NIGHT BUTTERFLY
#232
"Fathers, mothers, the presence of God. We should be grateful because we are living thousands of years from the time of his Prophet Muhammad. We never saw him. Only hearing it for generations from stories told by our parents, our teachers. But we still believe that he is truly God's messenger. We were so angry when he was insulted. Muslims around the world will react strongly. And how can we love a man whom we have never seen so great, if not for he is truly the messenger of God, who is a mercy to the universe. In one book it is said that faith in Muhammad in the last days, as in our time, is the ultimate dignity. We remain in our faith in him, even though we have never seen him and witnessed his miracles. We do not wonder how strong the faith of Abu Bakr's friend, because he immediately witnessed the miracles of the Prophet Muhammad. Because of that, brothers...,
Master Izzul Islam stopped his lecture. The phone in his pocket is shaking. The microphone in his hand was placed on the table. He then grabbed the phone in his pocket. Call from Rianti. Master Izzul Islam sighed. This may have something to do with the state of Zulhiyani. Master Izzul Islam cast his gaze towards the worshippers inside the mosque. The microphone he placed on the small table in front of him was lifted up again.
"Please pardon. My wife called. Permission to answer it for a while," said Mr. Guru Izzul Islam. The entire congregation nodded. Master Izzul Islam put the microphone back. The phone in his hand was placed close to his right ear.
"Assalamualaikum, Dik," said Master Izzul Islam began his call. For a moment he looked solemn' listening to Rianti's conversation from the opposite direction. His frowning with a slightly changed countenance, made the worshippers pay close attention to him.
Master Izzul Islam gave a long sigh and placed his phone slowly near the microphone.
"Alhamdulillah. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi roji'un." All pilgrims who heard the phrase istirja' spoken by Master Izzul Islam in a soft voice, making them look at each other. They were curious, but they were still waiting for the possibility that Master Izzul Islam would tell the disaster what was going on so he said that sentence.
Master Izzul Islam again sighed. The microphone took him back and looked at the worshippers.
"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi roji. We belong to God and to Him we shall return." Master Izzul Islam began the conversation. The worshippers repeat the same sentence.
"Boy mother's father. This morning, around 10 a.m., I had a marriage contract with a woman of prayer, a noble woman, a beautiful woman of recitation of the Qur'an, who fragrant her mouth to the highest heaven. I married her when she was very ill. Last morning after the marriage contract, he went straight into the operating room." Master Izzul Islam stopped his words. A single tear fell on his lap. Master Teacher Izzul Islam sighed while closing his eyes for a moment. Some of the people who saw him cried.
"The "istirja' sentence I said earlier was news to me for losing her today. I'm asking for Fatehah's gift from you to my wife. May Allah accept all his good deeds and place them in the best place by His side. Alfatahah," continued Mr. Guru Izzul Islam. All worshipers bowed their heads and began to look solemn' reading the letter of Al-Fatehah. The atmosphere inside the mosque momentarily became silent.
Master Izzul Islam rubbed his eyes with the tip of his torment. Then he smiled.
"God will ask the angel who took life after taking a life of a person about what his family said after being left dead. The angel replied: He read Hamdalah and said the sentence istirja'." Master Izzul Islam smiled again. His face was blushing cheerfully.
"Behold, God commanded the angels to build a house in heaven. The house is reserved for the person who when he is stricken with calamity, he says Alhamdulillah and the phrase istirja'. The house in heaven is called Baitul Hamdi, the house of praise." Master Teacher Izzul Islam let out a long sigh and smiled. "Maybe we got here to study today. Or less sorry. Hopefully there is some benefit. Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarokatuh,"
"Wa aleikum salam,"
Speak the congregation in unison. Master Izzul Islam put the microphone on the table. Then he got up. After saluting the worshippers inside the mosque, he stepped out and headed straight for his car.
* * * * *
The dry wind of the dry season blows on the trees covered with dust. The scorching sun that stung this afternoon was still felt above the paving block of the clinic parking area. The sound of ambulance sirens began to be heard when Zulhiyani's body was put inside. Beside his head covered in a white blanket, Nurmah's inak looks tough, although occasionally his old hands rub the rest of his tears. Not because of sadness. But for the joy of his heart watched Zulhiyani's face that looked radiant with a hint of grin on his lips. That made his old hand unceasingly flick the cloth that covered Zulhiyani's face.
