Dreams of Devi

Neighbor's Fajr

"Have you got your hands on it, Re?" I asked Rehan.

"Here, that's why Rehan came home to call Mbak Devi. After this want to play, invited friends to make a difference."

Here's what I didn't like when Rehan went to TPQ. Children who participate in teaching very much while the teaching staff is only a little. This makes some children who are not teaching are actually engrossed in playing alone or even disturbing his friend who is depositing his reading to the teacher.

"If you've already sawn let's go home. You will play the same game the most. Let's go!"

"Later, huh, Ma'am?"

"Mbak told me to Dad, you know. You if in TPQ instead of naji even play continues." It must be threatened, otherwise this will not make Rehan obey.

"Yes, come on. I take the bag first, pay to ustaz."

Completely shameless, had come to TPQ without a hijab, now force her sister home. Ah, even if anyone sneers like that I don't care. Finally Rehan and I went home. Maybe Rehan is actually not lazy to follow TPQ, so he accepted my invitation.

"Do you know who did it?" ask me to discuss the problem of Rehan's bike that his friend hid earlier.

"Know, but Madam Devi I tell you her name will not know either. He's a bad boy."

"Why can the bike be hidden?"

"Not knowing either. He said my bike was bad when I saw it he whispered to me."

This kind of incident is exactly the same as what I experienced when I was in fourth grade of elementary school. When I came home from school I was confused because my bicycle which is a used item given by my brother does not appear in his usual place.

Fortunately, Miss Eva, who is my upperclassman, told me where my bike was and told the story that happened. Classmate Mbak Eva who is the head of the gang does like to look for a commotion. My bike he purposely hid with the reason it was very ugly.

It's been a long time, and I almost forgot about it. Had it not been repeated in Rehan's life, I might not have remembered it. I always pray that the harsh reality I experience does not repeat itself to Rehan. However, the truth is Rehan's life is a photocopy of my story.

"It's so bad to be a person. Patience, yes, Re."

"Yes, Mommy."

***

The day has changed and now I am just home from school. As usual, I was still busy with the chickens he wanted to sell tomorrow. My stomach is very hungry and needs to be filled immediately.

I take a plate of rice with enough side dishes. The father who was finished with his work then approached the table and sipped a drink that he had prepared himself before.

"Sir, what are you eating?" ask my Father.

"It doesn't exist, sir. What's up?"

"Can you please go to Bu Darmi's house?"

Oh, I just remembered that Mbak Ika who is the eldest son of Bu Darmi was about to get married the day after tomorrow. In the village is still often done activities gotong royong help people who want to have a wish, even a few days before the event began neighbors have arrived. This activity of helping each other is called rewang.

"Mr didn't go there?" my many.

"Father this morning has helped lift the same table as a loan chair at home, Mr. RT. This afternoon I can not go there again, so I ask you if it is not bother," explained Mr.

"Okay, Sir. Devi will be there. It's getting crowded, dong. Isn't it day after day-H?"

"Oh, okay, sir. After eating Devi straight there."

He wanted to buy chicken in a neighboring village. After finishing the food, I immediately lifted the clothesline that was dry all because the weather was very sunny. All also kitchen furniture that is still dirty I wash, not too much.

After everything was done, I immediately rushed towards Bu Darmi's house. I brought my own knife from home remembering the experience of the rift that I used to be unemployed because the knives the host had were limited in number.

I saw the yard of Bu Darmi's house which was roofed with tents or commonly called binoculars. Some loudspeaker salon boxes are already arranged on the side of the road. Some kids play with their friends. There are also those who run to become parents' scolding because they run to the kitchen.

I remember when I was a child like to pretend to look for Mom when she was rewang with the aim of being given food. The food is actually very simple, sometimes just vegetable squash or chickpeas accompanied by fried tempeh. However, I think any food in the house of people who have wishes is a delicious food.

"Who is this?" I just sat down, an old grandmother named Mbah Ginah held my shoulder and asked such a question.

"It's Devi, Mbok. Kang Basir's son. You remember, don't you?" sahut Bu Ina, the son of Mbah Ginah.

"Oh, Basir whose wife died?" ask Mbah Ginah.

"Ouch, Mbok. Sorry, yes, Ma'am. Mbah Ginah is already a bit senile and faint-hearted when you say," said Bu Ina apologizing to me. I just smile, old people are annoying sometimes, but I can tell them.

"Ngawur aja ngatain mbokmu is senile. I still remember, he used to be carried by his wife Basir in a stall. I really remember, really."

"Yes, yes, Mbok. Help peel the onion, yeah, Miss Devi." I'm nodding.

"Beautiful now. What class, Nduk?"

Mbah Ginah is still talking to me. I feel sad because some people who have come before me do not talk much and immediately work. So far only babble Mbah Ginah that I only respond with the word 'yes' or 'no'.

"Mbak Ina, what's your beautiful niece?" Bu Riris who was the brother of the hajat owner seemed to ask Bu Ina enthusiastically.

"Nela? The goddess? or Rudi?" I want to laugh, it could be that the nephew of the boy is mentioned.

"Okay, Miss Ina likes to joke around. Yeah, I mean that Nela. He's still one village to our own, right? If you're domas' daughter, will you?"

"Why should my nephew? Kan, there are a lot of girls here too, ma'am. Devi can do that too. Nela is the same height as Mbak Devi, really." I had a chance to find Miss Riris who glanced at me at a glance but quickly her expression changed.

"That's beautiful, Mom. I was also picky, dong, who was made the princess domas. It must be beautiful and her body okay too."

Maybe Ms. Riris thought my heart was made of stone and couldn't feel pain. Indirectly he insulted my physique which was nothing compared to Nela. I know Nela because as a child we used to play together in the courtyard of the mosque.

"Feelings of Bu Darmi who has no intention, why are you excited, Nduk?" tanya Mbah Ginah represents my heart.

"Yes, not papa. Marriage is also once in a lifetime, Mbah. Gotta be good, dong!"

"Sak karepmu, Mom. Nela obviously can't. He's on a study tour at his school."

"Yes, that's it." Miss Riris left us.

"Lho, Miss Devi is crying? Don't be sad, huh? Patience, Miss Riris likes it that way." Ms. Ina stroked my shoulders gently.

"I'm pungent because I cut a red onion, ma'am. If the problem is like that I do not take a headache," I said with tears screeching and occasionally a nose pulling snot that was about to fall. Ah, it's so painful.