Rong<\/p>\n
By Gendut B. Riyanto<\/p>\n
Rong, a famous Indonesian poet who is a chronic alcoholic
\nnotorious for his disgraceful social behavior, took his very sick
\nwife to Doctor Rajit one evening.<\/p>\n
He had to trundle four kilometers over heavy slick mud in a
\nstorm, with a flashlight as his only means of illumination. In
\naddition to all that, he carried Rah, his wife of the last 30
\nyears. She felt like a broken doll in his arms.<\/p>\n
His rubber sandals often sank in the mud, and Rah's sandals
\nwere constantly dangling and falling off. One drop of rain felt
\nlike a thousand steel arrows. It hurt and it also pained his
\nheart. People he met on the way averted their eyes. Others
\nhurriedly clamped their doors and windows, shutting him off in
\nthe intimacy of the darkness around him.<\/p>\n
"Stop moaning, Rah," he hissed, spewing the strong odor of
\nalcohol from his mouth.<\/p>\n
"Doctor Rajit will take care of your problem. You know that
\nthere is not one patient who does not praise his skills. Just a
\nfew steps more... mmm...then we will cross the river and there,
\ntransportation will be waiting..."<\/p>\n
Lightning cleaved the sky with a white light. For a moment
\nRong and Rah stared wide-eyed in the night.<\/p>\n
"Oh God... See for yourself. This evening He will be on our
\nside. He will scold Doctor Rajit if the doctor refuses to open
\nthe door for us. This will anger God, especially if... if that
\nold doctor is going to scream: 'Go! Leave this garden! Who do you
\nthink I am, A slave watching over and nursing devils! You are out
\nof line. Come in the morning, don't come in an evening like this
\nand in a mad storm!'<\/p>\n
Oh, my dear wife. Don't worry, because I will speak up
\nimmediately and his stone heart will start to melt.<\/p>\n
'Wise doctor who loves people. I ask only this once, I implore
\nyou. Believe me, I will pay for living a harmful life and do good
\nthis evening. God who is noble will bless you, Doctor.'" Rong
\nuttered a long stream of words and endless sentences. He did not
\ncare if Rah heard him in the din of thunder and rain.<\/p>\n
"Rong!" It was as if he heard Doctor Rajit shouting into his
\near. Lightning struck a coconut tree in front of him. Flames
\nspurted from the crown, alighting the palm leaves like fiery
\nwitch hair. The fire spread quickly from leaves to stems.<\/p>\n
"You keep saying, just this once, and for once I am going to
\nheal this life that is in shambles. But, before your arrival, I'm
\nsure that you have finished at least two bottles of cheap whisky
\nin some foodstall. Right?"<\/p>\n
"Right, clever and loving doctor of mankind. What you said
\nabout me is so right. But, look at my wife Rah. Since this
\nevening I have stopped hitting and hurting her. Ask her yourself.
\nOr ask the people living on the same road in our village. I am
\nnot like a cold stone from the river. I am not like a milk cow
\ntoo, that has not been milked for ages. So, give me time to do
\ngood for people, to my wife Rah who has suffered all her life
\nbecause of my relentless wrongdoing that lasted for so long."<\/p>\n
Rong and Rah were soaked to the skin. The river they had to
\ncross flowed in front of them.<\/p>\n
It was pitch dark, the only light coming from intermittent
\nshafts of lightning. Rong sensed it as God's light which had led
\nthem to the banks of the river. But what did they see?<\/p>\n
The rising waters slapped the banks with a painful, sighing
\nsound, that made by tortured people. It seemed to express the
\nhardship experienced by raft men, to whom the river is a source
\nof income, by thieves and cruel robbers, all these people had to
\nsoothe their qualms before they could cross the angry river.<\/p>\n
"You must strengthen your heart, Rah. I believe that the rain
\nwill be over soon and the river level should be as before. Do you
\nsee that thing in the distance? Is not that point of light
\nnothing but the lights of a city bus?"<\/p>\n
The storm did not seem to subside. Rong and Rah were stranded
\non the riverbank like two brittle bamboo poles, There was no sign
\nof human life, except that Rong's chest, heaved up and down,
\nbreathing laboriously. Hope that they might be able to make the
\nriver crossing shone in his eyes. Hope of meeting doctor Rajit
\nalso. Meet him?<\/p>\n
How could he expect from the doctor some time to open his door
