The Staircase
The Red Jago
Father hurriedly stepped his feet, walking ahead of me and mother while holding a burning torch. We were five feet away from Dad. Mother occasionally stops fatigue, regulates the wheezing breath.
"Try the road a little. We were behind just any step. Either step on a fire ant, or a hole, a stone. Dark." Said mom stopping dad's footsteps. "Why is that in a hurry?" Ask mom after nagging a little.
In my heart I asked the same question as my mother. It's not usually dad this long, walking quickly leaving us behind. As far as I know, I did not fight with my mouth let alone fight with others during my time as an uncle, there was no way to be the reason.
It's late at night. The Tibetan house is also gone. The swan no longer bullies me, silently.
"There's something I forgot." Answer me quickly.
"What?" Ask mom while approaching dad. He was waiting for us on the side of the road.
"That's what I forgot. I don't remember at all. I was not calm. Something's wrong it seems." I made my mom think hard. They were upset, while I was silent, listening to their conversation.
When I was a kid, coming home this night was always carried by my father in exchange with my mother. Now I have to follow behind them. Even if one step of my foot is equal to three steps of mine. Walking half-running until finally I can catch up to the footsteps of father who only slowed when the torch almost went out, then drove again when the torch was bright again.
I held forward. From a distance I saw a faint red color in the sky like the sun sinking to the west. But our house is heading south. What sun is there on the south side? I also heard the sound of my feet stepping on the twigs of incense towards our house. Stepping twigs? At least if not dad, it's mom. I thought in my heart.
"Quickly. Quick. Something's wrong." He repeated his words earlier, something is not right. Forgetting.
I was accelerating my footsteps. Not half-run, but was indeed chasing with my father who stepped carelessly. Mother is like that too. The nearly extinguished torch tried to cover the father with his palm. The torch did not light our way at all. The thought of remembering the way home made us sure to step foot on the right treadmill.
Dad ran faster until finally the torch fire was extinguished. We stepped in the darkness. Fortunately there is still moonlight that at least makes the eyes literate.
A faint red light and a voice like stepping on a twig increasingly clearly sounded. At midnight like this there is still something desperate for a bonfire. I murmured in my heart while running without knowing what I was chasing. I watched my parents rush to the house. No matter how slow I run, no matter the leaves that block the footsteps. They were getting further away, I only saw the black shadow in front of me and that faint red light.
"Fire. Flames. Flames. Please help put it out." Dad shouted very loudly followed by mom with sobs. I who had just arrived in front of the house because I was far behind from my father and mother; a little unconcerned-follow shouted. Dad took the bucket to the pool uncle made. Sweep that turbid water with a bucket. He ran as hard as he could, the water in the bucket rippling-piercing to the hard ground. Dad swung the bucket, then doused the burning fire.
Mother ran back and forth confused to do what while crying sobbing. I was confused too.
"Please. Please." Please." I screamed with all my might. A house away from the crowd made my screams not heard. But even so, I remain optimistic. Shouting until my voice is hoarse. Tears dried up because of the heat of the fire that devoured our house's hunger.
"Take. Hurry." Dad threw his bucket at my mom.
Mom runs zig-zag to uncle's pond. Only the pool was our only mainstay to water the burning house. Long drought makes the roof of the leaves dry, as a result of the fire more spirit devours it.
Mother took the water and then poured the fire. Back and forth. Dad's on the other end trying to get into the house. Although hot, the father who had soaked his body with water earlier, then entered without ba-bi-bu. No, well. My screams in my heart are unspeakable.
Dad's out, carrying important files. Unfortunately, the leaf mat made by my mother was not saved. The fire prefers that mat. Just my report card and some clothes I managed to save.
Dad gave it to me, "Hold this." His words were full of sweat and breathing as hard as a Tibetan sir's electric generator. I took the report card and the clothes. There was a speck of red at the end of the clothes, I threw it until the speck of red was extinguished.
I was never stopping to water the house with water. His footsteps that were forced to speed made the mother run staggering. The water in my mother's bucket spilled in part. But mom didn't give up. I am sure the fire can be extinguished. Dad went back into the house. Not long after, he came out with nothing. This means that all of my school uniforms cannot be saved, including the rank one gift shoe from Mr. Mad. My parents raised money to buy school uniforms. With great difficulty I studied until my potion was devoured by the flame of the lamp, but tonight, all that hard work seemed to be in vain. The report card I was holding tight wanted me to throw it all the way, thinking school without uniforms was useless. But I undo the intention to act rashly. I remember how dad struggled to get it for me.
The fire was too excited to devour our house. Flames flew along with the smoke billowing violently above. Like a star falling down, the flakes of fire floated up and went out.
Behind me was a voice for help following my slowly weakening cry. The longer the sound gets closer. Sounds very crowded. I looked back, making sure. His uncle and his entourage arrived. Some use onthel bikes, some run as hard as they can. Crowded. My screams worked! I cried in my heart.
They parked their bikes haphazardly among the bushes, away from the fire. Uncle went straight to his house, passed by my mother who was still trying to put out the fire with water. The padlock of the uncle's house was successfully opened, he entered the house and then took out all the buckets.
A dozen of the fathers took the bucket. Alternately. They put out a fire that slowly went out. But it was not extinguished because of the water, but nothing else could be devoured by fire.
My mother's cry broke before the Tibetan sir arrived. Dad occasionally wiped his eyes with his right hand. Black face. It looked funny, but no one laughed to see it. All sympathize.
