
All of a sudden it looked religious. Which used to be rarely salaried, so diligently bring the Qur’an everywhere. Wealthy people who are stingy are generous. Status on social media is crowded citing messages of virtue from holy verses and hadiths of the Prophet. Mosques crowded twisting the chants of the holy verse of the Qur’an, his voice blaring from the TOA. The karaoke place is open only until ten p.m. And most notably, syrup commercials were successful on television.
The month of Ramadan arrives. In the May meeting. Fitting in the heat of the dry season.
Euphoria spread to the Muslims. The moon is full of kindness. A plague full of forgiveness. A blessed month. Let's flock to worship. Let's have a lot of distinction. Let's harvest the reward.
Maybe I am the only one who responds to the usual coming of this holy month. Maybe because my heart is frozen. Frozen because of the many sins I have committed. Countless things I've ever done. Five hours is rare. Read the Qur’an especially. Fasting has never.
I imagine after I die I am chopped up by an angel in the ocean of hellfire. My body was pierced by hot iron. My head is hung . My sex is burned in a burning fire. Catered to eat rotten maggots. Drink boiling water. Horrified! I have no doubt that I want to repent. But I still run the motions. The devil led me on a perverse path. Or even I myself am the devil. Darkened. Dulled. Sinned. Get lost.
I am a bright night connoisseur. Female body addict who is beautiful, beautiful and exciting. The obedient servant of lust. The ardent sin hunter. The child who defied his mother.
I am the sinner.
***
"So, are you coming home or not?" ask Erna across there.
"Eitherway. Probably not, ma'am" I replied.
"Go home. You haven't visited your mother in a long time. When are the cats going to be with mom?"
"Yes, Mother. I'm thinking again."
Clik. I unilaterally closed the phone from Ms. Erna. This is the fifth time Erna has called in three days. I don't know where he got my number. He asked me if I would go home later. More precisely, he asked me to go home.
I don't know. I'm actually lazy to go home. In the village, I felt like I had no life. I don't like living in a village that reminds me of those bad memories. I love living in the city. With all its offers of glory. Exciting evening. The beers in the bars are tempting. Seductive women make me able to forget the anger (even if at last remembered again).
It had been three years that I ran away from the village, the place where I spent a cheerful childhood. I ran away from my mother that long. Also run away from the memory of that woman. The woman who was the reason I had to go to a cold war with mom.
I remember the first time I saw a beautiful pair of eyebrows. I immediately fell in love. Falling in love with a pair of eyebrows belonging to a woman named Maharani Callista. I fell in love from the eyebrows, down to the heart. Leading to the bottom.
***
He was squatting among the hordes of new students. Wear white shirt, black pants. Wear a conical hat similar to a magic grandmother's hat. He was clad in a piece of paper with the word Maharani Callista.
It wasn't all that interesting until I found such beautiful eyebrows. Original eyebrows. Not eyebrows with pencils. I'm intrigued. I approached. Secretly keeping an alibi. I'm the ospek chief this time. Keep intrigue. Intregities? I laugh.
When the situation, condition, safe under control.
"You," I said. It seems he was surprised.
"Yes, Brother. What's up, brother?"
"Your name is Maharani?"
"Yes." Yeah."
"May I have a pen pinjem, Rani?"
For a moment he looked at me strangely. I know I'm an alibi.
"This. Tomorrow, my favorite ballpoint pen." he said with a smile. I smile too.
Tomorrow I turn the ball. Tomorrow again I ask his house where (although from the information I already know). I'll take him home tomorrow. We'll talk in the library tomorrow. We'll be dinner tomorrow. We'll go to the cinema tomorrow. Tomorrow again say miss. Tomorrow I say baby. Tomorrow it will be.
A day, a week, a month, a year, two years, I'm getting more and more affectionate. He is too.
"When are you going to introduce me to your family?" rani said one day.
I was silent for quite a while. I'm getting restless. Yamg's anxiety I've actually been keeping for quite a while
I was silent thinking about many things. About my fear all this time. Am I ready to receive the worst news? If my family does not agree with my humungan with Rani because it is not at all. I know very well what my family's environment is. Very religious. Highly uphold the laws of Islam. Will you agree that I will continue my relationship with Rani to the marriage stage?
But, for the sake of my love for Rani, I also asked her to meet my family. Meet mom.
Mother, father, Mother Erna and her husband welcomed me and Rani with kindness. Until I introduced that Rani was my girlfriend. That he is a Christian. I am serious about our relationship.
She just kept quiet and went to her room with the excuse of not feeling well. Dad was quiet too. Fortunately there was Madam Erna and her husband who could melt the atmosphere.
"I know your mom and dad don't agree with our relationship" Rani said on the street as I drove her home.
