Love Me Because of God

My love is Dashed by Five

I walk this road again. Third time in a day. I know actually many other streets that never get stuck and will obviously save me a lot of time traveling home from work, but these streets are different. I'm even willing to get stuck 30 hours a day on this road. Very, very willing. In fact I'm being deliberately hit by traffic jams on this road right now. Also circling around intentionally. It's unique, isn't it?

What's wrong with this road? There's nothing wrong. Only my heart is wrong. My heart should be tangled with long traffic jams, with tourist buses, inner-city buses, public transport, taxis, private cars and motor vehicles scrambling for roads. Crawl slowly. Should have my heart tangled and my emotions overflowing because I want to fast until – like yesterday-yesterday. But not for the last three days. Even I happily, whistling low, enjoyed the hot-stale state of oxygen scrambling and the tripling, which was three times more time-consuming. Enjoy every second.

What the hell's going on? Em. there's no. Except my jammed heart works in conjunction with this traffic jam. It was jammed by a strange feeling that threw away all the fairness while I was being hit by the traffic jam. Tinder against all the upset, all the upset, all the emotion. Jammed due to the love flowers of a Traffic Police cop who copped the traffic jam. I thought if I didn't get stuck, one day, it could be my heart that's stuck working.

I don't know his name. The police always stood there. On the verge of one of the Simpang Lima roads leading to Banyumanik – the most intended line to leave Semarang, and install vehicles that pass, when to advance, when to stop. He replaced the traffic light function that is currently being repaired. The young Polantas girl did not look tired at all, her smile was always flashing when letting the rider forward, or stop. The whistle was always on his shoulders. It looks so graceful and charming. The sky is getting darker. Red clouds began to flow gently in the sky, followed by a simple prayer call. In my heart I did’a, continue to do’a so that God would allow me to know him more closely. Also so that He might give me a chance to look directly at him and ask his name. Also allow me to make her my life companion. Who can I ask but Him?

Arriving at the Banyumanik track I glanced at the Polwan, he stopped the pace of my car on cue, and his smile almost stopped the pace of my heart. On his left chest was a small nameplate that read “Raya”. Turns out it's his name. The universe seems to be held captive by it. Ah, how poetic I am today.

Actually I had several times the chance to reprimand Raya. How not? I've circled three times a day at Simpang Lima for three days in a row. Sometimes even more. But somehow, just seeing his smile, my feet immediately limp, my heart suddenly lazy to beat – to be tight, my tongue is muddy, my heart is, my brain was slow to think and unable to remind me that the opportunity might not come twice. I often worry about Raya stopping there, or worry that the traffic lights are fixed. Because if that happens, I will no longer have the chance to see my police. Presumably I am the only road user who berTO’a so that this road remains jammed. At least until I get to know Raya more closely. Indeed do’a selfish and troublesome other drivers who cross this road, but now I really want to be selfish. I need to be selfish right now.

Once again I turned around at Simpang Lima, then I turned my car to the magnificent Baiturrahman mosque with joglanya Javanese architecture decorate the city that began to be overgrown with skyscrapers, skyscrapers, The mosque is on the side of the Simpang Lima roundabout line, I parked it near the tower. After the prayer, I was stuck long enough before God. Asking for many things and especially asking for Raya. Lord, only You can grant my request, please allow me to know the figure of the Kingdom more closely, knowing its origin. Lord, make Raya my missing rib, then give it back to me as soon as possible.

~ Kingdom ~

I should have resigned three days ago. Leaving these jammed streets and my routine in the middle of it. My mother had asked for it a year ago, and I myself had made the determination to complete my new Islam for a lifetime with a hijab as soon as possible. So when my instincts did not permit this intention of mine, I decided to resign. I think it's so much better, I can't stay in the middle of the street for the rest of my life.

I really enjoy my work. Every slow-moving car crammed, horns clashing in the sky, faces of impatient emotions, faces of stifling and sour faces, and sometimes swearing of the driver of the vehicle. Like casting a drama show where everyone is asked to play an antagonist. Sometimes I think that they seem to be the best in the climactic scene of a play. Surely before being hit by traffic jams they laugh, smile, happy, and have imagined the faces that await them at their destination. Or maybe you have illustrated the dishes prepared by someone in his house there. So I was here, in the middle of this street, sometimes no longer because of the demands of the profession, but more because of the call of the heart to help people who have difficulty crossing due to traffic jams to immediately get to the place that is their respective destination.

But I'm a little surprised. There's something holding back my resignation, it's a little different. And makes me still want to work under the blazing sun of the streets. Curiosity in one unique figure that I just met this time from so many road users who are always changing throughout my profession. One of the thousands of sour faces, tired, emotional, and even cursing, there is a face that looks so calm driving his car, so relaxed and enjoying this traffic jam. Three days ago I felt like a pair of eyes were watching me. And instead of me not knowing, the pair of eyes belonging to the handsome young man in the black car with the license plate H 679 AR continued to pass through this road three times a day. With a peaceful face and sharp eyes, as if watching me gently, just looking from afar. I always try to ignore it, but that look is always directed here. Come to think of it, which girl was not captivated by the meaningful gaze of such a handsome young man? Among the dozens of other pairs of eyes that in a full day of raining, blaming and as if to hold accountable for the streets that are always jammed. The only driver who smiled back as I was messing with him stopped, or advanced.

