Strangers in My Commute

I would call myself an observer. A passive observer. I watch people. I judge them in my heart. And most days than not, I feel deep sympathy for strangers. I like to narrate their life in my head. Like talking in their voice as they walk in front of me while we share the air. Providing a voice over their heads while I'm sitting on the train like now. 

The sun is golden at this hour. The rays are closer to orange than red. Oftentimes, I'd romanticize life when the sky is looking this clear and the sun is being nice like this.

A guy standing in front of me is wearing a neat white shirt and navy pants. His bag looks heavy. He must be carrying a laptop inside. Could he be an insurance agent who just  convinced a retired teacher to renew her policies? But then what is the story behind those two lines between his brows? A stress? A loud thoughts? Oh maybe he’s an over thinker who thinks that when people are whispering near him they are probably talking about the way he talks. He looks like a Rico. Yes. Let’s name him Rico. Rico might not be aware of this, but he’s a lucky guy with a nicely shaped forehead. It’s rare for a guy to have that shape that compliments their look.

I shift my gaze towards the girl standing in front of the train door. She has big headphones on. Like the size of each pad is probably one fourth the size of her head. She nods in rhythm. I look over her feet. She’s tapping it. The parachute trousers she’s wearing have an extra pocket behind the knee fold. She probably is a customer service agent working for a company that makes their way around to not give an increment this year. The girl looks like the name “Sandra” fits her. Sandra probably reads books. Maybe two books in a year because during her commute she decides to scroll on tiktok. The way her shoulder is looking tense makes me think of a financial struggle she carries. Oh. To be young and trapped in the system!

I sigh. Give my eyes a break and watch the city line moving on the window. I love to imagine how the train is standing still and the world around it is the one that’s moving. The sun has gone lower. The cumulonimbus visible behind the buildings is now grazed with thick orange that looks like the margin of a bonfire sight. 

I visualize a string of light popping from on top of my head and connecting me to Sandra. “Sometimes you may envy people for not having money problems. Some of those people, well, they envy you for having money as your only problem. Remember that.” I whisper in my mind. Hoping that the string of light can relay the message to Sandra. 

The train door opens. This is my stop. I close my note book where I jot down the observations and walk outside. I put my ear pod in to drown the thought that I have, that my observer could not guess.

The Songs That Raised Me Still Know How to Comfort Me

Have you ever felt a choke in your throat that can only be relieved by warm drops falling from the corner of your eyes? Or do you ever experience the big lump burning inside your chest but instead of hurting, it makes your whole body feel like in that strange, graceful trance nostalgia brings?

When I decided to sit down and write this, I had this overwhelmingly good–nostalgic–warm feeling that resulted in tears shed. Not once, not twice. 

Before bed, I was humming a tune and started singing, “Susan… Susan… Besok gede mau jadi apa…” and had this serious will to find the whole discography of Kak Ria Enes and Susan on music streaming platforms. I was so absurdly happy when I found Kak Ria Enes and Susan on Apple music.  So then I decided to listen to my favorite song, Susan Masuk Sekolah before really trying to sleep. 

Let me take you back to 12 hours before this morning (when I wrote this). 

I didn’t expect that the first tune of that song would make me cry. The kind of cry that you don’t understand why. The kind of cry that makes your heart filled with this happiness but it feels far away. The kind that makes you feel full, but empty. The kind that makes you long for something, but you just couldn’t point out what specific thing is that longing for. 

And then I was like, okay, maybe I’m in quite a hormonal imbalance and decided to listen to Kak Ria and Susan when I’m in a good state. I betrayed that commitment because on my way to work this morning, I listened to them. The whole Volume 3 and Susan Masuk Sekolah album. I knew this would put a lump in my throat and choke me with these feelings that I think I’m familiar with but not sure how to handle without crying like a baby.

I was probably around 2-3 years old when I first listened to Kak Ria Enes and Susan. I kept getting back to the old blue cassette when I was 5 to 7 years old. I remember how me and my older brother would sit around our old fading black Polytron  tape player to listen to it and dance to Si Monod song. 

But returning to it at 32, on a bus to work, felt different. And I’m not sure if this will work the same way with other 90s kids, but for me, my Susan moment was so therapeutic in the most nostalgic way. It lights up my drained exhausted soul. It sparks my sleeping hope back to life. It gives me this euphoric feeling because I smiled from ear to ear from the lyrics and Susan’s behavior. It makes me feel calm through Kak Ria’s soothing voice. 

