Elopement

Elopement

By Faisal Baraas

Gung Semara watched as a man entered the family compound. His
step was hesitant. It was late and Gung Semara had been about to
close the windows of the receiving room. He stood in
anticipation, imagining that a relative had arrived for the
family meeting to be held that evening.

A closer look revealed the man to be a stranger. Such a late
hour was hardly appropriate for a visit. Why would he be coming
to the puri so late at night?

I hope it's nothing major, he thought. The entire extended
family would soon be arriving; the lateness of the hour was an
indication of how important the family meeting was to be.

The man entering the compound was fairly young.

"Good evening, Aji."

His tone was measured, his greeting respectful.

"Good evening. Please come in," Gung Semara replied, while
showing the young man a seat.

The young man perched timidly on the edge of a chair while
Gung Semara took a seat in front of him. Some time passed without
a word from the well-mannered young man.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Gung Semara prodded.

"I wanted to talk - to talk with you, that is."

"Talk? About what?"

"I have a difficult problem to solve and I thought it would be
a good idea to ask your advice. You're a well-respected member of
this community; you must be able to help."

"If I can, I will."

They fell silent again. The young man was evidently finding it
very difficult to talk about the subject on his mind.

"What family are you from?" Gung Semara asked.

"My name is Parta, sir."

"Your full name?"

"Wayan Parta. Maybe you remember me. I came here once before,
about two years ago."

"Oh, pardon me. I forgot. I'm growing more and more forgetful
these days as I get older."

"I'm a friend of your daughter Sinta's from back when I was
still a student at Udayana University."

"Oh?"

"I was in the last year of medical school at the time; Sinta
had just begun her studies there."

"Where do you work now?"

"I'm on the faculty there - a lecturer. But I just returned
from abroad where I spent a year getting additional training."

Gung Semara nodded. "Oh, I see..."

"So that's how I know Sinta. Now she's a third-year student."

They fell silent once more, as though they had run out of
topics. Parta took a deep breath. He had begun to perspire.
Strange, he thought; it was as if he were taking an exam. He
rubbed his sweaty palms.

Gung Semara observed the doctor: still a young man but one who
has already been abroad; quite polite, even if rather nervous.

Why was that? Gung Semara wanted to ask outright what had
brought him there. He stole a glance at the antique Indies-style
clock on the wall in front of him.

"You said there was something you wanted to talk about."
"Yes, sir..." answered the man, slightly agitated.

Gung Semara waited a moment. When the young man still found it
hard to broach the subject, he urged him to speak, "Go ahead,
son."

"Well, it's like this, sir: in fact, if a person is broad-
minded, it's not such a serious matter, but if you look at it in
another way, the way people usually do in this community, then it
becomes very difficult."

"Yes, yes, go on. Whatever it is, I'd like to talk to you
about it."

"Thank you. I'm sure you'll be able to understand."

"Yes, go on. I'll be as understanding as I can be."

"I'd like to know your opinion about..." the young man paused.

"Yes? About what?"

"Well, sir, about elopement."

"Oh, elopement...." Gung Semara answered slowly. "Yes, I see."
Parta sat silently as if trying to compose his words. The old man
seemed to be kind-hearted, he thought, and to have a sense of
humor as well. Such an attitude helped him a bit.

Gung Semara wiped his brow; he was pleased with himself for
having helped the young man bring up the topic he wished to
discuss.

"So, you want my opinion? What, are you planning to write
about the subject? An excellent idea, I should think. A scholar
must be able to write on any subject at all."

"Yes, sir, but I would prepare myself thoroughly beforehand."
After wiping the perspiration from his hands, the doctor, annoyed
by his sweat, spoke again. "But what about elopement? You often
hear about it taking place in this community. What do you think
about it?"

Gung Semara took a deep breath, and straightened himself in
his seat. The thoughts he wanted to express, ones that he hoped
would capture the young man's interest, began to take shape in
his mind. He would feel much better if he knew that the young man
enjoyed listening to what he had to say.

"Well, elopement is an old problem," he began, "and is usually
the result of an obstacle preventing a boy and girl who are in
love from marrying. Most often the problem is in the form of
objection on the part of the girl's parents.

"Parents might have all sorts of reasons for objecting to a
marriage," Gung Semara continued. "One is 'caste'; that is
usually the most serious one, not rarely resulting in a fight,
sometimes even with knives."

The young man nodded in agreement.

"Don't you find that's the case?" Gung Semara inquired
lightly.

"Yes, sir."

The antique Dutch clock chimed slowly. The conversation
stopped as Gung Semara counted to himself. Ten times. It was ten
o'clock. He glanced upwards: yes, it was already ten o'clock. In
half an hour, the entire family would be here, most importantly
the elders, whose opinions would play a determinant role in the
deliberations that night.

Outside, the night was quiet. It was pitch dark - a starless,
moonless night. No sound except for a southern wind that rustled
the leaves of the jackfruit tree in the yard and stole in the
house through the chinks around the window.

The lantern in the yard, its flame almost extinguished by the
wind, flickered gloomily. Even with the wind, the air felt close.

The darkened clouds seemed to be holding in all waves of heat
that rose from the earth.

The young man's voice finally broke the silence: "As you were
saying, sir?"

Time and again Parta had wiped his hands on his pants, but
this failed to prevent him from perspiring further. He could feel
the clamminess of his pants against his skin.

Gung Semara, who was aware of the young man's evident
restlessness and the irritation his perspiring was causing,
almost forgot to pursue the conversation.

"You're sweating," he finally remarked.

