A STAIRWAY TO SKY
Dear Brother,
That afternoon, I saw a rainbow and raindrops through my window. They fell gracefully from the sky, exciting droplets touching the earth. I was amazed by the power of God who created everything for humankind. There was such perfect harmony—everything felt wonderful.
Sometimes I wonder how I can convince myself of God’s power. Rainwater is different from any other kind of water. How does it happen? There are so many types of rain that the human mind cannot fully understand. Each one is unique. My heart was deeply moved by it all.
Humans use their consciousness to do what they desire, trying to unite various thoughts in search of happiness. A pure soul is sometimes trapped in the noisy crowd outside. It makes the mind drift, longing to try something new just to feel alive.
Dear Brother,
Memories of her are not easy to forget. Her name was Arkana. When we first met, she looked friendly—a beautiful girl with a warm face. That is all I can say about her when I met her in Wonogiri.
My clenched hand held several sheets of paper, written words flowing like a symphony of Arkana’s life.
I came to understand the meaning of loneliness. It was not because I was alone in this world. I lived amid the bustle of life. I had a harmonious family and friends who were always close to me. None of them ever made me feel physically lonely. But I do not know why—I felt empty.
I looked at the sky. The air I breathed seemed to seep into my soul. There was a vast beauty in the atmosphere, immeasurable. Humans never stop wanting—always wanting more, endlessly. Clouds moved following the wind, adorning the universe. Slowly, they drifted apart, sometimes merging with other clouds.
I am nothing, yet I am proud of the people who gave birth to me and raised me. They guided me through the ocean of life with everything they had. They were not only parents, but also teachers. Tears fell for them.
That day, I also found a new friend. His name was Topan Wiguna. He had short hair and often wore a brown shirt. His attitude made me smile. Once, we talked about boring lessons—teachers who made students sleepy with speeches without art. He told me a funny story about cheating during an exam by hiding notes in a secret pocket under his trousers. After finishing, he left the class without realizing his zipper was open. The folded paper fell out and dragged behind him like a tapestry. His friends burst into laughter.
His friendly and humorous nature made it easy for me to adapt to him. We were like music—often turning poems into song lyrics. I played the basic seven notes and sang while he accompanied me with a guitar. He was amazing. I was proud to be his friend.
The end of senior high school approached. I was frightened. I was not ready to face the final exam. My heart pounded as I looked at the sky every night to calm myself.
Seven days before the exam, I passed a street where a group of men stood by the roadside, staring and teasing. It was not unusual, but it still made me uncomfortable. I passed a grocery store, seeing rows of food displayed openly. People touched the food without buying it, while packaged food was only looked at. Finally, a man came and bought something after observing for a moment.
By exam day, I studied with my friends, including Topan. We focused seriously. The graduation standard was raised, and surprisingly, he became very serious. I was grateful for that.
As the exam day approached, my heart raced. I felt uneasy, confused, overwhelmed by mixed emotions. One day, I overheard people talking about a neighbor’s daughter who had killed her boyfriend after being harassed. I remembered her beautiful face. Fear filled me, and I tried to forget.
After the final exam, I picked up an Islamic book from the cupboard and read it in my spare time. Books and music were parts of me. I read about heaven and hell, and the seven major sins that are difficult to be forgiven by God. Suddenly, I remembered my neighbor’s tragedy. A strange feeling rushed through my heart—something I could not explain.
During my vacation, I visited the Karts World Museum near my house. Along the road, I saw couples and groups laughing freely. Some men treated a woman disrespectfully. I felt tired and sat in a shelter beside a woman wearing a purple veil and a long dress. She smiled sweetly. I wondered if she felt hot wearing such clothes. She replied that the veil protected her from the heat and pointed at young women running while covering their heads. I laughed softly.
When she walked past the group of men, no one teased her. A strange but wonderful feeling came again. I knew what I should do.
One day, I met Topan at a crossroads. I was happy to see him again. He looked surprised by my appearance and said I did not deserve to dress that way. I tried to explain, but he became angry and mocked my choice. He walked away, leaving pain in my heart. We never met again.
Now, I live my life. I became a senior high school music teacher. I am happy. One day, I heard that Topan had married and later divorced. I was sad to hear that.
The last sentence was written when we met at my first concert. She said, “Keina, this is for you.” I did not know why. Usually, she gave me song lyrics to sing. Arkana’s diary lay cold in my hands.
Dear Brother,
I hugged her white diary as tears fell. Warm hands touched my shoulder. I looked up and saw you—my brother, Topan.
On the way home, from an Islamic radio station, I heard her last song playing softly…
I looked up and saw a rainbow in the sky.
2011-2016
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