A Hospital Ghost Story

(Versi bahasa Indonesia dari cerita ini bisa dilihat di http://numpanglewat.blogspot.com. Promosi dikit boleh khan? Ha ha ha)

"You know, I saw a ghost last night when I was in Ciptomangunkusumo."
"Really? Wow, so...how?"
"I was waiting in line at one of the cashier. I was staring at a reflection on one of the window. The window was reflecting the room where I was in. I noticed a very graceful lady standing in the reflection."
"And?"
"And the lady was not there, she wasn't there on the spot where she was supposed to be. I could only see her in the reflection. I kept turning my head left and right, between the window and the room, trying to make sure that probably I saw the room from the wrong angle, that probably she was there after all."
"And she wasn't?"
"Nope, she wasn't."
"Are you sure that probably she's on the other room on the other side of the window?"
"I took a peek into the other side of the window, into another room."
"And she wasn't there either?"
"Nope, she wasn't there."
"Wow."
"It's hard isn't it? I couldn't really throw away this..'thing', no matter how hard I tried not to see them, I keep seeing them."
"Well, it's a gift, mom. You couldn't just throw it away."
"Yeah, I guess so. But I think she didn't mean no harm. I didn't feel any malice."
"Did she look at you?"
"No, she was looking at somewhere else. She was looking the other way."
"Yeah, I remember what your friend told us, that they never look straight at you."
"Yep, Mrs. E told us that didn't she."
"Yeah. By the way, is she pretty?"
"Ha ha ha, I couldn't tell. I couldn't see her face since she was looking the other way. But I think so."
"Ha ha ha, just a stupid question mom. You see her again tonight, tell her I said hi."
"Ha ha ha."

Band Day, Bad Day (Part II)

Came home tonight. Asked my mother how our servant was doing. (Check out http://numpanglewat.blogspot.com for a related entry, but it's in Indonesian).

We just found out last night that she might have a tumor in her uterus. But it had not been ascertain whether the tumor is dormant or malignant. I wish it's not a dangerous tumor. But there's also the possibility that it's a cancer. She had to be hospitalized today. One of my father's men is standing by at the hospital tonight (Ciptomangunkusumo Hospital), should something happen. Heard from my mom that she's lost a lot of blood. Mom had to go to the Office of Indonesian Red Cross to get some blood. For now, she's resting.

Hearing the story from my mom, there's a couple of thing that made me mad. When they (my mom and my servant) was in Husada, my servant came out of the doctor's room crying. She said that the doctor had insulted her by saying "Are you sure you want to be treated here? It's really expensive you know? How could you, a mere 'babu cuci' (basically harsh words to describe a servant, whose work usually involve washing/laundering clothes), could afford it?" This, of course, enraged my mom. When the doctor came out of her room, she approached her and asked her opinion. My mom deliberately used medical terms. When the doctor inquired how my mom knew such terms, my mom said she's a dentis so she was very familiar with medical terms. Only after that that the doctor's manner changed. She suggested that my servant should go to Tarakan Hospital where she could get a letter that could help her by lessening the treatment cost, and take that letter to Ciptomangunkusumo Hospital.

My poor servant got another insult when she got to RSCM (a well-known abbreviation for Ciptomangunkusumo Hospital). A nurse asked her why she transfered from Husada. She said that she couldn't afford the treatment cost there. The nurse said, "Oh, so you think that our treatment is not expensive? You're very much mistaken. Do you think that you, a servant, could afford it?" My mom defended my servant , saying that, "No matter. I can pay for it." My servantcould only say, "How could you not treat a sick person?"

It is well known here that medical treatments are not cheap. But what got me angry is that the psychological (or 'human') treatment they give to the patient. A servant is still a human, and that's not an excuse to treat them differently. At the very least, they could have chosen softer words, and not using insulting tone of voice. And aren't medical people supposed to know that psychological conditions could affect a person's biological condition? It is not becoming for a medical staff to use intimidating approaches like that.

Has money become more important than how we treat other human beings? I know that this also serves as a reminder for me not to forget how to treat other people, especially when it comes to financial matters.

