Assalamu'Alaikum Love

The Beginning of the Meeting

Fazas

Surabaya, February 2017

Monday morning in early February, the air was cold, the blanket thick and the rain. It's really a perfect blend to get back curled up under the covers like a lazy person. It's just that the desire to laze around on a rainy, cold Monday morning is defeated by the fact that today, the beginning of the second month, is over, I had to end my semester break and go back to my three-year routine. Lecture. A monotonous activity with morning commutes and evening commutes done by most early twenty-somethings like me.

And remembering that didn't stop making me sigh upset. But again I realized that I had to carry out my duties as a student of noble character by arriving at the campus half an hour before the lecture began. Geez, I sound like a very diligent student like this. But really, I'm just trying to carry out my student duties as a future agent by being a good and responsible person.

“Za, it's dawn dear.”

Well, I'm bragging because the truth is that it's four hours and thirty minutes and the dawn prayer stopped about fifteen minutes ago. And I'm still reluctant to just drop down the blanket that wraps around my body to return my mother's call. Just squirming when someone turns on my room light and makes me squint.

“Better prayer than sleep, Faza Aulia.”

If only the one who turned on my room light and whispered that sentence was abah, I would have jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to fetch water. But I can still tell which distinctive raspy voice belongs to my brother and the voice of the Wahyu mas, my elder brother.

“Build, deck. Fajr has been past twenty minutes, you know.” Say another Revelation that this time raises the tone of his voice.

“Five minutes left, mas. Still sleepy.” Reply with a hoarse voice. And I assure you now that Revelation is raising next to his thick eyebrows and thinking of ways to get his little sister up to perform dawn prayers.

“And abah will arrive home in five minutes.” The unrelenting revelation made me jump out of bed. Grab the hair tie half-consciously before running to the bathroom. But I was absolutely certain that the Revelations were laughing to see me in the mist for hearing my brother's name before my brother came out of my room.

Abah, how I respect the figure of the man so that just by hearing his name I lost the drowsiness that had been trailing my pair of eyes. No, I'm not afraid you're mad at me for finding your daughter hasn't even woken up until she gets back from the mosque near our house. I am not afraid to go on a rampage because I was half an hour late in fulfilling God's call this morning. But because I respect that guy so much I don't want to let you down.

True, because you will be very disappointed when you find your daughter is late for morning prayers up to half an hour because last night had to be overtime until one in the morning to work on a writing project that I was working on. God, I really pray that the Revelation does not complain to you that I woke up late this morning.

“Girls can be as big as slander, it can also be as wide as a reward field for parents. So, be proud and careful of you because being a girl is a very noble task.”

And hearing the voice from the kitchen made me recall the advice of one of my teachers. Ummi Usammah, one of the babysitters and teacher who took care of me since I was ten years old. Well, even though I'm really hard to admit, but the truth is like that.

I, Faza Aulia who even had to be threatened by her older brother to wake up and perform dawn prayers was a former boarding school. The fact that sometimes makes me ashamed of myself because my religious knowledge and awareness of the obligation to carry out religious orders is still very shallow. Although not every day like that, it still feels like I do not deserve to bear the gallar ‘santri’ behind my name.

I was ten years old and I was in fourth grade at elementary school when my brother offered me to change schools and start going to school. Abah never forced me to go and offer me whether I would be willing to stay in a boarding house and separate from my parents and older brothers at such a young age.

“If Faza mondok, later Faza school how, bah?” and it was a question from the little Faza who was still so innocent, also curious about what a hyacinth was and what it was like to be a santri.

“Faza remains school as usual kok.” And softly you gave me understanding that I was going to stay in school like my other friends. Like Karim, like Nanda, also like Revelation. “Only, Faza school twice. The next morning, he went to school with his mother and studied math and language. Afternoon until evening Faza naji with other santri friends learn fiqh and books. Also do fun things like tahzin and tahfidz.”

At that time I did not even know what fiqh was and what kind of books I would learn, as well as what tahfidz and tahsin were like, although I nodded vigorously when I received my offer.

Again I nodded so excitedly when I told him that he had also gone and made many friends. In the past, when a Faza Aulia was still a ten-year-old child, who had in mind only ‘how fun it was to have many friends’. Just like that until I no longer think that being a princess at my tenth age is not an easy matter.

