English Column: The Revival

“Crying in fire, striving to be a new figure”
Picture by ~VibblesAgain of deviantart.com

“WAKE UP! WAKE UP!” a foreign voice whispered in my ear. I woke up but in a very sleepy mood. It was 4.00 am of the 27^th Ramadhan.

“No! No!” my alter ego said, “You still need energy for tomorrow, so sleep!” Yeah, I did sleep at 2 am, spending on vigil all night doing my assignments I guess as well as cleaning up my house which is in a very hostile state.

“WAKE UP! WAKE UP! Tonight is the night! The night of Decree!” The foreign voice was louder than before; I could hear it crystal clear.

“No! No! Your body is not fully recharged yet! You need rest man!” my other self was screaming in my ear drums demanding me to abide.

I didn’t know which one to follow; I was very tired, but I wanted to go out from bed. So which one?

Tired of these voices in my head, I plugged my ears with a pillow and tucked myself in a cozy blanket. The best thing to do in an air-conditioned room of 16˚c is rapping yourself with a very warm blanket! Very cozy and lazy!

So then, I chose to doze off once more. So I slept, admitting my defeat to my negative self in a very not-so-deep slumber. I am still aware of my surroundings.

Exactly at 4.30 am, I heard a mourning sound. Yes a crying sound from one corner of my house. I’m positive that this sound is not from any ringtones or from any creatures or even from the any extra-terrestrial beings, it is from a human being!

“Whose crying sound is this?” I asked myself.

“Who dares disturb my slumber?” My alter ego acted like he’s the boss of the world.

I got out from bed, curious to see who’s making the sound. Is it fact or fiction? Tipped toed every step using stealth movement, I did not dare to make a sound. My movement was quiet as the dead.

I followed the sound of the person crying. It was a deep cry as if a cry in front of someone you dear most.

The cry was coming from the family’s own praying room. It could be anybody in my family. The door of this room was slightly open big enough for someone to have a peak to see who is inside. As I moved closer towards the room, the sound of the cry grew harder and harder until I noticed that, it was not just a normal cry, it was someone wailing.

I peaked, and then I saw a woman completely with a white praying clothing, was prostrating.

“Masyallah! Its ummi!” On the spot I was struck by a cathartic lightning bolt which paralyzed my whole body for a second. I leaned helplessly on the wall beside the door to the praying room.

The crying was still heard. There I was lamenting alongside the melodic cry of my mother. Although without her noticing my presence, she revived my soul. With just a simple whimper, she made me dry eyes cry.

Sometimes I question myself “Why can’t I cry?” even though my heart cries in pain. I want to cry but I just can’t. Tears aren’t coming out. My heart is pumping like nothing is happening.

I just needed a little boost and I got it. Now I’m crying like a cry baby wanting to be milked. I stood up and went back to my room prostrating powerlessly in my prostration.

You don’t want to shed tears only, but you desire your soul to be revived entirely. Crying ought to be your turning point. Weep over your sins constantly! May Allah wipe out all your defiant grins and make you a revived electric spirit!

*The best crying days of my life is during Ramadhan. Suddenly I miss the holy month. Two months and a half away from us, looking forward to meeting you!