RETRIBUTION FOR AN UNFILIAL SON IN MECCA

RETRIBUTION FOR AN UNFILIAL SON IN MECCA

AFTER breakfast, I quickly left for Azdin's room, one of our new/y-joined pilgrims. He was lying in his room with his legs covered with a blanket. "Mazlan, my legs are getting worse. I can't even lift them, let alone walk," he said as soon as he saw me came in. With great pains, Azdin, a successful entrepreneur in his early 40s, showed me his legs.

     It was obvious to me that they were becoming bruised and swollen, starting from the thigh right down to the sole of his feet. They were black. The severe pain, which had begun to spread, felt like being pricked by pins and needles. The pain was so severe that Azdin could not even bring himself to touch them, let alone walk.

     It was very strange how this illness seemed to have struck Azdin the moment we stepped foot in Mecca. In the beginning, his legs only hurt a little, but as the days went on, they began to swell, bruise and throb with unimaginable pain. What baffled us, even the doctors could not detect what disease Azdin was suffering from. His situation was starting to worry us in just under a week we were scheduled to perform the wuquf (the ritual of 'standing' in Arafat, the central rite of Hajj). In his deteriorating state, I doubted he would be well enough to perform the Hajj.

     "Mazlan, what is my sin?" asked Azdin, massaging his legs and looking at me.

     "How would I know? You're the only one who'd know what you've done," I replied. Azdin was lost in thought, grappling with the emotions that seemed to be tugging at his very being.

     "Mazlan, I'm sure that I've done something wrong."

     "I think it's better if you perform salat taubat first and pray for Allah to show you the cause behind your condition," I replied. After half an hour into the visit, I left him.

     That night, after taking his ablution, Azdin performed the salat sunat taubat, just as he had been advised. After completing his prayer, he laid down on the bed on his side in the same way that the Prophet used to do, and began reciting the surahs an-Nas, al-Falaq and al-Ikhlas.

     The he said his du'a...

     "Oh Allah, give me your guidance and show to me what I have done," he said, before closing his eyes. That night Allah fulfilled his du'a. The next day, I paid Azdin another visit.

     "Mazlan, I already know what I did wrong. I want to tell you. Maybe this can be a lesson for us all," he said.

     Azdin began to tell his story, recollecting the mistakes that he had committed. According to him, he was born in the east coast of the Peninsular to a very poor family. He lived with his mother and sister, Ani, in a dilapidated house. His father had passed away along ago and his mother made a living by selling mats.Their life was really tough. However, despite that, his mother did her best to raise and educate her children as best as she could.

     During the times when they used to visit together, his mother often advised them, saying, "Din, Ani, when you are all grown up, always remember me. I'm not interesting in your wealth; I just want you to remember the lengths I went to raise both of you." She would repeat this advice constantly to her children.

     Despite their tough life, Azdin was successful in his studies. After completing his schooling, he moved to Kuala Lumpur and found himself a job with a government agency where he held a fairly important post.

     Several years later, he furthered his studies overseas, and subsequently became an entrepreneur. His business was successful and he was able to enjoy the kind of wealth that he had never imagined possible. A wealthy man now, he owned a big house, complete with a swimming pool, as well as several luxury cars.

     Azdin stopped his story. Lowering his face, he said slowly: "But I am an unfilial son... who has so easily forgotten his roots. Mazlan, it has been 15 years since I last went back to our kampong to see my mother."

     With tears streaming down, he continued: "When I became rich, I was too ashamed to admit that I came from a humble village and a poor family. In fact, I told people that I was on my own in Kuala Lumpur, without a father or mother. I told them that my mother had passed away."

     "As far as I was concerned, my mother does not exist, dead. I even told my wife this."

     "Why did you do that?" I asked, a feeling of sadness developing me as I listened to Azdin's confessions.

     "My mother and I are not enemies, but I was angry with her for raising us in poverty."

     Because of his grudge against her, Azdin didn't even want to know about how she was doing. Several times, his sister tried to get him to visit their sick mother but he was reluctant, giving all kinds of excuses. After much urging, he finally relented.

     When his wife went to London, Azdin drove his big car home to his kampong. His sister was waiting for him while his while his mother lying on bed. His mother's house was in a terrible state. The roof and walls were full of holes.

     Standing by the entrance, Azdin asked his mother: "Mum, why did you ask me to come back?"

     "Din, how could you not come to visit me? It has been 10 years since you started working in Kuala Lumpur and not once have you come to see me. I'm not well."

     "So, what do you want? Did you ever give me an easy life when I was younger?" Azdin asked.

     "How could I have given you an easy life? We had no money and your late father never left any wealth. Even this house I have to rent."

