saya rindu bapak, rindu sosok seorang bapak.
sangat!


Chittagong, 30 Maret 2006.

Chittagong, the second largest city of Bangladesh and a busy international seaport, is an ideal vacation spot. Its green hills and forests, its broad sandy beaches and its fine cool climate always attract the holiday-markers. Described by the Chinese traveler poet, Huen Tsang (7th century A.D) as "a sleeping beauty emerging from mists and water" and given the title of "Porto Grande" by the 16th century Portuguese seafarers. Chittagong remains true to both the descriptions even today. It combines remains true to both the descriptions even today. It combines the busy hum of an active seaport with the shooting quiet of a charming hill town.

Chittagong is the country's chief port and is the main site for the establishment of heavy, medium and light industries. Bangladesh's only steel mill and oil refinery are also located in Chittagong.

Some spots of Chittagong can be viewed here.


Agrabad's Sheikh Mujib, end of March 2006.

This one is taken from TIME Magazine March 13, 2006 as I was reading it this morning before starting the day, I mean the week. It is just about the success of Indians not in their country. It gives me some thoughts about life, nationalism and some other things I should not write in here. It is published in the Letters Column whose title is exactly the same with what is written in here.

------------------------------------------
RE "Why do so many India's stars live abroad?
I applaud the essay by Vir Sangvhi, editorial director of the Hindustan Times, in which he asks why Indians are more successful outside India than at home. Alas, a similar problem plagues Nigeria. Those born in the 1970s who left to study in Britain and the U.S now want to return home and apply the skills and business practices I learned in the West. But their enthusiasm is met with scorn, suspicion and envy. I wonder whether Nigerians feel betrayed or fear the Western work ethic. Like the Indians, we are success stories in our adopted homes but not in the land of our birth. They say a prophet is never honored in his homeland, but also say charity must begin at home (B. Chukwumah, Berkshire, England).


I was at home this morning, wake up and starting the day with spirit.
08.04 AM. Thanking for the day and the night.

I have no idea why it is named like Japanese, but I am now living in an 8-story apartment named Namoto. There is no Japan culture in it or attached to that building, merely name.
What came into my mind was a book entitled 'Norwegian Wood' when I first entered the room number two on the eighth floor with a wide view from the balcony. I brought the japanese name and connect it with some japanese love story in Norwegian Wood. I still can recall the names of people in that story and what they do in those thick books.
Aside from its some 'free-sex' sessions, I love the session of meeting at one coffee corner and start telling each other I miss you and your stories.
In the balcony of that yellow building, I can do thing like that, yelling to you from a higher distance that I miss your stories and your laugh, which I should not miss.

I will welcome you from that distance, do come with that never ending talk.

05:12 pm
+ i should, i must!

no, you will never understand, and I never tell you the truth.
i am also sure that you will never find the real thing of all these things.
it hurts me so, much. why?

why me?

F1=help, 06:24 pm.

akhirnya, kamu datang juga. aku tak perlu menunggu sehari kedepan untuk melihat senyum dan mata sipitmu. Kamu datang seperti tak berdosa, tapi sungguh saya senang melihat kamu di koridor itu, tertawa dengan gaya kamu, dengan suaramu yang lucu.

Kamu peluk aku, dan aku membauimu dengan sangat, dengan nikmat. kamu masih membawa botol kecil liquer itu, dan bau asap rokok. Good girls dont smoke!. Ingin kupeluk kamu dengan erat, lama. Mungkin tidak di pertemuan pertama itu. Akan ada lagi kan?

Selamat datang lagi, dan ayo, kita melanjutkan cerita lalu kita.

merah dan biru, kombinasi yang bagus.
semuanya bagus dengan kamu. selamat datang, aku masih ingin memelukmu, sungguh!

