Kamis, 26 April 2012


I really wanted to give an arm for Utik. Might be, I was taking a pity on her, a little girl with handicap, and her age was not yet five years old. Utik was born without arms. She was an orphan, but not really an orphan. Her parents were whereabouts unknown. I assumed that her parents left her in the street after they found out that their daughter born incomplete physically. She was born without arms. It was ibu Irah who found her laid on the pavement covered with sarong. Since then, Ibu Irah took care of her. Ibu Irah sold pecel in her own small and very modest booth across my house. Ibu Irah who had taken care of her with love gave her name, Utik. Ibu Irah could accept Utik sincerely even she has physical abnormality. I really wanted to give my arms for Utik, but I was confused how. I am one year older than Utik, and I am a boy. I considered giving my left arm for her for I always use my right hand to do my activities. So, my left arm would fit for her. Every time I played with her, I always attached my arms to her left armless. I always stood behind her, laughed, and extended my left arm to her. When she turned her head and saw my left arm, her face changed glimmered. Her eyes brightly changed. And I like doing this to her again and again. The more I often did that to her, the happier and brighter she became. I was sure that she wanted to have arms and hands like other normal children. Ah, I really wanted to give my left arms, but how? By touching her left armless part with my left arms that I did wittingly from behind, I gained my guilty feeling for being fake to her. And I became more embarrassed. I couldn’t keep doing this. Somehow, I was worried to hurt her one day. Sometimes, Utik pushed me to do that but I couldn’t bear it. Utik looks really enjoy imagining to have two arms. Her smile is so cheerful. Her laugh expressed her happiness. Weirdly, I always felt happy if I could make her smile happily even last for few minutes. One day, I felt there was something different, even though I did what I did with her from behind. Utik was more excited. She asked me to clench my fists like a boxer, which I thought her request was so weird but I did it for her anyway. In a minute, I imagined the fists clench of Mike Tyson, Oscar De Lahoya, or Julio Cesar Chavez. Ah, Chris John’s fists clench seemed right to me. Chris John is an Indonesian boxer champion that successfully maintains his title for ten times in a row. I am very proud of him. Then, I clenched my fists tightly like Chris John does. ”I wanted to boxing like Muhammad Ali,” Utik said. I was stunned. But her eyes were looked pitiful. Then, I acted like a pro boxer. Jab. Uppercut. Jab again, uppercut again. I felt so weird boxing like Muhammad Ali, his style that we always saw in pirated VCD. My father said, the actor who acted as the legendary boxing icon was not the real Muhammad Ali. Muhammad Ali has been old and is suffering from Parkinson. Anyway, it was not important. The most important thing was to make her happy, laugh. That’s all. Thus, I pretended boxing like Muhammad Ali. Utik laugh out loud until her tears pooled at the edge. ”Oh, she must be imagining if she had complete hands,” I talked to myself. Utik was so cheerful. Her foots moved to the front and back, left and right. I followed her moves by making various boxing styles. Jab-uppercut-jab-hook-jab-hook-uppercut-jab. Utik was so happy. She cried happily. Finally, I was so exhausted. I stopped boxing. I was wet by the sweat, my breath seemed to end. I lost my stamina. ”If you are tired, take a break,”said Utik. ”But, please clap your hands,” she asked again. And I clapped my hand enthusiastically. Utik cried happily. I could feel the happiness she expressed through her laugh. It seemed it was her who did boxing and clapping. There was an energy that entered and filled my soul. “What Energy? I don’t know.” And my willpower and desire became greater to give her my left arm. I didn’t mind losing my left hand for her. ”I still have my right arm,” I talked to myself. *** “TIK, I am going to give my arm for you,” I told her when were sitting on the grass at the back side of my house. Utik was shocked. “Are you sure?” I nodded. Assuring her. ”But.., how are you going to do that, Din?” “That is what I have been thinking since yesterday, Tik. How to do it? But...” ”But… why?” I silenced. ”Are you doubt?” I shook my head. ”Then, why?” ”I don’t know how to give you my arms.” “But, are you really serious to give your left arm for me?” “I am very serious, Tik!” We silenced. No talks, no sounds, but the sound from the leaves of rambutan tree that break the silence sometime. I was speechless. Utik was speechless too. We were beyond our own thoughts, the thoughts that swimmed in the ocean of our thought. Utik smiled. I smiled back to her. We looked each other and shared the new hope. I was worried, and so does Utik. ”What should I do to give and attach my left arm to Utik?” Suddenly, I got a crazy idea passing through my mind. I hold my breath. “What if I cut my arm with a seesaw?” I yelled and raised my body from my sitting position. “Haaah?” Her eyes widely opened hearing my idea. “After cutting my left arm, let