The Gift

By Putu Wijaya

Widi became uneasy every time New Year's rolled around. He couldn't help remembering the time thirty years ago when he was courting Maya. He had, with such passion and febrility, promised her a resplendent future. "I might be poor now, without regular job, but my best point is that I believe in myself, and I am willing to work for a better future. I promise you that, at the very least, just for a change of pace, we will take a vacation to Singapore at the end of every year".

Maya, a pretty woman who had since become his wife, never actually believed him at the time. But because he repeated his blandishments so very often, she did eventually come to trust and believe in him. She, too, became sure that the will alone was enough to ensure their future, that the most ordinary of high school students could, if he were eager enough, produce all sorts of miracles.

After that time it became their wont to talk about what they would do supposing they really were able to take a vacation abroad every year.

They often imagined themselves as the kind of old tourists they saw at home, in Indonesia. Long before they married, they had daydreamed of seeing snow in Japan, of watching a "live show" in Bangkok, of visiting Disneyland in the United States, and so on and so forth. And, of course, they also imagined themselves strolling through the pulsating hubs of the world: Paris, New York, London and Rome.

But now, after thirty years, their dreams had turned out to be only dreams. Widi had succeeded only in giving Maya several children. They had never even been to the nearby Puncak mountain resort for the weekend, much less Singapore. Were you to mention to Maya a few of Indonesia's better-known cities -- Denpasar, Medan or Ujung Pandang -- she would tell you that she had never aspired to one day visit them. Try as he might, Wisi was still no more than an ordinary office worker who was lucky just to be able to make ends meet. He was never able to set aside even a little extra so as to make the wheedling promises of his youth a reality.

Now that he was getting on in years, it seemed that he would have to be bury his former hopes once and for all. He had purchased lottery tickets several times, but then has stopped when finding it increasingly painful to face the future that stared at him each time he lost. He became ashamed and then depressed; he felt that he had failed as a father, that he had failed as a man.

Maya never brought up Widi's youthful promises. Never again, that is, since the time she had made him cry. On that occasion, about five years earlier, as New Year's Eve approached, she had thought to sound him out, just for fun. "We've been married now for quite a few years, and New Year's is just around the corner. How about a little trip to Singapore?"

She had laughed when she said that but, much to her great surprise, her husband had just sat there, staring, absorbed in thought. He said nothing for such a long time that Maya began to get worried and immediately started talking about something else.

In the middle of that same night Widi had awoken. Maya, too. Their children were asleep. And Widi had begun to cry, blaming himself for his failure even as he begged Maya for her forgiveness.

Widi was torn up by remorse. "Forgive me, Maya," he had said, "I wasn't trying to trick you. I really did believe that I would be able to take you to Singapore. Singapore, heck! I was going to take you around the whole wide world. I swear to God, I was convinced that, with you at my side, I would some day be rich. I even thought -- crazy, huh? -- that we would own several villas abroad. But now, the way things turned out, as you well know, it hasn't been easy going. I guess where there's a will there isn't always a way. I just don't seem to have the luck that others have."

All Maya could do was hug him. She tried humoring him, but he was not to be humored. He continued to cry and sob, like a small child. Maya just stroked his head. It wasn't till morning that he finally became calm again. Even so, that night, he did make a promise to her, but one which, as far as she was concerned, was quite unnecessary.

"Listen to me, Maya," he said, "I haven't forgotten what I told you. I'm going to keep on trying and, if all goes well, by the end of the next year, to usher in the New Year, I'll have saved up enough money to take you to Singapore."

But a year later Widi's luck still hadn't change. He almost couldn't bear it any longer. Maya had even been forced to sell some of her jewelry to pay for the children's school fees, which had made him feel even more worthless.

Widi felt like a hunted man. Set aside a little extra money? Heck, he was beginning to have trouble just keeping up with his regular job.

Widi's state of mind distressed Maya to no end. "I'm not a greedy woman. You've given me wonderful children. You've taken care of me, and given me your love. I'm not going to demand now that we go to Singapore if it's beyond our means."

Maya's forbearance was not enough to assuage his feelings. It wasn't just that he wanted to take Maya on a trip abroad as he had promised; he needed also to satisfy himself. He needed to know that he was a person who could keep his promises. Perhaps more than anything else, it was this that most oppressed him: He had fallen short of his own expectations.

"It's like he's angry for not being as good as he had thought he was," Maya confided one day to a close friend.

