Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

21. A Sincerity.

🍁If you have found a sincerity, then take care. Do not let go, it could be that you will never find the same sincerity again.🍁

Hara's.

The afternoon breeze caressed my tired body. Rubbing hair that has not been neatly arranged becomes more messy. Cold through the thin t-shirt I was wearing, infiltrating into the pores.

I stood by the side of the car I parked in the courtyard of the mosque. While enjoying a cigarette, I noticed the juvenile passing in a glove and screeched around the gate until the mosque courtyard. The twilight was almost up, from the mosque loudspeakers I heard the sound of people speaking.

When I arrived, Pak Wawan's house was quiet. Neighbors next door said all the residents were going to the mosque, there was a study he said. So I decided to go to the mosque and wait until they were done.

The sun sank into the contest, refracting yellowish rays that slowly began to dissipate. Replacing with a thick evening decorated with half moon. Small dots of light began to appear in the sky, a sign of night crawling.

I straightened up when I saw people coming out of the mosque. As the bees come out of the hive, they split in all directions. Mumbles slowly until laughter sounded coloring the crowd.

A little boy stood glued after coming out of the mosque and wearing sandals. At first the boy joked with his peers, but after seeing me he fell silent. Ignoring the many children who laugh at each other somehow laugh at what.

I wave to call him. I knew he was squinting, probably not believing in my presence. Both corners of his lips shot upwards then he dashed through the crowd. That adorable boy came up to me while shouting.

“Om Hara!”

I crouched down while stretching out both hands. I caught his little body that hit me, I lifted it up and I shot it into the air until he chuckled.

“Halo hotshot!”

Naufal wrapped both arms around my neck, I felt my joy as he hugged me tightly. But it didn't last long, because my taste turned into laughter when Naufal whispered, “Om! Eskrim and endi?” (Om! Where's ice cream?)

I extended my hand to pick up something in the car through the open window. I gave a plastic bag with a blue minimarket logo to Naufal.

“Sorry, yes. I bought ice cream, but ate it myself. Om doesn't know you're in for long, the ice cream is melting. So just change snacks, yes.”

Although he was singing his lips, but Naufal nodded while looking at the contents of the plastic bag. I whispered to him so he wouldn't frown, “in the car there's still plenty of food. We'll buy cars too."

“Yess!” Naufal cried while clenching his hands.

Many pairs of eyes were staring at me while whispering, definitely because it was unusual to see my whereabouts. From a distance I saw that Nabila was talking to some people. After seeing me he immediately shook hands with those people and walked up to me.

“Hara? From here? Didn't say you were coming?”

“Lumayan, Ma'am. Previously wanted to make a surprise for this boy,” I pinched slowly Naufal's cheek until he pretended to complain, “real empty house, in here everything.”

“Iya. Ordinary, routine study. Wait, yeah. Wait for the same father Akmal.”

I'm nodding. The crowd of people began to fade, slowly the courtyard of the mosque became deserted. There are only one or two people who are still seen conversing in the mosque. Also little kids running around, probably waiting for their parents who haven't come out yet.

Not long after, I saw Akmal mas and father come out while talking with two men. As soon as you saw me, he smiled. I smiled at him with a nod of my head.

You wave your hand. Understand what you mean, mbak Nabila invited me closer. I know that the mosque is a holy place, while my feet, though wrapped in shoes, are dirty, have not been washed. So I stood in front of the stairs, while Nabila and Naufal approached the father.

Maybe they know, I can't get into the foyer of the mosque. So that those who approach me, invite me to shake hands. I introduced him to two men who were with him. One father called him Gus, while one father called him Pak kyai.

“Sopo, to, Wan?” (Who's this, huh, Wan?) Ask a middle-aged man whose age looks older than his father. Wrinkled fur and bleached hair are a sign that the man has gone through many life stories.

“Niki Hara!” (It's Hara) You grabbed my shoulder, “putranipun Widuri.” (The Widuri.)

Pak kyai mangosteen, maybe understand about the life story of Wawan and mama. Without saying a word, mr. Kyai patted me on the shoulder twice. He said softly but was clearly heard by me, “Alloh always has a way to give happiness to mankind. Healthy, right, Le?”

