Chapter 7:

When Will You Get Married?

Accept What is Given

A commuter electric train ride takes him to Ceper station. The train at Eid al-Fitr is packed, even before dawn. The whole train, all 16 wagons, is turned into sardine cans. The kindness of air conditioning is not available. The train arrives, and he switches mode to the bus at 4 AM. The bus is as lukewarm as the train but not as silent. People come and go, including the driver. Chatter, debate, and slander blend into a lively atmosphere. Iwan reads the air and starts to converse.

"Good morning, ma'am; how do you do?"

"I'm good, kid, how about you? Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm good as well, ma'am. I'm heading to my parent's home at Pakisan."

"Oh, we're neighbours! I live at Posis."

"Where's your house exactly from the market?"

"Head east, 300 meters from the market."

"I see, where's your stop?"

"Barepan field, I got an invitation for Eid prayers from my friends."

"Oh! we're here,"

"Nice talking to you, kid; see ya around!"

"Take care, ma'am!"

Iwan steps away from the Pakisan elementary school bus stop. He faces the sunrise, and warm rays hit his face with some vitamin D attached. When he arrives, the house is filled with many people: his parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, and even distant relatives he doesn't know.

His mom welcomed him with such a radiance of love: " Welcome home, my son! My love! My nation! My world!" Even that dialogue is still an understatement of how energetically she welcomes him. Meanwhile, his dad opts for, "Welcome home, kid. Wanna go fishing?"—the same greeting since two years ago.

The day starts with breakfast: rice, fried tempe, fried tofu, and sayur lodeh. A blend of young unripe jackfruit, eggplant, chayote, melinjo beans and leaves, long beans, green chili pepper, tofu, and tempeh. All live under the broth, made from coconut milk, resulting in a white color. As they eat together and take the first bite, the broth flushes into their mouth, leaving a taste of shallot, garlic, candlenut, coriander, aromatic ginger, dried shrimp paste, salt, and sugar. Iwan is content with a plate, but others ask for a refill. Right now, it's fine and dandy until Eid prayers end at 7 AM. Hordes of neighbours pour into the yard.

"Good morning, ma'am; how do you do?"

"Ah! You're Iwan, right? Look at how big you are now! Your beard is thicker as well!"

"Thank you, here's a hot tea, please enjoy!"

"Brown sugar! My favourite. How did you get here?"

"By train and bus. I depart very early in the morning."

"Why don't you go by car? Your parents will be proud of you!"

"Hahaha! My parents don't really care about such things. They're happy as long as I can sustain myself and help others."

"But you could still get a car, you know? Take a loan with little installment, pay it off in a few years, and you'll be fine."

"I live in Yogyakarta, where cars are unnecessary. Buses, metros, and trains are available, frequent, and free to use, and you can go anywhere by changing your modes of transport. Everything is within walking distance, and biking is also a good option. When you have to go somewhere unreachable by public transport, renting a car is cheaper than owning one. Not to mention the expensive sales tax, parking tax, ownership tax, maintenance, and electricity bills for car owners. I don't see any reason to own it."

"All right, all right. Let me cut to the chase… It's about pride. Owning a car, wearing expensive items, or renovating your parents' house will make your parents happy. It's a sign of glory, a sign that you are a human being and that you are successful and have climbed the social ladder! Your job may be venerable, but your belongings aren't."

"Ma'am, my apologies… But owning something for the sake of showing off is stupid. Let's say I have a car. Does that mean my old self, who hasn't owned a car yet, was a Silvery gibbon? Life is about reaching wisdom, inner peace, self-control, acceptance, healthy social relations, procreation, prosperity, and letting it all go. When it comes to happiness, it's impossible; issues still linger even until the time on our deathbed. My parents and other family members share the same view. We might be born as a mere lowly peasant in an agrarian society, but that doesn't stop us from evolving our mind, body, soul, and relationship with the Almighty God."

"I didn't get through you, huh? Well… Do whatever you want! But…”

He feels enlightened after coming up with that counterargument. But the last enemy remains… that is marriage.