Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

16. Wrong gift for the wrong man

...🍁God outlines destiny not without a plan, but there is always an implied message of the events that are expressed.🍁...

Hara's.

Jakarta.

For most people, the morning may be the most anticipated time. Where the sun greets the earth boldly, the sound of birds squealing out of the cage, the breeze of the morning breeze caressing the day. Being the most beautiful symphony, brings the spirit to pick up new opportunities.

Like most people who start activities in the morning, a pair of my household assistants do the same. Ever since the sun had not come out of the dispute, I had heard a noise from the direction of the kitchen.

The sound of running taps filled the bathtub, the clink of spatula collided with the frying pan, the rumble of the washing machine grinding clothes, until the sound of a broomstick scratches the backyard. The melody I hear every morning, almost the same since I was a kid until now.

“Mas, Hara! It's six o'clock ...” The voice of Mbok Jum shouted from the kitchen. I know he does it while cooking or washing used pot cooking vegetables.

I do not answer, because I already know the habit of mbok Jum. It was always the way he woke me, only half 6 but mbok Jum said it was 6. fifteen minutes later, mbok Jum again shouted, “mas Hara! It's six o'clock more, later late.”

I grinned, because I saw a long needle still in the number 10. I answered the cry of Mbok Jum only with an unclear mutter. Still reluctant I get out of the blanket, but I remember that today I have to leave once in the morning.

“Aden! Kumaha, or this hour not awake yet?” this one is Saeb's mang voice. Complete with a knock on the door.

I opened my eyes lazily, squirming, stretching my muscles. I took a rough breath after yawning and then I rubbed my eyes with both hands. Really, I'm still so lazy to wake up. But Saeb's voice came back I heard, this time he opened the door and popped his head, peeking into the room.

“Aden! Hilaf keg, yak! To the airport pick up Aden Amir family.”

“Iya, Mang ...”

I dropped the blanket, I put my legs down. The cold instantly ambushed, as my feet touched the ceramic floor of the room. It made me rub a rough face and was forced to pull my body up. Stepping gontai grabbed the door, out of the room.

“The hot water is ready, Den.” Mang Saeb gave me a towel. As usual, my housekeeper was always quick to prepare all my needs.

“Sugeng enjing, Mas Hara!” (Good morning, Mas Hara?). Sapa mbok Jum as soon as I saw me step through the kitchen. Only I replied with a lazy mutter as I entered the bathroom.

After finishing the bath, I saw the dining table was decorated with several dishes and bowls. Contains rice, vegetables and side dishes. The aroma of the cooking that had just matured tickled my sense of smell. Urging my stomach to make a sound, the sign of worms in my stomach was doing a massive demo.

Just now my hand was outstretched about to take fried chicken whose brownish color was appetizing. Suddenly there was a high-pitched sound from behind my back, making me pull back the outstretched hand.

“Kulino! Bar adus, close hugging, urung nganggo klambi, wes arep manganese.” (Hubliness! After bathing, not handing, not wearing clothes, already want to eat.)

I rolled my eyes, sighing in disbelief. The owner of this house is me, but it's like they're in charge. Always arrange what I do. Strangely, I always obey. Maybe because of the soul of my servant who has been ingrained since childhood. Or because they took care of me since I was a child, so I never had the strength to argue.

I heard mbok Jum rebuking his eldest son with a loud tone, “Yo ben nopo, to?” (Leave it, why, anyway?)

But her voice softened as she spoke to me, “Mas Hara wants breakfast now?”

“Let's go, Mbok.” I left the dining table full of food, walked into the room.

I put a towel around my neck after I wipe my wet hair. Dots of water still dripped from my hair, down to my shoulders, falling down my back and chest. I wiped it with a towel, without taking it from the neck.

I approached the mirror attached to the closet door, looking at my reflection there. Squeeze my chest until my stomach watches my athletic muscles. Then I switch I touch my face that looks fresh complete with water droplets from the front of the hair.

Small dots are visible around the jaw to the chin, rubbing with the palm of the hand, feels rough. I took the shaver from the table next to the cupboard. I cleaned up the little dots to make my face look clean and smooth.

When I finished, I pulled the hair in my fingers, and then I put the shaver back in its place. I lowered my head when my fingers touched something while putting the shaver.

I saw a book just lying between my things. I took the not-so-thick book, I rubbed the front of it. Clean, dustless. Of course because mbok Jum always diligently clean my room, there or no me. I empathize or not.

“Mas Hara! Breakfast is ready!”

I was just about to open the book, but Jum's voice broke the wishful thinking. I put back the book covered in moss green, “ya, Mbok.”

