Foto diambil di depan toko eskrim Brasil, Purwokerto
Apakah eskrim ini enak?
Ga tau.
Tapi buat gw, uenak sekali.
Namanya es krim Brasil. Rasanya nostalgia. Biasanya dibeli ketika para cucu ngumpul di rumah almarhum/almarhumah kakek nenek gw di Cilacap. Sejak gw… Baru lahir? TK? Wallahu’alam.
Dan entah gimana terjadi kasta.
Buat para oom tante dan orang dewasa, mereka makan eskrim Brasil yang pake cone. Warna-warni. Pink (strawberry), coklat, oranye (jeruk), dan hijau (mint). Ditaburin meisjes warna-warni.
Buat para kurcaci ingusan baru lahir kemarin sore alias para cucu yaitu gw dan saudara-saudara gw?
Es mambo. Masih punya eskrim Brasil juga (ada banyak varian: dari cup sampe cake ice cream). Es yang di dalam plastik. Rasa standar — kalo ga coklat ya kacang ijo. Buat gw, sial banget kalo dapet rasa kacang ijo atau kopyor (gw ga suka dua-duanya).
Itu juga masih dibagi jadi dua. Setengah-setengah. KURANG TERTINDAS APALAGI COBA.
Dan ketika lu udah cukup besar untuk makan eskrim pake cone dengan jaminan eskrim ga tumpah atau belepotan… Men, itu artinya lu naik kasta dan jadi manusia paling keren sedunia — minimal di mata sodara-sodara lu.
Dari ambisi konyol jaman kecil itu bikin gw keukeuh untuk beli eskrim Brasil dengan cone SETIAP mudik ke Purwokerto.
Jadi kemarin diajak keluarga burung ke jalan Gempol buat makan kupat tahu dan roti bakar yang tersohor itu.
Terus pas jalan ke taman kecil deket situ, liat ada toko kue.
Namanya Lily Patisserie.
Nah. Tahun 2008 dulu, jaman masih jadi Research Assistant di kampus, gw pernah ikutan wisata karyawan kampus ke Sari Ater. Pulangnya mampir Bandung.
Pas di Bandung, temen gw ngajak beberapa dari kita — termasuk gw — beli kue. “Cheesecake-nya enak,” kata temen gw.
Gw beli lah ya sekotak. Harganya Rp 60,000. Bentuk cheesecake-nya mirip cheesecake Jepang. Ga terlalu banyak krim jadi ga eneg.
Dan yang penting: Enak. Banget.
Masalahnya, gw lupa nama tokonya.
Jadi SETIAP ke Bandung, gw selalu riwil nyari tau itu toko kue namanya apa dan di sebelah mana. Kalimatnya udah default: “Itu, ada toko kue, bukan Kartika Sari. Jualan cheesecake, tapi cheesecake-nya kaya brownies gitu. Itu enak.”
Gw tanya temen gw itu, dia juga lupa.
Dari tahun 2008.
Ari sampe bosen gw nanya hal yang sama setiap kita ke Bandung. SEMUA temen yang kita temuin di Bandung pasti gw tanya soal toko-kue-cheesecake-enak dan ga ada yang ngeh itu apa dan di mana.
Balik ke jalan-jalan di Gempol.
Gw liat Lily Patisserie ini.
Lalu ngebatin.
“Gw kaya kenal ini tempat.
Jangan-jangan…”
Nyanya udah ngomong, “masuk aja Kap. Liat. Emang iya ini tempatnya?”
“Gw inget atap tempat makannya, Nya,” jawab gw. Harap-harap cemas.
Udah bukan Nyanya lagi yang ngedesak. Ari sama Iing juga ikutan.
Pas masuk, Nyanya nunjuk ke kue di etalase. “Ini bukan, Kap?”
“Bukan,” gw tambah panik dan jalan ngedekatin lemari pendingin yang berisi kotak-kotak kue berjejer. “INI CHEESECAKE-NYA, NYA.”
Iya. Itu patisserie yang gw cari-cari selama tujuh tahun.
Kabut asap yang melanda KL sedang buruk-buruknya selama beberapa hari ini. Sepengetahuan saya, kabut asap kemarin paling parah — kalo ga salah bacaan indeks polusi udara (Air Pollution Index — API) sampe di kisaran 150 ke atas (“Tidak Sehat”). Hari ini sekolah diliburkan akibat kabut asap. Saya nggak bisa bayangin gimana anak-anak di lingkungan titik api di Sumatera.