It just angered me. Please, anyone, is there anything I could do about this besides writing this whole thing in my blog? Maybe write it up for 'Surat Pembaca' in Kompas (or Suara Pembaruan)? There must be so many cases of bad interpersonal treatment like this in the medical business, but I don't know whether anyone has spoken up yet against it. I don't know, I just feel like there's something we could do. At least to 'sting' these people a bit. Remind them that such behaviour is not acceptable, especially when dealing with people who are inflicted by life-threatening disease. I think any one of you would be hurt to see yourself or your loved ones being treated like this.

Well, at the very least, I hope this could serve as a reminder (for others, and especially for myself) not to lose sight on what's important in this life.

Band Day, Bad Day (Part I)

Yeah, I've prepared the chord and the lyrics. Might as well, knowing that I got nothing to do at the office the whole day. Anyways, it was a piece of cake. You could practically find anything in Google.

Today, we planned on trying out 'Push' (Matchbox 20), 'Barely Breathing' (Duncan Sheik), 'Stay'(Lisa Loeb), 'Bring Me To Life' (Evanescence), 'Losing Grip' (Avril Lavigne), and 'If You're Gone' (again, Matchbox 20). Went to the studio and arrived there at about 7.30 pm.

There were 5 other people with me. Since I couldn't play any instrument (I suck) I did the vocal (I suck too, but at least not as bad when it comes to instrument). We eventually only tried 'Push' and 'Barely Breathing'. And we did 'Never Let You Go' too (Third Eye Blind). This time I got the lyric (unlike last week).

I did get to try one instrument though: the drum. We played a number on Maroon 5's 'This Love' (without a vocalis though, since Dide didn't feel like singing). Bonq, as always, alternated between the guitar, the bass and the drum. Didi also alternated between the guitar, the bass and the drum. He tried the keyboard once though. Rin stayed mostly at the guitar, though there was one time she tried the drum. Bicil tried the drum.

Most of the time, it was jam session (read: messing around). But it was fun. At least it provided a form of entertainment after a whole day of boring office life. And it was nice to know that there were fellow gamers in the office. Yeah, video game baby. I just love it.

Next week: more fun and more song!

The Raven King

Book Review
Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell
by Susanna Clarke

The first time I laid my eyes on this book, I felt apprehensive. Such a thick book! Will I ever finish it? And the first few pages gave me some hints that the story would be quite intricate, and maybe boring, because the language was so English. Well, 19th century England was the story's setting, so that was to be expected. It seemed to me, at first, that reading this book would be quite a daunting task.

Now, after almost one month (and 700-or-so pages) later, I discovered that I felt really sad having a good story coming to an end. As I came to the last page, I just wished that it would never end, that somehow the book will magically add a few hundred more pages to continue its story. Such a wishful thinking.

In her first debut, Susanna Clarke has crafted a wonderful fantasy world of 19th century England, mixing actual history with fiction, where magic seemed to have diminished, but its presence still lingered among the trees, stones, rivers, the weather, and among shadows. Magicians, at the start of the story, were only theoretical magicians. They didn't practice any kind of magic, but only talked about it and read books about it. However, the advent of Gilbert Norrell has changed all that. The coming of Norrell, with his ambition to revive English magic, and later of Jonathan Strange, had started a chain of events that has been foretold in a prophecy by the Raven King, a human child taken in by the faeries and became The King of North England, Faerie and a land that borders near Hell.

The book might seemed a bit 'threatening' at first. Especially when the readers find footnotes littered about in many pages of the book. But do not be discouraged. The book is a pleasure to read. Yes, even the footnotes are a pleasure to read. It's as if the book is a collection of interconnected fairy tales, each could stand alone in its own right, but strongly related to one another. One could always skip the footnotes, but doing so might prevent a reader to fully appreciate the depth and intricacies of the story. It's not that kind of book that you read to know what would happen next, but the kind of book you read just for the pleasure of reading it. Add to that the whole dark and brooding fairy-tale mood, and the readers are in for a wonderful dream, or even, a wonderful nightmare.

