Arumi Sekar

eyes have a limit in seeing

"How about Sekar, can you be trusted, so that my secret doesn't leak?" mbk Irma asked again to confirm my ability.

I was still silent, trying to digest and weigh the possibility of what might happen, if I was involved in a business that was not really my business.

"you need not worry, I will bear all my own faults, without involving you, if one day all is exposed, because this is my sin, so I will bear it".

mbak Irma seemed to know what was in my mind, and I just nodded expressionlessly, even though in the depths of my heart, actually did not justify and even did not like the attitude, because after all, I did not like it, a wife belongs to her husband, and the wife is obligated to obey the husband, whatever it is, as long as it does not fall into disobedience.

"thank you Sekar, and maybe next time, I will tell you why this happened in my household, I'm sorry, continue your initial intention to wake up earlier, did you, want to pray tahajud?, sorry, sorry, if I have disturbed your worship time a little." mbak Irma got up from her seat, and stepped up to go back down the stairs.

"snake"

I called him softly, mbak Irma stopped her steps and turned back towards me.

"what is Sekar?"

"does not pray?" I ventured, to invite him to worship together, even though I was a little disinclined.

"is it still appropriate, a despicable, sinful woman like me, to face and whisper love to God?, while God alone seems reluctant to recognize me." he said firmly with eyes that are difficult to quantify.

"astagfirullah mbak, istighfar, call mbak, eling."

honestly, I can't believe, an Irma mother, a calm-faced woman, who always seems gentle in her attitude and speech, can have such thoughts, what really happened to this family?.

without responding to my words, mbak Irma again continued her steps, there are many questions that began to run through my mind, I will find out slowly, and if noticed, since my arrival, I did not see, I did not see, one person who prays in this house, they are busy with their own activities, except budhe's husband, who always routinely goes to the mosque every adhan reverberate.

after performing the morning prayers, I rushed down to the kitchen, and it was seen that budhe had started cleaning rice in majigcom.

"budhe's awake?"

"from three o'clock earlier, it had boiled water three large pots." while pointing at the large pot pan above the stove that extends in the kitchen back, yes budhe house, there are two kitchens, there are two kitchens, modern kitchen and old-school kitchen, why do I say that, because the kitchen that I call old-school kitchen, there is indeed built specifically for cooking using wood stoves and oil stoves, while the modern kitchen, the kitchen, filled with furniture furniture today, ranging from gas stoves two furnaces, planting stoves, and various types of expensive equipment there.

"that much water for what budhe?". I asked confusedly, budhe boiled water up to three big pots this early, while the water that all drank used gallon water.

"make people shower one house" replied budhe with a tired expression.

for a moment I was silent, I don't know there was any sense of pity when I saw Budhe working alone in the kitchen in his old age, while he had an adult daughter and an economy that was said to be enough.

"what, budhe does every day work in the kitchen alone?" I asked with a heart, afraid that my words would offend him.

"yes" he answered briefly and it appeared that a clear melt began to wet his face that began to wrinkle.

I was fixated, for a moment to think of mother, it turns out that what appears to be visible to the eye, not all according to what is seen, because the eye has a limit in seeing.

although budhe life looks luxurious from the outside, it turns out he is like a maid in his own house, from morning berjibaku with kitchen work, day to night looking after his grandson.

it turns out that the life that looks beautiful outside, not necessarily also beautiful in it, many do not know if the rich people suffer it can exceed us people who live all fitting Pasan.