Ex-girlfriend Diary
Badra and Stories Then
"Light, you come again. Just when my world was cramped and dark. I'm starting to live again."
The cathedral bell rings just as the sun is overhead. Badra stepped on her own shadow. With his towering body, he walked straight towards the pedestrian area with a pergola. Above the pergola was a pink and purple Bougenville in perfect bloom.
Kembang City during the rainy season sometimes has special days for heat. The rain keeps falling. Only, the time is sometimes only morning, only afternoon, or night until early morning. Today must be one of those special days. After the clouds clouded the sky in the morning, a torrential rain swept through the streets as dense as the Fruit of the Stone. Then during the day the road was completely dry, as if a splash of water from the sky as early as that myth.
Badra's steps are in a hurry. He had an appointment to meet someone. You could say, he was an old acquaintance of his late father. Badra had never met him. Only from the stories that Badra's father told captured the image of a hard-working man who was intelligent, humorous, tough, and valleys, so humble. Badra only knows his name is Mr. Beni.
Since the last conversation by phone, his mother only advised Badra to come to Mr. Beni's office on May 2 around lunch time. It is said that Mr. Beni also advised through his mother, Badra obliged, to come. And, another sponsor message also called important by his mother and Mr. Beni, Badra only allowed breakfast. He was not allowed to eat anything again after that until the time he came and met Mr. Beni in his office. Maybe Mr. Beni really hopes that Badra will be invited to lunch together.
Badra was sure he was coming to the right address. Just, seeing the magnificent and the magnitude of the building written as Mr. Beni's office in a digital note on his cellphone makes Badra doubtful. So, Badra ventured to send a short message to Mr. Beni. Yes, he has his contact number. Only, because he was hesitant and afraid to interfere with his activities, Badra refrained from contacting him a little bit just to ask about his office address.
Now it should have entered the time of day break in a series of general working hours. So, Badra dared to write a message that essentially he had arrived in front of the office page.
Maybe he should call instead of just texting. The problem is pulses and funds mepet critical. Instead of taking a taxi or ojek, Badra also chose to take city transportation. Walk a little while looking for an address, not a problem for him. As long as it could arrive at the right location and it was not too late, being able to meet the person he had made a pact with, that was enough.
While waiting for his message reply, Badra decided to go to the security guard post and make sure he came to the right location. After expressing the intention of his arrival, surprise after surprise began for Badra.
"Sir Beni? Beni saha, huh? Whose full name is it?" One of the officers dressed in black asked him. Badra nodded, not knowing.
"Or his department or, what division, De?" The other officer asked.
"That's me not knowing either, sir," I'm Badra.
The two officers standing guard stared at each other, puzzled as to not be able to help. "Well, what is the rich man? There's a picture of him, De?"
Badra nodded again. The contact number of Mr. Beni he received also did not have a profile photo and any instructions, as if the number was a new number, no additional information was included. The two officers were scratching their heads.
Wrong too. Doesn't he need to ask such things to Mr. Beni to be more clear when faced with a situation like this? "But we made a deal, sir. I was also asked to come to this address."
"Yes. The address is real, De. The problem is Mr. Beni who Ade looking for tea Mr. Beni which? Employees here hundreds of tea, De. Afraid of calling people wrong. Bisi ngaganggu wayahna break afternoon."
Another officer appeared to come. Fast, a little run. "Kang, if there is a guest from Jogja his name is requested immediately anterin to the lobby. The guest is Big Boss!" He was presented by the officer with a piece of paper note to two officers at the guard post. "Badra Ar-dha-ni?"
Badra. "Well! That's my name, sir!" He took out a lesson card from inside the wallet in the back pocket of his pants. Both officers checked his identification card.
"Well, Ade is Badra Ardhani?" Asked so, Badra nodded excitedly. Student card returned. "From Jogja?" ask the officer again. Answered a polite and calm nod by Badra.
"Come, De! I was waiting for Boss Beni inside," said the officer who came last while taking Badra to leave the guard post and walk towards the lobby. "A long time ago came, De?"
