Obituary: Drg. Daniel Nazarudin, born Thio Tjong Bing. A Good Dentist, A Great Person, The Greatest Dad

On Monday, January 23^rd, 2012, at 20.40, my father, Drg. Daniel Nazarudin, born Thio Tjong Bing, passed away. He was 64.

Thio Tjong Bing was born in Pekalongan, Central Java, on February 3^rd, 1947, to Thio Tjin An and Oey Sioe Kim. Thio Tjin An owned a car workshop in Pekalongan, which is why my father always had a passion for all things mechanical. In our family, he is ‘the last handyman’ – while the younger generation prefer to throw away broken stuff and getting new ones, he would dutifully spend much time and money in trying to fix broken equipments. Just weeks before he passed away, he had a project to fix our water pumps, causing a shortage of water supply in our house for a while – then he later told me: “You’re right – in the end I decided to buy a new one!”. But he didn’t give up – eventually he did fix the broken pump and now we have 2 pumps in our house.

Thio Tjong Bing had an older sister, Thio Giok Hiang. Both had a happy childhood, my dad being the adventurous one and his sister being the obedient one. He often spoke of my grandmother’s fondness for kungfu novels and movie theatres, and my grandfather’s excel in Dutch language and music. His happy childhood was cut short as his father, Thio Tjin An, passed away when he was in Junior High School. I remember my grandmother told me that both children came crying to her, because they were afraid that they can’t go to school anymore. “From that moment on, I sold everything I had, one by one, to finance the education of your dad and your aunt” said my grandmother.

Pursuing education brought Thio Tjong Bing from Pekalongan to Semarang, where he spent his Senior High School at Loyola College, and then to Bandung. My father always wanted to be a civil engineer or an architect. But at that time, he did not have a chance to go Bandung’s Institute of Technology, which had a good architecture department (where his sister studied and I got my degree from). Instead, faith brought him to the Faculty of Dentistry, Padjadjaran University, also in Bandung. He doesn’t like dentistry, but that does not stop him from being a perfectionist at work. “I never liked dentistry, so I need more energy to perform my work perfectly” he said once. “Being a dentist is a dilemma: when you’re young, you have a lot of energy, but not enough experience so you have only few patients. When you’re older and more experienced, you’ll have more patients, but not anymore the energy to perform the work – so you just can’t reap the maximum financial benefit out of this profession” he said.

After he retired from hospital duty and focused on his own practice, he seemed to enjoy his work more – not because of the work itself, but because his profession prompted him to meet a huge network of friends. “When I go to your father to fix my teeth, it takes him 15 minutes to do the job and 45 minutes to chat!” commented a friend of mine. He was always a ‘people person’, and in people finally he is at peace with his career.

It is in his university years, in 1967, that the Indonesian Government required all Chinese Indonesian to bear an Indonesian name. He chose ‘Daniel Nazarudin’ as his name, stated by a decree on the same year. It is also in this period, that he met my mother, Ketty Wilandow (born Oey Ketty), a student at the Law School of the University of Parahyangan in Bandung. They told me a story of how they met: it involves a roundabout at Jl. Dr. Otten, Bandung. Under the shade of the waving mahogany branches, my father rode a motorcycle on one side of the roundabout, going from his dorm at Jl. Dago to his campus at Jl. Dipati Ukur, while my mother rode a motorcycle on the other side, going from her house at Jl. Pasirkaliki to her campus at Jl. Merdeka. Their family already knew each other, so the story is probably romanticized, but yet it is in those frequent rendezvouz that they fell in love. My mother, three years senior to my father, was fixing her mind to her study, not marriage. “But your father was very persistent” she said with a smile.

They got married in Queen Restaurant Bandung, on December 22^nd , 1974. After the marriage, they had three children: Harry Hardianto Nazarudin, and twin sisters Erika Amelia Nazarudin and Erina Natania Nazarudin. My memories of my childhood were very happy ones, although we did not have much at that time. I remember my father went to work on a red ‘Duck’ Honda 50 motorcycle, often braving through rains and bad weather. I remember our first black and white TV, which was a great luxury for us. But my father always cherished his cars – it is by the cars he owns, he measures his success. We went from a frequently-broken battered-old Peugeot 405, to a rattling loud red Daihatsu Taft, and finally my father managed to buy his first pride: a green Honda Civic Wonder sedan. “I dreamt last night, that your grandpa came and had a look at our new car!” he exclaimed to me one morning.

Tooth by tooth, filling by filling, he managed to grow our family’s finances from scratch. We moved from a small house at Jl. Bima 155, where he had his private practice, to Jl. Walik 11. We spent some years there, then moved to Jl. Bima 98, right in front of his practice, so he does not have to travel far to go to work. This house was his dream: bought as a run-down house, he built it brick by brick over long periods of time, depending on a tight budget, to become a 2 story residence. His prized car also improved: now it’s a white Honda Accord Maestro. He used to polish and treat the car like his most valuable possession, nobody could tamper with its white paint.