"Patience, yes." Said the uncle and the others while patting the shoulders of the father. My mom and dad embrace each other, sobbing in tears. Dad's body feels really hot. Mother wet kuyub.
"Why does it burn like this." Said the Tibetan man while patting his forehead. The gentlemen beside the Tibetan sir elbowed him.
Dad's approaching the Tibetan sir. Down to the knees of the Tibetan man. "Sorry boss. Sorry." He said with a trembling voice.
The gentlemen next to the Tibetan sir elbowed him again. The Tibetan man lowered his head, shrugged his shoulders, slowly following him until the two were tense.
"You're okay? Is the valuable stuff secured?" Said the gentle Tibetan.
I wiped her tears again. My father's cry did not sound like the mother who had been crying almost fainted.
Just a matter of hours the house was scorched to eat by the fire. The mementos we carved in such a way were removed by the red whiz. For years we've been putting together stories of joy and sorrow in this house, but tonight it's all gone.
Dad nodded slowly, answering the Tibetan sir's question that we were in good condition. "Only my son's report card and some clothes can I save." Answer father.
The Tibetans nodded pityfully, patting my father on the shoulder. The face of the smirking father was not laughed at. They are sad. Repeatedly patting dad on the shoulder.
"Nuts." Call the Tibetan sir.
"What, boss?" Uncle approaching. Uncle's clothes that were neat became a mess. Perfume that had been fragrant became the smell of sweat and the smell of smoke.
"Take them to your house tonight." Answer the Tibetan.
"Ready, boss."
They greeted my father and then came home. Said, patiently, I heard a dozen times with a nod to my father's head. They moved away while riding a bicycle as fast as it was late at night, returning to their homes. Only the rest of the four of us were still standing staring at the burning house, full of sadness, father full of regret. The sleepiness that I had been holding back, disappeared immediately. All I have in mind right now is a home.
"Patience, yes. You can stay at my house. I'll soon be moving house. You don't have to worry about the house, the furniture and so on I'll leave for you." Said uncle concerned.
Dad smiled bitterly as if to say, thank you, Cil. I hold my report card tightly. The only treasure my father managed to save. The treasure is more valuable to the father so that many need to be saved but only the report card that the father chooses. Uncle's radio as if sacrificed father for this report card. Usually entertaining in the afternoon. Which makes dad kick ria. Who reported the news about the condition far away. The radio is gone.
We walked to uncle's house. The pool water made by uncle surged to touch the pool cliff which sounded like applause. Uncle parked his onthel bike next to the house without locking it. We set foot on the first rung, entered the uncle's house. Uncle's door groaned in pain, forced open wide.
"Soe's right tonight." Grumpy my father while anchoring his ass on the floor board. Uncle from the kitchen brought a pot of coffee.
"Udah. Don't think. Thought-free. The house won't go back to how it was." Uncle advised my father who was bowed down.
"Yes, right you said, Cil. Had I put a lamp away from the wall of the house it probably wouldn't have been this way." I explained the reason why the house was on fire.
She wiped her tears many times. "We don't blame you. Let's just say we lost the gamble." Said mom to calm dad.
Perhaps what mothers mean about losing gambling is misfortune. It's true, we're not lucky. There is nothing to be grateful for, except the wailing. I cried over my fate of not being able to attend school. Only the clothes and pants I was wearing right now remained. While the clothes my father took carelessly inside the burning house was just a piece of my mother's shirt, and two pieces of father's pants. Again we do not blame the careless father for keeping a lamp. It's all about luck. It was the Tibetan sir who was lucky in his lifetime.
"Propsy. You guys don't give up that way. Kan, you said it yourself." Uncle focused his gaze on the father who was looking down flat. Dad returned my uncle's gaze with a blink of an eye that seemed to ask, say what?
"Life is about love, love, happiness, joy and sorrow. You guys still have that taste, right?" Tanya uncle repeated my father's words when he became his predecessor earlier. I nodded, understand. "That's what you mean about the decision is in our hands, isn't it? You must have thought about which flavor you will choose. If you choose love, love and happiness, you will feel it. But if you choose joy and sorrow, you will pass through. The choices you gave me were all about patience. But will you be rash to make a decision?" Dad shook his head slowly. She wiped her tears again. My mother's eyes are red. The flame of the lamp reflects its light from my mother's eyes. Dancing is fun, not fun. Again, it's about patience. It will only make us think that nothing is right.
"Life isn't about good, man. Patience will make you bear when you experience chaos, problems and calamities." Uncle spoke fluently and firmly as if reading the proclamation of independence.
"Yes, Kil. You're right." Father says. His right hand held the lowered body, leaning down.
"It has. Don't be sorry again. Quickly spread out this mat, use the pillow that is there for us to sleep." Uncle raised a mat of leaves to look at him from the room to the living room. Mom grabbed the mat and slapped it. I leaned my body against the wall. Breathe out quickly.
Uncle returned to his room after helping mom prepare an emergency bed for us. I lay down near my mother. Dad was still leaning against the wall, seemingly thinking hard.
"But how?" Dad said slowly. I'm the only one listening, mom's asleep.
I closed my eyes quickly as my father turned to me. Father swept the mat of leaves pendong with his hands and then anchored the head on a thin pillow. Despite lying down, father's eyes kept flashing wildly wandering into the corners of uncle's house, thinking. I'm sound asleep. I don't know what I did after that.