Monday, June 30, 2003

IN THE END…


A famous piece of a pop musical group spread throughout the cosy place. A mixture of age and types of people were all over the place. Some were sitting comfortably on the floor reading a book, some other were walking between the bookshelves, whereas the end corner was occupied by the trio, making their best effort to entertain the visitors with their tunes.


The girl walked around the shops. Every now and then, she grabbed a book and put it in the small basket. She finally got a basket full of books and went to see her mom. She shoved the basket to her mom’s view. The girl believes that all those books will lead her to the land of knowledge.


As she slurped her coffee the bubbles of her thoughts were brewing in her mind. She went back far to the past, to the time when she was at the girl’s age. She kept some small black polished stones in a box. Every time she was hurt she opened the box. She felt like sitting on a piece of cloud and got drifted by the wind to the land of no worries. She danced luminously in the horizon and sat comfortably in the lap of the universe. She felt the mind-blowing happiness creeping inside her though for only a fleeting moments.


She let the girl enjoy the same journey and believe in the magical power of the books. In the end she will learn that the magical power lies in her being, her existence whereas a book is just a gizmo.



Saturday, June 28, 2003

A FROZEN QUESTION


The sound of the brake clutching the road ripped apart the silence of the cold morning air. Crassssshhhhhhhh… his body flew into the air and hit the front part of the taxi. He rolled down from the car and laid flat on the road. The taxi driver dashed out of his car. Two men burst out of the crowd. They carried the man into the taxi, while the rest of people stood still observing with curiosity as if it watching their most wanted “wrestle mania” show. It all happened in seconds, one of ill-fated moments for the man and the taxi driver.

As the taxi driver was about to leave, a man who claimed himself as a journalist, arrived on the scene. He took the taxi driver out of the car and played the leading role of a hero. A lady shoved her head out of her window and shouted out reminding them about the injured man. Two policemen, as has always been plotted on any movies, arrived on the scene later and took over the case. It took sometimes before the taxi left with the injured man and the police.

She was there right behind the scene. She witnessed everything and felt uncomfortable. The girl sat quietly and nicely next to her. She knew that the silence was fake and she detests this frozen moments. The girl might have heard her unspoken wishes. She turned her head, hesitated for a moment and asked a question: “Why didn’t you help him?”

She didn’t know where to start. She definitely didn’t want to start with the torn apart social values and norms for it would have opposed with all the comforting and pleasing values and norms preached at school. An ugly picture that she herself had witnessed, and above all she saw her own face in that picture. A picture she had just drawn in the na├»ve canvas of the girl’s mind.

She pretended as if she was focusing to the traffic. Her mind was boggling with the question. The same very question which is valid for everyone. The same question, which has been laid there in the corner of her own mind, frozen, unanswered.

Friday, June 27, 2003

THROUGH A LOOKING GLASS

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

A TYPICAL AFTERNOON ON A TYPICAL STREET



He looked dashing in his "army uniform". Standing on the other side of the street with the palm of his left hand resting on his hips, he inspected every single inch of the nearby area. A serious and responsible expression for the well being of his surrounding was painted on his face. Then he moved sturdily and crossed the street. He turned his head to the right side and inspected this part as well; every single dust on the street could not escape from his suspicious eyes.


Close to where he stood, a crowd of children were playing "kasti". The crowd of children had been playing since two o'clock when the sun was right at the top of the world. They occupied almost a third of the length of the street for the game. Every now and then they had to stop for a while to avail the streets for the traffic. As they screamed and yelled, the sound penetrated the houses and creeping into every bedroom, disturbing the afternoon naps of the neighbourhood. The odour of their sweat, the excitement, the noise and the dusty street gave its own characteristic flavour to the street.


Another two houses further up from where the game was held, standing a group of men and women at the curb of the street. A visitor might be amazed to find out that the crowd gather for nothing, but to socialize, a sort of an afternoon teatime in England. Most of them were still in their office uniform. They watched the children playing while title tattling about their neighbours, politics, love, or any topics that come across their crowded mind. Once in a while when the game was reaching the peak of its excitement they stopped and supported their favourite team or criticized any player that failed to contribute points to the team.

Nobody paid much attention to the army man. However, they were aware that he was around, considering that they made a lot of attempts to block the ball from flying to his direction. The army man once again turned his head to the right side. This time his gaze was glued to this side. He must have spotted something. Slowly he slid out from the bench and stood, he gave a precautious look as he watched an ice peddler pushing his cart forward through the crowd of kids.