Nothing could have prepared us for what was coming in 2007: on a dark day, July 15^th, 2007, his daughter, dr. Erina Natania Nazarudin, who studied medicine and was sent on assignment in Fakfak, West Papua, lost her life in a car accident after having saved 2 lives: a mother and her baby with a birth problem. It was a shock for the whole family, whom hitherto had a peaceful, calm, and happy life. This was the first introduction to death, in its most dreadful form, for the whole family. My father was deeply saddened by the incident. But after a while, he seemed to accept it. “Erina is already happy in Heaven” he said, repeatedly. “It is the living that we need to take care of”.

Dad has an uncanny ability to laugh. Whenever he gathers with his companions, there is always laughter on the table. His friends call him names, and he would retaliate. He is a true sanguine: from laughter to anger, from sadness to joy, for him it’s just a matter of time. They were all short bursts – he was never sad or angry at long periods of time. He is always good with people, he can connect with almost everybody. Being a doctor, his true calling is to help people. And he is always proud of it. “Doctors work on their own – there is no boss to supervise you. So you can only be true to yourself” he said. That’s also why, he never became ‘a businessman’ he’d always wanted to be. The business world is just too complex for him – full of mischief and dark strategies. Yet, sometimes he became disappointed with himself, not being able to be ‘the rich businesspeople’.

On death, he had one wish. “I don’t want to be sick for a long time” he said once. “If my time comes, just make it quick – I don’t want to be a burden to the living”. Just a few weeks before, we had a conversation when he visited me in Jakarta, discussing about family members who have been given longevity. “Most of them, Dad, are not like your father – exuberant dynamic person with bursts of emotion. Most of them are calm, relaxed people, who accept life as it is and not trying to change it too much. So you have to be like that, if you want to live a long life” I told him. He smiled – he knew he’s not that type, and neither am I. On January 24^th, 2012, in the arms of his wife Ketty Nazarudin, at their residence in Jl. Bima 98, Drg Daniel Nazarudin passed away suddenly after having his last dinner: a hearty portion of chicken satay and lontong from his favorite, RM Sate ‘Asli’ at Jl. Maulana Yusuf Bandung. He passed away according to his wish: blisteringly fast, sending another shockwave for the family.

But then again – as Dad always said: we need to care for the living, as the dead is already happy with Lord Jesus in Heaven. Looking back, if there is one thing that I could change, it is that I would like him to see myself making a family, going through struggles and tribulations as he did, listening to his advice along the way. It is rather sad that as my journey is starting, his ended. What I can do now, is to share memories of him, like he did with his own father, and uses it to propel my life into the future with great confidence and strength, so Dad would visit me in a dream one day when I buy my first Ferrarri and said: Well done son!  I know you can do it!

Farewell, Dad. Till we meet again.

PS: please pray for my mother, Ketty Nazarudin, who is currently being treated for stroke at a hospital. May the Lord give her strength to move on.

Bandung, 29 January 2012

Losing Your Spirit

Spirit can be defined as something that fuels your life. It can be a passion, religion, love, or anything that lights up your life. It is something that makes you wake up in the morning, even earlier every day, to start your exciting 24 hours run. It is something that makes you want to change yourself to be better, to be stronger, to improve. It is something that makes you feel happy when you look at yourself in the mirror, and say, yes, here we go! Let’s rock and roll!

One spirit can be strong enough to drive many things, drive the whole life. A spirit in sports for athletes, for example, does not only mean physical training. It drives a person to have a better mental toughness, it drives an individual to become more adaptive to the surrounding, or drives a person to be better. A spirit often acts as a driving force when someone is in trouble, and lack of spirit leads to trouble. A drug addict, for example, probably became a drug addict because he or she does not have any spirit for life. And if one finds it back – in the form of religion, passion, activity, or the suffering of loved ones – it is their ticket to survival. There is a process when something turns into a spirit – parents of a drug addict, for example, have been concerned about their son or daughter’s problem from the beginning. But the person keeps on, until a moment, a turning point, when the tears of the mother or father become the spirit. Then the person is willing to change, willing to come out, willing to move on – because he or she has a spirit.

Therefore, losing your spirit can be a very devastating experience. Because, the negative effect of a spirit when it is lost, equals the positive effect. When a spirit is lost, it can lead to setbacks not only for one field or area where the spirit lies, but also spreads to other fields and completely destroys a person’s life. When a spirit is lost, waking up in the morning becomes a return to a never-ending nightmare, even the worst real nightmare is no match for it – because from this one you know you won’t be able to wake up. Starting your day becomes a horrible experience, facing the devastating 24 hours ahead. Look at yourself in the mirror, and you see a nightmare – you see a failure, you see a face without hope. A face that is not shining, not bright – a grin not a smile, a look in the eyes that reveals a mist of tears.

Losing a spirit in one field can also spread to other fields. Losing your loved ones, for example, may come from a small corner of your life when you interact with that person. But it can spread to others quickly. What used to be fun, now seems dull. What seems to be exciting, now seems to be another reminder of that particular failure. What used to be a happy experience, is now reminiscence of a sad goodbye. So, it is a very difficult situation. You just can’t escape the grief – there is no way out. No activity is fun enough, no action is suitable. Only darkness falls upon life, day after day.

Therefore to lose a spirit is a devastating experience. There is no way out but just to brave it and go through, hope that you come out on the other side in one piece. Try to be as busy as possible, although it may not be fun but it diverts your mind from the main issue. It is terrible, I know, but braving yourself is the only way out of this situation.