I opened the closet door, picked up a set of shirts, trousers and suits. I wear them one by one while I look in front of the mirror. I make sure my appearance is neat to the maximum by pinning a tie on the neck and applying pomed so that my hair is neat.

I took my phone and tablet from the table, but the moss-green book caught my attention. I don't know why I wanted to take it and take it out of the room.

A wrinkled veiled face greeted me with a fluffy smile. A distinctive voice complete with a gaze of his shady eyes always reassures the soul. My heart always feels calm every day, when I see it.

“All ready, Mas Hara?”

I nodded, I pulled a little both corners of the lips in response to her question. Mbok Jum pulled out a chair for me to sit on, as he has done for years.

“The car is ready, Den.” Mang Saeb gave me the car keys. He must have finished washing and heating the car engine. As usual, he has been doing for years.

Mbok Jum and Mang Saeb are a married couple who work as my domestic assistants. In the past, when there were still papa and mama, only Mang Saeb who worked here. As the driver who drove me and picked me up at school.

As for domestic affairs, mama prefers to do her own work. From cooking, washing to cleaning the whole house. Mama thought there was no need to use a housekeeper, because this house is not too big, mama also did not bother too much.

After mom and dad died, then mbok Jum asked Mr. Reza to take care of me. Because I didn't want to live with Mr. Reza.

Since then, mbok Jum and mang Saeb live here. They left their three sons in the village. But now their eldest son lives in this house with us.

I took a cup of coffee that was still emitting hot steam, I breathed deeply. The aroma of coffee made by mbok Jum is second to none, always deliciously soothing. Maybe I exaggerated, but I have never tasted coffee more delicious than coffee made mbok Jum.

I asked him, how do I make this great coffee? Mbok Jum said, the way is the same as the standard way to make coffee using a machine. There is nothing different from the number of coffee beans, the process of breaking down coffee beans to how to brew them. But why coffee made mbok Jum always has a distinctive taste.

‘Maybe because of the symbols make it with love and do’a. From taking the coffee beans from inside the container, put them in the machine, then brew the coffee grounds. Simbok always say do’a for Hara.’

That's the answer I got, the absurd answer that makes no sense to me. But I just wanted an answer that made me feel loved.

“Eh?” My daydreams ran out, when a voice came through my ear, right from behind my back. Make me turn my head, “Aden read a book about wayang?”

I frowned when Mang Saeb took a book wrapped in pictures of puppets that I just put on the dining table. Right next to my coffee cup mat, along with my phone and tablet.

“Unread, Mang. Just want ... later if there is time.”

I put down the cup of coffee I just sipped, turned to take an empty plate and then filled it with rice and vegetables and side dishes. Immediately I scooped the food, but it has not yet reached my mouth, mang Saeb prevented it, “read do’a first, oruh. Aden mah so always forget berto’a.”

I sigh in disbelief. Mang Saeb and mbok Jum is always complicated, what is the problem with them if I forget to eat once without berto’a?

I said, putting the spoon that was lifted. Cut out all ten fingers, cupping them on the table. Just as Mang Saeb pulled the chair next to me, I lowered my head, saying do’a. thank God for the abundance of food blessings available this morning.

“This good book ...,” mang Saeb opened the picture book of wayang face, when I finished muttering do’a. He glanced at me while taking a piece of paper from the book, “ like a woman's writing, from his girlfriend aden, yes?”

I laughed, until I had to drink water because it almost choked on food, “don't joke, Mang. Since when do I have a girlfriend.”

“What is it, Mang?”

“This is about puppet characters that are not in the story of mahabharata, but there are always stories about these characters every puppet show.”

“Mamang know about wayang? Mamang, right, not javanese?”

Mang Saeb was still flipping through the pages of the book, but I knew he was listening to me. Because always answer my questions, “mamang is indeed a Sundanese person. But mamang's in-law, his father mbok Jum was once a mastermind. So you know a little bit about puppets. Especially the characters in this book.”

I glanced at the book held by Mang Saeb. The picture of the face of the puppet that became the cover of the book was no stranger to me. But I don't know what his name is, because I'm not interested in puppet stories.

“Konon said, these figures were created by sunan kalijaga. As the medium of the spread of Islam in Java. So first ... sunan kalijaga preach by using wayang.”

I was listening to Saeb's mang story while enjoying breakfast. Rice combined with vegetables and fried milkfish complete with sambel terasi make me eat voraciously.

“Semar, the father of the Javanese. He is described as the spiritual advisor of the kings. Gareng who is described as a thin figure, means concerned, sorrow, sadness, and abuse.”

I didn't ask Mang Saeb to tell me, but what was written in the synopsis of the book seemed to interest him. So he talked non-stop, telling the contents of the book that the first page had never been seen.

