Gauhati

By Budi Darma

Three angels came to see me. I was shocked at their sudden visit, really, but it reminded me of my mother's message after she felt that death would soon arrive to pick her up.

"Gauhati, one day three angels will visit you. When this happens, just don't say anything but do as you are told."

So I told the angels, "I'm at your service."

"We already know that you'll act wisely," they said.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Gauhati, we want to ask you about Kuthari."

"I'm just a human being, you know about everything better than me. The only thing I know is Kuthari is dead."

Then I told them that my relationship with Kuthari was not so close. We did meet several times but just by chance. We said hello, that is all.

One day Kuthari came to invite me to her birthday party. She just dropped the invitation card and left.

I attended her birthday party, which was held at her house. The building was quite big but it looked smaller because there were so many used objects scattered here and there.

Kuthari said the old items were not merely used objects but antiques. And each had a meaning, she added.

She showed me a rifle placed near the door of her bedroom.

"The gun has claimed many lives," she said, adding that all the victims were innocent people. "They have been killed because they were sincere."

"Where did you get the rifle from, Kuthari?"

"I don't know. It was there suddenly, complete with ammunition."

"How do you know that it killed many people?"

"I got the information suddenly. But I just can't tell you how I received it."

"Okay, Kuthari, but how do you know that all the victims were innocent?"

"I have just told you the way I got the information. Why it was like that, please don't ask me. Please, don't."

Since there were only eight guests at the party all of them paid full attention to our conversation. They were very curious about the rifle, but Kuthari soon changed the topic.

"At 11 p.m. I'll be 30 years old," she said.

"That is a beautiful age to be," I said, and all the guests nodded in agreement.

Kuthari did not agree. "I don't think so," she said.

"Several days ago I was puzzled by a sudden visit of a mysterious old man here. He sat on the floor with his knees bent and folded to the other side, holding a violin. It was the violin of a candy vendor whom I used to see around when I was only a child."

But Kuthari said the old man -- if he were a human being -- was not the vendor. No. He was very wise, although he looked sorrowful and very sensitive.

"He was blind. How he came here is beyond my knowledge," she said.

"After a moment without saying anything the man started playing the violin. He was an excellent musician. I do not believe that any mortal being can do it so perfectly that my feeling was carried away by the sound of the violin. The man might have come down to earth from heaven with a special mission to present me the songs he had stolen from gods.

A moment later he stopped playing the music and remained silent. He looked like contemplating.

Suddenly he started playing the violin again. Tears welled in his eyes. The song was very familiar to my ears. It was a lullaby, which my mother used to sing to send me to the domain of beautiful dreams.

In those dreams I always felt my mother's soothing love. She had brought me into this world, taken care of me, and whispered beautiful words in my ears in the hope that I would become a compassionate person one day."

After hearing this I asked Kuthari: "How about the blind musician?"

"After playing the violin, he remained silent again for a time. Then he cried."

"Who was he really?"

"I really don't know because he refused to say who he was. Before he left I offered him some money but he turned it down."

Kathari's birthday party was not very special. The guests did not look very happy but they had no complaints. Actually. none of them had expected to be invited. Their personal relations with Kuthari were nothing special, just like between me and her. In fact, all of us have never been close to each other.

"I know Kuthari had no close friends," I told the three angels.

"Just like you, Gauhati?" They asked me back.

"No, not just like me, because we shared a striking similarity. So were the guests. Some times I felt I was also Kuthari and she was me. Each of the guests was me and I was any of them."

"How about your traits, Gauhati?" The angels asked.

"I finally concluded that we were all the same person."

"If that is the way you think, we, angels, do not want to blame you or support your statement."

"Nor do I."

"What do you mean?"

"I have no intention to blame myself or justify my conclusion."

"Fine, but what did happen at 11 p.m.? Continue your story, Gauhati."

"Kuthari called on all the guests to observe a moment of silence, and then started meditating."

"She asked the guests to pray for her safety. She said that was the reason why she had invited us to the party."

"So?"

"After a long pause Kuthari switched the topics back to the blind musician."

"Forgive Mr. Musician," Kuthari said to the guests. "Who are you really?"

"I don't know who I am," the violin player had told Kuthari.

According to the old man, suddenly he had found himself in this world and he had been blind ever since. He had nothing with him but the violin. In fact he did not know how to play it, but a particular situation gave him the ability and forced him to it.

"Please be informed Mr. Violin Player, that I had never invited you here," said Kuthari. "Do you think that I have pressed you to play the violin? I was not even aware that you existed."

"Don't be arrogant, Kuthari. Only a supernatural power, not a human being like you, could make me come here."

"Why did you come here?"

"Because human life is like candlelight and the universe is only a symbol. The longer the candle glows, the shorter it becomes."

Kuthari addressed the guests: "I also do not know who I am. I had a mother, but I don't know who my father is. My mother passed away before I came of age. What she looked like is not so clear to me because sometimes I remember it and often I forget.

It is only her voice, her hands which touch me and her tenderness which always leads me, that I imagine everyday. If I cry that is because I long for her. Her lullaby is still ringing melodiously in my ears."

"So? I asked Kuthari.

"Once more Gauhati, my mother left me for good before I grew up. After that I was adopted by a kind-hearted woman. She had taken me to many places because she said I had to learn and experience many things.

"One night, in a big city, we visited a crowded bazaar. There were not only a lot of people but also so many shops selling so many articles. There were also shows.