The iceman finally managed to break through the crowd and passed in front of the army man. He waved his hand to the iceman and requested a chocolate flavoured ice. He got back to his bench with the chocolate ice in his hand. His eyes turned big and wide every time he slurped the ice slowly and passionately. He was enjoying every single drop of the ice that went down through his throat. As he arrived to the very best part of the ice, the part covered by frozen fudge, all of a sudden, a wild ball flew into his direction and hit the ice in his hand. The ice splattered into his face. His thunderous loud cry broke the afternoon air. The crowd was startled and remained frozen for seconds. Everyone automatically turned his or her head toward him. A lady bursted out of the crowd on the spur of the moment and ran to her 4-year-old kid in his army uniform. He was crying loudly with melted chocolate ice covering his face.

Monday, June 23, 2003

A TALE OF TWO SETTEES



She held Dicken’s masterpiece "A Tale of Two Cities" firmly in her hand, Love and justice that burned out during the French Revolution. She had arrived to the part of sacrifices in the name of love. She sat stiffly in tense. A moment or two she inhaled a deep breath and held it for a while, like she would never exhale it again. She felt the real value of the sacrifice. As she finished that part, she blew her breath in relief and sunk her body in the fluffy and comfy settee. Relax in the white and green striped covered settee, both of her hand resting down on it, touching and caressing it gently.

She moved the settee from her bed room to the living room, facing the garden. It could hold three persons with comfort. Actually everyone had been very happy to have the settee in front of the television set. As a replacement, she put another smaller comfortable gray covered comfortable settee with an ottoman in front of the television set. The settee was too big for one person but too small for two. The entire member of the house had expressed their objections when she did it. Her husband was one of the most furious one. She did not react to any of those objections. Lest she might ignite fires of arguments about those two settees she pretended that she was hard at hearing. She witnessed the struggle to conquer the settee among the members of the family during the television show time; still she remained silent, and kept her reason deep in the most secretive place of her heart.

A deeper and closer look into that home and their usual routine life, will actually reveals her entire secret, a secret, which is barely a secret but the naked fact of reality, a natural impulse of a woman. At television show time, she sits there in front of the television with her children. All in one settee, a settee that could only hold one person, were packed with the three of them, squeezing each other, close to each other. One sits in front of her on the ottoman and laid back to her stomach. The other one sits next to her in the settee. The warmth of their togetherness, the fight for the best spot and all the arguments are just another scrumptious dimension that paints the color of their routine life. Something that can not be assessed based on its face value. The settees that turn the house into a home, and produce the warmth to her home.

Saturday, June 21, 2003

BITS AND PIECES OF LIFE


It had been drizzling outside. The teen-age girl took the front seat. Her eyes were glued to the messy traffic. She was silent; in fact none of the three persons in that car said any words. The only perceptible sound came from the climatiseur, sizzling and hissing all the way throughout the journey. Though irritating as it has always been, at this moment, she preferred to tune to it.
Her mom was behind the wheel. A forlorn and disappointed expression was marked clearly on her depleted face. Nobody knows what was twirling in her head, but they all knew that she preferred not to be disturbed. Every time a bus stopped and blocked her ways, she hit her right hand against the horn. Senseless and idiotic but the pressure was probably boiling in her mind.
Grandma, the only person that gave a content gaze, was sitting at the back. She considered what she saw in front of her as merely shadows, a natural phenomenon. She let her mind wondered off to find the “real pictures” or “ideas”. The scenes of the party last night were now playing in front of her eyes. All her children, grand children, great grand children, brothers, sisters and friends were all there. A wise way to escape from the depressing reality.

All the bits and pieces were scattering all over her room. This time, after so many times, her mom yelled and instructed the girl to put all her bits and pieces back to the appropriate place, into the proper boxes and drawers. The girl moved and grabbed all her stuff. She shoved everything into one box and closed the lid. The box was too full so the lid got stuck. She pushed harder and harder. It didn’t work and somehow the box was almost crashed. She lifted the box and threw half of the content into another empty box and closed the lid. Done! At least that was what she had thought. She had not had a faintest idea that the bomb was ticking, on the verge to explode.

The clock was ticking…so was the bomb. Time was moving like a jet plane. The three of them were busy searching. They emptied all the boxes and drawers but the tiny little piece of “high” value was nowhere. The girl knew that it must have been somewhere in one of the boxes or drawers, but where? It must be there, she remembers shoving it into one of them. Time was very uncompromising. It dashed off with no delay. That tiny piece was nowhere..........

“Darn”, her mother shouted furiously. The explosion had burst out her head and merge with everything else. Like a big balloon filled with water, it blew up in the air, and the water splattered all over the earth as it landed. It was dreadful and nasty. She was shaky and so was the girl. Both of their hearts were shattered into tiny inches. It was not only about grouping the real bits and pieces but it was also about grouping the bits and pieces of life and shoved them into the incorrect places. She held firmly the steering wheel and almost sunk her fingernails into it.


