THE SMILE OF THE MOON
emi's mood changed instantly. It felt like prison...

Today the atmosphere in the pesantren is not as usual. The students who are usually khusyu' in their respective classes look neatly lined up in the yard. Their gazes were fixed towards the gate, like something was waiting for. Maybe today, the boarding school is having an important guest.

Emi is still silent. He looked around like he was looking for someone. Because he was not found, he chose to mingle with other students in front of him.

A silver Panther is seen coming in. Santri who was still noisy with each other immediately fell silent lowered his head. Some santri who were at the end of the line were heard reading shalawat and were immediately greeted by all students. Panther's car drove slowly. Until the car stopped in front of the house, Emi still did not know who the guests were in the car.

Someone pulled Emi's shirt from behind. He looked around and saw Nurhalimah behind him. Emi complied when Nurhalimah pulled her into the classroom.

"Where have you been, I've been looking everywhere I haven't met."

"I came a little late earlier, I was confused about this crowded tumben. What's so much," asked Emi still astonished.

"So you don't know who's coming yet" asked Nurhalimah. Emi shaking.

"But you see who's in the car". Emi is back.

"Ck.ck.ck...., you are outrageous Emi, it was God's time, it was handsome Emi," said Nurhalimah excitedly.

"Who's in the car" asked Emi.

"Ustads Mohammad Alqof, his son Pak Kiai who studied in Egypt."

Emi was shocked upon hearing Nurhalimah's explanation. His body trembled a little. He began to wonder in his heart about the connection of the return of the Mohammad ustads. Alqaf with the call of pak kiai three days ago. He was afraid that after this Mr. Kiai would call him again, whereas he had no answer at all.

"Indeed, the ustads of Mohammad Alqof have graduated from Nur's college" Emi said, trying to find a justification.

"The information I heard was, umtadzah ma'am who sent ustadz Mohammad Alqof home."

Emi's heart is getting worse. If it's true, it's ustadzah who sent Mohammad ustads. Alqof went home, so he must be ready to be called Mr. Kiai. But how important was he, to the point that the oustads of Mohammad Alqof came home from a very far place, only to be introduced to him?

Emi let out a short breath. For a moment, he was completely unable to move his body. He was still thinking of the right answer if one day bu ustadzah, Pak Kiai's wife called him back. He really felt a dilemma. He felt he would not be able to refuse if he was in front of Mr. Kiai and his family. Emi looked up.

"Nur, I think I'll just go home. I think I'm not well" Emi said, putting her right hand on Nurhalimah's shoulder. Nurhalimah looked at Emi who looked pale.

"That means you can't go to Mushalla,"

"To mushalla? what else is it," asked Emi frowning curiously.

"Ustadz Mohammad Alqof will give a little lecture in front of all students. Rarely do you know Emi met ustadz Mohammad Alqof," said Nurhalimah.

"But how dong, I really feel unwell today. I'll tell you a story, God willing, if we meet again tomorrow morning, I'll definitely listen to you tell a story." Emi got up and said goodbye to Nurhalimah.

Along the way, the return of ustadz Mohammad. Alqof became a moaning topic in his head. His mood changed erratically. Either way, he felt his life had been imprisoned since the summoning by Mr. Kiai Abdul Rozak. Saban night he drained his mind for an answer that he had actually obtained but very difficult to express later in front of Mr. Kiai.

Arriving near the old building, Emi raised her head while glancing upwards. Only the pieces of the sack he saw. The feeling, when yesterday he looked towards the window, the piece of the sack was still waving in the wind. But now, the piece of the sack was like it had been tied up. His beliefs are getting stronger about having someone up there.

Emi lowered her head. His eyes were looking back and forth checking, maybe there was something he could take home like yesterday.

Emi lowered her head. Something caught his attention up ahead. A thing that looks familiar. Something used to tie up a roll of HVS paper.

Emi grabbed it and immediately put it in her bag. He looked up again, after which he resumed his steps.

Azan Dhuhur sounded. Alfian awakens. Again he fell asleep. The atmosphere in the room felt cold and made him shiver.

Slowly Alfian rose. Black clouds seemed to be clumping in front of him. It's coming down soon.

After performing the prayer, Emi immediately hid her body inside her thick blanket. Not to forget he included something he found earlier near the old building.