"Calm down. I'm sure it's not. I just need to talk to them" I said to calm Rani down. Even though I know Rani was right.
"I don't want to continue this relationship if I don't get my blessing. Call me when you get the confirmation, Syif. Before that don't see me" said Rani multimatum.
***
"Mom doesn't agree, son," said the mother clearly.
"But Asyif loved her, Mom."
"Find the woman who believes in you. The good of his religion. Like Mafa."
"I don't love Mafa, Mom. Even though she's a good woman. Kiai pula's son. I just love Rani."
Mother shook her head firmly, "Mom doesn't approve."
I shed tears. "Please, Mom. This is my only request."
Mother remained firm in shaking. "Ask the others. A car? The money? This house and the plantation are yours. I love you all. But not for that one. I'm not ridho."
"Asyif doesn't want any of that. Asyif just wants Rani."
"I will marry Rani even if I don't approve." I shouted.
Mom just stayed in her room. I'll be out of the house soon. I went to Rani's house. I've met him. I said I'd marry her soon.
"So, your mother agrees?" asked Rani expectantly.
I'm speechless.
"We're going to stay married" I said, reassuring my girlfriend.
Rani was glued to her place. Sad face.
"No, Syif. We'll never get married if we don't get our blessing."
"If so we'll never get married. I know how stubborn my mother is. I want to marry you. I love you, Rani!"
"I love you too."
"Why don't you want to!"
Rani's crying broke. Her tears flooded her cheeks.
I "Married not only married one individual, Asyif. Marriage also means marrying the family, environment, and habits of his partner. If the condition of marrying you is to change faith, sorry I can't."
Rani kissed me one last time and left me silent like a rock. I called his name but he never looked.
Since then I have hated the situation. I hate my mother. I hate Rani. I hate destiny. I hate myself.
I decided to leave the house. I went to town. I work, earn money, foya-foya, repay my heartache by enjoying the bodies of seductive women.
I forgot how to pray. I forgot how to read hijaiyyah. I forgot how to memorize the qunut prayer. I forgot everything about worship. I try to forget God. I strayed. I don't know the way home.
***
This house has not changed much. The wall paint is still white. The rambutan tree still stands comfortably in the yard. The garbage dump is still there. The flowers still decorate halamaan (from the first hobby of mother caring for flowers). Only, now this house looks deserted.
I'm back to worrying. Enter or not? Or am I just going back to town? I haven't seen my mother in a long time. I don't know what to do if I meet mom. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with disturbing emotions.
Ever since Ms. Erna kept calling, asking me to go home, I've always been haunted by disturbing emotions. Especially when he said that his mother had actually been sick for a long time (if I suspected Ms. Erna was lying so I wanted to go home). Guilt for mom is burning. I know if I'm a bad boy. But, deep down, I miss my mom. I remember everything about my mother. How he took care of me, looked after me and scolded me. I even remember how the cuisine tastes.
My ego is still big. I'm too embarrassed to admit that I miss him. Three years I ran away from home. Three years I've been looking for an outlet for heartache. That long I didn't meet my mother. I was in a cold war with my mother.
And then, in the end, I was here. In front of the house that was once very familiar, now so foreign, with uncertain feelings.
Someone patted my shoulder. I'm turning. Brother Erna smile. I didn't realize when he was coming. Suddenly it was there.
"Come in. I miss you."
"Come, Ma'am. Mom must be mad at me. Three years without seeing him. He must have thought I was a bad boy. And that's what I am."
"Mom never got mad at you. Mom never said you were a bad boy. I didn't ask you directly. But often when sleeping he wants to call your name. I often hear my mother praying for you after prayers. Do it well."
I was overwhelmed by the words of Erna's mother. I feel more guilty about my mother.
"Lately my mom is getting sick. Meet the. While there is still time. If there's no chance, you'll be sorry."
I nodded gamang.
"What do you want to break the fast with? Let me cook it. You still like grilled fish sambal trasi. My cooking is no less delicious than my mother's cooking. Mother herself passed the secret of her menu to me. Sometimes I hear him muttering that Asyif really likes his trasi-bikannya sambal."
"I'm not fasting, Ma'am. Never since running away from home."
"Jude, it's okay. Tomorrow's satisfied. Stay a day. Tomorrow again lebaran. I'll cook to open later. Now, let's go in. Meet mom."
Sister Erna moved my hand, taking me into the house. My heart beats unbecoming. Step by step felt so long.
Mom, I'm home.
Mother, will you forgive the iniquity of your son?
Unknowingly my tears are dripping.
***
As far as I go
I'll come back to You
As far as I go
You'll keep hugging me back
.
.
.
Finished