Walong Diwata ng Pagkahulog

ILANG SAGLIT bago siya itinulak ng binatilyo sa bangin, naalala ni Daniel noong limang taong gulang siya at iniligaw ng tiyanak sa unang pagkakataon: nakasiksik siya sa pagitan ng mga nakausling ugat ng kalamyas, nanlalagkit sa pawis ang leeg, at nangangako sa sariling hindi na talaga siya makikipaglaro basta’t lumubog na ang araw. Maghahatinggabi na nang matagpuan siya ng Tito Tony niya, nakasiksik pa rin siya sa pagitan ng mga ugat ng kalamyas, naglibag na ang pawis sa leeg, at nakamulagat sa dilim. Maghahatinggabi na rin siguro, naisip ni Daniel kasabay ng pagpuwersa ng mga kamay at braso ng binatilyo sa tagiliran niya upang itulak siya sa bangin. Susubukan sana niyang lumaban pero nawalan na siya ng balanse. Nang matiyak niyang mahuhulog siya, saka nakaramdam ng panghihinayang si Daniel. Kumbakit ngayon pa siya mamamatay kung kailan mayroon na siyang totoong kuwento. To: From: Subject: Atisan, et. al. Atisan Boy! Kamusta? Friendster never fails to surprise me ha ha ha. Kilala pa kita, siyempre. How can I forget our storyteller? It was good to finally hear from you. I wrote you letters, pare. Akala ko tinatamad ka lang sumulat. Kami ni Erik, nagsusulatan pa. He just emailed me the other day. Kinukuwento ka niyang madalas. Pero hindi niya binabanggit ang Atisan. Minsan lang. Bro, I miss Atisan. Kahit hindi naman talaga ako tagaroon. Siguro, I just miss your stories of Atisan. Would you believe pare that I saw this monograph on Atisan? I couldn’t believe it myself. Pero I found it while I was researching on it for one of my college papers here years ago. Ganun ako ka-loyal sa ’yo noon. Dito pa talaga sa Canada. You should read it. I mean, the monograph, not my paper ha ha. I sent you a copy pero mukhang di mo rin natanggap. God, ang tagal na pala nun. But Erik got a copy. I was thinking na pinakita n’ya sa ’yo. Kumusta ba kayo ni Erik? Minsan, he would send me weird emails. Alam mo naman ’yun, tahimik lang, laging pa-mysterious ha ha ha. He would tell me na ang alam n’yo nina Michael, he already died. Na ibinurol pa siya. Na inilibing n’yo pa siya. Nagugulat daw siya kung bakit hindi n’yo na siya nakikita. Kapag umuuwi ka raw sa Atisan, nag-iinuman kayong tatlo pero nag-uusap kayo ni Michael na parang kayo lang dalawa ang andun. Hindi n’yo raw siya tinitingnan man lang. Jesus, kinikilabutan ako sa mga kuwento nun. Sabi ko sa kaniya, pag bumalik pa ako d’yan, ako’ng papatay sa kaniya pag di n’ya tinigilan ang pananakot. Pero mukhang malabo na. I already got my job here. At magastos umuwi pare. Ikaw, balita ko, di ka pa rin nakakatapos. Mukhang may phobia ka na yata sa graduation a he he he. At lumalaki na rin si Dustin. Alam mo na ba, may junior na ako. But Marissa and I were never married. Hindi mo rin nga pala kilala si Marissa. We’re just living together. Dustin’s turning three na next month. Siguro someday, iuuwi ko siya. Dadalhin ko siguro siya sa Atisan. Inglisero, pare. Alam mo ba, when I sent Erik the manuscript I was telling you about, sabi niya, its contents were just made up. Damang-dama ko sa email na galit siya. Sabi ko hindi niya naman kailangang seryosohin ’yun. I mean, ni hindi ko nga kilala ‘yung nagsulat nun. But there was a byline, I just forgot the name. Babae, pare. Alam mo ba kung bakit galit na galit si Erik, kasi nga, and this was the only time he mentioned the place in all the emails he sent, kasi nga wala naman daw talagang Atisan. Would you believe he said that? And he meant it literally. Walang Atisan. Pare, ano ba’ng nangyayari kay Erik? I’m glad you wrote, that you finally found me. Laging nalilimutang ibigay sa akin ni Erik ang email mo, e. O sinasadya na ’ata nun. Nawalan talaga ako ng connection sa iyo. I was sending you mails, kahit cards pag Pasko, pero di nga ’ata nakakarating. Baka may mali sa address na binigay mo sa ’kin. Minsan, I was thinking, putsa, baka wala talagang Atisan, a. Pero minsan lang ’yun, paano naman, it’s weird. I mean, bakit di nakakarating ’yung mails ko sa ’yo. Pero siyempre, nawawala rin ’yun agad, I mean yung doubt, kasi nga I’ve been there. Nakita ko ang Atisan. Pero sa mapa ng San Pablo, I searched for it talaga sa Net ha, minsan, at walang Atisan, alam mo ba? Pero maliit lang kasi ’yung map, siyempre, ’yung bigger barrios lang ang makikita dun. It can’t possibly name all the 80 plus barrios in San Pablo, right? Ganun, kaya