Memory

Lenses always managed to keep Rajata out of trouble. Behind the camera's aperture, he didn't feel the hot sun over the village of Bokoharjo that weekend, nor did he feel that he was in a hollow mood. He also didn’t care about the tourists bustling around him. The man was busy looking for photo objects and shooting angles around the Prambanan temple area.

A relief attracts attention. Rajata took a stone, then stood on it so he could take the photo from the direction he wanted.

Suddenly, a voice full of joking screams in the distance startled Rajata. Reflexively, he turned toward the sound. However, it seemed that the movement made his footsteps shaky. The man fell off the rock and his body swayed towards the temple.

In a panic, Rajata tried to protect the camera he was holding. It works. The base of his thumb hit the relief, protecting the camera. An instant later, thousands of fireflies flooded Rajata's eyes when his head hit the temple wall.

For a moment, Rajata lay still on the ground, staring blankly at the sky.

***

Rajata rushed into the car, threw the camera at the passenger seat, then immediately stepped on the gas, escaping from the parking lot of the Prambanan Temple complex. The cabin of the car was hot baked by the scorching sun, but cold sweat ran down his body. Blood dripped from the cut on the thumb of the right hand.

Arriving at the hotel room, Rajata immediately laid down. His head still felt dizzy. The wound on the hand began to throb. Recalling the way he had driven the car earlier, Rajata was grateful to have arrived at the hotel safely. The air-conditioning hum gave a sense of calm. His breathing slowly became regular. Imperceptibly, Rajata fell asleep exhausted.

***

When Rajata woke up, the room was dark. Only the yellowish glow of the incandescent light from the terrace illuminated the room through the uncurtained window. The sun has long been setting. Rajata liked Guest House Monginsidi. He has stayed there several times. But this time, the darkness of the room, plus the old-fashioned feel of the inn, made him shudder. Rajata got up from the bed. Immediately he turned on the room light. A little relief, but not quite soothing. His experience at Prambanan Temple still disturbs his mind a little. Finally Rajata decided to leave the room. Grumbling inwardly, Rajata grabbed the camera lying on the bed, then walked out of the hotel, down the street. He went to Jogja to calm his heart. However, instead, he got a bewildering experience, all because he had slipped off a stepping stone.

The Yogyakarta traffic that night was quite busy, giving Rajata a false sense of security, as if they would all protect him if something happened to him at that time. Rajata walked aimlessly. He didn't feel like he was walking down Malioboro street, where the edges were already filled with lesehan food sellers.

In front of Mirota batik shop, Rajata's steps stopped. The red tent still sheltered the stall there, just like the first time he stopped there many years ago. He decided to stop at a shop that was open for business there. Rajata ordered a cup of coffee, then sat leaning against one of the pillars. Every time he visited Malioboro, Rajata always stopped by here, for some reason, maybe because of his experience during high school. Rajata looked at the scar which was on the birthmark around the thumb of his right hand. His mind drifted to what he had experienced this afternoon in Prambanan. An ambulance was walking across Malioboro, trying to penetrate the traffic jam by sounding a siren. Don't know what emergency they are handling.

The voice of a busker singing 'Yogyakarta', an old song belonging to KLa, awakened Rajata. He hurriedly handed him a piece of money so that the busker immediately moved on. Rajata actually liked the song, but lately he felt harassed by the lyrics. How could he possibly lose and miss someone he doesn't have?

The busker received Rajata's money, thanked him, but then continued singing. Perhaps he wants to show his professionalism, singing the song to the end. Rajata opens social media applications on his cell phone. On a whim, he typed someone's name. He just realized that so far he had never searched the name of this person on the internet, for some reason. The application paused for a moment, performed a search.

Social media applications displayed search results. Rajata was stunned. A girl's face appeared on the screen, not exactly the same face that was left in Rajata's memory. The face on the screen looked mature, although still attractive. He opened the girl's social account profile, making sure this girl was the girl he knew. Merina Tambunan, worked as an auditor at a financial inspection company in Jakarta. Rajata took a deep breath as he read the names of universities and high schools and the year of Merina's class. For a moment Rajata hesitated about adding Merina to his list of friends, but in the end he gave it up. His mind returned to the first time he stopped at this Lesehan stall, many years ago.

***

It was late when Rajata and several classmates arrived at the shop. Rajata's body felt tired after a day of walking around the Yogyakarta palace. Rajata sat leaning against a pillar in a corner. In front of him, Merina sat and was immediately busy chattering with some female friends. Merina's white face was slightly oily, sparkling in the fluorescent light. Jogja that day was quite hot. Many times Merina chuckled, discussing their experiences this afternoon. Her hair, cut short just below the ears, swings with the movement of her head. A busker, seeing the crowd that had just arrived, immediately got into action singing a song that told about the city they visited.

Suddenly Merina turned to Rajata. “Hey! Don't just daydream!” she exclaimed with a big smile.

Rajata stuttered. “Uh, I'm not daydreaming, really, just take another breath. Tired of walking around the palace and Fort Vredeburg all day,” he avoided, while sipping the sweet tea that had been served in front of him all this time.

“Yes, it's really hot today,” replied Merina.

A friend who was sitting next to Merina took her by, and the girl drifted back into the conversation. Every now and then she fixed her short hair behind the ear lobe. It's useless, because the hair strands immediately coveredq1 the ears again.

Rajata smiled wryly witnessing the useless action. “Mer ....” Suddenly, Rajata's mouth said that name without being ordered.

Merina turned to Rajata. “Yes?” she replied, a sweet smile on her strong jaw-boned face.

Rajata was in deep thought, looking for something to say. “I'll go back to the hotel first, okay? It's hot,” he said.

“Uh, want to go back to the hotel, huh? I'm in then!”

The two of them walked back to the inn, along the still busy Malioboro.

“After this, where are you planning to study?” asked Rajata.

Merina smiled. “I want to enter Gadjah Mada University, Jogja seems interesting, I don't know if I can pass the entrance exam,” she replied, “how about you?”

“Bandung Institute of Technology,” replied Rajata, “but it feels too much for me, so maybe I put the Sept. Ten Institute of Technology in reserve.”

“You can do it! You're smart, Ta!”

Rajata laughed. “You're smart too, Mer,” he replied, “hopefully we can both get into our dream college!”

They arrived at the lobby of the inn.

“OK, I'll go to the room first. I want to take a shower, my body is sticky,” said Merina.

“Okay.”

Rajata walked out of the lobby, but stopped a few steps later. He turned to Merina who was still walking towards her room which was in the other wing. “Mer ...,” he said, not too loudly.

Unexpectedly, Merina stopped walking, and turned her head. “Yes?”

“Don't forget to send letters when you're at Gadjah Mada University!” said Rajata.

“Hey! We haven't got a high school diploma yet, the registration for state universities has not yet been opened too. We also still meet tomorrow,” said Merina with a big smile, “Let's just think about sending the letter later!”

Rajata just smiled broadly.

***

“One coffee, ma'am!”

The voice of a woman ordering coffee awakened Rajata from his reverie.

***