Unsaid love: "Yellow Chrysanthemum"

It was a fine afternoon. I was walking home from work under the warm 3 p.m. sun when I saw a man kneeling on the greens behind an open light-brown fence. He was gardening.

I slowed down and tried to get a better look of what he was doing. He was trimming the bushes.

I realized something. His hands were so rough -it was big and bumpy, with many cuts. I was mystified by how his rough hands grow such beautiful colors.

But I walked past him anyway.

He was just an ordinary gardener, I thought.

Days flew. I hadn't walked pass that place for days. I decided to take a brief stroll that weekend, under the clear-blue 3 p.m. sky, just to see if the gardener was there. I thought I was just a little curious about his hands.

The gardener was there.

He was holding a handful of seeds. His rough hands looked like they were about to crush those offspring.

I shivered at the thought of it.

But he was just an ordinary gardener, I thought.

I was about to leave,

when he called me,

and handed me a small, dirty bag.

   "I think you'd love this flower, Miss."

I received the bag in bewilderment.

   "Thank you," I murmured. And I went home.

I opened the package right away as soon as I got home, and pour everything into an unused flower pot.

   "Let's see how it turns out."

For days I just put the pot under the sun and give a little water once in a while.

Sprouts started to grow.

I didn't know why but I wanted to tell the gardener the sprouts made it.

And so I visited that place

   "The seeds grow sprouts."

   "That's great! Please bring it over so I can check on it."

I went home with a smile.

   "Are you a gardener?" I asked the next day.

   "Yes. I come from a family of plant-lover, and this garden is my father's Eden."

   "I see. It must be amazing."

   "You can come inside if you want. Lots of beautiful flowers."

And lots of beauties indeed.

I couldn't resist not coming since. I'd grown to love the flowers. Sometimes the gardener would gave me a hug-able bunch of lilies, or roses, or baby's breath to take home.

I often watched him work. Planted something, trimmed some leaves, watered from corners to corners.

I looked at his hands. They didn't look so rough, after all. They seemed gentle, instead. And I thought the flowers thought so too.

Now he didn't look so ordinary to me.

One day I visited him like usual. But he was nowhere to be seen.

I brought my ready-to-bloom yellow flower pot. He promised to give some minerals so it would grow even more beautiful.

I walked towards the back of the garden.

And there he was, at the very corner of it.

   "Hi, I've brought my flower pot, as promised."

   "I'm sorry, I'm busy now. Just put your pot over there, will you? Beside the spiders. I'll take care of it."

   "What are you planting?"

   "Just some grass."

I left in confusion.

   "Hi, have you put some vitamins on my flowers?" I came the next day.

   "Sorry, I haven't had the time to. Just come tomorrow, I'll be tending to it."

Again, I left. This time I was sad.

   "Are you still busy?" I asked, after many next visits of disappointment.

   "Yes, my dear.."

   "But you promised."

   "But I'm still busy. Some plants are sick. They need me."

And I was sick of waiting, too. I took my sad-looking pot, and stomped in anger.

I thought he was no ordinary gardener. I thought he cared about my flower pot. And me.

After all, he was the one who gave it to me. I didn't like people giving me false hopes.

Finally, the flower bloomed. It was indeed beautiful.

But what is beauty without a willing spectator.

And what is love without a devoted admirer.

So I decided to give the flower pot back.

I realized, the flower had never stood for itself.

   "It blooms beautifully, but I don't think I love it."

   "So you don't like it, my dear?"

   "I do. I just can't seem to love it. I'm giving it back to you."

   "Well then.."

   "By the way, you never told me what it's called."

   "It's a yellow Chrysanthemum."

   "Oh."

It was a slighted love after all.

As the Chrysanthemum grew and bloomed, there was a necessity to decline any amorous advances.

Brief sweet beginnings.

And in time, I'll learn not to miss them.

Menghapus Sketsa(l)

Terhitung setahun sejak Ia membeli benda yang begitu Ia idamkan. Dan sudah setahun pula Ia selalu memandangi benda itu di atas tumpukan benda-benda lain yang kurang berarti. Seakan tak ingin kehilangan rasa cintanya itu, Ia senantiasa menyempatkan waktu untuk berdiri dari nyamannya kursi, hanya untuk sekedar mengamati benda itu sedari dekat, serta, lima menit kemudian, mengambil kemoceng kecil untuk membersihkannya dari debu.