And then when I stopped, it brings me to this conclusion:

Listening to your childhood songs as an adult is another way to get in touch with your inner child. And when you can make a good reflection while in that state, you heal another part of that scared little kid inside of you. In my case, I get to see something in life, from the perspective of a brave–full of energy–little me. At least for the whole duration of  Punya Cita-cita song.

Now I’m about to turn 33 in a week. And I think I will get back to Kak Ria and Susan once in a while for every time I feel like the world has given me too much stuff to think about. Because it will take me back to that time; the time when I don’t really understand how the world works that it makes everything possible in my mind and because of that I get to dream of every little dream I might have without the fear of losing it in a blink of an eye. 

Oh to be a kid and not knowing. To be a kid, and believe that the world is gonna treat you right. To be a kid, and think you’re going to make it when you’re old enough. To be a kid, inside a 33 years old body and still have that faith–that everything is going to work out in my favor.

The Tax of Getting By: What Does a Flawed World Demand of Us?

What is the cost of living in a world with a faulty system?

Sanity? If that's the price, no wonder you see so many people losing it even before they hit 30.

Kindness? If that's another cost, then it totally clicks why so many folks are being jerks.

Excitement? If that's part of the bill, it explains why I'm losing interest in the little things, like getting hyped about new movies or wanting to go do stuff outside.

This is why an extra day off for the weekend like today is so precious to me. Because I get to be away from the crazies outside. I get to be away from having to deal with mean people all over the town, and I get to be on my own in my own place, doing the thing that I want to be doing but never really have time to do.

Gosh, did I just take a super long break from writing, like actually sit my ass down to rant about something in the forms of written words? And what does it take for me to really start writing again? Weeks of being exhausted with so many questions that need to be answered?

Here's some serious questions: aren't all of you starting to feel it? The exhaustion that you can't understand, and when you try to fix it, you can't even figure out where that came from? Is it physical? Or is it what's in your mind?

Those people who party all the time, who have all the energy to hang out and talk to people, who travel a lot, who go to the mall every day, who—I don't know, everything that you do that I don't—aren't you tired?

And if you don't, please tell me how you do that, because man, I have been tired for the last couple of months, and I don't know if traveling or a full day spa could fix it.

It's 2025, and the unsettling truth is that many of us feel the world is designed to set us up to fail, leaving us drained and too exhausted to pursue anything beyond basic survival. This feeling is starkly illustrated by the limited time we actually have. Consider this: a 40-hour work week, combined with a daily one-hour commute and seven hours of sleep, leaves only eight hours. Subtract another hour for meals and an hour for essential personal care, and we're down to six. Within that six-hour window, we must still find time to connect with loved ones, maintain our homes, prepare food, and handle other necessities, leaving, at best, a mere four hours for ourselves.

Some people can use that 4 hours to go to the gym, to run, to prepare healthier food, to make art, to do a community-based project, to plan a trip, to hang out with their friends, to go above and beyond to find a place to be in nature, or even to do a side hustle. And for that, I really have a genuine and humble question: how do you do that? How do you have all that energy?

Because in my case, I keep dreaming of living in a remote place, owning a huge land to just farm and grow my own food far from the city, far from the world, so I can live in a hush, without all the rush. And if I'm the only one that feels this way, I refuse to believe that it's a me problem because there must have been something that I have been missing about the secret of going through everything in the world that is controlled by the people who ruin everything.

So, tell me, if there's a way to shake off this perpetual exhaustion, I'm all ears. Because how can one truly feel vibrant and alive when the world stage is riddled with conflict? How can one feel at peace while navigating a capitalist system that constantly whispers of inadequacy and the threat of being swept under?

But if it's not just me, then maybe I have something to say about this being totally wiped out —God, I just want to sleep —state. Because if we can't force ourselves to have that energy those party people or gym buddies have, we can just be couch potatoes and rot in bed if we want.

If we don't have the time to make our art, if we can't get ourselves to run or cook a healthy meal, we can just order takeout and count our usual steps as our exercise. If we feel like we don't want to be around people or we just can't stand being in public space because hearing all those noises makes our brain glitching, we can just be in our own space and put on our favorite music—because we still have to go to work to pay those bills that keep going up—while we're out. If we feel like we can only do so much and go so far, then so be it.

Like Katie Gavin said, "some days you do your best, some days you do what gets you out of bed," and I think that sums up everything I've been trying to write and figure out with all these questions.