Don’t worry, there will always be a rainbow after the storm? I wouldn’t say that too early. What if there is no rainbow? What if it is only the storm that passes by? It can happen. And if it does, it’s another wild ride into the world of depression. Nevertheless, if it can ease the pain, then do it. Whatever eases the pain – even the tiniest thing such as a lollypop candy or a bottle of whisky – go for it.

Whatever you do: stay alive.

(copied from 'Coping with Life' by John Dempsey)

Tapi Bukan Aku

jangan lagi kau sesali keputusanku

ku tak ingin kau semakin kan terluka

tak ingin kupaksakan cinta ini

meski tiada sanggup untuk kau terima

aku memang manusia paling berdosa

khianati rasa demi keinginan semu

lebih baik jangan mencintaiku, aku dan semua hatiku

karna takkan pernah kau temui cinta sejati

berakhirlah sudah semua kisah ini

dan jangan kau tangisi lagi

sekalipun aku takkan pernah mencoba kembali padamu

sejuta kata maaf terasa kan percuma

sebab rasaku tlah mati untuk menyadarinya

semoga saja kan kau dapati

hati yang tulus mencintaimu

tapi bukan aku

kerispatih

di malam di sebuah taman

The Dilemma of The Forever Single Type

Nowadays, the world has seen a new kind of youngsters. Children of the modern world, who were born with nothing but not end up with CD-s, LCD monitors, Blackberrys, iPhones, and Twitter. Children who were born in the time that it was cool for rock stars to wear long hair. You know, these children have gone through quite a shock in their lifetime. When they were born, there was only one phone in every house, if any. Numbers connect to a location, not a person. Other than phones, there was only letters. First, you have to write the words on a paper with a pen. It takes about 10-30 minutes to finish, depending on the topic. Then, you have to go to a post office, and send the letter. In Indonesia, the letter will reach the other party about 2-3 days, if he or she is in the same city, about 1 week for destinations in another city, and even months for destination abroad. Actually, when writing a letter you kind of ‘let it go’. You don’t know what will happen to the letter, or in what form it will reach the other party. You kind of send it and hope, that the message is received well on the other side.

I know, it sounds like ancient history, but actually it is not that long ago. It’s not the time, it is the technology that has been moving faster than time. Now, we have handphones. Each person has one, if not two (I have three). Numbers are now connected to a person, not a house. Communication is more direct and fast. Then, we have emails. No more post office, we can click and send anything we want. If it doesn’t arrive within the next second, no matter where the destination is – we quickly complain to the administrator or check the system. Yes, it is THAT fast. We can have a reply within the next minute. With the arrival of Blackberrys, iPhones, and now, Twitter and Facebook, communication has become even faster and more efficient. We don’t only connect person to person – we connect person to group, or group to group. With Twitter, you can broadcast your message, which means more than one person can read it, respond to it, and you can connect with all of them pretty much at the same time.

Quite a shock, eh? From telephone (with those dialing discs) to Twitter (with those micro-keyboards).

What is the impact of these? It’s the number of people we met in our life. My parents were born in the 1960-s. Yes, they also grappled with handphones and sms nowadays, but I can say they’re not avant-garde communication technologist. But, say, if your dad sends one letter every week, he can collect maybe 4 new acquaintances, judging that one letter takes a week to arrive. In a year, then, 28 new contacts. So, in their lifetime, by the time they reach the age for marriage, they know probably about 200 people. Close enough to choose a life partner from, maybe around say 10%, so 20 people. And, there was Mom, a shy girl in polka-dot babydoll dress. Voila!
But look at me know, as an example. I have 174 contacts in my Blackberry Messenger, 150 followers on my Twitter account, about 80 facebook friends (highly controlled, with 120 waiting to be approved), and a mailing list with 15.000 members. So in total, I have officially 524 friends and 15.000 people know me by name. And I’m not a celebrity. Yes, some of them have double accounts, but I do not count all the people I met during my travel, my working colleagues, my classmates, my business partners, my church friends. So in total, probably I met about 20.000 people in my life, about perhaps 2000 I know well, have contacts each month, and they know my face and my name. Take 10% from that: 200 people. Dad had to choose from 20 people. My choice is among 200 people. Where’s Wally?

It is ironic, isn’t it? The more people you know, the slimmer you chance is of meeting the right one. The more you have alternatives, the more you wait. If you are a successful businessman/woman, if you worked hard enough to build a considerable budget for a living, if you belong to those well-to-do youngsters – then it’s even worse. Maybe, just maybe, you fall in the category of the ‘forever single’ group.

How do you define a ‘forever single’ group? A young person. Maybe in his/her 30-s. Well to do, a successful employee. Quite rich, can afford to frequent cafes, restaurants, or the hippest club in town, thanks to years of living alone without any family to support. With their free time, they spearhead the communication revolution. They are active twitter, facebook, Blackberry, or iPhone users. Mailing lists, a must. Clubs, also a must. Here and there. They normally pick a hobby: those cool hobbies that the early-weds can only dream on. Photography, dance, food, cooking, motorcycle, bicycle, anything. They have one of the coolest gadgets in their club, become like a geek on the subject. As years go by, and Wally’s not in sight, they became an expert on the subject. They organize seminars, speak in public, still with their cool gadgets, cool dress or shirt, still looks handsome or pretty. They become public figures, 1000 facebook friends, 500 Twitter followers. “Oh, you’re so lucky!” many said to them. “Young, single, successful, smart, sexy, and kind!” they say. The forever single guy/girls, smiles to accept further glorifying comments.

