Way Home
90. the speed of time

Fast time. Shofia, Hazri's little girl, is now three years old. That is, four years already Hazri and Ami underwent a household ark. As Mr. Subakir said, their first child was born female. Hazri names Annisa Shofia, according to her teacher.

Pretty little girl. Her skin was as pure white as her mother's, her clear eyes were sharp as her father's. So are his thick eyebrows. Her hobby is dangling beads. I don't know how many plastic beads have been bought by his mother. There's a bracelet, there's a necklace. Uniquely, all that then considered a string of prayer beads. Twisted imitating his father. Not wrong, everything is divine.

Marno Sugeng Doro never seemed to be in trouble. Since marriage, Hazri has given full management of the farm to the duo of Marno and Sugeng, under the supervision of Karno. No longer need to ask for his approval for everything they consider necessary for the farm. Please decide for yourself. Now it reaches five hectares. Like a stretch of ‘paddy aviary’. Good, more and more children drop out of school who can work there. Hazri only advised that her bamboo room house should not be evicted even if she no longer lives there. The ‘historic’ building. No one knows that ‘Haji Mahmud’ once beheaded a Japanese man there.

Allah had intended to bring Hazri together with Marno and Sugeng. Just as honest as these two young people. Although Hazri no longer cawe-cawe farm business, but they still hold the mandate. There is no cheating in the division of results. 50% Hazri, 20% Karno and 15% each, outside of monthly salary. Good luck big or small, keep it so percentage.

Half of Hazri's monthly salary is directly transferred to Faruq's non-budget fund account. Half again, given cash to ‘Bu Haji’ aka Mbak Ami. Delicious Marno because there is ‘Bu Haji’ now, the business becomes easier. In the past, half the salary was often returned by Hazri. They were told to share it with the children of the workers. Mostly taken for food, gasoline, and cigarettes. Indeed already ‘gila’ from the first suit ‘Haji Mahmud’ this. Hence they are clean from the intention of playing crazy against the barn ‘gila’. The real fucking crazy.

In the past, about a month after marriage, Ami was stunned to see the balance of the account of Hazri's share of profits from this livestock business. Marno who told, he meant to hand over the responsibility of the account to the family finance minister ‘Haji Mahmud’. Hazri himself forgot about this because he never thought about it. The money in his bag was more than enough. The rest of the ‘duit blood’. Thick, hard to finish. About ‘Haji Mahmud’ never asked, Three Musketeers did not talk. Silence them. If many will be the village road everything. The ease of Mr. Kades.

Later that night, Hazri laughs at his wife's story about the account. “There's only Marno. Every village, hahaha..... Just look, how many?”

Ami handed over the savings book. Hazri mangosteen saw the numbers there. Ami looked at her husband from the side. Feeling stared at, Hazri looked over. “Why, Deck? Want?” he asked while mesem.

Ami smiled shyly. Not answering but obviously ‘bicara’.

“Take it if Adek wants. Who the hell is it for?” hazri said understand.

Ami's smile also expands. The husband hugged her and was rewarded with a friendly kiss. Hazri chuckled as she stroked her long hair.

“Cuma, Adek do not get this hijab huh? Remember Master's message, worldly glory is one of the main hijabs in our ‘ruhani journey. The roots are in the property. Take a look, the rich ones tend to be considered noble by humans, right? Not necessarily if God says. Foul maybe, hahaha.... Anyway, I don't want Adek kejeblos beginning.”

Ami nods.

“But, no.also means told to be poor. Poor and rich are God's rights, not ours. If Allah says rich, trust that man even though his shari'a is just gawking. If God says poor, yes poor he though menghuber his world to the extent that willing his head is made a doormat, hahaha.”.

“Set Adek must be how, Mas?”

“What?”

“That, the money..,” Ami slightly grimaced.

“Just use. We are the master of wealth, do not control treasure. If Adek need to. wear it, if there are people who need it. Just like that, don't be too hard. Wear, use. Don't pileup. Why are we feeding our own firewood in hell?” hazri said somewhat whispering.