Ia selalu mengunjungi benda itu layaknya sepasang kekasih yang sedang dimabuk musim. Tak mungkin rasanya Ia berpisah dengan benda yang telah menambat kekagumannya, menjadi inspirasinya, memacu imajinasinya, dan menyandera kenangannya.

Mungkin firasat sedang bercanda dan iseng di sore hari itu. Di bawah langit yang berwarna biru-ungu-jingga, Ia melepaskan beda itu pada seseorang teman yang mungkin juga sedang dengan iseng berkonspirasi dengan keisengan sang firasat.

Tak terpikir olehnya saat itu bahwa Ia akan menjadi seperti seorang Robert dan terus menanti-nantikan Clara, sang inspirasinya yang tengah disandera ayahnya, untuk jatuh ke dalam pelukannya kembali (kembali karena diasumsikan paling tidak mereka sudah berpelukan satu kali sebelum direstui untuk menikah. Robert kan sudah sering ke rumah Clara).

Satu tahun sudah penantiannya. Firasat telah insaf dan kembali membawakan potongan-potongan fakta yang ia sembunyikan dari mata pikiran dan mata hati. Bergegas Ia menelepon seseorang teman ini untuk segera mengembalikan benda, yang Ia sadari sekarang sedari awal memang dipinjam tanpa harga apresiasi, alias iseng itulah.

Serendah harga apresiasi seseorang teman inilah juga kepeduliannya tentang waktu penantian. Berbulan seseorang teman ini habiskan untuk, ujarnya, "Menyelesaikan kekaguman saya akan milik anda ini."

Terbersit di benak Ia bahwa, "Mungkin seseorang teman saya ini meminjam benda itu atas dasar kekaguman pada saya, dan berakhir pula harga apresiasi benda itu bersamaan dengan pertemanan saya dan seseorang teman ini."

Mungkin memang begitu. Jika tidak, apakah ada keperluan bagi seseorang untuk menghabiskan dan menyelesaikan sisa kekagumannya kepada sesuatu yang seharusnya mengagumkan baginya? Bagi Ia, menyelesaikan sama dengan mengakhiri dan memusnahkan karena sudah tiada lagi kenangan sejarah yang berarti.

Ah, Ia tak peduli. Satu-satunya hal yang masih menambat kekagumannya adalah benda itu. Maka hanya benda itu yang Ia nantikan.

Serasa lewat sedasawarsa, akhirnya Ia kembali mengagumi benda itu. Namun ada tambahan tak artistik yang melanggar sopan santun di sana.

Sepertinya seseorang teman ini ingin mengekspresikan kekagumannya yang ternyata tersendat di tengah jalan; kekaguman yang lebih subyektif dari subyektifitas, yang berusaha seseorang teman ini tinggalkan untuk diperhatikan.

Tak pikir panjang dan banyak melihat, Ia menghapus sketsa kekaguman dan pencemaran yang subyektif itu dengan penghapus. Namun Ia tahu, seseorang teman ini belum menyelesaikan kekagumannya pada Ia. Karena seseorang teman ini tidak menyelesaikan, maupun menghapus sketsa yang tersendat di tengah jalan itu.

Ini apa?

Liku pikiranku

Menjeratku

Beban pikiranku

Menawanku

Samudera pikiranku

Menghempasku

Gemuruh pikiranku

Menghantuiku

Harapku akan kubilang semua

Janjiku akan kutulis semua

Namun lidah tak sanggup

Dan tinta berkhianat

Ayolah

Jujurlah bahwa

Pikiranku ini

Mengasyikkan

Tapi kan..

Seharusnya menyesakkan..?

Unsaid love: goodbye, light

I sit in desperation, in hopelesness, in vain. The body laid in front of me is stiff, rising and falling together with me. Beauty was once there in the eyes of the beholder. But to me, there is more to what the eyes see.

I close my eyes. I hold her left hand. I feel the coldness of our wedding ring strikes into my heart. I feel beauty through her thin fingers, through her callous hands that dilligently caress every flowers she planted. I feel beauty through her bones that gently rock my children to sleep. I feel beauty through her skin that touches my face everytime I bid goodbye. My senses feel her beauty.

I look at her face. Her light is fading. My sight is fading too. But as everything fades, light pierces though my eyes. I blinked. And I know it's time. I draw closer to her lit face. She shines for the last time. God permits one last light.

