Tarawikh

Scrumptous, spicy, negeri sembilan food served with sugary desserts have always greeted my family on my mother's side at least once every Ramadhan. It has been a tradition for us to have this family-get-togethe-cum-iftar where most of my family members will assemble at my Mak Teh's house to break fast and have Tarawikh together. It's kind the once-every-year thingy, like raya where the whole family will convene in a fiesta of gastronomical festicvities. It was supposed to be those normal gathering that we had every year, but somehow, it turned out to be one which has surely left a huge mark not just in my 20 years of life, but it would be my realization to a turning point which starts to unravel in the coming days of my life.

My family was somehow appointed to 'foresee' the planning and the invitation of the event, though it was held in Damansara. Pak Lang and Pak Ngah, with their pious exterior and interior, have always been asked to lead thefamily's tarawikh. Unfortunately, my Pak Lang was in Mecca performing his umrah. My mom thought it would be nice if the 3rd generation would take the lead as the imam. So, she chosed me. I don't have any problem with it all, though my Ayat Lazim and Baqarah needed some brushing up to do. No piggy for me at all.

That night, i took lead of the congregation, reciting what's left of the memorized Al-Baqarah inside my head. I've done it a couple of times, so it was something that send shiver down my spines. A few glitches here and there, but alhamdullillah, everything went well and we completed the 8 rakaat of tarawikh and 3 rakaats of witir. It's those normal solat jemaah, and nothing fancy bout it. However, as the male line dissolved, what i saw completely shocked me. One of my aunties was emotionally crying, and i could see pools of tears formed in the water-glistened eyes if my grandma and my aunties. Was i that bad? i thought. Somehow, grandma extended her hands, waving it at me, asking me to appraoch her. She opened her arms and i could feel the warmth of a grandmother's love towards her grandson as she hugged me thighly. I could feel warm-tears slowly flowed down my neck, and she said to me "Inilah hadiah terbaik yang wan boleh dapat". One of my aunty held my hand and she hoped that this must not stop here. A wavering surge of my family's hope and aspiration gushed into the the my very veins, and from there, it came to me.

I have always thought that the only way i could prove myself worthy of my family's love is through worldly, tangible achievements. This axiom has fueled my never-ending thirst for victories, accomplishments, and glory. A tradition of excellence has slowly and gradually established in the pressure of proving myself to my family. But after that night, after i felt the comforting warmth of my grandma's hugs, the family's hope and aspiration from my aunties, i realized that what i have achieved after all this while came second. From what i see, what matters the most to them is to see the generation under them, and the coming generations, could sustain themselves not just physically, but spiritually as well. They want us to be righteous in mind and heart, where actions and decisions are made based on values engraved in the pages of the Quran and Sunnah. They know, without a shadow of doubt, that we are capable of gathering wealth and richess of the world, but it won't mean a cent if we are poor in heart and love. And i believe the same idea is shared by other families as well.

I am no cleric, and i have made a few mistakes of my own, but life is all about growing and learning, and indeed i have learned something new today.