I have noticed a few things that appear as cliché when it comes to Hari Raya. Things that I cringe over yet can’t do without due to the magnitude of its entertainment. Without it, I have nothing to joke about at this time of the year. And I wouldn’t be writing this entry.
Just in case you want to know how my facial expression is whenever these typical things inevitably start to surface, here.
Like an asshole should.
Alright lets get to it shall we?
Death
If its one thing the religion of Islam stands for, its humility. One needs to learn to be humble and be grateful even when being given the simplest things. One of the methods of moderating a person’s ego so as to prevent the person from turning into an arrogant prick is to inflict FEAR. And what better way to do it then to tell them that people are dying as we are enjoying the celebrations. Because of that,
Every telemovie must have at least ONE family member who dies.
At least 70% of the songs played over the radio must accentuate the already melancholic air by singing about celebrating Hari Raya alone.
There must be at least 10 interviews with the less fortunate who have lost their loved ones just days before the celebrations intended to reach out to the altruistic population of the Muslim community.
Is this bad? No! It’s good to be aware and to think of the less fortunate so as to have us appreciate more of what we have in life especially during the celebrations.
Is it overdone? YES! I feel sadder by the minute as I grieve along with these people almost forgetting that I’m suppose to be having the time of my life. How am I suppose to enjoy myself when you’re telling me there’s a little boy crying over his father’s dead body while I’m wolfing down my Rendang?
Meeting my weird cousins
Isn’t it puzzling how some people you knew as a child, grow up and turn out to be complete strangers? Especially when they don’t grow up the way you expected them to.
The filial one becomes the rebel.
The cute and adorable little girl turns out to be a hunchback pimply slut.
The geeky bespectacled boy grows up to be a fair and charming dude.
The annoying noisy afro kid becomes an even more annoying and perverted adolescent
Funny how people change isn’t it? And I don’t even talk to any of them anymore. When around 10 years ago we were playing catching in CCs together after which I’ll get everyone in trouble for cooking up some random prank on one of my aunties. Well, at least they get to surprise me with their different forms of appearances every year.
However, relatively, I may seem like a weirdo in their point of view as well.
Competitive Comparison
Many parents are guilty of this. (Mine are) You know what I’m talking about. When parents begin their ballistic spewing, bragging about their children to our uncles and aunties while munching down cookies and kuih leaving us in the most awkward predicament ever imagined. Especially if you didn’t go to “that certain tertiary institution” or get “that diploma” or worse still of you’re in your late 20s and have no plans of settling down, you will be subjected to a barrage of defamation and derogatory leaving you helpless as they humiliate you mercilessly.
Undeniably, as much as I hate to admit it, it IS one of the driving forces that pushes me towards getting a job that’s simple, recognized and stable- To shut them up and do less explaining.
That’s about all I can think of at the moment. Clichés exist in everything we do and I suppose it’s a matter of perception that determines ones reaction.
Had a little debate with a friend of mine over the many perceptions of what LOVE truly is. I’m not gonna write about it its too Cliché. *smiles*
My farts smell like rotten rendang.
The one who surprisingly fasted for 30 days straight,
FUZZ
No comments:
Post a Comment