The Fragrant Soul
Chapter 30: Thank You, Master….
“Ananda students listen, teacher...” says Raka solemnly.
The teacher smiled. Ask, “You remember the beginning of our meeting?
Raka nodded, “Cannot be forgottenm teacher.”
“That's when you were a kid. 7 Or 8 years old. I happened to be walking around without direction and arrived at a well on the mountain. It turned out that the mountain was the residence of the Gandakusuma family. From far away I listened to the beautiful sound of the lute. All my life I've only heard there's such a wonderful game of lute. The clapper comes from the middle of the lake. When I approached tenyata there was a saung in the middle of the lake.”
“And at that time ananda disciple was surprised half dead to see people hovering over the water.”
“Then I ask you to continue your game. But you didn't continue..,”.
“Yes because ananda's student is deaf. Cannot hear teacher request at that time.”
“I was very surprised to learn that you are a deaf child. The illness you have suffered from since childhood, slowly takes away your sense of hearing. But your feelings, the subtlety of your soul, the tones imprinted on your body do not fade at all. It's getting stronger.”
Sukma Harum was a deaf man.
At the age of 5 years already adept at playing the harp. But at that time he had an accident in the lake and drowned, damaging his eardrum. By the age of 7, he was completely deaf.
But his musical talent is so great, making him capable of “listening” tones in his soul and mind. Because this is true, he can play more beautifully more full of feelings.
“I remember that time I shed tears while listening to the string of your soy sauce. Until now the song is still ringing in my heart.”
“Then mother came because she saw a strange person floating on the water,” Laughter Raka.
“And how surprised I was to learn that your mother was the number one swordsman in the martial world of the archipelago. The great-grandson of China, Cio San-tayhiap.”
“At that time in one glance, mother also already knew who the real teacher was.”
“Then I forced you to become a student, because I was so fascinated by your musical talent. I think that talent can be honed and formed into true silat talent. But your mother would not allow it. Until I had to challenge him to fight and defeat him only then he let you come with me.”
“And mother lost in only 5 moves,” Raka can not imagine how high the magic of her teacher.
“Then you traveled with me. Learn a variety of sciences, learn to read lips, learn to listen through the vibrations your skin receives, your heart, your soul. It is precisely because of the subtlety of your soul that you can only complete all the lessons I give. The soul that understands the beauty of music is the subtle soul. It is with subtlety and gentleness that one can achieve a high understanding of anything. With your fingers trained to play strings, then the fingers can be sharpened to play the most powerful weapons.”
“For all the teaching of the teacher, ananda student no longer knows how to reply....,” her eyes glazed.
“By being a useful human being, you have actually paid for it entirely. No need to thank. Until my life is this old, I myself am still not very clear about the meaning of my existence in this world. As a silat expert? Wh-wh-what for? To destroy the evil? I'm not happy to fight. Indeed, I wonder why Sang Hyang Widhi gives this kind of talent to people who do not like to fight at all.”
The teacher continued, “Raka, all human intelligence and intelligence can only be used to conquer other humans. That cleverness and prowess will not be possible to use to defeat himself.”
“Then what can, guru?” ask Raka.
“Religion.”
“There are so many religions in this world. Ananda disciple should follow which one?” asked Raka earnestly.
“Any religion that teaches worship ONE God, and do good deeds and abandon evil deeds. That's the right religion.”
“How can we distinguish good and bad deeds, teacher? While good and bad very much depends on the mind of each person.”
“Determining good and bad is indeed a lifelong struggle. Along with the maturity of your mind, your heart will help you show what truth is,” replied the teacher.
“Good, teacher. Ananda disciple understand.”
“Today people know me as a person who never takes a student. And I forbid you to call my name my teacher. Now I allow it. If anyone asks, then answer you are a student of the Night Knight,” the teacher's voice shakes full of hilarity and pride.
There is also an infinite sense of pride and pride in the hearts of his students.
