The Fallen Leaves

A dedication to a kid who taught me that kids are human and I should treat them as one. To you, Those days are beautiful. All the seasons are beautiful. You are beautiful. When did it all started? Your absence. The day was different. The days were empty. Something was missing. It was you. As I am writing this, I try to trace back to the days you taught me of patience. At the verge of giving up, I give you one (last) chance. You did change. I was surprised. It was strange, though. “What makes you change?” A question without an answer from you. To see you smile makes me less worried about you. It was hard to read when your eyes are telling me something, you being not your usual self. I asked around to see if I overlooked you. Slowly, I found the answer: Kids are human. They express their feelings differently and according to their ways. You frowned when I laughed after requesting you to smile whenever you want something from me. The truth is I am happy to se...

Ever since I entered worklife, the feeling of something’s missing grew stronger. I never completed reading at least a book or even drop by a bookstore to look for fresh reads. I feel like reading books is not enough to prove you’re knowledgeable and it’s already sufficient. I need more than this, but what? In the midst of hustle and bustle of endless work, I sensed that I’m losing whatever I used to practice before, one of which is adab . I look for anything or something which can lift me up, but fails. From inspiring stories to motivation books to autobiography books (like Michelle Obama) to Islamic historical books. None. So, today, I decided to browse an online bookstore to purchase an English version of Bidayatul Hidayah (The Beginning of Guidance) by Imam al-Ghazali. Then, somehow, it brings me back to the days I learnt it in class. I never really understand why adab needs to be part of the subjects in my school, as adab needs to be applied on daily basis and always be remi...