RIAK-RIAK MESIN TENUN

Dua atau tiga kali dalam setahun, aroma belerang yang mengendap di dasar danau Maninjau menguar. Jutaan ikan yang dibesarkan dalam karamba oleh ratusan pengusaha ikan nila akan mati dalam satu atau dua minggu. Sudah menjadi kebiasaan bagi pemilik karamba untuk menjadikan danau sebagai tempat pembuangan bangkai ikan-ikan gagal panen mereka. Bercampurlah aroma belerang, ikan nila pucat yang menggembung, dan segala hal membusuk yang dibuang ke tengah danau ini. Familiar bagi orang-orang yang memilih untuk tetap menghuni rumah peninggalan leluhur mereka di pinggir danau. Mengganggu bagi orang-orang yang bertahan hidup was-was berdampingan dengan lereng bukit-bukit yang terbiasa longsor. 

Rani, dibandingkan dengan siapapun percaya bahwa hidungnya lebih akrab dengan aroma belerang dan bangkai ikan yang menepi itu. Sambil tetap menikmati teh racikannya di beranda belakang setiap pagi dan menjelang maghrib, Rani tidak peduli jika ada ratusan orang yang nyaris muntah menghirup aroma musiman di sekeliling danau Maninjau itu. Baginya, bau busuk ini hanya identitas di kampung halaman tempat ibunya lahir, tumbuh, menjalani kehidupan dan menua sebelum kembali menjadi tanah.

Rani hidup di rumah kayu bersama saudaranya. Rumah berumur seratus tahun dengan beranda yang setengahnya menjorok ke arah danau. Rani punya kebiasaan menghabiskan tiga puluh menit setiap pagi dan sore untuk menikmati teh sambil merapikan benang-benang tenunan dan menghitung jumlah karamba yang terlihat dari berandanya. 

Rani tidak terlalu suka dengan jumlah karamba yang mengapung di permukaan danau Maninjau ini. Mungkin satu-satunya keturunan Angku Laweh, kakeknya, salah satu dari pelopor budidaya ikan nila dalam jala apung yang tidak ikut serta memanfaatkan danau untuk mencari nafkah. Karenanya, Rani sering menjadi bahan olok-olok orang kampung karena mengasingkan diri dari kegiatan ekonomi nomor satu di sekitar danau Maninjau itu. Rani sering dicibir oleh tetangga dan sepupu-sepupunya karena lebih memilih untuk hidup pas-pasan dengan penghasilan kecil yang didapatkan dari menjual songket.

Songket karya Rani memiliki corak unik yang penuh dengan pola-pola yang bercerita. Tidak ada orang di kampungnya yang terlalu paham pekerjaan Rani. Bagi mereka Rani hanya tukang tenun songket yang hidup dari santunan dua kakak pengusaha karambanya.

Sore ini, seperti biasa Rani duduk di beranda. Menghirup teh sambil menyusun benang dan memilih warna yang akan dipakainya untuk songket selanjutnya dan sesekali memandang jauh ke seberang danau memperhatikan sisa matahari bersembunyi di balik bukit. Namun riak danau petang ini terasa berbeda. Suara rangkulan air yang menepuk ujung tangga beranda terdengar lebih pelan namun dalam. Terasa dekat tapi seolah jauh. Rani beranjak dari kursi rotannya dan mendekati tangga, memperhatikan permukaan air yang terlihat semakin tenang seiring dengan silau petang yang semakin hilang dan redup. Perlahan semua suara menjadi seirama dan gumaman halus bersiul dari arah danau. 

Rani terkesiap. Sambil memejamkan mata Rani kembali mendekat ke arah danau dan duduk di ujung tangga. Suara merdu itu kembali mendengung. Mengalun dari kedalaman danau. Menggetarkan ujung-ujung rambut halus di kulit Rani dan membuat hembusan angin terasa ratusan kali lebih dingin. Terhipnotis. Rani semakin membenamkan kakinya ke dalam air dan melangkah turun ke anak tangga yang lebih rendah. Alunan suara dari jauh itu semakin berirama. Memanggil. Seketika adzan magrib berkumandang. Rani tersentak membuka mata dan meninggalkan beranda. Menutup pintu terburu-buru.

