Persuasion

I observed the happenings around me with my eyes closed, my breath steady. My hands lazily groped for the blanket, pulling it around me in the cold afternoon. It was nearing twelve o'clock, lunch time, but I still lay snoozing in my bed.

I hugged my bolster tighter to my chest, as I unfolded the blinds of the human body whose name is eyelid. Two of them, of course. Sunshine burst into the room through the open window, the glare fiery bright.

I rubbed my eyes free of the eye turd the night has caused. Once clear, my vision swam into view, my eyes adjusting to the solar rays spread thoroughly in the room. Just now, heat built up in my blanket, causing me to kick it away.

Silent as I was, I was awake, and fully aware of the call going on below, between my mother and my aunt. Actually, I'm supposed to call my aunt, well, my aunt, but I refuse to call her that, and she refused to be called that, for she's a young woman of seventeen years old.

"Kak Humaira," I call her. And so, my ears carefully made sense of the online conversation going down below. After hearing a few fuzzy words, my brain cells agonisingly slowly made logical sense of it.

''Adek Ibu meninggal.'' (Mrs. Siti's younger sibling died) she said and I heard. Ibu, or Mbah Siti, was where my Kakak stayed while in Jakarta. I, having just come home from Wonosari, Gunung Kidul, precisely located at Jogja, was shocked to hear the news.

Mbah Pur, the deceased, has been staying at the hospital for a long time. I never got the chance to meet him, and that fact hurt me emotionally. I think the doctors were cruel for not letting him meet his family before he left this wonderful world.

One day, before he died, my mum video-called him. He said that he would like to meet her, my mum, in person. My mother agreed, but joked that she would like to have him heal wholly, so she could meet him at his home.

I had left Wonosari, Jogja, at exactly the 12th of April, the year '24. Mbah Purwanto died at exactly Wednesday, the first of May, the same year of '24.

I never got to meet him, due to his critical clinic condition, and I was much grieved by the news that Mbah Purwanto had died. That morning, as opposing to waking up in a situation of human refreshment and a satisfied, happy human being, tears fell inside my brain.

Heavy was my heart as I sat up on my bed, trying to not act disconcerted or saddened. I grasped my hands tightly together, eyes shut as I prayed fervently for the soul of Mbah Purwanto.

After my brief prayer, I stood up and went down the stairs, acting normal despite the heavy rain and stormy clouds now taking control of my mind, body and soul. I imagined, and having a rather wild imagination, what my family across the sea was doing.

Mbah Siti, the departed's sister, must be crying, her husband rubbing her back in a gentle way as silent tears slid down his nose. Everyone would've gathered at Mbah Ruk's house, mother of the deceased.

Mbah Ruk would cry, and hold onto someone's shoulders as she ached for her son. The air in the house would've been dismal, the rain would be falling hard outside, the big drops of water making loud thuds on the roof.

The positive vibes that had been there when Eid Al Fitr, the day when the Islamic holy month of Ramadhan was over, would be gone, replaced by solemn faces, longing hearts, the whispers of vehement prayers, and the streak of sunshine that spread smiles would now be a loud and shocking thunder, ridding all the wide grins, inviting all the tears and tissues.

I sat down in a chair, trying to cheer myself up by reading my Kindle. The current chapter of "Little Women" unfairly showed scenes of happiness, excitement and gratittude. It was too much for me to handle.

I shut my Kindle off, and picked up the school phone that lay on the table, for my mum owns a school. I played Sungha Jung, playing "River Flows In You" by the Japanese artist who goes by the name of Yiruma.

Many things flitted through my mind, racing this way and that, giving each other brief greetings. Yet, before them all, stood a big, gloomy cloud full of even gloomier thoughts.

His mouth was bent in a somber frown, his eyes shining with tears. You know... tears spill out when one's soul is scarred so deep, that no other remedy except time can heal it.

Mr. Gloomy's fingers were tightly laced together behind his body, his head pointed down as he stared blankly and dismally at the ground. Around him, sad were the vibes, and no happy thought dared to get closer to him.

All around Mr. Gloomy, the brain cells worked hard to cheer him up, some dancing, some playing the theremin, and some dressing up as a clown as their red noses bobbed at each nod of the head.

However, despite the brain cells' endeavours to make him happy, he still remained as sad as ever. "Oh, Mr. Gloomy," one spirited brain cell pleaded, ''Do be happy,'' she begged, her hands clapped together.

Mr. Gloomy only shook his head and pushed Susie, the spirited cell, away with his dark aura of depressive and dejected thoughts. Another cell bounced forward, but alas!

Before he could open his mouth and form his words, a strike of lightning thundered through my brain, shocking and scaring the brave cell as he jumped out of his skin.

Some bright cells laughed at him, but he backed away, his mouth agape with fear, and he didn't dare to approach Mr. Gloomy a time once more.

I push spoon after spoon of nasi gurih into my mouth, trying to get rid of the metallic taste that has grown to show itself on my mouth and the inner, emotional fight that was going on inside me. Jung's guitar skills impressed me, but even the melodious tune that was artfully crafted by Yiruma failed to brighten my usually bouncy spirit.

The silent despair inside me was too deep for tears as I stared blankly at Sungha Jung. My mother eventually scolded me for watching him while eating, and so I directed my attention to the meal in front.

I tried persuading myself, telling myself the world wouldn't change with the departure of one soul in this huge universe. I knew, deep in my heart, that there may be many alike experiencing the same pain I am now, but then again, what can I do?

"We'll be fine," said my self-less, happy self to my suffering self, "It's not like we won't be able to craft poetic stories with the good will of sharing literature right?"

Suffering-self Naya shook her head as Mr. Gloomy had, ''No,'' she whined, "I wanna meet Mbah Pur!!" Happy-self Naya only reciprotated the shake of the head and sighed, putting her hands down on the table.

"Death is inevitable, and if you choose to be an infernal imbercile about it, then you will only suffer more," Happy-self Naya started talking, in her wise, philosophical way.

Suffering-self Naya consistently demanded her wish to meet Mbah Purwanto, but her attempts to complain were deftly rebuked by Happy-self Naya. Again and again, Suffering-self Naya poked at Happy-self Naya's nerves, but Happy-self Naya was immovable, like a big rock that's too heavy to be swept by the waves.

"We may cry, and get sad over such a tragedic event as a loved one's death," Happy-self Naya said, "But it's bloody useless to be acting like a child over something that's impossible to stop. Mbah Pur's soul left in peaces, I'm sure, like the high tide that slowly recedes, fading into the twilight."

Suffering-self Naya finally relented, and ended up sobbing in the arms of Happy-self Naya. Happy-self Naya did all she can to calm the sobbing Suffering-self Naya, rubbing her back gently, while whispering encouraging phrases of letting go and trudging onwards.

Suffering-self me finally took a last sniff, wiped her tears on her sleeve, and stood up on her own, without the support of her opposing half. "Thank you, Happy-self me," she says, giving Happy-self Naya a charming smile full of sincere gratitude.

The alarm clock of this morning was the severe shock of the tragedic news. Never, will I meet him again. But, like myself reminded myself, the high tides recedes into the twilight, fading slowly, peacefully.

Never before have I felt a sorrow so deep for someone I have never even set my eyes on. Except, for one more.

R.I.P. Mbah Purwanto. Died on May 1, 2024. You will be forever remembered in the hearts of us, your dearest family and friends. I personally hope you will be given a safe place in Heaven, and let God protect you from the harsh cruelties of Hell.