Mujahid came with his pals, and he overheard Mursyid.
“Bla, bla, bla, enough with your chat, Mursyid,” said he, not looking at the group.
“And you guys, can’t you do any better things rather than hearing his gobbledygook talk? Ten cents can’t change your life. Really.”
Mursyid shook his head. “It may, Mujahid,” insisted Mursyid.
Mujahid sighed lazily, turning to Mursyid. “No, poor boy. Well, OK, sometimes it makes the whatsoever miracle. But only on some penniless boy,” grinned he, and added, “like you.”
Mujahid and his buddies laughed an irritating laughter.
“Now come, my comrades,” continued he. “We have some more works to do. I don’t want to hang with these impoverished childs.”
Their irritating laughter faded as they walked away. Mursyid only looked at them with a sour look.
“It’s OK, Mursyid,” said Mujaddid, one of his friends. “We are on your side.”
“Yeah,” agreed Murabbi and Muaz simultaneously.
Mursyid turned to his friends, smiling. “I’m all right. It’s just a small matter.”
The next weekend, Mursyid helped her mother in their nasi lemak stall like usual. It was a sunny morning. He could see birds happily chirping in a nearby cherry tree. Sometimes he dreamed to be like them, living happily with his family, having many friends, living an affluent live and able to buy anything he liked. Yes, he once saw a remote-control car. It was Mujahid’s. And he had a heart onto having one. But he swiftly realised that he’s what he used to be. There’s no need to be longing for something which is unworthy. He had a life to live on, and he will make his family live better. He just has to struggle and strive in his study whatever it takes. Then he will go abroad to further his study. Once he has graduated, he will guide his own family to a better life. At that time, his mother should have been proud of him. Proud to have a child like him. And he will hug her for all she had showered to him since he was born. Love, sacrifice, hard-times, illness, and all the things she had faced for such a long time.
Yes, such dream is better. Better than dreaming of a toy or any unworthy things like having many many money. Big bucks. Such dreams won’t lead to a better living. After the realization of the dream, greed and desire will follow. Both will only ruin one’s future. No future for dreamers of these.
A boom of an engine broke the peacefulness of the morning. Mursyid jumped. It was a black Chevrolet passing by his stall. The luxurious car stopped with a screech of the tyres and reversed. It stopped at the front of the stall. The side window slided down. A teenager with a familiar intimidating smile was inside, while his pal, Mumtaz was at the driver’s seat.
“Ah, what a coincidence to see you here, Needy,” greeted Mujahid boastfully.
“I have a name, Mujahid,” crossed Mursyid.
“Oh, well,” sneered Mujahid. “Gotta go to the City. Hop in. I can fetch you there and we can—”
“No thanks,” crossed Mursyid.
Mujahid and Mumtaz looked at each other with a devious grin.
“Oh, I forgot. How could I?” laughed Mujahid. “Still waiting for the tiny little coin to do some kinda magic tricks, eh?”
Mumtaz laughed like crazy, inside.
“Oh, oh, look at the time. You kept me long, Needy,” laughed Mujahid again. “Smell you later!”
And with that the Chevrolet scuttled away, leaving behind some gray dust. Mursyid felt his shoulder being touched. He turned his head. It was his mother.
“That’s life, my son,” said she soothingly. “We learn from many things. Majorly from mistakes, done by our own selves or others. I know you feel terrible, but remember, He already told us that after the trouble comes the tranquility. After the sadness comes the joy. Allah won’t brake His promises.”
Mursyid looked deeply at his mother’s face; a wizened old face, but filled with the enlightenment of Iman. And her smile was the thing he would never forget till the end of time.
The next day was Monday. Mursyid went to school like usual and there was nothing special that day save the increasing effort of Mujahid’s to sneer and make fun of him. Like always, Mujahid hanged with his ‘comrades’. And like always, Mursyid never ‘countered’ their efforts. He did not feel irritated anymore. Besides, he also had his own ‘comrades’ but not like Mujahid, he treated his friends just as fair.
During recess, Mursyid went to the school’s feast hall to buy some drinks. He saw Mujahid bullying the juniors, trying to brake up the cue. Mursyid did not bother to act. He already had his and he did not want to be late for his next physics class.