Friday, June 20, 2003

SPLASH


Splash… droplets of water burst out of the pool as she jumped into the water. Her body sank gracefully into the water and submerged below the surface level. The blue water touched her skin and caressed it tenderly. She can feel the softness of its touch and closed her eyes to let the heavenly feeling flow into her veins. Like thousands of ants in their early morning march, the feeling crawled inch by inch and reached the entire parts of her body. As she swam back and forth, the feeling grew stronger and stronger. She swam around following the blissful music of her heart. Strange enough, why does suddenly this feeling emerge…?

Splash… the word beeped in her memory. It brought her back to the last week's conversation, to the time when a young boy came home to see her daughter for some school stuff. He was driving a fancy car. As he walked through the entrance with full confidence, he greeted everyone with a well-polished manner. Her daughters’ eyes were shining, an elevated joy of having somebody special visiting her.
“I know all about making a splash”, her mother exclaimed. Her teen-age daughter dived into her mom’s eyes and swam around as she was making her best effort to understand her mom’s statement. "He might be a splash that gathers the crowd with his gentle appearance. The crowds wont stay long unless you give them a good reason to stay. Don’t get blinded by appearance. A conceited artist could perform his role exceedingly well on stage."
The girl's eyebrows moved closer to each other as she wrinkled her forehead. A perturbed feeling was painted on her innocent expression. Mom smiled to her daughter and touched the tip of her nose. “You don’t have to understand everything now, but you will definitely understand me later when you grow up.”

As she swam and splashed around the pool, her mind traveled back to the splash story that had happened to herself not only once in her lifetime. Those splash stories that glue strongly in her cognition. One after another, they were all splash, the natural stage of a being teen age versus the natural instinct of being a mother. That's what keeps this mother daughter relation alive.

Now that she understands why she had to go through all those splashy moments, she longs to have her mom with her, especially today at her mom's special day. Happy birthday Mom!!.


Thursday, June 19, 2003

OF MICE AND MEN


Sniff….sniff….. The smell of cheese had been dangling in the air. They ran in the maze wildly. One kicked the other, one ran ahead another. At the intersection, they stopped for a while. Confused to turn left or right. One of them took the lead; he curled up his nose and sniffed around. He turned right and the rest of his squad followed.. Mountain of cheese lied there in abundance. Watery mouths are opened widely. The white flashing teeth sunk into the succulent yummy cheese. Yum… yum…yum…

She sits there in the comfortable chair and watches MTV. Her feet rest peacefully on the ottoman. The blaring sound of music filled up the house. It roars and shakes the house down. She sings along with the music and contributes another freaky noise to the air.
The sound of the car entering the house is an alarm for her. She quickly turns off the television set and runs to her own room. She sits nicely by her desk with her books widely open. She gives an exasperating look, a typical look that one would give after a full day of studying
.

As usual they stop at the intersection and wait for the leader to lead. The leader curled up his nose and sniffed around. He did not catch the usual cheesy smell from the right side, instead it is now somehwere else.He gave a strange look, and patted his nose with his paw. He sniffed again… and lifted his eyebrows to communicate his confusion. The mice were panic. A hysterical reaction filled the maze.

She was extremely uneasy. Though she turned her voice down at the lowest level, the phone conversation could be overheard with clarity. “Grams…I am afraid of my grades and what if I failed. A terrified looks was on her face and this time it was an extreme frantic, worried and frenzied look.

The leader directed his head to the left and gave a sign to the troops to follow. The mice gave different reactions. One of the “predators” took over the lead and invited the mice to turn right, their usual morning direction. The “inhibitors” were confused and followed the predators. “The wait and see” remained in the intersection to see what’s going to happen. “The followers” follow the leader and turned left.

Her mom invited “the panicky girl” to her room. A mother daughter talk has never been interesting. Faintly the conversation could be overheard: “ Unless you change you will never get the cheese of life.”

“The followers” enjoy the biggest part of the cheese. “The wait and see” heard the victory of "the followers" and follow them. They get some cheese. The inhibitors” get a tiny part of the cheese since they were too late to change the direction. “the predators” died in hunger.

Which are you, Angel?

Wednesday, June 18, 2003

FOR EVERYTHING HAVE THEIR SEASON



Summer is approaching the end of its term. The leaves have started to change their colors. Autumn will soon be on the scene. She is walking toward the seashore on her own. Gust of wind blows her fragile figure and makes her flimsy. She goes on with her journey and makes her extreme effort to maintain her direction.

Traces of her foot prints are on the sand….lead down to the world she sometimes fails to recall. The world of her own, in which summer was enchantingly beautiful. At that time, the birds would chant her the songs of heaven. The world stood there motionless, watching her dance charmingly with the music of life.


