HICKORY – A Place to Read, Write, Think, Reflect

 

A month ago, during my birthday week, I spent almost a week at Hickory, Penang Hill. It has been my norm for decades to travel somewhere during my birthday. My gift to myself has always been time. Time to read. Time to write. Time to think. Time to reflect.

When I was married for a while, my ex-wife once asked what birthday present I wanted. I told her, “A whole day to read.” That day, I read The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg from cover to cover. That was my celebration.

This year’s gift was solitude at Hickory.

Each day followed a simple rhythm. Wake up. Breakfast. Write. Lunch. Write again. Workout. Dinner. Write again. Day in and day out. I did not leave Hickory.

Hickory itself is a gift. A serene environment with cool weather at about 700 metres above sea level. The staff are friendly. The owner is calm and clearly not doing this merely for money. There is a genuine love in the way the space is curated. It is clean. Organised. Thoughtfully detailed. The rooms are beautifully done. The entire bungalow feels like a heritage art piece, quietly standing in time.

They were flexible with food from the menu, accommodating my preference to avoid pastries, chips and wedges in exchange for more vegetables. Coffee and tea are complimentary throughout the day.

The sunrise is mesmerising. Every morning feels fresh and purposeful. And at night, the cool air refreshes the soul. From 700 metres up, Penang truly lives up to its name as the crown jewel, its lights glowing gently across the night sky.

I highly recommend Hickory to anyone looking for a place to think and reflect. If you are seeking reflective energy in silence, this is it.

God willing, I will be back again right after Hari Raya.

Thank you, Raj, Durin and the entire team at Hickory.

Peace, anas

 

MANDELA, GANDHI AND MODI

 

It is no surprise that Madiba and Gandhiji became close confidantes in heaven. They both stood for doing what is right even when it was hard, treating every human being with dignity, and believing that justice must apply to everyone, even those you disagree with.

So they made it a point to meet for tea every now and then. They would sit quietly under a wide tree, cups in hand, and look down at the earth below. From there, they could see cities glowing at night, borders drawn and redrawn, leaders speaking, crowds marching.

Like two old friends who had once carried the weight of nations on their shoulders, they would talk about the world they had left behind.

Today was Gandhiji’s turn to host.

He prepared the tea the way it is done on the streets of India where he once walked. Strong. Boiled with milk. Touched with ginger. Poured back and forth to cool before serving. The steam rose gently into the still air of heaven.

Madiba arrived with his familiar warm smile.

“You look serious today, my friend,” he said, taking the cup.

Gandhiji nodded. He stirred his tea slowly, paused for a while, then stirred it again.

“Yes, Madiba,” he replied softly. “Something is troubling my heart.”

Madiba waited, giving Gandhiji the space to speak when he was ready.

“It is about Modi… and where he is leading India,” he continued.

“He speaks of Jews finding refuge in India centuries ago. Of no history of antisemitism in Indian civilisation. Of cultural respect between Hindus and Jews.” He paused and took a sip of the tea. It was still too hot.

“That part is true,” he continued. “India gave refuge. We did not persecute Jews. That is something I am proud of.”

Gandhiji looked at Madiba’s face, searching for any reaction. Mandiba, knowing it was not yet his time to speak, simply said, “Go on.”

“Offering refuge to a persecuted people is noble. Supporting policies that displace another people is different,” Gandhiji said, his voice firmer now. Madiba could feel the pain behind his words.

Madiba then asked gently, “Have you spoken with Maulana Azad and Jawaharlal about this?”

“No. Not yet,” Gandhiji replied. “I thought I would speak to you first. I am sure Maulana would be very unhappy.”

Madiba pressed his palms together and said, “Let me play devil’s advocate for a moment.”

“Modi frames it as strategic partnership. Defense cooperation. Technology. Counter-terrorism. Especially after October 7.”

He took a sip of tea before continuing.

“The world changed after October 7. Security language now dominates.”

He looked at Gandhiji carefully.

“When you spoke of Palestine, there was no state of Israel yet. It was before the Nakbah. But Israel exists now. That is reality. The question is how to secure justice within that reality.”

Gandhiji looked down, sad but steady.

“I know that after me, Jawaharlal supported a two-state solution. Yet the tone today is no longer what it was under him. Modi now speaks much more openly in support of Israel.”

He paused.

“You know, Madiba, if I were still alive, I would never agree to taking land away from the Palestinians. I was clear then, and I am just as sure now. A homeland cannot be imposed through power. Empire cannot manufacture moral legitimacy.”

Madiba gave a gentle smile.

“You were always harder on governments than I was.”

Gandhiji laughed softly.

“I condemned violence in my time. I would condemn the killing of civilians today, whoever commits it. But justice cannot be selective.”

“I would drink to that,” Madiba said, lifting his cup. They gently touched their cups together and sipped. Then they sat in silence for a while, each lost in his own thoughts.