baka wala ang Atisan. Pero minsan, natatakot ako, paano kung wala talagang Atisan? And it was just part of your stories? It was just in your imagination? Pero nakakatakot i-pursue ang ganung line of thinking pare, kasi baka bumalik sa akin. I mean, baka pati ako pala e part lang ng imagination mo. God, mababaliw ako nun. I mean, even my fingers that now type these letters are just doing their part to feed your fantasy. O, Atisan boy, puwede na rin akong storyteller, di ba? Ha ha ha. But seriously, pare, kailan ka pa ba huling umuwi sa Atisan? Naroon pa ba talaga ’yun? O, wag mo akong pag-isipan ng masama, ha. I meant that figuratively. Another way of thinking about it pare, maaari namang hindi iisa lang ang Atisan di ba? I mean, malawak ang mundo. There could possibly be a lot of other Atisans. Baka nga sa Pilipinas lang, meron din. Sino ba kasing isang tao ang nakatuntong na sa buong Pilipinas. At posible ba kasi ’yun. Basta ganun. Pero hindi ibig sabihin, hindi na espesyal ’yung Atisan mo. Natin. Of course, it’s special. But only for us. Sa ’yo, kay Michael, kay Erik. Sa lola at tito mo. Sa Papa mo. Kay Orange. Teka, nagkatuluyan ba kayo, pare? Wala ring binabanggit dun si Erik e. Pero nakuha mo, nothing is special in itself. Alam mo naman ’yun siyempre. Someone, some people make us special. We are never special just by being who we are. Naks, philosophical pare. I mean, o halimbawa, si Dustin, special siya sa ’kin, at kay Marissa, pero hindi siya special sa lahat ng makakasalubong niya sa daan, o sa lahat ng batang makakalaro niya, di ba. Sasabihin, uy, ang cute ng bata. Pero hanggang doon lang. Kahit sa lahat ng makikilala niya habang lumalaki siya. Why am I saying this. Alam ko naman na alam mo’ng ibig kong sabihin. I think, humahaba na ang email na ito. Just want you to know that I’m glad you wrote. But I have this weird feeling that the road somehow ends here. Kaya nilulubos ko na. I mean, even friendships should end somewhere, di ba? You were my friend, well, you still are. But I just remember you, the idea of you, your name, us singing the Beatles song, the humming, I can even see our feet walking, I still carry the faint smell of our mornings in Banahaw, but I’m sorry, pare, I can’t remember your face. I’d probably recognize you when I see you. You don’t even have your picture in your Friendster profile to remind me of how you look. It would have been great seeing you again, kahit sa pic. I call this the Atisan syndrome. Images fading. Slowly. Exhaustively. Until I totally forget that I even had memory of those images. Ikaw, would you recognize me kaya when we see each other? Weird, ano? Ilang taon na ba, five? Six? The things we forget in less than a decade. We had better capacities for keeping memories when we were younger, ano? But we are young. Blame this Atisan syndrome. When you leave someplace, you continue living as if the place you left does not exist anymore, but was there, in your past. As if it ceased to exist the moment you left. Pampawala ng guilt. Alam mo, I realized, may espiritu rin ang mga lugar. Di ba, kapag may nakikita tayong maganda sa paligid, o magandang lugar, for instance, that view in Banahaw when we were on top of it, di ba, we say, buhay na buhay ‘yung lugar. Buhay na buhay. Kaya it’s possible then that places also die. Alam natin ito, I mean, literally. History had lost so many civilizations in the past. If there really was Atisan, can it be possible that now it’s dead? That Atisan is no longer. Pare, don’t mind me if this sounds weird to you. Alam mo naman, when you’re miles away from home, you’re always confronted with existential questions. Who am I? Ha ha ha. What is my purpose in life? And then, in the end, we all surrender. The day I first read your message, you see, I don’t regularly open my Friendster, I was reading a book on love. On love, pare ha ha. That’s why it took me sometime before I finally decided to write this letter. Yes, I still read books, write occasional poems, get drunk with the songs of Beatles. Kung ngayon tayo nagkakilala rito sa Canada, I believe we’ll still have reasons to be friends. The thought really helped me work on this email. I’d like to think that I still forgot to say something, kahit ito na ‘yung pinakamahabang email na nasulat ko. Pero di ko rin maisip kung ano. Wala na akong maisip. Basta ingat ka na lang, pare. Glen