Mujahid stood for a while and stuffed his pouch into his pocket. As he took his hand out, a tiny RM 0.10 slipped together and fell with a ching. It rolled for a while and hit a shoe.
It was Mursyid’s.
He saw from whom did it fell and he took it right away. Just as he reached Mujahid, he stretched out his right hand with the coin in the palm.
“You dropped it,” said Mursyid. “Take it back.”
Mujahid closed in and stared at Mursyid. His eyes were blazing.
“Don’t humiliate me with that,” growled Mujahid. “If you want, just take it. Miracles shall happen.”
Mumtaz and the other Mujahid’s buddies were enjoying the ‘show’. They clapped thunderously as Mujahid came to them. They even praised him for the spectacular ‘performance’.
“Don’t mind him,” assured Mujahid. “He’s just taken away my RM0.10 to make some miracles. Let’s just hope he won’t do a Charm or a Curse to us.”
Again they went away with their demonic laughter. Mursyid only sighed heavily. He shook his head for seeing such a wasting attitude. Slowly he looked down upon his palm. The tiny coin seemed different. Was it a miracle…?
***Mujahid woke with a start. He turned around. There’s no one left in the classroom. He looked at the sky. It was awfully dark. Then he looked at the watch. It was 6.30 pm. He had dozed off the class for a… WHAT?!!!
Mujahid felt uneasy. His heart began to swirl. He quickly took his bag and stormed to the nearby bus stop.
No, I’m too late. There will be no more bus to my house!
Mujahid suddenly stumbled and fell onto the mud. It dawned on him that it already rained. His heart began to churn.
Argh, dammit! It can’t be! There must be a bus! There must be one!
With all the strength he had, he dashed to the bus stop. Once arrived, he sat on the bench with a heavy sigh. His body gave a slight shiver.
He was jumped. Just next to him sat Mursyid with his old bicycle. He was on his way back from selling kuih-muih when it started to rain and now he was sheltering at the bus stop. Pride began to take over Mujahid.
“What did you do? You’re all drenched with mud,” exclaimed Mursyid. “You dozed off in the class again?”
“None of your business, Mursyid!” Mujahid snorted angrily. He stood and took out his cellphone and began to dial his father’s driver.
There wasn’t a tone. No credits.
Mujahid cursed under his breath. He saw there were still some taxi. He pulled out his wallet.
And there wasn’t a cash.
Dammit! It’s all spent!!!
Mujahid eventually sat on the bench, defeated. He was hopeless. He wouldn’t go home today. He would sleep in the coldness. He hated it. Mujahid hated coldness.
His parents were not at home. They were at the US for some business. He had nothing to do now. All he could was shedding tears.
Tears of defeat, fear, and loneliness.
The rain seemed to be raging. Thunders cracked aloud, as if rejoicing Mujahid’s defeat. Wind howled as if there would be a tempest soon.
“You still can go home, Mujahid,” said Mursyid softly.
“DON’T FOOL ME, NEEDY!!!” barked Mujahid, tears still streaming.
Mursyid showed him a coin. A RM0.10.
“YOU STILL WANT TO FOOL ME WITH YOUR MAGICAL COIN?!!!” roared
Mujahid. His inner was engulfed in wretchedness and fury.
“Listen, Mujahid. Even that this coin has a low value to you, but at times like this, it proved to have raised it. You dropped this coin and now you need it.”
“Shut your mouth! How can it be possible for a RM0.10 coin to take me home?”
“There’s a public phone. Take this coin and call your father’s driver. He may take you home.”
Mujahid looked at Mursyid. He suddenly realised that he was wrong all this long. He shouldn’t have wasted his wealth so recklessly. Even a RM0.10 has its value.
Slowly he took the coin and called his father’s driver. As he ended the call, he went to the bus stop. He looked at Mursyid. Tears still streamed down his cheek. And slowly he gave a hand to him.
“I was wrong, Mursyid,” he cried. “I shouldn’t have wasted the coin. And I’m sorry for all the dishonest deeds I have done to you.”
“It’s OK, Mujahid,” replied Mursyid, shaking hands with the one who always made fun of him because of his poverty. He smiled. “I don’t even mind if you try to make fun of me again.”
Mujahid grinned and whiped the tears. “Will it make a big miracle again?” joked he.
Both of them laughed cheerfully, even in the coldness.
And from that on, both became friends.