The Pledge of Love Embroidered Heaven

CHAPTERS 17. The Silent Soul

The dew outside still did not disappear. The cold atmosphere and the shrouding fog stretched out about to pick up the second shadiq. A natural painting object that is played very well every day. The color of the scratches that have been engraved as the canvas of life gives the meaning of a real story feel. The early dawn was greeted with the chanting of the holy verse of the Qur’an that echoed from the chimneys of loudspeakers in the mosques. They, mankind always try to strengthen their faith by doing ‘spectacular’ worship that always fosters the belief that God is always close to them.

Azzam continued the recitation of the holy verse of the Qur’an while waiting for the call of the dawn. He reads with qira’ah using a beautiful voice, softly calm and decorated with two-three voice grips in the first and last half. His tone rolled like a wave. Tajwid sounds so eloquent. A beautiful combination, moving at the same time soothing. Similarly, if he is teaching in class. When exemplifying how to read one verse in the Surah of the Qur'an in an instant the sound of his voice seemed to be transformed into a cool breeze that cooled the classroom, even though the weather was hot because of the dry season. And at this dawn, it seems that he will wake me up who is still curled up on the bed with those beautiful chants.

My body began to wriggle, trying to fight the cold that stuck in the pores of the skin even though it was wrapped in a blanket. With the weight I support the body, the joints feel pain and pain when moved, the head is also a little pain. Usually if the gelajanya this a sign my body is not fit. I sneezed nonstop last night. My hand is pointing to my forehead. Pretty hot.

I was still sitting on the edge of the bed to collect the lives that were still divided and wandering in the dreamland. The eyes also feel heavy and clenched.

When it started to stand, suddenly my body staggered a little to nudge the nightstand above which perched a sleeping lamp and a glass of water. Luckily my hand was able to dispel the decorative lights to not fall, but the glass in the corner of the table managed to escape falling down, causing a loud clang when colliding with the ceramic floor. The uproar I created, momentarily stopped Abang Azzam chanting the holy verse of the Qur’an.

“Nisa, why is it?” He asked with eyes looking at the floor.

I replied with a grim smile.

“It's okay, let Nisa get it done. Brother continue to teach him.”

I immediately passed to the back taking a broom and a scrap of trash to throw out the shards of shard strewn across the floor.

Right after I cleaned the broken glass, the dawn prayer rumbled. I rushed to the bathroom to wash my face that was still tangled after waking up, then took ablution water.

On the other hand, Azzam who has completed the reading of the Qur’an immediately tidied up and stored back the Qur’an in his bookshelf. After all was done, I immediately unfurled towards the Qibla and put on my face and took the position as a teacher behind Abang Azzam.

A series after a series of prayers have been done. Dzikir and do’a after prayers become a cover before we finish praying. I approached Abang Azzam to greet and kiss his back. My hand was suddenly held back as I was about to remove the link of my hand from his.

“Nisa, hot nih?” he said as he touched my jidat.

I pretended to be surprised as my hands pointed to my forehead. “Hah, no really, this is usual later also subsided,” I said while folding the prayer mat that I had finished using.

I said to myself in myself, maybe this is the effect after the afternoon of the bedroom I sat pensively under the rain for about an hour.

Azzam's hands suddenly swung to touch my chin, I suddenly looked up straight at his eyes. Now our eyes meet each other. I saw the glare of Brother Azzam's sharp but steady eyes coupled with fairly thick eyebrows, and a firm jaw. I began to believe that maybe this was what hooked women up with him. His fans out there may be heartbroken to know that he is no longer single.

“After this, Nisa should take Paracetamol medicine, yes?”

I tried to dodge, lowering my head to hide my face that was starting to heat up and tense up. “Iya.”

The mud that was still attached to my body released it and stripped it off to the hanger. Brother Azzam's body disappeared briefly from the room and returned with a glass of water and paracetamol pills he had taken from the medicine box.

“Abang, we make it to the tomb of Father and Mother today?”

