ISHIHARA (Blind Color-Real Story)
Nineteen 2

“Treet...” My phone

vibrates. There's an incoming message.

“Assalamaicum. Greetings to Liel this is Echa. I also happen to graduate

Medical Faculty of Syiah Kuala University. I got a number from a friend

pesantren in Padangsidimpuan.” As soon as the message I read was grateful I got a friend who had the same goal. Later if there are difficulties in Banda Aceh we can share. And soon I'll get it back.

“Walaikumsalam. Hello to Echa too. Got the number from the Imam? When to go to Banda Aceh?”

“Yes from Imam. Echa leaves on Friday the eighth. Date 11 re-registration has begun” Echa conveying registration information

reworked. This is very useful for preparing for my departure. Before

departing there should be a clear plan about transportation, lodging, and all other processes in Banda Aceh.

“I leave on 8th also Echa. Thanks for the information.” I pressed the send button.

“Thank you back. See you in Banda Aceh.” So message

the last one I received along with my name was called by an officer

general polyclinic RSUD. I entered the room leaving Dad on the waiting bench.

The officer is female. He's not a doctor. A Nurse might be. I was asked to stand on a scale complete with a height gauge. Then he recorded my weight and height, filling the age and blood type columns on the paper he was holding. After that I

told to lie down on the check bed again. He tied my arm, put a stethoscope on my chest, measured my blood pressure. Lastly he asked for medical history and internal medicine. I answered no. Because all this time I never had an internal illness. Everything's fine.

After I was ready to leave the officer prevented me.

“**Wait a minute,” said.

“What else?” my many.

Dad has been waiting outside***.

“There is one more test.”

“Shortly, this is !”

The officer put a book in front of me. We sat one table face to face.

“What number is it?”

Ask on a pile of ash-and-ash points in the middle of the orange points. After I noticed there were numbers in it.

“Twelve.” My answer.

Obviously I saw it.

“Then this?” The officer kept turning the book. My heart is pounding. On sheet

next those dots have been made up of a wide array of colors.

“Hmmm.” I didn't see him that fast.

“Look off quickly.”The officer urged.

“Eight.” My answer.

The number eight is formed with a combination of pink and deep red in the

in a collection of green and brown dots. If I'm wrong, I can say the number three.

“This?”

“Six.” My answer. I already understand the rules.

“This?”

“This?”

“Two Hmmm,” I no longer see clearly the next number.

“Nol. Twenty.”

“Oh. Hmm.” The officer then skipped the page immediately after. He went straight to the end page. Like a special page.

“Try following this line. Started from here!” his orders. This time I didn't guess the numbers. Like the game of a Kindergarten boy who is looking for a way out of a labyrinth. I put my finger down. My fingers follow the line formed from the hotspots continuously

keep getting to the end.

“Completed.” My answer.

“Alright... You are color blind.” The verdict.

“Hak,” I jerked.

Kemudiam was silent.

“You are partial color blind.”

You are partially color blind. That sentence sounded breaking up the room, filling the room of my head. I looked towards the door. Father has stood up

there. Then Dad came in. He was worried that something was wrong.

“What's up!?” said Dad worried.

“Dia?” Dad's surprised,”no way. All my life my son knew all the colors,” my father explained,”there must be something wrong. He has graduated medicine.”

“Medicine!?,” the attendant was also surprised,”certainly later issued.” The officer's verdict. I'm appalled.

My future, my father's dream, the oil company scholarship I have received will be gone if I am expelled. Helpfully

don't say that.

“Not going,” says Father.

“Good.” That officer

re-open the magic book. It was like choosing a special part that I didn't

can read. He cheated.

“Read this?”

“Hmm. Five,” answer.

“Hmmm.” The officer smiled at Dad, a smile of ridicule.

“Ahhh Dad looked at me with a pale face.

“Three..,” whispered Dad. I only saw one bend at the bottom. While the curvature in the section

the top that makes up the number three, I don't see it. I string the colors of the dots together to form an inverted elbow-elbow fracture that forms the number five.

“Not possible,” says Father.

“There is something wrong with this book,” continued Dad again.

“This ishihara book. Do not try to memorize it because this book there are thousands of versions.” Threatening officer

that's.

There are thousands of versions.

The phrase was recorded in my memory.