The sea waves have sent her an invitation to come. The sea gulls reminded her to answer all her unfinished questions of life. For once winter arrives, the questions will be frozen forever.She sat there by the sea shore. She has been seeking for the answers to her haunting questions. She sat there for hours and hours, feeling hopeless for she was only chasing a shadow. She was almost frozen in her solitude, when the reflection of an angel came slowly into her view.

She stood up with better forethoughts. The angel provided the answer to her haunting question. An Existence for another existence. The reason why we are alive to keep the others living. Everything have their season and reason to exist.


Monday, June 16, 2003

SUCCESS


The phone rang.... you ran to me and hold your breath deeply. A mixed up expression, tensed, anxious and uneasy were all there. As soon as I put the receiver down, you held my arms and shook them. I gave you an empty look. You looked more than puzzled, worried and began to bite your nails. I smiled and said, yes you have made it.

The explosion of excitement was more than the incredible eruption of a volcano. It shattered the silence. The roars and the flares of joy filled up the air. You danced around and jumped into my bed. I was frozen. Suddenly you turned to me and hugged me. You hugged me with all your excitements and squeezed me. The rest of the day was filled with phone calls....


There is no point at which you can say, "Well, I am successful now. I might as well take a nap (Carrie Fisher). There are still so many rocky hills to climb and winding roads to beat.

Tuesday, June 10, 2003

HOW MUCH LOVE DO I HAVE?


If I had to choose between my right and left eye, which one would I have to choose? This question is aimless. It is as senseless as your curiosity to know which among you that I love most. This question has been in your eyes for sometimes. You plea for an asnwer and it was spurted out last night in the car.

Do you remember the time of loneliness when we had been separated miles away from the rest of the family? You were there with me. We supported each other. We conquered the urge to be reunited . We walked hand in hand underneath the shade of the trees. You were chased by the blackbird on our way to the playground. We dashed out to the iceman as the van passed in front of our house.


The creaky door to your room was opened. You came out and got yourself a glass of water from the table in front of me. Swollen red eyes and a heartbreaking tormented look was the menu served to me. Your sister was trying to whisper something in my ears. I touched you lightly on your head. You broke out into tears and rest your head so close to my heart. I didnt say a word, but my heart played the music of love. You cried until the fear in you subsided.


We have gone through so many things in this life. We have gone through the sun and the rain. It is love that keeps us alive. However, it is not about the amount of my love or your love nor is it about whom I love most. It is simply about sharing our love among us, among people around us.

Monday, June 09, 2003

CINTA PUTIH


Seputih salju, seputih rambutnya, seputih cintanya. Pengabdian yang tidak pernah berhenti. Musim silh berganti, perubahan menerpa kehidupannya, tapi hatinya masih putih...seputih salju, seputih rambutnya, seputih hatinya. Tatkala maut menjemput, burung-burung di taman menyanyikan irama kepedihan, menghantar perginya sang cinta putih ke dunia yang tak akan pernah dapat kumengerti. Ke suatu dunia yang enggan aku pikirkan tapi harus kuhadapi.
Mungkin hanya malaikat kecilku yang tau. Disudut sana, dibalik tirai putih, aku melihat air mata putihnya bergulir, meluncur perlahan, melandas di atas hati yang putih. Bibirnya bergumam halus, Tuhan, kukembalikan cinta putih ini ke hadiratMu. Kalau boleh aku memilih, ingin kudekap erat dan kunikmati cintanya. Namun aku tahu, apa yang kau goreskan, adalah putih... Terimalah cinta putihku.....

Wednesday, June 04, 2003

LOSS AND GRIEF



I brought with me all my blurted thoughts in the middle of the night. Loss has passed in front of our door and grief was enveloping us. It is not until the person disappears that we begin to wonder their meaning to our life. The beautiful moments become apparent, and the unpleasant ones disappear. Memories......leave those traces of loss and grief. How do we emerge above the indigo line?
The white pearls rolled down on your cheek. Tears that alleviated the pain, the agony inside. The affections that occured behind the scenes, revealing the true love that grows in the garden of sincerety.

Sunday, June 01, 2003

TITIK, KOMA, TANDA TANYA


Kunang-kunang beterbangan, melambung ke udara, menembus malam. Roh kematian berpendar-pendar. Kepedihan menyelimuti bumi. Pagi ini sahabatku, sore ini ia menggoda kerabatku. Aroma kematian melilit bumi. Kehidupan berakhir. Usai sudah. Titik.
Dalam buaian, kudongengkan cerita tentang hidup. Menata hidup, menjaga kehidupan dan membangun kehidupan. Malaikat kecil...satu hal yang pasti dari kehidupan ini. Tebarkan kasih dan biarkan bersemi. Titik, Koma, Tanda tanya....... biarkan itu.