The HVS paper roll with blue ribbon as the fastener he started to open. He smiled to himself. It felt funny and like he was playing a puzzle. Since finding the first poem he became interested in everything near the old building.

It's possible that the white-hooded girl in the poem is meant for someone else who might have a crush on her. Likewise, blue color ribbons are very much sold in the market or in stores.

There were two sheets of paper he found behind the HVS sheet . This time all he saw was long writing filling the sheets. Emi picked up the poem she found yesterday and matched the form of her writing. The same beautiful writing written by the same people. Very neat indeed.

After saying Bismillah, Emi began to read it.

"White hooded girl, until when should I hide to see your beautiful. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and desperate waiting for the miracle of God. I wanted to look at you at such a close distance, but my circumstances made me realize that I would never deserve to be loved by you.

White-hooded girl, do you know how many rhymes I made for you? If all my rhymes you can find, you can make them into a collection of stories that make you saturated with finding the end.

I love you, white-hooded girl. Loving you so much in my incongruity. Nazar by Nazar I have spoken to achieve my impossible dream. A dream that made me start to despair of pursuing him.

I can't imagine what my life would be like if I could be with you. Maybe it was my first chance to be happy because of love. Prayers that are always offered in every corner of my tahajjud.

I realize my shortcomings, but I cry if your shadow disappears from my sight. Because you are so precious to me, you are an inseparable part of my soul.

Do you know, white-hooded girl? I never pray for myself as often as I pray for you. I never had the strength to live if I didn't remember that I could still see you from a distance. One day I didn't see you, I cried because I didn't know how you were. I can't be sure if you're sick or okay there. And you know, my body becomes weak and sick if I sentence bad things to happen to you, even if I don't see you for a day.

World's bleak. My heart is not calm. My prostration and my hut are empty of no man.

O White hooded girl. I was near you. If you feel like I'm near you, don't hesitate to step your foot in to find me. I was close and you could find me. You just don't have the confidence to step up and still have doubts about my whereabouts. Your heart is always whispering something that is not wrong. A clean heart from the oral that can not be separated from the holy kalam Owner of Arsy.

This is how I tell my whereabouts. If you get angry when you realize I'm just an owl pecking on a tree branch, calm your heart and give me a chance to love you without having to have. I just want you to know how long I've been peeping at you behind my quarrels.

As I write this, I whisper to God. This is my last scratch. If God does not allow this reading to be anchored in your hands, let it be a misleading reading for nature. But if you have read it to completion, then close your eyes and please, seek me as best you can because I cannot find you as I can. Circumstances and space are limiting me.

Lie still, white-hooded girl. May the power bestow upon you the perfect good in this world and the Hereafter.

Emi wiped away the tears flowing down her white cheeks. He felt like he already had a bond with the owner of the letter. He was dissatisfied and read it again. He was completely swept away into the world of the word owner.

Three times I read the letter. Three times he was crying too. Emi stared at the letter sheet in her hand. There was a small scribble on the bottom end of the paper. So tiny. Looks like a streak extending to the side but looks very neat. Emi tried to get her as close to her eyes as possible, but she still could not read it.

Emi picked up the tissue on the table and immediately cleaned the remaining tears that were still in her eyes. He remembers seeing his father making a fire using a magnifying glass when he went to the field of one of his relatives. Maybe his father still keeps that mirror.

Emi hurried up and immediately headed for the living room. The atmosphere in the house looks lonely. Her mother's bedroom door was closed. His father has not yet returned home. He's got to find that magnifying glass.

Drawer after drawer of his father's table began to open and he found a magnifying glass in one of the drawers. Immediately Emi ran back to her room, picked up the letter and pointed the magnifying glass towards the bottom end of the paper.

"Emi Widjayanti" .

The magnifying glass slipped out of Emi's hand. He picked it up again and directed it to the same spot and he still found his name clearly legible in the bottom corner of the paper.

Emi sighing. So right, the poems and letters he was reading right now were indeed intended for him. The person who wrote it must be the one who knew him and knew him. The owner of the letter knew his name. He is a mysterious man whom he may have met quite often.

Emi started thinking hard. Trying to remember the faces of men he knew and often saw. Many but still can not be sure who among them. One way to prove it is possible by matching the writing of each with the letter in his hand. But that would make him like a man with no job.

"O Allah, give your servant guidance to solve this confusion" exclaimed Emi expectantly. He then laid his body. His gaze gave a meaningful look at the sky of the room.