Madiba finally broke the silence.

“Do you think India has betrayed you?”

There was a long pause. Gandhiji took his time.

“No nation is permanently pure,” he said slowly. “But when the oppressed look for a moral voice and do not clearly hear it from India… that troubles me.”

Madiba waited.

Gandhiji’s final words were calm, but heavy.

“I am not proud of the India I died for with its current behaviour.”

Peace, anas

 

KE ARAH PENGUASAAN KERJA-HIDUP

SINAR HARIAN ms 14 hari ini.

𝗞𝗘 𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗛 𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗦𝗔𝗔𝗡 𝗞𝗘𝗥𝗝𝗔-𝗛𝗜𝗗𝗨𝗣

Untuk mudah baca klik di sini

https://www.sinarharian.com.my/.../ke-arah-penguasaan...

Salam, anas

 

A WAR THAT NOBODY SANE BUT ISRAEL WANT

 

Since the United States appears reluctant to attack Iran, and Iran has shown no intention of striking first, the real risk is that Israel could escalate matters - potentially even through a false flag operation, something not unprecedented in their history.

The US then is pulled into a war that neither Americans nor Iranians want.

Peace

HOKKIEN NEW YEAR – WHY WE SHOULD ALLOW FIREWORKS AFTER MIDNIGHT

 

I originate from Penang and grew up among the Hokkiens. I even have a Hokkien name, Ah Hooi. So I know a little about the Hokkiens and what they consider important.

Many may be surprised that to Hokkiens, Hokkien New Year, Pai Ti Kong or Bai Tian Gong, is equally or perhaps even more important than the first day of Chinese New Year.

Let me explain.

In Fettes Park where I grew up, I would see my Hokkien friends and their families set up large offering tables covered with red cloth outside their homes on the 8th night of Chinese New Year, just before midnight. On the tables were pineapples, Ang Ku Kueh, roast pork and other offerings. There were always stalks of sugarcane nearby.

There was a distinct sense of anticipation in the air. Like we Muslims waiting for the announcement of the moon sighting to begin fasting or to celebrate Hari Raya. Like Christians gathering just before midnight to welcome the birth of Jesus during Midnight Mass. The moment midnight arrives, the celebration begins. Bells ring. Hymns are sung.

Just like Muslims and Christians, this is observed with care and piety. I remember how patiently and meticulously they waited for midnight. The elders, especially, carried a deep seriousness and reverent focus. Then, on the dot, fireworks would light up the sky.

To understand why, we must understand the history.

Bai Tian Gong means “Praying to the Heavenly God.” It falls on the ninth day of Chinese New Year and honours the Jade Emperor in Taoist belief.

According to tradition, during a period of persecution in ancient China, the Hokkiens narrowly escaped harm. They believed they were protected by the Heavenly God, and that their safety became clear on the ninth day of the Lunar New Year. Since then, the day has been observed as a solemn thanksgiving for divine protection and survival.

That is why midnight matters. It marks the exact beginning of that sacred day.

So when fireworks fill the sky after midnight, it is not merely celebration. It is remembrance. It is gratitude. It is faith expressed publicly. It is religion in action. We may limit it to only from midnight to 1 am, but allow it we must.

Muslims and Christians do not have to agree with the belief. But we must practise empathy.

If we understand this history and place ourselves in their shoes, we may see those few moments after midnight differently.

Peace,
Anas

 

SPEECH – QURAN AND I BOOK LAUNCH

 

Yang Amat Berhormat Datuk Amar Haji Fadillah Haji Yusof ,

Deputy Prime Minister of Malaysia,

Professor Barry Winn, Vice Chancellor of Taylor’s University,

Distinguished guests,
Friends, family,
Members of the media,
Ladies and gentlemen,

Salam Sejahtera and thank you for being here this afternoon.

Let me begin very clearly.

This book was not written to preach.
It was not written to convert.
And it was certainly not written to argue or debate.

The Quran and I was written to share.

To share how one ordinary Muslim, who grew up poor in multicultural Malaysia, learned to live with the Quran anchoring his life.

Through family.
Through friendship.
Through work.
Through mistakes.
Through reflection.

This book is not about Islam as a theory.
It is about Islam as a lived experience.

Over the last two decades, something important has been unfolding across the world.

For a long time, especially after 9/11, Islam was encountered largely through fear, suspicion, and headlines. It became something spoken about, but rarely spoken with. Debated, but seldom understood.

Since October 7th, 2023, emotions have intensified again. In parts of America and Europe, Islamophobia has grown louder. Mosques are watched. Muslim names are questioned. Faith is reduced to politics.

And yet, at the very same time, something else is happening.

A quieter, more thoughtful curiosity is emerging.

Across the United States, Europe, Latin America, Africa, the Far East, and beyond, people are asking deeper questions.

Who are these Muslims beyond the headlines?

What is it they believe that gives them resilience?