“Petruk. The brave one who always speaks out. Symbol of the person who gives all the selfless treasures to be devoted, as well as careful in acting.”

“The last one, this. Cumbrous. Funniest character at once sucks. Said my father-in-law, this bagong became the most beloved character of punakawan by his masters. To the extent that the gods are reluctant to scold, even though Bagong often speaks ceplas-ceplos.”

“In the performance of wayang kulit, the puppeteer often uses the character of Bagong to criticize the government, or to voice protests against the circumstances.”

“Wah, who bought this book would love the same wayang.” Mang Saeb glanced at me who was enjoying a meal, “but aden, right, does not like puppets. Do not even know about puppets, so this is definitely not a book has aden.”

“Nunopo book, to, Sir?” (What book, yes, sir?)

I allowed the movement of chewing food, watching Mang Saeb whose forehead was still furrowed deeply while staring at the book and I took turns. While the eldest son of mang Saeb had taken a seat opposite me.

“Suwun, Mak.” (Please, Mom.) He said when mbok Jum put a cup of tea in front of him.

“Already, already! Eat not while talking.” Mbok Jum has joined us.

The dining room became full, the chairs surrounding the dining table had been filled. As usual, we had four breakfasts and as usual, they only started eating after I finished eating. I wouldn't mind if they ate first or were with me. There was no employer or maid in this house. All the same, because we need each other.

I took the tablet, then activated it. I checked Reyfan's schedule today, which I made last night. I researched again so that nothing can be wrong or missed. Do not forget to open the latest news from the most trusted online sites, just get the latest information. About the stock price, the rupiah rate to the latest issues that may affect the condition of the company.

Upon checking, my free hand stretched out to pick up the cup filled with coffee. But my finger touched a piece of pink paper. I glanced at the paper, I read again the writing that was scratched with black ink. Simple but makes me want to smile, considering who the owner of the handwriting is pretty neat.

I was just about to pick up that piece of paper, but I stopped because I heard the roar of a car engine entering the yard. A moment later the voice disappeared followed by the sound of the door handle opened from the outside.

“Assalamu’alaikum ..” Everyone answers greetings, except me, “wa’alaikum greetings.”.

A handsome man with a very neat appearance entered the house, heading straight for the dining room. Like coming to his own house, Reyfan pulled a chair while sipping a fried tempeh, then ate it while sitting down.

“Lah! Iki pye instead boss e even wes press kene?” (Well, this how did the boss get here?)

“Says I'm the same Just ask to pick up bang Amir family, why are you here?” I still have my index finger on the tablet screen, researching my to-do list today.

“It was so, but Aneesha was angry that I didn't pick her up. Though I am very tired, sleepy ... really.” Reyfan Gerrutu.

Mbok Jum moved from sitting, even though the food on his plate was still half left. He'll definitely make drinks for Reyfan. Reyfan is often like this, coming uninvited, going home without a message.

“So ... The three of us picked up?”

“Iya. All of you later we give training to brother Sama Soleh. Let's just calm them down tomorrow.”

“Means?”

“Because this weekend, we - me, you and Aneesha - will go.”

“Where?”

“Liburaaaan ..”

I saw Reyfan winking one eye, a sign that he was joking. Proven for a moment then he looked at me seriously, “aku who is on vacation, you keep working. Ready Magelang house to receive guests, his family Ghufron want to come. No way, right, tell me to come to Surabaya? They're not as rich as I am, so .. I want to accept them in Magelang only.”

“Why not at his house Mr Dito?”

“Home om Dito narrow, where can not park in front of the house anymore, not comfortable.”

I scratched an eyebrow that was certainly not itchy. Listen well to long, wide sentences spoken by Reyfan. Another new task, a job that will surely be tiring. But I'm happy, because by going to Jogja, it means that I can meet the adorable little boy who always shadows my every move, Naufal.

Did the little boy say’a to God so that we could meet soon? Because since returning to Jakarta, I have never once visited my father's house again. Only a few video calls can treat the excitement of meeting.

Wait, Naufal! It's coming soon….

I pulled the corner of my lips, smiling smirk. I don't know why I feel so happy about meeting Naufal. But a moment later I felt like someone was caught stealing, because everyone was looking at me suspiciously.

“What is this?”

Reyfan took a piece of pink paper. It reads its contents with deep frown, “ini-”

It's not that I don't want to answer Reyfan's question, just being lazy to discuss something unimportant. So I took the coffee, I took the phone and tablet off the table, just passed from the dining room. Leaving everyone who looked at each other clueless.

“Bang Amir soon until.”

“The book is not carried, Den?” Shouted the Saeb mang that I only answered with a wave of hands in passing, without looking back.

Wrong gift, for the wrong person ….

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Seriate....