opinion
I woke up one auspicious morning in December to spend time among the dead. I sat under the generous and prized shade of a tree near a good friend's grave. I realised just how special the spot was as the sun began to turn from a lovely morning lightness to the blazing heat of the day.People arrived slowly, families of two, three, five and larger, to clean up the graves of their loved ones. A few came alone. They spread mats upon which they sat to spend some time in a prayerful meditation.
Kids were hard to control. They ran through the cemetery, some stepping on the graves. Others gently reprimanded them for doing so. The simplicity of the tombstones - rather the stones, for they are hardly tombs - rising low off the ground and often in sites unremarkable from others, made the graves easy to step on. Some were nothing more than mounds of brown earth. There was a path nevertheless that wound narrowly through the graves. As the kids were running, they hardly had the time and focus to stay within the bounds of the narrow path.
There was one exception. A little boy stopped as he approached his grandfather's recently made grave, crying out, "I'm afraid, I'm afraid." He proceeded only after his mother held out her hand, and another relative, wiping tears off her eyes, comforted him from her place by the side of the grave.
Families whose dead were long gone seemed to treat this yearly ritual with more restraint.Others for whom the loss was fresh and great, wept. It was a sombre and respectful atmosphere.
People arrived in good numbers to the Muslim cemetery at Kampung Sungai Tangkas, near Kajang, on Dec 16, 2001, because it was the first day of the Muslim month of Syawal. After a month's fasting came this moment of remembrance before the festivities began.
They will return to their homes by midday and in many instances be prepared to receive friends and relatives. These guests would include many of other faiths: Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and so forth.
Empathy for differences
Malaysian society is characterised by an insidious 'race' politics, especially in electoral and state politics. It is also marked by an empathy for differences between its culturally diverse citizenry.
Besides those who actively choose communal politics, there are those who see just how similar the rituals of the different ethnic and religious groups are when faced with birth, adulthood, marriage and death.
Raised in a Hindu family, I sat by the grave of my friend alongside his family and friends, all of whom were Muslims. They read from the Surah Yasin, the 37th chapter of the Quran which typically constitutes Muslim prayers for the dead. I sat quietly surrounded by the soft and rhythmic chanting in Arabic.
On the reddish brown, clayey earth, were trails of a nether world. Ants were in constant motion, some furrowing into the sides of the simple graves. Leaves were strewn about amongst the patches of grass here and there. From time to time the natural decay of the plants, rocks and earth around me made me think of my friend's wasting body. Yet I could only imagine him as the whole human being I knew him as.
When alive, my friend strove to assert the collective interests of his multi-ethnic and multi-religious society. He believed like other Malaysians do that the interests of one group must not only draw empathy but be championed by the other.
US onslaught challenges all
At the present time, as the US foreign policy and military aggression seem to be directed against Muslims, it is all the more important that Malaysians assert their collective interests.
Today US power appears to be acting against countries with significant Muslim populations. Tomorrow the target may well be different.
It is not inconceivable for Chinese communities globally to be demonised in a fit of xenophobia as a result of some future trade and diplomatic failures with China.
Under the present circumstances, Muslims face the difficult struggle of not allowing themselves to feel particularly victimised and separate from others. Rather than respond by asserting their particular interests and identity, they need to recognise how much others suffer as well from the superpower's onslaught.
People of other faiths face the challenge of rejecting the pervasive negative portrayals of Muslims emerging largely from US-centred media giants like CNN . Muslims must not only be seen as comrades but felt to be so.
As it is with death and the loss of loved ones, Malaysians of different faiths have much more in common than not when celebrating their respective festive days. Hari Raya Aidil Fitri and Christmas are over and Chinese New Year and Thaipusam will follow.
Should these occasions be of more than passing significance, they must remind Malaysians of what their faiths have in common. The sorrows, joys and challenges of death, marriage, birth and adulthood are no different from one faith to another.
Within the country and as global citizens, the faiths and fate of Malaysians are entwined.
(To the memory of Ishak Shari, 1948-2001)
SUMIT MANDAL is a historian.
