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Nirnama. It was a fitting name in all its glorious irony, a mantle that discriminates against none and embraces all who are lost or still seeking meaning. It praises no one when worn, and bemoans none when discarded.
He’s worn that name for countless lives, until he found himself. Found his enlightenment on an ordinary day, in the cacophony of everyday living, surrounded by faces familiar and not.
He thinks of a man he knew, a senior who tried to find enlightenment in a hermit’s life. But Alauddin was not afforded the longevity -curse- of repeating mortal lives, remembering past ones like a series of vivid dreams.
Nirnama supposes whatever face, name and path the Alauddin of this life now goes by, he prays he would be closer to the enlightenment his heart seeks.
In the distance, the twinkling lights of the city skyline look like a colorful sea of stars on earth. Once, when only the sounds of the wind and nocturnal insects broke the silence of the night, now is joined by the occasional sound of a passing motorbike or car, or the offkey singing of a karaoke further down the street.
His mind recalls a time when he was younger, in this life. The sunset casting shadows of three young men walking home from tossing rocks into the river and picking mangoes and rambutan from a neighbor’s tree. Jebat had burst out into a pop song that was popular on the radio, and cajoled Tuha and himself to join along. Nirnama easily gave in and sang the chorus, the only part of the song he knew.
He remembers the way Tuha looked at him in mock disgust, before Jebat picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder in jest.
You should never be a singer, Tuah! Spare us all your terrible singing.
He is Tuah now. As Tuha will be Tuha evermore, his name a gift Tuah bestowed upon his half countless centuries ago. Tuah doesn’t regret it, giving away his name in exchange for the mantle of ‘Nirnama’ when the gods of old hadn’t deigned to bless his half with even an identity to call his own.
Perhaps that moment had been the start of it all. The then mindless pawns of the gods turning against what should have been the infallible, inarguable proof of concept. Born as humans to experience short lives that burn magnificently, as opposed to the detachment of those who observe from above.
Nirnama and Tuha shared laughter, they shared pain. They betrayed each other to fulfill the calling of their existences, but time and again came to forgive each other in the quiet gazes of first meetings in a new life.
Through their solemn march through time, they only had each other to carry their melancholy, until they’ve come to accept that burden. Until they’ve accepted they must love their respective beloveds as if it was their first time meeting and falling in love.
Tuha took to it like a duck to water, and Nirnama is glad he embraced it as his everlasting ambition that will burn for eternity. He’s glad that Tuha has grown out of the shape the gods had molded for him.
Tuah sips the warm tea, relishes in the bite of a macaron his wife bought for him, from a cafe she had wanted to go to for a long while. It goes well with the tea. Balances the bitterness with the sweet. He should go with her sometime and have a proper date.
It’s almost time for Maghrib preparations, but he could stand to delay it a little more as he reads, rereads the letter that Jebat penned. In it, he talks about how cold and expensive Switzerland is, that he looks forward to the beer and bread in Germany instead. Laments that he wouldn’t be able to try the sausages while mentioning Tuha kept throwing dirty looks at him each time he talked about it.
Tuah shakes his head, laughs to himself. Of course they would. The letter is at least a month old, they would have been done with Switzerland and Germany and moved onto the next part of their trip across the world.
At the bottom of the letter is a hastily scribbled sentence, in handwriting that isn’t Jebat’s.
See you soon.
The teacup is emptied and the macarons consumed. Nirnama… Tuah folds the letter carefully and returns it into the envelope.
He looks at the darkened sky one last time, imagines that Tuha is also gazing upon the same sky somewhere in this ever changing world. Fated to be reborn endlessly onto this soil, this was their unchangeable truth.
However…
‘The gods have long become silent, perhaps they have reached the conclusion they wanted. Or perhaps it is our punishment for diverting from the gods’ wishes. Whatever it is, the future is ours to experience.’ And they have each chosen the paths they wanted to take. Tuah takes solace in the thought.
He moves to the prayer room, the letter slipped into the pocket of his shirt, and his heart aching with happiness he hasn’t felt in a long time.