Mahathir's Journey To Be A Better Man

 I watched Badak on Netflix thinking it would just be another Malay film to pass the night. I didn’t expect it to stay with me. I didn’t expect it to feel personal. The story revolves around a father and his daughter. On the surface, it looks simple. Rough father. Emotional distance. Unspoken love. The kind of relationship that exists more in actions than in words. But as I watched, I found myself uncomfortable in a quiet way. Because I recognized him. Not the exact character. Not his mistakes. But the weight he carries. The silent pressure of wanting to protect. The fear of failing someone who looks at you like you are their entire world. As a father to my sons and daughter, that hit differently. There’s something about fathers and sons or daughters that is rarely loud. It’s not dramatic declarations. It’s not poetic confession. It’s protection in small gestures. It’s worry disguised as sternness. It’s love that sometimes struggles to translate itself into gentle wor...

  Today is the first day of Ramadhan. I woke up later than I should have. Sahur had already slipped past us. Aina was apologetic. Soft-voiced. Guilty in a way that didn’t need to be. But I wasn’t angry. Not even slightly. Because sometimes what matters is not the perfection of the act, but the presence within it. And this year, we are present. Together. Yes, we missed the meal. But we did not miss Ramadhan. We still stood in intention. We still entered the day conscious of fasting. And maybe that’s the reminder I needed, that Ramadhan was never about flawless execution. It is about returning. In the Qur'an , Allah says: “O you who believe, fasting has been prescribed upon you as it was prescribed upon those before you that you may attain taqwa.” (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:183) Not perfection. Not performance. But taqwa, awareness. Consciousness. God-mindedness. And awareness sometimes begins in the smallest moments. like choosing patience instead of irritation. I still remem...

A good friend of mine once said "I feel like I'm more of an observer and you Mahathir, are a great storyteller"   I’ve been thinking about why I’m drawn to stories, not just reading them, but living inside them, retelling them. Why certain memories replay in narrative form, like chapters I revisit when I need to understand myself again. Maybe it’s because stories don’t just describe life. They shape it. When I look back at my life, I don’t see random events. I see arcs. I see chapters. I see a younger version of myself who believed love alone could fix everything. I see seasons of confusion. I see growth that didn’t feel like growth at the time. I see music marking transitions, like chapters closing and opening. That’s the thing about memory, it doesn’t store data. It stores stories. We don’t say, “On that day, X happened.” We say, “That was the moment everything changed.” We frame our lives in plot. Life, in real time, is messy. It’s loud like a firework, emotion...

  Letters I Never Sent There are words that never made it past my throat. Not because they weren’t true, but because they felt too heavy to release. This is one of those letters. Not meant to be delivered. Not meant to be answered. Just meant to exist. To My Younger Self You thought love would be simple if you were sincere enough. You believed that if you gave fully, honestly, without games, things would naturally align. You didn’t yet understand timing. Or ego. Or how two good people can still wound each other without meaning to. But I don’t blame you. You loved bravely. And that bravery shaped the man I am now. You were softer. More impulsive. Less guarded. You didn’t calculate outcomes, you just felt. And while that cost you, it also made your joy purer than anything I experience now. If I could sit beside you, I wouldn’t warn you away from the pain. I would just tell you this: Not every ending is a failure. Some endings are teachers in disguise. To Aina There ar...

 Music has always felt less like sound and more like a doorway to my soul. The moment a familiar melody begins, something inside me loosens. My chest softens. My mind stops arguing with itself. And suddenly I’m not just here, I’m back there . Younger. Lighter. In rooms filled with possibility. In days that smelled like rain and reckless hope. Music doesn’t just remind me of the past. It resurrects it. There are songs that carry entire seasons of my life inside them. The first few notes and I can see the walls, the light, the version of myself I used to be. It’s strange how three minutes of rhythm can hold years of memory. Almost unfair. And then there’s Aina. With her, music wasn’t background noise. It was language. It was confession without having to confess. When we listened together, something shifted. We didn’t need to perform strength or composure or certainty. We just existed in the sound. No pretending. No roles. No explanations. Just two souls leaning into the sam...

All the previous post is mainly about what I learnt in the past 1 year plus. I have much to say but I want to try posting other things as well so that this blog can be a remanence of who I am, a reminder for those who care and love me when I'm gone, sort of a window to my mind. I come to realize that life itself is very abstract and full of wonders, only to be able to be grasp upon when we takes some time off, away from being too engaged with the ongoing life. There's so many things that is not as straight forward despite the nature of it appears to be so. Some have deeper meanings, some have alternate reality or understanding of it and I would like to start a string of series about looking at life differently.   “Iqra’ bismi rabbika alladhi khalaq” “Read (or Recite) in the name of your Lord who created.” (Surah Al-‘Alaq (96:1) ) For someone who appreciates the linguistic beauty of literature, “Iqra” feels symbolic. It’s not just an instruction, it’s an invitation into consci...

