Perantauan Messages We Longed For

It’s the season for the salam perantauan again, a season when we annually do the anxious face detections in the newspapers be it printed or online, searching for the greetings from our far-away loved ones – be it family or friends whom are finding their way outside in the overseas.

WITH THE ADVENT of social networking and Skype, salam perantauan are surprisingly undying, as if it’s a conventionally upheld tradition which eventually became an indicator that Raya is coming nearer. It adds some vibe to the gap between the perantau and their missed ones, someway, somehow.

It didn’t matter for me at least for the past previous years. Things, however, will be quite different this Raya as more of my friends since the schooldays are leaving, or more correctly, have left the country. It has taken quite a toll during the past few months, and the number is expected to be bigger by next year. The number, how big it is, doesn’t matter though. It’s the particular person who is leaving that matters the most. These people, unfortunately for me, make up most of the leaving herds.

My best of friends during the late primary and early secondary days, Ariff and Aidil, have left for the States earlier this month. Ariff is settling down at somewhere near Philadelphia, whereby Aidil is pursuing his studies in L.A. Uzair’s departure news came to a great shock to me during mid-August, in which his pursuit of going to Medan has clumsily slipped off my mind much thanks to the heavy workloads. Predictably, I didn’t go to any of the three’s send-offs.

Some of us might not even make it to be here until next year’s Raya, obviously. Haziq and Dira – both being all-time buddies – are already topping the list. Nonchalantly speaking, next year’s Raya is expected to be one of the most ‘deserted’ Raya, ever for me. Certainly, the ‘not really anticipating for Raya’ attitude is quite non-mover as the quorum is increasingly becoming lesser and lesser.

But it’s not doomsday yet. Visits are still not out of reach. Even so, I do find visits to overseas during Raya being quite far-fetched, especially at a time where I do have the option of being here at home. At least, tentatively, not before I’m finding myself migrating elsewhere. The last time I find myself overseas during the festive season was during 2004’s Ramadan, back in Sydney, and I guess I find the experience not really pleasant.

We just arrived on what could be the eve of Ramadan, and we’re unsure whether the anak bulan – the hilal – has been sighted or not. Clearly in the midst of Sydney’s indifferent nightlife which paid absolutely no attention whatsoever to whether it’ll be a fasting day or any of the two Eids coming tomorrow, I find the situation rather hastening. So we followed the experienced Ayah, grabbed the nearest kebab at the nearby Lebanese restaurant intended for sahur – in which we missed, anyway.

We proceeded with our first day of fasting, nevertheless. Of course, fasting in the middle of a non-fasting community is always a struggling thing to do. Public eating and drinking by the others was an obvious challenge, with other factors adding up along the way. Another thing was we walked a lot as it was a trip nonetheless, so we got really get tired by the end of the day. The following day became one of the hottest days during the season, with the temperature soaring up to 40°C but still modest, thankfully the moderate humidity saved the day.

But the reward is still around. For berbuka that day, there was an overindulging portion of nasi briyani from a Christmas Island-originated Malay owned restaurant, the usual shish kebab and the familiarity of McDonald’s Filet O’ Fish. Later, there was an addition of the Nasi Pelangi – a nasi I’m still puzzled to define, until today. For tomorrow, I realised that nasi uduk isn’t really different from nasi lemak, so we had one for berbuka from an Indonesian eaterie near Chinatown.

The feast was big during the last day. The next thing I know I went dizzy aboard my flight back to KL, nearly skipping the in-flight sahur (as I’ve spent a very long time inside the toilet). I never travelled during Ramadan ever again. It is, of course, unavoidable now for some of us. Eventually, the time will come for me too. But before we contemplate whether it’s the miles that count; it’s a safe and blessed Ramadan – from whichever perspective you see it – that really matters: everywhere, every time.

There are real Ramadan and Hari Raya beneath all the frenzies, more than fancy clothes, packed-and-sent kuih and large cards. A wish is more than a wish when it is given with real thoughts, which trespasses every known and unknown boundary. Don’t stop the salam perantau to each and every one of us, keep it coming, and may we return from our ‘journey’ to the right place this Eid. Not to home, not to the kampungs, not to the open houses; but to return to what we believe in, and nothing else.

Posted in Seri Iskandar. Not listening to anything.