A slum village. Amidst towering magnificent buildings like thrones. Rows of makeshift-roofed houses. A cardboard house was visible among them. This cardboard house was inhabited by two children. They had no relatives, let alone a father and mother. Every day, they sold street wares near the capital's railway tracks.
Who knows who abandoned them. They wanted to demand justice, but from whom? Does anyone care about their fate? Ahh… it would be commendable if someone showed concern for their condition. Crying? How long must they cry over their fate? Destiny? Huh… is it right to blame His destiny?
“Where are we heading today, Du?” Zaitun glanced at Madu, who was busy arranging his wares in a small cardboard box.
“The usual spot, but don't cross the railway area, okay? Let's just sell around the station.” Madu handed Zai a box of goods.
“Okay!” he gave a thumbs-up.
“No eating, right, Du?” he asked softly.
Madu smiled,
“Come on, don't be a crybaby. You usually don't eat either.” Madu got up, pulling Zai's hand. Zai winced, holding back hunger. But he still got up and left.
***
At the station. Zai saw a child about to pickpocket.
“Hey… stop right there!” he chased the child who had taken a woman's wallet.
The child kept running. Zai kept chasing, and finally, the child gave up.
“Why are you chasing me? Isn't pickpocketing common among street kids like us?” Boy, that was the child's name; Madu and Zaitun knew this pickpocket.
“Hmm… that's what many people know. But I would never do that. Even like this, I still fear Allah's punishment, Bro.” Zai refuted Boy's statement.
“Yeah, I know you never pickpocket. Here's that girl's wallet, you return it.” Boy handed the wallet to Zai.
“For what reason did you pickpocket? Don't we already have jobs? Even if we can't buy clothes, it's enough for one meal, right?” he looked at his fellow street vendor's face.
“My younger sibling is sick. Yesterday, I wanted to take them to the hospital, but I didn't dare. I don't have money. I don't know what to do. I don't want my sibling to die.” Tears rained down his worn face, as worn as his clothes.
“Your intention is right, Boy. But your method is wrong. It's useless, isn't it? You won't get any reward. No blessings?” Zai tried to offer his perspective to Boy.
“Yes, I know. But my sibling needs treatment immediately.” He was still sobbing.
“Alright, I'm going to return this wallet. You wait here. I'll be back soon. Okay?” he patted his shoulder. In a flash, his tracks were no longer visible.
***
“Where have you been, Zai?” Madu was worried. “Sorry, I just chased a pickpocket. And I just returned the wallet.” Zai was still panting.
Zai then told Madu about Boy's younger sibling.
“Amazing…” he gave his friend a thumbs-up. He put his arm around him, and they resumed their activities at the station.
“Oops… wait a minute. I promised to meet Boy earlier. Do you want to come with me?”
“Okay… let's go. I also want to see his sibling's condition.” They walked together towards the spot where Zai had left Boy.
Upon arriving at the spot. Neither of them saw anyone there. Zai was confused. He kept pacing back and forth in the same place. Where was Boy? He wondered.
“Zai, look, there's a crowd of people!” Madu pointed to a crowd not far from where they stood.
They both immediately ran through the crowd. They saw Boy stiff. He was no longer alive. His body was covered in blood. He had been hit by a truck. No one tried to help him. Zai and Madu looked at each other.
In what state did Boy meet his end? Was he committing a sin against Allah? Or was he doing good? It turned out he was hit while trying to help an old woman cross the road. Astagfirullah… at least he didn't die while pickpocketing, Zai thought.
Boy's body was handled by the police who arrived at the scene. The image of Boy's sick younger sibling, who would surely be heartbroken to hear the news of his brother's death, haunted Madu.
“Zai, what about his sibling?” Madu suddenly turned away from the crowd.
“Yes, we have to visit them. They'll surely be sad if they know their brother is gone.” Zai pulled Madu's hand.
