Most of us who fast would probably remember the first time we ever tried fasting, or puasa, in Malay. I was barely six when I first attempted it. The year was 1948 and my brothers, Don, Mod and I were living with our maternal grandparents, Tok Mat and Tok Nah at No.1, Jalan Othman in Muar, Johor. Our parents were abroad for a significant period of time and so we were left in their care. My sister Noni, on the other hand, lived with our paternal grandmother, Tok Jilah at Parit Bakar, some 7kms away.
My first puasa day was unforgettable. Embok, our family housekeeper cajoled me to wake up at pre-dawn for sahur, and patiently sat with me who was begrudging and half asleep, trying my best not to gag and to quickly swallow whatever Embok gave me. After some protesting and yawning and little effort to finish my sahur meal, I quickly went back to the safe comforts of my bed to continue my interrupted slumber.
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