This series was never planned. It wasn’t outlined or structured with an end in mind. It unfolded the way life did, slowly, unevenly, and honestly. Each post was written from a place of learning, not teaching. From questions, not certainty. From a heart that had been stretched, tested, softened, and rebuilt. Looking back now, I realize this series marks a turning point in my life. Not because everything suddenly became easy. Not because I arrived at clarity or perfection. But because something fundamental shifted in how I see the world, and how I walk through it. I stopped needing to be right. I stopped needing control. I stopped measuring faith by outcomes. Instead, I learned mercy. For others. For myself. I learned Husnuzon, thinking well of Allah when life made little sense. I learned to surrender what I could not change, to be patient without silencing pain, to heal without demanding closure, to wait without despair, and to remain consistent even when the heart fe...

 I used to think Tawakkul was something you spoke about, a concept. A quote. A reminder shared when life felt uncertain. But life has a way of stripping faith down to what is real. Tawakkal, I’ve learned, is not poetic. It is practical. It shows up in decisions, in restraint, in patience, and in letting go. Allah says: “And whoever relies upon Allah, then He is sufficient for him.” (Surah At-Talaq, 65:3) Sufficiency does not mean ease without effort, it means peace without guarantees. Tawakkal in real life looks like doing your best and still sleeping at night. It is applying for the job while knowing provision is written. It is choosing honesty even when shortcuts are available. It is loving without clinging, planning without obsession, and hoping without entitlement. And every day, it requires a choice. Not a one-time declaration of faith, but a repeated decision: Today, I choose Allah. The Prophet said: “Tie your camel, then trust in Allah.” (Tarmizi) There is...

 After duʿa is answered, after doors open, after relief arrives, there is a quieter test that follows. Consistency. It is easy to turn to Allah when life is heavy. Pain sharpens sincerity. Need humbles the heart. But what happens after ease? Allah reminds us: “So remain on a right course as you have been commanded.” (Surah Hud, 11:112) Istiqamah is not intensity, it is not spiritual highs or emotional breakthroughs, it is showing up, again and again, even when the heart feels ordinary. And this world is anything but consistent. Some days faith feels strong. Some days it feels fragile. Some days gratitude flows easily. Some days old fears resurface quietly. Istiqamah is staying anchored through all of it. The Prophet was once asked for advice so comprehensive it could carry a life. He said: “Say, ‘I believe in Allah,’ then remain steadfast.” (Muslim) Not then achieve, n ot then perfect, j ust, remain steadfast. I am learning that Istiqamah looks different in diff...

 Truth to be told there are moments when duʿa feels heavy. Not because we stop believing, but because we keep asking and nothing seems to change. We raise our hands. We whisper names of Allah we trust. We repeat the same words night after night. And still, the door feels closed. I used to think unanswered duʿa meant rejection. That perhaps I was not worthy enough. Not sincere enough. Not patient enough. But Islam teaches something far gentler. The Prophet said: “There is no Muslim who calls upon Allah with a supplication that does not involve sin or cutting family ties except that Allah gives him one of three things: He gives him what he asked for, or He stores it for him in the Hereafter, or He averts from him an equivalent harm.” (Ahmad) Unanswered does not mean unheard. Delayed does not mean denied. In fact, some of the most powerful answers come quietly, so quietly that we only recognize them when we look back later on. I think about this often now. There were times when...

 Not every story ends with an explanation. Not every wound receives an apology. Not every chapter closes neatly. For a long time, I thought healing required closure, a final conversation, an admission of fault, a moment where everything finally made sense. But life doesn’t always offer that and neither does Allah promise it. What Allah promises is healing , not answers. Allah says: “Allah is Gentle with His servants.” (Surah Ash-Shura, 42:19) Gentleness does not always come in the form of clarity., sometimes it comes as distance, sometimes as silence, sometimes as the strength to move forward without understanding why things happened the way they did. Healing without closure means accepting that some doors were never meant to be reopened, not because we failed, but because Allah was protecting us from what we could not yet see. The heart seeks explanations because it wants peace but peace does not always come from knowing the truth, sometimes it comes from trusting Allah wit...

For the longest time, I thought sabar meant staying quiet. Enduring without reacting. Smiling through pain. Pretending everything was fine because Allah tests those He loves .  But over time, life taught me something different. Sabar is not silence. Sabar is not suppression. And sabar is definitely not pretending you are strong when your heart is breaking. Allah never asked us to suffer quietly. Allah says: “And seek help through patience and prayer.” (Surah Al-Baqarah, 2:45) Notice that sabar is paired with prayer , not isolation. With seeking help , not swallowing pain. Patience in Islam was never meant to be passive, it was meant to be connected . Even the Prophets spoke. Even the best of creation cried to Allah. Prophet Yaʿqub said: “I only complain of my sorrow and grief to Allah.” (Surah Yusuf, 12:86) This verse reshaped my understanding of sabar. There is a difference between complaining about Allah and complaining to Allah. One distances the heart. The other ...

