Princess Brown Sugar and the Midnight Ritual
That night, Pondok Ngasem felt even quieter than usual.
Only the sound of crickets filled the air, and once in a while the wind brushed past the roof tiles, carrying with it the faint aroma of warm spices from the pondok's kitchen. I lowered my gaze toward the moonlit courtyard, thinking about the figure who had been haunting my mind nonstop…
"Princess Brown Sugar."
I still remembered our first meeting during Ramadan.
She appeared like melted brown sugar dripping into hot tea—sweet, warm, and dissolving my heart without permission. Everyone else was busy preparing sahur, but me? I was frozen in place, mesmerized, terrified that if her sweet smile happened to turn my way, my heart would explode like a ketupat bursting in a steamer.
Since then, curiosity gnawed at me.
But Pondok Ngasem was not the kind of place where you casually ask about mysterious beings.
So I gathered my courage and went to see Kyai, the man known to be wiser than an entire living encyclopedia.
"Kyai… I want to know about her," I said quietly, embarrassed.
Kyai looked at me, holding back a smile.
"Her? Princess Brown Sugar? Do you want happiness, or just a broken heart, my boy?"
I let out a frustrated sigh.
"I… I just want to meet her again, Kyai."
He gave me a mysterious smile and patted my shoulder.
"If you truly want that, there is a ritual. But be careful—not something to fool around with. Read Surah Al-Jinn at midnight, exactly when the moon hides behind the old banyan tree in the courtyard. And don't let the pondok's cat join you. If it does, you might summon a hungry jin asking for rendang."
I froze, but curiosity outweighed fear.
That night, wrapped in a thin blanket against the cold, I sat on the floor of the pondok. I recited the ritual Kyai had taught me, occasionally distracted by the pondok cat staring at me like it also wanted to participate in the midnight ceremony.
And then… she appeared.
Princess Brown Sugar.
Right in front of me, her hair glimmering like sweet syrup and her eyes radiating soft warmth. My heart exploded. I wanted to speak, but my voice collapsed in my throat.
"I… have returned," she whispered.
I stammered, "I… I… I missed you."
Silence filled the pondok. A place normally full of laughter from the santri suddenly felt sacred and heavy.
But of course, I couldn't stop my ridiculous self from ruining the moment.
"Uh… please don't disappear again. If you vanish, I might accidentally wander into the Arabic class and bump into Kang Hafidz bragging about his S2 degree while saying, 'I'm such a wise man, Nak…' I don't want to lose in wisdom to him!"
She laughed.
Her soft voice melted me all over again.
"You're funny… even in front of me, who isn't human."
My heart nearly stopped.
Not human. A jin.
Her world and my world were not the same.
Still, I forced myself to speak, even though my hands were trembling like someone writing poetry during an earthquake.
"I… I love you," I said with complete honesty.
She looked at me for a long time, as if she could read every breath and every hidden corner of my heart. Then, with her sweet smile, she replied:
"I love you too… but our realms are different. I am a jin, you are human. We cannot be together."
Her gentle words pierced deeper than any blade.
I chuckled bitterly, blinking away tears.
"So I'm just a foolish human who fell in love with a sweet jin? Great. Wonderful."
She stepped closer, her eyes shimmering like morning dew.
"Don't be sad. We can still meet… just not in the way you wish."
I nodded, even though my heart was shattering.
Of course, I still tried to lighten the moment.
"Well… in that case, should I start learning how to become a jin? Maybe so I can join you for a midnight chess match."
She laughed again, and the sound became a temporary cure for the ache inside me.
"You're ridiculous… foolish human," she whispered. "But I like that about you. You always make me smile."
That night, we sat together in the courtyard of Pondok Ngasem, looking up at the stars.
The night breeze carried the kitchen's aroma, the pondok cat slept peacefully, and I… I tried to hold onto a longing I could never grasp.
In my heart, I wrote a poem:
You are sweet as brown sugar,
But the distance between us is like the night and dawn—
Never meeting in the same sky.
I love you in the human world,
You love me in the world of jinn—
We meet only in whispers of the night,
In laughter, in longing, in tears that never fall.
At dawn, when sunlight slipped through the windows of the pondok, she disappeared.
All that remained was the ritual note, and a sweetness so real it tasted bitter.
But Pondok Ngasem remained lively with its usual chaos.
Santri ran around, the pondok cat still bothered me while I studied,
and me?
I stayed the foolish human who fell in love with a sweet jin called Princess Brown Sugar.
I learned something that night:
Love can be beautiful even when it cannot be fulfilled.
And sometimes, even heartbreak has its own sense of humor if we're willing to laugh at it.
I gave the moon a bitter smile as its pale glow brushed the roof of the pondok.
"Princess Brown Sugar… if you can hear me, I still love you… even if only from the world of humans."
That night, I fell asleep with a sad smile—imagining her far away in the jin realm, laughing at me, the foolish human who dared to love her.
---
Bonus Poem For You
I wrote your name in the night air,
In every breath of wind sneaking through the roof tiles,
In every whisper of the old banyan tree,
In every ripple of wudhu water sliding down my hands.
You are sweet—
Sweeter than warm honey,
Softer than silk brushing my skin in dreams,
Yet you are far…
Farther than the stars above,
Farther than the smile I keep waiting for.
I once saw you in Ramadan,
Standing within lantern light,
As if the world belonged to you alone,
As if every feeling ever created
Gathered only to gaze at you.
I approached you, my heart trembling,
Yet the distance… the distance refused to shrink.
You are not from my world. You are a jin.
And I am just a foolish human,
Falling for something I can never hold.
Tonight, I recited the ritual the Kyai gave me.
The moon hid behind the banyan tree,
And you appeared—your warm glow
Piercing the darkness in my chest.
I wanted to embrace you,
But my hands were empty,
Holding only longing
That dripped slowly like unending rain.
Princess Brown Sugar,
I love you with all the words I never said,
With all the prayers whispered into lonely nights,
With all the longing I cannot write into a santri notebook.
I love you, even knowing
We can never share the same world.
My heart whispering,
"If only you were human… if only I were jin…"
But such wishes fall empty,
Like water spilling onto sand,
Like honey washed away by rain.
I wish I could write your poem in the sky—
Using moonlight as ink,
Clouds as paper,
But the wind steals my words,
Carrying them to your realm
Where I can never reach.
Princess Brown Sugar,
You smile, yet I see longing in your eyes.
I feel the affection you hide for me,
But the barrier between our realms is too strong,
And we can meet only in silence.
I call your name with my heart
In every whisper of the wind,
In every night that swallows the pondok's quiet,
In every burst of laughter from the santri,
I tuck your name within it—
As a prayer, as longing, as a poem without end.
If I could become moonlight,
I would follow every step you take.
If I could become the night breeze,
I would touch your cheek whenever you cried.
If I could become a jin, I would stay by your side—
But I am only human,
Falling for your sweetness I cannot grasp.
Princess Brown Sugar,
I wait in silence.
I write your name in every heartbeat,
In every breath that trembles,
In every dream meant only for you.
And though we live in different realms,
I will keep loving you—
In every bittersweet smile,
In every soft laughter,
In every burning longing,
In every quiet night of Pondok Ngasem.
Princess Brown Sugar,
You are sweet, you are distant,
But in my heart,
You stay close,
Stay alive,
Stay as a poem I will never finish.