I sat for the Malaysian Secondary School Entrance Examination in late 1963.

About three months prior to that, my school conducted the Trial Examination for its prospective MSSEE candidates. I didn’t fare too well.

Managed to pass with a Category 2 (they did not call it Grade) and with not a single A to shout about. But then again I hadn’t been under any delusion of excelling. I was no more than an average student.                                                     

 Notwithstanding the Trial Examination results, I got along with nary a worry but not so my dearest mum. The funny thing was that she was getting ever more jittery as if she would be sitting for the MSSEE. That exam was still a comfortable distance away (by my unworried reckoning, at least) when I got wind of mum’s plan to procure blessed water for me.

Actually, I knew that she had been brainwashed into it by none other than her own mother. Oh yes, my maternal grandma was an avid advocate of blessed water.

Grandma had always been critical of my capacity to learn though I must state that her assessment was from a very narrow perspective. She based it singularly on my progress–or lack of it rather, in Quran reading. Yes, I was grappling with Arabic pronunciations, enunciations, intonations and whatnots. No amount of scolding from the exasperated Quran reading teacher could get my tongue in tune with Arabic. Just not my cup of tea, Arabic.

            “So, what verse are you reading now?” Grandma posed me her oft repeated and traumatising question when she dropped by one day. I answered honestly like a good boy and as always my answer never failed to rankle her.”              

“Horrors! The last time I came you were at Verse 5 and now months later you mean to tell me that you’re still stuck there?” Sadly, grandma’s sense of time had gone off the tracks. In truth her last visit was merely several days ago. Anyway, that didn’t stop her from cranking up her rants.

“Shame on you! I know of kids aged 7 and 8 who have finished reading the holy book twice over. At your rate, you’ll turn 50 before you make it to the final verse!” Well, in fairness to grandma, I had been plodding pathetically through the Quranic verses and she couldn’t be too far from the truth on that last bit!

Grandma was dead certain that I would replicate my pathetic “performance” in Quran reading in the MSSEE. “Questions in the real sxamination are going to be many, many times tougher,” I overheard her telling mum. “You really need to take remedial measures…fast!” And so it was, one fine morning, in dad’s presence, mum formally announced that she would be getting blessed water for yours truly. “To enlighten your mind, strengthen your spirit and enhance your confidence,” she explained in a majestic tone that suggested she would brook no objections.

“Classic three in one for you my boy!” quipped dad. Then he resumed sipping his coffee. I guessed he knew all too well that when mum spoke in that tone it would suit everyone fine to just let her be. And dad need not remind me that when mum hitched her mind to a plan, chances were she would see it through with womanly stubbornness. Wise  soul, my dad.

I could still recall that it was on a Saturday morning that my parents set out to fulfil mum’s wish. Their destination was Pendang, home to Tuan Guru Haji Abdul Aziz.  

The late Haji Abdul Aziz

For decades until his demise in 2004, Haji Aziz was a highly revered religious figure in Kedah. That he was a member of the State Fatwa Council bore ample testimony to his exalted stature as an Ulama. Besides establishing himself as a venerable source of religious knowledge, he ventured into the sphere of traditional medicine.

He went on to acquire fame and fortune as a healer whose reputation spread beyond Kedah. The grand old man might not have preferred it but among the Malays, outside of a small band with religious leanings, he was more renowned as a healer than as an Ulama.  

Blessed water prepared by Haji Aziz was especially sought after. In that respect, he was Nulli Secundus. Undisputed Numero Uno in his own right. When important school examinations loomed, hopeful, desperate and in my mum’s case, jittery Malay parents flocked to him for blessed water. At times, the compound of his residence took on a carnival atmosphere. Awesome…Haji Aziz and his reputation.

Having accomplished her mission, mum’s next course was to put the blessed water to good use. The next day, before I left for school, I had my first taste of Haji Aziz’s blessed water. Mum served it to me in a small cup. She whispered some words of prayers ,blew softly over the cup and told me to drink every drop of its blessed content.

“Do I have to go through this every day?” I asked.

“No, we need to ration the water till the Exam starts……”

 “YESSS!” I interjected and went hip-hopping in circles, punching the air amidst repeated “Yes! Yes!Yes!”

 I could tell that my impetuous reaction-vocal and physical, did not go down too well with mum. “You can dance all you want but until the exam is over nothing is going to stop me administering this to you!” She dangled the bottle of blessed water close to my face.

Mum kept to her words and from that day till the eve of the MSSEE, she made sure that I took my small cuppa once in three days. Once the sxam kicked off and throughout its entire duration, I was put on a strict regime of a cuppa every day.

Praise be to Allah, I passed the MSSEE. Got Category 1 with A in three subjects, exceeding my wildest expectations. My parents were overjoyed. Mum couldn’t stop singing praises for Haji Aziz, and looking at how delirious she was, I had a feeling that the ensuing years of my schooling career would be awash with blessed water!

Ends