I nodded, without a hint of a thin smile decorating my lips. I don't know why Mr. Kyai's simple speech sounds so beautiful in the ears. Like a grandfather asking his grandson. Oh yeah? My whole life I never felt questioned by my grandparents. I don't know if I still have grandparents or not.

I waited for Mr and Mr. Akmal to finish chatting with Mr. Kyai. While sitting on the last step, occasionally gus Hafidz invites me to talk even though it seems stiff because we both do not like to talk pleasantries.

From the mosque we did not go straight home, because Naufal asked to go around. The little boy was excited to get in the car, until he did not want to go down. Mas Akmal didn't mind either, so I just obeyed Naufal's will.

“Muter-muters, Om! Cities ...” Seloroh Naufal while glaring expectant eyes.

“Sekalian .. mumpung Hara bring a car. We're traveling around the city of Jogja. Hara must have never enjoyed the night atmosphere of Jogja.” Mas Akmal joked, despite getting a disapproving look from mbak Nabila.

“Hara just came already you guys toodong streets. Hara, right, must be tired.” Mbak Nabila.

“Not tired, Ma'am. The part that drives Akmal,” answered me.

Because I have not memorized the streets of Jogja, so I asked Akmal to drive, while I sat next to him with Naufal who did not stop talking. Along the way, there was something he asked. From the names of the stores, the pictures on the billboards to the moving posts on the traffic light.

I was almost blown away because Naufal gaped at me when he saw a very large truck and bus. His eyes were wide in awe like the first time to smear the crowded streets of various vehicles.

“Wooaahh! Transformer truck!”

“Bus pictures of puppets, Buk!”

“Pak! Kae mosok ono truck gowo car.” ( Sir ! was there a truckload of cars?)

And a series of other amazed exclamations that made us adults laugh. Naufal indeed seems to have a stock of vocabulary sentences that will never run out. With the child, there will never be a word bored or lonely, no need to play car audio as well.

For Naufal would not stop speaking if he were not eating or sleeping. Tired of talking he would sing, or count vehicles until his fingers were not enough.

"Of! The ono piro islamic order?" (Om! How many pillars of Islam are there?)

"No idea."

"Ih! Ora's figure? Limo." (Times don't know? Five.) Naufal pointed at his five fingers, then counted them one by one.

"Shahada, salat, zakat-" the boy paused, as if thinking, "continue to opo, Buk?" (Then what, Buk?)

Not to answer, but Akmal and Mbak Nabila even laughed. Mas Akmal rubbed the head of Naufal which was not covered by peci.

"Flame, we!" (Not yet memorized, tuh!) Seloroh mas Akmal's.

Everyone in the car laughed, including me. But it's not Naufal to stop mumbling. The boy thought hard about two of the five pillars of Islam that he had not mentioned. Makes me want to hold that adorable little body.

At first no one noticed the wound on my arm, because I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. When Mas Akmal asked us to stop at the field of Dengung. Mbak Nabila is suspicious because I have been carrying Naufal only with one hand.

“Why left arm, Hara?” Ask mbak Nabila. We sat together while enjoying the evening atmosphere in the field of Denggung, Sleman district. Waiting for Naufal who was riding odong-odong.

“No pa-pa, Ma'am.” Answer's short. I unconsciously stroked my left arm, because a cold wind blew through my shirt, causing pain around my wound.

“Since I've noticed you as very careful with your left arm. Really not pa-pa?”

I tried to smile, but my smile made Nabila even more suspicious. Without asking for my approval, he pulled my left arm and grabbed my shirt.

“How did you say no pa-pa? What's this wound, Hara?”

“No pa-pa, no, Ma'am. Only minor injuries.” I slowly pulled my arm, as fast as lightning I closed the shirt before father and mas Akmal approached out of curiosity.

“Hara?” Mbak Nabila gave a look asking for an explanation. As usual I can't hide anything from her, but I don't want to worry her.

“Quiet, Mbak. It's been treated, really. Earlier helped settle the bamboo at the boss' house, accidentally hit the twig.”

“Pegel no? No swelling?” Mas Akmal suddenly pulled on my arm, examining the wound along the arm. He even had to turn on the flash on the phone because the atmosphere around was dark, only illuminated by dim garden lights.

“It looks like it should be checked this doctor, swollen.” Mbak Nabila and Pak Wawan also pay attention to my injuries.

