POLITICS aside, 1432 has provided an excellent Ramadan. Partly this is because I have managed to avoid the dreaded buka puasa buffets. The only justification of for subjecting oneself to these money-spinning ventures is that there are a large number of you dining together but the company isn’t sufficiently intimate that the event can be held in someone’s home.
Otherwise, the food is usually second-rate compared to the restaurant’s a la carte fare (often no longer available at all during the fasting month), it usually takes ages to get to the venue because of the traffic and lack of parking space and it always takes ages to get the actual food once inside. This process is mired with the feeling of guilt either to other diners (for appearing to look greedy by queuing up way before the azan) or guilt to the Almighty (for still maxing out one’s plate with food when the azan has already finished – oh, must grab that succulent drumstick in case it disappears). This is before you circumnavigate back to your table, avoiding the crisscrossing streams of waiters furiously refilling the trays and the urns before they themselves get to eat, and the kid whose mission it is to collide with you just as you successfully splay your fingers to balance four glasses of sirap bandung pre-poured to the brim that would render your baju sticky for the rest of the evening if tragically the liquid fell on you.
More fundamentally, and particularly towards the end of the month, one’s tummy has shrunk to the extent that renders incapable the consumption of enough food to justify the arbitrarily jacked up prices. This only creates the additional moral dilemma of whether to gorge so as to skip sahur, or to engage in illicit bungkus-ing.
I concede that I have am fortunate to have a wonderful alternative to the buffet, namely the buka puasa that I have been joining at various mosques in the Luak Tanah Mengandung – the region in Negeri Sembilan surrounding the royal town of Seri Menanti that by ancient adat comes under the direct jurisdiction of the Yang di-Pertuan Besar rather than one of the Four Undangs or the Tunku Besar Tampin. Concluding the daily fast in these settings is infinitely more serene, and some of the imams’ melodies during terawih are amazing finds. It is a world away from those “religious leaders” whose racist rants are even more offensive than the con of the buka puasa buffets.
This is my last piece for ‘Abiding Times’. There have been quite a number of rumours about editors, columnists and newspaper owners in recent times – festooned with all manner of allegations about shifting allegiances, bribes and political agenda. I would not be surprised if an over-enthusiastic conspiracy theorist tried to place my departure from theSun’s orbit in this narrative, since nothing one says or fails to say, and nothing one does or fails to do, can escape the realm of fantastic conjecture these days. The fact is that merantau is a genetic predisposition that I can do little about.
There is no need to reach for your handkerchief, however. This is not a permanent goodbye. ‘Abiding Times’ will be immediately replaced by ‘Fresh IDEAS’, a corporate column in which staff, fellows and advisors of the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs will write about our activities. I may make some guest appearances, although I can guarantee the column will be more substantial than this one and there will be far less tangential asides to do with food or music.
I have been writing for theSun for over three years and it has been fantastic. Some of the feedback I’ve received over the years has moved me to tears (of laughter more than of sorrow) and there are a number of you who never fail to write in with your comments. I hope you have enjoyed the journey as much as I have!