* * * * *
Master Izzul Islam arrived first at the boarding school before a few minutes later the car carrying Zulhiyani's body arrived. Santri and pesantren management no one knows what is going on. They gathered in front of the residence of Mr. Guru Izzul Islam for fear that something had happened to Mr. Guru Izzul Islam and his wives when an ambulance was seen stopping in the courtyard of the house. But when the Master Teacher Izzul Islam, Jamila and Rianti looked fine, they grew curious. Only a stiff body covered in white cloth was seen being carried out of the ambulance.
"Lik, here" called Master Izzul Islam who helped lift Zulhiyani's body into the house. Abdul Khalik immediately rushed to meet Master Izzul Islam who stood in front of the terrace of the house.
"You take the great santri to dig a grave. Hurry up, after the prayers we will immediately bury the late Nyai Zulhiyani," said Mr. Guru Izzul Islam. Abdul Khalik nodded and immediately rushed away. Several boarding and boarding school administrators who were called to be briefed by Mr. Izzul Islam were also seen coming out. They are seen directing the students who are huddling to immediately enter the pesantren.
"Are we not going to announce it in the mosques, Mr. Tuan," Jamila asked as she accompanied Mr. Izzul Islam in the living room.
"It doesn't matter, brother. If we announce it, I'm afraid the burial could be delayed until midnight. Jamaat certainly will not stop coming," replied Mr. Izzul Islam. Jamila nodded. Master Izzul Islam holds Jamila's hand. His face looks tired.
"Call Rianti, we have not prayed ashar. We pray together" said Master Izzul Islam as he rose from his seat. Jamila smiled and got up. He then stepped into Rianti's room.
* * * * *
Dusk has anchored. The sun had sunk and was hiding in his quarrel. Maghrib wind cruise hit pieces of paper in front of gate of Qudwatusshalihin boarding school. The mood was quiet. Soluble in every Fatehah pronounce melodious Lord Guru Izzul Islam when praying Maghrib. The courtyard of Al-barokah mosque which is inside the Maghrib boarding school is crowded. Tonight, both son and daughter santri are deliberately collected in one place. Bakda salat maghrib, they will read yasin and tahlil while waiting for the funeral time of Zulhiyani after praying isya' later.
Frangipani tree flowers at the family cemetery fall, spread over the grass. The sound clashed with the leaves of the date palm trees surrounding the burial area, like the passage of a harp on a quiet night. Sounds softly blown in the wind. Accompanying the voice of the first takbir to pray Zulhiyani's corpse.
As soon as the first funeral prayer was completed, Master Izzul Islam immediately ordered the santri who were behind him to bring Zulhiyani's body to the family funeral. Near the grave of Nyai Mustiani, Zulhiyani's body was buried.
The funeral atmosphere was slowly quiet. The students have returned to their dormitories. Only the remaining Master Izzul Islam, Rianti, Jamila and Nurmah in front of the mound of the grave of Zulhiyani. They looked solemnly' raising both hands, confirming the prayer of Master Izzul Islam.
"Mom, in the past, my late mother always cried for me the first time I went to the Tebuireng Jombang boarding school." Master Teacher Izzul Islam smiled considering the events of decades ago. He let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of Nurmah's stooge. Inak Nurmah smiled.
"Every night I cry because I miss home, of course I miss my late mother too. Until one day I called my mother and asked her not to think too much about me. Just imagine, my late mother did not want to eat because she thought of me. I said to Mom, if you don't stop crying, I better go home. At that time I did not concentrate on teaching because it was like there was an inner contact of mother's sadness with me." Master Izzul Islam smiled and rubbed the back of the Nurmah.
"We testify that the deceased is a good man and a good man. One of the groups whose bodies will not rot and remain intact in his grave are the memorizers of the Qur'an. The house doesn't want us to cry." Master Izzul Islam ended his words. Then he stood up.
"Sir, bring mom in. We will immediately perform the prayer of gifts for the late," Master Izzul Islam told Rianti and Jamila. The two smiled and immediately invited Nurmah's men back home.