“PLANE DISAPPEARED ON SUMBA STRAIT”.
Everybody was talking about the news’ headline. Usually, I would not be
interested, but there was something, someone particularly, that caught my
attention. Ahmar Sukadji, the pilot of the aircraft.
Since I was
little, I have loved the night sky. I would have got out of my room, run out to
my backyard, and laid there on the grass. The Divine Creator, I would never
comprehend, but I thanked Him for the beauty of the night. In the morning, I
would wake up in excitement. I could not wait to go to school. I remembered how
simple it was back then. School was about making friends and hearing stories. I
had been lucky enough to come from a privileged family. Making friends was
easy, almost everyone had heard the name Mandaka Nayottama. My father, he was
one of the richest men in Jakarta.
Ahmar,
where do I start? I remembered how school was hard for him to surpass. Innumerable
mocks and isolation had played the major part. Nevertheless, he had always
looked profoundly cheerful. He had been a close friend of mine. No, not at
school where everyone would have been able to blab. I have always been afraid
of judgment, of ruining my image, but honestly, who does not? If you do not, at
least, Ahmar respected my necessity.
I
was 8 years old when I first met Ahmar. He came with his parents, my father had
brought them to work at my house. His father was my gardener and his mother was
a maid, she worked in several houses in my neighborhood. Even until now, I do
not have any idea how my father found them. I remembered my first encounter
with Ahmar, his bone jutted right under his dark skin that was as
filthy as he had survived an atomic explosion. I was afraid and at the same
time curious, so I reached out my hand, offering a handshake. And that was the
first time I saw a real smile, a sincere one.
“Mr.
Gala, why are you still laying on the grass? It’s dark already.” Ahmar asked me
once, when he saw me doing my nighttime routine.
“Well
Ahmar, that’s utterly none of your business.”
“If
I had one, I would have been as wealthy as Mr. Mandaka.”
“Don’t
you find it astonishing? Look at the sky.”
“There
are more stars in the place where I come from,” Said Ahmar, he laid on his back
too, joining me.
“Mr.
Gala, I think that there are lots and lots of stars that if everyone on this
earth bring one home, the sky will still look ornate” Ahmar continued.
“Do
you have any idea how big the stars are, Ahmar ? No one will ever be able to
bring even one home.”
“I
know, but I want to ask God to make it smaller.”
“That’s
ridiculous. Why would you want to do it?”
“So
I can bring one for you and one for Mr. Mandaka.”
I
had never met someone as genuine as him. His imagination was incredible. He
always had this unusual optimism, I wonder if he still kept it in the last
minutes of his life.
“Ahmar,
have you ever thought why the sky contains billions of stars but still looks so
dark?” Asked me once when he accompanied me doing my interest, I was 12 by that
time.
“Because
if it’s not dark enough, we won’t be able to see the stars. I reckon it’s the
same as if we never feel the despair of sobbing, we won’t be able to understand
the joy of laughter,” I did not think he would have answered me with such
discreet.
“Why
did you ask me that question?” Ahmar asked me back.
“Because
sometimes I think the night sky is the only one that understands me. I have a
lot of friends, everything that money can buy, I can have it, just like the sky
adorned with abundance of stars. But I feel sad Ahmar, just like the empty
space between those stars.”
Ahmar did not
say anything.
I
did not sleep that night. I felt just empty. The next afternoon, I woke up
late. It was Saturday but Ahmar did not make me brunch. As a matter fact, I
could find neither him nor his family. I asked my father where Ahmar was. He
said that Ahmar and his family had to go back to their hometown, because
Ahmar’s grandmother passed away and nobody wanted to take care of her and her
desolated land so they could not come back to my house. I was desperate that
time, however, Ahmar left me a letter.
“To my dearest Mr. Gala,
You know, I
have always wanted to be a pilot. I want to take people high off the ground, to
places they have dreamt of. I want to hear them astounded by the view from
above, realising that they soon will start a new adventure. I want to be the
one that remind them, that they have another chance of meeting their loved ones
on the other side. But, the more that I think about the probability of one day
I can kill those people make me forget about every other days I can make them
feel blissful.
Sometimes,
we are too withdrawn with our own perception that we forget other possibilities
exist. Mr. Gala, every time you are attracted to ponder the dark part of the
night, why don’t you try to measure it? As you understand that it is immeasurable,
you will realise how ridiculous it was to start measuring. The dark sky is the
perfect background for the stars, and as the stars are countless, so are your
reasons to be happy.
Best regards,
Your friend,
Ahmar.”
I
have never heard again from him, but that one letter has changed how I see the
world. I had never thought that shabby looking boy I met 15 years ago would
have inspired me so much. Wherever he is now, I am grateful that I have had the
chance to recognise him.
