Remembering Nurin Jazlin Jazimin

Malaysiakini photo - Nurin Jazlin Jazimin

I am only eight years old
Just five years from my teens
Which I will now never see
And it’s more than just that
For I won’t see too the sun
Nor the moon nor the rain
Nor feel the soft pitter patter
Of warm raindrops gathering
In my tresses, running gently
Down to my once warm body

I am only eight years old
Denied my youth, cut down
With no dignity, with no one
I love besides me, to hold me
As I trembled from violence
Inexplicable cruelty, no pity
No chance to say goodbye
To emak and ayah and pals
Why, no one can tell me now
Too late, I am part of the dark

I am only eight years old
Will you remember me as
You'd Altantuyaa Shaariibuu
Not a glamorous beauty
No high profile case in me
Just a neighbourhood kid
I have never been abroad
To France or European cities
Just local Wangsa Maju
An innocent child, no more

I am only eight years old
So why do they say it’s all
God’s Will, dear wonderful
God who loves us all, why
Blame Him, for it was Evil
Who stalked me as a prey
Be like the Chinese and bury
Me in red clothing, armed
With scissors in my hands
To set me off as Rhamnousia


Where fragrant nutmegs grow

... inspired by a malaysiakini article titled 150-year-old village loses out to development ... it's also the story of David Brown

Gratefully he gave land to build a temple
For Chor Soo Kong, He who had appeared
In his dreams, having cured him of an ill;
So was raised Penang's Temple of Snakes

Now the Temple survives, barely, as snakes
Gave way to highways and the diesel trucks,
Big motorcycles of shattering decibels; their
Noxious fumes replace jasmine scented joss

He was a generous man, was David Brown,
Bestowing upon the people of the Island too
Land for games, frolics and evening strolls;
That’s the Padang in Jalan Dato Keramat

Now, unfinished laksa soup & lok-lok sauce
Poison the Padang with pollutants of spices,
Turning green lawns into dry brown patches
And his name passes unrecognised by most

Then there is Kampung Buah Pala, where
Gorgeous 20-metre high Myrista frangrans
Shade a 150-year old village in tranquillity
Where fragrant nutmegs would easily grow

A land bestowed by Brown to the Tamils
A gift for their toil, tears, sweat & hopes
For them to raise tambis and tangachis
Sweet youth with smiling dark doe eyes

Thaipusam with annual firewalks of piety
Deevapali where light triumphed over evil
Technicolour saris, luscious curries, apom’s
Not forgetting murukku's of myriad spices

All these marvels of Hindu Tamil culture
Will soon be gone, vanquished, stolen by
Avarice, an insult to David Brown’s legacy
An affront to lovers of heritage & decency


30 days

30 days has since gone by, sometime ago
Millions of new lives have since joined us
While millions more have perished too
30 days of cold, silent, lonely emptiness

30 days a moon would circle Earth once
Many a tide rises and ebbs, many a shore
Sees billion grains of golden sand shifted
30 days of pounding, roaring, nothingness

30 days are what a woman needs to renew
A cycle as mysterious as time, which Eve
First knew of God’s harsh reproof, akin to
30 days I've lived too in my own purgatory

30 days give a long time in hell to reflect
On what might have been if mere words
Could be edited prior to angry outpouring
30 days to wonder why it could not be so

30 days of painful withdrawal symptoms
That hurt so badly in more than 30 ways
Missing someone special, giving one only
30 days of escalating excruciating agony

30 days make 1 month of an annual dozen
Soon it will be 300, 3000 days before long
No, time doesn't care it was only yesterday
30 days sweet love existed in each month

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