Grannie

I guess loving my grannie is one of my conservative sides. How many youths can actually boast actual emotion connection with their grandparents? FYI, mine is not the hip one living in the city going shopping at the malls – mine is the real authentic kampong grannie living in a secluded village in Pasir Mas who spends her daily life with two activities – resting and praying – aside from lecturing me gently about life, that is. She is close to eighty and still breathing and eating well [by well I mean a plate of nasi with at least two or three lauks per meal].

I was not born with this kind of mindset since I was born. Indeed, I spent my childhood like all the other kids – going back to the village for the sake of catching up with my cousins. It began a month after I got my SPM result. I was staying at home, doing exactly nothing except waiting for my offer letter from UiTM when Abah came up to me with a very interesting offer – if I was to accompany my Mek [grannie] for four weeks at the kampong while her maid’s away, I would be rewarded with RM500 cash. Being a naïve sixteen years old that I was, I accepted it right away though the prospect of leaving my internet and modern facilities did me to worry a little.

The first two weeks went through like a process of knowing Mek and her habits. She usually wakes up before 5.30, goes into the bathroom for half an hour and spends the morning with praying and reading Quran. She would sit by the parlour from 8am to 12.30 with a praying book by her hand. I would sit by her with my laptop or book and we would have a conversation; I would tell her about my life and she would mostly talk about our family matters. Napping comes after that. The same goes for the rest of the evening and night – her days seem to revolve around praying to God, taking her medicines and napping.

After being surrounded by the bustling city life for months, living in the village surrounded by simple people and simple routines gives me a feeling of peace I have never succeeded to acquire in the city. Mek’s huge wooden house is currently occupied by only her and her maid whom I call Bibik. I never knew I was able to feel such peace until that agreement I had with my father [which was completed successfully]. When I returned to my Kuala Lumpur life and seemed to move on with the ‘modern Ruby’ in Shah Alam, I couldn’t help but to miss my kampong. That was when I realized that after staying in Kg Serendah for quite a length, I have grown to love the quality of such calm moments there.

Genuine love for Mek [not just one of those love-her-coz-she-ur-nenek thingy] has also developed these past few weeks. She seems to genuinely love everything about me – even my body size and manners [no kidding!]. I have always the mindset of appreciating people who loves me but being a stupid girl that I was, I seemed to only apply the rule to my parents, siblings and friends. The image of Mek seldom visited my train of thought prior to the realization. Perhaps mainly due to the distance between us. Being hundreds of kilometres away from her without any constant communication soon caused me to cease to have that sincere care and affection for her. Thus, I had wasted the first eighteen years of my life as a very irresponsible granddaughter who had blindly neglected the love of a person who deeply loves me and thinks about me all the time. [Yes, now you can curse yourself as well for being such an irresponsible grandchild]. Nevertheless, I was given a chance by God to experience the love before it’s too late. I really have to thank my Abah for this. If he had not the brilliant idea of throwing me away to this secluded village for that cold hard cash, then I would still be an ignorant baby up to this day.

We, the town people, have too many problems to be faced in our city lives - money, education, cars, work, groceries, friends and the list goes on. Our day begins at six thirty in the morning and by the time we reach home at 8 pm, we are already too exhausted to even take a deep breath and just appreciate the beauty of life. We would most probably have a shower, think about dinner, finish some assignments [in my case], surf the internet for the latest student gossips and go to bed. Twenty four hours never seem to be enough. That is why I have made it a habit to visit Mek at the village every semesters and I would always ensure that I would spend at least a week by her side. The habit soon becomes a very therapeutic experience for me. It gives me peace and a sense of calmness within my spiritual self, preparing me to embark again the tiring journey of being at the top of my game in the city every time a new semester begins.

The race goes on for me, but thank God with it I have the love and the prayers from my Mek.