Assalamu'Alaikum Love

Tough Stud

Gibran

Since I started college ten years ago, I have often attended student units such as mapala and LPM. But not once have I been involved in the committee for an event. Even so when I took a master's education, although many times I became a research partner for Himawan professor. But again I never got involved in a panic. More precisely I do not want to involve myself in a panic arrangement. I really like to do research and connect with many people and respondents as well as existing data. But engaging with student friends and taking care of everything related to an event I completely avoided during my career as a student.

“Ansurance for seminars next month?”

And, that's why I frowned when Tania and Aruna met me yesterday afternoon with a proposal for a national seminar held by the LPM campus.

“Because of the father who became the LPM Trustee, so Mr. Gibran who became the person in charge.” Clearly Aruna is more like my diteeling command. Oh my goodness this boy.

“Faza Aulia serves as secretary and publicist? Why is one person saddled with two posts and responsibilities?” I asked strangely when researching the structure of the committee of the event on the proposal before me and found the name Faza Aulia in the name of the person who served as secretary and publicist.

“Faza knows all LPM data, sir. That's why he served as the event secretary.” This time it was Tania who explained to me as if I was a coach who knew nothing about the ins and outs of this campus Student Press Institute. “And if Mr. Gibran asks why Faza also served as a publicist, it's because the relationship of the boy is terrible, sir. Almost all media in the city know who Faza Aulia is, and they will not hesitate to sponsor Faza who comes to their office.” continued Aruna with a proud tone as if his colleague named Faza Aulia was a valuable asset that must be protected and preserved by LPM.

“And later in the afternoon at three we have to hold a follow-up meeting, sir.”

“OK, let me first learn the proposal.”

Again, a strange feeling crept into my heart when I realized that I was going to meet Faza later in the afternoon in the LPM meeting room. But considering how our meeting last Friday afternoon was so unobtrusive it made me sigh deeply and close the proposal in my hands. Even two hours ago when I was teaching an Islamic management class, Faza did not turn his head towards me in the slightest. Choose to be busy with books in front of him and occasionally look out the classroom window to see what. Making my feelings even more unnerving and choosing to end the lecture even though my teaching hours were still fifteen minutes.

And as if it wasn't enough with the meeting in the classroom two hours ago, this time Faza and I passed each other again as the girl walked alone to the campus museum while I was breathing shoes and sitting on the terrace of the mosque. Again our gaze met for a few seconds before the girl lowered her head and hurried to walk into the museum reserved for women.

“What mistakes have I made without realizing?” my mind while reaching for the glasses that had been lying before me and playing with my hand. Breathing deeply and do not want to move from the mosque even though now the place is deserted and only remains Mr. Ridwan, the chief security officer who is also the imam of the campus mosque.

It would be an exaggeration to think of such a thing as if Faza and I were hostile lovers. But in fact I thought about it too and made me feel like I was facing my sulking boyfriend. Again I felt that way because of the fact that Faza and I had met long before so I felt the need to know why the child was impressed as if away from me.

If only then had I chosen to hold back my steps and not come out of the faculty office, would we be as ugly now? If only then had I chosen to pass by without having to look at Faza and his friend, would that girl be throwing her face away every time we had a look? I don't know, it feels like something is bothering the child so much that it always makes him look anxious.

“Sir Gibran,” I just realized that I had been sitting in this place for almost an hour when a voice sounded near me. The voice of a man who had been sitting before me for some time and looked at me with a look of sympathy. Mr. Ridwan, a middle-aged man still complete with black peci and security uniform and a holster draped on his left shoulder.

“Pak,” muttered me while smiling for the sake of courtesy to Mr. Ridwan.

“Not back to office sir?” there is a worried tone that I heard so clearly from Mr. Ridwan's question to me. And for some reason, I believe that Mr. Ridwan has been watching me since then until this man feels the need to reprimand a young man who looks so pitiful like me.

“Teaching hours done, sir.”

