Jogja, You & Memories
Fourth Temple

The train that brought me closer to the memories that I left almost two years ago arrived in Jogjakarta, Tugu Station. I looked at the PKL line of authentic souvenirs typical of this city near the platform. There was no expression I mentioned with expressions or words.

With a sense of loss as close as bitter melon and a yearning that mounts to my mother's father. I didn't want to go anywhere from my seat until the train attendant who looked at me several times let me out with eyes that showed concern.

I stood up, looking at him so he knew I could, I had missed the moment of losing Pranata by roaring painfully in my room, cowering in fear while Pranata began to sink under the mounds of the earth and flowers and the cries of my mother's father and all his fellow students.

I didn't say a word, just touched my chest with one hand while bowing slightly to say goodbye to her. Whether I knew me or not, all I remembered was that the only person who knew of my troubles on this train was him smiling and nodding and letting me out.

For a moment I inhaled the air of Jogja for the first time before lowering my feet onto the platform. My pair of eyes shimmered, his legs were fixated while some of the people standing behind me nudged me to walk immediately. I smiled an apologetic smile so forced my feet to step out of the station until I never imagined it would be like. It may be true said Dominic and my parents, all the reasons that led me to leave Jogja and explore the country in vain.

I'm back, Prana. Reminiscing you. Of course, only your memories are revealed and your words are like a bright afternoon sun warms up every step of the way on the sidewalk of the Malioboro terrace food court that peddles culinary and snacks of sorts before I stop by the soto warung ngapak pak gondronk. I'm hungry, Prana. You know I have an ulcer and you'll get mad if I diet just because I'm mad at you.

The second I bought fried food and orange ice, Prana's favorite drink to take to the top parking lot of Abu Bakr Ali.

Today there is nothing I need to talk about except about him that we once spent a day here carrying a pack of orange ice and fry a pack while enjoying the sunset yellowing in the sea western ufuk.

Pranata smiled and turned to me after we looked at the train that had just come from the direction of Lempuyangan station to the Tugu station stop.

“Seneng no, Ras?”

I nibbled on the default chili and chewed on the corn while looking back at it. His face was in the last sunlight before the atmosphere became dim.

“Seneng, just don't fry keep the same iced orange to, Prana. Every time we go out of the house to buy it continues. Are you afraid of cholesterol going up? Then if my throat will hurt, keep coughing how, you want to keep me po?”

Pranata immediately whipped mendoan in my hand and devoured it.

“I take a check to mbah shaman, easy to?”

“Well,” said Pranata enthusiastically, his hand which was a straw of fried oil that had become so commonplace he rubbed it on his pants before pinching my cheek. “That's great, Race. I agree, your idea is indeed yahud.”

“Semprul you thu,” reply me keep manyun, “times you thu never romantic to, I was luring you so how even seriously want to buyin I soy sauce same lime! Why not just buy fish and we burn behind the house!”

Pranata broke out that time and made me smile now remember her. A week later when I was coughing up phlegm and fever, Pranata took me to the government general hospital in the middle of the city to confirm that it was not soy sauce and lime that he presented in my recovery, but the general practitioner and the medicines I swallowed three times a day and the next day are improving.

Oh Pranata's, I leave your favorite orange and fried ice that I put in your favorite place if you visit Malioboro— Parkiran Abu Bakar Ali— the highest place at the same time free to enjoy dusk if in the heart of the city if you come here remember your memories with me. You know, I didn't leave you because among Dominic's choices and compulsions to return home was for my own sake.

I smiled as I went down the stairs quickly to make a dag dag dug sound before I turned around while grasping the bottom of the ladder.

I gasped amid the hustle and bustle of the heart of the city that was undergoing changes in terms of infrastructure and facilities. Many changes here, will my heart also try to change more forward? Should've.

I stepped in limply in the crowd before I found the courage to step more carefully into the hostel area near the flower market. Tomorrow morning I promise to go home, I just needed a little time to muster up more courage to face my mother who would have asked me if I had been okay and really gone home without leaving again. Therefore, leaving the beloved again for the sake of running from the memories feels heavier after this self back to explore the land that became a hiding place and the embrace of the father's mother.

I walked into a simple hostel room while throwing my semi-carrier bag into the bed. I quickly took off my shoes and broke my body.

About the day, about my return to my homeland alone. Dominic owes me so much to explain his disappearance in the public restroom. It's really taking him, or there's another reason I don't know about. Oh, is it possible that she was overwhelmed by this morning's chat with her mother's father who wanted us to get married. The more I thought, the sharper my eyes looked at the sky of the room and without the need for days of research, Dominic must have fretted.

“Now want to think of Pranata first or Dominic.” ask me to myself.

Ouch. “Urusan reunion already in plain sight, not to mention going home. Time yes I did not bring it. What kind of child am I.”

Finally my first night in Jogja before tomorrow I will tell you the beginning of my meeting with Pranata Pamungkas began I took a short trip to the gift shop and bought a poor apple while feeling the night air around Malioboro. I'm sure my mom's dad doesn't care if I really buy this poor apple in Malang or not because they know I bought a bakpia pathok as his replacement and I'm sure some are upset with Pranata, but I'm sure you'll like him later too.

...🖤...