     Azdin paid little heed to her explaination. "It's like this. You don't disturb my life and my marriage. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist. Why should I give you anything when you never gave me anything? I had a hard life, I looked for my own money to fund my education. If you had it hard, so did I. Now that I'm well off, I want to pass my wealth to my own family."

     Sobbing, his mother said: "I never wanted your money. I just wanted you to come and see me occasionally."

     "Enough mum. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist in my life. I'm going home."

     But before moving away, Azdin make a declaration, something that he could never forget to this day. He said: "Mum, from this day on, I forbid myself from ever stepping foot into this house again. This is the last time that I'll ever come here." With that, Azdin hurriedly left his mother and sister.

     "I know now, because of those words, my legs are hurting like this," said Azdin.

     Without realising it, I was crying too, listening to his confessions. We immediately contacted his mother and sister in Malaysia. After introducing myself to her, I told her what had happened to her son. But it was obvious that his mother's hear was badly hurt.

     "Mazlan... how could he have the heart to do this to me? I raised him, endured a tough life, weaved mats, but when he grew into adulthood, he forgot about me. How could he say that I was no longer alive? He's not my son anymore," said Azdin's mother.

     "Mak Cik," I replied, "please pity Din. Please forgive him. He has come to his senses and has repented..."

     But angrily, his mother replied: "Whatever will happen, let it be. If he wants to die, let him. I don't have a son anymore. It wasn't me who said it, he did!"

     As his mother was still adamant about not forgive her son, I passed the phone to Azdin and asked him to plead to her for forgiveness. But after more than 20 minutes of pleading and tears, his mother still refused to forgive him.

     Instead, she hung up on him, causing her son to slump hopelessly onto the bed.

     "Mazlan... please help me," Azdin wept.

    The next day, we contacted his mother again. After much pleading, crying and acknowledgement of past mistakes and telling her of his desire for repentance, she finally forgive his past wrongdoings. Tears of joy came streaming down and Azdin's face was alight with happiness. Azdin was akin to a child who had got his mother back.

     Shaking my hands, he said: "Thank you, Mazlan." I wiped the tears that could not seem to stop falling from my eyes. Allah is great. Three or four days later, Azdin's legs were healed. There was no longer any swelling or bruises and he could finally walk, and even run, like normal. Azdin was able to perform Wuquf just like all the other pilgrims.

     "I will make up for all the sins that committed to my mother," Azdin said to me.

     A day or two later, it was finally time to carry out the Wuquf. When the moment arrived, Azdin immediately went to sit by himself. Crying, he said his zikr and prayed for Allah's forgiveness. He truly did regret his past mistakes.

     "Mazlan, I'm still not satisfied with my repentance. I want to do more for my mother," he said, eyes swollen for all the crying.

     As if to atone for his sins, he did the Umra almost 10 times, all for his mother. Every spare time he had, Azdin prayed, read the Quran and performed his religious duties in the hope that the rewards he would gain from his actions would all go to his mother. Not satisfied with that, he also bought 30 shawls, 30 batik cloths, and several rolls of cloth, prayer mat, bangle, necklace, gold ring and all manner of gifts for his mother.

     "Why are you buying so much, Din?" I asked.

     "I want to see my mother change her sarong and shawl every day for a month. I don't want to see her wear anything that's torn or worn out any more," he said, with pride.

     "Mazlan, I realise my mistakes now. When I get back, I want to show my mother that I have really repented," he continued, in a different tone.

     On our return to Malaysia, I noticed that Azdin was the happiest person there. As soon as we reached Subang Airport, he didn't rush straight for his KL home; instead he headed for his mother's house to seek her forgiveness. He hugged her tightly and showered her with kisses upon seeing her. He kissed her hands and forehead we much love.

     His wife and his sister could not contain their tears watching him. If before this, he had regarded his mother as being dead, today, she was his everything. He redesigned one of the rooms in his house just for her. Beautifully decorated, it was a beautiful as any 5-star hotel room and came complete with an assistant.

     Apart from being given beautiful clother to wear, his mother was also given a luxurious car and a driver. In fact, her car was even bigger than the one driven by Azdin. That was still not enough for him. He also gave his mother RM10,000 every month.

     "Mum, take it. If you don't want it, please donate it to whoever you like," said Azdin.

     Today, Azdin is one of my closest friends. Whenever we have time to spare, my wife and I would go to his house.

     One day, as Azdin was resting, I asked him: "Why are you doing all this?"

     "Mazlan, my mother is the person I love the most. She is the angel in my life. If we don't carry out duties for our parents, there's no point in being rich," he replied.

     But Azdin's mother continued to wear simple attires. All the jewelleries that Azdin presented to her never saw the light of day. When I asked her about it, she replied: "Mazlan, I don't all this. I don't need it. As long as my son never forgets what I have done for him, that's enough."

N / F : FROM "THE BEST COLLECTION OF STORIES FROM MECCA", BY MASTIKA.