A brief chat with the officer was quite open Badra's eyes to who was actually his late father's thickest friend. Mr. Beni aka Boss Beni, aka Big Boss turned out to be a successful businessman, the highest leader, the, rich people and business magnates who want to hang out with security guards in tent stalls while coffee bandrex and eat reinforcements or comros without fear of the prestige of collapse.
That's how the officer who delivered Badra to the lobby, continued to the elevator, continued to the twelfth floor, then to the luxury waiting room with a soft maroon carpet as the base. In his heart Badra was quite groggy. He did not imagine meeting someone so special.
Well, the originally gray figure in Badra's mind is now starting to appear in the form of a rough sketch. Big boss. Maybe his father's age. The body may be fat or even fat. Usually successful people are called big fat bosses, right? Like in the movies he knows. If not her big body, dress her. Not big, but luxury perlente. Wear an expensive suit complete with tie, shiny pantofel leather shoes, then maybe also wear sunglasses.
Her hair? Umm, a pomade-style drizzle, if you still have thick hair. If the hair is thinning it may be almost bald and even bald at all. Don't know, Badra brushed off her own depiction in the mind.
A neat-looking woman kindly called out her name. "Mas Badra, from Jogja?" Badra nodded. The woman was apparently a secretary. From the identity card written his name. Erlin's. Badra entered the director's office.
The voice of a man was heard from behind the big dark brown chair. Badra could not see his face. "Okay, Senor Pedro, hablamos mad la proxima semana. Muchas Gracias." (Well, Mr. Pedro, we'll talk about next week. Thank you - bhs. Spanish)
His tone was so vibrant, warm, and nular-able that it could be felt by Badra.
Is this Mr Beni who is called the big boss aka the big boss? He's not big. But obviously a boss. True said his late father. Mr. Beni is a polyglot. Didn't she just hear him hang up the phone conversation in Spanish? About what his personality looks like, yes, Badra was curious.
"Weh! My son lanang wis teka, ta?" (My son has arrived? - bhs. Java)
Whoa!
The way he called Badra's name was more like a father who enthusiastically longed to welcome the baby who was first welcomed into the world. "We'll finally meet Badraaa!" He embraced Badra with great joy, at least that's what Badra felt. A father's embrace close to his son. It was as if Badra was his son.
"You look like your father! Uh, no ding! You are so much taller and handsome! I'm your father's underclassman. But because I was considered a wayward teacher deliberately told me to attend your father's class which is three generations above me."
He invites Badra to talk while having lunch in the company cafeteria. His arms embrace the familiar Badra. Sometimes he greeted and greeted employees who also ate there.
After some time from the meeting, Badra found out that employees there were given food and drink facilities by the company. The menu is diverse, very healthy, and tastes great!
In fact, all food and beverage ingredients used in office kitchens come from vegetable homes and farms that are also managed by subsidiaries in separate locations. This is a policy enacted across Benito Young Corporation subsidiaries. Even then adapted by several companies incorporated in the Benito Group.
The lunch event became a meeting place for different generations. Though this is the first ki the two see each other's face and appearance. However, anyone who saw them talking must have thought the two were close relatives or very familiar acquaintances.
Badra and Beni exchange stories. Badra introduced himself as his father's eldest son. She has a younger sister who is still in school in Yogyakarta and lives with her mother.
A little story about their school life and daily life and their own hopes to be able to study attracted the curiosity of Mr. Beni. Especially when Badra said he intended to find part-time work and postpone college because it was a matter of cost. College scholarships exist. But operational needs also require considerable funds.
"Rirly, Badra. There is determination, effort, and prayer, there must be a path and a result. You are my son too. About college, sorted. Just, shall we commit? You're my son. My foster-child. You will not dictate and manage your life. I'm just giving you direction and preparing for you to dig up all the lessons and lessons of my life for yours."
Hearing those words, Badra was stunned. The way Mr. Beni spoke was almost like his father when he was around. He saw his father come back to life in the figure of a man who turned out to be three years younger than his late father. "Why do you want to make me a foster child? My dad has a debt with you?"
Mr. Beni shook his head. "Among us there is no such thing as debt. My son is your father's son. You and your brother are my children. It's about promise. That promise must be kept. Dra, I promised your father. You must be a fruitful human being, for the glory of God and neighbor. Maiorem Dei gloriam. The man for others. Like the motto of school and our lives."
