The Angkara Murka
The Book of Soldiers Verse Eleven
"I exist because you exist, but I'm not you. I exist because there is it alone. You can't scapegoat me for your own actions. The blood you shed is your own responsibility and will. The meaning of the blood on your hands is the meaning you created yourself," the Pangkalima again spoke in riddles without moving his lips.
James James glaze. The figure was now floating above him. James could see his face carefully.
He saw his own face on the face of the Pangkalima, except for his pair of blood-red eyes.
The figure slowly descended and fell upon James, penetrating his body and uniting with it.
"Now I am you and you are me, yet we are two who are one" this time James spoke. His own voice echoed within his brain.
In one corner, there appears a figure that is very contrasting with this situation. The female figure stood gracefully, seeming to float. The fluttering plumes of smoke and ash could not touch his skin at all.
His slender body was wrapped in green kemben with a tangle of gold thread embroidery. The jarit and shawl on his waist were intricate, long, luxurious and majestic. His wavy hair competed long with his net sweeping the ground. A crown enthroned with beaded stones twinkled over his perfect head.
The golden glowing strands of necklaces, armbands and wrists match the color of her glowing skin, as opposed to the gray sky. His face holds strength. The charm of the face that makes any man bend his knees. Not only because of lust, but there is fear and subjugation that cannot be described because there is a sense of defeat and absolute resignation.
The figure looked at James who was lying on the ground thick with ashes with a mysterious smile.
James himself stretched stiffly. The once invisible tendrils of the plant suddenly emerged from the ground piercing its skin forcing its way into its body. The ash rain grew more and more, filling his nasal cavity, mouth and eyes.
With a slight gap in his eyes he saw hundreds of magical figures of various sizes and shapes moving closer towards him. They scrambled into his body by tearing his chest and stomach. He felt blood spilling from his body.
The breath of James became stingy.
He woke up from the swamp. Water entered his mouth and eyes. Her body was soaked. The rusty mandau he held dripped water.
A single array of rays from the flashlight shot right towards his face.
"Sat! Hiding here you. You're tired of living your life!" said the man who tormented him.
...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...
The passenger ship floats in the middle of the sea that is curved convex indefinitely.
The clear sky is like a glass cover, with a cloud decoration lined like a universe painting patch.
The passenger ship was built in 1991 by the shipyard Jos L. Meyes Papenburg is located in Germany. Its capacity can accommodate 1973 economy passengers who are often more than that, jubilee when entering and scattered like fish lying on a bed or on the floor with a mattress if they are lucky, or a potluck cloth.
Bandi could not afford classes I, II or III with room and television. Doesn't matter. After all, he was quite happy to lie on the floor with a leather jacket, not on the deck, but near the steam tower that sounded loud and hot billowing black smoke.
Bandi is a former soldier who served in Java but was dishonorably discharged for participating in drug-related intrigue, prostitution and firearm embezzlement.
For him and some of his fellow soldiers, the biggest mistake was not his involvement in this illicit business, but because he was caught.
The difference is, Kardiman became 'someone', an important figure who is rich, respected and has a price. While Bandi continued his career as a criminal class teri, begundal, subordinate thugs and perpetrators of terror rented cheap price festive even sometimes with a discount.
Yet, even though he lived like this, there was nothing he really regretted. For him, long ago, being a soldier was not a practical matter, but a philosophical one: power. Being a member of the military, the apparatus, essentially the holder of power.
The values of patriotism and defending the state are nothing but nonsense. The need to oppress others is the most basic life impulse. That way, the value of life is at the very top.
However, what you want to say, even the wheels turn. He is now a jongos, the son of the bosses who pay him with devotion.
Therefore, Bandi sailed across the ocean to Borneo. He heard there was a great opportunity there for his criminal career.
Where you know, power will be regained in the land of people.
...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...
Bandi was excited like a child in a playground when his body was attached to the side of the ship. The body is doyong, leaning into the sea, looking with its own eyes, a group of dolphins jumping around the ship like asking the attention of the passengers who cheered them.
The gray beast like a bottle of beer that appeared to sink was enchanting Bandi. He chuckled, clapping as he cheered like the passengers on the ship, mothers and their children.
A young man smiled beside Bandi. "Usually it's a sign we're near the island of Borneo, Om," said the young man.
"Well, great. I got bored at sea. Means I need to get ready," replied Bandi.
"I mean it's close not in a matter of minutes, Om," said the young man still smiling. "We'll be there tomorrow morning, early morning."
"Huh, that's what you said close?"
The young man laughed. That's how it is. Ships run slowly compared to land vehicles, especially aircraft. Although it has been seen the island at the end of the eye, the water will hold the ship in such a way that it seems not to be up to it.
"This ship will also pass through the river before it reaches the port, Om. It's gonna take all day. Hopefully the river is tidal, otherwise it will be slower because it is shallow," the young man continued because he understood most likely the new father first sailed to Kalimantan.
"Ah, that's okay. Whatis yourname? You're a Javanese too?"
"I'm Satria Piningit, Om. I am a Kalimantan person who studied in Java, living in my father's village, Obong village his name. My father is Javanese, while my mother is Kalimantan herself, so ..."
"You live in Obong village? Near Kaliabang, Pancasona, Soldiers?" cut Bandi. He believes that there is only one village on the entire island of Java called Obong.
"Well, Om know my village?"
The two immediately engaged in a familiar conversation. Bandi is familiar with the three villages. He was born in the village of Pancasona. Inevitably in an instant they have told each other like uncles and nephews.