Idol Man, Never Leave a Trace with Hurt A Woman's Heart

Episode 113 Among Children and Karya Bag. 2

The children slowly grew up and had their own world. Rakasiwi is as crazy about the band as her father used to be. Cindy began to often lock herself in a room engrossed in reading story books.

Cindy, like Mardo, enjoys reading and buying new books.

Every Sunday the little girl took him to the bookstore.

"Dad, isn't today busy?"

If you have asked like that, a sign of something. There's a shrimp behind the rock.

"No, why?"

"Well, well, buy a new book, my reading's up."

"Antarin?, if only you said there was a Mr. Yuda, he was the one who sent."

"Emm he he he, all nemanin ding."

If Raka is still indifferent then Cindy will say again, "I'm his son father is not his son, Mr. Yuda.

People will misunderstand, but it's up to you. "I would have guessed his son, Mr. Yuda, was not Raka's father's son."

"Cindy wants to be Yuda's son, right?"

"No! I want to be the son of Raka Bramantyo's great father dong, accompany me only."

Be Raka take Cindy to the bookstore, of course Tria asked to come with her brother and father. And if they leave it can usually be hours.

Mardo Bete and don't know what to do. Rakasiwi and her sister Dode must be confined every Sunday in a special room soundproof. They beat up the band tools belonging to their father who had been given to his two children.

When quiet like that, Mardo immediately went to his desk. He also typed with agile and fast word for word that came from his mind. It spills all over into an interesting beautiful piece of writing.

Mardo had a writing talent that came into him from childhood.

Mardo never learned to write in particular. His talent in writing has carried over since he was a child.

And his ability was honed by many hearing hundreds of tales from his grandparents.

Then hundreds of books were bought by papi and mami. When he started to have his own money Mardo went to the bookstore to look for reading books if he could add to his experience in writing

As he read and learned how to write the stories he had read and actually kept them in his mind.

When he wrote automatically the rules in writing already he applied by himself.

Of course his writing was accepted by the media and Mardo never thought of the honor of writing it but rather that he felt satisfaction and happiness when his writing was read by people.

The stories are always published on Sunday in their town. The story is unique and very different from the existing themes.

Like the book titled Road. The road story tells of a rich man who objected to his land being used as a way of pacing back and forth people as well as vehicles that passed by.

The people and the vehicles that pass the road are those who buy the land from the rich man. He was angry and insinuated that everyone who passed by was passing by on the road without ever thinking that he was the one who had difficulty paying the road tax.

The rich man often roared in his yard that the people who passed by, what else the vehicle in front of his house did not know themselves!

Unresponsive! no mind! as well as the harsh words that were finally heard by those who went through that path.

A quarrel ensued, one of the people who heard the words of the rich man did not accept.

They asked what the rich man meant to offend them.

Later the rich man asked for payment for anyone who passed the road every month, even he pegged it, five hundred for the owner of the car and three hundred for those who did not have a vehicle, he also offered a guarantee of security, as he would stand guard every day at the end of the road.

Some people who do have excess money do not have a problem issuing taxes for the road. But some others don't care about it. They think that they have bought land and then built a house. Automatically there must be a way. Whether they had to get on a plane to get in and out, it was outrageous for the rich man.

The attitude of the rich is very different to people who routinely pay for the road. And with people who never want to pay the way.

At the person who pays the way every month, his face was bright, cheerful as well as smiling widely, nodding his head respectfully.

But to those who would not pay for the path they walked every day he would never rebuke or even throw his face and show an unfriendly attitude.

And it turns out the short story got a response, there are people who experience it. And they asked how the author could know their pain and suffering.

Mardo just smiled reading it. Of course he never answered that because what he bought was a complaint that someone had told him and he himself had forgotten who confided to him at that time.

I could immediately feel and then imagine the attitude of the rich man and the people who passed by on the road.

An idea of a dramatic event was created in his head. Be a story called the road.

After the short story titled Road. Many other short stories have sprung up and become Sunday readings.

Bongong Jeumpa's next short story revolves around a daughter and her mother who go to Aceh to find her father.

Not easy, because the land of Aceh is very foreign to them both the language is difficult to understand and the breadth of the area makes both almost break Asa.

Only a clue for them, the name of the residence area that the man told was the village of Cut Meutia.

A song becomes the encouragement of the mother and child. Bungong Jeumpa's.

Every time they stopped looking, the little boy started humming, ' Bungong jeumpa bungong jeumpa megar in Aceh, Bungong telebeh indah lagoina.

White kuneng, mixed ruby. Na na na na na na's.

"Mom, I can already sing this guy's song, Bongong Jeumpa, that's a beautiful song, ma'am."

The small, round-eyed, clear-eyed child, said cheerfully as she told her mother about her cleverness in singing a very foreign song.

His mother also smiled and was happy how the little boy was by listening just once as they passed by the children who were carrying out the flag ceremony in the school yard.

They stopped at that time after getting off the bus that took them from the village to the foreign city.

"Oh you're so smart, son! later if we have met father and brought your father home, you sing this Bungong Jeumpa song in front of grandfather and grandmother. They must have been dumbfounded to hear it because it was so foreign to ha ha ha ha."

The mother and son chuckled at the exhaustion of looking for a father in a strange city.

Seriate