Way Home
100. meet very general

This morning, two days after the return of Huda and Komeng, Hazri looks happy. Smiles have continued since dawn. “Dek...,” he calls his wife.

Ami approached her husband in the living room. “Iya, Mas, what's up?”

“Dek, later Mas want to Jogja. It might be two days a night,” Hazri told Ami sitting next to him.

“Tumben, Mom? Want what?”

“There are old affairs that must be Mas finishin.”

“Adek not coming?”

Hazri. “When-anytime yes.”

“Ah, Mas mah.... When... sometime?” Ami sulking.

Hazri laughed a little. “Let's see if this thing is settled. Promises. Where to go Mas anterin.”

“Now, Mas?” Ami's eyeballs are rounded. Understandably, for years married they have never had a picnic far. Most muter-muter Magelang City. But, Ami did not protest, know her husband is ‘Bumi’ cooker Tidar village.

Hazri nodded while laughing again.

Ami smiled too. “Adek nyiapin his clothes first yes...”.

“Not much. Two three stels only.”

Ami nodded, then went to prepare the needs of her husband.

Hazri took a deep breath. At dawn, by His gesture, God allowed Hazri to fulfill his long-overdue intention. That former intention, which ‘by accident’ overlaid on Tidar land as ‘Bumi’ Cooker. There is no coincidence in every incident. So he sighed, “Yes Allah, I am Yours.”.

After taking a shower and getting ready, unbeknownst to his wife, Hazri infiltrates Colt 38's gun, bundles of documents, and all the remaining ‘forits of blood’ into his clothing bag. All this time, the historical items were hidden in a safe place. He made his own secret place, no one else knows.

Ready-to-go. Shirt white short-sleeved koko combined with blue jeans plus black leather shoes, handsome look fugitive snapper with this mursyid haqullah. Ami mesam-mesem. Hazri kisses his wife and daughter. “Mas go for a minute yes, Dek..,” said. Ami nods. The Fia who did not know the matter of chuckling was admired by her father. Just roared after seeing his father go on a motorcycle alone with his Om Juki. Upset she wasn't invited.

Hazri wants to take a public bus to Jogja. It will be easy to use a taxi there. So many years have never seen the student city, rather forget the important streets Hazri already hold Fahmi residence information from his employees in Progo who are police members. Apparently, Fahmi still lives in his old house. There's another house, but the address is still there. Already retired him, a one-star general. Last time at Mabes Polri.

The people who were waiting for the bus near the Magelang market turned out to be many who knew him, even though Hazri did not know them. Beken also turned out to be Haji Mahmud Doro. Hazri mingles with them without awkwardness. Many people greeted Hazri. In fact, in the bus when the vehicle was already running. Most of them judged Hazri as being on a public bus, not carrying a private car. But that's what Hazri is now.

The bus kept going.... Finally, we arrived at the terminal. After greeting each other with his friends throughout the trip, they separated. Each has their own needs. Hazri took a taxi, directly hurtling towards the house of Brigadier General of Police (Purn) Fahmi Putra in Kata Baru area.

“What is the house number, Sir?” ask the taxi driver.

“I don't know, but I know his house. Just to the City. I'll show you there,” replied Hazri.

The taxi driver, whose face and name is typical of Java, nodded. Without saying much more, he also sighed his taxi towards the target.

There's been a lot of change in the New City now. Large luxury house lined up neatly. Lots of cafes too. The road taxi slowed down. Hazri sees a T-junction where she used to patronize Fahmi's house with Romi. Somewhat in front there looks a house with eight big windows. Hazri smiled too.

“Stop here, Sir,” said.

The taxi driver pulled the car over.

“Wait a minute yes.”

The driver nodded.

Hazri down. The bell at the gate was squeezed.

A teenage boy appeared from the side door. “Who to find, Sir?”

“Betul here his home Pak Fahmi Putra?”

“Iya. Father who?”

“I Hasanuddin, his old acquaintance Pak Fahmi. She exists?”

“Ada.” The young man opened the door. “Please enter.”

“Thank you. I'll pay a taxi first.”

Hazri pays the cab fare, then immediately steps in.

“Please sit down, Sir. I'll tell you first.”

Hazri nodded. He sat waiting on the front porch of this luxurious house. It appears that a gardener is taking care of plants in the yard. How is Kang Tejo? How are you Mbok Ijah?

Not long after, footsteps were heard towards the front door, Hazri was prepared, he was already standing before the door opened. It was Fahmi who appeared.

“Assalamu’alaikum..,” greet Hazri with a smile.

Fahmi was stunned, his eyes narrowed. Hail Hazri forgot to reply.

“Assalamu’alaikum, Cak,” This fugitive is greeting again.

“Eh, wa’alaikum salam..,” sahut Fahmi.

“Hazri..?”

“Yes, Cak.”

“True Hazri this?” Fahmi doesn't believe it yet.

“Hahaha. ..,” Hazri laughs softly, but powerfully deep. Directly directed to Fahmi's eardrum.

