Balik from revision session and saw my old man lying down on the floor.
Sleeping.
Desolated.
Tears mobbed his cheek during the final sending off of his best friend. My heart cringe at the thought. A lost that never probably will be replaced.
Sleeping.
Desolated.
Tears mobbed his cheek during the final sending off of his best friend. My heart cringe at the thought. A lost that never probably will be replaced.
I am both glad and embarrassed having touched shoulders with the man. Glad for having the chance to personally know him up close. Embarrassed, for I am unworthy.
He was a man that during his life, a stern voice against wrongdoings. A man that would never hesitate for a second to call you out if you should transgress the barriers, which naturally, granted him a fair share of dislikers.
A man born perhaps in the wrong era. An era where brutal honesty is mistaken with being uncivilized. He never bothered to fiddle with that crap.
Us humans tend to have short memories. Overglorification of the dead is a common occurrence when talking about somebody deceased. But trust me when I say that Mr. Harun Nayan does not need any of that.
Folks who had attended his burial will be the testament to this. They talk in glowing terms when recalling certain personal encounters with the great man.
I have cousins who barely knew him attending his final parting, wondering what the heck his day job was because for all they know, his jobs, his activities, his LIFE have always been in one way or another, associated with the work of the Masjid. The welfare of the people (he was one of the committee members of the Masjid's Welfare bureau) and Amal Ma'ruf Nahi Mungkar.
He was a man that during his life, a stern voice against wrongdoings. A man that would never hesitate for a second to call you out if you should transgress the barriers, which naturally, granted him a fair share of dislikers.
A man born perhaps in the wrong era. An era where brutal honesty is mistaken with being uncivilized. He never bothered to fiddle with that crap.
Us humans tend to have short memories. Overglorification of the dead is a common occurrence when talking about somebody deceased. But trust me when I say that Mr. Harun Nayan does not need any of that.
Folks who had attended his burial will be the testament to this. They talk in glowing terms when recalling certain personal encounters with the great man.
I have cousins who barely knew him attending his final parting, wondering what the heck his day job was because for all they know, his jobs, his activities, his LIFE have always been in one way or another, associated with the work of the Masjid. The welfare of the people (he was one of the committee members of the Masjid's Welfare bureau) and Amal Ma'ruf Nahi Mungkar.
What a life to have lived. What a beauty in death to have.
I could go on and on.
But I should probably stop.
He doesn't need me or anyone for that matter to shine his deeds for they speak a great deal for themselves.
The sum of a human life I think, lies within the amount of souls we touched during our journey towards eternity.
So if anyone should ask how did he die, I will tell him how he lived instead.
Al-Fatihah.
Al-Fatihah.
