Animal Sacrifice For Mother
2. Special Stage
Today his appearance is not as usual. It's not about the tight blue jeans that are torn in both parts of the knee. Nor is it a matter of the shadow of the ribs adorning his flattened body. If the voice is not good, then what is the reason for the hundreds of students and teachers who filled this place to applaud?
Here's where the problem is. He really wanted to perform like the idol when he was young. Ambitious. Starting from how to dress on stage, how to play the guitar, to the typical screams when the song verses voice reality. For him, through any media, consciousness must be constantly cultivated.
Arif the young man's name. He is one of the millions of fans of Virgiawan Listanto. Not everyone knows who is behind the name. What about Iwan Fals? Exactly it. Virgiawan Listanto is the real name of a legendary Indonesian musician born on September 3, 1963.
According to him, no other musician deserves the title as a musician without a generation, except Iwan Fals. Especially her hair when young. Hmm, Arif always hopes to have long hair like the idol. Honey, it's forbidden. But no problem, he still looks handsome despite his short hair.
Since he was in school, many friends did not like him. Arif is too idealistic, pretentious, they say. Not to mention that the short stories of his writings managed to penetrate the print media (local). They were definitely reluctant to glance at the school mading. Be aware. Almost all of his short stories always raise the theme of social life. It's the Street Portrait, it's the Former Whore, it's My Country, it's the Maling, and there's so much more. The songs sung were not separated from the problems of social life.
If you have time to visit his room, you will see the walls of the room filled with posters of Iwan Fals. The wall near the bed was deliberately made a little different. A black and white photograph mounted vertically, has been enlarged, it is located directly above the head. Well, a picture of his parents 30 years ago.
This morning, after taking Inaq to the market, Arif was allowed to attend an old school birthday. Two days before today, a school art teacher contacted him. He advised that Arif could take the time to attend to complete the festivities of the school anniversary event. So the guest star? Think of it that way, to make it sound cooler.
Armed with a guitar purchased with money won several writing competitions, Arif still looks attractive despite dressing modestly. At school, he met some friends. They didn't come to be guest stars. They came just to watch the festivities of the old school anniversary. They also repeat the stories that happened at this school.
“Hei, Arif. You're getting handsome.”
A woman said hello. Smilingly. Shake hands with Arif.
“You smell something, don't?”
One of the men looked at the other man standing next to him.
“Fart?” The woman continued. Wonder.
“Bau songs about social life.”
The man laughed. Followed by all of them. Including Arif himself.
By noon, the students did not reduce their enthusiasm to continue to look forward to the appearance of their friends. A great event from year to year. For some students, it is time to demonstrate their abilities. Some just enjoy everything that is displayed. In essence, all students look happy with this annual activity.
“Thank you my children. What an amazing appearance. Acting you are not inferior to famous Indonesian artists such as Anjasmara, Desi Ratnasari, even Christine Hakim.”
The school grounds were crowded with applause. The teachers just smiled. They understood, not all students knew who the artist named was. They're old artists.
“Next way, poetry reading contest. I'm sure you already know the theme. Books are the window to the world. But before that, we will first see the appearance of your brother. He's a student of this school. For all the students, if you want to win in the writing and poetry contest, your sister here is the right person to learn.”
The faces of all the students looked confused. They looked at each other here and there, figuring out who the person their teacher was talking about was.
“Since first entering in our beloved school until graduation, he has always been the best in the writing and poetry reading competition. Three years in a row. Not only that, he is also an expert in writing short stories (short stories). But dear,.”.
“Who, mom. Who is he?!”
One of the students shouted. Another friend insisted that time is money. Followed by the shout of ‘huuu’ from all other students.
“Good. Patience, patience. This is a person who is good at reading poetry, expert in writing short stories, but prefers to explore the potential in the field of music. We welcome our son, your brother, Arif!”
Applause again crowded accompanied Arif who walked casually to the stage.
“Thank you to Mr. Headmaster, Mr. and Mother beloved teacher. Thank you for coming uninvited.”
Arif looked at his old friend with a smile.
“Thank you to my dear sisters too. From the beginning, I always saw the appearance of your friends. It is true what our teacher's mother said: your looks are amazing. And now I am given the opportunity to perform on this special stage.”
Arif a little exaggerated to call the rows of classroom desks arranged in a tie, wrapped in dark green carpet as a special stage.
“Good. I'll sing a song for you all. Hope you can entertain.”
Silence moment. Seconds. Two seconds. Arif started playing guitar. Both of his eyes closed. His head looked up, trying to live out the passages for guitar passages played. That was already the hallmark of an Arif.
You are proud to promise
You screwed my mind
My dream is to stop in the sky
You LIED!”
The old song ends. The string of guitar strings is still heard. Stop briefly. A hand from Arif accompanies a thank you for the opportunity that has been given to him. Slowly descending from the stage, though the screaming students wanted to see another performance from him.
Next to the stage, Arif approached the teachers, as well as his classmates, then shook hands. Then home.
***
“Why Is Inaq crying? What's up?”
Inaq was shocked at the return of his eldest son. He immediately wiped away the tears with his palm while trying to smile. But Arif's a smart kid. He knew there could be no smoke, if there was no fire. He was 23 years old, no longer a child who was always curious about the small spider web.
***
