Ramadan Quiz

My team won the company’s Ramadan Quiz early this week, beating a team of pesantren graduates winner of last year’s Ramadan Quiz.

It was the first time that the department had won since the quiz’s inception five years ago. Everyone was surprised, none more than ourselves.

Only one of the team’s three members had no scruples about participating – a girl best known for her enthusiasm and raucous laughter. The other two members had to be cajoled and tricked into participating. One was a Papuan environmental PhD, the other an extrovert ex-radio DJ who could never refuse a good Lambrusco. The latter was chosen at the last minute when my tricky boss suddenly declared the DJ was a better contestant.

With such a lineup, the best that the rest of us could hope for was a good showing. I’ll bet that was what everyone else was thinking too when the three first entered the room. Boy, did the audience get a shock!

“And except for one, none of them had ever strictly adhered to the five daily prayers!” a colleague remarked in amazement.

So that got me thinking about religiousness. What constitutes as a religious person, more specifically, what makes a good Muslim?

Is it praying five times a day or more to count the sunnah? Is it being able to recite the Koran beautifully and quote its verses by heart ? Is it memorizing the dates and history of Islam? Is it knowing the meaning of various Arabic terms people consider “Islamic”?

I have never considered listening to the Tarawih preaching necessary, as I have found very few preachers worth listening to. Over the years, I have found them tedious, nitpicking Koran verses to suit their narrowmindedness or gender bias. I certainly do not consider someone who thinks the veil and segregation was necessary for the woman’s own good worth following, or listening to.

Does that make me a bad Muslim?

I choose not to wear the veil, I enjoy an occasional glass of wine or lychee martini, I can barely recite the Koran, and certainly can’t shoot off verses at random.

I show a little skin at times – we’re not in Arabia after all – and thinks that if Arabian women all unveiled, their men would probably soon tire of lusting after every little bit of skin. It’s human nature to be tempted by the forbidden after all, weren’t laws made to be broken?

Does that make me a sinner? Is it my fault that men can’t stop thinking about sex? Is it even my problem?

But, I don’t steal, I don’t have licentious thoughts about other people’s husbands, I’ve never murdered anyone nor have I ever planned to. I’ve never wilfully broken the law, I’ve always tried to obey the traffic signs (except when I’m on the ojek, and then I give the driver free reign), and I rarely bear anyone a grudge.

Does that make me a good citizen, but a bad Muslim?

I pray five times a day – more only when I feel like it, I give to the poor whenever I can (or remember to), and while I keep repeating the same prayers over and over, I actually do pray and believe in God.

But I don’t believe there’s a right or wrong religion. I believe that however you do it – over incense in a confuscious temple or with your forehead on a prayer mat – if you pray for good, God will hear of it.

Am I a good Muslim?

lost ideals

I’ve forgotten how long it’s been since I’ve stopped looking at my work as the path to making a mark on the world – a way to make sure that a part of me is left behind when I leave this existence.

Nowadays it’s difficult to be enthusiastic about my work. Not that it’s not exciting or challenging or gratifying … it is all that and more … but more and more I see it as nothing but just a job.

This may come across as ungrateful, since those early days of teaching English, no doubt my career has taken an upward trend. And yet, I seem to find it difficult to be excited about working overtime, to come to work when I’m supposed to be on holiday.

Not that I have anything else to do. None of the excuses of quality time with the family for me. I simply can’t find joy in working when I’m supposed to be resting. Mind you, you won’t find me grumbling when I have to put in more hours at the office or when I have to bring my work home (this last one I prefer) … but I delight in having time off, doing nothing but lie in bed with a good book, or spending time with my playstation 2. I sound like a major geek!

Maybe it’s the age factor? Maybe it’s a yearning of something more from life but not knowing where to find it?

I don’t know where they’ve gone, those lost ideals.