Mr. Hasan smiled, this time more warmly."Son, I was never afraid you'd lose your way. I'm more afraid you'd be too scared to take a step. You have a strong faith—and precisely because of that, you need to broaden your horizons. If your beliefs are true, they won't collapse just because you question them. In fact, they'll grow even stronger."
Romo fell silent. His father's words stirred something deep within him.
Mr. Hasan continued, his voice now softer."I want you to be someone who understands, not just someone who judges. Someone who sees goodness—not just faults. This world needs more people who can bridge differences, not widen the gaps between them."
Romo looked at his father—the man he had always respected, the one who had taught him life's values—now asking him to step out of his comfort zone.
"Alright, Dad," he said at last."I'll give philosophy a try."
Mr. Hasan smiled with pride and patted his son on the shoulder."I know you'll become someone greater than you can imagine, Son. Not today, not tomorrow—but someday, you'll understand why I asked you to do this."
Later on, at university, Ramadhan became known as "Romo"—a calm thinker, a seeker of truth who always strove to understand.
Part 3: Discovering New Horizons
In the hustle and bustle of campus life, Ramadhan—now known as Romo—felt like he had been thrown into an entirely different world. The noise of students debating in corners of the campus garden, the intense arguments in classrooms, and the sarcastic humor laced into every conversation forced him to adapt quicker than he expected.
This academic world was nothing like the one he knew at the pesantren. There, truth had been absolute. But here, he was faced with ideas that seemed to twist and turn in every direction. Discussions about philosophy and morality became part of his daily life, awakening a curiosity he never knew he had—yet also challenging him to hold firm to the principles he believed in.
One of the most memorable discussions happened in the campus canteen, where Romo sat with a few classmates from the philosophy and sociology departments.
"Romo, do you believe in absolute truth?" asked Fajar, a sharp philosophy student known for trapping people in confusing arguments.
Romo raised his eyebrows."Of course I do," he answered confidently."Truth is found in the scriptures, in religious teachings."
"Okay, fair enough," Fajar replied."But what if someone from another faith also claims to have absolute truth? Are they all wrong?"
Romo hesitated. He was used to seeing the world in clear-cut terms: right and wrong. But here, everyone seemed to have their own version of what truth was. He stirred his sweet tea slowly, searching for an answer that wouldn't make him seem uncertain.
"Then… what makes a truth true?" Yuni, a quiet observer from sociology, jumped in with a piercing question.
"Well… because it's divine revelation," Romo said, a bit unsure."Truth that comes from God must be true."
"But it's humans who interpret that revelation, right?" Fajar leaned back in his chair."There could be bias in that interpretation. Or maybe… truth just isn't that black and white?"
Romo sighed. The conversation was getting heavier. On one hand, he wanted to defend his beliefs. On the other, he was beginning to realize that the simple answers he once held didn't seem so simple anymore.
"I… I don't know," he finally admitted—something he rarely did.
"Whoa! Someone write this down!" Fajar exclaimed, slapping the table."Romo just said 'I don't know'! This is historic, people!"
The others laughed.
Romo just shook his head, allowing a small smile. Though he had felt awkward at first, he realized his friends didn't mean to attack him. They just wanted to explore different perspectives.
Over time, Romo began to open himself up to new ideas. He learned to listen, to understand, and to appreciate differences. He no longer saw the world in black and white, but started to recognize the many shades in between.
But that didn't mean he lost himself. He continued to hold on to his core beliefs—only now with a more flexible approach. He learned that asking questions didn't mean losing faith, and understanding other viewpoints didn't mean abandoning his own.
"I've learned a lot from you guys," Romo said one day after a discussion ended."I've learned how to think critically, to question everything, and to appreciate diversity. But I've also learned that I don't have to let go of my beliefs to do that."
Fajar smiled, sipping his coffee."Now that sounds like a real philosopher—but still the same Romo we know."
They all laughed together. On this campus, Romo had found more than just knowledge. He had found a community that respected him for who he was. His academic journey wasn't just about gaining new insights—it was about understanding himself more deeply.
And that journey had only just begun.