"You have felt more pain than my soul can bear. Now I won't hold onto your presence. I will release your sufferings. I will hold our kids along with our memories of you. No worries. I'm letting you go."  

With my last whispery breath, her cheek falls to mine. I kiss her ear. I stroke her dark hair and lift my face. I see light falls on her forehead. I kiss the light. And I kiss goodbye.

Null vector

I was waiting. In silence I waited.
I waited in light & darkness
I waited in chaos & harmony
I waited in dreams and reality

I was waiting. With drumrolls I waited.
Melody was stringed
Strings were tensed
Tension was underrated
Mindblowing

But still I waited. In silence I waited.
In contemplation
To intervention
Of whatever.

Graduates: Holder of Degree or Dignity?

Floating mortarboards

Hundreds of awards

Colorful dresses

Joyful faces

Tears of victory

Grade: satisfactory

She throws her hands up

He calls his beloved up

Ella Summa cum laude (She graduates with a summa cum laude)

El suma dificultad  (He has so much difficulties to graduate)

Who knows

What each went through

She asks for consent

He fights for consent

She pleases with smiles

He gratifies in sweats

Both have degrees

But dignity bestows

Upon those with efforts

(A piece of thought from a night phone call:

Evaluating a case: a thesis presentation was held and the things that were questioned were mainly focused on the quantity and appearance of presentation and less on the quality of the written content: Were the examiner aware that graduates' dignity was at stake?

Proceeding the latter, upon hearing stories of those graduating from the above institution, which does not apply suitable standards for its graduates, a question regarding the purpose of graduating arouses: Is graduating just for the sake of a degree or for one's own worth of dignity?

Escape to the superficial city lights

It looks like an ordinary crossroad. But as the sky turns violet and grows velvety; it's magic.

It all starts with my monthly routine of going to Yogyakarta to see my violin tutor. Last week especially, had been a frustrating week, so I decided to postpone my lesson and just strolled around the city. Hint: I was not alone. I brought along my faithful travelling mate (a.k.a partner in crime), Fiona.

Along the way, I thought we were going to spend some time wandering around malls and streets with girly giggles and laughs. Another hint: erase the "girly" and "giggles". We roared.

The afternoon sun was warm and nice. It was around 3 p.m. when we drove across small, bumpy roads, to get our other friend, Yayang, to her practice hall (she is a great cellist, by the way). As we got there, we could see massive rice fields around the building. It was peaceful and soothing (I was thinking of bringing a picnic set and had some sandwiches. It would be perfect). Sadly we  couldn't stay long. So we waved goodbyes to Yayang, and went back into the city.

The city was crowded, as usual, as we drove to our next destination, Malioboro. People were driving motorcycle recklessly and there were street beggars in every stops. Guess everyone was out at that hour. Well, we did get lost two or three times but finally we made it! Malioboro! One of the places you should stop by if you are new to Yogyakarta. Ignore the heat, smell of horse poo, and crazy becak; you MUST go there. Tell the world you've stepped on Yogyakarta after you go to Malioboro. That's what I told Fiona by the way.

Since Malioboro is a long and crowded road, either on the main road or the smaller road in front of the street shops, we did not walk all the way from one end to the other. We parked beside Mirota Batik (it was the smallest parking entrance I have ever driven through, seriously, but strangely enough, every car gets pass that gate). Things went smooth inside; we looked around, shopped small stuffs, gaped at the 26-million-stunning-vintage desk clock, smelled some aromatherapy, giggled at the strange breast scrubs, and flipped through stacks of batik cloth. 

After buying some chocolates, we went out. I told Fiona that the view right on the crossroad is beautiful, and we should go there. And so we went. The sidewalk leading to the big crossroad is just perfect. Cool breeze blowing to your face, large trees above your head, and bright street light shining. There are some interesting things too; one statue that looks like a pair of feet (only), strange people in strange colorful clothes, and some juvenile teens hopping around, taking pictures aimlessly. As we got there, we crossed the main road, and took pictures in front of the gracefully-lit Bank Indonesia building. I felt happy, seeing so many old buildings still preserved and stand majestically in the middle of all the hustle-bustle of the city.