11:33 am. nanti makan siang bareng yah, kita ketemu di depan pintu itu.

dengan gayamu, kamu membuyarkan aku dari konsentrasi ku ke buku itu. singkat saja padahal pesan itu
'aku telah datang, aku lapar, aku capek, kamu ada dimana?', kurangkum dua pesanmu itu ke aku.
'aku insomniac, dan aku sedang menikmati buku yang baru saja kubeli tadi sore', jawabku.
'kamu lucu, begitu aku menutup percakapan itu'
'sampai ketemu besok', kudengar suara lucu khas kamu.

sudah dua jam lewat, kamu tidak muncul juga. kucoba menjemput mu di perjalanan menuju ke stasiun bus itu, kamu belum muncul juga. khawatir aku, meskipun kamu sudah dewasa.

kamu pasti masih terlelap. biarlah aku kembali, menunggu kamu disini, dengan sabar.
kamu peluk aku di pertemuan pertama nanti, setelah dua tahun, begitu pintaku. dan kamu harus janji jangan berpura-pura menghilang lagi. atau hanya aku yang seenaknya bermain dengan pikiranku sendiri, bermain dengan imaginasi yang buruk tentang kamu, tentang hubungan yang tak jelas ini. aku rindu kamu, dengan sangat.
kejutkan aku dengan tawa mu yang khas, yang lucu, yang ceria, dengan mata sipit dan kulit putihmu.

aku tidak berenang hari ini, karena aku ingin menunggu mu dengan bersihan air dari tempatku, bukan dari pancuran kolam renang itu. rasanya beda, iya bukan?


sampai ketemu, aku tak sabar ingin melihat apa yang dua tahun itu telah perbuat denganmu.
di sudut perak ini, 10:15 pagi.

I deserve my body in the pool at least once a week with those above stuffs after some busy and hectic hours, and I feel relaxed, I feel so much fresher.

Your face is all around, though and I see your face in the pool, under water. Can I call it swimming plus plus?


Enjoying the wet morning, 11:22 AM

i am sitting on the edge of the caldera, looking at the deep down beneath, at the seamless things which I was trying to interpret about, but I am blank. kulihat kamu melambai-lambaikan tangan dengan kain biru mu di kepala, looking at me but not calling, just looking, and I could see your slanted eyes dan putih kulitmu, bercampur dengan kuning nya belerang di bawah sana. You told me in the next two days you would reach this caldera and joining me sitting here at the edge, to together look at the deep down beneath. Kamu bertanya why it happens, dan sejuta pertanyaan-pertanyaan yang membuatku tak bisa fokus, as I want to clean the ashes from your face, and to look at your small eyes dengan penuh perasaan: how my eyes miss looking at it directly, with only wind in between.
Will you tell me your stories? or will we just kiss and say goodbye? bayangan beberapa puluh jam kedepan membuat gemuruh dalam hati ini, sama dengan gemuruh letusan letusan kecil dibawah sana. the explosion is the thing we are fear of, tapi letusan letusan kecil itu yang membuat kita kuat di kaldera itu dan ada letusan-letusan lain yang kita buat.

aku masih diatas sini, dan kamu masih dibawah. Atau aku yang dibawah, dan kamu yang diatas. Kita tak akan pernah bisa sejajar, hence one of us should be on the top, and one should be on the bottom. Seperti sekarang ini, kamu di kaki bukit itu, dan saya akan berada diatas puncak gunung itu, and we can only say hi from a distance, waving hand, and menikmati senyuman dengan mata sipitmu, menahan my great wish of hugging you the whole day, dan saya serius dengan itu. we will see each other on this flat land.

you are far and i make it near, only me, kamu tidak, not fair.
is there any way of erasing satu malam itu?


senja sendiri di dataran rendah siam, 07:01 pm.

iya, kamu merasukiku semalam suntuk, menyentuh seluruh raga dan membiarkanku menikmati bau-mu yang tidak asli. aku bangun, dan aku harus menunggu beberapa hari untuk sesuatu yang tidak pasti.
iya, aku mendapatkan semangat dari jadwal yang kamu kirim, serasa kita berada dalam dua benua jauh yang berbeda.