Damn, thought the young doctor, growing more fidgety. Damn the
old man. Why can't he just keep his mind on the problem at hand?

"It's a disease of sorts."

"Why don't you treat it?"

"It's difficult to treat, sir."

"Yes, I know. I had the same problem myself when I was young.

I went to a Dutch doctor several times, but it still didn't
get any better. Sweat poured from me like water from a shive. I
remember how much it bothered me about the time I was getting
married. It practically drove me to tears."

"I know, sir. There's probably some kind of psychological
factor involved," Parta suggested. "You just said, didn't you,
that it was especially a problem when you were going to get
married. You eloped, didn't you, sir?"
"Yes, I did."

"Well, what about what the question of elopement?" the young
man asked, bringing their conversation back to its original
course.

"That's right. Where were we?" Gung Semara asked, trying
himself to recall.

"You were talking about caste as a particular obstacle."

"That's right. If, for example, a young man who is from, if
you'll pardon me, a lower caste wants to marry a girl from a
higher caste, the girl's family is apt not to give its consent
because of the effect it will have on the family's standing.

As a result, the couple will elope without the knowledge of
the girl's family."

The old man straightened himself in his seat once more.

Parta was trembling. Now the time has come, he thought. "And
supposing it was your own daughter who eloped, how would you
feel?"

Stunned by the question, Gung Semara remained silent for
several moments. He hadn't thought he would be asked such a
question.

"But that's impossible," he stuttered. "My daughter would
never do such a thing!"

"But, supposing..."

"Okay, if we're just supposing - but you have to remember that
Sinta would never do anything like that - then you must tell me
what kind of person would run off with her?"

The young man steeled himself: "This is exactly what I have
come here to tell you: someone has eloped with Sinta."

Gung Semara was too astonished to speak.

"Someone has run off with Sinta, sir." The young man's voice
was now calm and measured.

"What?" Gung Semara finally exploded. "What did you say?" He
wiped away the beads of sweat that had suddenly appeared on his
forehead. Now it was he who was perspiring. He suddenly
remembered that he hadn't seen his daughter since earlier that
evening. That was when she had told him that she wouldn't agree
to the marriage the family was arranging for her, if it ever came
to pass.

Gung Semara summoned all his strength. "Is what you're saying
true?"

"It is, sir."

The young man wiped the sweat from his hands again, but now
there was much less than there had been before. Strange, he
thought, I'm not nervous anymore.

"Then tell me who...." Gung Semara demanded.
Parta didn't respond immediately.

"Tell me!" Gung Semara snarled.

"Me, sir," he said slowly and then bowed. "I've come to ask
for your blessing," he whispered.

The room became very quiet.

Gung Semara slumped in his chair and covered his mouth with
his hands. He remained like that for a long time, rubbing his
cheeks with his fingertips. "I'm old," he said to himself. "I'm
old...." Eventually, when he did look up, he found himself
staring at the young man still kneeling before him.

"Extraordinary!" he uttered with quiet astonishment. "It's
extraordinary that this should happen to me!" He fixed a firm
gaze on the young man who now found it impossible to look him in
the eye. "And extraordinarily brave of you to come here!"

The young man shifted in his position. Is the man going to
attack me with his keris, he wondered in fear. He had steeled
himself for every possibility.

"Are you wondering what I am going to do?" Gung Semara asked
suddenly. "Look at me!"

Parta was frightened. Slowly he lifted his eyes.

"Are you wondering what I am going to do?" Gung Semara asked
again.

Parta couldn't answer.

"You are very brave. Do you truly love my daughter? Do you
love each other?"

"Yes..." he finally stuttered.

Gung Semara suddenly jumped from his chair, but not to attack
the young man. He went to the window and opened it. A gust of the
evening wind swept over his face.

He spoke slowly, choosing his words deliberately, as if he
were speaking to himself: "Long, long ago, when I gave Sinta
permission to study at Udayana, I imagined something like this
might happen."

He grasped the side of the window. "But what can I say? I live
in two very contradictory worlds. As a member of the Anak Agung
caste, I am bound to honor high-caste traditions. But I'm not
such an old man that I've been passed by modern times. During the
Dutch era, I went to a modern school, just like you. I've even
traveled around Europe. Why must I live in these two worlds? It's
very difficult. Excruciating, in fact. As an older man in a
feudal society, the responsibility for obeying tradition has been
placed on my shoulders. But how can I put these rules into
practice and keep my peace of mind? My conscience can't accept
them."

Gung Semara heaved a long sigh. He felt as if he were
suffocating. He had yet to move away from the window. The evening
wind buffeted him. No matter, he thought. He liked its feel, even
if it did give him a chill. There was nothing more for him to
say, though truthfully he did feel the impulse to pour from
himself the feelings, all those suppressed emotions, deep within
his heart. Suddenly he turned around.

"Run!"

Parta stood mute, transfixed.

"Run, I tell you! In a little while the entire family will be
here to discuss the question of Sinta's marriage - her marriage
to one of our own."

The older man, who now seemed exhausted, watched closely as
the younger man edged toward the door.

"Come back later, after the whole family has gathered, and
announce at that time that you two have eloped. But it would be
best if you came her with the village chief to make sure that
you're safe. After all, I may have to beat you later!"

He gave a signal for the young man to go.

"Thank you, sir," he said slowly.

When he disappeared out the door, Gung Semara heaved a long
sigh, a very long sigh.

"Take good care of Sinta, my son!" he whispered.

Translated by Stephen J. Epstein

The story is taken from Menagerie IV. It is printed here
courtesy of the Lontar Foundation.