Raya and Me

The last 'Raya Di Kampung' I had with Opah (grandma) and Tok Ayah (grandpa), my beloved grandparents, was in 1974. It was the most proper Raya ever and Dungun never felt so peaceful. I said 'proper' because that particular Raya encapsulated all the Rayas in my 20 years of existence then.

Waking up on Raya morning to be greeted by the serene, smiling faces of Opah and Tok Ayah was a delight in itself. Helping Tok Ayah make 'nasi himpit' (rice cube) the time-honoured way (using a wooden block covered with white muslin) the night before, was unforgettable. Nasi himpit was his forte and he did it to perfection, always.

The memory of kissing their hands asking for forgiveness, before adjourning to the dining table for Opah's special Raya dishes, especially her rendang and kuah kacang, remain etched in my mind until today.

Visitors arrived in droves - friends and acquaintances, neighbours, childhood friends and former schoolmates - keeping me on my toes until late evening. Never mind that I was pooped by dinnertime; I was just thrilled to see them all, people I had known all my young life.

That year 1974 marked the last year of my singlehood. Free as a bird then, I was under no obligation to 'divide' Raya. There was no husband to answer to and no in-laws to please. Life was without knots and twists.

I was then a year into my job as a reporter with the afternoon daily, Malay Mail. I had shunned university for the job, much to the disappointment of my grandparents who had wanted me to finish my studies 'properly'.

Unfortunately, Opah passed on without ever knowing that I did return to school (in 1981), graduating three years later (with a husband and three little tykes in tow).

And so there I was, at the tail-end of Ramadan in 1974, joining the 'balik kampung' (returning to hometown/village) exodus, heading towards tranquil Dungun to be with the loving grandparents who had raised me from birth. Little did I realise that Raya was the last ever that I would spend with them both.

Subsequent Rayas were spent all over the place but Dungun. In fact, the first Raya I celebrated as a wife was in London, where we lived for a while. With the exception of London, throughout my marriage, every first day of Raya would invariably be with the in-laws.

I got to see Opah and Tok Ayah only a week or two into Syawal. Deep down it must have hurt them somewhat, but they never said a word. In fact grandma would only utter "suami didahulukan" (the husband comes first). Unsatisfactory as the arrangement was, spineless me meekly acquiesced.

When the marriage unraveled in the 13th year, Raya was no longer a day I looked forward to. Grandma was but two simple tombstones under a frangipani tree facing the South China Sea in good old Dungun.

Grandpa was ailing fast and living in Kota Baru with my teacher uncle whose kindly wife Cek Su was the most devoted daughter-in-law I had ever come across in my entire life. God bless this absolute gem of a woman who is just a few years older than I am.

The way she took care of her husband's father, by then bedridden and almost completely senile, put me to shame. I never had the opportunity to 'jaga' (care for) my grandpa, for he was adamant about living out his last days in Kelantan.

All through my 14 years of being an 'ibu tunggal' (single mother), Raya was celebrated in Kuala Lumpur to enable the children to be with their father and his family, especially the kids' 'Tok' (paternal grandma). History repeated itself with my own mother; we only got to spend Raya with her a week or two into Syawal.

Because of all the domestic upheavals, Raya had long ago lost its shine on me. I can't remember the last time I was excited about Raya. In fact, I became robotic with each Raya.

It was just another day, the day you didn't fast anymore after Ramadan. I had never bothered much with new clothes and such. As long as the family was happy and satisfied, I was fine.

This is my eighth Raya with Pak Abu. My take on Raya hasn't changed much; the only saving grace is my husband and children. Because they are precious to me, I think I shall make extra efforts to revitalise my feelings towards Raya.

But it feels like championing a lost cause or trying to recapture one's lost youth. Is it still possible? How do you regain a love long gone?