Sumantri nodded, "Yes, father. I love him.” He says those words not as an inevitable consequence, the words really flow from his heart. He has not even a glimpse of a shadow of a thought that he will leave Sukrosono. These words seem to be heard all the way to the sky. The stars seem to shine brightly, happily enlivening the night. The moon awakens the sleeping campaka (magnolia champaca) flower buds. Pudak (pandanus tectorius) flower fronds also wake up, fresh and leafy. "Sukrosono, thank God you want to come back home," said Sumantri, and he embraces Sukrosono deeply.
Also read:
> The Bajang Child Swinging the Moon (46)
> The Bajang Child Swinging the Moon (45)
> The Bajang Child Swinging the Moon (44)
Sukrosono is silent, feeling it all. What is present now is only happiness in his heart. He has never experienced such a feeling. It seems he wants nothing more except this happiness. He feels too poor in words to express it. He entrusts his words to the moon, and the moon casts its light on the tanjung (Spanish cherry) flowers, until they bloom in a night that seems to be endless. He entrusts his words to the tuhu (Asian koel) birds, and the birds also sing a song of the night, which is happy because of the arrival of the moon. The night seems to pass quickly so Begawan Swandagni invites his two sons to enter the hermitage, bringing all happiness and peace into his sleep.
The days seems to stop in joy and happiness after Sukrosono returns to Jatisrana hermitage. Sukrosono's homecoming allows Begawan Swandagni and Sumantri to enjoy what they have been missing. What was lost is now filled by their pouring of their love for Sukrosono. For Sukrosono, the same is true. He feels that he now has what he used to hope and long for. He wants no more than he can now enjoy. Indeed, for him, who had been thrown away, what is more beautiful than love?
That love grows day by day. Like a bright morning that does not want to be separated from the sun, Sukrosono and Sumantri do not want to be separated anymore. Side by side, they often walk around enjoying the natural beauty of the Jatisrana hermitage. Through the expanse of rice fields, the rice stalks dance, accompanying their joy. They like to play on the riverbank, where the kenanga (ylang-ylang) and nagakusuma (queen of the night) trees welcome them with their fragrant and beautiful flowers. Below the cliffs a river is seen flowing, its water leaps and skips over the rocks. Its droplets are like white gems released from the morning sunlight. This beauty is the eye of nature that forces Sumantri to look at his younger brother Sukrosono with eyes that are not solely his own.
That wealth makes Sumantri love Sukrosono even more regardless of his appearance.
Sumantri sees that within Sukrosono there is a treasure that he himself can never have. He cannot say what the immeasurable treasure is. But he is confident that the treasure radiates because it is honed with suffering that he himself has never gone through. Now the agony is turning into the beautiful shadow of a dream that is impossible to achieve. Sumantri is grateful that he has been able to see such an extraordinary treasure, even though he will never be able to make it his. That wealth makes Sumantri love Sukrosono even more regardless of his appearance.
Also read:
> The Bajang Child Swinging the Moon (43)
> The Bajang Child Swinging the Moon (42)
Sumantri has never been able to answer these questions, even though he often falls into thinking about them. Nevertheless he is grateful, because the questions have an answer, which prevent him from being proud and boasting because of his handsome face and good fortune. And the answers frequently lead him to imagine the end of his life's journey: One day the handsome and the ugly will all disappear, and at that time the ugly like his younger brother can be happier than the handsome like him. Sumantri was once gripped with extraordinary fear when imagining this, particularly when the imagination came when it was raining heavily, accompanied by great streaks of lightning with its frightening sound. "Sukrosono, help me!" he shouted, hugging Sukrosono tightly.
Sukrosono does not understand all of it. He does not know what his brother is afraid of. But he can feel his brother's fear. "My brother, don't be afraid, I will always be with you." Those are the words that come out of his mouth. And he hugs Sumantri back with all his heart. Nature seems to understand the sincerity of the hug. The lightning stops blaring, and the rain subsides slowly. In front of them, greenery stretches across a field full of fresh grass. "My brother, even nature can hear the screams of your heart, which knows my fear," said Sumantri gratefully.
(This article was translated by Hyginus Hardoyo).
