Hot Couple: Inspiration From God (I Love You, Ustadz!)
Matchmaking

The morning mist still hung in the sky. Cold air seemed reluctant to move from the face of the earth. The birds sound cheerfully welcoming the sun. Some people carried hoes, and women carried mackerels, a large basket made of bamboo cuttings. They were seen walking with vigor along the way. The gurgling of the waters that interspersed with the singing of the rice field animals completes the charm of the morning.

But baby it doesn't apply to me. I felt as if I was shrouded by a thick fog because I heard Umi's request last night. He came to my room and asked me to be ready to meet Ustadz Ilham.

"Known first, Nduk. Who knows, you might like the person. Want, huh?" said Umi last night.

While grimacing I turned my back on the bed. "Relieve it!"

"Sir, your age is enough to get married. It's not good if you're still single. If you're married, you have someone to take care of. Avoiding slander."

Oh. I looked at Umi with a feeling of nelangsa. "What's wrong, Mi? Who would want to slander if?"

"Nduk, Umi and Abi know that you often meet the man who is not your muhrim. Abi shy, Nduk. Umi has pity on Abi. Abi is a kiai. You should be able to maintain your attitude and keep your distance from the opposite sex. Don't meet so often."

It sucks, anyway! I'm furious. "Don't like to listen to people, Umi. If not do anything that can make Abi and Umi embarrassed. If only I met Mas Imam. Just chatting, that's it. After all, we met in a crowded place, not alone. Why should I be ashamed?"

"But still, Nduk, it makes Abi ashamed. You are the son of a religious leader. If you see him often, it must be an unpleasant talk."

Piqued. I looked at my mother sharply. "Once again, if I've heard my friends say that my father has two wives, that doesn't embarrass me? I have sisters from my stepmother, it doesn't embarrass me? My mother was polygamous, doesn't that embarrass me? Yes, Umi? Why do you selfishly think only of yourself, and only think of pesantren? Wh why? Why never think about my feelings? I'm your real son, right? Anyway I don't want to marry an ustadz! I love Mas Imam, and I want to wait for Mas Imam. Point!"

My mother shed tears. Quailed.

Oh my God, I accidentally hurt her heart. Kuhela took a deep breath, crying along. "If you're sorry, Umi. If you don't mean to hurt Umi. Sorry...."

"Unfortunately, Nduk. But you also have to understand. Your life is not like the life of an ordinary girl. You have to understand that. Legowo, Nduk."

I can't legowo. I don't like being organized. I want to live like an ordinary girl, Umi.

And that's what I've been doing all this time in my life. I was indeed hijab when I went out of the house, but only an ordinary headscarf, not a long one up to the waist let alone up to the knees. While inside the house, I took off my headscarf. I attended a public university, majored in art education, and eventually taught arts and culture subjects at one of the High Schools in Rembang.

In the subjects I teach, I teach my students about music, but not nasyid. Teaching to play musical instruments, but not tambourines. I teach painting, but not calligraphy. Not anything that is usually taught in pesantren. Even the performing arts, performing ordinary drama, even colossal drama, are not about the struggle of the people in defending religion. I did things completely different to what the ustadz and the ustadzah in the pesantren did.

Although from my teenage years I was often crammed with advice on the positive things behind my father's polygamous decisions, but still, my heart refused. I want a woman to be glorified. Just as a woman should have only one husband, so should men: men should also have only one wife. Except, if my mother couldn't give a child to my father, I would understand. But there's me, right? He already has a child. I'm. I'm the only one he should care about. He noticed without having to divide his attention to the younger siblings who were not born from my mother's womb. My mother could not give any more offspring to my father, it was fate, not my mother's fault. Why should it be polygamous? It's not fair to him, nor is it fair to me to be forced to share a father.

"You want to, huh, Nduk? Just get acquainted first. Later you can ask anything to Nak Ilham. If you don't answer, you tell Umi. But you have to be honest about what is wrong with the answer that does not fit your heart. Can, right, Nduk? Do this for Umi? Yea? Would please? For Umi."

Alright. I forced my lips to smile for this woman I love. Pretend tough, when. For Umi. Just think about it first. I wiped my tears. "The guy's handsome, isn't he? If it's not good-looking I don't want to, yeah. Boro-boro wants to ask this. If it doesn't fit my criteria, I'll reject it. Not going to go first."

"Handsome is relative, Nduk. Just meet first. Again, do this for Umi. Yea?"

Argha!

Last night I agreed to Umi's request. How can I refuse him when his face is covered in tears? And this afternoon I must meet Ustadz Ilham. He will come to visit the boarding school with his parents.

"Youngpam...!" my wriggles stretched out both hands while breathing out from the lungs. It felt like I was reaching my feet.

Oh, my God, I don't think I've walked far enough away from the pesantren. I'm on the river now. The sight that lay before my eyes for a while can make me forget the state of my feet sore and a little sore, also sore in my heart. Rocks scattered between the river flow very clear. Beautiful, and charming.

I'm enchanted. I maximized my sense of sight. My eyes crisscrossed the lush trees around the hut lined up like soldiers besieging a bull, turning to the right and to the left over and over. It's amazingly beautiful.

I stood up straight while throwing a small pebble into the river. It brought out a melodious lizard rhythm in my ears.

I wish I didn't have to deal with such a shitty situation. If Abi hadn't forced me to marry an ustadz. If I had been given the freedom to choose my own soul mate and be married to Mas Imam. Suppose that....

Just like the time of Siti Nurbaya, I thought nelangsa.

I threw a pebble back, this time it was a bit big. The resulting lizard rhythm is even harder.

All right, I'll see you, Mr. Ustadz! Let's see, how capable are you of breaking my heart? Ah, or should I make you illfeel that you too will refuse this matchmaking? Wait and see. Please come, Ustadz.