me attach and stitch it to your left arm,” I said convincible. “It’s up to you, Din.” And it was not difficult to get a seesaw. I could get a seesaw only by opening toolbox in my father garage. We both back to the back yard of our home. We sat under the rambutan tree. The sun rise reflected to the edge of the seesaw. Sparkling. Dazzling. It made our eyes deprived of sight. ”It might have been so painful at the last seconds of this seesaw successfully cut the bone of my arm. It seems I could hear the sound like the sound of wood cut by it. I have no idea of the sound in my ear and the pain I could feel when it touches and cuts my bone,” I said to myself. Suddenly, I feel worried in my self. What if this seesaw is not sterilized? What if this seesaw broken in the middle of the cutting process? Then, spontaneously, I looked down, caught the light of the sun sparkled at the edge of this seesaw. I was trying to reject my doubts. This seesaw is very sharp. I am sure. I was ready to cut my arm. The first thing I did was to fasten my arm’s joint using rope to avoid massive blood torrent. Then, I started cutting my left arm. The blood torrent squirted swiftly. The smell of blood flourished in the air. I could smell fishy blood. Utik got panicked. She shut her mouth. Did nothing. Said nothing. She only stared at my arm. Her eyes opened and closed many times. She opened her eyes, then, closed them again. She kept doing that while watching me cutting my arm. And I kept cutting my arm. The eyes of the seesaw touched my arm, resulted rattling sound. I got sweat and tried to resist the pain. Finally!! CRASSSSS! My left arm finally cut. I put the seesaw in a hurry and picked my arm from the grass, then I ran to Upik to attach it to her left shoulder. I stitched it perfectly at Utik’s arm. Utik was very happy. ”Finally I succeeded,” I hissed. “Finally, I can make her smile. She smiled because I gave her my arm,” I said to myself. “Diiinnn....!” The pain I suffered from my left arm become more suffering. My arm was still dripping with blood. It kept dripping. Suddenly, my world blackened. “Diiinnn...!” I heard indistinct voice at my ear. I recognized the voice. Utik’s voice. Yes, Utik. She must be want to thank me. “Ah, it’s ok. You don’t have to thank me,” I said to her. “I helped you genuinely.” “Diiinnn....!” This time the voice became clear. Very clear. I woke up. I touched my left arm spontaneously to where I cut my arm. But..ah! My left arm is still attached to my shoulder. Then, what happened with the cutting process? What did I do with the seesaw? Utik gave me an obscure smile and stood two meter from where I laid. And her arms.. She still has no arms. No left arm from me. Utik smiled and asked me to rise. *** My lovely childhood daydream. That dream had passed for twenty-five years, but I still had it in my memory. Her picture is still in my mind; standing one meter before me. I really wanted to give her my left arm. “O, no.. no.. I am giving her a pair of arms.” After twenty-five years passed, I still asserted my self to give her a pair of arms. When I was a kid, I wanted to give my left arm. “Now, I am giving her the pair of arms. But, not my arms. It’s a pair of fake arms that I have bought for her.” I went with my driver to her house. My memory flashed back passing through the road to her house. It’s like a movie that I play several times. I flashed back to my childhood memory, when I was 10 years old. Then, my father should move for a duty in another town, I had to leave her behind. And Utik should let me go. It was so sad to move to another place. I did many things to show my disagreement. I did demonstration like students always do: I refused to eat, so that Utik and Ibu Irah were asked by my father to soften my action that finally I gave up and moved with my parents. Since then, I never met and played with Utik. I couldn’t extend my arm to her pretended to be her arm. And, of course, my dream to give my left arm to her. “Sorry Sir, we have arrived.” “Ah… what?” I asked my driver, Pak Kirman. “We have arrived. Where should I park my car?” I got dumbfounded. “At the front of that white house,” I pointed to the house that was formerly my house. Pak Kirman slowed the car and parked right in front of my former house. I got off from my car, brought the arms along with me that I was giving to Utik. Across the road, at Ibu Irah’s booth, I saw a woman playing with two children. ”That’s Utik,” I said to myself. ”Yes, that’s Utik.” “Utik?” “Didin?” I ran to her. Utik ran to me. We hold each other on the roadside. My tears ran down and dripped on my hands. “There are still no arms,” I said to myself. I cried. Utik cried. Then, I addressed my eyes to the two children who were comfort to join with us. And Utik could read what passed in my mind. “They are my children, Din.” ”Twins?” ”Yes. The girl is Dita, and the boy is Dito,” Utik mentioned their names to me. They shook my hands and drove my hand to their head. “They are so cute, Tik.” “Yes, they are now my left and right arms,” Utik explained to me with a happy face. And I put the package of arms I brought for her without telling her. Utik, now, has got her own arms.*** Translated by Irene Prabandari

