No Title Needed.

I sometimes wonder if anyone actually ever reads the words I write on this blog. I mean, they mostly consist of ramblings regarding whatever's on my mind at the time of writing - it's hardly profound insight.

Other people share links to their blog posts on social media websites. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, as it's natural for a writer to want people to read what they've written. It's pretty much the same as sharing a photo, except a photo - a regular, un-Photoshopped one, anyway - requires less effort to create. People share their photos because they want others to see what they see, while they share blog posts because they want people to see what they think. Or at least as best as they can put those thoughts into words, anyway.

I don't share my blog posts. Heck, people wouldn't even know I had a blog unless they asked (or go looking around the About section of my Facebook profile). The reason for this is because I don't really really want people to read my blog; at the same time, I don't really mind if they do. I write in my blog because I like writing, and if I go for too long without writing something I fear I might lose my touch.

Having said that, I am careful about what I write, because you never know who might read it. I'm not one to stir up controversy, so I don't write about sensitive issues and the like. Furthermore, I seem to have that (apparently rare) ability to separate my thoughts from my emotions, so I don't think I let whatever anger, sadness or happiness that I'm feeling at the time of writing to seep through too much.  I imagine people who know me probably read my words in my trademark monotonous, expressionless voice. Displaying emotions in any form, written or otherwise, can have unwanted repercussions, so why take the risk?

I'm not going to ramble for too long today, although I probably could, thanks to the levels of brain activity my finals are giving me. Yes, my final exams are going on, the first paper of which started today. I should probably go study or something. Until next time, folks.

An Unusual Experience.

It is now the beginning of May, which means that I don't have much time left until my final exams start at the end of May. Only three more weeks or so until what gamers might call the 'final boss battle' for this semester.

The semester's been pretty good so far. I've finished all my assignments except for two group projects, both of which were originally meant to be 75-page research papers but are now regular 15- to 20-page assignments after some 'strategic procrastination' and negotiation with the lecturer. It's just as well that it's the same lecturer who gave out both assignments.

Other than the regular classroom stuff, I've learnt a lot of other things, and had my fair share of new experiences as well. Instead of boring you with all of them, I'd just like to talk about one, fairly unusual incident in particular, which happened yesterday.

It was Labor Day, and nobody had any classes that needed attending. I decided I'd try out an Arabian restaurant near my house in Nilai. Personally speaking, I do enjoy Arab cuisine, and I hadn't had any since I returned to Malaysia from Saudi Arabia at the beginning of the year. Well, as far as I can remember, anyway.

It was going to be my first time eating at the restaurant, so I invited my two Pakistani friends (who were brothers) as they lived in an apartment nearby and regularly frequented the place. We agreed to meet up at the surau in their apartment compound and go to the restaurant together after we were done with Zuhur prayers.

So I went to the surau early, and waited for prayers to commence. Eventually, the bilal performed the iqamah, signalling that the prayers were about to begin. I went up to the front row and was mentally preparing myself when I noticed that there was some kind of commotion going on in front where the imam was supposed to stand.

It appeared that one of my soon-to-be-lunchmates, an 18-year-old, was supposed to be the imam and lead the prayer according to some kind of predetermined schedule, but there was this old man arguing that the person who had the most Qur'anic knowledge was the one most worthy to lead the prayer, and, apparently, he was that person.

My friend just stood there quietly as some of the other folks there started to vocally disagree with the old man, saying that there was already a timetable in place and asking that he not disobey what had been ordered by the head of the surau, who was absent at the time.

The war of words kept getting louder and louder as I looked on with nervous intrigue - never before in my life had I come across a situation like this. It was somewhat frightening while being, at the same time, quite fascinating. This was the only surau or mosque in Malaysia that I had been to that was predominantly run by foreigners, and I wondered if this sort of thing was common in other countries.

After several minutes of arguing and with neither party willing to budge on their viewpoint, the old man just went ahead and started praying. My other Pakistani friend, who had been the one leading the opposition towards the old man's insistence on being the imam, ushered everyone else out of the prayer area, requesting that we not follow him in prayer.

While we waited outside for the old man to finish, I asked my friend, the would-be imam, what on Earth was going on. He went on to explain that this had been going on for some time, and up until that day they had just allowed him to be the imam out of respect for his seniority and to avoid any trouble. It seemed that the executive committee of the surau had just had a meeting the night before to discuss this specific problem. He didn't exactly go on to say what went on during that meeting, but I guess it went along the lines of "stop him; we've had enough".

Soon afterwards, the old man finished praying and we all went inside to perform our prayers like nothing had happened. After we had finished, I asked my friends for further details: who the old man was, exactly how long this had been going on, as well as other things. I got my answers, but based  my friends' reluctant body language I decided that it was best that I held back from asking further questions. We then went out to the Arabian restaurant for lunch as we'd planned, and I had my delicious Mandy Chicken Rice paid for by one of their other friends whom we happened to meet and went on to eat with there.

So the story ends here. For the non-Muslims out there, know that Islam does not condone debate or violence. The religion is perfect, whereas its followers are much less so. No matter how good the law is, there are always going to be people who go against it.

The incident highlighted to me the importance of having knowledge, not just in religious matters, but also in pretty much every other aspect of life. I mean, if something like this were to happen again, and I were to be directly implicated in it, how would I react? How I would I know which side to take, assuming that either side is even correct? Having more Islamic knowledge would certainly assist me in making those decisions.

The same goes for other, non-religious aspects of life. Knowledge is important in helping you to make decisions that won't go on to haunt you and immerse you in deep regret for the rest of your life. As the saying goes, "Knowledge is power."

I am inclined to agree.