Fall of Dream Pesantren (Move WRITE)
Sweat Mixed Tears
Sweat dripping from Ammar temple, he has completed his sports ration this morning by cleaning the entire house. Sometimes he really likes to clean if the atmosphere is quiet, just like his current home. The house he occupied only with his mother, inevitably had to be empty when they both had a special agenda.
"Mommy must be surprised to squirm at the house like this." Inner Ammar after moving some goods and cabinets to get a new home atmosphere.
At first, he chose to decorate his room first. A calligraphy poster belonging to his father was taken, installed next to the entrance of his room. Several paintings depicting Abbasid history are also placed at the entrance, just to the left of the calligraphy. The sleeping lights he installed on top, no longer below which usually serves to accompany learning. Some other decorations he dislodged because it did not fit his idealism.
Not only decoration, Ammar also wants to change the interior position of his room to get a new atmosphere. The large wardrobe was taken out alone. He took a cloth mat, lifted a little, then dragged it and hoped the floor was not scratched because the bottom of the closet was coated with cloth.
After moving the closet, now the turn of the bed that must be executed, moved its position to look neater. From the first to face east, now the bed of red sheets is facing North. The TV room moved in a Western position, with its face facing East. He is more comfortable with a position like this because he can enjoy the TV and presumably later fall asleep with a position tilted to the right and facing the qibla. Two Sunnahs in one phase.
The dry sweat dripped back, now more because of the extreme energy released to change the order of his room. Not to mention he had to move his wardrobe alone, the 1x1.5-meter teak cabinet.
Ammar sat for a while accompanied by the sound of a cooling fan. The wind instantly slapped the flowing sweat, driving it away to immediately vapour. Not yet had his sweat dry, Ammar got a call from someone. Turns Icha.
“Halo, Cha. How to call again?”
“I just got a phone call from Halim, he said he misses Azmy.”
“Wahh . .”
“He said it was good at home if in a quiet cottage no one namein.”
“Waduh . . . Up to the side of Halim.”
“Hehehe . . . By the way, have you seen the university news yet?”
“Which one?”
“That was this morning, you know.”
Ammar recalled that Icha had said something important to him before he left for his grandmother's house. Icha told him to look at the university web because there was news related to him. He immediately opened his laptop and turned on the WIFI at home.
“Why, Cha?”
“Just look at dehh . .”
Ammar was a little curious about what Icha said. There's no way he'd be called twice this morning if it wasn't really important.
“Udah?”
“Bentar, process.”
Even happier, some of the essays he wrote earlier were published in international journals. Early in UIN Jakarta, he had sent some essays in English, but there was no further news about the development of his essay. It turned out that his ideas contributed to solving fundamental probematics about the clash of modern medical theory with some of the Prophet's hadiths on health.
“Look, right?”
“Alhamdulillah, already.”
“Surely seneng, yes . . .?”
“No, Cha. Just plain.” Ammar said with a small laugh.
The success of Ammar did not escape his scientific discussions with several students from the medical faculty. He often gained an understanding of the relationship between religious aspects and biological aspects in this life. He tried to connect the two and poured what was on his mind into an article and he sent it to an international scientific journal. Despite his young age, he did not want to lose to other Muslim professors and intellectuals whose age was far from him.
Actually Ammar had several discussions with Icha and some friends. The discussion is always warm because Icha often issued ideas that ultimately underlie the writing of the article. But he only knew Icha on his way home by train. He helped a woman who turned out to be Icha who he often had discussions with while at UIN Jakarta.
For Ammar and Icha sizes, memorizing faces is difficult, especially when meeting the opposite sex. Understandably, each time the average perksusi present can be dozens, sometimes hundreds. Like the symposium, it's just that all get a flat content exposure ration guided by two experienced moderators.
“Daunggu lhoo . .”
“Beres, ask what?”
“As far as you are, anyway awaited by him yes . .”
“Halo.” Phone's closed. Ammar is a bit anxious with Icha. His flirtatious nature makes him interested to know more about him. Starting from hobbies, food, drinks, and other things related to it.
More and more times Ammar and Icha communicate. Especially when Ammar underwent a period of recovery of mild brain sputum, Icha continued to supervise the therapy. Because he graduated in doctor education, little is certain to know about the drug and the steps that must be chosen so that Ammar quickly recovered.
Ammar looked back at the screen of the laptop that had his picture taken during the thesis exam. He still could not believe what he was doing now. He tried to hit his own hand to make sure it wasn't a dream. Sick, it turns out this is the reality. Eyes glazed. His lips were soaked by tahmid's reading to Him.
“Dad, your eldest has passed the magister. Your son has become the best in his generation.”
“Sister, your foolish brother has fulfilled your wish. Now you can see your careless brother has changed.”
Only a few sentences could he say in his bow. Her tears slowly flowed, soaking her cheeks until they dripped on the floor right in front of her laptop. Missing those two special people made him stop at nothing to keep streaming tears of happiness. The two always supported him. They both comforted him in his sad days. He is always patient with the shortcomings he has.