“Aih...,” Fahmi closes his ears. “Hazri...? Hey..huh...! Enter, enter. Come..” he pulled Hazri's hand. The fugitive also stepped in while bawling.

Sit facing them now. Silent again.... Fahmi was silent again, his eyes staring hard at Hazri. Yes, all of you, Hazri stared back.

“Aih...,” Fahmi directly rubbed his sore eyes. “Why my eyes?” he asked as he busily shrunk his tears with the tissue available on the guest table.

Hazri laughed a little. “It's okay, Cak..”

“So, is this true Biang Kerok?” asked Fahmi while taking another tissue.

“One stop, Cak. Meet Hasanuddin Azhari, Jombang, the parking attendant. Alias, Hazri Tiger, hehehe.

Fahmi grimacing. “Damn it, really you apparently..”.

Hazri kept laughing. Fahmi had to chuckle.

Housemaid Fahmi shows up to bring treats.

“Thank you, Mom,” Hazri told the - not-so-old woman.

“Sama-sama, Sir,” he smiled then moved on.

“No alkoDayl here. There's that. Don't protest. ,” said Fahmi.

Hazri laughed again. “Es oranges can be alkoDayl if drunk without his right..”.

“Heh? What do you mean?”

“Drink doang, not the same remember Him..”.

Fahmi's forehead wrinkled. “Philosophy of the story?”

Hazri. “In fact, philosophy can be like orange ice earlier.”

Fahmi grimacing. “For a long time. Emerging, poet...”.

“Ah, remain fugitive..,” Hazri ngeles while grinning.

“Hahaha.... Whatever. Now, what does all this mean?”

“Nothing means, Cak. I didn't come here because of me, I didn't run away because of me. I met Cak not because of me, I can still meet again now also not because of me. Actually, I don't exist. So, I also have no rights.”

“Wah, what is it? Everything is not me, everything has nothing?”

“Hehe.... It is called Qulhu Allahu Sunday, that God is the Single One. End of thing.”

Fahmi's forehead is back in contusion. Hazri Mesem took out his maroon prayer beads. Then, the shahdu as usual. The former police general noticed.

“Eemm, that was the truth, Cak. If it's his shari'a, I'm here to apologize for anything that happened between us. Maybe I've had a little trouble Cak Fahmi.”

“Who said a little? Bahaha..,” Fahmi laughs. I don't know why his heart was suddenly happy.

“Then, I add more permoDaynan sorry.”

“Hahaha..,” Fahmi. “Hazri, Hazris.... Tell me, where have you been all this time? I want to hear everything, the truth. Don't worry, I'm retired.”

Hazri smiles. “True Cak Fahmi want to hear the story?”

“ly. Everyone, honestly. It's dead I became curious..” replied Fahmi, quoting the lyrics of the song RDayma Irama.

Hazri chuckles for a moment. Then, he fell silent while continuing to twist his prayer beads. Fragrant aroma similar to the sublime was also present, even without boasting. Hazri is familiar with this, often appearing, especially when tafakkur. It can be anywhere, in a mosque, in a cage, even on a bus and in a taxi.

“Contents what is this?” Fahmi said while sniffing.

A special case this time. Usually only Hazri, as well as Subakir and his brothers, can feel. Leaking might be the reactor. Allah, Hazri said in his heart. Bles, as soon as the fragrant aroma disappeared from the smell of Fahmi in Hazri remained.

“Wah missing now..” Fahmi mutters. “You didn't kiss just now?”

Hazri nodded. “Thank God that Cak can also feel.”

“Everything He.”

“You mean?”

Hazri did not reply, her smile widening. “Cak still want to hear my story?” she asked. Regular, topic transfer.

“Iya, yes. About this fragrance too. Anyway all.”

Hazri chuckles again, and tells her...

The story starts from his meeting with Day, the existing agreement, until the fraud committed by Day with the Kapri gang. Hazri tells of the attack on Blandogan, Orange Campus, and the beheading of Day. Similarly, he clashed during an ambush carried out by police, his escape and hiding on a boat, down again to land, until now. Everything is told by Hazri, but Hazri keeps a secret about some of the names of the dangers of his salvation when mentioned.

Fahmi seriously listened.

“Now, I raise pigeons to support my family. My name is Mahmud over there. Be called Mahmud Doro because of it.”

“Hahaha.., Mahmoud Doro, hahaha.... Doro is a pigeon, right?” Fahmi does not hold back his laughter when he knows now that Tiger is Doro.

Hazri nodded.

“If it's Doro, don't hold the thugs again dong you there?” asked Fahmi later, at the end of his laughter.

Hazri shook her mesem. “Beternak only.”

“What pigeon is it?”

“Pigeon cut.”

“That makes those stitches?”

Hazri nodded.

Fahmi sighed, imagining Hazri's life there. Breeding pigeons cut for a crockery stall is definitely far from glamorous. Poor too. In fact, if you want Hazri could be a frontman thug there. What trouble? Lightning strikes can, bulletproof yes. Disappear to jago. The proof, all these years he failed to subdue it. In fact, it has been assisted by this serepublik police. Until retirement.

