Nusantara Throne - Senandung Kebangkitan
Asih
When he woke up on a dry straw mat. Dreaming about his past. The infant Satria was crying hunger in her arms. The little satria thrashed with gums as red as a toothless peach, occasionally Satria hiccups with tiny fingers squeezing Asih's breasts to ask for milk.
It feels like whole again. The dream felt so real as if it happened before sunset. He tried not to remember the days after those fond memories had passed. When the soldiers had to bind and take Asih to the slave refugee fifteen years ago.
At the end of the day the dawn came very cruel. He woke up with a stinging heart. Her tears drip and dry as fast as the wind blows, leaving a salty crust on the cheek skin. He woke up softly while holding back a cry.
Asih never liked the slave camp at Mayakarsa. He was born in Nasai City to a healer and raised as a healer. For fifteen years he had longed for the glitter of the melodious flowing river on the side of Nasai, the birds chirping sweetly at the twigs of the guava trees as he treated the wounds of the corn and yam farmers. He also missed the fragrant air with the scent of flowers in his hut.
Gradually Asih realized that he should not miss the things that have been lost in his life. This was the reality of life that he had to accept at this moment. Cowering in a tent of rough, itchy dry hay. The tent's pedestal was made of straw twisted with dry corn bark. A cloth woven in the color of the ground as thin as a tattered corn skin bandaged a part of the straw mat, the condition was sad and easily torn. Asih's body already smells pungent because it never took a bath other than rainwater that bathed it forcefully.
He remembered to check the wounds of Gondro, a sixty-year-old old slave. Asih hopes the wounds on his palms and calves do not worsen. For years Gondro lived with terrible wounds from lashes, burns, or just eroded sharp bricks. The more days the wound gets worse plus the age that continues to eat up his life. Asih became more worried.
In the distance Asih heard some soldiers woke up lazy and many were still snoring. Last night it still seemed to be stuck in their stomachs, he thought.
The other slaves had already woken up, most of them sad-faced, wrinkled and extremely thin. Her hair fuses lyre, sometimes infested with lice. They never dreamed well and were trapped in a dark room all their lives. The slaves were good, meek people. Although many of them are sinners, and losers. Still feeling sorry.
Where is Satria? instantly Asih felt homesick. But he shifted that feeling and headed towards the camp of the wounded slaves.
“Asih,” the groin of a shaven and wrinkled slave.
He lay languidly wrapped in a brownish gloomy cloth all over his palms and thighs. Green-colored flies buzzed around the wound waiting to lay eggs. Asih holding back tears, an ordinary human should have died with such injuries for many days. But Gondro was a strong man, surely the god had a reason why Gondro could survive all this time.
“I will check the wound again,” he said as he squeezed and pounded the dried betel leaves with a stone.
“Thank you Asih, you don't need to serepot this on us,” said Gondro while looking Asih. His gaze was lifeless.
“Do not talk like that, I do it because I want to. You helped me take care of Satria in the midst of this torment, of course I will never forget your kindness.”
“That is not a debt that you have to pay, for fifteen years I have known you, there is not a single truth that I know about you, Asih.” Gondro tried to get up, but he felt tired and finally lay down to give up. The wound on his calf felt burning, heavy, and smelled fishy. With a raucous voice he continued, “How can you end up like us Asih? you're a healer, this place doesn't deserve a noble heart. We are all sinners. What kind of god sent you to this hell.”
Choose not to answer. He then opened the cloth in the palm of Gondro. Yellow liquid came out from all over Godro's wounds like sap. Slowly Asih wiped the pus with a tear of the dry cloth that he had torn off the base of his tent roof. He won't get clean equipment here. Soldiers would not care about them other than working to the death.
“When I was a teenager, I often stole,” Gondro's face looked regretful. “I remember how a drunk dad always came home empty-handed. Never once did he bring us coins or good food.”
“Didn't you ever say your father was a soldier.”
“Indeed, he's a wretched warrior, father says my birth was misfortune, the biggest accident of his life.”
“A child born to the woman he loved was not the misfortune of Gondro,” Asih said as he cultivated the betel porridge in the palm of Gondro's hand.
