The atmosphere of the campus where my son is attending college is hectic. So many graduates flock to the sidewalks. Some other rides their motorbike bringing toga and hair bun. They seem so happy. And so am I. Today I am thrilled and relieved because the struggle to pay for my son’s college will end shortly.
“Arjun!” suddenly someone calls me from another direction. My head is searching for the source of the sound. A few minutes later, I see a man with a gift coming to me. I frowned to recognize him. After a while of trying to unfold my memory, I finally remembered who the white guy was.
“Hakim!” I reply while laughing. We shake hands tightly.
“How’s Jun?” he says.
“Alright, Kim, as you can see,” I replied quickly. My friend at Islamic boarding school I know as santri servant of Kyai Salman. Afterwards, I pat his shoulder. His body is so stocky, not like before. In Pesantren, he went to Kyai Salman’s rice field every day until he forgot his obligation to study. Hakim was the santri who most often got the teacher’s anger at that time.
“What are you doing here, Jun? Take your child’s graduation?” he asked cheerfully as if he had never had such a dark memory in the past.
“Yes, you are right, Kim. My first child graduates from Agribusiness Department today. I don’t want my child to be a fool. What would his future be like if he didn’t go to college? It’s a loss if the father goes to college, but his son can’t go to college, right? “I sigh to take a pause. I want to make Hakim aware of the importance of science. Then I begin to speak again,” my struggle to educate children is not easy, Kim. But thankfully, after studying from college for six years, he finally graduated. Oh yeah, what are you doing here, Kim? “I ask him.
“Driving Jun,” he answers simply while grinning. His nature since young has not disappeared apparently. In the past, when the teacher asked about imrithy’s memorization, the answer was also like that, always the answer “not yet” is accompanied by a grin that is so annoying. It turns out that he still hasn’t metaphorically till this time.
“So, are you driving now? You are a driver?” I ask to be sure.
“Yes, Jun, what else can I do Jun-Jun,” he answered my question accompanied by a small laugh.
I paused for a while, digesting his words. Hakim’s answer reminded me of an event decades ago. My mind flies back to the days at the beginning of studying in Pesantren. We were classmates at the madrasa, so I knew very well how he was. He was a santri who had never memorized the material. It made him often got angry with the teacher. I, as his classmate, also often gave him advice.
Even I was so annoyed with Hakim because my classmates could not leave the class if there were still students who had not memorized nadzoman imrithy. So my classmate and I, had to wake up late since we had to wait for his memorization in front of the teacher. I still remember my spicy words to him at the time, “Stupid is your business, Kim, but don’t give us difficulties because of your stupidity! Santri must be smart! If you never want to make an effort like this at best, then you will only be a driver!” I said, full of emotion at that time. And it turns out that my curse has now come true. I laugh in my heart.
“Where is your boss?” I ask later.
“It’s still Jun. Still like before,” he answers calmly. Naturally, my curiosity arises when I hear Hakim’s words like that.
“What do you mean?” the riddle sounds so annoying in my ear.
“Kyai. My boss Kyai, Jun,” he answers casually.
“You mean your boss is Kyai Salman? Are you still serving Kyai Salman?” I raise my voice a little because I am stunned to hear the answer. He nods while laughing, haha-hehe. Really, his old character has not yet disappeared.
“So, all this time, you still serve him? “I ask, even more curious. Since back from Pesantren, I have never revisited my Pesantren. I am totally blind to what happened at the Islamic boarding school.
“Still serving Jun, looking for a blessing,” he says quietly. Right now, the tone of his voice sounds rather severe, as if there is authority from his words.
“So, whom are you taking here for? Kyai Salman’s children?” my next question.
“Yes,” he answers curtly.
“Who is she?”
“Amalia Jun, still remember her? Ning Lia, you must remember her. The third Kiai’s daughter,” by this time Hakim’s answer is not accompanied by laughter anymore. Maybe he feels his life path is too flat. From childhood, he served Kyai Salman even until old age.
“Oh, that is Ning Amalia. Many years ago, when I was still there, she was still a kid. Hmm, what major is her daughter studying in? The graduation is today too?” my curiosity about my Islamic boarding school family when I was in senior high school is increasingly spreading in my mind.
“Medical School, Jun,” Hakim answers.
“Doctor? Wow, that’s great. She is the grandson of Kyai Salman. She deserves it, “I say between salute and concern.
The next instant I say goodbye because I have to attend my son’s graduation in the hall. Previously we have exchanged cellphone numbers. While walking, I am still thinking about Hakim. He hasn’t changed much.