“What's that enough, Zri?” ask Fahmi.

“Well, be enough, Cak.”

Fahmi.

“This is my first exit, Cak, since there..,” continued Hazri.

“Hah? Wait a minute...., you mean you can't come out that's years and years too long?”

“Iya.”

“You mean, you're there to keep doing that? Like time on board?”

“There, get down to the city once in a while, the streets ride the same motor child wife. If the original came out Magelang, this is the first.”

“Busyet..,” Fahmi bobble head. “How long was it?”

“Ten years no.”

“Busyeeet...,” head bobbin Fahmi add fast. “Two years ago at sea, ten years on land.... Twelve more years, huh? Crazy, crazy of you, Zri.”

Hazri grimacing. “Neither foolhardy, Cak.”

“Ah, could you. If not crazy, what is his name? Sedeng?”

Hazri is forced to laugh because Fahmi doesn't believe, Yes, let it go.

“So, here I am, Cak. Get off the bus, take a taxi here. Fahmi's first kid I visited. If you follow logic, I shouldn't be here huh? Danger, later even ambushed by Prince Diponegoro, hehehe.

Fahmi. Honestly, it's a salute to this fugitive.

“Or, may Brimob be here?” kanda Hazri again.

Fahmi chuckles. “I'm retired, it's not my job anymore.”

“Aaah, Hazri Tiger..,” Hazri winks.

Fahmi chuckles. “Entahlah. I don't want to comment.”

“So, I am safe the story?”

“Tau ah, hahaha.

Hazri laughed too.

Pause for a moment, inhale eo’ and ignite a cigarette.

“Kok quiet from earlier, Cak? Wife out?” Hazri open the conversation again.

“Intense, Zri. I'm alone now,” Fahmi replied slowly. For a moment his eyes dimmed.

Hazri's forehead wrinkled, waiting for the continuation.

“I'm divorced...,” continued Fahmi.

Hazri sighed. Silence also ambushed.

“We had a lot of fights before I retired. Ordinary, about income. At that time I no longer hold a strategic position, his name is also the last seconds. I can't stand that he doesn't have any money. Such is. War continues on us every day. When I retired, the peak was also outrageous. Cheated on the businessman yesterday afternoon. My youngest son's mergokin' them. Yeah, I fired you guys. It's good I didn't shoot them. The desire is so, fortunately there is still a conscious me..,” Fahmi let out a long sigh.

“Kids?” ask Hazri a moment later.

“Si firstborn in Batam with his wife. Workings. The youngest, the girl, is here. Not back to college. Repot also ngawasin the child..,” Fahmi mesem. “The date is fast, where the guy is a crest model all.”

Hazri chuckles.

“Your son or girl?” ask Fahmi.

“Female.”

“Well, get ready for you later ngusirin kakaktua also yes.”

Hazri chuckles again. “Still a long time, Cak.”

“Same. The upcoming even ostrich model, hahaha.”.

They also laugh.

“So, now what's the activity, General?”

“Bengong and confused..”

“Cash? The general is confused. Businesses maybe?”

Fahmi.

“Bingungin what the hell, Cak?”

“After reaching this point, continue what exactly is all this?”

Hazri mesem. “Hampa feels yes? Like none of this is meant. There are more noble. I don't know what, anyway there is and not this, I see, right?”

“Kok you know?” Fahmi looked at Hazri.

“I'll experience too, Cak. The fact is the same, although his sababiah others. Different cases, same meaning.”

“What does it mean?” chase Fahmi.

“That man turned out to be helpless. La haula wala quwata illa billah, no power and ability without Him. We really do not exist. The universe was never created, hehehe.

Fahmi. “Whose word is that, Zri? Is there clearly this?”

“My word,” Hazri stumped a smile.

Fahmi looked at Hazri. “Try explaining. Clearly.”

“Ready, General..,” Hazri grinned.

Fahmi had to grimace.

“Sak, if man is powerless without Him, then who really exists? Still dare we admit we exist even without being able to anything? Look, what the hell do we have? The land has God, the air has God, the water has God, the fire has God, the eyes have God, the ears have God, the tongue has God, the blood has God, even the soul has God. All this belongs to God. We are fakir, we have nothing because there is nothing, hehehe..”.

Fahmi nodded, sitting up straight. Just keep staring at Hazri. Confused like ‘shot’ Allah Allah so.

“Why, Cak? Can't believe?”

Fahmy did not answer. His eyes were still staring at Hazri, while his hands were playing with a cigarette that had not been ignited.

“If the Divine Secrets contained in Cak are taken back by its Owner, I guarantee Cak will not be able to twist such cigarettes. “Iya, right?”

Fahmi. Kinda caught the point.

“So, who exactly is twisting the cigarette?”

Fahmi gawked, unable to answer. “Who, Zri?” Curious him.

“Sang Dalanglah's. We are just the puppet.”