Although Ami also carried out spiritual journeys, but as with most women, his progress plan. There is heaven and hell. Hazri must be patient, do not be too tall and look down on others. Later even hijacked by his own science. Moreover, this is his wife, who must be shari'a guided by him. Is not the wife the responsibility of her husband?

“Emang Adek want what the hell?” hazri Fishing.

“Pengen ngedandanin house Mr...,” Ami directly replied.

“Hem, good. What else”

“Muslim clothes that kayak has Bu Faruq.”

Hazri laughed a little. “Good. What else?”

“Eemm, wanted...,” Ami looking for ideas.

“Already, the original is only these two while, the other is innate lust. Yes, right?” Hazri smiles.

Ami smiled understandingly.

The night is getting late. It feels supportive. Si Fia had been sleeping in her room since this afternoon. Start their pranks, slowly gobbling up the hill. Ami smiles as Hazri turns off the lights. Suddenly, the door to the room that was locked opened. The lights back bright. “Ayaahh, Fia mo bobo cama dad ah..,” whine this little girl. Without guilt he climbed up onto the bed. “Cini...,” her hand waved, have her father sleep next to her. Ami laughing. Hazri scratching her head....

***

“Dek, Mas go down first yes. Teacher call...,” said Hazri. He had just received an inner message from Mr. Subakir asking him to come to Progo. The watch shows the time leading up to nine o'clock tonight.

Ami who was sleeping the Fia nodded. “Be careful, Mas,” said.

After peeking at his wife and child, Hazri was sliding into Progo on his favorite motorcycle. The battered motorbike was mocked by Marno and Sugeng. Can still serve the antique motorbike, although it has to go down the engine twice for the last four years. If alone, he would rather ride this bike than Tiger. More shahdu said. A car? Don't have. He didn't feel the need to have a car. Where the hell are you going? Cars, HP only doesn't have. Call who he said. So Karno, Marno, and Sugeng can only shake their heads. Very bad fashion sense this ‘Haji Mahmud’. In fact, money is no less.

By midnight, Abi and Rohman came almost simultaneously. Mr. Subakir sighed, his smile expanding wide again. A moment later, “Let's go in, it's complete now. Waudhu first yes..,” he said. After ablution, one by one they entered the assembly room commonly used by the alawasulan. Sitting quietly there twisting each prayer beads, waiting for what will happen.

Fuad, the son of Mr. Subakir who included the jadug, entered carrying a charcoal coal furnace that had been burned since they were still in the saung earlier. Almost together, Mr. Subakir also appeared wearing a white robe and torch. If so, it feels like seeing Sunan Subakir. Listened to, Pak Subakir's face is indeed a lot like Sunan Subakir, one of the Wali Songo. There are pictures mounted on the wall with the other Sunan. Mr. Subakir is not ignorant of this rumor. He laughed without ever commenting.

“Fuad, please bring the cloth here. All his books,” pinta Pak Subakir.

Fuad nodded. Then, invite Agil to help her. A moment later they returned with a pile of white cloths and small books. The shroud apparently. Whoa, what's going on? inner Hazri. Maybe others think the same.

The powder is sprinkled on charcoal coals. A fragrant water filled the room. Mr. Subakir let out a long sigh, his smile re-expanding. All are waiting quietly for the wedge.

“Bismillahirahmannirrahim. Assalamu’alaikum warahmatullah wabarakatuh,” he opened the event.

“Wa’alaikum salam..,” sahut all.

“My fellow believers, as mentors, are grateful to see you here. Lovers' faces. Be aware, each of you has received ‘Divine’ Stamps for true faith. This is a special sign that God gives to whom He wills. A sign that can only be seen or understood by those who are also given the gift of being able to reach it. Sharia, now the task of the Father as your guide is complete. Each of you has come to the degree of faith in Allah. Haqqul. Will not waver that faith by anything. For the next, continue the spiritual journey each with the guidance of the Maha Purshid. Makrifatullah is infinite, the sky above the sky, will not be exhausted, Do not be afraid and do not be sad, you have done‘Stempel Divine’. Grab the pearl of Truth from this ‘Link without Limits’...”.