Di dalam kamar, setelah mengganti pakaian yang basah karena berendam di danau dan menunaikan sholat maghrib, Rani duduk bersandar di ujung kasur. Memandang keluar lewat celah yang disisakan jendela. Mengingat suara halus yang membuat Rani seolah ingin menyelam jauh ke dasar danau tadi. Baru sekali dalam hidupnya mendengar suara seperti itu. Dan hanya dari film fantasi soal makhluk lain di perairan Rani pernah mendengar suara yang serupa. Tapi apa mungkin di danau Maninjau ini ada makhluk yang selama ini diceritakan sebagai sosok khayalan itu. 

Rasa penasaran Rani lebih kuat dibandingkan rasa takutnya. Tanpa peduli langit sudah gelap dan danau semakin tenang, Rani bergerak keluar kembali ke beranda. Dengan langkah pelan Rani mendekati ujung tangga. Matanya menangkap selembar kain terhampar. Mengapung di dekat tangga. Rani mendekat dan mengambil kain basah yang memiliki motif dan warna unik itu. Songket tua berisikan corak abstrak membentuk sosok manusia, danau, dan manusia setengah ikan. Rani kembali tersentak. Namun tetap memegang erat kain di tangannya. Suara merdu yang didengarnya petang tadi kembali mengalun dari arah danau. Buru-buru Rani kembali masuk dan meninggalkan beranda dengan bulu kuduk berdiri.

Rani menyalakan keran air dan membilas kain basah yang dibawanya dari beranda. Membuat luntur air danau penuh bau amis dan membuat warna di kain itu semakin terlihat jelas. Semakin Rani memperhatikan motif di songket itu semakin matanya terasa panas sebelum akhirnya meneteskan butiran air dari sudut matanya. Rani menangis menyadari bahwa corak di atas kain itu ternyata bercerita tentang seorang manusia yang menenggelamkan dirinya ke danau untuk dapat bersama dengan manusia setengah ikan yang hidup di dasar danau. Hanya saja air mata Rani bukan tentang kisah cinta antara dua makhluk berbeda alam itu. Rani menangis mengingat alunan yang didengarnya yang membuat Rani merasa bahwa kisah cinta yang dilihatnya di atas kain songket ini bukan cerita fiksi yang sering dilihatnya di film-film atau cerita yang bisa dibacanya dari buku-buku. Rani tiba-tiba merasakan duka yang teramat dalam mengingat danau yang menjadi sumber kehidupan ribuan manusia yang hidup di kampungnya ini, perlahan mati. Seakan menenggelamkan diri ke dasar air—yang dilakukan sosok dalam corak songket itu—orang-orang memanfaatkan danau terlalu berlebihan adalah tindakan bunuh diri yang membuat kisah cinta antara manusia dan alam adalah cerita cinta antara dua makhluk yang berbeda alam. Seolah luntur, ketakutan Rani hilang. Rani bangkit dan kembali membuka pintu beranda.

Rani berdiri di ujung tangga membiarkan angin malam menampar wajahnya. Berharap kembali mendengarkan nyanyian dari danau Maninjau yang begitu ia cinta. Hening. Hanya bunyi air yang merangkak perlahan menepuk ujung beranda. Rani menghela nafas panjang, menghirup semua aroma yang bisa terhirup dari angin malam dan permukaan danau Maninjau yang semakin kotor.

Untaian benang-benang yang ditenun Rani dalam songketnya selama ini ternyata adalah wujud kepasrahan Rani terhadap pencemaran danau Maninjau. Tanpa merasa perlu untuk memberikan kritik, berusaha sekecil apapun untuk membantu danau Maninjau memiliki kembali keasrian purbanya, Rani memilih untuk menjadi pengrajin songket sebagai bentuk persembunyian dari dorongan apatis di dalam jiwanya terhadap perubahan alam dan perilaku manusia. 

Semakin Rani memandang permukaan danau, semakin ia terhanyut dalam corak riak yang menepi. Semakin Rani tenggelam dalam pikirannya, semakin Rani menyadari bahwa danau Maninjau telah memanggilnya. Lolongan merdu yang didengar Rani itu adalah tangisan pilu permintaan tolong oleh peninggalan fenomena alam yang sekarat. Hamparan lukisan abstrak yang tergambar dalam songket yang ia temukan malam ini adalah sajak penuh metafora yang mengajarkan Rani bahwa mencintai saja tidak cukup, dengan segala perasaan dan emosi yang dirasakannya menjadi manusia yang hidup di pinggir danau Maninjau dan menyaksikan keindahan alam ini berubah menjadi pembuangan kotor atas kerakusan manusia, Rani harus melakukan sesuatu.

