THE PERFECT TIME TO DIE
(CHAPTER 1) MY NAME IS NESTAPA
MY NAME IS NESTAPA ...
Charlie Chaplin once said, Life is a tragedy, seen up close. A comedy, viewed from afar. But for me, to be seen from any side, this life is still a tragedy.
Today, I'm just acting as I please. But somehow, I still could not escape from that series of thoughts. Trying not to be distracted, even though I knew, the thought would constantly torment me.
But then again, what is my day, I tried it and I failed.
The school uniform I wear today. I just sat in the garden, accompanied by a strange look from every eye that looked at me.
There's nothing I've been waiting for in this park, but I just want to skip school. An excuse, which made me reluctant to step on both my feet to be in school today. A reason that I find difficult to explain, even with any science.
Today, I really want rain. Even if I knew, the rain wouldn't change anything. But I still want it. And please anyone, please sprinkle salt in the sky.
The sound of a fire engine siren then shifted the focus of everyone in the park. And on the highway, I saw a fire engine in a hurry and drove past some vehicles that were deliberately pulled over.
That fact, made everyone around me whisper.
“Is there a fire?” Whisper them.
For some reason, the question irritated me and asked myself if I was.
**
Without warning, a reddish color had already filled the sky. Followed by the crowd of people who began to crowd the city. I left the park and returned to my world.
Dark and silent never sagak and always welcome me, when I enter this house. The house left by my parents, a house that each curve holds a fond memory. So big this house, but somehow, I always feel crowded if I'm in it.
The television that I turned on, simultaneously expelled the imprinted silence. To me, television is the friend and family I have, which makes my life, a little bit more noisy.
After my parents left, I actually lived with someone before. A housekeeper that Uncle sent to accompany me, but it did not last long because they also left me.
All the shows on television, keep torturing me. Everyone reported about the Bhineka High School fire that had been burning this morning. And ironically, it's my school. And I also knew that fire was going to happen. Why do I know, I ask myself why should I know.
A vision came to me last night. So clear, that I closed both my eyes. Like a movie, I saw every detail of the scene of the fire. The fire that emerged from the stove of Mother Sri, a meatball seller at my school, grew and engulfed the entire canteen.
Right, I can see the future. I could see something that hadn't happened and it made my eyes busier than any other human.
My name is Rasya Setya Negara, that name I got from both my parents.
The hatred that always drives me in solitude. Such an evil solitude, imprisoning my soul lives with an unbounded nestapa.
I went to Bhineka High School, a private school in Jakarta. Now, I'm in 2nd grade. I'm not good at academics and not good at sports. Only ability can see the future, more value I have. But to me, that vision is a curse.
The Scottish writer William Barclay once said. There are two wonderful days in human life. First, when they are born. And secondly, when they found out, the reason why they were born.
And honestly, I don't know those two things. Because all I know is that my world stopped when the vision came.
**
The vision appeared when I was nine years old. And that, was the beginning of my hell. I am small, just like a child in general. Jokes and laughter, almost filled my whole time.
I have someone who takes care of me gently and looks at me with an affectionate gaze, one whom I call Mom. I also have a man who can be relied upon in all things, my father. The right word to represent my feelings at that time was, I am happy.
Dad was always willing to get up early, just to take me to school. With eyes still in the shade of drowsiness, which he always covered with sunglasses he wore. Which he sometimes makes jokes to make laughter on this face.
“Pijet mas?” Joking Father.
A joke, which always painted a laugh on this face, even if I don't know how many times, I've heard it. Making jokes is my father's hobby, a joke that always makes my day and Mom's always colorful. He always had words, which could make these lips smile on their own.
The way he teases Mom in the morning, the same words. With that said, that he would remarry an eleven year old woman. That joke, it always makes a laugh on Mom's pretty face. The soul who always wants to please Mother, by saying that Mother's cuisine is the most delicious cuisine in the world. Even though I only cook hot water for me to shower.
My father was an entrepreneur, he founded a company in entertainment, which he founded with my mother. A company that acts as a record label as well as an artist agency. Therefore, it is not uncommon for me to meet with artists that I have often seen on television before, when Dad took me to his office.
Dad always met a lot of beautiful artists, but he just stared at my mother and stayed silent for a long time. For that reason that's what makes Mom, always standing next to him. And tirelessly, listen to my grievances.
Although a career woman, Mother never forgets her duties as a Mother and Wife. He always pampered me with affection, who always embraced the soul. And I felt the warmth of that affection, and I was grateful for it.
The way he looks at me, I'm the son of an angel. Smile selflessly, but deeply. Like an abyss, that smile broke the hope of someone, to leave the abyss. And want to keep lingering, enjoying the warmth and beauty, of the abyss itself.
The beautiful chant of Mother's voice, always accompany my sleep. As well as a small pat on the waist, as if to say, that beautiful dreams will always accompany my sleep. Harmony built with the foundation of affection, and the cluster of love that never eroded, that's the shield I wear.
But the sky took it all, and all that was left was pain and grief.
**