Readers who are looking for magic in a Harry-Potter sense of way should not look here. Because they would not find wand-waving, fireball-shooting kind of magic in this book. This book is about character building, mood building, an intricate tale that weave it's plot around deep, fleshed-out, believable characters (this is especially true for the characters Gilbert Norrell and Jonathan Strange) and deep, fleshed-out, and mysterious setting of 19th century England. Two-third part of the book was spent on developing characters and mood. Only during the last third part of the book that the story picks up pace. The magic aspect takes first place here of course, but the author has manage to create a mood where it is never too emphasized, but still there nonetheless. It's like an actor or an actress whose appearance on stage went unnoticed by the audience, but the audience realized his or her presence in the play nonetheless, constantly dancing, trotting, weaving, acting among the other actors and actresses without basking too much in the spotlight. The nature of the magics themselves ranged from mundane to magnificent. But the way they were presented were subtle.

So, in the end, I would like to say that no, you don't 'run' with this book. Reading this book is more like a wonderul walk in a park to enjoy a slightly cloudy day, with light breeze brushing your hair, and a little tinge of magic in the air. A highly recommended piece of literature.

Blissfull Week

One should always count one's blessings. And for this week of my life, I found that blessings were aplenty. It would be quite a show of ignorance to say that weeks that have gone by weren't full of blessings, or that the oncoming weeks would not be full of blessings. But it's just that I would like to emphasize the events of this week, and as always, count my blessings whenever I realize it (which, unfortunately, doesn't happen too often...the realizing part, that is).

To begin with, the parents went to a seminar in South Sulawesi. Suddenly, I and my brother has quite a breathing room at home. This is, of course, a very much needed relieve. I get to go out with my brother during the long weekend, attend masses without my mother around. Just us, two guys, without an old, cranky, post-menopausal woman around (our mother). Utterly blissful.

Not having my father around is also quite a wonderful experience, since it means that there won't be an incident where he would intrude my already-crowded personal space (living in the same room with 2 other persons could really take its toll). And I won't have to listen to his usual speech of office and national politics and of his negative views toward just about everyone. There were times when I would agree to his negative views, but I always found myself afterwards being a very moody person and not very much agreeable. Something that is not appropriate in my opinion.

Of course, such wonderfully blessed week is not without its flaws. For the early part of the week I was in quite a nervous state, waiting for my project to start, and not having anything to do in the office. Such condition could make a man in his youth (such as I) feel neglected and of no use. Guilty feelings were abound (especially when looking at how other people were so busy with their tasks). But, fortunately, after consulting a senior at the office, she told me to just lay back and enjoy the lazy days while I still can. Because there won't be such a thing as a lazy day when the project starts. And that, no, it's not a bad thing to not be doing anything at the office. Ahh, what a bliss.

This week would be wonderfully perfect if my long-time old, cranky, and very demanding servant at home is not around either. But that would be a bad thing since who would serve the food at home? So, I could handle this minor imperfection to an already wonderful week.

One could always argue that, even with parents around, that shouldn't stop us from feeling free at home. Of course one could shut out the external environment noise to prevent it from entering one's psyche (something that the Buddhists are probably good at, if they're quite religious), but even that won't last long. Afterall, I'm only human (a very common, fallible excuse, but an excuse nonetheless). Sooner or later, defenses would crumble and bad mood accompanied with depression would be inescapable.

So, here I am, at home, enjoying the silence, the absence of post-menopausal bickering and of political mumbo-jumbo, just listening to the clicking of my computer keyboard as I type my blog and waiting for a friend to give me the go-signal to go to Plaza Semanggi. What can I say? Repeat after me: bliss.

I could only hope that I can find something to be thankful about next week, since parents are coming home tomorrow. Ahh, the end to such a perfectly calm week.

Shoutbox, Anyone?

Well, I'm trying something new here. It might be redundant, knowing that there's a comment link under every article posted. But, well, shoutbox looks kinda more interesting. So, here it is. I'm not familiar with webpage editing or the sort, so I kinda copy-paste, undo, copy-paste, undo, copy-paste on the template editing feature of blogger until I got the position of the shoutbox according to what I have in mind.

So, please make use of it. Don't let it sit there, ignored, unwanted. Fill it with anything you'd like to say about whatever ramblings I put up in my blog. I'll be waiting.

