Tagged in Ikhtiar love

Determinedly

He put down the bag, and sat down next to Khaled. His back he put on the wall of Mushala. Both of his legs he offered. He took a slow breath. Closing eyes. Then it was late to listen to the recitation of the holy verses of the Quran. A quick, fluent and pleasant read. Not hard nor shaky. It listens with all its heart.Immeasurable coolness. Coolness that exceeds the morning dew of spring.

Ten minutes later the Divine verses stopped. He opened his eyes and greeted,

"Assalamu'alaikum ya Akhi."

Khaled turned to him. Little surprised.

"Wa 'alaikumussalam wa rahmatullah. My God, Aki Bryan, it's been a while?"

Khaled always welcomed him warmly and always called him aki in front of his name, Bryan. That's the name he introduced to Khaled when he first met three years ago. Every time Khaled called his name, he felt a strong sense of familiarity awake.

"There's a little time to talk, Akhi Khaled?"

"Of course, with pleasure. All my time is for you Akhi. "

"It can be explained that there is already a term. Which are muhim, muhim jiddan, makhdzuf, and which qiraah faqad?"

"By pleasure, yes Siddi."

Khaled then opened his notebook, and explained to Bryan tahdid all the courses he had received during his lecture. He explained them one by one with detail and patience. He also gave Bryan a chance to ask questions. And all the questions he answered at length, until Briyan was satisfied.

"There are other things I can help you with Shaykh Bryan .? "

"Enough, God willing. Don't tell me I asked you this."

"Ana fi Khidmatik ya Siddi."

"Jazaakallah khiiran."

"Now replace me. Actually, two days ago I was looking for you on some business. Can I tell you something?"

"It would be nice if there was anything I could help."

"Well remember your visit to my village two months ago? "

"Yes. What a pleasant visit. A quiet village. And a warm and fraternal welcome. I was very impressed. Jazakumullah khaira."

"Remember when I brought you to the house of Shaykh Abbas? "

"The Imam of the mosque?"

"Fright."

"Remember when we're at her house."

"God willing, a feast that I will never forget. Friendly and very educated family."

"Remember someone who serves food and drinks."

"Do you know who that veiled woman is?"

"Maybe his daughter. "

"Fright."

"What's wrong with her daughter?"

"Look, Brother.. "

Not yet Khaled explained further, a student wearing a typical uniform Al called Khaled from the door of the mushala, he said,

"Yes Khaled, sur'ah! "

"What's wrong?"

"Doctor Yahya called you in his study. You should go there now. It matters!"

"Now?"

"Yes, let's hurry. He was in a hurry to have business!"

"mmmmmmm. Alright"

Khaled stuffed the book he had read into the bag. Then said quietly, "Akhi Bryan, afwan, I live first. Let's continue our conversation elsewhere."

"O yes good. Greetings to Doctor Yahya."

"God willing."

Khaled rushed out. While Bryan, he was slumped in the middle with a part of his heart wracked wondering what exactly would Khaled talk about the youngest daughter of Sheikh Abbas? While part of his heart has wandered in the Market Sayyeda Zainab. Yes he had to go there to shop for raw materials to make tempeh and meatballs. He had to go there if he wanted to stay alive and finish college there

Bryan looked at his watch. It was one hour before he left, the bus to Sayyeda Zaenab did not come, but the bus to Atabah had passed many times. The bus stop in front of Masjid Al was crowded with people. Some sit in a stop seat, but the ones that stand are much more. The Imbaba bus is coming. People are running up. A mother - a mother with all her might trying to reach the door of the bus. His hand had grabbed the handle, and when his feet were about to climb, the bus was walking. The mothers did not let go of her grip. Be he dragged. The passengers and people who saw him were screaming in anger. A middle-aged man shouted out loudly in anger,

"The fate of hayawan! "

The bus stopped, and the driver laughed heartily without appearing sinful at all. The mothers managed to rise and the anger did not stop. Bryan looked at it with a claustrophobic heart. Countless times he had seen such an event. A bule tourist looks fun perpetuating the scene of silliness. It seems the tourist was getting by by a very unique to him to bring to his country. Bryan felt his chest getting tighter. Is it worth this kind of silliness happening in front of the oldest Islamic campus in the world? Ask in the heart.

The bus headed for Imbaba had disappeared from view. A bus arrived shortly. He was very familiar with hearing the bus number. Eighty streaks. A very legendary and famous bus for Southeast Asian students living in the Hayy El Ashir area. Legendary for being cheap. Far too close is the same. Only ten piester. Is not cheap. And famous, because it passes through a strategic path for students. The bus was from Hayyul Ashir Nasr City passing Hayyu Thamin, Masakin Ustman, Al Nasr City Campus, Muqowilun, Duwaiqoh, Al Azhar Maydan Huse in Campus, and ended at Attaba.

In addition, it is also famous for the frequent occurrence of pickpocketing in it. So often Indonesian students call it, "bus eighty copet", not "eighty scribble". Despite this, the bus was still loved and close to the heart.

As soon as eighty scribbles stopped, from the front door many passengers were descending. And at the back door passengers were lined up. He saw a teacher riding up. He watched carefully, it turned out Prof. Dr. Hilal Hasouna, Professor of Hadith Science. He was always amazed by the attitude of tawadhu' and the simplicity of the shaykhs and professors of Al University . In his country where there is a great teacher who wants to rush on the bus.

Slowly eighty scribbles went away. Five seconds later the bus was numbered sixty-five. "Here we go" sizzled bryan. His heart was so happy and happy. Always in this world, if someone is waiting for something and something that awaits is present, then there is happiness that is difficult to describe. Among the other buses, sixty-five were the most beloved of bryan's. Because the bus that always deliver it to the Market Sayyeda Zaenab. The bus has become a very familiar tool in supporting its business. Tempe and meatball business.

As soon as the bus stops some people get up from the pin to the back. The bus is not full. No passengers were standing. Not many empty seats. All the passengers who had just boarded, got a seat, except Bryan. He must stand