He is Old and Unfortunate
The time will come when the Old Man emerges from the wooden board he calls his pallet. His body has grown thinner since the Japanese left the village, which was once filled with farmers and a village head. Don’t ask about his facial expression, only misfortune will be present in every wrinkle of that old face.
His son had long gone, not by choice, but taken away by trucks with wheels escorted by armed squint-eyed Japanese soldiers. What he remembers of his son is a fierce argument when the son wanted to marry a neighboring village girl.
He didn’t want to refuse, but what could he say later, that the girl was the daughter of a merchant who never escaped poverty.
He didn’t want to forbid his only puppet child to be happy. Since his wife was raped and taken away by Japanese mercenaries, his son’s chin has never been raised more than a few centimeters.
That was still fortunate, after hearing the news that his wife was killed and thrown into the river not far from the city, his son isolated himself even more.
As a parent, he wants to see his child grow up brave and happy. But what can be said, fate always writes the core of the story every morning. He has not been able to erase the bitter memories of his wife’s fate, his only puppet child, dragged from home, kicked, and beaten with the butt of a gun.
Perhaps his tears have run out, those tears are truly dry. Now, in his old age, he wants to welcome death more calmly. Facing Him with shame and humility.
Agreeing and making peace with life through the cracks of fate that never seem right.
Then, he wants to die while looking at the still blue sky. Green leaves and curly hair. When the time comes, he wants to sew his own shroud.
Tanjung Selor, North Kalimantan July 14, 2023
Written in between badminton games at SP 2. Near the Police Sector office and the strong night breeze. It seems it will rain.”