“Monday? So you have been a student of boarding school, Za?” I even remember the shocked face of Hana in the second half of our college when Hana and I shared a story about our childhood.

“Since my age ten years if not wrong.”

But still I don't want to be considered a 20-year-old girl who has lived in a boarding school for seven years. I'm still an ordinary girl. Just like the others despite the fact that I have a different educational background from my friends.

“Originally you know, Han. I belong to the poor santri.” I'm not boasting, because in fact Faza Aulia is not a gentle girl like her appearance. I had even forgotten how many times I was called by the cottage nanny and made Umm Usammah stroke my chest because of my mischief.

“There are no bad guys like you, Za.”

I don't know, there are too many memories that I got during being a santri in one of the boarding houses in Blora. Until it felt like it took me weeks to recount all the memories I had during the cottage there. Starting from the homesick that attacked me in the third month I went to cry and made Ummi Usammah foggy. My rest when I have to deposit memorization of the Quran on Ummi Haidar and I still do not memorize the half of the goods. Even I can still remember when I and Ainun, one of my roommates quietly went out of the room at eight in the evening to pick mangoes next to the house of the babysitter of the cottage.

But, one thing I always say to those who ask me about what it's like to live apart from my tenth-year-old parents. I happy. I even repeatedly thanked my brother for putting me in the boarding house at such a young age.

* * * * *

“Beautiful views on Monday morning, Za.” I almost dropped my phone in my hand when a voice suddenly sounded beside me. Hana, who actually displayed her typical grin when I turned her head and looked at her sharply.

Hana Harsono, the beautiful boat-haired girl who inexplicably liked to shock me like this and ended up making me give her a horrified look. Hana, the beautiful girl who somehow we were able to get so familiar from semester one to semester six and made our friends often dub us with conjoined twins.

“Rain in the morning is indeed a beautiful sight, Han. But not something that you should admire like that.” nojarung I laughed a little and put the phone in my hand into the pocket shirt. Linking my hands together and leaning against the guardrail in front of me.

“You think I'm a rain-worshipping girl who's going to sparkle just because it's raining?” again, I just laughed a little at Hana's words that sounded funny to me.

“Then?”

“See below there.” Hana answered excitedly and pointed towards the parking lot below us where a white sports outlander had just entered the parking lot and a man came out of the car.

And I did not not realize that what is meant by ‘beautiful view’ by Hana is not rain that still fell. But a man in a brown batik suit and dark pants was standing next to his car, and looked indifferent to the drizzle still coming down. Just for a moment, before the man walked into the building and disappeared from my and Hana's sight.

“I think the students will be more excited to take part in the morning lecture if the lecturer is like him all.” This time it was Hana who was chuckling at the end of her own sentence.

“Indeed you are sure that he is a new lecturer here?”

“Jeez, Za. You see the uniform dong, it's the uniform of this campus lecturer.” this time Hana sentences full of emphasis as if I was an idiot girl who forgot what uniforms for the lecturers on the campus where she attended college. “I don't know if you can forget what the uniforms of the lecturers are like after a semester break of one and a half months.” Hana continued as she followed me walking up the stairs to climb to the fifth floor where the morning classes would be held in ten minutes.

“Too many projects, Han. So forget what the shape and color of the uniform of the lecturers on our campus.”

“Many projects? Lots of money too dong? Ah, I ran out of money during the holidays yesterday.”

“Kok sentence you even offended me huh? Even for your travel ticket to Lombok by economy plane only, I have to work a full year by writing hundreds of articles.”

Again Hana just laughed in response to my sarcastic sentence. Right, when I had to crouch in the room and write dozens of articles, with her share Hana showing off photos of her holiday trip to Lombok. It only made me feel alone because I never even thought of traveling that far.

“Lain times we go for a walk together.” And I just nodded. Ending our conversation because Mr. Beni, a lecturer in Business Ethics who will guide our class, was standing at the door of the class and was seen talking to someone.

I don't know why, but I was very curious about who Mr. Beni talked to and ignored the students who had been waiting in class for ten minutes.

* * * * *