I was standing at the corner of Arab Street waiting for the pedestrian traffic light to turn green. My mind drifted with the afternoon heat and the blur of vehicles passing by. Suddenly, `Allahu akbar...' resounded from behind me. I had not noticed that there was a mosque nearby as they are quite inconspicuous in Singapore. The Muslim call to prayer or azan mesmerized me in nostalgia and homesickness. Growing up, I used to live opposite a surau and sounds of azan several times a day marked the daily passing of time. In university, azan was synonymous with waking up, lunch, and dinner. I suddenly recalled the melodious takbir that signaled the arrival of Syawal. It really has been a while since I heard the familiar strains of azan, however faint. Today in Singapore, at that busy little street corner... azan was a call to home.
Previously...
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11 November is not too far away. Its strange how sight, sounds and smell can really remind us of home however unpleasant sometimes. Like the carbon monoxide smell from express bus in Pudu. I think it's the low quality diesel that they sell here, the carbon monoxide smell a little different. Haha
Luv,
You know who.