Milky

Part. 33

The night soot slowly descended enveloping the universe. Carrying the roar of cold air attached. Crowded steps were heard on the streets, even light talk was echoed. The young man walked alone, wearing a cocoa and sarong complete with peci as well.

"Eh ... Nak Bima, please! Every now and then young people become priests" said one resident patting the young man on the shoulder. He who had just held a prayer rug, stopped in a hunchback. Getting confused on the old man who became his teacher all this time.

"Ec ... Mr. Ustadz ...." He scratched his non-itchy head, rushing to the man when he realized who was standing next to him.

"What's wrong? Every now and then young people lead in front, no problem, right? I'm sure you've been able to imitate the community here," he said again increasingly making Bima wrong.

He glanced around, some were smiling towards him. Some nodded in support of Mr. ustadz's speech. Among them, a pair of teary eyes stared at him.

"But Bima felt unable, Mr. Ustadz. Bima's reading alone was not as eloquent as the others. I'm afraid of being wrong." He lowered his head, not daring to look at the misty bead in the distance filled with hope.

Mr. Ustadz patted his shoulder twice, smiling his wrinkled lips looking at the humility that Bima had.

"Father often heard Bima recite every month Ramadan. I miss reading this son of my father. Can Bima give the antidote to the heart of this old Father?" he said interspersed with a contrived cough to convince Bima.

"Come on!" His vulnerable hand led Bima closer to the location of the priest prayer. The young man was unmoved, still lowered his head yet dared to raise his face.

"Sir Ustadz ...." The right hand of the elderly man was raised against the protest from Bima. He raised his face, facing the worshippers who had lined up. There, in the third shaf, the God smiled proudly at him. He nodded with his eyes condensing. Cave boy! Mumbled in a heart filled with gratitude.

Bima glanced at ustadz sir who was at the first shaf, his lips smiling his head nodded slowly giving support to Bima. Iqamah. All the worshippers stand tall in their respective rows.

Bima took a deep breath and threw it away slowly. He turned to face the worshipers with a reverent attitude that is rarely owned by young people in this era. Convince his heart that this is a new science that he must take advantage of.

"Sawuu shufufakum, fainna taswiyatash-shoffi min tamamish-sholaat. Straighten your shaf, because the straightness of shaf is the perfection of prayer," he said full of authority.

Not surprisingly cave, cave children are trusted and can be priests praying here. Thank God, O Allah. Thank you for all the blessings you have given to our family.

The god wiped the corner of his eyes. He co-opted with other worshippers, "Sami'naa wa atho'naa." Which means, "We hear and we obey."

Bima turned to face the qibla after making sure all the worshippers straightened the line. Intention is read, Maghrib prayer time. His hand was raised, the sound of takbir echoed throughout the mosque even heard to the houses of the surrounding residents.

"Allaahu Akbar!"

"Allaahu Akbar!"

Verse by verse chanted Bima with a soothing murottal tone. God shed tears in his prayers. Remembering the sins he had committed. Never remember God, much less worship Him.

The sound of Bima's voice teased Tina who had just finished taking ablution. The woman prayed at home. His eyes glazed over, his heart pounding. "Grotto boy." His grave mumbled softly.

The voice though sounded far away, but Tina's ears were wary of hearing it. He established prayers following the takbir of the voice of Bima.

Bima turned back, raising her hand after a long breath. Prayers after prayer flow like a calm river. The god sobbed, his shoulders shaken violently. He could no longer hold back the pace of his crying when Bima made a prayer for both parents.

"Robbighfirlanaa dzunuubanaa wa liwaalidiinaa warhamhumaa kamaa ribbuunaa shighooroo." The prayer was repeated three times. Bima turned around, experiencing ustadz with reverence.

Jama'ah next to Dewa patted her shoulder after rubbing her face. "The Father of Gods must be proud to have such an amazing child like son Bima. You're very lucky, in this world alone already have savings." He was ready to reveal his heart. The god did not respond, nodding his head in response without a word.

"Dude!" Bima sat down in front of him who was still down to cover his face. The god raised his head, grabbed Bima's body with a cry that continued.

"Babeh is proud of you. Thank you for making Babeh feel useful in Babeh's old days," he said while patting Bima's back proudly.

"The Lord is truly among the lucky ones. One of the charities that will not break even if we have been landfilled is a righteous child. Who always prayed for his parents." Mr. Ustadz smiled as the God took off his embrace and looked at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Ustadz. All thanks to the teachings and upbringing of Mr. Ustadz until my son can be like this. Really, the services of the Father will never be able to repay with anything," said Dewa with a pure heart.

"Together, Sir. All this is also inseparable from the role of Father and Mother at home. You are parents who have succeeded in educating children. All right, I'm ahead. Assalamu'alaikum!"

"Wa'alaikumussalaam!" It passes along with all the other worshipers. Leave the Gods and Bima sitting opposite. He should be proud to have a beautiful child who will always pray for him later, but there are things that make him restless from it all. And it was clearly emanated from his black manic.

"Beh, what's wrong? Why is Babeh daydreaming?" Bima looked at the sad face of God. The old man again shed tears remembering who he was for Bima.

"Babeh is proud of you, Bim. Babeh also thanked Allah for being loved by your rich children. Babeh's heart was also relieved, but did Babeh include any luck? While Babeh does not know your prayers will nyampe anything not for Babeh ama Nyak in the future," he said bowed.

His heart was completely agitated considering there was no blood tie between them. He doubted the prayers that Bima made for both parents. Whether the prayer was on him, or on the real parents of Bima. Will he get a part of that prayer?

Bima bowed, thinking. He didn't know that there would be this kind of feeling. He himself did not know what to answer.

Bima rubbed the back of God, a little lying is fine, right?

"Beh, said mr. ustadz. The child's prayer will be to his parents even though they have no blood ties because parents do not have to give birth to us. Babeh ama Nyak Bima's real parents even though Bima was not born from Nyak's womb, but the prayer that Bima read all for Babeh am Nyak. Only God knows our hearts, Beh. So, let God do it all." Bima smiled as the old face before her lifted up and looked at her. He hugged Bima tightly.

"Thank you .. Thank you because you consider Nyak ama Babeh as your parents. Thanks, Tong. You're emang-"

"Child of the God Babeh!" tukas Bima fast. Smile those wrinkled lips. Bima buried his face on his shoulders remembering the advice of the ustadz when he first taught.

"As for the matter of child prayer, the hadith that calls the prayer of the child sholeh, which is meant is a biological child because the biological child has its own position and law in Islam-"

"As for the adopted child, the side seen in the matter of prayer is the side of the asbab (cause). If he becomes a pious person because of his adoptive parents, then every sholeh charity including prayer will reap rewards for his adoptive parents. Wallaahu a'lam." Bima closed her eyes. Whoever God and Tina are, to him they are true parents.

The god took off his embrace, embraced Bima's shoulder with them leaving the mosque.