“If only you could find someone to marry...”

Or something like that. Smile turns to grin, change subject immediately.
What the heck happened? Yes, forever single people don’t want to get married. We want to stay free. With more than 500 contacts and 2000 facebook friends to keep in touch with, we don’t have time for families. We have nephews and nieces. If we need family, we just visit them. Of course they are happy to see uncle brings gifts and candies! But hey, who needs to see them when they cry, puke, or poop. We just drop in when needed! Besides, why should I be with anyone? I’m doing fine by myself!

Of course not, and I guess that’s the only thing that separates me from the ‘forever single’ group. It’s lonely at the top, they say, and I hate being lonely. If you feel the same, just say it, don’t be ashamed of it. These times are difficult times for people like us. If parents or older people try to be wise and tell you, “You know, when I was young, I met my wife during highschool...” then you simple reply, “Oh yeah? How many facebook friends do YOU have at that time?”. Well, in the time of dialing discs, I could have gotten married at 17. But now, you see, the challenge is not how to pursue. It’s how to choose. And even statistics agree, that as more possibilities are available, there more permutations possible, so it will be more difficult it is to find a match. And that’s a numerical match. Personal match? Almost impossible!

What’s the solution, then? Should we end up in an abyss of friends and contacts? Should we stay in our mailing lists until we grow old together, moving into a nursing home with wifi connections so that everyday we can chat and tweet as if we were young, till death do us part? Well, the solution is not easy. Why am I not a forever single guy? Why am I doing, trying to possibly ruin a good relationship with someone I meet online just because I think I love her? Should I just keep her on my contacts, meet her just every time the mailing list organize a gathering, or just be happy together with no strings attached?

Well, fellow facebookers, maybe what I did was stupid. Afterall, all these new identities: facebook account, twitter name, yahoo group email name, kind of change us into a different person. I am no longer Gunawan Tri Susanto, I am @Guntri, a forever single mastermind of many talents. But I can’t deny that when I was born, it was Gunawan Tri Susanto that was written in my birth certificate. I am still the same boy dialing a phone disc trying to approach my classmate at elementary school. So I am still me. And no matter how sophisticated my network is, there is the one that I just say to myself, if I don’t do this, I will regret it in my life. Does it risk a good friendship? Will it ruin a ‘safe’ relationship? Maybe yes. Well, if it’s just about friendships or blackberry contacts, I have many of them. I am sure that someday we can be back again as friends, even if now it doesn’t look good.

Will I stop trying then? Just give up among these twitter followers, facebook friends, blackberry contacts, or mailing list members? Just swim around forever in an endless see of friends?
No. And not because I don’t want to. Because I can’t. I am still a person. I am not a robot, not a smartphone, or not a notebook. I do have a database of friends in my head, but I believe, as long as I still rely on brain cells and a human heart, instead of a microchip and a plastic pump, I am still a human, able to feel love. There will be one blackberry contact or facebook friend or twitter follower, who will glow among the millions of others. This one, is prepared by Him to be mine. This one, is then THE ONE.

Until then, I will wait. And pray. And you should too. Just admit that we’re mere humans. Then someone will glow, not just the battery indicator of your blackberry.

GTS – Gunawan Tri Susanto

Love

What is love?

It inspires probably 90% of all art forms in the history of mankind. Ever since our ancestors had the first idea to draw stuff on the walls of a cave, love is present. Love for hunting, love for the nature, love for each other. Distorted images of a woman, painted by a man, or a man painted by a woman, is present even in the oldest cave paintings in the world. What inspired hairy cave-dwellers who grunts and eats raw meat, to mix red and white color and create funny images on the walls of their cave, or simply blow their hand imprint, an activity which is totally nonsense, not useful, and will not help in hunting or providing food for the day? Love. There is a feeling growing in the hearts of these rough semi-humans, a feeling that is so strong, that drives them to draw, paint, use colors, sculpt, and create flutes from bones. A completely useless activity, yet it is this very activity that separates humans from other animals.

What is love?

Before humans embrace the concept of God, love is thus the only law that governs early humans. There was no God. There was no government. There was no The United Nations. There were only a group of cave-dwelling humans, but they refrain from eating each other or killing each other. They protect their children, protect their women, albeit to continue their survival. Selfish gene? Come on, cave dwellers don’t think about survival of their bloodline. They wouldn’t survive with their own claw, or strength, or size. Mammoth would have trampled on them, they would become the equivalent of chicken nuggets for Tyrannosaurus Rexes. If it only about genes trying to survive, they would not have made it through such a violent neighborhood. Why would they organize themselves so well, find caves, and hunt so efficiently? Love. Love for their families, love for each other. It might had come in the form of looking for ticks on the head of their favorite cave-dweller-lady, but it was love, no doubt.

What is love?