\nfor a lowly poet in a stormy, pitch black night? It could not be
\nenough.<\/p>\n
First, that famous doctor, old and bloated though he may be,
\ndid clean Rong's alcohol poisoned stomach. After that, he had to
\nface the unpleasant fact that Rong did not have enough money to
\npay for medical treatment. This degraded the doctor's standing
\neven more when he realized that he had treated an immoral
\ndrunkard. That alone was reason enough to chase these two people
\naway from his garden.<\/p>\n
"But, doctor. My poems are full of love and feeling to lonely
\nwomen. To cheap whores who are unable to find customers. To
\nunfaithful men ridden with syphillis. To the bandits and corrupt
\nsecurity guards in the markets who repented for walking the
\nillegal path. To the doctors who have fallen on hard times. I
\nhave to mention that... yes, sorry for that, doctor. Slumming has
\ncaused all this. Changing sleeping partners, the wives of
\nfriends. Mistreating my children and leaving them to starve, so
\nthey leave home. Leaving years of burden, ill effects and
\nscoldings of this old wife. Letting syphilis consume her body,
\ntoo. Piling rot on rot, that contaminates the blood and nervous
\nsystem all through the brain."<\/p>\n
Too late. The dispute has taken on a different shade, like a
\nbroken dyke being swamped by a giant wave. A different kind of
\nintoxication evolved in a situation of unending infiniteness
\nbetween dreams and self-consciousness.<\/p>\n
Dark days are escaping the tomb. Sadness is kicked back in a
\nflat stomach. He had felt his free, scintillating spirit all his
\nlife. It was like a long lasting drinking binge, free of sadness
\nand mirth. He was not aware of disappointment or a feeling of sin
\nwhen he slammed his fist into the face of his wife yesterday
\nevening. Not to mention the cursing.<\/p>\n
Stinking spittle and the lashes of a leather belt rained
\nunrelentlessly on Rah's body. She who had no more strength to
\nmake a sound. Everything went smoothly, for the umpteenth time,
\nuntil this time. This time, it went over the line.<\/p>\n
Yesterday evening had been a frightful one for Rong. Rah's
\nbody lay as stiff as the trunk of a banana tree. She gazed at him
\nwith empty eyes and she felt cold as an iron bar. Corpse, his
\nheart screamed. In the 30 years they were together, this was the
\nfirst time Rong saw something strange in his wife. This was
\nserious.<\/p>\n
"Rah!" he yelled. But Rah did not move.
\nRong's voice drowned in the dark. The kerosene lamp above swayed
\nwildly. The wind from the northern mountain slope blew around his
\ncollar. But, Rah remained stiff.<\/p>\n
Fear had prevented Rong from looking at Rah since he left the
\nhouse and braved the storm.<\/p>\n
"The hell of alcohol and mistreating Rah are gone forever
\nafter tonight, doctor. Please, open the door for this old wife of
\nmine, good and wise, doctor. I will pay you with the most
\nbeautiful poem of all my work. Or, just mention what you like and
\nlove best, I will give all that to you and it would not cost you
\na cent. Antique ivory from Brazil? Medical books unavailable in
\nthis country? Boris Pasternak's novels? Kurosawa's films or prose
\nof Kawabata? It is all up to you. Except for one thing, don't let
\nRah suffer in this way."<\/p>\n
The doctor would undoubtedly laugh his heart out. Standing at
\nthe door with his arms akimbo, he would say, "I like to hear
\nthat, shabby poet. But, I hate your false dreams. I have no right
\nto reject or to receive you. It is your wild lifestyle that I
\ncannot stand. Because of your fame, your wife is hiding under a
\nhotel bed with you. The regent's daughter who has no future
\nprospects because you made her pregnant. Then, there is that
\nteacher, who I had to help out with an abortion. What more do you
\nwant?"<\/p>\n
"But, but, doctor. I have ditched all that. I have buried
\nthose dark days. Help me just this once to stay away from court
\nfor my immoral acts. Give me tonight some time to repent for past
\nsins. Believe me, doctor. Believe in the ray of light within me.
\nIt is the light of goodness, for the sake of Rah's life. It is
\nnot always in the interest of my self."<\/p>\n
Rong mumbled constantly, the words pouring out in the same
\nintensity as the rain. Cold and fatigue had long since crossed
\nchronic alcoholic limits. But Rong was not an ordinary person.