Losing My Religion (Or Something Close to That)

It has been bothering me for some time, this lack of compassion. Take for an example the event that took place this morning. I was on my way to work. Busway was usually the transportation method of choice. To reach my office, I had to cross the street by way of a crossing bridge which passes over the busway station. There, in the middle of the bridge, lay a woman holding her baby in one arm, with another arm spread out. She might be sleeping, she might not. The baby seemed to be sleeping. I hoped the baby was sleeping. I didn't know. I just walked pass with only a casual glance at the woman and (presumably) her baby. The thing was that I only took a casual glance (albeit with a little curiosity as to how a woman could be lying down in the middle of a crossing bridge with a baby in her arm). I didn't even stop to see whether she was still alive. I hope she was still alive. I didn't know whether it was because I was numb, but at the time, I didn't even care. I just wanted to get to the office. Am I losing my compassion?

Another example is about my servant at home. She'd been with us since before I was even born. She'd been with us even before my mother got married. She's practically my nurse when I was only a kid, before I hit the 9-year-old mark. Well, basically she's still my nurse even up until now (Yati, tuangin air panas buat mandi donk!). Lately, she's been complaining about chest pains. And yesterday, her feet were swollen. My mother thought that it might have something to do with her heart. When I heard this, I just took a casual interest. As if it was nothing. I know it was life threatening, but still, I didn't care more. I didn't ask my mom about what she's going to do about it. I know she's taking her to the doctor today, but I didn't inquire more about it. I didn't show a concerned face.

Should I care more? Have I become a heartless person (like what my mother said in our last (almost) big argument)? Have I finally given up on the world and all the things that are good in it? The thought scared me.

Or maybe I was just hoping that everything will just turn out okay. That there's nothing to worry or concern about. Maybe I was just pretending that everything's okay and will be okay.

I don't know. Seems like I'm just fooling myself.

Guardian Angel

It was drizzling lightly when he walked out of his office building. He had with him an umbrella, but he decided that the light drizzle wasn't worth the trouble of pulling it out of his back pack. He'd probably catch a light cold, but that was something that he was used to. It wouldn't kill him, at least for the time being.

He wasn't sure of the time, but he guessed that it was probably around 9 o'clock in the evening by the time he got to the bus station. There weren't many people waiting in the station, since it was past busy hour. This meant more breathing space. However, this also meant that there weren't many buses either. This didn't worry him though, since it was already late and that going home sooner or later wouldn't make much difference.

He looked around him. There were some other people in that station with him. People going home from work. It was a dull view, a small group of office workers waiting for a bus at a bus station. And he was a part of the view, he was an office worker too. It was during these moments, looking at these dull reality before him, that his intention of one day leaving the office world and doing something different was brought to the forefront of his occasional musing. He was a person who was easily bored, and routine was not something that he held in high regard. He was very tired, and this depressing thought only made him felt more tired. He began to daydream (a rather unfit term, since it was already night, but the reader should be able to understand), staring out of the window of the bus station.

"Working till late today?"
He was startled out of his reverie by an old man wearing a white robe with some sort of a white turban on his head. The old man smiled warmly, showing a set of healthy teeth. He had a dark skin tone. For some reason, he felt as if the old man was radiating with some sort of inner light. Or maybe it was because the old man was wearing a white robe. But he felt that that was not it. He thought that maybe some people really have this inner light that radiate.

He replied, saying that going home during this hour is something that was customary to him. "So you've gone home later than this hour?" asked the old man. He concurred. "Ah, young people these days, so busy and ambitious," said the old man, smiling and looking at him with an intense gaze. The old man then proceeded to look away, averting his gaze to the view of the towering buildings in the surrounding with an inward look, as if trying to dig out old memories. "So many has man achieved, and yet so many has man yet to achieve. Ah, forgive me young man, I must have tired you with my ramblings." He just smiled and said that it was okay. At least, thought the man, you're not as boring as these other people. At least, you're not as boring as I am, thought he.

"Ah, the bus is here. Shall we?"
Both of them got on the bus. There were not many people inside since it was past busy hours. Both got themselves some seats. The drizzle outside turned into a downpour all of a sudden when they got on the bus, and visibility was poor. "The rain, I always love the rain. So tell me young man, do you love your work?" He was caught off guard by the question, expecting the old man to be talking about the weather. He replied tentatively, saying that his job was okay, that he learned a lot from his work. He tried to convince himself that he meant what he said, but it didn't work. He also knew that the old man was aware of this. His smile told him so.