“Iya.” He thrust a glass and medicine at me, who was sitting by the bed.

The paracetamol medicine that Abang Azzam gave me immediately took, then swallowed it quickly so that through the esophagus helped by sipping a glass of mineral water. Still attached a little bit of the bitter taste of the medicine on the tongue.

After taking the medicine I lay in bed, but did not really close my back eyes leaning in the back of the mattress while playing the phone to read articles and WhatsApp messages that I had not had time to reply.

Ufuk in the east began to protrude to the surface. One by one the lights that are still on in each room are turned off. The window that is still tightly closed has also been reopened. Sunlight pierced through the clear glass and pierced into the room.

My footsteps swung out of the bedroom, towards the front door of the house. I pushed the door that was still closed. Instantly, fresh air shot in and slid rapidly into the nasal cavity and inhaled as greedy oxygen.

While enjoying the atmosphere of the morning while I also exercise small, in the midst of the beauty and coolness of the morning at that time. From a distance, there was the sound of chicken trees that greeted each other with other chicken trees. They seemed to be giving a code to his brother to welcome the sunlight that was still timid to appear.

In addition to dewdrops that have not searched on the sidelines of grasses and plants. Puddles of water caused by the rain all day are still created, forming pools everywhere. Soil seems not able to suck at once excessive water.

A beautiful polygon formed from the scattering of morning sunlight. I immediately ran into the house back to capture the moment with a cellphone camera.

Ting... Ting ...

The sound of clanking dishes with stainless spoons echoed from the kitchen. I who was in the room just intend to take a mobile phone directly turn towards the kitchen. It looks like Azzam is bowing his body in front of the refrigerator while dismantling the food ingredients inside, it seems that early in the morning he already wants to just fill his stomach immediately.

In my mind suddenly came the idea to tease a little Ustadz on this one. Counting retribution a day ago when he bullied me while studying Fiqh. I'm styled like a youtubers turning on the camera and recording every activity and daily routine.

“Hai guys, now I'm already in the private kitchen, nih,” while pointing the camera to each side and corner of the kitchen. “Although not broad-are very but delicious and comfortable to use cooking.”

The camera is now starting to be directed to highlight the activities of Brother Azzam.

“Now I am in the kitchen already accompanied by a very phenomenal figure,” my style. “He is a very famous Ustadz throughout the school, he has many fans you know in school.”

Such behavior made Azzam grinning himself.

The camera lens was back in his direction.

He did not say but only put his thumb between his fingers busy cooking.

“Hmm... guess, so now the hunt list for the contents of Ustadz heart, who knows some of you are lucky, ntar I giveaway you know,” my usik casually on Brother.

Did not accept himself continue to be disturbed when cooking Abang Azzam then took the phone from my hand.

“Haloo..” His hand waved to the camera lens that was still on.

“Assalamu’alaikum warrahmatullahi wabarakatuh, ahlan wasahlan. My sisters who are always blessed by God, thank you in advance if you have put more trust and attention to me. It is from the deepest heart that I want to clarify and declare that I belong entirely to the heart of a beautiful and kind woman. She's the woman who owns this camera who's now a wife to me. And insyaallah wife of the afterlife.” Ustadz Azzam style is like a famous actor who is holding a press conference in front of journalists and fans.

Hearing that sentence, I momentarily silently gasped. What the hell is he saying. I mean to work on it but I think I'm even the one who colonized him. I then took back my camera that was still in his grasp.

“Ahm, so long ago yes my channel this time. Adios. Bye.” I delivered the closing sentence with a smile that looked a little pressed even though this was not a real youtube channel but I had to close it with a sweet sentence.

“Why stop?” brother Azzam asked when I stopped turning on my camera.

“Nothing," I replied succinctly.

“So excited once, now his face turned wrinkled.”

I replied with a wry smile.

Azzam always tried to impress his wife and feel comfortable living with her. Although he knew, that Dhanisa had not been able to accept this fate sincerely. Households built without love seems to be difficult and torturous. But Azzam always put trust and prayer that God will lower the feeling of love in the hearts of people, so it is not impossible that their household will someday be blessed with love.

