Learning The Muqaddam Brings Back Memories

Dear Diary,

I learned how to read the muqaddam tonight. After Isya, mum taught me how to read it. I stopped at page 4. I started with the very basic ones. I need to work out a system where I can make myself recognize the character more easily. Just now brought back the memories I have learned 32 years ago. While I was learning, it brought me to the olden days when my brother was still alive and I learned how to read with him. He was not a fast learner so he was always left behind. One must be very patient and understanding to teach him. Among the siblings, he was the slowest academically but he certainly had the heart of gold. I could not compete with him on that. My brother had the purest heart. I feel very sympathetic towards him. Sometimes, I would help him with his school work. To the outside world we all grow old, but not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family grieves and joys. We live outside the touch of time. While many can share their childhood memories and grown-up dreams with their brothers, I cannot. I can only reminisce.  

There was a time when we learned the muqaddam, he would ask me when he could not recognize some of the characters. Mum was very strict. Both of us would be scolded if we read the characters wrong. My brother often got scolded, pinched and caned. He cried sometimes and all I could do was watched and hoped that I would do better than him so I could escape the agony and miseries. Honestly, I did not like the way my mum taught us last time. It made us even more scared to learn and how we both hated the sessions very much. I supposed in the olden days, parents are strict with their children. I have heard from my aunt how my late grandfather was so strict that she hid under the bed just to escape from getting caned for forgetting the characters in the muqaddam.

I am not sure if it was good news but we did not last long with mum. She was busy with work and we simply stopped learning from her. I was happy, really I was. I was sure my brother was happy too as he did not have to endure the pain of getting pinched and scolded anymore. I never blamed mother. I understood her. We were all afraid of my mum. In her strictness, it was all for the sake of discipline. She may have made us so afraid of her but she was never abusive. Guess who got her temper? I do. I knew exactly where I got my temper from. My temper is fiery but controlled, unlike mum. Since I stopped learning from my mum, there were certain periods of my life where my parents enrolled me in religious classes but that was it. So you see Diary, I had the fundamentals but it is simply a matter of inconsistency. I did not practice and so I had forgotten. Do you know that my mother had finished reading the Quran for the 10^th time already? She is good at it. She recognizes the characters and she can read steadfastly. I have a mother who is a steady Quran reader but look at me. Well, what can I say? Mum bought me the muqaddam and iqra yesterday from the bookshop. I supposed she wants to redeem what she was supposed to do years ago. I love my mother unconditionally. If she does not teach me the muqaddam, I would still love her regardless.  

I actually miss my brother. I was holding back my tears when I was reading the muqaddam while my mum was watching me. I did not want her to see me cry. I felt it out of a sudden. It just happened you know. I mean, I was doing the thing which I used to do with my late brother when we were young. The memories came and I felt a little overwhelmed. I have not talked about him for a long time because I know whenever I talk about him, I would cry.  You know that there’s no other love like the love for a brother and there’s no other love like the love from a brother.

It has been 12 years but the sadness still lingers. I supposed we stop talking about the sad things in our lives to avoid being sad all over again.  I stop talking about some people just so I could move on with my life and that includes my brother. It is not that I have forgotten about the people who have come into my life, but it is to safeguard myself from feeling the miseries all over again of losing my loved ones. So I stopped talking about them like as if I do not have any memories of them. That’s just it. I supposed everybody would do the same. I miss you, my brother. If only I could tell you how the nights grow cold without you and the world is filled with the anguish of my loneliness and the stars join me in sorrow while I long without wearying to hold you once more in my arms, to tell you of my lame jokes, to embrace you, to tell you I love you every day and to let you know how much I have been missing you since you died.