And I continued to move to the centre of the event. The building where the graduation ceremony is held is full of excitement. It is very festive. There are thousands of graduates, so we have to wait for hours.
“Dad, wake up, Dad,” my wife’s applause and loud voice at the tip of my ear immediately startle my sleepiness.
I stutter awake. My eyes still feel very heavy to open. “What is the hell, Mom?” I am asking with a bit annoyed.
“This is Haraz; he sends a WhatsApp message to me. He says that his shoes are broken. The soles of the shoes are loose!” my wife says in a panicked expression. My sleepiness immediately disappeared.
“How does it come?” I say spontaneously. “Then, what should I do?” I mutter in confusion.
“Buy glue, while it’s not time to go in front of the stage yet.”
I immediately contact Marwan. Damn! I don’t have enough credit. My wife’s credit is also absent. When I send him the message WhatsApp, it turns out to check. Everything feels chaotic. We are baffled.
Suddenly, I think of Hakim, my friend who is stupid, but has a kind heart. He will definitely help me. I am immediately looking for the number on my cellphone. I hurriedly send him a WA message.
A few minutes later, the cellphone in my pocket vibrates. I immediately open it, only to receive a piece of terrible news. Hakim couldn’t help me because the atmosphere was so crowded that he couldn’t get out. I stroke my chest accompanied by expletives and complaints. My wife looks increasingly panicked, blaming me for not being able to do anything to save her child’s special day.
“What if Haraz wears my shoes? Not so bad, right? “suddenly, I have the sense to get around the situation. Loafers, when I was a teacher, I thought it was still good. I used to be an Arabic teacher before resigning because I didn’t like the salary. Haraz will not lose his good looks just by wearing these shoes, I thought. The next instant, my wife asked Haraz to meet me. And it turns out to be true. His shoes are the size of my shoes. Finally, we exchanged shoes. And so, until the end of the event, I wear shoes whose soles are almost loose. It is a bit tragic and touching. But for the sake of children, this is something to be proud of and will be a memory that will never be forgotten.
Yes, until finally at the end of the event. We all gather to go home immediately, including Haraz. He has left his boarding house.
“Dad, we don’t purchase shoes anymore?” Haraz asks as we head for the car.
“Just use it first, until you find a job later,” I say encouragingly.
“It’s time for my shoes to change, too,” says Sara, my second child. I say “yes” while continuing to pass. Then, it comes the hubbub of children and my wife. I walk more slowly. The soles of my shoes are wide open. Too fast, my footsteps can be fatal.
When I get to the parking lot, I meet Hakim again. When he sees me, he immediately apologizes because he cannot help me. His eyes could see my footsteps a little limp. I have to stroll, so it doesn’t look like my shoes are wide open. We meet briefly. And suddenly it comes a beautiful girl wearing a toga kissing Hakim’s hands full of reverence. Our chat stopped. I pretend to look at my cell phone while listening to their conversation.
“Dad, we take pictures first before going home,” the girl whined, spoiled.
“Oh yeah. Take your mother and your sister in the car too,” Hakim asks her quietly. I continue to follow their conversation. Then, the next instant, the girl, shuffle away, maybe calling her mother.
“Who is she, Kim?” I ask. By this time, my curiosity is so unsettling.
Before answering my question, Hakim chuckles,” She’s my daughter, Mr Arjun,” the answer is again denied laughter. Maybe the intention is to be modest. But in my ears, the laughter sounds so arrogant.
“Your daughter graduates today too?”
“Yes, Jun, that’s why I couldn’t go out to buy glue earlier for you.”
I feel cheated.
“So you are here to take your child’s graduation or to take Kyai Salman’s grandchildren?” I ask in a slightly trembling voice.
Hakim is silent. My mind guesses what the answer will be.
“They both are true, Jun,” he answers simply. He then smiles thoughtfully.
“So? Are you Kyai Salman’s son-in-law? Do you marry Ning Amalia? “
Before Hakim could answer my question, the girl wearing the toga had come back with her mother and small children, whom I think is her younger siblings.
“This is Ning Amalia Jun, my wife. And these are my children. “
My mouth seems silenced by his words. It is hard for me to believe that the servant of Kyai Salman I used to underestimate turns out to be Kyai Salman’s son-in-law. But what is seen before my eyes make me unable to deny it. I stand nailing blankly. They then leave me. And I do not dare to move because the soles of my shoes have come loose. Their mouth is gaping wider. Apparently, my life is full of jokes! Look, even the shoes deride at my arrogance! My face feels numb. My chest feels tight to breathe.
Mentaraman, 5 June 2020