"Well, what is it that you want out of life?" A question that he didn't really like, since he had not found the answer to it. He was silent for awhile. Was it wealth that he wanted? He'd seen people acquire wealth, but that somehow was not enough. Was it recognition that he wanted? But recognition did not last long. It came and went, a hollow thing, immaterial, like a ghost, a thing which you couldn't grasp. "I see. You're not like most people who would automatically blurt out something akin to wealth and fame. Though they know that in their heart of hearts, it is not wealth and fame that they want. It's just something that they're used to saying."

He smiled. It's not easy as it seemed, trying to find out what a man wants out of life, he said. "Indeed it's not. I think it's buried deep within a person's subconscious, deep within a person's heart. Deep in his or her inner child. I guess many people have forgotten the dreams of their childhood. Disappointment, disillusionment, lost hope, so many reasons. So many sadness," the old man mused. He felt as if the old man was talking about him. The old man then gazed outside the bus, through the window. "Such beautiful light that has adorned this city. Alas, it's only a facade, a cover to hide so many broken hearts. It's as if this city is trying to brave itself, saying that there's no such thing as broken hearts. A crown of light, to drown out the darkness within. Ah, such a futile attempt."

They sat in silent after that, waiting to arrive at their own destination. At the station where he was supposed to get off the bus, just as he was about to disembark, the old man called to him "It's been nice talking to you again, young man. Even if most of the time you just listened and rarely said anything, smiling your approval or maybe disapproval. Hope we'll see each other again." He didn't turn to see the old man, but he could see him smiling from the reflection on the window on the bus' door. He smiled. As he was walking, he looked to the side at the glass wall of the bus station. He saw the old man there, walking with him. He said to himself, "It's been awhile, old man. It's nice to hear you talking again. Come again anytime." The old man in the glass wall smiled. He walked away, and the old man walked away with him.

Author's note: It's frustrating sometimes, running out of material to write. But one must finish a story. Even if in the end there's no point in the story. Thanks to the old man in the white robe and turban for the warning. Even if back then the author didn't really heed his warning, but it was enough help.

Jigsaw Puzzle

Movie Review
Saw (2004)
Directed by James Wan
Story by James Wan and Leigh Whannell

The movie started with a scene where a man woke up half-drowned in a bath tub in a pitch black room. The voice of a man at the other end of the dark room greeted him, making him realize that he was not alone in that room. After fumbling about, the other man, whose face has not been shown to the audience, finally found the lightswitch. Both men found themselves inside a very dirty and abandoned toilet in an unknown location, with their feet shackled and bound to the pipings at two opposing corners of the room.

A dead body drowned in a pool of its own blood laid between them, holding a tape recorder and a gun.

The other man, the one who found the lightswitch, introduced himself as Dr. Laurence Gordon (Cary Elwes). The first man introduced himself as Adam (played by Leigh Whannell, who also happens to be responsible for the movie's story). Both claimed that they didn't recognize the dead body in the middle of the room. Both also claimed that they didn't know how they could end up shackled in an unknown toilet. After discovering tape cassettes stuffed inside their pockets and playing them in the tape recorder found in the dead man's hand, it was made clear to them by the culprit who's responsible for the whole scene (a serial killer with the nickname of 'Jigsaw Killer') that Dr. Gordon must kill Adam by 6 o'clock that day or his wife, Diana (Makenzie Vega), and his daughter, Alison (Monica Potter) would die.

What follows after that was one of the most entertaining, and very disturbing thriller movie I've ever seen, full of storyline twists and turns. Some people compared this movie with Se7en and well, I don't exactly agree with them but I could understand why they did so. I would say that people compared this movie to se7en because both have very disturbing stories. But a direct comparison seems to be inappropriate. All I could say that this one is different. And more importantly, it was entertaining. The acting was okay, not exceptionally good, but not downright bad either. What will keep the audience intrigued is the story, which is quite good.

A little hint (no spoilers content, I hope), if you like. The title of the movie, in my opinion, has multiple meanings. It could mean saw as a blade (like from chainsaw), since at the beginning of the movie, both men found saws hidden in the room. It could also mean saw as a past tense form of 'see'. Because everything you need to know to understand the twists and turns in this movie is shown in all the scenes in this movie. Hence, you SAW the hint (albeit this realization will come during the later sections of the movie).

So, for those who enjoy thriller, you should see this movie. I give it a score of 8 out of 10.