Kamis, 19 April 2012

TATTO by Bamby Cahyadi


HAVE YOU ever really flattered like what I feel when there is a woman who preserves your kindness, sincerity, and love by puncturing her body? That’s what I’ve got. A woman, in the name of love tattoos her body for me. The pictures are set on her beauty and delicacy back and arm.

She tattooed two pictures, one on her beauty and delicacy back, and another one is on her arm. She did that without telling me first when she was on her holiday in Lombok.

It wasn’t easy at first to get her on leave permit from her boss. She cried out once to me and assumed that her boss would never let her have leave of absence. But the fact, she was wrong. Her boss approved her leave permit, which I regarded that her boss realized of her boredom stage that makes her working performance bad, so she finally got her time for a vacation.

She chose Lombok as her holiday place to kill her boredom.
Today, she had finished her exciting days off. I picked her up at the Airport, a crowded big terminal that is most like a traditional market instead. And it’s also looked like a bus terminal where there are many scalpers who give several services like resell tickets, black taxi, porter, perfume sellers and may act as an illegal money changer. A “One stop services” as I can mention about this terminal.

She walked out with the trolley full of her big suitcases and her other bags. Her face looked so cheerful with her suntanned skin that might be caused by the sunbathing she did lots of time at Senggigi beach. The sun has burnt her skin. But she still looks beautiful with her beauty thick lose long hair. As she stood in front of me, she played her hair and kissed me. Not kisses on my cheeks like a normal kiss when you meet somebody, but on my lips. Yes on my lips. She kissed and nibbled my lips in public at the airport.

“I’ve been missing you,” she said and looked at into my eyes deeply, and cuddled me.

And she landed her lips on mine wildly, before I even got a chance to say a word. I’ve been missing you too; deep in my heart I said the same. Ardently. Passionately. Still in public. Then, calmly, I ended her kiss.

“Bite, bite...” somebody shouted loudly with plebeian way.
I glanced at him by the corner of my eye and really wanted to yell back at him. That man turned his sight from me when he caught my eyes. A stupid-look perfume man. He offered me once an unoriginal perfume with high price.

“Monik, I parked my car right over there, let me handle the trolley,” I gave her a hand to push the trolley. I wanted her walking freely. We walked to my car. She still put her arm on my shoulder.
”Do you miss me, Monik?”

”I do very much, hone,” she said with way.

Inside the car, her sensual lips told me story the beauty of beaches in Lombok. That’s true that Bali is not the only island that provides beauty exotic nature. She chose Lombok and it was the right choice.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t accompany her to walk on the white sand or even driving around the beautiful Mataram town. She knew the reason why I couldn’t be there with her.


Suddenly I saw her lips were trembling. It seemed that she wanted to say something, but suddenly she said nothing. She acted strange. Not like before when she talked many things about beach, mountain or accessories and cosmetics. What made her silent? What was wrong with my lovely girlfriend?

“I am telling you at home about everything,” she said.

She just said those words. Then, we just enjoy our travelling in Jakarta toll road. The toll road is supposed to be free from traffic jam for we have to pay some cash to passing through this toll road. But, the fact is the traffic jam often happens in toll road, where we must pay for the service!