Seperti sosok manusia yang menenggelamkan dirinya ke dasar danau untuk dapat bersama dengan manusia setengah ikan di dalam corak songket itu, Rani merasakan bersama butiran air yang meleleh dari sudut matanya, bahwa dirinya mungkin ditakdirkan untuk menjadi sosok manusia yang menceburkan diri ke air danau untuk hal yang sama: cinta. 

Untuk nyanyian yang terdengar oleh Rani malam ini, untuk sebuah tangisan sakral yang datang dari dasar danau, untuk lolongan dari alam yang menyerah atas keserakahan manusia mengeruk keuntungan tanpa peduli dengan makhluk lain yang bergantung pada danau ini, Rani bersumpah akan melakukan apapun yang bisa ia perbuat untuk mengembalikan keindahan danau Maninjau dan berhenti tenggelam dalam keadaan pasrah dan bersembunyi dari realita. Dengan membuat songket Rani akan bercerita soal danau Maninjau untuk memperjuangkan perhatian dari tangan-tangan dan kuasa yang lebih berpengaruh untuk memperbaiki kelestarian danau tempat kelahirannya.

Rani memejamkan mata. Sayup kembali terdengar dengungan merdu dari tengah danau mengiringi helaan nafas cita-cita yang mulai terpancar dalam jiwa Rani. Rani ingin membuat danau Maninjau berganti wajah, membuatnya kembali terlihat membiru menuju pemulihan. Rani ingin menyembuhkan danau yang sekarat ini dan aroma belerang yang sedang identik dengan kerusakan ini dapat dengan ajaib berubah menjadi simbol ketahanan.

Rani terus menyusun rencana dalam kepalanya, membayangkan setiap songket yang akan dibuatnya untuk menceritakan kisah penebusan dan komitmen. la ingin menjadi suara bagi danau Maninjau. Sambil menghirup aroma angin yang membawa bau amis, imajinasi Rani menarasikan danau Maninjau yang bebas dari belenggu kelalaian dan pengabaian, kembali bergema dengan melodi, alunan nyanyian dari dasar danau—kali ini, bukan kesedihan dan duka, melainkan harapan. Ikrar dan tekad Rani di malam yang tak terlupakan itu memicu perubahan dalam dirinya, menuliskan cerita dan kisah cinta baru antara manusia dan alam.

Dalam kain-kain waktu, songket-songket Rani akan menjadi benang-benang yang menghubungkan masa lalu, kini, dan masa depan, menjalin cerita ketahanan dan ikatan abadi antara manusia dan alam. Di mata Rani, Danau yang memudar dalam warna keputus-asa-an ini berkilau dengan pantulan biru langit di atas permukaannya yang tampak asri. 

 

Like The Crows

 

"If a slightly higher role

makes you shittier,

God knows what real power

would do to a person like you.

If looking down on people

is what makes you feel better,

I can only imagine what kind of wound

is still buried deep in your dark soul.

Oh, but I hold grudges like the crows,

so don't—

never once intentionally

treat me poorly.

And don't—

never unconsciously try

to give me bad tones.

You know, crows

attack.

You understand

how grudges work.

They grow.

So no,

your slightly higher role

does not grant you any respect

if you don't even deserve one."

 

Unveiled Reflections

Embracing True Self Through Poetry

She is a flower blooming in the dark,

Yet her essence still radiates.

She is a treasure in a box,

Locked away and guarded by a dragon.

She is a submarine,

Gliding through the water,

Silently surfacing for air only at night.

She is a spy in enemy territory,

Always on ward,

Never letting down her guard.

She is a character in a noir novel,

Building a secret garden,

Hidden away from the prying eyes of the world.

She is on a tiny island in the middle of a vast ocean,

All she can see are waves crashing on the shore,

But never the horizon.

She is a pearl inside an oyster's shell,

So alluring but ultimately unattainable.

She is a candle in the secluded greenhouse,

Her secret flickering in the shadows.

She is a glowing ember under a pile of ashes,

Her soul smolders just below the surface,

Waiting to burst into flame.

 

But she accept her fate like a hot coal

And it burned through her soul

As the realization dawned on her

Her shoulder relaxed

Like hot iron in the water

It’s her kiss to the forehead

Her warm blanket in the cold winter night

It’s her marking

A gift to oneself

As the tension that had been building 

In her chest since forever melts away.