IT was a Friday morning and I was getting ready to go to school, when my mum handed me my 30 sen allowance for the day.

I looked at her with droopy eyes, pleading for more. She ignored me and went off to the kitchen to carry on with her chores.

As a 9-year-old who always watched other students enjoy candies, ice-cream and carbonated drinks during recess, I wished, just for once, to have enough money to enjoy the things my schoolmates got for themselves.

Without my mum’s knowledge, I went through her drawers and small porcelain pots – the usual places where she keeps small change. Unlucky me, there was no money to be found.

Just as I was giving up hope, I remembered my dad’s little pouch, dangling on his keychain. Every Friday, dad would keep a RM5 note folded nicely in the pouch for the donation box at the mosque.

I was lucky to find dad in his room. His keychain was hanging rom his car bonnet. I quietly opened the pouch, took out the green note and tip-toed back into my room.

That day, not only did I feast at school, but I also treated a good friend of mine. It felt really good to finally not have to calculate how much I could afford to spend at the canteen, as I could buy whatever my heart desired: Cola, noodles, cakes, candies, ice pops.

It felt as if I had hit the jackpot!

When I returned home that day, I prepared myself to present a poker face if anyone asked about the missing RM5. I thought it would be easy to fool my dad into believing that he had somehow used the money for something else.

Boy, was I wrong.

Right after dinner, dad got everyone to remain seated. Looking straight into my and my brothers’ eyes, he asked if any of us had taken what did not belong to us.

I quickly put on a poker face, just like I had practised on my way home from school. But, things did not turn out the way I expected them too.

“I wasn’t even at home,” said my elder brother.

Just like that, he was off the hook.

“I like coins,” said my 6-year-old brother, who obviously had no need for money.

And he, too, was off the hook.

Next was me.

I frowned, lifted my shoulders, shook my head and denied with all my might any knowledge of the RM5 note. However, dad read me like a book.

“Maybe, mum took it to buy something. You know how she forgets easily,” I said, trying to shift the blame away for me.

“She couldn’t have. I put the money there just this morning, right before I opened the car bonnet. An hour later, when I was in front of the donation box, it was gone,” said dad.

My heart began pounding so fast that I thought it would burst. There were only five people in the house, and with the other three off the hook, only dad and I were left.

And, I knew I had no way out but to confess.

As I began to apologise with a trembling voice, dad told my brothers to head to their rooms.

When it was just the two of us left at the table, he began “prosecuting” me over my wrongdoing.

I cried and accepted my punishment for stealing. However, the punishment was carried out only in dad’s presence.

My brothers were not allowed to witness it, and so, could not hurt my feelings by teasing me. It helped me continue to walk with my head held high.

Similarly, some 10 years later, I came home after a date with a hickey on my neck. Though I tried to hide it with my long hair, mum’s eagle eyes noticed it.

She whisked me away from the crowded living room and lectured me.

“You are 19. This is not the age for you to come home with such marks. Make sure this does not happen again. And, keep it covered with your hair until it disappears.”

Dad then asked mum about the discussion, and she replied: “Nothing, really. Girl stuff.”

Growing up, I appreciated my parents’ way of counselling, disciplining and punishing me.

By not publicly announcing my wrongdoings and having me carry out punishments for everyone in the family to see, they respected the fact that I am an individual, and despite the mistakes I made, they acknowledged the fact that I have pride.

And by not snatching my pride away, I was able to mend my mistakes and return to the right path.

I recently asked my parents from where they derived such a remarkable parenting style.

Mum replied: “It’s what our religion asks us to do.”

Surprised, I asked her for clarification.

“Many people think that breaking into a wrongdoer’s house, dragging them out into the open and publicly punishing them is what Islam has laid out in its law.

“But, it is not true. Islam teaches us to respect a person’s pride and dignity.

“Even when someone has committed a sin, we should always pave an easy path for them to return to being a member of society after they have gone through the process of ‘taubah’ (repentance).

“What your father and I practised is nothing remarkable. We merely applied the same principle in our little home.”

Now, if only some religious scholars and politicians had such clarity about Islam, surely a lot of confusion over the religion could have been avoided. – July 25, 2017.

* Fa Abdul reads The Malaysian Insight.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.