Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

2. The King served as a servant

Immanuel Kagendra Hara's.

The name my father gave me when I was born. Papa and Mama would have wanted me to get whatever I wanted, for giving me such a name. As most people believe, the name is do’a.

I was baptized as Immanuel when I was 7 months old. Until this moment, I believed in the religion that was embraced by my father and revealed to me. The hereditary religion, isn't it like that? Most of us embrace the beliefs and beliefs passed down by our parents.

I was born into a heterogeneous family. My mom and dad embraced different beliefs, and I leaned more toward my dad. Despite living with different beliefs, my father and mother always get along well until the end of their lives.

Orphaned since the age of 13, an accident has claimed the lives of my mother and father. I lost two people I loved at the same time. I live alone, for my father's only family, my aunt, does not take care of me. Citing objections to economic problems. It’s ok, because I'm old enough to live alone,

I lived in an orphanage for a while, before papa's superior, Mr. Reza Mahardika took me in and took care of me. Papa is a trust employee of Mr. Reza. When he learned that my father and mother had died, Reza, who was still in Singapore, immediately returned home, to deliver the bodies of my parents to the final resting place. My mom and dad were buried in different places. Mama's family took the body of the mother to be buried in the mother's hometown. A village located on the outskirts of Jogjakarta.

After knowing that there was no one to take care of me, he immediately took me from the orphanage and asked me to stay at his house. But I am too hesitant to accept Mr. Reza's offer, because I know he lives abroad more often. At that time I was not very familiar with him, I was afraid that if staying at home he would be troublesome and become a burden.

Being left behind by my parents in my teens makes me fragile, but I don't want to take advantage of other people's compassion for me. Fortunately, my father taught me to be a strong man, not crybaby and not easy to fall.

Mr. Reza let me live alone in papa's house. He financed my entire life, including a housekeeper and a driver who would take care of me. In return, I must be friends with his adopted son, Reyfan.

Although it was a bit difficult, because his adopted son was two years older than me. His son is wayward, arrogant, haughty, seems unfriendly. But I keep trying to be friends with him. In return for the kindness of Reza and Zulfa. He had just returned from abroad at that time, and was about to continue his High School education here.

As the day went on, we were gradually able to be good friends. Also with Hamzah, the son of Mr. Adnan, the assistant of Mr. Reza. We began to spend time together, because it turns out our hobbies are almost the same. Reading, playing music and volleyball. Only one hobby that is different from us, namely Reyfan's favorite to visit nightlife.

Perhaps the habit of time abroad, carried away until he returned to Indonesia. For me, who is still a teenager, of course, it is not unusual. Let alone enter the nightlife, look at that place up close I've never been.

But Reyfan's influence on me and Hamzah is very strong. Gradually, we followed his habits. By his power, he changed my student card, tricked the nightclub clerk, so that I, who was a minor, could enter a dark place with flickering lights and loud music.

It was then that I got used to wine, vodka, coktail, and a line of drinks with a mild to high alcohol content. Also a sparkling night lifestyle.

Usually we would come home early in the morning drunk and the three of us would spend the night in my quiet house. The next morning Mbok Jum will make us ginger water and hang over-busting soup. Then Mang Saeb will take us to their respective schools.

It's not that Mr. Reza or Mr. Adnan just ignored us, let us act as we please ourselves, get along indefinitely. They repeatedly advised us, even to the point of beating us. But a young, tempestuous soul does not give the opportunity to follow their counsel. Just go in from the left ear, then out from the right ear.

And so on, there was no way to wake us up and get us back on the right path. Mr. Reza decided the three of us should be separated, not allowed to see each other for a long time. Mr. Adnan took Hamzah to college in Jogja, Reyfan was taken abroad again, while I was taken to a boarding school in Magelang.

I spent three years in that Christian boarding school. A superior school whose students come from Sabang to Merauke. This is where I learned, as a Christian.

From the time my mom and dad died until I was growing up, none of my family's siblings ever came to me. Aunt Lidya, your only brother never saw me, or asked me if I was alive or not.

My mother's family, who knew I was attending Magelang, often visited me. Maybe because of the close distance, between Jogja and Magelang, so they often visited me, bringing a lot of food.

Every time your family comes to visit, they are the center of attention. How not? The presence of a man in a sheath with a veiled grandmother and two young women in syar’i in a Christian dormitory. Must be pretty flashy, right?

I was born into a heterogeneous family. My father was a Christian from birth, married to my mother who was Muslim from birth. Both of them embraced religions derived from ancestors. Somehow the two can get married first, because as far as I know, in this country has not been able to marry a couple of different religions.