When the concept of God and religion arrived, love turns into law. I dare to say that love is a basic concept in almost all religions: Buddhism, Islam, Christian, Hinduism, and many others. Love is then interpreted into a set of rules, a list of how to-s, a book of dos and don’ts. Love embraces a new meaning, turns into a way of life. Christianity, for example, sits solely on the basis of love. When Jesus Christ was asked, what is the most important law in the world, or if I rephrase it, if Jesus would summarize all the Torah of Judaism and squeeze them down to several words, what would it be? Marking His genius, He replied with two sentences, both with ‘love’ as its main imperative. Love in Christianity is the most important concept, the very reason why we are here today. Yet, love is perfect, but law is not. The laws of religions can be twisted and turned to something else: violence, hatred, conflicts. Religion has become a bastion that soldiers should fight for, instead of a way of life based on love. Love is being eroded day by day, turned into politics.

What is love?

Love is in our everyday love nowadays. Love is in the radio, in the internet, on TV. Love is projected everywhere, in art, design, and structure. Love is defined, thought about, and discussed on in a myriad of seminars and classes. Yet in this modern world, humans have lost the true meaning on love. As a modern man, do we still feel love? What is love? Do I still feel it? Which part of my life is most shaken by love? Where do I feel it most? As a modern man, I am religious. I know love for God, I know love for my fellow humans. I donate to World Vision, I pray and go to church, I don’t kill people. There is an opinion that says, there are three kinds of love: love for God, is the highest level. Love for fellow human, is the second level. The third, lowest level, Eros, is love between a man and a woman. Why? Because Eros love is so selfish. Eros love is evil, it demands love in return. It demands the other party to love us back, unlike the other two more generous love. Eros is a bad, bad boy. Or is it?

I disagree with that. Because, for the cave-dwellers, there was only Eros love. And the system is working: one cave-dweller guy looks at a cave-dweller girl, then they fall in love. The cave-dweller girl loves him back. Okay, maybe he raped her already when that happened, but still they ended up together, then the family love starts. So Eros love, by all means, is the most basic form of love, most indigenous, and most felt in our heart. Just be honest to yourself: yes you love God and God loves you, you love each other and the others love you, but when do you feel it most in your gut, when we’re talking about love? From girlfriend/boyfriend, husband/wife relationship, of course. When do you cry for days, or sing for days, about love? Yes, of course people also sing and cry for days for God and other people. But, hey – everyone is a teenager at one point, and just admit it: if you’re smiling when you’re reading this, with flashing memories of your first kiss or first heart break, then you, and I, are only humans!

What is love?

I struggle with this question for a long time. Do we, in this modern world, as brilliant managers, as well-to-do employees, and as middle-upper class in a rapidly developing country, still feel love? I thought I can buy love. I thought there is a price tag somewhere on the word ‘Love’. And indeed people are trying to buy and sell it. But they can’t buy the feeling. And am I wrong if I feel it? Of course not. I am just a human, descendant of a cave-dweller guy to fall in love in a cave-dweller girl thousands of years ago. But as a modern human, it is shocking for me to feel it. To have the urge to continue, even if the chances are slim, if not nonexistent. To have the urge to ask again, although I had an idea that I wouldn’t like the answer. To move on, although it is as if I am going through a wall. Then why is it a wall? Why won’t I like the answer? Why are my chances so slim? As powerful, brilliant, know-everything, as I am, now I am forced to bend on my knees and pray. Just because of... love? Something even dumb cave-dwellers can have. I just want to be loved back, as my egoistic low-level Eros love demands. I just want to feel how it’s like to hold and to be held, to be at ease with myself, knowing that someone is there for me. Why can’t I work out a mathematical solution to work it out, or device a synthetic polymer to lubricate things properly so that it just happens? Must I bother God by asking His miracle, just for an unimportant, low-level, egoistic, selfish Eros love?

Yes, I am asking for a miracle.

And God, please stop laughing and make things happen... You win. I give up!

GTS

Java Jazz Festival 2011 – Drunk on Jazz

The Java Jazz Festival 2011, held on 4-6 March 2011, at the Jakarta International Expo Kemayoran, was the crown jewel of Indonesia’s musical history. The festival is held annually in Indonesia, inspired by the North Sea Jazz Festival in the Netherlands, where many Indonesian bands were invited. This festival has been through difficult times in 1998 when almost no foreign artists were willing to come and perform in Jakarta. Now, along with better security and economy, the festival has raised its bar. More stars are coming and with lower admission ticket prices, more people can afford to come and enjoy the performance.

First of all, let me say two thumbs up for the organizer. In Indonesia, most people are satisfied by being just ‘mediocre’. We are happy with something ‘just as it is’, with no urge to reach perfection. Look at our highway system, our Busway system, and many more: we know there are loopholes, but instead of striving for excellence in providing public service, the term ‘it’s better than none’ often stays as the only answer, besides a myriad of reasons ‘why we can’t do better’. The Java Jazz Festival organizer has shown, than even Indonesians can be perfect, if we want to. Ticket orders by e-mail went smoothly. Reply was quick, the system works, the website carefully updated. On the venue, perfection continues: ticket scanning is swift and efficient, line-ups are organized neatly, copy-cat tickets are caught efficiently. My worry about tickets not valid due to this or that reason because I did not see a person when I bought it online, vanished away. Bravo!

