Jogja is burning more than normal that afternoon. The class ends with a chorus of laughter; the students scramble around tidying up what properties they used, collect their bags before saying goodbye. Goes on everytime. Cacuk rises to his feet, wiping at the beads of sweat before he drinks water from the shrivelling plastic bottle. The sanggar gets quiet so fast. Quiet, and empty. It never has been that rife here—Cacuk begins to understand with each day passing where does all the concern and attention that Mbah Jih pours come from.
Reandra, from the other side of the room, yawns wide open and walks over.
“Done now?” he asks, gesturing his head to outside. “Let’s go home.”
“My home, you mean,” taunts Cacuk, grinning. Reandra tuts and sighs, eyes rolling, but the corner of his lips twitch. Cacuk can’t not notice. Laughing all the way through, Cacuk raises his thumb, leaving Reandra briefly. “Pamit sek.”
Mbah Jih, when Cacuk enters his bedroom, is resting his back while watching TV. The wrinkles on his face flow are more pronounced with the bloom of his smile, seeing Cacuk come. “You’re done?”
“Yes, Mbah,” answers Cacuk, kissing the back of his hand; salim. He nods, lowering his head more in respect, and then smiles wide and bright.
“You’re earnest, Lek,” says Mbah Jih, patting Cacuk’s nape the way he does to a cat. This is his sick day. Mbah Jih is strong enough still to tutor by himself on his good days, but even he admits his age has become a shackle to the sanggar’s future. “Mbah is glad youngins like you still exist.” He speaks in Indonesian, but his Javanese accent always encloses thick. So the same goes with the phrase he always says to Cacuk when sadness grows too great; it’s now a modern time, Lek. Whatever do sanggar means now. Even Mbah’s grandchild likes kepop.
Nodding and responding Mbah Jih for quite a lot, Cacuk utters a good prayer (for him, for Simbah, for the studio), and finally bids his farewell. Once, Mbah Jih asked: has your friend come again? Yes, Mbah. Oalah, gloppy are you two.
Reandra has waited on his old motorbike when Cacuk emerges from the studio, adjusting his slingbag while wearing sandals. He’s humming alone. Cacuk recognizes the melody, but until the motorbike dashes forward he doesn’t remember what the song is—ah, then, it’s Nefos’ Di Ujung Ladang. Bapak’s favorite. Cacuk exhales quietly remembering that, yeah, indeed, both Reandra and Bapak share a lot in musical taste. Rere (even though the brat is always so deft in hiding it) often gets awkward if he has to meet (face-to-face; of course Bapak sees him when he comes over) and interact with Bapak, but when it comes to music, the two link up eloquently.
Reandra’s football jersey flutters amidst the wind when they pass an alleyway to Cacuk’s home. Reandra often stops by lately. Hanging out, sure, and also learning to play guitar and practicing together (Reandra always bitches when he’s reminded Cacuk already has his own band now; Reandra can’t join), yeah, but also to eat. Eat, yes. Eat.
Many things need to be learned for Reandra to live in Jogja. He always calls it barter, but even from his dry chuckles Cacuk knows it well Reandra is fraught. Periodically if not consistently. Reandra got the old underbone motorbike—lent, and he’s free to go whereever when he’s done his part at home. But Jogja has its own thorns. The flow of money here isn’t as facile as is outside; at least back in Manggar Cacuk knows Reandra isn’t bony due to irregular eating. Sometimes not even at all.
Ibu always cooks more nowadays. Not too much that it can go to waste, (they always eat just a little more than their usual portion if needed,) but enough to fill Reandra. He always comes over to practice. Nothing else. The rest of it Reandra ventures alone, seeking out the town sides that are hard to the touch. Though the voyage doesn’t always yield result. (Well, he’s not yet graduated, toch?)
Whatever do money means now. Reandra’s guitar was fought for half-dead. It was more important than his health, sometimes even more than school that Reandra was willing to take the punishment and the scolding. The guitar exceeds any money. Cacuk was the one tuning it; Reandra still doesn’t understand, stammering in his tries to spell music, yet his nightly dreams croon mightier than Bach. Dramatic. Whatever do money means? Money means a lot. Reandra goes hither and thiter like wind; Cacuk begins to find he no longer is the one introducing Reandra to new people, but the opposite. The new philosophy he found appears to be so galvanizing.
Time has changed, said Mbah Jih. Yet Cacuk unfailingly still teaches in that little studio, jokes and grows together with the kids around that still come. Whatever does sanggar mean? Sanggar means siji, loro. Means c’moooooon. Means Reandra asking and Cacuk shrugging, ya why not? I’m content doing so.
“You should join me too,” instead Cacuk told him. “You came here often yet only ever watched, never take any part. Re, Re.”
Reandra raises one brow. “Me? What can I do, eh.”
“Nyinden bisa kowe,” suggested Cacuk. Reandra kept on laughing.
That boy recklessly came to Jogja staying at his budhe because he heard that Cacuk started playing music. Perhaps what he had in mind is different than what Cacuk recounted, but Cacuk never feels any hesitance. Reandra wants to go where he accompanies well, explaining whatever he’s curious of. From there then Reandra comes to wander alone and Cacuk needs no longer any worry. Only his guitar skill still needs Cacuk’s guidance.
One day near the Alun-Alun Kidul, Reandra once twattled about Fall Out Boy. Cacuk was only half-following because he has no idea what that is, beyond that it’s a band. He just remembers that they stopped in front of a batagor wagon, Reandra peering at him smiling wide and bright, then went to say, someday, it might be good that we do that too, be like that. Cacuk blinked, huh? And Reandra punched his shoulder lightly (Cacuk was still confused at what he’s talking about), yeah, maybe not entirely like that. Both of us like Citakama, we should be more like Citakama as well.
Whatever being Indonesia(n) means today?
Later on the coming days, when Reandra is venerably building his dream band, he will show you what you have both founded and shaped ever since before.
13 February 2023 — 9:21.
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