The Muazin

Episode 1's

"Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar…"

The chant of the dawn prayer was heard again, already this past week, I was always stunned by the sound of muezzin chanting it. I don't know who it was, for sure he always managed to make me wake up early, just because to hear the sound of the chanting of his prayer so beautiful.

There are so many types of azan sounds that I have heard, various kinds of diverse tones are familiar to the ears, all of them are also good. But, unlike the sound of this one azan, the tone is different from the others. Although I also know, the voice of the azan must be different, depending on the muezzin who proclaimed it. But still, the azan sourced from my village mosque is completely different, even every time I hear it, it does not feel like a clear circle drips just like that. I touch that voice in my heart. And it never happened in my life before.

Distance of the mosque with a house about one kilometer. When the voice of the mosque is heard by the azan, the voice will be carried away by the wind. Sometimes very loud, then shriveled, even to the point of inaudibility, depending on the direction of the wind that blows and carries the sound of the azan. And it made me upset myself, when the morning wind hit, which then resulted in the melodious sound of the muezzin drowning.

To my surprise, only at dawn was the melodious azan heard, besides that time, there were other muezzins chanting it. It was the voices of fathers and little children, and it made me not excited. Not how-how, but if we hear the sound of good azan, it also affects ourselves and can channel more spirit energy to immediately carry out the obligation of prayer. 

The more days, my curiosity was growing. I want to know who the owner of that sweet voice is? Do I have to ask Takmir directly at the mosque? Nope, no! That's a shame. Then how, so I can know? I also do not have the numbers of the teenagers in the village mosque. If I had, I could ask them, and they would know.

Regret it feels, why I did not register to be a mosque teenager, so I could meet the owner of the beautiful voice. The reason I didn't become a mosque teenager back then was because of distance issues, and also no close friends joined in. A stupid reason indeed. And now I regret it so much.

"Mom, dawn's azan was really good, wasn't it?" I said to the mother who was preparing breakfast.

"Who do you mean that? That little boy's voice in the front hall?" Mother asked back.

"Eh, no, Mom. Not that.. who in the mosque Al Husna is loh, masyahAllah very beautiful sound of the azan, know who is azan?"

"Who is it?"

"Geez, if I knew, where might I ask, Mom. That's mommy." I pat the jidat.

"Oh, yeah how do you know. Find out for yourself."

That's my mother, never sensitive when her son is in a happy state. Won't help figuring out who owns that beautiful voice anymore, huh. Masa, I have to wait every dawn, just to treat this longing for the muezzin's voice. 

My mood really improved instantly, if you had heard the beautiful voice echoing the azan. I am also more diligent in worship, and have reduced the bad habit of stalling prayer time. So great was the influence of the azan voice, that I slowly began to improve myself in terms of religion.

***

My heart has been hit by a strange longing, how not? I miss someone I've never met before. Oh my God, just hearing his voice has made the body goosebumps, the heart thumping, and the mouth that is unceasingly saying the words tasbih. 

"Fa, wasn't it dawn?" I asked Safa when I was in the school cafeteria.

"Yes, yes, yes. My butterflies are still normal times." 

"All the voices of the Azaan are also different times. Depends on the person who mumbles," he answered flatly.

"Oh my God, Yes Robbi. I mean the azan from Al Husna's mosque is, Fa. The sound is so good, until you touch qolbu. Denger no?" I'm getting angry with him.

"Buset, lebay very. Ordinary dong," he answered while closing his ears.

"No horror?"

"No."

"By the way dong was."

"Why is it like that?"

"I think I'm starting to fall in love, Fa," I replied as I rummaged through the meatballs, staring blankly at the front.

"What's? Just who, no more jams, right?" Safa shook her hand in front of my face.

"Ish, yes. It's delicious." I clasped his hand.

"Who's in love, huh? Don't be the same Fian who is chasing you is it?"

"Oh my God. No, I've fallen in love with the owner of that sweet azan."

"Allahu Akbar! Zaya, Zaya. You're still sane, right? What if the owner of the voice is married, old, his face ugly? You still want to, huh?" Safa's thunderous voice filled every corner of the cafeteria, the other students were reflexively turning their heads towards the two of us. Really that kid.

"Huuuuu! Don't scream why. I'm still sane, after all I'm sure, the owner of the azan voice is young, has no wife, and has a handsome face." I began to imagine his figure. Tall, brown-skinned, pointed nose. He wears a white cocoa shirt, a black pekalongan special batik glove, and wears a peci on the head. Oh, how handsome that guy really is.

"God! Your expectations are always inversely proportional to the reality of tau?"

It is true, Safa said. I always fail if told to imagine something, the results must be beyond expectations. But this time I'm sure, the owner of the beautiful azan voice must be as I expected. 

———

Hiya! I brought a different novel. Thank you for reading. Hope you like it, yeah. Barakallahu.