"The city was also full of small alleys. Some of them were dark and frightening. Suddenly we got lost and separated in the crowd. I did not know why. I tried to find her on every corner of the marketplace and dark alleys. Everything looked strange to me.

How finally I came here, I don't know. I would recapture the memory if I try to remember all the experiences. But what for? It is full of nightmares. They will just make me cry for days and nights. I only want to remember my mother. She is always present in my mind, leading, protecting me and giving me strength."

"So, Kuthari, how do you remember the hour, day and date of your birth?"

"My mother whispered it to me."

That was my last meeting with Kuthari, and I have no idea where she is now, I said to the three angels.

Recently, I heard that Kuthari had been shot dead. The source said that after the party finished at her home and all the guests had left, Kuthari heard a horse's neigh from a faraway place. A horse lover, Kuthari had the ability to recognize such a sound from distant place and understand its meaning. That night's neigh meant a call.

The horse was really waiting for her and when she approached the animal, it expressed its happiness in its own way. Their meeting was like that of two old friends who had missed each other for a long time.

"Oh, handsome horse, who are you really?"

The source of my story also said that Kuthari had spent many years of her life with horses. A rich man once employed her as a horse hand. In her job Kuthari showed a great sense of responsibility and took good care of all horses. She loved the animals so much and they too expressed their gratitude for her.

Kuthari also understood that the universe had created pairs for all creatures. A bad horse gets a heavy burden, and a handsome one gets a good looking rider, that is the partnership.

According to the belief, any horse which failed to get a partner was sad.

The horse in front of Kuthari that night was so happy that it repeatedly stomped its legs while neighing merrily. Kuthari herself understood the horse's feelings. When it lowered its body, Kuthari jumped unto its back, but no sooner had she done so than the horse flew her away at the speed of light.

"Oh, my handsome horse, where are we heading to?" she asked. "I don't even know who is your master. I'm afraid that I'll be accused of stealing someone's horse. You know, oh, handsome horse that I'm a sincere woman who doesn't want to hurt anybody's feeling and always tries to avoid getting involved in criminal acts."

The horse did not pay attention to what she was saying. It continued with its nocturnal flight.

"Okay, handsome horse, I don't mind that you refuse to answer my questions. But I tell you that I'm only willing to go with you if our journey is aimed at saving a person who is in danger.

"You know, handsome horse, that I have sacrificed a lot for other people. And I've never regretted what I've done. So, please, oh handsome horse, take me to where I can do good deeds."

Suddenly, Kuthari saw in front of them a fallen tree that blocked the passage. For her it was not a big problem, she knew how to clear the way even on horseback.

The horse jumped over it. At the same time Kuthari heard an enormous explosion, and she knew what had happened.

"Handsome horse, you know well that I've been injured. Please take me to a convenient place. I've been longing for my mother for quite a long time."

She imagined the blind musician playing a violin in front of a burning candle, the light of which was fading away.

I said to the three angels that they knew better than me.

"Now it is your turn to tell me about Kuthari's further journey."

"Your story, Gauhati, is really captivating, " they said. "You have told everything appropriately. But why have you done it so enthusiastically?"

"Because I feel I'm Kuthari myself."

"All kindhearted persons have the ability to feel and hear things which those who lack morality cannot. And all honorable people feel themselves nobody but Kuthari."

"Initially I did not care whether Kuthari existed or not. For me it was just the same. But after I heard that she had died, I started feeling I was her."

"Gauhati, you had a mother, didn't you?"

"Yes, she taught me something precious. When I would meet you, she told me, I should obey you."

"But how could you be so sure that we are the angels?"

"Had you been masquerading as ones I should have found out the disguise."

"How could you?"

"Because I have never cheated on anybody and I have the ability to sense any cheating on me. That's why I have always tried to be friend with people of noble heart only."

"Okay, we also want to hear other precious words from your mother."

"Life is like a house, she told me. When one is born he or she enters through the front door, and when the person dies he or she goes out through the back door."

"What is the difference?"

"No difference. Both doors are the same. And how long a person stays in the house does not make any difference either."

"Oh, yes?"

"Everything depends on his or her good deeds and devotion, not the length of stay."

"You are a wise man, indeed, Gauhati. But you have not told us about the true teaching of your mother. Please tell us now."

"My mother used to whisper to me...."

"What about?"

"Predestination, my mother said, is nothing but the three angels. She who destined life for any person is the first of the angels. Whether I was born as a king's child, a trader's, or a laundry man's baby, the choice was made by her. The same case whether I'm a Chinese, a Babylonian or someone else. According to my mother the second angel spins life. It means that whether I will be a member of the ruling elite, or just a low-class citizen, I would live in Morocco or remain here, is the second angel's decision. And who will cut the cord of life is the third one."

Translated by TIS

The author is professor of English literature at the Surabaya's Teachers' Training College (IKIP). Born in Rembang, Central Java, on April 25, 1937, he has written three novels, a book of short stories, and three collections of essays on literature. He is winner of several local prizes and a Southeast Asia (SEA) Award. He wrote this short story while he was visiting Hyderabad, India, in 1994. His short story Gauhati appears in Anjing-anjing Menyerbu Kuburan: Cerpen Pilihan Kompas 1997 (Dogs Raiding A Grave: Kompas Selected Short Stories 1997). It is printed here courtesy of Kompas.