After learning to let mercy speak first toward others, thinking well of Allah, being gentle with myself, and leaving what I cannot control, there comes a point when the heart quietly asks: What now? How do I move forward? Walking forward without fear is not the absence of uncertainty. It is not a life without mistakes, disappointment, or unfulfilled desires. It is the courage to continue despite them. The grace to step into the unknown with trust in Allah and faith in His plan. Allah reminds us: “And whoever relies upon Allah, then He is sufficient for him.” (Surah At-Talaq, 65:3) Sufficiency is not just about protection or provision. It is about strength for the journey , clarity for the next step, and peace that anchors the soul even when the road is unclear. Walking forward without fear means we no longer live in the shadow of past mistakes. We no longer let judgment, from others or ourselves, dictate our worth. We move gently, anchored in mercy, guided by hope, and aware th...

 Life has a way of teaching us lessons we didn’t sign up for. We plan, we decide, we strive, and yet, so often, things do not unfold as we expect. It is in these moments that I am reminded of something central to Islam: surrendering to Allah’s Qadar , and trusting His plan even when it feels unknown, unfair, or delayed. For years, I carried the weight of wanting to control outcomes, relationships, careers, timing, even the smallest details of my day. And every time reality refused to bend, I felt disappointment, frustration, and fear. It was exhausting. Allah reminds us: “No disaster strikes upon the earth or in yourselves except that it is in a register before We bring it into existence, indeed that, for Allah, is easy.” (Surah Al-Hadid, 57:22) This verse never felt more alive to me than when I learned to release what I could not change. To leave it with Allah does not mean inaction. It does not mean indifference. It means effort, followed by trust. Struggle, followed by sur...

After learning to let mercy speak first toward others, and after learning to think well of Allah, there is one place where husnuzon often disappears quietly, towards ourselves. We are quick to excuse others, slow to forgive ourselves. We believe Allah is Merciful, yet we struggle to believe that mercy includes us .   Many of us live carrying old versions of ourselves like a permanent sentence.  Past mistakes. Wrong turns. Decisions we wish we had made differently. We repent, yet we replay. We ask for forgiveness, yet we punish ourselves long after Allah has forgiven. But this is not what Islam teaches. Allah says: “Indeed, Allah loves those who constantly repent and loves those who purify themselves.” (Surah Al-Baqarah, 2:222) Notice the wording. Allah does not merely accept those who repent,  He loves them . If Allah loves the one who returns, why do we insist on hating the one we used to be? The Prophet said: “The one who repents from sin is like one who nev...

After speaking about reserving judgment towards others, I realized something more difficult, and more personal. It is often easier to have husnuzon with people than it is to have husnuzon with Allah . When life is calm, trusting Allah feels natural. But when plans fall apart, when prayers seem unanswered, when timing feels cruel rather than kind, our hearts begin to question quietly. We may not say it out loud, but doubt settles in the spaces between disappointment and waiting. Yet Islam teaches us that husnuzon does not stop at human relationships. It extends upward, to how we perceive Allah’s decree. Allah says: “I am as My servant thinks of Me.” (Hadith Qudsi, Bukhari & Muslim) This hadith always stops me in my tracks. It reminds me that our assumptions about Allah shape our spiritual state. To assume neglect is to live in anxiety. To assume mercy is to find peace, even when answers are delayed. Many of us struggle not because Allah is distant, but because the outcome we d...

Let mercy comes and wash away,  what I've done, I'll face myself, to cross out what I've become, erase myself, and let go of what I've done. (What I've done, Linkin Park) Lately, I’ve been observing people more quietly. Not in a way that seeks fault, but in a way that seeks understanding. And the more I observe, the more I realize this simple truth: every individual is going through their own test, most of which we know nothing about. Some tests are visible. Many are not. Smiles can be rehearsed. Strength can be borrowed for a day. Faith can be whispered in the dark when no one is watching. Yet we are quick, far too quick, to form conclusions about others based on fragments of their lives. Islam teaches us otherwise. Allah reminds us: “O you who believe, avoid much suspicion. Indeed, some suspicion is sin.” (Surah Al-Hujurat, 49:12) Husnuzon , having good opinion of others, is not naivety. It is an act of worship. It is choosing mercy over arrogance, humility ove...

It has been almost seven months since I last wrote. Not because there was nothing to say, but because life became too full, too loud, too heavy, too unpredictable. Some seasons don’t leave room for words; they demand endurance instead. The past seven months were chaotic in ways I didn’t anticipate. Emotions rose and fell without warning. Certainty came and went. There were days when I felt steady, and many more when I was simply surviving the day as it came. August arrived with Lily’s birthday. A gentle but firm reminder that time moves forward, regardless of how unresolved our hearts may feel. Watching her grow while navigating a life that was still finding its footing forced me to confront responsibility, patience, and the quiet strength required to keep showing up. even when clarity is absent. At the same time, Aina and I were moving through a fragile emotional space. Her feelings about remarriage shifted back and forth — not from a lack of love, but from wounds that take time to h...