And a series of words that finally made Badra understand. This is perhaps a real experience, friendship more closely than the bond of blood. How can Mr. Beni immediately believe that he is really the son of his best friend first?
Badra was surprised, why he immediately felt familiar and bound inwardly to Mr. Beni. In one meeting that has not even an hour in duration, the warmth that feels beyond the meeting of many years. It is totally uncensurable. Especially when Mr. Beni told me about a little story. Badra became increasingly feel that Mr. Beni is not a stranger but his second father.
Mr. Beni claimed to be orphans since childhood. It grows and survives with the alms and care of people. Without any clear relatives and origins, he was adopted by a peddler in the city of Lumpia. It was from his adoptive parents that he had the name Benito with the surname Young. Before that, he had no clear name.
Mr. Beni's foster parents are not family. But the spirit and role model of hard work became the provision of young Benito to lead him to success today.
Little Beni is used to living a life of moving, following his foster family. Until Beni and Badra's father meet as onion and senior in each game when both settle in a small village near Kali Bawang, Kulonprogo. Beni who had already been jumped three generations and then became one generation with Badra's father while attending a homogenous male school in the city of Yogyakarta.
The two never broke communication despite the distance and time apart. You could say, there was no chance to meet. However, to keep exchanging news became a lifelong commitment for both.
On the phone, indeed. Let alone video calls, , even to exchange photos they do not want to. Not because it can not or clumsy, but bound by promises when young. The promise to talk face to face at some time either forced to run aground limited to hopes and ideals. Kadung Badra's father died one year ago, beating up his best friend.
Thirty-two minutes passed when Mr. Beni's secretary came, halting their conversation. The news was a surprise addition for Badra.
"Lho! Dato Atsaari's meeting will be tonight, Lin?" Mr. Beni widened his eyes when Mr. Erlin, his secretary informed the latest important meeting schedule. "Wad. Though our conversation just started," regretted Mr. Beni. "Oh, gini. Badra has a passport?"
"Passport? Got it, sir." Passport, make what a passport is, Inner Badra.
"Brought, no?"
Badra nodded. Not long ago Badra came home from the Kangaroo Continent to ambassador for student-level art actors, representing his school as a classical dancer Jogja. It was exactly one month before the graduation exam. Passport books are always carried, for some reason. Today it looks like his passport will be used again.
"OKAY. Come, follow! Our business is not done, Dra. You'll come home with me."
Like a three-second ad. The millionaire! The next two hours Badra was already walking beside Mr. Beni in Bandar Seri Begawan. About an hour and a half he observed and listened to the exciting and weighty conversation between Mr. Beni and Dato Atsaari, a lecturer in petroleum engineering at a campus in Brunei.
Badra daydreamed for a minute, counting a bunch of unexpected blessings that day The vice versa ticket was fully paid for. Plus the chance to enjoy Brunei coffee. Sitting in the lobby of Petro Dollar City's only international airport, urinate in the airport toilet and once in the restroom where meetings are held. There he can snack on wajik cake whose Brunei name is wajid and dinner fried noodles with the aroma of concentrated oyster sauce which said Erlin mbak is typical of Brunei style.
At night Badra was invited to hang out enjoying grilled corn on the terrace of Mr. Beni's house. Together with Pak Beni's two children, Damar who was his age, and Kara, five years under him, Badra suddenly felt his world was cheerful again. The world that had been gloomy, dark, suffocating stifling after his father left home is now starting to be illuminated by light. His world no longer felt so cold and shrinking, narrowing. There's warmth. There's hope.
Rinai rain makes the atmosphere of the night more shahdu. Protected canopy in the yard of old Dutch-style house in the area of Taman Anggrek, behind Jalan W.R. Supratman, Bandung, Badra and Mr. Beni continued the conversation which was stopped this afternoon. Commitment and future plans. About life and its continuation.
This is a story eight years ago. The story of a direct encounter between Badra Ardhani, the eldest son of his father's pride, and a big boss of the Benito Young Corporation. The story before Badra finally decided to call his second father with respect and affection, Boss Beni.
