The Man in the Lotus

When I was very young, I often visited Emak and Engkong in Magelang. In like 10 years they moved here and there in the city. One time in the outskirt of the city, then to the middle of the city, and later not far from the previous. I loved meeting uncles and aunts too. all six of them.

Among the three uncles, Oom Jien was the most handsome. He looked like a young Hong Kong kungfu movie star, with sideburns and thin moustache.  but he was my least fave. He disliked us children and we seldom talked. but i admired him. me, one time being too small to know anything, found a photograph of him. in the picture, he was inside a giant lotus flower, stretching, one leg straight, one leg bent. i was so amazed that i believed it was real.

why wasn't it real: in the morning, he'd do triangle position, as if saluting the sun. he did one pose to another. he had a sepia picture of a man ("That's his spiritual teacher," said Mami) but Oom din burn any incense like Engkong did every morning. Oom wasn't a Buddhist. He "believed in the power of the universe."

Mi would introduce Jesus to Oom and Oom would at the first place dismiss the attempt. it was always an amusing sight.

Little did I know of him. When Engkong died, I learned that he sold ice cream at one school. Later, he moved to Tulungagung with Tante Hwa n Oom Alex. One morning, Tante Hwa called Mi, rejoicing that Oom Jien has ended his soul searching. "He's accepted Jesus as [his] savior," Tante said. He lived there for about two years. I know not why he chose to move back to Magelang.

Last April 2010, I went to stay at Oom Hok for three days. Oom Jien was there too, so did Oom Lok. My three uncles.

Like always, he spoke a few words.

"How's Cik Ing?" he asked.
"She's fine," I replied.
 Silence.

"Do you talk often on the phone with her?" I asked.
He nodded.

During my short stay, I was happy, however, to see how he busied himself everyday and that he read the newspapers i brought. And for the first time in life, I knew his complete name. It must have been spelled like "yien" but back then i was afraid to ask, afraid the topic--or any topics--wouldn't be of his interest.

"Oom, come, let's take photograph of you and me," i said minutes before I left for Jogjakarta. He dismissed the idea. I couldn't encourage him. We shook hands and parted. That was the last time we talked.

This morning Oom Jien died. I know Mami, my other ooms and tantes, are  saddened by his sudden departure. I too am sad.

The late Tante Hwa once said, Oom Jien had spent his whole life soul searching. Now I wish his soul find a peaceful rest.