Silhouetted

8.3 Sound Voice

RAYA

Now he's in this. Alone, in a red land that still looks new. It's been two weeks. There's writing on his headstone, Anjeli Prastarini. Raya pondered.

“Anjeli, even I never know your full name.”

Prastarin. Would you often describe yourself as a star in the sky, if there were a star element in your last name? Raya smiled. Slender. He looked around, silent. Of course, this is in the burial ground, what do we expect to be here except for the gravestone line and the cambodian tree?

Do they still remember? Maybe not even. Raya looked at the shiny headstone, Raya looked at the mossy headstone. Is it different for them? Raya looked at the gravestone that was gouging and bermamer, how magnificent. Perhaps the dead while still alive never gained such respect, even when he was already a dead body his grave was improved. What use? Torture the grave will not be reduced because your headstone is of the best marble.

Look at the dates. So many people die, every day. Is there a circle on the calendar right on the day of his death, just a reminder to the whole family that they too will die like him? What do they do in life? What did they leave behind? Are they now just a stone named uninvited? [1]

A woman in a red paddle walked down a row of tombs and stopped for a long time at a gravestone. From the corner of Raya's eye can see half of the woman's face, as well as. There was a white bandana tying her waist-length hair, her dress was a faded yellow. With bright colors like that still can not remove the color of sadness on his face. Is she sad? Raya thought. Whose tomb is that? The family? A pal? A lover? Maybe people of different status, but does the sense of loss remain the same? Now the woman sprinkled flowers on the grave, then stroked the headstone. She turned away, not wanting to be late.

Slowly he crouched down, his hands trying to stroke the headstone like that woman, suddenly he felt romantic, on the headstone? I don't know, she shouldn't be romantic but sad about losing a best friend. A pal?

“Didn't I fall in love with her?”

Simultaneously running home, his mind was only one. Want to get back home soon. Want to take his violin and catch this sadness, then play it for Anjeli.

Because sadness is sadness. It need not be re-questioned or defined. Raya only knows Anjeli no longer exists. No need to know why, and by whom. If it was in front of her mother Anjeli, a Raya can hold back feelings, now it is no longer possible. But Raya was not able to cry suddenly. It needs a strong reason to cry for a man; and the Kingdom of men.

How sad it is when we can't chat anymore when yesterday we were still laughing together.

Now Anjeli, maybe because this is his first loss when he already understands the world. Then Raya felt more claustrophobic. Without Anjeli could his jaw be shaking again? While Anjeli has revived his violin breath, able to make Raya find her lover again?

I don't know. Now Raya only knows she wants to go home, touch her violin and try to make a song for Anjeli. On the way he continued to run up the sidewalk, passing people who were not sure what they were doing. Do any of them feel lost too? Can any of them just care? Can any of them be a solution?

Raya continued to run, and like understanding the sky became gray and the rain points began to fall one by one. But Raya kept running while people took shelter or opened her umbrellas. No, Raya never had enough time for that, there was something she had to do right away. Meet his violin and play a piece of song for someone who's already a star in the sky.

Especially a promise that has been said and Raya thought it was appropriate for an Anjeli. A special piece of song for him, made from the memories of him.

The rain continued to wet, Raya continued to run in the rhythm of thunder, the rain was hard, she continued to run in line with the outpouring of water. At that moment Raya began to cry, but her crying mingled with sweat as well as rainwater. In that invisible cry Raya felt that she could let go of her feelings without feeling crybaby. In that instant Raya also felt that she was actually a child, only children were crying, didn't she?

I don't know, there's no time to think, Raya keeps running.

The rain is still heavy.

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[1] Written with memory on song verse “Two Dunia” from Too Phat feat Siti Nurhaliza “Our art struggle is endless /Don't stay a stone named uninvited”