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Bambang, a young man who earned his living as a freelance mobile thesis typist, sat on his front porch deeply contemplating his life. Outside, the wildfire smoke was so thick it turned the sky gray. In fact, the haze was so dense that Bambang almost mistook his sister’s rubber eraser for a piece of warm fried banana he was about to eat.
“This world is getting weirder by the day,” Bambang muttered, followed by a slight cough. “Earthly laws are becoming such a headache. Just yesterday, I got a traffic ticket simply because I forgot to turn on my motorcycle’s main headlight in the broad, scorching daylight. The sun above was already brighter than the future of a billionaire!”
Suddenly, his uncle, Wak Dulah, stepped out from the kitchen. Wak Dulah was widely notorious in their neighborhood as the pioneer of “Coffee Shop Philosophy.” Adjusting his loose, sliding sarong, Wak Dulah sat down and immediately snatched Bambang’s black coffee before his nephew could even take a sip.
“Are you stressing over earthly laws, Mbang? Oh, how shallow of you!” Wak Dulah said after taking a loud, noisy slurp of the coffee. “Earthly laws can still be negotiated with a formal written apology or a pitiful face. But tell me, are you actually ready to face the supreme courtroom of Divine Justice?”
Bambang immediately straightened his posture. “What do you mean, Uncle?”
Wak Dulah stared at the hazy gray sky with a dramatic expression, looking exactly like a failed soap opera actor. “Look, Mbang. In this world, if you run a red light, you can just put on a miserable face, claim your mother is sick, or pretend to faint. The officer might feel sorry for you and let you slide. That is what you call a loophole in earthly law.”
Wak Dulah continued, raising his voice an octave higher. “But picture the Day of Judgment! When the grandest plenary trial in the entire universe begins, the script changes completely. There are no high-priced defense attorneys there. You cannot bribe the angels with a packet of local coconut rice or internet data vouchers!”
Bambang swallowed hard. “Then what happens, Uncle?”
“Well, in the afterlife, your mouth—which used to be so clever at weaving sweet words in this world—will be completely muted! Permanently banned by the celestial system! The ones testifying as witnesses will be your own body parts,” Wak Dulah said passionately.
Wak Dulah then began to hilariously act out the afterlife trial, deepening his voice for dramatic effect.
“The angel asks: ‘O Hands of Bambang, what did you do when your city was choked by severe wildfire smoke?’ Then your hands will answer honestly without any censorship: ‘Uh, Your Honor… I was used to scroll through social media for eight hours a day until my thumbs grew calloused, while the holy book in the corner of the room gathered dust as thick as dandruff!’“
Bambang instinctively hid his hands behind his back, feeling spiritually slapped yet struggling to hold back his laughter.
“Next,” Wak Dulah pressed on, “the angel turns to your feet: ‘O Feet, where did you wander?’ Your feet will reply: ‘I was extremely enthusiastic when invited to stroll around shopping malls and trendy hangout spots. But whenever I was invited to the house of worship just five steps away from home, I suddenly developed a severe case of sudden paralysis, Your Honor!’“
Bambang burst into laughter at Wak Dulah’s dramatic performance. However, deep down, something struck a chord. His uncle’s comedic breakdown managed to pierce through his conscience. Humans often fear human laws so much—fearing fines, fearing jail time, or fearing bad performance reviews from others—yet completely ignore the massive, inevitable “audit” waiting in the afterlife.
“So, what is the moral of the story, Uncle?” Bambang asked, his face turning more serious.
Wak Dulah stood up and patted Bambang’s shoulder gallantly. “The conclusion is, be smart. Obey earthly laws so your life stays orderly and you don’t trouble others. But invest your biggest shares in Divine Justice. How? While your mouth isn’t locked yet, use it to speak kindness, practice gratitude, and help those who are struggling around us. That way, when the final trial comes, your hands and feet will give you a five-star review!”
Bambang fell silent, nodding in deep agreement. Wak Dulah’s words, wrapped in fresh humor, had successfully reawakened his weary soul from the tedious grind of worldly affairs. He immediately grabbed his face mask, intending to spend his remaining pocket money to buy and distribute free masks to street vendors and outdoor workers enduring the thick haze outside.
As he walked out the front gate, Bambang shouted back, “Uncle! I’m heading out! I need to make sure my hands and feet have an excellent testimonial for the upcoming trial!”
Wak Dulah smiled proudly at his nephew, then yelled back, “Good! But don’t forget to buy me more fried bananas with your own money on your way back, so your good deeds weigh heavier on the scale today!”
Created by: bhayaksa.net
