Thursday, April 26, 2012

Bingkisan Ringkas Buat Saff Kepimpinan ISIUKM sesi 2012/2013

Azan Safar – Presiden ISIUKM sesi 2012/2013

Sedarilah! Di luar sana ramai hati-hati mengharapkan sentuhan yang diselimuti dengan ukhwah yang termateri dengan ikatan akidah yang kukuh oleh setiap barisan kepimpinan ISIUKM yang dilantik saban tahun. Usah menyangkal lagi, kehadiran saff kepimpinan ISIUKM yang dipilih melalui proses tapisan yang jitu di tengah-tengah gelombang penyakit sosial masyarakat kampus nyata memberi sedikit ruang bernafas buat sinar Islam terus meruap di atmosfera UKM.

Informasi dan Penerbitan ISIUKM menyunting untaian kata ini buat barisan kepimpinan yang baru dilantik – tahniah dan takziah. Moga dua klausa ini menjadi bidikan sempurna buat semua rakan-rakan pimpinan baru.

Dunia makin radikal, transformasi makin menggila. ISIUKM wajib terus berlari mengejar baton masa. 2012 bukan lagi sebuah durasi bulan madu buat barisan kepimpinan baru tetapi ianya menjadi indikator bagaimana kesempurnaan wajah badan dakwah ini dalam tempoh separuh penggal kedua sesi kepimpinan kali ini.

Berusahalah! Mencari titik pertemuan, menyemarakkan nilai wehdah.

Jauhkanlah! Dari mengungkit perbezaan dan membesarkan kelainan.

35 tahun ISIUKM megah di perbukitan ilmu ini, harapan kami agar barisan kepimpinan baru terus berdaya saing di arena mahasiswa dan penyakit sosial yang semakin membarah. Tuhan Maha Mengetahui – berdoalah!

Tahniah dan takziah buat barisan kepimpinan baru ISIUKM sesi 2012/2013!

Ahmad Tajuddin Abdullah

Friday, April 6, 2012

He is Nothing But a Little Boy

Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

There are things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast, I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, “Goodbye, Daddy!” and I frowned, and said in reply, “Hold your shoulders back!”

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came Up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before you boyfriends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive – and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. “What is it you want?” I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterward that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding – this was my reward to your for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: “He is nothing but a boy – a little boy!”

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother’s arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much.

Thanks, Mr. W. Livingston Larned for this such wonderful writing. This article is originally known as Father Forgets, a short note from a dad to his beloved little son. I am amazed by his honest and dignity to his son. Yes, he just a little boy not a man. I dedicate this note to some of my friends that has been married and to be married soon. Try your best to be a better human being for yourself and for your children. For your children, you are a living example of what a person should or should not be.