\nEven if both his feet were shaking in a frightful way and he felt
\nhis grip around Rah's back weakening.<\/p>\n
No! He must not falter tonight. He adjusted Rah's hands and
\ncorrected his embrace. And in all that time, he had not once
\nlooked at Rah. When he touched the arm of the old woman, it felt
\nlike a mossy stone from the river. Hard, stiff and slippery.<\/p>\n
"Rah," Rong hissed without turning his head. "Rah, are you
\nasleep? Rah?" His suspicions bolted and they were stronger than
\nhis aversion for the sight of the woman who bore his children.<\/p>\n
"Rah!" he roared against the sound of thunder. He shook the
\ntaut body repeatedly.<\/p>\n
"Oh no, how can you die this quick, Rah. Oooh...! Doctor,
\ndoctor! I did not mean to neglect and kill her. Believe me.
\nExamine my heart. Honestly, I have only good intentions this
\nevening. It is not like the other nights which lasted for 30
\nyears. No, doctor. God will bless you, if you believe my
\nheartfelt words... ah... Rah. I tortured you for 30 years.
\nAnd this once when I wanted to do good for you, you die on me,
\nRaaaah..!<\/p>\n
Rong's wailing startled nature.<\/p>\n
It was not emotion or sadness which drove Rong to ear
\nshattering howling. It was disappointment and aggravation. He had
\njust started to be good, but his wife was the first person to
\nkeep him from doing that. It was as if all the villagers and
\npeople from the city had closed their doors and windows on him.<\/p>\n
A stonelike load exerted pressure on his head. The shadows
\nwere paling as a grey-white blur seemed to engulf him. A voice
\nfrom the bottom of his inner self grew stronger: Doctor Rajit.<\/p>\n
Oh, thank you, doctor...," the words he had wanted to say very
\nmuch did not get further than his throat. The shadows around him
\nbecame more clear. Doctor Rajit stood three steps away from him.
\nRong tried to smile as he was overcome with gladness. Once again,
\nhis lips refused to move. But the wave of happiness engulfing him
\nwas stronger than his sense of failure. He wanted to jump and
\nembrace Doctor Rajit.<\/p>\n
"At last, you've come doctor. Yes, the Lord in heaven is
\neverywhere. I honor his heart and he will bless the doctor's
\nlife. Forgive me...," but not one word, nor sound, came out of
\nhis lips. His mouth sagged, and both his hands and feet remained
\nmotionless. "Oh dear! Why am I pinned to my place?" he wondered
\nin his heart.<\/p>\n
"The villagers brought you here," said Doctor Rajit. "After
\nthey buried your wife, Rah. It seems that last night's storm, and
\na nervous breakdown, has paralyzed your body and silenced your
\nvoice..," Doctor Rajit handed a piece of paper and a ballpen to
\nhim to write down his thoughts.<\/p>\n
Loving doctor of mankind. God will bless you. Tell me, how
\nlong will I be paralyzed and dumb like this?"<\/p>\n
"Maybe...," Doctor Rajit rubbed his cheek, then replaced his
\nglasses on his nose. "Maybe... forever.."<\/p>\n
Rong stared with wide open eyes as if he had just encountered
\nan apparition. He wrote more: aside from my hands, would I be
\nable to make a living?"<\/p>\n
"In about two weeks your hands would have enough strength to
\ntype. But why are you in a hurry to make money?"<\/p>\n
"I owe money to three publishers. I have to settle overdue
\nrent on the house. The burial costs of my wife and your fee,
\ndoctor. Unless, I am allowed to settle all bills with my poems."<\/p>\n
Doctor Rajit's eyes bored into his as if to dig up more
\nsecrets from him. He then told the villagers slowly, "Bring him
\nhome again", as he moved from his place and disappeared behind a
\nwhite screen.<\/p>\n
"Doctor..!" yelled Rong. But his mouth remained in the same
\nsagging position. The villagers who stood around him were
\nstartled too, and their mouths gaped in surprise.<\/p>\n
Outside the morning breeze lightly caressed hills and shrubs.<\/p>\n
Translated by Claudine Frederik.<\/p>\n
Gendut B. Riyanto was born in 1955 in Surakarta. He graduated
\nfrom the Indonesian Arts Institute (STSRI) in Yogyakarta in 1980.
\nSince 1975 he has written poems, short stories and essays. His
\ncollection of poems Matahari Sepi (Lonely Sun) was published in
\n1976, and another, Habislah Gelap Terbitlah Gelap (Light Comes
\nafter Dark), in 1994. He is an art director and copywriter for an
\nadvertising agency in Jakarta.<\/p>",
"url": "https:\/\/jawawa.id\/newsitem\/rong-1447899208",
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