My Father

I seldom talk about my father, even I do sometime write about my father in this blog and my other blog. The thing is, I always wanted to be what I am, without people think and say; how come she can’t get all of that achievement, her father was him.

I’m reluctantly to be overshadowed by my father. But the truth is, I’m always my father’s child. If one day I should have an academic name, my name should be known as, Alias, A.

I’m very much selfish right?

Yeah, no matter how I think, I know that my father have a lot of impact and influence in me, making me who I am. Believing what I am. Most of the things I do are to prove to him I am worthy to be his child. I have his quality, his talent, his wisdom and all. Yeah, I’m very much struggled to be him, even I only get just a partial of his talents. The rest rests inside my other siblings. That is why I can’t do music and painting. I only can write but still I’m struggling to be at par of my father’s talent.

We seldom talk, because he was the man of action. He showed his love by action. Always make his family as number one priority rather than to satisfy his own needs and to indulge in his works. That is sacrifice to me. For a person who very much involve in literature and writings, composing music and play instruments, color and painting, he just let everything go for the sake of his family; that’s a lot of sacrifices to do.

I’m thinking if one day people ask me to stop and give up writing, I will apparently get mad and go crazy. That is too much in asking.

But my father was like that; a man of action, a man that knows his priority, a man without words, but plenty of beautiful words inside his heart. A man who are willing to sacrifice everything, to make sure we are born in this world, sharing the beauty lies in this Earth, spend every penny he had to make sure we learn and be independent, although we always hurts his feeling. How can a man can do this much?

Yes, I’m very much selfish. I never told my friends that my father was a writer, very good writer in fact. Because of his humbleness, we never actually read his published works neither see certificate of his achievement. Some of us have the privillage to read, but most of us not. That goes to his other masterpiece in song writing, composing, mastery in musical instruments, script writing, screen play and other artworks. He keeps it for his own to remember. Or now I believe that, he keeps it so that we will choose our own path without being burden to follow his footsteps. How can a man, sacrifice up to this extreme extend?

For a man, it is very much important for us to see, one or two of our child resemblance us in achievement and attitudes, but not my father. He kept everything away, so that we can be raise and believe you are good for what you are, you can choose the path that you like, you never have to become a teacher same like me, you can always be anything you like, you don’t have to have any art abilities and to perform it well, you can always be what you want to be.

That was and is my father.

I kept the fact I was raised by a father like his kind away from my friends and teacher knowing. I want them to believe that I perform base on my original talent. Even if my father still alive, he will let me to do that. I’m being selfish, I know. But deep inside my heart, I know that I can’t get anywhere farther from him, because he was my father, whom I love so much.

I keep it as secret because I’m still not yet at par with his achievement. How can I declared to crowds he was my father, if I’m still not worthy to be mention. And I still am, not worthy to be mention. But I can’t wait anymore. I’m afraid the time (where I’m worthy to be mentioned) never come.

But today, as my heart grows bigger missing him, I know that I just can’t keep it anymore. Whatever I do, it is a struggle to be like him. I hope that one day when I have the guts to mention, I already be somebody. So that people can see, the person that shaped me well and loves me unconditionally was him. He was my father who always there for me even he did not have any words to speak with me. But throughout the years, when he still alive or when he has already gone, I know that he speaks loud and clear, with the blood that circulate inside my body and vein. I heard him now, so clear and precise.

My father, Alias bin Haji Sulaiman (1932 - 2004), a teacher.

I’m indebted to him for all my life. Thank you for having me, love me still even I’m not a very good child to you, whom called me with my full name over and over, never my short name. Knows what make me happy and what I like, care about my well being.

Ayah, thank you to criticize me sincerely even you love me so much. You did that in order I’ll be guided and will not response to false praise.

Ayah, thank you to scold me when I’m not using both hand when I used the computer.

Ayah, thank you making me keep repeating Al Fatihah over and over until I know where to place the alphabet (makhraj huruf) and used the correct tajweed.

Ayah, thank you to teach me how to make ketupat’s cover, both ketupat sate and bawang.

Ayah, thank you to teach me how to cut vegetables correctly, and eat with pleasant heart my bad cooking.

Ayah, thank you for teaching me how to choose. You have made me understand to use systematic approach to choose when it is too hard for me.

Ayah, thank you to show us right and wrong, to uphold virtue, values and wisdom. Still giving even you have nothing. Being humble and sincere, and be a great father to me.

Ayah, thank you watching me straight at my face. I know that you wanted to say goodbye that day, a day before you’ve been released from this world. I still remember you face at that moment, and will be, towards the eternity. InsyaAllah.

Ayah, thank you for believing in me, bless me, forgive me, love me, only then I can be who I am.

Ayah, even you never heard this, I love you.

Happy Fathers Day to Ayah, Abah.

To all fathers out there who had sacrificed a lot for the well being of your children.

Yes of course, to you too, Cikli, Hans Words, Empangan Jernih, Cikgu, Anak Bumi.

(Thank you Ayah for looking straight to the camera, so we convinced that you're still watching.)

Al-Fatihah.