Pikebubbles *

I just realized a funny thing. For the past 48 days alone, I hade unconsciously used the phrase ‘ah… he really looks like my dad’ or ‘he reminds me of my dad’ for at least three times, addressed to at least three different men. First, it was Popo, when he kindly drove me home and refused to let me pay for his gas after I got ripped off by that dumb and irresponsible bandit - quoting the term used by the Russian government to refer the Chechen terrorists - on that bloody Friday afternoon. Second, it was the ‘dad’ from an oldskool Japanese quiz show in television who was struggling to pile up three hundred coins of 10 yen in less than seven minutes in order to win prizes for his family, he had five children, all of them are under 10, and an unadorned beautiful wife, the ‘dad’ was given five days to practice making the coins tower in his own house before had had to do it live in the studio. He practiced and practiced and practiced, and the coins tower was always fell, fell, and fell. In that five days of practice, out of… maybe more than 100 attempts of piling up the coins, he succeeded only three times, because his house was so small and he had so many children, small children who could not stop running and bouncing around while keep on screaming and yelling all the time. Every time the coins tower was beginning to stand high, the smallest child came and sat curiously next to the ‘dad’, unfortunately, he was always making too much moves which of course made the table in which the ‘dad’ pile up those coins shook and the tower fell once again. However, although knowing that he really should make it right if he really wanted to win the prizes for his family, not a single time the ‘dad’ was caught making even an annoyed face when his children disturbing his concentration over and over again, he always gave the same patient smile, never once got snap even though his coins tower always fell and fell. When the day of the show really came, they invited the whole family to watch him making the coins tower, but this time… no more practice, it’s the final, once he failed and the tower fell, there would not be any second chance, and those prizes for his family would be gone forever. And everything went so tense at that time, minute after minute, coins after coins, the camera rolled and the viewer could even see how his children closed their eyes and prayed for him, one of them even got too anxious and worried, he got burst in tears. But finally, in the minute six and fifty seconds, their dad succeeded in making the coins tower. He was a hero for them at that moment.
Then the third man reminded me of my dad was the character of Victor Navorsky in The Terminal, played by Tom Hanks. Navorsky was the stranded immigrant from Krakhozia, who was compelled by the power-syndrome-evil immigration officer to stay at the airport while waiting for permission from the USA government to grant his visa and passport and allow him to enter the USA in order to complete his mission. This however, would remain nearly impossible, because at the very same time of his landing, it precisely coincided the point of time where the war had struck in his country, which had caused his nation of origin to no longer exist, making him a man without a country, who did not have any valid identity that might be acknowledged by the states. So he was stuck at the airport and had no other choice but to make his life went on. But Navorsky did not complain, he was not even angered. He did not face his oppressor with fist and fury but he chose to try to make the best out of his bounded life instead. He found every simple joy of life that would somehow make him smile and make other people smile, and that’s how he swept the board.

I miss my dad, and maybe that’s why those three persons remind me of my dad so much. They definitely do not share any similarity in terms of physical, but they do share things in common; they are all the kind of person who doesn’t use rage and anger as their weapon.
It’s very rare to see my dad pull an angry face, he’s the kind of person who instead of chosing to use his energy to lower the car window to shout angrily and give a finger to those sickly annoying motorcycles or metrominis that always overtake his road, his energy is used to lower the car window to give a smile and a thumb up for all those people who kindly let him pass his way. He’s the kind of person who faces his client’s exasperating complaints with a patient smile while listening to all their needs. He ceases anger with smile and, most of the time, it does work.

I remember one day when we’re driving, there’s a car that pass his way so sudden it almost hit our car. My dad had to brake hard to avoid the car. He was a bit pissed, I know, but he did not crack up, he let the car passed through his way while taking a deep breath. I was the one who got a bit angry that time and could not stop protesting his weak respond. My dad only smiled and said, ‘Sisie, it’s not a weak respond, think of it as an act of kindness, as a good deed, probably the driver of that car really had to do that because his wife is about to give birth and therefore he needed to be in a very rush, or maybe his daughter is dying and he really needed to be there on the side of his daughter or… whatever. I mean… we never really know, don’t we? Had we chosen to unleash the rage, it would only make things worse for him. Besides, it did not do us too much of a harm if we chose to yield a bit, instead, it might help other people. And believe me, any act of kindness always come round again, it’ll always be returned. Every time I do my act of kindness I always remember my family and I always remember you, If I do kindness to other people, I know that other people will also be kind to my daughter.’

I was touched knowing that he really do care about me so much, but I had to admit that I never really believed on such thing. I mean, what kind of logical explanation could explain the possibility of my dad’s act of kindness, no matter how kind and touching it might be, would be straightly returned to his daughter? None, I believe.

However, at the very same day, I had to go back to Jakarta. Everyone who knew me really well of course how bad my spatial sense is, so at that time, after my third visit to Gambir, I still got lost. But fortunately, everyone there had been so nice and helpful I managed to find the right gate and took the right train to Depok. Of course I still thought that it had nothing to do with ‘the act of kindness’ philosophy my dad told me, not until I finally got to the train. The train was a bit crowded, so I had to stand. It was a bit difficult because my backpack was a bit heavy and I carried two small paper bags on both of my hands, so practically I could not be able to take a grip on anything to keep me steady. And it was a bit annoying too, because there, right in front of me, there was a young man who was pretending to sleep, so that he would not have any obligation to give his seat for me. I mean, not that I was expecting for him to give his seat or anything, but his faking was so obvious it really nauseated me. But suddenly there was a pat on my hand, I looked and there was an old woman with worn-out clothes and a shabby look, sat right next to that young man, she was smiling and said ‘Mbak, turun dimana? Kasihan… sepertinya bawaannya berat sekali… mari saya pegangin bawaannya, mbak. Saya masih jauh turunnya, di stasiun Bogor.’

I was touched. Well… maybe it was because I looked so pitiful at that time, or could be… because my dad’s right.

And I think I envy my mum, she’s a darn lucky woman.


-sie-

*A title of a song about dad sung by the Cardigans in the Emmerdale album.