“Raya, want to pray first? I've. I can replace you,” a colleague of mine reprimanded. I soon woke up from a long daydream. “Ah, yes. Thank you,”, I said, smiling and letting my partner take his place. I walked towards the Baiturrahman Mosque which was closest to my current position.

The black H 679 AR car is parked next to the minaret of the mosque. Maybe the owner is performing worship at the place I'm going. If I recall the young man with those pair of shady eyes and sharp eyes, I would find something. There's something about this young man, which I can't define, I can't understand why. But every time I saw his face, I felt like I was going to be close to him, like a signal identifying that there was going to be a bond with him. Hmf, I smiled to myself. Funny with my weird thoughts. Just know him no, I don't even know his name. But this feeling is very strong.

After praying, I asked God for forgiveness, then asked for many things in my do’a praise to Him. And my heart could not be prevented, I also asked the young man to Him, indeed I could ask who else if not to Him?. Yes Rabb.. If indeed that unique young man will be someone meaningful in my life later, then ease our path, O Rabb. introduce me to him, and bring us closer in Your way.

In front of the mosque.

Not usually Adjie linger sitting in front of the mosque. Although he has often bermama’ah maghrib in the Baiturrahman mosque since it was hit by traffic jams one month ago, he usually immediately rushed home. It did not occur the slightest thought to greet and chat for a while with fellow jama’ah. But today is different. Adjie even sat for a long time and chatted with a young man who seemed to be an employee of one of the companies around Simpang Lima, clearly visible from his appearance.

The young man left, and Adjie who was still reluctant to move from his seat. And what Adjie never thought, the angel who had been three days made him willing to linger in traffic, and deliberately hit himself stuck in the path of the pantura sitting next to him, not one meter, and without hindered others. He realized with a fresh face due to water wudlu looks increasingly ayu exposed to tampias light rays. He was wearing his shoes.

She was wearing her other shoe. Adjie still has not had enough preparation. He was still counting the time, still trying to find suitable words to use as greetings. To be honest he has never been this nervous before, but only to say ‘hai’ or other greetings, when usually he is able to speak straightforwardly and firmly in public. Presenting the project he worked on perfectly. But love affairs turned out to be another story.

Raya is almost done wearing both shoes. There are only a few minutes of opportunity left. Adjie's tongue is still muddled. But he had to act or there was no other chance at all.

“Assalamu ‘alaikum, Bu Polwan?” greet Adjie. Finally the courage to say hello to him gets too, perhaps because usually he is not indifferent and never cares and greets a girl then to start a conversation is even harder than working on any mathematical formula. Reluctant and not brave.

“Alaikumussalam.” Answered Kingdom. “I'm no stranger to your face, it looks like your subscription is stuck in my area huh, sir?” continue Raya open the chat. Adjie laughs in embarrassment when he finds out that Raya has become aware of her actions these past three days. Beyond Raya's expectations, it turns out that the opportunity came. An unexpected opportunity Raya would be able to get so quickly, just a dozen minutes ago she asked Him. Is it really granted now? Is this how he introduces them?

“I Adjie, Bu Raya,” said Adjie introduced himself. He cupped his hands together in front of his chest.

“Wah.. Why do you already know my name?” Raya surprised. But then Adjie pointed to the signboard embedded in the girl's uniform. Laughing realized it.

“I like to forget I already published the name in my uniform.” Raya Continuation. Still mingled with laughter.

“How long is your stay in Semarang?”

Adjie frowned. As if to think, “remember me since childhood, age 10 years rich.” Raya mangut-mangut understood. “Have memorized Semarang dong yes.” the beautiful girl commented. Adjie nodded steadily assuring. He is indeed a native Semarang, only his father had transferred to Blora and he just returned to the city of Atlas at the age of 10 years.

“By the way, why do you keep going back and forth at Simpang Lima?” Raya smiled jailily, while Adjie was already laughing embarrassedly with a face that began to blush. Caught already.

“I like to forget the road,” replied Adjie accordingly.

“Ahahaha. You have been a Semarang since the age of 10 years do not memorize the road Simpang Lima?”

“I am not not not memorized, just like to forget..” Adjie kink, reasoned.

And their conversation continued crisply, as if the two old friends who had just met again after so many years had no news. The conversation was also the beginning of the story that was engraved to the end of their ages.

Someone once told me that do’a offered to people who do not know that he is prayed for, will be granted. I think, maybe because the do’a that both are the same then the two do’a are pulling each other in the sky and then quickly resolved. As to how the story of the two of them continues, let us let God finish in His way.