NIGHT BUTTERFLY

#233

The night is late. The sound of geckos in the corner of the house occasionally rang out, surprising the atmosphere of the night. The atmosphere in the house of Master Izzul Islam seems lonely. Only the sound of Inak Nurmah reading the Qur'an in the back room. Suhaini and Nur Jamila who were ordered to accompany the inak Nurmah in the room had already fallen asleep in his sleep. Like being lulled by the vibrating sound of Nurmah. Sleepiness does not also touch the eyes of the Nurmah when the other residents of the house are already lulled in their dreams. When he awoke alone, Zulhiyani's shadow was like dancing in his mind. True said Rhoma Irama in the song; if it is not new felt. His presence is precious. His entire time together with Zulhiyani was like being twisted back. Starting from the time Zulhiyani was a child until he returned home from boarding school in a state of illness. It all goes by so quickly.

But he did not want to continue to dissolve making his heart sad. He remembers very well said Mr. Guru Izzul Islam after burying Zulhiyani. He chose to take ablution and read the Qur'an. Before Suhaini and Nur Jamila fell asleep, both of them listened to his rote. He was determined to take it little by little until the time came for God to call him into His presence. He is now part of the family of Master Izzul Islam. Zulhiyani had unknowingly given him great happiness before taking his last breath. She considers Zulhiyani to have fully reciprocated her services as a mother. He has gained comfort and peace as the father-in-law of Master Izzul Islam. There's nothing to worry about anymore. He will use it as best he can to worship Allah.

* * * * *

Elsewhere, Qurratul Aini appears to sit staring at the graves of the late Master Faeshal and Cristian. The two he loved had gone before him. Leaving empty dormitories, which had been painstakingly built. About two hundred santri had left the pesantren one by one, a week after the death of Master Faeshal. He had tried together with Cristian to think of a way for the pesantren to rise again. They realized they did not have the capacity to give religious instruction to the santri-santri, but at least, did, they can hire teachers in the field of religion to convince the saints that their children still get a proper religious education. But hope is back. Cristian had abandoned it and abandoned the shared ideals that he could not continue on his own. God did not give him a child as his last hope to continue the ideals of his late grandfather. The dormitories will remain empty, creepy and may have been inhabited by astral beings.

Qurratul Aini lowered his face. He sighed with despair. Again he looked feebly at the graves of Master Faeshal and Cristian. He stepped slowly towards the frangipani tree that grew in the family cemetery area. Several frangipani flowers bloomed in her petals and sprinkled on her second grave. After that he turned around and stepped weakly down the empty dormitory terraces. His sandal voice echoed in the silence of the night. As he continued walking, his tears spilled. In his sobs he hummed sadly about his lost heart. Tonight. While the others were deep in their sleep, Cristian's real shadow smiled before his eyes.

Death is the breaker of all pleasure. Without understanding how much he still wants to spend a very long time with his loved ones.

Why didn't he knock on the door first to announce his arrival?

Suddenly he came and broke down the door. Pulling her husband's hand from his firm grip. He did not look at all. She did not care at all for her screams, begging that her husband be returned to her lap. He did not care at all for his tears to run out because they poured down the dry land.

Qurratul Aini stopped his steps. He lifted his head and gazed deep into the stars that were twinkling in the dark sky. He sighed long. Wiped his tears and stepped limply out of the dormitory.

* * * * *

Tonight he would like to think for a moment in the place where Almarhumah Sulastri often spent half his night on the terrace of the house. This morning, when Bagas visited him. Bagas asked when he would get married. He is now three heads. The right age to be married. His busyness takes care of pesantren, making him forget the business of that one. Questions he had been thinking about this week. But the problem is, until now he has not had someone who fits in his heart. He never dated himself. Sulastri had never asked him about the matter. Even if he would ask, he would leave the matter of his marriage completely to Sulastri. Including his wife's business. But when Sulastri had died, the suitable figure for him to give up the affair was Rianti. He wants his household to be like the household of Mr. Guru Izzul Islam. What an amazing home. A commendable household mirror whose existence is extremely rare. Full of peace with godly wives. Getting a great woman like Rianti and Jamila is very difficult, but at least one day he gets a wife who is one goal with him. Managing pesantren and devoting themselves to pesantren to printing generations who love their religion. No need to be beautiful. The piety of a woman's heart, will make her husband will not be bored to look at her, even though her face is mediocre. And he hoped that his true intentions would be granted by Allah.

Fahmi gave a long sigh. He set his eyes towards the sky. There was a woman's face now appearing in his mind. He had only seen him once when he joined Master Izzul Islam to visit his home. Perhaps in terms of age, it is much older. She was a widow whose husband had died. But his heart seemed interested in him. There was a zahir charm from the woman that seemed to make her keep a shadow of her face in her mind. And he is sure, the charm of the zahir that is seen is the embodiment of his inner charm. Unfortunately, he had no access to contact her. Even if there is, he must wait until the mass of his iddah runs out. And that's about four months and ten days since her husband's death.

It is good that he prayed istikharah first asking for guidance from Allah swt. If Allah's guidance directs him there, he will meet with Master Izzul Islam to ask for an opinion.

Fahmi returned a long sigh. After fixing the peci and the torch, he stepped slowly down the porch of the house towards the guard post.

The atmosphere in the yard looks lonely. Mr. Bayan was seen sound in his sleep when he looked at him from the outside. It's 3 p.m. It is time he woke up the santri to pray tahajjud. He immediately stepped into the boarding school.

The sound of melodious chanting of the holy verses of the Qur'an is heard from the pesantren Hall. The students who were first awakened by Fahmi, have sat neatly waiting for dawn to arrive by busying themselves with reading the Qur'an.

The wind blows breezy. The sound of cock crowing began to sound earthy accompanied the sound of the Adhan that began to be echoed.