I am more used to classical music performances, so jazz shows are new to me. I am used to strict rules of performance, hushed audience and serious music. Enjoying a jazz festival is very different. Each venue presents different musicians, from Cubans to Indonesian pop/jazzy shows. You can drop in to a venue, see what’s going on there, stay if you like it, and leave if you don’t – because there are more shows next door. Performers are then forced to give their best, as they are competing against each other to get audience. So they give their best, with flashlight flashing and people talking. But not only to the audience – the performers give their best for themselves. Look at the bassist at the background, the bongo player on the corner, or the background singers at the very back of the stage: they seem to enjoy themselves so much! Their expressions are deep and whole-hearted, their skills sky-high, their love for jazz shows in every wink and smirk that they make. This is a spirit or freedom, a spirit of jazz!

Jazz, different to classical music, is an independent art. You need an orchestra or minimum a trio to enjoy classical music properly. Yes, there are solo piano performances, but the depth of the composition is best felt when performed by many people in an orchestra. Jazz, though, is different, something which I found a bit peculiar sometimes. My classic comment on jazz is: ‘The performer enjoys playing so much that they forget, there are people listening with a headache’, is somewhat true. Jazz relies heavily on solo performances, there is always a section where everyone – from percussion to piano – has a chance to show off their skills. This pushes everyone to increase their skills, so jazz musicians normally have high standards of musical skills. In the 1980s, most Indonesian pop stars come from jazz musicians: for them, singing or composing pop music feels like a breeze. Therefore, in those days, our pop music is deeper and more sophisticated. Nowadays, most Indonesian pop singers come from either talent shows or street singers, making their venture in music shorter and less sophisticated.

One more thing about jazz, is that it is a modern music. In classical music, microphones are seen as ‘the enemy’, use of amplifications is a big no-no for performances. In Jazz, the singers are very familiar with the technology, not only microphones, but also synthesizers, electric guitars, and many others. Roberta Gambini for example, who performed on Sunday at the Semeru Room, showed an extravagant skill in vocal performance. She makes sound effects by imitating a saxophone, using and exploiting the microphones to create a blissful musical performance. Lights, which are also used to add dramatization, plays a part in serving the audience with an audio-visual experience. Music is now not just music: with lights, expressions of the players, and exotic sound exploration, it has become an art.

Seeing a live musical performance is always a different experience. ‘Seeing it LIVE’ means you can see the artists perform in front of you. Music, is more than a physical activity, it is art. It is even more than art, it is soulful, powerful, magical, inspiring. And even in the days of technology with large screen TV, multi-angled shots, and 3D screens, there is no better way to feel the power of music than to see it live. George Duke is not just playing the synthesizer, he is transferring his passion and energy through his synthesizer. The Afro Cuban Club is not just singing, they can make you move even if you have no clue what a tango is. And George Benson, my God, he sings my life away with ‘The Greatest Love of All’. Seeing him sing it, live, being able to feel his energy and his deep expressions, is a feeling that is unforgettable and unmatchable. By seeing a live performance, you don’t just hear the music: you also feel it. As the music ends, the feeling also finishes its journey.

“Java Jazz Festival Ends with Romance” is the title of a feature article on Java Jazz Festival in the Jakarta Post newspaper today. It is actually too simple to call it ‘romance’: it is passion, skill, perfection, and love. Romance is but a facet of love, and calling it ‘love’ will be more appropriate. Love of the music, love of the performance, love of the talents, and love of the atmosphere: that cozy, relaxing feeling you get when you enter a lounge with jazz music. The same feeling you get as you enter the venues of Java Jazz: relaxed, just breathe and be ready for a blissful entertainment. It was so enjoyable, such a lovely day that I do not want to ruin it with anything. It probably has caused me my beautified life as I leave the venue with empty hands, but I just want to remember Java Jazz as Java Jazz, a beautiful Sunday afternoon with the one I loved. Now, I will have to move on with a saying from George Benson: learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.

Selamat Natal, Sayang!

