On Being Free
There’s the joy of going to the Taman Ismail Marzuki Art Centre. We listen to a music recital outside the concert hall, me and her, just sitting relaxed beneath a lantern besides the pathway as we could also hear it softly, exquisitely in the open air.
I don’t have to come in formal dress, tight shining shoes, take a taxi, I just come on sandals, lightly clothed, take some snack with us and we enjoy eating it at leisure. We don’t have to talk, to comment, to shake hands with people, politely clap our hands and we‘re so free to stay or go, to listen or not listen when it’s boring us.
There’s even a greater being free. When people think, fancy that I’m a great art lover, and send me an invitation, then, I for a long time hesitating between going or not going, - as I am feeling forced to go as not to reward the kind attention of those who send me the invitation with a disappointment - I take courage, leave the cards, forget about the arts, take my bike and pedal slowly, leisurely to enjoy the evening, stop somewhere at the Monas Park and buy me warm tahu pong (fried curd bean).
In my mind’s eye I see the people in the theatre where I also would be “entrapped”, sitting stiffly, talk all the fuss about nothing, basa-basi so we say in the bahasa, just clever talk, ceremony. Now am I far away from it, so free, also free from the fear to disappoint those who very kindly send me the invitation, to celebrate my won freedom with eating tahu pong, with my self, my thoughts sitting on the sidewalk, charmed by flickering pelita lights (oil lamps) of vendors beneath a glorious starry sky.
How happy and free is the mother duck with her lovely ducklings resting in the shade beneath an only tree but freer, is the julung-julung baby fish in the sawah (rice field) water, almost infinitely free, so free, unbounded , unconscious of time, place and worries.
1977
October 2010
There’s the joy of going to the Taman Ismail Marzuki Art Centre. We listen to a music recital outside the concert hall, me and her, just sitting relaxed beneath a lantern besides the pathway as we could also hear it softly, exquisitely in the open air.
I don’t have to come in formal dress, tight shining shoes, take a taxi, I just come on sandals, lightly clothed, take some snack with us and we enjoy eating it at leisure. We don’t have to talk, to comment, to shake hands with people, politely clap our hands and we‘re so free to stay or go, to listen or not listen when it’s boring us.
There’s even a greater being free. When people think, fancy that I’m a great art lover, and send me an invitation, then, I for a long time hesitating between going or not going, - as I am feeling forced to go as not to reward the kind attention of those who send me the invitation with a disappointment - I take courage, leave the cards, forget about the arts, take my bike and pedal slowly, leisurely to enjoy the evening, stop somewhere at the Monas Park and buy me warm tahu pong (fried curd bean).
In my mind’s eye I see the people in the theatre where I also would be “entrapped”, sitting stiffly, talk all the fuss about nothing, basa-basi so we say in the bahasa, just clever talk, ceremony. Now am I far away from it, so free, also free from the fear to disappoint those who very kindly send me the invitation, to celebrate my won freedom with eating tahu pong, with my self, my thoughts sitting on the sidewalk, charmed by flickering pelita lights (oil lamps) of vendors beneath a glorious starry sky.
How happy and free is the mother duck with her lovely ducklings resting in the shade beneath an only tree but freer, is the julung-julung baby fish in the sawah (rice field) water, almost infinitely free, so free, unbounded , unconscious of time, place and worries.
1977
October 2010
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