All I know is that I grew up without any demands of having to follow papa or mama's religion. However, papa's dominance in the family, of course, led me to follow his religion. And until now, I have embraced the same religion as my father. Until one incident made me doubt what I had believed for years.

***

I just came to this hero city. Cities with high buildings, and dense air due to fog covered pollution. It is almost the same as Jakarta. It is only fitting that this city is referred to as the second metropolitan city after Jakarta. Surabaya, hot and sultry.

I drove the car at medium speed, because it was still early morning. Down the busy protocol road of Surabaya. Just yesterday Noura took me around this city, now I have a little memorized the important places that will be my stopover. For the next few months, I'll be in town. Filling the vacancy of the director position, before Reyfan completed his studies and then returned to this country.

I stopped the car, right in front of the line, because the traffic light was red. To the left, the streets are filled with motorists and cars. Like me, maybe they want to go to work, or go to school. Because there are some bikers who wear gray pants.

I cast my eyes forward, staring at the passing vehicle from the crossroads. Not far from my place, by the roadside, I saw a girl kicking her motorcycle tire with an annoyed expression. I estimate she was a high school student, judging by the gray skirt she was wearing.

I stepped on the gas pedal slowly, as the traffic light turned green. Kulirik the girl was taking off her helmet, and was sitting on the sidewalk, next to her motorcycle. I could just go through it, without a care. I don't know that girl, do I?

But out of nowhere, my foot stepped on the brake pedal and the speed of the car stopped right in front of the girl's bike. I saw him from the rearview mirror, he was busy looking at the phone screen. Either trying to contact who or waiting for a reply chat from whom.

I took off the sunglasses perched on the nose, put them on the dashboard. Then I got out of the car, approached the girl in the white headscarf. I asked without any expression, “motormu why?” though I already knew that the motorcycle tire was deflated.

The girl looked up at me, but did not answer my question. Maybe he was scanning, who did I suddenly come and ask him? I don't care if he answers or not, I'll talk to him instead.

“Do you not know? Danger of a girl alone on the side of a crowded street like this.”

But he looked at me with sharp eyes. Makes me say a sentence that might hurt her heart, “hei! You're mute, huh? Or can't you hear because your ears are covered in a hijab?”

He was shaking, until I researched the flat tires. Then I faintly saw a shiny little thing stuck in the back tire of the girl's motorcycle. That must be the reason the motorcycle ran out of wind.

I pulled her arm, read the inscription on the badge that showed her school name. At first glance I read and happened to be yesterday Noura invited me through the school. A private High School located on the side of the road, in the direction of the road to my office.

I offered the girl a ride. Not immediately he accepted, until I scared him by saying that PP satpol usually conduct raids at hours like this. I don't know if it's right or wrong.

The girl was still thinking, but time was still going on. I approached him, I pulled out his hand, and I opened the car door to let him in. But unexpectedly, the girl rebelled while saying ketus, “eh! Can you please let go of my hand? I am a Muslim girl, sir. Not just any contact with men who are not mahrom!”

Instantly I took off my hand on his wrist, rubbing his nape clumsily. How can I forget that limit? Ever since I was a child, my mom has been watching me. There is a boundary between men and women in Islam.

Uh! But hasn't the times changed? Many people ignore this rule. Muslims shake hands with each other between men and women is common. There are even those who are not ashamed to embrace in public, even though wearing a hijab.

But this girl seems different. He must have come from a family that is still disordered. Evidently, I only held her wrist she already looked furious once.

He finally wants me to take him to school, but just sit quietly in the back seat. I'm just like the driver, I let it. Because her face and uniform reminds me of two twin girls I met when I was a kid. How are they doing now? For years I have never met them.

I still remember clearly, when my mother invited me to visit Jogjakarta. I was on vacation after my elementary school exams. Papa gave me an excursion gift to Jogjakarta, but he could not come because the job could not be left.

Back then, mom introduced us, “Hara! These are your brothers. They are your family, even if later mama no longer exist.”

I did not fully understand my mother's situation at the time. After I grew up and the twin girls used to visit me in the dorm, I found out. If it turns out that the gloved man is your ex-husband, then the two twin girls are your children with their ex-husband. Mama left them and chose to marry papa.

Although I never know, what reason mom prefers papa, when the gloved guy looks like a good guy. And also the twin girls, how mama left them when they were young at that time But I am only a child, who does not know the turmoil that happened to the parents. What is the story behind your mom, dad and ex-husband, I never know. And never want to know.

After I graduated from boarding school, and Mr. Reza sent me out of the country to study and accompany Reyfan, I had already lost contact with my mother's family. In my shadow, the two twin girls are still wearing high school uniforms, even though they must now be married and have children.