What kind of faith produces dignity instead of rage, patience instead of bitterness, even in moments of suffering?

This curiosity is not driven by campaigns.

It is driven by human encounters.

A recent experience of a fifth-grade teacher in the United States explains it well.

A small group of her Muslim students realised it was time for their prayer.

Their usual prayer space was unavailable, so they respectfully asked if they could pray in her classroom.

She agreed.

What moved her was this.

Without any adult directing them, the children confidently organised themselves. They stood shoulder to shoulder. One stepped forward as the leader. They bowed. They prostrated. In sync. Calm. Orderly. Proper.

They just knew what to do.

Ten-year-old children, disciplined not by fear, but by faith. Connected to their Maker.

The teacher sat at her desk and watched. Inspired. Touched. Respectful.

When they finished, she told them how proud she was of them.

And she began to cry.

The children hugged her.

And for a brief moment, the world felt different.

In that small classroom, there was no politics. No headlines. No ideology.

Just sincerity. Reverence. And human connection.

That is what changes perceptions

This book is relaunched for such moments.

Not as a defense.

Not as a reaction.

But as a human explanation of how Islam is lived from the inside.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am not a religious scholar. I am a businessman.

In many ways, I am self-taught in my understanding of the Quran. Through books, translations, tafsir, lughat al-Quran, through teachers living and departed, and through the conviction that if we read and listen sincerely, God speaks.

I grew up surrounded by difference.

Muslims.
Christians.
Buddhists.
Hindus.
Taoists.
Sikh communities.

That difference did not weaken my faith.
It strengthened it.

The Quran drives me to see not just with my eyes, but with my heart. That substance is more important than form. Look deeper, and you will find shared values that bind differences together.

The Quran taught me that work is honorable if it is halal, whether you are CEO or janitor.

It taught me that keeping your word matters.

That hope is not naïve. It is energy.

That no matter your past, God’s mercy is always greater.

This faith does not promise an easy life,

but it does promise a meaningful and purposeful one.

This book is also a message from Malaysia to the world.

We are not perfect. We have our disagreements. At times, we have overzealous voices who fail to see the larger picture.

Yes, we are human.

But we have something rare to offer.

Malaysia is a Muslim-majority nation with Islam as the religion of the Federation. Yet we also have thousands of churches, Hindu temples, Buddhist temples, Chinese temples, and gurdwaras, combined.

You can walk down one street and hear the azan, temple bells, church hymns, and festival drums within minutes of one another.

In corporate offices owned by non-Muslims, you will often find a surau. A small prayer room for Muslims. A small space. But big in meaning.

We make room for one another.

We share food.
We open our homes.
We celebrate each other’s festivals.

Not because we are the same.
But because we have learned to live with difference.

We give.
We take.
We respect.
We say thank you.

The Quran captures this beautifully:

“To each of you We have ordained a law and a clear way. If Allah had willed, He would have made you one community, but He tests you in what He has given you. So compete with one another in good.” 5:48

In many ways, our nation is a living chromosome, a model of how faiths can coexist, each preserving its own colours, yet woven together in the same tapestry of peace.

If you are a Muslim, whether in Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta, Islamabad, or Riyadh, I hope this book reminds you that the Quran is not only for rituals, but for all times.

Faith should make us better neighbours.
Better colleagues.
Better citizens.

If you are not a Muslim, especially from America or Europe, this book is not an explanation of Islam in its entirety.

It is an invitation.

A glimpse into one life. One experience.
One imperfect attempt to walk with God.

A gentle door to know Islam.

You do not need to agree with everything.
You only need to be open.

My sincere hope is this.

That this book will travel beyond Malaysia.

That it will sit not only on religious shelves, but in living rooms, book clubs, and classrooms.

If this book leaves you with anything, I hope it is this:

A soft but sincere voice.
A genuine sharing.
And above all, HOPE.

Before I conclude, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to Yang Amat Berhormat Dato’ Fadillah for graciously gracing this launch with his presence.

My sincere thanks to Professor Barry and the team at Taylor’s University, and equally to my own team at Zubedy. Both teams have worked with dedication to make this afternoon possible.

Special mention to Prof Anindita, Dr Loh, Dr Murugan, Ms Kirtana and Aby, the team lead at zubedy.

 “To Allah belong the East and the West. Wherever you turn, there is the Face of Allah.”

Quran 2:115

Thank you.

Peace.

 

5 NICE LITTLE THINGS DURING RAMADAN (4 ME)

 

1. Short naps.

2. Allowing myself sweetened drinks without concern.

3. Asking fellow Muslims, “How’s lunch?” and enjoying their reaction.

4. That quiet waiting before berbuka.

5. Reading at odd hours of the night.

How about you?

@aizat my GM says during Ramadan even vegetables start looking delicious :)

Do share.
Even if you are not fasting.
Even if you are a non-Muslim.

Peace,
Anas