They then ran to find Boy's home. After asking around, it turned out Boy lived in a cardboard house near their own dwelling. Boy's younger sibling, Bima, lay weak. Zai immediately rushed Bima to the hospital. He didn't think about the cost. They took a pedicab to the nearest hospital.
Madu whispered worriedly, “Zai, we don't have money? What if the cost is expensive?”
Hospitals, for Madu, were only for the rich, not for them. Hospital costs were too expensive for those who were lucky to eat even once a day.
“Come on, let's try first. I'll take care of it later.” Zai said confidently.
He continued, “We can work, Du.”
A different attitude was shown by the hospital staff. They said they couldn't treat Bima's illness. After Zai pressed them, they still made excuses. They even asked for a certificate of indigence and other documents. Madu was almost overcome with emotion. But he held it back. Zai still pleaded for immediate treatment. The hospital staff stood firm.
“Hey humans, listen to me!” Zai shouted.
All eyes turned to him. Everyone in the hospital squinted at the three of them,
“Are weak humans like us not worthy of health? Are we forbidden to be sick? On what grounds are we marginalized? Isn't healthcare a right for all people? Must we die in agony?....” Before he could finish his shouts, a security guard grabbed both his hands.
“Let me go. Listen to me. My sibling is sick, they need treatment. That's all…!” he was continuously dragged by the security guard.
Madu carried Bima out of the hospital. The security guard roughly pushed him out of the hospital.
“Sir, please help us. Don't you feel any pity seeing him?” Madu pointed to Bima, who was still weak, supported by Madu.
“Sorry, son. I work here. I'm doing this on the owner's orders.”
Zai wanted to curse. But he held back. He couldn't hold back his tears, not because of the treatment, but thinking about Bima's fate. He wanted to scold, but to whom would his scolding be directed? All eyes and ears ignored his cries. They merely acted as spectators.
Is the world so unfair? They never asked to be born as street children either. Screaming, who would hear their screams? Finally, they went home, supporting Bima's weak body. Bima couldn't speak. The threads of life were too tangled to unravel.
Zai had nowhere to turn. He took Bima to the community health center. Fortunately, the health center staff were willing to examine him. They gave him some medicine. Hmm, at least they knew Bima's illness couldn't be cured in a day. The doctor explained that Bima suffered from leukemia.
Zai sighed deeply, “Du, that illness is indeed not within our power to bring upon ourselves. But at least whatever His decree, we have tried.” He glanced at Madu, who had been lost in thought.
“Oh Allah, only to You do we appeal when humans do not listen to us. We believe in the ultimate justice of Your judgment hereafter.” Madu wiped both hands over his face.
“Amen. Whatever our condition, it is a test. Allah surely has another plan behind all of this.” Zai sighed again.
“I can't bear to tell him about Boy. I really can't.” Madu cast his gaze to the vast, star-filled sky.
Both were lost in emotion. There was nothing to regret about their creation in this world. The joy of life is something to be grateful for. Because their presence in the world means being given the opportunity to accumulate good deeds as provisions for His paradise.
The night grew late. Both slept on cardboard near Bima's makeshift bed. Poverty and wealth are tests. What determines a person's nobility is not their social status, but the degree of their piety towards Allah.
The world indeed offers a thousand and one pleasures. But worldly pleasures are worthless compared to the joys of paradise.
Their patience, their resilience in facing the bitterness of life – who cares? No one tried to touch their side of life. Not even their parched throats did anyone try to offer a sip of thirst-quenching water.
The spirit of life. Hopes and dreams for the wheel of life to turn always lingered. Their days were spent grappling with street dust. Befriending the darkness without even candlelight. Day and night were a struggle. A struggle to survive. Tears were only a solace when screams could not be uttered.
Only His love and mercy often pierced deeply into their hearts. If not for the promise of a worthy life in His paradise, they might have long ago drunk poison. Or tragically jumped off a bridge so that worldly difficulties would no longer cut deep. But it was the belief in His promise that continued to strengthen them to carve out a life.[]
editor: Putri Priyatna