(Sequel article of "Saved by A Fish")

“Ahmed, could you enlighten me about Sunan Bonang?”
“He was, as of others, a man of magic with one distinction. The Sunan was a music expert specializing in the instrument called bonang.”
“Oh, I see. What kind of instrument is that?”
“It is a part of Javanese gamelan. You know the horizontal arrangement of small gongs attached to the strings in a wooden frame in one or two rows. People played it with two padded sticks.”
“Oh, yes, yes. I know the American gamelan. The university keeps one in their music room.”
“So, his instrument echoed the magic that once paralyzed the criminals. They repented and became his follower afterward.”
“To which grave shall we visit, sir?” suddenly Hamdan raised the question, turning his head at them.
“Let’s visit the one behind the Tuban Mosque.”
“Is there more than one grave?” Kendrick was surprised. “How many bodies did he have?”
Ahmed laughed. “He left it uncovered. During his last days, he took his missionary in a small island outside of Java Island. The students wanted to bury him there but his other disciples in Tuban objected the idea. So, they ‘stole’ his body.”
“Let me guess, the body appeared in the two places?”
“That’s correct, my friend. Ah, here we go.”
They stepped out the car and strode along the small alley beside the Tuban Mosque to get into the graveyard to pray.
After doing the routine ritual, they went out to find a hotel.

Kendrick and Ahmed shared a room.
Kendrick’s was very sleepy but before shutting his eyes and saying good-bye to the night, he opened his diary and wrote:
I’m visiting four graves in one night. I’ve never done that in my whole forty-five-year life. Each of them gave me a different nuance. It was the sense of a supernatural power. I could see clearly that Ahmed was gaining what he aimed to. Yet, I don’t feel homey as if I feel that I have to seek for more. The hole inside me hasn’t been filled completely yet.
He put his diary back to his backpack and went to bed.
Kendrick felt that he was just only sleeping for a few hours when he was awaken by Ahmed’s move.
“What are you doing?” he whispered, squinting at him in the dark. “Do we have to go?”
“Hush. I’m sorry to wake you up. No, we’re not leaving now. I’m only doing my fajr sholat. It’s my morning prayer. Go back to sleep!” Ahmed replied him with a subdued voice.
Drowsing, Kendrick sneaked a look at him. He was kneeling down on certain directions, bowing down his back, whiffing a prayer. But he did not remember the rest of his ritual because he had gone back to his sleeping, dreaming about the four graves he had just visited.

They woke up rather late the next day, strode slowly to the modest cafeteria, had their fried rice with hot sweet tea as their brunch in rush, and then went back to their room to take a bath.
Being refreshed, they checked out and jumped back to the car ready to continue their journey to the rest of the graves.
“Where is our destination today?” Kendrick asked.
Ahmed took a map from behind the sack on the back seat, studied it in a moment, and said, “We are going to Mount Muria in Kudus.”
Kendrick stretched his hand to ask for the map and observed the surrounding. “Are we still in the East Java?” He looked curious.
“Yes, we are,” Ahmed touched Hamdan’s shoulder. “How long is it to Mount Muria?”
“It’s around four hours, sir.”
“Good, then, I’ll do my maghrib sholat there.” Ahmed nodded calmly.
After taking on fuel, their car moved fast for the next destination.

“Moving along, I believe that you have five practices in Islam?” Kendrick started the conversation.
“Oh, yes, the profession of faith, ritual prayer, charity, ritual fasting, and hajj.”
“The pilgrimage to Mecca,” Kendrick confirmed. “Was the one you did early in the morning a ritual prayer?”
“Yes. I felt close to God whenever I pray.” His eyes were sparkling with worship and faith as he spoke.
“Yes, I understand. You have settled your itch,” Kendrick mumbled softly.
“Sorry? What did you say?”
“I wanted to feel the same just that way, being elated by my faith and felt fulfilled with the God’s presence.”
“You are still searching, aren’t you?” Ahmed looked closely at his face.
“It’s very weird. Yesterday I felt the power seemed to engulf me. But, today I felt empty again, as if it didn’t want to stay in me.”
Ahmed smiled solemnly. “Take your time to find what you are searching for, my friend. As for me, I’ve found my way in Islam.”
Kendrick nodded thoughtfully.

Author: Damien Dematra
He is a novelist, writer, painter, and photographer.
www.damiendematra.com

You are allowed to copy and to distribute this article with limitation only for non-commercial purposes and with credit to the author.