THE ERROR BOOK IS NOT TO BE READ

PARTING

BRASS, JAWARAT.

Smiling afternoon sky above the village Suka Rapih Village. Above the waqf land in the form of a wide field. A group of young men look very uniform wearing drill fabric twisted with a sloping texture and stitched yarn with a very strong, deep black. I am practicing martial arts from this country.

"Wake, Tristan!" said the middle-aged man who had just dropped him with a sweep of his feet.

Tristan fell among his friends who were sitting around. Watch the match practice between Tristan and their teacher. Tristan's breath has begun to go uncharted. A man with a stout and tall body, made weak in front of his teacher.

"Wake Tristan! your sick opponent. You wouldn't be able to survive out there if the pain was just pampering yourself." The teacher circled Tristan who was still kneeling.

"Humans have a maximum limit, Tristan. And most people are only able to survive at that limit. However, only the chosen ones are able to get through it. Against his pain. Until he never felt pain again" said teacher Tristan with a hoarse and heavy voice.

"Wake up!" exclaim the teacher with a high tone.

Tristan grunting. It seemed like he was hooked with the roar of his teacher. Spirit burns. Slowly, Tristan raised his body to rise.

He spread both fingers. Makes gripping. Where his right hand is slightly above his left. With a little bit of a bend towards the left. His knees half bent, revealing the attacking horses in a very low position.

Tristan's movement is like a tiger ready to pounce. Look at his sharp eyes. Making Keikina, the teacher raised the temple of his right eyebrow and slightly shifted the soles of his feet backward.

HHHHIAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Unexpectedly, Tristan jumped. His body floated in the air. With two kicks. However, the teacher was fooled. He didn't think it was Tristan's two fists that would hit his chest. Keikina bounced two meters.

A dozen pairs of gawking eyes were confused by what they had just seen. Complete shock, awe and amazement represented the face of the man wearing the same uniform as Tristan. The one sitting watched the duel of his disciple and teacher in training.

"Huh-huh. Huh .. hah ... Enough, Tristan," said the teacher who fell under a tree with a painful chest and heavy breathing. The teacher's face grimaced in pain.

"I'm sorry, teacher" Tristan said with his hand out. Help the middle-aged man.

The teacher welcomed Tristan's hand. With his hand still holding his chest, he said, "I'm telling you, don't use the martial arts you've mastered, Tristan. Use that knowledge to help yourself. And help others."

"Yes, teacher" Tristan said with a smile.

****

Tomorrow, Tristan plans to go to the big city. The city that most of the people of the village came to. He wanted to make a complaint about his fate in the city. Metropolitan city. City with skyscrapers. That is the city of Jakarta.

"Tristan," said Aulia with a brown hijab covering her head. He was standing at the door of Tristan's house. Carrying a tightly-held package next to his right hand.

With a backpack that had just been cupped to the right shoulder, Tristan wanted to step out of the house. After saying goodbye to mother.

"Aulia" said Tristan. Staring at the girl with the white face with those thin lips. "What are you doing here, Lia?"

"I have to change my life, Lia. I have to change my fate. I want my mother to live happily."

"But, what should be with you going to the city?"

"There's nothing I can do here, Lia. It's all just rice fields. Grass. The mountain. I just don't want my future to be this way. If I go to town, I can work. There's a lot of work. There are many opportunities for me to succeed."

The details are getting coagulated. The girl's tears were flowing more and more.

"Alright, Lia. Forget me. Besides, your parents don't approve of our relationship." Tristan threw his eyes away from the girl in front of him. "Your father said, I am poor. The poor cannot marry the rich. Your father was a merchant in this village, Lia. While mother. My mother is just a village farmer who every day has to hit the heat and rain in the rice fields there to find a mouthful of rice," Tristan said with teary eyes. "And me. I should be able to change my fate by finding work in the city" she said with sadness.

"Go back to your house, Lia. Your father has determined the best husband for you. I've given it all away.

"Goodbye, Lia. Assalamulaikum" said Tristan. He stepped away. Leaving Aulia in the front yard of her hut in a state of tears.

With escorted by his former schoolmates, Tristan took an open-air car to the bus terminal which was 1 hour drive from his village.

"What are you looking for in Jakarta, Tan?" riza asked after half the way to the bus terminal. Tristan was still looking at his hometown from behind the half-open glass car door. Feel the wind blowing through the glass. See the green rice fields and also the hills at the end there.

"Come, Za. I don't know what I'll do in town yet. Actually, I just want to forget about my past with Aulia, Za. But I won't be able to forget that I'm still in this village. My mom suggested me to the city, Za. To find work in Jakarta."

"Heeuhh .. is Tan. Don't remember that persolan. Last week's incident really hurt you. I also know what it's like to be humiliated by a future father-in-law, Tan."

"Yes, Za. So I decided to change my fate in the city. Well, I hope so, Za."

"Lantas, where do you live, Tan?"

"While I was living in Bayu's house, our old schoolmate. You still remember, right? Bayu. Bayu. Who ever cried because you threw his head with a ball," said Tristan a little excited.

Riza was trying to remember. "Yes. Yep. I remember now. Does he live in Jakarta?"

"Ah she has lived in Jakarta for a long time. I heard he's been successful, Za. Work So—." Tristan frowned and swung his index finger forward. He's trying to remember. "Jadi—. Ah so what yes. Forgot me, Za," he said. "Depart if I see you again."

JAKARTA—JAKARTA!

"Za, stop-stop. I'll just get off here. That's a bus that goes to Jakarta, Za," Tristan said. And Riza pulled the car over to the left shoulder.

"Tan, you be careful there. Do not forget, you tell your mother often, yes," said Riza reminded her best friend.

"Yes, Za. Thanks to Za. Sometimes if you play to Jakarta, news of me yes," said Tristan with the finger of his left hand already holding the handle of the car door. "OK on, Za. I'll go first, yeah. Assalamualaikum." Tristan. And Riza smiled to let her best friend leave her hometown.

With a certain step, Tristan climbed the stairs from the bus between cities to Jakarta.