Among Thousand Journeys

Ajian Saepi Wind

“Assalamualikum.” hello

extending hand.

“Waalaikum greetings warokhmatulloh.” I replied

receiving his hands to shake

hand.

“Where's this kid from?” he asked after sitting near me.

“I am from Senori Tuban area sir.” I replied,

While paying attention to the stature of this person,

medium height, her body looks strong, she looks strong,

his face was ordinary, but his beard was elongated

up to his chest, and his hair was long tied up

but put in a shirt.

“Away with daerang Sendang?” ask again.

“That's even my village.” I replied sure.

“What a coincidence that, I have an acquaintance in the area, his name is Mr Mustofa, do you know dik?”

“Which mustofa pack yes?”

“Home behind Darut pesantren*****.”

said the man.

“That's my dad..” said I was also shocked and.

wonder why it happened like this.

“Lhoh you Ian? A febrian? Pak Mustofa's son,

grandson KH. Special***.?”

“True sir...” as soon as the man hugged me, and rubbed my hair.

“It's been big you son, I used to last see you were 4 years old, still like crying.”

“Whose father?” I asked because I didn't know his name.

“My name is Fadhol, I'm your father's schoolmate..,

already, let's go home, talk and story later.” said Mr. Fadhol, invite me to his house, which is not far from the mosque, just past the highway and into the 25-meter alley.

“This is my home for Ian.” said Mr. Fadhol,

A simple house, from wood without painting, in front of the house there is also a wooden stand

as big as an adult's arm, affected, until

forming a neat, smooth stand not because it is plotted but because it is often occupied, in the house there is no luxury furniture, only a large table of thick wood, but because it is often occupied, the old-fashioned one is also a rough wooden chair.

Mr. Fadhol immediately invited me to sit down, while he went inside calling his wife, named Zulaikhah's mother. Soon the two men came out.

“Oh this is Mr Mus's son? Wow really

already big.” said bu Zulaikhah.

“Udah ma'am, there prepare a meal..” said sir.

Fadhol, and while waiting to eat prepared I also chat with Mr. Fadhol, and,

“Kok you got here, actually want to go to

where's Ian?” ask Mr. Fadhol.

“Yes this is how sir, I just follow footsteps, where to take.” I replied.

“Ee is a wong derivative of people who like tirakat, yes so like tirakat.

definitely to? We then want to do nginep here goods 3, 4 days.?”

“Wah so troublesome mr..”

“Endak, no hassle really, want ya?”

“Alright sir.”

“Well it dong.”

Zulaikhah called us to eat.

Rice, vegetable kale, dried fried tempeh

without flour, sambel orange, pindang, wah very delicious for a hungry stomach.

Last night Fadhol and I talked.

“Ngger, exactly what you are looking for in

this guy of yours?” ask Mr. Fadhol, while

smoke cigarettes Sukun Kretek.

“Ah I don't know either sir.

want to escape from the shackles of desire, but kok ya even splashed on another desire.”

Kretek, seeing how good it is sir

Fadhol smokes, so I also want to.

“What do you mean to ngger?”

“I mean, I want to get rid of the desire to be started, have a position, have wealth, have a degree of respect in society, have a beautiful wife, and sholeh, also want to be separated from

pierihan lust pleasures five senses, but I really mired in a new desire, the desire to escape from the want, not I just let go, but instead add my desire, but instead add my desire, which makes me even more amazed with Alloh.”

“We lis, I even mumet to hear your narration?” said Mr. Fadhol, frowning, and his hand holding his head.

“I only said mumets, especially

sampean.” I said, and we both laughed.

About 1 o'clock in the morning, suddenly sir

Fadhol took me to the corn garden behind

home, I thought I'd burn corn.

The moon in the clear sky floats in space. It's the 19th, so the moon is still

full-fledged.

Arriving in the garden, suddenly Mr. Fadhol

stomping his legs and body jumped

like a grasshopper, bouncy to the tops of trees

the corn, light as cotton, then ran around on the tops of the corn trees, then came back to my front.

“What is this science that you are looking for?” said Mr. Fadhol still standing at the top of the corn tree, and the leaves just swayed a little.

The flow in my navel flowed profusely, flowing rapidly throughout the veins in my body, so that instantly my body felt light.

But I quickly asked Allah for protection, and asked to be hidden who I was, kept away from showing off and takabur.

“Ah ndak need such knowledge I sir Fadhol.” replied me.

“Lho why? All the lads

want knowledge like this.

enggak?” said Mr. Fadhol while hovering

light to my side.

“Have knowledge like that is also what if life is hard, heart irritated, which I want inner peace, so that when I worship God my mind and mind go nowhere.”

“Weh you these ideals are actually trivial,

but after I thought it was really high, and in

top reasonableness.” said Mr. Fadhol while

stepping picking young corn.

“Therefore it's a reasonable desire, such as

people's wishes in general, but.”.

“But what ngger?” ask Mr. Fadhol, his hand

unceasingly peeling the corn, and cleaning, and then lighting the fire in the kiln, which seems to have been used, I deftly helped put the corn on the fire that began to grow.

“Yes but make it happen in real hard, is it just in the mind?”

“I myself do not know ngger, I used to also often like you, but I seek knowledge

kanuragan, stop the. Uh, tomorrow let's go

place H. Ibrahim.”

“What do you want sir? Is he also my father's acquaintance?”

“Weh is not an acquaintance anymore, already like a brother instead, he once said he wanted to match his only daughter with you.”.

Ah why again about a mate... Am I really time to get married?inner shouting.

“Why?” mr. Fadhol said to see me daydreaming.

“Ah no papa sir.”.

“You doubt your son, Mr Ibrahim? Ee.. if you have seen the person later you must say he-eh, the person is beautiful, pinter, jebolan

Nggontor, what else, wealth is.”

“Ya change sir.” I said so Mr. Fadhol didn't tell me too much. That night, after the prayer

magrib, I was invited by Mr. Fadhol to his place, Mr. Ibrahim, riding a Honda cdi motorbike, his house was not

it's only 2 km away.

Arriving at Mr. Ibrahim's house, almost isyak, the yard is spacious, iron-fenced, and covered with viber, the yard is spacious, various trees and flowers are neatly arranged, some of the yard is covered in brick, and some of the yard is closed, and partly covered in Japanese grass among a variety of flower plants.

The building of a luxurious and classy house, with large and round poles. Ivory yellow painted house, and marble floor. From there it has made me groggy, not because I am poor, I just think if the son of Mr. Ibrahim so my wife, of course the cost of caring for a rich child.

But yes, but I really pray,

well, he's not my soul mate. We pronounce....

Seriate...