I feel it in my finger

I feel it in my fingers,
I feel it in my toes....
I feel the love from my head to toes, it shivers my spine, rise my hair, water my eyes.
The feeling comes harder at night time, especially when I am "alone" without family or someone I know. It comes when I need somebody to be my side.

I miss you all, angels. I need you all to be my side.
To make me feel safe and secure, to know that you all alright.

To know that you need me, although I need you all more than you need me.
It is just all clear. You always laugh and play, whether I am around or not. and I am just a fragile china cup without you with me.

I'm in love. again. and again.

perception vs reality

reality is a concept where people think (using mind and senses) that something is perceived real. Thus, there was "it" and "reality" of it depends on what people perception of "it". The condition varies from one case to another: it may be real (perception = reality), maybe not real (perception is not the same with reality), or it even can not be defined at all.
where am I? hhmm...
Perception: I am potential, people tend to perceive that I got something special. Maybe it's first impression, maybe it's wild guess.
Reality: how come I never make something big?
there must be something missing.
solely depending on perception i should have made fortunes and miracles.
where is that damn white towel...?

My singer, my hero

The singer who looks like Lilo (KLa Project's personnel) sang on a lounge at Carrefour, nearby my place. He usually performed his talent around 6 t0 7 pm. Nothing really unique about him, his long hair, his black outfit (always the same one whenever I saw him performing), the way he sang and played the organ, even the songs (only easy tunes of recent and popular popsongs).

The first thing that cought my attention was a cartoon box beside his organ that sported invitation of the guess' participation. I always wonder, was participation in that contect meaning song or financial request? The question remained unanswered, until now. I never had the chance to come across anyone putting anything into the box.

Second thing was "the act" on pause of his shows. After praying (yes, I saw him praying in a nearby mushala) he would take a dinner. A lady who was with him all the time would feed him, you know, scooping the meal out of the plate and put it into his mouth. I could not make out their relationship, yep, this also unsolved.

AND, I never saw him again. Not in the same store, though. On the way home from office I saw this singer coming out of one restaurant and into another. I really hoped that he did not do that for applying for performances. I really hoped that he already got his regular performance somewhere. i really hope that I can see him again, singing. Somewhere.

At last, no more horror exhibitions....

We have recognized the ending of genocide in Kamboja, where the alledged masterminds and perpetrators alike are facing the justice. Similar horror in Rwanda and Sudan has faded. But, enough about that kind of horror.

In Jakarta there was another kind of horrific exhibition, a torture in its own kind. I once saw my classmate back in high school time rode a motorcycle, facing backward. He was the passenger, of course. The driver, my other mate, ran the motorcycle at full speed and the poor passenger could only gripped his hand onto the saddle, grinning (or trying not to weep), and "enjoyed" the ride. I didn't know why he accepted that crazy idea, I suspected there was money involved, hehehe. As I said it happened years ago in my school era, how about the torture I mentioned happened in Jakarta?

It was stuffed doll torture. The poor thingy was tied up at the back of a motorbike, facing back, helpless. In some cases the doll was not tied up at the backseat, it was hung on the bike's exhaust. What a poor lad.

The habit seems die down nowadays. I no more see this kind of scene.

hot spiced breakfast

Talking about office stuff domestically is not really my cup of tea. However, for no apparent reason other than lowering some tension in my stomach I started that new thing this morning. AND I ended up with hot spiced breakfast that was enough to make my ears red and my heart stomping.
Maybe it was about the package because the stuff itself was clear. I am not a smooth talker nor fine writer, I always position myself a good listener (you may come and check out my ears' size and you will understand).
Some points to ponder:
- I'm no angel but I will never try to claim what's not mine
- I try to be helpful only to an extent that the effort is not crossing my "lines"
- New habit is hard to start, especially when one is not ready for the consequences...
Peace....!

21 April, Kartini Day

Kartini was a great young woman. She wrote about things some women/man her era in java/indonesia had not even dared to think about. You know, stuff like education for women, emancipation, poligamy, hold on to your own rights, among other things.
Why do I write about her, now? Apart from high respect I render to her, there's something more interesting to talk about.

It's the date. 21 April 1996, yup 13 years ago. Our family was socially recognised. Socially, because officially it was registered one day before. And this morning, we --me and Mrs. Hikmat-- just found out that WE MISSED the anniversary by one day.

Of course it's nothing. Forgetting things is human, forgetful is my middle name. But, forgetting the marriage anniversary? for a wife? hehehe...no hard feelings, dear. Anyhow, she wasn't feeling too well since morning yesterday, and she even went back home early for the same reason. I'm not the kind of man who can easily remember dates, let alone the event that happened more than a decade ago.

Anyway, this how it happened. Driving to our offices, we were talking about Kartini Day when, all of the sudden, we looked at each other's face and laughed. I shook her hand, "Happy anniversary", and we celebrated it by taking a short stop at a streetside noodle vendor. What an anniversary to remember, hehehe.

I am getting old....

glimpse of heaven

I just got back from heaven to real life. You may take my claim or simply ignore it but I betcha curious about it. Believe me, guys, heaven is real. It is so beautiful and peaceful that one would not exchange it with anything worldly.