All this time people only know the lunge of Sukma Harum, do not know who the teacher. The name of the teacher himself is very famous.
The world knows the Night Knight as the most talented figure in silat science. The heavens bestowed upon him immense ability, understanding, and flexibility. Once you see someone understand immediately. At once, he memorized. He was considered a peerless swordsman and no one was determined to clash with him.
The Knights of Malang are known as people who like to seek pleasure, thirst for entertainment, and love adventure. He never married, but his good looks and bravery made him always struggling with love and women.
Besides women, she also loves wine. No matter how much he drank, he never got drunk.
His name was like a ghost. The whole world knew him, but no one really saw him. His life story is legendary. Even if the name Sukma Harum is compared to the name of the Night Knight, like people comparing kittens to tigers.
When he turned 50, he completely disappeared from the martial world. It is said that he sometimes appears to teach silat to some people. But even this news cannot be confirmed.
“My good disciples, I'm sorry I've been chatting so long ngalor ngidul to forget what I want to say,” laughs the Night Knight.
“Ananda students listen, guru.”
“At the moment I am preparing to do Tapa Moksa.”
Sukma Harum.
The Moksa tapa is the last tapa a person does in his life. That tapa told him to do Moksa. That is to leave the mortal world with his spirit and rough body at once.
“Don't cry,” said his teacher gently as he rubbed the head of his beloved disciple. “Meeting there is a farewell. A soul mate is finally.”
Raka did not dare to raise her head.
“My good disciples. Answer my question.”
“Ananda disciples listen.”
“Am I, Narendra Kramakala, a good teacher?” ask the Night Knight.
“Yes, beloved Desert Narendra Kramakala is a good teacher,” replied Raka while sobbing.
“Kutanya again. Am I, Narendra Kramakala, a good teacher?”
“Yes. Dear desert Narendra Kramakala is a good teacher.”
“For what I last asked, am I, Naredra Kramakala a good teacher?”
“Yes. The beloved desert of Narendra Kramakala is a good teacher,” her tears spill. His chest was tightened by the sadness that was squeezing his soul.
“Good. Thank you for making me your teacher. Thank you for being so devoted to me. If I have a mistake, will my student forgive me?”
“Gurunda never guilty to ananda student. Precisely ananda.., which..so..many mistakes and iniquities to the desert,” Raka did not dare to raise his head. His face was set at the foot of the beloved teacher.
Who is solace now? Who would smile while scolding his mistakes? Who will tell in the middle of the night while drinking wine? Who will protect him when he is injured? Who will sincerely give the teaching and sincere affection of a teacher.
The teacher is a third parent. Disobeying him is like disobeying an old man. Loving her is like loving your parents.
Tears are flowing.
Farewell is a certainty.
Because life is not about having and mengapulkan.
Life is about loss.
Little by little, one by one.
They're goin.
Because life is death.
The teacher just disappeared. Without farewell. Without any words of virtue. Without any eye markings. There was no hand wave. All is lost in silence.
Sukma Harum raised his head.
He was alone in Goa. His heart was broken by a deep pain. But he understood, this was indeed the farewell that his teacher wanted.
Because the best parting, is the parting that leaves good memories.
Good memories are enough.
It's more than enough.
There is no funeral. There were not thousands of mourners who came to pay their last respects. There is no grand ceremony like the burial of the king.
There are only good memories.
About how good a human being is.
“Thank you, teacher.”
Author's Note:
This chapter I dedicate to my temperature, alm Tjan ID. A translator of dozens of silat novels which is one of four Indonesian citizens whose name is recorded in the Chinese Overseas Encyclopedia of Arts and Culture published by the Chinese Government. He is the last person left from the old translation force whose services are very large for the development of silat stories and Chinese culture in Indonesia.
I was fortunate to meet him who was very friendly and kind. All of his work and teachings are very valuable treasures in my life. Until the end of my life, I will remember him as a good teacher.
Thank you, temperature.
Tjan Ing Djioe (02.07.1949 – 29.04.2020)
