it was on the mid-month of Ramadan. being a ten old lad, Tarawih prayers was the least on my mind. every night, after the end of Isha’a prayers, it was ‘catching’ time with friends. we would fully utilized the whole 2 hours to ourselves before recess back home in pretext returning from the late-night prayers.
after a game or 2 of ‘rumah dayak‘, only God knows why, i volunteered to help retrieved a friend’s uncle bicycle which was parked outside the mosque. naively, i trusted him to the every last breath. as i recalled the incident, it was almost surreal to be true. i was ambushed as i rode the bike out. deserted and terrified… i was left to fend for myself. thanks God, my plea of innocence does not fell on deaf ears. the culprit (whom i used to call friend) was caught and the rest was history. clearly, all this while dad was trying to watch my back. baffled, sadden and frustrated from the incident, i began to distant myself.
much to the wiser from the old dimwited me, i grew to appreciate and fathom the true definition of friendship… i was ready to forgive but never forget.
