of) our male cousins, our baby cousin (who's now in Form 1 already) and the same aunt who appeared in the earlier picture

Mom (the one in green and sitting on the bench) with her sisters as well as her sister-in-law (the one with the brown tudung, extreme left)

(d) our tiny tummies (shrunken after a month of fasting) suddenly found spaces it never knew existed and consumed in a day, enough calories to kill any healthy person. Breakfast would be ketupat, sambal kacang, rendang, ayam goreng and the same meal would repeat for lunch and dinner. Add in the variety of Raya cookies (and everyone just keeps offering which they will feel umbraged if we decline or eat less than ten of each type), the free flow of carbonated drinks, other food goodies and you'll understand why we need the fasting month; and

Ketupat best served with my favourite dish, sambal kacang with lots of beef. Picture taken by Syazwina.

Some prefer the above lemang than ketupat. For me, I think the latter wins hands down. Pic credit: Syazwina

Either way, both ketupat and lemang are accompanied with perennial favourites i.e. sambal kacang, rendang, ayam goreng and the likes.

Weighing scale, anyone? Pic credit: Syazwina

Raya cookies. Ours are always homemade thanks to Mom. She bakes and we gobble them up. Pic credit: Syazwina

Mom's pineapple tarts. Seriously, you could not find these tarts anywhere. Those being sold or mass produced are usually the rolled pineapple tarts. They look good but are much better as they melt inside our mouths. Pic credit: Syazwina

(e) we 'balik kampung' on the 2nd day of Raya. To us, 'kampung' was always Muar, Johore and it took us quite a few years before realising that the 'kampung' in question was not really our kampung after all. Having grandparents who had moved from their respective hometowns to work in Kuala Lumpur, we are the epitome of city kids who call someone else's kampung as theirs. Anyway, the part which I remembered most about our annual trips to Muar was the bickerings between cousins on who gets to sleep where (this was important because the house had this long hall and only one fan. So, it usually boiled down to whose mattress was laid out first), the long queues to use the toilets (there were only one toilet and one bathing room inside the house. There is another toilet outside the house but who would want to use the latter in the early hours or late night?) as there could be at around 20 people in the house at any one time and finally, chasing the chickens when the adults were not looking. The grand lady of the house would often remind us that while these chickens would often end up in the curry pots, she did not want the chickens to die of premature heart attacks. Well, her words entered our left ears and immediately disappeared through our right ears the moment we see some unsuspecting chickens pecking the grounds.

Now, the house in Muar has been left vacant with no one returning for Raya. It's a sad fact but life goes on. My family now occasionally returns to Seri Menanti, Negeri Sembilan (my father's hometown) in search of the familiar faces that my Dad grew up with. However, the house that my Dad grew up in has also been demolished and in its place now is the police station. Who would ever want to admit that your old house is now the village's police station? If we're up for it, we would also make the journey to Johor Bahru to visit Mom's other relatives or Kluang where my grand-aunt lives;

(f) the whole family is complete. I used to disregard the importance of having everybody around because our family was always complete for each Raya since we were born. Yet, the time must come for us to leave the safety net of our homes in search of education. While I remain at home, my two younger sisters are now in Australia and South Korea respectively. Year 2008 was the first time that saw our family pictures without Syazana. With year 2010's Raya, the family picture will only be that of myself and my parents as Syazwina too has flown to Australia; and

It was always the three of us. In fact, my Mom's friend even called us the 'gediks' for always sticking with each other, oblivious to others present

My two sisters who are now abroad and have unashamedly ordered for their duit raya from me to be deposited into their respective accounts. As for their other duit raya, I'm the designated collector with no collection fees imposed at all!

Syazwina and me during 2009's Raya. That year, the theme was 'green' not so much because we're environmentally conscious people (what's recycle again?) but because somehow, the available designs in green were much better than the rest

Another picture of the two of us. Syazana was obviously missing from the picture so she took revenge by tagging everything else in the picture as hers

Us with our second cousins. All were into the 'earthy' tones by coincidence.

Our 2009 family Raya picture. Pic credit: Syazwina

Our complete 2007 Raya family picture. Pic credit: Syazwina

g) the evergreen Raya songs are played on the radio. Popular tunes sung by the late P. Ramlee, the late Saloma, Sharifah Aini and the late Sudirman are the things needed to remind us that Raya is here. I grew up with those songs and somehow, listening to these songs puts me in a time warp when snippets of previous Raya celebrations with everyone (including those who has since passed on) will be played in my mind. Okay, that sounds morbid but my point is, better old evergreen tunes than the modern rubbish that some people have the audacity to call as music. I had the unfortunate privilege of listening to a modern remake of a popular Raya song during my drive from office and I felt sick to the core. Not only did it sound entirely different but what I knew as 'Dendang Perantau' now sounded like a song sang by a drunkard. In my humble opinion, stop messing around with the old tunes (and spare us from the hearing ache) and create something new instead.

And I lament how people nowadays are no longer sending Raya cards to each other. While I'm guilty of being lazy in buying cards and hauling my bottom to the post office to actually send those cards that I bought, I do appreciate receiving cards from friends and relatives alike. The feeling of fingering a Raya card from a distant location surpasses that which comes with receiving a simple sms. One may argue that it's the thought that counts but somehow, I couldn't really find an 'aye' to that argument. Sms-es are so impersonal and with one touch, can be sent to hundreds of individuals. Sms-es are not things you can keep over the years for fear of burdening your phone inbox. Neither is it the same feeling to print those sms-es out and seeing them in print if we compare them to the sender's actual handwriting. I've received cards during school days that must be complete with 'Pecah Kaca Pecah Gelas, Sudah Baca Harap Balas' to ones that simply stated 'Dear..., Selamat Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir & Batin. Regards, XOXO' and signed by the respective senders. I've also received countless sms-es with elaborate phrases but with no inkling on who was it from unless I've saved the number as belonging to a friend or relative. No guessing as to which ones I will keep...

This entry has been quite a long one (and I honestly planned to write a very short piece) considering my duty to help Mom out in the kitchen. Well, I'm honest to admit that Mom does most of the preparations while I just pop in once in a while to check on what's cooking. But the house cleaning cannot be postponed anymore and I've to leave the comfort of the computer for the vacuum cleaner.

From the bottom of my heart, I wish everyone a happy and blessed Eid celebrations. Maaf Zahir & Batin for any wrongdoings or words which had unintentionally left any of you umbraged (but that is not to say that I will not repeat them in the coming years!=p).