Kabut asap ini terjadi akibat kebakaran hutan yang melanda Sumatera — dan kabut asap ini udah terjadi belasan tahun.
Kaya gini ini lho yang bikin sedih. Udah ya bikin repot negara tetangga, bikin repot negara sendiri, banyak orang sakit, lingkungan rusak… Dan terjadi bertahun-tahun. Tabungan dosa apa kabar?
There are times when we remember something unpleasant from our past. Mostly, it came out of the blue. For some, it’s a trigger and might cause panic attack; for others, it’s “nothing more” than a lump in the chest and some kind of selfish gratefulness of passing the horror.
Just now I’m watching TV series ‘Criminal Minds’ (season 10 episode 15) and suddenly I remember my ex-boyfriend.
Not specifically him, though.
His wife.
I don’t know his wife. I never meet her.
But I wonder, how is she?
I was in a really toxic relationship with my ex back then, and it went to some kind of abuse. At first, physical abuse. Then, mental abuse.
I remember some of his words: “why do you have to make things worse? Why don’t you calm me down?! Why can’t you make things perfect?! It’s all your fault!”
(And those words were uttered on a scene in the current episode of ‘Criminal Minds’ I’m watching, so yeah, it’s quite a trigger)
It’s my life. I’m alwayslivin’ on a prayer — then I met you.
Alas!
You give love a bad name, they said. You are wanted dead or alive — on a bed of roses. Angry officials, shouting from their high chairs. Pointing fingers. You tainted love’s pure name, they said.
But what is love, you cried back.
Is love pure?
Or can you find love in the darkest alley, in the dirtiest ditch, in the eye of girls selling their bodies under the dim lamps of Las Vegas?
Can you find love on a mother’s cold dead eyes, while her three-year old baby washed ashore on Turkey beach? Can you find love on the eyes of seventy-one immigrants, rotten away and nearly forgotten by the media, on a roadside at Austria?
Can you find love on Kim Davis, when she refused to celebrate love of loving people?
Is that love?
Or can you find love through Brandon’s cold camera lens, as he captures the stories of humanity on his Humans of New York? With thousands and thousands of cold texts, typed from shiny smartphones and gadgets. Each word, laced with heat of passion. Passion of humanity and better future.
“Have a nice day,” I told you, “I’ll be there for you,” even when you’re on a runaway.
Thank you for loving me, and giving me a glimpse on blaze of glory. It’s beautiful. Really beautiful.
Even though it leaves a bad medicine taste aftermath on my tongue. But the beauty is there. I am drowned.
I will never say goodbye to you. Never.
Though this ain’t a love song, I know you want to make a memory. I know you will.
Oh, I’m sorry. This is a love song. This is a love song for me, for you, for all of us. For anyone who care to listen. Under the screams of injustice, the bloodbath of religions and wars, the salutations of tyrants and dictators — this is a love song.
You told me once, “we weren’t born to follow.” You laughed, “are you seriously going to follow these people — with blood on their hands. Those innocent souls, their bloods laid bare on these dirty politicians yet nobody cares! Nobody pointed it out! These people who equally killing thousands of souls, making hundreds of people wishing to die even before Death giving them a visit, actually have a nerve to talk about humanity and social justice! Ha!”
In these arms, we have weapons. The blood is running rampant, pulsating with life. We are leaders.
What about now, I asked you. Because we can. We can be leaders. We can be the heroes of our own stories.
This is my personal blog, so anything goes. This blog has been around since 2014, which means you would, and could, see my past writings with different perspectives and mindsets at that time. While I tried to tidy things up here, I personally feel that things should not be too “clean” or polished. You see me grow and learn in this blog. This blog is a record-keeping of what I was, what I am, and what I will be. What I wrote in the past might not reflect who I am right now, nor me revisiting the topic.
While things here are generally PG-13, I must remind you that I’m an adult, which means some topics might be too heavy for younger readers.
I want to develop themes that sing praises for the 2000s. I always feel we could have a bit more 2000s-era whimsy.
the blogger
Nindya. Kapkap. she/her. Indonesian in Malaysia. Millennial. Lo-fi. Post-Rock. Gregorian. Animal Crossing: New Horizons. Murder mystery genre. “Love is Love“.
