In 2014, when i was nineteen years old, i joined a gathering that held by an organization of the campus. To kick out boredom, one of my friends took photographs using Canon D50. He captured me on a photograph with a girl.
The story began as well. In brief, she was nice, kind, blessed with an adorable smile, and such a good listener too. She was taller than me. At first, our meetings intensities started in the same organization, we kept in line to do some projects. In one occasion of the discussion in our organization, in the middle of the night since the discussion unfinished yet, she sat next to me, laid her back on the wall, gradually and indeliberately, since she was sleepy, her head was shouldering on me.
‘Fi… do you hear me? May you move your head? I feel inconvenient to others…’
Slowly, she drew her head, her chocolate eyes half opened and closed, laid down to the wall again.
By the time, we talked much by phone or face to face meetings. In mutual silence, ‘It” just appeared, both of us becoming intimately, for time to time, from train station, town square, grabbing street foods, walking around shopwindows, spent the day together in. she was filling up spare time between my day in and day out.
This was how i and she involved in the most critical chronic. As we went outside around the campus, near night street food stall, we sat down before a square of the town. We chosen place less crowded of subscribers. I kept smoking. Like commoner uttered secret in their own way.
She could write good and precise reports, about feeling she could not. She could sew fabric, she could not sew sentences. She gave hand drawings, no caption written, remaining some questions. We discussed what happened actually between us. The cold air of the dry season night through in front of us just passed.
She was not dauntless to stare at me. Both of her palms adhered upon her knees. Under her tearful gaze, she bowed her head, she told her feelings that i did not know at that time. We talked much, thought hard how to solve it. Shall we commit to a relationship like other youngsters?
“I think that i need your presence around me,” she said.
It was feasible, her sentences would hurt me. It would hurt her too. It might become an anonymous nightmare, once in the middle of the night. The only thing I could do, kept quiet where i did not understand what truly i felt, the language was silence, waiting who will run ours tongue more.
I tried to hear carefully to her following explaining sentences. She was the one who decided what she felt. Apparently, it was not easy for a girl to confess her true feeling. I caught honesty, modesty and sincerity sometimes those were more meaningful than any others stuff in this world. I did not know and understand at all what I should say. I stopped smoking.
What she taught me was, there were different point of views among men and women. There were cultural barriers that telling it not merely men had right to admit his true feelings. A girl could do it as well. Though, in that relationship sometimes still enforced me how to be ‘boy’. Furthermore, she was enforced to be trait as ‘girl’ too. In the same time, we tried to be our self without mask clipped on our face.
As it did later, she gave me two pieces of her own photograph when she was in senior high school and requirement to register on campus. She wore a black and white suit before red wallpaper. Then, I put those on the pocket of my ripped jeans as the remembrance of things past.
In July 2015, she gave me a letter. I just kept afterthought in mind. The passage that I remembered was written on below in compound sentences; ‘I want always with you where I forbid you to depend on me….’
As we came to a wedding of our acquaintances, our fellow initiatively captured us in a photograph using mobile phone camera. Officially, it became our first photograph as a lover. Like other people in the teenage today, current lover become such a wish of the lifetime, so did we. Trying to keep it up in intact, holding hands tightly, maturing body to hug or kissing, exalting promises, even it was a pompous dream. We did not know that it could invite unbearable pain.
I memorized having to pose with her. Even she was not my first girlfriend. I was not believing whom the first lover was worth to be the most remembered lover. I never posed with my later former lover. Despite of it, I did not like much to take any picture in any particular situation or date. I found those photographs truly awkward but those were so meaningful too.
Once, in an evening, we phoned, before the end of the talks, she minded me again in succinct, clear yet softly heard.
“Please, try to be understander of every single reality and condition, be more sensitive to your beloved people….”
In the end, i was questioning what was meaning of a shared memento from photograph. How to be remembered by people that are forgetting gradually, a photograph never wants to assure people posed in there to be forced to be with. It can’t deny the meaning of lost too. It also may not ask them to be back. It is often to be abandoned as hatred, it is returned as if accomplished forgetting, being ripped since no more aware, it is irritating because fall out chilled tears.
As the time flies, it steadily becomes less significant. It was pseudo-real, it merely bring memory without body itself. I am questioning what is the meaning for the people that (ever) take care and aware about me. How they allow me to enter their cultural space that are pretty private.