In many ways that it seems to appear, my holiday is not bad after all. Not to mention that I missed tarawikh on the second night due to a long chat with my aunt. The rest is quite okay though the sensation of early Ramadhan is not there, plus the selawat between the tarawikh recited by those Johoreans are quite unordinary and unacceptable for me.
I was quite shocked with such selawat recited by them. The verses sound unheard of. My early assumption was that those Johoreans of
Surau Kampung Padang Lalang, Tangkak, are of
Shia sect, or maybe they are followers of other schools of the
Sunnis.
Bearing in mind that such small matter is not something worthy to argue, I continue my prayers with my heart devoted solely to God Almighty. Alas, the devotion is not really a full one. Being a guest to such a hospitable aunt, Ramadhan is an interesting experience. Though my body follows the Imaam in front, often I found my mind leaving his charming and pious owner, travelling back to the dining table and the streets of Bazaar Ramadhan.
Ayam Percik Bangsar bought from
Bazaar Jasin is real delicious. I had been longing it for a couple of years since I left Jasin after SPM.
Nasi Ambang (pronounced as ambeng) on the second day really amuse me, though they replace the
Ayam Kicap with
Ayam Ungkep. It is not really
Nasi Ambang then but my first experience tasting the
Ayam Ungkep was delightful. The tastes of herbs and spices overwhelming me mouth, savouring every single taste bud on me tongue.
It was the evening of me third day in Tangkak when I paid a visit to the beloved
MRSM Tun Ghafar Baba, the place where Lord Hosni was born. To my surprise, the security guard allow me to wander in the college compound with my uncle’s bike and he even treated me nicely, with a long chat that I entertained not-so-full-heartedly. He reminds me of an old security guard back in my beloved college in Seremban.
So I wander around in the college compound, capturing a few pictures with my
Daun, of places that are nostalgic for me. But before I manage to visit my old classroom, another security guard rode his bike approaching me.
“Dik, takleh masuk la dik..skang ni waktu cuti..takleh masuk.”
Obeying his order, I dashed back to Tangkak at once as it is 6.30pm already. My early intention of visiting my friend;
Iqbal, was not fulfilled as sunset is about time.
The way the second security guard “chased” me away in a very polite manner indeed melts me heart. Both security guards I met that day were new there. The security company had changed already. They were not the same guards patrolling the college during my time. Yes, the man whom we nicknamed
Pakcik Serigala or
Pakcik Ghost Rider was not there. Somehow, I miss that man.
That night, I slept soundly, reminiscing the sound of an old Honda Cup, riding along the corridors of the Form 5 classrooms, with a big man on it, cap covering his long hair, round grim face, long moustache and a thick pair of glasses. It is 1 o’ clock in the morning, and the tranquillity of the school is then disturbed by
Pakcik Ghost Rider, barking;
“Balek balek balek!!!!”_