Gondro growled, and continued, “not for me, for I am a son of a whore, an illegitimate child,” those words came out of the mouth of Gondro surfing the stream.
“Father only comes home when she faints, taking advantage of the mother who loves her. In the arms of the savage father, mother wishes father married him and raised our degrees.”
That confession made Asih smile weakly. There is not a word of entertainment that you want to say. Asih knew what Gondro wanted right now was an ear to hear.
“My life is like garbage in the middle of the road. Who wants me? A vagrant who survived from stealing rice, cassava and cattle,” Gondro exhaled, his breathing irregular. “Then I was born, I knew the gods would only sink me into the deep sea.”
Asih did not budge, nor did he answer. He had heard many sad stories about the past of the slaves in the camp. Born without love, living without passion. It's like a fairy tale from a book written by the devil. Every time the sentence came out of the mouths of the desperate slaves, Asih felt like he was in the deepest hell.
“How about the boy himself, I'm sure Satria is a special child, don't you think?”
“I also still don't know,” Asih looked down, avoiding Gondro's gaze.
“So he's just an illegitimate child, just like me,” Gondro groans again.
“No.”
“Then? What secrets do you keep in this hell Asih.”
“I can't answer it,” Asih voice low.
A moment Gondro braked again as Asih opened the cloth in his calf. The wound is really rotting. Black as ink, the white line of bone is clearly visible when Asih rubs a little bit of pureed betel pulp on the side of the wound.
“I'm already dying. My time is running out, but you and the kid, your lives are still long.”
“We can still fight to continue living,” Asih said pretending to be tough.
“Do you think so? All of us who are here are like lying on a raft in the middle of the Asih Sea. You drown or you die of hunger,” Gondro does not approve Asih, his voice starts to heavy. “At least it is my time to sink in peace.”
“Do not speak again," muttered Asih.
“Every time their lives are lost one by one, have you ever asked when it's your turn?”
“I still have hope.”
“Yes, I still assume all this will end that-” Asih fell silent suddenly, his attention was distracted. “It's time.”
The sound of clanging echoed signifying Dhanu's command was quite clear, that they had to get up to start working on building Condok Temple again.
Dhanu was the head of the supervisor in the Condok Temple development area. He is the younger brother of the Dharma King, King of Mayakarsa Kingdom. Dhanu was a tall man with a face full of acne that was flushed red and a crooked nose, his skin color was as black as charcoal, he had long hair and was limp. As King Mayakarsa's younger brother, Dhanu's hair was bunned round like a tomato, to signify his royal status.
The construction of the temple has been going on for almost fifteen years since Asih and little Satria arrived here. For the sake of worship, Dharma built the magnificent temple as a form of gratitude for Mayakarsa's glory to the god of prosperity. Dharma did not care even though the construction of the temple had to be filled with the blood of the death of the slaves. He bought the slaves at a great price, assuming that the gold pieces issued were equivalent to the lives of the slaves. most of the slaves came from various criminal and trash society from the allied kingdoms in the Emerald.
Dharma believes the slave's work is very noble. Dying to atone for sin for the prospect of splendor and pride. Construction should be completed this month. Dharma has predicted the harvest time to arrive along with the completion of Condok Temple.
In the slave camp area, two of Mayakarsa's warrior overseers were seen clutching a bamboo kangungan. One of them was named Garung, the soldier in charge and the castle was under Dhanu. All Dhanu's trust was placed in Garung when Dhanu was not in Condok Temple.
The two men were bare-chested using a silk scarf with a keris symbol with a rose vine handle that signified the symbol of Mayakarsa Kingdom. Most of the bodies of Mayakarsa Warriors are fat and sagging because they are always treated to warm food and drink wine every day.
“Wake up quickly! You useless slaves!” said Garung while kicking a slave who tried to rise from his bed of rapids.
The slaves scattered like a swarm of ants, some of which moved towards burning clay, excavation areas, and transportation of bricks. The two of them chuckled at the misery of the slaves.
“Nothing is more pleasant than waking a squeaky donkey,” sparkles Garung while holding a kangungan.
