A tale of a magician

By Bakdi Soemanto

For years Lancingan dreamed of becoming a magician.

When he was in Kindergarten the principal invited a magician to entertain the pupils. In front of the young students he made pencils, chalk, writing books and balls disappear just by touching them.

The magician invited one of his teachers, Bu Zwilly, to sit on a chair. Then the magician touched her wristwatch very gently and to the audience's surprise, it disappeared.

"Does anybody have Ibu Zwilly's watch in their pocket?" the magician asked.

None of them reacted. They just stared at each other.

"Everybody was asked to check their pockets to see if Bu Zwilly's watch was in there," he recalled. Teachers and pupils obediently did as they were asked.

"You stole your teacher's watch, didn't you?" the magician said laughingly as he pointed at a pupil who was very confused.

"No. I did not, sir," he said trembling with fear. Everybody laughed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am ..."

"Ah, I think I made a mistake. I am sorry," he said. He walked around and put his finger against his forehead.

"Wait," he said again. "Ah, I've got it. I've got it. The watch must be in Bu Zwilly's own handbag," the magician said. Hearing this the teacher stood up and stepped into the crowd to get her bag which she had just left. She opened it quickly, took her watch from the bag and showed it to the audience.

"I do not believe it," Lancingan mumbled as he looked at the watch. "How is that possible?" he asked himself.

"The magician must be a wonderful man. Where did he learn that?" Lancingan wondered. From that day the little boy became preoccupied with the wonderful show.

When he was at junior high school his friend lent him a Mandrake the Magician comic book. He enjoyed it so much he neglected his homework. His parents were angry when they found him reading the comic instead of studying.

"What book is that?" his father asked. "Unless you throw it away, I'll teach you a lesson."

The boy did not say a word.

"Do you think that learning maths is as easy as winking?" his father said as he left the room slamming the door behind him.

Early the next morning his father told him to return the book to his friend or he would tell his teacher. But when he got to school he did not do what he was told.

"Where did you buy this?" Lancingan whispered to his friend Palonyot, the book's owner.

"Well, I don't know. It is not mine but my father's. I found it in the storage room. It was so dusty ..."

"May I have it. How much do you want for it?"

"What? Are you kidding?"

"No. I'm serious. How much?"

He said the book cost just five rupiah.

"What do you want it for?" Palonyot quizzed.

"I like it very much," Lancingan said. He paid the money and they shook hands.

"This is the best book I've read in the world. Thank you again." He kissed it and embraced his friend.

"We are bosom buddies," Lancingan said.

"Right. We are everything to each other," Palonyot said.

They went to class. In class Lancingan always tried to read the book. He was hypnotized by Mandrake's eyes.

Lancingan never became a magician because he knew it was very hard to do but 35 years on he still had the Mandrake comic. Mbak Tarti told him he had deluded himself into believing the conjuring was real.

But his old desire to be a magician touched him again when he watched David Copperfield on television. The illusionist's tricks amazed him. He wondered if he could write to David Copperfield asking for information on particular skills.

"Ridiculous," his wife said, "You had better start looking for a job rather than thinking of such absurd ideas."

"You're a man, aren't you?" she asked. "But you just hang around. Shame on you."

"Listen to me, you fool," Lancingan demanded. "I'm thinking of becoming a great man. I want to be a magician. I'll conjure up a heap of money, beautiful cars, houses, bungalows, for you ..."

"But how? When will you do it. I've been waiting for centuries. I've been burning the candles at both ends to feed you and our kids. But you're taking sweet things. You spend my money to buy cigarettes, drink coffee with heaps of sugar. You waste your time by chatting with neighbors in the guardhouse almost every night. You're hanging back. You've done nothing. Shame on you."

"Look at this," Lancingan answered as he opened the morning paper. "Read this. Here it says heaps of money, kept in the safe, has suddenly disappeared without a trace. You know what the police said? They said it was done by conjurers. Two years ago, Pak Gareng was just a treasurer. He went to work by motorcycle. Now he has almost everything. His wife goes abroad every week, shopping in Singapore and Hong Kong. Pak Gareng must be a conjurer. Do you want to hear some more news? Listen. There was a bank robber imprisoned. One morning, he complained to a jailer who was on duty of a queasy stomach. He wanted to go to the hospital. The jailer asked his superior if the robber could leave prison to go to hospital. The superior said it would be no problem provided he was closely guarded. On the way to the hospital, the robber said he wanted to buy cigarettes. As the truck stopped, the guard became sleepy and the robber flew away. The police said he would be caught within 24 hours. For three months the robber got away and there was no news of him. Just this morning the police said the robber was now the director of a very big company in Africa. He must be a conjurer, too. You know, two weeks ago, a paper seller was murdered. The murderer was not identified but the police suddenly conjured up the murderer..."

"Stop. Stop it. You're talking through your hat. I don't want to listen to you anymore." his wife yelled. She ran into the bedroom, slammed the door and threw herself on the bed.

"Everything's my fault," she sobbed.

"Cry your heart out, darling," Lancingan said as he left. He went to the kampong's guardhouse as he usually did to join the young jobless people who played cards and talked nonsense all night. One thing he learned from them that night was that to become a magician was possible provided he could do what was required.

"What is that," Lancingan wanted to know. One of them said there was an old man living at the top of Lawu mountain. "He could teach you bringing something into existence."

He said Lancingan should walk to the top and see him.

"But I don't have any money even a rupiah to pay for that."

"Don't worry. You are not supposed to pay now but later when you're already wealthy."

The next morning, Lancingan left for Lawu mountain without telling his wife but he took some money from her wallet. He knew he had to be quick to catch the bus to Surakarta and straight to Tawangmangu and then walk to the top. Two days later, he arrived at a small hut. He saw an old man sitting on a mat with his arms folded and his eyes shut.

"Kulanuwun", he called to announce his arrival.

"Mangga" (come in)," was his answer. "Be seated please."

"Your name's Lancingan, right?" the old man asked as he opened his eyes.

Lancingan was struck dumb.

"How does he know my name?" he thought.

"You want to learn how to make something disappear, don't you?"

"No. I mean ... yes. Right. Absolutely right!"

"Open your palms, please."

Lancingan opened and showed his palms. Saying spells, the old man put both his palms on Lancingan. Lancingan felt magic run through his hands, up his arms though his whole body. He trembled because of the cold.

"Now you have to wash your face," the old man said.

Lancingan went to the well next to the hut and washed his face and hands. The water was almost freezing so pricked his face.

"When you finish washing, please look at yourself in the water in the bucket."

He did.

"No. No. No!" Lancingan cried.

"What's happening?"

"My face has completely vanished".

"That's good. Now you can go down the slope and when you arrive in town down there you can start practicing conjuring money and other magic. No one knows who you are because the police will not be able to identify you. You know why? Those who are faceless are shameless. Good luck."

As he spoke a strong wind blew and the old man seemed to get smaller and smaller. When he was as small as a dot he was flying in the wind. Before disappearing, he sang a beautiful song but one line was repeated continuously. "You lived to tell the tale this time but who knows how far you can push your luck..."

Lancingan sobbed helplessly.