Indeed from earlier felt linu, pain and itching. I thought it was due to the cold wind, but my body also felt like people were catching a cold. Cold but hot. I didn't know it was the effect of the wound on my arm.

“Come, we go to the doctor now!”

Mbak Nabila immediately stood up, mas Akmal helped the father to stand as well. I shook my head in disagreement, because I thought the wound was treated and not too severe.

“Naufal is playing, Ma'am. Poor him-”

But Akmal disagrees with me, “we don't know how deep you hurt, Hara. I have to go to the doctor, let me know. Need to be sewn or not, there is a bamboo incision left or not. Can be infected if left.”

“Akmal right, we go to doctor.” Speech of Wawan who made us all move.

I scratched my head which of course was not itchy. I think they overdone, made my heart break and wanted to hug them but I held back. Though I did not have the heart with Naufal who was busy riding odong-odong, forced to stop because the wound on my arm should not be underestimated.

Although Naufal had time to sulk because he was forced to stop riding odong-odong, but slowly he could understand. Because Mbak Nabila gave an explanation to Naufal so that the little boy did not whine.

Since we had no acquaintance of doctors who practiced around the area, Akmal took me to the nearest hospital ER. In the general hospital of this area of the sleman I get help for my injuries.

“This must be cleaned the wound, because it is swollen, “ said the medical personnel who handled me. “Maybe there is the rest of the bamboo incision, so it should be opened. Without being sedated can not stand? Or want to be drugged locally?”

“Do it! I can hold.” My answer.

As long as my wound was opened, it was cleaned until fresh blood flowed again, to make sure there were no traces of bamboo incisions. I felt tremendous pain, but I can still endure it. Do not just hurt because the wound is being cleaned. The inner wounds of being left behind by both parents alone can I bear for life. What I feel is nothing, so I can still hold even without an anesthetic injection.

“Sick, Om? Perih?” Naufal did not stop asking me, “I emoh gendong om Hara, mesake tangane iyung.” (I don't want to be carried by Hara, pity her hand hurts.)

Until the house mbak Nabila forced me to eat when I was not hungry, then asked me to take medicine immediately. All of them paid attention to me and Naufal was no exception.

“Om, iseh sick?” (Om, still sick?)

“No massage yo, Om?” (Kupijit, yes, Om?)

“Om want maem opo?” (Om what do you eat?)

“Om, bobok wae. Kan, iseh sick.” (Om, just sleep. Kan, it still hurts.)

What made me want to laugh at once was moved when I told Naufal that I was not sleepy and did not want to sleep. The boy was busy looking for a storybook. Then read aloud one story to me, stammered because Naufal had not been reading smoothly.

“Prophet Isa was born to his mother named Siti Maryam ...” Naufal read the story while pointing at the picture.

But he had not finished reading the story, the naufal had fallen asleep. Shouldn't I be the one to sleep after the story is read? Why did Naufal go to bed first?

Naufal's small body lies asleep in a sitting state. I took him into my room, I laid him down and I covered him. Naufal squirmed but did not wake up.

After being convinced that Naufal was actually asleep, I came out of the room. I heard vaguely the voice of Mbak Nabila and mas Akmal was unpretentious reading each other's holy book. I don't know what his name is I don't know, when Nabila finished reading, Akmal continued.

Wawan has been sleeping since we came home from the hospital. Maybe too tired after doing all day.

I don't know why I don't feel sleepy at all, even though I took pain medication earlier. The drug should cause drowsiness, but my eyes just nyalang not want to be closed.

I picked up a cigarette, lit it up to keep it quiet. I stared at my left arm covered in a neat bandage. The pain is still felt even though it is not as severe as before. Just because of the bamboo twig incision, the family of Pak Wawan was so worried about my situation.

Is this what is called love? When treating someone well without expecting a reply or anything. Should I receive love from them? My mom and dad ruined their happiness a long time ago.

Lord ... do I deserve all this goodness?

I exhaled cigarette smoke upward, the white smoke billowing into the air, slowly dissipating across the corner of the room. I stared at a book on the table, a red-coated book with an interesting picture that tempted me to take it. Naufal's picture book. I open randomly, a book called ‘tale 25 nabi’.

I don't know what prompted me to read the book from the beginning to the end. I remember a little about the contents of my Bible, about the old covenant and the new covenant. Uh! It seems that what I did was wrong ....

.

.

.

Seriate....