MACA – A Sunny Morning at the Blue Campus, Laras pedaled her old bicycle toward the university in the heart of Yogyakarta. The morning sun kissed her flowing black hair, occasionally tousled by the breeze. Amid her busy life as a high-achieving medical student, she was known for never neglecting her *zikir* (devotional prayers). After every dawn prayer, her lips would whisper praises of gratitude and repentance. *”Alhamdulillah,”* she murmured today, thankful for the chance to attend a research seminar she had eagerly awaited.
Yet one thing slipped her attention: her bike’s fuel tank was nearly empty. Laras decided to stop at a gas station near campus before the seminar began.
The gas station was crowded. Laras queued behind several motorcycles. When her turn came, a gas attendant in his 30s, wearing a branded cap, greeted her with a wide grin. “Fill it up, please,” Laras said, handing over a Rp100,000 bill. The man, whose badge read “Rudi,” nodded briskly. His hands moved swiftly, taking the money and returning change: two Rp20,000 notes and a Rp10,000. “Thank you, Miss,” he said. Laras smiled innocently before riding off.
The seminar went smoothly. But when Laras tried to buy lunch at the campus canteen, the vendor refused her Rp20,000 notes. “These are fake,” the middle-aged woman scowled. The two bills felt slippery, lacking security threads. Her chest tightened. Losing Rp40,000 wasn’t devastating, but the betrayal stung. “I was fooled because I trusted too easily,” she whispered, swallowing bitterness.
With a pounding heart, Laras returned to the gas station. Rudi was gone. His coworker shrugged: “He’s a contract worker. No guarantee he’ll be back.” The manager promised to investigate, but Laras knew her money was likely gone. Amid her anguish, she recalled her father’s words: “The world is a test. Don’t let bitterness poison your heart.”
Sipping hot tea under a shady tree, Laras pondered. Prayer had taught her surrender, not naivety. “Academic brilliance doesn’t guarantee life wisdom,” she thought. She realized her trusting nature had been exploited. Yet she refused to grow cynical. In her bag, she clutched her prayer beads, whispering a wish for Rudi’s redemption.
“Man in the Green Uniform…
I don’t know what drove you to deceive. Debt? Desperation? But know this: today, a student chose not to hate you. My morning prayers included you—may Allah grant you a way out without hurting others.”*
The next day, Laras posted a small notice at the gas station: “Beware of counterfeit money! Check your change before leaving.” She also shared tips on spotting fake bills in campus groups. Friends were surprised: “Kind-hearted Laras is now a vigilance advocate!”
Behind the scenes, Laras remained the same: devout, studious, but now with a wiser smile. “Allah tested me with deceit to teach me to blend faith with wisdom,” she told her best friend. To Laras, that Rp40,000 was no longer just cash—it was a catalyst, teaching her that true kindness must walk hand-in-hand with caution.
Laras’ story spread across campus. Her advisor remarked, “Your emotional intelligence is worth more than a 4.0 GPA.” Some mocked her naivety, but many were inspired. Laras now confidently reminds peers to check their change. “Prayer doesn’t mean ignoring reality,” she says with a smile. To her, the world remains beautiful—as long as we keep learning from every experience, no matter how small.
Comment here