KUALA LUMPUR: DATUK Sharifah Aini Syed Jaafar had a pantry next to her elegant bedroom, where she kept her favourite food in the fridge: pistachio nuts, Kit Kat chocolates, Lote Tree honey, cherries, plums, marble cake and a container of assam pedas.
The oven and an electric kettle were always on standby so that tea could be served by her maid in a jiffy whenever her close friends dropped by.
She would be reclined on a sofa in a silk kaftan, beautifully made-up and watching a talk show from a giant flat-screen TV. When she felt tired, she would be helped onto her luxurious king-size bed.
This seemingly indulgent life of a superstar looked enviable until you notice a drawer-full of medication. The bedside drawer is filled with all manner of tablets, pills and vials of medicine. A fistful of them, which she was supposed to take after breakfast the morning she was rushed to hospital, are still on the tray.
This is what Aliff Omar Ali has to deal with today — the small things and the big, that his mother has left behind. At its simplest and most heart-breaking is the sight of the oxygen tank and wheelchair, two of his mother’s vital accessories in the last days of her life before she succumbed to lung fibrosis.
At its most overwhelming, are the legal and financial matters accrued during a career spanning more than 40 years, as well as a huge house with all his mother’s precious belongings.
Aliff, 32, Sharifah Aini’s only child from her marriage to Ali Abu Bakar (they divorced when he was about 2 years old) has been away studying at the Islamic University of Madinah for most part of his mother’s illness, coming home only during summer breaks.
He returned here in May to care for his mother and was by her side when she drew her last breath.
It was one of his mother’s wishes, expressed in her Facebook entry in Ramadan of 2012 — to die in his arms (dalam pangkuan Aliff). Looking back, she must have written it after being told of the prognosis of her disease.
Another wish she made was to have Aliff lead the final prayers or her. This, too, he dutifully fulfilled.
Back in his mother’s room after the burial, Aliff sits on the floor, taking in the ambience that once surrounded his mother. This has been her life in the last two years. The television had been her only window to the world outside and the phone was her lifeline to stay normal. But it was her prayers that had kept her strong.
“Aku ridho” (I accept with sincerity), she said, about the illness. “When Allah wants to show He loves you, He throws you a challenge so huge that you have no choice but turn to Him for help. And you become close to Him.”
These words, uttered in her usual mellifluous voice, leave me warm, comforted and reassured whenever I think of her.
It’s also her way of telling me, as she had often done in our 40 years of friendship, to always strive to be close to Allah. But she always took care to choose her words lest she sounded “holier-than-thou”.
This is what I love her for. She neither preached not judged although she was steeped in religious knowledge. She was always tactful and considerate, mindful of the old-fashioned value of menjaga hati of those around her.
That is why she had never refused fans who clamoured for handshakes, photographs and autographs, no matter how long it would take her or how tired she was.
“They are my fans,” she would say. “Where would I be without them?”
Just as she was generous with her time, she was also generous with her money. She had performed for countless charities and donated to orphanages and relief efforts. But she had a soft spot for taxi drivers, which puzzled me in the beginning as she would give them such big tips.
When I had asked her why. She said, “My father was a taxi driver.”
Her father, Syed Jaafar Syed Sahil, never really took care of her. In fact, he sent her to be cared by his parents when he and his wife, Sharifah Noor Syed Ahmad Al-Attas, were divorced.
Sharifah Aini was born on the July 2, 1953 in Nee Soon (now Yishun) Camp in Singapore, where her father was a military truck driver.
She was given to her grandparents, who lived in Johor Baru, when she was 5 months old. Doting and protective, they sent her to school and taught her to read the Quran. They lived a hard life and the young Sharifah Aini soon learned to be enterprising by earning her pocket money by selling cakes and jackfruit to her neighbours in Kampung Majidee, sewed baju kurung and sang at weddings.
She was bright in school but it was for Quran recitation that she stood out. I remember this vividly because my mother was her teacher and often talked about Sharifah Aini, the toast of her school for being a three-time winner of the inter-school state-level Quran reading competition.
I have no doubt that her training in handasah al sawt or the art of sound in Quranic recitation that requires a certain breathing technique and vocal control was the foundation that gave her a superb singing voice.
Not only was her voice beautiful and her diction clear, her range was so versatile that it enabled her to sing in multiple genres like pop, slow rock, ballad, zapin, ghazal, asli, deli, inang, keroncong, dangdut and nasyid.
While it was the Johor musician, Taib Osman, who put her in the singing contest that got her discovered in Singapore, I believe her grandparents, traditional people that they were, must be credited for giving her their blessings to take part in the contest when she was only 16.
Winning third placing with the song Tiga Malam in the popular Radio Television Singapore talent contest in 1969 and securing a recording contract with EMI Records was indeed a life-changing decision.
At the height of her stardom, where she had won numerous accolades for her music and millions of fans, holidayed in London and Paris, adorned in expensive refinement and lived in a big house, she never once forgot her humble beginnings.
What made her happiest was spoiling her grandparents, she said “because I love them very very much”.
It is this rags-to-riches life which gave her the humility, perseverance and a real sense of self.
I hoped she knew the monumental impact she had made on the Malaysian music scene and in all our lives. I hoped she knew that in spite of the many popular young singers after her, she was unsurpassed.
For having produced 115 albums, seven of them in English, written lyrics for 83 songs, done more than 3,000 charity performances and had stayed true to one recording company, EMI Records, for 38 years, Sharifah Aini should have been accorded a higher state decoration.
Towards the end of her life, she was still harbouring a hope to sing again, which was why she agreed to appear in a concert with Datuk Khatijah Ibrahim and Uji Rashid in Konsert 3 Diva planned for last year. She was in hospital and it had to be postponed when there was no sign of abatement.
Her slow decline began in June 2012 after a performance in Johor Baru to celebrate Mothers Day. She was feeling unwell before the show but Sharifah Aini was a trouper to the end where she had bravely taken the stage. And, as always, charmed her adoring fans.
On arrival at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport the next day, she had to be put on a wheelchair and rushed to hospital. Her regular doctor, Datuk Dr Zainudin Md Zain, consultant respiratory physician at Damansara Specialist Hospital, diagnosed it as fibrosis of the lungs. It is a condition that causes hardening or scarring of the lungs and is considered a rare disease.
The gravity of her illness hit home when she was unable to walk, her breathing weakened and she had to be aided with oxygen.
It was very hard seeing her this way and harder to hear her talk animatedly about making a full recovery to attend Aliff’s wedding “when he decides to get married”.
Aliff will be amused to know that his mother had even bought a diamond ring for her future daughter-in-law.
“Just a small one,” she whispered.
He really has little to worry about because his mother had thought of the eventuality and made plans for him and all her dependents.
That was Sharifah Aini, fastidious in every way, fabulous all the way.
Al-fatihah.