As each person pondered the hidden meanings of the inscriptions on the corner of the box, Hashim's thoughts drifted back to his past. He remembered his mother, a gentle woman who, despite the wrongs done to her, always forgave. Her goodness was truly exceptional.
"Hashim... before starting anything, don't forget your mother's advice. Always recite a prayer," his mother used to say.
"Oh, Mother, it's enough to pray before eating or traveling. Everything else should be safe," Hashim would reply with a grin.
"Prayers are a request, Hashim... We are powerless. We usually ask for blessings—before eating, before sleeping, before studying. But don't forget... you also need prayers for protection," his mother would respond.
"Protection from what, Mother?" Hashim would interrupt eagerly.
"From envy, not from demons or magic. If there's no envy, there wouldn't be betrayal, including the magic that demons use. Remember, envy also strengthens magic. It's what always divides brothers, siblings, families, and communities," his mother would explain.
"And remember... constant prayer keeps us humble. Humble about our weaknesses and limitations in the eyes of God," she would add.
Her words, embedded in his heart, shaped his character. Sometimes, Hashim felt overly humble and allowed himself to be bullied during his school and university years.
Hashim's recollection took him further back, reliving memories with his mother. Despite his lofty academic ambitions, he only wanted to become a teacher in the end. To him, what's the use of high learning if it's only for personal gain? The best people are those who give the most, not just benefit themselves. This was Hashim's life principle. His family wasn't wealthy, just enough to manage daily life.
"Ibu, I'm thinking of continuing my studies," Hashim told his mother.
"Hashim, you've just completed two years of undergraduate studies. Is there a higher level?" his mother asked.
"I'm planning to pursue a master's degree, Ibu," Hashim replied.
"Where?" his mother inquired further.
"I'm studying anthropology and history. The best option is to continue my studies abroad, in the United Kingdom," Hashim answered.
"Hashim... I'm not unsupportive of your intentions and ambitions. It's just... our family can't afford it. I'm still in debt to relatives from funding your undergraduate studies," his mother replied, her face turned downward, unable to meet Hashim's gaze.
Hashim understood that his mother wasn't angry, but his request added to her burdens. Every mother wishes to see her child succeed and contribute positively to the world.
"Don't worry, Ibu. I'll work for a while and apply for sponsorship to study there," Hashim assured.
His mother only smiled in response.
However, life's trials are inevitable. The skies that seem clear don't remain so forever. Recently, Hashim had been feeling unusually tired and confused. His condition worsened daily. Sometimes, he forgot where he had parked his motorcycle after work. He often felt exhausted and breathless. One day, a colleague noticed his pallor and yellowing skin, and Hashim experienced persistent pain in his right abdomen.
During a training session in Kuala Lumpur, as Hashim was deeply focused, his vision blurred, and he collapsed from his chair. That day marked the beginning of a dark period for him.
He vividly remembered being admitted to the hospital. The only person who stayed by his side was his aging mother.
"Ibu, how long have I been in the hospital?" Hashim asked.
"It's been two days, Hashim," his mother replied briefly.
"What's wrong with me, Ibu?" Hashim inquired further.
Tears streamed down his mother's face as she struggled to hold back her sobs.
"What's wrong with me, Ibu?" Hashim repeated, his concern growing.
"Hashim, just rest for now. You'll recover faster," his mother said softly. "I'm grateful that you're awake now. I can go back to work. I've missed two days already staying with you," she added, trying to mask her worry with a brave face.
Without Hashim realizing it, tears began to fall slowly from his eyes as well. He knew how deeply his mother was worried about him and the hospital expenses that needed to be covered. After his father's death, it was his mother who had shouldered the responsibility of raising and nurturing him into who he was today.
"Mr. Hashim, how are you feeling? How are you now?" a man dressed like a doctor asked.
"Oh, pardon me. I'm Dr. Falih. I've been assigned to your case."
"Doctor... can you tell me what's wrong with me? Am I suffering from any illness?" Hashim asked, his voice tinged with anxiety.
Dr. Falih paused for a moment, looking solemn. "Mr. Hashim, I hope you can be strong and listen carefully to what I'm about to say..."
Hashim's heart raced with apprehension, his mind racing through countless dire possibilities.
Dr. Falih continued, "The hospital has completed its diagnosis. We've found that you have liver cancer."
Hashim felt as though his heart had dropped. "No wonder my mother was so upset..." he thought to himself.
"Is it serious, Doctor?" Hashim asked, feeling more helpless than ever, as if a part of him had died. The world seemed to close in around him, dark and foreboding. His primary concern, however, remained his mother.
"For now, your condition can be treated," Dr. Falih said gently. "But it will require a liver transplant. A significant portion of your liver is severely damaged. At this point, we are only waiting for a suitable liver donor."
Dr. Falih's voice conveyed his sympathy, acknowledging the gravity of Hashim's situation.
