Tragic is comic After fermentation time. Dark jokes bring bright joy.
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We always remember how our father loved our mother. He liked giving gifts to her and doing household chores like cleaning the floor and doing heavy laundry. Yet he also enjoyed teasing my mother around; his goal was to make her angry just to show that he was good at calming her down. π Yet his strong affection to our mother did one extreme discomfort to her and some of us.
This morning my older siblings asked mother to re-tell a story that we the younger donβt record well as we were too young to save the moment. While they laughed before she started telling the story, we three waited curiously.
Mother: Once I went with my friend to a beauty parlour. She wanted to have her hair cut.
Younger children: With whom?
Mother: (mentioning a name that we are familiar with)
All children: (commenting about motherβs friend who happened to be a very fashionable woman at that time)
Mother: She said that I should have my hair made curly or at least wavy so I could look different. I said no because I should get permission from your father. But you know her, she was able to convince me to do it.
All children: (laughing and commenting about the lady who spent money like she would die today. Mother said that woman got much money from ex husbands so she deserved to do it.) So, curled or waved?
Mother: Medium curled
Older children: (laughing and commenting how she looked fresh but weird as we had never had anyone with curly hair in the family before)
Mother: When I reached home, your father seeing me with curly hair looked surprised. I thought it would be a terrific moment but then it changed to one terrible day. He was so angry, never before he became that angry.
Older children: Ya, I was shocked. Never saw him like that beforeβ
Mother: I was not shocked with his reaction but the next action of his was a biggest discomfort in my life. He said he wanted to make the hair look better which I thought minor trimming and he took a pair of scissors.
Older children: I didnβt expect that to happen. He cut most of the curly hair and only left the one with very vague curls near the headskin. You were almost bald! (laughing) You became so not you.
Me: (upset) Why didβt you run to hide and protect your hair?
Older children: Hey! Donβt be too serious. He didnβt hurt her.
Me: But he hurt her pride! I wonβt let my hair be screwed up by anyone.
Older children: I remember mother sobbed and I screamed to father to stop. He didnβt do it harshly, but I felt worried about her sobbing.
Me: Damn wrong thing! I never knew he would have this in the checklist.
Mother: No worry. He regretted and apologized on the same day. And trust me it was the only one bad thing he did to me. He said he didnβt want me to draw attention of other men.
Older children: Jeeeaaaalousy! We know some other things about his jealousy! You should tell more stories.
Mother: I think it was the best lesson for him about how he should not be too possessive.
All children: Yaaa!!! Agree!
Older children: Do you remember that you turned to be a better fashionista than her. I remember you wore turban and sometimes wigs.
Mother: Yes. And I guess he regretted it even more as I asked for different wigs and turbans until my hair was good enough to show.
What a comedy! Oops! What a tragedy turning to comedy after some time!
Lesson learnt: choose the best expression of love to avoid bad impression, donβt have your hair curled π, find a husband who doesnβt hate curly hair π, forgive your husbandβs wrong expression while educating him, and see a comedy in a tragedy
When I was a girl, I got sick very often. Yet what I remember the most isnβt the pain but is how my family would take care of me. Of course they medically treated me either at home or hospitalised, but there was a unique way I can never forget what my mother, father and siblings did extra.
My father would chant Javanese mantra that would calm me down. My mother would wrap me with a sheet of batik cloth before putting the next thicker blanket. And of course siblings especially sisters would sleep with me the whole night.
What Javanese mantra chanted by father? Oh canβt remember! What batik, I definitely remember it and now own it for the same need; covering myself with batik gringsing when sick.
1.2mx2.3m batik cloth with gringsing background pattern of flower bouquets
Gringsing is one of the oldest batik background patterns in Java. It is thousands of tiny square with a dot in the center symbolising βsedulur papat kalima pancerβ (literally means 4 siblings and 1 core as the fifth) the cosmic balance of human reality in Javanese wisdom. And through the philosophy it is believed that when a Javanese human is sick, s/he is cosmically imbalanced and needs to be balanced. Physically s/he is medically treated, metaphysically s/he is cured with gringsing the balance symbol.
Gringsing is an acronym of gring or gering (sick, not well, ill) and sing (not); gringsing means not sick anymore. Oh! That simple! Made by hand! Oh! Not that simple!
What a blessed human being!
wrapping body when catching fever doesnβt replace paracetamol, itβs to recall the memory of how my family well treated me when I was sick π₯°detail of gringsing: a tiny squarish scale with a dot in the center – sedulur 4 ka-5 pancer
Relationship pattern changes over time and so does the way children relate with their parents. Although we are far away from each other, always remember the precious role of our parents especially mother. Oh anyway, I was closer to father. As he passed away, I become close to mother.
Dear Self, at least say hi through online chat or video call. Sending her the picture of our lunch would be a good sign that we are ok. Never let her worry about us, no matter what.
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