How did I go there? I did not. It comes to me.
I was lying lazily over my inlaws' sofa before an F1 qualifying session when heaven comes. Picture this: me, watching the program, my eldest daughter is somewhere in her room reading her daily portion of material (books, children magazine, test exercise anything of a kind), the twins are coming out of nowhere, literally jumping onto my body without early warning, giggleing, the youngest just get over from sore throat and still cope with runny nose and is coughing on the far side of the room, counting some cookies in front of her for no specific reason. My wife is watching the program, too. enjoying the victory of her JB.
The air is not too hot insie, thanks to a ceiling fan over our head.

That, my dear friends, is heaven.

snoopy stuffed doll

Driving to office this morning I passed a face, a glimpse yet so clear. A face of familiar individual. I know her in my youth.... er.... 17 years ago? She kinda stopped by in my life then, a cheerful girl with rabbitlike smile and grin. She took my small snoopy doll and for a change I got a lousy blue stuffed thingi....

Life is beautiful

It's so beautiful that I often thought that even heaven is merely a reflection. Heaven is created in our mind, it's constructed out of substances we experienced in our daily life and we make it over.
Life is so beatiful that I sometimes forget that its span is nothing compared to eternity, that whatever I do in this life will affect my existance in next eternal life after this life. I can't deny it. I love it, I enjoy every seconds of it.

She simply makes me proud

Singing, or rather public performing has never been our family's cup of coffee. Whenever there's family gathering that require performance we usually sat there and enjoy the show. But it did not happen anymore.

We have a new trendsetter, my eldest daughter, the one that we always think the shyest and most introvert of all. She came forward, she sang, she got applause and she made my heart soar with pride. The reluctance still showed in her face but the fact that she took up the challenge and practically got to the floor to sing before "stangers' eyes" was really something worth remembering.

I was a shy boy myself. Time, education, friendship and environment kind of changed me a bit into this man you may recognise. I have this regret that I may pass on the character to my daughters. But seems that I have to throw the tought away, now.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to proudly present to you, my daughter, Nabila Candani Hikmat.

Play with dignity

That's what I saw at our national team's lost to the mighty Thais.
Winning is one thing but fighting to the end is another. Despite the imbalance score line, one can see that our team is none the loser. They fought the respectful fight. They lost, well, we lost. Players' faces show dissappointment, the gaffer looks a bit angry.
How about the crowd? What a faithful crowd they are. They sing, they cheer, they wave from start to last wistle blow. After the fate is decided they lose not even a single trust in the players. They show respect and admiration to the players after the game, chanting the names and songs. Our team reveal their sportmanship by saluting the winners following the very rough an hot game.
It is heartlifting to see such scene.

violent society

For the first time in my life a violent action happens before my very eyes and in so early day. A man, apparently unfortunate petty thieves, was held tightly by one person while he was beaten up by yet another man. The unfortunate one didn't say anything like "help" or "don't hurt me" or alike, he just tried to cover his body, helplessly, from kicks and punches. He might have realized that whatever he said would never change his fate. He was doomed, maybe to death at that moment, like what happened to other petty thieves before him when gotten caught red handed. So, beating up a caught thieve happens often.

How about reaction from people? Indonesian, at least from my daughter's school material, were well known as friendly people with smile in their faces. But this was exactly what happening when the violence occured. A person beside me, with white small cap on the head, murmured coldly."He is dead, he must be dead, he shouldn't have stolen, look what happens now, he is caught and will be dead". This man with white cap looked so calm and pious, yet the words coming from his mouth were not in the same line with his appearance.
The reaction was quite different from a young lady in front of me. Her tattoed lower back and accessories would lead any man to fantasy, and the violence stunned her. She suddenly lost her smile and became pale. No words at all, she was shocked.

I could not do anything, it happened on my way to office while I was cramped in a public transport. It struck me hard. The scene rolling and rolling in my head. I thank God that there was a police officer nearby. He approached right before more people were joining the "rites" to beat up the sinner.

new place new faces new names new life new ambience

What a life! What an amazing, nerve stimulating, interesting, daunting, and eventful life I've been through. My former lecturer would otherwise said," I'm impressed, it's beyond my wildest imagination!"

You might thought that I just won a lottery or getting promotion or big-cash prize. It is very precious, I can not deny, but if you asked,"How much?" I would say, "It's much more than any kings could have paid"

So, what is it then? It is Relationship. Yep, my dear friends and readers, it's friendship that I just experienced while taking a short course in Surabaya.
It is nerve stimulating, as, experiencing it, I got to balance myself like that of a tight rope walker between reality and dreams, between affection and admiration, between friends and foe, in short between me and you. Amazing though, I could not stop wondering how the short frame would create so many beautiful things. It's daunting to leave your love ones behind and go for something you expect to give you back more than you sacrifice while the promise is out in the air.
New names, characters, peoples. I run out of words. I enjoy it even more now while recollecting. Thank God.

back to study

go and learn, even further to china...
that's exactly what i'm doing rite now. back to study. not to china but one can see that this indonesian city is filled with chinese descent indonesian.
nice city, surabaya is.
we'll see what come out of this journey of mine.

Russian Tale

Two drunk Russians were staggering on the street one night. They tried to walk down the road and got home. They came across an Armenian coming their way quite innocently. Liquour still heavy in the head, one Russian said to another,

"Hey, why don't we give that a**hole some good punches, have fun, then get home!" His companion, a little bit lighter in his head respond,

"What? didn't you see that muscles on his biceps? He would make a good laugh at us after giving pretty black and blue in our faces!"

"Ha, ha, ha..., don't be silly kamerad. We are nice guys, Why on earth he would beat us up?"

RING THE BELL???