RAINBOW STORIES
Part 1 (meeting)
The sun was so hot this afternoon, I gulped down the mineral water I was carrying with me without any waste. I let out a deep breath and leaned my body on the stop chair. I open my green bag to pick up the agenda notebook. One by one today's schedule I look forward to. I demand my schedule turns out.
“excuse me, can slide a little ?” the voice of the man on the bus I was on.
The voice of the man on the bus I was on told me to shift this tiny body so he could sit down. This athletic man with a dominant Javanese face and fair-skinned yellow immediately sat next to me. The bus was full that day. Passengers had to sit up and some had to stand up.
“pak, front intersection stop ya” triakku on bus conductor.
The bus driver immediately hit the brake after hearing the instructions from the conductor. I stopped at the crossroads of the great sultan. The man next to me also came down in the same place. I don't know him, nor does he know me. Looks like this man is a man who is indifferent, cold and not suitable to be a friend. My mind saw the man who got off the bus before me.
My house is still a little far from the crossroads. I decided to stop by the Mbok Nah stall to buy dinner side dishes later. Vegetable stalls Mbok Nah is always crowded especially if the month of Ramadan. Many food menus are served dietalasenya. Starting from spinach, vegetable lodeh, mangut catfish to rendang meat. The price is also suitable for students like me.
“Mbok, oseng mushroom same tempe bacem yes wrapped plus nasi”, message me on Mbok Nah.
“siap mbak Shaki, just returned home in the afternoon gini ya mbak ?”. asked Mbok Nah while wrapping my order.
“iya Mbok, there was a schedule of guidance sripsi mbok so that cepet finished his lecture.” I replied while giving money to Mbok well.
“wes gek completed immediately trus married ya mbak”, goda mbok well to me.
“hahahah can aja mbok well this, just a girlfriend I do not have Mbok. Thanks ya mbok”. Gelak laughaku while saying goodbye to mbok nah.
Adhan Magrib echoed my focus on the laptop screen. I rush to get water and prepare to go to the mosque for congregational prayers. After the magrib I used to invite small children around the house to teach together. Sometimes they help them complete their schoolwork.
Since I was a high school student in the mosque after the magrib is my mandatory activity every day. I don't know, it feels like every meeting them in the mosque makes me excited and relieve this tiredness in the body. With them my days became full of jokes and laughter. Especially when looking at their innocent behavior which is very adorable.
“yuk who wants adzan isya tonight?” ask them.
“Dodo aja mbak shaki, yesterday Dodo not so adzan zuhur because”, Dodo triak full of enthusiasm.
After the prayer, I immediately returned home. But tonight something is different.
Suddenly a man made me stop my footsteps. I immediately turned to the source of the voice that stopped me tonight.
“mbak, mbak, sorry it's sandals that were worn mistaken”. Tegur Pras
“hah ? oiyaa sorry mas, I hunted so wrong take sandal”, I replied while paying attention to the sandals I was wearing.
That guy, I don't seem like a stranger. Not a local, but I feel like I've seen it. His voice was like I'd heard, but I don't know where. The distinctive sound of soft Javanese medok eared. I forgot and why I thought about it.
“hih, shaki kok can do wrong take sandal”, grutuku in heart.
This night was colder, colder than the night before. Mom made me my favorite hot chocolate last night. Every day I always take the time to have a warm conversation with my mom and dad. Telling all my activities throughout the day and discussing many things of course.
I live with my father, mother and sister. Since I went to college all my needs have not been borne by my parents. My parents only pay for my tuition and practice. Transport money and snacks are no longer their dependents.
This is what they taught me and my brother. More appreciative of the effort and responsible for my own life that I get from this. There were so many life lessons that my parents taught me in unique ways. It is different from the way parents raise their children. That parenting style difference is what makes me even more proud to have parents like them. Teaching his son to be able to fight in the bitter life of the outside. Teaching the science of life that is not in the course though.
“please have the blessing yes sir, next year hopefully shaki can finish college shaki”, I replied.
“your plan after this is like what son ? want to continue education again or want to get married?” ask mother.
“shaki anyway want to further education ma'am, shaki marriage problem still no views for imam candidate shaki bu”, replied I blushed embarrassed.
“Can mom and dad help you find priest son?”, asked mom gently.
“later ma'am, Shaki still wants to fight alone first. Later if Shaki's age has passed 25 years, mother and father can help shaki find family priests for shaki,” subtly reject me.
Actually I still have no thoughts of getting married in the near future. I was afraid that the feelings I gave someone would break like before. I've been broken before because of different beliefs. Never mind, it has become the past and become a reinforcement of the heart to no longer carelessly put affection and love on someone. I'll take a break tonight.
I lay down this body while looking at the sky – room sky. Last night made me smile. Sandals can be confused with the lalaki, who knows what his name is and where he lives. Coincidentally our sandals are the same – black colored mountain sandals. It's just different in brands. It's only natural that I took the sandals wrong back then. Without me knowing I've been shut up in the night.
“shaki, wake up son. dawn yuk darling”, mother's voice from behind the door woke me up.
I hurried to take my ablution and stepped into the mosque. My house is very close to the mosque so every time I am home I always try to pray for worshippers in the mosque. After praying I immediately help mom – mom to share raw vegetables and tofu for friday blessings this morning. The mosque is always crowded with its worshippers. There are also many activities.
“Pras, please help nak shaki lift mustard here ya”, bu Lastri voice break my daydream.
“Pres. Who is Pras ?” my inner asked – ask.
The man, apparently named Pras. Niece of Lastri from Semarang. It turns out that Pras lives with Miss Lastri because he continued his S2 lecture in Jogja. Pras lectures in the department of sharia management. That's all I know from Lastri's mom about Pras.
Pras, the man I met on the bus at the time. The man whose sandals were switched in the mosque last night. The man who chants his adatennya reassuring. The man who now helps me teach – children to teach at the mosque. Glad to feel, I'm not alone accompanying – children learning to teach now.
The more days I get to know the figure of Pras. The man I thought was unfriendly and gluttonous turned out to be completely different. He is a man who loves – children very much, is patient and good at comforting – children. It is fitting that – children are very happy with the presence of Pras in this mosque complex. Although Pras is not the type of person who talks a lot but he is quite fun to be a storytelling friend.
“Shaki, you when graduation”, ask pras suddenly
“three more months mas, this is still the process of judisium”, I replied.
“then what's your plan after this?” ask Pras again
“emmm... I really want to further education mas” I replied steady
I call Pras with the word mas. Mas in Javanese language like brother or sister which means poured. I am two years younger than Pras. It is only fitting that I call him Mas Pras. It is also a form of respect for those older than me.
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