Senyumnya menyambutku di depan pintu, ketika pintu itu kubuka. Ia masih cantik, secantik ingatanku sejak pertama kali kami bertemu. Lesung pipinya terbentuk manis ketika senyum yang tersungging di bibirnya yang merah basah semakin lebar melihat wajahku.
“Hai, akhirnya datang juga” katanya, dengan kerlingan mata yang memang membuatku berdebar sejak pertama kali kita bertemu. Akupun masuk ke ruangan itu. Tangannya menggamit lenganku dengan mesra, sebuah kecup sayang mendarat di pipiku, tak lama sesudah aku melangkah masuk.
Rupanya, ia sudah bersiap menyambutku. Wajahnya yang cantik ini nampak semakin ayu, dengan riasan yang sederhana namun anggun, sesuai permintaanku. “Kamu tambah cantik lho, kalau riasanmu sederhana begini” kataku beberapa waktu lalu, yang pastilah masih diingatnya untuk malam ini. Ruangan kecil itu sudah dihiasnya dengan beberapa batang lilin yang menyala di sudut-sudut, sehingga cahaya menguning temaram membuat suasana di sekeliling kami tambah syahdu.
“Miss me?” kataku sambil meliriknya, yang dibalas dengan senyumannya yang manja. Ah, senyum itu, yang selalu aku ingat selama ini. Senyum yang manis, dengan wajah yang senantiasa ceria. “Ya iya dong koko, selalu…” katanya manja. Ia membimbingku ke dekat ranjang. Aroma wangi melati tersebar di seluruh ruangan, dan kulihat taburan kelopak mawar nampak menghiasi seprai putih yang terpasang rapi. Ia menggenggam tanganku semakin erat. Jantungku berdebar-debar, hatiku bergemuruh. Aku peluk dia dengan penuh rindu, dan ketika tubuh kami bersentuhan, aku bisa merasakan gemuruh yang sama datang dari dadanya. Aku tersenyum sekali lagi kepadanya. Kali ini ia tidak tersenyum, namun memejamkan matanya, lalu mengecup bibirku pelan-pelan.
Aroma itu, wangi tubuhnya, serta kelembutan bibirnya yang kini bertautan dengan bibirku, seketika membuatku mabuk kebayang. Aku segera membalas dengan ciuman mesra. Segera kutumpahkan rindu yang sudah kusimpan beberapa waktu lamanya, ketika aku tidak bisa menemuinya karena tugas kantor. Kamipun berpelukan semakin erat, ciuman berbalas dengan ciuman, sampai hatiku menggelora. Gejolak cinta yang sudah terpendam, yang kusimpan baik-baik sampai bisa bertemu lagi dengannya, kini tumpah ruah, memenuhi ruang hatiku dan aromanya merebak ke sekeliling kami.
Cinta pun terpagut. Kami terjatuh ke atas ranjang, seprainya yang semula terbentang rapi kini berantakan. Aroma melati semakin merebak, seiring dengan kelopak mawar yang beterbangan. Kami berpautan semakin erat, masing-masing menumpahkan cintanya. Pernahkah Anda merasakan hal yang sama, ketika cangkir cinta Anda terasa begitu penuh sampai tumpah ruah isinya? Inilah saat-saat itu. Kami menikmati keberadaan satu sama lain sampai puas, mereguk cinta dan kenikmatan tiada tara yang datang dari padanya. Cinta anugrahNya kepada setiap mahluk hidup, cinta yang diidam-idamkan setiap manusia. Dalam hati aku berasa beruntung, memilikinya di sisiku. Memilikinya pada saat aku membutuhkan cinta, pada saat cangkirku penuh dan terasa akan pecah menampung luapan perasaan yang terus mengalir bagai sungai-sungai pesisir Jawa di kala musim hujan. Indah, indah nian cinta ini.
Kami terus berpagutan, sentuhan demi sentuhan membawa kami semakin dalam terlelap dalam mimpi cinta yang tak terperikan indahnya. Kulitnya yang halus, yang untuk beberapa waktu lamanya hanya bisa kunikmati lewat mimpi-mimpi keji di malam yang kelam, kini ada di hadapanku, terbuka, tersedia untukku. Akupun menuangkan cintaku lagi kepadanya, kepada kehalusan sentuhannya, kepada aromanya, kepada aura kecantikannya yang tidak pernah gagal membuatku terpana. Aku terpejam, penglihatan mataku nampaknya terlalu sederhana dan hina untuk melukiskan keindahan ini. Lebih baik aku biarkan anganku melayang-layang, melanglangbuana menelusuri lekuk liku cintanya, menjelajahi setiap sudut keindahannya, sampai aku tersesat menuju hatinya. Sampai aku tidak tahu lagi aku akan kemana, aku hanya terduduk, terdiam, terpejam, menyerap semua cinta yang ada di sekelilingku, bagai seorang pecandu yang merasakan kenikmatan narkotika menggerayangi seluruh tubuh dan pikirannya.
Pelan-pelan terdengar suara napas kami terengah-engah, cinta mulai bertransformasi menjadi sebuah bentuk yang lebih buas. Kolom-kolom gelap dalam pikiranku, sudut-sudut ruang yang berlumut dan berdebu dalam ruang hatiku, mendadak terbuka lebar di hadapannya. Aku telanjang, tidak ada satupun yang bisa kusembunyikan. Semuanya terbuka luas, pada mulanya terasa mengagetkan, namun kemudian terasa nyaman. Cinta itu mengalir membanjiri ruang-ruang gelap itu, dan membasahinya dengan kehangatan yang membuatku gemetar. Hentakan-hentakan napas semakin memburu, ketika aliran cinta itu sudah nyaris selesai membasahi semua ruang hatiku. Aku mulai terengah-engah, menahan gempuran cinta yang bertubi-tubi. Perasaan yang selama ini terasa kering, sepi, dan sunyi, kini terasa hangat oleh cinta. Hangat oleh pelukannya, oleh sentuhannya.
Kehangatan yang terus memuncak, membuat tubuhku terasa semakin panas. Cinta itu menggelegak! Ia kehabisan ruangan di dalam hatiku. Semua sudutnya sudah penuh, segala sisinya sudah terbanjiri. Kini aliran cinta itu memuncak menyeruak, membuatku semakin terengah-engah. Akhirnya, aliran itu menemukan muaranya pada sebuah pantai cinta yang tak terperikan indahnya. Deburan ombak lembut menyapu pantai hamparan pasir putih yang mengkilat terkena sinar matahari. Semuanya kosong, hanya ada aku dan dia disana. Angin sepoi-sepoi menerpa kulit kami yang berpeluh. Indah nian, muara ini. Muara dimana bibir bertautan dan cinta berlabuh.
Sebuah kecupan mendarat di pipiku. Senyumnya terkembang kembali, kali ini kubalas dengan pelukan erat, meskipun tubuhku enggan bergerak. Ia tertawa geli. Sejenak kami terbaring diatas ranjang itu, menikmati masa-masa indah ini.
Ia terbangun, lalu melangkah ke kamar mandi. Kuperhatikan setiap lekuk tubuhnya, yang masih indah sama seperti dulu waktu kita pertama kali bertemu. Aku ingat masa-masa indah bersamanya, ketika kami bepergian bersama, atau malam-malam penuh cinta yang kami alami. Ia tahu, aku memperhatikannya. Ia tertawa, lalu melempar handuknya ke arahku. Wajahnya memerah. Ah, cintaku. Masih sama seperti dulu.
Aku menyalakan sebatang rokok. Ia kini duduk di sebelahku, dengan handuk membalut tubuhnya sampai ke dada. Kini ia sudah wangi kembali. Ia duduk termenung sejenak, lalu membaringkan kepalanya di atas bahu kananku. Tak perlu ada kata-kata: terlalu miskin dan hina, menerjemahkan suasana cinta ini menjadi serangkaian huruf dan kalimat. Musik mengalun pelan, ditingkahi suara deruman penyejuk udara, dan detak jantung kami masing-masing. Kubelai kepalanya dengan lembut, dan ia terpejam. Cinta itu, walau sudah menyurut kini, masih menyisakan aliran-aliran lembut yang membelai hati kami. Lama kami duduk berdampingan, kepalanya tergolek di bahuku. Aku menikmati masa-masa ini, kelembutan kulitnya pada kulitku, aromanya yang harum semerbak mewangi dalam hidung dan hatiku.
Tiba-tiba, suara telepon berdering. Ia nampak kaget, lalu bergegas menghampiri pesawat telepon di sudut ruangan. Ia menjawabnya, menutup kembali telepon itu, lalu memandangku dengan sedih. Aku mengangguk, tanda mengerti. Sebuah perasaaan kelam menyeruak dalam hatiku, seperti setetes darah yang pelan-pelan mulai jatuh pada sebuah akuarium kecil.
Akupun berjalan ke kamar mandi, membersihkan diriku. Ia sudah siap disana, dengan pakaianku. Ia memakaikan celana dan bajuku dengan lembut. Ketika aku akan mengancing kemejaku, tangannya mencegahku. “Biar aku saja ko” katanya lembut, lalu dengan penuh kasih, satu persatu ia kancingkan kemejaku. Aku tersenyum, walaupun perasaan kelam itu kini semakin menyeruak. Akuarium itu kini menjadi semakin merah muda warnanya, darah yang merah dan keji terus-menerus menetes tanpa ampun ke dalamnya. Rasa pedih kini semakin nyata, menggantikan cinta yang baru saja berlalu.
Ia mengenakan kembali pakaiannya. Aku membuang muka, karena aku tahu, ia tidak suka kalau aku memandanginya saat ia berpakaian. Aku meraih dompetku, dan mengambil dua lembar uang seratus ribuan dari dalamnya. Kulipat-lipat sampai kecil, seolah malu terlihat oleh mata-mata yang tergantung di langit-langit sana. Begitu selesai, ia membalikkan badan, dan memandangku dengan senyumnya kembali. Ah, ia masih cantik, seperti dulu.
Kuselipkan lembaran uang itu ke genggamannya, seraya mendaratkan sebuah kecupan di pipinya.
“Terima kasih yah…” bisikku pelan.
“Sama-sama ko…” jawabnya dengan senyum.
Ketika aku akan berbalik, ia menyentuh pundakku.
“Ko, koko Natalan ya?”
“Iya.”
“Selamat Natal ya sayang…” bisiknya mesra, serasa mendaratkan kecupan ringan di pipiku.