“So.” This time, Mr. Ridwan straightened his leg which he had bent before he took a deep breath again. “Sorry if I interfere too much sir. But I see Mr. Gibran looks agitated once since.” Exactly as I thought that this man had indeed been watching me from earlier until he needed to invite me to talk like this. But, I think everyone who sees me too would feel sorry to see a man sitting alone in the college museum like a lonely poor man. Same with Ridwan.

“Actually no. Only sensitive people are aware that there are lecturers who are nervous in the campus museum.” Answer Mr. Ridwan and chuckle at the end of his own sentence. It made me laugh and suddenly I remembered my father in Jakarta. If seen, Mr. Ridwan is the same age as papa with their hair that has begun to whiten in some parts.

“But humans are wrong and restless sir. Life is delicious if there are no problems and ayem only?” again the phrase Mr. Ridwan reminds me of papa even though in reality papa never said such a sentence. And it is true what Mr. Ridwan said if as humans, we always have a gap to feel anxious. It's just that it's a shame that I feel uneasy because of a feeling towards the opposite sex at my age of 28.

“Pak Ridwan, can I ask you something?” mulaiku who somehow got the courage from where. Obviously I'm not the kind of person who would tell a problem about my feelings to people I haven't even known for three months. But the way Mr. Ridwan was watching me and the way this guy was saying his words so calmly and confidently made me want to tell this guy my problem.

“About a soul mate, is it possible that a man who only knows the basis of religion can mate with a girl who is so awake his wife?” two seconds later I thought that Mr. Ridwan would laugh at me because of the question I asked him. Of course I thought that this man would laugh at me because that question was not one that a grown man like me should ask.

“Of course you can, sir. If God has willed, what is impossible?” But in fact there was no laughter or insulting highlight from Mr. Ridwan. This man actually folded his legs back and watched me for a long time as if he was observing his son. “But isn't it clear in al-qur’an itself that women are good only for good men? Such is the law of God, sir.”

Of course I know that. Without having to open the scriptures even though my reason can explain if good women are only intended for good men. But, I still doubt whether I even approached the criteria of men be it or not.

“But again Allah is merciful, sir.” Ridwan continued after a while I just kept quiet without refuting or asking him. “All can be strived. Like a woman who repairs herself in order to get a good man. Even so with men who want to get a sholihah woman, he will try to be sholih first.”

My heart breaks hearing Mr. Ridwan's words. I knew that every good woman would be kept for good men. It's just that my ego as a man always underestimated such things because all this time I was too proud of what I had as a man. To assume that all women would be devastated by everything I had, while I always hoped that there would be good women coming up to me and offering themselves to marry me. I always expected such a woman while I did not even care and never looked as good as I was until I was so presumptuous as to expect such a woman.

“A well-guarded girl can only be picked up in a good way anyway, sir.”

Again I was like slapped by invisible hands by the words of Mr. Ridwan. Hownot? I even had the chance to imagine that I could make Faza my lover even though I knew very well what the girl was looking after herself. How could I think of such a path to get a girl like Faza Aulia who was so attentive to her footsteps?

“Indeed it is not easy to find such a girl.” This time, Mr. Ridwan's eyes are like observing someone outside the musolah while smacking a thin smile. It made me follow the man's gaze and find a girl talking to her colleague beside the musolah. A girl who makes me restless is half dead and she who I unconsciously made the topic of conversation with Mr. Ridwan. “But once Mr. Gibran gets a girl like that, then Mr. Gibran will be the luckiest man in the world.” continued Mr. Ridwan who still has not shifted his eyes from the girl until the girl in gray hijab passed and disappeared behind the entrance of the campus.

“Fetch a soul mate in a noble way.” I muttered unconsciously. Making Mr. Ridwan pat my shoulder while smiling thinly.

“Come to his father and ask for his blessing. God willing, there is no girl who does not get crushed if picked up in such a way, sir. Especially if the man who picked it up was in the class of Mr. Gibran.”

“How about I get rejected, sir?”

“If Mr. Gibran is rejected, it means that you two are not a match and God has prepared a better match for you both. The rules are that simple, sir.”

Also true. What if I get rejected and break my heart a second time? Ah, if only I had as much courage as Arifin had. The man even so boldly filed a ta’aruf invitation for a girl he had never even met.

* * * * *