After retirement

By Sori Siregar

Suspicion was the ruling factor in every decision he made? That was how he made decisions, and once he made up his mind, nothing could change it. It was not just once or twice he felt he had made a wrong decision, but many times. And every time he realized his mistake he always vowed to get rid of his suspicion in his next steps.

But that was not easy. He was a product of an institution in a system in which suspicion of anything and anyone was the order of the day. The intelligence body had transformed him into a new man. For 20 years he had lived in a spirit of suspicion. It would take a long time to come out of the grip which he had never been conscious of before prior to entering his period of transition.

Bistok's eyes wandered down to the bungalows scattered in the valley in front of the cafe of his hotel. It was Bagja who was paying for his week-long stay there with his wife. Bagja invited them and paid for all the expenses as a gift for Bistok's 60th birthday.

"What does Bagja want from me?" The question kept nagging at Bistok when Bagja called him, wished him a happy birthday and invited him to spend a holiday at the hotel for a week.

"It has been five years since my retirement and since I've been working part time at various places belonging to people I once knew. They gave me work because I helped them in the past. Nearly all of the licenses were issued through my hands. My authority alone helped accelerate things. To my knowledge, Bagja never received my favor. I knew him through my boss in a seminar for businessmen. After that I only met this retail businessman several times in several meetings and we only exchanged the necessary greetings. I have never met him since I retired. Suddenly he called me on my birthday and said he was going to pay for my stay here for a week. What's behind this luxury? And then, how did he know my birthday?"

Bistok sipped the hot coffee in front of him and took a cigarette. The cool late afternoon wind refreshed his body. He came down to the cafe from his room on the second floor of the building alone because he did not want to wake his wife who was sleeping soundly. He wrote on a piece of paper in his room: "I'm in the cafe."

"Why is Bagja so kind?" Ah, how he hated that question. It was his intention to enjoy the holiday without any distractions. Staring at the bungalows in the valley below did not free him from the unwanted voices of his conscience. Bistok rose from his chair and started walking to where the newspapers were displayed to get a copy. Without looking at what he had grabbed, he returned to his chair. He tried to busy himself reading the news on the front page.

On his third day at the hotel, a meeting convened in a nearby building. It had barely started when a group of protesters appeared and tried to disrupt it. But, the security people were able to maintain control and the rest of the meeting went on uninterrupted.

"If Bapak were still on duty, Bapak would have been on the lookout there since the night before," Bistok's wife said while reading the morning news.

Bistok, who had no any idea of what his wife was talking about, looked at her questioningly. She gave him the newspaper she had just finished reading. Bistok smiled after he had read it.

"My subordinates would have been able to handle such meetings," Bistok said.

Retirement had brought him into a situation he had never imagined before. At first he felt perplexed. He no longer took the trips to and from his office. There was no need for him to read the reports from his subordinates. He no longer had power. His acquaintances and colleagues disappeared one by one. As a spy he was not supposed to build a relationship with people outside his line of duty. But, reality was different from theory. Bistok had quite a large number of connections. The fact that he was a spy was no secret to many people. On the contrary, the fact that he was a spy had made many people feel it necessary to establish contact with him.

When he retired, one by one they stayed away from him and no longer needed him. Only one or two maintained contact with him, including people who had given him his part-time job.

After his retirement Bistok came to fully understand the meaning of loneliness and how it felt to be ignored. When someone did show him attention or care, the concern hurt him. "Now you know how it feels to be a common man without power," a voice was heard saying through the telephone. It was from someone he did not know.

On another occasion, someone said he was a victim of Bistok's report and congratulated him on his retirement, insulting him by saying: "Now, watch your step, people can take revenge any time they want to."

When the telephone rang late at night, it was for Bistok. After two or three words, the caller would usually hang up. Although such late night calls only lasted for a month, they were really a torture to Bistok and forced him to look back to the time he was still on duty. He tried to recall all the things he had done.

He could not draw any conclusions. He felt he was only doing his job. If someone got hurt, was tortured, jailed or silenced because of his report, he did not think it was his fault. The reports were a result of observation and investigation by his subordinates. As a boss, he only needed to sign them and handed them over to his boss. Sometimes he did not check the validity of the reports. Even under such a circumstance he had the courage to take responsibility.

After he had gone through the first months of his retirement, aside from his part-time job as an administration staff in charge of licenses applications in several companies, Bistok was finally starting to adjust himself to the new working settings. He only went to the office when he was needed to handle certain matters. He spent the rest of his time at home. Once in a while he visited his two children and played with his grandchildren.

