The Little Singer Who Missed Her Father

By S. Prasetyo Utomo¹

Under the stage, 9-year-old Laila was starting to fall asleep. It was almost midnight. She was waiting for her mother Surti to take the stage and sing the closing song. The open soccer field was still filled with people enjoying the performance by the Mawar Rembulan Malay Orchestra² which always drew a large audience.

Laila watched her mother, the center of attention for the young people swaying in the middle of the night, until the drumbeat stopped, and the stage finally fell silent. Laila looked at her mother with a sense of wonder: Why was her mother not sad? Wasn’t her father going to be executed tomorrow night?

“Come on. Let’s go home!” Laila pleaded, tugging at her mother’s hand.

“We’re waiting for a ride!” said Surti, reluctant to return to Kelelawar Valley, a wide plain where there were no neighbors. Four families around Surti’s house had chosen to move away from Kelelawar Valley after Surti’s husband, Windu, had repeatedly committed robberies.

The police were always raiding Kelelawar Valley. Laila was used to living in silence at home without friends. At night bats would fly around searching for fruit, and in the morning fallen fruit was scattered over the yard.

The middle-aged commander of the firing squad arrived for Surti and Laila in a sedan. Throughout the journey, he remained silent, holding back some secret. Laila also noticed her mother stayed silent the whole way home. It seemed like the commander of the firing squad was deliberately not making conversation.

Laila could see that the commander was carrying an important secret that he did not want to reveal. He wanted to keep something a secret. In the dead of night, Laila got out of the commander’s car feeling very sleepy. Surti seemed to hesitate before getting out of the car.

“Tomorrow morning I’m going to come back here to get the bullets that Suro Kolong will chant his prayers over,” said the leader of the firing squad. “The same night your husband will be executed with the bullets Suro Kolong chants his prayers over. This way your husband will lose his invincibility. Do you want him to be buried in this village?”

***

In the quiet morning the leader of the firing squad knocked on Surti’s front door. The singer hurriedly opened the door. Laila was still lying down in her room. She listened to their conversation in the living room. She had to strain to listen carefully.

“Take me to Suro Kolong’s house,” said the commander of the firing squad. “I will get the bullets that have been enchanted with the mantras. Those bullets will definitely pierce Windu’s heart. He won’t be invulnerable any longer.”

“Can’t the death penalty be postponed?”

“There is no mercy. Your husband spent ten years in prison and didn’t show any remorse. The death penalty is going to be carried out. He was found guilty of shooting three police officers.”

“Are you leading the firing squad?”

“I can’t deny it. Tonight he has to be shot dead.”

The conversation between Surti and the commander of the firing squad drifted away. Laila couldn’t hear any more from her room.

She had found out from her playmates that her father Windu was a robber and that he was invincible to bullets. When Windu robbed Village Head Ngarso’s house he was ambushed by five police officers. But not a single bullet had penetrated his body. Windu had shot three of the police officers dead. The other two police officers captured Windu in hand-to-hand fighting. Windu was proven guilty of shooting the three police officers, and the court had decided: the death penalty.

Ten years he had spent in prison, and the death penalty was to be carried out tonight. Laila didn’t want to think about the ridicule she was going to face from her playmates.

***

It was after dawn when the hearse reached the old graveyard near Gandapati forest. The grave was dug the previous evening. Surti and Laila stood under the old banyan tree holding hands, watching Windu’s body born aloft by the strong, young men, full of vitality. There was virtually no talking between them.

When Windu’s body reached the bottom of the grave, the gravediggers smartly filled the grave in with the soil. Surti and Laila scattered flowers on the heaped soil. The pallbearers left the grave. Kiai Muhaya, who had accompanied Windu in the days leading up to his execution, stood beside the grave mound, leading the prayers. Village Head Ngarso and Suro Kolong could be seen standing nearby awkwardly.

Laila didn’t see the commander of the firing squad among the pallbearers. She kept looking up at her mother’s face. There were no tears. There was no quiet sobbing. “Why wasn’t her mother sad about the death of her husband?” wondered the 9-year-old girl.

“Why did you let the commander of the firing squad murder father?” Laila asked, accusing Surti.

Searching for words, Surti thought for a moment, then replied with a calm face. “Your father brought disaster to many people. He was invincible to bullets, and so many people died because of him.”

“But why don’t you seem sad about father’s death?”

“I dare not show that sadness. I will never defend someone who does the wrong thing. Your father never listened to what I had to say about stopping robbing,” said Surti, without a sense of guilt. Laila hid her uneasiness, and the feelings of worthlessness she had in front of her playmates.

Surti and Laila lingered standing alone by the side of the fresh grave mound. Laila prayed. Surti kept encouraged her daughter to leave the fresh mound of soil.

***

After sunset footsteps could be heard coming into Kelelawar Valley. Through the gaps in the branches of the teak, rosewood and mango trees, the full moon cast the shadow of a middle-aged, sturdy, well-built man with cropped hair, and sharp eyes. The man was the commander of the firing squad. Very carefully, he approached the door of Surti’s living room.

The commander stood in the doorway gazing at Surti. “Are you ready to leave?”

The middle-aged man sat down in the living room, facing Surti who was clearly anxious.

“Where is Laila? I haven’t seen her anywhere yet!” said the leader of the firing squad. “The stage of the Mawar Purnama Malay Orchestra is waiting for her.”