In the end, Maya had been forced to leave him to his own torment, to let him be haunted by the desire to go abroad. It was for him, it seemed, a kind of mental hobby to keep him occupied in his old age.

"I know what she's thinking," Widi had said to his best friend, in reference to his wife's attitude. "I know she loves me, and she's as understanding a person as anyone could be, but she doesn't realize that it's not just myself I'm thinking of. I think she has the right to insist on getting what I promised her." He explained further, "If I do manage to take her abroad, it's not me who's supposed to be happy; it's her. If I'm the only one who's happy, that would defeat the whole purpose."

And so it was that every year, as New Year's approached, Widi found himself in the same state of fortune. The situation made him increasingly troubled, ever more despairing. Today, for instance, with New Year's on the horizon, he was visibly agitated. "Everyone calls it 'New Year's'," he grumbled, "but nothing in life is ever new. It's always the same routine, always the same old thing, over and over."

But this year it was a bit different from previous years when Widi had been more acquiescent: This time he would do something about it. And so he started buying lottery tickets again. He took on extra work. He tried to borrow money from a few of his friends. He even tried his hand at a little gambling. "Who knows?" he said. "Maybe that's where the key to success lies."

But all his efforts were for nought. They didn't so much add to the thickness of his wallet as much as they took a toll on his health.

Maya warned her husband to take care of himself. "If you get sick, it won't be just the trip to Singapore you jeopardize, but our weekly shopping money as well."

Widi listened, mute.

"And supposing you do scrape enough money to go abroad, don't forget we have the children to think of, too. Wouldn't it be better to put the money away in savings for them? What's the point in us going abroad now?"

"I made a promise," Widi sighed.

"Sure, you made a promise. But even way back then, if we had had the money to go abroad, we still would have thought, what's the point? And don't forget that if you're going to go abroad, it's not enough just to buy the ticket. You have to figure in the cost of meals and accommodation, too. And then money to buy presents to bring back, because if we went abroad, the relatives are going to straightaway think that we have money to spare. If we were to come home empty-handed, we'd just make enemies. So, you see, going abroad is more likely to make you enemies than make you happy. So, enough already, forget about the crazy idea of yours."

But Widi was still Widi. He couldn't just shoo the idea from his mind. He thought things over, ruminated on Maya's admonition, but still came to the same conclusion. He still felt that he had to pick himself back up and find something that could change his life before New Year's.

"This is it," Widi said to his friend. "I'm going to try one more time to give Maya a New Year's gift that's really special. It's now or never. I'm not getting any younger, and by next year the children will be older and require more of our attention. Which means that this is the year I have to make good on my promise."

After he recovered from his bout of illness, Widi secretly renewed his efforts. He applied himself to the full but proceeded with caution, lest Maya learn what he was up to. She was to remain in the dark as to how or what or by which means, what strings he pulled, what opportunities he availed himself of, and what connections he used. He gave it all his best and, at last, there came a day when a smile appeared on the man's face.

When Widi came home that day, an envelope in his hand, his face shone. The gleam that had long since dimmed now reappeared. He was even singing softly as he entered the front door.

Maya was delighted by her husband's behavior, but she didn't say anything; she had a feeling that her husband had a surprise waiting for her. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the calendar and her heart skipped a beat. Could Widi have succeeded in his plans for doing something special for the coming New Year?!

Neither one spoke much at the dinner table. Maya looked at Widi. There was still a smile on his face. She began to suspect that his smile might in fact be concealing something and began to grow with apparent glee.

"So what's up?" Maya finally inquired, after they had finished eating.

Widi smiled. "First make me some coffee."

Maya made him some coffee.

"So, what is it?" she asked impatiently, pushing the coffee to him.

Widi laughed. "Guess!"

This time it was Maya who laughed nervously.

"I don't dare, I'm afraid I'll guess wrong. Just tell me. You're obviously pleased about something. Is there something good in store for us? What is it?"

Widi kept smiling.

"Tell me."

"Is it that you don't want to guess, or that you already know?"

"I don't know a thing."

"Really?"

"Really."

Widi took a deep breath. He then extracted the envelope from his briefcase and put it down in front of Maya. It was a plain, but thick, envelope. Maya glanced at it but hesitated to pick it up.

"What's this?" she asked.

Widi nodded his head contentedly. "I'm not going to tell you because you can see for yourself what it is. Why don't you ask me how I got it?"