That's why I was moved to help the girl. The girl who looks like my twin sisters. The twin brother I don't know where he is, and how he's doing.

Just as the security guard was about to close the gate, I stopped the car in front of the girl's school. I asked him his name before he ran after time.

“Rinjani!” His shouting. Answering my question. But as soon as I heard a man in the same uniform as the girl called him by another name, “True!”

OHO! Apparently the girl was trying to trick me. Just be careful if he mentions the wrong name, the bike I won't return. Let the girl know the taste, already dare to play with an adult like me.

I called Noura to find a tire patcher, after I gave him the location of the bike. I mentioned the name of the school girl who mentioned her name Rinjani, so that the tire patchmaker will take the motorcycle there.

Noura first lived in this city, of course he is more familiar with the places here. Compared to me who just adapted. Mr. Reza asked me to return to Indonesia because the Surabaya branch office had a problem. It was caused by Noura's older brother. Reyfan just finished his thesis. So I asked Mr. Reza to solve the problem at this branch office.

That morning I thought the affair with Rinjani was over. I never knew, that Rinjani was the closest person to my master. Years later, we met often. But I guess he forgot about the events of that morning. He who has grown up, with a different body and appearance. Rinjani who was called by his family name Jenar, was the younger brother of Mr. Reza's biological son.

She who turned out to be more polite in a dress of syar’i and a wide headscarf covered the chest to the stomach, also the back to the bottom of the buttocks. Rinjani Jenar Adhitama, who I know must be a lot of hungry men's eyes who are fascinated by her beauty and elegance.

The girl was sitting in the back seat of my car after I picked her up from the station. He sat in silence, just like many years ago when we first met. I don't know what he was doing, because his mouth was like being pouting, I saw his fingers also moving touching his fingers.

“Pak Hara!”

The voice roused me from the daydream and focused on the slightly deserted highway. Today is Sunday, metropolitan city traffic remains congested, though not as dense as usual. Slow moving vehicles break congestion, splitting wide roads but still unable to accommodate the large number of vehicles that drive.

“Near the house of Kak Neesha there is no bookstore?”

I saw the rearview mirror inside, Jenar did not ask without looking at me. He was more interested in the row of multi-storey buildings on the right and left of the road we were on. I answered the question briefly, “no.”

He was silent, not asking anymore. I saw again the reflection of his face from the rearview mirror inside. His mouth was back together and his thumb touched the fingers, like he was casting a spell.

“If you want to go to the bookstore, a little far from Aneesha's house. If you mean the Gramedia bookstore, you can ask Aneesha to take you there.” I said in a flat tone of voice.

“Actually I was curious about the bookstore told by bang Tereliye in his novel titled Falling leaves never hate the wind.”

I thought he was serious about buying a book, it turns out he was just curious about the setting of the story in the novel. A unique girl.

“So you're a Tereliye fan?”

“Like his works, love his writing style, also-”

“Also like the sarcastic sentences criticizing the government? Love the phrase provocation?”

“Eh! Make no mistake, sir! Tereliye never provokes, loh. Criticizing the government .. Isn't that necessary? Indonesia, right, a democracy, sir. So legitimate, dong. Anyone can criticize the government. The part written by bang Tere is all reality, kok.”

“Know what you about politics, heem?”

I don't know why we were silent with each other, once we met the topic of conversation that continued even so arguing. Actually, I'm a follower of Tereliye's fanspagenya. Always follow every post, whether it is criticizing the government, the state of the country or social issues that are spreading. I just wanted to test this girl, to what extent she could judge something sensitive.

“I don't know much about politics, sir. But I'm following the latest news, you know. This includes a recent cabinet reshuffle. Anyone who occupies a new ministerial post, I know, loh.” Kill Jenar.

“Good, so your brain is growing. Not just because you read novels.”

I heard Jenar was throbbing, but her gaze remained sideways. Staring at a pseudo-moving skyscraper is like a spinning film slide. He was silent, I was silent. We were silent for the rest of the way to Aneesha's house.

I don't know what I was thinking when he called earlier, how can I pick him up to the station myself. Though I could have told Reyfan to pick up his sister-in-law myself. It's not my time at work, it's Sunday, it's my time off. And usually on vacation, I take time to relax. But this is even I want to pick up this teenage girl, this is really out of my habit.

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Seriate....

Hi everyone ....

*Thank you for stopping by this new work. *

Sorry, can't get up often and quickly. Far from being expected, this story must have gone through long consideration and discussion with several sources. Remain as usual, open to suggestions and criticism.

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happy reading.

Desi desma/La lu na