“She’s refusing to go on stage!”

“May I talk to her?”

“Not now. Let her enjoy her sadness.”

After a long silence pondering, the commander interjected, “So are we going to leave her here at home alone?”

“What else can we do? I don’t want to miss the performance because of her sadness.”

***

As dawn approached, as Surti was accompanied by the commander of the firing squad into the house in Kelelawar Valley, they found that every room was empty. Laila wasn’t asleep in her room. Surti wondered if the little girl had left the house last night?

“Come on and follow me! I’ll show you where Laila is hiding,” said the commander confidently. He led Surti along the footpath towards the graveyard near Gandapati forest. Under the banyan tree on a mat, Laila was wrapped up asleep. The girl’s face was turned in the direction of Windu’s grave.

Her eyes were still closed.

“Why is she sleeping here?”

“She misses her father. Can I be honest with Laila?” asked the leader of the firing squad.

Surti gazed at him for a long time. She hesitated. She didn’t want her daughter to experience any emotional shock. But leaving the little girl on the life path she was currently on would not save her soul.

“Tell Laila that you are her real father. And protect her feelings,” said Surti, straining to control the pounding in her chest. She couldn’t predict what the little girl would do when she learned that her father was the commander of the firing squad and not Windu who had been in prison for ten years before being executed.

Carefully, slowly, the leader of the firing squad stepped towards Laila. He squatted down and gently touched her dew-covered forehead. The little girl’s eyes opened. She blinked, staring at the commander. Then she broke into a smile shyly.

Pandana Merdeka, October 2023

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Source: The Little Singer Who Missed Her Father (Penyanyi Cilik Merindukan Ayah) was published in the daily newspaper Koran Tempo on 29 October 2023. Retrieved from https://ruangsastra.com/31823/penyanyi-cilik-merindukan-ayah/ [Accessed 10 Nov 2023.]

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Footnotes:

1. Dr. S. Prasetyo Utomo (born January 7, 1961) is an Indonesian writer and academician affiliated with Universitas PGRI Semarang. He is renowned for his literary works, including essays, poetry, and short stories, published in various newspapers in Indonesia. Prasetyo Utomo is recognized as a prominent figure in the emergence of contextual literature discourse in the 1980s. Born in Yogyakarta on January 7, 1961. Since 1983, he has actively contributed essays, poetry, short stories, novels, and articles to several newspapers, including Horison, Kompas, Jawa Pos, Suara Pembaruan, Republika, Koran Tempo, Media Indonesia, Bisnis Indonesia, Nova, Seputar Indonesia, Suara Karya, Mutiara, Pelita, Jayakarta, Majalah Noor, among others. Three times, Prasetyo Utomo’s name has been featured in Kompas’ Selected Short Stories, in 2008, 2009, and 2010.
   Bibliography:
   “Perdebatan Sastra Kontekstual” (Contextual Literary Debate, essay anthology, 1985)
   “Antologi Puisi Jawa Tengah” (Central Java Poetry Anthology, poetry anthology, 1994)
   “Serayu” (poetry anthology, 1995)
   “Ritus” (short story anthology, 1995)
   “Lawang Sewoe” (poetry anthology, 1996)
   “Sesudah Layar Turun” (poetry anthology, 1996)
   “Jentera Terkasa” (poetry anthology, 1998)
   “Horison Sastra Indonesia 2 Kitab Cerpen” (Indonesian Literary Horizon 2 Short Story Book, 2002)
   “Cerita-cerita Pengantin” (Bridal Stories, short story anthology, 2004)
   “Bidadari Sigar Rasa” (Angels of Sigar Rasa, short story anthology, 2005)
   “Forum Sastra Indonesia Hari Ini: Jawa Tengah” (Indonesian Literary Forum Today: Central Java, 2010)
   “Bidadari Meniti Pelangi” (Angels Walking on the Rainbow, novel, Kompas Book Publisher, 2005)
   “Tangis Rembulan di Hutan Berkabut” (Tears of the Moon in the Misty Forest, novel, HO Publishing, 2009)
   “Tarian Dua Wajah” (Dance of Two Faces, Novel, Alfabet, 2016)
   “Cermin Jiwa” (Mirror of the Soul, Novel, Alfabet, 2017)
   “Percumbuan Topeng” (Mask Encounter, Novel, Cipta Prima Nusantara, 2022)
   Awards:
   Cultural Award 2007 from the Ministry of Culture and Tourism for the short story “Cermin Jiwa,” published in Kompas on May 12, 2007
   Literary Acarya Award 2015 from the Language Development and Development Agency
   Selected Short Story Kompas 2008
   Selected Short Story Kompas 2009
   Selected Short Story Kompas 2010 ↩︎
2. You can find some background on traditional Malay orchestras here: https://id.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orkes_Melayu; https://www.youtube.com/@Lagu-Lawas/search?query=Rembulan; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elvy_Sukaesih; https://tokoh.id/tokoh/selebriti/elvy-sukaesih/; and Weintraub, Andrew N.. Dangdut Stories: A Social and Musical History of Indonesia’s Most Popular Music. United Kingdom, Oxford University Press, 2010. https://www.google.com/books/edition/Dangdut_Stories/VP1P_SQ5jj0C?hl=en&gbpv=0 ↩︎