tadi malam aku melihat kamu berdiri di kejauhan, memandangku menggali-gali sisa-sisa letusan itu. senyuman dan mata mu yang sipit karena terik matahari seakan melemahkan abu dan debu vulkanik paleogen itu, dan menguatkan kekuatan-kekuatan holosen itu, dari aku.
iya, aku akan menemui mu dalam beberapa ratus jam ini, tapi oh. mungkin aku salah, mungkin kamu tidak menghendaki penggalian-penggalian ku, tidak ingin aku menemukan dunia yang lama itu untuk kamu, dunia lama kamu juga.

ayo lah, kita gali sisa letusan itu bersama-sama, dan biarkan aku menikmati melihat tubuhmu yang putih itu dibaluti dengan keringat, dan ku kan menggantinya dengan cairan-cairan cinta (inikah cinta?), lalu tertawa bersama buat sebuah penggalian yang telah kita lakukan. kamu yang memulai penggalian itu, kan?

kita menggali saja, terus menggali sampai kita menemukan dunia lama itu, dunia lama yang mungkin ingin kita tinggalkan tapi tetap kita nikmati, karena dunia kita sekarang adalah dunia menggali, menggali sisa-sisa letusan gunung api itu, dan letusan-letusan malam yang kita pernah buat.

aku disini menantimu, menggali dan terus menggali, dan berharap menemukan kamu dalam beberapa lubang itu. dan aku kan sejenak melupakan paleogen, meosen, eosen dan holosen-holosen ku, dipagi ini khusus buat kamu.


kamu sedang menggeluti geologi, dan kamu tidak sadar.
kamu ngerti paleogen kan?


holosen di pathumthani, 07:45 am.

This is just a copy and paste from CNN web I read during breakfast. Keep digging, and you might discover more.


Scientists have found what they believe are traces of the lost Indonesian civilization of Tambora, which was wiped out in 1815 by the biggest volcanic eruption in recorded history.

Mount Tambora's cataclysmic eruption on April 10, 1815, buried the inhabitants of Sumbawa Island under searing ash, gas and rock and is blamed for an estimated 88,000 deaths. The eruption was at least four times more powerful than Mount Krakatoa's in 1883.

Guided by ground-penetrating radar, researchers from the University of North Carolina at Wilmington and the Indonesian Directorate of Volcanology recently dug in a gully where locals had found ceramics and bones.

They unearthed the remains of a thatch house, pottery, bronze and the carbonized bones of two people, all in a layer of sediment dating to the eruption.

University of Rhode Island volcanologist Haraldur Sigurdsson, the leader of the expedition, estimated that 10,000 people lived in the town when the volcano erupted in a blast that dwarfed the one that buried the Roman town of Pompeii.

The eruption shot 400 million tons (363 million metric tons) of sulfuric gases into the atmosphere, causing global cooling and creating what historians call "The Year Without a Summer." Farms in Maine suffered crop-killing frosts in June, July and August. In France and Germany, grape and corn crops died, or the harvests were delayed.

The civilization on Sumbawa Island has intrigued researchers ever since Dutch and British explorers visited in the early 1800s and were surprised to hear a language that did not sound like any other spoken in Indonesia, Sigurdsson said. Some scholars believe the language more closely resembled those spoken in Indochina. But not long after Westerners first encountered Tambora, the society was destroyed.

"The explosion wiped out the language. That's how big it was," Sigurdsson said. "But we're trying to get these people to speak again, by digging."

Some of what the researchers found may suggest Tambora's inhabitants came from Indochina or had commercial ties with the region, Sigurdsson said. For example, ceramic pottery uncovered during the dig resembles that common to Vietnam.

John Miksic, an archaeologist at the National University of Singapore, has seen video of the dig and said he believes Sigurdsson's team did find a dwelling destroyed by the eruption.

But he doubts the Tamborans were from Indochina or spoke a language from that area. If Vietnamese-style ceramics reached the island, it was probably through trade with intermediaries, Miksic said.

During the dig, Sigurdsson's team found the charred skeleton of a woman who was most likely in her kitchen. A metal machete and a melted glass bottle lay nearby. The remains of another person were found just outside what was probably the front door.

at the corner, 08.31 am.