It was all perfect -until our phones caught little drops of rain. I thought right away, "No, Yogyakarta has never poured its rain on me, it won't." And I was wrong. It was raining hard that evening. So hard. We were running like mad girls. And we ROARED. Yes now you know why we roared. Though Fiona and I thanked the huge trees that held the water from above, it wasn't enough. We turned into two juvenile girls, counting one two three, and hopping from one tree to another, jumping around like chimps after successfully reaching our 'post'. I kept yelling, "Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, SH*T!" (I'm so sorry, but you can't expect me to say hallelujah in a situation like that), and Fiona kept laughing.

Suddenly, our savior, the blessed ojek payung (umbrella carrier) came and rescued us. And so we didn't swear as much after that. He came right in time! We can't thank him enough. I felt happy. But sad at the same time. I think he just happened to own a huge umbrella and saw us running in wet clothes, then offered his umbrella to us.

I saw his two little kids with their mother, curled up near their unsold goods. Fortunately the large tree is big enough to shield them from that large amount of water. It was not the rain nor the unsold goods that made me sad -I was wondering whether they go to school or not. It would not be enough just to sell drinks to send those little kids to school. Then I regretted giving him only ten thousand rupiahs. I should have given him more. But sometimes in times of anxiety and worries, often, we can't think of others aside from ourselves. We, selfish human. I promised myself as I drove away from Malioboro that if I saw that man again, I would give him some money. That's all I can do. It's frustrating how much things you want to better and yet, in the end, money is all you can give. It doesn't really fulfill my intention. Then I thought, what is so good about having rights and access to everything in this democratic era, when they only 'function' in the presence of money? I hope I can make changes in the future, especially that regarding children who couldn't go to school like the little kids of the kind ojek payung.

Anyway, after that we escaped to Ambarukmo Plaza and spent the rest of the evening there.

It was a fun trip. But on the other side, it's a different trip from many preceding. Yogyakarta has always become one of my escape venue, with only good things, superficially. But it showed me its different side that night. I'm guessing that there would be many others that will follow in my next visits.

Dunia ini

Aku bahagia, telah terlahir di dunia ini
Beralaskan tanah, beratapkan bayang dedaunan serta bermanjakan belai padi

Aku bahagia, telah terlahir di dunia ini

Bermandikan hujan emosi, harapan dan cita-cita 

Aku bahagia, telah terlahir di dunia ini
Berlari mencari mata air, mengejar mimpi dan cinta

Namun aku tak pernah tahu
Bahwa tanah yang kupijak
Hujan impian yang membasahiku
Dan mata air yang kucari
Telah direnggut

Oleh mereka
Yang haus akan tanah, hujan, dan mata airku

Mereka
Yang merobek tanah, meracuni hujan, dan mengotori mata airku
Mereka
Yang menebarkan rajutan kapas berseri, serta pestisida bermerk
Mereka
Yang dahulu
Terlahir sama sepertiku
Akankah aku bahagia, terlahir esok hari di dunia ini?

(Puisi ini ditulis sebagai kritik terhadap para koruptor yang baru-baru ini 'marak' menghiasi layar kaca dan media cetak. 'Mereka' yang terus menerus membuat proyek dan menambah properti yang merusak lingkungan; 'Mereka' yang dengan sesuka hati menyirami diri dengan kemewahan dari uang kotor; 'Mereka' yang mendegradasikan fasilitas yang harusnya sepadan dengan pajak yang dibayarkan rakyat; 'Mereka' yang mencuri hak rakyat untuk mendapatkan pendidikan dan masa depan yang lebih baik. Bisa jadi novel berseri jika masalah korupsi ini didongengkan. Singkatnya, memang sudah tidak jelas sistem pemerintahan, advokasi, dan demokrasi di negeri ini.)

You

Human
You might see the rose
Yet fail to notice the thorns
You might see; stone it was
Yet fail, again
to notice the gem
vivid in your very eyes!
Human
You try to slash the thorns
You try to dust the gem
Yet
The thorns won't come off
The gem won't adhere to the dust
Human
The thorns would bleed
The gem would strike you in the eye
Hilarious
Now in turn
Phony as you always are
Imitative counteraction
Yet
I won't come off
Nor would I adhere to your ways
Fake
Yes
It is you

Hee-haw!

Cracked bones and crushed knees
Thwacked head and punched lips
Knock me down, strike to the core

Hee-haw!
Owe me crown, try no more

You may say

Till sun sets
I'd win the bets

Hee-haw!