He was suspicious of his two in-laws who treated him very well and fully respected him. He aired his suspicion to his wife, who got really angry. Really angry.

"Do you think your in-laws are poor? They are from well-to-do families, even better-off than us. Why do you have such bad thoughts? It is impossible, impossible, impossible if your two in-laws are kind to you and me only because they expect to inherit our possessions. Besides, do you think we have that many things to leave them? You should get rid of that crazy thought. I'm ashamed to hear it from you."

His quiet and kind wife always used the word "you" to address Bistok whenever she got angry. At first, she did not do anything about her husband's suspicion. At the very least she tried to explain. It was his wife who explained to him that their neighbor who lived three houses away from them worked for a TV station and often did the night shift and that she was not a barmaid.

Then, she explained to him that the neighborhood chief did not steal money from the neighborhood contribution fees collected from the area residents but used the money to pay for the security guards and garbage removal. Dr. Budiman was escorted out of his house by the police not because he had been charged with malpractice but because the son of the chief of the police precinct was very ill. Pak Danu's son did not die of drug abuse but of a liver failure.

Bistok's wife had acted as a public relations officer for her husband countless times. Her husband's overly suspicious mind had tired her, but she remained patient because she was convinced that her husband's suspicion would gradually disappear and he would be able to see other people or things as they were. Her patience reached its limit when her husband raised suspicion of their own in-laws. A quarrel was inevitable and Bistok finally gave up.

Sipping their hot coffee, the couple savored the beautiful scenery from the poolside on the last day of their stay at the hotel. The soft breeze freshened them. Three white children were swimming in the cold water of the pool. One of them was freezing from the cold, his lips had turned blue, but still he continued to jump into the water and swam with his siblings. From the cafe, Julio Iglesias was heard crooning a sentimental song.

"Why did Bagja treat us to this?"

Bistok's wife looked at her husband. She shook her head. Gone was the old-age peace she had just enjoyed.

"If you're still like that, always suspicious, why not ask your office to take you back as a part-time employee? That way, you'll find release for your instinct, your suspicious mind."

After she had said that, his wife stood and left Bistok. Bistok ran after her.

"I was only asking."

His wife quickened her steps towards the bedroom and banged the door when she was inside. Patiently, Bistok waited outside. Let the anger subside, he thought to himself. When Bistok knocked at the door 15 minutes later, his wife opened it. For a long time they both stayed in the room without speaking. Finally, Bistok's wife could not stand it any longer to see the guilty look on her husband's face.

"Bagja's daughter graduated from the school of economics two weeks ago. She is the best student of Torkis, your son. That was where Torkis met Bagja, at the graduation ceremony. Apparently Bagja's beautiful daughter often praised Torkis as the best lecturer who helped her a lot. Only then Bagja learned that Torkis is your son and asked about you. Actually, the invitation to spend a week at the hotel was for Torkis, because Bagja was very grateful to your son. But Torkis suggested that the invitation be given to us to honor your 60th birthday. That was why Bagja called you. So, this is not a payment for services rendered or a hidden motive. There's no need to always be suspicious of other people."

The words flowed smoothly out of her mouth, as if she had prepared them for quite some time. Bistok nodded upon hearing his wife's explanation, a sign he understood it all. When he smiled at her, his wife turned her head and headed towards the bathroom.

Shortly after that he heard the shower being turned on. At that moment, something flashed in Bistok's mind. Suspicion. "Maybe she made up her story during the 15 minutes I spent waiting outside the room. She thought the most important thing was for me to feel satisfied and to not have ill thoughts. She thinks I'm stupid and can be fooled with that kind of story?"

I have to find an answer right now, he said to himself. He picked up the phone.

"Hello, Torkis?"

He nodded his head on hearing his son's answer. He nodded his head several times. It was quite a long explanation. When his wife came out of the bathroom, he was still on the phone, nodding his head. His wife looked at him suspiciously and a question was on her face when he replaced the phone.

"Oh, it's nothing. Torkis called, asking how we were."

His wife continued to stare at him. Bistok suspected his wife did not believe his explanation.

Translated by Adhi I.M.

Sori Siregar was born in Medan, North Sumatra, in November, 1939, as Sori Sutan Sirovi Siregar. Since 1960 he has been a frequent contributor to Indonesia's leading journals, including Sastra, Horison, Budaya Jaya and Zaman.