Silent mood. Everyone looked down, all shedding tears. Not sorrow, but the deepest gratitude to the Supreme Being for His gift. For those on spiritual journeys, this is a great gift received from the Divine. It is not worth it when compared with the universe of the universe following all its contents. It will never be worth it!

“If anyone who needs the truth comes to you, then just stay tuned. No hesitation. For you are praying to guide others. But, for example, there is nothing wrong because not all lovers are given the task of discipleship. Remember, do not intentionally look for students. Promoting, advertising, and so on. This is not a driving course, but rather a form of mahakritis and prone spiritual journey that the true self of man takes towards the Supreme Being. How each of you has understood it. Not for everyone, just for the chosen ones. Whatever the next iradatullah, murshid or not, surely every one of you is His lover..”.

Still quiet mood. Syahdu.

“If likened to a school at UIN Sunan Kalijaga, then now you will be graduated to become a spiritual travel scholar..,” Pak Subakir mesem. Everyone is smiling too. “There is a diploma. In ancient times, a Sufi gave his ‘kirka’ to the disciple who was graduated. Kirka is his seedy robe of greatness full of patches. But I don't have a kirka. Nowadays it is no longer fashionable. Already many malls that sell good clothes.”

Laughing all. Just slow.

“You buy clothes at the mall, less money. Want you to give a diploma like from UIN Sunan Kalijaga, confused about what to write. It will also not be used to apply for a job. It seems there has never been a job advertisement for a taqarrub engineering scholar plastered in the newspaper, hehehe.”

Laugh again all.

“Yes already, I give you a kafan diploma only. To always remember that we humans are dying in this life. Who says death is ten minutes before death? Clearly now dying, every moment death peeked. With the shroud, you will pay your talqin each. Second baiat, closing verse. Like a graduation oath. Fuad, please share...”.

Fuad distributed the cloths. Cheap, coarse, and stretch braided shrouds. But, the universe of nature is subject to its meaning. Not just any of these shrouds.

“The fabric is worn like a hajj ihram cloth. Naked, no other cloth still stuck, hehehe.... Instead there...” Pak Subakir pointed to a place where the cloth was blocked in the corner of the space that had been prepared before.

One by one they went into the emergency room. Then, help each other to wear the shroud like an ihram cloth. It seems easy, but it is also difficult to twine the fabric into the body. Slumped again slumped again. Pak Subakir Egypt saw the little mess. Understandably, out of these ten humans there is no Hajj. Eleven, including the Murshid himself. But, Mr. Subakir knows how, he also told. After struggling on the right path, success was also finally. The shrouds were obediently attached to each other's bodies, loath to degenerate again.

Fragrant bohur semerbak memangi, baiat talqin was started. The brothers went cross-legged, charging in front of the Murshid. They followed every oath that Mr. Subakir said. Syahdu has a mood. Hazri saw a clear green mist enveloping the entire room. Lights, I don't know what, popping up here and there. Some are wildly sort of array, some are rounded like boiling water foam and shatter sparkly sowing various colors, some are gurgling like thousands of fireflies. Then came the golden fog resembling the form that Hazri had seen escorting the late Nurdin. The golden fog kept coming, one-on-one or in groups. This room was filled with them. Blending in with other increasingly diverse forms of light. Subhanallah, Most Holy You....

“So we swear,” said Mr. Subakir.

“So we swear,” all ikhwan follow.

“From You back to You.”

“From You back to You.”

“Aamiin.”

“Aamiin.”

The talqin was completed. Hazri saw the golden fog salute them, and then all disappeared. There are other lights that also slowly wither away. The mood is normal.

Mr. Subakir stood up, hugging one by one his former students. While handing over a photocopied booklet on how to behave. Handwritten book, by Shaykhuna Mursyidnya. His teacher Pak Subakir.

“Hazri Tiger, prepare..,” whispered Mr. Subakir slowly to Hazri's ears.

Although surprised, Hazri can control herself. He held tightly to the Murshid who had led him to the gate of mikrifat. Her tears fell, soaking her shoulders..