The Sneaking Snake

By Soekanto S.A.

The telephone rang. His boss picked it up, uttering something and then turning toward him.

"For me?"

His boss nodded.

He scrambled to get it, and immediately heard his wife's wailing voice.

"He fell? Where from? The window sill? All right...I'll be right home."

The boss waved away his profuse thanks for the permission to leave the office early.

His son, barely 14 months old, had fallen out of the window. He had been standing on a wooden divan placed there by his parents so he could amuse himself watching out of the window while his mother did household chores.

The young father pedaled furiously on his bicycle. He thought about his wife, almost bowing with the burden of her second pregnancy. They had been married for two years and would soon have their second child. Life flew by so quickly, so quickly.

"My son fell out of the window?"

He couldn't bear to think of the small body falling from a height of 1.25 meters to the sharp pebbles spread beneath the window.

He pedaled even more furiously.

As soon as he reached home, he abandoned his bicycle, letting it go with a clattering sound, and rushed to find his wife carrying the child. His small head was smeared with herbal ointment of beras kencur. No wounds.

"But what if he has a concussion...what if he grows up dumb because of that fall!"

He took the baby from his mother, hugging him to his heart tightly. He felt something in his chest. Pain. Fear. This small, toddling body was hurting because of the fall.

"I was only looking away for a minute to get the towel," his wife explained, as if apologizing for the accident.

He remained silent, hugging the baby even tighter.

"I'll take him to the hospital," he finally said, stepping out.

"Let me put his shoes on first," his wife said.

The father and the son were now on the way to the nearest village health clinic. The baby clung to him, unusually silent.

He tried to distract his son's mind from his pain. "Look, there's a kite," he said.

The small mouth formed a smile, fleetingly, but then pouted again.

"Want cookie? Cookie?" he asked, waving at a traditional cake vendor.

His son took the cookie and started eating it.

He started to feel a little better because his baby appeared to still have a good appetite.

"Why did my son fall down? Why? Why not me? I would have been in pain, not this small body..."

He could not stop thinking. It was like the accident befalling his son was a strong warning to him. It was like the accident was talking to him in a very harsh tone.

"Nothing happens without cause!"

"What? Why did my son fall from the window? What have I done?"

"You have not been paying attention to your family, that's why!"

A war raged in his mind.

"Not paying attention?"

"Yes, this morning. What were you thinking of this morning when you were riding your bicycle to work?"

The sky in Bandung had been overcast then, and he had pedaled away to the north -- his mind somewhere else, back to the fight he had had with his wife the previous night.

She had been looking at herself in the mirror, saying she no longer felt beautiful. Fishing for compliments. Accusing him of no longer being in love with her. "Two years of marriage I spent being pregnant," she had said.

He smiled bitterly, reliving the fight. But why? He remembered how desperate he felt. So he had rushed out of the house, breathing the cold and misty air, and feeling free. Free? He refused to see what was wrong with him, refused to search for his flaws. He could only see what was wrong with his wife. She was the one who just did not sacrifice enough for their family.

What about him? Had he done enough for his family? To what point should he make sacrifices? Ah, he had been treating his marriage as if it was a bus stop that he must, like it or not, pass on his way to a destination of his life.

Was that true? Why couldn't he enjoy his family life? Why? He was old enough. Mature enough to consciously choose and live a life. Why did he keep on looking at other women? At "freedom"?

He felt his soul was shattered like a glass plate thrown away to the hard floor. He had never felt complete.

Every time his wife complained, he was jolted back to a realization that it was not the way he should behave. But changing one's behavior was not easy. And the devil in his mind, the devil called "imagination", was more powerful than he was. It was like a snake slithering quickly, the imagination that grew every time his eyes caught something he should not be looking at. Something different. Something novel.

They reached the clinic. He paid the registration fee and waited. His mind roamed. He had not really given enough time to talk to and play with his firstborn. The child who fell off the window.

"But was it really because of me that my son fell? Where's my mistake?"

"Overhaul. What you need is an overhaul."

"No. I'm feeling sorry enough. What's past is past. I am a good father."

"Good? Good father? The father who rushes outside every time there's trouble? The one who runs away from problems that he creates? You are a liar. You are silent, but your silence is your mask!"

"I am a liar? Am I?"

"Yes. You have cheated on your wife! That's why your child fell off the window!"

"I cheated? When? Where?"

In your mind.

"With whom?"

"With whom? With women who pass your way, every time you pedal your bicycle silently. Oh, freedom!"

"No. I have tried! I shut my eyes every time I pass by women. My wife is the only woman for me. I have long repented and changed my ways."

"What's the use of shutting your eyes. Your snake sneaking away. The snake that is called 'imagination'. Look at your son, he's the proof of your cheating. He fell! You, the strong place where your son's soul rests. You have swayed this way and that way, so your son fell!"

The nurse called out his son's name and he carried him inside the examination room. Again, minutes of waiting. Now he was thinking about his wife. At home, she could be cooking and doing the laundry by hand at the same time. He felt sorry his wife had to work that hard, but he had never lifted a hand to help her around the house. What he wanted was the glory of the past, where men were kings inside their homes!

But was he really like that? How much money did he make anyway, to be able to live like that? He had not really resisted the urge to be like that, to be like a king.

"That's also a sin."

"Yes. So I am full of sins?"

"What use is your forced confession? It's not necessary. What's necessary is realizing your mistakes and doing something to correct them. Have you discovered what it was that you did wrong? Why your son fell?"

He bowed his head under a heavy burden in his mind. "Yes."

A breeze blew through his heart. His son played with his pocket. "'Ney." He wanted money.

He smiled. Looked at the baby. So clean. So pure.

"Is he really your child?"

"My child!"

"As if you understood the meaning of having a child? What does your child mean? Why is he so much better, purer, than you are?"

Again he remembered his past. The free, wild night life. Was that a life he wanted now? What a question!

"Have you thought about it?"

"Yes. I think I can now respect a clean life. I respect my son's purity. His eyes. So much different from my own, red eyes. His are so pristine. Whenever he waves his hand to me as I leave for the office, I feel like a broom sweeps through the dirt on the floor of my heart."

The doctor gestured to him to come closer.

"What happened?"

"He fell, doctor."

"Where from?"

"The window?"

"What were the adults doing that a baby could fall out of the window?"

He was silent.

The doctor picked up the stethoscope and placed it on his son's chest. The baby wailed and trashed about. The doctor examined his head.

"I'm so afraid! What if my son has a concussion?"

The doctor was silent.

"Doctor?" he said in fear.

"No. He's okay. Fortunately. His parents should have been paying attention. Don't let this happen again."

He carried the baby out of the examination room. No medication was needed.

On their way home, the baby started to chatter. To his ears, his voice sounded like a bird's song.

He felt serene. Something was awakening in his heart: a cleansed soul.