She was playing with her hair, her eyes on the road, then, she looked at me.

“How is your project? Is everything working well?” she asked to break the silence.

“Everything works well, nothing really matters, and hope next month the project will finish,” I answered her question and looked at her deeply. To be honest, I was missing her so much.

“Good then!” she said.

“Are you starting to work tomorrow?” I asked.

“Ya, but I am not going to the project site for I have to work on the administration matters first that I have left for my vacation,” she explained.
She started to grope me on the groin part and caress my crotch that suddenly stimulated. Ah, Monik. Please wait until we are at your place, not in my car. She glanced. She understood. It might be because I tingled and my face turned reddish. She likes teasing me. Her hand was playing around my genital part.

Finally, we passed through the traffic jam.

We entered an alley and reached her house.
A middle age female maid wearing Javanese traditional cloth (kebaya) opened the minimalist style of the gate. I wondered why she always wears kebaya. Does she really want to be looked a real maid? Like maids who serve princess in Keraton (A palace in Java).

“That’s not important,” she said. “Let’s get inside and talk more of important thing.”

“Hone, just put my luggage over there,” she pointed to the corner side of the living room.

“Where are my souvenirs?”
“Of course, there is hone,” she said, then, she grasped my hand and dragged me to her room.

My loneliness moment without her around last week now is mended. Smelled her room, felt her bed and stepped on her Persian carpet. The breeze from the air conditioner touched my cheek gently. This time was my turn to kiss her passionately. I am sorry, I feel more confident to kiss you inside your room, Monik. She kissed me back more passionately. She slipped her tongue into my mouth. Entwined. Twisted. Ah, sorry I wanted to bite your lips. She hissed. I was so rippled. She became inpatient. I started to be harsh. My fingers worked wildly to undress her. Open the buttons of her shirt wildly.

Then, gently, she shook my hand. “Hone, how is your wife?” She asked as she walked away from me, and tidy up her button shirt.

“Fine. Fine. She’s fine. Why?” I asked her back and laid my body on the bed to take a breath.

“It seems that I’ve been a long time not to see her,” she said.
Should you meet her, Monik? Please, just don’t spoil this moment! Our relationship has been so complicated,” I said to myself.

“Hone, I want to talk something that I hadn’t told you in your car,”

“What was it about? Talk to me.”

“I rendered this to you,” she said. Slowly she took off her shirt.
Slowly she button off her shirt one by one. I asked with lust. Oh, my blood flowed fast. That shirt hasn’t taken off completely from her body. Her breast covered by the blinking black bra made my heart pounded. And Monik opened and took off the bra as well. Her breast is so plump. The nipples are bigger than my wife’s. They are ones of the reasons I am in love with her. Ah, why should you play my libido? I didn’t think she did it in purpose. There must be something else that she wanted to show me.

“Tarraaaaa…..!” she yelled cheerfully.

She turned her body, so her back faced me as she took off her shirt as well. Oh! I was a bit shocked; but might be that was my first time to see her back with a picture.

“Hone, I made this tattoo for I love you so much,”

On the back that was clean and delicate, now there’s a picture of a couple with wings. The man was lying and the woman was flying on the top of the man. Isn’t that a picture of angels? Yes right. That’s a picture of an angel couple. What were they doing? Why should they be naked? Oh no. They are really naked.

There’s still a leaf; it might be a perdu leaf that covers the penis of the man and a scarf covers the female angel’s breasts. Monik painted her smooth back. And the tattoo would remain there. It’s not like a canvas where a paint is painted using oil paint and able to disappear easily when the painting is wiped using thinner.

“There’s another one, hone. It’s a sign of eternity,” she continued telling me, ”This one was made by a tattoo artist at the Senggigi Beach fringe while I was waiting for the sunset”

A small tattoo on her right arm. A picture of two hearts penetrated by an arrow with small size of printed names of hers and mine. I don’t have to spell out my name here. She dedicated those two tattoos for me. A high dedication that makes me flattered, and considers having her as mine.

Have you ever been flattered like this as well as had a guilty feeling? ***

Jakarta,5 Februari 2012

Translated by Irene Prabandari