Editor: Matsan
Proofreader: Lagged
Flowers are beautiful. So is death. Along with an elegant falling flower, the soul was able to fly in peace. The two suited each other. Decorating the place of resting. To those who left…
Even so, why do many fear death? When death was something so holy. And there was no eternal peace, other than the peace of death. Kemboja[1] understood that fact. That was why she appreciated death, and always welcomed and send it off… with a smile.
Aswad was awoken by his father, Ustad Amir. He knew straight away that someone in their housing area had died. If not, his father would not have disturbed his sleep at this time.
“Someone died, pops?”
Ustad Amir was silent. His face looked sour.
“What’s wrong, pops?” asked Aswad again.
“Suraya, aunt Hasmah’s kid… she’s back,” said Ustad Amir with a sigh.
“Oh… that’s good. Then why did you wake me up?”
“We need to manage her funeral.”
“Hah? But that day… she…” Aswad stuttered. He did not know what to say. The situation was too complicated.
“Just accept it. Only Allah knows what’s happening,” that was all that Ustad Amir could say.
“Which means that this time she is really dead? She won’t wake up again like last time?” Aswad replied.
Ustad Amir patted Aswad’s shoulder a few times. Then he stood up to make preparations, leaving Aswad’s questions unanswered. What could he say anyway? Nothing. Just like he said earlier, he could only accept the situation.
Arriving at the dead’s house, Aswad waited outside. He would enter if his father needed his help. While waiting, Aswad took a good look at his surrounding. People were slowly reuniting in the house. The recital of Yaasin[2] could be heard. The smell of incense and camphor permeated the air, making Aswad’s spine tingle. Although he had helped his father with funerals since he was little, even now when he was already twenty, his nose still couldn’t accept the smell. It made him uncomfortable every time as it was synonymous to death. And Aswad disliked everything that had to do with death.
Suddenly, Aswad saw a figure that he recognised. A figure that made him smile, even though most people there were mourning. Aswad approached the figure who was wearing all black.
“Assalamualaikum Kemboja…” Aswad greeted the girl.
“Oh, brother Aswad, waalaikumussalam…” replied Kemboja with a smile.
A smile that made Aswad’s anxious heart calm. Kemboja’s face would have that effect on him every time. Perhaps because she was a pretty girl. Her skin was white and her eyes coloured brown. She had red lips and her hair was long and flowing.
“Actually… I already expected to see you here,” said Aswad.
“How so?”
“Yeah, well. There were already three deaths this month and you were there for all of them.”
Kemboja lowered her head with a smile.
“Can I know why?”
“Why what?”
“Why you always come to these funerals. I think that you don’t even know the people who died…”
“It’s true that I don’t know them. But it’s not wrong for me to recite Yaasin and al-Fatihah to those who died, right?”
“But why?”
“You really want to know?”
Aswad nodded fast.
“Because death makes me feel calm…”
Aswad raised an eyebrow.
“That’s strange…”
Kemboja chuckled.
“You will understand what I mean later,” said Kemboja before proceeding to enter the house.
As usual, Kemboja would wait until everything was over. She would also join the burial of the body. Just like every other time, Kemboja would pluck a stalk of flower that was synonymous of her name and then placed it beneath the gravestone.
“Along with the elegant falling flower, the soul is able to fly in peace…”
Aswad listened to Kemboja’s words without comments. It was pointless try to understand the girl. Every time he did, only more questions would pop up. As he tried to dive into the girl’s heart, all he obtained in return was a loss. What he knew was where death existed, Kemboja would be there. Accompanying every moment with a smile.
A few days after Suraya’s funeral, Ustad Amir and Aswad were called for another death. This time, it was a girl called Azwa. Aswad went to the deceased’s house in glee. He knew that he would be able to meet Kemboja again, just like how happened recently. Ever since the first time he met Kemboja during the funeral of an old man who died because of stroke 37 days ago when there was death, there was Kemboja. Aswad would feel jubilant every time he saw Kemboja’s calm and pure face.
The awaited person arrived. From afar, Aswad could see a figure wearing all black gracefully walking towards him. She looked like she was floating, akin to an angel.
“Assalamualaikum brother Aswad…”
“Waalaikummussalam Kemboja…” replied Aswad with a smile.
“I’ll enter first, okay?”
“Wait a bit… I have something I want to ask of you.”
“What is it?”
“Your phone number. I would like to contact you from time to time. That is if you would allow me to.”
Kemboja shook her head, smiling.
“Why? Perhaps you are already owned by someone?”
“No. It’s just that nobody can own me. Only God can.”
“You don’t like me?”
“It’s not like that…”
“Then?”
“You will understand later…”
Kemboja entered to visit the dead, leaving the disappointed Aswad.
In the graveyard, Aswad waited under a plumeria tree. When he saw Kemboja coming, Aswad grabbed a stalk of flower and plucked it.
“Here…” said Aswad while holding out the flower to Kemboja.
“I know you want this, right?” he continued.
Kemboja took the flower with a smile.
“Thank you… This will be a present for Azwa,” said Kemboja.
“When will you give a present to me?” joked Aswad.
“Three more days… I’ll give it to you.”
“Eh? Why in three days?”
“You’ll see…” said Kemboja, smiling. She then went to Azwa’s grave and placed the flower near the gravestone. Like usual.
Aswad shook his head with a smile. His heart was charmed by Kemboja’s strangeness.
Then, unlike usual, Kemboja did not immediately go back. Instead, she went to sit somewhere besides the graveyard. Though it wasn’t conveyed, Aswad got a feeling that Kemboja wanted to talk with him. He then took his place next to Kemboja. Then, accompanied by swaying trees and gravestones, they expressed what was kept within their hearts.
