Mother’s Dream | View online

The atmosphere in the hut that morning was very quiet. The air was still cold, dew stuck to the neat leaves in the yard. From the mosque, the verses of the Koran can be heard beautifully, read by the Santry who are Muroja’ah after dawn. Their voices intertwined, forming a soothing harmony. In the eastern sky, the sun began to show its rays slowly, as if welcoming every corner of the hut which was expanded by morning activities.

Hi, my name is Naina, I just straightened the mukena and folds of the prayer mat. As usual, after the Fajr prayer in congregation, we were given time for wird, recitations, or memorizing lessons. Some friends chose to read the Koran on the dormitory terrace, there were also those who sat in a circle repeating the memorization with the ustadzah. I myself prefer to sit near the bedroom window, letting in the morning air while calming my mind before starting the day.

After the announcement from the boarding school was heard over the loudspeaker, all the students began to move towards their respective rooms. Time to prepare for school. The atmosphere in the dormitory immediately turned boisterous. The sound of cupboards being opened, key chains jingling, even the small screams of friends borrowing each other’s hair ties or hijab needles.

“Nai, have you showered yet?” the voice of Salsa, my roommate, broke my concentration as I was organizing my textbooks.

“That’s it, it’s after dawn. You haven’t yet, have you?” I answered with a smile.

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“No, I was helping a friend wash the kitchen picket plates. Oh, the water is really cold,” he complained, rubbing his arm.

I chuckled a little. “So, if you wake up at dawn, don’t curl up too long.”

A few moments later, we had changed into neat school uniforms. In the dormitory hallway, a long line began to form in front of the cottage kitchen. Everyone is waiting for a simple breakfast before going to school.

“Eh, what’s for breakfast today?” I asked Salsa as we joined the queue.

“They said green bean porridge and white bread,” he answered enthusiastically.

From the back of the queue, the voice of another friend, Aulia, could be heard replying, “Just don’t make the porridge runny like yesterday, okay? It just tastes like sugar water.”

We all laughed a little. Light jokes like this are always a source of encouragement in the morning. After getting our breakfast, we sat on the long wooden benches lined up next to the kitchen, enjoying warm porridge while chatting casually about today’s lessons.

It was a quarter to seven. All the students rushed to the gate, carrying their respective bags. I slung a shabby blue cloth bag over my shoulder. Even though the color has started to fade and the right strap often gets caught, I still use the bag every day.

“Nai, when did you change your bag? It looks like it’s been accompanying you since first grade, right?” said Salsa while looking at my bag.

I smiled faintly. “Yeah, it’s still going strong. Besides, I don’t have the money to buy a new one.”

Salsa nodded understandingly. We walked side by side to class, accompanied by the chirping of birds and the sound of dozens of students’ footsteps enthusiastically seeking knowledge.

The journey to school is not too far, you only need to pass a path filled with shady trees on either side. Usually Salsa and I walk around joking or memorizing things, but that morning my mind kept drifting to what Salsa said earlier.

“Nai, when did you change your bag? It looks like it’s been accompanying you since first grade, right?”

That sentence kept ringing in my head. I know Salsa didn’t mean to offend, but for some reason my chest feels tight. My eyes looked at the shabby bag on my right shoulder. The color has completely faded, the edges are starting to peel, and the right strap has been stitched three times.

“Was… I wrong if I didn’t change my bag?” I muttered to myself.

“Why does it feel like I’m different from others?”

“Do they also think I’m strange because I still wear this bag?”

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize there was a small stone in the road. I almost stumbled. Luckily Salsa was quick to nudge my arm.

“Nai! Eh, be careful, bro!” he exclaimed in a tone of surprise mixed with amusement.

I jumped a little. “Hah uh… yeah, sorry. I didn’t see it earlier.”

“Why are you daydreaming so early in the morning? Your face looks like someone who has failed an exam,” teased Salsa, laughing.

I laughed stiffly, trying to cover up the thoughts that had just filled my head. “No, I just… just thought about it.”

“What are you thinking? Don’t tell me about Mathematics,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

I shook my head slowly. “No. Earlier when you were talking about my bag… I thought about it. It does look… strange, doesn’t it?” I asked carefully.

Salsa immediately stopped walking and looked at me. “Well, Nai… I didn’t mean to spoil it, you know. I’m just surprised that the bag is still so durable. You’re really thrifty, you know?”

I smiled faintly, feeling a little relieved. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that sometimes… I think, everyone has changed into new bags, I’m the only one still using this. It feels like… I’m missing out.”

Salsa patted my shoulder lightly. “Hey, the important thing is that you can still study, the bag is strong and has a long history, right? Besides, a good bag doesn’t guarantee good grades either,” he said with a chuckle.

I laughed too, even though in my heart I still felt a little unsure of myself. But at least, Salsa’s words just now calmed my mind for a moment. We walked back towards the school, passing through the gate of the hut which was starting to fill with rows of students.

Upon arrival at school, all students went straight to their respective classes. The atmosphere in the morning class was quite busy; the sound of chairs scraping, books being opened, and light chatter could be heard in all directions. I sat in the front seat, as usual. Usually that position makes me focus, but today… for some reason my mind is very difficult to cooperate with.

Lesson begins. The Ustadzah’s voice explaining the Mathematics material was clear, but all the words seemed to evaporate before they could be captured by my brain. My eyes were blank, staring at the whiteboard without really looking. Salsa’s words this morning kept playing in my mind, like a song that wouldn’t stop playing.

“When do you change bags?“

I held the strap of the blue bag hanging next to the chair, rubbing the part that was starting to get hairy from frequent scratches. It feels strange… I think too much about something that was never a burden before.

“Why am I like this? overthinkingnya…” I muttered softly, almost inaudible.

From the middle seat, Salsa glanced at me several times. Maybe he noticed the change in my usually cheerful expression, now looking gloomy and distant. Occasionally he raised his eyebrows as if asking “why?”, but I just smiled faintly and then looked down again.

The lessons continued, but I kept daydreaming. Several times the ustadzah called out my friends’ names to answer questions, and I could only hope that my name would not be mentioned. Luckily, until the bell rang for the first break, I was “safe”.

Continued…

Writer: trough
Editor: Rara Zarary