November 1, 2008
Sta. Maria Public Cemetery, Sta. Maria, Bulacan
The unpredictable weather seemed to resume its usual dryness. The weather was such a friend as my cousins and I walked along the cramped street leading to the entrance of the public cemetery. The place had a very different feel from Loyola: it was robust, lively, and full of energy. It was a weird feeling. It was very strange to brush my arms with an endless array of strangers. It was very uncomfortable to see hundreds and hundreds of curious eyes taking a glimpse into the eyes of a person hailing from Manila. It was difficult to remain calm and collected as the innocent stares of passers-by became an invisible, immaterial ridicule to my tired and heavy eyes.
The agony did not stop there. Inside the cemetery, the heat was remarkably impossible. The cool air brushing about and the cloudy sky that curtained the intense heat of the sun seemed to have dissipated. The air became saturated with the mixed smell of dead flowers, wax, and human perspiration. Sweat started to trickle down my back as I started to realize the heat from the numerous candles planted in front of the nitsos and the heat from the huge amount of people cramming themselves into the white city of apartments with marble addresses. After a seemingly endless journey and after another hundred more people beaten by their curiosity, we arrived to where the ancestors of Mamie lay.
There was no place to sit. So I decided to shred a plastic bag, and sit on top of Lolo's nitso.
I was successful in establishing a nook for myself in that chaotic world, but I was unable to draw a separate peace to calm my inner self being tossed around by towering waves in the middle of a heaven-shattering sea storm.
Soon, the gray skies slowly turned into an unsure relative of purple. My back ached tremendously as kids climbed up the tallest apartments and made a playground out of the flat surfaces of other people's eternal peace. I watched them play, sing, joke around, and even dance to a beat I was deaf of. They watched in awe as the kingly presence of the betrayed sun withdrew and let the crescent moon and her darkness creep in silently. As the darkness slowly claimed her reign in the sky, the candles with all their memories made their presence more real. The candles made their presence more meaningful.
The candles burned vigorously and brightly as the sky became a deep ceiling of uncertainty. It was unnatural that all the candles, different in their shapes, sizes, and colors, seemed to be all the same to my eyes shrouded by confusion. They seemed to burn in a monotonous manner, as if all the wicks present in my vision were all chanting an unheard mantra which made me more and more desperate for answers. Distraught, confused, and feeling lonely, I gently tucked my legs closer to my body and embraced them as I tried to draw an empty sense of security from an evenly empty part of my being.
And just about that time, a strong force ravaged across the cemetery. A sudden burst of wind turned the monochromatic burn of the candles into an ocean of vermilion embers. The smell of forgotten memories coalesced about and condensed the air that filled my lungs. All candles died at the same moment as they burned all at the same time, and all at the same manner.
All,
except one.
Nanay, 83 ka na dapat ngayon kung hindi mo ako iniwan. Happy Birthday. I love you, at miss na miss ko na kayo ni Tatay.
Sta. Maria Public Cemetery, Sta. Maria, Bulacan
The unpredictable weather seemed to resume its usual dryness. The weather was such a friend as my cousins and I walked along the cramped street leading to the entrance of the public cemetery. The place had a very different feel from Loyola: it was robust, lively, and full of energy. It was a weird feeling. It was very strange to brush my arms with an endless array of strangers. It was very uncomfortable to see hundreds and hundreds of curious eyes taking a glimpse into the eyes of a person hailing from Manila. It was difficult to remain calm and collected as the innocent stares of passers-by became an invisible, immaterial ridicule to my tired and heavy eyes.
The agony did not stop there. Inside the cemetery, the heat was remarkably impossible. The cool air brushing about and the cloudy sky that curtained the intense heat of the sun seemed to have dissipated. The air became saturated with the mixed smell of dead flowers, wax, and human perspiration. Sweat started to trickle down my back as I started to realize the heat from the numerous candles planted in front of the nitsos and the heat from the huge amount of people cramming themselves into the white city of apartments with marble addresses. After a seemingly endless journey and after another hundred more people beaten by their curiosity, we arrived to where the ancestors of Mamie lay.
There was no place to sit. So I decided to shred a plastic bag, and sit on top of Lolo's nitso.
I was successful in establishing a nook for myself in that chaotic world, but I was unable to draw a separate peace to calm my inner self being tossed around by towering waves in the middle of a heaven-shattering sea storm.
Soon, the gray skies slowly turned into an unsure relative of purple. My back ached tremendously as kids climbed up the tallest apartments and made a playground out of the flat surfaces of other people's eternal peace. I watched them play, sing, joke around, and even dance to a beat I was deaf of. They watched in awe as the kingly presence of the betrayed sun withdrew and let the crescent moon and her darkness creep in silently. As the darkness slowly claimed her reign in the sky, the candles with all their memories made their presence more real. The candles made their presence more meaningful.
The candles burned vigorously and brightly as the sky became a deep ceiling of uncertainty. It was unnatural that all the candles, different in their shapes, sizes, and colors, seemed to be all the same to my eyes shrouded by confusion. They seemed to burn in a monotonous manner, as if all the wicks present in my vision were all chanting an unheard mantra which made me more and more desperate for answers. Distraught, confused, and feeling lonely, I gently tucked my legs closer to my body and embraced them as I tried to draw an empty sense of security from an evenly empty part of my being.
And just about that time, a strong force ravaged across the cemetery. A sudden burst of wind turned the monochromatic burn of the candles into an ocean of vermilion embers. The smell of forgotten memories coalesced about and condensed the air that filled my lungs. All candles died at the same moment as they burned all at the same time, and all at the same manner.
All,
except one.
Nanay, 83 ka na dapat ngayon kung hindi mo ako iniwan. Happy Birthday. I love you, at miss na miss ko na kayo ni Tatay.
2 comments:
bigat! (*sigh)...
Di bale, hindi na masyadong mabigat ang pakiramdam ko tagabukid. :)
Post a Comment