Aku melangkah keluar ruangan itu. Akuarium hatiku kini merah seperti darah. Cinta yang tadi terasa begitu hangat, kini berubah menjadi hawa racun yang menyeruak dalam hatiku. Bau busuknya melayang-layang di dalam tubuhku, meninggalkan rasa tak sedap di dalam rongga mulutku. Langkah demi langkah kuambil dengan gontai, seraya aku kembali ke dalam kehidupanku yang sunyi. Secara tak sengaja, aku melihat bayanganku di sebuah kaca etalase toko yang aku lewati.
Sebuah wajah seorang tua yang penat. Rambutnya sudah botak, badannya kering dan keriput. Wajahnya kotor, berkerut dan berminyak seperti kertas koran yang dijadikan keset. Hatiku semakin pedih. Darah dalam akuarium itu kini tumpah berderai-derai, menyebarkan rasa sakit dan hawa racun berbau busuk ke setiap pelosok hatiku.
Tiba-tiba aku mendengar suara mengerikan seperti berasal dari sebentuk hantu yang muncul kembali dari lobang kubur. Menyeramkan, menjijikkan, membuat berdiri bulu kuduk sepasang telinga yang cukup sial untuk menerima gelombangnya.
“Selamat Natal, sayang…”

GTS, Bandung, 26 Desember 2010

Another copy paste by GTS - a dark recollection of christmas. This guy can write :)