The other soldier disapproved, he laughed loosely as if he wanted to swallow some air, revealing his crusted yellow teeth as he said, saying, “I think it's best when kicking their dirty ass while moving slow, you know it.”
They both laughed like fools.
His attention was distracted at the camp of the wounded slaves. Garung estimated there were about twenty wounded slaves. Most of them had bruises, sprained bones, and whip wounds. However, Gondro's injuries were indeed the most eye-catching. He was a pioneer slave, one of the first ten slaves that Mayakarsa had. Unfortunately nine other slaves had been buried in the land of death, along with his lost dreams.
That terrible condition became a joke among the soldiers. They even often bet gold coins on the eve of the party, to guess how long Gondro, the old slave will meet his end.
“See here, old donkey who will die,” Garung sneer.
“You've got Asih treatment! Quickly stop by.”
The intimidated slaves got up while holding the pain, almost half groaning while holding the blue wound, they got up and left the camp in a frenzied stride. The two soldiers nodded proudly.
“Gondro, I've known you for years. You submissive slave, stupid sinner,” said the other soldier, his forehead twitching. “Didn't you hear Garung's orders?”
“Master don't beg me, the wound is getting worse,” said Asih kowtowed, hoping for mercy. “Gondro will not be able to.”
The soldier who held the clapper kicked Asih's face so hard that his lips bled. “Let your tongue stand still, or worse will happen again. We don't ask your opinion healer,” he then removed Asih's hand from his leg.
The blood in his mouth felt as thick as salty iron. Asih retreated away and sat down cross-legged while prostrating, her hands trembling but she did not regret it.
“Excuse me sir, have been presumptuous.”
Garung began to run out of patience, he approached Gondro, crouched down and spat in a cloth covering his palms. With a flushed face she said out loud, “fast standing!”
Gondro could only rely, he tried to fight the burning of his wounds. The pain mixed with wet and warm felt between the fingers as he tried to get up with the palm of the hand. Pus liquid began to smear the cloth wrapped in Asih, now the cloth was mixed with the spit of soldiers.
The two soldiers began to feel excited, they clapped their hands while cheering Gondro's efforts. The keeper of the kentung lends the sound of the kentungan until it echoes violently. His thump attracted the attention of several other slave soldiers to watch, the camp seemed to be a show of entertainment.
Asih feel nauseous. He bowed his face towards the barren sand beneath him as he shed tears. It felt like he was shouting as loud as he could, hoping that the god would stop the flow of time, giving him space to save Gondro to take care of his wounds and let Gondro rest in peace. They treated Gondro like a dying dog, he thought as he sobbed.
Gondro's body began to shiver. His breath was like a street dog. He was struggling with a great effort to wake up. Sweat began to flood his temples, snot began to drip from both dry nostrils and saliva collected in his oral cavity. He could think of nothing more than forcing his thin body to rise. Until his last attempt, Gondro fell with a gaping mouth, his breathing began to short as if suffocating. In a few seconds Gondro did not move again, then finished.
The soldiers cheered in disappointment. They disperse with no spirit, leaving two soldiers, the Garung and one.
“Nothing is more interesting than this morning!” garung said, still lashing out with a stupid look.
“Well, in the end this old man died too. Let me take the body to the edge of the forest, I think the forest god wants the wild dog full tonight, his cetus” while giggling kicking Gondro's corpse. “You return to the court, there is still a lot of entertainment in the court. I think there will be many fallen slaves this week.”
The soldier carried Gondro's body on his shoulder and disappeared behind the edges of the rocks at the edge of the camp. Asih was still crying sobbing helplessly.
“Now it's your turn to get up. Go to the court, do your noble work as usual. Monitor the dying slaves, take care of their wounds to prolong their lives, we certainly do not want them to die quickly before the temple is finished, he said,” cetus Garung while turning to leave Asih and pounding kentungan as much as twice the sign of the slave is not left in the camp.
“Why..why should it be like this Sir,” the soft voice of Asih, while bending her tears flowed again.
Steadily gazing up at the blue sky, the sky was filled with thin clouds that slowly disappeared due to the light of dawn. He then returned laughing arrogantly and walked away from Asih while muttering to himself, “why did he say.”
***