Oh!

Oh!

By Nurul Hadi

It was stifling hot even though it was the rainy season,
something I was no stranger to as a boarder. After buying three
cigarettes on credit I sat on a bench beside the vendor's stall.
Other boarders were walking to and fro to get some food from the
sidewalk food sellers.

Southerly winds from the coast of Parangtritis cooled down the
evening. A big street lamp on the corner of the T-junction south
of the city hall illuminated the gudeg sellers with their
customers milling around. Black clouds were moving slowly in the
direction of Yogya toward Mt. Merapi.

"Why aren't you dating, mas?," asked the cigarette vendor.
"My girlfriend has run off with someone else, mas. I'm waiting
for Pak Jayeng. He's promised to massage me tonight," I replied.

Pak Jayeng appeared soon after. He's a blind middle-aged man
with a stick that clinks when it touches the hard asphalt road.
Without waiting for me to greet him, he promptly sat down beside
me and I turned my back. With his soft yet gripping hands he
started massaging my thin shoulders. I grinned to bear the pain,
though pleasant.

"Exhausted by study, mas?"

"No!," I firmly retorted. "I got into a fight during a
meeting."

"Well, why are you so barbaric?" I did not reply, still trying
to withstand the pain of his kneading.

"Fond of joining demos?" he asked inquisitively.

"I have my conscience, pak. I join protests so as not to lose
it."

"Just like my kid now attending primary school. But he's
smart, too," he replied proudly but sentimentally.

"Damn!" I muttered. His satirical remark was right. Pak
Jayeng's is blind but rich. He has a big house, and rents out
rooms to students from various regions. It's thus natural for him
to talk casually though his words made me think once in a while.

The deafening roar of a speeding motorcycle with two youths
riding it suddenly broke our conversation.

"What is happening, mas?"

"The boys are exercising their snatching skills," I said,
inventing an answer. He made no comment while continuing the
shoulder massage. I felt he knew that I was lying to him. Pak
Jayeng tried to change the subject by saying, "mas, what do you
aspire to become?"

"As a child, I wanted to be president."

"What now?"

"I'm studying English. I want to get Madonna."

"Your university classmate, mas?"

"No. She lives overseas. She's pretty and intelligent," I said
without expression.

"You can have high aspirations, of course. But remember,
though the sky has no limit, the higher we go, the harder it is
to breathe."

Dumbfounded, my heart said: 'This man has revealed the
abstract law of causality.' He was like the legendary blind
warrior from a haunted cave who had achieved physical and
spiritual union with nature.

We kept silent for quite some time. Our hearts were sort of
communicating. Each of us drifted into an emotional and mental
dialog until I broke in. "Are you engaged in sports as a hobby?"

"No! Just a spiritual exercise. I perform the obligatory
prayers five times daily and mentally chant God's praise in order
to be healthy physically and spiritually. And I follow only one
principle. Be unattached!" If we do something without attachment,
we'll be aware of greed and lower desires within. This will
automatically encourage the emergence of other forces from our
inner selves, flowing without burden and even generating
productive values for many people. Never think of reward, if we
trust in and are convinced of the power of divine law. One day
we'll reap the best, though sometimes the gain seems unpleasant
in the beginning. But that's the best we can do." He paused for a
moment to take a deep breath.

"It's like this: Is one studying law necessarily going to be a
lawyer? He could become a director, just a good father or even a
prisoner. You get it, mas?"

"Then, what about your own example?"

"I have two wives and six children."

"So, can you be fair?"

"I've always strived to treat them fairly."

"Ah, but you must be inclined to favor the younger and
prettier one."

"You know I'm blind. How can I distinguish between the faces
of my first and second wife?"

"The cigarette seller sitting beside us was just staring
blankly though he also listened to Pak Jayeng's advice.

"I can be fair as a blind man, why can't those people with
normal vision act justly? Why don't they who are endowed with the
five senses plus various technologically aided perceptions, count
their blessings?" He finally stopped talking and told me to stand
up and he moved my shoulders he'd just rubbed. They felt better
and my headache had eased after digesting his words. I thanked
him and apologized to him for not paying the massage fee because
I was broke. He only smiled and nodded with full understanding.

He left with the stick he was so proud of, refusing my company
as he went down the sidewalk.

A white luxury sedan screeched to a halt beside Pak Jayeng,
who greeted the man getting out of it.

"Excuse me, Pak Jayeng. I've been searching for you for two
hours. I'm very pleased to see you here."

Pak Jayeng was trying to recall.

"Don't you remember? I visited you last week. I was caught in
a downpour and had to spend the night in your home."

"Ooooh, its boss Wignyo!"

"Right. Do you remember the day I asked your help to enable me
to win a tender using your method. I've been waiting for your
formula. The tender will be decided tomorrow."

The wealthy guy was speaking in a subdued voice, unaware that
I and the cigarette vendor overheard their conversation.

"Let me see, boss, I've got an appointment first. A client
living near the zoo wants a massage. Please wait in my house or
do some sightseeing."

"OK, I'll go and see an acquaintance south of Tugu station.
We'll meet at your house at midnight. I do need your help very
much."

The man, grim-faced and disappointed, got into his car before
shaking hands with Jayeng. He drove off in the direction of the
station.

Pak Jayeng kept walking toward the bridge of Gajah Wong. His
pace was steady, slow and confident. At last, I lost sight of him
in the dark of the night filled with the aroma of illusory city
life. I sat and lit a cigarette while reflecting on my own fickle
fortune. I had hardly smoked half of the cigarette, when a long-
haired youth came roaring along on his motorbike while shouting.

"Mas! Pak Jayeng, who was here treating you just now ....,"
the boy found it hard to continue.

"Don't stop in the middle before you finish your sentence," I
snapped.

"He's still there, no one is taking care of his body yet ....
Pak Jayeng's dead, he was knocked down by a car."

I could only gaze at pak Jayeng from afar, on the sidewalk
where I stood, frozen in deep contemplation: He's the blind man
of heavenly inspiration. His words are beyond the comprehension
of shallow minds. But those willing to do some soul-searching can
gain a lot of insights from him.

Glossary:

Gudeg: A special dish from Yogyakarta, consisting of jack fruit
stewed in coconut milk, served with various accompanying dishes
and rice

Mas: A term used to address a man/brother/husband

Pak: A term used to address an older man

Translated by Aris Prawira