on a train.

This morning, on a train back to Jakarta, someone woke me up hastily.. he asked me to help him liberate a woman who’s being possessed by evil. She sat two seats in front of me. “why I?”, I was wondering inwardly. Apparently, all passengers from the same coach as mine assumed that I was a priest. A priest that can get rid of all evil spells. They said, while I was sleeping I constantly mumbled some mantras. Bewildered, I asked again, “what mantra??”. Mantras in unfamiliar language, they answered. “Oh, really?”, I was still confused. “yes, Sir, you kept mumbling one strange line in your sleep”. I guess they clearly misunderstood, I have this old bad habit, talking in sleep, never know to whom. And the ‘mantras’ that they heard was a quote from one poem, it says “love is unhappy when love is away”. It seemed that I had fallen asleep while reading an old book of poems, Chamber Music. I almost bursted laughing, but, looking at their doubtless and hopeful facial expression assuming I was this great priest, I just went silenced. The woman being ‘possessed’ screaming hysterically, calling upon one name “Ezekiel!”, “Ezekiel!”. E-z-e-k-i-e-l ? Who? A lover? A prophet? Or an Angel? Who?

So, I came up to her and whispered to her sweet-smelling ears my ‘mantra’, “miss, love is unhappy when love is away..” three times is charm. I was not sure she could hear me. Suddenly, out of the blue, she stopped screaming and started to cry silently, the tears were color crimson red, but it wasn’t blood. Those were tears. “darn! It’s getting worse”, I jumped in panic. Then, she abruptly grabbed my hands and said to me “Thank you, you really understand what I’ve been feeling, Sir..”. I made a bittersweet smile, not knowing to feel flattered or fully ashamed of my stunt and better to jump out of the train window, while we were still surrounded by paddy fields. I replied by nonsensical words “there’s no wrong in helping other people, even though what I do can still be queried as a good thing or else”. My stop is the next station. The woman had stopped crying, her cheeks rosy pink from the trace of tears running down her face before. The passengers applauded me. I, excused myself to sleep (or pretended to do so) and promised myself secretly that I would never read that poetry book ever again.

**

Winds of May, that dance on the sea,
Dancing a ring-around in glee
From furrow to furrow while overhead
The foam flies up to be garlanded
In silvery arches spanning the air,
Saw you my true love anywhere?
    Welladay, welladay!
    For the winds of May!
Love is unhappy when love is away

James Joyce

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