Project : Alterization
Chapter 9's
Chapter 3: A Fad But Made
Peaceful and silent. This is my favorite mood. Puddles of rain on the ground, dense foliage that is still wet, and the sky after a bright rain. I could see all of that clearly from the terrace of this mosque. The air around me felt so cold. The dew that had sprung up on the glass door, became a real witness to how cold the temperature was in the afternoon.
I was writing while sitting leaning against the wall of the mosque. Keep writing and writing. As a clear testament to my willingness to realize my dream of becoming a writer. After I finished writing one book last year, I resumed my struggle by starting to write another title. I hope that when this is completed, the results will be better than I have ever written before. So, I could publish it and print it into a physical book that can be read by many people, someday.
(Flame! My door!!)
Instantly, I felt like a rough hand was touching my shoulder. Along with the sound of a mouth-made bang that then exploded right beside me. I was surprised too. My body was shocked. Reflexes, I quickly turned to the side.
"Yahaha! What's that writing again?" he again. Someone who was very diligent came suddenly, and then disturbed me while I was writing. I think that's his favorite activity. I don't know if there's anything useful that can be done by him. I put on a grim face.
"Minimal greetings." I responded briefly with a slight annoyance.
"Elah. Masa' still want to be surprised too? How's it? Has the novel been continued yet?" ask her with a face that does not feel guilty at all.
"Cih.." I grabbed the binder beside me, then handed it to him. "Now, go sono! Don't bother ana nulis anymore, if you want the novel there is still a continuation." said ketus with a hand movement expel.
"Yes, yeah. That's so bad." He turned away after grabbing the binder I was holding with my hand. Stepping away, until his back drifted away and disappeared from my sight. He went back into the mosque and read my handwritten novel.
His name is Puguh. He is a friend of mine who read the writings I made since last year. He said he really likes to read novels. Moreover, novels that smell of sakura country, like light novels. If he was immersed in a reading, he could not sleep all night just to finish his reading. Never left the house, and continued to languish in the room with his beloved novels. That's what he does when he's at home on vacation. Nilts. Absolutely no life at all.
Because now he is in the boarding school, he can no longer enjoy his beloved novels online. Let him read the novel I made. He said that my novel is good, the plot is interesting, and the writing style is easy to understand but still poetic. He always praised me when I wrote a story line that was in line with his vision and criticized me when in opposition. So there's no harm in letting that guy read my writing. Because sometimes, I was also helped by the criticism conveyed by him. Although the criticism he gave always seemed selfish.
After a few minutes, he came back to me on the terrace of the mosque. His face looked a little irritated with bulging cheeks. He returned the binder I had given him.
"The end is hanging!" brak! He just put a binder with my writing on the floor.
"Yes, patience. It's written again. You're bothering mulu anyway!" protest back. He still looks at me.
"Tumben too, how come your writing is just a little? Usually one day can add up to three sheets, right?" tanyanya sat pensively beside me.
"Yes, sori. Ana is again busy preparing for selection in two organizations that are on the list." I replied.
"What list do you have anyway?"
"Majmu'ah Da'wah, same HBA¹. You also list the HBA right?"
"Yes anyway. But ana mah does not need to be seriusin that. Does anything have to be a perfectionist like the main character in novels? That's mah you! I am ordinary, want to be accepted or not. Just wait for fate."
And blah. blah.... The conversation continued on to other topics. Talk about cartoons, comics, light novels, and it goes on and on. Until it is not felt, soon the Maghrib adhan will be echoed. What to say, I had to stop my writing activities to get ready for Maghrib prayer. Lost my precious writing time that afternoon. And one thing to know, this is the way that guy bothers me when I'm writing.
¹HBA : Badurkhan Al-Irsyad Set
I immediately returned to the mosque after finishing the bath and fulfilling other needs. This time I won't let a single second get away from me without any utilization. Just as my feet were stepping on the steps of the mosque, the adzan maghrib reverberated. I don't usually come to endings like this. Usually, thirty minutes before the Adhan, I have been standing by sitting in the front shaf whether it is writing or memurojaah memorization of the Quran. It's all that guy's doing. Just watch...
The time between adzan and iqomah I use to make a living. Then after praying, I have an afternoon baqo activity which of course is also used to read the Quran. After Isya's prayer and dinner, then I can continue my writing activities. But it was only for a moment. The distance between the time after dinner until the dormitory gate was closed was only an hour and a half. Half an hour spent studying tajwid and tsaqofah islamiyah in preparation for MD selection. Not to mention the cut of travel time from mosque to math'am, then from math'am to mosque again. Plus how long the queue takes to eat in math'am. Time to write this... The forty minutes I spent focusing on writing have now passed. The result is only one page and a half. That's fine if I add to what I wrote this afternoon. Two pieces in total. Still less than the daily target I set, which is six pages or three sheets. It's all because of that guy's distraction this afternoon. Besides, I've been busy with a lot of things lately, so it's only natural.
In addition, lately some of my time is also seized because I use to prepare myself for the selection of Majmu'ah Da'wah. The organization of dawah santri which in the afternoon of certain days, its members can go out to pesantren to teach at TPA. Most students who register may only seek an exit permit that is rare and very difficult to get. But I am different. I really have a desire to preach out there. Teaching at the TPA, becoming a priest, filling up the muhadhoroh, seeking new experiences, developing the ability to speak in front of many people, and most importantly one thing. I want others to look at me differently. Not only as an amateur writer who impressed cute and invisible life, aka nolep. Rather, I also want to be seen as a dawah activist who is respected in the eyes of people. And that is one of my fatal mistakes that I will never forget and continue to regret until now.