A Flower

A Flower

There were beautiful yellow flowers on a vegetable field. But a more beautiful flower was on the bank of a lake, washing, with her little child.

1970

The "Golden Sowers"

The “Golden Sowers”

There was a bouquet with lovely “Golden Sowers” beside a garbage bin at the road side for any one to take it home.

How hard is it, to have the courage to pick those thrown away lovely flowers, walk home and place them in a place of honor, to say nothing of caring, picking up “fallen” flowers. Are they different from “decent” flowers?

1970

A Sweet Memory In Pecenongan

A Sweet Memory In Pecenongan

When we were eating in the open air eating place in Pecenongan, a middle classed housewife, decently dressed was selling shrimp crackers from table to table. All the guests coldly, indifferently, proudly refused. Disappointed, downhearted, she suppressed her feelings as she had to “climb down so deep” to become a vendor selling crackers and she went away.

My wife waved her back as she remembered a similar treatment when people refused to buy her self baked snacks at that time, to save, support us, her family who were living in a hard time. She bought two parcels of shrimp crackers. But for the woman who was in straitened circumstances (remember, there’s no middle classed housewife ever wants to humble herself selling shrimp crackers as a vendor), it was a lot, it was so sweet, so encouraging, so heartening, it was like a heavenly gift though she only succeeded to earn Rp. 2.000.-.

Only those who are visited by hardships, know the blessings, of happiness, of gratitude for small things, a little kindness. A happy beam lit up her face and we went home with a sweet memory of her.

When life is on the dark side, then there certainly is a sunny side on the other side but not seen as on the two sides of a leaf in the sun.

From Berita Buana, October 19, 1993

On Awakening

On Awakening

There, on the Ancol bridge I saw the glorious rising sun through a gateway of trees stately sailing on a mirrored waterway.

There was the Kembang Soka in full bloom. What an expression of joy and gratitude. There was a branch broken, yet, it was still blowing. No one noticed it, only a butterfly and me. And there were such a lot of flowers and a lot were dropping, falling. Only some flowers were visited, yet she didn’t stop flowering and asks nothing in return. She only could give, grant her riches.

I hear a happy, carefree, girlish laughter, my little girl frightens me in jest, in play and leans affectionately against me. I hear the cheerful “good morning” greeting of Tien, I feel the cool wind, I hear the birds warble, I see the flowers open, I see, I hear, I feel, I smell; unconscious, never cared before.

I have a faint longing after a home when the sun is setting, for a light in the distance. How peaceful is the night with the moon and stars watching over me.

A better world opens. I feel my inner dawn is breaking.

1970

A Thought On Dying

A Thought On Dying

For man life is short as just ten years or a thousand years. Life is so precious and death is such a scare. Do you ever want to die willingly in the place of your child, grandchild, your father, mother, wife, husband, grandfather, grandmother, brother, sister, … to say nothing of another? Except, when life were hell, then death must be heaven!

December 2008

The Choir Conductor's Thought On Poems

The Choir Conductor’s Thought On Poems

I just read poems in our foremost Jakarta’s news paper, reread this many times but it was as though I was reading Einstein’s theory of relativity.

“Am I so blind, so stupid of not being able to read, grasp the meaning, beauty of the poems or is it … ? Well, don’t be so nasty, to think so bad of others.” I said to myself.

And I mused, “Should poems be clothed in vague words, as a riddle to be beautiful? A beautiful thought would still remain the same when conveyed written, spoken, sung in plain common language, or just written on a piece of paper or in a book or a respectable newspaper.“

And I thought of the immense lot of beautiful songs of Schubert, Schumann, Mozart, Brahms, Wolf, Bach, Beethoven, Gershwin, Hammerstein, Vaughn …, with poems as their lyrics of Goethe, Schiller, Brentano, Heine, Muller, Whitman, … which I enjoyed, so well-known and loved through out the world. They are certainly not lesser poets than the author of those poems and it was not so very difficult to understand them Why be downhearted? Shouldn’t you be feeling proud of it?

So the choir conductor comforted himself.

November 2008

The "Kacer"

The "Kacer"

“There she warbles, the Kacer and frantically she flies against the bars of the little cage to vent her pent up joy where she should stay, live for as long as life without lament or complaint. She had never known the joys, happiness of being free. How sad, how pitiful” said pak Arif.

“Of not just flying against the bars but delightfully flying so free in the sky.

“Of not perching day and night on a stick in the cage but to enjoy itself in trees, to play, to frolic, to warble, to rest, to see the sun, ...

“And rapturous find its mate, to build their nest, to lay eggs and patiently hatch them and raise the baby chicks with love.

“Sure, it’s but a bird, a creature, but a being so alike a human being,” said he.