Wardrobe, Colours and a Tiny Realization
Most people separate their laundry into whites and other colours. I separate mine into blacks and other colours: all the cheerful grey, white, brown and blue. So I usually dress like a normal person, unless I'm hungry at one in the morning. Then I'd sometimes look like I'm in my PJs walking into a 7-Eleven at one in the morning.
But this year I bought a *gasp* yellow baju raya! Major-sun-bright yellow, with bright pink shoes that surprised my mother, and I have to post the picture here... that I'd probably delete by tomorrow morning because I'm paranoid about posting personal pictures.
I not so secretly call baju raya a 'social obligation'. If it's up to me, I can wear one kebaya for five rayas because you can almost be sure that raya and, occasionally, weddings are the only times I'd wear them.
In other words, I can't remember when was the last time I felt excited about raya. To me, raya means my mother's cooking, seeing all my family members under one roof (so we can play cards and dodgeball), and unfortunately pretending that I enjoy the visiting duties.
But seeing how my mother treats puasa and raya with sincerity and gratitude, and cooks all the dishes with all her heart every single year, and how nicely she treats every guest, and how she always makes the effort to visit her relatives and friends, I feel embarrassed for taking the importance and value of raya lightly -- well, at least in front of my mother. Plus, not so many years ago, when we were little and poor (poorer?), I can only imagine how hard my parents must have worked to make us happy during raya. The least that I could do to honour that is by being kind and grateful that we now have more than enough.
I didn't go for terawih this yearbecause I went night in, night out reading Harry Potter, but hopefully I'll carry this tiny realization for the rest of my life.
But this year I bought a *gasp* yellow baju raya! Major-sun-bright yellow, with bright pink shoes that surprised my mother, and I have to post the picture here... that I'd probably delete by tomorrow morning because I'm paranoid about posting personal pictures.
I not so secretly call baju raya a 'social obligation'. If it's up to me, I can wear one kebaya for five rayas because you can almost be sure that raya and, occasionally, weddings are the only times I'd wear them.
In other words, I can't remember when was the last time I felt excited about raya. To me, raya means my mother's cooking, seeing all my family members under one roof (so we can play cards and dodgeball), and unfortunately pretending that I enjoy the visiting duties.
But seeing how my mother treats puasa and raya with sincerity and gratitude, and cooks all the dishes with all her heart every single year, and how nicely she treats every guest, and how she always makes the effort to visit her relatives and friends, I feel embarrassed for taking the importance and value of raya lightly -- well, at least in front of my mother. Plus, not so many years ago, when we were little and poor (poorer?), I can only imagine how hard my parents must have worked to make us happy during raya. The least that I could do to honour that is by being kind and grateful that we now have more than enough.
I didn't go for terawih this year
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