***

Is there a season that cannot be changed? Is there a time that does not bring change? Is there a recording of life missing from the view of life? One day, we will all come back to Him. True death may indeed have stopped all steps that go hand in hand with life.

Have we not been told that life in the world is only a transitory place. But the real life and the eternal is in the Hereafter. Beloved people may have gone to meet their destiny first to decide on togetherness. But what is wrong if we always beg and pray to’a so that we can meet again in His heaven later. Aamin. Reuniting with the separated families of the world.

Death is just a time to wait for the next meeting. The ones who had left first, only took a step earlier. We will also meet at a different time, in a different place. So death, which has cut off the company of man with loved ones, is actually just a reunion of those who have gone before.

This place is a deserted complex, some parts on each side of the road are only filled with lush trees. The sound of my footsteps clenched through the shoes I was wearing. The same voice then followed behind me. I only came here with Abang Azzam.

We were going through part by part of the cemetery area, to get to the tombstone. The moist red soil is again wet, attached to the bottom of the shoe sole.

Now I have reached closer to the tomb with the tombstone that has been in cement about half a meter by one meter with the inscription on the name of the fulan listed on it, there are also small pebbles on the surface of the mound.

Without lingering scattered flowers I spread on the mound of land on which has been filled with white gravel decorations. For a moment, the longing suddenly reappeared, as I stared at the three gallons of gravestones that were lined up. She is my mother, my father and my brother Khalid, my cousin more precisely the son of Uncle Ahsan and Bu Hamidah, who are now my second parents.

Five years have gone ...

My hand shook when it touched the surface of the tombstone. Feels cold. Like a house that has not been in a long time.

“Mother, Father and Brother Khalid. It's me Dhanisa. Dhanisa your little princess who you used to embrace when you were sad, hug when you miss, kiss when you love. I came to see you guys here.” My mouth murmured so softly.

“I miss you guys,” my voice starts choking.

The sound of the melody of the birds perched on the tree around, as if hinting so that there is no more hole in the chest that can spread pain. How much their departure has hurt me. I looked at myself who was living alone.

I looked around the tomb. A few meters away, I saw the surrounding pusara covered in grass that seemed to start rising on some side of the tomb, the gravestone began to fade. I was thinking where the Fulan family is. Has he come to make a pilgrimage here. Or they are actually present through the chant do’a just unable to meet directly to the navel of the deceased.

“Nisa, let's say do’a,” Voice Abang Azzam turned back my gaze to stare at the navel in front.

The chants of dhikr and do’a flowed from my tongue and poured out for those who had gone first. Abang Azzam led me to take up the three-fold tradition, reciting the Surah of Al-Fatiha, followed by the Surah of Al-Ikhlas three times, the surah of Al-Falaq, the surah of An-Nas, then recite the tahlil sentence thirty-three times, and the cover recites do’a. We then doused the mound of soil with the water that had been prepared.

When I finished I closed my body. Once again, I rubbed their wet headstones after being drenched with water. My vision was blurry and painful even though I did not shed tears, but I felt that there was a clear liquid piled up in the eye rims. It was heavy and was about to spill. But in my heart I understood that if I missed I could cry. Whether it is shed with tears, or crying in the heart.

Abang Azzam had not yet issued a word, except when saying dhikr and do’a earlier. It seems like he was trying to let me miss this time, because he knew yesterday I was so emotional in expressing sadness that I was willing to wet myself under the rush of rain.

“Let's go home,” he said as the stairs rubbed my back, slowly. “Where are you going after this? Or are we walking? Determine according to the wishes of Nisa.”

I haven't answered Azzam's question yet, because I don't know where to go after this either. Obviously, I don't want to go home yet. Just short. In my heart in front of these three heads, I said that I would leave now.

I got up and walked out of the cemetery. Before I got into the car, I turned back to the tomb. Not a goodbye, because I know that this farewell is only temporary.