Maya smiled. "Okay, how did you get it?"

Widi took another deep breath and closed his eyes before he began to speak. "After thirty years of trying, we've finally done it. I know you know how hard I've worked these past thirty years. We've hoped, we've done everything that we could, but luck has never been on our side. What we've gotten in return has never come close to how hard we've toiled. Maybe we're jinxed. Maybe we've been cursed. Who knows, but it's always seemed like something or someone has been keeping our ship from coming in.

"And I almost gave up. I hated life. I felt so ashamed that I came close to killing myself. I'm just lucky that you were always here, by my side. Luck is a scarce commodity."

Widi talked for a long time. Maya listened to him, deeply moved. Now and then she bit her lip to ward off the threat of pain. Not infrequently she was forced to wipe away her sudden tears.

Widi, meanwhile, became more and more intent on calling up all their past sufferings until he, too, began to cry.

The couple cried and cried.

Finally Widi took Maya's hand in his, then placed the envelope in her hand.

"I managed to get these tickets for your New Year's present."

Maya's fingers, intertwined with her husband's, formed a circle, in the middle of which was the white envelope. Both were silent, still overcome by sadness or joy or, perhaps, despair. Widi has beyond words. He waited for Maya to speak.

"Thank you, dear," she finally said. "Listening to you just now has made me a very happy person. You will never know how much I appreciate all that you have done. You've worked so hard, you've made yourself sick. I appreciate that. That alone is enough of a New Year's present for me. Husbands like you, who after thirty years of marriage, still love and look after their wives the way you do are few and far between. That is worth much more than these tickets. That does me more good, makes me happier as a woman. Take these tickets and return them to the airline. Get your money back and put it away somewhere safe. Who knows, inflation might jump next year and give us more expenses to worry about. I swear to you before God that your hard work has just about broken my heart, but has brought me much happiness, too."

Maya pressed the envelope into her husband's hand. Widi tried to pull his hand away but the look Maya gave him was one of heartfelt love and assurance.

"You know what it is I'm trying to say, don't you? You're always able to understand me, aren't you?" she asked.

"Yes".

"Then you'll understand why I'm asking you to return the tickets. That's what will really make me happy. The fact that we can stop daydreaming, that you'll no longer be haunted by fantasies, that is more than enough for me as a New Year's present. You understand, don't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Maya kissed her husband on the forehead and immediately hastened to clear away the table. Suddenly the situation was normal once more and Widi felt that there was no point in discussing the tickets further.

"Take a nap or read the paper, why don't you?" Maya suggested in a normal tone of voice as she took the leftovers to the kitchen. "I have to go over to the neighbor's to see their new baby."

Widi inhaled deeply. He stared at the envelope. The radiant look he had on his face when he came home was now one of severity. But after a while the severity lessened and he returned to normal. Normal that is, for other ordinary and uncomplicated husbands.

He rose slowly and, taking the envelope with him, went into the bedroom. He locked the door. In the privacy of the bedroom he opened the envelope and took out a thin sheaf of note paper. There were no tickets inside the envelope at all.

Widi didn't know if his wife was aware of his fabrication but he did know that, in the dining room earlier, something wonderful had transpired: He, a husband, had finally managed to make good his promise and Maya, his wife, had selflessly renounced his promise, for she placed a far greater value on her husband.

Widi sat on the bed, lost in thought. Tears welled in his eyes. Maya must have known. She really was an extraordinary person. "That is the best New Year's present I could ever hope for," he whispered.

At the same moment, in the kitchen doing the dishes, Maya also was crying. "Oh, dear Lord, have mercy. Please don't let him know that I know what was in the envelope," she murmured almost inaudibly. "We may be simple folk, but we have aspirations just like anyone else. We've suffered and we've put on this charade because that was the only way to keep on going and to find some happiness in the midst of poverty."

At the sound of the children's footsteps, some going towards the bedroom, others toward the kitchen, both Widi and Maya, simultaneously, wiped away their tears. They erased all tension from their features and put their smiles back on: Their children, at least in their own minds, were not yet ready to have to taste such bitterness.

Translated by Marc Benamou

Born in Tabanan, Bali in 1944, Putu Wijaya is a journalist. writer and theater and film director. His short story The Gift (Hadiah) appeared in Gres, published by Balai Pustaka, Jakarta, in 1982. Its English translation appears in Menagerie 1 and is printed here by courtesy of The Lontar Foundation.