“I really like you Kemboja…” Aswad broke the silence.
Kemboja was silent. Her eyes focusing on the front.
“Do you like this place?” Kemboja suddenly asked.
“The graveyard? What’s there to like? It’s a graveyard. No one likes it.”
“But why?”
Aswad was silent for a moment, trying to think for a reason. He felt awkward answering it because nobody had asked that question before. Who would ask why people hated graveyards in the first place? Because the answer for it was one that everyone would know.
“Who knows. Maybe because no one likes death.” Aswad finally answered.
“Even you… don’t like death?” asked Kemboja.
“Everyone dies, that’s a fact. And we must accept that. But to me, I want to live a longer life. I want to experience the pleasures of this world. I’m still not yet satisfied with my life. Why would I think about death right now? I’m not even married yet… There’s no way I can die before that…” said Aswad with a joking tone.
Kemboja chuckled at that.
“But… If your time has already come, do you think that you can accept it?” she asked Aswad.
“If the time for me to die comes? Is there even a choice? Whether I want it or not, I have to accept it.”
“Will you be happy?”
Aswad went silent. He started feeling that the girl's questions were getting stranger.
“Why are you asking all this? Can we talk about something else?”
Kemboja stared with sorrow at Aswad.
“I just want you to be peaceful and happy… when the time comes.”
“Do you know what can make me peaceful and happy?”
“What?”
“If you agree to go out on a date with me this weekend.”
Kemboja smiled. Then, she nodded happily. She agreed to go out with Aswad.
Three days later, Kemboja went out with Aswad as per their agreement. They went to walk around Kuala Lumpur. Then, they went to Putrajaya because Aswad had been longing to pray at Putrajaya’s mosque that had been praised for its beauty. Today, two wishes of Aswad were achieved. Praying in Putrajaya’s mosque and spending time with Kemboja, the girl that he loved. Overall, Aswad was overjoyed that day. To him, it was the best day of his life.
“I’m very happy today. Thank you, Kemboja, for going on a date with me,” expressed Aswad.
“Are you truly happy?”
“Yes. I feel that even if I die right now, I wouldn’t mind it. Because this is the best moment I had ever felt.”
“Eh… why are you suddenly talking about death? When I usually talk about it, you never liked it…”
“I don’t know. Yesterday, I read a book. The book said for some chosen people, they would be able to feel their death coming. As if they knew when they were about to die. And they would know it forty days before they die,” said Aswad.
“So?” asked Kemboja who doesn’t quite understand the relevance of Aswad’s story.
“Well… I was wondering. Today is coincidentally the fortieth day since I met you…”
Kemboja smiled. She then asked.
“Are you happy?”
Aswad nodded honestly. He truly felt happy ever since knowing Kemboja forty days ago. Although before this, he could only meet Kemboja during funerals or in graveyards. Still, he was happy. Because by seeing Kemboja smile, Aswad felt that he could go through anything. Even death.
During the way back home, Aswad was smiling the whole time. He was happy feeling Kemboja’s embrace as she sat behind him on his motorcycle. Aswad wished for that moment to last forever.
Suddenly, a car derailed from its lane. It steered from the opposite direction. Aswad did not have the chance to evade. He and Kemboja were hit by the car, flinging them to the middle of the road.
Aswad felt that with each inhalation his breathe was getting heavier. It was becomoing harder with each moment. Aswad lost the sensation of his body. Everything was numb. His sight was blurred by the blood from his head.
People surronded Aswad’s unmoving body. Only his eyes were fluttering, looking for something. Then, Aswad saw the profile that he wanted to see. Kemboja’s face. Aswad was ecstatic that Kemboja was unharmed. Even though she was also a victim of the crash, she was virtually unblemished. She looked just as she does usually. Still calm. Still pretty. Beautifully adorning Aswad’s scenery, during the last moment of his life.
Kemboja whispered the shahadah in Aswad’s ear. He repeated them with what breath was left in him. Until he left for eternity…
Aswad’s body was safely buried. Everyone had left the graveyard but Kemboja was still there. She wanted to accompany Aswad even for just a moment longer. As if 40 days was not enough.
Kemboja took a flower that was placed on her ear. She placed it on Aswad’s grave. Kemboja smiled, stood up and walked towards a nearby tree. As she came closer, Kemboja vanished, never to return. She had returned to where she belonged as her task was now complete.
The plumeria tree was blown by a strong wind, making a single flower fly away. The white plumeria travelled long and far, until it landed on a hanging blue batik on a teak tree's branch above an old bathhouse. A girl saw the blue batik and took it, kissing it for long.
-End-
Munir was sweating profusely. He tossed the novel in his hands to the side. The novel again told the story of Suraya’s death. Munir stood up and walked back and forth. Then, he grabbed his phone to call Suraya again. He wanted to make sure that Suraya was fine.
“What’s wrong, Munir? You were never this worried about me before…” said Suraya on the line.
“I don’t know. I’ve been reading this novel. It keeps saying that you die…”
“Oh… Isn’t it just a storybook? It’s not reality…”
“You don’t understand, Suraya. Many things in the book had happened in reality.”
“That can’t be true. It’s definitely a coincidence. Besides, you were never one to believe in all that nonsense, Munir. Why are you believing that novel?”
“But…”
“Enough, Munir. When I and Adib come back later, we’ll talk more about this, okay? Anyway, just trust me that the novel is nothing. If not, just finish it. I guarantee that nothing will happen,” said Suraya before ending the call.
Munir grabbed the thrown novel back. He then continued reading it as told by Suraya.
[1] Kemboja: The malay name for plumeria.
[2] Yaasin: A chapter in the Quran usually recited during funerals.