Silence Dances at the End of the Day
The translation of Radhar Panca Dahana’s Indonesian short story “Sepi Pun Menari di Tepi Hari” by Tjahaja.
Good news came in the morning.
Tuesday, August 19, 1997. In front of more than 500 invitees who crowded the Multipurpose Hall of Neighborhood 18, Pondok Petir Village, the southern suburb of the capital, Ir Gulian Putra Ariandaru, M.A., 29, was officially married to Arsih, 22.
That smile. Mystery.
Her full lips draw a soft line above her almost exactly semicircular chin. As if declaring from a distance, life is soft. Therefore, it’s your own fault if you can’t sleep well. Then, her eyes narrowed as her lips parted slowly, and her laughter flowed. The world is finished! With such strong and natural-drawn facial lines, women will fill every man’s blank stare. Women who create distance every step of the way. Picasso’s women pervade the dark with their light.
Her name was Arsih. The first, second, and third times I encountered her, she was always in the middle of a wayang show. When the Punakawan appeared only to nullify the beginning and end of the story, the sound of her laughter, however, startled me and made me immediately turn towards her. Her voice expanded and floated like a traceless footstep, forcing…
