The day that was : 10.10.10
Some fang seng photos:
I snapped this photo of papa in his daily devotional practice of praying in front of the shrine of The Buddha and Boddhisatvas. He has never missed this daily rituals in the later part of his life, waking up in the early hours of the morning and with his prayer beads in hand chanting the mantras which kept his mind agile, his body and soul spiritually nourished.
When I see him sitting cross legged engaging in his daily prayers like this it always brings forth a sense of comfort and serenity within myself, knowing that in his old age my father has somehow found his pillar of strength and spiritual solace through religious devotion. Papa used to be a very healthy and strong man for his age before an accident years ago which almost claimed his life. In his younger days he earned a living as a rubber tapper and hunter, scouring the jungle to hunt for wild boars, tending the kebun of his bosses and paddling the sampan in rivers to catch fishes had been his strong suits. But now he is easily tired and a little fragile in his movement, sometimes needing a walking stick to steady himself. After the accident, I watched with pain as my father wrought with quite heart wrenching frustration coming to term with the gradual decline in his once robust energy and vitality. But I guess he has since learned to cope and accepted his condition.
Through my father I have a glimpse of the snarky little face of impermanence. It gets closer each day as I scurry past, occasionally stop in my tracks and experience the lives around me, and within me.
But I’ve also learned to get used to it. Even though at times it has not been easy.
Later that morning we made a trip to Beaufort town for Breakfast. In the car papa related to us about a son of his friend who has a day before been whisked to a jail for fatally shooting down an indigenous man for carelessly mistaken him as his targeted prey - a wild boar. Accidents like this happen pretty frequently in the village. The young and old retreat to the jungle in their spare times to hunt for wild boars and other animals, and sometimes in their excitement and haste in capturing their prey, releasing the bullets far too soon before their mind could thoroughly process of the supposedly desirable targets, hence gunning down their fellow villagers who happen to frequent the place with the same purpose. Being the hunters, they end up to become the ones being hunted by the authorities instead. The son had borrowed a senapang bekakuk from a friend and if found guilty, he would need to spend a good 25 years behind bar, while his young wife has to carry the responsibility of taking care of their young children during the impending long gap of separation.
Papa was sympathetic towards the situation faced by his friend’s son, but with this piece of news, his mind was clearly transported back to a period of his life where he almost committed the same erroneous observation on several occasions, and should fate not favour him, he would have met with the same consequence as well.
Sometimes, life has a tendency to strike a bitter blow just when we least expect it. Like how it struck the young man and his family.
After breakfast in town, we bought a few kilos of ikan keli and brought it back to the village for fang seng.
Later in the evening I switched on the TVs and there was a local news report and images of men and women tying the knots in a group ceremony in conjunction with the date 10.10.10. People like to take advantage of a date deemed unique and auspicious to finally seal their union in the form of a marriage. Because at the core of their being people like to associate themselves with something special and symbolic, even if its amount to nothing significant when compared to the grand scheme of things.
For true love and a pledge of lifelong devotion to each other come from two loving hearts determined to make their union last, in spite of a special number. But once the love is gone, that special date will only be another number slowly burn into inconsequence in the four-walled prisons of their memories..
When I see him sitting cross legged engaging in his daily prayers like this it always brings forth a sense of comfort and serenity within myself, knowing that in his old age my father has somehow found his pillar of strength and spiritual solace through religious devotion. Papa used to be a very healthy and strong man for his age before an accident years ago which almost claimed his life. In his younger days he earned a living as a rubber tapper and hunter, scouring the jungle to hunt for wild boars, tending the kebun of his bosses and paddling the sampan in rivers to catch fishes had been his strong suits. But now he is easily tired and a little fragile in his movement, sometimes needing a walking stick to steady himself. After the accident, I watched with pain as my father wrought with quite heart wrenching frustration coming to term with the gradual decline in his once robust energy and vitality. But I guess he has since learned to cope and accepted his condition.
Through my father I have a glimpse of the snarky little face of impermanence. It gets closer each day as I scurry past, occasionally stop in my tracks and experience the lives around me, and within me.
But I’ve also learned to get used to it. Even though at times it has not been easy.
Later that morning we made a trip to Beaufort town for Breakfast. In the car papa related to us about a son of his friend who has a day before been whisked to a jail for fatally shooting down an indigenous man for carelessly mistaken him as his targeted prey - a wild boar. Accidents like this happen pretty frequently in the village. The young and old retreat to the jungle in their spare times to hunt for wild boars and other animals, and sometimes in their excitement and haste in capturing their prey, releasing the bullets far too soon before their mind could thoroughly process of the supposedly desirable targets, hence gunning down their fellow villagers who happen to frequent the place with the same purpose. Being the hunters, they end up to become the ones being hunted by the authorities instead. The son had borrowed a senapang bekakuk from a friend and if found guilty, he would need to spend a good 25 years behind bar, while his young wife has to carry the responsibility of taking care of their young children during the impending long gap of separation.
Papa was sympathetic towards the situation faced by his friend’s son, but with this piece of news, his mind was clearly transported back to a period of his life where he almost committed the same erroneous observation on several occasions, and should fate not favour him, he would have met with the same consequence as well.
Sometimes, life has a tendency to strike a bitter blow just when we least expect it. Like how it struck the young man and his family.
After breakfast in town, we bought a few kilos of ikan keli and brought it back to the village for fang seng.
Later in the evening I switched on the TVs and there was a local news report and images of men and women tying the knots in a group ceremony in conjunction with the date 10.10.10. People like to take advantage of a date deemed unique and auspicious to finally seal their union in the form of a marriage. Because at the core of their being people like to associate themselves with something special and symbolic, even if its amount to nothing significant when compared to the grand scheme of things.
For true love and a pledge of lifelong devotion to each other come from two loving hearts determined to make their union last, in spite of a special number. But once the love is gone, that special date will only be another number slowly burn into inconsequence in the four-walled prisons of their memories..
Some fang seng photos:
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